Epilogue: My Hero

Lois Lane woke up. She didn't remember going to sleep. Didn't remember anything of the night before. After a hard day of pounding the pavement, working on her contacts for the bimbo **** case, she'd cracked open a beer...and then...

"Ugh. Not again," Lois croaked to herself as different parts of her body started talking to her.

She wasn't in her own bed. Her pussy ached. There was the deep-seated soreness in her chest and ass that came from the rapid expansion. Lois heard her lover of the night snoring, and quickly slid away from him, searching for her clothes. They had gone to bed with a woman that had a fat ass and G-cup tits and couldn't spell "cat." Waking up to a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter who was notably flatter was not going to lead to questions Lois didn't want to answer...and she didn't want to just play dumb either.

I've been doing enough of that of late, Lois thought to herself grimly as she slid into a skirt and shirt that were far looser on her in the morning than they must have been last night. No panties or bra, of course. Why wear what you don't need?

Lois was out the door before her lover knew she was gone.

Breakfast was a Bloody Mary at a local dive bar. Using her smartphone, Lois quickly checked her charges from last night, and scowled at the list of cash withdrawals depleting her already severely low bank account. Bimbo Lois could still work a debit card, unfortunately, and the reporter wasn't surprised, when she headed into the bathroom for her morning beer shits, to find a load of fresh cum in her pussy and a baggie of familiar pink pills in her purse. The reporter winced, poking around inside of her, and sighed with relief that at least her diaphragm was still in place. If her other self couldn't resist getting laid, at least a few precautions might keep her from getting pregnant.

I really should get an IUD, Lois thought. Although with what money? I'm almost broke...

Which is how Lois found herself knocking on the door of Clark Kent.

He opened, a confused smiled on his face. Shirtless and wearing only pajama pants, so that Lois was taken aback by those broad shoulders, the chiseled abs, the well-defined biceps and the triangle of hair on those massive pecs.

"Lois!" He said. "What can I do for you?"

"Um. I need to borrow fifteen hundred dollars," she said...and then wondered why she said it. That was happening a lot these days: the thoughts coming out of her mouth without Lois even thinking about what she was saying. The reporter shut her mouth, staring at his confused expression...and then he opened the door wide and stepped inside.

"Why don't you come in and we discuss it? I was just having breakfast."

"Breakfast" was, it turned out, a full home-style farmer's breakfast. Fried eggs and bacon, pancakes with real maple syrup, fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, hot grits, black coffee...before the reporter knew it, she found herself sitting at Clark's table, wolfing down his food. The transformations always took so much out of her body, the reporter knew she could eat just about anything without gaining weight...well, that wasn't quite true. Every time she went on a bimbo-bender, the reporter could see the effects on her body. Her former B-cups were now well into DD-cup territory, and her hips were so wide she couldn't wear many of her old skirts...and Clark seemed to be glad that Lois was eating, and talking to him. In between bites, she explained about the new story she was working...and the need for an IUD.

"I'll pay you back," she said. "Next paycheck. I'm just...in a tight spot right now."

He rubbed his big hands on his knees.

"Lois, I'm happy to help you," he said. "But...from the sound of it, these pills aren't doing you any good. In fact, you sound like you're addicted."

"It's not like that!" Lois protested, sitting back from the table and rubbing her over-full stomach. "I just...I spend all day thinking, and sometimes I just want to...not do that. It's not like alcoholism. I still have control of my actions. Most nights I just end up watching television and masturbating..." Lois blushed as she realized she had spoken without thinking again. "Haven't you ever just wanted to turn your brain off for a while? Forget all your worries?"

"Normally when I want to do that, I watch a Michael Bay movie," Clark Kent said dryly. "But I'm not convinced that this isn't negatively affecting your body and mind."

"What if I proved it to you?" Lois said. "Right now? I'll pop a bimbo pill, and you can see, there's nothing harmful about it? And you'll be right here to keep me out of trouble."

Lois wouldn't take no for an answer. She quickly pulled two—or was it three?—of the pink pills she had bought last night and popped them in her mouth, washing them down with grapefruit juice.

"Wait!" He said. "That's...grapefruit juice can mess with your medications!"

But they were already down the hatch. Lois gave Clark a chagrined grin...he was right, she hadn't been thinking, taking so many pills, and then...then Lois wasn't thinking at all.

Clark Kent washed with fascination as her eyes got wide, the pupils dilating slightly. Her face flushed, and she seemed to be breathing harder, chest rising and falling...except the chest wasn't going down, each time Lois Lane breathed out. He stared in abject fascination at the slow swell of the mounds on her chest, the generous, braless boobs pressing forward, lifting the loose material of the shirt...and there were other changes as well.

The skirt crept up Lois Lane's thighs. She spread her legs as her ass and hips stretched, the smile a ghost on her lips as she leaned back into the chair. Clark Kent watched with worry and fascination...until her swollen, puffy pussy came into view. Then his cheeks flushed scarlet, and he turned his face away...but Lois didn't care. Legs akimbo, she reached her hand between her, scratching at her cunny.

Somewhere, from deep within, a soft, husky voice came out.

"Can you help me? It's stuck..."

It would have taken a stronger man not to turn his head and open his eyes. Clark Kent bit on his cheeks as he saw that Lois Lane, who was growing bustier by the minute, was trying to pull something out of her vagina. Immediately, he thought of calling someone else...a nurse, a female friend, maybe Supergirl...and then the words came out of her lips, that were growing puffy and beestung, even as her swollen nipples began poking out of her thin shirt, which had run up to the point that the underside of her growing breasts were now visible over her tight-packed abs.

"Help...me..."

With terrible misgivings, Clark Kent went down to one knee before Lois. He gently pulled her hand away from her pussy. His X-ray vision penetrated skin and muscle...and he frowned as she saw the foreign object, wedged deep inside of her. That had to be what she was trying to extract...and it shouldn't be too difficult.

Taking a deep breath, telling himself he was doing this just to help her, Clark placed two fingers at the entrance of her vaginal canal...and she gave a little gasp...but she didn't seem to be in any pain as he stretched his long fingers deeper and deeper into the soft, wet, tight hole. It almost seemed to suck his fingers in...and guided by his X-ray vision it was only the work of a moment to snag the disc-shaped object and pull it out...and Lois gasped and moaned as she did it...and then she was shaking in place on the chair, and he stood there with her diaphragm in his hand...and Lois looked at him.

There was nothing in those eyes. Clark frowned at that. He could feel how hard he was now, but of course sex was out of the question. Lois was obviously in no position to go out or do anything. He gathered her in his arms and carried her, as though she was a child, into his bedroom. A part of him resisted using his X-ray vision to see through her clothes...it seemed like such a pointless line not to cross, given how little Lois was wearing, but that felt like a step beyond the pale.

He laid her on the bed...and then her hand closed on his big forearm. Her eyes seemed to focus a little. She stared up at him, puffy lips working.

"Smallville...stay...with me..."

The bimbo seemed to curl into his arms, and Clark found himself laying down in the bed with her. The reporter's head pressed into her shoulder, her barely-clothed breasts pressed against his naked chest. Her breathing slowed. He didn't know where to put his hands...but Lois did. Her small palm found the bulge between his legs.

"What's that?" She asked in that small, husky voice.

"Nothing," he said. "Just an erection."

"You smell...good..." Lois murmured. Her hand kept rubbing, and Clark Kent squeezed his eyes tight, knowing he should stop her. All it took for evil to flourish was for good men to do nothing. "So warm. Keep me...warm..."

He told himself it was an accident, when her rubbing pulled his pajama bottoms down to expose his penis. But it wasn't an accident when she started to move against him, rubbing her pubic hair against the head of his prick...and even a Superman has his limits.

Then she was on top of him, grinding her pussy against him, the cock pushed deep inside of her. She raised her arms and let him peel off her shirt, so that he could grip those massive, swollen, taut melons that hung from her chests. So firm and hot, the pink nipples so big...and the bimbo bouncing on his cock was moaning, utterly mindless, rutting like an animal...and when she began to shake and scream, he worried that he had hurt her...until he saw the eyes roll back in her head, the smiles and moans, and realized what had really happened...and she collapsed against him, long hair covering her back, those fat tits pressed hard into his chest. His hand found her swollen ass, and it just fit so well in his palm, firm and soft...and she just before fell asleep, with his cock still inside of her, she murmured:

"My hero."

In his head, Clark Kent was already planning how he was going to give Lois the money for her IUD...under a few conditions. As her friend, it was obvious that she needed someone to help her keep out of trouble during her bimbo time.