Watch as Lois inserts the nipple dildos and changes into her new outfits
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Lois stands and walks toward the hallway. "I'll change in the bedroom," she says, glancing down at her dramatically enlarged breasts. They're massive now, matching Emma Frost's proportions, with large areolas and thick, prominent nipples perfectly sized for the dildo rings.
You follow her into the master bedroom, Grace trailing behind with evident interest. Lois's closet contains typical journalist attire—blouses, slacks, conservative dresses. She pulls out a white button-up shirt and holds it uncertainly.
"Allow me," you say, raising the Servant Gun. You fire at her entire wardrobe—every garment shimmers and reforms. The blouses transform into cropped styles that end just below the breasts, leaving them completely exposed. Skirts shrink to micro-length. Shorts become barely-there garments. Stockings appear in every drawer, all thigh-high.
Lois examines a transformed outfit with professional curiosity. "Efficient." She pulls on the micro skirt—it barely covers her ass. The thigh-high stockings slide up her legs smoothly. She selects a cropped blazer that frames her exposed breasts perfectly, the fabric tailored to emphasize rather than conceal.
"Now the dildos," you instruct.
She picks up the first device, examining the ring attachment. The dildo portion is substantial, modeled exactly after your cock. She positions it against her left nipple and pushes—the thick flesh accommodates the insertion with some effort. The ring settles around the base of her nipple, leaving only the metal visible. She repeats the process with the right nipple.
Immediately, both devices begin vibrating. Lois's eyes widen. "Oh—" She catches herself, her expression shifting from surprise to frustrated arousal. The vibrations are subtle but constant, powered by her body heat. Her nipples harden visibly around the rings.
"They're... persistent," Lois says, her voice slightly strained. She looks at you with a pout, her journalistic composure cracking. "This is going to be distracting during interviews."
Grace laughs outright, her punk aesthetic contrasting with her obvious amusement. "That's the fucking point, Lane. You'll conduct every interview with your tits out and those things buzzing away."
You grin at Lois's expression. "Consider it motivation to work efficiently. The sooner you finish your interviews, the sooner you can... focus on the sensations."
Grace snorts. "Fuck, that's perfect."
Lois adjusts her blazer, trying to find a comfortable position, but the constant vibrations clearly prevent any real comfort. Her breathing quickens slightly.
"Grace," you say, turning to the Leadership Collective member. "How did you get here? Tina drove me, and I didn't see another vehicle outside."
Grace leans back against the wall casually. "Victoria had Veronica drive me over earlier. You know—Tina's mom, the punk goth slut. She dropped me off and went to handle some shit for Victoria. She'll pick me up later."