Epilogue: Lucifer Lane

Unexpected pregnancies happen. Some women don't even notice, though it's rare. Women give birth outside of hospitals every day. So it was not exactly newsworthy when Lois Lane registered her newborn son at Metropolis General Hospital, and a birth certificate was duly issued—the name of the father left blank.

Perry White, the editor of the Daily Planet, took the announcement of his greatest reporter's unexpected bundle of joy and subsequent maternity leave with unusual grace...in part because by the time Lois had hung up the phone, the wily old editor had gotten her to agree to continue to write articles for the newspaper's print and digital editions on a work-from-home basis.

Which left Lois at home with the baby she had named Lucifer. No one at the hospital had said anything of his vivid red skin, and although they had talked about it, the reporter had decided against allowing him to remove the small tail that extended from the base of his spine. She couldn't have said why she picked that particular name for her son, who nursed with enthusiasm, except that in the moment it had seemed appropriate. He was like a new light in her life, and Lois Lane was quickly finding herself overwhelmed with maternal emotion. Determined to give him everything.

Lucifer seldom cried. She simply knew when he needed a suck at her teats, or to be changed, and wherever she was and whatever she was doing Lois found she would stop to see to his needs. Like many newborns, he slept a great deal, and when he was awake he smiled and burbled, clutched and wiggled...yet sometimes when those violet eyes, so much like her own, stared at her, Lois Lane couldn't help but sense that there was something...missing.

Yet she didn't know what it was until two days after she gave birth, when Clark Kent came to call.

He brought diapers, clothes, rattles, baby formula, and an unassembled crib tucked under one beefy arm. Lois hadn't had a baby shower, but Smallville was bound and determined to make up for it...nor could she stop him as he took off coat and hat and began to assemble the crib right then and there in her bedroom.

Lois felt self-conscious about the state of her apartment—the crusading investigative reporter wasn't a great housekeeper at the best of times—but Clark seemed to cheerfully ignore the smell of a trash can full of dirty diapers, or the messy clutter that was Lois Lane's overflowing bookshelf, her unmade bed where Lucifer lay watching the proceedings with silent amusement. Clark didn't mention the baby's red skin either. The reporter made coffee as the crib swiftly came together, glad to have another adult to talk to.

As he finished, one of those little spells came over Lois, and she went over and picked Lucifer up and pulled her shirt down—none of her bras fit anymore, so she went without—and he latched on to her dark, swollen nipple. Lois sighed with evident relief. Clark, blushing, sipped his coffee.

"Oh, Clark! I'm not embarrassing you, am I?" she asked.

"No! Not at all," he was a bad liar, and his face was flushed, eyes studiously studying his coffee cup. "Any cream?"

The baby's eyes latched onto his mother's, and sudden instinct flared through Lois. Carrying the baby in one arm, Lois walked over to Clark's side of the table...and with her free arm lifted her shirt, exposing her other, swollen teat. This time he couldn't help but see how the one tear-drop sized breast had swollen and sagged...blue veins ran close to the surface, and Lois squeezed the breast in the middle, pressing it toward the dark nipple...and little yellow-white drops dripped out of the ducts, landing in the dark coffee, which began to cloud and fill.

He couldn't not look at her breast.

"You know," she said, mouth moving but the words coming to her as thought read from some script she had never read. "Every baby needs a father."

"That's...true," Clark Kent's voice was somewhat stiff, as though the words came out with difficulty. His hands, so strong and sure, shook slightly as he brought the coffee up to his mouth and took a sip.

Lucifer unlatched, and yawned. Lois took him over to his new crib and laid him down to sleep. The violet eyes stared at her...and without knowing exactly why, Lois pulled off her dress, and let it sink to the floor. She turned back to look at Clark Kent.

He was standing...and saw her there. Her post-pregnancy body. The bit of droop to the stomach, with white stretch marks like the shadow of a lightning bolt. Pussy still aching, but surprisingly wet...Lois realized she was actually dripping, rivulets running down her thighs. Breasts swollen and sagging down lower on her chest than they had, though they were nowhere near her navel yet...although gravity and years would change that, unless she indulged in cosmetic surgery.

"Smallville..." Lois said, and it was her own voice, choked with emotion, wondering if he found her ugly, hideous, foolish.

He stepped toward her. Taking off his tie. Unbuttoning his shirt. She stepped to meet him, hands fumbling for his belt, his pants. Lois caught a glimpse of the blue and red costume, the great S-shield, and realization hit her so hard that she froze in place. Then urgent, terrible need filled her, and she knew he felt the same because he was shaking, trying not to hurt her as he bore her down onto the bed, and his prick was free and then he was on her, in her, that cock that pressed forward and it was so much smaller than the statue's had been but so much bigger than her normal partners...

Lucifer never cried, not once, as the bed creaked and his mother moaned like the head cheerleader on prom night as the quarterback pumped away at her with single-minded determination. Clark Kent was a big man, and she writhed beneath him, hands finding ready holds on his bulging muscles, her milk spraying out of her teats as he crushed them between his hands, white drops making her dark forest of chest hair wet. Their mouths met, and it was Lois Lane's tongue that slid past his teeth first.

She wasn't sure when he came first. His stiff prick never faltered or softened, his pace sometimes slowed, but only so that they could try a new position...and she was only aware he had cum when she felt the warm wetness in her sore cunny, heard the obscene squelch as he kept plunging his cock into her depths again and again...and she wasn't sure how many times he had cum inside of her when they finally collapsed, panting and spent, her cunt still impaled on his superhuman cock, white froth dripping down his prick.

"Yes," he said softly, his body going oddly slack beneath Lois. "The baby needs a father."

His eyes opened. They were blue, pure and perfect as the open skies over Kansas.

"Lois...will you marry me? We can..." his voice strengthened, regained some of his natural tone. "We can be a family. You, me...and the baby."

"Oh Clark," Lois said, her heart leaping. She wasn't sure she could move, because her legs felt numb and her cunny was on fire, but she nuzzled his chest and held him tight. "Yes! Yes!"

In his new crib, Lucifer Lane...soon to be Lucifer Lane-Kent...closed his eyes.

His mother and soon-to-be adopted father's eyes closed together, at the same time.