Hawkgirl in Wonderland

Chapter Six

And so this fine ficlet has come to its natural conclusion. We finally meet the Authoress and realise that she's stark raving mad. And we finally get an explanation…

I don't own Justice League or the characters of Miyuki-Chan in Wonderland. The Authoress is mine though. If you want to take her off my hands, get in touch. Please.

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Shayera no longer felt any kind of embarrassment or shame. All she felt was a blazing, white hot rage as she marched through the corridor in her pants. She was determined, mace or no mace, to beat the crap out of this Authoress for all the torment she'd endured. Who cared if said Authoress was a midget?

A door loomed into view, a large metal construction embossed with raised leaves and exotic birds and a statue of a girl protruding from the middle. The statue was rather garish, considering the steel blue colour of the rest of the door. It was painted in shades of pale yellow, pink, white and red. But as she drew closer, she saw the slight rise and fall of the statue's (rather generous) bosom. It wasn't a statue.

It was a girl.

Imbedded in the door. Fast asleep.

Shayera tiptoed closer, so as not to wake the girl. She scanned the door for a doorknob or a bell, something that would let her in. When she found none, she assumed that it was hidden behind the girl. She peered behind the girl's back, but could see nothing. And then, the girl sneezed and woke up. When she stretched, she accidentally punched Shayera in the head.

"Oh my goodness!" the girl gasped. "Are you all right, dear? I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," muttered Hawkgirl.

"I haven't seen you here before, dear! State your business!" the girl commanded in a cheery voice that eliminated any sense of authority she might have had. And anyway, the red pom-pom skirt and too-small white blouse combo she was wearing was ridiculous enough on its own.

"I want to see the Authoress. Right now," Shayera muttered back. She prepared herself for a battle of wits…

"Okay!"

"…what?" That was easy!

"You can go right ahead," trilled the door-girl. "She's probably expecting you. Or she's not. Who knows?" She gave a shrill giggle that could have broken glass.

"Fine then," said Shayera, undeniably relieved.

"You can go in as soon as you've changed your clothes!"

"What? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Besides the fact that it was underwear…

"It doesn't match, dear. The bra isn't the right shade to go with the panties. And as cute as they are on you, the Authoress is very strict when it comes to fashion."

"Fine. I don't care any more! Where do you suggest I get a more co-ordinated outfit? I'm travelling kinda light at the moment!" she roared. The door-girl didn't seem to notice her anger.

"There's a little changing tent over there, dear. There should be something for you to wear in there."

Grumbling under her breath, Shayera stepped into the little nylon yellow and green striped tent. Ten seconds later, she exploded.

"I AM NOT WEARING THIS!" she roared. The door-girl shrank back a little in surprise, but recovered quickly.

"What's wrong with it, dear? Is it too big?" she enquired.

"If it was too bloody big I'd be bloody delighted! It's too small, too slutty and just plain wrong!"

"Well, you can't get inside with what you're wearing… maybe if you wait a few hours something else will appear!"

"I cant wait that long!...Fine, I'll wear it!"

There was rustling and mumbled curses coming from the tent, and the door-girl watched curiously. The outfits in the tent were replaced by the Jabberwocky every few hours. Who knew what you'd get? Door-girl was one of the few girls in Hammerspace who wasn't afraid of Jabberwocky taking her panties. With her legs fused to the door, it was physically impossible. It was also a mystery as to how the door-girl put on her panties in the first place, but at this point the Authoress decided that some questions are better off not answered and no-one ever thought about it again.

At last Hawkgirl emerged from the tent. Looking like she had stumbled off the set of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was dressed in a lacy black corset, black leather hotpants and thigh high rubber boots. She looked gorgeous. And furious.

"Can I get in now?"

"Oh, you look adorable!"

"Thanks. Can I get in now?"

"Of course. Go right ahead."

Relieved to finally be getting somewhere, Shayera walked over to the door somewhat awkwardly (the heels on the boots were absurdly high) and looked behind the door-girl for the doorknob.

It wasn't there.

She counted slowly to ten, and asked the question.

"Where is the doorknob?" The door-girl smiled.

"I'm the doorknob, dear!"

"What? That's ridiculous! How am I supposed do get in?"

"It's very simple dear," she trilled. "You just squeeze my boobies!"

"What? What kind of messed up architecture is this?" Shayera bellowed, foiled once again by the smutty machinations of someone who really had it in for her.

"Well, when this door was built, they had some problems and while we wait for a new set of knobs, I volunteered as a substitute!" the door-girl said merrily.

"That's really weird, even for this place," said Shayera through gritted teeth.

"I know," sympathised the door-girl. "I thought the waitress would get it. Her boobs are so much bigger than mine. I'm just a double-D cup."

"Poor you," muttered Shayera. She was a jealous B-cup. "I need to get in, but I refuse to feel you up."

"Oh, come on! I'm not asking you to make out with me!" the door-girl said with a shrill giggle, then her face became deadly serious. "Unless… do you want to make out with me?"

"NO!"

"Fine then! Just grab my boobies and give 'em a quick squeeze! No problem, everyone's done it!"

"All right. Hold still…"

"…"

"…"

"…oooh…"

"Stop that!"

"I can't help it! Your hands are nice and warm…"

"Just shut up and let me get on with it!"

"…"

"…"

"Honk, honk!"

"I'm warning you…"

"Okay, okay, you're nearly finished. Just a little to the left…"

And without warning, one of the most powerful superheroes across several galaxies found herself being sucked head first into another woman's double-D's. She thought she'd drown in a sea of warm skin and underwired lace, but instead she was sucked through some sort of portal and dumped on the other side. She ended up in a large room in front of a marble fireplace.

The first thing she noticed about the room was the heat. As well as the fire, there was probably some sort of central heating on somewhere. The second was the décor. None of it matched. The walls were pastel pink and painted all over with fluffy pale blue clouds, and yet there were antique bookshelves against each one. The bookshelves had old leather-bound copies of Dickens and Tolkein next to colourful Dr. Seuss books and manga. Soft toys and miscellaneous electronics littered the floor, and in the middle of it all was a lavender fake-fur sofa, almost twenty feet wide. On the sofa sat the Authoress.

Shayera gaped, all her anger suddenly melting away.

The Authoress was just so damn cute.

She was about three feet tall, give or take an inch, but she looked smaller. The poofy pink dress with bow-tied spaghetti straps and several layers of tulle and lace and netting was arranged so only her little slipper-clad feet poked out. Her hair, light reddish-brown and set in Shirley Temple curls, was topped with a purple Bakerboy hat. By the side of the hat, two white fluffy cat ears twitched and waved. A fluffy white tail reached out from behind the mounds of tulle to rub the left ear. One large blue eye blinked as she rubbed one ear, then the other, mewing softly to herself. Her glasses slipped a little on her almost-invisible nose. She was quite possibly the cutest thing Hawkgirl had ever seen.

All of a sudden, the little thing sneezed. The force knocked her off of the sofa and into a pile of teddies on the floor. She popped out of the pile a moment later, and while she was fixing her hat, she finally noticed she had a guest. She hastily smoothed down her dress, fixed her hat and jumped up to stand on the sofa in what she thought was an intimidating pose.

"Hawkgirl!" she squeaked cutely. "We meet again-nyo!"

"Uh… this is the first time I've met you…" Shayera mumbled, still mesmerized by the Authoress' cuteness.

"Exactly!" the Authoress crowed triumphantly.

There was something about the maniacal look in those pretty blue eyes that brought all of Shayera's anger back to her. She stood up, mustering as much dignity as she could while dressed like an extra from a porn film.

"All right! You tell me right now what I'm doing here and why everyone seems to want to get in my pants!" she demanded.

"Well, since you did get here-nyo, I guess I owe you an explanationoone. Have a seat-nyo," the little girl flopped down onto her sofa and patted the space next to her. Shayera made her way across the room, carefully manoeuvring through piles of stuff, until she reached the sofa.

"As you may have guessed, this is my realm-nyo and I am its ruler-nyo. I rescued these girls from Themiscyra and now they serve me faithfully-nyo. I'm a very busy lady-nyo and I needed someone to take care of my home-nyo," she mewed, holding onto her toes as she spoke.

"How did you get such a huge place all to yourself? I mean, hostile occupation I can understand but you don't seem like a dictator to me…" said Hawkgirl, deeply confused.

"That's where you're wrong-nyo! I am a dictator!" yelled the Authoress, standing up to her full height and throwing both fists into the air. "I'm the greatest dictator that ever lived!"

"That's right," cooed a familiar voice. "You're the best little dictator in the whole wide world, yes you are, yesh you are!" The Cheshire Cat had appeared out of nowhere and was cuddling the Authoress with an ecstatic expression on her face.

"Have you ever heard of fanfiction, Hawkgirl-nyo?" the Authoress asked, her voice slightly breathless from being squeezed by the Cheshire Cat.

"Can't say that I have," she answered.

"It's great fun. You should try it-nyo, but I digress," the Authoress said, struggling in the Cheshire Cat's embrace. "Fanfiction is what got me here."

"What?"

"Let me go-nyo!" the Authoress, finally wrenching herself out of the Cheshire Cat's grasp. She toddled off of the sofa into the middle of the room and pulled out a blackboard from under a pile of ribbons.

"This is how it works-nyo. You take a beloved character from a movie, TV series or book," she stopped talking in order to draw a crude stick figure with long eyelashes, "and you write a story-nyo about them. Anything goes, you can do anything to them-nyo. As long as you have the disclaimer-nyo."

"This is her disclaimer," cooed the Cheshire Cat, holding up a diamante studded stamp. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Stunning," mumbled Shayera. "I can't see the owners of the character putting up with that."

"That's what the disclaimer is for. I just put it at the start of the story-nyo, and it means I don't own the character and I don't make any money by using them for whatever purpose. It means I'm invincible-nyo!"

"She's so clever!" simpered the Cheshire Cat.

"Now, with the disclaimer in place," the Authoress wrote DSCLAMMER at the top of the blackboard in wonky letters with the R facing the wrong way, "I can do what I want to the character-nyo."

"Anything?" Hawkgirl was horrified by the possibilities.

"Anything-nyo. I can start a story and not finish it (she rubbed out the stick figure's left leg), I can make the character change genders (she rubbed out the figure's eyelashes), I can send him to anywhere I want (she drew a flying saucer in the corner of the blackboard) and no-one can stop me-nyo!"

"That still doesn't explain how you got this place…" Shayera mumbled.

"I'm getting there-nyo!" yelled the Authoress and she threw her chalk at Hawkgirl. It bounced off of Hawkgirl's forehead.

"I was the most prolific fanfiction writer of all time-nyo," the Authoress glowed, patting her red-brown curls. "I had over a hundred fanfictions under my belt after my first year. Then, when I hit the five hundred mark-nyo, I broke the reality barrier and found this place!"

"That doesn't make sense…"

"Nothing here does! That's the beauty of it all-nyo! I don't' need to explain why my door is a girl, why my servants do nothing but play strip poker all day or why you're here-nyo!"

"My head hurts," muttered Hawkgirl, clutching her forehead.

The End

Scratching his head in confusion, the Jolly Green Giant logged off. It was certainly a weird way to end a fanfiction, but then Metamorpho had warned him that the Authoress was a bit of a nutjob.

"Still," John Stewart wondered to himself, "why did she put herself in the fic? It was a request job… does she do that to all her clients?"

He sighed a little as he printed out the last pages and put them in the black manila folder with the others. He couldn't deny that she'd done a good job. The mental pictures of Shayera in the various slutty outfits would stay with him for a long time. After switching off his computer, he walked out into the bedroom.

Shayera was lying on the bed, reading a Jackie Collins novel. He sighed again. It was hard to get hot under the collar when your snuggle bunny was wearing one of your old t-shirts which was about three times too big, sweatpants, a huge grey sweater with holes torn in it. Under those sweatpants he knew she was wearing those enormous granny panties that took ages to pull down.

It was true that the more you got to know a person, the more you saw of them. During the first few months of them being a couple again, she'd gone out of her way to appear attractive. Then the underwear got bigger and less exotic, the clothes got baggier and more comfortable, and just two nights before she'd waxed her legs right in front of him.

He sighed once more and settled down beside her. She looked over at him briefly as he opened the folder.

"More paperwork tonight?" she asked.

"Yep," he answered, turning to the page which featured the strip poker game.

The End.

If anyone wants to see more of the Authoress in fanfiction, review!