End: All Of The Above

At the last moment, as Blaze frog-marched the bimbofied reporter into the cage, Lois Lane began to struggle. The demon grinned, sure now that somewhere within that skull of hers, the reporter understood at least a little of what was about to happen to her. How completely she had lost.

Yet it was too late. Ever since that last pill, the reporter's cunt had been constantly dribbling, hot and throbbing around Blaze's fingers. The demon kept up a steady barrage of stimulation, two fingers moving in and out of the super-sensitive slit as she **** the reporter onto the special seat designed to accommodate her growing ass, tits, and pussy. All the reporter could do was shake and moan as Blaze set the manacles about her wrists and ankles, then snapped the spreader bar in place so that she couldn't close her legs.

Then, and only then, did Blaz pull her fingers out of the bimbo's gooey pussy and bring the tart nectar up to her lips. When the reporter had first shown up in the club, Blaze had thought about simply letting her gang take turns with her...but this was so much better. In her efforts to get at the truth, to get deeper into her operation, Lois had taken more and more of the ****, broken more and more of her own rules...she'd basically destroyed herself.

Yet there was so far further for her to fall.

"When I'm done with you," Blaze promised, staring into those violet eyes as Lois bucked uselessly against her restraints in dumb animal fear. "Even Superman won't recognize you."

From her supply cabinet, Blaze brought forth the IV bags with their concentrated bimbo ****...her own essence, distilled, concentrated, amplified by her alchemy. The reporter moan as Blaze worked with the dispassionate skill of a nurse, hooking the lines into the veins feeding her ass...her tits...her labia...her neck...and one final tube. Blaze would always remember the tears in Lois Lane's eyes as she pushed it up her nose, where it would snake down her throat.

When the demon stepped back to admire her handiwork, the violet eyes had already glazed over...and the skin near the injection sites appeared puffy, a pink glow suffusing the pale flesh. As the once magnificent brain of the Daily Planet's greatest reporter atrophied under the overdose of bimbofication ****, her struggles ceased...and she lay there, twitching, massive tits rising and falling as they slowly swelled larger and larger, cunt drooling into a puddle on the floor, which in turn ran down to a grate.

There was more to do...a hose to pump nutrious goo and water into the reporter's stomach to fuel the transformation; a catheter to take care of liquid waste...the demon watched fascinated as her essence, enough for five hundred bimbos, flowed into Lois Lane's pale flesh. Even she had no idea what Lois would become. Her tits and ass might explode. Her frontal lobes might burn out. Or she might become something like a bimbo goddess.

All Blaze knew was that tonight, on her night out, Lois Lane as everyone knew her had ceased to be. The changes the **** made now were irreversible, so far beyond anything the demon had ever tried before...and it gave her a warm glow of satisfaction to see Lois like that, hooked into those pink tubes as the bimbo junk flowed into her veins like the mother of all junkies, caught in the dream of some slow, endless orgasm as her brain and body were twisted beyond all recognition.

Blaze allowed herself another toothy grin. If she could do this to Lois Lane, she wondered who else might be **** to her new ****...

...but that is another story.