Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Beast Inside ❯ Rounds of the Oujisama ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chpt 6 Rounds of the Oujisama

A/N: Vejita, Vejita, and more Vejita. Didn't plan it–just kind of happened this way...

***

Hot hands were on her, roaming, pinching, caressing. She felt a hot tongue skate up her collarbone and dip onto her neck, coaxing her to loose herself in the warm textures of the form above her.

Vejita...

Bra awoke with a start, her back still smarting and between her thighs sore from the last visit her father had paid her. She thought that she would feel really weird about what had happened, but she didn't, not in the slightest. In fact, she was only wondering when it could happen again...

Keep your eyes open. You will watch yourself be claimed.

She remembered her father's hardened abs dipping and scraping against hers, the hot poker of his erection parting her folds slowly at first and then with such a blinding precision that she saw white and screeched into the rough palm that covered her mouth.

OhhhhBraaaa...

She had loved the way her name had sounded on his lips, the way that it rolled over and down his tongue like a fine and expensive wine. She loved the way he moved in her, deep and strong like his scent which was a thousand times stronger on the night of the full moon–deeper than her brother's, richer then Gohan's...

Open wider...

He had commanded her and her body obeyed before she could even think, spreading her legs until she thought they would break under his enormous weight. But, of course, they didn't. She was made for him, fit his body like a liquid glove. He could hurt her no more then he could stop breathing, and Bra squealed and moaned as rough hands kneaded and fondled her pliant flesh. She bucked upwards, wanting more, demanding more...

And the princess always got what she wanted...

So impatient...that is your Saiyan blood, Bra...

But he pounded harder, faster into her body, bringing her closer to the release she ached for.

Are you ready? Are you ready for my gift, my daughter?

Y-Yes!!!

It was more a gasp than a word, but it was all that he needed. Bra didn't know where pleasure began and where pain ended anymore than she knew where her father began in her shuddering depths and she ended.

And then she had felt it–the hot fire that shot into her and scalded her insides, that trailed down the insides of her thighs and stuck to her sheets...

The gift that keeps on giving...

Bra smirked and swung her legs over the bed. She had been absolutely incapacitated that morning, but thank Kami for Saiyan healing. Now all she felt was a bit sore and more than a little dirty, which was easily rectified by a nice hot shower.

Bra frowned as she turned on the water to her shower. She felt...funny... She knew that she was still growing, and that she would most likely be as top heavy and curvy as her mother, but it seemed that her breasts hurt a little more than usual. Her hips seemed a little rounder, a little fuller. Did sex do all that? All in one night?

Bra hopped in the shower as the water warmed to a bearable temperature and thought about her situation. Maybe she needed to talk to someone...

“Hmmm....time for a girl's night out...”

***

Jaia looked pale and drawn in the stark hospital whites that Bulma had placed her in. She hadn't spoken or even acknowledged anyone since she had been brought in, and normally Bulma would be concerned. But she didn't need a full examination to know what had happened to her–the evidencec was all over the handmarks on her legs, hips, thighs, back, buttocks...

The girl had been forced most brutally, and with a man of unusual strength.

Perhaps even a Saiyan man...

“Damnit!”

The machine before her whirred and confirmed her fears.

How am I going to break this to her...I don’t even know her name...

“Honey? Honey can you speak?”

Bulma shook one hand in front of the child, but got no response. Sighing heavily, she dragged a chair next to her and contemplated her next move. After leaving earlier, she had found Trunks showering in the gravity room, perfectly fine and healthy looking, and more than a little annoyed to have his mother gawking at him blatantly. She didn't mean to look–he just looked so much like Vegeta at times that her mind had wandered. No sex and helping a strange girl who had been traumitized could do that to a person.

Jaia's breath was shallow and small, and Bulma clasped her hand gently. She knew that she could hear her, that the shock would be slowly dissolving and that she could understand what she was going to tell her...even if she wished that it weren't true...

“Honey? I have something very important to tell you...”

***

Trunks stepped out of the shower gingerly. He had very narrowly avoided being found out by his mother when she had barged in on him in the shower, and he winced as he felt the mating mark Gohan had left on him...and the soreness in his ass. This was going to be problem. He liked the Sons, he really did, but...

...Pan. There was something about the still pre-pubescent girl that had him whipped from day one, and there was no doubt in his mind who he belonged to. Not to the Prince of All Saiyans, not to Goku, Gohan, or Goten, but to Pan...the doe-eyed beauty who had suckled his finger in sheer delight the first time he had picked her up as a child. They had a special bond that he didn't understand, but that he didn't question, either.

And now that bond would be severed before it was begun.

“Shit!”

“What the hell is your problem?”

Trunks whirled to face the spiky hair and regal gait of none other than his father.

“Why the hell do you care? Where were you last night?”

“Getting laid, and apparently so were you.”

Vegeta's eyebrow twitched at the mating mark. A Son had marked his Trunks. Which meant that his son had been uke. He had just taken it.

“You are weak. Too much like your mother.”

Trunks could feel his ki shift as his anger shot through the roof. His father was always berating him, comparing him to his mother as if he were nothing but a woman. But Vejita had his weaknesses, he knew. And Bulma was one of them. The moment he realized that was the moment he kissed his father–truly kissed him–and heard him moan is mother's name.

“And you just love it, don't you? You love the fact that I'm just like her–nothing pleases you more when you're humping me brainless. And since when did you ever let me be anything but uke? When is his Royal Highness going to learn to take what he so enjoys dishing out?!”
Vejita responded simply. “The day you can beat me is the day you can be seme.”

Trunks didn't respond as an inarticulate cry of pure rage ripped through his throat, and he attacked the smug figure stannding in the bathroom doorway. Vejita easily sidestepped his attack, sticking out his right foot to unbalance the blue-haired warrior as he narrowly missed his face with a blazing golden fist.

“Sloppy, Trunks. Where is that seme spirit?”

Vejita was baiting him, and Trunks fought hard with himself–his father was a master manipulator, and he knew he couldn't let him get the better of him. No, he knew what would get him to shut up...he just hoped he could get away from him fast enough afterwards.

“Gone forever, I suppose. I mean, since Gohan is my seme and all. You're right, I guess I am weak, and I'll always be that way–the offspring of a third-class warrior tamed the only male child, the only royal heir, of the Saiyan no Ouji.”

The color drained out of Vejita's face and Trunks knew he had hit paydirt. His father may have hated him, but he hated any criticism of his bloodline even more.

Vejita gave no warning as Trunks found himself dangling from the air, Vejita's fist tight around his throat, cutting off all breath.

“I have heard that it is incredibly painful for a mated uke to have sex with one other than their seme. Perhaps you can tell me if this is true...”

NO!

Trunks struggled against his father's iron grip and groaned as the muscled warrior tore off his towel and grabbed his manhood in one large fist. Vejita began pumping slowly, the flesh filling and hardening even as Trunks struggled for breath.

“...Hate...you...”

“Yes, I know brat. And as long as you do, you will always be second rate.” Vejita pulled his son close to him, keeping him at eye level while he slipped his fingers down and into Trunks' hidden passage, still damp from his shower moments before. “You must learn to please your Ouji. Only then can you be rewarded.”

Trunks moaned despite himself and began to relax as Vejita probed inside of him. He loved it when his father did that–he was almost...considerate when he did that.

“Feel good, Trunks? Enjoy it while you can...”
Vejita's hand pumped faster, stabbing and scissoring, and Trunks could feel the beginning of a migraine forming in his head–his eyes already closing from the pain.

“You can feel it, can't you? The feeling of betrayal...”

Vejita lowered Trunks more until his puckered entrance rested directly above his pelvis. The headache in Trunks' head exploded into white blinding sheets of pain as Vejita's member tore into his still-healing canal and hit his prostate. Normally, he was prepared for the physical pain, but this...this wasn't just physical.

Trunks was hot and slick, an inferno of muscled delight thst crushed Vejita's member in a death grip. Vejita grunted with effort,shot his tongue deep into the recesses of Trunks' mouth to mute his screams as he set a punishing pace, screwing the blue-haired boy mercilessly to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

Thrust.

Pound.

Pleasure.

Pain.
“Tell your mate that I can see why he chose you. You taste delicious, Trunks.”

Vejita breathed into Trunks' ear and he howled, completely overwhelmed between the sensations inside of him and the deep rumble of his father's voice. Vejita's dick was killing him–delicious pleasure coursing through his veins to compete with the torturous pain in his mind.

“Say it.”

NO!

“SAY IT.”

“...ouiji...”

“SAY IT, BOY!”

“OUIJISAMA!!!”

His neck tingled and heated to an unbearable temperature. Trunks screamed–he was being burned alive, immolated in the fire of the Saiyan no Ouji's wrath.

KAMI, GODS, PLEASE...WHOEVER!!!...

Vejita braced both hands against the back of his son's neck, forcing him downwards as he roared to completion deep within his ass, his ki attacking the mating mark on Trunks' neck with singular intensity until the boy spasmed uncontrollably and finally fell limp, legs akimbo with Vejita still connected to his abused hole.

“...uhhhhnnnn...”

Vejita smirked and picked himself up, his member making a wet popping noise as it slid out of Trunks' body. He was now fully satiated–after fucking every being in his household save his wife, he knew he was ready to spar with the third class and show him his proper place again. Plus, he needed to check in on the girl and find out if she was properly impregnated nor not. Trunks moved slowly, gingerly touching the mating mark on his neck...to find out it was gone.

“How, how did you do that?”

Vejita smirked wider as he stood in the doorway. He had no need for the gravity room–some fresh air would do nicely...

“I am Saiyan no Ouji, brat. All laws bow to me. Remember that.”

***

This can't be right.

Bulma re-read the printout and punched a few more buttons in her control panel.

This is IMPOSSIBLE...

Vejita walked into the lab to see Bulma talking to herself over a computer printout, her brow furrowed in absolute confusion. She was absolutely adorable when she did that, anf Vejita buried the urge to grab her from behind and inhale her smooth natural scent of mint and vanilla.

“What is wrong, woman?”

“The printout...the girl...no something must be wrong...”

“What's so wrong?”

“It's nothing–it's just...her DNA...her code...”

“Start making sense, woman! I don't have all day!”

“I...it's...the girl is...she's...well...she's perfect...”

“Explain.”

“Her DNA. Everything about her is perfect from a genetic sense.”

Vejita wrinkled his brow. Absolutely perfect?

“So?”

“So, every single strand of DNA has at least one deficiency or one mutation–it's natural, a part of simply being human. But this girl...”

“What, is she not human?”

“No, it's...she's...”

“FOR KAMI”S SAKE SPIT IT OUT!”

“She's the perfect human. She has a complete and unaltered genetic code. She's like...she's like a template, the blueprint for an entirely different race.”

“You're not making any sense. If she's the perfect human, how could she be the template for another race?”

“Humans with perfect strands of DNA no longer exist. Which means that she's here for a purpose. And it isn't to create more humans. Her strands are stronger, more flexible, longer than average. This girl may be the next evolution of humanity.”

Vejita tried to control his surprise. He knew he had smelled something in the girl's scent–something that called out to the beast deep within him that even he didn't know, that was telling him to mate her and claim her for his own. But he had had Bra, and felt no need for the slip of a human girl that he could crush with his pinky finger.

And now he had just fed that third class warrior most possibly the most important thing in the destiny for Saiyans as a race.

His entire life was nothing but a huge steaming pit of irony.

“Woman! How much does the girl know of her heritage?”

“Nothing–I haven't even had a chance to speak to her yet.”

“Don't. She most likely needs no other strain outside of what she has had so far.”

“But she will need to get to a hospital...”

“Where she will become nothing but a science experiment to overzealous doctors and their ambitious ideas. No, it is better for her to stay here and be care for, at least until she heals...”

“But...”

“Yes?”
“But she is...the girl is pregnant, Vejita. She could be here for quite awhile.”

“All the more reason she shoud stay. I will inform our children.”

And in a blink, the love of her life was gone and Bulma was again alone in the lab with her science, the only thing that seemed to be keeping her alive lately. Bulma crumpled the sheet of paper in her hand. She was angry–with herself, with Vejita, with...this girl...

Bulma wasn't a detective and didn't need to be. It was no coincidence that the genetically perfect human had happened into her life. And, given enough time, Bulma knew...

...she would bring her entire world crashing down.
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