Superman landed on the balcony of Lexcorp. Luthor was waiting for him, reclining comfortably at his desk.

"You diseased maniac. You really think pink kryptonite would stop me?" Superman said, tossing down the glowing rock in his delicate hand and thrusting out his chest in a typical heroic display, his perky, growing breasts as gravity defying as the rest of him. "It didn't affect me at all."

"Clearly," Luthor smiled, studying his foe's kryptonian physique. The once dark hair was turning a lighter shade of peroxide blonde with every moment. The vast alien intelligence behind those baby blue eyes had already dwindled to the point where the Super(ex)man couldn't even see the truth in front of (or indeed swelling beneath) his nose.

Superman looked at him in disgust. "I almost feel sorry for you, Luthor, hidden away up here with nothing but your schemes and your wealth. With nobody to... love you..." Superman blinked in confusion, aware that something was wrong as a little more of the light faded behind his eyes.

"If only I'd had a good woman to love me, I might not have turned out so crooked," Lex crooned, the words having an almost magic affect as they echoed in what remained of Clark's bimboifying brain.

He reclined smugly as the Superbimbo minced towards him to perch her rear upon his lap. Luthor pulled her close, relishing the taste of lipstick on the lips of his once mighty nemesis, as the kryptonian's fingers teased his manhood.

That was always Superman's weakness. Not kryptonite, but his desperate need to save people. And what could be more enticing to a bimbo than the thought of a man who could be fixed?