Rip Open Her Jacket

It was too much. Lois Lane couldn't stand it. Her tits were burning. In desperation she ripped the zipper down, the wet t-shirt tearing like tissue as it caught, and tore open the lapels to expose her breasts to the air...

...only to see the gleam of metal where soft, pale skin should have been.

Clubgoers looked at Lois in confusion as she kept moving, her metallic breasts exposed, the heat dissipating now that they weren't trapped in her jacket. The reporter hit the fire escape and escaped into the cool air of the alley outside the club...barely having the presence of mind to make sure the door didn't close completely, so she could sneak back in if she needed to.

Outside in the empty, narrow, trash-strewn alley, Lois examine herself under the moonlight.

In shape, her breasts looked the same...but it was as if her breasts were cast in polished chrome, her nipples perfectly captured and sculpted. Near her collarbone, the shining metal merged with her flesh in an angry red line that glowed faintly...and it was this line that was pumping out the heat. As Lois watched, she swore she could see it slowly moving, like a slow-burning candle, consuming her flesh and replacing it with metal.

Gnawing on her lip, Lois gingerly touched one nipple. It was hot—the metal was more conductive than flesh—but not burning hot. Stranger than that, Lois could feel her finger through her metallic breast, even as she could feel the hot, smooth, hard metal through the fleshy pads of her fingertip. She saw, with strange fascination, how her fingers left tiny prints on the shiny metal...and felt, with an odd mechanical stiffness, how the nipple extended, hidden motors in her breast vibrating as it mocked the normal process by which a nipple gets erect.

"I'm turning into a machine!" Lois said. "Some kind of cyborg!"