End: Lois Lane's Mind Breaks

Lois had braced herself for the moment of penetration. She thought she had seen enough hentai to know where this was going, even though it was so different, to be so powerless, to have her arms and legs swallowed by the horde of slithering feelers, to stare into that massive three-lobed burning eye and await the touch of its phallic tentacles in her pussy.

Yet when it came, she was not ready.

Something pushed into her splayed pussy. Slimy, wet, thick, wriggling and determined. Yet the physical penetration wasn't what made her gasp. It was the sense of something splitting through her skull, intruding on her mind. Vast, ancient and terrible, it flooded into the reporter's brain, and she could tell at that moment how crude her human nervous system was compared to whatever alien evolution had forged the thing that had her in its grip. It was like a smartphone suddenly connecting to a telegraph...and Lois Lane could not comprehend the sudden deluge of images, thoughts, knowledge, and information that threatened to drown her flimsy brain.

Lois lane's body flopped, limp, tentacles surging inside of her pussy and ass, swarming around to squeeze and grope her body. Slack lips were pushed aside so a feeder-tentacle could slide down her throat, small tentacles slid up her nostrils, feeding air into her lungs, branching off into microscopic feelers. The reporter's violet eyes rolled up into her head as the fractal branches of tentacles, microscopic now, slid past the final barrier and reached her brain.

She could feel her own body only dimly. The violation of it, the way her body twitched and squirmed, ancient intelligence pushing the gears and levers of the primitive mammalian brain, watching in alien fascination as her pleasure exploded, body spasming uncontrollably...and then stripping the chemicals away from the receptor sites, watching the sudden gulf of pain open up and swallow her...

...but that was far, far distant. Lois was lost in a tumult of thoughts that were not hers, memories vast and ancient that swallowed up her own petty experiences. Endless ages in the cold dark between the stars, below the waves; the tumult as the land shifted, black smoker vents bursting from below; the Old Ones flying through the sky, a strange and terrible battle where primal elements were unleashed to little effect on flesh that had known the kiss of alien stars; the dim dreams of cultists, whose red offerings poured into the sea, weak and ineffectual, a background noise of maddened worship, aping the vast and terrible cosmic sacrifices that had been made on far distant planets and among dead stars...sacraments of such cosmic evil that Lois could not even name the sins as bright suns sputtered and died, their life-essence burning in brimming chalices. Pure power poured through her feelers as she drank the life-essence of a sun that had warmed entire worlds, which were now nothing more than rapidly-cooling tombs...

Ecstasy burned through the reporter's soul as an exquisite shape came into mind, illumined by the green star Xoth; mutifarious openings appeared along the pale white surface, smooth as ivory but something much more plastic. There was no gender that applied there, but Lois felt her own genital orifices opening in response, her tentacles throbbing in anticipation as she descended. There were teeth there, radioactive burning pits, traps, teasing, subtle puzzle to satiate mind as well as body...and her mate's own tentacles touched her as they came together and the echoes of that terrible passion were to the mortal climax what a supernova is to a firecracker.

Seeds. Dark, fertilized seeds. Waiting for the right womb to grow. Except every seed was more than a biological unit, it was an idea, a nascent intelligence that needed something to devour...and that was when Lois felt that dark thing push itself through her nostril, through a channel that had been made specifically for this purpose. Pushed deep into the midst of her grey matter. A tiny piece of dark intellect that seemed to flicker...to awaken...

...and Lois Lane woke up screaming.

She was on a beach. The spires of Metropolis rose behind her on that foggy morning. The jogger who had been kneeling over her backed off...and then, seeing her naked form beneath the coating of slime, took off his jacket and handed it to her. Lois Lane smiled, as if in thanks. Eyes wide. Blood streaming from one nostril. A black ooze caked her thighs and ass.

"They...they came," she said. "They are cumming. They shall cum again. Not in the orifices you know, but between them. They fuck serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen..."

She babbled, lost in the fragments of the dream, eyes wide, fervent as a new convert to an old religion, trying to make him understand...to make them all understand... "They were patient and poetent, for here shall They reign again."

Lois Lane was not violent, until the men in the white suits came. She tried to tell them, to tell all of them, to get them to listen, but the babble of her voice washed over them and they had to hold her down. Screaming herself hoarse on the way to the hospital, thrashing inside the straitjacket, until the needle brought stillness...quiet...gaze turned inward...time seemed broken to her then...and as the dawn broke over the city, the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter lay in a **** stupor, whispering endlessly to herself.

"My pussy smells like the sea...Iä! Iä!...Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn...fuckin'...fhtagn...it waits...it waits to be born now..."