Fuck And Be Fucked

"You need me to soothe you," Lois said. "Your aura...is in such turmoil."

The reporter's hands reached out, the angry red colors rippling. The seven-horned figure before her eyes actually flinched. The reporter didn't stop. A well of compassion seemed to open up inside her heart, cool and calm and vast, and her physical and spiritual bodies moved through the dimensions, intersecting with the dark, angry storm before her.

"Wait..." Blaze said as their auras began to meld, like dropping mercury into water. "What are you...doing?"

Under the effects of the ****, Lois Lane seemed to see herself move. It was like a puzzle...a warm, squirming labyrinth of red and black, angry and lusty and at the center of it all...on one plane, Lois heard herself grunt as she **** the demon onto her back, the angry red prick stabbing deep inside the cleft between her legs. On another, Lois felt the threads of herself unwind and insinuate into the demon's aura...let the energies flow between them, from light to dark. Her hands moved with sure knowledge, lighting up chakras, charging centers of energy.

The demon stared up at Lois, unable to perceive all of what the reporter was doing in her shamanic trance. Her mind, so lost in the carnality of their union, was on heaving buttocks and sweat dripping off of tits, the surging seed gathering in her loins, the dark plans that lay foremost in her mind all alight with images of Lois Lane broken, corrupted, defiled, sexually satisfied, eager for more...Lois smiled beatifically as she began to unwind those thoughts, feeling the primal images and insecurities behind them. Virgin, mother, and crone; wife and whore; mistress and ****; all the dichotomies and permutations that made up the core of the demon's sexuality, and Lois was tying them to her own thoughts, shifting and moving with the dickgirl in their carnal congress, accepting the energies pumped into her as the great swollen testicles gave up their creative energy. It was an energy that Lois Lane could use...

In the physical world, Lois Lane's hands seemed to explore her breasts...and the red color slipped off, showing a dark, human complexion beneath. The reporter rocked her hips, milking those balls as her higher self balanced their energies, the threads of their lives being tied together. There was so much energy inside of Blaze...so much potential...the reporter hardly knew what to do with it.

The demon, for her part, was lost in the haze of an extended orgasm. Her balls clenched and back arched as Lois drew it out. The reporter's fingers swept over those cheeks like wiping away a smudge, and Blaze shuddered as though fine silk floss had run over raw and exposed nerves. Everything that the demon that she had to give was pouring into Lois, and as the reporter dipped down, her mouth swallowing Blaze's own, she accepted it.

Blaze didn't even notice when her horns crumbled and broken away, revealing a smooth and untroubled brow, or how the reporter's fingertips seemed to dip beneath the skin, here and there, picking out small dark things and tossing them into the shadows. The women in the room, in their own ****-and-sex-fueled dreamstates, might have been able to see what was really happening...but they were lost, lost within themselves, cunts feeding endlessly off the seed given them, no energy to work on except their own, no stimulus but the constant scroll of porn. Nothing new could come from them.

Yet for Blaze...the pure, uncorrupted Blaze, slowly shedding all her demonic features beneath the reporter's call, multi-dimensional touch...Lois ran her fingers through her soul like a potter working clay.