Epilogue: Stress Eating, Stress Fucking

The skirt was tighter about the reporter's waist. She felt self-conscious about it as she devoured another donut. She wasn't showing yet, but the stress of the whole situation given Lois a serious craving for comfort foods. The reporter told herself that all the sex at night would help burn off the extra calories, but every morning the scale seemed to top a little heavier...

How much weight does a normal woman gain during pregnancy? Lois worried. Yet no one said anything. Not even a lingering glance. It was as though their eyes just slid off of her midsection entirely, brains refused to process it. Even Clark Kent, one of the most eagle-eyed reporters she had ever met, treated her as if there was nothing different about her at all.

"Are you okay, Lois?" He asked. Those earnest blue eyes behind the nerdy-looking glasses. Maybe...

"I'm eight weeks pregnant, Clark," she said, feeling a sudden relief at being able to say it out loud.

"Well, try to get some more sleep," he answered with a smile, completely unaware of the non sequitur. "I know you stay up late on your investigations, but that kind of thing can affect your metabolism."

Something died in the reporter's soul, some little hope. Clark hadn't heard her—or had, and hadn't been able to believe it. Whatever kept people from noticing her pregnancy even extended to what she said.

Is that what it's going to be like? The reporter asked herself as she headed home for the day. She stopped on the way for a pizza, knowing she would regret it later but unable to stop herself from buying the extra-large, and a two-liter of cola to wash it down with. Just...to be pregnant and nobody notices? What if I go into labor in the office? How the hell am I going to bring up maternity leave with my editor?

Blaze was waiting for her, as she always was. Today, she wore a pair of white thong panties that did nothing to conceal her fat cock or balls, and a gauzy white veil-thing that hung over her breasts like a bib. Not even a bra by Lois Lane's measurement. The reporter pointedly ignored her and sat the pizza and soda down on the table in the kitchen.

The demon's cock looked a little bigger than it had yesterday. She had thought the same the day before, and the day before that. Could hardly remember when it had looked...normal. The reporter knew that before the end of the night, she would feel every inch of it inside of her.

"Bad day?" Her demon lover asked, and Lois had to repress a shudder, expecting it to be another command. The demon was good about waiting until the reporter got home, at least. Once or twice the reporter had stayed late at the office...she closed her eyes, pushing the memories aside. Her stomach growled.

"I tried to tell Clark today," Lois huffed as she flipped open the box and reached for a greasy slice. "He didn't hear me."

"Your secret is safe," the demon told her. "Even against...accidental slips of the tongue."

"And if I wrote it down?" The pregnant reporter said between bites.

"Keep a diary, if it makes you feel any better. Emails would get corrupted, notes lost or ignored and eventually destroyed. Try not to get anything into the newspaper; there might be an...industrial accident." Blaze smiled at that, watching Lois chow down through a slice of pizza and reach for another. "You're upset."

"I...yes," Lois swallowed. "I'm upset. I'm going to have to go through a pregnancy for the next thirty weeks all alone."

"No," Blaze whispered. "You'll have me. Always."

Lois felt her stomach flutter, nausea suddenly gripping her guts. She paused, chewing carefully, breathing in and out of her nose slowly. "Morning sickness" was a lie, and could strike at any time. The reporter had learned quickly that vomiting didn't really help, but that she could ride it out if she just took a few moments to relax and breathe until it passed.

"Stress isn't good for the baby," Blaze slipped around the table, placing a possessive hand over the reporter's shoulder. It was smooth and warm, like a heating pad. "Would you like some oral sex?"

At least it was a question, rather than an order. Lois focused on the roiling ball of hate in her stomach, tried to ignore the bile in the back of her mouth.

"Yes, thank you," she said. "That would be lovely."

And like that, the reporter's skirt and panties were off. It was a trick that she had seen Blaze do, like a magician pulling a tablecloth off of a loaded table, without disturbing any of the plates or glasses, except on a human being. Just a gentle tug, and they were on the floor, whole and intact. The reporter's bare ass and pussy on the leather chair cushion.

She scooted forward and spread her thighs, putting her bush and pussy on display. Blaze dipped under the table. A tongue, warm and soft, slid across the reporter's labia...and something inside of her began to unknot, some hidden ball of stress finally relaxing, just a little. Long slow minutes passed as the demon licked and slurped, the tongue always approaching her pussy as something new and unexpected, to be explored and adored with infinite patience and curiosity, a secret garden found new. By the time the demon's nose tickled her clit, the hot lips locked on her pussy and sucking gently, the nausea faded.

Lois picked up the half-finished slice of pizza and poured herself a glass of cola. They would have to fuck through the night to burn off all the extra calories.