End: Cheetah Needs The Heart of an Ancient Vampire

The ancient ritual that Cheetah had unearthed demanded a sacrifice to the chthonic gods, and it was very specific about what those bloodthirsty gods wished. It had taken Cheetah months to find where a vampire of sufficient age had been entombed...and now she discovered that it had already awakened, already sent its brides out to gather sustenance.

Which meant, the cat-woman thought as she licked her fangs. It was still weak. Weak enough, perhaps, that the recently-turned Lois Lane might give it some trouble. Or at least provide sufficient distraction.

Not that Lois Lane wasn't distraction enough. Cheetah grinned as her eyes followed the pert ass in front of her. There were times she was glad to have such excellent low-light vision...and such a well-toned ass was like catnip to this particular cat-woman.

Her ears perked up as Lois approached the crypt. There was the crack of ancient joints...and then a pale figure, the white skin loose and wrinkled that hung off a spare, skeletal figure, detached itself from the darkness.

"WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?"

The voice seemed to echo from the shadows, and Cheetah's ears went flat, her tail stiff as she hugged the floor, claws out. Ready to flee or fight.

Lois Lane's answer was to launch herself at the figure, fangs bared.

From her vantage on the floor, Cheetah watched the dance. Lois Lane was fast, with terrific reflexes that rivalled her own. She knew how to fight, too; always planted her feet solidly before she went for a blow, put her whole body into it. The elder vampire, by comparison, was terribly slow...but strong, and impervious to pain. Each swipe of his claws scored the concrete. His swings were wide, clumsy, but there was method in his madness. The vampiric reporter danced around him, but he was tireless and hemming her in.

Then, it was over.

His pale hands clamped on the reporter's waist. Lois shrieked, clawed at his head, kicked at his midsection, but it was like she struck at a marble statue. The pale figure grinned, and the only two teeth he had gleamed like ivory sabres.

"CUNT. YOU WILL BE MY LATEST BRIDE..."

His back was toward Cheetah. She launched herself forward. Blood pumped through her, an almost sexual thrill of excitement. Her left hand formed into a scoop, five sharp points first...

The vampire's body was hard as marble. Yet marble may be split. The cat-woman's claws tore between his ribs. Dust exploded from his mouth and nostrils as ancient, withered organs exploded into foul smoke. Veins and arteries severed as cheetah ripped back and forth, found her target...and seized. She braced both legs and her free hand on the elder vampire's body, and then straightened up...to rip the blood-swollen jewel that had been his heart from his withered form.

Lois Lane dropped to the ground as the skeletal form collapsed, reclaimed by the ages at last. Cheetah stood up, her prize in her hand. Somewhere, there was a scream as his three "brides" realized their freedom.

"Well," Cheetah said, as she pulled a plastic baggie from a pocket, "that was fun. Thanks for your help."

"W-wait," the vampiric reporter said. She stared up at Cheetah, her mind momentarily clear of the blood thirst. "What...am I...going to do?"

"Don't know. Don't care," Cheetah said. Her tail flickered back and forth. "Best of luck, though."

With that, the cat-woman turned and bolted down the corridor. Faster than Lois could follow, even if she had any desire to. The reporter let her tongue run over and over her new fangs. Her whole life had changed in the course of her night out. She had been turned...tainted...corrupted...a dark power dwelled within her now, a terrible thirst that would soon demand to be quenched.

Yet at the moment, all Lois Lane was sure of is that somehow, Cheetah had just fucked her life.