End: Blaze Wants To Own Her Cunt

"That...might be a problem," Lois Lane said.

The demon threw back her head and laughed. The reporter let her cackle, waiting patiently until the grinning succubus was finished.

"What, the great do-gooder Lois Lane, too high and mighty to surrender her pussy in exchange for the bodies and souls of four women?"

"No," Lois said. "But my cunt already belongs to someone else."

Vibrant violet eyes met the demon's stare. The mirth slowly drained from Blaze's face.

"You're serious?"

The reporter lifted her shirt with one hand and tucked it under her chin. Then, with both hands, she pulled down her tight pants, wiggling her hips, to expose the tuft of skin right above her mons—and the Greek letters that had been branded into her flesh. The red-skinned demon leaned forward, curious. Her pure white eyes widened slightly.

"Well, I'll be damned." Blaze said.

"Probably," Lois managed. She let her shirt fall.

"So you and Circe..."

"...it was a very intense experience," Lois smiled. "I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"Hmm," Blaze grunted. "And to think I wanted you for my own."

"Yeah, well. She called dibs." The reporter smiled. "And you don't want to challenge Circe, do you? A demon like yourself—I'll bet Circe binds and banishes your kind as easy as breathing."

The scarlet cheeks turned purple. "Do not dare to condescend to me, mortal! Not unless you wish to end up like those others over there. Circe may have claimed your cunt, but I do not fear her."

"Oh really." A voice said from behind Lois. The reporter barely heard a pop of displaced air, and then felt a strong, familiar hands on her shoulder.

"Lois, dear, why don't you go free those women." The sorceress said. Circe was dressed in a green outfit that clung to her figure like a second skin, so that Lois could even see the outline of her nipples. The lavender-haired immortal seemed to be standing taller than Lois remembered, and green flames burned in her eyes. "Some scarlet succubus needs to be reminded of her place in the cosmic pecking order."

Black lightning crackled around the demon's head like the dark inversion of a halo. One crimson arm flicked forward, and a black bolt of power cracked the air. Circe waved her hand and it diverted suddenly from its course, ripping a ragged line in the wall to the witch's right.

"That's one." Circe said. "I'll give you three."

Lois Lane knew a metaphorical dick-measuring contest when she saw one, and hurried over to the rack. The helpless women eyed her with alarm as Lois began to kick away the sex toys and tear at their bonds with her hands.

She was so busy, she didn't see what happened next. But there was a tinkle as of broken glass, and a great rush of air—like a clap of thunder minus the sound—so powerful that it knocked the rack the women were on over.

"That's two," Circe said clearly. The reporter felt a stab of worry, turned back to look at the field of battle.

The desk was gone, as was most of the wall behind it. Blaze stood, right arm hanging limp, clothes shredded, dark red blood dripping down from a dozen nasty cuts. Her right horn had been broken off, and her long dark hair was wild. One eye was quickly swelling shut. The demon's lip was curled into a snarl.

"Greek bitch...snatch-licker...Lesbian whore!" she growled.

"Yes, yes, and occasionally." Circe said utterly unperturbed. Both of the sorceress' hands were raised before her, middle fingers touching thumbs, index and pinky fingers curled like horns. "Come on now. Give us a good one before I deport you back to hell."

The demon took a long, shuddering breath...and her own good eye fixed on Lois Lane's own. The cruel red mouth curved up into an enigmatic smile worthy of the Mona Lisa.

"You may defeat me here," Blaze said. "But I will at least deny you that prize which we both fought over."

Time seemed to slow. Lois saw the demon's right arm raise, droplets of blood moving with impossible speed toward her, trailing black sparks. Circe's gestures quickly changed, both hands coming together to form a triangle with thumbs and forefingers. White light burst over Blaze, who wilted before it like pencil marks rubbed out by an eraser. The reporter could actually see the demon being scrubbed from this existence...just as she could see blood splatter against the bare skin of her face.

Almost instantly, it seemed to seep into her skin, leaving behind a numb heat...and then time resumed its normal flow, and Circe was staring at the greasy skidmark on reality where Blaze had been, which was quickly fading.

Lois looked herself over, wondering what the demon's spell had been...and then pain twisted her crotch, and the reporter collapsed to her knees. Circe was there in an instant, the sorceress hugging the reporter's shoulder.

"What is it Lois? Are you hurt? Show me!"

Lois was beyond words. It was like every period in her life had come back to her at once. Her abdomen felt bloated, sticky wetness exploded inside her pants. Blood flooded over her waistband and down over her heels. Pain, beyond anything she had a name for, crippled the reporter's tongue as Circe peeled her hands away, tugging at the pants to see where the wound was...

"Oh my," Circe said as she surveyed the damage.

"How bad..." Lois asked...but even as she spoke, she could feel the pain fading. She wondered if that meant she was going to die. Lifting her head up, she stared down at her crotch, wondering what terribly injury Blaze had inflicted.

There, the pale plane of her flat stomach. Beneath it, the Greek letters that Circe had branded into her. Below that... Lois blinked, unbelieving.

Between her legs, where a pussy should have been, was a blood-covered, hairless penis and testicles.

Circe reached down and touched the soft, slug-like prick. Lois suddenly found herself holding her breath, processing the new sensations running through her body. The sorceress' fingers kept moving, sliding under and lifting the testicles...which Lois could see now were abnormally large, as big as goose eggs...and the fingers traced the soft line of flesh down the reporter's taint, only stopping when it encountered little pucker of Lois Lane's asshole.

The sorceress cursed softly in Greek, and then said in English. "Your pussy is gone."

The night was old when Lois Lane got the last of the women's statements. Circe had conjured them clothes, Lois had gotten them cab rides home. The reporter herself, her newfound prick stuffed into her too-tight pants, tapped the last of her notes into her smartphone on the way back to her apartment. Circe followed her, quiet but with an air of being perfectly at home in the reporter's spartan personal space.

All that Lois wanted was to fall asleep and deal with the monster between her legs in the morning. But there was one more thing she had to clear up...with her mistress.

"Can you...fix me?" Lois asked.

Circe nodded head. "I will try."

The reporter swallowed. "Do you still want to...I mean, now that I don't have a pussy..."

"Ah, my dear," Circe said, wrapping one arm around the reporter's shoulders, and grasping the reporter's crotch with her free hand. "Don't worry. I swing both ways. I will not neglect you."

Lois Lane tried to tell herself that was better. That her night out had not been a complete, life-changing disaster. Circe's hand wasn't going away...in fact, the more she rubbed the reporter's balls through those tight pants, the tighter they were getting. The sorceress realized it too, and planted a quick kiss on the reporter's cheek...and began to guide Lois to the bed. That night, the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter began a new adventure...but that is a different story.