End: Lois Resists

The finger against the reporter's clit burned. Lois Lane's lips sealed around the strap-on, which muffled her scream as the burn spread outward to engulf her labia, her pelvis, her ass, to race upward along her nerves towards her stomach and down through her thighs. Cells tore, divided, reorganized and rebuilt themselves.

To make her thiccer.

Muscle and fat padded onto the reporter's ass. Boyish hips stretched. Thighs thickened as new muscle fibers wove themselves around bones that began to slowly swell, heavier and stronger to take the added weight. The burn reached the reporter's calves, and it was like ten thousand reps of some hellish exercise tore her legs apart and built them back up again, plump and strong.

Yet what worried Lois Lane, more than the way her abs and breasts shifted and swelled, were the lines of pain that traveled up her spine. The terrible heat that built up in her brain. The way she could almost feel those burning fingers tear into her grey matter and reshape things, even though that should have been impossible.

Lois Lane fought. Even though her body remained paralyzed during her reshaping, her mind and soul resisted the intrusion. Fought to retain the parts of herself as things slipped from hr mind. Cares. Worries. Memories. As the once slim and proper reporter became something softer, sexier, uninhibited, and compliant. All that was Lois Lane raged invisibly against this terrible alteration of who and what she was.

Then the finger left her clit, and the burning heat vanished.

Friends and family who saw the new Lois Lane would scarcely have recognized her now. The black hairy, shiny and sleek, was longer; the once trim torso was now plump, with a small pot belly above wide hips, a dumptruck ass, and thick thighs. Heavy, jiggly, natural breasts that the small-breasted Lois could only dream of shimmied and swayed beneath her as plump licks eagely sucked on the strap-on, **** for more of that jizzy goodness.

A hot hand smacked the former reporter's ass, which caused a way to travel over her bouncy booty, and Lois moaned appreciatively around the dildo in her mouth.

"Good slut," the voice behind Lois Lane said. "I think I'm going to take your new body for a test fuck."

Something pressed against Lois Lane's fat pussy. Hard and hot, a spike of pure fire that threatened to pierce her to the core...and Lois exploded, just from that insertion, her whole body shivered in orgasmic excess, so sensitive that just the sensation of sticking it in was enough to set her over the edge.

Which was all the worse because, deep inside the fat slut she had become, the real Lois Lane still fought. Trapped inside a bimbo as a hot cock pumped into her pussy and her whorish mouth sucked on Valeria's strap-on. Unable to stop herself as her body moved of its own accord, driven by the surface personality that had been overlaid onto her.

It was a kind of hell that Lois Lane had never imagined...and this night out was only her first night imprisoned within her new flesh. To stare out from now unfamiliar eyes as her old life was stripped for her...and all Lois could see to replace it were sapphic orgies, and utter sexual subjugation to the strange, Satanic figure that plowed her plump pussy.