Test The Limits Of The Curse

Lois Lane grabbed the broom. She held it with both hands. It didn't start to immediately leak baby batter.

Lifting it level with her breasts, the naked reporter proceeded across the kitchen to the sink. Using the broom handle, she tapped at the handle. Water, clean and pure, sputtered out of the faucet.

"Okay...so if I don't touch it directly, it seems fine..."

The reporter set the broom handle down and slipped on one of the kitchen gloves. She felt a bit silly, one hand covered in bright yellow rubber, but she reached over to the sink and turned the handle, increasing the flow of water. Counted to sixty under her breath, but the flow didn't change. The sink was filling up. Lois put her bare hand in the sink...

Cloudy grey splooge began to billow up from her fingertips, and filter down the drain.

"Son of a bitch," the reporter said. With her gloved hand, she turned the steam of water off. She wiped her bare hand off on a kitchen towel...and, after a moment, took the towel and ran it between her legs, eager to get more of the sticky jizz away from her cooch...then with her gloved hand turned on the faucet again. Pure, clear water flowed into the sink, washing the gooey cum down the drain.

"Okay. So I've got some sort of bukkake Midas touch," Lois looked over at the cum still leaking from the door-handle, the tub overflowing with jizz. The ruin of her phone stood in a sticky puddle. "I mean, not literally. The phone didn't turn into jizz, it just started spurting out semen. So...gloves it is."

A few minutes effort saw Lois Lane dressed in nothing but a raincoat and a pair of bright yellow gloves. She sat at the table and gingerly opened her laptop. It booted up. No sign of cum filling up the screen or oozing out of the ports.

"Alright...now what?" she said to herself. The smell of ammonia—of cum—was growing stronger in the small apartment, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it before she opened the balcony just to get some air.