It's...Me

There was hesitation, as the words came out. A sense of betrayal...but who was Lois Lane betraying? She stared at her mirror image, and could not remember exactly what the other-her had looked like a few moments ago. Now there was only the big-titted, short, curvy Lois that she had always known. The one who felt the hard, hot cock slide in and out of her ass, filling her so deliciously full. Whose fat tits shook and wobbled with every thrust. Who had fucked and sucked her way to the top of the reporter game...and made a cozy little nest egg for herself on the side.

So why did it feel so wrong, deep down inside? She looked at herself, panting and moaning like a slut, pussy dripping, eyes dilated and face flushed, in what should have been a familiar display, an expression of a woman who had embraced and enjoyed her sexuality...yet somehow it made her feel a bit ashamed. As if some part of her was crying out that this was wrong.

Crimson hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms back. Lois grunted at the sudden pain in her back and shoulders, widened the stance of her knees and leaned back. In this position, she could clearly see her tits flop hypnotically in the mirror with every thrust. Her demon lover...for Lois could see the face clearly now, the dark horns and blood-red skin, the burning white eyes without pupil or iris...thrust harder, causing the flesh to ripple whenever their hips collided.

"You're a slut," the demon hissed. "A whore. Admit it! Say it. Make it true."

Lost in the sexual haze, Lois wondered for a moment if this was a game of some sort...but doubt gnawed at her mind and her guts. She had let herself been used by many strangers, but something about that voice, the insistence of it, scratched at the core of rebellion that was the very essence of Lois Lane's character.

Even if it was true...even if she was a slut...Lois Lane wasn't just a piece of obedient meat. So when she spoke again, Lois chose her words very, very carefully.