Epilogue: Something's Wrong With Lana

Dawn began to filter through the blinds, and Lois Lane stretched and smiled in her bed. The last two weeks had been a blur. Lois and Lana had been attached at the hip more often than not. They could hardly keep their hands off one another. Lana had moved in practically immediately, and they had celebrated by the dickgirl reporter pumping another load into that vast cunt. The constant pounding had been a workout on the reporter's abs...she'd gotten almost nothing done at work...and as soon as she got home there had been that whirlwind of kissing, sucking, licking, fucking.

In the quiet, sweaty moments, they talked. Really talked. Their past. Their future together. Hopes. Dreams. Baby names. It was too soon for a test, but the app had confirmed it, and Lana had started adjusting her diet accordingly. She really wanted this baby, more than Lois did. At night, in the dark, riding atop Lois as she sought to squeeze one last sticky load out of the reporter's cock, Lana had confessed about her mother's miscarriages, the doctor's appointment where they told the young redhead she might never conceive, the nights Lana had cried herself to sleep thinking she'd never have a baby...

It had been a long time for both of them since they had a lover they were infatuated with. Yet for Lois, this was something else. Something new, and unexpected.

She was falling in love.

A sob caught the reporter's attention. Lana's voice, with a tone that triggered animal instincts. Despite her exhaustion from their all-night lovemaking, Lois was on her feet in an instant. She didn't knock, just pushed open the door to the bathroom...and stood there in horror as Lana was bent double, tears rolling down her cheeks, both hands plunged inside her gaping cunt...and the pool of blood on the tile floor beneath her was spreading, following the lines of the grout.

"The pregnancy seems to be fine. Just a split in the labia," the doctor said. There was a streak of steel-grey in the woman's hair, bags under her eyes as she stared at Lois Lane. "But that is symptomatic of a...broader issue. Have you noticed any changes in sexual activity of late?"

Lois Lane coughed, not sure how to put this. The reporter had a real concern that if she told the doctor that a magical app had made her grow a dick and Lana Lang a massive pussy and that they had been fucking like rabbits, then they would both be locked up in a looney bin.

The doctor seemed to sense her hesitation.

"Batman has filled me in on the details of your night out," the doctor said. "I am aware of your anatomical changes. My concern is less physiological than psychological. How often have you seen Lana masturbating?"

Lois blinked and blushed. "Frequently. I mean, we often don't wear a lot around the house. It's not unusual for her to rub her clit a lot when she's on the computer, or on the toilet...during a shower...sometimes while we eat. She says she likes to be wet and ready for me."

The reporter gave what she thought was a disarming smile, but the doctor wasn't smiling.

"And yourself? Do you masturbate as frequently around her?"

The reporter blinked again. She hadn't thought about that. "No. I mean, when I need to get hard for her, I'll stroke it, but we make love so often I usually...I don't feel the need. She takes every drop of sperm I have as it is!"

The doctor nodded. "And you sleep in the same bed, yes? Does she masturbate at night?"

Lois licked her lips. "Uh...sure. I mean, I'll hear her after we settle down for the night. Sometimes early in the morning, when I wake up. I think sometimes she even does it in her sleep." The reporter leaned forward. "Doctor, what are you thinking?"

"We do not use terms like 'nymphomania' anymore," the older woman said with a sigh. "But what you're describing sounds very much like compulsive sexual behavior. Whatever her previous psychological state, she has gone through a profound physical and psychological change—new, sensitive genitalia; a new lover, far different from her previous conceptions; and on top of that an unexpected pregnancy. There have been reports of inappropriate behavior at work and in public as well. Were you aware of this?"

If the doctor had stabbed Lois through the heart, she could not have hurt the reporter more.

"No," Lois whispered.

"Caught masturbating on a public bus. Warned and fined. She's been put on administrative leave from her workplace; they caught her inserting her phone into her vaginal canal at her desk," the doctor said.

The older woman scribbled something on a pad.

"There are specialists in these kind of disorders. Far outside my field, I am afraid. I'm going to contact them for a consult. Please be aware, these behaviors can be managed. But it is not a disease to be cured with the wave of a magic wand. Lana Lang will need your help, Miss Lane." The doctor paused and then leaned across her desk. "Until we can be sure she is not a danger to herself or the fetus, we are keeping her under observation in the ward."

"Can...can I see her?" Lois said, her voice as brittle as a dry reed.

"Only family, I am afraid. Those are the rules."

"There has to be something!" Lois exploded. "They won't even let me see her!"

"The observation period is generally 72 hours," Batman said. The Caped Crusader stood in the shadows. He had seemed to anticipate the reporter's call. "Meanwhile, you have things to do."

"What?" Lois said, irritably. Her body ached, tense beyond measure. Normally at this time of night she would be in bed, her girlfriend's lips wrapped around her dick as she caught up on the day's news...and a sickening nausea almost overwhelmed the reporter.

Is this my fault? Did I **** her like this with my stupid cock? Lois thought to herself. Did I fuck her until I broke her brain?

Batman pulled a manilla envelope from beneath his cape and handed it to her.

"Power of attorney. Medical power of attorney. Wayne Industries Special Medical Insurance application," he said. "You're pre-approved, but it will cover the cost of her treatment. And...an application for a marriage license."

Lois blinked.

"Medical issues are easier if you're married," he said. "You'll both need to sign them...get them notarized...but there are ways to expedite the processing, if you're both agreeable."

The reporter stared at the envelope. Bad thoughts and recriminations filled her brain. A part of her wondered if she was really doing Lana a favor.

"You didn't break her, Lois," a new voice said behind her. She turned to see Superman float gently down onto the rooftop. "I've known Lana Lang a long time. Cared about her. I've seen her ups and downs. This thing with Blaze and the app...that's what set her over the edge. You might be the only one that can help her through it. Her, and the baby."

He handed Lois a small box. She opened it and for a moment, the light of the moon reflected through a thousand facets into her eyes.

"Freshly-squeezed," he joked. "I dug the coal this morning."

They let Lois Lane pick up as they checked Lana out of the ward. The red hair was wild, unwashed. Lana was listless and dazed as the reporter came to greet her, still doped up on whatever they had given her to keep her calm. One hand fidgeted with the tag or bracelet around her wrist, but her eyes were immediately focused on the bulge in Lois Lane's skirt. A pink tongue licked dry lips.

"Wait until we get home," Lois said firmly as they got in the cab. "We have some things to talk about, before we fuck."

The dickgirl reporter wasn't prepared for the tears in Lana's tired eyes. The way her lover buried her head into the reporter's shoulder, hands eagerly clutching her...and Lois hugged her back. It would be a long, hard road for the both of them, but there was no doubt in Lois Lane's mind that Lana Lang was worth it.