Microwave

On wobbly legs, holding the white bastard firmly in her hands, Lois Lane left the bathroom for the kitchen.

Flush it down the toilet, and it might come back.

Trap in a container, and it might break free.

The microwave, however...

Lois allowed herself a thin smile.

She didn't cook. Always on the go, grabbing a bite wherever she could. After her mother died, her father had actually served the girls MREs. Later in life, Lois had learned more about eating right, and put a little more thought into what she ate and when...but she still couldn't cook.

Hence, the microwave.

The reporter tossed the demon into the white box and slammed door shut. It slithered and squirmed inside, banging its head against the glass door.

"High," Lois decided. "Five...no, ten minutes. See how you like that, fucker."

The controls beeped. Lois hit go. The little tray started to rotate. Lois sat back to watch.

The thing thrashed. The head banged against the metal.

At five minutes and thirty-one seconds, it exploded.

Lois grabbed the fire extinguisher and sat waiting as the time ran out. Enjoyed hearing the hiss and pop. The grey-white goo black a little at the edges.

There was a certain satisfaction when it dinged, and the light went out.

That nightmare, at least, was over.

She turned to the bottle which had started the whole mess. Her pussy ached, deep inside. Just walking caused her labia to grate against each other. She desperately hoped there was no permanent damage from tonight's little adventure.

"Now, what to do with you?" She spoke out loud.