End: Lois Confronts Her Desires

The lights were off. Lois sat in front of the mirror with only a candle.

"Power Girl and I are going to go and deal with whatever demon or cult is behind those missing women at that club," Zatanna told her. "We'll be back when we can. When we leave, take off the blindfold. Look at yourself in the mirror and...reflect. On what you see. On what you want to see. Remember your old shape, your true shape. Relax your body, from your toes up through your legs and then your back and arms. Look...and if it doesn't feel like it's working, don't give up. Remember this is all about your desire."

They walked out. The door closed and locked. Lois took off her blindfold.

Tits. Big honkin' tits.

The pale orbs of her breasts seemed to float in the darkness. Most people never noticed Power Girl's broad, muscular chest, the big shoulders. Her breasts looked large on her, but proportional. On Lois Lane—skinny, fit little greatest reporter at the Daily Planet—they looked monstrous. The size of her head, hanging heavily over her rib cage, brushing against her upper arms, wider than her shoulders. The candlelight glinted off the nipple piercings.

Relax, Lois told herself, and planted her feet on the floor. Staring into the mirror, her own reflection gazing back at her, she sought to let the muscles in her toes go. Her feet. Her legs. She leaned back against the chair, letting it take her weight. Tension draining out of her spine. Breathing deep and easy. Arms limp in her lap. Head bowing forward a little as she found her equilibrium.

They are nice tits. Lois admitted to herself, staring at the perfectly formed breasts on her chest. They're just not mine.

She pictured her own breasts then. The breasts she had seen every day in the shower, and getting dressed, or just walking around topless in her apartment. The breasts that had declared that she was a woman and not just a girl. Not huge by any standard, but beautifully formed half-teardrops, even and with just that touch of fullness, no sag at all.

The big tits remained.

Maybe...I really want big tits? Lois asked, staring at her girls. Ridiculous as they seemed on her body, she couldn't but admit that the very size and shape of them was attractive. They were objects of desire, and she did desire them, she realized. From the moment she had seen the bartender with her pierced nipples, or Power Girl with her stupendous juggs...

I want big tits, Lois realized.

Her gaze shifted lower. The ass, though...the ass was a bit much. Sure, her own butt had been toned and trim, no one's definition of a badonkadonk, but that had been fine. She had earned her ass, with ten thousand stair-steppers at the gym, ten thousand squats...she didn't really want to be some breeder-hipped freak with a butt like a hippopotamus.

Like that, the pins-and-needles feeling came back to her butt. Lois felt herself shift as the old, hard-earned ass she remembered came back, the chair a lot roomier and harder without the added padding. She stared at the mirror and let her mouth fall open, the tongue sliding out.

The first time she had seen it—the split tongue, the studs in the tips, the extra length of it—Lois had been enamored. But she knew that was a fickle desire, a momentary and fleeting attraction. Like staring at a tattoo magazine, looking at all those beautifully inked women. They had earned their work through hours of pain. The woman who had this tongue before Lois...she had been daring, to have her tongue split and pierced. To live with it while it healed, to face her family and friends and defend her choice.

If I wanted that, Lois admitted to herself. Really wanted that, I'd have done it the hard way.

Like that, she felt the pins-and-needles on her tongue, in her mouth. Saw the split tongue rejoin. The studs retracted and disappeared. Her tongue felt familiar in her mouth, back to its old size. All of the changes undone...except for two.

Lois stared at her tits. Did she really want to keep them?

A slight pins and needles sensation crept over the edges of the great mountains on her chest. Not like before, not intense and sharp, but a soft prickle, almost an itch.

What if they were...just a bit smaller? She thought. Tried to picture them with a bit less sag, a bit better-suited to her bodytype. You couldn't get perfect breasts, not with surgery, not with exercise. It was something you had or didn't have. Lois felt herself breathe, the great bosom rising and falling and...yes, very slowly, very slightly they were shrinking. The nipple-rings remained, and the nipples themselves were larger than the ones she had been born with, but Lois was happy with that. She pictured herself with breasts that had the same profile as Power Girl's, but suited to her own figure. Something that would still require new bras, but which were still a massive improvement on what she had started out the night with.

When Zatanna and Power Girl returned, a little weary and slightly singed with hellfire, Lois Lane was still staring at her chest. The tingling had totally faded by now.

"So...how's your boobs?" Supergirl asked. Out in the hallway, Lois Lane caught sight of the women she had come to rescue.

"They're mine," Lois Lane said with a smile, staring at Power Girl's own sizable rack without even a twitch in her tits. "And I'm at peace with that."