Epilogue: It's A Filly

"Aaaaagh!" Lois Lane screamed, some hours later. The reporter was in a barn, back against a bail of straw. Through the open doors, she could see the night sky above Kansas. The stars were out, and looked quite beautiful.

"By Rao," Clark Kent gulped. He had ditched his Superman costume shortly after bringing Lois out here, and the pregnant reporter had taken the revelation of his secret identity rather in stride. She had more pressing things to worry about.

"Well, I can see a hoof," Pa Kent said. The old farmer stared at the reporter's strangely altered pussy with an oddly professional interest. "Clark, reach on in and grab it. Looks like she'll have a hard time on her own."

"Pa, I don't think—"

"Aaaargggggh!" Lois screamed as another contraction racked her body. She was pinned to the floor by the weight of her abdomen, teeth clenched, her whole body aching. It was like trying to take the biggest shit in her life, only out of the wrong hole. "Just fucking do it!"

"Language!" Ma Kent said. The older woman stepped into the barn, arms laden with a big pan of steaming water and a stack of soft towels.

"It's okay Lois," Clark said. He kneeled before her, his plaid shirt rolled up to the sleeves to reveal muscular biceps. In any other circumstance, Lois would have been fascinated by those arms...would want to touch them, feel the muscle...but right now, she was more concerned about the hand that slipped, with apparently little effort, into the cavernous horse cunt that had replaced her once-tight pussy.

Her cheeks blushed, keenly aware that this was Superman—Superman!—reaching into her birth canal as easily as a bachelor might stick their finger in a jar of peanut butter because there aren't any clean spoons left in the apartment, and it was everything she could do not to squeeze her pussy around the hand as it moved with great care and uncanny accuracy to grab her baby's legs.

X-ray vision! Lois thought as she panted, heart racing. Has to be...no groping around...

Not that the reporter would mind him groping around a bit. She had heard of women talking about birth as an orgasmic experience, but so far it had been nothing but pain and exertion. Now, with Clark's hand firmly pressed deeper inside her pussy than the reporter had thought possible, she felt a very familiar warmth penetrate the biological urge to push.

Then he gave a little tug. The horse's head popped through the reporter's dilated cervix, and Lois Lane's eyes widened further than she thought possible. Her mouth shrunk down to a little "o," brain temporarily short-circuited. It wasn't exactly an orgasm. Lois didn't have the language for what it was.

Then he gave another little tug. The living form inside of her began to move, slowly but steadily and with increasingly irresistible momentum, out of her womb and into the birth canal.

"C'mon, Clark," Pa said. "You've got it. Just pull it all the way out. Not too hard, you don't want to hurt the mare..."

"She's not a mare," Ma said witheringly. "And what do you know about birthing horses?"

"I help out Clem when he's lambing the sheep," Pa spat back. "Same thing."

"Well I..."

Lois filtered all of this out. Her cunt was impossibly full, and Superman was pulled the baby out, slowly but steadily, the reporter's contractions utterly redundant when the strongest man in the world had things firmly in hand...and Lois Lane shuddered as she strove, really, strove, not to cum in front of Superman and his parents, who were currently bickering over who had midwived more animals.

It was a losing battle. Her nipples were hard. The head and front legs of the baby were stretching Lois's dark-lipped animal cunt out to dimensions she had never imagined. Her whole body shook...and then Clark gave one more little tug, and the whole of the baby horse seemed to come out of her in a single liquid movement and Lois let go. Her eyes rolled up into her head, knees shook, and what came out of her mouth was a sound so unmistakable that it caused a pause in the argument on animal husbandry and raised some color on Ma Kent's face.

"My goodness," the old woman said...and then knelt down in the muck, towels and water at the ready to clean off baby and mother.

There was more to be done that night, because of course there was. The afterbirth. The first feeding, where the exhausted filly clamped its lips around one of Lois Lane's nipples and began to suck. Lois staring at the oddly deflated looking stomach as Ma Kent prepared a guest bed in the barn, since they thought she should stay close to the baby for a few days.

Clark hovered near her, obviously wanting to ask questions but not sure where to start. When Ma and Pa had finally gone to bed, the exhausted reporter told her story...and he was a good listener about it. Asked a few questions, but mostly just let her talk. Until her eyes fluttered and he closed the door of the barn to keep the sun out. The baby closed its eyes and slept.

"Just so you know," he said, before she fell asleep. "You can stay here as long as you want. You and the baby."

It was only as she began to fade that Lois realized that the whole time she had been giving birth, she'd seen the unmistakable bulge of an erection in Clark Kent's pants. But darkness took her before she could wonder what to think of that.