End: Make Lois Live With Giant Tits Forever

The world blurred around Lois Lane. She felt for a moment as if she was falling. Nothing beneath her feet. No rope holding her up, no weights pulling her down. Just falling forward, dragged down by the weight of her massive mammaries.

Except...Circe clung to her. One hand buried between the reporter's thighs. Fingers pressed into the wet crease of Lois Lane's cunt. Arm wrapped around the reporter's midsection, just beneath those huge, nearly spherical tits. Lips blew a hot breath into the reporter's ear.

Until the world resolved itself, and Lois found her knees crash onto her own carpet, in her own bedroom. The reporter looked up and saw she knelt before the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Only now, the mirror was too thin to reflect all of her tits. The huge, taut juggs, nipples tiny bumps, areolae the size of dinner plates they had been grotesquely stretched so far—and the edges of her breasts were too wide for the frame.

"Look," Circe whispered, as she rested her chin on the reporter's shoulder. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I'm a freak," Lois heard her voice, small and weak. "A big-titted freak. I'm bigger than most porn stars. I look ridiculous."

"You look beautiful," Circe said. "Magnificent. So many women, even given the chance, only wish to be...ordinary. Not you, Lois. Oh no. You wanted to go big!"

There was a joy in the sorceress' voice, and as she stared into the mirror, Lois saw lines of green fire extend from the sorceress. They crept through her closets, over the pictures on the wall.

"What are you doing?" Lois asked, as her face flushed. The sorceress' fingers had never stopped plunging in and out of the reporter's pussy. Finger-fucking her. The quim quivered as Lois strove to repress a moan.

"Changing your bras, your shirts, your pictures. I'm giving you a gift, Lois. A gift you like so much, that I'm tying it to your very soul. No more itty bitty titty committee for the Daily Planet's greatest reporter. No, you'll go to work in massive bras, and everyone will remember you with these huge honkers. You'll live the rest of your life with them, with the stress and jealousy, the back pain and neck pain, the random photographs and the avid fans, and..."

The sorceress let her arm fall. Both of her hands rubbed at the reporter's pussy now, doubled their ****. The green light in Circe's eyes burned as they met the reporter's in the reflection.

"Go on," Circe ordered. "Play with your tits. I want to see you cum."

Lois Lane lifted her hands. The heavy hangers juttered out, unnaturally high and swollen. Her back and neck did already ache. She could feel the weight of them. Yet her hands were drawn to her tiny nipples. She bit her lip as she touched and tugged the tiny, stiff, super-sensitive little teats. It felt good. Good enough that Lois grew rougher. Began to paw at her breasts as her hips rolled, to lean into how Circe rubbed her pussy.

Until Lois began to moan openly. To shake and shiver. To let herself go...

...and it did not occur to her until some time later, after Circe had kissed her farewell, to realize that there had been no compulsion behind the sorceress' order. That Circe had told her to do something, but that Lois had followed that order of her own volition. Had cum in front of the other woman simply because she was a big-titted slut and had desperately wanted to cum.

That might have been the scariest part of Lois Lane's night out. Not just the surrender, the lack of control...but the realization of how much she had enjoyed it.

Elsewhere, in her lair, the demon Blaze glowered at her scrying mirror. Wherever she looked, there was no image of Lois Lane. The scarlet succubus snarled, and wondered whose power was strong enough to block her own...and glowered as she realized that whomever it was, she had no desire to contest the right to torment Lois Lane with them. Not yet, anyway.