End: Lex Luthor. With Forty Cakes.

The once-slim reporter raised her head. Her new chins shook, her whole body jiggled as the smell of fresh pastry hit her. Lois Lane's mouth watered as she saw the great, four-level chrome steel cart push through the door, each shelf laden with warm cakes...and then she saw who pushed the cart, and her body froze.

The bald head of Lex Luthor peered around from the immense cake-cart. Bespoke leather shoes tapped on the perfect white floor; custom-made grey pinstripe pants held his legs, but he wore no jacket, no tie—just a purple silk shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show off muscular forearms. An evil smile of triumph on his face.

In the light of the red kryptonite and sunlamps, he looked positively demonic.

"Why Lois Lane," he said. "You must be quite hungry."

"No..." Lois said, her voice small and soft—but her traitorous stomach growled loudly.

He chuckled and grabbed the nearest cake. It had two layers, thick, spongy devil's food, topped with a dark chocolate icing that had oozed down the side in little frozen rivulets. Lois Lane swallowed hard.

"The sunlamps feed your quasi-Kryptonian physiology, but you're still partly human. You've grown too fat, too fast. If you don't get some real calories in you to support all that new mass, you can starve to ****, even with all that fat," Luthor said. His voice was gloating, and it hurt Lois Lane's ears. "If you want to survive, you'll eat all you can, little piggy."

On all fours, Lois tried to back away. Turned her face to the side as Luthor brought it closer and closer to her mouth. She didn't want to trust Luthor. It was he that made her like this. That had made her so fucking fat...

Maybe just a nibble, Lois thought, as the overwhelming smell of chocolate hit her nose. In fact, she felt nauseous and weak, overheated. Maybe there was something to what she said. With a deep sense of regret, Lois opened her mouth and took a bite out of the cake.

Later, when she had a chance to remember that night out, Lois Lane always felt a deep sense of shame at the hours that followed. One bite hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. She'd reached for the cake and brought it to her face with both hands. Hardly bothered to chew that first sweet morsel, the chocolate icing all over her face and hands. Nor did it end the craving deep inside of her. Even as Lois Lane lay there for a moment on her knees, her immense abdomen brushed the floor, and then Luthor was back with another cake.

Later, she learned of the appetite stimulant baked into the cakes. The careful formulations of vitamins designed to keep Lois Lane's body from cannibalizing itself. Yet all Lois Lane knew at the time was a constant cycle of eating. Bite after bite, flavor after flavor, spongy mouthful after spongy mouthful went down her gullet. Carrot cake, lemon cake, angel's food cake, butter cakes topped with tiny chocolate kisses, almond cakes, spongy cakes filled with fruit preserves.

Forty cakes, and she at them all. Even though her stomach protested. Even though after the twentieth cake, her abdomen was now swollen with a massive food baby. With the added calories, Lois Lane's weight increased...although the added calories went to muscle as much as fat. The red striations of stretch marks from her first growth disappeared as the scar tissue healed as if it had never been there. Dimpled cellulite smoothed over into a softer plumpness, the skin taut around her thighs and buttocks.

In the end, Lois had to lay on her side, bloated as a beached whale. Her huge soft tits stacked on top of each other. There were enough crumbs in her cleavage to treat the feral pigeons of Metropolis Park to a feast. The reporter began to sweat lightly as her massive meal slowly digested.

She was dimly aware of Lex Luthor picking pieces of red kryptonite out of her body with tweezers.

"How...how long...am I going to stay like this?" Lois wheezed, too tired to move.

Luthor raised an eyebrow.

"If my calculations are correct, your metabolism should have stabilized." He leaned down and placed his bare hands on her grotesquely swollen stomach. She could feel him press his cheek against her stomach. "So you'll gain or lose weight as normal."

His finger pressed into her navel. Lois frowned, unable to move to push him off. She grimaced in embarrassment at how deep her navel had become. The bloated stomach was almost inhuman; it belonged on a cow, or a pregnant horse, even though it was all full of soft fat and slowly-digesting cake.

Then she heard Luthor begin to pant. Felt his stiff finger slip in and out of her navel faster and faster. Frowned deeper at the unpleasant friction, and Luthor grabbed her with both hands as he rubbed faster and faster...and then realization hit Lois.

Wait a second. Both hands? That's not his finger.

There was nothing Lois Lane could do as Luthor finished. The smack of his hips as they thrust against her swollen gut filled the room, along with his grunts and pants...and finally a soft, half-strangled cry.

As he zipped up, Lois felt a warm trickle ooze from her violated navel. She tried to stretch out her arm, but couldn't even reach it.

Luthor grinned down at her.

"Don't worry, Lane. They say sex is a great way to burn calories..."

He left her there. Yet his mocking laughter filled the reporter's ears. Too tired, too heavy to move, the massive reporter lay in a stupor until true sleep took her...and dreamed she was in hell, fastened in a chair, being fed every donut in the world. The devil in charge of the machine looked just like Lex Luthor.