Epilogue: The Confession of Clark Kent

At work, it was almost as if nothing changed. Lois Lane lived her life as a woman, and that was that. Oh, the Daily Planet got a few letters from irate right-wingers, but editor Perry White shred them before they ever reached the transwoman's ears. In an office where it was even money whether or not Jimmy Olsen would be wearing a dress, a bow tie, or a turtle costume on any given day, no one was going to make a comment on the discrete adam's apple that Lois' occasional choker failed to hide.

The reporter herself continued on with her regimen of hormones, investigated and priced out possible surgeries. She enjoyed flirting with Clark at work, fiddling with his tie, leaving him little notes, the occasional sext...there was something thrilling about seeing the big Kansas farmboy blush like a teenager, his glasses almost steaming up. In the office, it was kept to a playful minimum, but when they were alone together outside, on a date or at one of their apartments, they could be more intimate...

The re-awakening of her libido on that night out hadn't kept up, exactly. It was difficult for Lois to get in the mood. Yet now that she was with Clark, she felt the need to see to his needs. So she kept herself clean back there, and at the end of the evening, after a glass of wine, she didn't mind sliding her hand down his pants...kissing him deeply...there were lots of things they could do, after all, without going all the way.

Then, just like that, it was their one-month anniversary.

She had worn lingeries, the black keyhole panties snug on her little clitty and the shaven sack, the little opening exposing her freshly cleaned and bleached asshole. They hadn't tried penetration in a while, and the trans reporter had teased him for the last three days, telling him not to jerk off, that she would do something special for him...and she had left a trail of rose petals all the way from the door of her apartment to the bed, the whole room dark except for the candles...

"Take me," Lois whispered hoarsely.

Clark stood in the door like a golem, momentarily speechless. He took his time removing shirt, shoes, and tie. Lois wiggled her ass in frustrated anticipation as the undershirt and slacks came off, folded neatly. The boxers couldn't conceal how hard he was already.

The glasses stayed on during sex, despite how dark the room was. She didn't know how bad his eyes actually were, but...

Then he was there, behind her. That hard cock rubbing against the crack of her ass. The drizzle of lube as he got it nice and oily. Even though she was limp, Lois felt a quiver of anticipation.

Until one massive hand clamped around her cock and balls. So tight that Lois gasped.

"Sometimes," he said, voice deep and strange in the reporter's ears. "I think about just crushing this. Ripping it off of your body. You're so perfect, except...I wish...I wish you were a woman. That I could make love to you. Impregnate you."

"I am a woman!" Lois said, with a prickle of indignation...but also a hint of trepidation. She had never imagined Clark would hurt her, but he was so much bigger and stronger than she was. If he did want to hurt her, there was nothing she could do about it.

"I know. I know that. It's just...I know everything you're going through. How you suffer. I wonder if...if there was a way...to be biologically female. Not just hormones and surgery but fundamentally, genetically, as if you had been born that way...would you take it?" He asked.

"Sure. And a pony and a house and tits the size of my head," Lois said, trying to **** a lighter tone in her voice.

His free hand pressed the head of his cock against her asshole. Clark's other hand hadn't moved from where it gripped her limp cock and balls. The palm was hot, sweaty. Lois sucked in her breath as the big head pushed slowly into her ass. Even with the lube, he felt huge.

"I'm serious," he said. "I've...made some inquiries. There's a way. If you want. You can have...a vagina. A womb. Breasts. Everything."

He pushed himself into her...a little too fast, a little too hard, his whole body straining, and Lois realized at that moment that he was doing everything he could to hold back, to not just nail her into the bed and snap her sphincter like a rubber band.

"Clark...nobody can do that. It's science fiction. Fantasy. Maybe...maybe Superman or one of the Justice League, but if they had that tech, it would be..." She said as the cock pushed inside of her, asshole immediately burning as it was stretched far beyond the norm.

His glasses fell on the bed beside her. Curious, Lois twisted her neck around, half-turning...and in the candlelight she saw the curl of dark hair fall across his forehead in a familiar S-shape, the blue eyes burning into her own.

"I...I'm not...I don't want to **** you," he said, veins throbbing on his temples as he slowly fed more and more of his cock into her ass. "I don't...I don't mind if you're trans. I just...wanted to let you know...there is an option. For you. Because...I love you. However you are. I just want to help."

Superman swallowed heavily, and Lois wondered about how he must have worried. How to tell his girlfriend that he had some Kryptonian super-science that would turn her into a biological woman. How she might hate him if he offered to help her transition. If he was really doing this for her or for himself.

A wicked smile crossed the reporter's lips.

"We'll talk about it later," she said. "For now...if you really want to impregnate me...why don't you see if you can impregnate my ass first?"

A grin flashed on his stern face. "You know that doesn't work."

"Doesn't mean we can't try!"

Which is how the evening returned back to how Lois Lane had planned it. Face down, biting a pillow, ass in the air as her big-dicked boyfriend took out his pent-up lust on her poor behind. Her tight, tiny hole stretched out on his cock, her clitty leaking into the sheets as he pounded her harder and harder, the headboard banging against the walls, her quivering legs giving out and Clark—or Superman—or both grabbed her thighs like the handles of a wheelbarrow, his rugged haystick-lifting cock burning and pounding and finally pulsing, a white-hot endless stream of jizz pouring deep into her guts as her own useless cocklet flopped about, yellowish, watery semen drip-drip-dripping as he ground her prostate into a fine paste.

Until Lois Lane was on her side, his fingers plunging into the hot cream-filled hole as she sucked that fat, half-hard schlong. A long, sloppy, celebratory blowjob that made her jaw ache.

Do I really want to take the quick way out? Lois Lane thought. It was tempting, sorely tempting...