End: Lois Lane Never Learns His Fate

The plants, with all their weirdly human features, crowded in. Lois Lane moved as they seemed to crowd in on her. It was warmer in here now. With every step, her feet squelched in the soil, and it released a smell that reminded the reporter of the aftermath of a porn shoot. She stared down and saw white goo ooze between the black dirt.

She struggled not to panic. Called out Rat's name. Kept on the move as soft fronds brushed against her legs, and left clear, sticky strands. Her heart raced as the reek of the place filled her head, as the heat and humidity grew and grew. Sweat dripped down her ribs and her white t-shirt clung to her skin. The straps of her bra dug into her skin.

As Lois moved, she saw that she had lost the trail they had come in on. She could no longer see the door, the walls. Overhead, a single light burned, and it might have been a sun in the Amazon. The reporter became aware now of a soft chorus of moans...all around her there was the squelch of flesh on flesh.

Lois Lane fought down panic as she dug her phone out of her pocket. Her knees brushed past a bush with fruit like dangling testicles. With every step she sank deeper into the mud, which seemed to be half-semen, and to suck at her feet. Just walking became an effort, but she pushed on. Eyes wide. Fingers stabbed at the buttons on her smartphone.

All I need is a signal... Lois thought.

"Rat! RAAAAT!" Lois called out, though even now she felt it was futile. Attempting to retrace her steps seemed fruitless. In every direction, the perverse garden seemed to be unfamiliar and threatening. A plant as tall as a tree was covered with swollen, spherical breasts that looked like they would ooze silicone if cut, the soft pink nipples rigid and quivering. The reporter tried to keep in motion, even as tall plants like cat-o-nine-tails tipped with penises rubbed against her thighs and crotch. The air was so weirdly heavy that Lois felt dizzy with the perfume of sweat, semen, and pussy.

The screen of the smartphone flickered in between one bar and zero bars. Lois held it up into the sky, but the thin signal blinked off and on.

Then Lois saw the tree.

It was a huge, gnarled thing, and there were faces worked into the leathery bark, eyeless faces with mouths and noses, tongues and teeth. The strangely curled pink leaves each looked like a miniature labia...but the undergrowth was a little thinner around its thick roots, and the lowest branches looked climable. If she could get some height, maybe she could get some signal.

The distance between Lois and the tree seemed to be no more than a Metropolis city block, but time and distance in his place were twisted. Lois felt her feet sink into the clinging mud, and when she pulled her aching legs up, she had left her shoes behind. Tiny thorns scratched at the reporter's pants and jacket as Lois fought her way through sticky grasses edged with sharp points.

With her arms above her head to keep the phone out of reach, Lois could not protect her midriff, and the sweat-soaked cotton shirt was soon torn and frayed. It almost felt like it rotted off her body. As she pushed past a clump of phallic-looking cacti whose spines leaked white droplets, Lois felt the hot, humid air on her legs through rents in her tight red pants. Each step, she shivered as her toes squelched in sticky mud, now up to her elbows.

It felt almost like a contest of will. Lois Lane versus the jungle. The reporter's single minded determination was all that kept her going despite the tropical heat, the slow loss of her protection. The sheer physical exertion that made her want to vomit, but she took one look at the phallic-headed bushes that swiveled her way when she opened her mouth to gasp for air, and **** her gorge back down.

Regrets burned in Lois Lane as she **** herself through the prickly pricks. She was getting closer to the tree, but she knew it was her pride that got her into this situation. Lois knew she should have turned around when she saw Neron. A literal demon, and she had pushed on. With Rat in tow. Poor Rat, whom she had bullied and belittled into her service, and now...

The reporter's cheeks burned as she heard a rip of cloth. Felt the scratch of thorns against her skin, and then air on her bare buttocks. She looked back and saw that the seat and crotch of her pants, which were little more than crimson threads now, had torn away...and the spines of the phallic cacti had taken her panties too.

The last "hedge" between Lois and the tree looked like arms planted in the soil. Hands with too many fingers branched off from the waving limbs with no rhyme or reason. There was no way around it, no way but through...and Lois grimaced and held her arms high as she tried to find the easiest path through the grasping thicket.

Hands and fingers clutched at her as she passed. As Lois tugged, her clothing swiftly tore and gave way, until naked hands brushed and grasped at her buttocks, thighs, and pussy. Then the hedge grew taller, and Lois had to struggle out of her jacket. The bra, soaked in sweet and digging into her sensitive skin, finally disintegrated as the grasping hands reached her chest...and Lois Lane knew if she fletered here, even for a moment, she would be dragged down and fingered to **** by these hands.

Yet she broke through...naked, with her phone still in her hand. The signal was still weak, but she tapped out an emergency message, an SOS. But to send it, she needed to climb.

With the phone in her teeth, the naked reporter grasped the faces on the tree. They squirmed and moaned beneath her weight. There were no eyes to poke out, but there were teeth and tongues in the mouths, eager to snap at her fingers, to suck at them. The tree was blood-warm and soft beneath her fingers, and it made her skin crawl when she realized it was covered with fine, downy hairs...exactly like a human being.

Yet she **** herself on. It was a battle of wills, and she honed hers to a single scintillant point. There was a long, low branch that reached out over the garden. Lois dragged herself along it, ignoring the love-bites on her body, the eager tongues that tried to lick her pussy as she passed. Out above it all, clinging on to the branch with both legs and one arm, she held up the phone as high as she could.

One bar.

Hit the button.

Held her breath.

Mutterd a silent prayer.

Grinned ferociously as the message seemed to go through.

Then there was an ominous crack. The whole tree swayed. Off-balance, the reporter clung, but teeth bit at her fingers. Instinctively, she let go of the branch.

Lois Lane fell through the air. For a fleeting second, she thought she recognized the scruffy face of the mouth that had bitten her. She never saw the rigid phallic plant beneath her. Yet she felt it as her body slammed onto it, cunt first. Her scream echoed throughout the garden, which shivered like a single living thing. Above her, every mouth on the tree began to spit. A hot rain that soaked her skin as she sank, or was drawn, down into the writhing mud.

Sometime later, the demon Blaze plucked the cum-encrusted phone from the ground of her garden. Beside it, the latest seedling had taken root. The human features, definitely female, frozen in a rictus of agony or ecstasy, the thin and supple bark clearly molded into breasts, belly, and the vulva impaled on the massive root. The demon smiled.

"Pride goeth, before the fall," she whispered...and walked away. There were so many other plants to care for, after all.