Nikita has competition. A friend on LJ linked to what has got to be the worst DC slashfic I've read. I'm doubled over here trying to not laugh out loud. I mean, bad. If I thought anyone would be on AIM, I'd be bugging them to laugh with me. Not since the days of that guy who wrote things like Buffy/Mummy Hand non-con have I seen something this horrific.
Choice bits:
"I remember very well those blue eyes beneath that mask. As azure as the skies that Superman flies, as clear as the limitless horizon, and yet infinitely more innocent. They enthralled me the first time they locked with my own."
Curse those corrupt skies. What the hell is Supes doing to them?
"My eyes never leave his as my hands reach towards the lining gracing his shoulders. Nightwing instinctively steps back. Hold still, I command. Then I grasp the spandex cloth which composes the blue stripes of his costume and slowly tear it down across his chest. The blue stripes are ripped slowly, leaving a V-shaped opening across his chest, exposing in a diagonal line his bare bosom and copper nipples.
I stare at those nubs heatedly. They are magnificent, as I suspected. Without thought, I cup his bosom with both hands and began to massage them."
Wow. Manbodice ripping. Manboobs. Umm.
"My hands encircle his back, as my tongue follows the path of my hands. Licking and biting from the hollow of his throne to the middle of his chest then finally to his left nipple. His body shivers again as I tongue the areole, bathing it with my saliva, grazing it with my teeth. Then my mouth opens to take the hardening nipple all the way in, sucking and swallowing the entire pectoral muscle surrounding it."
The whole pectoral muscle? Damn. That's quite the mouthful. Also, why does his body appear to have a throne?
"Clear the table, Richard, I snarl. One hand tugs at his balls, anothers finger parting his pucker hole."
Pucker. Hole.
"The thin rope-like piece of silvery, flexible metal, light as a feather but impenetrable as steel, wraps around his torso; a branch tapering off at the small of his back curves into a small cone that fits snugly into his anal hole, sealing it."
...
"Actually, he is more accurate than he knows. That belt, designed solely by me in my own labs, is actually a mini-computer that Eros and De Sade would have given their hormones for. Its programming specifies that only my fingers, identified by their prints, can unlock and remove it. No other man or woman can; not even Richard. The only exception is the daily or occasional call of nature. The belt around the torso is cued to recognize the urgency of his digestive needs; at the slightest indication, the cone unlocks itself, falls off--and as soon as Richard has finished, flushes his anal canal with soap and water, and seals it again."
I... I...
I'm tempted to tag like, half of the lines in this.