Lex Luthor's Personal Futanari Breeding Program

Sagging against the X-frame that held her, cock-twitching, **** and saline fluids being pumped into her veins, a fat dildo stuffed in her ass, the reporter's breath came in ragged gasps. Her body glistened from where the technicians had rubbed her down. Fat seemed to have melted from her body, leaving her ribs prominent, the hint of a six-pack on her tight abs, her breasts smaller than when she had started the evening as bare handfuls, only the puffy nipples distancing her chest from that of a man. There were black and blue bruises on her body where she had been wrestled and strapped into place, and a chin-strap kept the VR helmet on her. Lois Lane's chest rose and fell with difficulty, the dickgirl at the limit of her endurance...

...and then the audio and video feed suddenly burst into a hiss of white noise and light. A shocking transition that slowly shifted into a new, almost welcoming kind of normal.

Lois Lane sucked in air, tired, but her mind oddly lucid. Her brain no longer felt fuzzy...all the competing thoughts, compulsions, and orders whirling around in her head seemed to fade against the hiss of noise. She needed to sleep, but she felt beyond that...the weird place like jet lag, or the final late-night hours after pounding out an article...keyed up and ready for something on which to spend the last of her energy before oblivion took her.

Her cock, agonizingly sore, lay limp over her massive testes, the serpent at least temporarily spent.

Then a voice...a very familiar voice...came to her ears out of the noise. Not like the mechanical, computerized tone from earlier. This strong, crisp, almost as if he was speaking directly to her. Lois found she had closed her eyes, but now she opened them...

Superman was there, floating in a white void. Those broad shoulders, the cape still as there was no air to move it. Sky-blue eyes fixed on her beneath that dark hair with the little curl that fell down his forehead, his face pensive as it always was when he was worried about her—and that was how Superman was staring at her now, as though he wanted to ask her something but was almost afraid of the answer.

"The Daily Planet calls me the last son of Krypton...but that isn't quite true," his blue eyes held hers, but in her peripheral vision, Lois could see those mighty thumbs hook into the tops of his red shorts.

Involuntarily, the reporter's vision panned down she saw him pull his pants down...and her heart leaped into her throat for a second as she caught sight of the root of his penis...and then more, the shorts pulled down further, and Lois let out an appreciative moan as she saw Superman's whole cock slide into view. It was the super-dick she had dreamed of...not utterly inhuman, but pornstar quality, long even while flaccid, thick and veiny, the skin smooth and unblemished, the pubic hair utterly absent, the glans broad and the balls behind them heavy.

Then the vision of Superman did something unexpected. He lifted up that soft cock and those pendulous balls...and Lois gasped as buried behind them was a perfectly virginal little slit.

"You see...Kryptonians are hermaphrodites. We have both male and female sexual organs. And to breed properly...we need to use them both."

The reporter's view shifted back up toward those blue eyes. So crisp and clear, Lois could almost get lost in them, could almost see her reflection in the dark pupils...

"I need a futanari to impregnate...and to make me pregnant." Superman said. His massive chest swelled for a moment, the S-shield strained. "Will you breed me?"

"We're getting a physical response to the program," the technician said.