Lois Can Pick The Lock

It was tricky, working by touch, using one hairpin to lift the tumblers and the other to apply tension...it wouldn't have worked if this was anything other than a relatively simple and old-fashioned lock. Yet she had the advantage that Granny Goodness was so in love with the sound of her own voice that she was still going on about the hypothetical babies Lois would birth when the lock turned and the door opened.

Lois Lane was proficient in self-defense—but none of the moves she knew really applied to having an extra eighty pounds of tits hanging off of her chest, when faced against an alien demigoddess. But there was the rod in Granny Goodness' hand—the rod that had denuded Lois of her hair, and grown her boobs out to such ridiculous dimensions. The reporter's eyes fixed on it.

There was nothing else but to try for it.

Gathering her pillowy breasts in both arms, the reporter clasped her arms tight against her chest and charged. There was nothing graceful or artful about it, just two hundred pounds of busty, naked woman cannonballing into the back of the grey-haired, muscle-bound alien dominatrix. Lost as she was in the grand plans she had for the reporter's womb, Granny was unprepared. While she was not bowled over, she did stagger, her endless streaming soliloquy cut off abruptly...and then Lois was on her, the massive soft pale tits sliding over and around the Apokaliptan's arm as Lois grabbed and wrestled for the rod in Granny's hand.

The added weight of Lois seemed to be almost nothing to Granny, who grabbed at the swollen tit in her face with her free hand, even as she raised the rod up high...and even as Lois grasped it, her slim hand closing on the controls just above Granny's fingers, the tip of the rod began to glow...