End: The Joker Cums In Lois Lane

The metal of Punchline's knife bit into the reporter's throat. Joker's face moved in and out of focus as his head eclipsed the light fixture overhead. Lois Lane wasn't laughing as the Clown Prince of Crime sawed in and out of her pussy, bits of the cream pie falling down the crack of the reporter's ass.

He took his time. Face stretched into that maniacal artificial grin. Eyes bloodshot and crazed. strong hands gripped the back of her knees. Punchline's underboobs hovered in and out of the reporter's vision, the tight top emphasizing their size and shape. All Lois could do was lay there and take it, her mind running through every escape scenario, and all of them coming up hard against the knife held to her throat.

Despite herself, the reporter could feel her pussy start to heat up. She bit her lip, trying to keep her face an emotionless mask as he plunged away with seemingly inexhaustible stamina. Viagra could keep his dick hard for hours...and Lois shivered as, slowly but surely, her body betrayed her. Even with the pain in her back from this position, she could feel how hard and sensitive her nipples were...sucking in air as her pulse quickened. Her face flushed and she was panting, unable to stop shaking as the sexual excitement built inside of her.

Then, a twinge of pain, a warm bead of blood ran down along the edge of the blade...

She didn't feel it when he came inside of her. Yet she could see it. His face grew suddenly serious. The eyes narrowed and looked past hers. The reporter wondered, at that moment, who he was seeing...Harley Quinn? Punchline? Some other victim? And when he stood up, there was more than one cream pie dripping off his pale, stiff, thin prick.

"Nice job, Mister J.," Punchline said. "In forty weeks or so, you might have a bundle of joy running around...provided she carries it to term."

Lois said nothing. She felt sick to her stomach. Could almost feel his tainted seed inside of her.

"I've been thinking about that...say Lois, dahling, see if you know this one...what should a joke have in common with a pregnancy?"

The blade moved from the reporter's throat. For a moment, she thought about kicking the Joker in the balls, crushing those pale testicles...and then she rag clamp tight over her mouth, breathed in the strong fumes that burned her nostrils...

"A good delivery," the Joker said, and began to laugh.

The sun rose over Metropolis, but Lois Lane was not there to see it. She was not sure where she was when the chloroform wore off...but she knew that she was naked, and in a straitjacket on a new mattress, the pale blue a stark contrast to the dull grey of the walls and floor. Her bare ass was cold, her bare pussy felt slimy and nasty. There was a toilet, and a sink, but the walls were bare concrete, the vaulted roof high, revealing some kind of latticed steel structure. Drains in the floor...steel doors...

Lois Lane shivered. There were boxes piled near the bed. She couldn't use her hands, but she could read the labels on the boxes. Pregnancy tests. Prenatal vitamins. A shiny new copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.

"No. No. This can't be happening," Lois Lane said as fear suddenly spiked and her composure broke down. "Superman? Superman! Save me! Save me! Supermaaaaaan!"

The echoes of the warehouse swallowed her voice. Years of lead piping and paint hid her from X-ray vision. Lois Lane's night out was ending...but her nights in were just beginning.