End: Breed The Bitch

Lois Lane's heart stopped in her chest. The words seemed to hang in the air.

Not like this, was all Lois could think. I'm not ready. I can't have a black baby right now. I can't. I'm supposed to marry Superman, not be the babymama to a Black man named Puppy that lives in a dog cage!

Then that voice...that strange, seductive voice in her head, the one that had coaxed and urged her along, which had led Lois from the club to the old woman's cab, and then into this cage with her ass in the air and a big black cock now aimed at her fertile and unprotected pussy...slithered into her brain.

Why not? It seemed to say. I mean, you're already here. Why ruin a good time? Enjoy it. Sure, there might be consequences...but that's a problem for tomorrow. And doesn't it get you hot to think about that stud breeding you like a bitch? Hasn't a part of you always been curious what it would feel like? And after...well, there are always way to deal with things if you do catch...and in the meantime, can you imagine how hot it would be if he actually impregnated you? How delicious it would be to go to the Daily Planet, with a black baby in your bulging belly, and nobody knows but you...but they would find out, if you gave birth. They'd know you were a black cock slut, that you'd bent over and offered yourself to some strapping young man and gotten knocked up like a complete bimbo. Your reputation would be in tatters as you squeeze that black baby out between your lily-white thighs. Imagine the look on your doctor's face as the black head crowned...or if your father or sister were there in the room, and they saw...imagine the look in their eyes when they saw you were bred black!

It was almost cruel in its specificity. The voice seemed to draw up every terrible thought Lois Lane had ever had run through her head. Every secret kink, every passing unrealistic erotic fancy. The reporter shivered with fright and excitement as the inner voice seduced her into making the decision...or perhaps, simply doing nothing but remaining in place as Puppy's cock poked about, trying to angle for her fertile cunny in the cramped confines of the cage.

Because Lois Lane had to admit, she was curious. It was curiosity that had brought her to the club for her night out. Curiosity that had driven her to do everything she had done tonight. The new experiences, the new sensations, so out of character for the reporter...were so delicious simply because they were new. Things she had never dared before. Things she would never do if Clark Kent or Superman or any of her friends were about.

Lois Lane whined like a bitch in heat as she felt Puppy's prick push into her pussy. It was still slick with the sperm from the first load that he'd blown into her ass. A part of Lois panted, fingers white-knuckled as they held the door of the cage, as she imagined that sperm race through her cunt toward her cervix. To the egg that may or may not be waiting there.

Then he began to move. Hard as a rock. Heavy and hot in the crowded cage, which began to shake as she pushed back in time with his thrusts. Tongue hanging out and eyes rolling up into her head as their hips and buttocks slammed together.

Puppy had just come. It would take him a while to cum again. The old Black woman sat down and rubbed her pussy lazily, enjoying the show.

All through the night, they would play. Whenever Lois Lane's courage wavered, whenever she thought about protesting or leaving, that little voice whispered in her mind...and more often than not, that was all Lois Lane needed to indulge in one more sex act. To push her limits that little bit further. The whisper of the devil on her shoulder, the evil counselor that had her push her cum-slick fingers in and out of her sore cunt as she masturbated near down, aroused and terrified at the thought that just one more climax would make her cervix spasm and drink deep once again of all that virile black sperm deep inside of her. To make it just that much more likely that Lois Lane's night out was the night she got knocked up...

...and the consequences she would deal with tomorrow.

Or perhaps the day after. The voice whispered. After all, if you miss the morning after pill, there's no rush is there? And it is so much more delicious, not knowing. Just wait, see if you miss a period. Give it a few weeks. Take a pregnancy test. Wouldn't that be exciting?

It was wrong...so wrong...but little by little, the voice led Lois Lane on to make any number of bad decisions. Yet that is a different story.