The Nightmare Is Not Over

Lois Lane allowed herself to relax. The tiredness came back to her, all at once. Eyelids felt heavy. Her muscles ached. She had been about ready to pass out on the bed before everything had happened and now...she just wanted to sleep this all off. Chalk it up to a bad hangover. Deal with it in the morning.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a hint of movement.

Unwilling to stare directly at it, unwilling even to breathe. Lois saw something crawl along the lip of the tub. It was white, and perhaps two inches long.

Her fingers curled around the handle of the Penetrator. Its work was not yet done.

With a silent scream on her lips, the reporter's naked body was a perfect blur of motion. One smooth action that took her from sitting on the floor to on her feet, dildo-bat above her head. She was bringing it down in a punishing arc at the over-sized sperm before she could even get a clear look at it.

The Penetrator hit the wall of the tub with a satisfying thunk, the aluminum core of the bat not even dinged. The inch-long crawling sperm, so much bigger than a normal gamete and yet so much smaller than the giant beast that had already been defeated, was reduced to a sticky white smear...

...and then the reporter saw them. Crawling out of the tub, dozens, maybe hundreds of little inch-long swimmers, all of them headed straight for her.

A shudder went down Lois Lane's spine—the instinctive repulsion toward everything that creeps and crawls—and beyond that, the iron-clad surety that these monstrous sperm were intent on the same thing as their giant cousin. All the slimy little white wigglers aimed toward a single goal...her pussy.

A shock went up the naked woman's arm as she brought the Penetrator down again...and again...and then the individual blows were lost in a fury as she smashed and slammed every one of the inch-long sperm cells. They splattered and splotched, but they kept coming on, more and more...