No! We Are Lament!

Alien memories fed through Lois Lane's mind. Another world—another universe. Costumed heroes and villains. Loves and loss. An aching, empty need...a hunger... They moved as one, striding boldly to the sliding glass door that opened onto the reporter's balcony. They were fourteen floors up.

Outside, the wind whipped past, cool on the surface of the symbiote's alien epidermis, but Lois was warm, feeling the tendrils sliding inside her pussy and ass. She didn't even try to fight it, this alien thing that had slipped down the drain, called to her by whatever was in that bottle. Their needs were aligning, strength flowing through her limbs.

She hopped lightly up onto the rail of the balcony...and leapt off.

For a moment, she hung in space, utterly free.

Then one wrist flicked, and a thread of something shot out. The symbiote fed her images of spiders spinning silk; the webbing hit the side of a building and stuck. Her fist closed around the cord and her body's momentum carried her around in an arc, gathering speed, and already the symbiote was dragging her attention to the next spot to shoot a line of web, calculating the arc of their swing, when to shoot and when to release...

The symbiote knew how to get there, but not where. Lois guided it through the streets of Metropolis, eyes catching flashes of the private lives of citizens through their windows. Together, Lament made their way to the apartment of the one person in Metropolis who would almost certainly know where Superman was, or how to contact him.

Clark Kent.

They landed on the side of the building and stuck. Lois thrilled to the way her fingers and toes seemed to adhere to the sheer stone. Crawling up the side of the building she quietly peaked through the sliding glass doors to his balcony. The door to the bathroom was open, water running. Soft as a spider, her hand slid open the door, and she crawled in, adhering to the ceiling.

He emerged naked, no towel or bathrobe, sun-kissed skin firm and flesh. For the first time, Lois admired his muscles, his build—like a football player or bodybuilder, the well-define triangle with his broad shoulders, hairy chest, defined abs—and below that, dangling between his knees, the biggest cock that she had seen not attached to a male porn star. Lois felt the symbiote squirm within her tunnels, pussy juicing at the sight. His sky-blue eyes immediately went to the open door, and then fixed on her.

"Who are you?" He demanded, voice far more commanding than the meek Clark Kent.

"We are Lament!" They hissed. "We ssseek Sssuperman!"