End: Wonder Woman Is Watching...And Touching Herself...

They did not have the internet, in Themyscira, Isle of the Amazons. Yet Wonder Woman had grown up with stories of the heroic warriors that had gone before. Strong, intelligent women who needed no man. Weak women, soft women, stupid women, were looked down on, sneered at, discouraged. Some of Diana's sisters cut off a breast, so as not to interfere with their archery. Most were slim, with modest breasts.

So an adolescent Amazon's dreams had been filled with those taboos.

Yet when Wonder Woman had gotten to man's world—she had seen with horror the trophy wives. The big-titted, idiotic sluts who spread their legs so willingly. Who demeaned and degraded themselves for cock and cash. She had explored, hesitatingly at first, the world of big bust models. Been aghast at the surgeries they subjected themselves to. The massive implants. Tanning. Bleaching their hair. Tattoos, piercings. All seeking to twist their bodies into some fetishistic idea.

Diana could still remember the night she had begun to touch herself to it. Nominally, she told herself she was doing research on a crooked plastic surgeon with ties to Intergang. A human trafficking operation turning out surgically-altered whores that looked like porn stars. Yet the Amazon had found her fingers dipped into her star-spangled shorts, hard nipples pressed against the underside of her metal brassiere, moaning as she saw those big-tittied, empty-brained sluts cavort for the cameras...

It became Wonder Woman's dirty little secret. Her hidden folder of bimbo images and videos. Soon, the public internet wasn't enough for her. Batgirl had showed the Amazon the dark net, during a mission to bring down a criminal trying to infect the world's cryptocurrency with a virus that would turn bitcoin miners into a vast network to discover the Anti-Life Equation. From there, Diana had learned of secret clubs. Private video feeds. Harder than hardcore. The Amazon told herself she was gathering evidence for a bust, but every "research session" ended with her panties around her ankles, hand four-fingers deep in her pussy, desperately aroused by those brainless, big-breast bimbo bitches.

She had only pulled her panties down when she saw Lois Lane on the screen. For a few minutes, the Amazon was torn between her secret kink and her heroic desire to save Losi Lane—she had begun to flick her clit instinctively as the reporter thrashed and freed herself. Watched with rapture as the small buds of the reporter's breasts had begun to swell. Then Lois had stared into the camera, and said:

"Save me!"

Which shocked Diana out of her division.

In moments, the Invisible Jet was in the air. Batgirl had already traced the source of the transmission. Superman was off-planet, but a signal had been sent to him; in the Justice League Watchtower, reserves were called up. All the forces at their command descended on the club.

Blaze was in her lair, amused at the reporter's increasingly incoherent ramblings as her tits swelled. Already, the nearly spherical breasts were as big as small watermelons. The fat had melted off the reporter's frame, except for her cocksucking lips, which were swollen and beestung. The naked Lois Lane couldn't stop licking them, lisping, dizzy and off-balance as her massive mammaries unbalanced her. Idly, the demon wondered about sending some men in there with hard cocks...the slut was far gone enough she might enjoy a gangbang...

Then three figures burst through the wall. Blaze twisted and turned in time to see Captain Marvel, Mary Marvel, and Captain Marvel, Jr.—or whatever they called themselves now—bear down on her. She hissed, stepped back, raised her arms in a warding gesture; and the Martian Manhunter phased through the stone wall behind her. She wasn't sure what hit her first—the great green fist at the base of her skull, or the telepathic attack that shut down all but the most critical of her brain functions—but then Mary Marvel's fist broke her jaw.

And all was darkness for a while.

Wonder Woman and Zatanna found Lois Lane in the room where Blaze had left her. The camera was still rolling. Without a word, the Amazon crushed it in her hand.

The reporter was on the floor, a thin pink drool oozed from her lips, which were twisted in an idiotic smile.

She was playing with her tits. Dopily tugging at the huge swollen nipples, each as big as the tips of her thumb. In an instant, Wonder Woman scooped the naked reporter up. She seemed dangerously thin, despite the huge, unnaturally taut breasts that were like a pair of basketballs glued to her chest, bigger than the reporter's head.

"Zatanna...can you undo this sorcery?" Wonder Woman said.

"I can try," the sorceress said, and made an arcane gesture. "!llepsretnouC""

A red aura flared around the reporter's body, and she shook, the violet eyes rolled up into Lois Lane's head head and she spasmed as though caught in a seizure...and then collapsed into the Amazon's arms.

"I...think that halted the transformation. I don't know if it would be wise to use magic to restore her. She needs food, rest, medical care..." Zatanna said.

"She'll get all three at the Amazonian embassy," Wonder Woman declared. "I'll take her there myself!"

Zatanna did not gainsay the Princess of the Amazons as she carried Lois away. Nor did she know how fast Wonder Woman's heart beat. How desperately she wished to bury her face between those massive tits. Or watch them flop as Lois Lane was fucked hard.

No, Zatanna did not see the little seed of desire and madness in Wonder Woman's heart as she carried the newly-minted bimbo to the embassy. There, the Amazon doctors would view their charge with mingled compassion and disgust. The transformation had taken so much out of Lois Lane that it would take her weeks to recover physically. Mentally...well, who knows?

Diana watched Lois compulsively lick her lips, and her heart did not feel pure as she felt the familiar burn between her legs. Perhaps, when Lois was better, and could thank the Amazon properly, they might make their own videos...