End: The Women Abandon Lois Lane To Poison Ivy

Lois Lane hit the floor heavily. The naked women she had come to save retreated as the villainess strode forward. The reporter scrabbled at the floor, but the strange ****-laden pollen fell on her like a cloud. She sucked it in with each breath, and her limbs trembled as she sought to crawl forward, her vision swam...pain sank away, but the reporter couldn't seem to clear her head as she watched the retreating naked forms...and then cool, firm, smooth vines twined around her ankles.

The reporter didn't whimper. Not even as she was gradually dragged back, though her nails scraped on the floor, and her legs were pulled wide apart, until she was doing a split, the pink sock of her prolapsed pussy dragging painfully on the floor.

"Tch," Poison Ivy clucked, as one hand ran over Lois's ass. The other picked up the prolapsed pussy. "Well, we'll have to fix this."

Lois groaned. Something pressed at the entrance to her collapsed cunt...and the reporter felt the smooth vines of the villain's pseudo-penis as she slowly stuffed Lois Lane's pussy back inside of her.

"This is the new evolution of the pregger plant," Ivy said as the reporter grimaced. Even with the **** pollen that made her head swim, she could feel the smooth phallus push deep inside of her, and the wounded pussy ache sharply at its rough mistreatment. "A symbiotic variant. Like mistletoe on an oak tree...except I can feel everything."

The reporter gagged, coughed. A terrible languor ran through her limbs, as the **** began to take full effect. Dizzily, the reporter found it difficult to keep her head raised, even as she felt the green rod push terribly deep inside of her.

Ivy's vines drew the reporter up. Limply, Lois was barely aware as the plant-woman's breasts pressed into her back. Vines wrapped around her midsection, and Poison Ivy's arms gripped the reporter's legs up against Lois's shoulders.

"You're a strong test subject," Ivy said approvingly. Lois felt a kind of empty-headed fascination as her head lolled. Her stomach rumbled. "I think you'll be able to bear several more pods, though it might take a bit of a toll on your body...but, a garden is a work of continual seeding and re-seeding..."

The reporter couldn't even crawl out as Ivy slowly marched Lois back toward the growhouse. Her stomach throbbed and ached, like a period cramp, but Lois knew it wasn't her period. It was the pregger plant vine ensconced in her cunny, stabbing straight into her cervix, growing another pod into her poor, abused uterus.

Superman, she wanted to say. Save me!

Yet the only thing that came from the **** reporter's lips was a meaningless gurgle. Perhaps the women who abandoned her would raise the alarm; perhaps Superman would come looking for her—eventually. Yet all that Lois Lane knew is her night out was going to last much longer than she had planned...