An Amazon Bimbo

All her life, Lois Lane had repressed her sexuality. She had wanted to be so bad, so naughty...to wear vibrating eggs to work, to jill off during university lectures and meetings, to make passes at men and women...it had taken all of her willpower, all of her discipline not to just boldly grope Clark Kent's crotch that first time he stepped into the Daily Planet offices, to corner Cat Grant and **** her tongue down the MILF's mouth, or to slide behind Jimmy Olsen while he was in the toilets so that she could reach around and jerk him off, listening to his pathetic little moans as his baby batter splattered against the porcelain.

That was part of the reason that Lois Lane had never gone in for breast implants. Not because she couldn't afford it, but because she couldn't afford to lose control. Why she didn't spend more time in the gym, surrounded by those hard bodies. It was all Lois could do sometimes to wait until she was in the safety of her own apartment before dropping to her knees and forcing her fist against her slutty, dripping twat, no better than an animal at the moment...

In the chair, Lois Lane shivered as Blaze's magical **** unlocked things within the reporter's soul that she had long kept repressed...and as it did, her body began to show its effects.

The shirt and pants grew tight. The reporter's muscles began to swell, slowly at first, and then gaining in size and definition. As her chest grew outward, the hem of the shirt began to lift, revealing washboard abs, all trace of fat melting away...and then was a ping as the bra clasp burst from within.

The already-tight red pants split along the seams as Lois Lane's calves and thighs nearly doubled in size, all muscle. One pale hand reached up and grabbed the straining cotton shirt and ripped it off, freeing a pair of swollen tits as big as pineapples, soft and creamy, the pink nipples stiff.

Blaze watched in fascination, a leer on her lips, the nearly naked demon wondering what kind of submissive pet Lois Lane might make, if the mental changes were as drastic as the physical ones.

Then Lois Lane stood.

Seated, crouched in on herself, Blaze had not noticed how tall Lois Lane had become. Now, as the reporter's shoes split over her growing feet and the heels were crushed under the weight of her new muscle, the reporter stood up to her full height—towering just over seven feet. The reporter's shoulders were broad, and at every moment Blaze could see the veins stand out beneath the pale skin, the huge, well-defined muscles, the trim waist on which the bare shreds of the right red pants were reduced to little more than booty-shorts...and for the first time, the demon stared into the reporter's eyes.

There was no intelligence in those violet orbs. Just an animal lust. A primal self. Savage. Lusty. The kind of bimbo that might have wrestled sabertooth tigers to the ground and ripped out their throats with her teeth, to offer to her lover as a gift. A veritable Amazon.

Blaze had barely had a chance to appreciate this change when two musclebound arms moved with blinding speed and clapped on either side of the demon's head. With terrible ease, the Amazon bimbo lifted her up off the chair.

"Want...fuck...puny...slut..." Lois Lane growled, the words coming with difficulty.