End: Carry Drunk Lois Into The Back Room And Clean Her Up

The dickgirl scooped the drunken reporter up in her arms. She didn't even bother to pull up her pants, and let cum and vomit drip on the floor as she carried the drunken reporter off the dance floor and through a door to the series of small rooms beyond...which included, though Lois Lane was too nauseous and close to passing out to immediately appreciate it, a full shower.

The reporter did not resist as Blaze stripped her clothes off and set her naked on her side, then turned on the water. Lois Lane shook and vomited and moaned as the hot water struck her flesh...and Angelica Blaze stripped out of her own clothes and brought forth a bar of soap, to scrub the bile from her dick.

At her feet, she noticed a pale yellow liquid leak out from between the reporter's thighs. Lois moaned and gripped her stomach.

"I might have overdone it a little," the demonic dickgirl said out loud as she shed her human guise. Had Lois Lane been sober and conscious, she would have looked up to see a gangly, lean six-feet shemale with skin the color of wet blood on parchment, dark horns that curled up from a wide brow, and white eyes that seemed to burn with their own internal light. With her foot, the scarlet succubus hooked the reporter's right knee and opened her legs so that the hot water could rinse away all the filth...and, the dickgirl noted, most of the cum she had deposited in the drunken reporter's cunny.

The demon slid her leg over. One crimson toe slid into the reporter's slimy slit. Lois Lane moaned, her mouth open, body limp as a cat that didn't want to be moved.

"You know," Blaze said aloud. "I've already cum in you. You were even willing, if under the influence. I could teleport you and your clothes back to your apartment and you would wake up tomorrow with a hangover and no memory of any of this. You wouldn't even know you'd been here, unless you happen to get pregnant."

The reporter did not respond. Her hair lay limp and wet. Small breasts rose and fell regularly. Eyes closed. Legs splayed.

Blaze became acutely aware of how stiff her cock was.

"The nice thing about already being damned," the demon said as she knelt down, the hot water of the shower rolling off her crimson back. "Is that there's really no fear of going to hell."

Lois Lane lay limp and unresponsive as Blaze grabbed and lifted the reporter's hips. The crimson cock slid in and out of the white slit, and Lois was oblivious to the act of **** on any conscious level...but Blaze smiled as she saw the small pink nipples stiffen, the color rise on Lois' cheeks, the soft moans that came out through her lips...and when, after several minutes, she pulled her dick back out, black spunk dripping from its head, Blaze turned off the shower, snapped her fingers...

Lois Lane awoke in the early morning. Her naked and wet body slumped out of the bed onto the floor, where he clothes were. She crawled to the bathroom, something slimy and cold leaking out of her aching pussy, in the grips of nausea. Over the bowl she hung her head, and puked up something she didn't remember swallowing...and then lay her fevered brow against the cool side of the toilet.

Tomorrow, she might try to piece together what had happened on her night out...but for now, it was over.