End: Lois Lane Doesn't Have To Look For Them, The Missing Women Find Her

Lois Lane left Rat behind as she ventured further down the hall, away from the shrine.

They walked out of the darkness. Dark, hooded robes open at the front to show naked bodies. Eyes rolled back in their sockets so that they shouldn't have been able to see, yet they moved toward Lois Lane with sure steps and eerie synchronicity. The reporter paused, just for a moment. She recognized the blank faces beneath the robes.

The bare-assed reporter had found the missing women. Or, more accurately, they had found her.

As their arms rose and they closed in, Lois instinctively dropped into a fighting crouch. She could feel Rat's jizz drip down her ass, but she didn't have time for that now.

"Ladies?" Lois said aloud. "Jennie Dunlap? Mara de la Cruz?"

The reporter had hoped that calling out their names would snap them out of whatever state they were in. Yet as soon as the women got close enough, they threw themselves at the reporter.

Lois Lane felt the jolt of her left hook cracking into Jennie Dunlap's face before she was consciously aware that she threw the punch. Soft, feminine hands grabbed at her, but Lois pulled, moved, twisted. Always planting her feet, setting herself up for the next hit. Her fists crashed against the four robed figures, and Lois did her best not to be distracted by the flash of a tit, the unexpected glimpse of bush.

It helped that the women weren't fighting back, exactly. Mara de la Cruz and Tonya Wong each grabbed at the reporter's legs, while Jennie Dunlap and Diana Reynolds kept grabbing at her arms. The reporter smashed a knee into Tonya's face, punched Diana in the tit, dodged a grab from Jennie Dunalp...

...and then she felt Mara de la Cruz scrape Rat's cum from off of her backside and show the jizz into the reporter's pussy.

"What the fuck!" Lois shouted, pushed into very un-Lois-like language as she slammed a combination of punches down on Mara's face, then ripped her leg free. The Latina slumped to the ground, out for the count.

Then Tonya Wong jumped on the reporter's back.

"G-gon-na...kn-knock you up," Tonya Wong said, as she spit blood and teeth over the reporter's hair.

Lois tried to elbow the thin Asian woman, but then she saw that Diana and Jennie had taken off their robes. Working together, the two women quickly wrapped up the reporter's arms. Pinned between the three women, Lois dug in her heels as they dragged the reporter back to where the spent Rat still lay, moaning softly.

Then his body spasmed. Black lightning played over the goth's body. His prick, limp and spent, rose and swelled...first a vivid purple, and then a bright, bloody red. Lois Lane didn't cease her struggles as she saw his cock grow even bigger than before...and his testes, between his thin and weedy legs, grew even bigger, the size of navel oranges. Inflated like balloons. A painful whimper escaped from his lip, and Lois had the terrible impression that Rat was now simply a life support system for his strangely swollen cock and balls...and that they had been brought together for one purpose.

"This is why you were brought here," Diana Reynolds said.

"This is your purpose," Jennie Dunlap added.

"She will be reborn through your womb, your flesh her anchor for this world," Tonya Wong said.

"Fuck that," Lois Lane said in reply.

Martial arts instructors generally tell you not to get into a situation where a crazed cunt is clasped to your back and two others have pinned your arms to your side and are frog-marching you toward a turgid prick. Escapologists will have few suggestions on how to escape from such a scenario, where the main issue is not knots or locks, but sheer muscle. Yet Lois Lane took solace in one thing, at least: these women, whether possessed or fanatics or **** or whatever, were not professionals.

Because a professional would have known to keep their legs out of the way.

Lois Lane's heel struck the side of Jennie Dunlap's knee. There was a sharp cry as the blonde collapsed sideways. She didn't let go of the robe binding Lois, and the reporter toppled with her, Tonya Wong's mass adding to the momentum as Diana Reynolds desperately held on. The three women collapsed onto their sides, and Lois kicked out like a mule, slamming her foot into Diana Reynold's bare and unprotected cunt. The robe slackened as Diana sank down to her knees, cross-eyed and puking in agony.

On the floor, Lois swiftly slipped out of the robes. She had trained a bit to fight in this position, but she was still outnumbered. The smart move was to get away...and that's what she tried to do, landing a clean cross against Jennie's jaw and staggering to her feet.

Only for Tonya Wong, her face already swelling from the reporter's previous punches, to launch herself at the reporter like a linebacker. Lois sidestepped the tackle and and slammed her fist into the back of the Asian woman's head, so that the petite bitch fell, her jaw slamming into the floor just an inch away from Rat's swollen testes.

It must have been the madness of the situation. Lois Lane knew she should just run. Find her clothes if she could, grab a robe if not. Make her escape. But some perverse instinct made her grab Tonya Wong's legs and lift them in the air. The naked Asian woman's arms hung lip, her mouth open, jaw probably broken. The reporter panted as she aimed the open mouth at the swollen cockhead.

"I will fuck you, Lois Lane," a terrible voice came from Rat's lips. "One way, or another!"

"Not tonight, bitch," Lois grunted as she **** Tonya Wong's face down over the swollen scarlet shaft.

Lois Lane left them there...Tonya Wong **** on the cock in her throat, the other three women bruised and bleeding, Rat apparently possessed and immobile, his body shrunken as his throbbing prick pumped his tainted load into Tonya's stomach. The reporter began to shake as the momentary surge of adrenaline wore off. Her stomach churned, muscles ached, and it was with jittery fingers she found clothes to cover her nakedness, to wipe off Rat's jizz...and, eventually, to find her smartphone.

She had Zatanna on speed dial.

"Hey Z? It's Lois. Yeah. Look, you know that favor you owe me? I'm cashing it in," Lois Lane said as she put some distance between herself and the cultists and/or possessed behind her. Her free hand scratched at her pussy, and she stared ruefully at the sticky gray residue on her fingers. "Evil fertility idol, possessed cultists, and I need a morning after pill. No questions, just get here and help me deal with this shit."

Back at the stairwell, Lois Lane leaned against the wall. Her hands hurt, the knuckles scraped and bruised. Her pussy felt...unclean. Like she needed a douche. Heart hammered, mouth dry, stomach rumbled. Lois Lane wanted a hot shower, pizza and ice cream and three shots of rum...and enough black coffee to keep her going until morning as she hammered out her article.

There was a burst of light, and an hourglass figure in top hat, fishnets, and tails stepped out of the stairway. She handed Lois a bubble-pack, and after glancing at the label, the reporter popped one out and dry-swallowed it. The cramps she'd have for the next few hours would be unpleasant, but better safe than sorry.

"Sounds like you've had quite the night out," Zatanna. Then she saw the shrine, and made a warding gesture with her gloved hands.

"Yes," Lois Lane nodded. "You could say that. It all started when I was trying to track down this missing women..."