Lois and Blaze read Alex and Jodie read Lois Lane's Night Out

In the vast white void between the pages, Lois Lane lay very still, eyes closed, hands folded across her abdomen. Time passed oddly here, as she waited between chapters. She couldn't quite sleep, because there was nowhere to dream. Yet sometimes she liked to be very still and quiet.

A heavy pair of lumps sagged down across Lois Lane's eyes. The reporter sighed as she felt the heat radiating out from the hairless sack with its egg-shaped cargo. A familiar soft heat fell across the reporter's nose and just brushed her lips.

"Blaze?" Lois asked. "Why are you teabagging me?"

The demon tugged her junk to the side, and Lois opened her eyes...to stare up at skin like chocolate pudding, dark nipples the color of Hershey's kisses. There were no horns on that broad forehead, and the hair had gone from curly to kinky, arranged in tight braids. Even the features of the face were subtly different, the nose flatter, the cheeks not quite so high...but the eyes were still pure white, without pupil or iris.

"I thought you might find this form attractive," Blaze said. One hand stroked the brown cock. The heavy balls attached to it were now pressed against the reporter's right ear. "After all, you want to give the audience what they like, don't you?"

Lois squeezed her eyes tight once again, as if willing Blaze to go away. When she opened them again, the demon had already changed. The thighs and breasts had thinned and paled; long straight black hair fell down almost to her breasts, the eyes were more almond-shaped. Even the voice, when it came out, was a little more high-pitched.

"It's alright to have a kink, you know." Blaze said.

"That's the thing," Lois said, pointedly ignoring as the demonic dickgirl played with her cock, rubbing the soft tip against the reporter's forehead as if drawing a bit of graffiti. "It's just a kink. I know that all the stereotypes about big black cocks is bullshit. Not every Black woman has a huge ghetto booty. Asian women aren't all thin little waifs. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. I don't care what color the cocks I suck or pussies I eat out are."

"But it still gets you hot," Blaze said, and this time she saw the change, the shift. The skin darkened and the cheekbones rose, but the hair was still long and straight...and Lois Lane thought she looked somewhat Indonesian, like Laura Gesmer, if the star of _Black Emanuelle _had been hung like a porn star. The faintly exotic cast of the features added something to the easy smile and hard, dark nips.

"It's cultural. There are deep-seated taboos in American society. Obviously, it's bullshit, but it's bullshit that presses the right buttons," Lois admitted. "Like...nuns, or cheating on your husband or something."

Blaze shifted her genitals to rest on the reporter's forehead. The tip of her cock hung over the reporter's nose, so Lois couldn't see her face, but she could feel the warm drop that hung from the tip of the prick.

"So you're not racist, but you admit you get turned on by raceplay?" Blaze said. "Just like those two. Alex and Jodie. They seemed very...appreciative...of your performance."

There was no way to answer without letting that leaking cock drip into her mouth, and so Lois kept her mouth shut tight.

"In truth, I don't think raceplay is quite like other kinks," Blaze said. "Oh, sure, there's something primal about fucking someone you aren't supposed to, the exotic appeal of someone from another tribe. Your body is wired for that. But there's such a fine line between playing to those tropes and actually embodying them, isn't there?"

Blaze's cock was leaking like a faucet, and Lois knew it was on purpose. The hot precum oozed over her mouth and began to slide down along the reporter's face. It was the demon's way of keeping Lois quiet while she made a point.

"Because no one is actually arguing that any race is superior, are they? No petty bullshit about superior genetics, no vacuous claims about betraying pure Aryan bloodlines or any of that crap. Just Lex Luthor and Lois Lane conveniently working out their kinks, like white people do, and trying to justify to themselves that they aren't racist."

The last word made Lois wince. In truth, there was always that shadow that hovered over any raceplay. Scratch the socially progressive surface of any American and there was that constant dread of being the same bigoted assholes they despised. It was part of the appeal. After all, what would her father say if she brought a Black guy home, pregnant with his child?

Depends on the continuity, Lois thought, and tired of Blaze's moralizing, opened her mouth to suckle on the swollen head, the dark half-erect shaft in stark contrast against her pale pink lips.

"It's fine if you're into that kind of thing, really," Blaze said, and now Lois Lane sensed she was talking more to Alex and Jodie than herself. "Just equally important to understand the kind of things you aren't going to see, and why. Oh, our Lois Lane gets up to many things on her night out, but you'll never read her use the N-word. It's all just kinks, after all. Play. Pretend. Finding the right buttons to push."

Blaze leaned forward, the cock hardening...and as Lois sucked the dark shaft, and felt those balls softly plop against her face, for a moment she could almost pretend she was somewhere else, doing this with someone else. Castaway on a tropical island with some foreign sailor, trying to survive, and of course they both had needs to meet...and Blaze chuckled softly, just before her tongue traced a line from the reporter's navel down through the carefully-trimmed pubic hair to the reporter's clit.

"That's it, sweetmeat," Blaze murmured before her tongue delved into the reporter's slit. "Show me how you like that brown cock..."

Some fantasies could be harmless, and some kinks could be explored a little differently than others. That was, after all, what Lois Lane's night out was for, in all of its strange variety...and Lois wondered then what other shapes and colors Blaze could assume. Perhaps it was time to find out.