Epilogue: When The Honeymoon Is Over

"If you've used my toothbrush again, I am going to shove it up your cunt until you bleed!" Lois shrieked.

"Promise?" Blaze called back from the kitchen. There was a whiff of something unspeakable coming from that direction, and the pregnant reporter held her stomach, afraid she was going to vomit again.

Pregnancy sucked. Living with someone else sucked. Her life, all of it, sucked right about now. Lois Lane hadn't even told the office she was pregnant yet, but people had noticed the ring and all the closet homophobes were rumormongering like mad, and it made going to the office hell. Every woman at the office seemed to have turned into a judgmental bitch overnight. It was going to get worse when she started showing.

Perry White, editor of The Daily Planet, bless his soul at least didn't give a damn about who she slept with as long as she brought in her copy on time.

When Lois felt nothing else was going to come out of her stomach, she brushed her teeth, and set her brush down next to Blaze's. Looking at them side-by-side made her **** up a little.

This was happening. This was real. She couldn't undo this.

Her wife slid in behind her.

"What was that about cunt-stabbing?" She said, putting her hands on the reporter's shoulders. Human hands. Angie had been wearing her human form more and more these days. She knew that made Lois feel more comfortable, and Lois knew she knew it.

The devil had found other ways to push the reporter out of her comfort zone. The hard cock slid into Lois from behind. No warning, no request...and the pregnant woman's pussy was wet and ready. Was always wet and ready these days. She couldn't remember the last time her pussy had actually been dry.

"Show me your tits," Blaze murmured. Lois began breathing harder. She knew it was pointless to resist. She stared into the mirror at her breasts and...relaxed.

The small, perky B-cups shifted in color. The flesh grew pale and then into an almost translucent alabaster white, the pale blue veins beneath the skin darkened into black streaks, corrupted marble. The nipples faded to an ashy grey, growing hard and sticking up unnaturally thick and stiff, the size of the last digit of her pinkie fingers.

Angie's hips slammed into Lois hard, the whole hot length of the demonic dick inside of her now. The impact pressed the reporter forward against the edge of the sink, trapped between the cold hard porcelain and the demon behind her. Lois hated these little "lessons," but she knew Blaze enjoyed them, enjoyed making Lois learn more about her new powers...and her self.

"Bigger," Angie whispered in her wife's ear. "Feel them ripen."

The reporter grunted. Letting herself "go" had been easy, but shapeshifting...she had to feel for that core of power inside of her, and then imagine it flowing through her corrupted veins...focus on her breasts...feel the pressure build inside of her chest, until it hurt to breathe, until she couldn't hold it anymore...and then release it.

Blaze was pounding her painfully now, every thrust slamming the reporter's thighs against the counter top. And in the mirror, Lois watched her tits start to swell. Not like a balloon. More like flexing a muscle, the perky tits growing firm, skin taut, nipples quivering in the air. Then slowly...achingly...the pressure built up behind them and they began to grow. Same shape, just getting larger and heavier, until they started to sag a little under their own weight, the outlines of her pale corrupted breasts creeping down her ribs.

Lois stared at her breasts, and let the human skintone creep back into them. A more natural paleness, blue veins just barely visible, soft pink nipples that hadn't yet darkened from the pregnancy. Blaze slammed forward one final time and a hot gush spilled into Lois Lane's gash, and began to drip onto the floor.

"It gets easier, doesn't it?" Angie hissed, kissing Lois Lane's shoulder. "Your body will remember this, and you'll be able to do it quicker and easier next time."

"Yes," Lois said, suddenly numb, staring at her inflated breasts. They looked natural, hung down over their own weight. Not fake like implants. Like she imagined her breasts might look like, when she was nursing. But if she went into the office like this, she knew the ugly gossipmongers would whisper: Fake-titted Whore.

Blaze pulled out with a wet schlick. "Clean up, and come to dinner. Maybe we'll have another lesson, later on. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Lois said, with a creeping sense of resignation. There wasn't anything else to say.