The Sabertooth's Slutty Slit Is Sore

Awkwardly, the towering black figure let Cheetah pull her hand away...and that was when Cheetah saw it. The source of that musky odor.

With her own fur so thick between her legs, and her labia so trim and small, Cheetah could often get away with going bottomless in public without comment. Sometimes she felt deliciously naughty to walk around in her altogether, the air on her fur as natural to her in that moment as on a cat's. Yet as she stared at Lois Lane's crotch, the catwoman realized that was not an option for the sabertooth slut.

Lois Lane's once trimly muscled thighs had swollen hugely, piling on muscle to become as thick as small tree trunks. Yet her mons venus had undergone more drastic changes. It was puffy and swollen, stood out from the hard-packed abs of her lower body. The infinitely soft, gauze-like black fur that surrounded the thick, swollen lips did nothing to hide their bright pink color, like fresh salmon, or the knob-like projection of her clitoris, which was as big as a quarter.

Bright and shiny pink. It looked to Cheetah as if Lois Lane had spent the weeks in the hyperbolic time chamber rubbing herself raw.

Worse than that, it dripped. A viscuous string of clear goo splattered on the floor between the tranformed reporter's legs, even as Cheetah watched...and the smell that rose from it was sickly-sweet as honey, redolent of those human animal smells from locker rooms and brothels. Cheetah moaned a little and, to her shock, felt her own cunny give an involuntary little squirt as her eyes fixated on that gooey mess of a pussy. Her nostrils flared to drink in the sabertooth's scent, and her head swam.

It was like being drunk. She panted, her face inched closer and closer, tongue out. As much as Cheetah thought about anything, she wondered what it tasted like...