End: Cheetah Needs A Transfusion

"Grrr...we...both are..." Cheetah grimaced through the pain. "My immune system can fight off...the infection...for a while. But I need...blood."

The cat-woman tottered. Lois Lane dove at her, put her shoulder under Cheetah's armpit. The weight of her slunk against the reporter, but with Lois doing the heavy lifting, they managed to limp away from the carnage.

As they walked, Lois wondered why she was helping Cheetah. The women that Lois had been looking for lay in a bloody heap behind her or laid out on dissection tables. The cat-woman was a villain, through and through. A career criminal. She had saved Lois, yes, but only so that the reporter could act as bait. All she cared about was her research. On top of which, the reporter could feel the hunger gnaw at her. The changes taking place in her own body.

"There," Cheetah lifted one arm as though it weighed a ton to point at a piece of equipment. "Rapid infuser."

With one arm, Lois shoved a naked corpse off the nearest table and helped to ease the blood-spattered Cheetah onto it. The soft fur-covered breasts rose and fell, the eyes were wide with pain, and blood trickled from Cheetah's wounds and nostrils. With a few words, she directed Lois how to set up the machine. Cleaning the needle, grabbing a bottle of blood from the freezer, finding a vein beneath the fur...the cat-woman grunted and let her head loll back as the machine hummed into life.

For a few moments, Lois busied herself in looking for bandages to bind Cheetah's wounds, if only to keep the blood from leaking straight out of the cat-woman. Only...the smell made the reporter's nostrils twitch. Her mouth to water. Helpless as a kitten, Cheetah lay semi-conscious on the table. Helpless as the reporter stepped forward. Lois let her tongue run over her fangs, and her heart hammered in her chest.

Cheetah was unable to lift a hand to stop Lois as a tongue, longer than it had been at the beginning of the night, ran over the cat-woman's wounds. Saliva teased at the wounds, and Lois tasted dried blood...but the bloodflow stopped. Much as how Cheetah's saliva was a styptic, now so was the reporter's. Acting half on instinct, and fighting the other half, Lois licked at the wounded cat-woman.

Licked...but did not suck. Did not sink her fangs into the soft flesh beneath that blood-matted fur.

Until her ministrations brought her to the bite marks near Cheetah's cunt.

This close, nose to crotch, Lois could actually see the thin line of Cheetah's vulva, hidden as it was by the thicker fur down there. So too, could Lois smell her. It was so thick, her smell. It clung to the fur. Lois had to press her tongue harder to get at the wounds. The source of the infection. Follow the taste of it.

Until Lois pressed too hard. Felt the wet, tangy tingle on the tip of her tongue. Heard Cheetah moan in her stupor.

The hunger was on Lois Lane. Only it wasn't for blood. No, not entirely. It was for something she had never tasted before now.

Pussy.

Like an animal, the reporter buried her face in Cheetah's crotch. All thoughts of what happened tonight lost in a sudden overwhelming, almost feral need. Her long tongue lashed and licked the soft fur. From the tiny bitter hairs at the base of that slit to the supersensitive clitoris at the top...and Lois found herself breathing hard as she pushed her tongue inside those hot, wet walls, and sucked and slurped and heard the pathetically adorable little mewls as the helpless Cheetah felt her cunny ravished by the reporter's tongue.

A warning beep from the machinetold Lois when the blood had run out. In a daze, licking her soft muzzle...for the planes of the reporter's face had become more prominent now, bone reworking itself even as the dark fur continued to spread over her pale skin...Lois glowered at the empty blood-bottle...and a strange and terrible idea struck the sex-drunk reporter.

There was another needle, another line. A pamphlet gave instructions for a two-person transfusion. Her blood into Cheetah, Cheetah's blood into hers...cat DNA and vampiric virus together and...perhaps it was because Lois wasn't thinking clearly, but she wondered what it would be like if the two of them were more alike...

"Ssss," Lois hissed as she found a vein. Watched her blood flow down it, until all the air came out. pressed the line into place, hit the button.

Red blood went in. Red blood went out. The reporter stood there, and saw the nipples press up from Cheetah's bared breasts, above the fur. Lois Lane recalled during these operations she was supposed to squeeze a ball...but there were no balls here. Just boobs.

"Boop," Lois Lane said with a giggle as she squeezed the soft, warm, fur-covered tit. Her index finger played with the little nipple, stiff as an eraser. "Boop."

The night wore on. Blood coursed through their veins and mixed. Lois felt the fever take her as the infections warred over her body and soul...and that of Cheetah. The circulation of the blood speeding changes that would normally take days, or weeks...

When Cheetah awoke, her stomach rumbled with hunger. Her mouth tasted as if something had died in it. Head pounded as though someone had driven a steak through it. Bladder ready to explode. Worse, her pussy was on fire, **** for attention...and something warm and soft clung to her arm.

As if her skull was made of brittle glass, Cheetah softly turned her head and opened her eyes. Stared dumbly at the naked, night-black female figure, covered head to toe in the softest, blackest fur she had ever seen. That it was Lois Lane was obvious...but it was Lois Lane further into her transformation than should have been possible.

At least until Cheetah saw the tubes that connected them, and understood.

"Dammit, kitten," Cheetah hissed, and reached over to turn off the machine. In her sleep, Lois Lane's face scrunched up and she flopped down on top of Cheetah, to pin the weakened cat-woman beneath her.

Cheetah sighed. Lois Lane's night out was going to cost them both more than they had bargained for.

Then, Lois began to stir. She nuzzled Cheetah's neck in a way that sent an erotic thrill down the hardened villain's spine...and Cheetah wondered if, maybe, this couldn't be something to her advantage. After all, she hadn't been with a woman for a long time...

Lois grinned, and seemed to pick up on the cat-woman's thoughts. A pink tongue lashed out, to give a cat's kiss to Cheetah's nose.

Then the hollow of her throat.

Each breast, the teeth just a tiny nibble that didn't quite pierce flesh.

Down the smooth, tawny plain of the villain's belly.

Until like a cat in heat, Cheetah spread her legs...and the thirsty reporter sated herself strange and unnatural hunger.