End: Lois Lane Is Spunked

Jorge arched his back. Eyes narrowed to slits. Voice wheezed out into a hiss. His whole body seemed concentrated, at that moment, in the very tip of his dick, which was crammed deep in the reporter's pussy, stuck tight between her vaginal wall and the control spud inside of her.

Lois Lane would have grimaced if her mouth wasn't full of Mac's cock. She couldn't feel it. But she could feel the added wetness as Jorge pulled out. Hear the pained grunts of Jennie Dunlap as a two-pound potato pushed its way past her pussy lips. Wondered, just for a moment, if that was going to be her own fate. Poison Ivy's mind-controlled puppet, her belly bulging with potatoes.

Then it happened. As Jorge pulled his sperm-slick dick out of her distended slit...the control spud, wedged so tightly inside, was half-dislodged...and then fell out.

Instantly, Lois Lane felt an agency that she had been missing. Flexed her fingers. Tested her bonds. The reporter had been tied up before. Even naked and strapped to the table, she was confident she could work her way free, if she just had a few minutes. Maybe if she bit off the tip of Mac's cock, that would buy her some time.

"Woops," Jorge said. Lois wasn't even aware of him bending down and fetching the control spud off the floor. Just the sudden rough sensation of the tater being shoved right back into her twat, to push Jorge's sperm in deeper, like a cork in a wine bottle.

Just like that, the agency vanished. Lois Lane's fleeting taste of freedom gone. Despair began to leak into her soul, even more bitter than the jizz that coated her tongue as Mac finally unleashed his watery spunk.

Then it was all eyes on Jennie Dunlap. On the great Idaho two-pounder, covered with blood, that had pushed its way out of her pussy. Lois felt weirdly numb, with Jorge and Mac's cum inside of her. There was an ache inside her chest as she realized that this was it. After all of her adventures, this was going to be her life, unless by some stroke of luck she was rescued.

Lois Lane didn't wish she was dead. Not yet. Later, perhaps, when she felt that uncomfortable fullness inside of her. As her abdomen began to distend. As something grew within her womb, bigger and bigger every day. When Ivy's fingers would probe at the painfully swollen stomach, eyes alight with something like wonder, and a question of how big Lois could get.

Tears came to the reporter's eyes as she imagined herself giving birth to potatoes the size of bowling balls, over and over, until her body and womb were exhausted. She had seen the poor women who had suffered through multiple pregnancies, the toll it took on their bodies. Stretch marks. Torn labia. Prolapse. It was a hell of a thing...

Please, Superman, save me! Lois Lane begged in her mind, though she couldn't bring herself to say it with her lips.

Yet there was no rescue on Lois Lane's night out...and perhaps, there would never be any rescue at all.