The End of Lois Lane As We've Known Her

She couldn't hear. Something warm and wet dripped out of Lois Lane's ears. A dull throb seemed to fill her head, and there was the strange sensation of tiny somethings crawling along the inside of her skull. Lois imagined they were all the tiny little sperm, swimming around in her cranial fluid, seeking in vain for an egg to impregnate.

Fingers peeled open one eye. Lois couldn't focus, so there was only a red blob in front of her. Dark things moved...lips maybe. The reporter had learned to read lips, once, long ago. It was hard to make out though. "Gone," maybe.

The fingers pressed down. Her lids shut, and Lois couldn't raise them again.

Darkness.

Gone.

Something prodded Lois. Except it wasn't a physical touch. Her body was dead weight. She couldn't even feel the beat of her heart, though blood in her veins felt thick and sluggish as oil.

Hey.

A word. Not sound, but a word broke in on the wordless void that Lois had been floating in within herself. Her whole self—whatever was left of her—seemed to resonate to that word. There were things that went along with that...emotions, intonations. The "voice" was masculine, kind...and it came from without, outside of Lois.

Hey, c'mon. You can't stay here.

Lois turned toward the source of the voice-that-wasn't-a-voice...and almost too easily, she slipped out of the broken, cum-riddled shell that once was the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter.

She had no eyes to see, but more supernal senses began to come online. In spirit, she looked down at the angel with blood and jizz leaking out of her ears. Eyes closed, dark hair mussed with strands of dried cum, lips parted, throat choked with semen.

Her focus turned from where she had come to the source of the voice. A figure in red, a corpse-pale face. Behind him, a vast and terrible tunnel of light that seemed to tug at her very essence.

Hi, the red-costumed figure "said." I'm Boston Brand.

What happened? Lois asked.

You died. He told her.

Somehow, that made sense. She remembered the cocks crushing her brain to mush. It had been the ****-orgasm.

What now? She asked.

That's up to you. Boston Brand told her. What do you want?