Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Monster ❯ Chapter 10 ( Chapter 10 )

`Oh lovely.' I thought negatively, lifting the gargantuous bar as if it were a pea I was picking off my plate at dinner. For me, it was hard to believe that anyone could be so weak as to find this a challenge, but as the stares and animosity grew with the other men in the room, it dawned on me that it was. Men twice my size, looked me up and down, the veins popping out on their over enlarged necks, their fatty looking muscles contorting beneath the orange tanned skin.

 

And to think, one of them had called me a pretty boy on the way in.

 

The devil in me wanted to show them up, lifting this bar with ten weights as many times as it took. Just to see their faces. Just to show them up. But of course, the idiot shone through, dropping the weight, waving friendly and cowering near Yamcha who struggled with his own machine.

 

He was yammering on and on about Krillin's new girlfriend, about how Bulma had broken up with him, Puar's apparent hair ball problem.

 

“Its scuffing up my new carpet!” he complained, lifting weights with about as much effort as I had used. I suppose I should have known that he came here for the women alone. As he let loose the weights and sat up, a concerned look graced his boyish, handsome features.

 

“What's wrong Goku my man?” He asked. “I haven't seen you like this since Chi Chi was pregnant last. Don't tell me……” his eyes grew wide. “YOU DOG!”

 

“Ack!” I cried, nearly falling over. “It's nothing like that! Trust me! It's just, well, a lot of things I guess.”

 

“Like?........”

 

I sighed, sitting next to him and draping a towel over my shoulder.

 

“Well, Vegeta for one. He's been acting very…..” I paused. “Very differently you could say. What with Sin and all. I don't know, he's just not himself.”

 

“Well,” Yamcha smirked. “If he's been acting nice than we KNOW the world's coming to an end.”

 

We shared a laugh that caused more of the beastly men to glare at us. I suddenly wanted to tell him everything. To share my dreams with him, start to finish. To confess what I'd done only hours before. To admit my fears regarding what the twins had told me about Haunters and Mares, more specifically, Mares. I wanted him to tell me how ridiculous it all was. This anxiety over a possible crime I'd committed as I slept. I suddenly just want to tell him everything. But of course, I knew I couldn't.

 

“Well Goku baby,” he sighed, the moment for absolution gone. “The chicks are looking pretty dismal and its getting dark. I think I'm gonna' head on outta' here. Care to join me for some Burger King?”

 

“I don't think so Yamcha.” I said tiredly. “I'll probably hit the showers and then head on home.”

 

“Suit yourself man.” He said, getting up. “Oh, and hey,” he slapped my shoulder. “Thanks for coming with. I don't see that much of you lately. No need to be a stranger just cuz' of……….. well, you know.”

 

 

 

 

The hot water poured down my skin, my face flooded as I gazed up into the spout, facing towards it. It beaded along my naked arms, hot and soothing, the dark, small shower stall somewhat confining and yet calming in the same way.

 

As always, the mystery of this supposed apocalypse tore at all possibilities of a restful night, and I found myself glaring at nothing in my determination to solve this mystery. What made these people kill each other? What caused them to lash out in absolute madness, to destroy and mutilate others like animals? What could give a man the strength to smash his own skull into a wall, over and over again until his brain was left unprotected and dashed to liquid in the violent collision? It was ludicrous.

 

And yet it frustrated me that I could no more understand it than stop it.

 

Suddenly I felt eyes on my back, the same sense that humans possess when being watched. I felt more naked than my nudity could have made me feel, and modestly I covered myself, suspiciously gazing around the shadowed, and dimly lit room. Sliding back the misted window door, I wiped the water from my eyes and looked for whatever it was that made my senses jump to full alert.

 

But there was nothing. Mist rising from the hot shower spray and myself. Nothing more. I sighed, blaming my embarrassing paranoia on the indescribably haunting day I'd had.

 

I felt a presence behind me, turning sharply right before I was slammed face first into the shower tile, my skin jumping at the cold surface and the hot water pouring down my back. A vise like grip was around my neck, iron like fingers wrapped around me. I grunted in pain, my teeth gritting as I gathered my energy, fully prepared to decapitate this wretched creature that so dared to trap me like this.

 

“Relax Kakarot.” Came a voice I recognized easily, my eyes opening wide against the tile as I scarcely could believe it. I felt his free hand come to my shoulder, falling down to my bicep as his hot breath burned against my throat.

 

“Let go of me Vegeta.” I growled, unable to comprehend why he would come to me like this, unable to pretend that his hand wasn't now sliding along my stomach.

 

“Vegeta.” I cautioned angrily, trying to move my head enough to glare absolute venom at this rude intrusion. “You'd better let me go.”

 

“Shh.. shh.. shh….” He whispered, his mouth on my neck, slowly releasing me so as to kiss my throat. “A fool would be led to believe that you don't want me here.”

 

“That's because I don't!” I insisted, arguing inwardly as to why I'd made no movements to force him away, even as I felt the press of his naked body against my own.

 

“Liar.” He hissed, his hand suddenly holding my penis. I was shocked silent, cursing my body for being aroused by this…… this… this male touching me! His hard body pressed against mine, the hot water drowning us with insanity it seemed. I felt drowsy, dizzy, nearly nauseous as I was pinned entirely against the cold wall, prey to Vegeta's hands as they shamelessly explored every part of me. Making me want something that I'd never wanted. Making me weak and perverse. Everything that I hated. Making me become…… making me become myself.

 

It was like another part of me took over, aiding him to hold me against the wall as he touched me, making my body respond to him. I grew harder and harder as his hand moved from the tip of me to the shaft, up and down until it was standing straight up, and I was gasping against the immense guilt I felt and the sickening pleasure. I leaned into the wall as he jerked me off furiously, kissing my shoulder when I would let my head drop back into the fall of water, kissing my cheek as I breathed heavily.

 

I was surrendering against all the will I held within myself. I didn't want this. I didn't want him. But it seemed all facts of this nature were as forbidden as what we were doing and suddenly I found myself justifying what I had never condoned before. I realized in that moment, when I fell back against him, seeking his mouth and finding his tongue, that I didn't love Chi Chi. That I cared nothing for her, and knew that caught in this moment, I felt an immense sexual pleasure that she could never give me. I felt myself. And I felt that I had no reason to fear or to shame that which I had become.

 

As I kissed him, it seemed he smiled into my mouth. No, smile would have pure, kind connotations. He smirked wickedly against me, spurred on by my reluctant acceptance, pushing his own masculine part against me. I should have been repulsed. I should have snarled at him. But I didn't. Instead I was excited, reaching back to touch it. Hard and soft at the same time. Smooth and slick with heat and water. Made from materials not of this world, just like mine.

 

But he didn't want my attention. He glared, pulling away from any passionate kiss that I may have surrendered to him and viciously pinning me against the wall like a barbarian.

 

“Don't touch me.” He whispered, forcing my legs apart.

 

I was smashed violently over and over again into the hard porcelain, biting down a cry of repulsion and pleasure as he pushed himself inside of me. Why did I like this?! Why did I subject myself to something so detestable?!

 

“Stop whimpering you child.” He said heartlessly, going in further, pulling out and pushing in over and over again. He cared nothing for my discomfort, physically or emotionally.

 

“Kakarot…..”

 

His lips were against my ear as he rammed upwards again and I clenched my teeth in pain, hearing the grinding even as my cheek nearly busted through the rock hard tile.

 

“You know you want this.”

 

“No I don't.” I cried, trying to make myself stop. I was moving in tune with his pelvis, taking it deeper and deeper, breathing heavily with him. “I'm not like that.”

 

But even as I insisted, I was getting harder and harder, my discomfort growing from the front. Even as I felt my own hand move to release this pain, to masturbate hard and merciless, his powerful hand had me, slapping against my lap as he pumped furiously.

 

I ground my teeth together, groaning in an ecstasy I'd never allowed myself before.

 

“No…..” I pleaded. “No. Don't make me want this.”

 

My head rested against his shoulder, if rested was what you'd call it as my vision was knocked up and down by his gliding within me. Electricity spat forth around us, our power levels crackling in the air until the window plane of the shower stall burst into a thousand fragments, cutting our feet as we did this forbidden thing. But he didn't stop. And he wouldn't let me stop.

 

I felt the pressure building as it always did, my breathing coming forth shakily, my head becoming light as I was flooded by warmth and power. It wracked my thoughts, making my body spasm in ecstasy. The thick, warm burst of white, creamy seamen came in little spurts, dripping down his fist and spouting on my stomach.

 

He finished only a minute afterwards, the heat of his cum sinking down from deep, deep within my feverish body, hot and wet like boiled milk. I felt it running down the inside of my thighs, diluted by the warm water, covered by the shadows that waited near our feet.

 

He pulled me backwards, kissing me and pushing his tongue into my mouth terribly, until I was nearly choked with it. He did this purposely, pulling his tongue out, holding my face, and sliding it against my cheek until I winced, pushing his cock upwards again one more time, just to hear me suppress a cry. And then he laughed scornfully, his black eyes taunting me.

 

“You filthy whore.” He whispered.

 

And then he was gone.

 

 

 

What did I feel? Good question. What can a man feel when he's reached such a point of despair that all emotion itself feels like its tearing his intestines out of his body, inches at a time? Horror. Yes, yes that's the word for it. A good word indeed. Horror. Repulsion. Hatred. Guilt that can devour a man's soul.

 

My very body felt sick as I laid at the bottom of the tub, the spray of hot water coming down in what seemed like torrents, still unable to cleanse my body of the sin I had committed. There was filth on me that could never be rinsed away and washed down a drain.

 

Had it been an hour? Two perhaps? Time stood still and yet flew by at the same time. It was of no consequence.

 

I felt only the dirt and horror that gripped to me like a dead man's fingers long after he'd drawn his last breath. Like cold iron on my body, weighing me down. Oh but doesn't it sound so pretty and poetic? Like some God damn fairy tale with precious, dainty words to make every little detail sound as if the Sirens from legend had written with their very own hands?

 

But it wasn't pretty was it? It was a nightmare. A guilt so strong, for the first time in my existence, the idea of being found in a bathtub drenched in blood, didn't sound at all appalling. Death. My brother, my escape and my love. My last adventure. Would it be so bad? To contemplate it, to even give it a passing thought made my insides scream, my natural repulsion with cowardice awakening reality even as I sought to drown it.

 

Give me lies God. Give me absolution and justification. But not reality. No, no far from me reality must be thrust. My sanity depended on it. No, we'll just be Goku, the pretty thing without a brain. The muscle bound failure that had no use for common sense or logical thought and could escape the fear and doubt as if it were nothing more than an old rival already once defeated.

 

Let the exterior poison the monster within. Give me the lies God. Please God, give them to me now.