Epilogue: Muffin Top

Lois huffed as she struggled to bring her jeans up over her hips. They had fit just last week, but that was several large pizzas and a few tubs of ice cream ago. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Little soft rolls bulged at the top of the jeans. Her twelve-week pregnant stomach strained against the waistband, the dark brass button hanging on for dear life, but the soft flesh wasn't overhanging the waistband...yet. The reporter frowned at herself in the mirror, fingers touching her muffin tops.

"You should wear this top," Blaze said, holding out a shirt that was obviously too small. She smiled like the devil on her shoulder, lounging nude on the reporter's bed.

"And show off how fat I've gotten?" Lois protested.

"No one will notice. You could go to work naked, and none of them would even blink. Besides, I think you look sexy. I don't understand these anorexic pop stars, thin enough you could floss with them. Real women have curves."

Lois shook her head and took the shirt. It was cute, but it left about two inches bare between the top of her jeans and the bottom of the top. Clearly showcasing the roll of fat all the way around her middle.

I just can't help it, Lois told herself as she headed out the door. The baby needs to eat.

Except it wasn't just the pregnancy, if she were to be honest with herself. The lack of judgment was affecting Lois as well. If no one cared what she looked like...if she could eat whatever she wanted...she kept exercising, determined not to get out of shape, but it was harder and harder these days on the treadmill and weight machines. And the pounds kept packing on, week by week.

The reporter caught glimpses of herself in the windows as she passed. In truth, she didn't mind having a curvier figure. Her breasts especially had started to get bigger, and she was going to need a new bra soon. She just wasn't sure how she would react when the pregnancy was over...would people still take her seriously if she wasn't scrawny and flat?

She chewed the thought as she stopped off for a half-dozen donuts on the way to the office.

"Smallville," Lois said in the relative privacy of the coffee room. "Be honest with me. Am I getting...fat?"

Clark Kent regarded her seriously for a moment. Most of the men in the office wouldn't be able to answer that question honestly. But Clark was nothing if not candid. If his sainted mother asked the same question, he might disassemble, but he would eventually tell the truth.

"You're beautiful Lois," he said simply. "Simply glowing. I'm sure you've put on a healthy amount of weight for your pregnancy..."

His eyes began to wander, Blaze's charm or hex or whatever shifting his attention. In a second, he would forget she was pregnant or fat or anything about what she was wearing. Lois walked over and took a deep breath, nearly popping a button on her top as she thrust her chest into his. That focused his attention back on her, at least for the moment.

"Seriously though? You don't think I've...gone too far?"

"Lois, I..." He looked lost for words...and then he was bending down, his mouth pressing onto hers. Big strong hands gripped her ass, digging and squeezing into it, jeans straining at the seams. Her ground her crotch against his own, and Lois Lane's eyes went wide as she felt his erection poking into the slight swell of her pregnant stomach.

"...I think you look hot," he lifted her up, utterly effortlessly, steel-hard muscles bunching beneath his shirt.

"Show me," she said in a breathy voice, heart beating hard against her sternum. She could already feel her pussy wet, the fat folds of her labia eating the panties she had put on this morning. "In the supply closet. Right now."

In the dark on top of boxes of copy paper and toner, Clark Kent was all over her, hands gripping her muffin tops, her breasts, her ass...raining kisses on her neck and face. Lois, more practically, was tearing at his belt, struggling to free his little Smallville...

...which turned out to not be so little after all. She gulped as her hand closed around a shaft thicker and longer than Blaze's own familiar dick, completely hairless, hard as steel. Lois struggled to undo her own jeans when his hand came down, and with the tiniest tug, ripped off button and zipper. With another, he snapped her drenched panties, leaving her hairless cunt bare and unprotected.

Then he was in her, and Lois was clinging onto those broad, muscular shoulders for dear life as they quietly rutted. There was a frenzied excitement to the fuck, the cock tight inside the thicker folds of her labia, her slightly swollen pregnant belly rubbing against his hard abs, their tongues meeting together in a passionate dance.

She wanted to see him naked, and her fingers tore at his clothes. Wanted to feel his jizz shoot deep inside her, like a little firehose flooding her pregnant pussy. Lois Lane, after all those weeks of only fucking Blaze, of only being able to show her true self in front of the demonic dickgirl, found herself hungry for interaction and intimacy with someone else.

But it was with a shock that her fingers felt something else beneath Clark Kent's button-down shirt. A very familiar pattern. A shirt beneath the shirt...

He grunted hard, hot wetness spraying into the reporter's depths, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal of surprise as the Daily Planet's greatest reporter realized who she had been fucking.

Superman, straightening his glasses, calmed down after he pulled out of her. He quickly worked to re-dress himself, becoming once again the milquetoast Clark Kent. His hands fumbled for the light switch...and there Lois was, half undressed, pants busted at the crotch, pussy splattered and dripping with his semen...and she saw confusion enter his eyes as the demonic hex shuttered his memories once again.

"I'm sorry Lois...I know we must have come in here looking for something, but I don't remember what. You're looking quite lovely today, by the way."

Lois swallowed, feeling a pang of sadness. He had just fucked her, but all he could see right now was Lois Lane as she was...the trim, proper crusading reporter. Not the fat, pregnant slut he had just banged so eagerly.

"Thank you Clark," she said. One hand reached down to finger the semen running out of her pussy. The reporter knew she wouldn't even bother trying to fix her pants. No one would notice if her cunt was hanging out or leaking sperm for the rest of the day.

Except, a little voice told her. Maybe Blaze.

But what the devil didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.