End: Drink Heavily Until Lois Gives Birth

The nearest liquor store was two blocks from the club. Lois Lane grabbed a plastic basket. Lana Lang followed behind her, trying not to look at the reporter's stomach. The shirt was still covering it, but whenever Lois moved too fast, Lana could see that the stomach was beginning to press against the waistband of the reporter's tight red pants.

"Do you prefer rum or tequila?" Lois said, as she went down the first aisle.

"I can go for either," Lana said. The reporter crouched down, and instinctively the redhead reached up and grabbed a bottle from the top shelf. "Don't get that cheap stuff. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I have..." Lois checked the phone. "Two hours and twenty minutes. I'm not doing this shit sober, and there's no time to get to the delivery room."

The reporter moved down the aisle, picking out bottles, Lana Lang hovering behind her.

"But...isn't drinking..."

"Bad for the symbiote? I fucking hope so," Lois Lane said, violet eyes flashing in anger. The reporter picked out a bottle each of rum, Irish whisky, tequila, and bourbon...then, she was in the snack aisle, grabbing a bag of blue corn chips, a jar of hummus, a bottle of organic cranberry juice, and a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper.

By the time the reporter hauled her purchases to the checkout, her stomach was sticking out over her tight pants, tenting her white t-shirt a little. The reporter pulled it down as the pimple-faced twenty-something behind the counter carded her.

Lana helped Lois carry the booze outside. They caught a cab to the reporter's apartment. Lois stared out at the city, her face a mask of discontent. The redhead checked her phone as the minutes went by, but more than that she found herself staring at the reporter's stomach, which was almost visibly creeping forward, the t-shirt growing tighter and tighter, until a bit of the bare stomach was sticking out...and Lana's mouth went dry seeing that, for some reason, butterflies in her own stomach at watching this black miracle take place...

Lois tugged the shirt back down over her growing gut, and held one of the bags in front of her as she went into the building, hiding the swollen stomach from the doorman. Lana still followed in her lead, conscious of her friend's discomfort and emotional success, wishing there was something she could do...but Lois didn't want any help, the redhead could see that clearly. So, Lana just followed her, staying close all the way up the elevator ride, and then holding the booze as the reporter opened the door into her apartment.

It was small, a one-bedroom affair with a kitchenette, a full bath, and a balcony. To Lana's eye, it didn't look lived in: there weren't any pictures on the wall, the laundry hamper was overflowing, the bookcase full of research materials was double-stacked and overflowing. Lana set the bags on the kitchen table and began to take the bottles of booze and snacks out...Lois, as soon as the door was closed and locked, began to strip out of her too-tight pants.

The redhead tried not to blush, looking away as Lois stripped.

"I don't mind if you look," Lois said. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Which was true enough, and Lana did find herself sneaking glances as Lois pulled off the rest of her clothes. She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and Lana busied herself finding glasses...then hesitated, wondering if she should really be encouraging Lois in this plan.

The toilet flushed. The naked reporter emerged a moment later, and this time Lana did blush. There was an hour left in the gestation, and Lois looked five months pregnant, her stomach sticking out in a way that was too high and too tight for a potbelly, not a spare ounce of fat on her, and with the reporter's small breasts it was sticking out nearly as far as her nipples...which looked puffy and darker than Lana remembered from before.

"Shots," Lois said, sitting heavily in one of the chairs. "Tequila. You'll drink with me, right? I don't..." she blinked, let out a sigh "...I don't want to do this alone."

"Of course," Lana said and sat down, the phone on the table so both of them could see the ticking clock.

They drank, first in silence. Neither of the women were hard drinkers, and yet they each put down three shots in less than ten minutes. The atmosphere was too tense, and as Lois dug into the chips and hummus, Lana stood up and began to take off her shirt.

Lois crunched on a chip, staring at the redhead in frank admiration she bared her bra. Lana felt her ears burn and heart pound...but then again, Lois had seen everything that she had too, hadn't she?

"Take it all off," Lois suggested, as she cracked open the rum. "You'll be more comfortable."

Lana tried to think of something clever to say to that, but she was arrested by a glance to the reporter's stomach. It was bulging out more distinctly now.

So the redhead stripped. She made a little show of it, as Lois sipped the rum, glassy-eyed now and face flushed from the booze...or was it just the booze. Lana wasn't sure...but as she peeled off her panties, she saw as much as felt the wet, gooey strand that stretched between her pussy and the cloth. Lois simply stared at it, fascinated...then put an empty glass down on the table and worked to refill it.

They clinked glasses. They drank.

"I've never...been with another woman," Lois said. "Before tonight."

"Me either," Lana said. "Although I think I told you that."

"I liked it," Lois Lane's hand shook a little as she poured another shot. "I mean, I don't know if I'd do it again, with someone else, but I'm not sad it happened. With you, I mean. Someone I can trust. A friend."

The rum overflowed the shot glass. Lana took the bottle from the reporter's hand, and filled her own glass.

"I liked it too. I just wish..." The redhead nodded at the phone. "...I kind of wish it was just us, you know? No weird magic app, no dick..."

"You loved that fucking dick!" Lois challenged.

"I loved fucking you with it," Lana said as she sipped her rum. "I wouldn't...I mean I'd've never..."

"You're so gay," Lois said.

"If I'm gay, then what are you?" Lana shot back.

"Maybe I'm just gay for you."

Silence reigned again. It was an unfair thing to say...neither woman could remember how much they'd drunk, but Lana cracked open the whiskey and Dr. Pepper...and then had to get up and fresh bigger glasses. There was more of soda than of **** in the cocktails she mixed. When she sat back down, Lois was brushing chip crumbs off her belly.

It was a real pregnant belly now, no mistaking it for anything else. Lana glanced at the phone. Fifteen minutes left...and Lois looked somewhere in her third trimester, the stomach almost in her lap, the skin smooth and taut, a dark line reaching up from her carefully-trimmed pubic hair to her navel, the white lightning scars of stretch marks on both sides. Her breasts weren't really bigger, just the puffy nipples darker than before, pink turning to brown.

"Does it hurt?" Lana asked.

"Skin feels too tight. Mostly, it's just this...pressure. Weight. I think most pregnant women have time to get used to it, but this is moving too fast. Also, I think junior is sitting on my bladder," Lois said as she pulled back from the table and tried to stand up. "I have to pee again."

She almost fell. Lana lurched forward, catching the naked woman's arm. Lois smiled a thanks as she got her feet up under her, but Lana held her arm all the way to the bathroom.

Maybe it was the change in the center of gravity, or the ****. Lana stood at the door as Lois squatted on the toilet, listening to the tinkle of liquid on liquid. Leaning forward like that really emphasized the size of the reporter's stomach. The redhead couldn't tear her eyes away as the belly button, once an innie, slowly and certainly unfurled. There was no "pop," it just...did it.

"How much time is left?" Lois said, as she gripped the sink and stood up on shaky legs, grabbing a wad of toilet paper to wipe herself.

"Ten minutes," Lana said, tearing her eyes away to glance at the phone.

"There's a spare towel under the sink," Lois said, still holding onto the edge. "Lay it on the bed. Then bring me the whiskey. No glasses, just the bottle."

The redhead hurried to fulfill the orders. Slowly, breathing heavily, Lois waddled toward the bed. It was a waddle too. Slow, unsteady, each step planted carefully, she couldn't stride. Both hands were under the stomach now, which looked as though she had swallowed a soccer ball whole. Lana laid the towell on the edge of the bed, and Lois sat down on it, her legs hanging over the side.

She grabbed the bottle out of Lana's hands by the neck, brought it up to her lips and drank straight from the bottle. Just tilted her head back and swallowed and swallowed and swallowed...

...and only stopped to take a breath. She panted hard, free hand rubbing her taut belly, the skin of which was now so pale as to almost be glassy, veins clearly visible within. Lois winced.

"Uggh."

Lana was on her knees in front of her in a moment. "What is it?"

"Con...traction. I think." Lois winced and set the bottle down. "Get ready to catch, Smallville. I don't think it'll be long noaaagh!"

Maybe it would have been worse if they weren't both drunk. Lana fetched another towel, splashed whiskey over her hands, then handed the bottle back to Lois. Neither of them really knew what they were expecting, or how long it would take. It was dawn when the black head crowned. Lana swallowed bile as she urged the reporter to push...the head emerged, and the redhead saw that the rest of the baby...it was a baby, a human baby...was purple, it was only something over the face, the features visible through it...

Lana ripped the caul off the baby and it sucked in a breath and gave out a lusty scream.

Lois lay back, sweating, belly strangely deflated. Lana was busy cleaning up the baby as the placenta fell out of her womb, hitting the floor like a piece of raw liver on the floor.

"Well Lois," Lana said. "Say hello to your daughter."

There was a little fluff of orange-red hair on the head. Then the baby opened its eyes...and they were violet eyes, the same color as Lois Lane's.

The exhausted, drunk reporter held the baby awkwardly. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on that tuft of reddish hair.

"You uh...you think..."

Lana Lang swallowed. "I don't know. I guess we'll have to do a DNA test. But if she is...do you want to..."

Lois reached out and grabbed Lana's hand. "Yes, Smallville. Whenever you want to ask. The answer is yes."

On the table, unseen, the DMN app popped up:

Symbiote gestation complete.
Would you like to play again?