Take My Picture

Lois Lane stared down at the pregnancy test. She took a deep breath. This was her reality now. Not something she could run from. As a reporter, her life had always been determined by the evidence of her senses, what she could see and hear and touch. It was her responsibility—her purpose, though she rarely thought of it in those terms—to report on reality as it was. To tell people what they needed to know.

She turned to see Angelica standing there with the camera. The reporter held up the test, about level with her chin, the positive result clearly visible. Her right hand came up in a peace sign. If asked, Lois couldn't say why. It just felt right.

The bulb flashed. Bright afterimages burned in Lois Lane's vision. Blaze took out the rapidly-developing instant photo and handed it to Lois. The reporter balanced the film on her knee as she wrote the date with the sharpie. Taped it to the wall for posterity.

I look happy, Lois thought, staring at her own smile staring back at her. Will I look back on this, months from now, and wonder at how thin I was? Before my belly bloats and my breasts swell and sag?

A little shiver ran through the reporter as she thought about that. Her body changing, developing. Fingers kneaded her firm stomach, imagining what it might look like as it swelled, week by week.

She looked over at the dickgirl. A strange smile was on Angelica's face. Like a woman with a secret.

"The camera loves you," Blaze said. "Want to do a few more? Not for the wall. Just for us."

"Okay," Lois said, not sure what else to say. She stood up, still holding the test, and followed her lover back to the bedroom.