End: The Titans

It was a long night. Needle-like tips on the hoses were inserted into the reporter's breasts. There were injections of strange, glowing chemicals, IV lines into the reporter's arms. Yet what Lois remembered was the liquid warmth that flowed into her body when the hoses began to flow. The immediate sense of pressure. The way her already swollen tits began to painfully stretch, slowly but steadily. Warm hands that massaged her aching, swelling bosom. Steadily increasing pain in her back and neck as her muscles and bones strained to accommodate the new weight.

Hung suspended, Lois Lane could only wait—and stare at her growing tits.

For tits they were. There was no mistaking the enormous, jiggling juggs as mere breasts. When Lois Lane had begun her night out, her breasts were modest but exquisite half-tear drops, the kind that barely filled an A-cup, but still marked her as a woman. Now...now Lois Lane stared as her breasts slowly but steadily filled out. Her areolas were vaguely pinkish circles the size of hubcaps, the nipples sunken into little inverted divots. As each massive mammary surpassed the size of a woman's gravid stomach full-term with quadruplets, the reporter felt dizzy and lightheaded. Dimly, she thought:

There's more blood in my tits than in the rest of my body. I'm just a life support system for my tits!

A shock ran through Lois when she first felt the coldness on the bottom of her immense tits. Then she realized that was the floor. The drone-women, **** or controlled by Poison Ivy with those collars, massaged the skin. Lois could see blue-green veins swim to the surface and then sink again. Red stretch marks painfully emerged as the shiny, taut skin, and then healed without leaving a scar. It was surreal...and as the minutes stretched on to hours, and her tits continued to grow, bigger than thouse thousand-pound monster pumpkins, Lois wondered when they would stop.

Or whether she wanted them to.

Because despite the constant pressue, the pain as her skin stretched, as the weight she wasn't accustomed to pulled painfully at her muscles and ligaments, the reporter could not help but bite her lip and suppress a moan as the mindless drones massaged her tremendous tits. Bundles of nerves must have grown inside the enormous udders, an entire secondary nervous system, exquisitely sensitive to the least stimulation...and as the tops of her tits rose to the point where most that Lois could see was her own vast valley of cleavage, her body shuddered with tiny orgasm after orgasm, until her pussy was a wet, sopping mess, dribbling constantly down her legs.

As a consequence, Lois Lane missed much of the fight.

She heard the shriek of a metal door blown off its hinges. The tinkle of shattered glass. Ivy's curse. An electric hum, a wet swooosh as of a fire hose, odd pings and grunts, the thuddering impact of titanic powers brought to play. At a shouted command from Ivy, the zombie-like servitors stopped massaging the reporter's bountiful boobs and left to back their mistress up in her battle with unseen foes.

Then Ivy fell against her tits, bloodied and bruised. Bounced off a solid pale wall of tit-flesh and feel onto the floor, spitting broken teeth, some of her red hair burnt black. She staggered forward a step, raised her arms...and then a purplish zap hit the villain full-on, and Ivy crumpled to the floor.

Lois Lane looked up to see her saviors.

Once, she knew, these had been the Teen Titans. Yet now she saw they had grown up. The former Aqualad was a strapping young man, his facial hair an embarassing crows-nest on his chin and a terrible thin mustache; Nightwing, the former Robin, looked like a Greek god of night, his costume hugged every one of his perfect abs, to leave little to the imagination; Cyborg had been upgraded, the older human parts of his face matched with shiny new cybernetic components; even the girls, Raven, Starfire, and Speedy, had become full-figured women, with breasts and trim supermodel-like figures that would have made Lois jealous, if she wasn't experiencing a near-constant level of small orgasms just from the breast that blew across erogenous zones now each as big as a small Japanese car.

The Titans, now that Ivy was defeated, took notice of Lois Lane. The reporter waved placidly at them, and mouthed a hello as she moaned softly...and the Titans froze in place, stock still, eyes wide, jaws open.

It took Lois Lane a few minutes to register that they weren't moving. The heroic young men and women, who had just delivered a horrificly heroic beatdown to Poison Ivy, gawped at the reporter's slowly swelling assets as if hypnotized.

"Don't just stare, take a picture," Lois said sarcastically. "It'll last longer."

Cyborg's electronic eye shifted and rotated. There was a flash and click, and Lois Lane felt her cheeks burn.

"Would one of you young heroes come over here and unhook these hoses?" Lois said. "I don't want to outgrow the warehouse."

With a dreamlike languor, Nightwing and Speedy stepped forward. Lois was unable to repress a moan as the needle-like tips of the hoses were pulled out of her flesh...and she watched the disconcerting sight of the wounds in her massive mammaries closing immediately.

Lois sighed. "Okay. I can work with this. Now..."

She told them what to do. Like zombies, the Titans obeyed. Any time they weren't actively doing a task that Lois ordered them to do, the costumed superheroes turned to stare in awe at the titanic tits. Lois Lane didn't understand that power—probably the only one who did was Poison Ivy, who was currently tied up, ****, and waiting to be shipped out to some super-prison.

"Fuck me," Lois said, to herself.

Yet she hadn't counted on the fact that the Titans could hear her.

They moved forward as a body. Stiff pricks plunged into the reporter's inverted nipple-holes as Cyborg and Garth humped her tits, arms spread wide to hug her mountainous mammaries. Speedy and Raven grabbed the reporter's legs and sucked on her toes. Nightwing pushed into the reporter's pussy from behind, the thick prick a welcome relief to her overflowing cunny...and Starfire ascended, her purple leotard drawn aside, so that Lois Lane could see the orange alien cunt that was pushed into her face.

It was not how Lois Lane had expected her night out to end. The hypnotic center of a superhero orgy, a one-woman titan of tits gangbanged by the actual Titans. Yet as the young heroes continued to grope, stroke, suck, and fuck, the rational portion of the reporter's brain, already worn thing, snapped.

She gave herself into the pleasure of it all. Of the overpowering sensations from her enormous breasts. The strident pounding of a young, hard cock in her pussy...and nipples...the hot alien cunt, so tangy and sticky on her tongue. Perhaps, as dawn broke over Metropolis and lusts were sated, the reporter's hypnotic control would wane. Perhaps too, without more of Poison Ivy's formula, the reporter's enormous breasts and their hypnotic power would fade. Yet for now...for this night out...the transformed Lois Lane indulged herself in one glorious gangbang.