Knock The Laptop Down

Her eyes could not leave the screen. Her hands could not leave her pussy and breast. It was like there were rules the reporter could only guess at that kept her where she was, masturbating relentlessly, staring at the cycle of fucking and pregnancy, her own belly and breasts growing every time. Only the brief pauses in the action gave Lois Lane any relief from the terrible compulsion...and once she accepted that, she planned her move carefully.

Three fingers in her cunt now, and hot milk dribbled out of her swollen nipples and over her fingers. Lois almost wished they were big enough that she could lift one tit up to her mouth and suck on it. The priestess in the film was looking the worse for wear...like a woman who had been pregnant five times in four years. Heavier, stretch marks across her breasts and belly fat jiggling as the next man **** his cock into her hairy twat, eyes shadowed from sleepless nights, nipples dark and wide, and Lois Lane was counting down the seconds until the next message...

The screen went black, and the reporter kicked back and up, falling backwards in her chair even as the laptop went clattering to the floor. Lois closed her eyes and pulled up her pants. It came up short, her stomach swollen to the point that it barely covered her pubic hair, and when she let her shirt down it left a wide stretch of exposed skin. The reporter didn't care. Eyes still closed, she crawled over to the laptop, closed the lid, unplugged it, and held the power button until it forcibly shut off.

Then, and only then, did she open her eyes and survey the damage.

Her stomach was sticking out as though she had swallowed a volleyball whole. Taut, because there was no fat to spare, and as Lois probed it she could feel something hard beneath the skin that wasn't abs. Like a big water balloon. Her breasts were overflowing her cups, dark brown nipples dribbling, to leave wet circles around her nipples on her shirt.

With a deep breath, Lois reached for the phone. It was time to call for help.

Which is how, some hours later, she ended up at S.T.A.R. Labs. Zatanna was making signs over her distended abdomen, while a woman in a labcoat ran an ultrasound wand over the exposed dome of flesh. Superman hovered in the background, worried but unable to do anything.

"...not a curse, exactly," Zatanna said, grimacing. "More like...the fulfillment of a prophecy. There was a cult back in the 1920s that practiced a form of temporal displacement—the children conceived during the ritual orgies were displaced, to be reborn in the future. Somebody set you up to fulfill the conditions."

"Who?" Superman said. A muscle worked in his jaw, whole body language tense. Lois saw that and and felt her heart flutter. He really does care about me...

"I'm working on it. Whoever it was, they managed to hide their magical signature well..."

Lois shook her head. All this talk of sorcery was out of her experience...and right now she wanted to be grounded in realities. "So I'm pregnant?"

"Yes," the doctor said.

"How pregnant am I?"