Lois Lands In Limbo

The moment of impact shocked the reporter. Her bones didn't break, her skin didn't burn. She found herself, naked and still fingering herself fore and aft, face-down in a very thin, institutional gray carpet.

She blinked one violet eye.

"Lois Lane?" A voice called out. The reporter raised her head.

Confusion. Shock. Something like horror. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A naked shuffling mass of humanity was seated, or stood, in long lines. Lois Lane took into account the tile and carpet, the uncomfortable plastic seats, the thin strips of cloth that marked out the waiting line, the beige columns of a room too big to be real...like an infinite version of the Department of Motorized Vehicles.

A demon, red of skin and with dark horns above her thin, wolfish face, tapped at her clipboard. She wore office casual, including a pair of tennis shoes. The reporter stared at them, as though she could **** them to turn into hooves.

The shoes stopped in front of her.

"There you are. Your case has been expedited."

The nude reporter carefully brought herself up onto her knees. Her cheeks flushed as she realized her fingers were still inside her ass, and she pulled them forth, wondering how many people had seen that.

"Expedited?"

"Yes. Your time isn't up yet. Those fucksticks upstairs made a mistake, or someone's tampering with the laws of nature, or you're being reincarnated. I don't really care which. Now sign here and stop leaking on my floor. I don't have an eternity. Otherwise you can stay here until you reach the front of the line."

A clipboard was thrust in front of the reporter's face. There was a pen, paperwork. With filth-stained fingers, Lois grasped the pen. She had no idea what was going on, but prospect of spending her afterlife waiting in queue was enough to get her to sign anything...