End: They Have Several Drinks...But Aisha Tags Along

"Oh no you bitches don't!" Aisha said. "Not without me! Gotta keep an eye on girlfriend here!"

Angelica smiled, but Lois noticed the smile stopped at her eyes. As if she wondered what Aisha's game was.

Liquor flowed. Lois Lane couldn't remember who had suggested they do shots. She remembered Angelica and Aisha matching each other, shot for shot. The transwoman had an incredible capacity for ****. The reporter made an aborted attempt to keep up, but hit her limit fairly quickly. Angelica's hands slid over the reporter's body, and Lois didn't push them away as they rubbed her crotch, slipped inside her shirt to squeeze her breast, to drink a shot of tequila from the reporter's mouth...and the reporter could feel her body heat up, pussy swamped, aching for something more than a few fingers.

The lights grew brighter and the music pounded as Lois Lane sank slowly toward the tabletop. Angelica kept pushing shots, Aisha bottled water, salty pretzels. The reporter's night shrank to a whirl of sweet and sour, fizzy and flat...and she wasn't aware, at the end, of the trip into the toilet, where her two new friends held the reporter's hair back as she worshipped the porcelain goddess.

Maybe it was the **** that made everything Lois saw seem to have an aura..or maybe it was something else. As she wiped the last dribble of vomit from her mouth, she turned her head and saw Angelica and Aisha confront one another.

Except neither was human.

Angelica Blaze had skin as red as fresh blood on parchment, dark horns that curled back from her forehead, small conical breasts with puffy pink nipples. Naked, she was whipcord thin, all steel and whalebone, no fat on her at all...yet jutting up from her crotch was a crimson cock as big as any prick Lois Lane had ever seen on a human.

Aisha was naked too, the chocolate skin gleamed like a freshly-brewed cup of coca before the milk was poured in, and it darkened down to coffee-brown at her cock, which, though smaller than Blaze's, was firmly erect and pressed against the scarlet boner. There was something more human and natural about AIsha's proportions; a softness that made her breasts a little larger and hang a little lower, that added a flre to her hips and a jiggle to her buttocks. Yet her eyes were pure white without iris or pupil, and they glowed from within with a golden light.

"You will not have her!" Aisha's voice was firm. "She is not yours to defile, whore of hell!"

"You cannot stop me, little angel," Blaze snarled. "She is ripe and ready to be plucked."

Cock strained against cock, and the drunken reporter's eyelids grew heavy as she saw the sweaty schlongs strain one against another. The precum flowed freely from their twin pricks, and Lois bit her lower lip and slid a hand down the waistband of her pants as she watched their fluids mingle...their balls crush and squirm. Above, the two figures pressed their foreheads against one another, and sparks flashed from their mouths as they traded barbs...and it seemed to Lois that maybe Blaze was stronger, but Aisha was playing for time...holding out to the limit of her endurance...waiting...for..some...thing...

Lois Lane awoke, fully clothed, on her own bed. Her head pounded. Mouth tasted like something had died in it. Tongue fuzzy. She moved...and that was a mistake, as she rolled off the bed, and her stomach immediately revolted. As the reporter crawled toward the toilet, she noted that she was alone...but a note had been pinned to her shirt with a safety pin.

Lois,
Be careful whom you drink with. You were lucky I was there last night.
Your guardian angel,
Aisha

The reporter's brow furrowed. She didn't remember telling Aisha her real name...but then, she didn't remember anything after she passed out. Not coming home, alive and apparently unfucked. The reporter shook her head, her body making much more immediate demands. A part of her felt she had escaped a terrible fate last night...but she also knew she had failed her mission, and not found those missing women

There was nothing else for it. Lois Lane knew she needed another night out.