End: Blaze Cums On Lois Lane's Soul

Lois Lane did not find the missing women that night, though they appeared on their own, amnesic, some days later. The reporter herself remembered everything up until a certain point...the point when Angelica Blaze had pulled her cock out of Lois Lane's quivering quim and sprayed her hot seed all over her stomach.

Blaze had truly lost it, in that final moment of orgasm. Lois Lane's eyes had grown wide as she saw the inhuman, blood-red prick with the massively swollen balls that dangled from the petite body of the young woman. Yet as Blaze jerked her monstrous pussy-juice slick prick, Lois caught a glimpse of the real Blaze...

Inhumanly thin, almost wasted, yet lithe and streamlined, like a human built on the scale of a greyhound, all muscle and bone, skin as red as fresh blood on parchment. Dark, shadowy horns curled up from the wide brow, and behind her head hung a black halo of negative lightning that was darker than the surrounding darkness.

The devil's lips were peeled back to show her sharp white teeth. Her pure white eys were glowing slits. Nostrils flared in time with the strokes of one scarlet hand on her crimson cock. Once, twice, three times...

The sound Blaze made as she came was like the crash of thunder. A hot spurt like liquid midnight blasted out of the tip of that swollen scarlet monster...

Lois remembered the way time seemed to slow down. The fascination as the jet black pearls seemed to float over the air. The way she held their breath as they landed. The sudden shock of heat as the black cum burned into her skin...

...and the way her body soaked those black drops up like a sponge. Distantly, Lois was aware that she screamed, that it burned, but more than that, she could feel it drizzle down, not into her flesh but something deeper inside of her. Like that black Satanic spunk washed across her mind, and every memory was tainted with it.

The reporter could remember her first sip of coffee at the Daily Planet, and it was salty and bitter as Blaze's semen. When she had been handed a Pulitzer prize, the medal had been sticky and slimy. The first proper dildo she'd ever had was a crimson, pulsing, demonic fuckstick and Lois stretched her pussy wide and deep on it.

The wave of darkness overwhelmed Lois. She had woken up, naked, on her own bed, later. With no Blaze. No memory of how she had gotten there. Only a headful of cum-stained memories...and one other reminder.

As dawn broke over Metropolis, Lois Lane stared at her naked body. Petite, with shoulder-length raven-dark hair. Vivid violet eyes in a small, triangular face. Fit, slim, with a carefully-trimmed patch of black pubic hair, small but perky breasts in that half-teardrop shape that reminded her lovers of old Playboy playmates. The flat stomach, soft and inviting...

Lois Lane touched her stomach. Once it was pure and pale as milk. Now it was marred by crimson streaks, red as blood. Not scar tissue, no stretch marks. Just a discoloration of the skin. Everywhere those jet black pearls had touched, Lois Lane's skin had turned as red as Blaze's.

The reporter bit her lip as her fingers traced those scarlet reminders of her night out. Was it just her imagination, or was there a little tingle as she ran her fingertips on them. They went from her mons up almost to her navel. Easy enough to hide...for now. Lois gnawed her lip and her fingers slipped down to her comb through her pubic hair...to touch her pussy.

Sore. Aching. She hadn't been fucked for months, and yet last night...last night the demon had...

"Ah," Lois Lane closed her eyes to slits, just like Blaze's had been. She touched herself as she thought of that thick cock...and was it her imagination, or had the red stains begun to spread a little?