Lois Tries To Vomit

The room swam a little as Lois staggered toward the sink. Her body felt warm...her steps unsteady. Far more than it should have after only a drink or two. Lois Lane's brain raced as she imagined she was poisoned...sick...the best thing to do was to expel it from her body.

She opened her mouth, two fingers extended. There was no pleasant way to induce vomiting, but there were a couple of sure ways. Bracing herself against the sink with her free hand, Lois stabbed the fingers into her mouth, searching for the back of her throat...

Downstairs

"Suppress the gag reflex," Brainiac ordered. One of the drones tapped at her keyboard, immediately obeying. The verbal command was superfluous—Brainiac could have sent the command to the nanites infiltrating Lois Lane's system himself—but he wished to make the best use out of these flawed materials, rather than waste processing power on such trivialities. The drones were, after all, ultimately little more than empty shells with no more will of their own.

Yet none of these drones had hit Level 5. Imperfect creations, their human personalities had been completely overwritten in the conversion process. Unable to function as his equal, much less contribute to his plans. They were simply steps in the process. His cybernetic eyes focused on the screen, where Lois Lane's fingers were pressed into her throat, tongue extended, salivating freely but unable to purge herself...not that way, at least.

The latest generation of his nanites was even now spreading throughout her system. She could be the first of his brides to reach Level 5.

"Gag reflex suppressed," one drone said, her voice flat. "Infection of the autonomic nervous system at 5%. Premature activation has slowed infection progress toward Level 2..."

"Acceptable," Brainiac said. "The longer the nanites have to do their work, the fewer options Lois Lane will have."

In the Bathroom

Confounded, Lois Lane felt her fingers press deeper into her throat than they had ever gone before. Felt and tasted the dirty digits against the back of her tongue, touch her uvula...yet nothing happened. Her stomach lurched a little, but there was no gag, no sudden upheaval and emptying of her guts. Now more than ever, Lois was certain she'd been roofied by something; there were a number of club **** that reduced such responses, to facilitate oral sex.

Fuck, Lois Lane thought, her eyes feeling hot, temples beginning to throb. She could almost feel the eyes of her unseen enemy on her as she pulled her hand out of her mouth. Have to think of something else...