A Syringe

The glass tip of a large, blunt-nosed syringe....more like a turkey baster than a needle. Lois was aware of it growing closer and closer, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen. She became aware of a shift in the nature of the images...

The progression began with a huge, swollen, heavy belly. So fat and full of life the heavy tits would sometimes rest on then. Then time reversed itself, the bellies shrinking, reverting, compacting, growing flat once again...and every single time it ended with a bare pussy dripping with spunk.

Lois watched these progressions, confused, aware out of the corner of her eye that the syringe was drawing closer and closer. The reporter's pussy quivered, some subtle sense telling her that it hovered there, just beyond her nether lips. Approaching her quim with terrible purpose.

On the screen, the progression continued...but now, they went farther back. There were things withdrawing from the women's pussies, hard cylindrical objects that left a trail of white goo in their wake...syringes...

With a start, Lois felt the hard glass brush against her quim, the blunt tip pressing forward with aching slowness in a long journey up her vaginal canal.

On screen, she watched the results of similar journies unfold. A dozen women, bellies shrinking, the spent syringe withdrawing from their gaping cunts, the long glass tubes buried deep inside and pumping liquid white into their fertile depths, the empty tube slipping in...

Lois squirmed. The tube wasn't particularly thick, but it was hard and unyielding, and it was deep inside of her. Something brushed uncomfortably against a barrier deep inside of her, a sensation that Lois only knew from gynecologist exams when they had to do a pap smear, the doctor's tool brushing her cervix...and the syringe held there, a constant point of agitation verging almost on pain, and Lois watched on screen as similar women sat there in agonizingly long moments, penetrated to their cores.

Then she saw the trickle of white, filling the tube. The same thing was happening on screen, in a dozen little video clips, running one on top of the other. A warmth flowed up inside of her, the hard glass radiating a gentle heat that seemed to explode deep inside of her.

On the screen, the shots had changed. Familiar glass syringes sucking up splooge from collection cups transitioned quickly to black men, stroking their hard ebony shafts, cumming into collection cups. Sperm donors, their eager tadpoles waiting for fertile eggs. The whole progression began again, from bellies almost ready to give birth to the black cocks blowing their loads, the whole cycle of conception playing itself out in reverse...

Lois felt the syringe start to withdraw. She could see it was empty, feel the wetness dripping out of her pussy.

Did I just get a black baby? She wondered, heart fluttering.