End: Like Being Reborn

Once, when she was younger, Lois Lane had gone through a phase where she had been very into demonology. Had flipped through books and stared at the reproductions of medieval woodcuts, of Renaissance-era etchings of chimeric beings that combined the features of animals and humans, read their strange, barbarous names and attributes. She had wondered, even then, at the source of things. Who had come up with these strange shapes and terrible names? What had they seen—or thought they saw?

Like a good journalist, Lois had always felt there must have been some core truth at the heart of it. Witnesses, after all, were unreliable. They had a tendency to see things through their own cultural preconceptions; memories became shaped by later circumstances, twisted to fit what was logical. Even if the truth that they had witnessed was, by its definition, very illogical. Seemingly impossible. A sin against God and nature.

Something Lois Lane experienced now.

"RAAAAGH!"

Blaze's roar of triumph shook the pillars of heaven, and pricked the ears of gods and demi-gods in nearby dimensions. Lois felt unseen eyes on her as a flood of corruption sluiced down her throat. Her new cervix opened to welcome it, her fecund womb overflowed with the virile seed.

Far too much for it to hold. And all that power needed to go somewhere.

Lois Lane did not see the darkness that swiftly mottled her skin. The way her flesh swelled and shifted. Bones cracked and then ran like water into new, inhuman forms, and set once again. Dark hair pushed out of her body, and small wounds began to open that took on a disturbingly vaginal character.

There was a brief moment of pain, as the horns pushed their way out of Lois Lane's head. Seven small black horns, one for each of the reporter's violet eyes, that now blinked and showed goat-like pupils, though they wept tears of blood. Toes twisted in on themselves as the nails grew into hooves, delicate yet sharp enough to pierce skin and bone with ease. Her midsection swelled, shifted and dropped as her spin elongated. Legs split off, and in a moment the reporter clattered about on eight goat-ish limbs...and between each pair, a fertile cunt nestled, ready to be bred.

The former reporter's arms, though black as night, were still human. She raised them up to cup and massage the testicles of the scarlet succubus. Her maker and unmaker. The one who had stripped Lois Lane of her humanity, and yet had given her so much more. So many wombs, so many children to bear.

"You are no longer Lois Lane, my soiled slut," Blaze growled, at the new demon that still sucked at the half-engorged cock. Internal channels fed that black seed to each of the former reporter's new wombs. "Now, you are a little sister to Shub-Niggurath. Now you are...Shub-Succeroth!"

Shub-Succeroth felt the name burn itself into what was left of her soul...and she moaned in wicked pleasure. It had been the Lois Lane's last night out...and the birth of a new evil. In the years to come, Shub-Succeroth and her spawn would bedevil the heroes of this world. Yet that is another story.