Until She Grinds Lois Lane Down

Lois Lane lost track of time. She had heard of couples on heroin who could fuck for hours—hard, horny, but numb and unable to cum. Unfortunately for her, she could feel everything. Minutes turned into hours, and the reporter's poor asshole went from taut and pink to rubbed red, swollen, puffy, and raw. It ached with every thrust, like salt on a wound, and more than once the demon had to pause to spit and rub her saliva into the aching ass just to have enough lubricant to keep fucking the reporter's butt.

"I'm pressed by your willpower, Lois," the dickgirl said. "But you're reaching the end of your endurance. I can keep going for a long time. Until your asshole tears and fissures, the sight of blood on my cock will send me wild...and I'll keep fucking you until you don't have an asshole anymore, just a raw wound, and I'll keep fucking that until my cockhead pokes through your integument and into your squirming intestines. Have you seen people die of sepsis? It isn't pleasant. Once the infection sets in..." The reporter lay limp, the pain keeping her conscious long past the point she would have gladly passed out. Her bloated belly had settled into a single throbbing pulse of pain as her system slowly absorbed all the water...but it was still swollen and tender, spasming as her guts kept trying to empty themselves, only to fail against the blockage that was Blaze's dick.

The reporter could have cried...but there were no more tears. Her brain had gone through every plan, every possibility, but she was trapped...overwhelmed by the dickgirl's strength...and more than that, the constant fucking had simply ground down all resistance. Despite how full she was, the reporter's heart felt hollow and defeated as she managed to spit out the words.

"F-fine. Fuck my pussy."

She didn't have to tell Blaze twice.

The dickgirl pulled out, and almost immediately the reporter's guts started to heave—Angelica Blaze turned and twisted her over so that her poor asshole could vent its accumulated contents straight over the drain, the pressure finally lessening on her distended belly—and it was with tired eyes that Lois saw the transformation that had come over Blaze.

Scarlet skin, the color of fresh blood on parchment. Dark horns that curled back from that wide brow. Eyes sunken in their sockets, pure white with no pupil or iris, seeming to glow from within. Blaze looked leaner, more muscular, like a human built along the lines of a greyhound, her ribs showing, breasts small and flat, with little pink nipples like unripe strawberries.

The cock slapped against the reporter's stomach, pointing straight at her belly button. It was just as red as the rest of Blaze...but to Lois Lane's eyes, she thought it looked a little the worse for wear. The head was swollen scarlet, the skin so taut it was ready to explode, and there were small black striations just past the head. Maybe Blaze had been closer to her limit than Lois believed.

For a moment, Lois considered reneging...telling Blaze not to fuck her...but her arms and legs felt like lead, and the reporter was still voiding, her poor asshole open and gushing out water as her stomach deflated.

"Oh, Lois. I've waited so long for this," the demon said as she moved to place the head of her cock against the reporter's pussy. "Don't worry. It won't be long until I cum. Perhaps you'll even enjoy it."