End: Lois Gives In To Violent Desire

Lois Lane had been in her share of fights. She knew the almost high that came upon you when the adrenaline set in. The sense of invincibility. Time really did seem to slow down, heart hammered hummingbird-fast in the chest, muscles quivered as if begging to be used. She could feel herself slip into that mode now, as she gave in to the sudden violent desire. Images flashed through her mind. Flashing teeth, claws, fur.

It was almost as if she watched somebody else lift her hand up from the table. Nails grew out and thickened into grey-white curved scoops, pointed and sharp. The arm of the jacket burst as muscles bulged and black fur sprouted. She caught one glimpse of his face before she casually swiped her claw, and half of his face came off with it.

Blood sprayed. Hands reached for knives, guns, but Lois was already moving. Her spine popped at it elongated, jacket ripped in two as her muscles bunched like a hyena's hunched back. She flipped the table in their faces and moved toward the nearest one. Lips curled back, suddenly too small to contain her teeth, and for a moment she tasted his greasy, nasty skin, the overpowering gasoline-and-herbs scent of his cologne, and then liquid copper, rancid with **** filled her mouth.

Lois twisted her head and tore open his gular, the arc of blood sprayed out against the others. A shot rang out, wide, wild, and that just spurred the reporter's desires. Her shirt tore, and the big, swollen breasts were still dark, pierced nipples hard and erect, but now were covered by a light downy fur, and subsidiary dugs protruded along the milkline. A throbbing, tumescent clitoris peaked out from the waistband of the too-tight pants, and the reporter felt her heels collapse as her feet assumed a shape too long and unwieldy for human shoes.

The cackling, animalistic laughter that burbled from her throat froze them in place...just long enough for Lois to swing catch their heads between her claws. To feel her face stretch and the great fanger mouth gape and bite off someone's face. Their fear was delicious...

...and before the first scream rang out the fur-covered, eight-foot thing, naked save for the tattered pants it wore that ended at the knee, pushed its way through the crowd and out of the fire door, into the Metropolis night.

Leaving behind four corpses...and one figure that was only half alive, blood filling the empty socket, teeth exposed on the side of its face that now lacked skin lips and cheek...no more kisses from beautiful women for him. Not unless he paid dearly for it.

Lois Lane awoke with the damn. She sat upright, in a pile of trashbags in the alley behind her apartment building. Swiftly, she looked herself over...but aside from wearing nothing but the tattered remains of her pants, oddly loose and stretched out, the legs tattered to pieces below the knee, she was back to her old body..and unhurt. Desperately, Lois tried to piece together what had happened to her.

"There were those guys at the club...and then..." Lois said to herself....but nothing came to her. With one arm over her nipples, the reporter snuck into her building by the back way, glad she had a spare key hidden so that she could get back inside her apartment. Her mind ran over and over again the events of that night...the spell of desire...and a strange, dread certainty gnawed at the reporter's gut that something had happened. Something had been awoken inside of her. A desire more primal, uglier, than a wish for bigger breasts. Something that had overwhelmed her completely...

...and might again. Yet that is a different story. For now, Lois Lane's night out was over...and back at the club, the demon Blaze laughed to think of the monster she had unleashed on Metropolis.