6Easter 2013
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans or any book and movie my story may reference.
Author's note: Happy early Easter and April Fool's!
Warning: Adult content, yaoi, and disturbing images.
The Djinn and the Obsidian Egg
It was a strikingly, stunning, spring morning day in Jump City, California. The fowls were twittering, the hounds were howling, and the adolescents were larking. The sun was radiating a brilliant amber, the cerulean sky was unveil, and the foliage was an exceptional jade. All was well in the Bay Area city. Alas, there was one individual not feeling the mode, Slade Wilson.
Slade had had a tedious, mundane, and wearisome month, for he was contractually hired for mercenary assassinations from North Korea to Iran. Now, he resided in his novel lair amongst the California coastal redwoods, a fifteenth mile radius from downtown. Some well deserved down-time was his to obtain, however, the man felt unsettled. Needless to say, his disquietude was correlated with a certain red chested bird.
Since the bedlam of Trigon, Slade kept himself engaged in his work, distracting his musings of a certain hero. After all of his escapades around the world, there was no other place to abide than Jump city. Plainly speaking, Deathstroke the Terminator yearned for his little bird. It was the suitable moment to venture to the city in search of what was rightfully his.
Trekking through the woodland, Slade caught sight of a figure along the riverbank. Twirling around, it was revealed that the figure was none other than Robin of the Teen Titans. Slade gaped at the teen's apparel. He was cladding a red leotard, thigh high, black, fishnet stockings with black bows, black pixie boots, black leather, fingerless gloves, black rabbit ears, and a tail. Of course, naturally, he sported his domino mask.
"Robin?" Slade asked nonplussed. With a Cheshire grin, Robin fled through the woods. Slade impulsively followed suit, striding after the little minx, gazing at that pert arse. "Playing hard to get I see," Slade muttered. Robin was meandering like he was avoiding a crocodile. In a trice before Slade could claim his prize, Robin dove into a hole. Slade somersaulted over it to avoid plunging into the hole.
"Real cute, Robin," he mumbled. "Olly olly oxen free!" Slade singsonged. Seconds past and there was no response. "I won't hurt you. Now, come out of that hole, silly boy." Thirty seconds passed and still no answer. With a sigh, Slade leaped into dark abyss.
Although it was over sixty seconds of falling, it felt like an eternity. While the mercenary was falling, the song "Crickets" by Drop City Yacht Club was echoing throughout the chasm. Slade landed abruptly with a sickening crack. The man rose, adjusted his neck, and dusted himself. Hearing the pitter-patter of footsteps and cackling, Slade dashed after his target through a long corridor lined by Romani writing. At the end of the corridor, was a red door. With nowhere else to turn, Slade rotated the knob of the door handle, opening it to reveal yet another door. "Peachy," he groaned. Opening four more doors, at last, Slade stepped through the archway. The man beheld the appearance of the dank room. In the centre, stood an ornate, glass table with a wood-woven basket on it. Slade ambled forth to better survey the contents of the basket. Inside the basket, was a black egg two inches tall in height and a note. Slade seized the note and read it at once.
Dear Slade,
In the basket, contains an egg. Not just any egg mind you. It is a black obsidian egg of Ramesses the first from 1295 B.C. It has the power to grant the user three wishes. Why am I giving this to you? Let's just say that you deserve it after all the good and bad times we've shared. Consider it a gift. Use your wishes wisely.
Regards,
Robin
"How touching," Slade snorted but gingerly folded the note and stashed it into his kevlar pants. Clutching the black obsidian egg, he thoroughly examined it. He did not deem anything significant about it, but appearances can be deceiving. "Really, Robin? An egg? Is that the best you can do? Is this your idea of a practical joke?" Slade uttered, absent-mindedly rubbing the egg. Alas, the man spoke too suddenly.
From the egg, a spinning prolate spheroid of thin, hot plasma, the size of a car, materialised into a being. The being was a young man. His appearance consisted of copper hair with a white streak and a widow's peak, freckles, rosy, cupid-shaped lips, an inverted triangle-shaped face, and piercing teal coloured eyes.
"Ah man, it's good to be out of that egg! I though for sure that I would be pouched if I'd stay any longer," The entity stretched.
"Are you suppose to be some kind of genie?" Slade crossed his arms.
"Actually, I prefer djinn, but you can call me Red...master."
"I like the sound of that," Slade purred. "So, Red, I can wish for anything I want?"
"Listen, master, I can't grant you a wish for killing someone, bringing someone back from the dead, being a higher dimensional being like a god, or having someone fall in love with you."
"Damn. And I thought that this was going to be amusing."
"Fear not, my master," Red assured with a cheeky grin. "There are ways to get what you want if you word it right. Now, what is your first wish?"
"You can start by getting me out of this hell hole," Slade barked.
"Tsk, tsk, master. You have to say I wish before your wish," Red wiggled his pointer finger.
"Fine. I wish that I was out of this hell hole," Slade spoke between his teeth.
"Your wish is my command, master," Red winked and snapped his fingers. Slade was transported from the hole and into the forest once more. Carrying the egg, he journeyed back to his lair in order to prepare for his business clients later that morning.
"Tic tock, Robin. Soon, it will time that we...chat."
That morning Jim and John, the business clients, arrived promptly at the designated time. The twins were discussing with Slade the minority speaker of the house and the senior senator from Nevada. One of the many guidelines and requirements of the agreement was to assassinate the two politicians.
"And you want this to look-" Slade was cut off from the sounds of his rectum singing quite loudly. "Excuse me. It seems that my four points of contact want to have a say in the conversation." The three men had a hearty laugh and Slade continued. "As I was saying, do you want the assassination to appear-" Slade passed gas once more, sounding moist and ripe. Alarm bells blared in his head. Every human being living on the face of the earth for at least a decade old recognised that type of flatulence. In spite of the warnings, Slade continued as if nothing ever occurred. After all, this was a significant paying assignment and the mercenary was not going to allow some trivial bodily function to interfere. "...accidental?" Slade warily questioned.
"Ah, yes," Jim replied. "We don't want-
"-any suspicions or a crisis in Washington," John finished.
"Very well, gentlemen. Shall we discuss-" At that moment, warm copious amounts of faecal excrement oozed from his orifice, trailing down his lower appendages, seeping through his trousers, and flooding the floor in an abhorrent puddle. "OOOOOHH SHIT!" Slade roared. Conveniently, Slade was not cladding his mask, therefore, it was an impeccable Kodak moment.
"We're just going to-"
"-head out," Jim and John enunciated. The twins excused themselves and ushered themselves out of the lair.
"RED!"
When the djinn was summoned, he was found gnawing on a chicken leg. "Woah, master. You're in some serious shit."
"No shit," Slade gritted his teeth.
"Alright, alright," Red held up his hands. "With antics aside, what do you desire, master?" The djinn reiterated, taking another bite of the chicken leg.
"What I want is for me and this mess to be cleaned up," The man drawled.
"Seriously, master. You have two wishes left and you want to waste it on this-stuff," he quickly caught himself from that blunder. "C'mon, make them count."
"Fine," Slade crossed his arms. "I wish I was leader of the world."
"Your wish is my command," Red grinned and snapped his fingers.
When Slade's vision focused, he found himself at a vacation resort in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. The ruler was reclining in a lounge chair a dozen yards from the tide of the shimmering sea. A masseuse that had long, bleached-blond hair, deep brown eyes, and tan skin was currently massaging his feet.
"Lord Slade, usted son super guapo," The woman said with an accent. "May I have the privilege of pleasuring you orally?"
"Yes, but let us go somewhere more private," Slade purred. The petite woman giggle, grabbed his hand, and led them to the man's private quarters. Once inside the room, the woman undressed to her bra and panties while Slade lay on the bed with his arms behind his head, eye closed. Afterwards, she crawled on the bed toward her ruler and slowly unbuckled his belt. When she tugged down the man's boxers, she yelped.
"I am quite large," The man chuckled with his eye still closed.
"Forgive me, but I don't understand. You are built like the Chupacabra, but your la pinga is like a chihuahua."
Slade's eye snapped open. To his horror, his penis was micro in scale. "NO!" he roared. The woman sprung from the bed, gathered her clothes, and bolted out the door.
"RED!" When the djinn was summoned yet again, he was found flossing his teeth.
"How may I serve you, master," Red lulled, threading the floss between number ten and eleven.
"Do you not see this!" Slade growled, pointing to his pelvic region.
"I don't make it a habit to stare at other men's junk, master. What's the problem."
"The problem is that my once large and glorious cock is now nothing but a mere...I can't even say!"
"Chillax, master. We all shrink a little with age," the Djinn assured.
"Not. By. Six. Inches," Slade gritted his teeth.
"The great Napoleon had a short ruler," he added.
"I'm not he. I am Slade Wilson. I am Deathstroke the Terminator," the man spat, his blood boiling.
"You take life way too seriously," Red rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me that you're gonna waste your last wish on your dick. It's not the size; it's how you use it."
"Okay," Slade sighed, closed his eye, and massaged his temples. "I wish that Robin had an uncontrollable lust and desire for me."
"One horny boy coming right up, master," Red smirked wickedly and snapped his fingers.
Slade was rudely awaken with a slap to the face. His eye shot open to gaze upon what he claimed was rightfully his.
"Wakie, wakie, Slade," Robin spoke with a Cheshire grin.
"Hello, Robin. I see that you are eager to get started," Slade purred glancing at the the chains that constrained him. "Although, for our first time, I would prefer you to be the one chained," Slade leered. Both the males were naked. Strangely, Robin still clad his domino mask.
"Sit back and relax, tiger. Let me do all the work," the sex crazed boy shoved the man.
"Feisty. Get to it."
"Ka xlia ma pe tute," Robin whispered salaciously.
"Dirty talk in Romani, little bird," Slade grinned. "What does that mean?"
With out saying a word, Robin positioned his arse directly above Slade's face and squatted. Before Slade could process Robin's actions, Robin defecated a pile of faeces unto Slade's face.
"THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU, SLUT!?" Slade roared.
"Hello, Robin," he facepalmed. "I forgot that you liked the golden showers first. Let's skip the foreplay. I'll make it up to you," Robin assured.
"Your life depends on it," he snarled dangerously low. The kinky hero mounted the beast and with one swift move, Robin impaled Slade with his penis.
"AAAHHRRG!"
"You are so tight," Robin groaned.
WHAT DO YOU THING YOU ARE DOING!?"
"Shut it, Slade. You know you like it fast and rough," Robin smirked.
"Get. Out."
"Not until you beg me to let you cum. I know you like my big cock up your ass, Slade." Robin quicken the pace. Ten minutes later, Robin was panting; his breath was rugged. Wanton moans escaped Slade's lips. The man miserably failed at containing such noises, for the Boy Wonder was pummelling the man's prostate.
"T-t-this isn't s-suppose to h-happen like t-t-this. Y-you're gonna pay for t-this, b-b-brat," Slade growled in between breathes.
"A-alright. I'll l-l-let you r-ride me next round," Robin offered. "Now, say my name!" With a few last thrusts, Slade indignantly yelled Robin's name and ejaculated on his stomach; Robin moments later came inside Slade. For a few moments, utter silence consumed the room until Robin spoke. With a Cheshire grin, Robin leaned down and said, "April Fool's, Slade."
Slade abruptly jolted up from the horrific night terror, his heart racing. He had fallen asleep at his work desk. How could such a dream manifest itself into the compounds of Slade's mind? At that moment, his eye glanced to the Peeps that Robin had sent him the other day.
"Ruthless, Robin. Truly, ruthless."
Author's note: Is Robin topping the abomination of desolation? I would hope not. I was brave enough to write this after all. "Ka xlia ma pe tute" means I am going to shit on you. Now do you see why I chose the Peep image for the story? If you are saying, "Wait a cotton picking moment! You can't read in dreams!" Let me ask you this: did you see that episode from Batman the Animated Series where Bruce can't read the newspaper? Yeah, I thought so. Let me put your mind to ease. That is wrong. Not always mind you. Some people can read in their dreams; I know I can. I can read Fanfiction in mine. The only place where I am not dyslexic. I just dogged that plot hole. I do hope that you caught on to the few hints of a certain book that I was referencing. If not, you make me sad. No, I was not referencing Aladdin. I just happen to know about djinn. Djinn are spirits mentioned in the Qurʾan. They can curse people; they have a free will like humans. I chose black obsidian because it aids an individual to fight against an enemy; it was used to curse Slade as well. The song "Crickets" by Drop City Yacht Club was something that just spontaneously popped up in my head. I thought that it was perfect as an introduction song like you hear on television programmes. I thought that the lyrics were perfect: watch?v=F95RD4wGpdc Why did I bestow Red with blue eyes? I based his appearance of off Jason Todd. Yes, yes. I am J.T. truther. Don't shoot me. I apologise if the crap grossed you out alot. I was making it humiliating for Slade as possible. Also, this was a parody based off the episode "The Mask". It is basically Robin's revenge for what Slade put him through. Instead of inhaling dust, Slade consumed a Peep that Robin gave him.