To Have Some Fun

Ella laid her hand on top of her daughter's.

"The walls between worlds are thin here. I thought...we could spend a little time together. Have a little fun, before I have to go back. Is that okay?"

Lois didn't pull her hand away. This was...surreal. To be here, like this, talking to her mother, listening to her confess all these things and...and the reporter could feel her heart thunder in her chest, her stomach a pit of butterflies, strangely aroused, strangely confused...but she couldn't deny her mother that. There was still so much Lois wanted to say, to ask her.

"Yeah. Yes, of course." The reporter looked up into her mother's eyes...and saw that they were as striking and violet as her own.

"Thank you, my dear. That's all I needed." The older woman wrapped her fingers around Lois' hand, gripping it tightly. "Just a little bit of consent..."

Lois opened her mouth to ask her mother what she meant...but the older woman surged forward, locking her lips onto her daughter's. The reporter's eyes widened as she felt the hot, probing tongue push into her mouth, tasting her mother's spittle and something else, the salty remnants of the drinks they had been having, the half-familiar flavor that brought to mind Lois' very first blowjob, when she hadn't pulled away fast enough.

The old woman was clinging to Lois now, and Lois, too late, pressed her palms against her—only to feel her hands passing through the pale flesh, encountering no resistance whatsoever, even though she could feel Ella's mouth locked on her. In desperation, she tried to look her mother in the eye...and the look that stared back at the reporter was one of driving and consuming lust.

Don't fight it. The thought pressed itself into Lois' brain. Let me in.

Too late, the younger woman became aware of the nature of the struggle...of the almost elemental **** that was pressing itself upon her consciousness, a burning chill that began to steal across the reporter's limbs. Images flashed through Lois' mind—ghosts, vampires, the strange limitations of the dead and undead, repeated in dozens of movies and stories—and one overriding thought over all the rest:

I let the wrong one in.

Their combat was psychic rather than physical, though Lois could still feel the press of those lips upon her own, the tongue pressing down to taste her throat...but as the chill spread, the reporter's hands ceased to respond to her thoughts. They moved awkwardly, strangely, roaming over her body, and Lois could feel the alien hands as they examined her form. Vainly the reporter fought back, but the hands were distracting her...especially as they groped closer and closer to her breasts...and Lois had a vague apprehension that grew as the fingers slid over her stomach, curved along ribs, walked gently up toward her gentle swells.

It was like fighting a war on multiple fronts, and as her fingers pinched her own nipples, Lois knew she was losing. Desperation lent fire to her resolve as she tried to reject her mother's shade, which still clung to Lois, pressing herself deeper into her mouth, crowding the reporter so that it felt like she was being pushed out of her own skull...and all the time the burning chill was spreading over Lois' body, up her limbs, racing along veins and bones, and there was a terrible shudder that ran through the reporter as she felt it overtake her pussy...

The collapse came suddenly, psychic defenses crumbling as her vagina began to clench and spasm, an unfamiliar puppeteer playing with the strings to see how they worked. Lois gasped...and in that moment of weakness Ella Lane rushed in, and the burning chill washed over the reporter entirely.

A slow smile split Lois Lane's features then—a crafty grin the like that none of her coworkers and friends at the Daily Planet would recognize, but which would have made her father's piss run cold if he could see it steal across his daughter's features.

"Oh, thank, you my dear," the young woman murmured to herself, standing up to examine her body, stretching and testing out her limbs. "You've put so much effort into maintaining this body—it would be a waste not to get some use out of it. Now...let's have some fun."

Behind her eyes, Lois Lane could only stare, helpless, as her body moved without her control.