Lois Lane & Blaze read "Squirtle" by Sarckle, Part 3

Pi...ka? Pika ho!

From her toes to her fingertips, Lois Lane had been painted a pale blue. The butt-plug sat firmly in her asshole, anchoring the rounded tail that nestled between blue cheeks. Her breasts and belly were a pale tan, marked with lines to mimic the segmented undershell, her back had a dark "shell" painted on. The reporter closed her violet eyes, the better to let the scarlet succubus paint her face...and as she painted, the demon read aloud.

You jump back as he pushes his hard member through the wall and into your room.
Ah you see. So, that answers the question of what your “job” is.

"I have a certain fondness for gloryholes," Blaze mused. "It's a limited interaction, but controlled, you see? Everyone on both sides of the gloryhole, they can pull away at any time. Anonymity, which can be a bit of excitement in itself. It's the kind of limitation that lends itself to creativity...I like what they did with turning the cock-sucking into a peepshow, for example."

Dark lines painted a wider smile on the reporter's lips, a little dip in the middle.

It feels like you’ve been sucking this same cock forever.

"One of the difficulties with extended erotic sequences," the demon said as she painted white ovals around Lois Lane's closed eyes. "Is that of keeping things fresh. How does one capture the difference between every cock, every moment of penetration? You can't, really. Decisions have to be made. The pornographer's dilemma."

Blaze smiled at this...a natural smile, one that Lois rarely saw, and she only smiled it now because Lois couldn't see it, not with the demon painting brown irises in those white ovals. With the blue skin-cap hiding her hair, the reporter was starting to look very much like a Squirtle...if a Squirtle was tall, thin, with a shaven pussy and hard nipples.

He takes the spoon from your hand and pulls aside the table cloth giving you a path to under the table.

"If I had a quibble," Blaze said as she began the finishing touches, emphasizing certain shapes with dark lines. "It's Amber's basic passivity. The thing is, she's sort of sliding into slut-dom, but she never really embraces it. Just goes along with the flow. Solid narrative reasons for that, of course, but I like it better when she isn't **** to whore herself out, but rather chooses to. An option available, let us say, instead of one of several bad choices. Of course, we can hardly throw stones, can we Lois? So many of our own little adventures involve you going from bad to worse..."

Blaze stepped back and admired her handiwork.

"All done, I think." The demon snapped her fingers. There was a distant crack of thunder, as a full-length mirror appeared. Lois Lane opened her eyes and examined herself. The paint was already dry, but she raised her arms and stretched, turned around and wagged her hips to see the tail twitch. Right then and there, she could have been the star of some live action Pokémon porn video.

"Can't have myself knocking up every whore. Trainers can't claim child support but fucking whores can." You didn't realize that whores had more parental rights than you did.

"That has to be the saddest line of this whole story," Lois said at last, after Blaze finished reading the chapter aloud.

"I thought it was amusing," Blaze said. "Dare I ask why we went through all the effort to paint you as a cartoon turtle?"

By way of answer, Lois Lane pointed at the table, where five gallon jugs of water waited. She flashed Blaze a naughty smile.

"Keep reading."

He then wastes no time whipping out his dick.

"I'm not against these battles, with sex to the winner," Blaze said with a frown. "But some of these are just perfunctory."

Lois was listening, but didn't answer. She had the first gallon of water up to her lips, and was chugging it. The demon's frown deepened. "Don't smear your makeup. I worked hard on that."

Blaze read on. There were battles, sex, ****. Polls...so many, many polls. The demon's voice started to grow bored, even during the sex scenes. Her investment in the story was less than Lois Lane's...and her investment in what Lois was all that kept the scarlet succubus reading.

The reporter was working her way through the third gallon of water. Already, Blaze could see the distinctive bloat in her stomach, and wondered how the human woman managed it. Supposedly, humans could drink quite a lot of water before passing out or getting sick...but there was such a thing as too much hydration.

“Don’t cross the streams,” is all you can get out.

"That feels like a missed opportunity," the demon said, shaking her head. "Maybe if Amber and Jack were sharing a moment and jacking off a pair of cocks in such a way that the homophobes spattered each other with cum."

Lois put down the empty jug, gasping. Her stomach was visibly swollen now. Not pregnant or fat, but sort of bloated.

"Don't be...mean," the reporter breathed heavily. "I like their relationship. They're like lesbians that suck the occasional cock."

"Occasional?" Blaze raised an eyebrow. "In any case, the Ghostbusters references seem a bit out of place. I don't think the Pokémon world even has Ghostbusters."

Her chin covered in your fluids, she kisses you deeply filling your mouth with the sweet taste of your own pussy.

"That was nice," Blaze said as Lois went back to the two last gallons of water. "I wouldn't mind seeing a track where Misty gets her confidence back...or more of Amber claiming sex for victory over women."

Lois gave a thumbs up and a glug-glug-glug of acknowledgment.

She clicks her remote and the next slide is titled #FishWhore, with a photo of you sucking off a man in the route 3 pokecenter.

"Long as this series is, I do like the continuity. I have no idea if this is following the plot of the game, but it's nice to see that actions continue to have consequences." Blaze noted.

You recoil from the sudden sensation of pain and pleasure. You start to fall away from the tree, but he catches you, guiding you to the ground. Once you’re on your hands and knees, he starts pounding into your ass.

"Always a tricky thing, anal," Blaze mused. "I know some women and men really love it, but it's not quite the same as getting fucked up front, is it? Not so much pleasurable as it is intense. Different. You know what I mean?"

Lois put down the empty jug. Her stomach gurgled, and the reporter repressed a belch. Her blue buttocks quivered around the plug in her ass.

"I know...exactly what you mean," Lois said as she reached for the final jug.

Oh no, I just mean I was worried you had embraced losing, I knew a couple girls back in the day who got addicted to being used and started skipping the battling altogether.

"Not going to lie," Blaze said. "But that is the best possible direction to take that conversation in that doesn't involve ****."

Blaze read on. Lois laid down the last, empty jug. She leaned against the table, breathing heavily. Her stomach was even more bloated, the tan underbelly of 'Squirtle' protruding. The painted reporter listened as Blue rough-fucked Amber's mom in front of her.

"You know," the demon said. "In a better world, Madison would have lost deliberately and would be shown at the end pregnant with Amber's new sibling. Ah, but that doesn't seem to be the fetish for this story."

Lois turned around. Leaning against the table, Blaze was suddenly struck by the sight of Lois...painted up like that, stomach sticking out. There were a few smears along the top of her thighs, where rivulets of pussy-juice had caused the paint to run.

"Well, that's chapter 99," the demon said. "Next up: Mew. And you're painted, and have drunk all your water. Now what?"

"Now," Lois Lane said, with that wide Squirtle-grin. She winked, and it was like the turtle winked at Blaze. "We wait."