Not Immediately

Forces played at Lois Lane's body. Her biological clock, influenced by an overdose of strange fertility ****, ****, lack of sleep, sex after a long abstinence—all things that pulled and tugged at her system and set her off-kilter. Her stomach was an angry knot of pain. Her pussy burned as Blaze's cock slid in and out of it for what felt like forever. The fever heat that engulfed her twisted her mind into a waking dream or nightmare...and Angelica Blaze held her lover, all through the long, dark hours as the **** worked their way through the reporter's system.

In the fever-trance, Lois Lane found it hard to separate truth from reality. Sometimes she was full with child, bloated as a tick, her arms and legs rudimentary flippers as a scarlet satyr pumped her swollen, immobile form with ever more tainted seed. Then she would awake to find Angelica Blaze holding her close, the fingertips of the dickgirl's hands clawed like a raptor's and blood red, rooting through the reporter's guts as the soft skin of Lois Lane's stomach rippled like water. The violet eyes frantically shut tight, and she curled up inside herself, and all she could feel was the cock that felt like it plunged straight into the core of her, the hot dribble that oozed constantly from the reporter's burning cunt...

There were moments of lucidity. Lois remembered distinctly staggering toward Blaze's bathroom to pee, leaving behind her a black oily trail that dripped from her snatch. She remembered sitting on the toilet as Blaze stood there, her cock still hard and almost at nose-level, jutting out as the dickgirl handed her a bottle of water. Remembered downing half the bottle at a go, and then pouring the rest over her steaming slit, the cool water so good on the hot flesh...and then...

Bent over the sink. Bags under her eyes. Bile at the back of her throat. Angelica was behind her, easing the cock in...they could go a little deeper this way, and there was a strange itch inside of Lois. The fluorescent lights made the reporter look ghastly, but she could see how dilated her eyes were, great black mirrors that reflected her own reflection infinitely...and in that moment as she lifted herself onto her toes, thighs pressed against the hard edge of the sink, Lois wondered how many of those infinite other Lois Lane's out in the multiverse tonight were getting fucked, getting impregnated.

Something told Lois she wasn't the only one. For a moment it was like she could see the shape of the universe, all the possible timelines branching out and so many of them were curving together toward a kind of singularity...an inevitability...a black sperm slipping into an egg...at least one...

Lois held onto the edge of the sink with a white-knuckled grip as her knees gave out, but Blaze was behind her, slamming her cock into the reporter from behind, holding Lois up as something hot and wet flooded the reporter's tunnel and Lois Lane shook uncontrollably, silver stars bursting before her eyes, wondering if it was this moment...or this one...or this...

The heat would die down in the wee hours of the morning, and as with many dreams, the feverish visions would mostly fade from the reporter's mind, to be only dim memories.