End: Every Drop

"Shit, looks like the bitch is pregnant already!"

Lois Lane heard the words, though putting them all together didn't make any sense...until someone pulled the funnel out of her mouth and lifted her head so that she could see the swollen, distended, water-and-beer-and-cum-swollen belly. Which did indeed look slightly pregnant, at least to the drunken reporter's viewpoint.

She had lost track of time. Lost track of everything. Yet the reporter could feel that her pussy was empty. The table had stopped rocking. Someone picked her up and Lois grinned as the room spun. Lois felt the hands under the back of her knees, holding them apart as all the jizz leaked out.

"Now that you bitches are done," a familiar voice said. "Let me show you how to really breed a bitch."

The reporter felt herself go up...and then she felt herself come down. Her belly shook, and she felt herself swoon...but one strong arm caught her under her breasts, and the other held her left leg up...and then Lois grunted and lurched, limp as a rag doll as a cock punched into her so hard that she felt it in her kidneys.

Teeth bit against the reporter's neck. One hand grasped her breast. The cock...the cock seemed to pierce the drunken reporter to the core. Her swollen stomach jiggled with each thrust...and Lois felt her head flop around on her neck, utterly loose and limp, only the pain of the bite keeping her awake.

"Breed breed breed breed breed!" The people in the bar began to chant. Lois found herself gasping, panting, her cunt on fire, her stomach aching in its fullness. With a lurch they stood up, and Lois fell forward. Her hands caught the edge of the table...and the hands of her lover held her legs up like a wheelbarrow, so that she could fuck her cock in harder and deeper.

Lois screamed with each thrust. The table was bolted in place, so it couldn't travel, and every erg of effort seemed to travel up Lois Lane's spine and explode in her brain. She felt hot, wet liquid pour out of her pussy, and didn't know if she was pissing or cumming...nor did she care. The Daily Planet's greatest reporter had become no more than a common cocksocket for all the assembled dicks, her water-swollen belly no more than a predestination of things to cum...and she wondered what it might be like to come down here, week after week, as her stomach grew bigger and bigger, wondering which of these cocks had knocked up her cunt...and how hot they might be to fuck a pregnant woman, knowing it might be their bastard in her belly.

Then the familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"Don't think that any of that watery spunk in your jizz-pocket is going to find your egg, Lois. Your womb is mine!"

Something burst inside of Lois. The cock punched deep and held itself there, and for a moment the drunken reporter wondered if waters could break in reverse. Because she felt, in that moment, like something was forcing itself into her womb...something she wouldn't get back for forty long weeks. The **** of the ejaculation pushed Lois onto the table, where she lay on her swollen stomach like a bloated frog.

"And that's how you knock a bitch up," Angelica Blaze said.

Wakefulness came to Lois Lane some time later. Her body was flat against the table where it had fallen. Naked. She opened her left eye...the only eye she could open.

The bar was deserted.

Someone had folded her clothes and put them on a chair within her line of sight.

Every part of her ached. Every part of her felt sticky. The reporter's could feel the tracks where people had masturbated on her naked body. The puddle of cheap beer that had been poured over her. Her hands scrabbled against the table...and Lois hissed as she felt her skin stuck to the tabletop. She had to peel herself up and off. Every movement seemed to send a railroad spike through her head. The smell was horrific...and as Lois finally peeled her tits off the table, and the grey, jizz-soaked pubic hair above her pussy, she realized why: all the water she drank had to go somewhere.

The reporter staggered over to her clothes. She wanted a shower and to die, more or less in that order...

...and then she found something she wanted more.

The naked woman staggered to the bar, where someone had left a Bloody Mary, a stalk of celery hanging out of the glass...and next to it, a note.

If it's a boy, name him Lyle.
If it's a girl, name her Lily.
XXX
Blaze

Lois Lane shook her head. She didn't want to think about that right now. With both hands, she brought the glass to her lip, and sucked down the Bloody Mary. The hair of the dog was what she needed...and as Lois came more awake, she found herself wandering around the bar...to a board on the wall where there were photos. Instant film, polaroids...and Lois blushed to see herself stuck there with a thumbtack. Yet what she also saw were photos of the four women she had come to find.

The reporter licked her lips and emptied her drink. Lois grinned triumphantly. She had a lead...and if that meant she had to come here again tomorrow night, well...it would turn out different this time.

At least, that's what Lois Lane told herself. As for what actually happened? That's another story.