She Hopes So

Lois' heart skipped a beat. The screen shifted back to pink spirals as the syringe withdrew from her pussy. The reporter could feel the cum slowly dripping out of her pussy, and resisted the urge to try and squeeze it out using her internal muscles like she had when she was younger.

Am I...pregnant? Lois asked herself. I mean, probably not...yet. But if I'm ovulating...what are the odds? 25%?

The reporter racked her brains, trying to dredge up everything she thought she knew about getting pregnant. For years she had focused so much on not getting pregnant that the idea of wanting to be knocked up just seemed surreal.

Lois tried and failed to blink, the pink spirals filling her vision. Do I want to be pregnant?

There were no images this time, nothing to focus her thoughts on—but the reporter's brain supplied them anyway, the recent video clips fresh in her memory. The pale bellies growing, swelling; breasts and bodies changing, that dark line creeping up the slowly expanding tummy toward her navel. In her mind's eye, Lois had a picture of herself in birth...legs up in stirrups, sweat plastering one dark lock of hair against her forehead, the baby crowning, spreading her pussy impossibly wide...

...and the baby was pale brown, like chocolate with milk.

I do want it, Lois shuddered, feeling a sexual thrill run through her pussy at the thought. I...I think I'm ready to be a mother. I'm definitely ready to be knocked up by a black cock.

Doubt gnawed at Lois though. She knew what her life was like as the Daily Planet's star reporter. Craziness and danger, and her without even a boyfriend much less a husband. And there was the freedom to consider.

I can't exactly bend over for black cocks when I'm at home, taking care of an infant. Lois admitted to herself. Maybe...maybe I like the idea of getting impregnated more than I want a baby?

It was not the kind of thought that Lois liked to dwell on, but the situation demanded it. Here she was, with a pussy full of fresh-squeeze black semen, possibly bred like a prize cow, and she was right up against it... What would my dad think if I came home with a half-black baby? What would Superman think? Or my coworkers at the Daily Planet?

Lois shook, feeling a creeping sensation as though her skin were crawling, a rising tension...and was aware, just barely, of a high-pitched tone that was rising and falling...almost like it was speaking. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel her blood pressure spike, fight-or-flight-or-fuck response suddenly triggered as she wanted to bolt, to run, to hit something...but she couldn't move from the chair, couldn't stop staring at the pink spirals in front of her, or stop thinking about the terrible divide within her...hoping at once that she was pregnant, and at the same time dreading what that would mean for her. She felt like her entire life was hinging on that moment.

On the screen, letters appeared. The reporter seized on the visual, something to give shape to the enormous possibilities that hung on the moment, the terrible state of excitement that she was in.

CONFIRM/PREVENT PREGNANCY?