No, She Has To Find Those Women

Cunt throbbing painfully, knees wobbly, the violet Star Sapphire ring glowing gently Lois concentrated. A slim violet hand of glowing energy appeared before her eyes, attached to the ring by a nebulous tether, and carefully undid the catches and lifted the top of the stocks, allowing the reporter to slip out of it.

Almost immediately, her legs collapsed. The reporter fell backwards onto her ass, the painful tumble made all the worse by the liquid splash of spilled jizz that accompanied it. The reporter stared down between her legs at the puddle of cum that she found herself in...but shook her head. She still had the position of those missing women in her mind. All she had to do was get there...

On hands and knees, the reporter crawled across the stage. A part of her wondered at the women who must do this normally, night after night. She couldn't see many prostitutes lasting long before something gave inside their bodies...but then again, Lois had interviewed some sex workers that claimed they enjoyed it rough treatment. Certainly, Lois knew she could cross this off her sexual bucket list.

At the far end of the stage was a door...thankfully unlocked...and Lois crawled through into a dressing room. It smelled of Lysol and perfume, and was fundamentally a shared woman's space—there was a long mirror on her right with three chairs before it and a kind of counter covered with makeup. To the left, an open closet of costumes, and a small opening through which Lois could see the tiles walls and floor of a small shower.

Beyond the makeup-counter was another opening, and through it Lois could make out shag carpet, beanbags, the low sounds of some kind of television program. A blonde head leaned back, blowing smoke, and eyeballed Lois as she crept farther in.

"Oh shit. Cleanup on aisle two."

Women, clad only in panties and socks, emerged from the room. Most of them had a joint in their hands or between their lips. Lois recognized all of them. Diana Reynolds, 19, literature major; Mara de la Cruz, 20, art major; Tonya Wong, 21, business/anthropology major; and Jenny Dunlap, majoring in Modern Dance. All the women that had gone missing. The ring had led her right to where they are.

"Fuck, I think a couple of the condoms sprung a leak. She's like a fucking eclair back here," Jenny said. "Let's get her into the showers. When are you back on, hon?"

"Half an hour...probably more like twenty minutes now," Lois said, unresisting as the women each grabbed a limb and carried her into the tiled shower. "I...came to find you. I'm a reporter. You all went missing. From the university." And she told them who she was, why she had come. The young women looked at one another in silent congress.

Tonya Wong looked down at Lois. The young Asian woman's hair had been dyed blue, and there were new tattoos healing on both shoulders. "Yeah, we're taking a break from our studies. You know how much student loans are?"

"A couple months here will cover tuition for the next year," Diana Reynolds said. Her breasts seemed a lot bigger than in her photo, obvious implants.

"Think of it as a really intense internship," Jenny Dunlap said, and Lois noticed new piercings on the woman's nipples as the former dance major brought a hose from the wall and, without much ado, shoved it inside the reporter's pussy. Lois almost screamed as cold water sprayed inside of her, scouring her pussy of cum. The reporter had always heard that was a bad way to do things—that it actually pushed cum up against the cervix and increased the odds of pregnancy.

"We'll talk after you finish the second half of your performance," Mara said...and with very little to-do, bent over and held the reporter's buttcheeks apart as Jenny moved the hose, giving Lois an impromptu but very thorough enema.

"Ten minutes," Diana said. "I don't know if our new friend here is ready to go out again. Time for a little pick-me-up."

"What?" Lois said, blearily. She felt stronger, but also thoroughly emptied out and confused.

"****," Tonya said. "We're going to give you some ****. Trust me, you're going to need it. Those bastards are not gentle in the second act."