Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Pseudo Ferocity ❯ Hoffman's Design Firm ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

Author's Notes: Okay, first off, I just wanted to say sorry for taking so long!!! I meant to have this chapter up sooner, but it went through so many revisions before it was edited by my wonderful beta team, and then another major overhaul and second editing, again, by the beta team, who I am eternally grateful for!

And wow!!! Thank you guys for all the great reviews!! I feel special…lol. Actually, I was pretty worried about what people would think of this fic, so I was actually expecting more people to be unsure about whether or not they liked it. And to those of you who did report mixed feelings, thanks for being honest! I'll try to win you over yet!! *giggle*

Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Kat8125, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity

2: Hoffman's Design Firm

Bells jangled against each other as Vegeta opened the door, stepping inside the warm building. He looked around, observing his reflection in the polished marble floor with a hint of curiosity. Outside, the building looked like any other on the street, sort of small, slightly unkempt, but inside it was like a…a…like…like something with polished marble floors and potted ferns, carrying a definite hint of sophistication. Not quite a palace, but definitely not what he had expected.

The bells jangled again as a gust of wind blew in the door, and Vegeta turned, quickly shutting the door, tired of the infernal noise. Mrs. Briefs had put bells on the doors during a holiday she referred to as 'Christmas' and they had nearly driven him insane. Once the bells stopped though, that uncomfortable silence settled again, and Vegeta looked around cautiously, feeling like an intruder in a place he shouldn't have been.

Stepping off the small square of carpet by the door, the Saiyan began exploring, his sneakers squeaking on the floor as he did so. There was a desk, presumably for a receptionist, but no one was there at the moment, and a few doors, leading off to Kami knows where, and a big black leather sofa. Taking one last look around, Vegeta made a beeline for the comfortable looking piece of furniture, plopping down into the soft cushions. He had been walking for at least an hour, and his feet were beginning to grow sore. It would be good to sit for a moment or two. A few magazines sat on a glass coffee table nearby, and he picked one up, leafing through it in his boredom.

The glossy pages were covered with what Bulma would have called 'The Beautiful People,' and despite himself, Vegeta had to admit that they, even through silent photographs, carried a certain aura of splendor about them that drew even the cold Saiyan no Ouji to look twice. Even so, the great majority of them were no suited to his picky tastes, looking somewhat thin and almost unhealthy in some cases. There were a few that he seriously wondered about; not believing that such thin limbs could support the weight of a body. The men, for the most part, were well built enough, but still to thin to be of any use in a fight or situation where any sort of physical prowess was required.

But Vegeta was a strange judge of things, for he did not see through the eyes of a human, but rather, a Saiyan who was a hearty believer in 'survival of the fittest.' The girls in the magazine…they reminded him of things he would rather not think about. Thin and malnourished, with no fighting power whatsoever, he almost pitied them, like he had pitied the poor nameless girls, so long ago, before the sentiment had been beaten out of him.

"These women hardly even have breasts…" he snorted to himself, eyeing their figures with a scrutinous eye. He supposed that may be attractive to some, but obviously, whoever had taken these pictures was not terribly fond of the curvaceous, slightly fleshy female figure Vegeta was attracted to. All embarrassments and dignified protests aside, deep down Vegeta was a born and bred breast man. They were something not included in his own anatomy, and quite frankly, the rounded, supple mounds of flesh fascinated him…that, and they were fun to play with. Amply bosomed women were something he had not seen much of in his time. Saiyan females, as far as he could remember, were not very well endowed compared to some of the Human females he had seen. But then, of course, as a mere child of five, he had never really paid attention to the size of any of the few women he knew.

Most of the women in Frieza's army had not been very large up top either, as the vast majority were fighters, and as a result, were masculine, hardened with layers of rippling muscles rather than sporting the soft feminine curves genetics dictated they should have had. During purging missions, he was sure there must have been some curvy females, but much of the time he was too consumed with a blood lust to feel anything else other than the desire to bathe his hands in blood. Man, woman, child…it hadn't mattered.

Of course, Frieza had kept a harem of women for the use of only his most prized soldiers, and Vegeta had been offered the use of the poor souls on several occasions. With a shudder, he remembered the first time he had actually taken the tyrant up on his offer. The Saiyan no Ouji had been young, roughly thirteen or fourteen Earth years, and was developing at the rapid rate his kind was prone to. With the new developments in his body, the hormones in his system were severely unbalanced, and like all boys going through such a stage, he was curious about females, what it was like to be with one…sex in general was a fascinating idea.

The actual experience though, had turned out to be the most horrifying encounter of his entire life, and he had left the harem afterward feeling nauseous, and wondering to himself how any of the soldiers could possibly stomach such an ordeal. Nervous, he had been scared easily; intimidated and unsure about everything, the whore who had been assigned to pleasure him, docile and placid as she was, had frightened and disgusted him to the point that he had almost refused use of her. But knowing that word would leak about the 'cowardice of the Saiyan Prince' and fearing humiliation at the hands of Frieza's men, he had swallowed the bile in his throat and forced himself to go through the act of…coupling…with the female. She had been like a doll. Lifeless and quiet in her subservience…like making love to a corpse.

He hadn't been himself for days after, unable to rid his mind of the memories, the horrifying emptiness of the woman's face as he plunged his young flesh into her. He tried to hide it; of course, not wanting anyone to realize the experience had been so traumatic to his young psyche. However, his two closest companions, Nappa and Radditz, seemed to sense something wrong with their Prince, and, while the youngest Saiyan was recovering from his experience, refused use of the harem when offered. Vegeta knew they had understood what happened, and he was grateful for their loyal action. Even though he had treated them roughly at times, though he had killed Nappa with his own hands, deep down he felt a deep sense of respect for the two Saiyan men who had raised him and sacrificed their own pleasure for his sake.

But his self-imposed celibacy hadn't lasted for long. Eventually word spread about the young Saiyan, and nasty rumors about his sexuality and potency had begun to surface. Frieza had begun to mock the young Prince, with cruel taunts, even going so far as to offer him Zarbon for a night; an offer that both parties had vehemently declined. Image had been everything in that army, for if you were neither respected nor feared by your fellow soldiers and superiors, death would not be far, and life itself worse than hell.

So the young Saiyan no Ouji had swallowed his revulsion, forcing himself to visit the harems again, to do with the pour mindless women what the other soldiers did. To pleasure himself without care of their wellbeing became a standard to him, but still, deep down inside, he knew it was wrong and disgusting to do as he did. And just thinking about it made him cringe.

"Excuse me…sir?" A female voice shocked Vegeta out of his thoughts, and his head snapped up to glare at the young woman standing near the desk. She looked nervously around, obviously intimidated by his hard gaze. He was handsome though, in a way that had caught her off guard when she first set eyes upon him. She had been watching him for a few minutes before finally speaking up, unable to bear the pained expression on the strange, angular face. "Are you here…here about the modeling job?" Vegeta nodded once, in the sharp military way he had grown with. "Follow me then. Mr. Hoffman will see you now."

Vegeta snapped the glossy magazine shut, dropping it on the table with a soft plop, and stood up to follow the young secretary. She eyed him again, surprised at his small stature. Most model hopefuls were tall and not so heavily built, and she wondered if Bruce Hoffman would turn the quiet, dangerous looking man down. Hoffman was known for his picky taste in models, and she wondered if this one would fit into his mould. One thing was for sure though, if Hoffman turned him down, someone else would hire him. His stature did nothing to detract from his appearance, but rather gave the strange man a certain style and personality that none of the known models in the business possessed. With the right firm, she thought, the stocky little hunk could rise to the top of the modeling world with ease.

"Bridget, do you have Mr. Christian's number handy?" A voice called out from an office around the corner. "I need to get in touch with him as soon as possible! It's important!"

"I'll get it for you in a moment Mr. Hoffman, but there's a man here about the opening for a new model." The young woman at Vegeta's side called back, and he looked over at her from the corner of his eye. Bridget…the name didn't fit her at all.

"Oooh!" a squeal from the office. "Send him in!"

"This way Mr…Uhm…"

"Vegeta." The Saiyan said simply, following her around the corner. "Just Vegeta." She led him though a door to reveal a man, not much older than Vegeta's own twenty-eight years, sitting at a desk, shuffling through a pile of 8x10 photographs.

"Oh my…you certainly aren't like most models I do business with." Bruce Hoffman blurted out, his tight leather pants squeaking as he stood to shake the Saiyan's hand. "I don't know if I have any openings for you…"

Vegeta's eyebrow raised in questioning of the man's statement, a gesture that only served to enforce Bridget's opinion on the matter. "Mr. Hoffman," she blurted out, a pleading tone in her voice. "Imagine him in your new collection!"

"Him? In "Leather and Lace?" Bridget, I don't know." Bruce stroked the blonde stubble on his chin skeptically, looking Vegeta up and down.

"I'm not a piece of livestock." The Saiyan snapped, irritated by the man's judging gaze.

"You do have an attitude, don't you?" Bruce giggled, mulling the matter over in his head.

"Sir, just imagine what a stir such an unconventional model will create! People will be flocking to your shows to see what all the buzz is about! And sir, your "Leather and Lace" collection would look spectacular on his body type!" Bridget pleaded, pulling the other man into a corner. They whispered back and forth for a few minutes, while Vegeta stood silently, pretending that he could not hear their conversation.

"Well I think that's just fantabulous!" Bruce squealed, finally seeing a vision of how good his pants would look, strutting down the runway on such a toned, muscular figure. Bridget smiled too, a small blush spreading across her cheeks as she imagined Vegeta in something less appropriate, like one of the many items from the "Leather and Lace" underwear collection.

"So do I have a job or not?" The Saiyan groused, growing impatient.

"Oh, definitely! Be here tomorrow at 3:00 for fittings! Bridget will be working! She'll show you around too!" Bruce nodded enthusiastically, excited at the idea of having such a revolutionary model signed with his agency.

"If you'll come with me Mr. Vegeta, I'll have you fill out the necessary paperwork, and then you can go." Bridget smiled, ushering him out of the office and back out to the front reception desk, where she pulled opening a filing cabinet and slapped a big pile of papers down on the desk. "Now, if you'll just sign here, here and here…initial there and there, sign again here and here…"

Vegeta walked out of Hoffman's Modeling Agency an hour later, his hand having cramped up ages ago. He had never seen so much paperwork in his life! He would die a happy man if he never had to pick up another pen again! But at least he had a job, and was on his way to a rise in the world…now all he had to do was find a place to stay for the night.

"Okay rock," Vegeta said, pulling the stone from his pocket and placing it on the ground. "You lead the way, and I'll follow."

Hee hee…am I the only one who thinks that's cute? I sure hope not! And yes, "Leather and Lace" is a pretty lame name for a fashion collection…but oh well, I couldn't think of anything better…*giggle*

And today's mp3 of the day…Hrmm…let's go with "Color Me Blood Red" by Malice Mizer. It's pretty nutty, and I guess it kinda takes a certain type of person to like it…*giggle* But I like almost everything…

Oh, and time for a plug!! Go read ChunkyMunky241's DBZ adaptation of Phantom of the Opera! It's called 'The Phantom of the Tournament' and it's really good so far! (I'm desperately hoping that it ends B/V!! *hint hint* *Nudge, nudge* Lol…I know you're reading this ChunkyMunky241!! )