End: She Returns To Bruce Wayne

His butler, Alfred, let her in. The kindly old man was solicitous, offered her a seat in a small, opulently furnished sitting room filled with antique furniture, a portrait of Bruce Wayne's parents on the wall. Alfred fetched her tea, even a stool to rest her aching feet. Ever since she had entered her seventh month, the reporter's ankles had been badly swollen.

She hated to come here, like this. To Wayne Mansion. Yet Lois Lane had ****. She'd been fired when the results of her "interview" had become obvious. That had set off all the other rumors of how she had even gotten the job in the first place. Every newspaper and publisher seemed to know her, and her resume made the rounds as she spent down her savings on prenatal care.

Now, there was nothing left. She had ****.

Bruce Wayne entered, and Alfred left.

He looked good. The dark, bespoke suit emphasized his broad shoulders and trim waist. Everything about him exuded wealth, power, confidence. Lois Lane had squeezed into the only remaining dress she had that fit her growing midsection. She felt like a blimp. Yet as he closed the door behind him and locked it, Lois sensed a change in him. Like a mask had dropped.

"Hello Lois," he said. "I'm sorry it's taken this long to see you again. I've been...busy."

"I—" Lois opened her mouth to pour out her heart. The speech she'd fretted over for hours and days. The last iota of her pride shredded as she begged him for money. Not for her, but for the baby. Yet as she saw the grim set of his jaw, the way the light from the lamp shadowed his eyes, a flicker of journalistic instinct made her ask:

"You planned all of this, didn't you?"

Bruce nodded, gravely.

"Yes. One of many contingencies I've had to plan for over the years. You probably have the sensation that something is wrong. That your life has somehow gone askew. Isn't that so?" Bruce asked, as he stepped close enough to lay a large hand on the mound of the reporter's swollen stomach.

"Yes," Lois said. "How did you know?"

"There are entities who can manipulate time," he said gravely. "That try to reshape the future and the past. Yet changes in the time stream leave echoes, traces, ripples. I've put in place certain measures to detect such changes. I can't undo what's happened to you. But I could put myself in the right place at the right time to make sure...it was I that did the deed."

Lois Lane's throat went dry. She didn't resist as his hand slid down the curve of her stomach toward the hem of her dress. Could barely breath as he lifted it up, to bare her thighs. No panties, just the stockings and garterbelt, the freshly-shaven cunny. The former reporter had no illusions what she might have to do, to get some money out of Bruce Wayne. She had been prepared to pay that price.

"Someone changed my life?" Lois said, as she realized the import of her words. "Someone tried to get me to whore myself out for an interview, so I'd get knocked up and blackballed?"

Bruce nodded.

"But they didn't expect me to be the one to do the knocking," he said, as his fingers found her twat. She moaned as he rubbed her pussy. It had been months since she'd had anything between her legs that didn't run on batteries. Seven months.

Her hands went to his crotch. There was a familiar bulge there. She bit her lip.

Lois Lane had no idea what had changed in the timeline, and how it had changed her. Yet she found herself suddenly unable to resist the impulse to unzip him. To smile in delight as his rapidly hardening cock popped free. In half a heartbeat, she was on it. The purple head in her mouth, her tongue licking it all over as her hand grabbed and pumped the shaft.

"Lois, please stop sucking my cock for a moment. This is important," Bruce said gently.

With ****, the reporter pulled her face off of his dick...and saw, in his left hand, a small black jewelry box.

"Marry me," Bruce said, as one finger slid into her pussy. "I'll fund you as an independent journalist. You can stay here, at the mansion, and take care of our children. It is the best, most comfortable life I can offer you. A heaven, in place of whatever hell they had planned for you."

Lois Lane swallowed. Her head swam. The pregnant woman felt like a donkey being offered a carrot and a sugar lump, with no stick in sight. There had to be a catch. There had to be some consequence...some payment...

"Why?" she asked. "You don't...you don't love me. You could fuck a hundred women. Knock up a hundred whores. You're Bruce Wayne, you're..."

"I'm Batman," he said quietly, and like that, a piece slid into place in Lois Lane's brain. "And I don't want to knock up a hundred whores. Only one. Only you."

"I..." Lois paused. Her instincts warred within her. THis all seemed so wrong, and yet it was more than she had hoped and dreamed for. A Cinderella ending, if Cinderella was seven months pregnant and getting fingered by Prince Charming with the taste of his dick in her mouth.

Eventually, the reporter's new instincts won out.

"Can you fuck me while I decide?" She said, with a guilty tone of voice.

Which is how, as Alfred sipped his tea and watched the hidden security camera, he came to see Lois Lane sunk low on the couch, her ankles on Bruce Wayne's shoulders as the billionaire fed his cock back inside of her cunny once again. Saw Gotham's dark knight slip the ring on her finger, and unbutton the top of her dress so that he could play with her breasts. Though there was no audio for the sitting room, the vents quiet clearly carried her answer to his proposal.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Harder! Don't stop! Never stop! Fuck me forever! I'm your whore, your slut, your preggo cunt..."

Alfred sighed, but there was a smile on his lips. With a pencil, he began to make a list of things to do. Diapers to buy. The nursery would have to be aired out and readied for the new heir—from the sound of things, the first of many new heirs—and there would be the wedding to plan, Lois Wayne's new journalistic endeavor to set up as a Wayne Enterprises grant..."

The old man glanced at the monitor. To his surprise, he saw them locked in a kiss. His master's balls pulsed as he shot his load into his fiance's depths, and the overflow oozed down the crack of the pregnant woman's ass. He frowned and made a note about cleaning the carpet and furniture.

Still, he liked her better than that Selina Kyle woman.

"Why does she get a happy ending?" Blaze growled, as she scratched at the walls of the clear bubble of the science cell that kept her prisoner. Here, cut off from the flow of the multiverse, the demon was effectively powerless.

Waverider and Rip Hunter ignored the demon as their fingers danced on their equipment. On the screen, they watched as the pregnant, half-naked reporter cleaned her fiance's cock with her mouth.

"This timeline is stabilized," Rip Hunter said. "Good thing Batman alerted us to this instance."

"One of many interesting branches from that night out nexus event," Waverider said. "Still...I can only hope things turn out better for them. Do you think Batman will be able to keep a slut like Lois Lane happy?"

"If anyone in this timeline could, I think he can," Rip Hunter said.

In her cell, the demon screamed with rage as Lois Lane rose, smiling, cum dripping from her chin, to tell Alfred the good news about the engagement.