Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ You Oughta Know ❯ You Oughta Know ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, or the song "You Oughta Know," by Alanis Morisette. I heavily abuse both of them in this fic, though, for the sake of cheap laughs and even cheaper booze. You have my apologies.

Warning: Well, DUH! Lots of lemony freshness!

You Oughta Know

The young woman, dressed all in a formfitting navy blue spandex bodysuit that showed off her luscious, mouth-watering curves to perfection, looked up at the massive building looming before her.

"Capsule Corporation," she said to herself, rolling the words on her tongue, savoring them.

The only man she had ever loved currently resided in that building. It had taken her years to collect this information, but it had been worth it. All the prostitution, drug dealing, mafia contracts, and various other illegal and incredibly dangerous activities had been worth it. Golly, the blonde bombshell thought to herself, even the STDs she had acquired, which included syphilis, gonorrhea, Chlamydia, AIDS, HPV, and genital herpes, had all been worth it.

Because, as Mary Sue had told her gorgeous, long-legged, blond-haired, blue-eyed, even-tempered, idealistic yet practical, altruistic, selfless, and most importantly, modest self over the years: True love conquers all!

Then again … the syphilis might just have made her a bit delusional.

But she'd never find out if she didn't try!

And if there was one thing that Mary Sue was not, it was a quitter!

~~*I want you to know, that I'm happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me
Would she go down on you in a theatre
Does she speak eloquently
And would she have your baby
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother*~~

Bulma moaned as she rubbed the ache in her back. Eight months of pregnancy had definitely taken their toll. Not to mention the fact that, since she was already well into her 40s, this baby was much more difficult than the last.

As she passed by the comfy couch in the living room, it seemed to call her. She gave it a sidelong glance.

"Come to me," it seemed to say, patting a spot on itself. "Just sit down and relax, put your feet up. You deserve it, for being such a trooper! Not only do you have to deal with the pregnancy, but you have to deal with Vegeta every single day of your life! That's a little too much for anyone to take standing up. So just come on over her and give yourself a rest. Let me sooth away your aches and pains, and you can wallow in the pampering that a woman in your condition is supposed to receive from her husband and family."

Bulma shook her head. First she imagined that the 30 pounds of ground beef in the refrigerator-which, by the way, barely consisted of a meal for the two eternally hungry Saiyans residing under her roof-had been pleading for her with its life, screaming out, "Don't eat me!" and reminding her a lot of Alice in Wonderland, except the opposite. Now she imagined that the couch was talking to her! Before she knew it, she'd be seeing little capsules hopping around, chatting with one another, having awkward yet fascinating capsule sex, having little itty bitty capsule babies, and finally forming little capsule families.

She really needed to sit down.

But as she eyed the inviting couch warily-he was waving at her now, and winking, too-her feet refused to budge an inch.

In her current bulbous state, if she sat down and sank into the couch … she might never be able to get up again!

Vegeta, as usual, was training out in the gravity room, so he wouldn't be able to hear her screams if the couch, or any other pieces of furniture, suddenly decided to turn on her, tie her down, and carve her up with a butcher knife.

Trunks wouldn't be able to help her either, since he was out with Goten somewhere together-probably doing things she didn't want to know about, Bulma thought with a sigh, remembering the stain she had discovered on the seat of her son's pants one day. She hadn't been able to get the stain out in the laundry, so she'd been forced to burn Trunks' favorite pair of pants. After all, if Vegeta had found them and grew suspicious, things would not be pretty! It wouldn't be so much the fact that his son was, well, you know, as it would be the fact that it was with "Kakarot's brat" as he preferred to refer to Goten. And what would really get him would be the fact that it was his son, instead of Goku's that bore the `milk mustache,' as it were.

Gingerly, she took a step towards the couch, who was currently caressing himself and looking at her through half-lidded, seductive eyes.

"You sure do know how to woo a lady," she said as she finally gave in to the temptation and sank into the fluffy, soft warmth of the couch. She moaned with pleasure as she adjusted herself to maximum comfort. She definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this one without help-but while she was here, she might as well take advantage of the pure bliss of lying on one of the comfiest couches ever created!

Just as she had closed her eyes and was about to settle in for a long afternoon nap, the doorbell rang.

Bulma's eyes shot open.

No, not now! Not now, of all times! Dammit, she had just gotten comfortable, too!

Bulma let out a small sob as the doorbell rang again. Why couldn't the person just go away? Yes, that was it. Maybe if she just lay there and ignored the ringing of the doorbell, the person on the other side would just go away and leave her in peace.

That, however, was not the case.

Two hours later, Bulma lay on the couch gritting her teeth as the doorbell rang once again. This person sure was persistent, she had to give him that much! What kind of bastard keeps ringing on a person's doorbell for two hours at exact, perfectly spaced one-minute intervals, without tiring or taking a break-or GOING THE FUCK AWAY!

After about an hour, Bulma had finally given in and attempted to lift herself from the comfy, deep couch. No such luck. This time, instead of seducing her, he had laughed at her, damn him! Now the pieces of furniture in her own living room were laughing at her!

It was intolerable behavior.

She had promptly told the couch that she would send him to the junkyard and buy a more polite replacement.

That had sure shut him up good!

But the problem of the doorbell remained.

"Vegeta!" she cried out. "Vegeta, get the door!"

Seeing as how he was in the gravity room, and even Bulma's formidable voice couldn't reach that far from the living room in the main building of Capsule Corp, he didn't even hear her pleas for help.

So she lay there, listening to the strangely hypnotic rhythm of the ringing doorbell. It had nearly lulled her into a deep, drugged slumber when a nearby crash brought her shooting up into a sitting position-the sudden movement causing her back to ache more than ever.

"Woman!" Vegeta's rough voice called as he marched into the room, arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his face. "Give me a blow job. Now!" he commanded, pulling down his spandex shorts-the only clothing he wore when he trained-to reveal a hard-on glistening with sweat and standing tall against the well-defined muscles of his abdomen.

Normally, Bulma would have thrilled at the evidence of his desire for her. She would have given him seductive glances, teased him a little before giving him what he wanted. She would have made him beg for it. Afterwards, he wouldn't recall that he had begged-he seemed to have a selective memory like that, and could clearly tell her each and every single time he had made her beg for him in bed. But Bulma had her own tricks of the trade, and she knew exactly what to do to turn her proud Saiyan Prince into a quivering pile of gelatin at her fingertips. And, on the plus side, he was a whole lot tastier than gelatin!

But in the mood she was in now-cranky, tired, hormonal, and most of all, extremely pissed off by the incessant ring of the doorbell for the past two hours-she wasn't about to go down that road anytime soon.

"Go suck yourself off," she shot back at him, crossing her own arms across her breasts, accentuating the enlarge mounds. That was one of the plusses of pregnancy; it was like a temporary boob job, for free!

"My knees already ache enough as it is, and my back is killing me, and I haven't been able to get any sleep for the past two days, and most of all, THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!" she screamed at him.

It felt good to let all the anger out, even if it was at the wrong person.

Although … from her experience, Vegeta was never the wrong person to be angry at!

Vegeta glared at her for a moment before realizing that, short of physically forcing her mouth down onto his penis, he wasn't going to be seeing any action from her. Not to mention the fact that they couldn't even have sex anymore, because she was always "too tired," or "not in the mood," or "had a headache." He sneered at her as he yanked up his spandex shorts. Not that he had a problem with force or anything; but if her mouth were sliding up and down his length not of her own free will, he had no doubt that the blue-haired vixen would bite down, hard, thus killing two birds with one stone. Not only would she never have to deal with her overly insistent husband anymore-but he'd never be able to knock her up again, either!

"Fine, I'll get the fucking door," he muttered as the doorbell rang again, just on time. Muttering to himself all the things he'd do to his wife once the brat finally got yanked out, his mood began to lighten. He was just months away from a sex marathon! He'd heard about them-humans called them "second honeymoons." Seeing as how he and Bulma had never really had a first honeymoon, he wouldn't call it that, however. But he'd heard that it was a custom for humans who had been together for awhile to arrange a week-or, in his case, preferably a month, or a year-where they went off somewhere together and spent the whole time having lots and lots of hot, kinky sex.

He quivered and hardened beneath the spandex shorts just thinking about it, and the drool began to puddle in his mouth, dripping onto his chin.

Oh, he couldn't wait to get Bulma alone-then he'd teach her a lesson about who wore the pants in this family!

Vegeta swung open the door, and his train of thought was immediately interrupted by one of the most shocking moments of his entire life-and that included moments such as when he had been given to Freeza, when he had learned that Freeza had blown up Vegetasei, and when Freeza had killed him.

"Mary Sue!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed, even as his thoughts took another direction: Oh, shit!

"Yes, Vegeta," the beautiful woman standing before him replied softly, her heart in her eyes. "It's me." She stopped for a moment to let out a hacking cough, which was surprisingly graceful and elegant for a cough of that nature. As she turned back to him, her eyes slid over his sweaty, glistening, well-muscled form, with thinly veiled, yet incredibly innocent, lust visible in her gaze. Her eyes stopped when they reached his still-hard package, straining against its suffocating spandex enclosure.

"Let me take care of that for you," she whispered, licking her lips as she dropped swiftly to her knees.

~~*Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able
To make it enough for you to be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
Until you died, till you died
But you're still alive*~~

"Hey, what do you think you're doing, Missy?"

That was all the warning Mary Sue had before a quick kick to the head sent her sprawling across the ground-as graceful as an angel, of course.

She looked up to see a short, fat, incredibly grotesque woman standing before her. A mop of greasy, unkempt blue hair-the color obviously came from a bottle-sat upon a face with distorted, oddly arranged features. Mary Sue blinked. What was such a hideous creature doing with her Vegeta?

But then again, it wasn't in Mary Sue's nature to be angry with anyone, so she put on a beaming smile as she picked herself up off the ground, calmly and elegantly wiped the dirt off her of her sinuous body, and strode towards the couple standing on the doorstep, arm extended.

"Hello, I'm Mary Sue," she introduced herself politely to the mysterious blue-haired woman.

The woman quickly backed away from her, retreating inside the house and pulling Vegeta along with her.

Mary Sue frowned. "Vegeta," she asked, "where are you going?"

The door slammed in her face. Mary Sue blinked. A breeze must have blown the door closed before Vegeta could reply!

She heard some muffled sounds coming through the door. A hiss, then a yell, then a slap, then another slap, then a strangled moan and a thump as though someone had fallen to their knees on the floor, followed by a strangely familiar sucking sound, which was accompanied by rhythmic grunts that could belong to none other than her own beloved Vegeta. Then a louder, longer grunt, and the sucking noises stopped. Silence pervaded the air for a few moments-along with the distinctive, salty smell of Vegeta's semen, a smell that Mary Sue would never forget until her very last dying day-followed by some more hissing, a slap, and a finally a low, primal growl.

Then Vegeta opened the door just a crack, and stuck his face through. His cheeks were abnormally red, Mary Sue noted. As though he were blushing! She blushed at the thought. Was he blushing for her? Oh, she hoped so!

"Go away," he told her, before attempting to close the door in her face.

But Mary Sue wouldn't let her true love get away that easily!

"No, Vegeta, I'll never leave you again!" she cried as she burst through the door and into the surprised Saiyan's arms, lifting her mouth for a kiss.

But before her lips could press against his, she felt another coughing fit coming on, and reluctantly released him in order to cough up blood onto the Briefs' expensive new white carpet.

Bulma glared at the intruder into her home, then at Vegeta, who, covertly glancing around the room to make sure both women were preoccupied, attempted to sneak away.

"Oh no you don't, mister." She grabbed him by the ear and pulled his face towards her, relishing in his wince of pain. "Lucy, you've got some `splaining to do!" she hissed in his ear before releasing her grip on him.

"Now," Bulma declared as soon as Mary Sue's coughing escapade had finished. "What's going on here?" She looked from one to the other. "And how do you know my husband?"

Mary Sue gasped as all the color drained from her face. Even with ash-white skin, she was still the most beautiful woman Bulma had ever seen-a fact that only pissed the pregnant woman off even more!

"H-husband?" she asked weakly. One glance at Vegeta, standing in that defensive yet strangely vulnerable position of his, with his arms crossed over his manly chest and a scowl adorning his beautifully sculpted face, allowed her to see the truth in this statement. Yes, he had forsaken their love, and married another. She could forgive him for his betrayal, but she couldn't take him back, not while he was still married to the short, fat blue-haired woman.

If there was one thing that Mary Sue was not, it was a home wrecker. She did have morals, after all!

Mary Sue cleared her throat before turning to look the blue-haired wife of the only man she had ever loved in the eye. She wouldn't lie to the woman; she would tell her the truth. Honesty was always the best policy!

"Ma'am," she began politely, "I must confess to you the truth of my association with your husband-for your own good, you understand," she insisted. "You see," she hesitated for a moment before delving into the dirty details, "Vegeta and I were once lovers, back when he was still under Freeza's rule. We promised to love each other forever. So you see, as much as it pains me to say this, he doesn't love you-not because you're a bad person, of course not, I'm sure you're an absolutely lovely and wonderful person, but because he can't love anyone else. You see," she paused for dramatic effect, "we're bonded."

Bulma and Vegeta both stared at her in horror; now it was their turn to possess faces completely devoid of color.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" they exclaimed simultaneously.

~~*And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know*~~

"When were you planning on telling me about this, Vegeta?"

After calming her nerves down enough to send Mary Sue to a guestroom in the large compound where she would be able to stay the night, Bulma had rushed off to furiously confront her brooding Saiyan husband.

Vegeta glared at her. "You don't actually believe the bitch, do you?" he asked dangerously.

Bulma through her hands up in the air. "I've got both food and furniture talking to me!" she exclaimed in frustration. "What the hell am I supposed to believe, when I can't even trust my own judgment?" She gave him a telling look before bursting into tears. She wasn't just talking about the judgment of her sanity; she meant her judgment in men, too.

Vegeta frowned. He knew that when a woman cried a man was supposed to comfort her, like he'd seen in all those boring, weepy movies that she'd made him watch by promising sex afterwards. She hadn't even let him sleep during them, either, forcing him to keep his eyes open and watch every single boring moment-but at least the sex had been good. A few hours of complete, mindless boredom was a small price to pay for an entire night of hot, wild, mind-blowing sex.

But as for comforting her … Vegeta winced, knowing that it would cost him his pride even as he wrapped the woman loosely in his arms, patting her back awkwardly and murmuring "There, there," as he had seen all those wimpy-ass men do in those movies.

Bulma's tears eventually subsided, but she continued to cling to her strong husband. It wasn't often that they got this close-not that they were really all that close now, do to her distended belly, but at least his arms were around her and he was showing her some modicum of affection, no matter how slight.

"Vegeta, why don't you tell me the truth?" she asked him.

"The truth?" he asked, his voice dark, menacing. She half expected him to let go of her, put his face right up to hers and yell at the top of his lungs, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

But Vegeta had never actually seen A Few Good Men, so he didn't know about that particular quote, as far as she knew. But that didn't stop a shiver from running up her spine as she looked at him. She wasn't really sure if she was capable of handling the truth. Not if the truth meant what she thought it meant …

"Yes," she replied. "I want the truth." She squeezed her eyes shut, and begged Dende to let the truth be a palatable one.

Please, Dende, she begged, Don't let him tell me that he's still in love with her, and planning on leaving me for her! I love him too much to let him go!

Vegeta looked at her for a moment before speaking. "She was a whore working for Freeza's men. Saiyan men have needs." He shrugged. "She was convenient. End of story."

"YOU SLEPT WITH HER?!" Bulma screeched.

Vegeta flinched at the sheer volume of her verbal assault. "Quiet down, Woman! I'm telling you the truth! I slept with her once! One single fucking time!" he shuddered. "And even that I regret!"

Bulma blinked as she stared at her husband in confusion. Why was he showing this revulsion for such an incredibly attractive, submissive woman?

"Why do you regret it?" she asked suspiciously.

Vegeta shuddered again at the memory. "She was a whore," he explained. "Most whores know their place. She didn't. She became," he searched his vocabulary for a word his wife might understand, "clingy." He shuddered again.

Bulma had to hide a small smile at the joy she felt that her husband wasn't attracted to the man-stealing bitch!

"She became convinced that we were `bonded,' whatever the fuck that means." He snorted. "She began stalking me." He turned to his wife, cocking an eyebrow. "Have you ever been stalked, Woman?"

Bulma nodded. Oh, she had been stalked, alright. But she would never tell Vegeta about that particular incident. If he knew …

"Then you know what I mean." He shuddered again. "The damn woman refused to leave me alone."

"But why didn't you just kill her?" Bulma asked. She knew that the `Old Vegeta,' as they called the man he had been before he had taken up with her, would not have hesitated to kill anyone who got in his way or even annoyed him in the slightest.

Vegeta shook his head. "She's immortal."

Bulma gasped. "Immortal?"

Vegeta nodded. "Immortal."

Bulma stared at him for a moment. "But-how?"

Vegeta shrugged. "No one knows how. Everyone on Freeza's ship assumed that it was some sort of alien STD that had affected her in the wrong manner, causing her immortality instead of instant death. But if I could have killed her, you know I would have." His eyes narrowed. "And if it's ever possible in the future, I probably will."

Bulma smiled. "You know how I feel about you killing people, Vegeta, but … in her case, I think we should make an exception." She winked at him.

Vegeta smirked, his gaze roaming over his wife. "Vicious woman," he growled teasingly. "Honestly, though, you should thank her, Woman," he told her, his voice laced with both humor and seduction.

Bulma glared at him. "Thank her?" she asked, "What do I have to thank her for?"

Vegeta shrugged. "If I hadn't been so desperate to escape that baka bitch, I never would have come to earth." He reached out a finger to slowly trace the line of his wife's finely shaped jaw. "And you would have lived out your life a lonely old maid," he purred, leaning in for the kiss.

But as his tongue swept into her mouth, Bulma bit down-hard. With a yelp, Vegeta pulled back, one hand cradling his mouth as he glared at her. "What was that for, Woman?" he asked, wincing at the pain the act of talking caused him.

Bulma stuck her nose up in the air, glaring down its length at her husband. "I would not be an old maid," she told him. "If you weren't here, I would have married Yamcha a long time ago, and Trunks and our unborn child would be his children, instead of yours."

Vegeta growled. He hated it when she mentioned her ex. Not only did he get incredibly jealous of the other man, who'd had her first, but he got angry at the fact that he got jealous in the first place, too. And even though Bulma and Yamcha were `just friends' now, he knew that the other man was still in love with his wife. He only came around every single day to `chat with' or `talk to' or `spend some quality time with' Bulma, and sometimes Trunks. Vegeta also had a sneaking suspicion that Yamcha's feelings for Trunks weren't exactly `neighborly,' if you catch my drift. But he didn't say anything, because he knew that Bulma would bite his head off-or rather, his tongue, in this case-were he to badmouth that loser ex-boyfriend of hers.

"Whatever, Woman," was all he said as he stalked away.

~~*You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her*~~

The vibe at the dinner table that night was rather awkward, to say the least.

Trunks came in sporting a `milk mustache'-the foolish boy had forgotten to clean himself up before he headed on home! At least he had been wearing white pants, Bulma thought with relief as she sent him upstairs to wash his face.

The last thing they needed was for a straw to break the camel's back, with the camel in this case being Vegeta-hey, it seemed like a perfectly good analogy to Bulma; he did spit a lot when he went down on her, but that might just have been because she kept forgetting to trim-and the straw being his son's goings-on, in addition to the whole Mary Sue business … the scene that came to Bulma's mind was definitely not pretty.

Unlike Mary Sue.

When Trunks came back downstairs, with fresh clothes and a freshly washed face, and laid eyes on their `guest,' his eyes bugged out of his head and his jaw hit the floor. His teenage hormones began raging out of control, and he had to quickly sit down and cross his legs, blushing furiously all the while.

Bulma let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps there was hope for their son yet! Hope that Vegeta wouldn't beat the boy to a bloody pulp, that is.

Vegeta scowled all throughout dinner. Mary Sue refused to stop staring at him, and Trunks refused to stop staring at Mary Sue. Meanwhile, Vegeta kept glaring across the table at Bulma, as though she were the one responsible for this whole mess! Bulma just kept her eyes on her plate, and picked at her food-which was definitely a change for her, since during both her pregnancies her appetite had grown almost as big as Vegeta's.

The silence was incredibly awkward. Bulma, attempting to play the good hostess, tried to engage Mary Sue in conversation-she was used to Trunks and Vegeta's bad manners at the dinner table, and never expected a single word out of either one of them, but it was different with guests. Mary Sue, however, responded in the same manner that her husband or son always did when she tried to talk to them as they snarfed down their food-with monosyllabic grunts.

So Bulma just sighed and stared down at her plate, her fork nudging the food to this side and that, waiting for this ordeal to be over. Vegeta left the table first, having eaten even more quickly than usual, which was saying a lot. Mary Sue left almost immediately after, presumably to follow Vegeta and attempt to seduce him, Bulma thought as she ground her teeth together. Trunks quickly finished and jumped up to follow Mary Sue, leaving Bulma all alone to clean up the mess, just like usual.

Sighing, she got up and put all the dirty dishes in the sink, telling herself that she'd wash them later. Her back was aching again, and she really wasn't in the mood to be standing over the sink, scrubbing away.

As she started to ascend the staircase, she heard the sound of muffled voices, and suddenly stopped in her tracks. It sounded like … Vegeta was talking to Mary Sue?

Quickly throwing any anti-eavesdropping thoughts out the window, Bulma rushed over to the door to the den, from behind which the voices came. It was shut tight, which made her frown. So she took matters into her own hands, kneeling down and peering through the key hole, to find out just what exactly was the truth behind her husband's former relationship with this other woman.

"Vegeta," came Mary Sue's deceptively sweet, innocent sounding voice. "I know you love me! Why won't you admit it, even to yourself?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Woman?" Vegeta hissed, obviously avoiding yelling because he didn't want Bulma to hear. "I fucked you once! One single fucking time! You're a whore, for Kami's sake, that's what you do! Fuck men for money!" He snorted, before demanding, "Why have you followed me here? Didn't I pay you enough? I always thought Freeza was very generous with the whores in his employ," he sneered.

Mary Sue sniffed, and her voice sounded so hurt and wounded that Bulma almost felt some sympathy for the poor, perfect woman. Almost.

"Vegeta, you told me you loved me! You told me that after you killed Freeza, you'd make me a free woman and then marry me yourself." Bulma watched through the keyhole as the beautiful woman turned away from him and hugged herself tightly, shivering. "I know that the other woman, the one you married, is just a replacement for me," she told him. "I know that you never thought you'd see me again. But why can't you give in to your true love? Now that I'm here, we can be happy together! You can break it off to her gently so that she won't be too hurt, and then the two of us can live happily ever after together."

Vegeta shook his head. "You still don't get it, do you?" he growled. "I never even liked you! I thought you were disgusting, filthy, and disease-ridden. The only reason I fucked you in the first place was because you were the only whore around that I could find."

Mary Sue let out a shocked gasp, a pallor coming over her face. "Vegeta! She exclaimed through a sheen of tears, "Don't say things like that!" She began to cough again, spitting up blood onto the carpet. After a particularly violent fit of hacking, chest-heaving coughs, she collapsed onto the ground. Vegeta didn't move a muscle, not even to break her fall.

"Vegeta," she murmured at last, her voice sounding raw-and yet still reminding Bulma's ears of the melodic tinkling of wind chimes, in its own, rough way. "You don't understand!" She sniffled for dramatic effect before looking up into his eyes. "I'm dying, Vegeta."

Vegeta just rolled his eyes. "About fucking time," he muttered.

Bulma felt her heart warm at his words. He really did hate the little bitch! She'd never been so happy in her entire life!

But then she noticed him watching the door from the corner of his eyes, and his eyes locked with hers through the keyhole.

Bulma froze.

Oh, shit, she thought to herself. Vegeta hated it when anyone tried to eavesdrop on a conversation he was having-not that he ever had many conversations, but when he did, he wanted them to be private!

"Excuse me for a moment," he muttered darkly to the now sobbing Mary Sue, his eyes never leaving Bulma's. He strode to the door, opened it, walked to the other side, then shut it again, locking it.

Bulma stared up at him, from her position on her knees.

Vegeta stared down at her, towering over his kneeling wife. A smirk slowly began to crawl across his face.

"What … what do you want?" she asked timidly. She wasn't sure that her knees and back could hold out long enough to give him another blow job, which she was sure was what he wanted when she noticed that familiar gleam in his eyes.

Besides, if he was planning some action-which she was sure he was, because whenever he got that gleam in his eyes it meant that sex was somehow going to be involved-she wanted a piece of the action, too! `Tis better to give than receive my ass! Bulma thought to herself.

But instead of pulling down his pants and pushing her face against his crotch, he leaned down until she could feel his hot breath caressing her cheek. He began nibbling on her earlobe, making her shiver.

"Why don't we give her a show," he murmured, "so that she can stop deluding herself."

Bulma gasped. "Vegeta! You know I'm not an exhibitionist! I don't `perform' for an audience!"

Vegeta chuckled as his tongue darted out to lick the rim of her ear, making her collapse against him, weak with desire. "Silly woman," he chided. "Not all shows include visual aides."

Bulma gasped again as she began to understand his wicked plan. "Vegeta, no!" she exclaimed softly with a giggle. "We can't!" Her eyes wandered over to the locked door, as she heard the woman behind it continue to cry. "Can we?" she asked hesitantly, pulling her face back so that she could look into her husband's eyes.

The wickedness in his black orbs reflected the wickedness in her own blue depths.

"We can," he whispered before taking her mouth with his own.

As they kissed, he pulled her up until she was standing, then backed her up against the door. She felt him frown against her mouth as her distended belly got in the way of his possession of her. He finally pulled back from the kiss.

"Turn around," he ordered.

Bulma felt a little thrill run down her spine. Although she'd never admit it to him, she secretly loved it when Vegeta got all manly and commanding on her!

Obediently, she turned around. She felt Vegeta lift the skirt of her muumuu-the only clothing she allowed herself to wear during the height of her pregnancy, since none of her other clothes would fit-and tear off her thong. Bulma gasped as he simply ripped the material away in a single move. She then felt his length probing the crack between her butt cheeks, slipping inside a little before running back and forth along the rim of the crack. Then he lifted her against the door, and she braced herself with her hands, her ankles hooking themselves behind his thighs so that she could keep her balance.

Then, with a single thrust, Vegeta entered her, ripping his name from her throat in a primal scream of pleasure.

~~*Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able
To make it enough for you to be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
Until you died, till you died
But you're still alive*~~

Mary Sue frown beneath her tears as she heard something banging against the door, and then the blue-haired woman's voice screaming out Vegeta's name.

Her eyes widened as the banging on the door continued, and suddenly began to increase in pace. Vegeta's name kept coming out in the fat woman's voice, in the same rhythm as the banging.

Mary Sue's eyes widened as she stared at the shaking door.

She might be incredibly innocent, but she wasn't that innocent!

She knew exactly what was going on on the other side of that door!

Vegeta was beating the woman, slamming her against the door in his rage that he was stuck with her when he'd rather be with Mary Sue! And the woman was attempting to beg him to stop, but he wouldn't even let her get past his name!

Oh, no! Mary Sue thought, even as a creepy little part of her, from deep down, chuckled and told her to shut up and enjoy the show.

But if there was anything that Mary Sue definitely was not, it was a person who would sit on the sidelines while another woman was attacked and domestically abused by her very own husband!

Even if the woman in question was fat and ugly, and stood in between Mary Sue and the pursuit of her dreams!

"Vegeta!" she cried out, as she stood up and ran to the door, jiggling the knob. It wouldn't budge. The clever, clever man had thought of everything, even locking the door to keep his beloved Mary Sue out of this horrible situation!

"Oh, Vegeta!" she wept, "Stop it, please!" She banged her fist on the door, but the banging on the otherside continued, even increased in pace, and she now heard Vegeta grunting rhythmically in time to the woman's shouts of his name.

Mary Sue sank to the floor, resting her head against the shifting door as she began to sob. How could he treat a woman like that! Had she been incorrect all along in her assumption of him? Was he really just the cold-hearted murderer that all her prostitute friends back on Freeza's ship had warned her he was?

No! It couldn't be!

Not Vegeta! Not her beloved Prince Vegeta!

Suddenly, the banging stopped, and she heard Vegeta's voice roar from the other side of the door, "BULMA!" just as his wife let out an echoing shriek.

All was silent for a moment after that, and Mary Sue scooted away from the door, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide open in horror.

Had he really … killed her?

She got her answer a second later when the door, which had taken quite a beating, fell over into the den, bringing the two lovers who had been leaning against it with it.

Bulma's newly unhooked bra flew through the air and landed atop Mary Sue's head at the exact angle necessary to shield her innocent blue eyes from the sight of the writhing, naked couple who were going at it again, heedless of anything but each other-this time on top of the door.

~~*And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know*~~

"Hey, is anybody home?"

Yamcha stuck his head around the doorless doorway to the den, his eyes widening into saucers and his mouth forming into an "O" as he watched a very naked Vegeta making very wild, very passionate love to a very pregnant Bulma, on top of a fallen door.

It was like a train wreck; so horrifying that he wanted to look away, yet so fascinating that he couldn't drag his eyes from the titillating scene before him.

Until he heard a tiny whimper, and his eyes glanced over at the drop dead gorgeous woman who sat on the den floor, hugging her knees to her chest, staring with large blue eyes at the two oblivious lovers, Bulma's discarded bra having fallen to the floor next to her.

He cleared his throat, hoping to grab the lovely angel's attention, but her entire focus remained on the naked, squirming forms moving rhythmically atop the fallen door.

Then Vegeta started grunting again, in time to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Yamcha shook his head. How could Bulma stand it, every single night? He shuddered at the thought. He knew that they did it almost every night-and usually more than once-because he had gotten into an argument with Bulma just a few months before her most recent pregnancy, about who had the better sex life. His argument had been the old "Variety is the spice of life," line. After all, he had whole harems of women-well, at least 2 or three drunk chicks he'd met in a bar-to sleep with, while she was stuck with the same guy night after night.

Bulma had just smirked at him-he swore, Vegeta was definitely rubbing off on her-and told him that he could keep his variety. She had explained to him, in graphic detail, that she not only had quality, but she had quantity as well-in time, numbers, and inches. It angered him that she had the gall to compare his performance to Vegeta.

It wasn't his fault that he had been bored with a smaller-than-average cock and suffered from delayed ejaculation; it was a medical condition! And he'd recently found a medicine that worked very well to help him correct his `intimate problems,' as his sex therapist had called them. Not that he'd had the chance to test his new medication out with an actual woman, yet. A drag queen, yes. A woman, no.

So, in a huff, he'd told her that she could just go and keep her quality, and her quantity.

But now, to find out that Vegeta was a grunter? He thought women hated grunters!

Yamcha shook his head with mock sadness. Bulma's sexual tastes had always been a little on the … weird side. He'd discovered that the first time she'd tried to get him to invite Puar to sleep in their bed with them, back when they were 18 and living in her parents' house. Not that Bulma had actually mentioned Puar becoming involved in anything more than simple sleeping, but that didn't mean that Yamcha didn't have his suspicions-and his imagination! He knew how women thought. Especially women with a kinky side, the kind that Bulma had always exerted. The kind that had always scared the hell out of him!

He looked once again at the petrified young woman sitting on the floor. He couldn't just leave her here, watching this exhibitionist display; what were Bulma and Vegeta thinking, performing in front of such a young, innocent, sweet-looking, vulnerable young woman?

So Yamcha, gallant hero that he was, picked up the young woman-who, his aching lower back discovered, was much heavier than she looked-and took her into the living room, setting her down on the comfy couch, where she sank down into the cushions, a dazed look still on her face as she curled up into the fetal position.

Yamcha sat down beside her and began to stroke her long, silky blond hair as the grunts in the background grew louder.

The woman, slowly coming out of her self-induced state, looked up at him with eyes that, although red-rimmed, were the most gorgeous tear-stained eyes he had ever seen.

He brushed the hair back from her forehead and smiled down at her.

"Hi," he said softly. "I'm Yamcha."

She didn't reply, just continued staring at him with those large, blue eyes that any man in his right mind would love to get lost in. Hell, he thought, she could even drive Vegeta, Mr. High and mighty too good to cheat on his wife like Kakkarot did, to willful, flagrant, and very enjoyable adultery!

The silence between them grew longer, and made him fidget. Growing uncomfortable with the lack of anything to cover up the background sex noises, he shrugged his shoulders and started rambling on about inane things.

She stared at him as he talked, her eyes moving down to examine his moving lips. Then, interrupting him, she said, out of the blue: "Make love to me."

Yamcha stopped talking and his eyes widened.

"Wh-what did you say?" he asked, not quite sure that he'd heard her right.

She sat up, pulling away from him, and began to undress.

"Make love to me," she said again as she tossed her navy blue spandex bodysuit to the ground, leaving her luscious body naked.

It was all Yamcha could do to keep his drool puddle from leaking onto Bulma's favorite couch. He could stare at her forever, that silky smooth skin, those perfectly shaved pubes, those delicately turned ankles.

She frowned as Yamcha continued to stare at her, so she looked around for a way to get him into action.

Noticing Bulma's bra on the couch beneath where she had been-he must have picked it up along with her-she took the undergarment in her hands, wrapped it around the back of his neck, and used it to pull him to her, where her lips met his in a sensual, punishing kiss, perfected through the many lovers she had had over her long, long lifetime.

~~*Cause the joke that you laid on the bed that was me
And I'm not gonna fade
As soon as you close your eyes and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back
I hope you feel it...well can you feel it*~~

"Vegeta, where's my bra?"

Bulma looked around in consternation, although she was far more mellow than she had been for the past several months.

Hot, wild monkey sex had a way of relaxing a person, body and soul.

Shrugging and throwing on her muumuu, Bulma decided to forget about the bra. She was the richest woman in the world; she could buy another one, anyway!

She giggled and glanced shyly at her husband.

Vegeta just rolled his eyes at her behavior and pulled on his spandex shorts.

Then a loud noise from the living room caught both of their attentions, causing them to freeze.

"VEGETA!" Mary Sue cried out in a very orgasmic sounding voice.

Blue eyes met black, both pairs harboring confusion within their depths.

As one, the happily married couple ran out into the living room, and stopped dead in their tracks at the horrifying sight before them.

Mary Sue, riding Yamcha-on Bulma's favorite, most comfortable couch! Sure, she had thought about getting rid of the damn thing earlier, when it had been talking to her, but now she knew-it had to go!

"Oh, Vegeta, put it in my motherfucking cunt!" cried Mary Sue as her beautiful body bounced up and down atop her lover's flabbier frame.

"Bulma!" Yamcha cried out, gasping as his seed spilled out and, due to gravity and the lack of swimming prowess among his boys, dripped down his hips, staining the couch. "Yeah, that's right, Bulma baby!"

Finally, the two collapsed into a sweaty heap on the couch formerly known as comfy.

After a few moments, however, the two couch-lovers felt eyes on them, and looked up to see, in horror, the same people whose names they had called in their fits of passion!

Yamcha and Mary Sue both blushed profusely as they scrambled for their clothes, Mary Sue clutching Bulma's bra to her chest, as though she would never let it go.

"Hey!" Bulma exclaimed, "That's my bra!"

"I-I know!" Mary Sue cried out with a sob as she flung the bra at Bulma and ran away.

Bulma glared at Yamcha, then at Vegeta, then at the bra, before tossing it to her husband and walking briskly-or rather, as briskly as her heavily pregnant frame would allow-out the front door, after Mary Sue.

Mary Sue sat on the front doorstep, crying her precious little heart out.

Bulma sighed and rolled her eyes, then gave the other woman a swift kick in the rear.

With a yelp, Mary Sue flew up and turned around, anger flashing in her eyes.

"First you steal my man," Mary Sue proclaimed, "Then you assault me with physical violence! I don't take that kind of shit from no one!"

A moment later her hand shot up to cover her mouth as her perfect blue eyes widened into saucers.

"Good golly," she exclaimed, "I said a bad word!"

She burst into tears again.

"Vegeta!" Bulma called into the house, "Get out here!"

"Just a minute, Woman," was his only reply, followed by several sickening thuds, as though a certain Saiyan was beating up a certain human inside the house.

When he finally emerged from the house, half an hour later, Mary Sue was still sobbing away, and Vegeta's body was covered from head to toe in Yamcha's blood-and he hadn't even broken a sweat!

Mary Sue turned around before Bulma could say anything to her husband, and ran to Vegeta, clutching at his arms, bringing her face so close to his that their noses almost touched in an Eskimo kiss.

"Please, Vegeta," she begged, her beautiful eyes shimmering with tears. "You know that I'm the one you love! I am your one true love, and you are mine! Please, I beg of you, give in to the temptation! I know you've wanted me since I first came back here, but your association with this … creature keeps you from me! So give in the temptation, take me, right here, right now!"

Just as she had done with Yamcha, Mary Sue quickly discarded her spandex bodysuit, allowing her beautiful body to glisten and shimmer in the sun as she put herself on display like a piece of diseased meat.

With a groan, Vegeta finally gave in to temptation.

He did the one thing he had been longing to do ever since the beautiful, perfect Mary Sue had shown up unexpected and uninvited on his doorstep.

He blasted her to the next dimension.

~~*And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know*~~

One Month Later …

Vegeta pouted as he glared down at the little baby girl greedily sucking milk from her mother's breast. He wanted to be the one doing that, dammit!

He had to admit, though, their daughter sure was pretty cute, for a baby. A whole lot cuter than Trunks had been! And he wasn't just thinking that because she looked almost exactly like her mother!

He glanced surreptitiously at Bulma. She had a beaming smile on her face as she stared down at her snacking daughter. Good, perhaps now she'd forget the promise that she'd made to him in the midst of her labor, a promise that he did not want her to keep.

***Flashback***

"Vegeta!" she had exclaimed, squeezing his hand with an inhuman strength so hard that he could have sworn he felt his bones crack under the pressure. She had insisted that he be there with her in the delivery room, to make up for the fact that he had missed Trunks' birth. He had resisted as long as he could, but decided that if he gave in now, he'd hear less yelling later, which would make his life much easier.

"YOU FUCKING SAIYAN BASTARD!" Bulma screeched as another contraction came, and he winced at the crunching sounds coming from his hand. "I PROMISE YOU, ONCE WE GET OUT OF HERE YOU'RE NEVER TOUCHING ME AGAIN!"

***End Flashback***

He shuddered, just thinking about it. No sex for the rest of his life? He'd go insane and start killing everyone! And that wasn't just a prediction, he knew this from experience; after all, the reason he'd been such a bastard back in the day was because of sexual frustration! Out in space, whores such as Mary Sue were hard to come by.

But he was confidant now that she would forget all about that promise, because she was smiling up at him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before any sound could emerge from his 2nd favorite orifice, a quick knock came on the door to Bulma's private room. Without waiting for a response the nurse entered carrying a cordless phone.

"There's a call for you, Mrs. Briefs," she said, "from the ICU."

"Oh, that must be Yamcha, calling to congratulate me on having a healthy baby," Bulma beamed, all the pain, screaming, threats, and horror of the 13 hour labor forgotten already. "Here, Vegeta, take the baby." She unceremoniously dumped the child in Vegeta's arms and took the phone.

Vegeta stared down at the little girl, feeling a little panicked. He didn't know what to do with babies! Hell, he'd avoided Trunks like the plague back then!

Then the little girl looked up at him with eyes as blue as her mothers and as innocent as a virgin. Then she smiled at him, and began cooing and gurgling.

"I think she likes you," came a soft yet satisfied voice.

He looked at his wife, who had turned off the phone and was now gazing fondly at him.

Bulma's hand reached up to brush back a tiny lock of blue hair. "What should we name her?" she asked her husband, as though he would have the perfect answer to give her.

He stared down at the little girl in his arms. She was so tiny, so fragile.

Just like his wife's bra.

***Flashback***

After Mary Sue fled the house, Bulma had tossed her bra to Vegeta and left to follow the whore. Vegeta had just stood there, holding his wife's bra limply in one hand, in an awkward silence with Yamcha, his wife's ex-lover.

When he caught Yamcha staring at the bra in his hands, Bulma's bra, as though it were a feast fit for a god, something inside Vegeta had snapped.

He'd teach the bastard a lesson; men don't steal other men's wives!

"Vegeta! Come out here!" he heard the woman yell.

"Just a minute, Woman," he had called back, and evil grin forming on his face. Yamcha saw the grin, and trembled as wetness began to form in the front of his pants. Vegeta smirked at his rival's lack of bladder control.

Impotent and incontinent!

So he quickly punched Yamcha in the face, the stomach and then pounded him on his back, sending the human weakling face down into the carpet, his red blood staining the pristine whiteness beyond recognition. Then Vegeta had straddled the other man and wrapped the bra around his neck, strangling him.

Yamcha started flailing around like a dead fish. Come to think of it, Vegeta thought, sniffing the air, he smelled like a dead fish, too! Must be that `cologne' stuff he wore.

But Vegeta didn't let him, and cackled gleefully as he strangled the life from his opponent.

Then he frowned, thinking that the woman would never let him hear the end of it if he actually killed the bastard, so he let up, loosening the bra from Yamcha's throat in a rare act of mercy from the Saiyan Prince.

But Yamcha was so angry at this brutal attack that, without thinking, he ripped through the bra and turned around, his eyes burning with rage.

Vegeta just stared. First at Yamcha, then the left half of the bra in his left hand, then the right half of the bra in his right hand. The bastard had ripped his wife's bra in two, as though it were nothing more than an insignificant piece of underwear!

With a growl, Vegeta launched himself atop the human, determined to get revenge for the poor, mutilated bra. It had been Bulma's favorite, and he knew she would cry over its loss. And anyone who made his wife cry had to answer to him, Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans.

"You'll pay for that," he snarled as his right fist connected with Yamcha's jaw, dislocating it. "You'll pay dearly for that!"

And he did.

***End Flashback***

"Bra."

"What? If that's some sort of obscure reference to sex, Vegeta, you know we can't do it until the doctor gives me the ok-"

"It's not an obscure reference to sex." The Saiyan Prince glared at his wife. "I don't have a one-track mind, you know!"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Riiiiiiight. You have a three-track mind: Train, eat, fuck."

"Don't use language like that around the baby!" Vegeta exclaimed, covering his daughter's giggling ears as best he could with one hand.

"I'm sorry, Vegeta," Bulma apologized, contrite. "You're right. So, what do you think we should name her?"

"Bra."

Bulma blinked. "Bra?"

Vegeta nodded. "Bra."

Bulma beamed at him. "Bra!"

Vegeta smirked.

Somewhere, across time and space, Mary Sue rolled in her grave.

A/N: What do you think? Come on, you know what you have to do! Just click the little button, and give me a REVIEW!! (Maybe then I'll stop doing bad rhymes and stuff, hehe!!)

Love, Tina