Her Milk Is Coming In

While Lois Lane was so busy concentrating on the lips and tongues that kissed and sucked, pulling at her labia, pressing against her asshole, and worrying about her fragile heterosexuality, she had been completely ignoring her body's increasingly urgent signals about what else was happening.

Until she could ignore it no longer.

For as the heat built up inside of Lois, the flutter of sexual excitement in the pit of her stomach, juices flowing in her pussy, nipples erect...a tightness came across the reporter's chest. She stared down at the little mounds of her breasts...and her breath caught in her throat as she saw, very clearly, the outline of the breasts were changing.

It wasn't like a balloon inflating, nor did it feel like that. It was above all a sensation of tightness, the skin taut, the nipples swollen and puffy and somehow darker than their usual pink. Lois managed to let go of the handlebars long enough to explore her breasts...and winced as her finger pressed into her right boob. The flesh was firmer than normal...and sensitive. The reporter's pussy clenched, and she felt a hot wet trickle as she squirted softly...to the obvious acclaim of the women on the other side, who began to lick at her cleft with greater speed.

With her chin on her chest, Lois watched her breasts. They were growing...slowly, achingly slowly. She had to focus on a nipple and try to hold her breath...and yet she could see that it was gently rising, moving against the backdrop of the wall her legs were lashed to...and as Lois watched, she saw the pink color of the nipple slowly darken to a warm, soft brown. The areola, normally flat, were now standing out against the hill of her breast, with the nipple like a great berry on top of that.

What was more, there were little bumps...not quite pimples...around the edge of the puffy brown areola. With bated breath, Lois brought her fingers up to her breast. Behind the wall, it felt like fingers were pulling her labia apart so that one of the women could shover her entire face into the reporter's captive twat. Lois squeezed the soft flesh...and she couldn't describe exactly what she felt. It was more intense than pleasure, more pleasant than painful. There was nothing quite like it in Lois Lane's experience...and then she felt the wet, white trickle that began to ooze out over her clasping fingers.