Epilogue: Back To The Club

Lois Lane slid in past the security guards. Not as Lizzie Long—though she could feel the reflex to bring Lizzie out and let her play, in this environment of tight young bodies on the dance floor—but those big breasts and big butt, those tattoos and piercings, would draw too much attention. Tonight, at least for right now, Lois needed to be her old self. Not unattractive, but not the walking sex goddess that would have every eye on her as the reporter slipped and slid through the crowd, eyeballing the security, making her way to the elevator.

It was all as Lois remembered it. The black door. The statue. The room had been swept clean, but the reporter thought she could smell faint traces of sex...what had gone on in this room? How many rituals, how much magic? A tingle went over the reporter's skin. She could almost taste it. Exciting, exhilarating, like taking a strange pill in a club and waiting to get high...

The reporter scanned the room, looking for dusty, dirty corners. The floor was clean, but there were old cobwebs hanging from the ceiling...and, and there was the lucky: a vent right over the door, facing the statue. Lois stood back and focused her desire, imagining women's basketball players...with those sexy long arms and legs. Skinny, tall women, like a race of giants on the earth.

Her body tingled as she grew...not just the bones and muscles of her arms and legs, but the rest of her body as well. Changing height, Lois had found, involved other shifts in arrangement of internal organs as the torso thinned, the added mass caused muscles to grow and shift a little...she still wasn't sure where the mass came from, something she couldn't focus on as the vent came into view...and if anyone had been in the sanctum sanctorum right then, they would have seen a seven-foot Lois Lane, long arms stretched about her head poking out of her jacket, her pants now only coming up to mid-calf and pinching the flesh as she worked loose the grate and set up the camera.

Reversing the process, Lois found, was actually harder. Wherever the extra mass came from, it didn't like to go back. Lois had noticed that when becoming "Lizzie" as well. The breasts and buttocks wanted to stay as they were...but Lois knew what her original shape was, and all it took was an effort of will...to focus her desires through her will, to gain the shape she needed...

Her whole-body-tingle ceased as Lois Lane regained her previous proportions. She took a deep breath and headed out, back through the Black Door. Tomorrow, she could retrieve the camera and find out what was really going on. Not that she really doubted Esme, but the big, beautiful woman hadn't had any real evidence. That's what Lois needed.

Or at least, that was the plan. Except the elevator opened and Lois Lane was face-to-face with a tall, strong-featured woman dressed in a hoodless black robe. The olive skin looked Mediterranean, the dark eyes flashed proud and haughty; a black wave of hair hung down over her shoulders from a high brown, the almost too-full mouth twisted from a Mona Lisa smile to a hard line.

It was a face Lois knew well...except it decorated the hermaphroditic statue behind her.

"Lois Lane," the woman's voice was deep, with a strange foreign accent. "They do say the thief always returns to the scene of the crime..."

"You have me at a disadvantage," the reporter said. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"I am Blaze," the woman said. "This is my chamber. Where my coven meets, to read from my book, and perform homage to me. But if you're here...I think you already know that, don't you?"

Small muscles seemed to twitch under the woman's skin, all at once...and Lois took a step backwards, and then another as dark horns burst from the brow like claws coming unsheathed. A bloody stain spread over the exposed skin, and Lois saw the dark nails of her long-fingered hands lengthen and sharpen into claws. The eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened they were pure white, with no pupil or iris.

The demon stalked toward Lois, the legs moving oddly, and something tented the black fabric of the creature's robe between her legs. Blaze moved forward with unexpected rapidity, her right arm sweeping out and slamming into the reporter's chest. The shirt shredded in four diagonal claw marks, bra coming apart, the tits beneath scratched with red lines.

The reporter landed on her feet and quickly regained her balance; hunkered into a boxer's crouch she balled her hands into fists, but backing away. She didn't know if she could take this demon in a fair fight, since the hermaphroditic thing had such advantages in height and reach...

A light bulb went off in Lois Lane's head. Desperately she worked to recover that feeling from before, and adrenaline powered her new desire. Body tingling as she retreated around the statue, keeping out of the demon's reach as the reporter's arms and legs and spine began to grow.

The horned demon cocked her head.

"So...you've learned a little trick, haven't you?" A nasty grin split the demon's face. Quick as a whip, she bolted around the other side of the statue, to keep between Lois and the door. "Been reading my book, I see. That makes you one of us, Lois. You should stay for a little while...just until the rest of the women get here. We have such a fun time..."

The demon ripped her robe off. Lois gasped as she saw the dark, dripping horse-like phallus with the massive balls, black and heavy as coconuts, hanging underneath it. Somehow it was worse than on the statue; this thing pulsed and moved with each step, and she could see the demon's hind legs were goatish and covered with black fur now.

Lois struck out. She was seven feet tall now, and her jacket and pants looked like they were meant for a child, but she was still swift for that, and her left hook collided with the demon's cheek. The horned head didn't roll with the blow, and Blaze crashed into the wall. The tall reporter took advantage of the opening and booked it for the exit, but the demon was up and after her in a second, a purple bruise forming on the blood-red cheek.

"Little cunt!" Blaze shouted. "I'll shag the arse off you..."

Something in Lois made her spin in place. Legs braced, the pins-and-needles ripped almost painfully across her arms and legs, shoulders and back as she called on more mass than she'd ever dared to before. Muscles ballooned, her jacket and pants shredding as seems popped; the reporter barely noticed her breasts expand proportionally, as her now much-larger hands grabbed the demon by the horns, the reporter's head brushing the ceiling that was ten feet above the floor.

Lois lifted Blaze up by her horns, new muscles and tendons straining. Clawed hands tore at the reporter's wrists, goat-feet kicking the air. The great white eyes grew wide as Lois rammed her back toward the statue, and something long and hard slammed against Blaze's ass.

"Hey Blaze," Lois said, staring into the demon's face. "Go fuck yourself."

One hand holding onto Blaze's head, the other grabbed the demon by the shoulder and shoved. The scream that pierced the horned demon's throat must have been the cry of every woman that had ever been fucked by that mammoth stone prick over the years and centuries. It was the scream of utter pain and disbelief, as the cold, hard stone pushed past the body's natural barriers, muscles and integument splitting as they were stretched too far, too fast. Something black and hot pissed out of Blaze's hard cock, soaking the reporter's thigh, and the reporter grimaced as she gave the demon one final shove...and then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

The goat-legged demon's scarlet stomach was grossly distended where the stone prick's head of the statue made in her own image had speared into its guts. Blaze herself hung limp, breathing but not moving, hard cock flapping about lying a dying fish, spewing something black and foul like crude oil, each spasm associated with a jerk of those heavy testicles. Something that might have been blood oozed down into a puddle beneath the impaled demon.

"I'll...get you...Lois Lane," the demon burbled, her body's movements weak and erratic. "E-every spell...has it's price! Y-you will pay...for this!"

The reporter left without a word.