End: Lois Takes The Hit

One morning, down in Florida on assignment, Lois had left the air conditioning on too long overnight—and in keeping with long habit, she had slept naked, so that she awoke shivering and freezing, body cold and nipples hard. She had gone to the patio door, feeling the warm promise of warmth, and not caring who might be staring she had opened it up...and been scalded by the sudden sunlight.

That was the closest she could get to the sensation, a moment after she had knocked the very pregnant Zatanna onto her bed, as the burning ball of power from the broken idol struck her.

Time seemed to slow. The bright, burning sensation crept over and into her skin, sinking into the reporter's pale flesh like a bad sunburn, the kind you still feel days later where the tender red flesh seems to radiate a dry heat, even as it flakes and peels. Except this was going deeper...down through the bone, surging along nerves and veins, swirling down to the center of gravity between her hips, until her womb was a ball of fire that Lois could actually feel, radiant and energetic within her.

Lois felt herself falling toward the bed. With infinite slowness, she closed her eyes and braced for impact. Thinking of her swollen belly, of what had happened the last couple times the idol had zapped her. Waiting for it to happen again, tensing for the sudden pressure from within, body changing into something she didn't even recognize.

She had a sudden, vivid image of herself impossible swollen, stomach swallowing the bed, skin taut as a drum-head, covered with the livid red stretch marks, her breasts stretched into a grotesque caricature, spreading onto the floor...her spine a broken line above her buttocks, her pussy a gaping hole as a wet, dark-haired head crowned. A mental shudder went through Lois. It was a nightmare image, body given over to breeding, all vestige of who she was erased in favor of unnatural fecundity.

As her eyes shut, still in slow fall, the thought went through Lois: I hope Zatanna can fix it.

In the darkness behind her eyes, something heard her. The reporter could feel it, like being in a crowded elevator. The sensation of being surrounded by others, warm bodies pressed in on her own, no sense of personal space. In her lungs, the breath grew hot, stale, too many people breathing the same air...and in the back of her head, a child's voice...

Don't you want to be a mommy?

It was a voice to cut to the heart of any woman. Conflicted emotions struggled through Lois, and all those presences in her head seemed to be watching her, expectantly, waiting for an answer...and Lois didn't know what to tell them. She was single, a career woman, and...and one day, yes, she would like a family. Certainly, she wasn't getting any younger.

Images ran through her mind of Lois pregnant...but not grotesquely so. Growing slowly, hand resting knowingly on her swelling stomach, a secret smile on her lips. Cradling her belly, full of life; breasts full and generous enough to turn heads, a little added curve to his hips and buttocks, pussy wet and gleaming as she walked proudly through the office, turning heads, every man's prick getting stiff in their pants as they saw her turn and smile, the beaming image of fertility...Lois could feel the tingle in her cunt in response. But this whole situation with the idol had come out of the blue, she had been looking for the missing women...

They're here. They're all here. The voice whispered, older now...and images floated through her mind. Diana Reynolds, her head smashed open in an alley. A ball of green fire seeping down through stone and concrete, to settle in the belly of a gravid idol. Maria de la Cruz, walking home from the club, sideswiped by a car. Bleeding out, limbs bent the wrong way, the young woman clung onto life as the human scavengers of Suicide Slum came to strip the body of valuables and leave it naked under a pile of garbage, the police still not discovering it...and a ball of green light flitted out of the broken shell, carried on unseen winds to the dark fertility statue down below.

Lois shuddered, unable to look away as other scenes unfolded. Women killed, some murdered, others just unlucky...all drawn in by the squat, ugly thing with flat, blobby breasts and obscenely bulging belly. A symbol of perverse fecundity, fed by ****.

She saved us. She saved all of us. She wanted to find us new homes. The voice was that of a young woman, speaking quietly as the images faded back into comfortable darkness. But you broke her. Now we don't have anywhere to go.

The reporter wanted to say I can't. But she couldn't. Because she knew she could. Lois knew that at some point, she would want to. But not...not like this. Not right now. Lois Lane couldn't show up at the Daily Planet tomorrow nine months pregnant with triplets. The images in her mind shifted...the former knockout Lois Lane in baggy maternity clothes, belly stretched out, tits sagging, coworkers gossiping behind her back that she was a slut, a whore, the town bicycle, knocked up without a partner...Perry calling her into the office to discuss cutting back her hours, her responsibilities, moving her away from the position she had earned and promoting Kent in her place...

She wasn't ready for that. But trying to explain that to all of the eager presences crowding into her consciousness...she couldn't. Lois didn't know how.

Except...something of that leaked out. If not the words, then the emotions. Lois could feel the mood change among the multitude crowding around her mind. A wave of...understanding? Calm. Patience. Expectancy. Waiting.

If you didn't have to do it now...would you help us out? The voice broke in, and for a moment Lois mistook it as her own—or close to her own. The kind of voice she imagined her own daughter might have. The three contrasting images flit through the reporter's mind...the impossible broodmother, the glowing pregnant woman, the **** bloated knocked-up whore...they made her mind and pussy ache. There was something to it...to getting pregnant, swelling, changing, giving birth...that she was afraid of, but couldn't deny the attraction of.

Yes. Lois tried to say back. Relief washed through her, earnest desire pushing behind the one word.

Lois Lane's eyes shot open as she hit the mattress, bouncing a little. The reporter sighed on her own bed, and then a moment of panic set in as she thought about the babies. She stared down...at a flat belly and her familiar, cuppable breasts, nipples a soft pink.

Beside her, Lois heard Zatanna swear. The reporter turned her attention to the witch—her clothes were still in tatters, costume burst from collar to crotch, baring her breasts, belly, and pussy, but the massive gravid orb of her stomach was gone, her generous tits hanging free, but back to their former glory.

"Damn I'm good," the magician muttered, poking her stomach as if to make sure it wasn't about to balloon out once again. Taking a deep breath, Zatanna muttered ".sehtolc ym xiF" and the scraps and threads of cloth crawled backward to cover her luscious nakedness, like an explosion in reverse, so that in a moment the witch was sitting there as good as new, fiddling with her bow tie.

Lois propped herself up on the bed with one elbow. She knew she should feel more self-conscious about her own nudity, but honestly, there was little of her that Zatanna hadn't seen at this point...and the reporter's curiosity won out over the embarrassment.

"What happened?" She asked. "What happened to the..." Lois didn't want to say babies.

"It was a soulcatcher, I think," Zatanna said, slowly. "I think somebody put it down there to...charge up. Souls are power and currency, to certain supernatural creatures, like demons. When you 'borrowed' it, the idol tried to fulfill its original purpose—help the souls reincarnate. It picked you as a vessel...and then me when I tried to undo it. Defensive magick. I didn't expect that."

The witch rubbed her flat stomach as if to reassure herself that her hard-won abs were still there. Then she looked at Lois. "As for what happened...ycnangrep tceted."

Zatanna's eyes glowed with a pale, white light. She stared her own stomach for a few moments, and then turned that strange glowing gaze to Lois...or maybe through her. Suddenly uncomfortable, the reporter moved her hand over her belly button...and the witch calmly but firmly reached over and lifted it out of the way.

"Looks like we're both clear." Zatanna blinked rapidly, her eyes returning to normal. "No zygotes in either of our wombs. Without the idol's magic, the souls must have moved on."

"I'm not pregnant!?" Lois felt a flutter in her belly. She remembered what the voice had said: _if you don't have to do it now...not in our wombs... Then she thought: but Zatanna didn't check the eggs in the ovaries._

Zatanna laughed. She pushed herself up off of the bed, stretching out. "And I for one think I need to celebrate. Do you want to get some drinks?"

"Not tonight," Lois let the hand fall back on her belly. Her heart fluttered, half-suspecting, half-hopeful. "I think I'm going to stay away from **** for a while."

"Fair enough," the witch nodded. "You have anything like this happen again, give me a call! !emoh tropeleT"

"Thanks!" Lois replied...but by then Zatanna was already fading out, leaving the reporter alone in her apartment.

Well... she rubbed her stomach. Maybe not quite alone. I don't know how magic works, but most pregnancy tests aren't reliable for the first couple of weeks...if what I suspect is true... Lois' hand slipped down from her flat belly—where there wasn't a bump or even the promise of a bump yet—to her pussy and felt the wetness there. ...then I might be pretty busy in the coming months.

Somehow, Lois knew that her little wild night out would have consequences for a long time to come.