End: Poison Ivy Juices Blueberry Lois Lane

"Oh, I'm gonna juice you," Poison Ivy said—and there was something about the tone of her voice, the way she said it, that made the reporter suspect that this was Ivy's goal all along.

Trapped in her juice-filled flesh, Lois was helpless as Ivy pushed her out of the hammock. The world spun as Ivy rolled Lois away, as if she was a barrel.The reporter felt utterly helpless. Worse, her blue skin was super-sensitive. She felt the heat of Ivy's palms. Every bump and shock sent an erotic thrill through her swollen body. Lois had never thought of herself as a submissive, but the utter lack of control, which should have been terrifying, felt oddly...exciting.

Great Caeasar's ghost, I'm wet, Lois realized, as her swollen pudenda leaked, and her toes curled. Lois bit her lip to keep from moaning as Ivy rolled her into a small barn or large shed...

...and there was the juicer.

It looked a bit like an old wine press that Lois had seen in France. A giant wooden vat, and above it, the huge mass of the press and screw. A low ramp led up to the lip of the vat, and Lois was rolled up this.

"Don't worry," Ivy said. "I did some experiments on other women lately. Never took any of them this far, but I'm almost sure it'll work this time."

"Other women—the missing women!" Lois gasped. "What did you do to them?"

She caught a flash of Ivy's face as the plant-villain pushed the reporter up the ramp. There was a smug grin on her face.

"Oh, you'll see—if you survive," Ivy said.

Then Lois was pushed over the lip, and she slid into the wooden vat, to come to rest on her back. It smelled oddly sweet, fruity, with that slight hint of vinegar that Lois associated with old wine.

Lois was unprepared when the naked Ivy slipped inside the vat with her. The reason soon became apparently. Stout leather cuffs were secured to the reporter's protruding hands and feet, and secured to rings set in the walls of he vat. The reporter could not see, but could feel, a large tube pressed against her pussy. So sensitive was the swollen reporter at this point, that a little shiver of ecstasy shook the reporter's whole body at this small stimulation. Before she climbed out, Ivy knelt by the reporter's head and pressed her lips against Lois Lane's.

"This is going to be amazing," Ivy promised, before she left.

Then the screw began. The great wooden mass of the press slowly descended. Panic set in. Yet with her hands and feet bound, Lois Lane couldn't even rock in place. Just wait as the wooden surface got lower...and lower...to press against the topmost point of the reporter's swollen berry body. The pressure must have been immense, if gentle, and Lois wondered if this was how she was going to die. To burst like a grape, crushed to ****.

Except something else happened. As the immense pressure pushed down on her, something in Lois Lane's body shifted. A familiar sense of anticipation throughout her entire juice-filled body. As the pressure grew and grew, so did the erotic sensation. Her pussy pressed harder against the tube, and Lois began to gasp.

Then moan.

Then scream.

The climax ripped through the reproter's body. Something burst inside of her. The swollen pussy opened, and a deluge of blue juice flowed out of her cunny, first a trickle, and then a stream...and still the press descended, turn after turn, as liter after liter of juice was squeezed out of the reporter's cunt.

Later, Lois Lane would not be able to recall individual orgasms. Just one long, drawn-out climax. her super-sensitive body reacted to the terribly cloying pressure like a lover's caress. Teased beyond endurance, the chain of orgasms went on and on...and as the juice flowed out from her body, the swollen flesh gently retreated. Her arms and legs re-emerged as the blueberry-flesh shrank. By the time the press had reached nearly the bottom of the vat, and it pressed into the reporter's cheek, head turned aside, the reporter was back to almost her old proportions.

Then, just as slowly as it began, the screw reversed itself. The press began to lift. Lois Lane panted in the dark, shivered, exhausted, dehydrated, and swimming in the euphoria of the most intense erotic experience of her life.

Ivy slipped into the vat, when the press had retreated enough to allow it. She grinned in the dark, her naked, lithe body shook with excitement as she undid the bonds that held Lois in place.

"Darling, you were wonderful!" Ivy said as she hefted the limp and helpless reporter up and lifted her over the edge of the vat, back onto the ramp. Lois panted there, as her eyes adjusted to the light. Dimly, she realized that her body, though back to its old proportions, was still very, very blue.

"Now," Ivy said as she climbed out. "You'll need to drink something. And we'll have to set you up with a schedule...you'll need to be juiced regularly so that you don't go full berry again."

Lois Lane raised her head and looked quizzically at the villain...but Ivy was off to the side, where a great clear vat was filled with gallons of blue fluid. With a spigot, Ivy drained off a few mouthfuls into a glass, her pale green ass hovered just above her bare heels.

Blueberry juice, Lois recognized. The redhead tossed her hair back to gulp it down, with a look of utter satisfaction.

"Delicious," Ivy said. She licked her lips. "I do so like it...fresh from the source..."

That is how, on Lois Lane's night out, her life as a blueberry and her relationship with Poison Ivy began. In time, she would hear the details of Ivy's experiments, discovered what had happened to the missing women, and even adjust to a life of regular juicings. For now...she merely moaned weakly as the other woman dipped her head down to Lois Lane's pussy and sucked hard...and was rewarded with a tiny trickle of blue juice.