End: Lois Lane Must Sacrifice Her Ass To Him

Satanus spoke, and Lois Lane did not like what she heard. The stars glittered above, and she became more aware of his smell—animalistic, like a bull in a barn, or an elephant in musth. She could see drops of dark liquid bead his skin and roll down it. Found her gaze drawn to that inhuman prick as it stood stiffly in the moonlight, to cast a shadow on the sands below. Heard his sonorous voice echo from within his helmet.

Lois didn't like what he told her. Yet she followed his instructions.

After all, she had very little choice.

So the reporter scraped the precum from the head of his cock in her hands. She painted the symbols on her naked flesh. Rubbed the slimy liquid into her asshole. As she stood before him, felt the heat radiate from his skin, she slipped one finger into her butthole...

"Slowly," his voice was rich, mellifluous and deep. It seemed to reach right past her ears and into her skull. Lois felt her own body begin to heat up, her glued-shut pussy ached. "Witches would anoint themselves before mounting their broomsticks for the Sabbat, and you must prepare yourself for your own flight...for only she who dedicates herself to me might break my enchanted imprisonment..."

One finger. Two. Dizzily, Lois felt herself lean against him, amazed at how hot his skin was, as she slowly fingered her ass. His whispered words of encouragement kept her fingers moving, gathering more precum for lube. Three fingers. Four. The reporter panted, her ass burned as her ass spread incredibly wide, four fingers knuckle deep.

"You are ready," he told her, as she stood before him, cheeks spread, to show the gape of her once-virgin ass. "Now say the words."

"I...I dedicate my ass to you, Lord Satanus. T-to be the instrument of your release. With your key, may my soul be unlocked...even as my flesh...offers you freedom."

She grabbed his horns and faced him. Climbed that massive body, weighed down by its collar and chains. Pressed her ass against the head of that swollen cock.

It felt too big. Impossible. As if she straddled a cannon, whose fuse was already burning. Ready to erupt and tear her apart.

Yet she bore down on it. Reached back with one hand to guide the swollen head to her loosened asshole. Grit her teeth as, with effort, it slipped in.

It must have taken hours, for the sky went from black to blue as Lois Lane slowly worked the massive shaft. Just an inch at first. Then she would **** herself to relax, let it slip deeper. Then **** herself down. Logically, she knew, there was a turn at the end of her colon, that the cock could only go so deep, that at some point her asshole would split. Yet it felt as if that cock continued to stretch her wider and wider, to plunge deeper and deeper into her body, as if she was hollow.

Until weak and trembling, panting and wet with sweat and the oily liquids that perspired off his red flesh, she felt the chain around his balls press against his ass...and stared into those white eyes.

Which flared like dying suns as he came.

A part of her realized, at the last moment, what the demon had planned. The means of his escape. The flood of black corruption that erupted in her bowels, the black sparks that danced over her skin, were just the physical manifestation of what was truly happening at a spiritual level. Everything that was Lord Satanus burst inside of Lois Lane at once. A black fire that scorched her soul. Wrapped itself around it. Slid inside, like a long sperm that had found a defenseless egg.

She had no protection. She had welcomed this. With a scream, the reporter's pussy ripped open and a flood of cum flowed out as grey ash. Her clit throbbed and grew. Red splotches appeared on her skin and spread, muscles bunched and expanded. Dark horns burst from her forehead as the reporter's eyes rolled back into her skull...and the figure of Satanus shrank, moment by moment, as all that he was emptied into this vessel. Until the chains held nothing more than a shriveled mummy, and that broke and fell to pieces.

What stood, naked in the dying night, was not Lois Lane or Satanus. A hard cock jutted out from a female frame, the skin red as blood on parchment. The hemaphrodite figure stooped and took up the helmet, and slipped it onto her own head. Violet eyes, without pupil or iris, stared out from the shadows.

"Now, 'sister'...there will be a reckoning," the hybrid being spoke.

It was Lois Lane's last night out. It was the birth of a being of lust, male and female combined. A being that called itself... Lecherous.

There were promises to be kept. **** to be taken. Already, Lecherous laid plans for the downfall of Blaze, the rescue of the women, the terrible **** that she would take on the scarlet succubus. Beyond that, the future was uncertain. New possibilities opened themselves to the composite being, warring philosophies which would need to be resolved.

For now...her cock ached for **** on Blaze.

Yet that is another story.