Epilogue: Permanent

Light broke over the mountains. Lois squinted her eyes as dawn broke over the great hills. They wobbled gently as she breathed, the nipples hard in the cool morning air. Although she would never admit it, there was something calming about staring at her breasts like this. To know that this was all her.

My tits, Lois thought, and couldn't remember when she had ceased thinking of them as just breasts. Ma Grand tetons.

Then the alarm went off, and the reporter pulled herself into a sit-up. Automatically, her juggs hung out in front, the weight pulling on her upper back. In the last four weeks the muscles in her shoulders and upper back had grown substantially. The reporter reached over and turned off the alarm, then began the first of her stretching exercises. She had completely changed her routine since her new tits had come in, for mobility if nothing else, and even half-awake she reached up to grab the chin-up bar, biceps burning as she lifted herself up.

Contrary to what Poison Ivy had said, the swelling had not gone down. Lois Lane's breasts remained bigger, bouncier, and jutting out even though when she stood up the lower part of her tits hunger down to the bottom of her ribs. She missed being able to sleep on her stomach, but had come to terms with her new look. In the shower, the reporter ran her hands over her breasts, squeezing and checking for lumps, making sure to scrub the underside she could no longer see...the last thing she wanted was a rash or, worse, an infection.

Squeezing them brought a flush to Lois Lane's face, and made her knees bend and wobble. They were more sensitive now...especially the nipples, which hardened and jutted out, even when the hot water played on them. Lois Lane had always though nipplegasms were the stuff of bad pornography, but in the last month, she had to admit that she had gotten...close. Never quite over the edge, but playing with her tits was always a part of her masturbation routine these days...and that routine was a lot more regular than it had been before she had been exposed to Ivy's pollen.

But there was no time for that. She had to get to work.

The new bras hadn't come in yet. Lois had tried binders at first, but as she got used to the weight and maneuvering of her tits, her wardrobe had gotten a bit bolder. Button-down blouses were the order of the day, with a jacket that kept her girls decent so that at least the nipples wouldn't jut out ridiculously. Still, the reporter felt the stares and head-turns as she walked the streets of Metropolis. Caught too the occasional flash of a camera as someone decided to keep more than the memory of her.

It was hard enough to be a woman journalist when people weren't constantly staring at your tits. Clark Kent held the elevator for her as she entered the building, and she hurried to catch it, tits wobbling angrily. At least she could count on her co-workers treating her with dignity and respect...

In the elevator, she could see him staring at her in the mirror-like polish of the metal frame. In truth, Lois hadn't minded his increased attention...unlike everyone else, he always seemed embarrassed when his eyes wandered, and there was a certain stiffness in his movements immediately afterward that suggested parts of him were responding. Lately at night, Lois had been wishing he'd do more than just look...after all, he wasn't a bad-looking man. Big muscular shoulders...tall, dark, and handsome despite those glasses...with a big, haystack-lifting farmboy cock.

Not that he would ever do anything. He was too much of a gentleman. That was the problem.

Which is why it surprised her when Clark reached over her shoulder and hit the emergency stop button.

He leaned over her then, his crotch pushing against her ass, and his arms pressed against the elevator door. She was trapped...oh, she could duck under his arms, but she felt his face bury itself in her hair, and Lois could feel something very hard pressing against her pussy.

"Lois...I know this is improper...and if you tell me to stop, I will. But I have tell you, just this once...I...am very attracted to you. I mean, I've always been attracted to you, but lately...it's so hard..."

"I can tell," Lois waggled her ass, twerking gently against Kent's trapped erection. "Is that all for me?"

Her heart was racing, pussy damp, nipples hard with excitement. Sure, this was sexual harassment, technically, but at this point Lois wanted to be sexually harassed. On her own terms, at least.

She pressed the button.

"Not here. Family restroom. I want this too," she added, and meant it. "Just keep your hands to yourself until then."

As the elevator lurched back into movement, Clark stepped back...but he hovered closer than before, and Lois bit her lip as she imagined she could actually feel him breathing down her neck. She leaned against him carefully, feeling those hard pecs through his own shirt, the heat of his body.

When the doors opened, Lois stepped out first. Kent was two or three steps behind, and she let her hips roll, although she doubted he was looking at her butt. Even from behind, he could see the shadow of her tits, the back-boob more apparent when she lifted her arms. A quick glance saw no-one was looking as she stepped into the family restroom...and left the door opened. Smallville quickly followed. She smiled and locked the door.

By unspoken consent, they began to undress. His tie came off, then they both shucked their jackets. Unbuttoned their shirts...and that was when Lois was in for a surprise. Her eyes widened as she saw the familiar S-shield, the tight-fitting blue shirt...and widened again when he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants to reveal the tight red shorts. All this time, right under her own nose...

Lois nearly forgot to unbutton her own shirt, but struggled to catch up, fingers jittery as she saw him pull down his shorts. His "little" Man of Steel came out, hard as rebar, and Lois thought about Ivy's zucchinis. Not as thick, but longer...maybe nine inches, which was a real womb-scraper...and oddly scarred here and there, with ridges of red-purple flesh that reminded her of those condoms "ribbed for her pleasure." A part of her wondered if all Kryptonians were built like that, or if too many of his enemies had gone for low blows.

Impatient, he stepped toward her and grabbed her tits as she struggled to pull her skirt down over her hips. His big hands couldn't encompass them entirely, but sank into the soft flesh, and Lois let out a moan of pent-up need. He was squeezing her tits harder than she ever had...

"A...condom..." she asked as he turned her around. She braced herself against the sink, staring into the mirror as he positioned himself at the entrance to her tunnel.

"No," he said.

"I...I could get pregnant!"

"Yes."

One thrust. It wasn't smooth. She could feel every one of those scarred ridges catch on her internal anatomy. Nor had she been wrong about the length. He pushed uncomfortably deep inside of her, and while he didn't touch her cervix, Lois was sure that was more out of gentlemanly reserve than inability. His hands groped her tits from behind, squeezing and mauling the soft pillows.

"If...if you do...I'll..."

The threat was hollow, and they both knew it. He began to move, the ridges scraping against her g-spot, the head pushing deep and then pulling out until it was at the entrance to her cunt again, his hands squeezing her tits almost like he was milking a cow.

"Marry me," he whispered, squeezing her nipples hard...and Lois Lane shook on his cock, her bladder unexpectedly letting go as she held onto the sink for dear life, her mind in that moment a single burning white ball of pleasure...and then the proper fucking began.

White-knuckled, the reporter clung to the sink, staring into her own reflection as Clark Kent, Superman, her Smallville, ruthlessly squeezed her tits and railed her cunt. The big hands crushed her pillows so hard she could see them swell, red and then purple, and then he would move them and the imprint of his fingers would stay there for a moment, the pins and needles sensation hitting her nipples as he mashed her breasts together in front of her. The icy blue stare showed all the pent-up lust of a month...a year...however many years they had worked together, and Lois knew that in all that time, all those teasing, flirtatious moments, he had been waiting for just such a time as this.

The cum hit her cervix, and Lois Lane swore it blew straight through it. The muscular sphincter couldn't stop the super-sperm. She grunted in animalistic pain as the first blast seemed to burst straight through and hit the back of her womb. It was like being punched in the cunt, and it just kept coming as he kept cumming. Lois Lane's legs gave out, but even her whole body weight resting on his steel-hard cock couldn't move it a millimeter. Lois hung there as he blasted rope after sticky rope of semen into her wide-open cunt, body quivering in pain and ecstasy like she had never known. Lois Lane had never been multi-orgasmic, but the chain of climaxes left her eyes rolling, silver sparks dancing in her vision, heart threatening to burst from her chest as the weak cervix, beaten into submission, vainly spasmed as more and more jizz flowed into her ****, fertile womb.

Finally, Superman's erection began to soften. He eased her down onto her knees, still grasping onto the sink, panting as her heart jackhammered in her chest, feeling herself kneeling in a pool of piss and jizz, her cunt still quivering with every breath, stomach sore and aching deep within.

"If you want," he said gently, his fingers softly massaging her aching breasts, his lips kissing her shoulders. "We can do that every day."

When the reporter could speak again, she only managed one word.

"Yes."