End: Lois Offers To Give Her Superman

The sun beat down. The sand burned. If at the beginning of her night out Lois Lane could see would she looked like now, she would not have recognized herself.

The pale skin had burned a dark bronze, against which the obscene black tattoos stood out starkly. The piercings in her nipples and labia tugged at her flesh. Her bald head, intricately decorated, her slim, shapely body writhing in the sands as the sorceress Circe tortured her pussy and clit continually, never allowing her t rest yet never allowing her to cum either...no, the Lois Lane at the end of this long night out more resembled some ****-girl from the fantasies of Haroun al-Raschid and George Lucas.

Lois Lane had never imagined her will would break down so quickly. That she would so soon abandon everything she believed it. That sexual frustration would drive her to the brink of madness...and perhaps, if not for Circe's magic, Lois could have held out longer. Her iron will and fiery spirit would reassert itself. Some flicker of hope would break her free from the haze of lust that clung to her mind and tortured her body and soul.

Except the witch Circe's magic was strong...they worked deep into Lois Lane's body and soul. For long lonely hours, the demon Blaze kept all things mortal and immortal, natural and supernatural from interrupting Circe. The false sun overhead never wavered as time within that timeless space grew elastic. Circe could keep the reporter prisoner here for the space of a night, but to Lois Lane that night could stretch out for months...years...weaving herself into Lois Lane's mind. Until at last, Lois hardly knew herself when she made the final offer:

"Please...I'll...I'll help you get Superman...anything...anything...just let me cum!"

Hazel eyes burned with green flame—a flame that spread along the black tattoos, along the brand across the reporter's crotch—and in that moment Lois Lane convulsed, unable even to howl as all the pent-up orgasms denied to her began to play out, one after another...her brain unable to process anything as her whole body grew rigid like a cataleptic, white froth at her lips, violet eyes rolled up inside her head, pussy squirting and squirting into the thirst sands, and Circe's tongue continued to play inside her pussy, stretching out the reporter's pleasure as long as her **** had been.

When Lois Lane's night was finally ended, the exhausted woman would be Circe's ****, body and soul—the bait in the sorceress' plot to trap the Man of Steel. A plot that the demon Blaze had been happy to help orchestrate, for Superman was ever her implacable foe.

Lois lay there on the sands, unable to control her body as the aftershocks of her climaxes rocked her transformed body. Her head lay in Circe's lap, as the sorceress wove the glamour that would hide her changes until such a time as it was appropriate to reveal them.

"Rest, little slut," Circe cooed as nightmare merged with wet dream in Lois Lane's fevered sleep. "For tomorrow comes your great betrayal!"

Yet that is another story; this is only the story of Lois Lane's night out...and all the twists and turns that led her from being the Daily Planet's greatest reporter to the pierced, tattooed **** of the wickedest witch in the world.