Epilogue: Help Me

They kissed goodbye, when Angelica Blaze left the next morning...and Lois Lane went about her day. The business of living, as her father called it: the bedsheets reeked of sex, and Lois stripped the bed and carried them downstairs to the building's laundry center. Now that the excitement of the evening was over, and she was hauling a load of laundry down the stairs, the reporter could feel her body talking to her. Muscles ached pleasantly, and her pussy felt sore and a little raw inside her panties.

"You're not getting any younger, Lois Lane," the reporter told herself. That set her thoughts on a different path. It was true, she was in her early thirties...she would only get less fertile, year after year, less able to carry a baby to term, and have a harder time keeping up with them when they started running around. She thought of all the sperm still swimming around in her snatch...and a part of her hoped that she was pregnant.

After loading the washer, the reporter took out her phone and checked her email, scanned a few headlines. Sightings of Superman were up this morning, which meant he was probably back from outer space. The Joker had drawn a giant penis on the White House lawn. Bit of religious hysteria over an upcoming total lunar eclipse...

The boom shook the building. The signal on her phone dropped to zero.

Lois was on her feet before the shaking stopped. Back up to her apartment, where she had her wallet, laptop, television...and her balcony. The reporter took the stairs two at a time, aching sex-weakened legs screaming at her, the vigorous exercise shaking some of the semen still lodged deep inside her pussy loose, so that Lois could feel the wet streams running down her legs.

In her apartment, panting hard, Lois turned on everything, then threw open the glass door and stepped out...

There was a metahuman battle happening on the street below.

Her phone was out: still no signal, but she could take pictures, and did. Framing carefully as bursts of multicolored light zipped across her field of vision, Lois Lane tried to identify who was fighting. She recognized Superman, Wonder Woman, and Doctor Fate in the air; Zatanna and Green Arrow were on the ground...and their opposition she didn't recognize. A number of crimson figures, demonic in outline, dark horns and bursts of green flame and black lightning. It was a rolling battle, and Lois briefly lost sight of the figures as four of the cars on the street exploded...that would have been the kind of boom she had heard earlier.

The battle moved on, out of sight. Lois moved back into her apartment. She couldn't keep up with the battle, but she could start working on her copy for the evening edition...

There was a **** knock at her door...and then whoever was knocking tried the door and found Lois, in her haste, hadn't locked it. The door flew open and a smoking, red, half-naked figure with dark horns and a wild mane of black hair burst inside of the door and closed it behind her.

Lois Lane's first instinct was to reach for her nearest weapon...but there was something familiar about those crimson ass cheeks, the hair...and when the figure turned around and sagged against the door, all doubt was banished.

"Angelica," the reporter said as she recognized the dickgirl she had kissed goodbye barely a couple hours before.

"Lois," the demon tried on an unfamiliar smile, but it failed. "Help me?"

"Explain," Lois said.

She did. Quickly. Stress stripped away much of her confidence and calm, so Lois imagined she got rather more of the truth than she might have otherwise. The reporter's brain quickly assimilated the basic facts: demon of hell, supervillain, tried to steal some magical scepter with her brother, ran afoul of the Justice League, needed a place to hide and all she could think of was to come here.

"...I'm sorry," the scarlet succubus said as she finished. She was calmer now, and a bit of the Angelica Blaze that Lois had known last night showed through, although she still wore skin as red as fresh blood. "I know I shouldn't have come, I just...the magicians have set up an enchantment that will go off if I use any of my magic. I can't even change my appearance, and I...I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Lois nodded her head. It was hard to have sympathy for the devil, but the reporter's mind was almost dizzy with the opportunity that fate had dropped in her lap.

"I suppose..." the reporter said, "I could let you stay here a while. At least until the heat is off. On two conditions."

"Name them," Blaze said. "Anything."

"One, no more villainy. Whatever plots you had going on, that stops right now."

"Done! And the other?"

Lois hooked her thumbs in the top of her pants and bent down, as she peeled them off her legs. Her panties were soaked, rivulets of cum had run down her legs. In Blaze's tattered supervillain costume, a distinctive bulge tented the orange loincloth she wore.

"I had a chance to think about it...and I still want a baby. So if last night didn't do the trick...well, we're going to try, try again."

Blaze's pure white eyes grew wide. Lois smiled like a cat that had cornered a particularly fat mouse.

"Think of it as paying rent."

The reporter sauntered forward, her determination to write out the copy of the story momentarily forgotten. After all, she now had an exclusive inside source...and she was going to drain them for everything they were worth.