End: Lois Lane Becomes A Sex Worker

There was paperwork. Fortunately, the representative of the United Metropolis-Gotham Sex Workers Union was up late. Having a handful of costumed superheroes accompany Lois to the office probably helped. The reporter-cum-prostitute listened intently as she listened to the details of dues, medical evaluation requirements, and legal obligations. Still, it was barely an hour past midnight when she processed Lois Lane's payment and issued her a provisionary union card.

The rep was a short, heavyset black woman called Ms. Goodall, who wore a rather conservative grey striped business suit with big shoulder pads and had her hair beaded and in cornrows. She had, the reporter gathered, started out stripping as a teenager and giving head in the alleys out back, and had done well enough to put herself through law school.

"...now, just remember, your provisionary membership is dependent on you getting a physical and receiving a clean record with no STDs within ten business days," the union rep said. "And, of course, your minimum activity requirement will begin next month."

"Um?" Lois blinked.

"To remain a member in good standing, you need to show receipts for at least three paid sex acts every sixty days," the rep told Metropois' newest whore. "It's a new requirement, designed to discourage casual membership and prevent us from padding the books with paper members and inflate our perceived membership."

"Right," Lois Lane said. "Okay, thank you. And about my situation..."

Goodall stood up. She gave a smile, and there was a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. There was that sense that she was actually looking forward to this.

Blaze was still in Lois Lane's apartment. The new sex worker led the way, Mrs. Goodall behind, and a conga-line of brightly-costumed caped crusaders behind her. The demon had raided the reporter's fridge, and was devouring the last of the reporter's chocolate. The scarlet face pinched forward, the pure white eyes narrowed.

"What have you done?" Blaze said as she stood up. Black lightning arced between her horns.

Goodall stepped forward. "You are Blaze?"

"I am. Who are you?"

"Janice Goodall. I am Miss Lois Lane's representative," the woman lifted her hand and presented a piece of paper to Blaze. "I hereby insist that you cease and desist any and all attempts to coerce, control, intimidate, bribe, or threaten Miss Lane from any sexual act on your behalf."

The demon scowled and grabbed the paper from the woman's hand. Her eyes ran over the lines...widened...

"There's a union!?" She said aghast.

"Collective bargaining," Goodall said, a tight smile on her lips. "And if you even think about harming my client, I should let you know that I've already placed a call to my union brothers down below."

The demon lowered the paper. "That damned bastard Hoffa doesn't..."

"You absolutely sure about that?" Goodall said icily. "Because you may be a Queen of Hell, but you depend on an awful lot of people to manage things, don't you? Good union workers."

Blaze ground her teeth. She stared at Lois and sneered.

"Very well, Lois Lane. Enjoy your time as a whore...and I hope you **** on all the dicks you'll suck to assuage the hunger in your soul!"

There was a crash of thunder...and then Blaze was gone, only a nasty black scorch mark on the reporter's kitchen floor to show she had been there. Superman stood behind Lois and rubbed her shoulders.

There were smiles, laughter, and after many thanks and some gentle shooing, the assembly left...so that it was only Lois and Superman alone in her apartment.

And the thirst was upon her.

As she pulled at his pants, Superman stopped her. She looked up at him, eyes pleading.

"I'm sorry Lois...I don't have any cash on me."

Lois Lane licked her lips.

"I'll let you run a tab."

Then she fell to her knees, and pulled his pants down so fast that the super-erection nearly took her head off.

That was how Lois Lane's night ended. On her knees, head bobbing, a warm Kryptonian cock struggling to cram itself into her throat...and in her head a mental meter was running. Something had shifted in Lois Lane, a change that she had not fully appreciated yet, and might not for some time to come. Because now she truly was a sex worker...and she had a quota to fill.