End: Your Soul

And there it is, Lois Lane thought.

"You sold your soul," the reporter said. "For a pair of tits."

"Big tits," Jenny Dunlap said. "And they're going to get bigger. As big as I want!"

Lois Lane stood up. Sweat dripped off of her own small breasts. Dizzy with the heat, she leaned for a moment on the breeding bench. She had everything she needed.

"I hope they were worth it," was all the reporter said, as she turned and left.

The reporter stumbled as she returned to the club. The topless women looked different to Lois now. They moved through all the motions of life, but their eyes were dead. Something vital was missing. Angelica Blaze waited for Lois at the entrance, holding the topless reporter's clothes.

"Leaving so soon?" the tall woman said, her eyes flashing momentarily pure white, without pupil or iris. "I had hoped you would be joining us."

"I don't think I can afford to join your little club," Lois said, lips dry, mouth and throat aching. "And I certainly don't have any interest."

That damn Mona Lisa smile twisted the tall woman's mouth. She extended her arms with Lois Lane's clothes to her.

"Now, you know that isn't true. I saw you in there. You want what those women have. The freedom, the power, the pleasure..."

Some instinct screamed at Lois. She walked past the demon—for she was sure now that Blaze had to be a demon, or some kind of magician or metahuman—not even taking back her clothes. Determined to take nothing from Blaze as she stumbled out through the black door...and almost collapsed, retching violently, watery bile pouring out of her mouth as she shook with thermal shock. It was like walking out of an oven and into a freezer, and the reporter shivered, half-naked and covered with sweat.

It took several minutes for Lois to finish...but when she did, she felt better. Hugging her breasts to cover her nipples, the reporter staggered away from the Black Door, already planning how she would get home, write her story, probably contact Superman...her night out might have been effectively over, but the shivering, dehydrated reporter knew there were things she had just begun.

Because there had been some truth to that temptation. Lois had felt the yearning for a child, for sex, and yes, for big fat titties. Except those were things she could get for herself, through her own efforts. She didn't need Blaze for any of that.

In the club, the demon sighed..and carefully tore the reporter's clothes into shreds. Leather and cloth wove and re-wove themselves, until what had been Lois Lane's clothes became a knotted doll in the image of Lois Lane herself. The demon's eyes burned, and her smug smile widened a little to show pointed teeth. Lois Lane might have overcome the temptations Blaze had put in her path...but that didn't mean that she couldn't still be of use to the demon.

Yet that is another story...