The Pussy

The reporter's hand dropped down to her side, and then shot upwards in a stiff-armed arc. Her palm smacked into and lifted the heavy scrotum, the massive balls balanced precariously in her hand like a pair of navel oranges, but her middle fingers were exploring underneath...down the smooth skin of the perineum, in between the legs to...

"Eep!" The black shemale made a sound like a sheep in distress as the reporter's fingers buried themselves in familiar wet folds.

"So you do have both," Lois said as she smiled, working her hand farther down until the scrotum was resting on her wrist, the balls spread out and hanging down on either side. The reporter's fingers traced the curious anatomy...no clitoris, at least not that she could see. The labia seemed to open up directly into the base of soft, pulsing back of the cock, the hard throb of the prostate tangible through the skin. "But do they both work?"

The black woman shuddered but did not retreat from the reporter's fondling. Her brown cheeks didn't blush, but her face looked...preoccupied.

"I...I don't kn-know if I can have kids, but I c-can f-fuck and be f-fucked." she offered.

The reporter delved down below, very briefly, and found the asshole a puffy donut, barely separated from the pussy at all.

"I think you do. I bet you love to get pounded in the ass," Lois Lane said. "I bet you can feel it in your pussy, can't you?"

"Y-yes."

The fingers retreated, one finger slipping deep inside. It was hot and wet, reminding Lois of her one summer on a farm, being taught how to take the animals' temperature...

"But you weren't always this way, were you?" She curled her finger, rubbing it against the walls, searching the black shemale's face for signs she had hit the right spot...

There. The cat-like eyes rolled briefly back into her head. Lois slipped a second finger in there, doubling the pressure on that little spot.

"Tell me, or I'll stop."

"It...it was just supposed to be modeling! Co-ed cosplay!" The faux-Vixen gasped, leaning forward, steadying herself on Lois Lane's shoulders, cock throbbing between them. "But I got there in costume and there was this woman, the director...she asked if I wanted to make more money. I said sure, figured it was just porn...but then she asked me to imagine who I really wanted to be and...and she brought out this beg red gem...and I grew a dick, I grew a fucking horsecock..."

White dribbles of cum were beading at the tip of the flared prick. Not shooting out, but just being **** slowly up by the steady pressure on the shemale's prostate, straight through her sensitive pussy. Lois teased a third finger, trying to work it in.

"I had these fantasies...about Vixen...she was so sexy...haven't...haven't you ever wanted to be somebody else so bad you'd do anything?" The black shemale mumbled.

"And what did you do?" Lois asked, her third finger slipping into the cunt with some difficulty, the interior tunnel now tight and cramped, but the false superheroine hanging onto her about to explode.

"I fuck people," the faux-Vixen gasped. The cum was starting to drip down from the flared tip now, onto Lois Lane's jacket, but the reporter paid it no mind. "I let people fuck me. I'm a whore, I'm a whore and...and..."

"Were you a boy or a girl before?" Lois asked, pressing hard, knuckles brushing against the labia now. A hot squirt hit the lapel of her jacket, the shemale's mouth twisted into an O-shape.

"I was a girl...I mean, I wanted to be a girl..."

"Trans," Lois nodded in understanding. "That's a tough life, transitioning. Someone dangles a shortcut in front of you, you take it...even if it doesn't turn out quite like you expected."

"I owe her...everything."

Lois cradled the shemale's head against her shoulder, hand slipping around to massage the back of her neck.

"No, you don't. No one owns you. No one forces you to peddle your body for them. You're free. I'm going to get you out of here," she promised. "Now, just one final question..."