End: Dead Burst women

The reporter stumbled forward in the dark, the stone thing weighing heavy inside her pelvis. Her breathing grew ragged, inhaling heavily, sweat dripping down her. It felt to Lois Lane as though the weight was dragging at her crotch, threatening to burst out with each step.

She smelled ****.

There was a branch off of the sewer. Old construction, maybe a bootlegger's tunnel. The smell was stronger there—the coppery taste of blood, stale shit, and the sickly-sweet reek of corruption. Dead animals, left out for the bugs and vermin to feast on.

Lois covered her mouth with one hand. Brought her smartphone up with the other, shining the light around.

The reporter picked out the face first, eyes open because nobody had closed them, features gone slack. From there she made out the rest of the body...and the one beside her.

There were four corpses. Lois could name them all.

They were naked, and lined up in a row. Placed here deliberately. Lois felt bile in the back of her throat as she saw the burst abdomens and trails of dried, black blood from between their legs, white bone of ribs reflecting starkly against the carnage. There were no flies, but Lois saw the white wiggling forms of Poe's conqueror worm where their wombs used to be.

It wasn't the first time that she had seen a dead body. Based on the maggots, she judged these women had died within the last five days. She **** herself to look them over, every inch, without touching. No other marks or signs of ****. Either they had lain down here to die or...someone had maybe **** them, left them here.

Lois turned again to look at the bloody wreckage of the four wombs. It looked like they had burst from within.

"None of them could contain it."

If the buzz of flies could mimic human tongue, that is what it would sound like. The reporter spun around, looking for the source of the voice...but there was nothing. One hand dropped to her stomach, feeling the hard stone through the skin, as a sudden cramp took her to her knees.

"All my pretty girls. So eager to please. But none of them were strong enough."

Lois Lane **** herself back to her feet, the pressure inside of her intense. Whatever it was, it wanted out. Right now, that seemed to be a very bad idea. She moved forward, shuffling past the dead bodies. The air in the tunnel wasn't still, there was a slight movement in the air. The barest of breezes. The reporter moved towards it.

She made it three steps before the next cramp sprawled her on her hands and knees. She could feel the thing inside her pushing against her pussy, trying to crown. The reporter bit her lip until she tasted blood, all of her attention focused for a moment on her lower half, muscles straining to keep the thing inside. Pain shot through her tunnel, the movement of the thing rubbing her cunt raw from within, and just when she was at end of endurance...

"I can help you."

Anger flared through Lois, white hot. She **** herself to crawl forward.

"I...won't end up...like them!" She screamed.

"Accept my help, and you will not."

Lois slammed her fist into the floor, frustrated, not understanding. "But...the other women..."

"They wanted to give birth, here and now. I helped them. You wish not to. I can help you too."

Unable to stop herself, Lois felt a warm trickle of piss down her inner thighs. The mass of the thing was pressing against her urinary tract, forcing it out. She really didn't want to die here.

"Okay." The words felt like a submission, and Lois hated herself for it. "Help me, damn you."

Something tugged at the reporter's pants. She scrabbled to move forward as her pants were peeled off of her.

"What the fuck..." she managed, keeping backwards with as much strength as she could muster. Something caught her leg. A hand.

Lois twisted shining the light...and beheld a red-skinned woman, smiling devilishly down at here. The very image of the stone statue up above, but living flesh and blood. Right down to the oversized prick standing erect between her legs.

"No." Lois whispered, eyes going wide. "No, fuck, fuck, fu..."

The demon's other hand grabbed Lois' other leg, dragging the reporter toward her. The reporter struggled as she was dragged inexorably toward the oversized cock.

"Don't worry, Lois. I said I would save you, and I would," The warm tip of the massive cock pressed against the reporter's bare pussy. Just touching the hard mass of stone inside of her. "I won't let it be born. Not until it's ready..."

The terrible pressure pressing down inside Lois Lane's body was suddenly met with an equal and opposing ****. The reporter gagged, coughed, unable to speak as the stone's outward momentum from her cunt was suddenly halted...and then began, slowly and inexorably, to be reversed. She struggled, scrabbling at the bare floor of the tunnel as she felt the stone traveling once more up her birth canal, the warm girth of the cock stretching her poor tunnel.

When the stone hit her cervix, Lois screamed.

She screamed for a long time. Until her throat, ragged and hoarse, finally gave out.

The reporter wasn't sure how long it took for a cervix to dilate, but it felt like hours. The pressure was constant, the movement infinitesimal but steady, the stone thing being pushed deeper inside of her. Right into her womb.

Right before her eyes closed, Lois felt the demon withdraw. The hands released her, and the reporter collapsed. Exhausted.

Lois awoke to darkness. Alone. Her pussy hurt, but nothing was actively pushing. She could move, dragging her pants up over her bare crotch, wincing as the pants hugged her wounded crotch. Knowing she was going to be pissing through scabs for the foreseeable future. The reporter staggered forward into the darkness to emerge, finally, at a forgotten hole in the wall of a long-neglected overpass in Suicide Slum.

The phone call to the cops was the easiest part of the night. They found the bodies. As dawn came, the club was raided. Arrests made. Most of them, Lois knew, would be released. Innocent. Nothing to do with whatever had been going on below.

She laid a hand on her stomach. It felt a little bloated, but firm. The reporter swallowed. Lois hadn't told the cops everything. Even in a world of aliens and monsters, there were some things they wouldn't accept. Things Lois didn't want to admit to. So, no fucking the statue. No demons. Nothing of that final part.

Lois Lane sighed, stomach suddenly queasy. The night had been hell. She wasn't sure that the months ahead would be any easier. Yet the reporter was sure of one thing: whatever happened, she would survive it.