End: Lois Pulls Out The Bottle

To her surprise, the bottle was full again. A white, slimy trickle overflowed the lip of the bottle, and ran down the reporter's hand. Lois Lane licked her own lips, throat suddenly dry, stomach rumbling despite all she'd already drunk.

The nun, or whatever she was, understood immediately.

"The thirst. You don't understand it, do you?" The strange accent was unplaceable, but the dark eyes met Lois Lane's and held them. Blue-veined hands lifted the rosary, the dangling fertility figure.

"Other women have come to me, over the last few weeks. Lost souls. Seeking something they couldn't name. I gave them what they needed, from the offerings—but you took it, without asking. Because your body wanted it. Needs it."

Lois Lane frowned. "What are you saying?"

The thin lips spread in a Mona Lisa smile. "You are thirsty because you are drinking with the wrong lips. Your body doesn't want that seed in its stomach, it wants it—here!"

The hand not holding the rosary shot out and touched Lois, just above the waistband of her pants. The reporter's frown deepened.

"I don't want to get knocked up. I just want to find these women who have gone missing!" The reporter insisted. She moved to set the overfull bottle on the altar...but her hand would not let the glass bottle go.

"You want to know where they are? I will tell you. After you have managed to empty the bottle and set it down upon the altar. And the only way to do that...is to empty it into yourself," the hands moved back to clacking rosary beads. "If you wish privacy, there is space behind the altar."

Lois Lane stood there, debating her course of action. None of this made sense—or perhaps it made far too much sense, in a horror-story kind of way. A part of Lois briefly considered breaking the edge of the bottle off ont he edge of the altar and threatening to widen that smile...but instead, she found herself headed behind the table, with its leering pregnant gargoyle, its used condoms and rolls of bills, ****, and other offerings.

The reporter set the bottle on the ground, still unable to let it go. Semen dribbled over the sides, filling the air with that rich scent, like the ammonia that comes off a sharp cheese. Lois told herself, as her fingers reached below her miniskirt and pulled her panties aside, that she was doing this for the sake of the investigation. Not because she was horny. Certainly not because she wanted a baby.

Which didn't stop her from repressing a moan as the glass bottle, slick with semen, pushed past her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut as she sank down on the smooth glass shaft, until her ass came to rest on her heels...but it wasn't enough.

Swallowing hard, Lois lowered herself down on her back. Her fingers shifted on the bottle, keeping it inside of her. Imaginng what it would take to empty it out. She'd need to upend the bottle entirely. That meant...

Her heels scrabbled on the wall. The space between the altar and the back of the shrine was barely wide enough for this maneuver, as Lois Lane, her shoulders pinned to the floor, tried to "walk" her way up the wall. Pressure building on her back and shoulders, miniskirt flopping as gravity took hold...and Lois felt, deep inside, more of that jizz flow into her pussy...and the thist in Lois Lane's throat vanished as if it had never been. Hher breathing grew labored as she raised her legs and hips high and higher until her back was straight, legs in the air....and then the nun, if she was a nun, was there.

With one hand, the nun grabbed the bottle in the reporter's pussy and pulled it out. It came out clean, though that should have been impossible...as if it had just come straight out of the dishwasher...and that damn knowing smile was plastered on the nun's lips.

"May you be blessed," she said, fingers clicking on the rosary, the fertility symbol on the end dangling over Lois. "The women you seek are at a retreat for expectant mothers."

She gave an address...and then she stepped out of sight.

By the time Lois Lane was back on her own feet, cum dribbling down her thighs, and had hobbled around to the front of the shrine, the nun was gone. There was only the shrine...and the bottle, full to the brim once again, capped as it had been when Lois had first seen it.

If not for the cum dribbling down her from her cream-filled cunt, Lois Lane might have doubted her sanity...but there was the address, which was a lead to chck out. And there was the pregnancy test, that would come out positive in a few weeks. And the demon Blaze would cackle as she thought of the great trick she had played on the Daily Planet's greatest reporter on her night out...

...though she would never imagine the **** that Lois Lane would take. That is another story.