Epilogue: Incurable

Doctor Fate ran one golden-gloved finger down the page of the Necronomicon.

"How long have you been experiencing this black discharge?"His voice rang hollow within the golden helmet.

"About a week," Lois said. She was keenly aware that she had doubled up on the pads in her panties today, and it still felt uncomfortably squishy. Like the worst period of her life, except that instead of menstrual blood she looked like a gusher of Texas crude had erupted in her pants.

"Any swelling?" He said.

"My breasts. I thought it was just, you know, pregnancy bloat but my...nipples and areola are darker and more sensitive too," she swallowed. "And this morning, I found some black, oily drops in my bra."

Which is why she currently had napkins stuffed into a bra that was already too tight. Lois needed to go in for a fitting, but she had hoped that at least one of the mystics she had contacted would be able to help her...but one after another had shaken their heads. Zatanna, God bless her top hat and tails, had put her in contact with Doctor Fate, who was supposed to be about the most powerful and knowledgeable sorcerer on the planet now that Shazam was dead or on hiatus—and Superman had loaned his copy of the Necronomicon, which the golden-helmeted occultist had declared absolutely essential as a reference work.

Of course, that also meant that she couldn't say no when he had accompanied herto the Tower of Fate for diagnosis. He sat rather stiffly in the chair next to her, and so far hadn't said a word.

"And you have also experienced darkening of your genitalia?" Doctor Fate said.

Lois coughed, her cheeks flushed. "Yes, my labia has darkened considerably...and it's spreading."

The reporter had, through a particular gymnastic maneuver and the aid of several mirrors, confirmed yesterday that her asshole was now black as pitch, and her whole moans was a pale grey shading to black at her labia. The inside of the reporter's pussy was dark as a moonless night. Lois had even tried bleaching her bunghole, but to no effect.

The doctor tapped a particular line on the page.

"When was your first sexual contact with a demon?" He asked.

Lois squirmed in her chair. Her pussy had begun to itch, almost as if could hear the question. Superman said nothing, his silence almost deafening.

"Three weeks ago," she answered.

"And how often have you had sexual contact with demons in that time?"

The reporter looked up and stared into that golden mask. It was impassible, implacable, incredibly ancient and almost inhuman. The eye-slits glowed with some inner light...but then that faded, and Lois saw the weary, wordly, not unkind blue eyes of an older man. They were the eyes of a physician who had seen and experienced much of life. There was no judgment there at all, no effort made to either hurt her or spare her feelings.

"Every night," Lois croaked. "Sometimes two or three times. Sometimes more. I've been feeling very sensitive lately. Easily aroused."

She cast a glance to her left. The book responsible for all this was sitting by itself on a stand, bound with black chains.

It felt like a betrayal to put it in such bald terms, with Superman right beside her. She could almost feel his eyes on her. Wondered what he would say. Would he have offered to fuck her, whenever she was horny? She had never dared to ask. Neither had he. Still, when spoken out loud, she felt like such a cheating whore, like a pit had opened in her stomach and her heart had fallen into it.

"Quite understandable. I must now do an in-depth metaphysical analysis. There may be some unpleasantness. Please stay where you are."

The sorcerer raised his golden hands in front of his chest until the fingertips touched. Through the hole formed by thumb and forefinger, Lois Lane could see the golden amulet. His kindly eyes faded from view as that strange flow filled the eyeslits of the helmet. In a very different voice, musty and ancient, he intoned:

Amulet of Anubis! Shine forth the light of truth...let me see with sight beyond sight!

The eye opened...and Lois gasped. She was unable to move. Something shifted inside that inanimate lump of gold on Doctor Fate's neck. It was like staring into the sun, except it didn't hurt her eyes at all. Rather it was like staring into the eye of a god. Lois could feel it look at her, every part of her. Merciless was that glare, and Lois would gladly have recoiled in horror as it burned through every corner of her mind, body, and soul.

All the faint self-delusions Lois had entertained melted away and she saw now, starkly, what a horny slut she had become for that demonic cock. How terribly easy her fall had been. One little incantation, and she had a dick to play with...and Lois hadn't thought anything of it. Like a teenager she had indulged herself mercilessly, without concern for consequences. In her mind's eye, Lois replayed the times she had laughed and counted how many orgasms she could squeeze out of that crimson cock in a single night, until her pussy was a leaking black mess. How she had practiced her deepthroat technique for long hours, her teeth biting down whenever the cock had started to soften, not even pulling it out when the demonic jizz had erupted down her throat until Lois had felt bloated with cum. She saw herself pull her gaping asshole apart to tease the captive dick, laughing as she dared the dick to cum inside her colon...

When, after an eternity, the eye closed, Lois Lane felt as though she could throw up. There was no way to deny it anymore. Everything she had done, all the signs she had ignored...and now she was paying the price for her lust, her overindulgence, her debauchery.

"The darkness and swelling will remain. The emissions and sensitiveness should fade in five to six days." Doctor Fate said.

"So...I'm cured?" Lois said, as hope surged through her body. She could live with bigger breasts and darker labia and nipples, if it meant she wouldn't be leaking black slime from her pussy for the rest of her life.

The golden helmet shook side to side.

"There is no cure. Your repeated contact with infernal powers has damaged your soul, Lois Lane, and it has damaged your aura—thrown your humours out of balance. There is no disease or demonic essence to remove; this is the human body and soul's innate reaction to an affliction of supernatural lust. Tied to your body's cycles, you will experience flare-ups occasionally...the dark emission and sensitivity will return, as will additional swelling, and the darkening will spread. Your cycle of ovulation has been disrupted, so I do not know when or if your regular period will return...meditation, chastity, and self-control may help to ease or lessen your symptoms, but this is not some matter that I can solve with spell or exorcism. You have done this to yourself, Lois Lane...and now you must live with it."

Doctor Fate closed the Necronomicon, and solemnly handed it back to Superman.

Lois Lane sat there stunned, like a duck hit on the head. She felt...utterly worthless. Black spots formed on her dress as her nipples began to leak. Her panties felt like a swamp. She could feel tears coming on, too; her nose felt suddenly drippy, her mouth full of saliva, and her bowels felt loose. Like every single part of her was ready to vent forth at once.

"Thank you, Doctor," Superman said as he put a hand on Lois Lane's shoulder. "For your candor."

She let Superman lead her out of the tower. It had been morning when they went in, but when they left the stars were out, and it was cold. Lois found herself pressed against Superman.

"We can get a second opinion," he said. "I don't know much about magic, but at the Fortress of Solitude we have Kryptonian medicine...very advanced."

Numbly, Lois shook her head. She knew Doctor Fate was right. She could feel some of the black discharge run down her leg.

Superman pretended he didn't notice.

"We'll get through this together, Lois," he said. "You and me. I promise."

It was not a promise Lois Lane expected him to keep...but then, she had been wrong about many things, ever since her night out.