Have A Drink

Lois Lane broke out the emergency vodka from its icy prison in the freezer. So cold it burned her hand when she took it out Fetched a clean glass, poured, and knocked it back.

So cold she couldn't even taste it. Just feel the chill **** cut through her throat, the **** burning her mouth. She poured herself another, trying to remember the last time she drank straight vodka.

Oh, right. The breakup.

Not that the Daily Planet's greatest reporter had many serious relationships. She was, she had started to think, married to her job. The reporter sat down, felt the bottle still embedded in her pussy push in a little deeper, and winced.

She knocked back the second shot, and poured a third.

It had been college, his name had been Alex. Handsome, sweet, rich. Not very creative in the sack, but she hadn't been interested in him just for the sex. He had been...safe, comfortable, someone to be with, to listen to her.

Until he had wanted babies.

That was all he wanted, really. It had started out as just a playful hint, and then he had stopped wearing condoms. Asking about her birth control, tracking her periods. Promising to pull out, and never did. It had come out eventually, when she confronted him about it. Alex wanted Lois Lane to stay at home, barefoot and knocked up. He wanted a big family; she had wanted to be a reporter.

So they broke up.

She sipped the third shot, already feeling the buzz of the **** get to her head, body feeling warm. If she had done what he wanted, they'd have at least eight kids by now.

The nightmare came on again. Lois Lane in her crowded apartment, belly spilling onto her knees. the weight never really comes off between pregnancies, not when they're that close; her pert ass was overflowing the chair, thighs wide and ponderous, stretch marks on her belly, her breasts...tits still full and leaking, aching to be milked as the babies cried, and there was something in her pussy, her well-used pussy, the labia stretched out. He still came in her every day, no matter what, her stud bull...

Lois shook as the image faded. Back to her neat little apartment, her trim flat stomach, the bottle in her pussy, the half-empty shot of vodka in her hand. Combining **** with the Scarecrow's fear toxin was a bad idea. A part of her had the sudden urge to look Alex up on the internet, to see what had become of him. Another part of her just wanted to get absolutely hammered and sleep this all off like a bad dream.