Nightmare Walk

Lois ran, heart pumping, feet slamming into the pavement. The heels cracked after a few steps and the reporter kicked them off, running in bare feet down the sidewalks of Suicide Slum. She took turns at random, eyes wide, jumping at shadows...like prey.

Eventually, she dared to look behind her. Nothing. No one.

Still panting, covered in a cold sweat, her womanhood throbbing around the bottle lodged inside of it, Lois slowed down and took stock. She looked down at herself, and saw only her club clothes. Slipped a hand down the front of her pants. The bottle was still secure inside of her, though she was still aware of with every step.

Lois huddled over in a corner, suddenly queasy. And suddenly she wasn't in an alley in Suicide Slum. She was hovering over a toilet, one hand clutching her gently swollen stomach, the pregnancy test clutched in her hand... Lois finished vomiting, and she was back in the alley. Her stomach gurgled in response, and staring at the pool of sick, she wondered when she had eaten real food last.

So, the Scarecrow's fear **** were still in her system...and it was a long walk home.

Lois told herself she wouldn't cry. Not here on the street. Not until she was out of the Suicide Slum, away from the gangbangers and junkies and...prostitutes.

She was walking the street, breasts heavy and swollen, feeling the breeze on her belly. Eyes scanning the passing cars for likely johns; some of them liked the pregnant whores. Lois reached down to feel her pregnant abdomen...and felt only firm abs, the fantasy fading. She felt the tears, but blinked them back, breathed deeply of the fetid, warm night air.

So she had a fear that was also an erotic fantasy. Lots of people fantasized about getting ****, were scared of getting pregnant. Everyone's grandmother had probably felt their heart beat faster when they missed a period at some point in their lives. It wasn't about the baby. She could give away the baby, let someone else raise it, so he was free to be knocked up again...

Lois concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, hating how all her thoughts revolved back around to that. It wasn't like she'd fucked Perry White raw to get a job at the Daily Planet, and been **** to carry it to term. Or let Lex Luthor's empty his balls into her to get an interview, only to end up swollen again. Lois was a professional. An adult woman that could make her own sexual choices. She did what she had to do. For the story. To get home safe. Never mind what those bitches at the offices said about her, as she showed up pregnant at the office again, "Loose Lois" who could never keep her legs closed...

Reality snapped back as the doorman greeted her and swung the glass-paneled door open for Lois. Reporters get in at all hours. He didn't suspect a thing.

A bit of luck, there was no one in the elevator. She rested against the brass rail at the back...and as the doors closed, the polished brass that shone back her own reflection, she saw her face for the first time that night.

Fat tears welled up at the corner of her eyes, and slid down her cheeks. Hot, stupid tears that ran through what was left of her makeup, dripped onto her sagging, milk-filled tits, and the gentle curve of yet another bastard in her belly. Her cunt burned where the bottle was still inside of her. She could still taste bile in her mouth. Lois' stomach roiled, nothing in it any more. So she let the tears fall, where nobody could see, as the elevator ran up to her apartment, wondering when the nightmares would end.

Because she knew the night was far from over.