Epilogue: Lois Lane, The Daily Planet's Biggest & Best Reporter

With dawn came the crowing of the roosters. Lois Lane stretched and scratched somewhat irritably at her pussy. She stared upwards at the century-old beams of the barn that had, over the last month, been converted in an apartment suitable for a woman who suddenly found herself fifteen feet tall.

Lois levered herself up from the custom bed; the welded steel frame rested on truck springs, and four Alaskan King-sized mattresses had been placed together to give her someplace to sleep at night. She slept in the nude, out of necessity more than habit. Clothes were still something that Lois was trying to source. several yards of parachute silk had been repurposed into relatively acceptable sarongs, togas, and, when Lois wanted to get some sunlight, a bikini top and bottom, but she hadn't yet managed to find anyone that could make shoes in her size, although an Amish neighbor who was a carpenter was currently working on a pair of wooden sandals for her.

The pump to the cistern was a foot-trestle. Lois tread on the item gingerly, not wanting to break it. Rehabilitating the barn had taken most of her savings, but she was grateful that she'd managed to find a plumber that liked the challenge of installing a shower and a toilet for someone her size.

Superman had been a great help, after he'd found her in the desert, Blaze's black spunk dripping down her thighs. The demon herself was nowhere to be found. Together, they'd managed to get her back to Metropolis...and found that whatever Blaze had done to her, there was no science or magic that could currently shrink her back down to normal.

Not that Lois minded being a giant. There were certain benefits.

Once the cistern was full, she pulled the lever. Cold water sprayed down on her, just enough to get her hair and body wet, nipples the size of serving platters came to attention, big enough that Lois could have fit combat helmets over them. She poured soap into her hand and rubbed it through her long black hair...and then down, between her legs.

A part of her wondered where Blaze had went. That night, Lois had felt...she still didn't know how it put it into words. Like she had wrung the demon like a sponge. Perhaps she had, and there was nothing left of her. Yet Lois didn't believe that. Her hands ran the liquid soap over her cold, wet tits, the long, lines of her body. Superman said she was stronger now, superhuman; that was why she didn't ache from moving her massive body around. Her fingers lingered between her legs...

No, better not, the reporter decided. The last time I was so loud, I upset the cows in the neighboring farm.

A bell chimed, and there was the sound of the rolling door opening. Lois rinsed quickly as her stomach growled. That would be Clark Kent with her breakfast.

The table was ten feet off the ground, its legs former telephone poles sunk into post-holes and anchored with cement. A dumbwaiter was there...but, since no one else was around, Clark simply flew the boxes of food up to her. Twenty loaves of fresh-baked bread, thirty eggs over easy, ten breakfast steaks, a "fruit cup" that had once been a rather elegant silver punchbowl, and three gallons of black coffee.

"Morning Smallville," she said. Clark flew over as she pursed her lips. Her kiss left his face wet with saliva. Not that he minded at all.

Lois sat on a chair built by a local construction firm...a frame of galvanized steel with a wooden frame and back. Hard on the ass, but durable. Clark had offered to make her one, but she didn't want to depend too much on his help. She might have been twenty feet tall, but she was still fiercely independent.

She tapped an oversized button, and the projector whirred into life. The news was broadcast onto one long, whitewashed wall as she ate. Her article on LexCorp was still making headlines; district attorneys were lining up to prosecute the illegal dumping project Lois had uncovered. She'd had to think a little out of the box on that one...

Clark flew over and made her bed while she ate. Lois smiled wistfully at the superhero, still in his mortal disguise. He'd been such a help to her these past few weeks. So it wasn't really any bother at all when he flew back to the table, his face red and flustered and asked.

"Say, Lois, could I..."

"Of course, Clark," Lois said with a smile. She leaned back in the chair, which creaked a bit as the weight shifted, and spread her legs. "I could use a little sugar with my coffee..."

His clothes hit the table...and Lois Lane sighed as a warm figure, a third of her size, wriggled in between her thighs. Her slit was big enough for him to slip his arm into, as easily as she could her own pinkie finger. Even with her size, Clark had to be careful of his own strength...but she felt him as he spread her lips open with his hands...his steel-hard cock pressed against the bottom of her cunny...and then Lois groaned aloud as his lips found her clit, big as a grapefruit to his eyes.

Lois finished her coffee and leaned back, her ass hanging off the edge of the chair. His thrusts rippled through her body like small earthquakes, and set the whole building to shaking. She bit her lower lip, not wanting to scare the cows...but it was so hard to keep her hands to herself when this living sex toy pounded and thrust, rubbed and gyrated against her. Using his entire invulnerable body to make her feel good...and when at last she couldn't hold it in anymore, farmer's wives stared out their windows and blushed and smiled...

She brought Clark, wet with pussy juice from head to foot, up to nestle between her breasts.

"Thanks, Smallville," she whispered, a rosy glow on her mammoth cheeks. She scratched idly at her bush, utterly unaware of the trickle of sperm that oozed out of her great pink cunny. "You're so good to me."

He smiled happily, one arm around each tit, and Lois Lane wondered if she could afford a firehose...to use as an enema. She wondered what the Man of Steel would do to her giant ass...and the Daily Planet's biggest & best reporter broke into a grin as she imagined that.