Follow Me

Like a thief in the night, the woman's presence slid away from Lois. Dazedly, the reporter spun around...and her eyes zeroed in on an ass disappearing into the crowd, surmounted by a mane of red hair. Before she even knew she was doing it, the reporter staggered after her.

Her balance was off. The reporter reeled, strangely excited, lurching through the crowd, often barely missing the other dancers as she staggered after that ass...a rounded, toned ass in a very tight green outfit, the legs beneath in sheer stockings...then the reporter's vision swam, and if anyone asked her she couldn't be sure what the woman had been wearing...but the sway of those hips, the gentle swell of those taut cheeks seemed seared into her brain.

Lois panted like a bitch in heat as she followed on the trail of the woman's ass off the dance floor...past the tables of more conversational drinkers...to one of the unmarked doors near the back of the club. Normally, her every journalistic sense would be alert to the eyes that followed her as she strode with a purpose through the crowded club, her body feverish and her cheeks burning, her pussy throbbing with neglected need. Lois Lane, who had never needed a woman before tonight now **** for something to slake the fire between her legs...

...and who walked straight into Poison Ivy's trap.

The door locked automatically behind the reporter. Her heart thundered. The room looked like a laboratory...there were grow lamps, small green plants in trays of earth, chemical apparatus with carefully labeled chemicals, a bunsen burner bubbling away beneath distillation apparatus...but in the center of the room was a four-poster bed, covered with green sheets.

Poison Ivy stood with her back to Lois. The reporter took a hesitant step forward as she saw the villain peel off her costume...and for a moment the form flicked...

Hologram, Lois thought dumbly as the naked shoulders came into view. Ivy turned around and let her bodice fall.

There was something wrong with the breasts. They were larger than Lois Lane's own, the nipples swollen and puffy-looking...but there were thick green veins, just underneath the surface, which lent a textured, uneven appearance to them. Ivy faced the reporter as she drew the costume down over her hips, revealing a wild, damp thatch of red hair. The smell hit Lois then...like rotten honey. The reporter felt dizzy as she staggered forward another step.

"Are you completely under my control, Lois?" Ivy whispered, as she finally stood naked in front of the reporter.