End: Lois Goes Undetected

The pair left—the shortstack goblin to begin her new career as a sex worker, and the tall woman who apparently was behind the disappearance of the women and their transformation with her. Lois waited a full five minutes, just to be sure no one else was coming in before she pulled herself out of the vent and dropped down, landing with a jolt on her feet.

Cautiously, digging her smartphone out of a pocket, the reporter approached the mirror.

The tall woman had not replaced the sheet that covered it.

It was dark now—black as a solid slab of polished obsidian, and her reflection in it looked strangely thin and almost transparent. Having seen what the mirror was capable of, Lois was hesitant to get closer...yet she found her gaze drawn to those dark depths, to consider her own reflection.

Dust and dirt smeared the reporter's features. Her club clothes were crumpled and mucked-up from squeezing into the shaft, and covered with cat hair from that session with the sex kittens; her hair was all over the place, makeup smeared...

Then the image seemed to ripple. Lois had to blink, barely daring to breathe, but she saw that it wasn't the image rippling...it was the surface of the mirror itself, like a wishing well in which someone had dropped a penny. As the surface moved, Lois Lane's reflection shattered, distorted...and the reporter saw variation on variation of herself.

Here and there Lois caught sight of her hair, longer or shorter, dyed pink or blonde; breasts of all sizes and shapes, from flat pecs to massive drooping mammaries bigger than her head, to swollen and obviously fake torpedo-tits. Height and weight shifted as if a hundred funhouse mirrors twisted and blurred her image...thin and fat, soft pudge and hard muscle...even the clothes she wore shifted and varied, from a bespoke business suit to a collection of leather straps, from an elegant evening dress and high heels to nerdy glasses and a ball gag.

Yet there was a method to the madness. Staring at the mirror straight on, the reflection most in front of Lois was closer to how she imagined she looked normally, the tint of her violet eyes apparent even in the dark mirror that otherwise drank color. The further out toward the edge, the stranger the reflections got...Lois saw versions of herself as an Asian woman with epicanthic folds, as a Black woman with a flatter nose and kinky hair, with the pointed ears of an elf or Vulcan, the forehead ridges of a Klingon, the furry muzzle of a cat...

The tall woman, Lois realized. She must guide her victims toward their choice somehow...help them focus on a single image, which they then embrace.

Sudden temptation filled the reporter. The images in the mirror shifted to reflect that. She saw herself with a cape, with an S-shield on her chest...legs bare, breasts bigger, then approaching Power Girl sizes. Muscles growing on her arms...a lurid smile on her lips. The reporter shook her head to clear it, realizing that she was dealing with a monkey's paw...that her desires were being twisted.

Eyes closed, the reporter stepped toward the mirror and swung her right hand, still clutching the smartphone, full at the surface. The hard corner made contact—a shiver went all the way up the reporter's arm, as though she had just slammed her hand into a live wire—

CRA-KA-DOOOOM

The building shook. When Lois opened her eyes, she saw the crack in the floor, leading from the empty frame that had held the mirror. Dust settled from the ceiling as the floor swayed.

The reporter went into earthquake-mode, opening the door and standing in the frame...and then she heard the screams start, saw the crack extend between her feet, and other cracks were spreading too—and Lois took off down the corridor, toward the stairs.

Everyone else had the same idea. Strange whores jostled elbow to elbow with Lois in the stairwell. By the time they all emerged into the alley, the building was swaying, collapsing inwards. Sirens wailed, and Lois saw a red-and-blue blur streak across the moon—Superman was on the scene, to rescue whoever was left in the building.

Lois Lane, surrounded by the strangely transformed women. One prostitute, dressed as a sexy schoolteacher, had a notepad and paper; Lois took them out of numb hands and began interviewing them.

It was as though they woke up from a spell. All those women, with their new bodies...Lois helped them calm down, took down their names and stories, guided them toward social services. There was no sign of the tall woman, but through the stories Lois got a name:

Angelica Blaze.

It was the wee hours of the morning before all the women were safely seen headed back toward their lives. The transformations, Lois noticed, had not worn off when the mirror broke. They would have to go through their lives like that...and Lois had no doubt that some would go back to sex work.

Superman waved as he headed off. Lois waved back.

Exhausted as dawn peeked through the clouds, the Daily Planet's greatest reporter headed toward the office to write and file her story. It was too late for the morning edition, but the afternoon...

It wasn't until she was at her desk, sweaty, exhausted, but satisfied with the copy she had just sent to her editor, that Lois Lane noticed she had a souvenir from her night out. The screen of her smartphone was cracked, the surface black, the power button not working...but as Lois looked at it, she saw, or thought she saw, her reflection start to ripple.