Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Need ❯ Need ( Chapter 1 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: richonyx 
Never liked the harpy, so why he was in her house watching her through her own windows was a mystery. Wasn't like they every had anything in particular to say—or rather, anything that had nothing to do with food, training, or Kakkarot.
But he was intrigued.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.03.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 1.6K | Status: Completed
Never liked the harpy, so why he was in her house watching her through her own windows was a mystery. Wasn't like they every had anything in particular to say—or rather, anything that had nothing to do with food, training, or Kakkarot.
But he was intrigued.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.03.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 1.6K | Status: Completed
Need
A/N 1: This fic is dedicated to CardDragonball, who creates the wildest, most fantastic DBGT stories...
A/N 2: This is a ChiChi/Vejita fic. I don't normally like ChiChi, but she's been growing on me. Go figure.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Nuff said.
***
“Grandpa, don't you think that grandma would want her full-size husband back?”
“Oh, Pan. There isn't much difference anyway. Goku's always liked to train and eat no matter his size...”
***
Never liked the harpy, so why he was in her house watching her through her own windows was a mystery. Wasn't like they every had anything in particular to say–or rather, anything that had nothing to do with food, training, or Kakkarot.
But he was intrigued.
Oh, not intrigued for the reasons people would think. No great beauty or secret obsession. Rather, intrigue for the need to understand, to uncover the inner workings. Cook, clean, help with homework, cook again. Robot moves for a robot life.
Big-Kakkort-gone-Little-Kakkarot was gone again, nothing new. The harpy did the robot thing. Gohan studied, Goten played. The earth revolved.
And he stood in her kitchen window watching her put her clothing out to dry.
OK, so maybe a little obsessed. Maybe noticed for the first time that she did have half-way decent curves that seemed to be all the more inviting after having the last brat.
But that still wasn't why he was intrigued.
Cook, clean, homework, cook, clean again.
Where was the sex?
She had to have had it sometime (after all, big brat made two little brats). Didn't she miss it? Didn't she need it?
Didn't ChiChi have needs too?
Wasn't sure why he cared. Not like he saw her unless he flew out to her house, anyway. He didn't even need to pick the boy up anymore–at six he was more than capable of flying home himself. And the blue-haired woman spent more time in the lab then in speaking with anybody.
So why did he care if she got fucked or not?
Didn't. Couldn't.
Even if he was still in the window staring at the curve of her back as she bent to pick up another shirt.
Shit.
She moved. Was moving, more accurately. So he moved. Thanked Kami multiple times that she wasn't Saiyan and couldn't pick up on his scent. Moved away from the pots just in case. Stayed in the shadows as the harpy hummed lightly and put away the laundry basket, turned to survey her kitchen, and let loose a deep, earthy sigh.
“Goku...”
Took a step deeper in the shadows as he felt his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.
So she did need.
Took a second step back as he felt his dick nearly pop out of his pants.
So, apparently, did he.
Double-shit. Didn't mean to speak, but did anyway.
“Onna...”
***
ChiChi surveyed the kitchen. It was 3:00. Goten would be coming home from school soon. She sighed as she thought of her husband, of the last time she had...
Shook her head. SS4 was the only way she could have him, and at SS4, he just couldn't fit into her body. Tried a few times to his frustration and her wails. Not that she didn't want him. Not that she didn't need him.
She was just too goddamned weak for him now.
Tried not to be hurt as he cooed softly that it would be OK. Knew that it wouldn't be, but fell asleep in his arms anyway. Woke up to him gone, little tail hairs in her bed.
His side had been cold for hours.
Loved him still. Loved him so much it hurt.
But life moved on.
“Spaghetti. He hasn't had spaghetti in awhile...”
How did she know? The blue-haired woman's cooking was completely inedible, though Kami placed overpriced servants on the planet to keep him alive. But non-gourmet-hoity toity stuff was few and far-between.
“Spaghetti, peas, some parmesean...”
Damn. Now he was really hungry. So much so that he could almost smelll the meal from where he was now. So much so that he didn't realize he was moving until he was dead in the middle of the kitchen with an astonished ChiChi staring at him.
“Ve...jita? What are you doing here?”
Opened his mouth. Too slow.
“OHMYGODAREBULMAANDTRUNKSOK?!!”
Tried not to cap hands over sensistive ears (not working), remembered why she was named 'harpy.' Cursed his odd taste in women.
“They're fine, woman–stop your screaming!”
Said woman did stop screaming. Stopped everything, in fact. Didn't even give the third degree from why the Prince of All Saiyans was lurking in her kitchen like a common criminal.
“Oh, OK. I guess I'll set an extra plate for dinner, then...”
Broken. A broken doll. Some glimmer of something extinguished in a nanosecond. He could smell everything–the confusion, the desperation, the loneliness...
She needed.
And so did he.
Two steps. Crossed the modest kitchen that would pass as a bathroom at Capsule Corp. Whirled the woman against the nearest object that would not fall over. Bruised her pouty lips with insistent demands from his own.
“Ah!”
A choked noise of shock, but arms suddenly fly around his neck, hot and tight. Groans, moans, animalistic licks and nips. He would fuck her where he stood.
“...Goten coming home...can't...”
Snarled inwardly about brats always being in the way, picked the woman up with one arm, barged down her hallway like a military general about to execute a campaign.
FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck...
Literal and figurative rolling in a mind already clouded with lust. Bad mix with Saiyan energy–body begins to glow a little. Snuffs it out. Sniffs out her room. Kicks in (nearly kicks down) the door. Smells like the baka. Change of plans. Finds laundry room. Smells like her, no baka. Much better.
Drops her on pile of freshly laundered clothes. Ripe curves bounce for a moment–watch shocked expression on face.
“But...but I just washed those!”
“I'll buy you a washing machine. Now strip.”
Watch as she fumbles, slowly removes suburban housewife contraptions. Not nearly as tempting as what the blue-haired woman wears. But don't really mind. No one else will see (except perhaps the baka, of course).
“Vejita...we shouldn't...”
Won't waste a second listening to preachy human morals. Takes dress firmly by the collar–rips it in half. Grins as the harpy's eyes widen an darken in anger.
“VEJITA YOU–”
“Took too long.” Manage out before choking her with a wild and moist tongue. Taste her, drink her, desire her underneath rocking against the frenzied need that screams against a covered leg.
Feels moan as it presses into muscle, into flesh. Eyes half-mast, sweat down fluid bodies. Hot, sticky, unbearable need.
“Vejita, you have to...”
I know...
“...fuck you...”
A/N: Strange story bound to get even more strange. Read and review if you want more!
Converting /tmp/phprKWkrq to /dev/stdout
A/N 1: This fic is dedicated to CardDragonball, who creates the wildest, most fantastic DBGT stories...
A/N 2: This is a ChiChi/Vejita fic. I don't normally like ChiChi, but she's been growing on me. Go figure.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Nuff said.
***
“Grandpa, don't you think that grandma would want her full-size husband back?”
“Oh, Pan. There isn't much difference anyway. Goku's always liked to train and eat no matter his size...”
***
Never liked the harpy, so why he was in her house watching her through her own windows was a mystery. Wasn't like they every had anything in particular to say–or rather, anything that had nothing to do with food, training, or Kakkarot.
But he was intrigued.
Oh, not intrigued for the reasons people would think. No great beauty or secret obsession. Rather, intrigue for the need to understand, to uncover the inner workings. Cook, clean, help with homework, cook again. Robot moves for a robot life.
Big-Kakkort-gone-Little-Kakkarot was gone again, nothing new. The harpy did the robot thing. Gohan studied, Goten played. The earth revolved.
And he stood in her kitchen window watching her put her clothing out to dry.
OK, so maybe a little obsessed. Maybe noticed for the first time that she did have half-way decent curves that seemed to be all the more inviting after having the last brat.
But that still wasn't why he was intrigued.
Cook, clean, homework, cook, clean again.
Where was the sex?
She had to have had it sometime (after all, big brat made two little brats). Didn't she miss it? Didn't she need it?
Didn't ChiChi have needs too?
Wasn't sure why he cared. Not like he saw her unless he flew out to her house, anyway. He didn't even need to pick the boy up anymore–at six he was more than capable of flying home himself. And the blue-haired woman spent more time in the lab then in speaking with anybody.
So why did he care if she got fucked or not?
Didn't. Couldn't.
Even if he was still in the window staring at the curve of her back as she bent to pick up another shirt.
Shit.
She moved. Was moving, more accurately. So he moved. Thanked Kami multiple times that she wasn't Saiyan and couldn't pick up on his scent. Moved away from the pots just in case. Stayed in the shadows as the harpy hummed lightly and put away the laundry basket, turned to survey her kitchen, and let loose a deep, earthy sigh.
“Goku...”
Took a step deeper in the shadows as he felt his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.
So she did need.
Took a second step back as he felt his dick nearly pop out of his pants.
So, apparently, did he.
Double-shit. Didn't mean to speak, but did anyway.
“Onna...”
***
ChiChi surveyed the kitchen. It was 3:00. Goten would be coming home from school soon. She sighed as she thought of her husband, of the last time she had...
Shook her head. SS4 was the only way she could have him, and at SS4, he just couldn't fit into her body. Tried a few times to his frustration and her wails. Not that she didn't want him. Not that she didn't need him.
She was just too goddamned weak for him now.
Tried not to be hurt as he cooed softly that it would be OK. Knew that it wouldn't be, but fell asleep in his arms anyway. Woke up to him gone, little tail hairs in her bed.
His side had been cold for hours.
Loved him still. Loved him so much it hurt.
But life moved on.
“Spaghetti. He hasn't had spaghetti in awhile...”
How did she know? The blue-haired woman's cooking was completely inedible, though Kami placed overpriced servants on the planet to keep him alive. But non-gourmet-hoity toity stuff was few and far-between.
“Spaghetti, peas, some parmesean...”
Damn. Now he was really hungry. So much so that he could almost smelll the meal from where he was now. So much so that he didn't realize he was moving until he was dead in the middle of the kitchen with an astonished ChiChi staring at him.
“Ve...jita? What are you doing here?”
Opened his mouth. Too slow.
“OHMYGODAREBULMAANDTRUNKSOK?!!”
Tried not to cap hands over sensistive ears (not working), remembered why she was named 'harpy.' Cursed his odd taste in women.
“They're fine, woman–stop your screaming!”
Said woman did stop screaming. Stopped everything, in fact. Didn't even give the third degree from why the Prince of All Saiyans was lurking in her kitchen like a common criminal.
“Oh, OK. I guess I'll set an extra plate for dinner, then...”
Broken. A broken doll. Some glimmer of something extinguished in a nanosecond. He could smell everything–the confusion, the desperation, the loneliness...
She needed.
And so did he.
Two steps. Crossed the modest kitchen that would pass as a bathroom at Capsule Corp. Whirled the woman against the nearest object that would not fall over. Bruised her pouty lips with insistent demands from his own.
“Ah!”
A choked noise of shock, but arms suddenly fly around his neck, hot and tight. Groans, moans, animalistic licks and nips. He would fuck her where he stood.
“...Goten coming home...can't...”
Snarled inwardly about brats always being in the way, picked the woman up with one arm, barged down her hallway like a military general about to execute a campaign.
FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck...
Literal and figurative rolling in a mind already clouded with lust. Bad mix with Saiyan energy–body begins to glow a little. Snuffs it out. Sniffs out her room. Kicks in (nearly kicks down) the door. Smells like the baka. Change of plans. Finds laundry room. Smells like her, no baka. Much better.
Drops her on pile of freshly laundered clothes. Ripe curves bounce for a moment–watch shocked expression on face.
“But...but I just washed those!”
“I'll buy you a washing machine. Now strip.”
Watch as she fumbles, slowly removes suburban housewife contraptions. Not nearly as tempting as what the blue-haired woman wears. But don't really mind. No one else will see (except perhaps the baka, of course).
“Vejita...we shouldn't...”
Won't waste a second listening to preachy human morals. Takes dress firmly by the collar–rips it in half. Grins as the harpy's eyes widen an darken in anger.
“VEJITA YOU–”
“Took too long.” Manage out before choking her with a wild and moist tongue. Taste her, drink her, desire her underneath rocking against the frenzied need that screams against a covered leg.
Feels moan as it presses into muscle, into flesh. Eyes half-mast, sweat down fluid bodies. Hot, sticky, unbearable need.
“Vejita, you have to...”
I know...
“...fuck you...”
A/N: Strange story bound to get even more strange. Read and review if you want more!
Converting /tmp/phprKWkrq to /dev/stdout