Vodka

Lois withdrew the bottle from beneath the sink. She didn't even normally drink vodka. It was crisp, almost medicinal, nearly tasteless. The kind of thing you drank when the point wasn't to enjoy the flavor or the buzz, just to numb the pain away or disinfect something.

The reporter's guts gurgled. She winced as something like a cramp hit her, but more localized.

"Definitely need to kill something," the naked reporter murmured as she went back to the bathroom.

Butt-chugging wasn't something Lois had done herself since university...and even that had just been beer. What she was about to do was dangerous, potentially life-threatening. Her colon and intestines would absorb the **** fast. Whether or not this worked, she was going to end up too shit-faced to do anything else tonight.

But it would be worth it to poison this fucking thing.

Lois planted her back against the floor, legs against the wall. Worked the cap off the vodka, and took a taste...just a taste...for courage...and put it back on. Then she began slowly to walk her feet up the wall, edging her ass upwards, more and more of her weight on her shoulders...until her legs were sticking straight up, back in an aching curve. The pulsing pain of the thing in her intestine as it moved around inside of her.

Now for the hard part. Normally people did this with a hose. With one hand squished between her back and the wall, the reporter's left hand found her asshole, still slimy with goo and sore. Taking as deep a breath as she could with all the weight on her lungs, she pressed two fingers into her ass, surprised at how little resistance there was...and then spread them apart, just until it felt uncomfortable. A little gap was all she needed.

Right hand grabbed the bottle by the neck and maneuvered it very carefully, until the head was just south of horizontal. Actually let the lip of the bottle rest on the rim of her asshole.

"Time to make a mess," she hissed, and with thumb and forefinger, unscrewed the cap. Tossed it aside.

The trick was to get the neck of the bottle in her asshole before she spilled all the distilled **** all over herself. Her fingers ached holding her asshole open. She'd have one chance at this.

Carefully shifting her grip on her ass, she managed to hold the gaping orifice open with her first and fourth fingers, the middle two grabbing onto the lip of the vodka bottle itself. Lois Lane's right hand shifted, slid down to the base. There had to be at least a liter of booze left.

She took one deep breath...and moved her right hand up. The fingers of her left hand guided the glass lip in, cold booze splashing into her asshole moments before the whole neck of the glass bottle slipped into her rectum, three or four hard inches only stopped when the bottle's shoulder hit.

Even though she had been expecting it, the suddenness of the intrusion caught Lois by surprise, taking every ounce of her will not to fall over, to get the intruder out of her ass. But if the bottle broke, that would be bad, and anyway...

Cold fluid ran straight into Lois Lane's guts, the bottle "gulping" as air surfaced in the bottle. She was afraid her asshole would overflow, but apparently it was going straight down, through the colon and into her guts, where the giant sperm was making its way. Her guts protested, wanted to expel the sudden deluge of fluid, but the reporter's brain vetoed her body's commands, feeling the chill seep down down down toward the throbbing pain in her abdomen.

"Die, motherfucker," Lois murmured as a wave of dizziness struck her, either from her position and tiredness or the first sign that the **** was entering her bloodstream.