Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Snow Trunks and the Z Dwarves ❯ 1. Setting Up ( Chapter 1 )

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"Snow Trunks and the Z Dwarves"

by Shella

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Summary: ::Yaoi:: Written in response to a challenge on the GohanxTrunks website, this is a mutated fairy tale involving cross-dressing, gender confusion & general strangeness. Warped humour ahead!

Genre: Humour / Romance

Pairing: M. Trunks / Gohan

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Cross-dressing, gender confusion & yaoi

Archive: Let me know where beforehand, okieday? It's already at Boxer & Rice address.

Disclaimer: Do you see Trunks, Gohan & the rest prancing around on-screen in full-length dresses? That is because Dragon Ball Z is not mine. Dragon Ball Z is Akira Toriyama's. [Unfortunately…]

A/N: Believe it or not I was completely sober when I whipped this one up! Many thanks to Lord Herve for groovy story ideas.

A/N 2: With reference as per Frieza's gender: the lizard queen will henceforth be referred to as a `he', but with feminine titles eg `Queen' & `Lady'. Okies? Funky.

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Once, twice, and maybe even thrice upon a time if you're lucky, an evil lizard queen lived in a tall castle built entirely of pink sandstone. Lady Frieza, for that was the queen's name, had no children, but had, twenty years ago, adopted a baby girl as his heir. Only too late had he discovered that his "Princess" was, in fact, a boy. A beautiful, purple-haired boy with eyes of the prettiest cornflower blue, by the name of Mirai Trunks.

It was an easy mistake to make.

Unfortunately, by then everything had been legally finalised and Lady Frieza could not choose another, female, heir. So he was forced to raise the … ugh … boy Trunks as his designated heir to the throne. But Her Majesty was not to be thwarted. And so he set about transforming his young Prince … into a Princess. By force.

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"Magic Mirai on the wall…"

Frieza cackled gleefully as he pranced in front of the furiously blushing object of his amusement. Casually the lizard queen brushed a minuscule speck of dust from his spotless, figure-hugging dress, examining the beige satin that hung to the floor in heavy folds.

His glittering crimson eyes flickered to the lavender-haired figure suspended high on the wall with lace-lined metal handcuffs.

"Who's the fairiest of them all?"

Mirai glared at him fiercely. "Let me down!" he shouted.

Lady Frieza smirked at him. "But you look so pretty up there," he called to the struggling teenager. "I like that colour on you very much." He ran a pleased eye over the floaty periwinkle blue ball gown Mirai was wearing. "It brings out your eyes."

In reply, the highly embarrassed bishonen spat as best as he could at Frieza's feet, but due to his restrained position he missed by more than a yard.

"Oh, that's not very nice," the loathsome lizard pouted. "You'll smudge your lipstick…"

"Argh - that's IT!" yelled Mirai. With a yell, he wrenched his hands free of the lacy bindings, falling several feet onto the neatly buffed and be-glittered flagstone floor. Before the stunned Queen could react, the teenager, hoisting up his skirts, rushed across the room to the heavy gold drapes, edged with hot pink lace a foot wide. Ripping them off the window, he flung them over Frieza's head and trapped him.

By the time the lizard queen had fought free of the encumbering curtains, Mirai was out of the castle, riding his strawberry roan mare (the one with the curly mane and tail that Lady Frieza had picked out for him) over the meadows and deep into the forest. He didn't know where he was going, but he did know one thing. Whatever befell him, he would face it as a male.

On that note, he changed his clothes.

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Mirai Trunks rode aimlessly through the forest for many days, the only other life apart from his horse the interesting furry animals of the forest. It was quite tranquil, apart from the increasingly obvious lack of food. His noble steed could graze wherever they went, but the last time Mirai had tried to eat grass he'd been sick all over his best saffron silk evening gown. Not, of course, that he'd minded, but Frieza had been enraged, and forced him to take a six-hour bath in strawberry-scented bubbles. The wrinkles in his fingertips had taken days to fade.

The lavender-haired bishonen shuddered and shook his head, dispelling the embarrassing memories. He urged his horse to a trot as they passed through a shallow stream.

In escaping the cruel, red-finger-nailed clutches of the evil Queen Frieza, Mirai had struck out on his own, but with no way to live by himself. Only now did he realise the stupidity of a lack of backup plan. Luckily, due to the authoress' amazing ability to pull incredible coincidences out of thin air, or even big fat plot holes, he eventually came across a small cottage in the woods.

Crossing all his fingers and toes, Mirai rode up and dismounted, knocking politely at the tiny door about half his height. (A "small" cottage? Sure, like teenagers have a few hormones.)

A rough but shrill voice answered from inside, like that of a eunuch trying to sound butch. "'Ere! Just keep yer pants on!"

Another voice, creakier and sleazier, rejoined quickly, "But if it's a dress ye be wearin', ya needn't worry about that!" Raucous laughter from several other sources made Mirai sweat a little in fear. So many people in the one house!

Soon, the door opened to reveal a scowling dwarf with black flame-like hair and a prominent widow's peak. "Wadda yer want?" demanded the dwarf, and Mirai recognised the chipmunk-like voice as the one that had spoken first, telling him to keep his pants on. Well, judging by this guy's appearance, that wouldn't be a problem.

"Uh … I, um, I was forced to, uh, leave my home and I have nowhere to go," Mirai said hesitantly. "So, I, uh, was wondering … if, if you could - if you needed any, any help … like around the house or anything … if you could maybe, uh…"

"Give yer room and board?" barked the dwarf.

Mirai jumped. "Yes! Uh, that is, if that's okay…?" He found himself somehow intimidated by this waist-high person.

"Hn." The dwarf turned and called to the others in the house. "Oi! You lot! C'mon out 'ere!"

There was the sound of many tramping feet, and a second later no less than six bearded faces were peering out from behind the pointy-haired dwarf, blinking curiously at the tall young stranger standing on their doorstep.

"This 'ere lass wants room and board," announced the first dwarf, causing Mirai to groan inwardly. *Not these guys too* he thought despairingly. Mutely he cursed the shoulder-length haircut Frieza had forced on him for as long as he could remember. He should have used his hunting knife and chopped it off short.

"'Ere, yer a pretty one, aren't ya lass?" leered the white-haired one from over his shoulder.

"Um, you see, I'm not actually-" he began, but was cut off.

"Well, she's more than welcome here!" said a third dwarf brightly. "We'd be happy to put you up, lass." He detached himself from the rest of the mob and walked up to Mirai to shake his hand. Close to, the teenager saw that the dwarf was so dark that to call him black would be an understatement, with loose white pants and a patterned red vest. "My name is Mr Popo," the dwarf said politely.

"I'm Mirai Trunks, it's nice to meet you," the azure-eyed bishie answered.

"Mirai?" questioned a fourth dwarf. This one had black hair as insanely gravity-defiant as the first dwarf's, and an air of vacant cluelessness about him. "That's a strange name for a girl." Mirai sighed inwardly, not bothering to argue the point just in case the dwarves refused to let a male stay with them. "I'm Goku," added the dwarf, also extending his hand.

The remaining dwarves also hurried to introduce themselves, and so Mirai became acquainted with Doc Roshi (the white-haired pervert), Yamcha (the rather shy one with the crisscross scar on his face), Yajirobe (the fat one, who wouldn't stop yawning), Lunch (a strangely effeminate man who appeared to be allergic to everything), and Vegeta (the grumpy, temperamental one who'd first opened the door). He forced a smile and curtsied politely, wondering helplessly how they managed to mistake him for a girl when he wasn't even wearing one of the countless dresses Frieza had forced him into.

Maybe he should just give up?

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