There's Nothing She Can Do

"Well, it's been fun," Blaze said, and began to slowly fade from view. Lois could actually see the crimson form grow translucent as the demon slowly disappeared. "Have fun raising my bastards, would you?"

"Wait!" The naked pregnant woman said. She took a step forward and nearly fell over, leaning on the table for support as her massive belly, wider hips, and bigger breasts put her off balance. "You can't just leave me like this!"

Cruel laughter echoed in the room. Lois watched as the demon faded away to nothing more than a Cheshire cat smile.

"Au contraire, Lois. I half fulfilled all my obligations. The women are free, my scheme is undone—and you are well and truly knocked up, ready to deliver. What happens to you at this point is none of my concern."

And with that, the disembodied lips hanging in the air were gone...and Lois was left all alone.

Well, not strictly alone, she thought, putting a hand on her enormous stomach. Hello babies.

"Need to get dressed, get out of here," Lois muttered to herself.

Very slowly and carefully, the reporter got down onto her hands and knees. Her back and shoulders were screaming at her, but she was a fit woman...an extra forty-five or fifty pounds was something she could manage. It was moving without tipping over onto her gravid belly that was the real trick. The reporter gathered up her clothes from the floor and looked at them unhappily.

The panties were first, and the reporter felt the lacy black thong almost disappear up the crack of her ass immediately. The tiny triangle in front didn't do much for decency either, not that Lois could even see it, but at least it was something to avoid being completely naked.

Then came the pants. They had been tight-fitting on her even before her hips had spread to make room for the babies. on the floor, trying to work around the swollen mound, Lois huffed and puffed just to get them up past her knees. She pulled and struggled to get them onto her thighs, feeling the extra weight there particularly, the tight red pants seeming ready to split...

...and then the pants got to her ass.

Lois Lane wanted to hold her belly and cry as she staggered to her feet, the hip-hugging pants holding on for dear life as they faced the modest yet apparently impossible obstacle that was her butt. But the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter wasn't above to give up because of a pair of pants.

So she gripped the waist with both hands, leaned back...and pulled. The material began to stretch as she wiggled and pressed downward, squeezing her ass into the too-small space, like ten pounds of sugar in a five-pound sack. Eventually, when it would go no further, Lois declared victory. The pants were still riding fairly low on her—it felt like half of her ass was hanging out, though it was probably only an inch of crack that was showing, buns bunched up and slightly muffin-topping the taut waistband—and her looming belly hid how low the pants came up front.

The bra was not doable with her bigger breasts. Lois didn't even bother, stuffing the lacy thing in a pocket. The white t-shirt was adequate to contain her tits, although Lois noted that her hard, dark nipples were easy to see through the fabric...and it resolutely refused to cover more than the top of her belly. Lois sighed and left it bunched up under her boobs, letting the stomach hang out bare.

She slipped on the jacket easily. Grunted as she bent over to tie her heels...and Lois Lane stood up, looking for all the world like she was about to drop into a squat and pop out two infants any second. The reporter winced as she considered what she might be taken as—she had seen pregnant prostitutes on the edges of Suicide Slum which wore more clothing than she was sporting right now. But at least she was decent enough to get out of here.

Which begged another question.