End: An Ancient Goddess

The face was like a sphinx cat. Gray around the muzzle, fading to inky black along the mane, that hung behind her high, pointed ears like a woman's hair. Wide, luminous eyes flashed through a spectrum of colors, yet Lois Lane found herself lost in the inky blackness at the center of them. The reporter was dimly aware of the bare breasts, the fur fading from grey to white, thin enough that the stiff pink nipples protruded from the matronly bosom. Ornaments of gold and lapis lazuli dangled on breast and wrist, and the whole dress was an elaborate mesh of beads and gold wire.

A memory, a name came to Lois Lane. The Metropolis Museum of History, where an ancient temple had been carried, stone by stone, from the sands of Egypt and reconstructed in that place. A statue, of a regal figure, part human, part animal.

Bastet.

One slim arm rose. The fingers were long, like a human's, but they ended in soft pink curled claws, like a housecat. The claws slid back. Soft pads touched the reporter's face in five places. Lois Lane felt her heart twist in her chest. Something flowed from this ancient goddess. A blessing, a curse—but the reporter felt her heart burst open. To let that hot wind blow into her soul.

Lois Lane did not know much about Egyptian ideas of the soul. The seven-fold parts of it: Khet, Sah, Ren, Ba, Ka, Ib, Shut, and Sekhem. She did not know that her own unspoken desires, so hot and urgent, had opened her to such a blessing. To let a piece of Bastet's power to flow into her.

The reporter only knew that her body suddenly itched fiercely. That some human part of her burned away, and as clothes and skin crackled off into black ash, soft black fur was revealed. Lois Lane's face became a slight muzzle. Her huamn ears gone, now sharper, higher up on her head, more sensitive. A snaky tail burst from the bottom of her spine, to wrap sinuously around her left leg.

The former reporter blinked as new sensations came to her. Sounds were sharper. The darkness of the corridor brighter. Smells threatened to overwhelm her. Complex odors that Lois would have previously called "cat" or "animal" now carried overtones of sex, arousal, diet...

Bastet's tongue ran over her new daughter's nose. The sudden contact broke Lois Lane out of her moment of introversion. The new catgirl tried to smile, baring new fangs. With a gently nudge from the goddess, Lois Lane turned around and stepped back into the room. On the bed, her sister's tails waved languidly in the air. Soft meows and murrs of sensual need arose from them, and Lois Lane felt the saliva run in her mouth as she stepped forward on padded feet.

Those pussies were hers now.

The door shut. The goddess turned. In the corridor now was the scarlet succubus, the one who had called her there. With a theatrical air, the demon bowed her horned head low. Anger simmered within Bastet...the insolence of the demon was palpable...but their pact remained. Blaze's aid, in exchange for new followers. This Lois Lane was strong, smart, courageous, curious...all attributes that Bastet admired in her daughters. Their accord was still in place.

Yet Bastet did deign to acknowledge the demon as she took her leave. Blaze, for her part, remained bent low until she was sure the cat-goddess was gone. Then she slithered to the door, and pressed her hand against it, forcing her perceptions beyond wood and steel...

On the bed, Lois Lane's rough tongue brought a thrill of ecstasy from her golden-furred sister. Furred fingers rubbed against the reporter's cunny as the other applied a light love-bite to the former reporter's neck. The room was rank with the smell of cats in heat...and Blaze grinned, as she mentally ordered some catnip be sent down.

Lois Lane's night out had gone exactly as the demon planned.

Though what the future held, even the succubus could not say, for Bastet was a secretive goddess, and her daughters would serve her in ways they never imagined in their old lives. Yet that is another story.