They're On Top Of The Building, Still Having Sex

The moon was out, over Metropolis. Cheetah's eyes opened and she stared up at the bright white eye that shed its light on the fair city below. Big cats generally dislike the moon; it made it more difficult to hunt. They were creatures of stealth and darkness. Yet now, as Cheetah opened her eyes, she was bathed in the moonlight.

With nowhere to hide.

The feline villain craned her head, and saw that she was on a flat, level roof. A mattress had been dragged up here, and a nest of clothing had been piled around her. Cheetah sat up and sniffed gently, opened her mouth to taste the air...and nearly gagged. The bedding reeked of sex and the big, musky smell of the transformed Lois Lane.

With a groan, Cheetah became aware of the ache in her body. She felt as though she'd been run over by a truck. A sexy, sexy truck. Every muscle hurt, even the ones in her face that indicated she'd worn a stupid smile for hours in her sexual bliss. Her cunny throbbed, and as she looked down on it, Cheetah could see her labia was monstrously swollen, and still dripping wet. Her nipples were hard...and, more concerning, all of her nipples were hard. The small nipples all down her torso, normally hidden by her fur and all but vestigial, were swollen hard as berries.

"What did she do to me?" Cheetah said aloud, as she shook her head. "And where..."

The catwoman was answered by the soft pad of big feet, and then a shadow fell across her.

Lois Lane loomed over her. The moon glinted off of her saberteeth, the muscles rolled beneath that dark fur. Cheetah caught sight of the swell of those huge breasts, the smell of that musky muff, and immediately her body reacted. Like a bitch-cat faced with a tom, Cheetah rolled over and lifted her tail, only realizing a moment later what she was doing.

Not that it mattered. The stolen beer keg thumped down on the nest as the sabertoothed reporter buried her muzzle in Cheetah's sopping cunt. A pink fog seemed to descend over the catwoman's brain once again, and when she opened her mouth Cheetah gave voice to a cry that made every male cat in two miles perk their ears. Her fingers grabbed the edge of the mattress and toes curled as that long, strong tongue lapped her labia, over and over, the little bumps stimulating her clit beyond all endurance.

Cheetah couldn't fight back against that pussy-licking, even if she wanted to. All the hardworn wiry strength of the villain faded and she mewled like a pampered housecat as Lois Lane's tongue rewired her brain.

Yet the genetically augmented reporter was just getting started with her new sex pet...