Epilogue: Fertility Treatment

"I can't tonight, Smallville," Lois Lane said.

"Why?" Clark Kent hit the stop button on the elevator. They were the only two left in the Daily Planet. "You've been acting strange for weeks. Moody, depressed, lacking energy..."

"It's..." she hesitated...but after six weeks she had to tell someone. "It's the hormones. I've been taking fertility treatments. Trying to get pregnant."

He stood there, utterly amazement written across his face. Then hurt...resignation...and something else, something she had never seen before.

"Who?" Clark asked.

"It isn't...sperm donors are expensive," she couldn't look away from his eyes. Those deep blue eyes, deep as the sky, staring out at the world through those black plastic frames. "I've been seeing a...sex worker. This would be...the third time. It can take a while, sometimes. But I've been tracking my schedule, and tonight's the night, I think..."

He backed her into a corner, and Lois realized how massive he was. Those tall, muscular shoulders of the highschool linebacker, biceps as big as her thighs. Clark smelled good, too, she realized. Like a warm summer day, sun-kissed laundry drying on the line. His big hands came down and hesitated, hovering over her.

"I'll impregnate you," he said, with a dead solemnity that shook the reporter to the core.

"Clark, that's sweet, but...I mean you can...we haven't..." The Pulitzer prize winner felt lost for words as Clark reached back and pressed another set of buttons. The elevator lurched back into motion—toward the roof.

"I wasn't asking," he said as he stepped back, pulled off his tie, opened his shirt...and Lois Lane's violet eyes went wide as she saw the familiar S-shield.

"Oh," she said, sagging against the back of the elevator. Her heart raced as relief swept through her. For half a heartbeat she almost thought she was going to be **** and impregnated by Clark Kent!

...except he didn't stop undressing, standing there before her in his Superman outfit, and there was a distinctive bulge in his tight red shorts...and Lois Lane gulped, thinking that she might have just leapt out of the frying pan and onto the hard-on.

"Clark...Superman," she said as he moved toward her again, slowly, like the way you try not to spook a horse. His hands unbuttoned her blouse, one little plastic knob at a time, and carefully pulled them apart to reveal her black lace bra, the hard plain of her stomach. His eyes fixed there for a moment, at a point a few inches below her navel.

"You are ovulating," he said. "A nice, healthy egg."

"Clark, I already have...the sex worker is going to be at my place in an hour!"

"An hour," he said as he reached around her waist to unzip her skirt. "No, I don't think that'll be nearly enough time."

He pulled the skirt down off of her hips, bending to one knee. Knelt there and looked up at her, at her black lace panties...her sexy panties, the one with the see-through patch on the crotch. She had shaved her pussy this morning, to make it nice for...for Blaze...he lifted her legs to let her step out of the skirt.

The elevator reached the top floor. The doors opened. He gathered up the clothes, and Lois got the hint, stepping out in her underwear and heels...out onto the roof below the great brass globe of the Daily Planet itself. A cold wind whipped around them...and Superman put their clothes in a lee out of the wind, and took out his cape, laying it out on the roof.

"Take off your panties," Superman said as he pulled his blue shirt over his head. For the first time Lois Lane saw that broad, hairy chest; it was like something out of an old men's magazine. Not the hairdless bodybuilder archetype of porn, but something rugged, muscular. He didn't look like Arnold Schwarzeneggar...he looked like a lumberman or smith, someone who gained his muscles from hard work, day after dark, hair down his arms, abs so chiseled she could grind meat on them. "Or I'll do it for you."

Immediately, Lois Lane felt her panties get a little damp. There was just something about the tone. Like he was giving a villain one last chance before he was about to knock them into next week.

"Superman," she said, her thumbs sliding into the waistband of her panties. "Clark. Are you...I mean, do you really...have you always..."

By the time she'd found the words, he was naked. There, in front of her. His hands gripped her wrists...and pulled them down, gently, so the panties fell over her thighs, and her eyes were brought down level with his cock.

She gulped. It wasn't that it was a big cock. In fact it looked pretty perfectly average. Six and half inches, maybe. Smaller than what Angelica had been fucking her with. Yet...it was also...she couldn't put it into words, right then and there. It smelled right. Not nasty, not yeasty or dirty, no low-level testosterone funk, just...it made her pussy muscles squeeze together just to look at it.

Lois Lane pulled off her panties....and then, for good measure, reached back and took off her bra. A part of her didn't even care that they were technically out in public where anyone could see them. It just felt so weird...she'd known Clark for so long...and to realize he was Superman...and here they were, naked together on the roof...

His hands grasped her ass as he crushed her too him. Lois let out a loud Meep!...and then she put her head against his chest. Superman's skin was so warm. The cock throbbing against her belly was so hard and hot. The reporter ran her fingers through her chest hair and heard the thudding of his heart...beating almost as fast as her own.

"You're wet," he said as he lifted her up. "But not wet enough."

"Whoa, whoa, waaaagh!" Lois wobbled as he lifted her up, utterly effortlessly, until her thighs were on his shoulders and her pussy was in front of his face. She grabbed onto her head, hunched over for balance...and then she felt that warm tongue lap from her taint to her clit.

The reporter huffed as his tongue lapped at her. Explored her. Tasted her. She had always wondered what it would be like, to get her pussy eaten out by the Man of Steel, and now here she was and it was...he wasn't clever about it, there were no little tricks or techniques, her didn't nuzzle her clit with his nose or nibble at her labia, but his tongue was stronger than any of her dildoes, and his breath was hot, and there was just something about him that was...eager and methodical and the same time. He seemed to hear every little moan and feel every tremor as her tongue delved deeper inside her pussy, and once he found those spots that drove her wild he never let up on the attack, so that in an embarrassingly short period of time her thighs were trembling and her juices were dripping off his invulnerable chin, nipples hard and ass flexing as she tried to hump his face.

He stepped backwards, onto the spread-out red cape. Pulled her quivering quim away from his mouth...and as he pulled her down, bodies still tight against each other, Lois Lane knew that this was it. That he was going to fuck her. Try to impregnate her.

Except this time...Lois hoped it wasn't just a try.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts scraping against his hairy chest as she sank down on his cock...and it was like a kit moving into the lock it was cut for. With Blaze, there had always been that sensation of stretching, that moment of fear of hitting too deep, and it had been good, and she had been tight, and both of them had enjoyed it, but...for the first time in her life, Lois Lane almost came just from penetration. It felt like he completed her. Like coming home. It was too perfect, and stupid tears came into her eyes, hormones acting up again, sure that this must be a dream, a hallucination; no one ever had sex this good outside of bad romance novels.

Superman sank down onto the cape, his hands moving to her hips.

"Are you really going to impregnate me?" she said, hands scratching at his chest.

"Lois, my sperm are as super as the rest of me. They could blast through six feet of concrete and still find your egg. Your cervix was never going to stop them. I impregnated you in the elevator," he gave her a smile that was 100% pure Clark Kent. "But I wanted to make love to you before I asked you to marry me."

Then Lois Lane did cry, happy tears pouring down her smiling face as she sat impaled on that superhuman Kryptonian cock, hips moving of their own accord.

At Lois Lane's apartment, Angelica Blaze stood outside the door and knocked.

"Lois?" The dickgirl called out, just loud enough not to disturb the neighbors. "It's me. Blaze. Remember? Babytime."

She paused...and then extended her supernatural senses, finding the apartment cold and empty. Her nose scrunched up as her lips drew back from her teeth.

"Where the fuck is she?" Her eyes narrowed. "And if she isn't fucking me...then who the fuck is she fucking?"