All A Simulation

In the chair, Lois Lane twitched. Muscles in her arms and legs tensed and relaxed, limbs kicking at empty air. Her pussy leaked into the chair beneath her, the reporter's pert ass sitting in a puddle of her own sex-juices.

"She's like a dog caught in a dream," Mercy Graves said to no one in particular. "I wonder if she'll start woofing."

"She's quite awake," Lex Luthor said as he scrutinized a three-dimensional holographic version of the reporter's brain. "Just like subject two."

The villainous scientist and industrialist turned her attention to the second chamber, where the nude form of John Henry Irons lay in its own chair. The penis black man's penis was hard, the electrodes attached to his genitals registering a surprising amount of activity.

"Their responses to the simulations are interesting," he said. "The interracial fetishization scenario has never been this successful. Her body is actively preparing itself for further impregnation, and the gonad stimulator we implanted in him had already exceeded our predictions on sperm production. I can only surmise that they already had **** sexual desires for each other."

"So...proceed to stage three?" Mercy asked.

"Hmm. Yes, we might as well. Let's see how they interact outside the simulation."

Darkness! Lois Lane froze, heart thundering in her chest, a wet need aching between her thighs. She had to find John...had to fuck him...bear all his bellies...

Something kicked Lois from behind and she stumbled to her feet.

Wait...I was already standing, wasn't I? In the darkness, she walked over to where she had just been. Questing fingers found the chair...the chair she had escaped from at least an hour ago. But that didn't make any sense! Her hand landed in a puddle, and Lois brought it up to her face, smelling her own pussy-juice. Fresh...

But if I was in the chair the whole time, then what was I...

The line of thought was interrupted by sound of another person stumbling into the room. They were breathing heavily. Lois was immediately on her guard, moving away from the chair, circling around...she didn't know who this was, but she was a woman alone, naked.

My cunt is for John Henry Irons only! She said, ready to defend her pussy to the **** for that black cock.

An audible sniff. The figure moved in the darkness, toward what had been Lois Lane's position. He—somehow Lois knew it was a he—seemed big, but moved quietly, on the balls of their feet. Treading like a great cat. The reporter raised her fists.

"Who's there?" A great voice said...and Lois Lane's heart skipped a beat. It was John Henry Iron's voice.

"John!" she breathed, rushing forwards.

They met, warm naked bodies blindly clasping one to another. His hard shaft immediately pressed against her belly, and she was ready right then and there to spread her legs for him, to welcome that great thick shaft back into her fertile cunt. His big hands grasped her arms.

"Lois I...I think they're doing something to us. To our minds. This is some sort of game...a simulation..."

"You're saying you didn't want this white pussy before you came here?" Lois murmured as she rubbed herself against him.

"I...I have always wanted to fuck you," he said. "To breed you. Put a black baby in your belly. See you swell up with my child. I...no!"

John Henry Irons seemed to shake himself, even as he refused to let her go, his cock leaking precum over her navel.

"I can't tell how much of this is real and how much is the programming," he said. "We've got to get out of here..."

"You're right," Lois said, sensing the truth in his words. "It's just so hard to think straight. I've never been this horny in my life. They kept talking about...making me a superbreeder...able to get pregnant while I'm already pregnant...carry multiple fetuses...like a rabbit..."

"Think Lois!" The black man said, his grip loosening a little as he caressed her arms and shoulders. "You're the smartest woman I know. There has to be a way out of this."

But Lois could only think of one.