End: Lois Lane Needs A Baby Daddy

Lois Lane clutched her abdomen. Emptiness gnawed at her. For a moment, the reporter wished that the lies she had told so casually were true. That she was knocked up.

Oh fuck, Lois Lane thought, as the overwhelming baby craziness overwhelmed her. For a moment, all she could think about was how much she ached to be swollen with a baby. To hold her own son or daughter to her breast. The reporter's pussy clenched so tight that the reporter sank to her knees, an unnatural heat and wetness flooded through her crotch, and she stared at the Mother Box.

PING!

Lights flickered across the surface. The hum of the Mother Box seemed to vibrate in time with her uterus.

<<Baby daddy located.>>

"Honey?" Maria said. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah," Lois Lane said as she staggered to her feet. She trembled as lights played across the surface of the box. The reporter could see the image of herself reflected in the surface, different bits of her anatomy lit up...but more important than that, a glowing arrow overlaid that. A direction which drew Lois forward.

Dimly, behind her, she heard Maria whisper: "She's got the Mother Box. Headed toward you now."

That was the worst part of it. Lois Lane knew, logically, that she was being played. Manipulated. She knew she could stop at any moment. Just turn around and walk away. Except...

...except she really did want a baby. Lois knew she wasn't getting any younger. The Mother Box binged and pinged, and it was like the chime of the reporter's biological clock made manifest. Like the ghost of her own mother hovered over she shoulder and reminded Lois how much she wanted to be a grandmother someday.

With every step, the heat built in Lois Lane's pussy. She knew it was impossible, but it almost felt like her ovaries ached. Cunt-juice dripped down her legs. There were times she nearly swooned, as she passed through corridors and down stairs, so overwhelmed with lust that she almost rubbed one out right there. As the heat built, she shed what was left of her clothes...and as she got closer, the bings increased.

PING! PING! PING!

Until she stumbled into the medical lab. She panted, her whole body flushed. Her womb throbbed inside of her...she swore she could feel it pulse, and the vibration ran all the way up her spine. Lex Luthor stood there, before a gynecologist's chair and a small table with some forms on it, his bald head gleaming, dressed in a pristine labcoat. Shoulders thrown back confidently, chest puffed out.

Normally, Lois Lane hated how Lex looked. Now, in the midst of her pre-maternal madness, his bald dome appeared to be a sign of virility. His billions of dollars, financial security for their future offspring. The utter confidence and disdain that radiated from him was sexy in a way that set back women's liberation three generations in her hormone-riddled brain.

"Ah, Lois. I've been in need of someone to carry my child. So good of you to volunteer," he said calmly.

"You bastard, Luthor!" Lois said as the Mother Box seemed to drag the naked reporter forward. "You won't get away with this!"

"If you'll just sign this paperwork—a standard pre-nuptial agreement. Don't mind the clauses about being artificial insemination if you fail to conceive; I doubt we'll have much difficulty in doing things the old-fashioned way," Luthor smiled as he indicated the paperwork.

Lois Lane wanted to stab him in the neck with the pen. Wanted to stab him and then ride his cock as he lay dying, so that he shot his last load into her womb. Yet the Mother Box pinged forcefully, like the toll of a church bell. That wouldn't maximize her chance for offspring with this precious baby daddy.

The reporter barely glanced at the clauses on the form. She vaguely registered that in case of divorce, she had no claim to his fortune, no custody of any children that resulted from the union...and there was something else about surgeries. Lois didn't know. She scrawled a signature, initialed where it was highlighted...and then, before Luthor even told her to, she climbed into the chair. Heels up in the stirrups. Pussy on display.

With a smug grin, Luthor opened his labcoat and let it fall. He was naked beneath it. Smooth muscle. Utterly hairless. There were women that would have admired that. Yet Lois Lane's eyes fell down to his prick...and her jaw dropped until it hit her chest.

There were stitch-marks, all around Lex Luthor's crotch. The skin tone of the cock and balls was darker than his own pale flesh...and it was the biggest cock Lois lane had seen on anything human. The testicles looked like a bunch of grapes, barely contained in chickenskin; the erect cock that slid out of a horse-like sheath was a vivid pink, easily over a foot long, and as thick as the reporter's wrist.

"Kryptonite poisoning led to sterility. It took me quite some time to bioengineer a solution," Luthor explained. "But I'm quite impressed with the results. Every sperm is one hundred times more motile and hardier than the normal human sperm. The genetic information is derived from my own, but cleaned of every weakness and disease. Guaranteed to produce superior offspring."

"Oh God," Lois Lane convulsed. Her body quivered as an electric shock ran up her spine. A hot wet spurt of fluid shot out of her volcanic vulva and anointed the inhuman pink prick that was about to breed her. It was the first time she had cum without anyone even touching her.

"Of course, it was quite expensive. To get proper return on the investment, I determined that I'd need someone to carry a number of my offspring," Luthor said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against the reporter's cunt. "One pregnancy a year should be sufficient, don't you think?"

"I hate you," Lois Lane whispered, and then more loudly and clearly: "Pump all your babies into me!"

Luthor's grin was triumphant. They were the words his perverted self had longed to hear from her for years. His hands grabbed ahold of her trim waist as he lined his inhuman prick up with her delicate folds. Listened to her whimper as the rubbery tip of his enhanced cock teased her labia apart, and found the entrance to her womb—and then, with a single swift strike, Luthor plunged his cock inside of her up to the hilt, his massive ballsack scrunched, and a flood of the most virile semen that money could buy shot forth into the depths.

On the screen of the Mother Box, a white explosion overwhelmed the image of Lois Lane. It binged madly. The reporter's eyes rolled back in her sockets as she gripped the arms of the chair, momentarily overwhelmed by a sensation that could only be translated as "Mission Accomplished."

Luthor chuckled and slowly withdrew. The insemination, now complete, would take a little time to take hold—and he could enjoy Lois Lane's body at his leisure. He could not wait until Superman heard about their impending nuptials...and looked forward to many, many children.

"For the first girl, I'm thinking Alexis," Luthor said. "How does that strike you, Mrs. Luthor?"

Lois Lane gave an incoherent moan. Still lost in the post-orgasmic haze as Luthor began to thrust once more. The Mother Box, laid by her side, pinged and hummed. Ensuring a healthy pregnancy...and a complacent breeder.

In the months and years to come, as her ankles swelled and her back ached and breasts leaked, Lois Lane would come to regret her night out...and on her back, legs spread, a ring on her finger as Lex Luthor fucked another of his red-headed babies into her, Lois would think back to this night, to the decisions she had made, the paths she had not taken...and wonder...What if?

By then, it would be far, far too late.