End: There's More Than One Fetus

"Oww!" Lois Lane made to grab at her abdomen as a sudden pain shot through her, evident even through the anesthetic. The picture on the ultrasound monitor jumped, and Lex Luthor cursed as he tried to hold the wand steady inside the reporter's pussy.

Multiple heartbeats distorted the black-and-white image. Luthor's eyes widened as the picture of the reporter's womb suddenly became very crowded. Lois Lane didn't need to look at the monitor, however. She only had to watch the skin of her abdomen begin to skin and stretch into a dome of flesh, to feel the pain stab through her body as her womb stretched to accommodate new inhabitants.

A bead of sweat ran down Lex Luthor's forehead...and then his eye fixed on a number on a screen that Lois couldn't see.

"Your weight," he said. "Lane, how much do you weigh?"

"One...one-fifteen," Lois Lane said. "W-why?"

"The bed has a weight monitor. It says your weight is one-twenty-nine," Lex said. The billionaire mad scientist gnawed his cheek. "During her regression, Maria was shrinking in size, but I didn't weigh her. Never considered where the missing mass went. If her genetic code has stabilized, the mass might revert...but instead of making her grow past the 12-week mark, the fetus is cloning itself."

Lois Lane blinked as she parsed that. "I'm...multiples? How many?"

Luthor licked his lips. "At twelve weeks, a fetus is about half an ounce...only a little over two inches long. Most women only gain 2-4 pounds over the course of the first trimester. You're...about fourteen pounds overweight. That means you could be looking at quadruplets...or septuplets."

The reporter stared at her stomach. Trickles of blood leaked from the stitches, which now felt itchy and painful. Lex barked an order, and nurses and lab techs went into action. New IV bags were hooked into her arms. Sponges mopped the blood from her livid incision and sprayed the wound with something that smelled unpleasantly caustic, but numbed the growing pain, at least on her outer skin. A nurse offered the reporter a hit of oxygen, and Lois took it gladly, even as Lex Luthor stared at the monitor and tried to get a better count.

"I think...there are six," he said, but there was doubt in his voice. The bald billionaire turned to Lois Lane and took the wand out of her pussy. "You are officially now engaged in a very high-risk pregnancy. I'm going to have to insist on complete bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy."

He gave a nod to the nurse. A dial was turned. Lois gasped as she tasted ether in the oxygen mask...and then her eyelids grew heavy, her heart thundered more slowly in her breast, and her body lay still. She lay like that, barely conscious, as they wheeled her away to a private room. Deep inside of her, the reporter's new children settled into their home.

Yet she clung to consciousness, as they moved her to a more comfortable bed. Lois Lane could not even grunt as a gloved nurse slipped the catheter-lead into the reporter's urethra with clinical unconcern. The nurse slid the handcuffs around the reporter's wrists and cinched them tight to the bed's handrails with the same disaffection. A warm blanket was drawn up over the naked form. The lights were dimmed.

Trapped, a prisoner in her own body, Lois Lane reflected on the events of her night out. The choices she had made that had brought her here. Wondering what might have happened, if she had gone left instead of right. What would have happened to Maria if she had refused her. Until, finally, welcome oblivion washed away those might-have-beens.

Lois Lane's night out was over. Her pregnant incarceration had begun.