End: A Kryptonian Medical Bay

Superman was a hero—which is why he took Lois Lane to the medical bay rather than the boudoir. She told him everything Lex Luthor had said about his experiment...the Kryptonian genetics...how the changes would be permanent if she got pregnant.

The Man of Steel nodded as his golden robots zipped around. Lasers scanned every inch of her body. Yet what she wanted...what she ached for...stood over there, his blue eyes focused on the screen rather than her naked body. Lois Lane looked down at her new breasts. Puberty had been cruel to her.

"It looks like Luthor was telling the truth," Superman said. "According to these biometric projections and the red kryptonite flux in your cells, the effects should wear off in about twelve hours."

These heavy hangers are the tits I've wanted her entire life. Lois thought as she looked down at her breasts. Her shoulders and neck ached from the weight of them, but as she lifted them up with her hands, Lois had to admit to herself: There make me feel more like a woman. Attractive. Confident.

Not that Lois Lane ever lacked confidence.

So she slid off the table. Naked and unafraid.

"What if I want the effects to be permanent?" She asked.

He turned to look at her...and muscles that could shift continents struggled to focus on her face and not her chest.

"You...want..." he said.

She twisted her upper body, so that her soft torpedoes sashayed from side to side.

"That's right," she said. "I like my breasts. I want to keep them. Don't you like them, Superman?"

He gulped hard. Those blue eyes dropped down momentarily. Porn star tits, without the implants. Not some impossible funbags. Home-grown udders that hung down on her rib cage like two great flesh-colored teardrops, the once-tiny pink nipples now stiff and erect in the cool air of the Fortress of Solitude.

Lois Lane was done with hints. She reached forward and grabbed his crotch. Felt the hardness of him there, against her palm. The warm heat of his balls.

"Don't you want to impregnate me?"

Even steel can melt, if you turn up the heat high enough.

Their first time was not how Lois Lane had ever hoped or expected it. His costume had vanished in a flash, and then she was on her back on the medical table, legs spread as he loomed over her...and then he was in her, neither too big or too small, that hard hot length that filled her so easily and completely, and is face was buried in her tits.

They fucked like teenagers after prom. Animalistic grunts filled the medical bay, and the golden robots zipped back and forth. Their soft, mechanical voices whispered percentage chances of successful fertilization, recommended female subject be brought to climax, number of inseminations...

Lois wasn't paying attention. She crossed her ankles behind Superman's lower back, so her heels drummed on his buttocks as he pounded into her. His hot lips sucked hard at her nipples, and her hands explored those massive shoulders, that well-muscled back. The reporter could never remember being this wet, this hot and excited, the prick that pounded her seemed to hit every spot, and the anticipation grew higher and higher in her with every stroke...yet what really was about to set her off was the knowledge that this was Superman, that the Man of Steel was fucking her, that she was going to keep these magnificent tits.

Her hands found his neck and she angled his face away from her cleavage, just for a moment.

"Hey," Lois Lane said.

"Hey," he panted, face absolutely flushed, obviously on the verge of emptying his balls into her.

"I love you," she said. "Now give me a baby."

It was like an eruption inside of her. The **** of the ejaculation hit her cervix like a burst from a machine gun. If the reporter's tissues hadn't already been empowered by a graft of Kryptonian genes, Lois wondered if it wouldn't have torn straight through her and out the top of her head. As it was, the added stimulus sent her over the edge. Her cunt clamped down hard on that Kryptonian cock, unwilling to let a single sperm escape as rope after rope of super-seed splattered against her spasming cervix.

It only took one to slip through. To meet an egg. To create life.

Lois Lane clung to him as a drowning sailor clings to a bit of flotsam in a storm. Her whole body pressed against his, her heavy tits squished against that broad muscled chest as the swollen balls squeezed and pumped. They lay there for a moment, panting in the afterglow.

Then one of the robots chimed in.

"Insemination successful. Recommend additional inseminations to ensure pregnancy."

Superman nodded gravely.

"Tell me the truth, Superman," Lois said playfully. "Do you like my breasts?"

He gave an oddly shy grin.

"They're very nice breasts, Lois." Then there was a twinkle in his eye. "But they'll get bigger when you're pregnant."

She grinned back. "They'd better!"

Somewhere, Lex Luthor sat in the ruins of his lab, a cold beer pressed against his bald dome...and in his other hand he held a chunk of reddish crystal.

"Well," he said as he stared into its radioactive depths. "If we've established one thing with Lois Lane's night out, it's that this works. Now...how to use this against Superman..."

But that is another story.