3/17/16 All chapters are being revised and edited. Expect new chapters by next week!
Careful Blues
Every woman has a dream of marrying a man who is successful, loving, and protective. For a super powered blonde, who at the age of seventeen neared her graduation, this dream occurred every night she fell asleep. Those dreams were laced with tragedy as the man she dreamed of painfully reminded her of their consequential rendezvous and his untimely disappearance. She hadn't come to face him for over five months.
Teenage love was meant to be meaningless; really an experimenting of love that helped to settle all curiosity teenagers held. They didn't know what it meant to be in love. The world that surrounded the word was different than anything they had believed as children. Bubbles made a terrible choice as to who she wanted to experiment the definition of love with. Her own enemy, her sworn rival, became the center of her world.
The Professor was wrong at the time for lecturing her about teenage love. He strictly grounded his opinion of it being unrealistic and a naive Bubbles wanted nothing but to prove him wrong. For the Professor, teens didn't understand love no matter how hard they tried or believed they did. He simply understood that boys at that age wouldn't want to have the responsibility of loving a woman, supporting a woman, or caring for anyone other than themselves. It was the age meant for both young man and woman to experience who they truly were, separated and alone. In the end, love for teenagers was mere lust according to him.
Nevertheless, Bubbles harbored an infatuation with Boomer. Their battles caused her heart to race in his presence and every time she settled on his matured face, she went to bed and dreamed of a possibility that he'd love her. The Professor agreed that boys do mature to understand true love but it would come for a mature boy at an older age than for a mature girl. Boomer was slowly growing into a young man. His small face became structured, outlined, and defined.
But Bubbles didn't understand that no matter how mature a man looked not all seemed to seek true love. Bubbles hadn't known that the sensation she felt every time she landed a glance toward her enemy was lust and not love. She was fooled by her own imagination in believing she was feeling something that was never there. It was part of being a teenage girl; it was part of understanding life's first tragedy: heart ache.
Their last battle had made Bubbles' restraints break completely. Her words and phrases her mouth uttered were sounds Bubbles never knew she could muster the courage to say. Her lustful mind took control of her fooled heart and she launched herself onto her enemy. Their filling lips attacked each other and Bubbles hoped that whatever reaction Boomer displayed would end up making her sensual dreams a reality. That was the hope that would be lifted past submission and brought down by a shallow consequence that would place her heart into a blackness that delivered the greatest suffering.
Boomer's own secret yearning, quiet loneliness caused by his brothers, and changing body were the results of his surreal reaction. Blonde lovers held onto the one they thirsted for, never once separating as they connected beneath a burning sun. There was no question of their actions being right or wrong as they heard and felt the rythym of pleasure. Bubbles, submissive and overwhelmed, tightly gripped the muscles defined on his arms, back, and shoulders.
She took a second to wonder if her sisters ever felt such a desire for their enemies. Her whole vision fogged over with need. Boomer hadn't tore away, he hadn't parted from her moistened skin, and Bubbles stupidly believed this was his silent commitment. Their own breaths suffocated their releases and Boomer fell beside her panting body.
This separation allowed for their minds to race with thoughts, questions, doubt. There was now no pleasure to focus on. They hesitated to look at the other, the one that they had just succumbed to. Boomer, his mind collecting its senses first, bolted up to cloth himself. He realized their actions and had no other want than to abandon his enemy.
With an outstretched arm and a poisoned call, Bubbles witnessed the moment that would introduce her to heart ache. Every woman, no matter how strong, would crumble into the epitome of a female's emotional weakness after such an affair. Allowing for a man to touch what rightfully belonged hidden from view created a connection to his very scent, face, figure. Bubbles glided her shaking hand over her glistening stomach to touch the part of her that had just been robbed.
Her fingers touched the wet, sticky substance that stuck to her inner thighs. She let her hand fall as she hugged herself, cowled into a ball and now surrounded herself in her own cries. There was a fear building inside her that was scolding her for her irrational decision and stupidity. She knew what was to come; she knew very well the consequence of the fulfilled desire. The challenge of viewing a birth to come as a bless or gift would be the greatest of her suffering.
Because she would be alone.
"Now tell me sweetie, for dessert, does apricot or pumpkin pie sound better?"
Bubbles looked up from the open book, 'Expecting Mothers' in her hands, "Professor, you know I love anything you make!"
"Oh, I'm being bothersome, aren't I?" His raised brows smoothed as he noticed the book in her hands.
"No, not at all! I know you only ask because you want only the best for the both of us!"
For a moment, he stood confused at her statement. Then, as he lowered his eyes to find her hand rested on her growing stomach, he smiled. He needed no spoken reason to agree with her. He knew well that she could sense the agreement behind his smile. He anticipated the arrival of the baby, who the family had just discovered was a boy.
The last visit to the doctor's revealed that his darling Bubbles would deliver very soon. She was in the last stages of pregnancy, having faced all the pains, nausea, and cravings that came with her developing baby boy. Her own anticipation radiated off the happiness she found after the suffering that haunted her for most of the pregnancy.
The last time he witnessed her smile, a smile as wide as her face, was on her graduation day. He had to order a larger size for her robe and recalled how memorable the day became. She was extraordinary and the Professor hadn't once doubted that she'd make a remarkable mother. All his heart ever wanted was to have seen her in this moment of life as an older, prepared woman. But never once did this make his support for his loving daughter waiver. He stood by her side through her late night sobs, her fear of being pregnant and alone, and the pain of knowing her baby would only have their grandfather.
"Just remember that the bond of a family will prove to be stronger than the presence of a father."
He remembered kissing her damp forehead before watching her fall into a peaceful slumber. Bubbles raised her eyes to him with her magazine now out of her hands. She pushed herself up from the couch, her hands resting on her stomach the moment she stood on her feet. She protected her baby for nine months and would never hesitate in protecting him for the rest of his life.
"Actually, I think he's getting a craving for pumpkin,"
"Anything for the my little hero,"
"Yes," she caressed the skin that reacted as the baby moved within her uterus, "Anything."
Buttercup caught the guilty men who dared to stare her way as she shopped for tampons. They would hide themselves from her glare, some pretending to have been studying an item in their hands.
"What? Never seen girls shop for tampons before! Geez!"
"Buttercup, calm down," Blossom threw another set of baby clothes in the basket, "They're just shopping for their own things."
"Huh, yeah right, they're just being perverts! Yeah, I see you lookin—what? You really want to look me up and down, don't you? When I'm done with you, your eyes will be ripped out of its sockets and blended into my spaghetti sauce tonight!"
Blossom gave an apologetic wave, "Hey, I'm sorry, sir! She's just going through that time!"
"Men," Buttercup threw her tampons into the basket, catching sight of all the outfits Blossom stored into their cart, "Blossom, he won't be one month forever! Geez, how much money are you going to spend on all this?"
"All the money I want to, he's coming into this world very soon and I want nothing but to spoil my nephew!" Her hands gripped onto a Teddy Bear that had been placed in the wrong aisle, "This is perfect!"
"No, Blossom, you're not going to spend all this money on some brat!" Buttercup began to grab hold of all the hangers.
Blossom retorted, "Buttercup, how could you be so selfish? We will have enough for your sports!"
"Twenty dollar shoes! No, we won't have enough if you're spending it on pricey baby crap!"
"Put those back in the cart, they're adorable!"
"No, I'm going to—Professor is call—Hello?"
Blossom smoothed out the wrinkled clothing, "You're absurd if you think anything is too much for our nephew,"
"She's what? Ok, ok! Tell her to fly there! What? She can't fly?"
Blossom noticed the concerned tone in Buttercup's conversation, "What is it?"
"Right, of course a pregnant puff can't fly," Buttercup raised a finger to her mouth to shush Blossom, "We'll be on our way!"
Buttercup kicked the cart away from the aisle, causing everyone to now stare in fear at her unnecessary agression.
"Buttercup, what was that—"
"Do you want to be late for your bratty nephew's birth?"
Blossom suddenly brightened, flipping over their roles as she gripped Buttercup's wrist roughly to pull her behind as she flew through the ceiling of the store to Townsville's Hospital. Buttercup knew Blossom now risked landing them a damage fine by causing a hole in the store's ceiling. She cursed at Blossom the rest of the way to the hospital.
In the secluded area of Townsville's forest, three male siblings tore a part the cabin that was home to Fuzzy Lumpkins. The furry animal fell to his knees in defeat. He had no power to put and end over the destruction of his home. His cherished memories were destroyed to pieces by three male, young adults who sensed no remorse.
The redheaded, purely sinister sibling shot a death glare to Fuzzy once all that was left of the cabin was its rubble. The aggressive, masculine sibling laughed in the face of a breaking Fuzzy. From behind the two boys surfaced the last sibling: a blonde, pale, troubled man who had to kneel down to Fuzzy's level in order to emphasize their true status. Fuzzy had threatened the men that he'd kill them if they ever set foot on his property again, and to his shock, the men took his threat as a joke as they attacked his precious home.
The blonde lifted Fuzzy's chin, forcing him to face him. The man was unbelievably horrifying. His blue eyes, a color that Fuzzy compared to dreams and sweetness, became the epitome of nightmares and hell. He felt the man's hold of his chin tightened and before he could use his strength to free himself, the man broke his chin in his grasp.
Fuzzy rolled over in agony. The other two laughed at the sight, taking in the smell of blood with satisfying grins. The sheer pain Fuzzy suffered was an invitation for the blonde to latch his powerful hand onto his leg, having to use both of his hands to have a firm hold. Fuzzy's large leg was yanked on, his body moving across the grass as the blonde dragged him to the area he wanted.
"Beat him to a pulp,"
"Kill 'em,"
"Nah," the blonde's breath washed over Fuzzy's ear, "I think I'll show this fatty just who he was messin' with."
Buttercup chose to wait in the lobby of the hospital while the arrival of her nephew took place. Her decision proved to be far worse than witnessing child birth. The media of Townsville surrounded the hospital, equipped with news vans, cameras, and news anchors. Buttercup did her best to turn back to run down the hall, as flying in the hospital wasn't allowed in fear that their recovering patients would be startled at the sudden shaking of the hospital. Their flying abilities had certainly become far more powerful than when they were little girls.
"Miss Buttercup! We only have a few question!"
"As if!" Buttercup didn't stop, she was going to be in the safety of Bubbles' room if it meant keeping out of the lime light.
She never favored the media. They always made her out to be an uncontrollable female with manly interests and habits. They once spread a rumor of a secret lover that they were sure wasn't of the opposite gender. This infuriated Buttercup who swore to it that she'd never let the media blog, write, or look at her.
Her fleeing didn't make the many journalists stop them from finishing the job. They aired onto nearly every channel that broadcast in Townsville. Every citizen was now tuning into the moments that would near up to a child of a Powerpuff. Their juicy questions of whether or not the child would consist of human, mortal qualities, or if the child would take after their mother's near immortality and super powered strength, were waiting to be answered.
No one knew the identity of the father, for Bubbles had revealed his name to no one. Not even the Professor knew for he was lied to. She had made the choice of being dishonest to her family and her home. To everyone's knowledge, the father was a student from Poaky Oats High who shared a romantic evening with their cherished Powerpuff.
But her son's upbringing was far from romantic. And her son's father was for from resembling any human aspects. She knew very well that her son was strong, very. She felt him kick during the nights, and at times, the movement made her feel as if he'd tear her stomach open.
The only question that didn't roam no ones mind was the question of whether or not her son would use his gifted strength to defend Townsville's citizens from evil, or if he would take after his father's history and be born with something far more sinister.
Fuzzy's limp body held bruises from head to toe. The blonde had attacked every inch of Fuzzy his fists could reach. Every inch had truly meant every inch to the blonde. Fuzzy was nearing death as the blonde continued. Death was welcoming, and Fuzzy wanted nothing but to escape his torture.
The redheaded man ran a hand through his free, long locks, "'Nough, I'm getting' hungry,"
The blonde stopped his attack, "He's almost dead and you want me to stop 'cause you're hungry?"
"You her'd me—I'm hungry,"
"I don't give a shit if you're hungry,"
"You wanna say that again to my face?"
The intimidation of his stronger, older brother began to creep on him. The blonde, however, had no respect for his brother no matter how powerful he could become. He held no respect for anyone and neither did his brothers. The tongues they used towards each other defined the amount of care they had for their own blood.
"You still gon' be a lil bitch about it? Eat this piece of shit for all I care," the blonde gave a rough kick to Fuzzy's back, but Fuzzy had no strength left to react.
His limp body rolled toward the angered redhead, "You think you're better than me, don't 'cha? You're the piece of shit here and if you think talkin' back to me is gonna make yoi larger than me, you're terribly mistaken,"
"You're nothin' more than bark, Brick, nothin' more than a grown pussy,"
"Hah! Well, well, you sure woke up with a fucked up mind today!"
Their destructive brother looked on at the pathetic display his brothers engaged in. He turned his attention to his pale brother, pushing himself off a tree he had been leaning on as he watched the torture Fuzzy suffered.
"You think you got the balls to be callin' Brick the pussy?" in an instant he had pushed himself off the ground with a dark green streak behind him, coming inches away from his blonde brother's face, "Last time I remembered, you're the one who made us hide out in this damned forest 'cause you were too pussy to fight those three bitches!"
He viciously pushed away his brother, "Next time you want to bring up the past, how about we talk 'bout your twitchin' problems?"
"Give it up, Boomer bitch,"
The insulting surname made Boomer struggle to contain himself. He was no match against both of his brothers who were sure to gang up on him.
"Let's ditch this pussy, Butch, before I fuck him up!"
Boomer snarled at his departing two brothers. The sight of Fuzzy made Boomer release his pent up anger. He yelled in rage as his powerful energy created a baseball bat in his hand, an ability Boomer hadn't used since being a teen, and without another thought, he slammed the bat into Fuzzy's chest.
He no longer felt the faint vibration of Fuzzy's heart. The blood that seeped into the forest's soil brought forth a memory that made Boomer fall forth, his hand coming to his stomach as he vomited. It was the sickening reaction of recalling that he had once used his hands, his own evil, to steal the innocence of a puff who was his wretched enemy right in the very forest where he had killed Fuzzy.
Her body swirled his stomach and made him puke every time he envisioned it.