End: Time To End This Experiment

From the observation booth, Lex Luthor sighed. He watched with a sort of detached resignation as Lois Lane dropped Bueno Excellente's head and proceeded to stomp on his testicles, delivering crushing blows that caused his **** body to spasm in an agony that would no doubt haunt the would-be-****'s dreams.

It was time to end this particular experiment.

Reaching for the controls, Luthor initiated the clean-up procedure.

Lois Lane was busy crushing Bueno's manhood into soft sacks of red jelly when a red light burst throughout the room...and she felt the tell-tale body-wide pins-and-needles sensation. She had the sudden, modestly unpleasant feeling of a burning in her frontal lobes, like the exact inverse of an ice cream headache...but she could see no sign of change on her body.

The gas that flooded the chamber shortly thereafter was mostly odorless. Lois blinked heavily, swayed, suddenly too tired to continue to kick the prostrate ****'s ass. Her head felt fuzzy...her balance uncoordinated. The naked reporter stumbled about, trying to keep her eyes open. Focused now less on **** than on escape.

Have...to... Were her last conscious thoughts...and then she crumpled to the floor.

Navy SEALS could hold their breath for up to five minutes. Luthor kept the gas in the chamber for a full ten before the air-recyclers pumped it out, and technicians in biohazard suits came in to remove the **** inhabitants. With exaggerated care, Lois Lane was re-dressed in club clothes, her wallet and smartphone returned to her.

The particular variety of red kryptonite Luthor exposed her created retrograde amnesia. Combined with a liberal dousing of her clothing with tequila, and Lois Lane would, the next morning, believe herself the subject of an alcoholic blackout. No memory of the club, or what she found there.

He watched on the monitor as the **** reporter, smelling of booze, was shuffled into a LexCorp cab and driven to her apartment building, where the helpful cabby would assist the **** reporter to her door. Mentally, the bald villain replayed the events of the night...all the decisions Lois Lane had made, her reactions to various stimuli. Knowing the reporter as he did, Luthor had no doubt that she would be back...and he needed a plan in place for that.

Of course, what Lex Luthor could not know was that the sexual inversion induced in the reporter by the first piece of kryptonite she was exposed to would not wear off.

On the floor of her apartment, Lois Lane came gradually to wakefulness. The inside of her skull seemed two sizes too small, and a mad dwarf was drilling right behind her left eye. Reeking of tequila, body aching with bruises she didn't remember the source of, mouth tasting like something died in it, the reporter crawled on her hands and knees into her bathroom. Ten minutes of being messily sick and three glasses of water later, she felt better...if not exactly human.

Dizzily, as she stripped off her ****-sodden club clothes, the reporter tried to recall the events of the night...but it was like probing the gap where a tooth had been pulled. Lois could remember nothing beyond taking the cab to the club. She shook her head and stumbled into the shower, letting the water run cold before it went hot. Her hands numbly rubbed soap over her pits, her chest...down between her legs...

A tingle hit Lois there. It had been months since she had felt another human being's touch, and sometimes that was all it took to arouse her. More than once over the last few weeks she had rubbed her clit with frantic need in the shower, thinking about Superman...but now...the mental image of the Man of Steel didn't seem to be doing it for her. She shivered under the hot water, fingers flitting between her legs with a sudden **** need...but the mental image that came to her suddenly, that made her knees shake and drew a hoarse gasp from her lips was utterly unexpected.

"Oh...Supergirl!" Lois moaned.

She bit her lip. Eyes squeezed tight. In her mind's eye she focused on the gentle well of that young woman's breasts beneath her costume, the long bare legs, the flash of her panties. The young twenty-something hero, the last Maid of Krypton...and as Lois Lane's fingers blurred on her joy button she imagined what she would do if Supergirl was right here.

Little did either Lex Luthor or Lois Lane know, but her night out would have grave ramifications for the future. But that is another story.