If That Doesn't Give You Some Strange Power Over Me, Then Yes

The reporter heard the words come out of her mouth, but even as she did so her mouth felt odd. She ran a tongue over her lips and confirmed her fears. They felt plumper, almost defaulting to a pout.

Wonderful, Lois Lane thought. I'm a lesbian and I've got lip fillers. What else did that kryptonite do?

Mercy Graves didn't answer. But a part of the wall slid out, like a drawer, and there was an outfit there. A long, slinky black dress. Three-inch stiletto heels, also black. Garters and belt, but no panties. A half-cup push-up bra missing part of the cup. Lois Lane frowned, and a part of her debated tearing the cress into pieces and fashioning a loincloth...but she didn't want another penalty.

So she got dressed. Hose, garters, and belt first. It was very fine hose that lent a satiny sheen to the reporter's legs. Then the bra, which strapped on over the shoulders and around the back, and lifted Lois Lane's modest bosom up and made sure her pink nipples were on full display. The dress she wriggled into—there was no zipper—and it was as if it had been tailored to her. Lois frowned as the slim waist hugger her tight, and the long skirt ran down to her ankles, one long slip exposing her right leg all the way to the hip. The plunging cleavage showed off far more of the reporter's breasts than she cared for...but as Lois slid into the heels and gave an experimental step-and-twirl, she had to admit it showed all that she had off to great advantage.

"Not bad, Lane. How do you feel?" Mercy Graves said.

"Simultaneously overdressed and underdressed," Lois said aloud.

"Well, you are missing an accessory. What's your favorite kind of sex toy, Lane?"

Lois froze at the unexpected question...and as if sensing resistance, Mercy began to count.

"5...4...3..."