Clark Kent

"Lois?" The mild-mannered reporter stood there, in a mousy gray suit, peering at her through his coke-bottle glasses. He stared down at her on the floor, almost falling out of her bathrobe, clutching at her stomach. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

"S-Smallville," she gasped, trying to clutch the robe tighter around herself. Her face flushed, in mixed arousal and embarrassment. Clark Kent was the last person on the face of the Earth she wanted to see her like this. "I-I'm fine, I—"

She was going to say she tripped and fell. Had a cramp. That time of the month. Bad Chinese food coming back at her. Anything, everything except the truth.

Then the pain hit again. A deep, throbbing pulse. It seemed to writhe within her, and she was physically thrown away from the door, onto her back. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and the robe parted.

Oh no, she thought. He can see everything. And it was true. Her bare pussy was on display, red and raw from the reaming she had given herself earlier. Yet in less than a flash he was kneeling beside her, holding her head in one of his big hands.

"You're not okay." He said, and there was an edge of steel in his voice that she had never heard before. Kent was staring down at her body, and Lois was self-conscious, tried to pull the robe to cover herself, but it was like he was staring through her. "Lois, there's...you're not well. You need help. Tell me what happened."

She hesitated, not sure how much of the evening's adventures she wanted. "Just carry me to bed, Clark. You can do that, can't you?"

He was gentle as a lamb, but she could feel the restrained strength as he gathered her into his arms. The bed still reeked of sex, and she could see his nostrils flare before they even entered the bedroom. All the time Lois clutched her stomach, and wondered how much she could tell him. He swept aside the stained covers and laid her down on the bare sheets.

The moment he let go of her, Lois spasmed again, robes flying open. It was like gas...like the worst case of gas she'd ever felt, the sudden blazing pressure in her belly...and worst of all, she could almost feel how close Clark's penis was to her at the moment, and it filled her mind. When the attack was passed, she lay on the bed practically nude, the robe totally flung open.

"Lois...if you won't talk to me, let me go call someone. What's wrong with you...I don't think it's quite...natural."

The big man looked down, away from Lois, and she noticed he was blushing. The big, simple oaf. The Daily Planet's star reporter reached out a weak hand and caught it on his wrist. "Clark..." she began.