End: Pathetically

"O-oh..." Angelica Blaze said.

There was something about the way she said it. The quaver in her voice. The way the dickgirl's shoulders slumped, and the eager eyes suddenly became downcast, to not meet the reporter's gaze. All the confidence seemed to go out of Blaze, like a popped balloon, and the dickgirl stared down at her massive throbbing erection with an expression that Lois couldn't fathom.

"It's because of my dick, isn't it?" Angelica Blaze said softly. "My stupid donkey dick. It's so big. If only I was normal...just a pussy...but instead I've got this massive, ugly thing."

"It's not ugly," Lois Lane said, more out of reflex than anything else. In truth, just looking at the thing made her pussy hurt. It looked like the kind of schlong that would turn a woman inside out. Do some permanent damage.

"It is!" Blaze sobbed, and the dickgirl stepped backward, away from the reporter, her huge cock hard as an iron bar in front of her, a bead of pre-cum at the very tip. "This always happens! I meet someone who's intelligent, and funny, and beautiful and then she sees my dick and it just...scares her away!"

Internally, Lois Lane groaned. The words pity fuck crossed her mind—and if it wasn't for the note that she had written to herself, Lois probably would have done it.

"Look, Angie, I'm not saying I'll never fuck you—just not tonight! Too much has happened! I've been ****. I literally don't remember the last couple of hours. If we can just...do something else..." The reporter's mind desperately scrabbled for an alternative. She needed whatever information that Blaze could give her, but she couldn't let the dickgirl fuck her. There had to be a middle ground, a solution, a...

Lois Lane had an idea.

"Wait! I've got it. I know how we can fix your problem. You can feel my pussy wrapped around your cock, get off, and not fuck me!"

Angelica Blaze raised her head, and the confusion on her face was utterly unfeigned. She had absolutely no idea what was about to happen as Lois Lane took her by the hand and led her into the bathroom.

Pants off, seated on a towel draped over the edge of the bed, Blaze was still confused as Lois emptied most of a bottle of strawberry-flavored lube over the tumescent prick. On her knees, the foot-long schlong looked almost as thick as the reporter's wrist and as long as her forearm. The reporter had shed her robe and donned a pair of latex clubs as she rubbed the slightly pink lube into the veiny prick.

"Last year, I did a series of articles on long-distance relationships. Did some in-depth interviews with couples who kept in touch sexually even though they were thousands of miles apart, thanks to erotic chat roleplay, videos, sexting, and toys. As part of the process, I made this!"

The reporter held up a long black plastic tube. Lois unscrewed the top, to reveal a pale pink silicone mound moulded in the shape of a labia.

"It's my pussy! There's a company in Japan that makes custom molds. The idea is that you can give it to your partner so that they can feel like what it has sex with you, even if you aren't there. This is the deluxe model...self-heating, vibration....the works!" Lois said. "I, uh, never had any use for it until now, but I wanted to go through the process for my research. Now, I'm glad I did."

"I...don't know about this..." Blaze said, her face set in a frown.

"Relax! This is going to be great," the naked reporter said. "Here—I've got an idea that will make it easier for you."

Lois Lane slid the plastic tube between her thighs.

"Here...just sit tight..." Lois said as she turned around.

Carefully, the reporter guided the tip of the cock and guided it to the silicone slit. With her thighs tightly pressed together, she eased herself down into the dickgirl's lap...and, sure enough, Blaze's cock slowly slid into the pocket pussy. About halfway down, Lois touched the switch that turned on the heat and vibration elements, and felt the reciprocal buzz of the toy against her own pussy. It felt good to Lois...and she hoped, she really hoped, that it felt good for Blaze.

The dickgirl, for her part, was very quiet as the toy buzzed around her cock.

"How's that feel, baby?" Lois said, in her best sultry voice. "You like that pussy wrapped around your big, thick cock? Is it tight?"

"Yes," Blaze said after a moment's silence. The reporter could almost taste the confusion and disappointment in the dickgirl's voice, but at least there was none of that pathetic whining of earlier. Emboldened, Lois began to move. She grabbed the base of the toy in both hands for better grip and shakily stood up, then slid back down into the dickgirl's lap. It was an awkward movement, but the wet schlup-schluuup sounded promising. The reporter knew she just needed to get Angie in on the action.

"Grab my hips," Lois said. "Help me out. Set the pace. C'mon babe. I want to see you cum for me. Pump that pussy full."

Tentatively, the hands seized on the reporter's hips. As Lois continued to rise up and down, now the dickgirl helped her. Pushed and pulled. The reporter grinned and wondered what this maneuver was called. A modified Dutch rudder? Something like that.

With her back to Blaze, Lois could not see the dickgirl's face. The little veins that throbbed in the dickgirl's temple. The grimace as her face slowly screwed itself up. Yet the reporter could feel Blaze's hips begin to pump. She could see, at the hole at the bottom of the pocket pussy, the tip of Blaze's dick and knew the whole hard schlong was ensconced inside of it.

"That's it baby. You can do it," Lois encouraged, as her own labia pressed hard against the vibrations of the black plastic cone. "Cum for me! Pump me full of your jizz! Get my pussy pregnant!"

Lois wasn't sure where that last line had come from, the reporter never knew. It just seemed to fit the mood, the vibe that the pathetic dickgirl exuded. That air of desperation to dick down a real girl always carried a whiff of sexual inadequacy, and for men, at least, that was often tied to procreation. It wasn't enough to have the biggest dick, they wanted to blow the biggest loads, to knock up even the most barren pussy, just to prove they were virile.

For Angelica Blaze, it was too much.

There was a hard grunt...and then an explosion. Sulphorous clouds of black smoke and lightning erupted from Blaze's feet. The naked reporter was thrown off, and she had a brief, confused moment where she saw black sperm shoot out of the hole at the base of the pocket pussy...and then she hit the wall hard, her head bounced off of it, and when she hit the carpet she knew no more.

The light of dawn touched the ****, naked reporter. With it came wakefulness, and memory. She remembered now the night at the club. Her bet with Blaze. The amnesiac episode where the demon had come so close to seducing her...and Lois Lane realized that her clever solution had saved more than her pussy; it had saved her very soul.

Of Blaze, and Lois Lane's pocket pussy, there was no sign. Nothing more than scorch marks on the edge of the bed to show the devil had ever been here. Later, Lois Lane would find the women who had gone missing...amnesiac, trying to re-integrate into their old lives. In her interviews, Lois Lane would tell them they were probably the victim of human trafficking or date ****, and the women seemed to accept that.

Only Lois Lane knew the truth about them, and her night out. She wondered if Blaze still had her pocket pussy...and whether she still used it.