Watersports

The woman held Lois Lane's wrists and hustled the dirt-caked reporter through the corridors, through a door to a backstage area where a dozen naked women were chugging from gallon jugs of water. Lois blinked. She recognized some of the women—they

"Is the pool ready?" The woman said.

"Yes ma'am," a slim blonde woman said. A name came up in the reporter's memory: Diana Reynolds. Missing three weeks.

"And the cuffs, chains, spreader bar, funnel?"

"All set, ma'am. Just need the talent."

"She's here. Clean her up and get her on the stage in five minutes, the curtains rise in ten!"

The woman disappeared through a door, and then Lois was suddenly surrounded by the women, all of whom were accosting her with wash clothes, towels, sponges. Lois couldn't even get a word in, so quickly was she stripped and scrubbed, until naked and pink four of them manhandled her onto the stage.

It was like a medical gallery. A small amphitheater, with the "stage" at the bottom of the rows of circular seats, bright lights overhead, so that the audience could stare down at it from all angles. The hard floor was concrete, set with metal drains, and a low plexiglass wall separated the performance space from the nearest seats.

There was a pink plastic pool in the middle of the stage, the kind that children splashed around in yards across America. Except there were metal rings set into the floor around it, and Lois was half-carried until she was laid into the pool. Leather cuffs gripped her wrists and ankles, metal chains threading through the rings on the floor. Another pair of leather cuffs went around her knees, a metal bar held between them in such a way that Lois couldn't close her legs.

"Hey!" The reporter said, finding her voice at last. "Can't I get a drink or something?"

Diana Reynolds smiled at her. She was bringing a kind of clear plastic gag forward.

"Don't worry, honey. You won't be thirsty for long. Now say 'aaaah'..."

It must have been Poison Ivy's pollen. It was the only reason that Lois could think of for why she was so passive, why she didn't say no, why she didn't fight as they tied her down. Why she opened her mouth and let the clear plastic gag hold her mouth open, and lifted her head to let Diana secure it behind her hair. Very carefully, Diana lowered a plastic funnel into the gag.

"Let me know if this chokes you, okay?" But the funnel fit into the gag as though designed for that purpose, the narrow end extending only an inch into the reporter's mouth, so that she could easily run her tongue around the rim. Diana snapped little fixtures to lock gag and funnel into place.

Then she was gone.

Heart beating, Lois suddenly tested her bonds. The chains clanked, but held. Not uncomfortable, but nothing she could get out of immediately. She turned her head from side to side, but there was nothing to see above the walls of the plastic pool.

There has to be some way to get out of here, Lois thought.

Then people began to filter into the theater. Dangerous people. Lois recognized the scaly bulk of Killer Croc, the slick green hair and unnaturally pale skin of the Joker, the hulking bestial countenance of Kallibak, son of Darkseid; more villains filtered in giving each other some space, but more than enough to fill a Legion of Doom or Monster Society of Evil meeting.

Then the woman came on stage...now in a long, dark dress that sparkled like stars, and long heels that clicked on the concrete. She had a microphone in one hand, and smiled up at the assembled throng of villains.

"I'd thank you all for cumming...but you haven't yet," she said, the joke falling flat on the audience. "Tonight's program follows this month's theme: watersports! Before your eyes is our sacrificial suspect. Backstage are thirty women with full bladders...and we have more in the wings! If our intrepid piss-enthusiast can survive, she wins one hundred thousand dollars! If not..."

The crowd seemed to be breathing hard, edging forward in their seats.

"...how often do you get to see a whore drowned in piss? Please stay until the end!"

With that, the woman swished off stage. The amphitheater was quiet for a music...and then a slow, subtle music began. Something lonely and familiar...and then Lois Lane made out the tones of one of the greatest Irish singers of the century.

Enya, Lois Lane thought, as she heard the soft pad of a woman's bare feet approach the pool. I'm going to drown in piss while listening to Enya.