Lois Lane Has The Body Of A Porn Star

Power flowed forth from the demon Blaze...and Lois Lane's darkest, most secret desires became made manifest in the reporter's flesh. The unrealized possibilities, the paths not taken...

In her mind's eye, Lois Lane's memory now retraced a different path.

Her first breast augmentation at 18.

Working at the strip club to help put herself through university.

The Japanese tattoo artist with whom she found a bound, returning to him regularly over the years as he completed her.

The first piercings, her girlfriends holding her hands as the needles slid through her labia.

The advanced sex workshops, where they talked about the pros and cons of bigger implants.

Undercover at the bunny ranch in Arizona, where she talked about getting her lower ribs removed.

Learning to do her makeup from the pros in the porn studios in Los Angeles.

Hours and hours at the gym, Clark Kent helping her with her form as she did squats.

The lip fillers were the reward Lois had given herself when she won her Pulitzer, where every man and woman at the ceremony hard or wet and wanting to fuck her...

Tattoos, black and grey and red crawled over tanned skin. The body was more toned, fitter, the abs hard-packed, the waist unnaturally thin; swollen torpedoes jutted out beneath the reporter's collar bones where bare palmfuls had once sufficed, and the pink nipples were pierced with heavy rings, a chain of gold dangling between them. Raven hair fell down to the middle of the reporter's back, her ears glittered with diamond studs, five in each rim; swollen cocksucking lips pressed out in a permanent pout, painted pink and glistening...

Blaze stepped back for a moment as she took in the total effect. Lois Lane's makeup was perfect, her painted nails were trimmed but bright. The reporter moved with an easy, catlike grace, and the demon's attention was drawn to the rings that pierced her labia as they jangled against the sheets, the glittering golden fertility symbol that hung from the shallow navel, the womb-symbol etched above the shaven, smooth puss...and as Lois drew herself up, the demonic dickgirl was aware of how swollen, heavy, and bulbous the reporter's ass was, feeding into the thick and muscular thighs that could crack men or walnuts with equal ease.

Yet the kohl-rimmed violet eyes showed no decrease in intelligence or will. Strange as this body was, answering to the reporter's secret desires, Lois Lane remained herself...

...which is why, when she reached out and cupped the demon's balls with easy familiarity, nails digging into the scrotum, threatening to crush the mighty orbs, her lips parted and she whispered out her demand.