Do You Like Breasts?

The sun lamps against the walls began to heat up. Lois worried for a moment, but suddenly felt...good. All the aches, nausea, and fever she'd been experiencing vanished in moments as she soaked up the rays.

"Do you like breasts?" Luthor asked, his tone inquisitive.

A breast flashed on the screen in front of Lois, so fast she almost missed it. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see another breast disappear into the pinkish-white background. Something flickered in her peripheral vision again, and she turned...and the reporter got frustrated.

"You are a woman. You have a pair of your own. In this society, I know you're aware of them. Compared them with those of others you know. Your friends. Sister. Coworkers. On television and film, in magazines. Stared at them, in the mirror, hanging off your chest." His voice had descended into a kind of monologue, stared fixed straight at her through the screens.

The lights continued to intensify, and though Lois knew she should start to feel the burn from the lamps, it felt no more than being out on a summer's day...albeit naked.

Images continued to flicker across the screens, briefly replacing Le's image, though they were doing so more frequently and staying for longer—Lois could see them, wherever she looked in the room; even when she tried to avoid looking at them directly, the constant activity in her peripheral vision annoyed her. Finally, she closed her eyes.

Do you like breasts?

The voice echoed throughout the room, and began to layer on itself, the words overlapping, a constant low-level susurrus of barely-discernible noise from which words and phrases emerged.

...doyoulikebreastsliketitsdoyoudojuggslikeyoulikeuddersdoyoulikeboobs...

Lois opened her eyes. The bre—tits—were almost a slideshow of images now, of all different sizes, colors, shapes. She watched them idly, and discerned a pattern. At the beginning of the cycle the breasts were almost flat, nipples bare nubs hanging limply over the ribs, little bags of skin. Then as it progressed the nipples grew erect, so slowly she could see each stage of arousal, the images like a series of flip-book animation, one after another growing longer, the tits filled out, swelling gently from the first buds of womanhood to distended, saggy, heavy-veined milkers; pink nipples budded, swelled, stood proud, then darkened and began to leak, white drops appearing on the tips, flowing downwards to trace that heavy semi-spherical curve; and then the cycle began again...

...doyouLIKEbreastslikeTITSdoyouDOjuggslikeYOUlikeuddersdoyouLIKEboobs...

She could almost distinguish a beat in the words now, a curious emphasis when the overlapping refrain synchronized for a moment. Lois no longer cared about her nudity, but moved around, but there was only the lamps and the screens, and the door was locked from the outside... The naked reporter looked back at the screen.

The tits were erupting. White jets of milk erupted off-screen, to splatter somewhere off-screen. They were no longer still screens, but short video clips. She could see hands grasp, squeeze, and massage, fingers disappearing into the soft pillowy mammaries. Tit after tit after tit appeared on screen, and Lois herself began to feel a tingle in her pussy, nipples already hard, hands straying to her own palmable juggs...

The light was almost blinding now, but Lois felt...alive, almost burning with excess energy. Even the tinge of pleasant alcoholic haze had vanished. She felt better than she ever had in her life...but also incredibly horny.

...YOUlikeTITSyouDOlikeBREASTSyouLIKEjuggsYOUuddersLIKE...

"Answer me Lois," Lex said, urgently, cutting in over the audio stream. "Do you like breasts?"

"Yes," she half-whispered, unable to look away.

"Do you ever wish your breasts were...different?" Lex said. She could see the drops of sweat running down his brow now. Something in Lois knew, then, that he was getting off on this. She knew what he wanted the answer to be...and she didn't hesitate to feed it to him.

"Yes," Lois said aloud, clearly.

"Different how?" He challenged.

"Bigger." Lois moaned, as she rubbed her breasts. The videos had changed to timelapses of women in puberty, pregnancy. Tits swelling, hanging heavy, images merging into each other. "Much bigger. But I never..."

"Do you want bigger breasts, Lois?" Lex said, urgently. She couldn't see his pants, he was leaning forward toward the camera, but she would bet euros to pesos he was rock hard right now.

"Yes," she said, putting as much exultation she could into the word.

A terrible feverish look came into Lex's eyes. The photo-montage on the screens had progressed to outlandish, swollen victims of gynecomastia, and for a moment Lois wondered if she'd pushed it too far...

A panel disappeared from the ceiling, and a small arm began to descend. On the end of it was a chunk of crystal. Lois stared as a red light bathed the chamber.