End: Foals Incoming

"That's...impossible!" Lois huffed as the dark dick speared impossibly deep into her transformed cunny.

"Magic!" Circe said, and leered at the reporter. "Come on—haven't you ever thought about having kids?"

"Yes," Lois shot back, "but not horses!"

Circe's answer to that was to shift position. The reporter found herself with her shoulders against the burning sand, her legs pressed back until her knees almost touched her shoulders. The immortal sorceress squatted on top of her, the equine prick plunging almost straight down into the reporter's deep cleft, bottoming out every time—and yet by whatever terrible magic had fiddled with her anatomy, Lois Lane could feel that the horse-cocked dickgirl wasn't hitting her cervix, not even when the cock was fully sheathed in her dark-lipped equine cunt.

With a mix of horror and fascination, Lois traced the bulge that the cock made every time it thrust deep inside of her. It seemed to distend her abdomen, right down to just below her navel, and the reporter wondered how she was taking it all, and where her organs had been shifted around to in order to make room for the cavernous channel that was once her tight, pink pussy.

A dull, throbbing but oddly pleasant ache was building inside of Lois. One she recognized from past sexual encounters. Penetration alone didn't often do much for Lois—oh, she enjoyed it, but it wasn't enough stimulation to get her off. But dirty talk—especially about impregnation—that pushed buttons that Lois Lane would barely admit she had. More than once, in the midst of long lovemaking sessions, she had felt that throb inside of her, and knew that if it went on much longer she would beg for her lover's cum, ask them to impregnate her, do anything to get them to blast their jizz deep inside her womb where it belonged.

It was a kink she could ill afford. Especially with someone that had the power and will to actually make Lois Lane's sexual fantasy a reality.

Lois stared up at Circe's face, her eyes pleading with the sorceress not to push her too far, not to blow her load...

Circe was in the middle of losing it.

Lois had seen the look before, when men were past stopping. Her face had an odd intensity of expression, veins bulging in her temples, lavender hair flying, hips pounding down harder and faster until all rhythm was lost in frantic, **** humping, strokes growing shorter and shorter, hips slamming against hips, their conjoined cock and cunt squelching noisily and obscenely. Circe's eyes blazed and she pressed the reporter's legs back until Lois cried out in pain, the reporter's back and legs aching as they were stretched and compressed past the point of discomfort.

Lois could see her breasts squashed against her own chest, and the nipples were poking forward hard as anything, and the brand above her now dark pussy lips began to throb, reminding the reporter whose cunt this really was.

"Say it, cunt," Circe spat, the gob of spittle landing on the reporter's face. A line of drool connected their lips, and it was all the reporter could do not to open her mouth and drink it. "Tell me what you want!"

The reporter's lip quivered. Internally, she fought a losing battle. She could feel years of self-control fading, fucked out of her one stroke at a time. Her cunt squeezed involuntarily around the dick every time it tried to withdraw, her traitorous body eager to suck the masculine member back into her greedy snatch. Lois Lane strained to put into words what she wanted, what she needed...

"Breed me," the words came out as barely a squeak, and Lois felt a tremendous sense of guilt, as though she had confessed to some terrible crime.

Circe's scream ripped through Lois Lane's heart and soul. The sun in its sky cracked and fell; the sand vanished, so that Lois felt herself resting on a thin, stained mattress in a dark, dingy room no bigger than a broomcloset. She saw no more the pavilion, the goblets of wine, the endless beach and ocean.

Yet she saw the sorceress, her face twisted upon itself. Felt the horrible throb of the horsecock buried deep inside her transformed cunt. Then she felt something new, something that she had never experienced before in her life.

A hot, wet, high-pressure hose seemed to be released inside of her.

Lois Lane had never actually seen a horse cum, but she had seen a horse piss—and this felt like that. Just an endless stream of hot liquid pouring into her packed pussy, filling her up, pressure building as she could feel it back up, further and further, until in only a few heartbeats she felt it reach the thick black lips that were now the limit of her labia...and white cream beaded the dark seem where the sorceress' cock was plugged into the reporter's cunny, and began to run down the reporter's pussy in little streams.

Circe caught her breath, panting roughly, whole body shaking with the effort of her ejaculation. The streams of jizz flowed between the reporter's breasts, over her chin, and she stuck out a tongue, curiosity getting the better of her one last time...salty. Bitter. Strangely savory, compared to human cum.

She didn't cum. The reporter felt herself teetering on the edge, that dull throb inside of her having risen to a fever pitch—but it held off, not quite there, just on the cusp of climax. Lois closed her eyes, thankful for that small mercy. If she didn't orgasm, then there was a chance that the semen wouldn't get past her cervix...

Schluuuuck.

Circe stood up. It was easier to say it than to see it done. The cunt tugged at the retreating cock, the flared head of which was scraping against the channel it had plunged so deep inside, stretching the reporter's pussy, letting more of the liquid horse-jizz leak down into the cavernous cunt and pool around the cervix...and almost beside herself, Lois felt a familiar tightening of the pelvic muscles, already clenched-muscles tightening harder, toes curling hard, small spots dancing in front of her vision...

No no no no no no FUUUUUUUCK!

Lois Lane's whole body shook at the rubbery horse dick broke free of her pussy's gasp, and slapped wetly against her half-buried clitoris. The reporter's scream of orgasm was cut off as Circe aimed the drooling dick at the reporter's open mouth, stroking her cock from base to front with both hands, squeezing out the last few drops into the reporter's mouth.

The sorceress moved around. Dimly, Lois was aware that she was being propped against the wall, her splayed legs in the air, all that cum soaking into her spasming cervix.

Circe took a knee. "Well, my dear. I think that kind of performance deserves a reward."

She bent down, the limp horse cock brushing the dirty ground near the reporter's ear, and pressed her lips against Lois Lane's forehead.

"You rest up here. I'll go find those women you were looking for. You will get your article out of this." The slim hand then reached over and patted the reporter's stomach. "And probably a few other things, hmm?"

Lois Lane sputtered, swallowed cum. She could barely move. her pussy felt numb and sticky. Turning her head, the reporter saw the horse-cocked sorceress stagger out of the room. Circe was conscientious enough to turn out the light from the little 40-watt bulb above before she closed the door.

In the darkness, Lois closed her eyes just for a moment, already trying to plan her next move. Sleep came to the exhausted reporter like a thief in the night.

Lois Lane's night out would give birth to many stories in the months to follow. Of that night and its events, the reporter's part was almost over...and one even she was not aware of until some weeks later, when sudden illness and weight gain prompted her to confirm both her greatest fear and her most secret desire...and in time a reminder than equine pregnancies can last fifty weeks.

Yet that is another story...