End: The Silver Kryptonite Works On Lois Lane

In university, Lois Lane had gotten high. It had been her great period of experimentation. Beer, wine, and liquor at parties. A few drags from a cigarette. Then she'd taken a few tokes from a reefer. Pills and coke had been a step too far, and she'd avoided the people associated with them. One particular friend had offered her a tab of acid, and out of curiosity she had accepted. The trip that followed had sent her out of her skull, and she had spent a night naked and wet, wrapped in a sheet, wondering if this was what being dead felt like.

After that, Lois had generally eschewed ****. Her curiosity was just too great. Too easy to be addicted. She still drank wine and the occasional cocktail, but that was about it.

Perhaps that's why the silver kryptonite went so hard.

A pins-and-needles sensation ran all over her body...and immediately as it faded, Lois felt the unnatural heat. The euphoria. All around the reporter, the lights seemed brighter. Worries vanished. Tension drained from her muscled. She stared at Metallo's weird electro-mechanical penis...and she began to laugh.

Metallo, who was prepared for horror, or lust, frowned in confusion as the reporter began to giggle uncontrollably. She laughed so hard that Lois grabbed her sides to hold them in. Collapsed onto her side and rolled around on her back, legs drawn up, unable to stop. Every look at the ribbed metallic prong with its waving silicone fronds stroke Lois Lane as hilarious on some deep and profound level.

In mere moments, tears ran down from her eyes and her face muscles hurt from smiling so hard. She paused for a moment so suck in air, her diaphragm already ached, and then she opened her eye and caught a glimpse of the silvery shaft and went right back to laughter.

The villain shook his head. A steel plate slide closed over his heart, to cut Lois Lane off from the silver kryptonite radiation.

Except she kept laughing.

"I can't work like this," Metallo grumbled, as his metallic prick powered down.

There was a conversation then, though Lois Lane was too enraptured in mirth to understand most of it. Lex Luthor's voice was urging Metallo to **** her, and Metallo couldn't bring himself to do it. Screams were one thing, but the reporter's complete unconcern had unmanned him as surely as if she had cut his balls off.

In the end, Lois Lane didn't resist as they bundled her up and carried her out of the room. She laughed as they tried to re-dress her in her club clothes, as they splashed her with tequila, as they stabbed a needle into her arm. It was all too funny.

There was a car. People that helped her out, half-carried her to her apartment. Left her there, high and watching cartoons, eating popcorn, until the **** they gave her finally took effect.

When she woke up, Lois Lane was still high. They had never had a chance to test how long the effects of silver kryptonite lasted, and Lois Lane, stuck in an altered state of consciousness, felt her night out stretch into a weekend that Lois would remember very little of, when at last the effect wore off...

...but it would leave Lois Lane with another problem. The same problem she had strove so hard to avoid in university. A craving, a need, that ate at her soul like acid.

Lois Lane ended her night out with an addiction to silver kryptonite...and how she fed that addiction, the ways she degraded herself and the laws she broke to acquire it, are another story.