Wedding Bells

The bridesmaids wore black.

Lois recognized the missing women, standing at either side of the aisle in the small chapel. Her father, in his dress uniform, held her elbow as the organ struck the chords of the wedding march. The reporter felt the black lace dress rustle. He strode like a sleep-walker, one foot in front of the other, going through the motions. Her aching pussy seemed to throb with each step, the heat and need building inside of her.

There were witnesses in the aisle, dressed impeccably. Lois recognized her sister Lucy as the Maid of Honor. The women from work were there; Jimmy Olsen was wearing a dress for some reason, Supergirl in a formal Kryptonian outfit, Perry White, the editor of the Daily Planet, had tears in his eyes. Clark Kent stood at the aisle, a far-away look in his eyes. Lois could barely walk straight; she wanted nothing more right now than to fall to her knees, a hand between her legs as she rubbed her cunt, but she knew she couldn't do that with so many people watching.

The groom's side was filled with senators and lawyers, celebrities and CEOs. Lois found herself unsurprised to see the Kardashians almost spilling out of their tight dresses, but no Kanye West. They all knew whom they served, and smiled placidly, as though lost in their own little thoughts. No small talk, no jokes, just an eerie silence except for the rustle of silk, the somber chords of the organ. She swore she could feel her ovaries throb inside her belly.

At the end of the aisle, Blaze waited in a perfect tuxedo, a veil across her face. The minister looked familiar...a diabolic-looking man with a pure white streak in his hair, wearing a black clerical suit but no collar. Her father's lips pressed against her cheek, and then he took his place.

For the first time, Lois looked up at the inverted cross; the pagan statues that had been placed around the altar. Crude statues that gripped gaping vulvas and oversized pricks, half-human and half-animal. Fragments of ancient religion replaced any hint of Christian iconography. The flames of the black tapers provided the only light, and shadows crowded the corners of the chapel, the windows all pitch-black.

"Dearly beloved," the minister said, opening a book that Lois noticed appeared to be covered in stitched-together hide. A human ear gaped from the middle of the back cover. "We are gathered here today to call the eyes of the Old Gods down upon us, the ancient and forgotten gods whom humanity worshipped in the dim and dusty past, and who scattered their seed among the daughters of man..."

Blaze's hand found her own. Lois locked eyes on her, though each wore their own veil. Lois knew this was all for her. As binding a ceremony as the demon could provide. Holding up her end of the bargain. With this, they would be married...legal matrimony, in the eyes of the state and whatever powers this bizarre minister was invoking for their union. Her family and friends were here to witness it.

Yet, she knew that she still had a choice. Even now, at this moment, she could turn around and run away. Haul Supergirl out of whatever trance she was in, or just break for the door.

Blaze took her left hand. There was the ring...bands of twisting black and gold like two snakes wound together, set with a diamond that could have been torn from the eye of some ancient idol. It slipped easily on her finger, next to the engagement ring.

Lois lifted the demon's veil. She looked even more human now. The eyes dark enough to fall into, the face a little softer, less feral. Did the reporter imagine the tremor as the dickgirl lifted the veil of her bride-to-be? Did she sense any fear as the hands took her own and drew her close?

"Do you, Lois Lane, take Angelica Blaze to be your lawfully wedding wife, to have and to hold, to honor and obey, until **** do you part?"

It was the moment. If Lois was ever to turn back, it was now. The empty cunt ached as though her lower body was hollowed out, **** to be filled.