End: Meet Your New Pimp

Lois Lane blinked. "Pimp?"

Rose nodded. "I mean, she doesn't call herself that, but she's the one that arranges...things. So that people come to fuck me in the ass. Makes sure they're clean, that there's lube. Pays me to get check-ups, bleach jobs for my asshole...sometimes outfits..."

The reporter's heart sank...but her clitty felt hard. She could feel her own asshole tingle, the odd pins-and-needles sensation overtaking her as she thought about Rose getting their asshole bleached, and knowing that her own pucker was pink and clean now. The damned spell...yet somehow Lois found her heart going out to this little transwoman.

Maybe Rose is wrong, Lois thought to herself. Maybe their "pimp" is really just a "sugar mama." Either way, I should meet her...make sure Rose isn't being taken advantage of.

So Lois let Rose take her hand and lead her out through the club. A part of her wanted to lose herself to the beat, to the crush of the bodies. To grind her ass against some stranger's package, to...twerk.

Not that I've ever twerked in my life, the reporter reminded herself. She thought about how much smaller her ass had been. Never had anything to twerk with.

Not like now. Lois could actually feel the eyes follow her across the club, heads turning to see the big breasts tenting her plain white shirt, the big butt barely contained by her tight red pants, which couldn't quite hold them all, do that the crack of her ass showed to the crowd, cheeks jiggling...and if any of them saw her little clitty, stiff and pressing against the front of her pants in a distinctive bulge, well none of them said anything about it.

Rose led her to a door beside the bar. A gruff security type saw the transwoman and nodded, and Rose pushed through, dragging Lois behind. They ended up in what looked like an office corridor...most of the offices long discarded, the nameplates empty, the doors closed and dusty...but at the end of the corridor was a door that said MANAGEMENT on its brass plate, and Rose went up and knocked politely...and it opened.

Lois blinked, in the transition between the dark corridor and the brightly-lit office. The decor was a slightly shabby chic. The carpet was a rich, deep blue, but around the corners it had faded to gray from accumulated dust. The furniture was all quality, real wood...but the wood was scratched, and the upholstery looked worn. There was a small bar topped with black marble, covered with crystal glasses and bottles. Opposite that, a loveseat beneath some artistic print of the abduction of Ganymede in a gilt frame. Near the back wall was a massive slab of a desk, atop which sat a very modern-looking thin black laptop, and behind it...

"Hello Rose," the woman smiled as she rose. "Who's your friend?"

The woman had to be eight feet tall. At least, that was how it seemed to Lois. The reporter felt a familiar tingle all over her body, and when it was gone she was sure that she had lost a few inches of height, because the big bitch behind the desk seemed to loom over her. The black hair that cascaded down from her forehead fell in oily dark waves, like a lion's mane; she was dressed in a ripped black t-shirt that revealed long, thin, muscular arms, and ripped black jeans that showcased similarly long legs. Her breasts were small by comparison to her height, and her whole body gave an impression of lean power...like a human built on the scale of a greyhound. Dark eyes flashed as she looked over Lois approvingly, taking in the reporter's new wide hips and heavy breasts. The mouth was locked in a Mona Lisa smile.

"Lois," the reporter said when she found her voice. The reporter rallied. "Rose said you were...her pimp."

A hand rose to ruffle Rose's hair, and then brush affectionately against his cheek.

"It's true that I help get people together to fulfill their desires. I like to think of myself as a matchmaker, of sorts." Her dark eyes turned to Lois. "My name is Angelica Blaze. Why did you come here?"

The question was so direct, that Lois was almost tongue-tied.

"Rose said we could go somewhere to suck cocks, and get fucked in the ass together," the reporter said. Her clitty was so stiff it felt like it was actually leaking.

Angelica Blaze came out from around the desk, her dark eyes locked on the reporter's own violet gaze. Lois Lane felt, at that moment, no more than five foot three inches tall...and maybe that's what she was.

"But why did you come to the club?" Blaze pressed.

...and almost despite herself, Lois found herself burbling about the missing women she had come here to find. Angelica nodded, still smiling. Her hands reached out to stroke the reporter's hair.

"Well, Lois. I believe I can help you with that, if you desire it. But you need to help me with something too."

"What's that?"

Rose was behind Lois now. The transwoman's hands came to the reporter's waistband, tugging at her pants.

"She wants to fuck your ass," Rose said. Lois could hear the quivering passion in her new friend's voice.

Lois took a ragged breath. Her body was hot...unnaturally so. She wondered if she would even recognize herself in the mirror at this point. Her ever instinct as a bottom bitch was to bend over that desk right now and let this Angelica Blaze ream her ass until she shit blood...but some small protesting part of Lois Lane made her stare into Blaze's eyes and say:

"If I let you fuck my ass...you'll lead me to the missing women?"

"Oh yes," Blaze said. "If you so desire it."

There was the word...and Lois was under the spell of desire. A pins-and-needles sensation went through her brain. She did want to find the missing women. More than anything. And if she could get fucked in the ass at the same time? All the better.

Lois reached down and began to pull off her pants. Blaze unzipped her jeans, and Lois quivered at the sight of the long, skinny cock that was about to rail her. It did not look proportion to how tall the dickgirl was...but then Blaze was so tall that such a cock would have been as big as the reporter's forearm. The dick that Lois stared at now had to be at least eight inches long.

"Rose," Blaze said. "Help our friend."

Obediently, Rose sat on the floor, back against the desk. The transwoman was just tall enough that her open mouth was at the perfect height for Lois to thrust her clitty into it while bent over...and Angelica Blaze, opening a packet of lube from her pocket and greasing her dick with it, took her own position behind the transformed reporter.

As the lubed dick drove him in the reporter's depths, Lois Lane let out a moan. That was the beginning of the end of her evening out, though she didn't know it. The cock slid forward slowly, gauging the capacity of her ass, until the impatient reporter was nearly humping the dick, her clitty thrusting eagerly in and out of Rose's mouth. A strange sense of achievement came over the reporter when she felt those big hands spread the generous ass cheeks the spell had bestowed, and the big virile balls pressed against her own tiny little grapes.

Lois Lane knew, as Blaze moved her hips, that she hadn't achieved quite everything that she had set out to do when she had come to the club this evening. Her investigation had taken its twists and turns, and the body she would walk out of here with would not be quite the one she came in with...yet as the eager little bitch beneath her soaked her stiff little clitty, and as Angelica Blaze began to move faster, her cock pushing so deep inside the reporter's hungry ass, Lois realized that she felt an odd sort of achievement anyway.

She was going to find the missing women. She had made new friends. Gotten the ass and breasts she'd always dream of. And she was sure, if she asked very nicely, that Angelica Blaze would cum in her ass and fuck her as much as she liked...

...and as the pins and needles sensation hit the reporter's brain for the last time, Lois Lane realized she wanted to get fucked in the ass like this a lot more often.