One Fist Is Not Enough

Heat built inside the reporter's body. That itching, burning need deep inside of her that could not be scratched. On the floor of her kitchen, a fever seemed to creep into Lois Lane's brain, driving her to acts beyond anything she had ever considered, even in her moments of most intense sexual desperation...

The fingers of her fist were tightly squeezed together inside her cunt. Black goo splashed her wrist as she wriggled her arm, striving to push her knuckles deeper. The fingers of her free hand pressed against the goo-slick wrist...the black ooze was as viscous as oil, slippery and warm to the touch like a hot blood. Pressed against that slit...and pushed their way inside.

With a fingerhold on the inside of her cunt, Lois pulled. Her pussy strained, the stubborn flesh resisting. Black ooze poured out of the stretched cunt like blood from an open wound...but it gave a little bit of freedom, a little leverage. Her pulse pounded in her temples, eyes hot as she felt her pussy stretch, and inside of her the fist pressed in a little deeper.

Lois shuddered, bent almost double, back aching as her fist unfolded. The very tips of her finger almost brushed against that point inside of her, but she couldn't quite reach it. She needed more...and her other hand slid deeper inside her stuffed cunt, knuckles pressing along her forearm, sharp pain lancing briefly as she exerted her strength to pull her pussy open wider, to let that hand slide deeper.

If the reporter could have stopped to see herself, she would have seen the pale blue veins beneath her skin slowly turn black; the flesh around them dulling to a grey as the creeping corruption crawled through capillaries. Her hard nipples began to darken from a soft, vibrant pink to an equally vibrant pale grey, and the red veins in her eyes were slowly pushed out, oily darkness filling the sclera, leaving only the vivid violet irises untouched. What little fat there was on her body seemed to melt away and with a sudden cry and a shudder that wracked her whole body, her fingertips pressed hard against some barrier inside of her, the unseen nails, grown now to claws, piercing a thin layer of flesh and releasing a torrent of liquid filth from her womb.