SuperWoMan             by: Roy Del Frink

 

(based on an idea by Scrambler "J")

FROM THE DESK OF CARLA KENT, AUGUST 18, 1985:

It all began on the far-away planet Krypton. A scientist named Jor-El had been studying the recent disturbances in his home planet’s ecosystem, and came to one horrible but unavoidable conclusion: Krypton was doomed. After a series of massive tectonic disturbances (i.e., Krypton-quakes), it would going to blow up in a matter of days, and all its inhabitants would go with it. The planet’s government didn’t want to alarm its citizens, so they just let the Kryptonians sit there, unaware of their eventual fate. Even Jor-El and his wife, Lara, didn’t have enough time to build a spacecraft to escape themselves. Jor-El wouldn’t take things sitting down, however, so the two of them used Lara‘s technical prowess to construct a miniature capsule to carry their newborn son, Kal-El, into space to a better planet.

Their farewell to baby Kal-El, as Krypton’s final tremors rocked their dying civilization to the ground, was brief but poignant. As he lowered his baby in, Jor-El told him, "Kal-El, you must leave us. We can’t come with you, but it’s for the best. You’re going to another planet, far away from here. The inhabitants call it Earth. You’ll be better off there; since Earth is much less dense than Krypton, you’ll have amazing strength there. And your body will be stronger than the strongest armor."

Lara chimed in, "And since Krypton’s year is much longer than Earth’s, you’ll live a lot longer than most Earthlings."

Kal-El kissed his son goodbye, as the capsule was completed and launched. In the next few seconds, Kal-El swore he heard his father say, "Lara, shouldn’t you have told him about that other difference between Earthlings and Kryptonians?"

"No," Lara replied. "He should learn about that as he gets older."

Just as she finished speaking, Kal-El saw a brilliant explosion, followed by a deafening explosion. Krypton was no more.

How do I know so much about what happened that gloomy day? Easy. I’m Kal-El. But you know me by a different name. Let me tell you how I changed from being the sole survivor of a doomed planet to the defender of truth, justice, and the American Way.

The next year of my life is a blur. I hurdled towards Earth in a miniature UFO, what more is there to say? Obviously I grew older, and the ship had some sort of tiny on-board computer that fed and nurtured me. It wasn’t fun in there, trust me. But I got by, and eventually, my tiny prison indeed proved a salvation. It crashed into the ground, and landed with a loud ‘thud’. I was disturbed, but otherwise unhurt. About an hour later, the capsule I’d spent nearly all my life in opened. I looked around, and saw the beautiful sights of Earth for the first time. I was in a giant wheat field. Two young adults saw me, and they spoke.

"Jonathan, isn’t he adorable?"

"Sure is, Martha. But who is he?"

"I don’t have the slightest. But I always wanted a child. Too bad you’re infertile."

"Say, dear, why don’t we take this unknown child and raise him ourselves?"

"I don’t know, Jonathan. He surely must have parents elsewhere."

"Okay, let’s compromise. See those other things in that capsule?" He pointed to the other things inside, a blue-and-red blanket with a giant "S" logo on it and a mysterious wooden box with no apparent openings. "We’ll place an ad in the Smallville newspaper mentioning the lost child and the things we found with him, and if we get no takers in a week, we keep him for good. Is that a deal, Martha?"

"Sure. Sounds fair to me." The woman cradled me in her arms and rocked me back and forth. "And if we get to keep him, let’s name him Clark, after my favorite candy bar."

"Alright. Clark it is." The three of us returned to the truck with the blanket and box. We now headed towards their home. My home. The only home I’d know for over thirteen years.

Of course nobody claimed me, so Ma and Pa Kent (as I call them) raised me as their own. Indeed, I thought that I, Clark Kent, was indeed their son. Until I was fourteen years old, my life with the Kents was rather unremarkable. I was an excellent student, usually getting A’s on my report card. Since students were expected to get involved in extra-curricular activities, I joined the Smallville Elementary (and later Junior High and High School)’s newspaper staff. I had a few friends, though I wasn’t horribly popular. Back at home, I did the hard work expected of a farm-hand. Indeed, the Kent farm required constant work: planting and harvesting the corn, checking the hens for eggs, feeding the cows, and keeping my dog Krypto from raiding the hen-house. Growing up in the country was fine.

But all that changed during my freshman Winter Dance in high school. It was a Friday night. My date, Lana Lang, and I were doing the cha-cha-cha when, suddenly, I felt a pang in my chest. I asked Lana if she would let me sit and rest for awhile.

"Sure, Clark. But don’t keep me waiting too long," she replied. I left the dance floor, filled my glass with punch, and took a seat with the other wallflowers. But the bloated sensation in my chest wouldn’t go away; in fact, I felt a swelling under my tuxedo. As I watched, two round bulges started to form in my chest, and threatened to tear my shirt off. After a minute of this, everyone in the hall was staring at me; even the deejay stopped playing. When I took my eyes off my shirt and back to the room, I couldn’t believe the dirty looks I was getting. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I ran out crying and entered the men’s room.

Inside, one of the seniors said, "Hey missy, read the sign. You don’t look like no man to me!"

"Huh?" I replied, startled to hear a beautiful soprano escape my lips.

"The ladies’ can is that way," he replied, pointing down the hall. Though I didn’t yet understand what had happened to me, I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I went into the powder room and checked myself in the mirror.

I couldn’t believe what I saw. My black hair was long and flowing, no longer the conservative short cut I’d entered the dance with. My face had a cute nose, thin puffy lips, a creamy-smooth complexion without the slightest hint of facial hair, large eyes with unusually long lashes, and a few freckles on my cheeks! I’d never had freckles in my life! Looking down, I saw the unmistakable bulges of femininity that caused my embarrassment only moments before. They were enormous! And since I wasn’t used to them, they felt like twin bags of sugar glued onto my pecs. My waist was smaller, and my hips were wider; lucky I wore a cummerbund, or my tux would have fallen off! I didn’t even want to consider what I now looked like under my clothes. I bawled my heart out, feeling more vulnerable than I’d ever been in my life. I was now a ... GIRL. And a pretty one at that, too. What was I to do?

The next half-hour was the saddest of my life. I never wanted to leave that bathroom and face the world. I’d be teased more often than Twiggy’s hair. Then I heard a familiar voice ask, "Are you alright, dear?"

"Who are you?" I replied, trying not to show my face.

"It’s me, Lana." As I slowly turned to meet her, I realized how beautiful she looked, and how much she cared for me. "What happened to you, Clark? One minute you’re a darling boy dancing with me, and now..."

"I understand how you feel," I added, meaning every word of it. Then I broke into tears again. "But I can’t go out there. How do I cope with being ... THIS?"

"Hey, I’ve been like this all my life, and you don’t hear me complain. Don’t worry, Clark, I’ll help you get through this. Wait a minute, I can’t call you Clark. You need a girl’s name now. How about Carla?"

"Sounds nice to me," I replied.

Lana turned my head towards hers, and framed it with her hands. In the process, she wiped the salty remnants of my tears out of my eyes. "Listen, Carla. I’ll never abandon you."

"Thanks, Lana." We kissed, then and there. It was my first kiss, and very romantic, too, despite the oddity. Neither Lana nor I returned to the dance that night; instead, we discussed things, and she told me some of the secrets of life as the fair sex. About midnight, we walked home under the stars. I dropped Lana off at her house, and returned to my old place.

Ma and Pa didn’t recognize me at first, but when I told them stuff about their lives only they and I knew, they realized what had happened. "Clark?" Ma asked, startled. "You’re a girl?"

"Please, Ma, call me Carla." I told Ma and Pa about what had happened at the dance, remembering all the kind things Lana had told me.

"Oh, dear," Pa responded. "Clar-Carla, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you about. It’s not the ‘birds and bees’ speech, which I’m not sure how to tell you about anymore. No, I think you’re different from the other kids in Smallville. But I’d rather tell you tomorrow, dearest child. It’s past midnight."

"Thanks, Pa." I kissed him just like a good girl kisses her father, then went straight to bed.

After waking up the following morning, I took off my tuxedo (which was no longer appropriate for me, and which I’d rented for one night anyhow). When I was down to my undershirt and boxers, I noticed an odd bulge in my nether regions. I got into the bathroom with a change of clothes, and stripped bare. That’s when I realized it. My manhood - it was still there! Stranger still, while the rest of me had feminized, my penis didn’t just stay, it grew longer and thicker. And while I’d slept, my body somehow became more muscular. I slipped into my jeans and plain red T-shirt, then ate breakfast. Just as I completed washing them, Pa entered the kitchen, dressed in his pajamas.

"Oh, so last night wasn’t a dream. Clark is really a girl. Carla, do you remember how I told you last night you were different?"

"Yes I do, Pa. How am I different?"

"Carla, dear, sit down at the table, and I’ll tell you." I did as he told me, then heard him break the bombshell. "Dear, Ma and I are not your parents. When you were a year old, we found you in a space capsule and claimed you as our own. You’re an alien child, born on another world. We never told you because, honestly, I didn’t think you’d believe it."

"I believe you, Pa. The mere mention of the capsule brought back some old memories I’d forgotten years ago."

"Anyway, we found this inside the capsule." Pa held up the wooden box. "We were never able to open this. I hope you can get some useful information out of it." He gave me the box, and the instant I touched it, the box opened. Inside I found a small square labeled, "For Kal-El". (Though they hadn’t been created yet, it looked an awful lot like the silicon computer chips of today.) Weird, I thought. So I decided to enter my "fortress of solitude" (what my parents had nicknamed my room when I was twelve), and see what I could learn from it.

After locking the door, I picked up the chip. Instantly, my surroundings changed. I saw a building that looked straight off the set of a futuristic sci-fi movie. Inside, I saw two adults, a man and a woman. Both were dressed for the set of said sci-fi movie, and strangely enough, the woman was several inches taller than the woman. "Toto," I said to nobody in particular, "I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore."

Then one spoke. "Hello, Kal-El. You have activated a holographic program. We are but images, written into a program designed just for you. The box and chip have been made to activate by touch, but only for a Kryptonian like yourself. We are your parents. I am your father, Jor-El."

The other replied, "And I am your mother, Lara."

"But you’re male. How can you be my father?"

Lara laughed. "True, on Earth I would be considered male. I don’t have breasts, I’m tall, my physique is masculine, and I even speak in a voice Earthlings would consider too deep for a woman. But I have the reproductive organs of an Earthly female, and if a male Earthling were to walk into the room, we could mate and have a child of our own."

Jor-El proceeded to give me the Kryptonian version of the "birds and the bees". Although I didn’t realize it at the time, it turns out Kryptonian males like myself are exactly like Earth females, save the different sex organs. They are born looking identical to Earth’s boys, but when they hit puberty, their female attributes kick in all at once. And my origins from a faraway planet gave me different, un-Earthly abilities I was yet to test. And all Kryptonians are stronger than Earth folk because of our denser bodily material and red sun. Then he added, "Alas, Kal-El. By the time you get this message, we will have been long dead." He next gave the account about how Krypton blew up, and I was the only known survivor. A home and parents I’d never known - or would be able to know. I cried my heart out at the thought.

Lara replied, "That’s normal. In addition to their general appearance, Kryptonian males also have the general emotional outlook of Earth females after puberty. You are just as suspect as they to sudden changes in emotion."

"So long, my son. Protect the memories of your family - and your planet - well. Make us proud." Then the program ended; I was back in my room.

This was a lot to contemplate, especially for an uncertain 14-year-old demi-girl like myself. After taking all of this in, I went downstairs to my parents. "Ma! Pa! I discovered exactly who I am, and where I came from! Even what happened at the dance last night!" I told them every last detail of my holographic program. Not only did they have to believe it too, but they realized that Krypton (before it blew up) was far ahead of Earth technologically - it was only the mid-1970’s at this time.

I was right about the townsfolk’s reaction. Aside from Lana, nobody in Smallville would give me the time of day at school Monday morning. When I sat down in the cafeteria, although the place was packed, everybody at the table I chose got up and moved. And my teachers would try to give me the toughest assignments possible, and make me answer every question. And detention! It seemed like any excuse, no matter how small or contrived, would keep me after school, to the point that Ma and Pa planned our day around my coming home an hour late. Ma and Pa had it no easier. Because of the townsfolk’s rejection of me, they ignored my parents too. Ma’s bridge group told her to leave because she’d been "caught cheating". And Pa’s general store closed because nobody would buy there. Even simple town functions like parades and barbecues would remove us from the guest list without a second thought. My only consolation was Lana. She’d invite me over for two-girl slumber parties every Saturday, where she taught me the finer points of beauty, girl talk, shopping sprees, and makeovers. They were my only solace in a world that didn’t want me. That and discovering my superpowers. I had inhuman strength, could fly through the air like a bird, was impervious to injury (which explained why I never got sick as a kid),could hear as well as a bat, and could see or cut through nearly anything with my X-ray or laser vision. Not lead, though. That’s too heavy even for me.

Eventually, the town’s collective cold shoulder forced us to move. We got the local judge to legally change my name and identity from Clark Kent, male, to Carla Kent, female. Then we resettled in another small Kansas town about a hundred miles away. We pretended I’d been born an ordinary Earth girl, and the residents never suspected otherwise or rejected us. I spent the remainder of my high school years there, and Lana would visit me periodically to keep up our friendship. She came more often after she got her driver’s license. Right after graduation, I got a job with the local paper, and Lana moved into town; we saw each other almost constantly for the next two years. It was also at this time I learned the joys of sex. I also discovered a few sexual "super-powers", too. My breasts and dick could expand or contract almost at will, and I could grow a feminine opening if I desired, albeit temporarily and without a womb or ovaries. I was determined not to overdo this power, so I usually kept them at larger-than-average, but not ridiculously large, size. Still, this made for interesting possibilities for sex play. This town’s people (I’d rather not name it, since I’d like Ma and Pa to be safe from my enemies) gossiped some about my activities with Lana, but they didn’t put it against us, unlike Smallville.

On my 21^st birthday, I decided I needed to leave the house. "I’m coming of age, Ma and Pa," I told them, "and this town’s getting too small for me. I’m going to the big city to further my career in journalism."

Ma sighed. "I knew this day was coming eventually, dear," she told me, "so I’d like to present you with a going-away present. Unfortunately, I’ll need your help."

"What?" I replied.

"Carla, I’ve been trying to sew those blankets you came in into a set of pajamas so you’ll always remember how you got here. But they’re as tough as you are; they almost destroyed my sewing machine! All I can think of is, can you use your laser vision to cut and sew an appropriate design?"

"Sure, Ma," I replied. We spent the next two days designing and making an outfit for me, which resembled a leotard more than pajamas. It had a blue blouse with a giant "SWM" emblazoned on it (the coat of arms for the house of Kal-El), a yellow belt that hugged my waist tighter than a federal budget after tax cuts, tight blue pants with a red crotch region, red thigh-high boots, and (after a failed attempt to attach a hood) a giant red cape stuck to the neckline. I was proud of my work, and it fit perfectly.

"Carla Kent, you look gorgeous in that wardrobe," she replied. I hugged her and bade my farewell. I still talk to my parents on the phone every night. Pa complains I still chat it up like a teenager, but that’s what happens between mother and daughter.

Then I said farewell to Lana. Though I still loved her, she liked staying in small-town Kansas, and didn’t care for a long-distance relationship. After one final romp for old times’ sake, we tearfully broke up and I headed for the city.

As everyone knows, Metropolis is the number one city for newspaper reporting in the US. So that’s where I went after leaving home. I started dressing in proper feminine attire: ladies’ business suit, complete with glasses and a rather conservative bun for my hair. (It always helps to look respectable.) I visited every newspaper in town, showing them my resume and journalistic credentials. After two weeks of searching, I came to the Daily Planet. At the door, the editor, a man named Perry White, asked me to cover the local Chamber of Commerce meeting, to show my abilities. He was throughly impressed with my work, and hired me on the spot.

Perry introduced me to my new co-workers. I only remember two of them fondly. One was Jimmy Olsen, an aspiring copy-room boy (and I’m positive he had a crush on me when we first met, though I don’t swing that way), And the other was Lois Lane, the Planet’s star reporter. Aah, Lois. What more need I say about her? She’s gorgeous, and her nose for news puts her in the line of fire more times than I can count. But the first time we met, she didn’t seem to care for me.

"Who’s this trailer trash geek, and why’s she wearing a business suit instead of a tied-up half-shirt and cut-off denim shorts?" she asked me.

"Trailer trash?" I replied, somewhat stunned. "I’ll have you know I never wore that stuff."

"Could’ve fooled me," she sneered. "And that Southern accent -"

"That’s not Southern, that’s Kansan."

"Yeah, whatever. Listen, missy, I’m the star around here, and I get all the front-page articles. Understand?"

I just gave her a polite but icy look and returned to my job. I knew working with Lois wasn’t gonna be easy.

And it sure wasn’t. Lois got jealous whenever I managed to get the scoop before her. We fought almost daily when we spoke, and we came close to physical blows on a couple of occasions. Though I didn’t think much of her (yet), I was worried that if I got into a cat-fight with her, I’d seriously injure or kill her. And I didn’t wish to do that. I was determined to avoid doing that, and my after-hours life was rather dull, so I tried to think of something to do when I wasn’t sniffing out a news story. Preferably, something that would allow me to use my special Kryptionian abilities in a good, constructive manner.

After working for the Daily Planet for a month, I had one of those long nights where I just couldn’t sleep. The constant standoff with Lois was getting to me. As I was tossing and turning in my special pajamas, I heard a faint cry for help about 2 AM. Instinctively, I jumped out of my bed and flew to the scene, to see if I could do anything. It was a young lady, about to be mugged at gunpoint. I turned toward the teenage punk (he was dressed in leather and had spiky green hair) and told him, "Don’t mess with her."

"Oh, yeah. Why should I listen to a chick in a ballerina suit?"

"I’ll show you why." I picked him up off the ground and threw him across the street.

The punk chided me. "Wow, the babe can fight. But can she eat lead?" He fired all six rounds from his revolver. They just bounced off my abdomen, and I harmlessly caught them in my right hand. He couldn’t believe it. "What the - " he said, as I flew over to the nearest police station and handed him over.

The young lady whose purse (and possibly life) I’d just saved thanked me profusely. "But what’s your name?" she asked me.

Then I realized - if I used my real name, thugs would go after me, and that would be a problem. "Just call me - SuperWoMan," I replied.

She must have called the media, for reporters were gathered around the scene. "What kind of name is ‘SuperWoMan’?" one asked me.

"I chose that name, for SuperWoMan comes from man. And to emphasize the point, don’t forget to capitalize the M."

Another person at this impromptu press conference asked, "Who are you? And where are you from?"

"I’m from another planet," I truthfully replied. "But I refuse to reveal my true name, lest some criminal try to kill me."

One last newsman asked me, "What is your purpose?"

I replied, "To make the world safe for justice, and wright the wrongs of society."

They had more questions for me, but I was tired, so I flew back into bed. Relieved, I fell asleep.

The next morning, Perry showed me a newspaper. "Carla, look at this!" He showed me a copy of the Planet’s biggest rival, and the front page story was about ME! "Mugger Foiled by Mysterious Woman," it read, and it was accompanied by a police sketch that resembled me in my pajamas. Thankfully, I hadn’t worn my glasses to bed that night, so nobody recognized me. But I realized that SuperWoMan, from now on, would have to avoid wearing my trademark eyepieces. (Not that I needed them anyway, not with my super-sight.)

For the whole day, SuperWoMan was the talk of Metropolis. Who was she? Where did she come from? How did she get her special powers? For that matter, WHAT were her special powers? Being SuperWoMan myself, I realized this crime-fighting thing was simply meant to be. And further, it was perfect. I could contribute to society usefully, taking advantage of my special powers. I’d already stumbled upon the perfect disguise, without even meaning to. Just to be sure, I started wearing my pajamas (now my SuperWoMan super-suit as well) underneath my regular clothes. And on Carla Kent’s next day off work, I performed several more heroic deeds. I rescued cats from trees, stopped bank robbers, and put out forest fires, among other things. Soon, SuperWoMan was the most popular person in town - even more than basketball superstar Jordan Michael! And I’m sure the "S" emblazoned over my right breast, the "M" emblazoned over my left breast, and the "W" emblazoned over my cleavage made several men lust for me. But I didn’t mind, just as long as they didn’t actually hit on me.

Meanwhile, Lois Lane wasn’t very happy at all. She was jealous at how I was always able to "scoop" the stories about SuperWoMan. Lois even spent a whole week going out of her way to find my distinctive alter-ego before me - with no luck, of course. After six months at work, tensions between Lois and myself had reached the breaking point.

Perry White wasn’t at all blind to the inter-office goings-on between the two of us, and the whole spat distressed him. After those six months, he called us together into his office to cover a story together.

"Lois, Carla," Perry implored of us, "I know you don’t get along very well, but I need both of you to cover LexiCorp’s unveiling of its latest home computer. Founder Lexis Luthor insists on full media coverage, and Lois’s daring-do combined with Carla’s down-to-earth professionalism would provide a killer combination. What do you say, gals?"

"Of course, it’s my job. I’ll be there with bells on."

"They’ll be perfect on a ding-a-ling like you."

"Lois! Behave! Now, are you going or not?"

"No way!"

"You leave me no choice. Lois, remember that new Ferrari promised during the contract negotiation for your upcoming TV news show? If you don’t cover the story with Carla, you don’t get your sports car."

"But Perry!"

"Take it or leave it!"

"Oh - all right," Lois pouted. She didn’t like not getting her way. Not in the slightest.

At the press conference, Lois sneered at me, "Listen, Smallville, I’m only pretending to like you because I want to keep my job - and that Ferrari. I don’t like you, I hate your guts, and you’re cramping your style. Understand?"

"I understand," I replied. "I just don’t like it."

Then Lexis Luthor showed up. As usual, she was dressed in impeccable style. Her golden locks were worn in a stunning permanent, with more waves than the Atlantic Ocean. Her powder blue cotton dress had a navy blue band around the waistline, which was appealingly narrow. The outfit was accessorized with matching blue flats, nude panty hose, blue elbow-length gloves, and matching blue lipstick, blue pearl necklace, and sapphire earrings. She was the richest woman in Metropolis, and tried to make herself the prettiest as well. "Ladies and gentlemen of the press," she said, "I come here to introduce the brand new LexiCo brand LexiCom to the world." She lifted a sheet next to the podium, and revealed a home computer. Everyone "oooh"ed and "aaah"ed at the display, until she told us, "Now this will be the most powerful computer on the home market. It has 320K of RAM and a 32-color graphics pallette." (hey, that might be unimpressive today, but it was a LOT during the 1980’s), "But the best part is, it comes with its own programming tutorial. Just type in CTRL-ALT-T, and you’ll learn how to use BASIC with the best of them." She repeatedly smiled for the cameras, but I thought her smile looked a little phony. But she was so well trusted, I paid no attention to it at the time. Lois, naturally, toke notes the whole time, so she didn’t see it. After a little Q&A, Lois and I wrapped up the article for publication, though not without a few little tensions. Perry was pleased the two of us could put aside our differences and work together, for once.

The following day, Perry bought a brand new LexiCom, and told us about how easy it was to use. He urged all of us to buy one for ourselves. Since I didn’t trust her, I decided to do without a home computer. Nearly everyone else on the staff, though, did get one. Ads for the LexiCom were all over the TV, punctuated by Ms. Luthor’s trademark, "Remember, LexiCom and CTRL-ALT-T for all your programming needs." Seems like everyone I met on the street pressured me into buying one. But still I resisted.

After a couple weeks, weird things started happening. Perry showed up at work in a dress, high heels, panty hose, and a whole ladies’ outfit. So did Jimmy Olsen. In fact, it seemed like every man in town started wearing women’s clothes. Sales for loafers and neckties fell out of the basement, while sales for bras and skirts exploded like wildfire. Eventually, the men looked so much like women, casual observers would have sworn Metropolis looked like one giant sorority. My suspicions about Lexis Luthor were further confirmed when the cross-dressing men started uttering, almost under hypnosis, "Lexis Luthor is such a nice lady, I’d wear a dress for her."

Before I did anything, though, I decided to do a test run. I called Ma and Pa, asking them if they knew about my adventures in Metropolis. They admitted that, yes, they did watch the evening news and suspected it was me as soon as they saw SuperWoMan. I asked them, "Have you bought yourself a LexiCom computer yet?"

"No, Carla dear," Ma replied. "We don’t have any need for a simple little thing like that."

"Ma, tell Pa to buy one and use it. And make darn sure he presses CTRL-ALT-T every time he uses it."

"Okay, but why?"

"Let’s just say I’d like to get to the bottom of those mysterious things."

A week later, Ma called back. She said, "Carla, you won’t believe this, but that LexiCom has been doing weird things to Pa. The first time he pressed CTRL-ALT-T, he had a weird desire to start wearing my old dresses. Every time after that, he wanted to try on more and more ladies’ outfits. By the tenth press, he started crossdressing 24-7. And he said weird things."

"Like what, Ma?"

"Like, ‘ Lexis Luthor is a great woman. I’d do anything for her.’ Stuff like that."

Bingo! Exactly what I’d hoped for. "Thanks a lot, Ma. You’ve been very helpful. Now unplug the computer, and burn it. I’ll explain why later." Then I hung up. Looks like a certain Lexis Luthor had some explaining to do.

Then I heard a faint voice, of Lexis Luthor. She told me, "SuperWoMan, I have Lois Lane, star reporter for the Daily Planet, in my headquarters. She’s noticed some rather curious things my LexiCom has been doing, and wanted to discover more. But curiosity killed the cat, and it’ll kill Lois too, if you don’t come here in the next 30 seconds, before the water in the humongous vat I’ve thrown her into drowns her." I had no time to waste; I changed into my SuperWoMan suit and flew to LexiCo HQ.

As she threatened, Ms. Luthor was standing next to a vat of giant water, with Lois inside. Quickly, I flew inside and saved her, being careful to hold my super breath.

Lexis Luthor merely watched my rescue, an evil grin on her face. Her hair appeared to have been dyed red for the occasion. She wore a green clip in her hair, and she wore a green frilly business blouse with a green knee-length skirt, green hose, and green high heels. In her usual pretty-but-businesswoman-like manner, she told me, "Very good, SuperWoMan. But you will got escape that easily. You see, I found a small amount of your DNA about a week ago, and the boys and girls in my lab have made a rather... remarkable discovery. Seems you’re not totally invincible to everything." She held up a small lead box, with a padlock attached. I can’t see through lead, so I had no idea what was inside. "Oh yes, dearie. I know you can’t see what’s inside. Now let’s see..." Lexis Luthor whipped out a key, unlocked the box, and revealed a small green crystal.

"Ha ha ha, Luthor. You think something like that can ... aaargh!" I replied. Something was wrong, because I suddenly collapsed to the ground and couldn’t get up.

"Yes, SuperWoMan. I heard about your lost world, Krypton, in your interview with Carla Kent in last month’s Daily Planet. And your DNA strand revealed a weakness to the very rocks which once formed your home planet. Funny how it causes the Woman of Steel to become vulnerable as a newborn Earth baby ... before killing her. Now I must tend to my computers. So long, SuperWimp." And with that, the sinister Lexis Luthor left me to die.

As I lay there, powerless to do anything but wither in agony before my untimely demise, Lois stared at me, sadness in her eyes. Then she was angered into action. "That Lexis Luthor thinks she can kill off SuperWoMan, does she? Well, she hasn’t learned the two most dangerous words in the English language are Lois Lane." With that, she descended the staircase on the side of the vat, and picked up the Kryptonite, placing it inside the lead-lined box Ms. Luthor had removed it from. "Come on, SuperWoMan," she told me, "we have a story to write."

The two of us left the giant vat room, and entered the room Lexis Luthor had gone into. She was still there, with a look of disappointment on her face. She tut-tutted me, then said, "Poor SuperWoMan. All you had to do was die. And you failed that simple task. Guards, seize her." And two big, burly gentlemen entered the room, one from either side.

Beating them was easy, what with my super-strength and all. I just gave them a couple mild hits to their most sensitive spots, and they were down for the count, clutching their groins. Lexis Luthor winced at this, but was determined to get me herself. But she didn’t realize I was stronger than her. Still, she seemed unusually powerful for a human female. But the biggest surprise came when I hit her in the chest. I expected her to whelp in pain, but instead she continued as if nothing strange had happened. Suddenly, I lurched towards her and ripped her skirt in two. Underneath her silky green panties, I saw something that didn’t belong on a lady at all. "Lexis Luthor, the richest woman in Metropolis, isn’t a woman at all," I replied triumphantly.

"Oh, you got me," she replied in a deep masculine tenor. "My real name is Lexington Luthor, but as a teenager, I got this sudden urge to start dressing like a lady. And I started wishing I really had been born female. As you can see, my disguise has become quite effective. Thanks to a stupid chemistry experiment gone awry, I lost every hair on my head in college. So what you see on my head is a carefully-constructed wig." To demonstrate the point, he removed the carrot-top hair, and I saw a very shiny chrome-dome underneath. "My breasts are actually very realistic falsies. My waist is constricted by a corset. And my voice? Faked. And my body had more femininity to it than your usual male, so my disguise was extremely effective."

"But why the LexiCom? What was that CTRL-ALT-T command all about?"

Luthor replied, "I was getting tired of pretending to be female, so I wanted to out myself. But I was worried then folks of Metropolis wouldn’t accept a cross-dress, so I came up with the LexiCom. The ‘T’ doesn’t stand for ‘tutorial’, it’s really for ‘transvestite’. As you probably figured out by now, pressing those keys repeatedly causes males to wear ladies’ outfits. After I’d gotten every man in the USA to wear dresses and skirts, I’d reveal the truth about myself and everyone would be happy. So can I go now, SuperWoMan?"

"No," I replied. "You did three things wrong. First, you tried to force society to accept cross-dressing through mind control. That’s wrong. The best way to get societal acceptance of transvestitism, like anything else, is through slow but sure discussion and a series of understandings. Second, you also hypnotized everyone in town to think of you as a great person they’d do anything for!"

"Yeah," Luthor giggled in his feminine voice, then resumed his regular male voice. "That was phase two. After all had accepted me for who I was, I would easily take over Metropolis, and from there the world. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes it is!" I replied. "Nobody should ever try to overthrow the government through force, or mass brainwashing. And third and finally, " (I looked Luthor straight in the eyes as I said this) "you tried to kill me."

"Oh well, let bygones be bygones," he replied.

"Sorry, Lex, but that’s against the law." And with that, I flew Luthor to the nearest police station, submitting the full confession (I had a tape recorder handy) before leaving.

Then I returned Lois to the Daily Planet, resumed Carla Kent mode, and went about my usual business.

The following day, Lois and I stayed late after work. After everyone else had gone home, Lois told me, "Well, I’m glad to see we can work together on a story, AGAIN." (Lois groaned while saying "again".) But she added, "Still, you’ll never be my friend."

"Maybe so, but at least we got a good story out of it." I held up that morning’s Daily Planet. The headline, based on a story the two of us had written together, said, "LUTHOR, REVEALED TO BE MALE, ARRESTED". As I put the paper down, I accidentally dropped my glasses.

Lois stared at my face and realized, "You’re SuperWoMan, aren’t you?"

I could only blush and say, "Yeah. But don’t tell anyone; after all, a superheroine needs her secrets".

"Don’t worry. After the way you saved me, I’d do anything for you." Then she stared at my face, a look of longing in her eyes. "Carla, would you mind letting your hair down?"

"Why, sure." I removed the bobby-pins holding the bun in place, and she was stunned how long and beautiful it was. I, too, became enamored with her beautiful face.

"Carla, I know I’m not a lesbian, and I don’t think you are, either, but would you be willing to make out in that closet over there?" She pointed to the one closest to her desk.

"Yes. Actually, Lois, I do prefer women. And I’ve got something in here that might make you willing to consider a ‘lady’." I lowered my skirt and panties, revealing my one true symbol of masculinity.

"Wow. I never thought you’d have one of those. What’s it like?"

"I’ll show you." We entered the closet that night, and made out. I’d rather not explain the full sordid details, but suffice it to say my love-making skills were every bit as super as my strength.

We never told anyone about what happened that night, but the way we started acting around each other, gossip started to spread throughout the Planet’s office. A few weeks later, I moved into Lois’s "ladies-only" apartment, and we see even more of each other now.

Why am I writing this, you ask? Well, a month ago Lois visited the doctor, and it turns out she’s pregnant. Lois has decided to tell everyone the father was a sperm donor, but in fact, I’m the father. And who was the child? You. I know many years will elapse between the time I’m writing these words and the time you’ll read them, but I think it’ll be awhile before you’re ready for them. And dear, sweet, child of mine, when you finish reading this little tale, you’ll know who you are, why your "father" doesn’t seem to be anywhere, what special abilities you might have as a half-Kryptonian child, and even why a lady named Lexis Luthor, who broke out of prison last night, might have many more encounters with your "old man" soon.

THE END

© 2000
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