The Men's Restroom

There was a line of women waiting for the bathroom, but surprisingly no one waiting in front of the men's room. Lois Lane dashed inside, and finding it thankfully deserted, headed into a stall to slip off her jacket and shirt and undo her bra...

On a good day, Lois Lane was a 32B. Her breasts were small, barely a palmful, with a classic half-teardrop shape, the nipples small and pink. That was not what was hanging off her chest now. These breasts were bigger, fuller, heavier, and less firm, with small metal barbells piercing the suddenly bigger nipples.

Just like the bartender's.

Lois frowned. This was magic. It had to be. The spell worked. Somehow, her momentary desire for the bartender's tits had actually given her those breasts. Lois wasn't one to believe in the supernatural, but she did believe in what she could see and feel.

Her hands squeezed her new breasts she could barely stifle a moan...they were definitely real, and sensitive. Just the nipple piercings were a source of constant stimulation. Probably the bartender was used to it, but Lois wasn't. She began to massage her breasts, squeezing and pulling from where they connected with her chest to those now-stiff little tips. Lois realized that the skin of her new breasts was a little darker than the rest of her...but as she massaged, she felt a tingle run through her and the color faded to match the rest of her chest. Watching that happen in real time sent a shiver down the reporter's spine...and started an itch between her legs.

Get it together, Lane, Lois told herself. She was in the men's room, and there were holes in the wall of the stall for men to stick their cocks through. Lois didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. She stuffed her bra into the inner pocket of her jacket—these girls were obviously too big for her lady holsters—when she paused.

Men's voices. A couple of guys had entered the bathroom. Yet what caught her attention was what they were saying. They were talking about the cult.