John Henry Irons, Of Course

Lois scrolled through the cocks to John Henry Iron's prick. She knew it was him. His jizz was still flowing out of her cunt.

This must be what he meant. The reporter rationalized she he hit "ACCEPT STUD." He must be here undercover...or maybe he has a plan to escape!

Deep down inside, however, Lois couldn't get past the image of the black superhero pressing his big chocolate dick through her pussy lips again, to feel his balls slap against her ass she begged for another black baby in her belly. The image was strangely persistent, no matter how hard Lois tried to focus on other things.

"Good choice!" The other-Lois on screen said, the virtual doppelganger of a pregnant Lois Lane, smiling warmly. "Your stud will be with you shortly. For now, we need you to assume the position! Sit up straight."

Lois did so...and felt the chair move beneath her. Hidden motors caused the cushions to move and reconfigure. The reporter felt herself being leaned back, legs raised...and then the chair swiveled, the screen raising up so that Lois lad back, hips raised, staring into the glowing, swirling pink screen, which had zoomed in on other-Lois' face, like a mirror reflection of Lois' own. They smiled together.

The cushions supporting Lois' legs separated, forcing her legs apart, inch by inch, farther and farther...until she could feel the almost painful tension in her thighs. Instinctively, the reporter tried to shift position, but she felt the soft, padded restraints slid into place around her ankles, wrists, and midsection. Small padded sections rose to box her face in, so Lois couldn't look away from the screen.

"You are now in optimal position for breeding." The other-Lois spoke, but the reporter could hear herself speaking automatically, following along with every word. "We are going to leave you like this for a few minutes to get comfortable. The implant has already activated and caused your ovary to release another ovum. Try to relax." They smiled together. Lois could feel the ache, like a throb or deep bruise, in her abdomen. "Your black breeding bull will be with you shortly."

The face faded out...and Lois stared into the swirling pinkness. It was like clouds, formless shifting movements that seemed to form images, patterns. Lois amused herself for a few moments as her body relaxed, tension flowing out of her thighs and spine, letting her mind wander...some of the shape were suggestive. Cocks, sperm, the round swell of ovum, breasts, bellies...all there and gone again, almost as fast as she could recognize them.

Lois felt the wetness between her legs, and wondered if her current situation was affecting her imagination. The reporter knew she should feel more anxious about all this whole situation...all of it was happening so fast, and Lois herself had glided through it as though on autopilot. The reporter tried to frown, but her face didn't want to respond, and after a moment she let the smile continue.

Was this what happened to the missing women? The thought caused a stiffness in her spine.

So involved was the reporter in her inner world, that she was shocked by the warm, strong hand that gripped her breast, the heat and pressure of a familiar piece of flesh pressed against her pussy...and when the hand traced a familiar S-shield symbol on her nipple, Lois knew.

It was John Henry Irons. He pressed himself against her, not penetrating her yet, but hard as steel.