"It's not that simple."

"She's my daughter," Lois Lane's mother said through the reporter's mouth.

"Which is why you're wearing her body right now?" That strange, knowing smile kept on Blaze's face as she stroked her cock. It didn't get much longer, but Lois could see it swell, growing thicker, the veins more distinct, the soft purple head filling out, until the tip became mushroom-shaped, hard and rubbery. "Don't pretend any deep maternal instincts. You want a body you can fuck in. I'm offering that."

"But it's...it's her soul," Lois heard the words. Felt her own mouth speak them. But she could also feel her own fingers slide down the front of her tight red pants, and rub against her slit. It was damp...getting ready. This conversation was making her mother hot.

"It's her body," Blaze ran her thumb over her glans, smearing precum around the tip. "It could be your body. One little fuck, and her life will be yours. Her sweet little pussy, her ass, her mouth...fuck the world. Find your husband and fuck him! That would be fun..."

Thumbs tugged at the waistband of the reporter's pants. Lois Lane's gaze was fixed on the stiff cock in front of her, the testicles bigger than anything she had ever seen on a human, like a pair of goose eggs, vivid blue-red veins on the surface of that tightly-drawn sack.

Don't do it, mom! Lois Lane begged, a passenger in her own body. Don't fuck her! Don't sell me out! Please!

But Lois didn't even know if her mother could hear her. The ghost was in the driver's seat, and the daughter could do absolutely nothing to stop her.