Wally was surprised to find that he didn't miss the speed as much as he missed the hair.

If he were in his own body, he'd definitely be spending a good deal of his time running his fingers through his bright red mop. It was a nervous gesture he thought he'd ditched when he started wearing the cowl, but he suddenly felt the neurotic urge coming back with a vengeance. Waking up in a supervillain lair, occupying the body of a megalomaniac could do that to a guy.

There was a reason that Superman was the head honcho in the Justice League; Wally had always been better at taking orders than giving them. Ever since the body swap, he had just been letting his circumstances yank him around by the proverbial shirt collar, bumbling his way through villainous board meetings and evil conference calls. He wasn't dense – he knew that at least Dr. Polaris and maybe Sinestro knew something was up – but he thought that he'd been doing fairly well so far, considering that he didn't have the Speed Force to lean on.

But, unlike some of his good-guy brethren (and...sisteren?), Wally was only human. And he was currently being made all too aware of it by Creepy Hot Chick – either Tasha, Tala, or Taja, unless it was something else entirely – who was shoving him onto a very luxurious, very purple four-poster bed with surprising force. Wally scrambled away and pressed himself against the headboard, still trying to figure out how to maneuver Luthor's boxy, creepily youthful body.

"Does Lex – I mean, do I always rest up in your room? Because I'm not really feeling any calmer right now." Even with Lex's rich baritone, Wally was still a motor-mouth when he was nervous.

What's-her-name was on all fours, moving slowly towards him with a hungry look in her eyes. "Of course not, darling," she purred. Her accent reminded Wally of old Dracula movies. "This is your bedroom."

Of course it was. John always said that there was something weird about Luthor, and he wasn't talking about the crazy or the evil. But the Transylvanian babe clearly didn't notice anything – either that, or she didn't care. She was still edging forward, and her Elvira dress shifted slightly so that Wally involuntarily got a glimpse of her...magic powers. He tried to scoot back more, but he found himself flush against the dark wood, fingers slipping desperately on the silk lilac sheets.

Now the crazy lady was nuzzling his neck with her pointed nose, nipping at his collarbone with abandon. He yelped in pain as she caught his skin between her teeth, but she didn't stop. If anything, her next bite was bigger. Wally clutched at the bedpost. This is what he got for always wondering what being with an evil chick was like.

She started licking his ear as she unzipped Luthor's well-pressed jumpsuit of evil. Wally liked to think that, as a card-carrying superhero, he had pretty strong willpower – he was fairly sure he could withstand torture considering how much he hung around the Question – but this slutty demon would test even Superman's nerves of steel. Her tongue darted in and out deftly, and Wally, through the haze of his hormones, was pleased to find that it wasn't forked.

Her hand slid inside his suit, caressing his chest for a moment before scratching it viciously with manicured fingernails. "Oh, Lex," she growled between nibbles on his jawbone, "you're so sexy. And so...hairless."

Wally didn't even want to think about what that meant. And he didn't have to, because then the witch lady released her tongue and started working the spot between his earlobe and jawbone – the place that always itched when he wore the cowl. Wally let out a sound that definitely wasn't a squeak, because he was a manly man, and Lex's deep voice probably wasn't even capable of such a girly sound. Probably.

Evil Slut Lady's tongue moved away from the magic spot and started tracing a thin line from his ear to his mouth. Her lips were cold when they covered his, and her tongue gave him some kind of shock, like some really hardcore static electricity. His hands gripped the bed harder, but the minx was all over it. She pried each of his hands away and placed them, forcefully, onto her sides. She was painfully thin – he could distinctly feel her sharp hip bones through Lex's meaty paws.

"Darling," she said as she peeled off his jumpsuit, "tell me again about master plan." She ducked her head and attacked his shoulder. Her tongue brushed his clavicle again, and he struggled for words.

"Well..." Wally had never been good at thinking on his feet, even when he didn't have a banshee's tongue all over his chest. "It's really, really evil. And, um, totally awesome." She moaned throatily and went back to his ear. Wally kept talking to distract himself from the bad, bad feelings. "The, uh, the Justice League will rue the day they messed with Lex Luthor," he grunted as her hand drifted south, to his fly. His breath caught in his throat. "Bwa ha ha?"

Her jaw hung open, making her look even more like an eerily sexy zombie than usual. "You're so bad, Lex," she said before catching his mouth in another electrified kiss. "So very, very bad."

She reached back to his fly again, and Wally closed his eyes. His brain was ceasing to function. He would tell Batman that he had been powerless to stop her, that he really didn't want to go through with it, honest, but he had to keep up appearances. Only Superman would know that he was lying, and Clark wouldn't tattle on him. At least, he hoped not.

And then something on the bedside table beeped. Wally shot up from the headboard as Lex's unwieldy barrel chest smacked his demonic Heidi Fleiss on the crown of her head. She sat up abruptly, her thin lips in an exaggerated pout.

"There are too many interruptions," she stated derisively. "There was not enough time before job."

"Job! Right!" Luthor's chest still stung from the impact, but Wally was too relieved to care. "No, this one had to happen right now. For...some reason."

This seemed to satisfy Trampy McFrankenstein. She edged off the bed slowly, again on all fours, giving him one last view of what he was missing. But Wally knew a hero's life was all about sacrifices, so he figured he could live with this one.

He stood and delicately zipped the suit back up, trying not to watch the witch slinking out of the room. Sighing, his hand shot reflexively up to his head, but his fingers met only smooth skin.

"Stupid Luthor and his stupid crazy harpy," he muttered.

The she-devil's voice drifted in from down the hall. "What was that, darling?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and checked his reflection in the large hanging mirror. To his horror, he spotted a faint red spot, about the size of a quarter, on his collarbone. His blush looked really, really unnatural on Luthor's face. As quickly as Lex's body could, his hand flew to the zipper pull, making sure that it was pulled up all the way.

"Darling?" The witch poked her head back into the room. Her voice was laced with barely-concealed anger. "Are you coming or not?"

Tightly, he smiled at her. God willing, he wouldn't have to be Lex Luthor for much longer.