Dripping

Lois Lane knew she should be appalled. Her whole life and career had been spent in pursuit of truth, justice, giving a voice to the voiceless, exposing the evils that human beings do to each other.

She had been in the clutches of villains, and flirted with superheroes. Laid awake at night with her hands between her legs, thinking about a certain Kryptonian, and wondering if, maybe, someday they would be together.

But as Blaze made her confession, the reporter's knees felt week and wobbly. Her stomach churned, suddenly uneasy. She could feel her nipples tent the material of her shirt.

It didn't feel like a betrayal, or a threat. Blaze hadn't made Lois do anything the reporter hadn't wanted to do. The reporter stared at the bulge of the shemale's cock through the sheer material of the dress.

This is so wrong, Lois told herself, rubbing her thighs together, pussy squelching in her pants. But maybe that's what makes it so...hot.

Superman, wherever he might be, was a long ways away. Lois could almost feel that future they might have had together disappearing. No white dresses. No son for the Last Son of Krypton.

She set her drink down on the carpet.

"Lois?" Blaze's eyes sought out the reporter's own. "Are you...okay? I know that this is a lot to take in. I know it's..." she took a breath. "...not what you expected. We can talk..."

"No. No, it's fine," Lois shrugged out of her jacket. "I was just thinking—**** isn't good for the baby."

The reporter stood up from the couch. She knelt before Blaze, her warm breath blowing over the cock tenting the black fabric. The dress was starting to slip up, exposing the heavy, hairless balls beneath.

"So you're...okay with this?" The demon in woman's guise asked.

"Frankly," Lois said, lifting her hands to cup the swollen orbs, to feel the heat emanating from the soft skin in her hands. "I think it's the most erotic thing I've ever heard. I want you to fuck me again. Now."