End: Sodomy & Sorcery

Lois Lane was sore and dripping as she took Black Alice's hand and led her into the club. Unprepared for what awaited them.

The orgy, and the ritual, was already in progress.

Tables and chairs had been cleared from the room. The bar had been draped in black to serve as an altar. Red shades hung over the ceiling lamps gave every naked body a lurid glow. A woman, naked, tall and lithe and stately in her nudity stood behind the bar. Dark horns curled back from her head, and overshadowed eyes that glowed from within; pure white eyes without pupil or iris. Dark hair flowed down to her shoulders in an oily waterfall, and her huge nipples stood out from her small breasts.

Kneeling before her were four naked women. Asses in the air. Behind them, four men pounded their assholes. Behind them, in even lines, more naked men stood, cocks hard. Masked and naked acolytes with their heads and hands locked in boards crawled on their knees between them, sucking dick after dick, keeping them hard so that they could blow their loads into the sweaty, gaping assholes of the four women who kneeled before the demon's altar.

On that altar, which was littered with ritual elements—chalice, dagger, a plate of stolen hosts splattered with semen, a phallic wand carved out of some ancient ivory—lay a worn, leatherbound book. One scarlet finger traced a line as the horned figure read aloud, in a breathy voice that seemed to shake Lois Lane's rib cage, while the other hand was held upward in some mystic gesture that looked more appropriate for fingerbanging some coed than orchestrating some occult rite.

"And they shall be brides of Hell, and through unnatural acts they shall conceive dark children, born as no mortal babe is born, but from the mouths of inestimable foulness, whores of Satan who will become as devils themselves, their bodies doorsteps through which the Elder Evils will enter this work...Iä, Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!"

"Iä, Shub-Niggurath!" the men all chanted in unison, and Lois saw the veins on their cocks grow darker and stand out from their pricks. The men currently plowing the assholes of the demon's disciples seemed to shrink and wither, until they were drained corpses who collapsed into dust as their life forces burst deep into the hungry asses of the devilish women who had given themselves to this task.

Except, Lois Lane noted, the women hadn't. Their wrists were handcuffed behind their backs, heads collared and chained through loops in the floor, their legs kept spread by more chains and bars set between their knees and ankles. They were not willing participants in this rite at all; they were sacrifices.

The demon turned the page and and the line shuffled forward, the next men eagerly plunging their pricks into the asses that had just consumed the lives of their fellows. Lois Lane shook her head. Men were so stupid...and fortunately, the participants were all too caught up in their fucking and sucking to notice the two mostly-clothed women at the back.

"That's Blaze!" Black Alice gestured at the demon. "What's the plan?"

"Strip!" Lois Lane whispered back, as she pulled off her own clothes. "Use your magic to distract Blaze! I'll grab the book!"

How the reporter was supposed to do that, she wasn't sure. On her knees, however, one more naked crawling figure at the edges of the ceremony was basically unheeded. She crept close to the wall, moved with slow but determined purpose, as if she was supposed to...and no one seemed to heed her. Lois Lane's eyes were fixed on the end of the bar, where the black drapery ended.

At the back of the room, the eighteen-year-old Black Alice sifted through her options. Her unique gift was to borrow, for a brief time, the supernatural powers of another. Mind and spirit felt out the possibilities. Alice knew she could take the powers of Blaze herself—or some other powerful demon like Etrigan—the angelic and terrifying Specter—or Captain Marvel, sometimes called Shazam—but then a thought came into her mind. A dark, sneaky little thought inspired by the demon's incantations. The naked young woman stood at the back of the room, legs spread wide, threw her arms up, and opened her body, mind, and soul to that vast, ancient darkness that still lingered in the darkest parts of the woods, that leaped from hill to hill when the stars were right, that spread her dark young far and wide.

Lois Lane had no occult sensitivity. Yet even she could feel the current in the room change. Blaze's voice faltered in her reading, a ripple of groans went through the naked crowd as every cock suddenly grew super hard, every pussy suddenly went wet—even Lois Lane's. She stared down between her legs and cold horror went through the reporter as she saw black blood drip from her pussy, her abdomen cramping as during a period, and a terrible sexual heat flushed through her entire body.

Then a roar like a wounded animal giving birth shook the room. Lois glanced toward Black Alice...and saw an immense, tentacled thing, inchoate and growing. Goat-like yellow eyes burst open like sores along long pink limbs that reached for the nearest cultists and dragged them toward one of the gaping fang-filled vaginas that sprung up on the wide, woody trunk. Heavy legs, dark with fur and ending in monstrous hooves smashed down as the thing dragged its bulk forward, its manifold tentacles drawing screaming naked men and women into its cunt-gullets.

Blaze stood shocked and unprepared as she faced Shub-Niggurath herself.

Shaking herself out of her shock, Lois Lane grabbed the dark drapery and pulled. Book, wand, chalice, and everything else were carried along as the reporter pulled the cloth back toward her. The demon hardly notice. The scarlet figure cleared the bar in a single leap, black lightning flaring from her horns.

"Goddess! Cease! I did not invoke thee here! Go back to the shadows! Your time is not yet..."

The massive black trunk of Shub-Niggurath/Black Alice seemed to split down the middle. For a moment, Lois Lane was dazzled by a color she could not name, a light so bright that even when she shut her eyes she could still see the after-images of it. Lois felt sick and weak from the sight, her knees crumpled and she vomited onto the black folds of cloth as her nipples began to spontaneously ooze black drops from throbbing breasts. Lois Lane had stared into the gash of a dark god, and even caught indirectly in the wash of that terrible corruption threatened to scar her body, mind, and spirit forever.

Yet Blaze? The demon had leaped directly in front of Shub-Niggurath. Had received the full **** of that terrifying sight. The sickly light had burned through her body in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only a greasy stain that smelled of burnt hair and cum.

Dumbly, still pulling at the cloth, Lois felt the leather book fall in her hand—and then the form of Shub-Niggurath shuddered and collapsed in on itself.

Black Alice stood naked, puking, mascara running down her unseeing eyes, drenched in the blood and piss and cum of those cultists that the dark goddess had consumed in her briefest of appearances. The only persons intact, besides Lois Lane and Black Alice, were the four sacrifices that had been chained to the floor—and chained in such a way that, facing the bar, they had not seen that terrible light at all.

"I...I think, hurk," Alice folded over as a black drizzle oozed from her lips. "That was not my best plan."

"It worked," Lois Lane said, when she could speak again.

They left the club with bodies and sanities mostly intact. The Magdalene Grimoire had been reclaimed, Blaze and her cult had been defeated, the missing women—who were the ones chained to the floor and violently sodomized as sacrifices for Blaze's unspeakable rite—were rescued. Killer Croc had left when the screaming had begun. Deadman appeared with clothes, and told them that the police and various sorcerers and mystics were on their way to heal their bodies and cleanse this place of its evil taint.

Lois Lane, who leaned against the naked young Black Alice, stared down at her own body and frowned as Deadman spoke. The blood on her thighs had already dried into a black scab, but her nipples oozed and breasts throbbed, and there was a weird sensation in her pelvis, like a cramp...and she hoped, fervently, there were no mystic consequences to her night out.

Yet only time would tell.