"What the hell sort of question is that?" She mused, checking the questionnaire over. Was this some joke of Lana's? It didn't seem like the sort of thing she'd have sent her...
*ding*
"Ugh!" She groaned aloud...as her body suddenly and forcefully expanded with hundreds of pounds of extra muscle. One moment she was just sitting there in her fashionable pantsuit...and a moment later, she was a massive slab of beef. She screamed in horror...but though her once dainty hands were now huge, calloused, thick-fingered paws at the end of brawny arms...her suit still fit her perfectly. She stood up, and her legs were twin towers...yet her pants still fit...shoes still fit...she looked at her face in a mirror...and saw the face of someone who was almost a stranger. Oh, still basically her face...
But her cheeks and jaw were so...hard and defined. Her foundation was perhaps a little heavy...to cover up the ever present case of acne. Her brow somewhat more prominent. Her eyebrows growing together into an obvious uni-brow. Sparse chin and lip hairs. It all pointed to one thing : Steroids.
"But...but I don't..." she said aloud, yet even as she did...her deep, masculine voice made a liar of her. She...loved steroids. She'd been abusing them for years. She'd started just exercising as usual, but once she'd heard of those three magic words (androgenic anabolic steroids) she'd never looked back. Bigger and bigger doses had helped her build up bigger and bigger tolerances to the powerful drugs, until she simply couldn't imagine life without her daily injections and hours long regiment of benching and curling. Once the side effects started to hit her, they seemed so minor...even worth it. In fact the loss of her period, deepening of her voice, increase of both body and facial hair, clitoral growth (it was practically a fully formed dick these days), and perpetual acne were more than made up for by the supposed 'emotional effects'. She wasn't 'irritable'. Other people were just assholes. She wasn't 'hostile'. She was direct. She didn't have 'mood swings'. She was complex. And she didn't have a 'false sense of invincibility. She WAS invincible!
But...she was also still Lois Lane...and she KNEW it was the questionnaire.
She looked up and saw 'Body-Builder' was chosen...and she knew it was right...but also knew it was wrong. She could remember as a young girl idolizing Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno. She looked at women like Heidi Krieger, Candice Armstrong and Denise Rutkowski not as horror stories and warnings but role models. She looked down, and saw that even now...one tremendously thick, girder-like arm was curling up and down with a massive barbell she'd never have been able to move before. Up and down. Always lifting. Benching. If denied the chance to get her minimum four hour session in, then she'd spend all day doing chin-ups on random door jams. Dropping and doing 200 German pushups with one arm. She had goodnatured contempt for people who couldn't keep up with her, which meant...she had goodnatured contempt for most of the people she met during her day. She called Jimmy Olson 'Squirt' and Lana Lang 'String bean'. Perry White was 'Old Man White' and she only really respected a couple of the guys and girls down in shipping or janitorial. Big, brawny folks (though not her equals) who earned their wages with their strong backs.
She struggled...but she knew that from this day forward...this was her. She was Lois 'Lou' Lane. Though only a few inches taller than her previous height (steroid use during her youth had caused a growth spurt, leveling he off at a respectable 6 ft even) she was now a nearly impossible 350 lbs of solid, tight-packed muscle.
The questionnaire switched to another question, and she growled at the screen. Brainiac? Lex Luther? More likely Mister Myxlplyx or the Toy Man, considering the strangeness of her change. Well, she'd have to contact Superman as soon as possible.
"How do you dress and present yourself? Mannish? Tomboy? Girl-Next-Door? Professional Woman? Lady of the Evening?"
She resisted the urge to instantly hit 'Mannish' or 'Tomboy' as they were what the current 'her' wanted, and she had enough presence of mind to realize that the current her...wasn't the 'real' her. If she allowed her new reality to dictate her decision, then she'd never get back to normal. Though she suspected that Superman could help her...part of her really wanted to solve this by herself. Now...as mannish as she was...was this a trick? She suspected that at any second the question might just answer itself as it had before, so she hit 'Lady of the Evening' thinking that an extreme choice one way might counterbalance an extreme choice the other. She heard the *ding*
She sat with her head cocked to the left, chin angled just so. Not an actual example of posture, but rather of posing. Her thick, right arm was held bent, her wrist loose and palm open to flaunt her long, red nails. Long nails were important to her. Long, red nails just screamed 'sexy', so her nails were VERY red and VERY long. It took training to type with nails that were always at least 2 inches, but she'd spent her whole life perfecting the skill. She smiled, with her thick, pillowy collagen-stuffed lips set in her strong, manly jaw. Her makeup was thick and theatrical. Lips were glistening with glossy red. Cheeks boldly defined with smokey blush. Eyes dark with mascara that turned her lashes into feathery brushes, and hightened with sky blue shadow that fades into golden streaks. Red leather minidress clinging to her gigantic fake tits thrust out like the dagmars on old cars, her musclebound body now carrying an extra 50 lbs of soft, jiggling flesh as extra padding to her legs, hips, ass and breasts. Her long legs were crossed, accentuating their muscular thickness with smooth, dark hose and bright red, 6 inch pointed toe platform stilettos.
Hyper feminity had been the logical answer to her growing muscularity. Don't stop working out, and NEVER stop using steroids, but it was more than enough to counterbalance one with the other. She patted her great, sweeping cape of white-gold hair as it tumbled down her back to her surgery-inflated ass. It had been hard work, but it had paid off in spades. She giggled, her deep voice arching into a sort of trilling faux-femininity that made most people assume she was a Drag Queen. In an effort to counteract such talk, she'd had her name legally changed to 'Lushious Lulabelle Lane', but the idiots just assumed that was even more proof.
Then again...the truth was just out of range. She knew this wasn't...quite who she was...but she also knew in her heart that she was 'Lushious Lulabelle Lane' - a female (?) bodybuilder, plastic survey nut and devote to what she often called 'Extreme Sexuality'. What did she do here at the Daily Planet then? Was this even her desk? What was real and what was fake?
The questionnaire asked another question, just as she lit a cigarette and slipped it into a long, red holder. "Where do you fit in? Wife? Husband? Brother? Sister? Mother? Father? Friend?"
She tossed her head - her mountain of hair sweeping about and assuming an even more perfect arch that covered one eye in a bluntly sexual display. "Oh, REALLY.? Now THIS is just TOO MUCH!!!" She cried like any deep voiced man attempting a haughty woman's exagerated outrage. She gestured with her red-talloned right hand, the cigarette tracing a perfect circle of silvery smoke. "What sort of options are THESE? Wife? Husband? REALLY? It makes no sense!"
She fumed and sputtered, but knew that sooner or later...she'd have to decide. Husband, Father and Brother were out. She had enough self control to decide that. But 'Wife'? Whose wife? Jimmy? Clark? Perry? And 'Mother'? Sister had the same stumbling block. The only safe choice...was Friend.
She'd have to choose 'Friend'.
She glided the mouse over 'Friend' and clicked it...only to watch in horror as 'Friend' morphed into 'Foe' just as she clicked it.
She screamed...as her skin darkened till it was a beautiful emerald green. Her blond-dyed hair aquaried green accents and highlights, while her red lips, nails, dress and pumps became a gaudy and shocking pink! A tiara formed in her hair, glittering with emeralds and rose quartz. She gasped again in shock, as her mind...
It wasn't her fault! Her precious steroids had been tainted by a Kryptonite-based mixture, transforming her into Kryptonia the Kryptonite Queen! No! She loved Superman! She wanted him, but...he always fought her! She had to team up with other Superman foes in an effort to show him that she was the woman for him, and that surrender into her brawny arms would be bliss. She had once turned into X-Kryptonite to give herself the powers of a Kryptonian, and would next use her Green Kryptonite powers to weaken Superman to the point that he couldn't resist her, then change into Red Kryptonite to change him so he could truely love her....then perhaps she'd turn to Gold Kryptonite and strip him of his powers. The infamous Kryptonite Queen was one of Supemans most powerful foes...
"You CHEATED! Not this...not this..." she snarled, her deep voice taking on a naturally villainous tone. After all...she was now a villainess. An infamous villainess.
She snarled at the screen. Unfair. It was unfair! She'd wait here to take some of Superman friends hostage, perhaps exposing them to her Bizarro Red Kryptonite (which affected humans the same way Red Kryptonite affected Kryptonians) and watch the fun! Eventually Superman would show his face...and she'd take him...break him....make him her swishy, swooning bottom boi...