End: You Can't Afford Me

It was a bluff. Bluster. Lois Lane projected the confidence she did not feel. Just as she did every time she went undercover. Sure, she was a whore that played at being a reporter, but that didn't mean she was just going to effortlessly surrender to this Cyborg Superman and his cunt-stretching cocks.

His blue, organic eye blinked...and then crinkled a little. With his metal, skull-like teeth, she could not be sure that he was smiling, but it gave that perception.

"So, a matter for negotiation," he said, a deeper mechanical buzz in his voice. "How much?"

Lois Lane swallowed. She did quick math. Five thousand a night...seven nights in a week...forty weeks...

The cyborg's hips pushed forward. Lois grunted in discomfort as his twin pricks pushed deeper inside of her. She doubled her estimate.

"Three million," she said.

One mechanical hand clamped around her throat. Not squeezing. Just gripping her tight so that she couldn't escape. So he could pull her resisting body up towards him.

"Your body is mine. Exclusively. You will do whatever I say, or you will be punished. And you will take care of yourself. Diet, exercise. I want a healthy spawn." He spoke with utter finality, as if the contract had already been agreed upon—and Lois Lane felt her traitorous pussy flood at this utter domination.

What a whore I am, Lois thought, as her hips began to move on their own. Her hands moved up to grab his shoulders, to better position her pussy on his pricks. The cyborg knelt on the bed, as Lois writhed against him, fucking his flesh and mechanical cocks deeper into her slutty hole...and for just a second, his grip relaxed.

She could have escaped then. Or tried to. Instead, in the thrall of her terrible programming, Lois Lane said.

"Deal. Now give me your tongue!"

She pressed her lips against those hard metal teeth. Taken aback for a moment, the cyborg could only feel her hot, soft, pink tongue slide over teeth made from Kryptonian alloys. Then an articulated metal tentacle slid into the reporter's mouth. It tasted of metal and oil. How a Man of Steel should taste.

Something about that surrender to him stoked a fire in Lois Lane's belly. Her body undulated as she ground against him, her juices dripped down his twin shafts to the mechanical testes. Faster and faster she rubbed herself, her tits against his chest, feeling metal and flesh catch at her nipples, and as he got into it, his hands crushed her ass and began to set the pace once again, guiding her to take his cocks deeper...and deeper...

Until something touched her cervix. Until a spike of pain broke momentarily through her pleasure. She couldn't actually feel the moment that Kryptonian sperm and nanomachines flooded her womb...but she felt the gentle electric shock that held her paralyzed as the Cyborg Superman completed the insemination, pumping her womb full.

Only when he was finished did he let her fall, spasming and unable to control herself, mouth tasting like she licked a battery, onto the bed.

Lois Lane was barely aware of what happened. After that. A fight with her former employer, Blaze. Explosions. Flames. The club and brothel had gone up so quickly. People screaming. The Cyborg Superman had wrapped Lois in his cape and flown her away, to her apartment. Laid her down on the bed. Wiped the blood from her pussy.

"The money has been transferred into your account," he said as he surveyed her apartment. "Remember our deal. No more selling your body. You are my whore."

"Yesss...your whore," Lois mumbled. Her pussy hurt. There was an ache, deep inside her pelvis. Her head pounded, a mental confusion. Like two different set of memories, fighting for dominance. She was a reporter undercover as a whore...or a whore undercover as a reporter. Lois laid a hand against her head. It was like a hangover, but worse.

"I will return tomorrow, to see if the insemination took," he said, as dawn rose over the city. His organic eye smiled at her. "Wear something sexy."

Which is how Lois Lane's night out—and in many ways, her old life—ended. She had sold herself...and the thrill of that capitulation, that submission, was like a ****. One she wanted desperately for another taste of.

Yet that is another story.