Get The Cock Out

"We should go to the emergency room," Lucy Lane told her sister. "I know it's embarrassing, but you're hurt."

"No." Lois was adamant. "I'm not ending up as one of those X-rays on the 'weirdest thing removed from an orifice' lists at the end of the year. I just...I need..."

She grit her teeth, feeling her stomach cramp. "We'll go home. I know someone I can call. A doctor. He does home calls."

Lucy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. But she held her big sister's hand for the length of the cab ride back to the reporter's apartment.

Lois needed her help to get out of the car, could hardly walk as she staggered toward the door, leaning heavily on Lucy's arm. The younger woman waved at the doorman. She mimed drinking from an invisible bottle, and the doorman smiled genially as he opened the building for them—not the first time he had dealt with someone almost dead drunk. The reporter hope he didn't notice the blood on the floor.

Her stomach felt cold and bloated. The pain was more intense now, her waist pressing against the band of her suddenly too-tight pants. In the elevator, she took out her smartphone and dialed a number she hoped she would never have to use...

He picked up on the second ring.

"Doctor Mid-Nite?" she asked. "It's Lois Lane. I have...a problem..."

When they arrived at her floor, Lucy helped Lois out of the elevator, and blinked at the man in a dark cape waiting outside her door, and old-fashioned black doctor's bag in his hand, an owl perched on his shoulder.

"Teleportation, via the Justice League satellite," he explained with a thin-lipped smile. "Let's get her inside, please."

Together Lucy and the Doctor led Lois to the bed. The own flapped off of his shoulder, taking a perch on the bedstead, staring down at Lois. With a pair of very small, strong scissors, the doctor cut away the reporter's pants, starting at the ankle and working all the way up to the hip, then doing the same to the other side.

Lucy Lane reached for the lamp beside the table, but the Doctor stopped her with a gesture.

"I work better in the dark," he said. Peeling back the last flap of the reporter's pants, he examined the pussy. The smell of blood filled the darkened room, and Lucy was suddenly glad she couldn't see.

"I see the problem," the Doctor said after a moment. He turned to Lois. "I won't ask how you got into this situation—many women in our line of work suffer terrible indignities, and I respect their right to privacy—but you are not superhuman. There could be...complications."

"Lucy?" Lois said. "Hold my hand. Doctor Mid-Nite just...get this out of me. Whatever it takes."

Mid-Nite said nothing, but laid out a clean cloth on the bed beside her, and tools on top of that, each in their own sterile case. He excused himself for a moment to go to the restroom, and the women heard the sound of running water, sudsy scrubbing, and the smack of latex. He returned wearing fresh surgical gloves.

With careful experience, he took out a sanitary wipe and swabbed it over her genitalia. Then they watched as he filled a syringe and pressed the tip into Lois' labia. She hissed.

"This is a local painkiller. You'll stay awake, but it should help somewhat with the pain. It'll take a few moments to take effect."

"Are you a gynecologist?" Lucy asked, for the need to do something.

"General surgeon. I've performed pelvic surgeries, Caesarions, abortions..." He shrugged. "I'm going to do a digital examination now. Please let me know if you feel any pain or discomfort."

Lois winced but said nothing as two gloved fingers slowly entered her vagina. There was nothing of the act of a lover in this invasion, a very matter-of-fact probing, seeking gently. Doctor Mid-Nite's face was impassive, not even staring at the pussy, exploring blindly.

He frowned.