End: Lois Lane Thinks Of Superman. The Rest Is Easy.

Lois Lane closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, and let it out. The reporter knew that no matter what equipment she had, the mind was master of the body. The brain was the biggest erogenous zone. She could do this. She would do this.

In her mind's eye she saw a red cape flutter. A pair of perfect muscular globes encased in red shorts was there before her. How many sleepless nights had she spent, thinking about those magnificent glutes? Had wished to slowly pull down those pants to reveal them? To lick that super ass-cleavage. To get at that impossible tight, virgin pucker. Saved all these years, just for her.

Between her legs, the demonbreaker grew to diamond hardness. Her aching testes throbbed. Lois opened her eyes and drove her corrupted cock deep into the demon, pistoned into it with such **** that its knees collapsed and it was pinned into the floor beneath her by the dickgirl reporter's jackhammer strokes. Lois Lane didn't stop even when it cried out in mingled pleasure and pain. When the demonic skank's body dissolved and flowed into her supercharged Satanic shaft, so that she arose, panting and more terribly potent than ever.

Neron quailed as she turned towards him. Desperately, he opened the Black Door.

Lois Lane stepped through. She beheld a Satanic hive, victims trapped beneath a dozen succubi that had once been innocent women. At the far end of the room, she saw a great horned head turn toward her, the white eyes beneath like the glimmer of pearls in the depths of a skull.

She thought of Superman. The rest was easy.

Like a sexual tyrannosaurus, the Daily Planet's greatest reporter rampaged through the club. No hole was safe from her mighty shaft. No **** ploy or sexual skill could elicit a drop of cum from her increasingly pendulous balls. Naked succubi were thrown atop each other so that Lois could squeeze her massive erection between their taut, slippery bodies, the warty shaft pleasuring both Satanic sluts at once until they dissolved in streams of liquid lust.

At some point, the laws of the world seemed to bend. Lois Lane would later recall vaguely impossible sexual stunts. How she skewered a two-foot-tall demon's ass so that the tip of her cock pushed through the tiny imp's mouth, and then fucked another of Hell's hoes with the imp still lodged on her prick. Face-fucking a monstrous slut whose mouth had been replaced with a pussy. A dick-slapping contest with a masochistic demonic dickgirl.

Until, at the end, exhausted, bruised, and bleeding from a dozen scratches and love-bites, Lois Lane stood over the architect of this whole hive.

The scarlet succubus lolled on her thrown. What scanty clothing she wore had been tossed aside during the reporter's **** on her forces. Red fingers tubbed a pussy the color of blood, juice and dripping. Small red breasts with puffy pink nipples heaved on a thin, bony chest. Hair like dark, oily foam hung free down to her shoulders, but it was the smile that caught Lois Lane's attention. The damnable Mona Lisa half-smile beneath those bright burning white eyes and dark horns.

"Finally," Blaze spoke, in a husky voice with a strange, exotic accent. "Someone worth fucking."

With both hands, Blaze reached down and stretched her cunt lips apart...and if Lois Lane expected a hot, wet tunnel, she saw instead a gaping chasm of madness. There was no cervix. It was a fleshy tunnel marked by small pink tendrils and blunted black teeth, and in the darkness at the end of it stars glimmered.

Lois Lane swallowed hard. Her cock had grown with every conquest, and the demonic influence of it had grown as well. Her scrotum hung to her knees, each testicle felt like a cannonball wrapped in chickenskin, throbbing with **** need. The dick, when limp, might have touched the floor; but raging hard, it stood in front of Lois like bowsprit of a ship.

Her heart hammered. Deep inside of her, the churning pressure of billions, perhaps trillions of sperm begged for release. Lois Lane stared into the mons of madness, and felt the terrible draw to just bury herself in there and let go until her whole being was sucked into the vast spiritual abyss at the core of Blaze's being.

Then she thought of Superman. That perfect ass. The ass that would be hers some day.

The rest was easy.

No well-oiled key ever slid so confidently into a lock. Blaze's chirrup of surprise as Lois Lane bottomed out in that gaping cunt-hole was as nothing to her shock when the reporter grabbed each crimson tit in one hand and pulled her ass back for another thrust. She **** her tongue in the devil's mouth, and for the first time in her existence, Blaze grabbed for the arms of her throne as if to anchor herself against a coming storm.

Perhaps her toes even curled.

Lois Lane plunged her priapic prick in and out of that pussy like a woman possessed—which in truth, Lois realized, she was. Her hips jerked mechanically, but it was some other **** that guided her so that the swollen head of her massive glans scraped here and there inside of Blaze. That **** her to reach for the back of the demon's knee and chew on the lobe of the demon's ear. That knew all of Blaze's weak spots and made the scarlet succubus pant...and moan.

Even as Lois Lane approached the last of her endurance, giving herself entirely to the driving **** that wielded her inhuman prick with such consummate lover's skill, she held on to that one image. It was her lifeline, her anchor, the one thing that kept her from losing her humanity in an eruption of cosmic virility.

When Blaze's cry came. When the cunt-tunnell seemed to collapse around her prick. When the thunder shook the whole building. Lois Lane felt something wrench itself out of her.

The mere human woman fell back, onto her ass...and for a moment she saw locked in carnal congress a yellow demon, his tongue twined with Blaze's, his balls spasming as they unleashed what they both wanted into that crimson cunt. Then the vision faded, they shrank out of sight.

Lois Lane was left alone, pantsless, as all the now-human women came once more to themselves. Dully, the reporter stared between her legs...and with a smile, noticed that she had been left with a little present.

Her fingers touched her new cock delicately. Licked her lips. She thought of Superman's ass. How many nights she had wanted to put on a strap on and pound that Kryptonian pucker, to hear him moan, to grab his dick and feel him spurt out over her fingers.

Lois licked her lips. She found her feet, now with new energy. She was going to get these women to safety, get her interviews, her story, and then...

"Superman," she whispered. "Your ass is mine!"

It was a night out that Lois Lane would always remember. The one that changed her life, and Superman's, forever.