"You bellowed, Father." A loud, confident and very impatient voice shouted out over the din of the Saiyajin court. At the sound, the entire hall fell silent and every eye, from Saiyajin noble to the Occhion servant, turned and watched the heir to the throne, the Crown Prince of Vegetasei, as he strode up towards his sire. The sea of onlookers parted before him, each showing their respect, awe, and in the case of many of the females, lust. The figure that inspired such reactions hardly acknowledged the crowd or their stares, his attention completely set on the monarch.

While the son glared in contempt, the father scowled, seething with rage at his wayward and stubborn scion. It was bad enough the boy dressed like a common soldier, but to ignore his official duties and show up in such an undignified manner; it was more than the Emperor could take.

"It's about time you showed up, brat. How dare you come into this hall in such a state." The King yelled as he gestured at the Prince's bare chest and torn training pants. "I swear you will bring the Empire to its ruin. You ignore your duties and obligations, care nothing for your subjects and for the planets of the Empire. Kyabetsu informed me that you slacked off in your studies today, and now you are late for ceremony of regency. How do you expect to maintain stability and protect everything our ancestors and I strived for? You slack off on your responsibilities and lessons ... ."

"My responsibilities are to become stronger, to be a warrior above all else. Nothing is more important than strength and I intend to be the strongest ever. That is how I will rule, with an iron hand and with power that no one, not even the Colds themselves, can match. You waste my time with lessons in diplomacy and civics. Such matters are for the clan chieftains, the Senate and civil servants, not the next Super Saiyajin.

"I do apologise though, Sire," Vegeta paused, his tone switching from enraged to contemptuous again. "But since you demanded my presence immediately I did not have a chance to get another shirt. I felt it would be highly insulting to come in with Nappa, Radditz and the band of new nobles' blood splattered all over my shirt and armour. If you want my co-operation, you should find me a suitable sparring partner. Unless, you wish to volunteer?" The last part was said with a sneer of self-confidence and the older male stiffened at the veiled threat. An open challenge by the heir to the King signified the ceremony of succession with the death of the old ruler at the hands of the new, and by the implication, the Prince was staking his claim on the throne. And as the Prince, the King and most of the nobles gathered knew; the fight would be a quick one, with a new ruler taking over the reins of power.

The elder warrior stared down at his son, caught between pride over the boy's great accomplishments and dread at the younger man's overweening pride and arrogance. Vegeta was strong, stronger than any Saiyajin on Vegetasei. Since his birth there had been speculation that the young prince was the next Legendary, the first in three millennia, and the rumours had only grown now that he was approaching full maturity.

As a warrior, the King could only marvel at the power his son possessed. His own instincts and the ingrained respect for strength within their race understood his heir's complaints, but experience had taught the King that power was not always enough. It was his own mind, more than his great strength, that led him to great victories over his long reign. He was also very familiar with the myth of the first Super Saiyajin. For all of the First's strength, the great Saiyajin's rage was more than could be controlled, until he was destroyed by his own power. That balance between rage and discipline, the body and the mind, was a difficult one for the Saiyajin race, one that he was witnessing in his first and only son.

The fate of his son and his realm weighed heavily on the King. His own mind and body, though strong, were weary of the labours of governing and the drudgery of State. He was caught in such deep thought when Cawleife informed him that the Captain of the Dreadnought vessel, Niwa, was requesting an audience. Nodding his understanding and agreement, the King turned to his smirking son and the crowd of impatient nobles.

"As much as I would dearly like to put you in your place, it would seem we have more urgent matters of State to contend with." The older Vegeta replied to the younger.

"Since it seems that my heir is not ready to take on the role of regent during my absence, the ceremony will be postponed until after the evening feast. Now, if you will excuse me." The King continued as he addressed the crowd, his eyes soon zeroing in on two figures, namely his son and his Secretary of State. With a glare to the former and a nod to the latter, he departed from the great hall and towards the receiving room as the Prince and Cawleife followed.

The short trip to the meeting was also a very quiet one, the only comment made by Cawleife who basically repeated his original message that Captain Serori had requested an audience but refused to explain why. As his mind whirled with hundreds of possibilities as to the nature of the message and what it would mean to the Empire, the King muttered silently under his breath. It was bad enough that he had problems with his heir but to have one with the Empire, especially if he were not able to deal with it, was just too much.

When he and his companions arrived, they burst through the doors, startling the occupants. Inside in the brightly lit room, pacing back and forth was the aged Saiyajin commander with two subordinates, the three jumping to attention when the royal duo and the Secretary of State walked in. His eyes passed over the two underlings, stopping only briefly over the smallest one and the strange animal clutched in his arms before he finally met eyes with the Niwa's Captain.

"Commander Serori, I'm sure there is a reason why you pulled me out of court to go over a routine border patrol mission." The King addressed the now rising battle ship captain, his tone curt but internally he was rather curious at to the reason for this audience.

"Everything is in my report, your highness, but I have an issue which must be brought to your attention. Goku." The grizzled soldier called out to one of his still kneeling underlings, a note of pride evident from the Niwa's Captain as he spoke the unusual name.

At the strange moniker, the young, skinny lad he noted earlier tensed, stood up, and levelled the largest, most expressive pair of deep blue eyes at him. For that brief moment, the Emperor found himself caught in those eyes, the determination and intelligence within them, coupled with a very real look of fear. Drawing away his gaze, he noted the various scratches and bandages along with the pungent odour of smoke and blood. Yet, there was something in the young 'Goku's' countenance, the sharpness of the facial features and the upswept locks that reminded the King of his own race, and of one Saiyajin in particular. All of these factors, coupled with Serori's fatherly affection for the boy, made the Emperor very curious.

"During our patrol, we picked up a distress call five parsecs from Vegetasei and discovered the demolished remains of a ship. It had obviously been in a battle and taken the worst of it. Since there had been no earlier reports of a battle in the area, I was shocked to find that the vessel had managed to get this far into Saiyajin space, and more surprised to find two … err three survivors." The Captain paused, gesturing to the small furry creature wrapped in the young man's arms.

"And what are they still doing alive?" His son snapped, the boy's impatience becoming more pronounced. "As you well know, Captain, the penalty for trespassing, whether in a battle cruiser or a waste barge, is death."

Much to the King's, and the Prince's, surprise, the boy did not shake with fear but stared down the younger Vegeta, those blue eyes flashing with rage.

"The Commander is well aware of your barbaric laws, but unlike some members of his race, he decided to show mercy and aid to a defenceless ship." The young man bit back, his voice high and light, on the cusp of maturity.

Had the King not observed it with his own two eyes, he wouldn't have believed it in a million years. This slip of a boy who didn't have enough strength to stand outside the protective field of the artificial gravity had just spoken down to his hot-headed heir. By the First, it was priceless.

"How dare you!" The enraged Prince snarled, his fingers curled to ring the fragile lad's neck. About to stay his son's hand, circumstances and the previously dozing fluff ball intervened. The creature snarled and leapt from Goku's grasp, latching onto the offending hand with a death grip. If the stand-off before was shocking, this turn of events rendered everyone but the Prince speechless.

Vegeta, on the other hand, was howling and cursing wildly, waving his hand back and forth to dislodge the animal. The shock for the King was short-lived as he threw back his head and started to laugh. A softer chorus of chuckles followed as the elder Cawleife and Serori sniggered at the ridiculous scene. All the while, the stunned Goku and remaining Niwa crew member watched dumb struck.

The mini battle between Saiyajin Prince and the attack rodent did not last long, Vegeta flinging the vicious creature to the ground and flared his ki, shaping it into a small but deadly ball. Smirking wickedly at his downed prey, the Prince never got to fire as the smart mouthed boy stepped between him and his quarry.

"Foolish boy, get out of my way or I'll kill you along with that rabid fur ball for attacking a member of the ruling house of Vegetasei." Vegeta growled, but the weakling didn't back down, as Goku literally stared down death.

"The chassidu only responded to a threat, and I personally can't think of a greater one." The youth shouted back, those blue eyes snapping with rage as he stared the Prince down. "This 'rabid fur ball', as you call him, is one of the bravest, most loyal beings I have seen. It was willing to risk its life for someone else's. A virtue, among many, that you fail to understand."

"You dare even speak to me, you pathetic little worm. One thing you fail to understand is futility but trust me when I say you will." The young warrior growled in reply as he levelled his icy glare on the defiant youth and aimed the ball of energy at Goku's chest. The two young men engaged in a second stand-off, their wills battling to see who would flinch first and back down. In the end, the decision was not theirs to make.

"That's enough!" The King bellowed, causing Goku to jump in surprise as Vegeta smirked at his opponent's weakness. The smirk was short-lived as his father sneered at him with animosity.

"What do you think you are doing, boy? As long as I am the head of this Empire, I will decide all matters of State. I haven't granted you regency powers yet, Vegeta. It is by my hand that this 'Goku's' fate shall be decided." The Emperor declared, shifting his commanding black stare to the now uneasy blue one.

"I can see why Serori views you with distinction. You must have great fortitude and courage to impress him and keep him from killing you on sight. Whatever you told him must have been compelling, so tell me, Goku, and choose your words carefully. Why are you trespassing in Saiyajin space?"

Unlike the defensive attitude he took with the Prince, Goku bowed solemnly to the King as he recounted his tale. After disclosing his planet of origin, he spoke about joining the trade mission, the stop on Messaline and the unprovoked attack by two Cold battle cruisers. Many raised eyebrows and incredulous looks, mostly from the egotistical Prince, accompanied the retelling of the battle and the destruction of one of the Cold vessels. The King quickly silenced any comment from his arrogant son, the elder warrior weighed each piece of the young Chikyuujin's story. The name of the distant planet did peak his attention momentarily, though not nearly as much as the sweet, feminine scent that clung to the boy.

"Who were your companions, apart from the chassidu? Surely no planet, no matter how weak, would send a slip of a boy on such a mission." As a test of both the lad's honour and honesty, Goku showed the King the highest respect, not a hint of anger or deception in his manner.

"The crew of the Arion was small, your highness, and made up of some of my closest friends. Two were the greatest fighters on Chikyuu, along with our pilot, a prominent scientist. One of the fighters, Yamcha, Usagi," he paused, gesturing at the now calm chassidu, "and I survived the attack. Krillin and Bulma did not." While emotion caused the boy's voice to tremble, his stance remained straight and proud, the Chikyuu-jin's inner strength impressing the King more and more. Such strength was a rarity, even amongst his own people. To find it in such a weak race was a great discovery indeed.

"Is there any proof of the battle even took place?" The King replied in his own tongue, his attention finally leaving Goku and centring on the Dreadnaught's commander.

"Apart from the damage to the ship, there isn't much. No Saiyajin vessels have reported any action, but there was evidence of metallic debris a hundred parsecs from Vegetasei. It's in a relative empty region of space, away from the major shipping lanes." Ignoring a smart-mouthed insult from his heir, the King continued to question Serori.

"Where is this great fighter?"

"Injured, you highness, severe even for a Saiyajin but with the fragile nature of the race, the damage is potentially fatal. We have held off putting him into a tank until the technicians can reconfigure the machines for their physiology and we obtained your approval."

"Why should we save some pathetic, insignificant 'humans' just because the Captain sees this disrespectful pup as a replacement for his deceased youngest son. You can't believe this tale, this non-sense about a battle against two Cold destroyers. It's insane, Father, and not worth our time. Leave the brat and its rabid pet to me and they will learn their place." Vegeta growled, his limited patience finally exhausted.

"My Lord, you cannot condemn this boy or his companions. I gave him my oath of honour that he would not be killed. If there is a punishment, it should be mine for bringing them before you," the Niwa's normally stoic Captain decried as he walked in front of the figure at the centre of the debate, placing himself as a shield between Goku and the Prince. The King could only mentally groan at the whole messy, exasperating affair. No matter his opinion of the human, the law could not be ignored but neither could an oath of honour. Goku could not escape the penalty, though the elder statesman was loathe to hand it down. His reluctance was due as much to his anger with his hot-headed heir than anything else; Vegeta had to learn about the mercy, wise judgement, and responsibility that came with being a ruler.

For all his strength, the boy was not ready for the reins of power. He needed discipline, patience, and a committed, understanding hand to lead him, something the King was unable to do. Originally, he had hoped his mate could teach their son the truth about wearing the royal mantle, but with everything since her passing, he found it impossible to take on those added roles. Bemoaning his situation, he suddenly relaxed, as if a guiding presence was leading him. In that moment, a realisation struck the monarch as the fragmented parts of his dilemma fit together into a solution crazy enough to work.

"For once, Vegeta, I believe I will follow your suggestion." The King declared, a devilish smirk that rivalled his son's spread across his face. The room's other occupants were silent and accepting of his announcement, all but Serori and the now deathly pale Chikyuu-jin.

"I grant you the right to punish the Chikyuu-jins as you wish. With some conditions, of course." As the floodgate of horror and triumph were about to erupt from Serori and his son, the elder Vegeta pulled back the reins, leaving the room in tense anticipation.

"Whether your position on the vessel was an emissary or a page, you have shown yourself as an individual with a sharp mind, strong spirit, and a gift for speech. As such, it is my decision as the ruler and supreme chancellor of the Saiyajin Empire that your punishment is to work under my son, the Crown Prince Vegeta, during his regency as his personal secretary. The Prince may decide in what manner he will use you but he will not be allowed to physically harm or abuse you. I now charge you, Cawliefe, to act as protectorate to young Goku, and ensure that my wishes are carried out properly and to show the boy everything my disobedient heir refuses to learn."

"And what if I refuse, old man?" The furious Prince snarled back, angered by his father's sentence and the not so subtle insult against him. Using the one opening still left available to him, he threatened his heir with his only advantage.

"I still have my methods. You don't know every attack and the military is still loyal to me. If you force my hand though, I will not hesitate to use the Achd riof Nearagh." Every Saiyajin gasped in shock and even Vegeta, as strong and fearless as a warrior could be, tensed at the threat. Even the word brought a chill to the room, Achd riof Nearagh was the most extreme measure of obtaining a wayward heir's compliance. With a sigh and a nod that his son admitted defeat, but even the King knew the Prince would never completely surrender. There would be hell to pay for the damage to the boy's formidable pride, and most of it would be paid by the young Chikyuu-jin.

"Stand down, Serori. I have done my duty by your honour and the law." The King proclaimed, waiting for his subject's capitulation.

"But sire…"

"Silence. This is my decision and it shall be abided by, my word is law as long as I still take breath. Come here, Goku." For a moment, those expressive blue eyes caught him and he felt a hint of regret at the fate he had sentenced the boy to. He could only hope that Cawliefe's presence and the threat of Nearagh would be enough to keep his son in line.

"From the moment when Vegeta is officially declared regent until I return, your life is forfeit to him and the Saiyajin Empire. You will carry out your assigned duty as personal assistant to the regent in any matter he wishes. During this time, no physical harm will come to you or your friend and your injured companion will be given every medical care. Do you agree?" The King wondered how compliant the boy would be if it were only his life at stake, but when the welfare of his shipmates was included, the Chikyuu-jin lad didn't hesitate. Instructed to kneel in the traditional sign of respect, the young boy slowly recited the pledge of loyalty.

"It is so. Now tell the technicians to treat the injured Chikyuu-jin, get a cage for that creature, and have a room prepared for our young Goku in Vegeta's wing. Welcome to your new home, boy."

~*~*~*~

"We are here tonight to make the passing of power from one Vegeta to another, if only temporarily," the crowd around the dais rippled with laughter at their King’s wit, the delectation shared by all but two people, the younger Vegeta and the herself. The young Saiyajin snarled low in his throat at the joke made at his expense, the look of barely repressed rage causing Bulma’s heart to beat wildly in her chest. Kami help her.

"Often in war, the monarch would give over power to the heir, to rule in his stead and take over the throne if the King should perish. It is a sign of our great strength and power that today I go in peace, to tour about my realm and throughout the realms of other Empires. And as I go, I am leaving a strong capable leader in my stead: my son and heir to the throne, Crown Prince Vegeta." This time a loud, raucous cheer reverberated through the hall, punctuated by low harsh growls of that language she had heard in the meeting room. Whatever they were all saying, she hoped it would appease the soon-to-be regent. No such luck, she realised, taking a brief glance at the Prince, his enraged expression unchanged.

Kami give her strength, she prayed again, how could this have happened? Maybe it was karma left over from a very bad previous life, or the gods of irony taunting her for thinking she could escape Freeza and her fate. Not even the Bard himself could have written so cruel a tragedy: to escape from Chikyuu with her friends in the hope of saving her planet, only to end up as a slave to the second cruelest race in the Universe.

All of it at the cost of those dearly beloved friends. Oh Goku, Krillin, how could she face herself knowing that her selfishness cost her two best friends their lives? Her mind then drifted to the last human member of the Arion’s crew and she held back a sigh of sorrow. It was close but if Yamcha hadn’t been placed in that regeneration tank, he would be another casualty of her pride. He still might be, she realised, if the machine didn’t work as well as they said.

She was caught off guard as the room suddenly descended into silence as the two men faced each other, the son mimicking the father as they both placed their clenched fists over their hearts. The older man growled out in that strange, haunting language she didn’t understand and Bulma watched numbly as the young version repeated each snarl. If the circumstances had been different, she may have been amazed at the beautiful, no doubt ancient ceremony, or enchanted by the great hall but she could hardly keep from trembling. She was now a slave to the second cruelest race in the Universe, the personal lapdog to the Prince of Assholes.

Watching the Saiyajin Prince from beneath her lashes, she couldn’t hold back her fear of him, his attack still fresh in her mind. He was cold, violent, dangerous, sexy ... . Where did that come from?

Through her own beliefs and observations, she’d come to the conclusion that every Saiyajin was a scarred face, muscle bound giant, at least every soldier on the Niwa was. While they were all attractive, some to the point of distraction, it was nothing new to her. Scars, muscles, and hot men were a part of her life since she started hunting Dragonballs but him... . Bare chested and glistening with sweat, Bulma actually felt her stomach do a little flip when he walked into the waiting room. Here was a Saiyajin only a little taller than herself, with a thick, compact frame that spoke of great strength and agility. His features were sharp, aristocratic, his appearance regal despite his ripped clothes.

She couldn’t deny that she was drawn to him. She always had a thing for bad boys and he just screamed it with that dark, sexy aura of his, until he condemned her to death, dismissing her like a bug, and she snapped. Unsure whether she was angry at her death sentence or his dismissal, she struck back at him with her tongue, unconcerned with the consequences.

‘That mouth of yours will get you in trouble one of these days’, her mother’s sage advice played through her head as he grabbed her throat, no doubt intending to snuff her out like a candle. It was a miracle she survived the ordeal. Well, a miracle and the intervention of Usagi, Serori, and finally the King’s benevolence that saved her from Vegeta’s wrath. Not that it helped in the end, she realised. Soon she would be completely in the bastard’s power, once she recited that binding oath in front of him and the Saiyajin court. Only a few moments more and she would be free to go back to the tiny room they gave her and finally face the weight of everything that happened this day.

After her sentencing, she was allowed a meal, primarily rare meat with some strange, spiced herbs and vegetables. Surrounded by a collection of Saiyajins and other aliens, she kept her attention on her food, not a difficult task since she was famished.

Captain Serori had come to speak with her during the meal, trying to be diplomatic about her fate and warning her of the Prince’s temper. While the very image of stoicism, he couldn’t keep back a look of concern for her. It was all Bulma could do to hold her emotions in check and not give in to grief and self-pity. With one strong clap on the back that almost sent her flying, he wished her luck, promising to check in on her whenever he was on planet. With that, he walked out of her life, his role of protector at an end.

The rest of the day was a blur to her exhausted mind, combing through the wreckage of the Arion before it was melted down for scrap. Under the guards’ watchful gaze, she grabbed old clothes, a few prized items, and her tool kit. Last but not least, she picked up a scrap of orange cloth, the intricate kanji insignia still visible under the burn marks. It was all she had left of two of the best men she had even known.

The giant Saiyajin from the waiting room, Cawliefe the King called him, then showed her to a small room, her new home. Painted a dull white, the only break in colour was a grey, unitarian cot and a black storage trunk for her personal affects. In the corner was a small white tiled square with a drain in the centre beneath a large shower head. Next to that was an open bowl flush toilet and a white stone sink beneath a cracked mirror.

With a curt command, the Saiyajin informed her about her uniform and basic duties she would no doubt be performing for the Prince. She shuddered at the memory of the cold, hypnotic man from earlier, almost missing Cawliefe’s chuckle.

"Your fate could be a lot worse. Serori could have killed you on the spot. Instead you won his respect and impressed the King. To impress the Saiyajin no Ou is a feat in itself."

"Yeah, it’s brought me under the thumb of a man who would wants to use my head as a bowling ball." Cawliefe looked puzzled at the colloquialism, only to chuckle at her again.

"The Prince Vegeta can be hot-headed, but he has honour and loyalty. Show him both and you will receive his in return. You will be expected at the regency ceremony to swear allegiance and service to the Ouji. After that you will officially be under his command, though still under the King’s protection. A guard will come to escort you when the time comes."

Left alone for the first time all day, Bulma collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest as she hyperventilated. She’d lost count of the number of hours since they left Messaline but in that time her entire world came crashing down. It was only by her monumental pride and will to survive that she kept it together, kept herself whole and sane but now, the weight of it was starting to crush her. Going through the Arion, watching them burn it, it had been like losing Goku and Krillin all over again. She had nothing left of home but a few old clothes and a friend at death’s door.

Letting her grief out as long as she dared, she was soon wiping her eyes and focussing on her next task, getting though the ceremony. Unsure how long before she would be fetched, she set to work scanning her uniform into the projector before slipping it on her own body. The thin white shirt and black pants hung off her slim frame while the thick, malleable over tunic rubbed against her chaffed breasts. She just got the spikes of her hair just right when the guard came to collect her.

"So shall it be." The King’s gruff voice cut through her thoughts with the first set of words she could understand. The court repeated it in tandem as the King took the blue pendant from around his neck and handed it to the Prince.

"So shall it be." The Prince repeated, placing the intricate gem around his neck. At once members of the court, huge men in multicoloured armour, came to pay their homage to the new regent. Reciting words in that strange language, she watched as first Cawliefe then a huge bald Saiyajin went down on one knee before the prince. Taking in the remarkable scene, Bulma tensed as she felt a strong warm hand at the back of her neck, pushing her to the front of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at the owner of the hand, another huge Saiyajin with a mane of wild hair that fell to his ankles. Like every Saiyajin she had seen he was wickedly handsome, but something about him gave her a start. Whether it was the angle of the light or homesickness, she swore the man looked like Goku.

"Radditz." That rough, deep voice she recognised as the Saiyajin Prince’s called out and the man behind her fell to one knee, pulling her to the ground with him. Like the others before him, the Saiyajin rhymed off a phrase in that harsh language of theirs. When he finished, the long-haired Saiyajin glared at her, as did the whole court.

Swallowing back her fear, she dismissed her earlier observation; Goku could never look so cruel and sadistic. With her heart in her throat, she stared up into the face of her master, the very face of death itself. At least it wasn’t Freeza, her conscience reminded her, though it was a cold comfort to her now. Raising her fist over her heart, she spoke the words she had been told that afternoon, sealing her doom.

"To the regent, I pledge my life and service. May he do with both as he will."

~*~*~*~

"The next item on the agenda, the territorial dispute between the Beta and Phaseolus clans over the Mori region of the Northern Continent." The dull drone of Minister Upo’s voice echoed through the main hall and it took all of Vegeta’s self-control not to groan out in agony. By the First, his Father didn’t need to threaten him with Achd riof Nearagh. After two weeks of sitting through border disputes and budget meetings, he was ready to give up the throne and sign himself up for the off world troops. Anything was better than this.

Letting his mind slip into a meditative state as an old sensei taught him, he imagined himself training in the soon to be completed gravity room. His muscles began to tense as if fighting the extra pull of gravity while his mind ran through a series of warm up katas. Before he could dream up a set of opponents, a booming voice broke through his daze and nearly sent him crashing off the throne. Only his lightning quick reflexes kept him upright before anyone noticed the slip. Organising himself, the Prince made a mental note to practice balance and equilibrium exercise during his next training session. If he was ever going to train again, he realised wistfully.

Biting back a yawn, he half-heartedly took in the impassioned speech from the Phaseolus clan leader. Not five generations ago, this dispute would have been settled in the arena with the survivor claiming victory, before the twenty-fifth Vegeta’s institution of common law and royal judiciary. The history lesson played through his head as he considered what it might take to revoke the law and bring back the old system before dismissing it outright. Contrary to his Father’s beliefs, he understood the importance of civil society and centralisation. Besides, to reinstate the old law would mean hundreds of Council meetings, a cure far worse than the disease.

Perceiving a change in the voice speaking, Vegeta glared at the two chieftains who were wasting his valuable training time with such flippant matters. Last night he read all the cases to prepare himself for a quick exit, just give them his will and be done with it. But no, they had to present their sides and argue between themselves over nothing. He should just blast them and find two Saiyajins with a semblance of intelligence to run the Beta and Phaseolus clans. They couldn’t do any worse than the two idiots in front of him.

Like a prerecorded message, or warning, he heard his Father’s voice growling out the words of the regency oath, particularly the master and servant aspect of his rule. He was honour bound to listen to them, even if it was slowly boring him to death.

A movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he inclined his head towards another thorn in his side, that moronic Chikyuu-jin runt his Father had saddled him with.

The boy’s mere presence was an insult to him, that Goku defied his will. Worse, the human made him look like a fool in front of his Father, Cawliefe and the Captain of the Niwa, well, the human and that chassidu. For such a crime, ‘Goku’ should have been killed, or at least flogged and the chassidu tossed into a pot. Instead, his Father lets the boy and his killer ‘rabbit’ live, gives them protection, and a position of honour in the court. The deepest cut to his pride came after the regency ceremony when his Father had him pledge to keep the boy safe.

"You could learn something from him, Vegeta, like a little tact." A little tact, more like the ability to suck up. Didn’t his father have enough sycophants fawning over him?

True to his pledge though, Vegeta didn’t physically harm the boy as he set him to take on every dirty, menial task imaginable in the palace. At least the boy was providing him with entertainment as he cleaned out the waste filters and peeled hundreds of potatoes and onions. It was now the highlight of his night when Radditz came and gave him a quick report of Goku’s day. Ironically it was the Royal Guardsman who had suggested he take Goku today for the judiciary.

Assuming he was tired of watching the weakling, he was surprised when Radditz shook his head.

"No, Ouji-sama, I just believe that Goku might be of assistance to you. He is smarter than he appears."

"Radditz, don’t tell me you’re going soft on this Chikyuu-jin. Having some Saiyajin-weakling bonding over latrine duty?"

"Hardly." The older soldier grumbled, though his eyes betrayed some of his inner thoughts. "Cawliefe-sama has been giving him lessons in Saiyajin law and clan histories, as well as copies of court proceedings. He is interested in it, and has a knack for politics. I don’t know how to explain it but, there is something strange about the Chikyuu-jin."

"Unusual strange or treasonous strange?"

"Unusual. He is more than what he appears, but not in any way malicious. Maybe it’s his manner or his hair, he just reminds me of someone." The guardsman stopped then, cutting the discussion short as if he said too much. No matter, Vegeta thought, Radditz had done enough and given him an idea.

It seemed the boy was brushing up on his politics, maybe he should take the Chikyuu-jin into that pit of snakes. Between the nobles yelling at the weakling intruder and the mind-numbing boredom on court day, Vegeta was sure he had found a punishment worse than manual labour. Why should he be the only one to suffer?

Completely sure of his plan at its inception, it was now more of a punishment to him than the boy. By some kind of miracle or sick joke, Goku looked interested, almost intrigued, at the proceedings, as if he played politics his whole life. Well, if he couldn’t bore the Chikyuu-jin to death, he would scare him to it.

"Limin-san, Beto-san." Vegeta drolled out, stopping another argument from breaking out. Both chieftains waited in anticipation of him to speak, as did the whole court. He knew what his decision would be before either man opened their mouth and he would give it, as soon as he had his fun. It was time Vegeta saw how good a tutor Cawliefe was.

Staring over the two spiked heads, he stared right at the little gnat he was preparing to squash.

"I could give you my declaration, but I would like to hear what my Father’s Chikyuu-jin ass kisser has to say first. Tell us, Goku, what would they do on that little backwater planet of yours? Of course, if you answer incorrectly, I will leave your punishment to either Limin or Beto."

Vegeta watched triumphantly as the boy flinched, those wide, blue eyes growing even wider in alarm. Soon the whole court turned to the alien, most of them with sneers of contempt, waiting for him to seal his fate. Goku was oblivious to their stares, even their presence, the whole of the Chikyuu-jin’s attention focussed on him. Did the little worm think Vegeta was like his Father, taken in by a smart-ass attitude and those haunting eyes? He wasn’t some merciful fool, though he never thought of his Father as the benevolent type either.

Pushing his intrigue to the side, Vegeta smirked wicked at his victim, waiting for the moment of weakness or fear to show.

A look of panic never came. Vegeta watched amused as a sneer of anger spread over Goku’s boyish features, his previously timid eyes now flashing with wrath.

"If they, or you, had any brains, Ouji-sama, they would come to a compromise. Since neither side will let the other hunt in the Mori region, then the area should be given to the crown and hunting rights given to each tribe for one side. A ten kilometre band along the border will be considered protected crown land which neither side can cross." The unnatural quiet of the room exploded in sound and fury at Goku’s words. Half the court was shouting for his head at the very impudence of his suggestion. The other half merely laughed at how easily the boy had reached a solution, one that a dozen interclan councils couldn’t reach. The looks on both Beto and Limin’s faces told Vegeta they were part of the former group, not that he spared them any consideration.

While his smirk didn’t falter during Goku’s little speech, Vegeta felt the cold stab of realisation hit him. ‘Damn it, he came up with the same solution.’ If anything, the Chikyuu-jin’s was better, since it increased the crown’s holdings in the rich Northern hunting territories.

Glaring back at the source of his current chaos, the Prince was amazed to see the boy still staring at him. The ire on Goku’s face had calmed, replaced by a smirk of satisfaction. Most surprising though were the eyes, those unusual, blue eyes. Glowing with confidence, Vegeta caught a glint of something else: expectation? What did the bastard expect, a fucking parade?

A growl of rage broke the contest between the Chikyuu-jin and himself as the Phaseolus’ chieftain charged at Goku, lifting the boy up by the neck. Spurred on by his own rage, Vegeta flew from the throne to Beto’s side faster than the Phaseolus could react. Taking advantage of Beto’s slow reflects, Vegeta slammed his hand across his fellow Saiyajin’s radius. The bone snapped like a twig, and Goku dropped like a stone, gasping wildly to fill his deprived lungs.

"I will forgive you, Beto-san, since you obviously don’t get told much news up North, but you just attacked a protectorate of the house of Vegeta." Vegeta watched with grim satisfaction as Beto’s eyes grew wide with realisation, all the while cradling his broken arm. Serves the bastard right, for daring to take Vegeta’s right to punish the Chikyuu-jin. Goku’s fate was in his hands and if he couldn’t harm the boy, no one would, least of all some Northern rustic.

"Please, my Prince, I did not know. I did not think the boy was anything, certainly not a ward of your esteemed house." Pathetic, the Prince growled, even Goku had more spirit than that when facing his wrath. Against his better sense, Vegeta looked over at the bane of his existence, now inching towards the wall. It seemed the Chikyuu-jin was no worse for his punishment, though hopefully a little wiser. How would he get his revenge if he was saving the Chikyuu-jin from others?

Wiping the thought of saving the brat from his mind, the Prince focussed on the task at hand, namely Beto’s punishment. By the ancient laws, an attack on a slave was worth half the slave’s price, while attacking a guest of the royal family was tantamount to a death sentence or banishment. In both cases, protocols would have to be carried out, all of which would waste his valuable time. About to curse Goku for the trouble he caused, another, far more palatable solution came to the Prince’s mind.

"True," Vegeta finally said, his attention snapping back to Beto. "You didn’t know the boy was under my protection. To know and to act anyway would be as good as signing your death sentence." Beto nearly shook with fear at his accusation and Vegeta grinned with malevolent delight. He paused then, prolonging the old warrior’s agony and the suspense of the court. As fun as it was, it was cutting into his time; there were three more cases on the judiciary before he could train.

"But, since from your own mouth you claim ignorance, I guess I can show leniency. You will adopt the plan the Chikyuu-jin suggested with a twenty kilometre wide boundary on the Phaseolus territory without complaint."

"Your highness, this is outrageous... ."

"So are your demands on my patience. Didn’t I just say ‘without complaint’, unless you want the tougher sentence? A tour of the Tsiru-jin border region perhaps?" If Beto possessed the strength, the Prince was sure the Phaseolus would have tried to kill Goku and himself but he was too loyal, and too weak to argue. Hiding back a snarl, Vegeta watched as the chieftain bowed to him, admitting defeat. A quick glance at the Beta’s leader proclaimed his own acceptance. And Father thought he had no governing skills.

Showing far less tact than the older nobles, Vegeta grinned at his victory before his eyes shifted over to the cause of it. Well, the Chikyuu-jin was finally good for something. Maybe he would bring Goku to the next judiciary, it would definitely provide him with some entertainment.

Quickly silencing the voice that praised the boy for his intelligence and spirit, he did quickly look over him for any lasting injuries. He was quickly caught by the shocked look in those strange eyes, shock and admiration. Stranger still was the faint blush that bloomed on the boy’s cheeks when he caught his eye. Caught off guard by the Chikyuu-jin’s reaction, he quickly shrugged it off. The court was waiting for him and there will still three cases left.

"Upo-san, what is the next item on the agenda?"

~*~*~*~

"You’re lucky. It seems as if there are only two cases on the judiciary court this week. Word of your methods must be getting around."

"It’s as it should be. If the clan leaders can’t make those kind of decisions then they shouldn’t be in power. My Father suffered with dozens of complaints about the power of the crown, now I’ve increased its power, while giving them a path towards greater autonomy."

"Yeah, through revolution. You might want to show a bit more leniency in the future."

"Hm, I let you live. That alone should be enough mercy to last me a life time." The Prince grinned wickedly at the last comment and Bulma felt her heart jump in her chest. Kami help her if he keeps doing that. It was hard enough when he started acting civil, but when he teased her and flashed those seductive half smiles of his, it was too much.

"That’s not what I meant." She snapped back, desperately trying to hide the flustered state he left her in. "You should grant the Viscum clan a yearly stipends and four more positions under General Chayote to encourage more off world volunteers."

"What! Are you insane? Do you think I’d ever be so weak willed as to cave in like that?" Vegeta snarled back, his previously humourous tone darkening with annoyance.

"No. Of course not. Just wanted to let you know the best solution before you choose to reduce their tribute payments by ten percent and offer them two positions." Though he kept his expression constant, Bulma didn’t miss the slight widening of his eyes. Finally, she had shocked the man, not that it was difficult to figure out the workings of his mind. Vegeta was a hawk, a man whose sensibilities were very much like her own, never bending or breaking to any force or foe. If he had been into technology and business instead of war and politics, he could have given her a run for her money back on Chikyuu.

Chikyuu... . It would soon be seven weeks since she left Chikyuu. Kami, was it still there? Were her parents still alive? Would she ever see them again? While the troubles of her home planet were never far from her mind, the latter question was becoming less of a fear for her as another force was slowly moving in.

"Just for that, I’ll lower it to eight percent and give them three positions, with my approval on the choices, and only if they can guarantee fifty warriors." The Prince’s voice cut through her musings, his tone rife with arrogance and sarcasm that she couldn’t help bitting him back.

"Now you are just being obstinate."

"I prefer to think of it as a compromise." He drolled and Bulma couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. She may have figured him out in the last few weeks, but he had unravelled her personality too. He still remembered her words at the judicial court that day. The day her life on Vegetasei changed forever.

"And here I thought you didn’t understand the meaning of the word, Ouji-sama."

"Hm, never underestimate a Saiyajin, boy."

She didn’t know when it started, maybe it was when she first met Captain Serori, but her opinion of the Saiyajin race was slowly shifting. Even without Zuno-ojisan’s warning, Bulma was wary of the simian species. Briefly scanning the histories and characteristics of each of the Empires, she had been horrified by the Saiyajins bloody past, and violent practices. Only a fleeting mention of the importance of honour in the warrior culture saved them from being lumped in with the Colds, and even then it was only just.

Now? She wasn’t sure. Mercy goes a long way, and though she would balk at the some of the treatment she’d received, from a Saiyajin, it was benevolence itself. While not surrounded by the usual luxury of Capsule Corp, the conditions were better than her dragonball hunting days. She also hadn’t suffered any violence or abuse worse than a casual shove in the mess hall and a sneer in the corridor. After the incident in the judiciary, the guards would lower their eyes as she walked past, whether in fear or awe she wasn’t certain. The Saiyajin no Ouji had protected her and heeded her counsel, obviously there must have been something about her.

She was shocked and delighted when Radditz informed her of the change in her schedule, not the least of which was to avoid cleaning out the drains again. She never asked him why the switch, not realising that he had petitioned Vegeta himself to get her on court duty.

A small smile of contentment spread across her face at the thought of Radditz. When she first met her escort/nursemaid, she lumped into the same category as every other Saiyajin she’d seen to that point: big, violent, and grunty. Her view was quickly confirmed at he grunted at her and took her to her first assignment. They went two days before he spoke a real word to her, another two before he reached a full sentence.

Their relationship started slowly. She would ask him questions about Saiyajin culture and he answered, brief answers at first but they started to grow with her own understanding. Soon they were having long discussions, well, long for a Saiyajin, about the ins and outs of court life. He was remarkably bright and observant, sometimes guessing her questions before she had a chance to ask them. Stranger than that was the uncanny resemblance to Son Kun.

It was in the little things really: his nose, the shape of his face, the way he moved was all hauntingly similar to Goku. More curious was Saiyajin trademark: the furry tail. She often thought Goku was from outer space but could she have been true? Whatever the validity of her hypothesis, she had adopted Radditz as a brother of sorts. An older brother as Son Kun had been her younger.

Goku.

Even a month and a half later, the wounds were still fresh. He was always so strong, so sure of the inherent good in everything. She wondered what he would have thought of the Saiyajins, Radditz, and Vegeta.

"Once the gravity simulator comes on line, I want six solid hours per day for training. See that I get it." Speak of the devil, who thankfully had his back turned during her moment of mourning.

"What happened to compromise?"

"I am. I had originally planned to train for 9 hours a day, six is the bare minimum." Shaking her head at his stubbornness, she quickly scanned through the court calendar, checking if there was any feasible way to give him six straight hours.

"Most days it can be done, as long as your training is before ten. Beyond that there are too many meetings or conferences to give you six hours."

"Then cancel them."

"But these are the Council of Chieftains, the tournament for the Royal Guard... ."

"Schedule the Council to start with a two hour session in the simulator, with any luck they will be too tired to give me any grief. Give Nappa the position of Royal emissary for the tournament until the quarter-finals. It doesn’t get interesting until the semis."

"Of course. Why should doing what is best for your Empire and people get in the way of your own wants?" Bulma murmured under her breath, the comment earning a low growl from the Prince. At the harsh rumble, Bulma felt her stomach flip again. Something about the animalistic sound appealed to her. Of course, lots of things about the Saiyajin Prince appealed to her.

"What is best for me is best for the Empire. My people need a strong leader and as the Westerns say ‘Might is Right’. Now, I trust there will be nothing in the way of my training."

"Just another conference, a meeting on Messaline with the My ... the Myxini." Bulma replied, going cold as she repeated the name. She recognised it from Zuno-ojisan’s warning; a brutal race allied to the Colds.

"My Father arranged it, probably in the hopes of sticking it to the Colds." Vegeta continued, ignoring her reaction to the name. "There has been a lot of tension amongst the Saurians and Myxini lately, mostly over the Tasu Empire. Since Tasu is between their territory and our own, the Myxini grand general thought it would be prudent to wipe them out together. As if we need those bloated bastards’ help."

She must have gone as white as a ghost, the blood drained out of her head at his words. Worse than the words were the casual, almost blase way he talked about the deaths of billions of people. Her old hatreds of the Saiyajin race hit her full force as she pictured them slaughtering the people of Chikyuu, hunting them down for sport.

"How could you do such a thing? Butcher innocent people? What happened to that Saiyajin honour you crow over? Or maybe you just trot it out when it’s in your best interest? You and your kind are no better than Freeza." The last word was hardly out of her mouth when she was grabbed around the throat and lifted off her feet. Before her was an enraged Saiyajin Prince, more furious than she had ever seen him.

"If you ever compare me to that thing again, I’ll rip out your heart and feed it to you, Chikyuu-jin." His words were quiet and composed, belying the emotion she saw flashing in his eyes. She had never seen Vegeta so angry, the calm deadly aura about him more frightening than his acerbic temper tantrums. Yet, she felt strangely comforted by his words. It proved to her that if nothing else, she found an enemy of her own enemy and one who hated Freeza as she did.

"Yes, Ouji-sama." The pressure on her neck lifted with her soft reply and she landed sharply on her feet before falling to her knees. It seemed like hours before either of them spoke again, Bulma still on her knees, looking up at Vegeta’s turned back.

"I don’t care what my Father said or how much protection he afforded you, you have no authority to question me, Chikyuu-jin. What do you know of such matters?" The tension broke with Vegeta’s words, as did Bulma’s paralysis.

"I know more than you think, Vegeta-sama. You damn a whole civilisation to death for nothing more than greed, the promise of an alliance with creatures that obviously have no honour or loyalty.

"Radditz once told me the Saiyajins view Vegetasei as a sacred being itself, something they would shed their blood to protect. How would you feel if your planet was purged and your people enslaved? How would you feel seeing your home and everything you care for destroyed by the whim of another? You are not the only species that cares so deeply about their home." The pain of her own circumstances spilled into her voice, making her lowered voice crack with her uncertainty about Chikyuu’s fate.

"All the more reason to grow stronger with training." Vegeta replied, his back still turned away from her.

"What about your meeting with the Myxini?"

"I will inform Cawliefe that it is cancelled. Allies like that are more likely to stab you in the back than march by our side." Somewhere deep inside her, Bulma felt a fullness in her chest, an emotion she had never truly felt before. Whatever it was, it brought a small smile to her lips at his words.

Looking back up at the Prince, she was surprised to find he had turned around and was staring at her intently, more so than she had ever seen. Taken back by his hard glare, she couldn’t help but be attracted to his dark, intense stare, his eyes pulling her in. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to touch the hard Prince, to feel his skin, to taste his mouth, to have him taste her. As if caught in her fantasy, Vegeta sniffed the air, like an animal hunting its prey. What would it be like to have him hunt her?

"Is there anything else?" The Prince asked, his voice taking on a dark, husky quality that nearly made her knees buckle. Hardly able to look at her PDA, she merely shook her head, suddenly not trusting her own voice.

"Or are you waiting to attend to my bathing and turn down my covers?" Still spoken with that smoky tone, his words conjured up images of her running her hands across the plains of his body and joining him between the sheets.

A blush bloomed on her cheeks and she quickly lowered her face to hide her reaction from the Prince. When she finally got her libido under control, she hazarded a glance at him, only to find him chuckling at her. Immediately her back went up and she snapped at him.

"I’m your secretary, Ouji-sama, not your nursemaid or some slave girl." He quirked at her wording and Bulma berated her slip on the word ‘girl’. She hid her sigh of relief when he simply shrugged off her comment.

"Then get out, boy. And don’t bother me until I call for you again." Putting on a display of disgust at his dismissal of her, Bulma quickly made her way to the exit, thankful for the chance to escape before something else happened. Walking towards her Spartan sanctuary, her thoughts drifted back Vegeta’s bed and what he wore to it, if he wore anything at all.

~*~*~*~

"Chikyuu-jin."

"Please, Dad, just five more minutes."

"Come to me now, Chikyuu-jin." Bulma’s eyes snapped open at the softly worded command. Vegeta was calling for her, telling her to come to him. Ignoring the fact that he never called on her personally, Bulma quickly slipped on her uniform and pulled her newly washed hair into a pony tail. Quickly adjusting the ‘Goku’ image, she ran to the door to greet ... nothing.

Maybe she was losing her mind but she swore she had heard ...

"That’s it, Chikyuu-jin. Come this way." Something.

Looking up and down the hall, her eyes lighted on a window at the far end of the corridor, its curtains fluttering in the breeze. Curiosity got the better of her and Bulma slowly walked to the window, still glancing about for any sign of a trick.

Pulling back the curtain, she peered out into the Vegetaseian night. The moon was a sliver in the sky, casting a dull light on the shadowy world below. She could barely make out the shapes of the tropical plants that grew in the warm climate of Illyria. The fragrant scent of flowers and the chirp of the night birds was all she could sense of the garden beyond the window.

About to turn back to her room, she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and the garden went silent and still. There was a predator out there, something even the hardy creatures of Vegetasei feared. She should go back to her room, the words she heard earlier must have been a figment of her ...

"Come here, I’m waiting for you." This time the voice was softer, deeper, and more commanding than she had ever heard. It was the sexiest bedroom voice she had ever heard and she nearly arched her back and purred at the sound of it. Her mind shut down as her body took over, slipping through the window and into the dense bushes of the royal gardens.

Walking through the lush jungle, Bulma felt her heart race with excitement. She could feel the Prince’s dark eyes on her and her skin felt hot and tight beneath her clothes. Glancing wildly about the trees, she wondered where he could be hiding. It felt like his presence was all around her, caging her in, stalking her like prey. While the modern woman railed at the idea, the primal animal inside her howled in delight at finding a male as wild and untamed as itself.

Glancing about one last time, Bulma suddenly darted through the brush, determined to give her hunter the best sport she could. Over the smack of her feet against the grass and her own panting breaths, she heard the faint sound of pursuit; a creaking tree branch, a flutter of leaves, a low possessive growl. Struck with the desire to egg him on, Bulma growled back in defiance, daring him to catch her. It wasn’t until she smacked into a solid mass that she realised how close he was.

"You didn’t think you could escape me, did you? Especially when I wanted to see you, little Chiyuu-jin." This time she couldn’t keep back a soft submissive purr at his low silky voice. The sound combined with the sensations of his arms wrapped around her was too much for her current state. In the low moon light she watched as the shadowed plains of his face lowered to a frown as he took in her appearance.

"But not like this." Before she could react, his long thick fingers grasped her projector and crushed it like a paper cup. The ‘Goku’ puppet flickered once before it disappeared altogether, revealing her true form to his eyes.

"Yes." He growled and Bulma began to pant at the look on his face. She watched, utterly hypnotised as his eyes grew darker in the pale moon light, staring at her with an intensity that took her breath away. Her reaction must have amused him because he started to laugh, the sound rich and deep that rumbled up from his chest and it was all she could do to keep from rubbing against him. She couldn’t keep the primal animal in her from finally tasting his soft bronze skin, her lips, teeth, and tongue devouring the flesh of his throat like a dying man at his last meal.

The flavour of his smooth, spicy skin mixed with his musky odour drove her wild as she clawed at his shirt, needing to feel his skin beneath her palms. She didn’t know what had come over her, this wave of lust and need and desire for his man, her whole body throbbed with it.

"Patience, little one." He crooned in her ear and she did moan. He assaulted her senses, making her feel alive, hot, and wanton. Kami help her, he hadn’t even touched her skin and already she felt as if she were breaking apart at the seams.

"But I want it now." She demanded, though her voice cracked under the weight of her lust. He chuckled at her again and she couldn’t hold back as she rubbed her clothed body against his chest, bitting down hard on his warm soft skin. Whether it was the moon or the man, she suddenly couldn’t hold back, grabbing hold of his shirt, she tried desperately to rip it off his body, needing to feel him, bite him, taste his tangy blood on her tongue.

His previously stationary arms tightened around her body and Bulma cooed with delight at the hard, unyielding strength of them. Even the hard-nosed business woman began to dissolve then.

Something about strong men had always appealed to her. She didn’t have time for weak, indecisive men in her work or in her bed. While Yamcha had been strong, he was too indecisive, too unsure of himself. Vegeta, on the other hand, was determination and resolve itself, along with the strength to wipe out whole planets in the blink of an eye. While such overwhelming strength might frighten another, it made Bulma safe, as if no evil could touch her.

Pulling her away from his body, she shrieked and squirmed until he silenced her with his lips. Her tense body melted like butter under his firm kiss, her own lips parting to make way as his hot tongue brushed against her mouth. The kiss quickly turned from firm and demanding to a wet duel, Bulma’s own tongue stroking and teasing the Saiyajin Prince’s. It seemed to go on for hours until Bulma’s lungs ached from lack of breath. Even then it was hard to stop the kiss. The taste of his mouth was rich and succulent, like the flavour of fine chocolate or strawberries, utterly addictive.

"Please." She begged, clawing at her own itchy garments. She was full of the taste, the sound, and the smell, now she wanted to be filled with him.

"Not yet," he purred in her ear and she practically sobbed in frustration. "I’m not finished playing yet." His mouth latched on to her mouth again and Bulma groaned in relief as his tongue came back to play.

Caught up in his mouth, she was caught off guard as his big hands landed on her shoulders. His fingers inched towards the collar of her uniform and Bulma couldn’t hold back a playful squirm at the ticklish sensation. Hoping his hands would run through her hair, she gasped at the loud rip and the sudden chill of the breeze on her hot body. Another rip followed the first and Bulma felt his clothing fall away, leaving nothing between her body and his own.

Well, almost nothing.

Vegeta harsh growl sounded in her ears as his hands came to the tight binding around her chest. Her skin prickled as she felt him gather his ki, the hot, electric spark of his power strangely erotic against her flesh. With a loud grunt, Vegeta sliced through the bindings, releasing her breasts which he cupped in his still charged hands. The combination of his hands, ki, and the night air on her chest made Bulma moan, her whole body primed for him. Rubbing her thighs against his, she moaned again at the feel of him, squirming in anticipation for the time when she could play.

Returning to taste his mouth again, she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eyes before something thick and soft brushed the back of her thighs. Caught up in the sensation of his hands and mouth, she was shocked when the furry appendage slipped between her legs and the tip began to tease her swollen clit. Screaming in Vegeta’s mouth, she clung to him desperately as the tip slipped inside her, its entrance made easy by their intense foreplay.

While unusual, she couldn’t complain. His tail, like his ki, felt wildly erotic and she suddenly wondered what other tricks he might have up his sleeve ... err tail.

"Hundreds upon hundreds, Chikyuu-jin." He answered, releasing her mouth for a moment before he moved to nip and lick her ear. At his veiled threat, or promise, his tail suddenly began to move in and out of her, slow and deep and perfect. When the tip of his tail flicked her clit again, her legs gave out and she landed on the wet ground, or at least the top part of her did.

Cupping her hips in his palms, Bulma watched through lidded eyes as he pulled his now wet tail from her. Moaning at the loss of his presence in her, she began to pant wildly as he ground his cock into her clit.

"Please, please, Ouji-sama. I need you." Bulma screamed when he teased her again, fulfilment so close and yet so far. Whatever she said or did was enough to move the stubborn Prince as he lowered himself to the ground, bending her in half as he did.

Her ankles now looped around his neck, she revelled in the feeling of his wet tail pressed between their bodies, the wily appendage sliding against her sweat sheeny skin. Vegeta followed the path of his tail, licking and nipping her flesh as his mouth moved closer to her own.

"So you want it, huh?" He rasped into her ear, still rubbing himself against her.

"Yes."

"Need it?" He asked again at her other ear.

"Yes."

"Then have it." It was everything she needed and more than she had ever experienced. She felt like she was coming on the first thrust.

"Yes. Yes. Yes!"

"So was that yes for waffles or scrambled eggs, dear?" Her mother’s bubbling voice suddenly chirped up and Bulma screamed in shock and embarrassment. Desperately trying to cover herself from her nosy mother’s gaze.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Bulma finally screamed, glancing up into the now lit sky that was shifting from black to white.

"What? Me? I’m just a part of your subconscious, honey. Your twenty minutes are up. Actually it was up five minutes ago but your brain didn’t want to let go of your last dream, not that I can blame it." Her ever perky mother replied as she puttered around the now fully formed Capsule Corp kitchen.

Glancing around, Bulma wanted to sob. Her Saiyajin was gone, and just at the best part.

"Quite a man you have there. It’s too bad you spent all that time on the hunt and foreplay but with a male like that, I wouldn’t cut corners either."

"Mom." Bulma groaned in horror, imagining her mother watching her previous sex dream with Vegeta, or worse, putting her ditzy mother in her place.

"Well get up off the floor and come have your breakfast. The waffles will be ready in a few minutes." Amazed at her mother’s ability to flit from one subject to the other, even in her own subconscious, Bulma tightened the robe that suddenly appeared on her body. It was the blue silk one she always worn in the mornings when she came downstairs and joined her parents for breakfast.

"So I see you have been keeping busy what with that man of yours. Very handsome and that voice. Don’t give me that look, Bulma. I was young once and I remember what it was like. In fact, your father and I still..."

"Ahhh! Please Mom, I don’t think I can take it right now." It was bad enough her sexual fantasy had been cut off at the best part, she couldn’t listen to her parents’ ... . Her libido might never recover.

"I’m sorry about Goku and Krillin, honey, but you can’t blame yourself. They knew the risks and they would have done anything to protect you. We all would." Her mother continued, growing grave and sombre at the mention of her dead friends. Even though the words were from a figment of her imagination, they offered her a comfort and solace the last six weeks couldn’t.

"Thank you, Mom. I love you. I’m so sorry I failed you."

"You haven’t failed us, sweet-heart, you never could. Your father and I know you love us, and we love you too. Now drink your juice and tell me about that young buck you were with."

"Mom."

"What? He could be son-in-law material, would definitely keep you satisfied. Besides, something tells me I’ll be seeing a lot of him in here so I might as well get to know something about him. I wonder if he’s really that big." Bulma lowered her head to the table and groaned in utter embarrassment. Twenty minutes could not come soon enough.

"Oh Bulma, you were always so melodramatic. I mean doesn’t a mother have a right to know who her daughter is sleeping with in her dreams."

"MOM!!!"

~*~*~*~

"After months of development and careful planning, I am proud to unveil the newest creation of the engineering department. With this latest invention ... ." By the First, were all gear heads so long winded? At this rate, it will take longer to reveal it than it did to build it. Next time he had a budgetary meeting with Noion, he was going to cut their funding, or maybe order a few executions. The engineering department was more of a nuisance than an asset.

It was originally his Father’s idea, though he had backed it at the time. While the Saiyajin Empire was equal to the Colds’ in brute strength, technologically they were woefully behind. The old policy of buying such know-how from other Empires and merchant houses was putting them far behind in the arms race. Unfortunately the latest solution was not yielding any better results. In the six months since Noion and Upo had hired these glorified mechanics, the gravity simulator was their only invention of worth.

"Allowing for two more months of testing, we anticipate that every barrack and off world base will be... ." Tuning out the Occhion’s monotonous drone, he wondered when they would finally finish and start the hunk of junk up. His body felt restless after the hours of meetings he had to endure the past seven weeks. He couldn’t wait to begin working his body out again, testing his own limits and those of his two soon to be punching bags.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Nappa and Radditz adopted the same glazed over stare as he was no doubt wearing. When the topic of the machines testing came up at the monthly Council meeting, Nappa insisted he be on hand, as both Commander of the Military and the Prince’s body guard. It was laughable now to think of Nappa as his protector, but at least he would prove a bit of a challenge.

Radditz, on the other hand, was a wild card, someone that had long ago attracted Vegeta’s attention. He had earned a spot on the Royal Guard four years ago, a feat that was a marvel in itself. Rare enough for those in the first rank, Radditz, as the son of a third class Western traitor, was a long shot at best. Then again, there was something strange in those Westerns, a mettle that belied their blood rank, especially in the Viscum clan. He also had a lot of his father in him, too smart for his own good.

Speaking of too smart for their own good, Vegeta noted, as his eyes slid to the last man in the line, if a man you could call it. The Chikyuu-jin boy looked like a small child compared to the two larger Saiyajins. The strange, uneasy expression on his face did not help matters either. Radditz was on the mark with that one. There was something strange about the boy, if strange was the word to use.

Goku was not all that he seemed, and yet Vegeta knew there was nothing malicious in the boy. It was small things really that built up over time. The various scents of him and his remarkable intelligence, especially at such a young age, were unusual but not unexplainable. And for weeks that was what Vegeta did, explain them away as a product of youth or the qualities of an alien species. All of that started to crack last week during the routine agenda meeting.

‘You and your kind are no better than Freeza’. Even a week later, his throat still burned from the accusation. He should have killed him on the spot. Such a slander against the Saiyajin race would have been defence enough, but something stayed his hand.

It wasn’t his vow to his Father, or his regency oath, or even Achd riof Nearagh that stopped him and let the boy off with a warning. He didn’t know where the restraint came from or what could have caused it but it didn’t stop at Goku’s punishment.

At the thought of this Chikyuu-jin’s mere disapproval, Vegeta tensed with unease and snapped his flippant remark, destroying what took months of negotiations to achieve. Cawliefe had remained stoically silent when Vegeta gave him the news but he was sure his Father would tear a strip off him when he returned. Normally elated at the thought of angering his Father, Vegeta just felt ... strangely content. He had always disapproved of the alliance but when he saw the hatred in Goku’s eyes, then the happiness when he stop it ... . Then, he’d smelled it.

A woman, and an aroused one at the scent. His sensitive nose flared at the intoxicating smell: light, sweet, and feminine with a hint of musky. While not a great connoisseur of women, that smell made his body feel alive, brought out the need to hunt and pounce and claim the owner as his in the old ways. He had never had such a violent reaction to the thought of a woman or mating, even during the full moon. At least until he looked at the origin of the scent.

For a brief moment his instincts took over and he wondered. The boy was slight and delicate, beautiful really, especially with those giant eyes. Under the right light, Goku could possibly pass for a women. If the other person had drank a vat of ushtey bea, Vegeta quickly added before he dismissed the boy from his room.

Since that day, his interaction with the Chikyuu-jin had been polite, formal, and highly awkward on both sides. Often he would catch Goku staring at him, those blue eyes glazed over in thought. Each time, the Chikyuu would blush and look away, while a hint of the smell would linger in the air, leaving no doubt to the Prince what the boy had been thinking about.

Maybe he came from a species where that sort of thing was common? If the boy ever acted on those feelings or touched him, he might just kill the Chikyuu-jin, the vow to his Father, his regency oath, and the Achd riof Nearagh be damned.

"Prince Vegeta, if you would do us the honour of testing the simulator?" The technician finally stopped and Vegeta grunted his reply, walking towards the chamber without a word to the Occhion. Finally, the Prince smirked to himself, with the help of this machine, he would reach his goal and be the most powerful being in the universe. No one could beat him, no one could touch him, not his Father, Freeza, and especially not some little Chikyuu-jin pouf.

Climbing the stairs, he felt the machine whirl to life around him, the air around it charged with the energy now rushing through it.

"The chamber has the ability to withstand 100 times Vegetasei’s normal gravity and to ensure maximum efficience, the wiring is super cooled with liquid oxygen. As impressive as it is, I hope you will go easy on it, Ouji-sama. It is our only prototype." Blocking out their words, he was at the threshold of the chamber when he heard a soft gasp and the sound of hurried footsteps behind him.

"Stop, Ouji-sama. You can’t go in there." A high young voice called out as a pair of small hands grabbed at his tail and tugged. Caught off guard by the grab, Vegeta nearly feel to his knees at the spike of pain that shot up his spine. The rest of the room gasped out as well at the boy’s impudence for daring to touch the Saiyajin Prince’s tail.

"How dare you touch the Prince, you filthy maggot." Nappa cried out as he closed in on the Chikyuu-jin.

"I didn’t mean any disrespect but I had to stop you, my Prince, from entering the gravity chamber. It’s not safe."

"Not safe! My boy, this machine is the product of six months of work. It is flawless." The original tech blurted out, agitated by Goku’s suggestion.

"It is far from flawless and if you were any kind of engineer you would know it. Right now we have to get away from this thing before something terrible happens. Please, I’m begging you, sire, don't go into that machine." The desperation in the boy’s voice was the same as that night when he asked him to spare the Tasu. It might have moved him now as it did then, if the boy hadn’t chosen that moment to stroke his tail.

The feeling of Goku’s hands petting the sensitive fur was more than he could take. Rounding on the soon to be dead Chikyuu-jin, Vegeta grabbed him by the hands, prying them off his tail and over the boy’s head. Flaring his ki, he let it form into a ball inches away from Goku’s face.

"Do what you have to, Vegeta, but please, get away from this thing." The boy’s voice grew soft as he sealed his death. Calling the heir by his name was tantamount to a death sentence for a slave; on top of Goku’s other infractions, it was enough. Yet something in his tone, in those eyes held him back. The boy cared more about the life of his Prince than his own.

Lowering his hand, he extinguished his ki and was about to drop the boy on the ground when it happened. Staring as a wave of searing heat, it burned through his armour and training uniform before he could throw up a ki shield against it.

"Vegeta, watch out." With his weaker senses, Goku didn’t notice the machine’s meltdown until the walls began to crack under the pressure. Wrapping those slim arms around his waist, Vegeta watched in amazement as the Chikyuu clung to him.

When the final blast came, it came hard, the liquid oxygen feeding the blaze as it tore through the chamber, tearing it to pieces. The force of it threw him off his feet and sent the Prince and Chikyuu-jin flying across the room, before they landed in a heap. Grunting at the impact, Vegeta stared down at his companion, before the approaching fireball overwhelmed them. Without thinking, he threw up a ki shield to protect them both from the heat and shrapnel. Some still managed to tear through though, burning his skin and ripping deep into his muscles. At least he got the worst of it, not the woman.

"Ouji-sama!" He heard Nappa’s voice in the distance, the sound growing fainter with each passing moment. As the searing heat dimmed, Vegeta collapsed in a heap above the Chikyuu-jin, only his braced arms keeping him from crushing his charge.

Suddenly he felt hands on his blistered back and he bit his lip to keep from shouting at the pain. They were lifting him off the ground, off her.

"Extensive burns and lacerations ... if it weren’t for his ki shield, we both would have died." The light tenor voice cut through the growing darkness and he opened his eyes to see the face of a beautiful youth with no sign of injury. That’s not right, he realised, it’s not right at all.

"Get out of my way. We have to get him to the tanks now." Nappa’s voice sounded again and he was flying through the halls to the med bay. No, Vegeta tried to shout, he wanted to go back, he had to see for himself. It wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t be.

Before he could move to fight it off, he was in a tank with an oxygen mask covering his mouth. He felt the anaesthetic needles pierce his skin, causing his mind to float away as his body began to float in the rising level of synthetic Saiyajin DNA. Losing the battle for consciousness, his thoughts centred on this last clear memory right before the fire ball.

Maybe it was the force of the impact or the growing pain in his back, but Vegeta watched amazed as the familiar image of Goku shifted in and out of focus, like a malfunctioning communicator. At each flicker he saw another image beneath Goku, that of a beautiful woman. Even under the soot, bruises, and blood stains, she was a flawless creature. Her features were strong yet dainty, feminine, and her eyes; her eyes were an exact replica of the Chikyuu-jin boy’s, large and impossibly blue.

‘I will find that woman,’ he vowed to himself before he succumbed to the tank. ‘She will be mine.’

~*~*~*~

Kami, what kind of engineers had they hired? They hadn’t made a gravity simulator, they built a death trap. She tried everything she could to keep him out of it, even gave into the compulsion to touch his tail, knowing that it was a forbidden thing. The move nearly got her killed as she remembered the look of fury on Vegeta’s face. As scared as she was to face death, she felt relief when he walked away from the machine, but not far enough. She shouted another warning as the frame broke apart but it was too late, the whole lab was in flames. Dazed by the explosion and hard landing, she prepared herself for her fiery death, only to see the Saiyajin Prince above her, shielding her from the storm at the expense of his own safety.

The blast had finally exhausted itself when Vegeta collapsed on top of her, blood dripping from his back and legs. Before she could react, the big brute, Nappa, had grabbed him while Radditz pulled her off the floor. She started absentmindedly listing his injuries, in a state of complete shock at what had happened. As soon as she finished, Nappa was flying down the hall with Radditz by his side and Vegeta in his arms while guards and servants scrambled through the debris to find survivors.

Running behind the mad procession, Bulma couldn’t keep back the hot tears from stinging her tears. He couldn’t be dead, he could not be dead, she kept chanting, as if repetition would make it a fact. She couldn’t lose him; he saved her life; he was her match, her mad scattered thoughts making the tears fall harder and her legs pump faster.

It was several minutes later when she reached the med bay, panting, sweaty, and frantic, a sentiment shared by the medical staff. The normally quiet hospice was a buzz, doctors running to and fro, caring for the injured as they were carried in. Half the tanks were in use, the rest were being primed from new occupants, while the operating tables were filled with screaming, moaning patients.

It was only luck and Nappa’s immense size that led her to the tank with Vegeta, and by luck alone that she wasn’t trampled to death on the way there. Her dread turned to relief as she saw the Prince’s peaceful face floating in the tank and Bulma collapsed, her legs unable to keep her up.

"You insignificant worm." Nappa growled as she tried to catch her breath, lunging at her with his huge, meaty paws. Grabbing her shirt, she found herself nose to nose with the bald giant, his black eyes glaring at her in disgust.

"How dare you touch the Prince’s tail and think that you can escape punishment. The machine might not have killed you but I will." Nappa’s other hand slid around her neck and began to tighten, no doubt intended to pop her head off like a cork.

"Stop, Commander." Radditz’s rumbling baritone cut through the mad din around them and both she and Nappa looked at the wild haired guard.

"Radditz, are you questioning my authority?" Nappa grunted back, tightening his grip on her neck.

"No, but you are overstepping yours. You know the boy is under the protection of the house of Vegeta, to be untouched by any Saiyajin under pain of death. If there is a punishment, it should be Vegeta’s to give, but more than that, we should be thanking him. If Goku had not stopped the Prince, he may not have made it to the tanks." At the mere mention of Vegeta’s death, Nappa went as pale as parchment and his hold on her neck disappeared. Landing on her back, Bulma gasped wildly, trying to get air into her starved lungs while smiling up at her saviour.

"Vegeta did protect the boy." Nappa said absently, as if trying to find a justification for releasing her.

"He didn’t even punish Goku when he had the chance. If anything, as his vassals, it would be our duty to reward the boy for his bravery." Radditz continued, a wicked grin on his face. Bulma watched in amazement as Nappa nodded in reply, completely buying into Radditz’s plot. Unsure what it would mean for her, Bulma waited for Nappa’s next command, confident that she would not be facing death today.

"Yes, a reward." Nappa murmured to himself before his face grew stern and he glared at her in contempt.

"Count your blessings, Chikyuu-jin, as your rightful punishment has been postponed. Now return to your chambers until your presence is required again." Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Bulma left, hoping that she had escaped the matter all together. Somehow she doubted it but at least she could breath easy knowing that Vegeta was alive, and thankfully so was she.

When she was out of the Saiyajins’ vision, Bulma doubled back through the rushing crowds until she reached the far side of the hospital. At the end of a row of empty tanks, she found what she was looking for, the lone occupied tank and its chassidu guard.

"Hello, Usagi." Bulma greeted the rabbit as it crawled into her arms. "How is our patient?" The chassidu simply licked her nose and snuggled into her arms, taking some rest as someone else stood sentinel over its charge.

After Yamcha had been moved into a tank, the chassidu refused to leave his side, even biting several tank technicians for attempting the feat. Bulma didn’t question the move, knowing that the rabbit was where it should be. Usagi knew she could take care of herself, so the chassidu started protecting the member of their crew that couldn’t. Bulma had often returned to check up on her former beau, always bring the rabbit a morsel of food when she did. From the looks of it, someone else was also feeding the creature regularly, she realised as she brushed the healthy white coat.

Looking back up at Yamcha’s blue tinted face, Bulma left a sad smile grace her features. Even with her MD, Bulma hadn’t realised the extent of Yamcha’s injuries. Serori had literally saved Yamcha at the brink of death. As wonderful as the tanks were, it took a long time to configure it for human physiology, another crime to tack on to Saiyajins’ engineering department. The tank had malfunctioned twice, nearly killing Yamcha if it were not for Ussgi’s constant guard. With the setbacks to his recovery, it would take another week before he was healed, but at least he was alive and safe.

Safe, she realised, just like Vegeta and her smile took on a lilt of genuine happiness. Her two men were safe and here with her, even if it was through glass.

~*~*~*~

"Come with me."

"Why? What’s going on?" But Radditz was gone, already walking down the hall. Grumbling about inconsiderate Saiyajins, Bulma followed, quickly shutting the door to her room which Radditz burst through just a few moments ago.

"Wait up. Where are you going?"

"To your reward." Radditz replied, finally turning and waiting as she ran up to him.

"Reward? I don’t need some medal or commendation. Just knowing Vegeta will live is enough." Bulma said as she caught up with the royal guardsman. Something in her speech must have pleased Radditz as he smirked at her and Bulma was struck by his resemblance to Goku. The tender moment was fleeting as the Saiyajin turned and started back on his chosen course.

"It would not be wise to refuse the Council’s gift, it would be a breach of honour. Besides, Saiyajins don’t give pieces of worthless metal or paper for heroic deeds." Radditz continued, walking at a brisk pace as Bulma jogged by his side to keep up.

A sense of dread and curiosity came upon Bulma as she thought of Radditz’s statement and its consequences for her. What would Saiyajins give one another as a reward? They seemed like the trophy, a head on a platter type. Horrifying visions of Yamcha or Usagi’s heads on a tray flashed through her mind and she felt ill at the thought of her reward.

"It’s not a trophy, is it? I don’t want anyone killed for my sake." That one got a reaction from the ever stoic Radditz, the man stopping short and glancing back at her.

"What strange customs your kind must have. You saved the Prince’s life, not defeated an army. Trophies are given for great victories. The only head you could have ‘won’ might have been the chief engineer’s, if any part of him survived the fire ball." Bulma felt another wave of nausea coming on at that realisation. Part of her was glad he suffered something for creating such a terrible machine but she was grieved to hear the news. Death never sat well with her, no matter whose it was.

Saying a prayer for his soul, Bulma found herself back at square one, going to an uncertain fate with a guide who was quickly leaving her behind.

"If it is a meal, I’m not very hungry or in good spirits. Truth be told, I’d rather just sleep." Bulma remarked as she caught up for the third time and made her third assumption. Again, Radditz smirked and Bulma began to fear what sort of reward she could have been given.

"Why can’t you just tell me what they are giving me and spare me the torture?" She finally huffed, and this time the Saiyajin let out a chuckle.

"Let’s just say it was the will and delight of the Council to help make you a man." Make her a man? What the heck did that mean?

She still remembered her mother clucking like a hen when she got her period, even having a party for the occasion of ‘Bulma becoming a woman’. At least her mother didn’t make her do the Mother Goddess dance like she always threatened. How would the Saiyajins celebrate something similar for males; scarification or sending her on her first hunt?

"Here we are." Radditz’ voice cut through her musings and Bulma tensed as she faced ... a door.

"Where is here?"

"Your reward, and I hope you enjoy it. Every other bastard in the Capitol would trade places with you now." Kami help her, she was going to have to fight. What else did the Saiyajins live for but fighting?

She felt Radditz’ hands on her shoulders and Bulma began to panic. It was all in vain though, her meagre strength nothing to a full grown Saiyajin’s and she was pushed through the doors, closing her eyes and awaiting her fate.

"Welcome, Goku of Chikyuu." A husky, seductive voice purred out and a dozen more repeated the greeting, all of them soft, low, and feminine. Feminine! Bulma’s eyes snapped open and nearly popped out of her head at the sight that greeted her.

She was in a luxurious room, the likes of which she had never seen. The walls were covered in finely woven tapestries and multi-coloured silks while the floor was tiled with rich marble. Beyond the threshold where she currently made her stand, hundred of mattresses and pillows were strewn about with platters of food and ewers of wine. More surprising where the sixty eyes staring out at her from thirty of the most beautiful faces she had ever seen. All of them were female, completely or partially naked, and filled with lust.

"He’s so young and handsome."

"A little skinny though."

"He looks like a Saiyajin."

"Yes, like Radditz, or his father. Mmm, I wonder if he ... ."

AHHHHHH!! Turning on her heel, Bulma clawed wildly at the door, only to find that it locked from the outside. She was trapped in the harem with thirty women who looked like they were going to eat her alive. ‘Make her into a man’, more like try to turn her into a lesbian.

"What an odd hair colour." One of the voices behind her said and she felt a tug on her scalp before a soft, rounded body pressed into her back.

"Mmmm," the other woman purred into her ear as she felt Bulma’s body up and down. "Your arms are strong, your belly so flat, and your ass is so round." The last comment was made with a laugh and a pinch on the aforementioned area and Bulma yelped in surprised. Rounding on the woman, Bulma was quickly grabbed and pulled into room by half a dozen hands, all of them grabbing and caressing her.

Eager hands started pulling at her clothes and running through her hair while she tried unsuccessfully to fight them off. Caught up in the assault on her flanks and back, she was unprepared when a slim, shapely, lavender skinned creature wrapped its clawed hands in her hair and kissed her. Gasping out in shock, she tried to bite at the tongue which quickly darted into her mouth. The concubine, on the other hand, seemed to revel in Bulma’s aggression and nipped back and rubbed her pert breasts against Bulma’s bound chest.

As horrified as she was by it all, she felt a strange lust come over her. For the last week, the dreams of Vegeta had persisted, each more erotic as he took her again and again. Each time made her more frustrated and moody as she woke up alone in her sweat soaked sheets. While she always enjoyed a healthy sex life, she had been celibate for months and her body was more than willing to respond to any stimulus it could find.

Unable to fight it off, Bulma grabbed the other woman, her mind already replacing the delicate face with Vegeta’s darker colouring and sharp features. Her hands were moving down the odalisque’s naked back, searching for the tail that fuelled many of her fantasies. She could almost see it in the corner of her eye, teasing her to catch it and play.

"Let me, let me." A new, slightly shrill voice piped up and Bulma felt a furry head drive between her legs and rub against her crotch. Crying out in amazement and desire, she released her hold on the lavender woman’s body as she fell on top a soft mattress, a cat like creature now rubbing and purring between her legs. Bulma held back a moan of anguish at the torture her poor clit was being put through. Maybe, maybe if she just closed her eyes and imagined it was Vegeta she could get through it, maybe even get through some of her tension.

"Mmmm, you smell so good." The cat purred, its tail lashing back and forth. "I want to taste." It cried before nipping at her and Bulma went stiff again. No, they couldn’t take off her clothes.

Sitting up to fight the cat off, she found it was unnecessary as the cat pulled back into a crouch, a pout on its full, furry mouth.

"It’s not aroused. Nothing’s coming up." It sobbed and the rest sighed in sadness in return.

"Nothing? There is nothing?" One of the others asked. "Can’t you smell anything, Siara?"

"Just us. All I can smell are women. He is not attracted at all." A loud groan followed the cat creature’s pronouncement and the women moved away, all of them utterly dejected. Bulma could almost groan out as well, though whether in relief or regret she couldn’t say. She was glad that she would not be attacked or her secret revealed but her body was now as primed as it normally was after her dreams and there was no way she could relieve herself with such a captive audience.

"You remember the Council’s orders: a night in the harem. Just because you are not able to enjoy the boy doesn’t mean he cannot find enjoyment here." An older, husky voice chided the girls and they suddenly seemed to brighten, their eyes all turning to the back of the room. From behind a silk hanging, three new silhouettes appeared, all three tall, slim, and male.

"No one informed us of your preference, sir, so I hope you don’t mind. The harem guards and attendants are all we can find for your pleasure on such short notice." What? Her pleasure! Oh Kami help her, now they thought she was gay, though a moment ago, she was definitely enjoying the women’s attention.

"Isn’t he just the cutest thing? I swear I could eat him with a spoon." An airy, almost feminine tenor voice piped up and Bulma took in her new playmates. The three men were now circled around her, all of them gorgeous with a mix of masculine and feminine features. Harem attendants, they were probably bred for this sort of thing. She couldn’t deny that there was something strangely attractive about them, especially the one in front of him. Like Cat girl, he had a tail, and could almost pass for a Saiyajin with his dark, spiked hair and dark complexion.

Like the harem girls before them, the three pounced on her, the fake Vegeta wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. Her body arched against him, pleading with her to let them do what they wanted and in a moment of weakness, she gave in. The man’s hands were small with stumpy fingers and clumsy as they drifted down her body but she responded all the same. It’s really Vegeta’s hands, she tried to convince herself. It’s his tongue in her mouth, though the kiss held none of the passion she was hoping for. Even when he gripped her bottom and pulled her hips around his, it felt fake on his side and hers.

Cheers and catcalls rang in the background, but the words and feelings felt hollow to Bulma. This wasn’t what she wanted with the man she wanted, now matter how her body was screaming for release. Her heart though, her heart knew and it ached with the forced intimacy.

Pulling away from the male in front of her, she was surprised how easily he let her go, as if he was just an actor in an undesirable role. It hit her then and a wave of nausea threatened to undo her. ‘All we can find ... on such short notice’, the women had been drugged to respond to her, she could see it in their glassy eyed expression. The men , and this one in particular, were simply playing a role, uncaring one way of the other.

"Stop! Please, I can’t do this." She shouted and the room went strangely silent, the harem slave stunned by her confession.

The sea of concubines parted as a new figure walked up to her. Though the woman was older than the rest of the harem slaves, it didn’t dim from her loveliness. If anything, it seemed to enhance it, the aura of sexual maturity and erotic knowledge radiated off the woman. With her vivid blue colouring and slim, perfect body, Bulma felt like an awkward teen in comparison.

"Why not, sir? It is the will of the Council that you be given a night with us, to please and pleasure you in any manner you wish as a reward for saving the Prince. If we have somehow displeased you, please let us correct it. We cannot go against the Council’s will." The woman’s voice was soft and husky, just like the rest of her, and Bulma gulped at the effect it had on her and the whole room.

"That’s okay." Bulma shuttered as the crowd neared her again, the sex goddess at their head. "I’ll just tell the Council that I enjoyed it immensely. I’m sure you are all wonderful, just great but I can’t ... I can’t." She could hardly speak as the older woman approached, just the smell of her making Bulma pant. A shiver drifted up her spine as those smooth blue hands began caressing her ear.

"It is against our oath to go against the will of the Council, unless there is a reason for your resistance." The woman replied before she started kissing Bulma’s neck. Oh Kami help her, what was wrong with her. Her senses were reeling with lust, had been since she had walked in this place, but her mind, heart, and soul couldn’t do it. Even against them, her body was responding to the older woman, purring at her ministrations as the rest closed in.

You can’t, Bulma, her mind railed at her. It’s not right and you know it. Come up with an excuse, tell them the truth if you have to, before they figure it out for themselves.

"Please, stop." Her voice was weaker now and the woman smiled at her lowered resistence, the gesture making Bulma groan out.

"Why?" She asked again before her tongue licked along Bulma’s bottom lip, teasing the Chikyuu-jin with her taste.

Why? Bulma’s brain moaned, you’re a woman and I’m not a lesbian, though her body was beginning to wonder. Besides, that’s not why, it’s not why you’re fighting this so hard, her heart chimed out. It was something, or rather someone that was causing this war in yourself. Just tell them, her soul proclaimed. Let it go.

"I’m in love." Bulma yelled out, louder than she intended and the room fell silent again. Everyone seemed to back away from her as if she were diseased and looked, truly looked at her.

Without the presence of those dozens of bodies, Bulma dropped to her knees, fighting off the emotions that threatened to undo her.

While they all watched her, she finally took a good look at them, all of them. Dear Kami, they were gorgeous, all of them and so sensual, any man’s desire. She wondered how often Vegeta came here. How many had known his touch? Maybe all of them? Her heart railed at the idea, but more with a hard realisation; what was she to this room of sex slaves?

"He loves." A voice suddenly blurted out.

"But who? Who could it be?"

"Must be strong, it was enough to resist the Schin-seng fumes and Damiana’s charms." Schin-seng fumes, what are they talking about?

"Maybe it doesn’t work on his species."

"No, he responded, the love must have been strong. But who?" Like a chorus of owls, the women all began to shout out who, who, and Bulma felt the cold hand of dread on her shoulder. What would they tell the Saiyajins if they learned her infatuation was for the Prince Vegeta himself?

"They didn’t say anything about that, just that he was a great hero who saved the Prince’s life." The older woman finally remarked, though her attention was squarely on the crumpled Bulma. For her part, Bulma watched in horror as the other women lit up like Christmas trees at the suggestion.

"The Prince. He loves the Prince." One shouted.

"Damn it, not another one." What!

"What can I say, honey, that man is like sex personified. Just looking at that sweet tight ass of his, mmm. You should have known this one wanted him. Look how he went for the half breed." One of the attendants replied, causing Bulma to blush as his frank assessment of Vegeta’s ... er assets. Glancing over at the man in question, she slightly gasped at the growl that cut through his face. A half-breed Saiyajin?

"The man has made his choice and we must live by it." The elder woman said, his voice still had not lost the seductive cadence that made Bulma shiver.

"Come then, Goku. If you will not partake of our more fleshy pleasures, you must enjoy our hospitality." The formerly grasping hands now pulled lightly on her arms as she was led into the harem and given a soft mattress. Trays of food and goblets of what she hoped was wine were presented to her as various girls began to sing and dance, though all in an erotic fashion. Bulma watched and blushed at the entertainment and talk that went around her, most of it about the Prince. From the sounds of it, most of the girls and the men in the harem were taken with Vegeta and all of them wished for her to talk about her dealings with him. It wasn’t long though before the conversation moved to the more sensual again.

"Mmm, so wise, strong, and a master at the kynn ny foalley. I’ve heard he knows ever position, every point on the body that brings pleasure."

"I’ve never seen the techniques, but I’ve heard they can use their tails and even their ki." The whole room howled out at the erotic thought and even Bulma flushed, remembering her vivid dreams of Vegeta and that wicked tail of his. Eager to hear more, a tap on her shoulder pulled her attention to the beautiful woman behind her. At Damiana’s invitation, she walked to the back of the tapestries where a set of private quarters were found.

"You must be an impressive individual. No alien has ever received such a gift as a night in the harem of the King and Prince of Vegetasei, and no one save other two have ever refused this gift once given. I trust you will not speak of what went on here tonight." Bulma nodded her agreement and the elder woman continued as she stared at Bulma with those assessing green eyes.

"Most of the women here are highly trained courtesans, bred for this life: beautiful, sensual, and sterile. They are all highly prized but like most servants in the court, their position and my own hangs by a thread and the good graces of the Vegetas. One rumour that we did not do our duty and the girls would be sent to the brothels where they don’t have food, baths, or sativus to help them perform their duties." Bulma flinched at Damiana’s words. She didn’t know what was worse, that they drugged the women out there, or that if word of her resistence got out, they would all be sent to the brothels to be raped.

"I knew you realised it was not completely real. Sativus is the female Schin-seng, increases female desires, destroys inhibitions. Most of the women wear it as a perfume when they are meant to perform and it is in the air to heighten the effect." So that was why, she realised, her body still humming with the effects of the aphrodisiac.

"I’ve never seen a woman overcome its affects, your love for the Prince must be very strong." What did she mean? Could Damiana know her secret?

"I don’t know what you are talking about, ma’am." Bulma replied, lowering her voice even more which caused the sensual woman to laugh.

"When Siara said she could not smell a man, I had my suspicions. You must be very wise, my child, to hide your secret for so long. Strong as well, to have impressed the King and his son. Don’t fear though, my girl. I will not reveal your secret, if you will keep to your oath to speak to no one of this night and grant me one favour." It wasn’t as if she had much choice, Bulma noted, fearing her fate if her secret was now revealed.

"I want to see the woman behind the boy. I wish to see the woman smart enough to hide her identity from the Saiyajins and win the respect of the ruling house. You do not have to fear. This is my chamber, no one comes into this place without my permission." Though she couldn’t put her finger on it, something about this woman made Bulma feel safe, like an older sister or an aunt. Kami, everywhere she went she seemed to acquire a new family.

Confident that Damiana meant her no harm, she clicked the projector on her watch and the image of Goku flickered off, revealing her true form to the older woman’s eyes.

"Remarkable, absolutely remarkable." The concubine said, making her way around Bulma. Unsure what the woman found so remarkable, Bulma couldn’t help but thank Zuno-ojisan for his wonderful foresight.

"Unfortunately the device is not mine. It was given to me by an unexpected friend, a scientist on Messaline. It was damaged in the attack which destroyed my ship but it was still able to cloak. With any luck I’ll ... ."

"I don’t mean the machine, child, though it is impressive. I can see why you would use it, you are very beautiful. If the Saiyajins had seen you as you truly are, you would have been placed here, but not without behaviour modification and sterilisation." Initially flattered by Damiana’s compliment, Bulma felt sick at the realisation of what she had escaped. Though the women in the royal harem were treated relatively well, they were still slaves, whores who were drugged and taken against their will. For a moment, Bulma considered what it would be like to be in such a state, robbed of her mind, her choice, her very self. It made her ill.

"Do not judge them too harshly, my girl. The Saiyajins are no worse than any other power, and they do have some honour. Their treatment of you is proof enough of that.

"No matter their views of other species, they respect warriors and warrior spirits, which is probably how you’ve won so much regard. From what I’ve heard of your exploits in the court, you must be a very courageous woman, very fiery and intelligent. I would hate to think of such a spirit caged, forced to become an obedient concubine." Emotion flickered in the woman’s soft brown eyes and Bulma felt a wave of guilt pass over her. What sort of tortures had this woman faced? How hard did this woman suffer until her spirit was caged.

"I hope they are worthy your praise, for all they have done to you." A shutter of fear seemed to pass through Damiana, an old memory bubbling up from the surface before she trampled it down and locked it away behind her cool assessing gaze.

"They are no better than any other power, and in some things they can be worse, but they have honour, my girl. I’ve seen it, and I’ve been the recipient, for what its worth. You and I are not so different really, neither of us could be bent to another’s will, but our loyalty, once given, is never turned away.

"Did they guess right, by the way?" So engaged in what Damiana was saying about the Saiyajins, Bulma was caught off guard by the question. A pink flush stained her cheeks at the thought of the Saiyajin Prince and a whole room of concubines knowing of her infatuation.

"Yes, it was true, though not by choice. I started out hating him, but there was just something about him."

"His spirit, passion, intelligence, and determination. The boy is true to his parents, a blend of strength and brains. He has the makings of a fine King, if he can find a good mate to balance his moods. Most women don’t look past his body or his face to see what is truly there. I have and behind his hard exterior there is a noble soul."

"How do you know the Prince?" Bulma asked, needing to know more about this enigmatic man, even if the means would hurt her.

"You heard the talk amongst the girls about Vegeta’s mastery of the kynn ny foalley. When he turned eighteen, he was given over to me to teach him the ancient arts, arts I can tell you he excelled at, immensely." Bulma didn’t know whether to blush or frown at Damiana’s story. The memory of all those vivid dreams came back to her full force, but she couldn’t take the idea of Vegeta doing those things to anyone but her.

"Kynn ny foalley is taught to every heir as a means to ensure the continuation of the line and ensure the full pleasure of the King’s mate. It normally takes a year to perfect, Vegeta took a month. He always was an exhaustive study at anything he set his mind too." It must be the aftereffects of the Sativus that was making her so excited, Bulma tried to convince herself before she gave it up and waited for the rest of the story.

"After he passed his final test, he gave me a reward of anything it was in his power to grant. Until I met him, my only dream was to escape, see if I could find my brothers. After his training though, I found I had grown attached to the Prince. I can’t say I felt love, I don’t think I’m able to anymore, but the boy brought out many emotions I forgot about. In the end I asked for my freedom and the right to look over the harem as I wished. I knew he had honour when he granted my request, and proclaimed that I never take another partner if I didn’t wish to. Since that day I haven’t, and neither has he. My hope is he is waiting for his mate."

"You mean he has never used the harem?" Bulma jumped in.

"No, and neither has his Father since the Queen died. Her death hit both of them harder than they will ever say, especially the younger Vegeta. He saw the respect and devotion between his parents and a part of me thinks he demands nothing less of his own mate. It will have to be a strong woman to fill those shoes, with a great warrior’s spirit. With that I will leave you, Goku."

"Bulma. Goku was my friend."

"Bulma." Damiana repeated, smiling at the level of trust the Chikyuu-jin was showing her. "I will leave you this room for the night for your own privacy. Just remember our promise."

"Thank you, Damiana. You are too kind. I have to admit, I’m exhausted."

"Don’t thank me too much, girl. You were exposed to Sativus scent and Sativus drugged wine. I’m afraid you won’t be able to sleep for a long time. Pleasant dreams though, hopefully I’ve given you something to think about." With a whisper of silk, the blue skinned Aphrodite disappeared, leaving a now frustrated Bulma in her wake.

~*~*~*~

It was no use, the Prince realised in a huff, he wasn’t going to get any rest tonight. Tossing back the rumpled sheet, Vegeta quickly donned a pair of training shorts and started towards the arena, determined to work off his nervous energy. And with any luck, figure out how to find that girl, the thought came unbidden into his mind and he snarled. He woke up from the tank with a faint picture in his head of blue eyes, blue hair, and the face of a far-ven, a mythical enchantress of great beauty. That’s all it was, a dream brought on by the damn tank.

By the First, what was wrong with him? First he starts treating that little imp, Goku, with respect, and now he was obsessing over something that didn’t exist. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sign up for the off-world troops, as long as they didn’t catch wind of his shame. Saved by a boy. Worse, saved by a weakling Chikyuu-jin boy who grabbed his tail. He only prayed his Father wouldn’t hear of it.

To add insult to injury, the Council rewarded the little bastard for his bravery with a night in the harem, as if Goku knew what to do with a woman. Vegeta pictured the odalisques surrounding the pathetic boy, those blue eyes wide with fright. Chuckling at the absurd image, Vegeta immediately calmed. The boy would be lucky if he could last ten minutes in the harem, probably passed out at the sight of his first naked tit.

Walking through the strangely empty halls, Vegeta continued to chuckle at Goku’s predicament when he stopped dead in his tracks. The scent was faint but at the sweet, musky aroma, the Saiyajin Prince began to growl. He had just caught it, the scent of his dream far-ven.

All thoughts of training were tossed aside as the Prince literally followed his nose, hunting the woman who owned such an exotic scent. Much to his annoyance, the smell was soon mixed with others, particularly the stench of that sativus and Schin-seng crap that Damiana used.

Damiana.

Could his old teacher have found a new scent? Could it be some kind of new aphrodisiac she created? It was certainly intoxicating enough. Maybe the little Chikyuu-jin was a regular visitor to the harem? It would explain the smell on him, and the guilty look on his face whenever Vegeta looked at him. Hmm, he would deal with that little problem in the morning, after he found the source of that scent.

Pushing open the door to the harem, the Prince sneered at the overwhelming stench of the place. Dozens of perfumed bodies, covered with the stink of sex, sativus, and liquor assaulted his sensitive nose and he almost gagged. Scanning through the room, he found it littered with the bodies of sleeping naked women, sometimes in pairs or triplets, sleeping off their escapades.

As enticing as the sight was, there was something about it that made him uneasy. These were drugged sex slaves, practically created for this one task. There was nothing true about them or their responses, everything was manufactured, fake, lifeless. He learned that after his first encounter with Damiana after she doused herself with those aphrodisiacs that made his head ache and her eyes blank. The act was sickening and he did everything he could to make his training brief, and her responses genuine.

When he took a lover, it would not be like that first time. The woman would be real, whole, and want him. She would be like his mother to his father: an equal, a woman deserving his attention, his title, his cubs. Not cubs, he quickly corrected; there would be only one, one child, an heir, and no more. He would not make that mistake.

About to turn away from the sickening scene, his abused nose caught the scent of something pure, the scent of his far-ven, the blue haired virago. It was coming from the back, from the private quarters of the head of the harem, his old kynn ny foalley teacher. As he neared her chamber, the scent grew stronger as did a new sound, that of a woman softly singing. Unable to resist whatever lure Damiana had set for him, Vegeta slowly slunk into the luxurious room, only to stop at the threshold.

Before him was a woman, a beautiful, sensuous creature, but not his former teacher. The pale pink skin and long blue hair were dead giveaways. Through the silk curtain and the low light, he could make out the soft curves of her body, hardly covered by a deep blue shift. He didn’t know what was more attractive, the woman herself, or the fact that she was clothed in the colours of his house.

Sniffing the air again, he growled at the scent that coated his nose and tongue, that of an aroused woman and no chemical inducer. At the sound, his far-ven’s strange singing stopped and she turned to him, levelling a set of wide blue eyes on him. Cursing himself for frightening the woman, he was struck for a moment at the look of pure desire in her large eyes, desire and anticipation. Could the siren have known he was there all along, luring him here with her song?

His body grew taut and Vegeta began to growl, wishing to pounce on his willing prey. Slipping through the curtain, he growled out once more in frustration as the woman disappeared into the shadows of Damiana’s room.

"Where are you, little one? Don’t think I can’t find you."

"I know you can, Vegeta-sama." She crooned back, her voice husky and touched with a strangely familiar accent. "But where is the fun in that? It would be much better if you try to trap me, or better yet, if I trap you." The words were hardly out of her mouth when a set of cuffs appeared snapped over his wrists and a translucent band of cloth slipped over his eyes. Snorting at the weak restraints she placed on him, he soon began to snarl when he found himself unable to break the cuffs.

"What are these things? Get them off now, wench." He ordered as the blue and white shadow entered his view. To his amazement, the woman chuckled softly, the sound oddly erotic.

"Wench? What happened to ‘little one’? Don’t worry, my Prince, the cuffs are only temporary. I want to enjoy my prey before it turns back into a predator." Her sensuous voice caused a shiver to pass up his spine, his weakness infuriating him all the more. He pulled madly at the cuffs, determined to break free and capture this wild creature. At least that was his plan until he felt a soft, silk clad body press into his own.

"Ah ah ah, you’ll get your turn, but I want a chance to play." She whispered into his ear before a set of teeth nipped at his neck. He tensed at the unexpected bite only to purr softly as a smooth set of lips and a warm tongue began to soothe the mark on his neck. About to snarl at her again, he was silenced by a set of full lips as the woman tried to steal a kiss from him. Hmm, he growled, two could play at this little game.

Softening his mouth, he waited until she softened her own before he took possession of the kiss, dominating her mouth. He nearly chuckled as he felt her melt into him, and finally did when she pressed herself to him, opening her lips for his own tongue. The sound of his triumph caused the woman to growl, and she bit at him. Pulling away before she could do any damage, he gave her bottom lip a soft nip with his own teeth, savouring the taste on her in his mouth.

"I’m not some plaything, though I can’t say the same for you." He crooned, his cuffed arms sliding over her head before resting on and around her flared hips. She growled wildly at his comment, though the sound was mixed with breathy pants from their previous kiss. Determined to win against her, he decided to tease her as she teased him.

"I’m not some toy for your amusement." She bit back at him, even as her panting grew louder.

"No? You are certainly amusing me." Vegeta drolled back as his tail slipped in between her sweet thighs. Before she could close her legs, the tip of his tail was already there, flicking at her aroused clit and wet pussy. His far-ven couldn’t hold back a loud moan at his touch and he growled as her scent grew stronger.

Pulling his reluctant tail from her entrance, it slithered over her round ass to tease her with her own wetness.

"From the feel of that, I’d say I’m definitely pleasing you. Isn’t that right, little one?" What he wouldn’t give to see her face, her eyes no doubt full of anger and lust, the latter impossible for her to deny. Spurned on by her scent and heavy pants, his tail returned to tease her entrance, snarling with triumph as she moaned again.

"I’ll have you screaming my name, wench, while I take you on your hands and knees." He threatened her, the thought of her on all fours making his cock hard.

"Not if I get you screaming first." She snarled back as one of her hands grabbed the base of his tail and gave him a teasing squeeze. Gasping at the erotic mix of pleasure and pain, he couldn’t stop her as her other hand dove inside his training shorts. Like the tail before, she pinched the head of his penis and he purred at her rough touch. Rubbing her heavy breasts against his chest, he couldn’t hold back as he let her pump him off, the sound of her hand, wet with his precum making him so hard.

"So big and smooth, just like the rest of you." Her words slurred with lust before she latched her mouth to his chest and licked his skin.

"Mmm, so good. I wonder if it tastes like you too." Like a succubus of legend, she slid her lush body down his hard one, pulling his shorts off as she went. To his shame and amazement, Vegeta was panting like a mad thing as her hot mouth reached his cock. By the First, just the thought of those sweet lips wrapped around his head was more than he could take. He wanted to rip the blindfold off and watch as she sucked at him but he kept his hands were they were, specifically in her silky long hair.

"A little eager, are we, my Prince?" She drolled and Vegeta nearly snarled before he felt her lips against the length of his cock. Her kiss turned to licks and bites as she neared his wet head and he did snarl, impatient for when she would take him into that hot mouth of hers.

"You should learn patience, Vegeta. I told you before, I want to play." He felt the skin of her cheek against his thighs before her teeth nipped at his balls and his legs nearly gave out. Damn this little wench, he would not be undone by any woman, though this one aroused him more than any he had ever known. He had to fight her off, he couldn’t give into her scent, her taste, her feel, her hot wet ... oh shit, she was good.

True to her nature, she scraped her teeth over his thick, sensitive flesh before soothing it with that wild tongue of hers as she went lower and lower on him. Like a whirlpool, her tongue swirled around his length, pressing along his underside and massaging his head. He nearly reached the back of her throat before she stopped and started to suck and his knees almost buckled at the sensation. Threading his fingers through her hair, he rubbed the back of her head, spurring her on as she sucked again. Taking him deeper into her mouth, she moaned when he hit the back of her throat and his knees did buckle until he was flush on his back. Not even Damiana had brought him to his knees. Now he was on his back before the most sensual, arousing creature he had ever seen.

"Mmm, I love it when you growl, Vegeta, and I’ll make you growl and scream for the whole room to hear." Through the haze of pleasure, he felt a spike of anger and the call of her challenge, one that he wouldn’t surrender without a fight. While she continued to torture him with her mouth, Vegeta could sense the woman’s frustration. The scent of her juices was thick in the air, and was her desperation as he watched her hips shift to the movements of his own. For all her bravado, she was still highly aroused by him, and she had forgotten his trump card.

Summing up his control, Vegeta let his ignored tail dart between their bodies, teasing her fully exposed cunt. At the touch of his tail against her wet clit, she moaned into his cock again, making him groan in response. She had nearly brought him to the brink of orgasm but he wouldn’t let her win this sexual battle. When he came, it would be inside her as she screamed his name and squeezed him with those delicious muscles.

Taking advantage of her surprise, Vegeta grabbed her shoulders and pulled him off his cock, all the while his tail thrust inside her dripping cunt. She did scream then, but it wasn’t long before she was fighting him, scratching at his chest with her sharp nails. What followed was a mad struggle on the pillowed floor as the pair rolled back and forth, both trying to win the positional advantage.

"I won’t let you win. I won’t." She kept repeating through her pants and moans. During their struggles her shift had ripped, exposing her breasts. Grabbing the heavy flesh in his palm, he licked her nipples and purred at the sweet, salty taste of her skin as she cried out.

"I already have, wench." He growled once more before he flipped her on to her belly and ripped the silk off her body. Parting her wet thighs, he let his fingers tease her hot clit as he positioned himself.

"Say it, scream my name." He yelled as he thrust inside of her and broke the chain between those damned cuffs. His hands completely free, Vegeta ripped the blindfold from his eyes and stared down into the flushed face of ... Goku.

"Oh Ouji-sama." The light masculine voice moaned.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

~*~*~*~

"Damn it." Bulma groaned, a piercing scream jarring her from her uneasy rest. "What the hell is his problem?"

* * * * *