Almost

Lois Lane found herself breathing like she was in lamaze class—puffing her cheeks out, sucking in air—but she wasn't giving birth. Quite the reverse. Knuckles pressed into the soft cheeks of the reporter's vulva. Her vagina felt ready to snap. Lois focused on her breathing.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. She repeated to herself in a mantra. Every time something presses against you down, it feels too big. But it can stretch. Meant to pass a baby. It's alright. Just relax, relax, relax...

Maria didn't move, eight fingers buried deep in the reporter's pussy. "Doing okay there?"

Lois licked her lips, heart thumping. "I...I think I'm okay. This is...this is really weird."

"Okay, well I'm going to start applying pressure."

The words sank in to the reporter's head, and her mantra died as a single thought ran through her brain. Oh fuck.

Knuckles, which had been resting on the edge of Lois' labia, suddenly pressed forward. The cupped hands, which acted as a wedge, slowly prying the reporter's pussy open, wider and wider. Even with the lube, it felt to Lois like her cunt was slowly being ripped apart—and in a way it was. Muscles must be stretching, tearing. Losing a level of elasticity they might never again regain.

I'm never going to be able to hold my pee again. The reporter almost gagged as the pressure increased, and looked back over her shoulder to see that Maria was pressing her belly against the base of her hands, using her weight to apply yet more ****...

There wasn't a single "pop" or "plop." Nor was their pain, although the discomfort was approaching that level, building every second as the inexorable, unstoppable mass of a woman's hands filling her birth canal moved in at a glacial pace. Just waiting for Lois to relax, then pressing forward, ever forward, onward and inward into Lois's internal anatomy.

Then, a pause. Lois could feel the heart thump in her chest, sweat running down from temple and armpit. She was about on her limit. The reporter turned to survey the damage.

In five minutes, Maria's hands had progressed perhaps three-quarters of an inch. Lois could see the pink rim of her once-tight cunt stretched obscenely over her lover's knuckles. And her stomach fluttered, seeing how far that Maria had gone.

Look what I can do. A weird flare of pride then. Maybe not "goatse eat your heart out," but how many women can say they experienced that kind of...

"Almost there," Maria's voice was eager, entranced.

"Can you pour a little more lube on? I think one more push will do it."