End: The World's Biggest Pussy

On the streets of Metropolis, Lois Lane walked. Her heels clicked on the concrete. People filed past, the regular crowd. Lois could feel the wind on her naked skin, and her left arm clutched the purse that hung from her left shoulder. Somehow it felt so natural, to be naked out here in public.

Yet she could feel the eys on her. Not drawn to her breasts, but to her pussy.

Lois couldn't look down, but she could feel it. No longer the demure slit, topped with a carefully-trimmed patch of pubic hair. It was a fleshy mons that jutted out from her crotch, hairy and overgrown. With each step, Lois could feel the hairy flaps of her cunny rub against her inner thighs.

Worse than that, she could feel it grow.

She could feel the steady creep of her slit up her abdomen. The looks of disgust from the passers-by. A middle-aged woman slapped her hands across the eyes of her 18-year-old son. A young woman's nipples suddenly went hard, to tent the fabric beneath her tight blouse, and then she hurried on. With every step, the reporter could feel the heat build and the skin stretch. Like her body was slowly bifurcated. The loose labia rubbed against each other by her knees now. The clit climbed higher and higher, until it sat just below her sternum, like an obscene third nipple.

The reporter's steps slowed as she came to the steps that led up to the glass doors to the Daily Planet building. Lois shook, and pussy juice splashed against her ankles as she mounted the stairs. Because she knew that she would see her reflection in those glass doors. Her knees shook as she inched her way up the steps, unable to turn back. Her clit throbbed in the hollow of her throat now, and she shivered as she approached the top of the stairs. Anxious about what she would see.

On the top step, she slipped. Lois felt herself fall. Felt a strong, familiar hand grab her right arm. A familiar voice that cried out...

"Lois!"

The reporter blinked her eyes once, twice—and then she was awake, fully alert, all senses go. At a glance she took in the hospital bed she lay on, the IV in her left arm, Clark Kent by her side, his square jaw covered in stubble, deep concern and relief in those sky-blue eyes, his suit so rumpled that he looked as though he'd slept in it—and probably had.

Awareness of the rest of her body took another moment. Lois turned her head, tried to sit up—and immediately fell back with a twinge of pain, apparent even through the ****.

"How long—" she gasped. Then stared at the blanket that covered her midsection. There was something not right there, though she was too numb with **** around the waist to discern what. But the outline was wrong, humped.

"It's been three weeks since your night out," Clark said. "You were checked in as Jane Doe—there was someone paying your hospital bills. Superman tore apart half the city looking for you. It wasn't until later that Batman thought to check hospital admissions—"

The reporter frowned. She grabbed the cover with her left hand, Clark's big hands still clasped around her right.

"Smallville, what happened to me?" she said. "I remember...there was an operation...they put me under anesthesia..."

"That's what Batman said. You shouldn't move too much. You're still healing." Clark swallowed hard. "I can call a nurse. Or turn around, if you want to look."

Lois gripped her teeth.

"Clark Kent, lift this blanket off me right now. I need to see what they did to me."

Very somberly, he stood up. Still holding her right hand in his left, with his other big hand he pulled the blanket and sheet down...and then raised the paper smock that covered her body up.

Three weeks. That was about right for the black stubble that covered her pussy. But where before had been a demure little slit, not the thick lips ran from the tops of her thighs upwards. The reporter could see her clit, as big as her thumb, just below her navel. The skin on either side showed the faint white lines of scar tissue, the little black stitches that they always claimed would dissolve on their own but never did.

Lois Lane swallowed heavily. Maybe she had heard something, when she was under anesthesia. Something her subconscious processed in her dreams, had tried to tell her. Lois Lane, who had gone out for her night out with a nice tight twat, now had a cunt that could pass a pineapple without flinching. Any normal cock would be like a hot dog thrown down a subway tunnel.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lois Lane caught the twitch. She glanced, just briefly, at the bulge that now made itself obvious in Clark Kent's pants. A thought began then, which Lois Lane was not prepared to follow just that moment...but a part of her wondered if, when she healed up, maybe there were possibilities. Even for a freakishly large vagina.

It was a thought that would come to her more than once over the coming days and nights. A flame that kept her going through her physical therapy. Clark Kent always there at her side, as much as he could. Until friendship turned into something more.

Yet that is another story.