The Shape of a Woman

Lois Lane felt her heart flutter as the crimson head began to emerge from the pool of blood.

It's impossible. All of it. I must be dreaming...

Dark, curly hair dripped gore, hanging over the eyes, hiding them...but the mouth...it was a woman's mouth, lips sweet and curved, chin narrow and pointed, almost elfin. The face emerged and drew closer, giving the naked a reporter a glimpse of a long, smooth neck, hints of breasts...

Then the mouth met hers. Lois tasted blood, sharp and copper, a tongue like a chunk of raw meat wrestling against her own. The hand kept squeezing her breasts, the body pressed between her thighs, and all Lois could do was clutch at the sides of the tongue, feeling her body lean back and sink down against the **** of this bloody phantasm's kiss.

Something jabbed against Lois Lane's pussy, and instinctively she thrashed. The bloody woman broke the kiss, her breath reeking like a bad period...

"Don't fight, Daughter of Eve," the words seemed to gurgle from a throat long unused to speech. "You invited me in."

Part of Lois Lane told her that she should fight...scream...do something...but the words stopped her. Curiosity flared.

"I don't..." she felt blood spill out of her mouth, over her lips, down her chip. The whole tub was a red puddle. "Invite you in? How?"

"You carried me," something pressed, more insistently now, against Lois Lane's crotch...blindly seeking her womanhood, warm and hard and... "inside you."

It slipped in. The reporter gasped, her sore pussy suddenly penetrated. It felt...weird. Not like a finger or a penis. There were hard angles to it, unexpected ridges...and it was moving deeper, the bloody body pressing itself into her.

"The bottle!" Lois realized. Was this some sort of demented djinn? Some perverted offspring of the Arabian Nights?

"Yesss..." the bloody female figure hissed as the weird thing pressed deeper inside of Lois.

Scheherazade never had to deal with anything like this!