Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lies, Deception, and a Baby ❯ Juggling Act ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: If I owned DBZ, I'd be a man. That would just be creepy!!

Lies, Deception, and a Baby

Chapter 7: Juggling Act

Yamcha sighed as he hung up the phone, and looked over at the naked woman snoring loudly in his bed.

He really hated lying to Bulma. He really did.

But at the same time …

His woman du jour flopped over on the bed, shoving the covers to the floor as she snorted, before sprawling herself in just such a position that his eyes couldn't help but view her tiny, but perky, breasts.

How can I give this up? He thought, staring at them. How can I just give up sex? Even for a woman that I love?

It was true. He really did love her, in his own way. He had for years. Even back when he could barely stand to look at a girl, much less talk to one. Yet Bulma had always been there for him. They had been brought together by the dragonballs, but in the end it wasn't the seven orange balls that granted their wishes; it was each other.

Yamcha had given her the perfect boyfriend she had always longed for, her prince in shining armor. Well, maybe not perfect, he conceded as he winced at the earth-shaking snores coming from his bed.

And his own wish … Bulma had helped him get over his fear of girls. With her sweetness (A/N: … -.-;; what drug is he on?!?!), Bulma had taught him about girls. Unfortunately for her, once she helped him get over his fear, the fear turned into lust. And lust had led him to do many things, over the course of many nights, of which he was not proud.

It had all started so simply. He was horny; Bulma refused to sleep with him, or with anyone for that matter, before marriage. So, he had taken matters into his own hands; literally, at first, then figuratively later on.

He could still remember his first visit to a brothel.

He had crept in, somewhat embarrassed, but in great need of relief, and a woman. He was a virgin in need of training, and still somewhat shy around girls, although better than he had been before he met Bulma.

The woman who greeted him that evening had huge breasts the shape and size of watermelons. He could feel the drool pooling in the corners of his mouth as he stared at her chest as she spoke to him. If he'd done that with Bulma, she would have slapped him silly and told him to look up at her face. But not this woman. No, she enjoyed the attention she was receiving from him!

She hadn't been the woman to take his virginity; no, that particular memory belonged to a beautiful young prostitute named Molly. She had red hair and green eyes, and freckles all over her body. She was young and eager, willing to teach him everything she knew-which was quite a substantial amount for an 18-year-old woman, barely legal. Although, she'd told him later, after plucking his cherry, she'd been forced into her the oldest profession years ago, when she was just a girl. She was very tearful about it, and cried a great deal. He'd had a fun time comforting her, though, using his newfound skills.

He'd gone back to the same brothel several times over the years; it remained one of his favorites, even though he'd never seen Molly again.

Over the years, however, he'd become a connoisseur of prostitutes. He didn't consider taking a prostitute to be `cheating' on Bulma-after all, just because she wasn't getting any didn't mean he had to suffer, too! So, whenever he felt the urge, or Bulma dropped him cold after an intense make-out session, he'd simply go off and relieve himself, for a price.

But then came the day when he had begun to fuck more than just prostitutes.

He and some of his buddies were sitting in a bar, having a few beers, when a very sexy woman in a very sexy, very short dressed had walked by their table, hips swaying.

While his friends hooted and hollered at the lady, who ignored their catcalls, Yamcha simply blushed. Unfortunately for him, one of his buddies noticed.

"Hey, Yamcha," Tim, a young blond man with a pale, washed-out face said slyly, "why don't you go over there and ask that pretty little thing back to your place?" he winked.

Yamcha blushed. "C'mon, Tim!" he said, "You know I have a girlfriend!"

Joe, a tall, burly man with a handlebar mustache, gave out a booming laugh at his words. "Yamcha," he said to his friend in his robust, loud voice, "I never knew you were so pussy whipped!"

Yamcha's blush deepened, until his face could be mistaken for either a tomato, or a round, bright red object with a face. "Cut it out, guys." His voice contained a warning.

Lloyd, a seedy little man just a shade taller than Krillin, and in possession of the beadiest eyes Yamcha had seen, chuckled and winked at his friends. "I think Yamcha here is too much of a coward to try his luck with the ladies!"

That got Yamcha's attention. "Who are you calling a coward?" he demanded. "I've faced alien invaders down without flinching! Hell, I've even died to save the Earth from that scum!"

His companions just stared at him for a moment before they burst out laughing. "Sure you have, Yamcha," Tim said in a clearly disbelieving voice.

Yamcha scowled at his friends. "It's true! And I'm not a coward!" He glared at Joe. "And I'm not pussy whipped, either!"

Lloyd got a devious glint in his eyes just then; too bad Yamcha missed it. "Then why don't you prove it?" the sly little man asked, a malicious grin sneaking its way across his face.

Yamcha just blinked at him. "How?"

"Just go over there and ask that woman to go back to your place. If you actually bang her, bring us back some proof. Say … her panties." Lloyd winked at the blushing Yamcha. "That is, if you're not too chicken to do it!"

Yamcha glared at him. "Just watch the master work," he said with a confidence he didn't feel.

How did I get myself into this? Yamcha wondered as he sauntered across the bar towards the woman in the short dress. I've only been with prostitutes before! And how will I be able to take her panties without her getting suspicious?

All thoughts in his mind suddenly stopped when he came face-to-face with the woman.

She's so beautiful, he thought to himself. Even more beautiful than Bulma!

Her long, naturally blond hair, growing from dark roots, fell down her back like a lustrous, wavy curtain. Her eyes were incredibly large, and incredibly deep-one blue, one green. Her facial features were sculpted into a classic beauty, ripe with a straight, slim nose and bright red lips. As for her figure-she should have hung a sign around her neck that said, "Dangerous Curves Ahead."

As all the blood rushed out of his head, (A/N: Three guesses where it went. ^.~) Yamcha stammered to the tall, stunning beauty, "H-hi! I'm Yamcha!"

Her beautiful eyes widened. "Yamcha, the professional baseball player?" she asked. Her voice, soft, sultry, and breathy, was just as sexy as the rest of her.

"Yeah, that's me!" Yamcha gave her a stupid grin and rubbed the back of his head with his hand. He was out of things to say! Dammit, why couldn't he have paid more attention when Krillin had tried to teach him some of the better pickup lines?

"So," the woman said, leaning forward a little so that he had a very nice view of her voluptuous breasts through the low neckline of her dress. "Would you like to come back to my place?" she asked.

Yamcha just blinked at her, and grinned. He couldn't believe how easy this was! She was doing all the work, and he would reap all the rewards.

"Sure!" he said.

She grinned. "Come on, let's get out of this pit and go somewhere much more … comfortable." She winked at him. "Namely, my apartment!"

As Yamcha followed her out, he realized that he didn't even know her name.

"Excuse me, but … I don't even know your name!"

She looked him in the eyes, and smiled.

"I'm Cynthia."

Well, Cynthia sure had taught him a lot that night. She was even more experienced than the prostitutes with whom he had previously consorted! And in the end he had simply asked her if he could keep her g-string, as a token of remembrance. She had just grinned and told him, "Sure." Yamcha had ended that evening a happy man.

And many evenings to come. After feeling the rush of having a sexy, beautiful woman want him for himself, and not just for his money, he had become addicted to sex. Almost every night, he found a different woman, and ended up sleeping with her.

It had been wonderful. Seeing Bulma during the day, spending time with the woman he loved. And in the evenings, performing his new favorite hobby with a wide assortment of beautiful women. He'd even dabbled a bit in some of the kinkier realms of the act. But throughout it all, he had remained emotionally faithful to Bulma.

Which is all that mattered, right?

With a deep-seated sigh, Yamcha broke himself out of his memories and glanced over at the woman on his bed. She was awake now, and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Yamcha," Sara called out, pouting, "I'm lonely."

"Just a minute," he told her, turning back to the phone, staring at it as though it were Bulma.

He could see it in his mind's eye. Poor, lonely Bulma. She had made the choice to wait until marriage long before he'd ever even met her. And throughout all the years, she had remained faithful to him, and to herself, even though it seemed as though he would never be ready to settle down, to have a family.

Yamcha straightened his shoulders. Bulma's wait was over! He'd propose to her just as soon as he found the right ring, and had a few more quick flings-just to get the bachelorhood out of his system before he settled down. And then, he and Bulma would be together, forever. Just him, and the woman he loved.

Yamcha grinned. Those would be some very good days ahead, making love to Bulma, teaching her all he knew about pleasure and sex! He could just imagine it now, his body hovering above hers-

A hand grabbing his ass brought him back to reality, as he looked down at the pouting girl next to him.

"Yamcha!" she whined, snorting a little at the end. Yamcha shuddered. Maybe settling down would be a good thing. At least, he wouldn't make mistakes like last night ever again!

But he just smiled and nodded, and took what Sara so freely offered-to him and every other guy on the block!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bulma spent the next two weeks juggling her men.

At times, it was quite messy.

Like the time, for instance, when Yamcha decided to just "drop by" while she and Vegeta were in the middle of their "fun time." First her mother had nearly walked in on them, and then when she announced Yamcha's name, Vegeta totally blew a fuse! He wanted to go down there and kick the scarred warrior out of the house, for attempting to fraternize with his woman. This made Bulma particularly mad, because although he was very jealous and territorial where she was concerned, emotionally he didn't give a damn! He was just a jealous person in general-look how jealous he was of Goku! It would only be natural that he wouldn't want another man, especially one he though to be his inferior, to touch "his" woman. Well, Bulma was most certainly not the property of any man, and she told him so! She also continued with her spiel about how Yamcha was a "friend," and Vegeta had absolutely no say in whom she picked to be her friends!

Vegeta had stormed off to let off his steam by training in the G.R., which was fine by Bulma! She didn't want to spend any more time with that jerk, anyhow! The only time he was ever even remotely nice to her was in bed-which is where they spent most of their time together.

Bulma sighed. What she wouldn't give for Vegeta to want an actual relationship with her! It would solve all her problems. She could just dump Yamcha's loser backup-guy ass, and then plan out her wedding to Vegeta, all while humming the wedding march. But no, Vegeta had to be the guy that didn't believe in emotions and feelings, who thought them weak! He had to be the bad boy (A/N: Bad man! Hehe!) who was just in it for sex.

So she went on, lying to both of them, and juggling both of them. Dates with Yamcha, followed by hot, steamy sex with Vegeta. She felt incredibly guilty about all her lies, but at least she was getting the best of both worlds-fun in and out of bed! Too bad they had to come from two different men.

It went on like this for two weeks. During that time, Vegeta seemed to be getting edgier by the day, his temper shorter, his scowls more fierce, his seductive glances less frequent. Bulma feared that he was already beginning to tire of her.

Too bad his pride prevented him from telling her it was exactly the opposite.

She overwhelmed his thoughts. While he trained, his mind was on Bulma. When he ate, his mind was on Bulma. When he slept, he dreamed about Bulma. All the time! She was becoming such a distraction for him, that it was hard to keep his goals in sight. His goal to become a Super Saiyan, kick some major android ass, followed by killing that jerk-off Kakkarot, then collecting the dragonballs and wishing for immortality, followed by becoming ruler of the known universe and building the Saiyan Empire anew.

But instead of all those ambitious goals occupying his mind, all he could think about was one tiny slip of a woman, with silky blue hair he loved to bury his face in, deep, blue eyes he always lost himself in, and a warm, tight passage that milked him of his seed nightly.

It had to stop.

If he couldn't concentrate, he'd never become a Super Saiyan!

And if he didn't become a Super Saiyan, all his carefully thought out plans would come crashing down around him.

All for the love of a woman.

Well, this particular Saiyan Prince would have none of it. He wasn't willing to give up his entire future for a single, loud-mouthed woman! No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how much she made him long for something different, something he didn't even understand.

His pride would not let him fail.

So, without a single word of goodbye, Vegeta stocked up on supplies, hopped into his capsule ship, and took off into space.

Bulma watched him go, with tears in her eyes. Leaving her without a word. Perhaps forever.

She turned away from the window with a combination of sadness and disgust.

I knew it! She told herself, I knew it! I knew he was going to leave me, the jerk! This is what I've been preparing myself for, the whole time. And still I thought I could change him. She closed her eyes against the pain.

The sound of the doorbell was a welcome relief from wallowing in her own self-pity.

Until she opened the door.

Who should be standing there in the doorway, right after the departure of the man she loved, but Yamcha, her backup guy.

He wore a rather tacky, but expensive, suit, and had a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hands.

"Here," he said nervously, thrusting the bouquet at her and marching inside. "These are for you."

"Gee … thanks," Bulma said. Like she actually liked the stinky weeds he'd picked out for her! Right now, she wanted nothing more than to just break up with him and go upstairs and cry her heart out over Vegeta.

But at the same time … she couldn't do that to herself.

She just couldn't.

Bulma Briefs was stronger than that!

"Bulma," Yamcha began nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his tacky pants, "Umm, as you know, we've been together for a whole lot of years now." He stuck his finger in his collar and pulled, as though the thing had been choking him.

Bulma sighed. "I really don't have time for this now, Yamcha," she told him in a weary voice. "Just get to the point and get it over with."

"Alright." To her great surprise, Yamcha bent down on one knee. "Bulma," he said, producing a small jeweler's box from his pocket, "Will you make me the happiest man in the world, and consent to be my wife?" He opened the box and showed her the ring inside. It was cubic zirconia, a cheap diamond imitation, and was so tiny Bulma could barely even tell that there was actually a stone in there. The setting, she figured, would probably turn her finger green after a few hours! She just stared at it for several long moments, without saying a word.

"Bulma," Yamcha said nervously when she didn't answer him, "That means, `will you marry me.'"

"I know what it means," Bulma snapped. Yamcha was asking her to marry him? Now? Oh, cruel fates, she thought to herself, why must you mock me so?!

The irony of the situation would have made her chuckle if it hadn't been so depressing.

"Well, what's your answer?" Yamcha asked, sweat pouring down his face. Amazing how Bulma had never noticed how sweaty he was, until now. Not that Vegeta wasn't sweaty; it was just that, Vegeta was sweaty in that good kind of way, and Yamcha was just … sweaty.

Bulma sighed and shook her head. "This has really come as a surprise, Yamcha." The scarred, cat-loving warrior's eyes widened. Was she going to turn him down? After all this time, all these years? "I'm going to have to think about it, long and hard, before I commit myself to living with you forever." She glared at him, letting him know that she had to consider, among other things, his cheating ways. "I'll give you your answer tomorrow. Now go, please. I need to think." She turned away from him and walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

Yamcha just stood there for a moment before showing himself the way out. At least she hadn't turned him down outright! He had a little hope left.

Bulma sat at the kitchen table, staring into the mug of steaming hot coffee.

What the hell is going on here? She wondered. For weeks, I'm juggling the two, and nothing seems to be going my way, even though everything's just fine. And now, in one day, Vegeta leaves me without even saying goodbye, and Yamcha proposes to me! Someone up there must be having a pretty good laugh right about now!

Bulma scowled. Well, whoever it was that enjoyed toying with her life, they'd better stop it if they knew what was good for them!

Without even bothering to take a sip of her coffee, Bulma walked up stairs, ready to do some serious thinking about her relationship with Yamcha, and whether or not she could actually bring herself to sleep with him, even if they did get married.

At this thought, Bulma promptly walked into her bathroom, knelt in front of the toilet, and became violently ill.

A/N: Poor Bulma! I know what it must be like, the thought of `doing the nasty' with Yamcha makes me physically ill, too! Hmm, I wonder what Bulma will do? Is she going to marry Yamcha?! And more importantly, is she actually going to SLEEP with the loser?!?!

Next Chapter: Bulma does some crazy shit …

Love, Tina