End: Until She Gives Birth

In the white void, there was no movement but Lois Lane's own body. No sound except her own breathing, the rush of blood through her veins, the crackle of electricity in her nerves. She felt no hunger, no cold or heat, no pressure of bladder or other bodily need. All was calm and stillness, and she lay as one caught in a fever dream, on the edge of waking and sleep, strange nightmares and fantasies assailing her.

Yet time had not lost all meaning.

Curled up alone with herself, Lois was aware of the slow, almost imperceptible changes that took place in her body. The hairs that curled out from her violated pussy, so that a dark thatch covered the bare labia. The slow darkening and swelling of her nipples, as subtle and delicate as the shift in colors of the leaves in New England, until they stood out on her breasts...breasts which themselves were no longer mere palmfuls, but sagged gently against the strange gravity of this place, fuller than they had ever been, the blue veins like delicate rivers beneath the skin that was paler than normal because of the lack of sunlight.

Other changes took place in her body too. The softening of her limbs as hard muscle was gently lost, the glow of her skin as her complexion cleared...and down below in her abdomen...

Lois hadn't seen it at first, although she had been looking for it. A slight thickening of the waist, that slowly grew more and more pronounced. Her probing fingers found it first, the hard lump beneath her abs, three fingers beneath her navel....she had shaken, her mind assailed with every horror movie she had ever watched, afraid of what was inside of her. Wondering sometimes if it would eat its way out of her stomach...or if it would be human at all, and not some writhing maggot the length of her arm, tearing a hole through her body as it bloodily emerged.

Yet nothing disturbed the peace of that void, as her abdomen slowly distended, for what must have been day after day, week after week, month after month, although days and weeks and months had long since lost all meaning to Lois, except in the length of her hair as it now fell down to the middle of her back, the swell of her hips, the strangely soft heaviness of her ass as it took on unfamiliar jiggle and curves.

When, at last, Lois could see with her own eyes the definite gravid swell of her stomach, when she felt the thing move inside of her...then, at last she moved. Her voice cried out, and was swallowed by the void, as there was nothing to echo it back to her. Legs kicked and thrashed as she held her growing belly, but there was nothing to push against.

That was a different kind of madness that overtook her. The need to escape. She nver tired, not even after continued exertions, legs peddling in place, arms trying to swim against the terrible whiteness that enveloped her. Yet it was pointless; Lois Lane couldn't even raise a sweat. The forces that held her here saw to her every need, and larger and larger her womb grew.

Perhaps that was what saved her sanity. For she could feel the strain as her uterus expanded, the discomfort as it pressed against her bladder, the ache as her abdominal muscles stretched, tore, and healed; there were no stretch marks on her body, but she could feel the soreness as her tits, once teardrop shaped, now redoubled in size and drooped to meet her rising belly, which jutted out from her body, the skin taut and shiny.

More than once, Lois thought about ending it. With her nails, her hands. A few well-placed blows and that would be it....but something stopped her. Some maternal instinct, perhaps. After all, it was not the fetus which was a monster.

She wasn't sure at one point she had begun to touch herself. Squeezing her supersensitive tits was more erotic than she could imagine, especially when the golden globs of milk emerged on the dark nipples. Lois' fingers rustled through the dark forest of pubic hair to rub at her clit. An unnatural urge seemed to grip the reporter, as weeks of effective abstinence came to an end in a furious bout of masturbation, all the more intense now as she rubbed her growing gravidity. Unbidden, her mind replayed again and again the child's conception, the feel of that prick stabbing into her, the pain and pleasure mingled together seared into her brain, and now the fuel for her shuddering gasps and moans.

Near the end, Lois stopped her unnecessary exertions. She returned to that first, almost fetal crouch in the endless white space. Her body huddled around her swollen stomach, which had dropped down so that it could rest against her thighs. Softly her hands explored the taut surface, traced the veins for what had to be hour after hour, day after day...and her voice whispered out to her unborn child, delighting in each movement, planning for a future that might never come.

She even decided on a name. Lucy, if a girl, like her sister. If a boy, Lyle.

A part of her wondered what to call it if the child came out more like its other parent. Some nebulous combination of sexes. Lois Lane was still meditating on that when the first pain struck her.

Muscles cramped. It was like a slow wave, starting deep within her pelvis and radiating outwards. Muscles contracting. Vaguely, Lois remembered what she knew of giving birth...how there were contractions that didn't portend birth, and those that did. She knew she would have to time them, have to breathe, bear down...

"Ugggh!" The pregnant reporter's voice exploded as a sudden rush of fluid burst from her pussy. Her hand reached down to her pussy.

It felt so wrong, stiff fingers rubbing furiously at her clit as the pains came, faster and faster. She could feel the child inside of her. The ache as it pressed against her cervix. Stretching the poor orifice beyond all limits. The massive head moving down through her vaignal canal, stretching her cunt out wide and then wider...and with tears in her eyes, Lois cried out for forgiveness as she came just as the head crowned. Her child would be born in sin.

Then there was the scrabble as her slick fingers gripped at the edge of her own overstretched labia, to ease the child out. The head...the shoulders...then the rest of the child, which came out with a single sustained push...and Lois cradled it against her breast, crying, tired, exhausted...

...and noting in disbelief the continued distension of her abdomen, the ache of another contraction, the now-familiar sensation of something stretching out her cervix from within...

...the second child came out much easier than the first.

Lois heard her children cry. For the first time, she felt something unfamiliar...the sense of someone watching her. A familiar voice, with a strange accent, spoke as from everywhere. Filled with a terrible tone of disappointment.

"So...human."

They were the last words Lois would hear in the void.

Lois Lane, the Daily Planet's greatest reporter, lay in bed at the hospital. Clark Kent took her hand, fingers on her wrist. The violet eyes opened just a little, to see the haggard-looking man in his rumpled blue suit, bright blue eyes staring out from those black glasses.

"The...babies..." she whispered.

"They're okay," Clark said. "I just saw them. They're in the maternity care unit. A boy and a girl. The doctor said they're healthy."

He leaned in. "Lois...what happened to you, that night?"

Her eyes opened a little wider. Her voice came back to her thickly.

"Last night...how long..."

"Ten months," he said. Then added. "And three days."

The new mother took a long breath. Now that she was free of the void, all the aches and pains, the needs and wants came back to her.

"It had come to my attention..." she began, and though she had meant to leave some parts out, Lois Lane found herself leaving out no detail of that night out. She could not help but see all the choices she had made that had led her to this point, the places where she had gone left instead of right...and wondered aloud at the paths untaken, untraveled. What might have happened.

She would never know.