Epilogue: In The Doghouse

There were looks, on the way to work. People would meet her eyes and there was the shock of recognition. It unnerved Lois Lane...almost as much as the little bone-shaped doggy treats that someone had started to leave at her desk. The way women in the office would glance sideways at her and change the subject when Lois came within earshot. It grated on the reporter's nerves...as if the whole world knew a joke and she wasn't in on it.

At least, not until Perry White called her into his office.

"Ah, Lane," the old man said gruffly. "Shut the door."

The reporter's heart sank. If Perry didn't want the rest of the staff to hear what he was about to say, that was probably bad.

"Sit down, sit down," he gestured across the desk, and she did...her ass on the edge of the seat. Perry ran his meaty hands one over the other, and Lois noticed the nicotine patch on his arm...the old man was trying to quit smoking, but he was nervous and irritable.

"Lois," he said, and the reporter sat straight up, back stiff. He rarely used her first name. "I don't normally inquire into my people's personal lives. None of my business, as long as it doesn't affect their work. But something was...brought to my attention lately."

He shifted a stack of papers, revealing the familiar plastic case of a DVD...and Lois Lane's heart leaped into her throat as she saw her own face on it.

She reached forward to take it...hesitated...but Perry nodded, and with trembling fingers, Lois Lane pulled it toward her.

WHITE BITCH BRED BLACK was the title. It was a surprisingly slick production, but there was no name given to the actors. Just a spiel on the back about how "Puppy" was about to get some "puppies" of her own...and promising sequels so that viewers could see her swell month after month.

"So it is you," Perry said, to break the silence.

Lois swallowed. She could deny it. She could claim it was a deepfake. Tell him it was some malicious attack.

Except that she had been feeling sick to her stomach these days. Not rush-to-the-bathroom to vomit, but nauseous, and she had gained a pound or two despite that. The reporter raised her head and met his eyes.

"Yes," she said quietly.

Perry took a deep breath.

"You're not fired," he said. Then, after a heartbeat. "You're not the first of my people to be in adult films, either. I had a secretary, before your time...she had done some of that sort of thing when she was younger, and after she married her husband he was in the business, and they...it was just a thing they did. Sold the videos out of their house. None of my business."

"They've been talking about it at the office, haven't they," Lois said, as she put the pieces together. "Who knows?"

Perry chewed his lip for a moment. "Kent doesn't know. Or at least, he won't believe it. Not unless you tell him."

Lois Lane sat back in the chair and deflated.

The whole office knew.

"What am I going to do?" She asked.

"In my experience? You either get in front of it, or you put it behind you," he said. The reporter met his gaze again. "I'm serious! Plenty of celebrities have sex tapes. This is a bit kinky, but it doesn't need to define who you are. You're still my best reporter. You still won a Pulitzer! Who gives a damn if you like to put on some dog ears and get fucked from behind? So does every teenager in Metropolis who goes through a furry phase!"

Perry stood up. "Look, Lane, what I'm trying to tell you is...you need to decide for yourself what you want your life to be like. If you want to make adult films on the side, I'm not going to judge you for it. And if this was a one-off and you move on, I won't mention it again. I just want you to know...so you can address it."

Lois Lane nodded. "Thanks, chief. Can I...keep this?"

"Please," Perry said. "If my wife finds it, she'll have my guts for garters!"

The reporter left the office, DVD in hand. She didn't bother to hide it. Everyone knew. Everyone except one person...and Lois Lane felt her steps drag as she walked toward his cubicle.

"Smallville?" She said.

He turned around. A big man in an ill-fitting suit, dorky in those black plastic frame glasses, sitting in a chair that wasn't set right for him because his desk was too low...

"Of course, Lois," he said with a smile...and for just that moment, Lois hesitated.

But he was too good a friend to keep lying to...and she felt, after all these weeks, that she had to tell someone.

"I...have something to tell you," she said as she handed him the DVD.

It all came out, then. Everything from her night out on. The cab driver, the house...the way she felt when she was collared and dominated. How she had been scared and excited and humiliated all at once, at the thought of being seen, of being impregnated...how she had gone from being the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter to its Greatest Bitch...and he listened, those blue eyes moving back and forth from the DVD box to her face, and when it was done...a change seemed to come over him. He stood up...and once more, Lois Lane realized how tall he was, how wide his shoulders were. Clark Kent loomed over her...and his hand came and rested on her shoulder.

"Do you like to be treated like a bitch, Lois?"

The voice was low, but there was a steel in it like nothing Lois had ever heard from the throat of the mild-mannered reporter before.

Her back pressed against the wall of the cubicle. She looked up at him as he bent his head. Clark Kent smelled like sun-dried clothes on a summer day...

"Bark for me," he said, barely a whisper, but it was an order.

"Woof!" Lois huffed, automatically. His warm hand came up to caress her throat.

"I want to take you home tonight, Lois," Clark said. "I want us to go out together, and I'll buy you a collar. One you won't take off. Because the people that did this...you're never going to see them again."

Lois Lane's mouth went dry. Her knees felt weak. It wasn't so much the words as the way he said it. She could feel the warm wetness between her thighs, as though she had wet herself.

"Lois," he said as he leaned down. "Will you be my bitch, and no one else's?"

Instinctively, she answered: "Woof!"

His lips pressed against hers...and it was less a kiss than a promise. That if she had to belong to anyone else, if she had to submit herself to someone else, it would be to someone who loved her wholeheartedly...and who didn't give a damn what anyone else thought about that.

In truth, Lois Lane was about to discover, her descent into bitchdom was just beginning.