Lois Makes An Enemy

The reporter turned to the newcomer...she had a vague impression of blonde hair, a tight white one-piece dress with a plunging neckline that revealed impressive cleavage...and Lois Lane was still staring at those breasts when someone bumped into her from behind. As if in slow-motion, she saw the grey drink spill from her hand...splashing between the pale, generous breasts.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" Lois stammered, grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar. Without thinking she stuffed the wad of tissue between those mighty mammaries. With both hands she tried to stem the damage...and it was not until half a heartbeat over she found both of her hands squeezing the warm breasts, so that the pink nipples popped out of the top of the dress.

Lois Lane stared, tongue-tied for a moment. She knew she should apologize, let go, or at least stop gawping at the pink nips like a horny teenager, yet all that came out of the reporter's mouth were the words:

"Great Caesar's ghost...they're real!"

It was true. Lois couldn't feel any sort of implant. Her fingers squeezed, drops of the greyish-white drink dripping off the nipples onto the back of her hand. The reporter's mouth was suddenly dry, her head fuzzy. She wondered what they tasted like...

The blonde's hand hit Lois with enough **** to knock the reporter off her stool. The reporter instinctively brought her forearms up to take the brunt of the impact as she hit the floor.

"You...you...pervert!" the blonde said, stamping her feet so hard that one of the heels on her white pumps shattered. Growling in frustration, Lois wasn't sure whether the strange woman was going to kick Lois or stomp off in anger...and considering what Lois had done, the reporter wouldn't blame her for either.

In Zod's Spaceship

"Did you see that?" Faora said, a smug grin on her face. "It's working!"

"Perhaps," Zod says. "Let us see how the other one responds."