End: Lois Lane Looks Down At Herself

The reporter looked down at her own naked body. Her small, half-tear-drop shaped breasts that were perfectly suited to her slight frame. The trim figure and well-developed arms and legs that reflected hours of hard work at the gym and reaching for salads instead of junk food. Lois Lane scratched her carefully trimmed patch of black pubic hair, and remembered how she kept it that way so that when she wore panties the hair didn't spill out over the edges.

Down the corridor, reflected in a million mirrors, were a million variations on the theme that was Lois Lane. Taller, shorter, fatter, fitter, bigger tits, bigger ass, longer hair...with cock and without...Black, white, Hispanic, Asian...somewhere in the distant mirrors there were Lois Lanes with tattoos, piercings, brands. Missing limbs. With cybernetic prostheses and upgrades. Scarred, cruel, dirty, disheveled, augmented, divine, infernal...yet this, right here, was her.

"I've read about every word Sir Terry Pratchett ever wrote," Lois said. "Including Witches Abroad. This is me. Not any of those reflections. What about you?"

"No!" the crimson thing on the floor rolled over onto her hands and knees. "I'm not this...thing! I am tall...beautiful...powerful...seductive...men and women weep in envy, their jaws drop when they see my magnificent cock, they get hard when I flash my beautiful quim..."

One trim crimson claw stretched out, and a million reflections did likewise. For a moment, staring down at the misshapen succubus, Lois had the horrible sensation that Blaze seemed a little more unreal than before.

"Damnation," Lois Lane swore. She crawled over and slid her hands under Blaze's armpits. The short succubus glowered like a cat as the reporter stood up, so that the demon got her feet under her. The demon refused to meet her gaze.

"You're not ugly," the reporter said. "You're a Black metal fan's dream waifu. An emo girl's wet dream. A real live futanari? Half of the hentai fans want to marry you, and the rest will probably still pay for your OnlyFans. The dick will grow back, right?"

One white eye met Lois Lane's gaze, then nodded.

"It still hurts," Blaze said sullenly.

"I know it does. But for right now, we need to get out of here. You can't spend a thousand years moping and chasing your reflection," Lois Lane said. "Now, tell me you're sexy."

"I'm sexy," Blaze said, though her heart wasn't in it.

Lois Lane sighed. With one hand, she pulled the hair out of Blaze's face. Leaned in and pressed her lips against the demon's own. Felt that slim body against hers. The hot heat pounded faster and faster as their breasts rubbed against one another. The reporter's hand ran down the crack of Blaze's ass, squeezed the cheeks, then kept going until she found, by touch, the hot, wet little slit.

"What are you?" Lois said, as she began to work her fingers in and out of Blaze's hole. The demon clung to her and began to moan, her crimson body growing hotter and hotter with each moment. "Tell me, or I'll stop."

"I'm sexy," Blaze said finally.

"And who's pretty?" Lois asked, as she hugged Blaze close, cheek rubbing against cheek, fingers pushing in and out of Blaze's pussy faster and faster.

"I'm pretty," Blaze said with a moan.

"Is this you?" Lois asked, and now she felt something stab into her stomach, and knew that Blaze's dick had regrown...and was very hard... "That's a very stiff cock."

"The better to fuck you with, my dear," Blaze said, and now her voice carried a bit of that familiar confidence that Lois had known before. "This is all me."

Just like that, they were no longer trapped in the mirror world. They were in the reporter's bedroom, naked, standing before the long mirror on the dresser.

Only, Blaze showed no signs of stopping. Her hips bucked as Lois continued to finger her slit, and the demon's cock rubbed against the reporter's flat stomach, and left behind a trail of slime.

"Please," the scarlet succubus said. "I need it."

Lois Lane rolled her eyes. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the strange events of the night. The transformations, the bloody bite, the whole mirror-world that had seemed to stretch them both thin before snapping them back to reality as they escaped. The reporter debated trying to throw Blaze out, calling for help...

...but in truth, her pussy was wet too. And somehow the demon, diminished as she was, felt far less imposing than before.

"Fine. But you wear a condom. And no tricks. I'm not giving you my soul or anything. We're just going to have sex, have a cup of coffee, and then you're going to tell me everything about that club."

Blaze raised her head. She was a head shorter than Lois now, the dark mane of hair wild and shaggy, falling almost to the pert red ass. A ghost of a smile graced Blaze's broad mouth.

"Anal?"

Lois Lane hesitated. "You promise to answer all my questions? Wear a condom? Be gentle?"

"Deal," Blaze said, and the two collapsed onto the bed. A flick of a finger brought a pack of black condoms to the demon's hand...and Lois Lane wondered, for a moment, if this had not all be a ploy just to get her where the demon wanted her.

Yet as the scarlet succubus unpeeled a black condom onto her stiff prick, which seemed much smaller than before, the reporter could see the pathetic eagerness in her face. The shivering need for acceptance. Something that Lois Lane herself well understood.

So what did you do on your night out? Lois Lane asked herself, as Blaze aimed the black-clad clock at her asshole. Nothing much, just helped a demon get her groove back.

Which was true in more ways than Lois Lane knew...but that is a different story.