Epilogue: Other Changes

"Lift your shirt, please."

Lois Lane complied. It was a special maternity t-shirt, white cotton with an extended front that covered her looming abdomen. A normally-scaled shirt would have been the size of a hockey jersey and completely swamped her body, but this one fit her. The reporter peeled it off her body, revealing more and more scarlet skin. Although she could no longer see it without a mirror, she knew the dark line of the manum negrum was still there, leading up to her outie belly button.

She wasn't wearing a bra. They had tried to find ones that still fit her, but her breasts were so swollen and sore these days that Lois was often more comfortable not wearing one...it wasn't like she was going to be running anywhere anytime soon. Besides, in this case...

"Lift your breasts, please." Doctor Midnite said.

They were in his examination room, and Lois was glad that they were alone, Angie waiting patiently out in the lobby. His eyes were hidden by the dark glasses he wore to protect his sensitive eyes, but the old hero was so kind and gentle that Lois felt oddly safe with him...especially since he had been so helplful and nonjudgmental about her pregnancy and relationship so far.

The reporter slid her hands under her breasts and lifted them up. There was a time, not so long ago—thirty-four weeks, she thought with a smile—when the idea of ever being able to heft her breasts like that had been absolutely unthinkable. She had been the last in her class to get breasts, and they had stayed stubbornly small her entire adult life, never more than a handful. Except lately...well, the pregnancy hormones had kicked in, and her boobs had started growing like crazy. It was all that Lois could do to keep Angie's hands off of them, her darling dickgirl insisting on massaging cocoa butter into them at least twice a day "to prevent stretch marks."

That wasn't why Lois had come in today.

Doctor Midnite leaned forward.

"Hmm. Yes. You say these are new?"

"Yes," Lois said flatly as he slid a pair of gloves onto his hands.

"When did you first notice them?"

"About two weeks ago. I thought they were just...zits or something. Except they kept growing. Then I woke up this morning and they were just like..."

Lois Lane's breasts had grown to be more than a handful. As they gained mass, they had puffed up, and lost their half-teardrop shape, but refused to sag; now they sat on the reporter's chest like two halves of a cantaloupe. If she let them go right now, they would settle down, but the nipples would still point out proudly...but underneath them.

They looked like the mosquito-bites Lois had when she had first gotten breasts. Small nipples, little bumps that were scarcely defined from the pectoral muscles beneath, sitting to either side of the reporter's ribcage, and a little closer to the centerline of her body. While the nipples on her breasts above had grown dark with the pregnancy, almost purple-black, these buds were as pink as unripe strawberries.

"Any pain?"

"They're a little sore," Lois said, then coughed. "And, um...sensitive."

"Hmm. I would like to perform a manual exam, if you're comfortable with that."

"Go ahead," she said, and braced herself.

His gloved fingers were gentle. They pressed, not on the nipples themselves, but around them. Gently circling the small supernumerary breasts, poking and prodding in a methodical manner. Lois kept her best pokerface on, but it was hard not to shiver and shake. Her nipples...all four of them...grew erect as he gently squeezed the new growths, and the pregnant reporter closed her eyes and clenched her thighs together, forcing herself to breath, not to moan and especially not to cum...

It went on like that for several minutes, the old man methodical, utterly ignorant of his patient's growing agitation. Lois could feel her cheeks burning, and knew that her red face must be glowing purple as she blushed. She was unable to repress a shudder as his fingers brushed the sensitive nips, then moved to press against her ribs. Because of her protuberant stomach, he had to sit close, reaching around her belly, working by touch as much as by sight.

"Glandular tissue...nipples and areola...fatty tissue..." he muttered to himself.

Then he squeezed her new little breasts too hard and Lois was unable to suppress a moan as her body betrayed her, pussy squirting onto the paper covering the examination table...and now did he let up for what felt like a full minute, until something...squirted...out of her new breasts...and then he pulled his milk-soiled hands back, leaving Lois panting in a puddle of her own pussy-juice.

"Well, we can do a full mammogram if you wish," the doctor said as he peeled off his gloves. "But I cannot detect any trace of a lump or other sign of a tumor. Adult onset of polymastia is unusual, to say the least, but then so is the rest of your pregnancy; that said, the new breasts appear to be fully functional. As they are already expressing milk, I believe the milk glands are already developed...statistically unlikely, but not impossible in mammalian species."

"So...I mean, they're not normal, but they're okay?" Lois asked. "Are they going to get bigger?"

Doctor Midnite tossed the gloves into a trash can. "If your primary breast growth is any indication, you might expect your new breasts to continue to grow. As with many aspects of this pregnancy, I cannot say anything for certain. If you are unhappy about them, or if you detect any lumps that might be indicative of breast cancer, we can do a double mastectomy, but otherwise..." he shrugged. "Are there any other changes that have you worried?"

Lois Lane let her breasts drop. Big as her "top row" was, they almost completely hid her supernumerary breasts. Angie had taken to calling them "her little secrets." The reporter laid a hand on the swell of her stomach...and then let it slide lower. Her wife had shaved her for today's visit, so she was smooth down there, but it was still embarrassing.

"I'm, um," she coughed. "My clit is bigger."

She leaned back on the table and spread her legs. Though she could not see his eyes, Lois could imagine the look as he stared at her dripping, squelching pussy. He was going to have to wipe down the table after she left.

"So it is," he said, after a moment. "Although nothing else appears unusual, except for the...excess moisture."

He stood up, so that his face could peer over her swollen scarlet belly. Like the dome of a mosque, caught in the morning light of a sun where sailors take warning.

"How is your sex life? Active?"

"Yes," she said.

"How often?"

"Three, four times a day?" Lois thought, not sure whether blowjobs counted.

"But you're...still excited?" he said. "Easily excitable, I mean."

"Yes," Lois sighed. "I don't know if it's the pregnancy, but I'm horny all the time. There are times when I just can't think."

"Hmm. Well, if your spouse is willing and able...they should see to your needs more thoroughly," he said at last. "I can speak to them, if it's necessary."

The reporter's pure violet eyes got big. "You will?"

"While I cannot speak to some of the unusual aspects of your particular pregnancy," the old man said, "Your body clearly is continuing to undergo changes, and those are tied to your spouse's sexual fluids. The cravings you are experiencing may well be your body demanding more of what it needs, and in a normal pregnancy I would always advise women to listen to their bodies in such matters. So yes, I am recommending that you increase sexual activity. Nothing dangerous...you don't want to hurt yourself or the fetus...but I believe it would be to the benefit of your overall health."

Lois could have hugged him. She couldn't wait to see the look on Angie's face. The pregnant reporter was going to drain those balls every meal of the day, and that was going to include second breakfast, elevenses, tea, and a midnight snack. Her body trembled at the thought.

"In the meantime, you'll want to do self-examine for your breasts regularly." he went on. "I have some literature here..."

The reporter was barely listening. She was pulling on her shirt, not caring about the little wet circles as the cotton brushed against her supernumerary nipples.

Mama needs cock! Lois thought.