I Can't

The dickgirl's expression was so distraught, Lois Lane felt herself wanting to believe her. Then she remembered why she was here. Her fingers tightened on the testicles. Not so tight as to cause serious distress, but not so softly as to qualify as a caress.

"What did you do?" The reporter insisted gently.

"I really can't..." Blaze began.

Lois Lane's fingers tightened. Even superhumanly strong and durable entities were **** to precise **** on **** bits. Angelica Blaze gave a slight gleep.

"What. Did. You. Do." Lois repeated.

The sensation of having your testicles slowly crushed in the hand of a woman that has absolute reasons to be upset with you is not one most human beings will ever experience, but for those few who have been in that position, the quivering of their quail's eggs as they attempt to retract up into the body and the fingers resolutely determined that they remain outside for continued attention cannot easily be imagined. It was a struggle of unfamiliar muscles and instincts.

"I TURNED THEM INTO FLESHLIGHTS AT A LOCAL ADULT STORE," the dickgirl squeaked out.

Lois released her grip slightly.

"Fleshlights?" The reporter asked.

"Pocket pussies. Really...realistic ones." Blaze said. "Like, really realistic. Living, breathing pussies in a can."

"I know what fleshlights are," Lois said, shaking her head. "So why can't I see them?"

"I don't know where they are." Blaze said quietly. "They might have already been sold."

The reporter sighed. Not without a slight regret, she released the captive testes. "We have to find them."

"How?" Blaze asked.

Lois Lane looked her in the eye, her voice brooking no argument. "We're going to the adult store."