End: Whatever Lex Luthor Wants

"No...no..." Lois Lane's eyes went wide as her muscles gave out. Body hot with fever, too weak to stand, Maria had to half-carry, half-drag the reporter into the middle of the room, where a white table rose from the floor. With a huff of effort, Maria hauled the reporter onto the table. The white lights almost blinded Lois in their intensity, but weirder than that, she could feel her exposed skin drink up the light.

Utterly defenseless, the reporter could barely move as Maria stripped the reporter of her clothes. Every pale inch of skin exposed to those lights seemed to crackle.

"They're sun lamps," Maria explained. "The frequency is tailored so that your skin will absorb it. Just like Superman. You'll need the energy for...for the transformation."

The reporter shook her head, even as Maria pulled Lois Lane's t-shirt over her head. With practiced ease, the bra came off, and the small, pert handfuls of the reporter's slim bust were exposed to view.

"What...what are they going to do to me?" Lois asked.

"Whatever I wish, Lois."

The bald head came into view. The green eyes seemed to glitter like a serpent's, though Lois knew that might just be the fever. Maria tugged at the reporter's pants, and Lois desperately tried to cover her breasts with her hands.

"Luthor!" Lois hissed.

"Now, now...none of that," Luthor said. Gloved hands gripped her wrists and **** them gently down by her sides. Smooth plastic straps emerged from the table to hold them firmly in place. "We need maximum exposure. The virus will only last in your system for a few days. I want to see how many varieties of red kryptonite we can expose you too in that period."

"You...you can't..." Lois said, as sweat beaded her forehead. Down at her feet, Maria huffed in triumph as she pulled the reporter's pants off her feet. Luthor was there in a heartbeat, to hold her down until Maria came back for her panties.

There was something worse than grim amusement in Lex Luthor's face as he watched the young woman pull the reporter's black thong down, to reveal the carefully-cut wedge of pubic hair, and the dark cleft of the reporter's pussy. Cold, clinical attachment, the same way Luthor would look at a tree or a guinea pig. The reporter's face flushed hotly as, with the panties gone, Luthor used more straps to bind her ankles in place, shoulder-length apart, which left the reporter's pussy exposed.

Maria cast one last look back at the reporter as she tossed Lois Lane's clothes in the car. The cab pulled away. The big door closed. No more Maria. No one except Lois and Luthor.

"You won't...get away with this!" Lois said, and even then she knew the words were trite.

"I already have," Luthor said, and slipped a remote control from his pocket. Above Lois Lane, the ceiling opened. A mechanical arm descended, and in its grip was a chunk of reddish crystal, half-fractured and half-melted, almost glassy in appearance. A pins-and-needles sensation covered the reporter's whole body as she lurched desperately against her bonds. From her mouth ripped a scream of primal rage...

Lex Luthor allowed himself a little smile. The Kryptonian would not save Lois Lane this time. She was all alone...and he had so many experiments to try on her.

"You will learn," he said to himself. "That you are mine, to do with as I will. Your body, you mind, are clay for me to mold. In time, perhaps, you will come to understand that...embrace it. For now...you will do as you are told."

There were other worlds where Lois Lane escaped. Where her night out had a happy ending. This is not one of those worlds. This time, Lois Lane had lost.