End: Lois Lane Can Do Nothing

The reporter screamed. She fought like a wildcat, until the metal bar bent and broke on his skull. She dropped the useless instrument, and her thumbs dug into the possessed man's eyes as the heat of the scaly cock made Lois Lane's pants melt. Horns burst through Tyrell's forehead, and crackled with black lightning. The brown face limped, sagged, and sloughed off...and the face beneath was crimson, female, with a strange half-smile on the too-wide mouth. The eyes that burned beneath the horns were pure white, without pupil or iris.

"You know," the demonic figure said as their hands clinched tight around the reporter's thin waist, so inhumanly wide that Lois could feel the fingers meet on either side. "I thought I could control myself. Draw you in a little deeper. Have some fun, see how far you would go, what you would do. But in the end...I suppose it doesn't matter."

Lois Lane cried out in pain at the heat of the prickhead as it burned through her pants and panties. She could feel her pussy lips blister, smell the pubic hair burn. She screamed in pain—and then her screams went up a notch as she felt the moment of violation. The swollen, rubbery head of that inhuman cock **** itself into her.

Not swiftly. Oh no. The demon did it slowly. Let Lois squeeze her pussy muscles as tight as she could, so that the iron bar of the prick could **** its way in as painfully as possible. So that the sobbing, half-terrified, half-mad reporter had time to fight. To grab the demon's horns and ty and pull herself off. To slam her own head into the mirror behind the sink until it shattered, grab the shards and try to cut those hands that held her. Then, when that failed to work, Lois bent almost double and stabbed at the cock itself.

For her troubles, all Lois Lane ended up with were cuts on her hands. The demon chuckled, even as Lois felt the first twinge of despair.

The cock was only half-way inside of her.

It had grown, as more and more of Tyrell's human form had been shed. Now the terrible tool was as big as the reporter's forearm, the scaly ridges along the back like the spine of a dinosaur. It looked as if it was going to tear Lois Lane in two.

Yet Lois Lane did not give up. She braced her legs against the crimson thighs and pushed with all of her strength. Grabbed at the thumbs that held her and pulled. Stared the demon in the eye and spat, a sickly gob that hit the monster right in her left eye, and ran down one smiling cheek.

"Superman will kill you for this," Lois said with confidence. "No matter what hell you hide in, he will find you."

For the first time, the demon's lips parted into a toothy grin. Pointed teeth like a shark's met the reporter's gaze.

"Oh, sweetmeats...I'm counting on it. I've prepared a perfect trap for him. The moment you tell him, he'll fly right into it. That's why I'm doing this, you know," the demon chuckled. "I want you to tell him that Blaze befouled your once-tight cunt and ruined you, so he'll fly into a righteous frenzy. That will hurt you both so much more deeply than what I'm about to do."

Lois winced as the head of the cock ground against her cervix. The heat of it was incredible. She could see the dull glow of the prick through her abdomen. The heat of it felt as if she was being cooked from the inside out.

Then Lois felt it. THe torrent of filth that emptied itself against the mouth of her womb. Lois felt the demon's piss spill out around her stuffed pussy, saw the steam rise, like a horse emptying its bladder on a cold morning.

The reporter could have sobbed, as the demon pulled out. A hot, acrid stream splashed across Lois Lane's body, drenched her shirt, arced against her face.

"A good look for you, sweetmeat," Blaze said with that evil, toothy grin. "But I've had my fun. Go. Tell the Kryptonian. I'll be waiting."

There was a crash of thunder. Black lighting erupted from the ground, and a black cloud that stank of sulphur. Lois Lane coughed, her eyes teared...yet when the smoke cleared, she was alone. The demon was gone.

The reporter eased herself off the sink. There was blood in her hair, her hands were cut up. Her pussy gaped, and piss ran out of it. Every muscle in her crotch ached, and her pants were ruined, violated crotch totally exposed—but with stalwart determination, Lois Lane shrugged out of her jacket and tied it around her waist to hide her indignity.

Lois Lane's mouth was set in a firm line as she limped out of the bathroom. She had been powerless against the demon, but there was one thing she did know—she refused to play into Blaze's hands. The Man of Steel would never fall into the demon's trap, because Lois would never tell him. Better to suffer in silence. Not Superman or anyone else would never know about Lois Lane's night out.