End: Lois Cannot Control It

Immediately, the pussy-tentacle shot out from the reporter's crotch and clamped onto the tip of Blaze's dick. That brought another gasp from Lois Lane's lips. She could taste that cock through her lower "mouth," the bitterness of semen, the traces of ammonia like an overripe cheese...and the reporter groaned as unexpected pleasure shot through her body.

She could feel everything. It was like a sudden, unexpected penetration of her pussy, except it was her pussy itself that was moving, on auto-pilot, climbing over the demon's dick to take it deeper inside of her. Blaze grinned as she saw the reporter twitch as the pink sock swallowed her cock like a blind anaconda that had found a particularly fat pig.

"Looks like the tail is wagging the dog, a bit," the scarlet succubus said. "We can't let you out in public if your cuntentacle is going to suck every passing man dry. Amusing as that may be."

Lois Lane could hear her, but the sensations in her lower body were too intense. She mewled helplessly as her super-sensitive appendage dragged her forward, as if she was trying to swallow Blaze's entire body with her elastic cunny.

So a night out for the Daily Planet's Greatest reporter turned into a two-week leave of absence. Lois told her editor Perry White that she was on the trail of a big story, and he'd approved it—and the half-lie was bitter. Yet it was better than telling him the truth.

Because Lois Lane spent those two weeks learning to control her new appendage...and falling deeper and deeper within Blaze's spell. The more time they spent together, the more Lois could feel the demon sink her hooks into the reporter's mind and soul. Often, the scarlet succubus could pick up on the reporter's surface thoughts, or give a command with barely a glance. Sometimes, Lois could hear her mistress' words in her mind, and began to act before she consciously knew what she was doing.

Yet she needed Blaze. The demon had brought in men for Lois to interact with, and the first time Lois had come within arm's length, her cuntentacle had burst out of her panties and latched onto his crotch. It had taken days of long, painful experiments—and regular feedings of Blaze's black babybatter—for Lois to begin to control her monstrous new pussy. To keep it in her pants when around men. To learn how to pee again, to dress without a tell-tale bulge.

All the while, Lois wondered what was in this for Blaze. The demon seemed to have a plan, vague and ever-shifting. At first it had involved the women that had gone missing—all of whom Lois had now met and interviewed, and discovered they had become Satanists of a sort, with Blaze as their mistress of flame and darkness. They held Lois Lane as almost a demigod by comparison, the most favored. It wasn't a position Lois wanted or was comfortable in.

Especially when they wished to worship her.

Blaze's red fingers massaged Lois Lane's temples. The reporter occupied the demon's own throne. The pink sock was fully extended from the reporter's crotch. A week of feedings and tweaks from Blaze had thickened the pink integument until it moved like an elephant's trunk. With her eyes closed, Lois used the super-sensitive tip to explore the faces of the adoring acolytes...and shivered as their eager tongues extended to taste her.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Blaze whispered, and her words echoed in the reporter's mind like the reverberation that followed the strike of hammer on anvil. "You've come so far in such a short time, Lois. Soon, you'll be ready to go back, with your little story about the missing women an their new religion..."

"Why?" Lois moaned as her breasts heaved. Her pink pussy-tentacle slid between a pair of ripe tits.

"Because you, among all others, can get close to the Man of Steel. To learn his secrets, and keep tabs on him. And, perhaps, to distract him at key moments. Too often has he opposed my plans...now, thanks to your timely arrival, I and my acolytes can continue our plans without interference."

Lois Lane shivered and groaned. Four hot mouths pressed against her pink pussy-tentacle. Slurped and sucked...and Lois could feel it all. Deep in her mind, a part of her rebelled, not wishing to betray Superman...but with every hour, that voice got fainter and further away...and the reporter knew that when she did go back to the Daily Planet, she would be very different from when she had left on her night out.

Nor was that the worst of it.

A growing part of her was looking forward to it.