Epilogue: Some Users May Experience Swelling...

With morning came sobriety...and discomfort. Under the covers, Lois Lane fought the age-old battle: not wanting to move from her nice warm bed, and yet utterly **** to pee. Eventually, try as she might, the reporter's insistent bladder won out—and she threw back the covers and staggered into the bathroom.

Half-awake, Lois felt as she often did after a night out when there had been drinking involved: her mouth had a sour taste, as though something had died in it. Her stomach was bloated, no doubt from the drinks she'd had the night before. Though she had washed out as much of the sperm as she could before bed, her pussy was itching like crazy. The reporter reached down to scratch as her gash...and that was her first sign that something was wrong.

Really wrong.

Her fingers slid over taut, swollen, sensitive flesh. When they pried apart the lips to rub at the burning itch inside, Lois Lane's knees suddenly wobbled and her legs lost strength. She barely caught herself on the sink, and lowered herself onto her knees...and looked down at her crotch.

The clitoris, beneath the small black thatch of carefully-trimmed pubic hair, was unnaturally swollen and protuberant. Lois, bleary-eyed, had to blink several times to realize that the thumb-sized clit was actually hers...and the swollen, pink, inflamed mons that stood out beneath that so that the outer labia actually stuck to her thighs was grossly bigger than the petite, pristine pussy that Lois had gone to bed with.

Worse than that, though, was the sensitivity. The burning itch over her whole crotch was like nothing else the reporter had ever experienced. Sometimes, when she had gone without for a while, her pussy would be sensitive to the touch...moist at a moment's notice...but she stared down in horror at the swollen slit between her legs, Lois knew this was something different. It felt like a fever...her pussy was burning up.

Swallowing dryly, Lois leaned forward, pressing her aching hot cunny against the cool, hard edge of the toilet bowl...and could not repress a moan as the fat flesh squeezed, juices squirting into the toilet uncontrollably.

Lois had heard people describe how they lost control of their actions. They described it as if a mist had come down over their eyes, as though some alien presence had taken over and they didn't know what they were doing, mere passengers in their own body. She had never quite believed those tales. They sounded too self-serving, too much like people not wanting to take responsibility for their own actions.

Yet Lois Lane could not explain how or why she found herself gripping the rim of the bowl with both and as she fiercely humped the edge. Why she ground her swollen clit against the cool porcelain with animalistic grunts, pissy and pussy juice squirting uncontrollably from her sopping womanhood. Or how many times she felt that tightening at the base of her spine, the electric tingle that ran over her body like a wave, the silver sparks that fluttered in front of her eyes as her body achieved something like climax...

What she did know is that the sun was high in the sky when she managed to calm down enough to pull her sticky slit away from the bowl. Gasping and unwilling to touch herself even to wipe it for fear of triggering another session, Lois spread her legs far apart and edged over to the sink, turning on the tap and lapping the water up with her hands.

"Side effects...of the gonadotropin-X," she muttered to herself, remembering the warning label...and the reporter bit her tongue as she remembered more of last night's adventures. There wasn't any guarantee she was pregnant yet—even if she was ovulating, injected with fertility ****, and inseminated, there were plenty of women that struggled for years to get pregnant, and conception itself could take hours...days. Time enough for Lois to at least research the side effects of this material. Weigh her options.

Still not trusting herself to even let her thighs touch, Lois crab-walked into the kitchen. Her laptop was on the table, and Lois eased herself over to it. She didn't even dare to sit down, but browsed the computer while standing up. An initial search revealed nothing, but when Lois turned to her dark web browser, she started finding hits. Scrolled through headlines about medical trials, government experiments, recalls and bans...and her journalistic instincts were piqued; she hadn't heard any of this. Someone had kept this stuff out of the papers...and someone in Metropolis was experimenting on it.

Refining her search, Lois came across a partial list of side effects, from a chunk of a report that had been scanned and translated from the Chinese.

"Some users may experience swelling, vaginal discharge, sensitivity, and enhanced libido...no duh," Lois muttered. Then she read on, and her eyes widened. "Superfecundation, multiple ovulation and implantation, bleeding from the vagina, pheromone release, rapid onset of pregnancy symptoms, ineffectiveness of hormonal birth control or oral abortifacients, mood swings, lactation, ovarian cancer, breast cancer, birth defects, Great Caesar's ghost what kind of toxic shit did she put into my body?"

Lois Lane shook her head...and the rest of her was shaking too. She needed help. She needed to go to a doctor, or a hospital, or...

The reporter groaned. She was going to have to put some pants on.

That was going to be a challenge.