What Kind of Favor?

Curiosity was Lois Lane's undoing. It was what made her a great reporter, and it was what kept dragging her into the same kind of **** situations that Superman had so often rescued her from. Except Superman wasn't here...and Lois couldn't help wondering what the harm might be in asking a question or two.

"I mean, we're not talking a Rumpelstiltskin 'you must give me your firstborn' kind of nonsense, right?" Lois asked.

"Nothing so crude," the demon pressed her hands into Lois's shoulders. "The nature of the favor must depend on the nature of the wish. If, for example, you were to become President of the United States, I might ask you to use your newfound authority to unlock for me those grimoires hidden within the Library of Congress. Should you be a billionaire, I might ask you to use a fraction of your great wealth to buy me a magic gem...all very quid pro quo."

"And if I asked to be Mrs. Superman?" Lois hedged. She stared at the terrible and erotic graffiti around the Black Door. Now that she had met Blaze, some of the figures looked...very familiar.

"I would give you a very special condom," the demon's hands closed gently around the reporter's throat. "A female condom. One he wouldn't see or feel. Collect his seed, and return it to me. Do this, and your debt to me would be paid. He wouldn't even know."

Lois repressed a shudder. "What do you want Superman's sperm for?"

"An ingredient, in a very particular and demanding work of magic," the hands left the reporter's throat. "I guarantee you, it will not harm Superman at all. He need not even know! After that, you might bear his children...make love to him...be happily married to the greatest hero the world has ever known."

The reporter bit her lip. She knew there had to be a catch. Blaze was a demon after all. There was bound to be some Monkey's Paw clause, some trick...and resolved strengthened inside of Lois to give the demon her answer.