End: Lois Is Not Aware of Her Corruption...Until It Is Too Late

A lack tongue, long and oily loled out of Lois Lane's mouth. Both hands were buried in her cunny, mindlessly thrusting deep inside of her hole, the grey fresh stretching easily, black liquid like oil oozing out over her wrists. Lost in pleasure, the reporter forgot her original purpose to dig out any deep-buried shards of broken bottle from her pussy...not that she need have bothered.

The tainted glass had dissolved, the corrupting liquid seeping through her cell walls, creeping along her veins, spreading out throughout her body. All over her body, minute by minute as she writhed in sexual need, the reporter's body became less and less human. Yet Lois Lane neither knew nor cared: she was lost in the frenzied ecstasy of stretching her aching cunt to new and terrible extremes.

Lois Lane's eyes were violet circles in seas of black, rolled up into her head as she rubbed her wrists together. She could not see the black tears that flowed down cheeks that had gone from pink and healthy to a creamy grey. Her nipples, stiff and dark grey, pointed out further. Fat melted off her slim frame...or perhaps, simply repositioned itself. Heat boiled in the reporter's ass as the slim, muscular buttocks swelled. Her toes curled...and then began to twist and fuse, the nails growing out into dark hooves.

A low, tortured moan erupted from the reporter's throat and she rubbed her head against the doorway, bony bulges above her eyes breaking through the grey flesh to reveal the dark nubs of horns...and all the time Lois could feel the heat build and build inside of her, the hungry maw of her cunt **** for more...until she could take it no longer.

Her new hooves clattered against the floor as the grey woman-thing that had been Lois Lane twisted for a new position. Midnight-black hair like that on her head pierced the skin of her legs broke through on her ankles and began to grow, like a forest spreading its way up a mountain. She braced her shoulders against the wall, legs spread, hooves flat on the floor: her padded ass and wider hips let her spread her legs in a grotesque lewd display...and then she pulled her black talons out of her cunt, grabbed the thick, animalistic labia, now grey and leathery...and pulled them apart with all her might.

The former reporter's back arched as a spray of oily corruption burst forth from her distended cunt. Lois howled like a beast as the black talons pierced through her leathery lips, the fingertips widening the holes, dark purple blood oozing down from the wounds which sealed around the fingers like the holes in pierced ears...

...and Lois collapsed, momentarily spent, her whole body shaking.

Which is when her front door opened, though no key had turned in the lock.

A figure stepped in. Blearily, the Lois-thing looked up...and for a moment she saw to images superimposed on one another. One image was of a tall, lean woman with dark olive skin and a mane of black curly hair, her skull oddly strange like the bust of Nefertiti, eyes dark, dressed in black jeans and a torn t-shirt that did little to hide her small, firm breasts and lanky figure.

The other image though...there was nothing human about that. A whipcord-lean figure the color of fresh blood on parchment, dark horns above a broad brow, the flicker of a black halo around her head, eyes pure white without pupil or iris that burned from within. The only thing truly the same was the strange half-smile on that too-wide mouth.

"Well. I wondered where you had wandered off to, pet," the voice said, in English accented in a way Lois had never heard. Thick, sultry, like poisoned honey.

The woman or demon knelt down, and Lois saw the collar in her hands. In one eye, it looked like a hinged iron manacle, held with a chain, festooned with spikes. In the other eye, it was a leather dog's collar, a blank nametag hanging from it, studded with chrome pyramids, tied to a leash.

Lois didn't resist as the collar was fashioned about her neck.

"One must take good care of their pets," the woman said as the collar locked into place. For just a moment, her fingers stroked the former reporter's cheek, the touch of her skin so hot that Lois felt like she was being branded...and yet she felt herself leaning into htat, pressing against the hand, the terrible heat between her legs building once more.

"I am Blaze. Your mistress. You, who were Lois Lane...your new name is Lécheuse Lain."

The letters LL burned into existence on the corrupted woman's collar. At a tug, Lécheuse pulled her fingers free from her dark, dangling, pierced labia. Awkwardly, she stood on her new hooves, dark hair now covering her body from the waist down, her small horns beginning to curl, the black tongue lolling out of her mouth.

They left then...and left behind Lois Lane's old life. Her hopes, her dreams, the future laid out for her...and a part of her might perhaps look back over the strange events of her night out, and seen Blaze's invisible hand guiding her toward this moment. She might wonder at what might have been, if she had made different choices...but now it was too late. The corruption had taken her over body and mind...and she was Lécheuse Lain in truth.

How Blaze would use her new minion in her schemes...ah, but that is another story.