End: It Works A Little Too Well

Lois Lane's eyes narrowed into slits. The air in the room seemed to grow charged—not just warm, but sticky, humid, and pregnant with possibility, like the air before a thunderstorm. As the naked reporter's fingers dipped faster and faster in her cunny, she could feel the hair stand up all over her body. Her cunny was slicker and readier than it had been in years, she could feel the rivulets of hot juice flow down the crack of her ass from her gushing cunt. It was like something had been uncorked inside of her...and it wasn't just her body that was responding.

They said the brain was the biggest erogenous zone in the whole body...and Lois knew that it was true, that just imagining an erotic scenario was sometimes enough to get her a little wet, to make her nipples hard and ass shift as she flexed and squeezed internal muscles, wanting to get home to frig off. Perhaps it was just the drinks she had, coupled with the erotic illustrations in the book, but now Lois could feel her imagination working overtime.

In her mind's eye, she could see that alien entity overhead, the leathery flesh and hard carapace the color of boiled lobster, the long proboscis-like organ descending with unerring accuracy to find her gushing twat. There was something unnatural about the thing...and though it had no eyes, Lois could sense that it was seeing her with some subtler senses, peeling away the masks and layers of defenses that the reporter normally kept up between her public persona and her private self, her waking self and her deepest, most primal sexual dreams and desires...

The proboscis pistoned in and out of her cunny without tiring, stabbing deeper and deeper into the reporter's slit, hitting almost the back of her womb with every thrust, and Lois Lane shook in mingled fear and desire. She gathered her legs beneath her on the altar, heels against her buttocks, toes pushing against the stone, rudely thrusting her hips in time with the hard, pulsing, alien thing which sent an electric shiver through her body with each obscene pump of its inhuman prick...for that's what it had to be, though the floating horror showed no more emotion than a farmer inseminating a cow.

Then something hot dripped on the reporter's naked breasts.

Her eyes flew open, and a shriek burst from Lois Lane's mouth. Overhead, the demonic form hung above her like a crimson cloud. The phallic tentacle stabbed deeper than before, and the reporter's back arched in shock...and then the electric pulse burst inside of her, and the reporter lost all control. Once, Lois had let herself be tazed by the Metropolis Police Department, and she recognized the sensation. Every muscle in her body attempted to contract at once, her scream cut off into a gargled hiss. Every muscle bunched beneath the skin, her pussy an aching line that sought to clamp down on the invading thing, which pulsed and vibrated inside her cunt...and then the electric burst ended.

As swiftly as her muscles had tensed, they all went flaccid at once. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Lois collapsed, suddenly bones. She began to hyperventilate, sucking in air, her whole body shivering, shaking, throbbing...with a wrench, the crimson prick was pulled out of her spasming slit, coated now with an oily black residue...and then, as Lois Lane watched, the red form grew hazy...indistinct...and finally faded from view.

The reporter lay there in shock, almost unable to believe that had happened...but Lois Lane was too good a reporter to deny the evidence of her own senses. Her body was covered with sweat, the room reeked of sex, and when she could draw one arm down between her legs and scoop some of the black goo out of her aching cunt, she saw the black stuff sticky and bunching between her fingers like semen...

Lois Lane **** herself to stop panting, held her breath and counted to ten, and then twenty, letting it out slowly...her heart's hammering slowing down...and her eyes went to the book.

This will definitely require more investigation, Lois thought. But not tonight...

Somewhere, the demon Blaze laughed. Just a taste of power...the merest hint to whet the reporter's curiosity...and already, she could feel Lois Lane's carnal appetite grow. With the book as her guide, Blaze had no doubt the reporter would soon find herself in over her head...and on the path to corrupting herself. At the end of which, there was only Blaze...and all the tortures and pleasures of Hell.