End: Kick In The Door And Demand To Suck The Biggest Cock

It was the positivity. The sense of power. The utter confidence. Lois Lane had done undercover work before, she knew how to be sneaky, how to work her way deeper into an organization. Yet she felt almost dizzy and high with power, still able to taste those cocks, and in the heat of the moment impatience got the best of her—and she decided on a bolder strategy.

Even Etrigan and Deadman were stunned into silence as action swiftly followed thought. The reporter's foot slammed into the door. Lois Lane marched boldly into the room. She took in the tables, the guests in various states of undress, the collared and naked waitresses in the midst of various sex acts, and stated her challenge at the top of her voice.

A hush descended, as though an angel passed.

Then, from the far corner, a chuckle. Hands clapped, mockingly. All eyes turned toward that sound.

A naked figure lounged on a kind of macabre throne; if bones could be made to bend and weld together like steel, and an artist had a dozen or so human skeletons to work with, they might have crafted a chair like that. The scarlet figure that lounged in it was naked, save for a belt of metal discs about their hips, embossed with leering demonic faces; gold necklaces hung in profusion between the soft swell of small scarlet breasts whose puffy pink nipples were pierced with gold pins; gold rings bedecked red fingers and toes, golden bangles hung from red ears.

Gold rings hung on the dark horns that curled back from a broad brow, and gold wire was twisted into the mane of black hair. Slim and lithe was that tall figure, and so like a woman's...yet between her legs hung a monster that was as masculine as the rest of her was feminine.

The swollen purple head was pierced with golden pins. Gold studded each inch of the monster, like the dorsal ridges of some dinosaur or dragon of myth, and the red skin darkened to almost black. The beast of a cock rose as if in answer to Lois Lane's challenge, and the reporter had the terrible sensation that the powerful erection could sense her.

Undeterred, Lois Lane strolled boldly forward. Her heart pounded and her palms were sweaty; her bowels felt suddenly loose and wet dribbles ran down the insides of her pants legs. She tried to hang onto that unshakeable sense of invincibility she'd felt a moment ago. Yet beneath those dark horns, pure white eyes burned without pupil or iris, and seemed to stare straight through the reporter.

Don't worry Lois, we're here to help you, Deadman's voice said. Then Etrigan added his encouragement:

Relax your jaw and open wide,

Take all the cock you can inside!

Don't gag, don't barf, don't show fear,

Swallow that prick without peer!

As Blaze drew close, she could see the pendulous balls hung down over the edge of the throne. Each one seemed ridiculously swollen, the size of a navel orange. The scent of the cock struck the reporter as she drew near, an animalistic masculinity that reminded her of finding her father's jizz rag buried in the laundry one weekend, stiff and crinkly with dried sperm.

Easy for you to say, Lois thought, as she **** a smile on her face.

"Lois Lane," Blaze spoke as she spread her knees wide. The voice was soft, with an odd accent that stressed the sibilant in the reporter's name. Each of the demon's hands gripped a skull that had been moulded into the ends of the throne's arms. "I've been expecting you. Though I did not expect such...boldness. Come. On your knees. Worship my cock."

A velvet cushion had been placed on the floor before the demon's feet, and Lois knelt on this. Face to face with the scarlet shaft, she could feel the heat that radiated from the demonic dick, see the dark veins beneath the skin like bright crimson rivers through shadowed jungles, hot and sluggish.

The reporter's hands gripped the prick, just behind the head. The smell made the reporter dizzy. She struggled to pull the stiff slab of flesh down level with her lips. Opened her mouth as wide as she could, the tip of her tongue extended out just past her lower lip.

Even then, Lois knew it would never fit. That it couldn't. Anatomically impossible.

Until her jaw unhinged.

"Oh...oh fuck!" Blaze moaned in disbelief as her massive python slid down the reporter's now elastic throat. Lois Lane felt her body shift and change. Like a passenger in a car, she could only watch as the base of the demon's dick grew closer and closer. As more and more of that impossible prick slide down into her body, which should rapidly have run out of room.

It wasn't until the reporter felt her hands grab the demon's dangling scrotum that she realized what was about to happen.

Onlookers could not see what was happening at first. Could not hear the crack as the reporter's jawbone split and the skin underneath her jaw fell slack. The shock and alarm in Lois Lane's eyes as her hands stuffed those balls into her gaping mouth, like the vast gullet of a pelican.

Yet they heard the moan from Blaze's lips as Lois grabbed the scarlet succubus' ankles, and pulled the red legs up. Blaze seemed lost in ecstasy as her ass slid down toward the edge of her throne, and right into the reporter's gaping inhuman mouth.

"Impossible" lost meaning as the reporter found herself stuffing the demon dick-first into her mouth. The reporter's shirt burst as her body engorged to accept the bulk of the succubus' body. Ribs and sternum popped painfully, organs shifted and the great tube that was the reporter's esophagus became a capacious tunnel leading down to a stomach as big as a sleeping bag. Around her, Lois heard the gasps and screams of people who now some something was wrong. The reporter was helpless as she felt the demon's hips press down her throat, and the tight pants split as her abdomen began to grotesquely distend, her stomach stretching to accept and digest the demon.

The strangest thing for Lois was how Blaze never offered any resistance. The scarlet succubus moaned and gyrated on her way down, even as her nipple-chain caught for a moment on the reporter's lip, yet she never tried to escape as the reporter grabbed her horns and pushed Blaze, hair and all, into that hideously distorted mouth.

Lois Lane swallowed. Gulped. Inhumanly strong muscles **** the scarlet succubus down, down, until the reporter's grossly distended abdomen lay across her knees, criss-crossed with red stretch marks, heavy, hot, and aching. The reporter moaned in pain as some of the changes undid themselves. Jaw and ribcage snapped back into place. Excess skin seemed to melt back into her throat.

Both hands reached down under her massive gut, and Lois could still see the outline of the demonic figure she had swallowed. With all of her strength, Lois grabbed her stomach and lifted the mass. She sent a nameless prayer to whomever might listen that her stomach wouldn't tear...and with superhuman effort, the reporter stood, turned, and sank into the now-vacant throne.

Lois Lane panted. Her bare breasts were dappled with sweat. Her stomach was a vast dome. Lois couldn't even see over it, but she could hear the alarm, as waitresses and customers fled in fear.

"Okay," Lois said out loud, all feeling of invincibility now gone. "Now what?"

Victory! We have won the contest sure,

Trapped, Blaze is within thy mass,

Her body and spirit break down once more,

And all that was Blaze shall pass.

Etrigan's voice in the reporter's head held a tone of exultation.

"Okay, but, how shall she pass?" Lois Lane said, worriedly rubbing her aching, gigantic stomach.

Everything that goes in has to come out, Deadman said, in a much more apologetic tone. We're using our power to help your body process and purify her evil body and spirit, but all that mass has to come out of you at some point. The good news is, you shouldn't have to eat for a few weeks...and the gold should be worth thousands of dollars...

Lois Lane groaned. This was not what she had hoped for when she had set out for a night out.

"M-mistress?" A voice said to the reporter's left. Lois Lane turned her head, and saw a familiar face. Asian. Twenty-ish. A blue streak died in her hair.

"You're Tonya Wong," Lois Lane said, recognizing one of the women who had gone missing.

"Y-yes mistress. Um. Can I get you something?" The naked young woman wore nothing but a collar but stared at the reporter's enormous, unnatural girth with undisguised awe, her little pink nipples stiff as eraser-tips.

"Bourbon," Lois Lane said. "Is anyone else here? Bring them. I want to conduct a few interviews..."

Because even devouring a demon whole would not stop the Daily Planet's greatest reporter from getting her story.