Epilogue: Pimping Preggos

Eighteen weeks. Lois and Blaze had been together for four and a half months. They lived together, they'd married...and on the taxi ride back to their apartment, Lois Lane couldn't help but run through everything they had experienced together, their entire relationship right back to that night in the club.

How did I miss it? Lois wondered to herself. How did I never think to wonder if it was Angie pimping those pregnant co-eds? Was I just that stupid, or...

Lois Lane sighed. No, it was worse than that. She had been in love. They had made love like horny teenagers, they'd lost themselves in deep conversations, slowly revealed themselves to each other, lowering their defenses one at a time...and there was the baby to think of...and Lois thought she knew Blaze. Really knew her. She had told Angie everything.

So what do I do now? Lois wondered. Do I confront her about it? No matter what it does to our marriage? Do I pretend I don't know what she's doing, pimping preggos behind my back? And who knows what else she's been hiding.

The reporter sighed as they pulled up in front of her building. There was really nothing else to do. She couldn't let this continue. Lois knew she needed to look into her wife's eyes and demand answers, and if she didn't like them...that would have to be it.

The elevator ride was never so long as that night.

She opened the door...and Angie was there, as Lois knew she would be. Dressed in the black lacey lingerie that Lois had gotten her as a wedding gift. Snug little black cocks cradled the crimson testicles; lacey triangles emphaszied the puffy pink nipples like unripe strawberries. Little black bows were tied around each dark horn, a lacy half-veil over her eyes. Hard and waiting to hear Lois Lane's story.

"Welcome home," Blaze said in her sultriest voice.

The pregnant reporter set her purse down, but didn't take off her coat. Her eyes were fixed on that stiff scarlet shlong. The same one that had knocked her up. The one she had come to rely on, whenever the pregnancy hormones hit her. It had become almost a constant in her life, always hard when she needed it.

"Sweetmeat?" Blaze said, some sixth sense telling her something was wrong. "What is it? What happened?"

Lois blinked back tears. She sniffled, not sure when she had started crying.

"You're pimping preggos, Angie."

The demonic dickgirl's jaw fell open...closed...opened again.

"I can explain?"

Lois felt herself tremble. She grasped a chair for support. Maybe a part of her had hoped that she was wrong. That Blaze would deny it. That they could go back to the way things were. Except now she knew they couldn't do that. The demon jumped off the bed and hurried to her side.

The pregnant reporter didn't even pull away as the demon hugged her, the hard cock pressed into her stomach. She turned her head into Blaze's shoulder and cried...and Blaze held her tight and told her the story.

It had started out as just a college escort service. A plan to corrupt a few women and claim their souls. Blaze had used her powers and connections to make it attractive for the women: safe customers, protection from police, keep most of the money—the demon didn't care about profit since her reward would be their souls. Except the unprotected jobs paid better, and first one of her ladies fell pregnant...then another...and another...and they hadn't sold their souls to Blaze yet, so she decided to pivot, find them customers that liked preggos...and that attracted other college girls that had fallen pregnant and needed the money...

"...once I met you, I wanted to stop. I mean, it was never about the money in the first place, but the ladies needed the cashflow, because they were still pregnant. If I had left them to their own devices they wouldn't have my protection...I kept the cops off them, use charms to keep them from STDs, from violent clients...so I was just going to let it wind down naturally, keep it going until they gave birth and then it would all just be...over. Nice and neat."

Lois sniffled. "How many?" she mumbled.

"Thirteen."

The reporter's face screwed up. Her fists punched ineffectually at her wife, who still held her tight.

"Thirteen. You've been pimping a fucking coven of pregnant co-eds while I...while I..." Lois felt her nose run, and instinctively wiped it on Blaze's shoulder. "How many did you fuck?"

"None of them. Since I met you," Blaze said.

"You lied to me," Lois said.

"Demon, babe," Blaze said. "I lie to everyone. Even myself. I told myself that as long as you didn't know, it wouldn't hurt you. That I could just wind it down and you'd never know, and then it would just be us and the baby and everything would be...perfect."

"I'm so pissed at you," Lois said. She and Blaze rocked back and forth.

"I know, sweetmeat," Blaze said with a sigh. "I deserve it. I just...I just don't know what else to do."

"Well to start with, you're going to call up your whores and we're going to do some interviews. And you're not getting laid until your pregnant prostitution ring is finished."

"But...the last girl isn't due for three months!" Blaze said.

Lois Lane pulled away. Dark streaks from her mascara ran down her cheeks. Her face was screwed up in a frown. "And until then, you're sleeping on the fucking couch!"