Still Wriggling

Lois Lane waited, barely daring to breath. All of her concentration focused on what was happening inside her. She could still feel the lump of the giant sperm's head there, deep inside of her, like a baseball sitting on top of her womb...

It twitched.

"Son of a bitch," the reporter swore, feeling the thing start to wriggle again. The pointed nose was drilling against her cervix, trying to work its way in. Lois grunted painfully as she rolled onto her hands and knees, staring wildly around the bathroom.

"There has to be something..."

The bottle of bleach she dismissed as a last resort. Lois wasn't sure how toxic it would be to her. The toothpaste was useless. The bottle of mouthwash she considered; the terrible astringent might do some damage...but she'd never heard of anyone douching with Listerine before. Then her brain remembered the liter bottle of Diet Pepsi in the fridge.

She started to crawl.

Lois Lane was not much given to drinking soda. She had a figure to maintain, and empty calories from sugary drinks were not helpful. But sometimes the caffeine was...and she had definitely heard of girls in highschool who had used soda pop as a spermicide.

"After all, the vagina was an acidic environment, hostile to sperm." She mumbled to herself. "More acid, more hostile. That's logical."

A cramp hit her, the unwavering efforts of the invader causing her inner muscles to spasm. She hoped that didn't mean the thing was actually succeeding. Lois reached the kitchen and fetched out the cold plastic bottle. Still wincing, she began the trek back to the bathroom...no matter how she did it, the results were going to be messy.

Lois propped herself up in the shower, pussy in the air, the giant sperm wiggling like mad as it sought entrance to her womb. The reporter cracked the seal on the soda with a twist. A part of her noted the dramatic irony that this was the second time tonight she thought shoving a bottle up her pussy was a good idea.

"Eat this you fucking single-celled asshole," the reporter muttered as she brought the brimming bottle's nozzle up to her lips. Before she could lose her nerve, she upended it.

Cold, fizzing **** poured deep inside of her with a familiar glug glug, the contents of the bottle bubbling as the liquid poured out and air was pulled in. Almost immediately, Lois realized her mistake. She was pouring a sugary, carbonated acid into her sensitive and already much-abused orifice. Acid began to eat away at every scrape and microscopic cut. It was agony.

And that was before the sperm began to thrash.

It redoubled its wiggling, the giant invader struggling with all of its might to reach its goal. Brown foam poured out past Lois Lane's lips in an obscene parody of a science fair volcano, and she wanted to scream as every little sore spot of the night was attacked by the rampaging acid. She didn't even want to think of the yeast infection that was going to follow this.

But she held the bottle in place because slowly, surely, the wiggling was ceasing. A shiver went through Lois Lane's core, diet soda spilling all over her body in sticky waves as the last few ounces of cola were deposited into her defiled cooch...but as she sat there waiting, it seemed like maybe, just maybe...this time...