End: The Demonic Reporter Cannot Resist Aisha's Ass

Lois Lane wavered for a second. Like a candle flame in a breeze. Perhaps her soul, stained with the demonic essence she had ingested through the ****, fought to overcome the urges that surged through her transformed body and mind. Yet in the end, as she stared at the trim brown legs, the soft brown cock...as she pictured the slutty little hole the transwoman hid beneath her scandalously short dress...the reporter lost the battle.

With calm deliberation, Lois Lane used the tips of her new claws to withdraw the stainless steel rod. It hit the floor with a musical tingle. The whole length of her dick throbbed, itchy and painful, **** to pour its jizz into the nearest warm receptacle.

Ignoring Maria, Lois flipped Aisha over and tore her dress away. The brown ass was round and plump, muscular and fit, evidence of ten thousand squats at the gym. As the dickgirl reporter pried apart those pert buttocks with her thumbs, she saw the lewd hole laid bare—and she smiled. It was a swollen crease, clean-shaven and freshly-cleaned. Aisha, apparently, was a veteran bottom that kept her ass ready to fuck.

It was time again.

The reporter spat into the quivering fuckhole, and watched her spittle disappear into the dark depths. Her thumbs pulled the ass apart as Lois lined up the swollen head of her crimson cock and then, shivering with barely-repressed urgency, she began to feed it in.

From her lair down below, the demon Blaze watched Lois Lane's downfall. That her two agents had been hurt, that one of them was even now having her asshole violently violated, concerned her not at all. The two sluts had done exactly as she had hoped. Fed Lois Lane's darker instincts. Pushed her beyond her inhibitions. Weakened the reporter to the point that Lois Lane herself would cast away her morality in the pursuit of pleasure.

With that sin, Blaze could feel her hooks sink deeper into Lois Lane's soul. The scarlet succubus watched as Lois pushed her cock in slowly, letting the saliva from her overgrown tongue drool down onto the ass to ease the passage. Blaze doubted that Aisha would shit blood tonight, and that **** on the reporter's part was the only thing that concerned Blaze. It meant that a part of the reporter remained untouched by her influence, caring enough not to simply tear the Black transwoman's asshole in a **** bid for her own pleasure.

More work to be done, Blaze thought, as she toised her loin-cloth aside and let scarlet fingers slide along a smooth-shaven red labia. The demon had her feet up on the desk, eyes fixed on the monitor as the reporter pushed her prick in deep enough that Aisha would feel it in her dreams. The reporter began to move, uncertaintly at first, but with ever-growing confidence and strength.

The eruption was too soon. A scarlet schlong tore out of Aisha's asshole, a hot grey drizzle painted the Black transwoman's back. Blaze's nostrils flared, almost as if she could smell that hot seed through the monitor. What that restroom must smell like now...blood and cum...the demon's lips peeled back to show her teeth.

Lois Lane rose. Aisha's face was planted on the floor, her knees beneath her, ass in the air, her dripping cock dangled below. Blaze saw the reporter pant, even as the Black woman's asshole spasmed. The dirty slut's dark cocklet shuddered and spat. Aisha had been caught in a wetdream.

The reporter, for her part, staggered backward, and seemed to shrink into herself. Blaze sighed as the reporter regained her mortal features, hands covering her nudity. The effect of the ****, even an overdose, were not permanent at first. It would take many more doses before Lois could maintain that form long enough for Blaze to enjoy it properly.

"But you will, Lois Lane," Blaze said as she brought a sticky finger up to her mouth to taste her own juices. "You will come back, on some other night out. You've had a taste of it now. You will want more. And when you do, you will be mine..."

But that is another story.