Discreet Tattoos and Piercings

As the naked reporter writhed, her memories rewritten to match her new personality, insectoid feelers slid out from the back of the chair, curling around her like a giant cockroach. Two of them slid in through her armpits. The tiniest of incisions...thin, caterpillar-like extensions ate their way in...and the small, deflated bladders were pushed in between the breast tissue and the muscle.

Black, inky fluid flowed into the bladders. Pushing the breasts up and out. The skin stretched taut. Under the influence of the demon's care, the tissue was unnaturally elastic, stretching without leaving scars, blood vessels and nerves retained intact as the soft, generous handfuls slowly inflated. Blaze eyed them carefully. When Lois Lane walked in her, her breasts were small, perfect half-tear-drops...Mother Nature's own gift. By the time she left, she would look like she was half woman, half silicone.

Two more dark brown limbs closed over her navel, to repeat the procedure with the reporter's buttocks.

Yet while the chair worked hard on her insides, the scarlet imps went to work with ink and needle. Lois Lane had so loved the written word, that Blaze thought it only appropriate that she should share that with her new wife...SLUT, WHORE, BITCH, PROSTITUTE, and CUNT were artistically rendered in the Time New Roman font preferred by the Daily Planet for its headlines. Erotic verse and passages from the works of the Marquis de Sade were inked in black and white on her abdomen, her arms and thighs, from elbow to knee.

Nothing that Lois couldn't hide, so long as she wore appropriate long-sleeve shirts and skirts...but impossible to hide in anything more revealing than standard business casual. Even at the gym, it would be difficult to hide the sapphic verses being inked into her shoulderblades, the filthy phrases inked beneath and emphasizing the reporter's swollen tits.

Tiny feelers brushed Lois Lane's lips, the demonic ooze slipping in giving them a perpetual bee-stung look.

A scarlet imp stuck its tongue between its teeth as it threaded a needle through one stiff nipple, and fed a heavy gold ring through the bloody hole, which swiftly healed around the metal to form a channel that might have been there for years. As it healed, the naked imp clambered monkey-like to work on the reporter's ears, which needed five new piercings each...and down below, another was focused on Lois Lane's clitoral hood and labia. The tricky bit would be the stud in her asshole, the two in her tongue...Cat Grant had been clear on what she wanted:

Perverse, but discreet. Her secret slut.

It was hours of careful work, demonic magic speeding the healing of what would be months worth of surgery and tattooing...and as the imps and chair remade the reporter's body, Blaze closed her eyes and opened her mind, to make sure that the reporter's new memories reflected her new changes.