She Loses Control Of Her Body

Quim and ass tightened around Lois Lane's fingers until she thought the demon would squeeze the digits clean off—and then relaxed, suddenly. The holes slackened and almost almost seemed to flow around the reporter's hands. She watched with widening eyes as the scarlet succubus' entire body began to run, like heavy clay succumbing slowly to gravity. Even the hard cock sagged, the testicles falling over the reporter's wrist, the hard penis listing like a candle when the base melts, hot black drops dribbling out of the tip.

The sight and scent of this drove Lois mad. She lurched forward, mouth covering the warm flesh of the cock...and inadvertantly shoving her fingers in even deeper, meeting no resistance whatsoever as the soft, doughy and apparently boneless flesh deformed against her touch. The cock spasmed in her mouth, hot salty cream flowing over her tongue, answering the deep need down in the reporter's stomach as the demonic jizz slid down her esophagus.

Blaze, meanwhile, was continuing to lose form. The hard lines of flesh were gone, and she seemed smaller, though still vaguely humanoid in outline, two pure white eyes peering at her from the shapeless mass that had once been a head, a bare gash of a mouth opening and closing. Her breasts had been reduced to a pair of nipples floating uncertainly atop two small gelatinous-looking mounds.

She's a shapeshifter, Lois realized. When I hit her weak spot, she must have lost control of her body.

Wicked thoughts ran through the reporter's mind. Now that her initial craving had been answered, Lois Lane's innate and insatiable curiosity came to the fore.

She wiggled her fingers.

A low, gasping moan emerged from the mouth-hole. Before her eyes the whole body seemed to contract, the soft mass withdrawing its limbs, the arms and legs now little more than shapeless pseudopods. Lois took her mouth off the tip of the still-hard cock as she felt things shift against her hand, forcing her fingers out. The head, now little more than a lump, disappeared into the central mass.

Lois Lane stared at what looked, to all appearances, like a single mammoth tit the size of a beanbag, laying there quivering atop her bed, a great crimson cock perched on top like an obscene nipple.

Stick dampness ran down the reporter's legs as she ran her hands over the smooth, taut crimson skin, which shivered at her touch.

Some kind of defensive mode, maybe? She wondered. Or maybe this is what Blaze really looks like, when not wearing human form.

One thing was certain, the reporter knew, as she rose on shaky legs. The stiff prick was leaking thin rivulets of ebony cum.

"I want more," she whispered, eyes locked on the prize before her.