End: They Asked Me To

"There is an old legend," Blaze said. "That when the gods made humanity, they were too powerful, too perfect, with four arms, four eyes, four legs; so they split them in two, male and female, and ever after people have gone searching for their soulmates."

Lois stared at the creature before her. Four tongues reached out to lick the conjoined cunt.

"That's bullshit," the reporter said, evenly.

"Yes. The real history is much more complicated, and involves a bioengineered creature known as a shoggoth that received viral genetic programming that split itself into multiple gendered pairs at the chromosomal level, and became the default basis for all advanced sex-based life forms on Earth. The final line of the program literally translates as, 'Go forth and multiply.'"

"O...kay," Lois said and shook her head. "But what does that have to do with four women turning into one highly sexual shoggoth-like critter?"

The dickgirl sighed. "They were in love. Like, all of them. Some sort of lesbian polycule. They wanted to be closer to one another. Literally, one being. They were quite insistent about it. They can separate whenever they want, really. They just like being a single being masturbating mindlessly. You should see their bedroom."

"Bedroom?" Lois said, and wondered if being pregnant was already affecting her ability to do her job. She let one hand rest on her stomach, and felt the comforting fullness of Blaze's jizz. If Blaze could do this to them, who knew what she had already done to the reporter.

_Did I want to take her cock unprotected? Did I really beg for a baby? _Lois wondered, as Blaze skirted around the mass of masturbating woman-flesh toward a curtained doorway she hadn't seen before. Did Blaze make my desires come true, or do I just get fucked because she wanted me to? Is there any way for me to even tell if she's screwed with my mind?

Through the curtain, Lois found...well, what looked like four college dorm rooms with the walls knocked out. There was a sunken pit filled with bedding, a flatscreen television silently playing two tanned and busty, were locked in a frantic 69. One corner was set up with an easel, several canvases with near-photorealistic vulvas and naked models stacked against the wall. In another was a microphone, bass guitar, and synthesizer. The back half of the room was taken up with a kitchenette and a very large shower, with four different bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

"I think sometimes they do split off, at least for a little while," Blaze said. "But so far, they've just been happy...doing their thing."

"But...they had lives, families, classes at university..." Lois Lane said.

"All of which they can get back to, if they want to," the dickgirl said with a shrug. "I'm a demon of desire, not a monster. There's a certain monkey's paw effect of turning your desires against you, but I can't **** people to be unhappy. They're...self-actualized."

Lois Lane shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I need a drink."

"Not good for pregnant women," Blaze said as she caught the reporter's elbow and guided her back, away from the pulsing mound of woman-flesh and back toward the bar. "Coffee?"

"Sure, maybe an iced coffee—wait a minute," Lois said crossly. "So you can distort desires?"

"A bit," Blaze admitted, as they returned to the bar area. Lois hardly smelled the sweat anymore, but the heat in the bar area made her perspire. She wanted a shower. Fresh clothes. A cock to fuck her to sleep and be there when she was awake.

That last thought made her narrow her eyes.

"What did you do to me?" The reporter said as Blaze slipped behind the bar and fiddled with glasses and ice cubes.

"We fucked. I got you pregnant. You were fantastic, by the way. I can hardly wait to do it again," Blaze said.

"But why!?" Lois Lane insisted, as the iced coffee was slid in front of her.

The demonic dickgirl looked the reporter in the eyes for the first time in a long time. The dark pupils seemed to retreat, and Lois Lane stared at two pure white eyes, without pupil or iris, that seemed almost windows into some perfect white space.

"That legend I told you at the beginning about soulmates—it isn't completely bullshit. Once, we were all part of something greater. Forever after, we seek that other part of ourselves. The complementary spirit, if you will. The one that will make us whole. The ladies you went looking for took that rather literally. I'm...a bit more romantic about the whole business."

She reached out to caress the reporter's arm, across the bartop.

"Deep in your heart, you wanted sex, love, a relationship, a baby. The biological clock tick-tick-ticking away, all those societal pressures telling you to get married, get knocked up. But beyond that...you wanted it. For you. Because you've been so lonely, waiting for Superman. As lonely as I've been. But together...we don't have to be lonely anymore."

The demon's thumb rubbed the reporter's hand. Lois felt her heart thump in her chest. She took a sip of her iced coffee, the mingled bitter and sweet dampened by the welcome coldness. For a moment, Lois Lane tried to look inside of herself. Tried to decide what she really wanted.

Then she sighed. Her pussy ached in that way that it sometimes did, when she'd had sex for the first time in a long time. Sore, pleasantly so, but wanting more. Once was not enough to scratch the itch.

"We can...be date. Friends with benefits. Lovers. Fuck, I want your cock inside of me," Lois blurted out. "But I'm not your whore, you understand? If I drain your balls every morning, it's because I wake up and feel the need for a mouthful of cock. And I expect loyalty. Monogamy. Your dick is mine and mine alone. And I want help with the baby. Regular sex is good for pregnant women, so I want my pussy wet and dripping with your spunk. Why am I talking so dirty?"

"There's a little truth serum in the iced coffee," Blaze said. "Well, they call it a truth serum, really it just removes your inhibitions so you tend to say what's on your mind. In any event, I accept. Gladly. Completely. Your cunt is mine, and my cock is yours. Always."

Lois Lane chewed her lower lip. This was all going so...oddly smooth. She couldn't tell if it was whatever was in the **** iced coffee or not.

"How do I trust you?" the reporter asked.

"Sweetmeat, I don't even trust myself around you," Blaze said evenly. "We'll just have to try, won't we? I think a good start would be to go back to your place and dump another load of fresh hot jizz in that hungry cunt of yours. I'm aching to feel you around me again."

Lois Lane's cheeks were flushed as, once they were suitably dressed for the outside, they left the club. Blaze beckoned a cab and held the door open for her, then squeezed in next to the freshly-impregnated reporter as Lois gave the address for her apartment.

All through the car ride, Blaze whispered. She held her hand on Lois Lane's knee and talked about the things she wanted to do to Lois...and the reporter, for her part, found herself blurting out the things she wanted Blaze to do to her.

Yet in her mind, the reporter saw those four women, that great mass of flesh, that strange anatomy...and she wondered when and where Blaze's strange powers had distorted her desires. Cast her thoughts back over the events of the night, to all the decisions she had made, some so out of character for her. Thought of all the paths she hadn't taken, that couldn't be taken now...