End: My Name Is Lois Lane

The moment the words were out of her mouth, there was a clap of distant thunder that seemed to rumble the building. All the hair on Lois Lane's arms and legs suddenly stood up, and she smelled ozone. An electric thrill seemed to stab upwards from the base of Angelica Blaze's cock, along the whore-reporter's spine...and for just a moment, Lois Lane was two people.

On the one hand she was Lois Lane, the Daily Planet's greatest reporter, who had come to this club undercover tonight to find those missing women. On the other, she was Lois Lane, the whore who had just agreed to become a surrogate for this fat-cocked dickgirl and had been knocked up. A terrible tension between those two self-images existed for that terrible moment...the feeling that Lois was being torn apart...two sets of memories, desires, and inclinations striving with and against each other.

Then the moment passed. The hairs lowered. Lois slumped a little, cum oozing out of her pussy around that unbelievably still-stiff prick in her cocksocket.

Her name was Lois Lane...and she was a whore and a reporter.

It had started with "modeling" at university. Her position on the school paper didn't pay anything, anda few risque shots helped pay the bills. It had been a short step from there to posing nude...and then doing a few tasteful videos...and then a girlfriend had introduced her to an escort agency.

She had never really left the sex work game after that. After she graduated, Lois Lane had supplemented her cub reporter salary with after-hours "dates," her pussy getting stretched and filled, her mouth remembering the taste and feel of those cocks and cunts that had hired her for the evening. Metropolis, the big city...had meant more opportunities, a bigger client base. She had begun to use "Joanne" as her work name, as her fame as a reporter rose. No one could know that the same Lois Lane who interviewed Superman was bending over to take it from behind by a sixty-year-old mortgage broker with a bad marriage, or punching the V-card of the 18-year-old son of an insurance magnate **** to spend daddy's money on a high-priced whore.

Because her price had risen, as she had stayed in the game, stayed elusive. Now, tonight, she had finally slipped and let her two identities mingle...and Lois Lane slumped, suddenly exhausted, as she realized that this was one consequence of her whoring she couldn't just pretend didn't exist. Her coworkers at the Daily Planet would see her waist thicken, would have questions about when the baby was due, who the father was...and Lois would have to think of how to answer them.

Of course, there was the money to think about.

"All done!" Angelica said happily. Her fingers reached down to rub the reporter's throbbing clit. "That wasn't so painful, was it? Any regrets?"

Lois stared at the screen. Her bank account was padded. Enough money that she didn't have to whore herself out anymore. Or at least...not for more than one special client...

"No, no regrets," Lois said...and the pregnant prostitute realized she meant it. "But..I have to admit I didn't come down here tonight just for a job. You see, these women have gone missing at the club..."

Angelica Blaze listened. The chair creaked, as she rocked back and forth. Stirring the reporter's cunny with her cock, stirring up the jizz inside the reporter into a froth. Lois rode with her, with the ocnsumate skill of long practice. Wondering how often Blaze would fuck her during the pregnancy. A woman had needs, after all...

"They work for me," Blaze said, and then kissed Lois Lane's neck. One hand wrapped around to press against the pregnant reporter's stomach. "I'll introduce you to them. Isn't it wonderful, to communicate with each other so honestly?"

"Yes," Lois said with an involuntary shudder...and she thought about her position now, mounted on the cock that had just knocked her up, both her secret and public lives together at once for the first time. "It is."

So Lois Lane's night out ended...and history was subtly altered in ways neither she nor the demon Blaze knew the full ramifications of. The ripples of that retrocausal change would echo out in time...but that would be another story. For now, Lois Lane was the Daily Planet's greatest reporter...and a pregnant prostitute riding her client's cock.