Amanda Waller

Lois swore under her breathe as she noticed the short, hefty black woman in the doorway—Amanda Waller, rumored head of Task **** X, the government's top-secret squad of supervillains, nicknamed the "Suicide Squad." What was she doing here?

"Who is this?" Waller addressed the nurse.

"Prospective subject. A walk-in." The nurse replied. Waller walked in and stared at Lois—the reporter blushed, knowing her pussy was still spread open by the speculum and completely visible, but at least there wasn't any sign of recognition in her eyes.

"And what do you want?" Waller asked Lois. The reporter didn't like the way the woman's stern brown eyes looked her up and down. Like the reporter was a horse she was calculating the price of. The nurse turned back to her work, and removed the speculum; Lois felt strangely empty without it holding her open.

"A booty," she said, and realized how lame it sounded. "The nurse said something about being in 'reproductive shape.' What did she mean?"

Waller stared hard at Lois. She raised one eyebrow.

"Do you love your country, miss...?"

"Joanne," Lois lied. "And yes, I do. But what does that have to do with..."

"Joanne. Right now, while the United States enjoys a number of costumed vigilantes, it has a sizable gap in uniformed metahuman personnel in the armed forces. Nations like China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea are years ahead of us metahuman military forces. This program is a public-private partnership between the government of the United States and Lexcorp. We have the authority, and they have the technology—to give you the body you desire. Not just a booty, but a perfect body, to order." Lois felt like those eyes were staring through her. "We could make you a black woman, if you want. Or give you tits as big as your head. No diet or exercise."

Then she smiled, and Lois shivered. The devil didn't have a smile as cold as that.

"The goal of that program, however, is not to give you a Kardashian's ass. It is the production of metahuman soldiers for the United States of America. You," she laid a hand on Lois' belly "have just volunteered to help birth them. Your 'term of enlistment' is going to be forty weeks and ten days—after conception—and then we will have our soldier, and you will be free to enjoy your new assets."

Lois realized she'd been holding in her breath. That sounded insane. No way it was legal. Except...well, the government had done stranger, less ethical things than this in the past. The Tuskegee experiments. Project C.A.D.M.U.S.—and Waller was dangerous. Lois debated whether she should humor Waller and play along, or try and back out of it before things got out of hand...