She Begins To Lactate

Pressure was building in the reporter's breasts. Unbelieving, she pulled at her shirt, looking down at her modest boobs. Her nipples, what she could see of them, were puffy...but they were still pink, and her breasts didn't look any bigger. There were certainly no little white drops forming, much less streams of milk gushing out. Yet as the crying grew more intense, Lois could almost feel the pressure building inside of her chest, focused on her nipples...and there was a weird disappointment that filled the reporter, as if she had been hoping her tits would be leaking.

"Make no mistake, your milk glands are active. They've been active since shortly after your pregnancy was confirmed. However, milk expression usually takes a bit more than just chemical and psychological triggers," Lex Luthor said. "Physical stimulation has found to be the best approach. Sit on the bed."

"What?" Lois said.

Lex Luthor walked to a device by the side of the bed and wheeled it closer. There was a series of clear tubes, clear plastic cups with soft seals, glass reservoirs with tiny white lines painted on them to measure the level. Lois had never seen it before, but she could clearly define its purpose. It was a milking machine.

"I'm not...I'm not going to sit on that bed and let you milk me!" Lois said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Of course not," Luthor said. "I won't touch you at all. You'll do it yourself. The surrogate process is expensive and labor-intensive, if you'll forgive a pun. We expect the members of our Surrogate Corps to pump their own milk. I assure you, the process is quite...stimulating. Many of our subjects enjoy it."

"I'm not a part of your surrogate corps!" Lois insisted, even as she felt the pressure in her nipples growing. She couldn't get the constant crying of the babies out of her head, it was driving her crazy.

"Not yet," he said. "But relieving the pressure will make you more comfortable...and if you do, I'll submit to an exclusive interview."

Lois paused. "You mean...if I sit on that bed and milk myself, you'll answer all of my questions?"

"Of course," the industrialist said. He took the handkerchief from the pocket of his suit and mopped his bald pate. "It is only fair."

The reporter was torn. This seemed like some sort of obvious trap...but there were no straps or other devices on the bed to keep her held down. If she could get some answers...maybe it was worth it. Lois hoped that wasn't just her aching nipples talking.