JLA 11 (Patreon)

As Superman walked to work, heels clicking brightly against the sidewalk, he felt super excited. This was his first time out as Claire Kent, and he was thrilled to introduce his new self to the world. The streets of Metropolis couldn’t have been more different from the last time he’d walked these streets. Everywhere Clark looked, he saw what appeared to be pretty, well-dressed women in cute outfits. Thanks to the spell, Clark could tell which ones had once been male, and like him they all had a kind of sparkle, a feminine excitement and pride in their blouses, their skirts, their hair and makeup.

The women born, meanwhile, strode along with a newfound confidence, and a benevolent sense of superiority over the newly feminized males. More than a few let their eyes play over the men’s curvy shapes, pleased to see them so altered, now enduring the realities of heels and hose.

Once at the offices of the Daily Planet, it took almost an hour for Superman to get from the lobby to the office. As he ran into his fellow male co-workers, he couldn’t help but gush, exchanging hugs and air kisses. They all fawned over each other’s outfits, their hair. They were all meeting for the first time as women, and it was like a surreal class reunion, where instead of seeing how everyone had lost hair and gained weight, it was a celebration of how their skin glowed, their waists slendered, and their voices grown high and buzzy.

Finally, high on all the chatting and hugs, Superman looked across the office to where Lane stood in her office, talking on the phone while tapping away at her laptop. Superman felt his heart leap. She was so confident! So strong! What if she didn’t; approve of his outfit? He pulled his cellphone from his purse, nervously checking his hair and makeup.

Lois, looking up, saw Clark primping. Wow, she thought. He is a cutie. But she didn’t have time to marvel over how changed the formerly studly if dorky was. She was busy. She stuck her head out of her office. “Claire!” She yelled. “I need you now!”

“Oh!” Clark gasped, his mouth agape. Shoving his cellphone in his purse, he teetered over as fast as he could manage in his tight skirt and pumps. Or, as fast as he could while still remaining graceful and ladylike. “Miss Lane,” he said. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I-“

Lois held up a hand, and Superman immediately grew silent. He put his arms behind his back and locked hands, like a school girl waiting for the principal. “Yes,” Lois said into the phone. “Yes. No. When do I need it? Tomorrow. Get it done.”

She’s so commanding, Superman thought. Such a take charge woman!

Ending her call, Lois turned her attention to Claire. “There are files on your computer that need your attention, and copies that need to be made.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, Miss Lane.”

Lois stared at Claire, who stood there at attention, smiling vacantly. “You need something?”

“I don’t know where my desk is, my computer? My job?”

“Oh, right. You’re my personal assistant, Miss Kent. Your desk is right outside my office door. Okay, sweetie?”

I’m Miss Lane’s assistant? Superman was thrilled. There really wasn’t anything a man could do that was more prestigious as serving as assistant to a powerful woman. “Just one thing before I get started. My outfit? Is it—“

“It’s fine. You look very pretty. Now, scoot Get to work.”

Superman turned smoothly on his heels and headed toward the door. He couldn’t help but put a little extra swing in his hips. Lois was so— strong. “Wait. Get me some coffee. Stat.”

“Of course, Miss Lane,” Superman said, hurrying off to get his boss her drink.

As Claire Kent left, Lois felt very pleased with the new Clark Kent. He would make a good little assistant, and women would be jealous that her secretary was such a cute little thing.

Meanwhile, Darkseid and the villains had landed in Red Square, Moscow. The media had been alerted, so there were camerawomen and reporters ready. A “spontaneous” crowd had been organized by Ludmilya, the new leader of Russia. The “boys” all began cheering and screaming, Beatlemania-like display of overwrought feminine excitement.

“Girls, girls,” Darkseid said as his ladies in waiting moved off the sleight and took position on the ground, one hand planted on a round hip, the other raised in the air.

The crowd grew quiet.

“I am here today to…. Um?” Darkseid batted his long, thick lashes and put his little hands to his cheeks. “Omigod. I can’t remember?”

The crowd giggled and laughed.

“I’m such an airhead!”

More giggles, nods of empathy.

Darkseid was dying inside. The “airhead moment” had been scripted. Yet, he was also pleased. His big had told him to do all this, and he loved pleasing her, even as some part of him ached with shame. “Was it to get your nails done?” Luthor called out.

Darkseid examined his nails. “My nails are perfect.”

Cheers.

“Was it to get your hair done?” Joker asked.

“Please,” Darkseid said, tossing his hair. “My hair is perfect, though I do love my salon time.”

More cheers.

The sound of his mobile phone rang out. “Just a sec,” Darkseid said, adding a giggle that was echoed by the crowd.

“Omigod! That’s right! Thanks!”

Darkseid put his phone away. “That was my big,” he said.”She’s so amazing! I want to be her!”

Cheers.

“She reminded me of why I came here today! Do you want to know?”

“Yeeeeesssss!”

“First, just to announce to the world how happy I am that women are making all our decisions now.”

Cheers.

“I mean, it’s so much less stressful, right?”

Murmurs of agreement.

“And the second reason was to challenge Wonderlass to a competition to settle once and for all which one of us is better at jumping rope!”

“Yeah!”

“So, get the message out there, please? Tell Wonderlass to face me!”

Cheers. Clapping. Darkseid’s court pranced back onto the sleigh, which took off into the sky.