Red Skin And Firm Breasts

It felt like Lois Lane was a balloon. A big, tight balloon in the shape of a human being. Overvilled. Skin too tight. Ready to pop.

Then she did.

There was no noise, no sound, just an electric burst of heat and pressure that made the reporter flush all over for a moment, and struck her to her core with the kind of electric tingle she only experienced in the aftermath of a really hard climax. Lois panted, feeling a kind of emptiness deep within...and then she opened her eyes and stared at her hands.

They were red. Blood red. Like fresh blood drawn on parchment. The reporter blinked and turned her hands over. She could see every little detail, every line and callus, the fine little hairs on her arm. Yet the skin itself was so vividly scarlet it reminded Lois of those devils with the small horns and pitchforks from old cartoons.

Nor was that the only change.

Lois Lane's crimson hands found her breasts. Puberty had not been kind to Lois, and while many young women around her had developed serious breasts, the reporter's own breasts had remained her least distinguished figure. Her half-tear-drop shaped breasts had barely filled a 32A bra. 32B during her period, when she felt bloated and unsexy. Yet now...

They didn't feel bigger, exactly. Yet they felt firmer. Perkier. There was no sag in them. Lois could feel her stiff nipples press against her bra, but it almost felt as if the cups were hanging off of her nips rather than supporting her tits.

"Damn, girl! Looks like you really felt that one!" Aisha said.

The reporter looked up from where she was groping herself. The black transwoman smiled back at her...and her white teeth were triangular and pointed, eyes a vivid yellow. Beside her, Maria had a pair of goat-like horns on her forehead, and a pale pink tail extended from under the young woman's skirt.

The DMN was definitely working.

"We've got a few left," Aisha said as she waved a baggie of pills at Lois. "Want another one?"