Epilogue: Covered Up

The days crawled by, added up to weeks. At the Daily Planet, if anyone noticed that Lois Lane's wardrobe had made a subtle change, no one spoke about it where the reporter could hear. T-shirts and any dress, shirt, or blouse that showed the reporter's cleavage or chest were out. She began to take a slightly dressier style, button-up shirts with high thread counts, often with ascots or ties. Anything to cover up the obscene tattoo that covered her chest.

The sun set slowly on Metropolis, the streetlights winking on as twilight fell, extending the gloom in the streets. High up in the Daily Planet building, Lois Lane worked late.

That had been another aspect of being tattooed, Lois had found. Trying to stay out of the spotlight, not attract too much attention. Working late so that her coworkers had less of an opportunity to catch a glimpse. Or peek over Lois Lane's shoulder and see her researching tattoo removal.

The options weren't promising. Tattoos were for life. The laser tattoo removal process was basically selective destruction, but it left scars in the shape of the tattoo. Scars that would fade in time...but it would be a long, painful, and expensive process that would require exposing her body. The only other option was to cover them up with some other, more tasteful tattoo...and Lois wasn't sure how Blaze's magic would react to some other ink.

All alone in the Daily Planet, Lois slid into the empty family restroom, locked the door, and stripped off her shirt and stared at the vines with their obscene vulva-flowers and words. SLUT. WHORE. CUNT. It set the reporter's jaw on edge as her fingers traced the letters...saw her nipples stiffen in the mirror. Her fingernails touched the hard, flat stomach, now showing a hint of a six pack—Lois had to cover up at the gym, too, but she needed the hard workouts to deal with the stress.

As her fingers slid down to her tattooed pussy, Lois frowned. Her carefully trimmed pubic hair had never grown back, the wet slit sitting now on a bare mound. Lois Lane's index finger found the white string of her tampon, curled it around a knuckle, and tugged. The little cotton wad came free...and it was clean, perfectly clean.

The third day of a period with cramps, but no blood. At first, Lois had thought it was just how hard she had been working out, the lower body fat...her period could be spotty. Except that wasn't what was happening.

Because she had started to take pictures, in the mirror. Day by day during her period, the vines had begun curling out from her pussy, along her skin. She could almost make out the shapes of new letters being drawn on her skin, a drop at a time. Her own menstrual blood converted to ink.

The reporter's breath came in short gasps as her fingers rubbed at her clit. A part of her wondered if Blaze was still shaping the patterns being carved into her skin. Wondered how long she could keep covered up, if the tattoo kept spreading. Months...years? Right now it was just her front, her pussy. If the tattoos covered her neck...her face...or if her sister invited her out to the beach.

Lois Lane **** herself to stop touching her clit. Leaned against the corner of the sink, her hands gripping the sides, crotch rubbing against the cold porcelain.

There was no one to hear her moan, but she held it in anyway as she humped the bathroom sink. Her eyes wandered over her naked, obscene form as her hips shifted, crushing her clit against the hard, smooth surface. Sometimes, late at night, she imagined she felt the invisible prick of that tattoo needle inside her skull, black vines being inked onto her living brain...awake, she knew that couldn't happen, but alone in the dark it seemed terrifyingly plausible.

"There has to be a way," Lois whispered, in between pants as the need inside of her grew, the anticipation building. "I beat you. I'm going to beat you. I'm not going to be some sideshow freak tattooed woman, I'm not, I'm...unngh..."

The grunt escaped her lips and Lois closed her eyes tight as her whole body seized up. There was a familiar itch, down there, where the new tattoos were coming in. Lois could make out the outlines of the words SUPER SLUT. Yet what scared her...what excited her...what made her curiosity burn so that she kept putting off making the appointment was the image taking shape just below her belly button and above her crotch. A very familiar S-shield, the outer lines already distinct. The interior blank, so far.

Lois wanted to see what would go in there. Wanted to know if this was Blaze's doing...or if somehow her own desires were being expressed on her skin.