End: 200%—Pussy Stuffed!

As a young woman, Lois Lane had once seen a dog hump a stuffed animal. The bast had its tongue loll out of its mouth, eyes squeezed shut, back legs splayed out as it pumped away. The tail had wagged and the dog had given every indication of being lost in absolute bliss as it defiled the fluff-filled toy beneath it.

If Lois Lane could have seen her face in the mirror, she would have recognized the dog's expression on her own face.

Every thrust that slammed their pussies together pushed a little more air into the toy. Every thrust made the double dildo swell a little thicker, push a little deeper into both their pussies. Until the rubbery toy stuffed Lois Lane's cunny fuller than she had ever felt, and even the puffy demonic pussy in the book looked obscenely overfilled, the dildo now twice its original size in every dimension.

It wasn't quite like being filled with a solid cock. The dildo was more like an extra-thick balloon...but that was okay with Lois. Penetration itself wasn't something that really got her off. It was the stimulation. She pushed her pussy against that black knot between them, so that her clit and the demon's both rubbed against it, the bulb slowly squeezed in between...and Lois held it there and began to gyrate her hips, grinding her clit.

"Hmph. Come on you bitch...make me fucking cum..."

Lois Lane's eyes were squeezed shut, entirely lost in her own approaching climax. So she never saw the shadowy red form that flickered into vague existence beneath her. The dark horns that hung above pure white eyes without pupil in iris, the translucent red feminine form that hovered in tenuous existence, as though it lay beneath the surface of a running brook with only the puffy pussy visible above the waterline...and when Lois Lane cried out, her cunt spasming on the sex toy, the scarlet form mirrored her movements precisely...

...only to vanish before Lois could open her eyes.

The reporter sighed as she slid the black double dildo out of the book-pussy. The scarlet labia glistened with their own juices, and on instinct Lois lowered her face down there and lapped at the tangy liquor, and gave an affectionate kiss to the stiff little clit.

"Did you enjoy that? Maybe we'll do that again tomorrow night."

If the pussy heard her, Lois Lane never knew...but then the mound seemed to collapse inward, and it was once again only a vivid, suggestive illustration on flat vellum.

The reporter closed the book with a satisfied sigh. She hadn't achieved what she had set out to do today...but her life had now been touched by magic, and the reporter knew she would be lying to herself if she wasn't looking forward to tomorrow night, when she could explore those fat folds again, with her fingers and tongue and all the many toys she had accumulated but never had a chance to use.

She pulled the dildo out of her own pussy with a wet schluck, her own labia just as puffy and sore as that in the book...and Lois Lane didn't think anything about that at the time, though later she would realize that was where it all began.

Yet that is another story.