I Choose The Man

Lois Lane said the words, but something felt...off. Empty inside.

Of course I choose the man. I'm straight, aren't I?

The man stepped forward, a slight smile on his face. Square-jawed, kind of handsome. The strong shoulders she liked. So why was her gaze drifting back toward Maria, with her full breasts and hips? Why couldn't she focus on the man in front of her...

She stood, stock still and immobile as her loomed before her. The eyes were waiting, expectant.

"You've sucked cock before, haven't you Lane?" Mercy's voice came down.

"Y-yes," she said, not liking where this was going.

"Then get on your knees. Take his cock in your mouth."

Why am I doing this? Lois asked herself as she got down on the hard floor. The flaccid prick was in front of her, dangling like a pink worm. He smelled—clean. Freshly washed, lightly cologned with something floral. His balls were shaved, his prick uncut, it would be the easiest thing in the world to just reach forward and...

"What are you waiting for, Lane?"

Lois knelt there visibly shaking, her inner struggle made manifest. I'm not gay, I'm not, I'm not I like men, I love dicks, I...I...

"I can't do it," she said softly.

"No you can't," Mercy's voice was triumphant. "Your biometrics register disgust, not arousal. You haven't just become a rug-munching dyke, Lois...you're completely turned off by men."

Silently, the nude male stepped back. Lois Lane slumped, hands on the floor. She felt physically ill. The reporter would never have believed that anything could so fundamentally change her sexual orientation—her nature.

Mercy didn't allow the newborn lesbian time to mope.

"Of course, that means you just lied to me Lane. Lies come with a penalty."

The screen flashed through the count down. Lois watched the numbers shift, a bitter taste in her mouth, heart feeling wounded and empty. Whatever came next, couldn't possibly be worse than how she felt right now.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

The world flashed red.