Disclaimer: I am not the owner of any of this comics ore novels , which this fanfic was based…. I just loved them and they screamed vegeta and Bulma every way… enjoy it-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/-*/
Love is something weird to analyze... but powerful indeed... and sometimes it gets you... even if you're not your self... or not even human...
PROLOGE
A long time ago a young boy... not very handsome, not very brilliant and not very strong or rich... was looking for something that every boy or man wanted... to get laid... so he got himself to the big city... an to his bad luck he wasn't that good looking... but he meet a really hotty and tough... ****its my lucky day*** haw wrong he was... but how wrong... AAAAHHHHHHH...
Chapter One
Once upon a time…
Thus begins all good fairy stories—with a request to the reader. An invitation to travel to faraway places and faraway times, or fantastic worlds peopled with equally unlikely characters. All created in the mind by the words between the covers.
This story begins with "Once upon a time…" and is followed by the next most-anticipated phrase, "there was a beautiful princess…" unfortunately, this particular princess, although beautiful right from the moment of her birth, wasn't exactly welcomed by her father the King. "What? Another damn girl?" said the king "Yes, Sire." His Seneschal looked apologetic. "How many does that make now?" "Uh…this one's the thirteenth, Your Majesty." "Shit." The King was not known for his aristocratic turn of phrase when irritated. It was a constant trial to the Queen, who was forever trying to get him to watch his mouth.
He turned to his aide. "Don't suppose we can drown this one, can we?" The man looked shocked. "Absolutely not, Sire." "Fuck." To give him his due, he did glance around to make sure the Queen wasn't within earshot, although having just given birth that seemed unlikely. "Well, do something with her, man. Can't have an unlucky omen like that around upsetting the delicate balance of things. Get rid of her. Banish her. Feed her to those damn elves in the valley." He stalked out of his Royal Chambers, muttering curses aimed at the whole female gender and particularly his wife's inability to conceive anything other than women.
At the door he paused. "I know." He snapped his fingers and two servants came running. The King frowned. "No idiots. I wasn't calling you, I was just getting a brilliant idea." Bowing low, the servants retreated, chastened by their inability to distinguish summoning snaps of their King's fingers from "brilliant idea" snaps. "Sire?" The Seneschal quirked an eyebrow. "You had a suggestion?" "Yep." He looked smug. "Give her to that damn dragon." The Seneschal, being a man of great wisdom, who rather liked his head just where it was, knew better than to disobey his Sire when he was in this sort of mood. So, later that day, he whisked the new babe from the sleeping Queen's quarters and unceremoniously dumped her on a distant rampart of the castle, far away from where everybody else resided.
In another part of the castle******
She vanished, leaving Vegeta with what was now a definite snout buried in the dust of the road. He staggered to his feet—all four of them—and blinked. Then he opened his mouth, spat—and belched fire. Ohfucking shit . His mother's cooking wasn't that great, but it had never had this effect on him. He stumbled through the trees to a pond and leaned over it to catch sight of his reflection. Yep. It was all there. Long nose, round open nostrils, big eyes, large ears, a smattering of horns up the center of his face and rather large pointed teeth.
Vegeta considered himself, turning his head this way and that. Well, it could be worse. He thought he made rather an impressive dragon on the whole. His pimples were gone, he certainly didn't have to worry about bad breath and maybe there was a female dragon out there who wouldn't turn away in disgust. Now, for those of you who are wondering why Vegeta isn't more upset about being turned into a dragon, it certainly helps to remember what it's like to be a teenager. Being a dragon sometimes seems like an acceptable alternative.
Vegeta quickly mastered the use of his wings and flew off to join the small group of dragons who remained in residence at the castle. They did their best not to snicker. "Well, lad, you have been unlucky, haven't you?"(This was said in dragon-speak, which—for the purposes of translation—is being written as English in this story.) An older dragon was smirking at him. "You'll be pleased to know our lives are pretty quiet though, as a rule. Sleep, eat a yog-boar now and again, roar as necessary and then sleep some more."
"What about—er—girl dragons?" Vegeta looked hopefully at the elder creature who clutched his sides, curled his wings and chuckled heartily. "Well, two problems with that, lad. First off, dragons aren't sexually active until they reach about a hundred and two—and second…doesn't do us no good anyway, because there aren't any 'round here." Thus Vegeta the Unlucky, a human spirit bewitched into the form of a dragon, spent the next decades learning to correctly belch fire, pick yog-boar bones out of his teeth and occasionally do a little formation flying.
The one thing he didn't get was sex. Even masturbation was impossible, since his sharp claws were not the best tools in the world for that sort of thing, and the one time he'd managed to do it without castrating himself, he'd orgasmed and belched fire at the same time. The farmer whose barn he'd incinerated wasn't happy about it, even though the resulting fountain of dragon-delight had extinguished the flames. Morosely, Vegeta came to accept his sad lot. His memories of being a healthy human lad faded into vague impressions of long-ago dreams and his life shifted then settled into reptilian paths. He was just one non -fucking, unlucky dragon.
And then he met Bulma. The Thirteenth Princess… Upon finding the gurgling bundle just outside his roost, Vegeta wrinkled his nose. It smelled funny, and didn't look very much like a snack worth getting up from his nap for. But it moved, thus it might well be worth investigating. Something made him extra cautious with his huge bulk as he circled the blanket. There was a tiny thing inside—a wriggling thing—and Vegeta curiously nosed the coverings aside.
He blinked as a little body came into view and backed away as limbs waved and a toothless mouth mewled at him. Eeeeuuuuwwww.A baby human. His tongue emerged in distaste, one of the habits he'd developed when he'd discovered that humans didn't care too much for a rather large forked and moist appendage waved threateningly in their direction. They tended to walk backwards in a hurry, which was fine by him. But then something odd happened. The tiny critter reached out a little hand and grasped the tip of his tongue, curling minute fingers around it and holding tight.
Vegeta froze as something that felt distinctly like—affection—curled deep inside his body. A pang of protectiveness darted up his third horn and made his ears ache. The little creature still held his tongue but shivered, so he carefully took one claw and recovered it with the soft blanket. Then, ever so gently, he curled his body around the entire kit and caboodle, cradling it against the sharp winds that racked the old stone walls.
"Hello little thing." Vegeta spoke the words in his head of course, since firstly dragons couldn't speak the human language and secondlyit was hanging on to his tongue. "Goo goo ga ga." He heard the sound in his head quite clearly. Well now, this was unique. Vegeta gently eased his tongue from the vise-like grip of the tiny human and considered the implications. It would appear that there was some kind of communication possible, although God knew what language was being spoken.
He was about to try another experiment—something along the lines of "take me to your leader"—when a female bustled out onto the flagstones, muttering fiercely. "Oh there you are. Goodness gracious, the Queen would have the King's balls strung up from the turret if she knew what he'd gone and done." She shouldered her way past Vegeta's coiled body and retrieved the blanket. He snorted, thus getting her attention with a whiff of hot air up her skirt.
"Now you stop that, you nasty old dragon. This is a princess. Just because the King doesn't want her around don't mean that you can have her for afternoon tea, you know." She shook an admonishing finger at Vegeta. "He may have given her to you, but you'll not see her for years an' years. She's got to go to Princess School along with the other ones, no matter what her father says." The "princess" emitted a sound that resembled a small mud geyser blobbing up ooze and the woman held her nose.
"Ooof. They should've called you Stinky instead of Bulma." She held her away from her body. "Now wave bye-bye to the nice dragon, sweetie. I reckon he'll be around when you get back and for a good many years after that too." "Bye-bye, little Bulma. Bye-bye ." Vegeta flapped one ear, then caught himself and tried to look ferocious. "Goo googaaaaaa …" The wail followed the two females as they departed down the staircase and back to the human residence within the castle leaving Vegeta alone.
And, for the first time in one hundred and four years, lonely. From that day on, Vegeta felt a little empty spot someplace in between his sixteenth and seventeenth ribs. He put it down to indigestion, cut back on the yog-boars and began a regular flying program. He developed an interesting maneuver all his own that involved a swoop combined with a roll and followed by quite a sharp dive.
The other dragons were impressed in spite of themselves and began calling him "Ace", which he liked much better than "Unlucky". A villager, awed by his aerial skills, wove him a rather long white silk scarf to wrap around his neck while flying. It was flamboyant but Vegeta was quite proud of it, and did an extra swoop along with a wing dip over the villager's hut, trailing the fringed ends of the scarf along with him. A nice gesture, but one that scared the chickens so much they didn't lay any eggs for a week. He earned no points with the villager's wife for that little episode.
So for the next few years, Vegeta worked hard at his dragon skills, noting the firm body that flexed beneath his rather attractive blue scales, and the horns along his snout—fully developed now as Vegeta approached his prime. And his sexual maturity. Of course, that happened several years later than expected, this being Vegeta who never did anything—including develop—according to the rules. But finally, he rested in the sunshine on the battlements of the castle and puffed out his chest, secure in the knowledge that when it came to dragons, he could finally hold his own.
And he began to dream. Not wet dreams, because God forbid a dragon should have a wet dream. Mass drownings would most probably have resulted, and the idea was that dragons should protect the humans they lived with, not smother them with nocturnal emissions. No, these were dreams of a rather strange nature, simple at first, involving annoying songs that stuck in Vegeta's head and revolved around the alphabet, counting and fingers and toes.
By themselves, they were nothing out of the ordinary—even though dragons didn't actually possess fingers and toes. But when they began to include scenes of little girls playing games, Vegeta started to get a bit worried. Was he bisexual? Was he a gay dragon? Were there such things as gay dragons? Was he showing early signs of perversion? He was blue, not rainbow-colored, had no urge to go screw any of the other guy dragons, so he doubted they resulted from a conflict in his sexuality. Occasionally they were frightening. A closet with something very nasty in it figured largely in his dreams for several weeks. Then there was a party, presents, and the unpleasant sensation of barfing up some sort of cake.
He woke from that one with a headache, a really bad taste in his mouth—which, for a creature that regularly belched fire was unusual—and a strong desire for a couple of lakes worth of fresh water. Finally, when one restless night he found himself tossing and turning and constantly dressing and undressing a small doll, he awoke knowing that enough wasenough. It was time to seek counsel from the eldest and wisest dragon of them all—Dandelion.
Vegeta wasn't thrilled at the thought, since Dandelion—so called because of a fluffy tuft of hair that flew off his head at regular intervals—was renowned as having the worst temper in the Kingdom. With the possible exception of the King after the Queen birthed yet another daughter. But, being a desperate dragon with some deep-seated fears about his own sexual identity, Vegeta girded his loins—or at least firmed up his sYamchaach muscles—and headed out to the Shadowed Vale where Dandelion lived a solitary existence. The stench of sulphur greeted him about five miles downwind, thus Dandelion was pretty easy to locate.
Vegeta simply followed the smell. "Er…'scuse me?" He landed awkwardly on a couple of rocks and stumbled a little before righting himself. "Sir? Mr. Dandelion?" The massive creature raised his head from the tangled coil of body and wings, to open one eye lazily. "What?" Not an auspicious beginning, but Vegeta was a dragon on a mission. "I need to consult with you." "Take a number." Dandelion lowered his head and apparently went back to sleep. "There aren't any." Vegeta looked around. "Numbers, I mean. There isn't anybody else here, actually." "You don't say." Dandelion yawned. "Well in that case, speak your piece. And make it quick. It's time for my nap." Vegeta held his tongue and did not point out that it appeared any time was time for the old dragon's nap.
No point in pissing off somebody one was about to ask for help. "Well, you see, it's like this…" He settled his tail more comfortably and kicked the sharper of the rocks out from under his ass where it was digging into his delicate underbelly. By the time he'd finished his recital—telling Dandelion all about the dreams—the old dragon had both eyes open and was staring at Vegeta in a rather unnerving way. "Well, I'll be damned." That pronouncement was followed by a small belch of smoke. "Sorry." Dandelion waved a foot in front of his mouth. "Shouldn't have had that yog-boar chili last night." He unfurled his body and farted thunderously. "See what I mean?" Vegeta blinked the tears away from his eyes as several birds, who unfortunately happened to be flying past at the same time as Dandelion's gut released its gas, dropped from the skies like feathered hailstones.
"Er, yes." "Well. Seems you've got a problem here, huh?" Dandelion idly scratched his tuft of hair, sending bits of it in showers around his shoulders. "Let me think a bit." Thinkinglooked a lot likenapping to Vegeta's untutored eyes, but after about an hour or so of "thinking", Dandelion lifted his head once more and focused blearily on Vegeta. "You know what this is, then, don't you?" Vegeta blinked. "Er…no. As a matter of fact, I don't. That's why I came to you, oh wise one." Dandelion wrinkled his already-wrinkled nose. "You can cut out the ass-kissing shit. I gave up being impressed with that crap a long time ago." "Um…okay." Would this darned creature ever get to the point? "To get to the point…" Well thank the gods for that at least…
"You've got a case of humanoid-reptilian occipital transference." He paused. "Or else you're a raving pervert with poorly repressed homosexual tendencies." Vegeta swallowed. "I think I prefer the former." He thought for a minute. "What is that anyway?" Dandelion grinned, showing several rather yellowed teeth. "You've got a mind link with a princess, asshole." "Huh? What's a princess's asshole got to do with it?" The old dragon sighed and scratched at his balls inside his pouch.
"I heard tell that many generations ago, you know—like back before time and stuff—dragons were bonded to humans. For each dragon, there was one special human with whom they could communicate." "Really?" Vegeta's eyes opened wide. "No, I'm making this shit up as I go along." Dandelion huffed a smoke ring from one nostril. "Of course, you fucking twit. You didn't come all this way for fun, did you?" Vegeta shut his mouth and shook his head. "So listen up. Someplace there's a human you've got a mind link with. You're getting into its dreams. Sounds like they're girly dreams, so I figure it's gotta be a female. And the odds are pretty good it's a princess. This is a frickin' fairy tale ya know." He sighed. "Lucky you. I wouldn't say no to a bit of tart in my dreams now and again…" Vegeta cleared his throat.
"So what do I do about it?" "Do?" Dandelion shook his head, dislodging more hair. "There's nothing you can do. You're stuck with her. You gotta protect her, do what she says, go where she goes, carry her on your back if she wants…" He snickered. "Kind of like being married except without the sex." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Oh swell." He was never going to get laid at this rate, nor was he ever going to find his freedom. "So I'm destined for a life as a fire-breathing puppy for some dipshit female with delusions of grandeur who does nothing but practice a royal wave of her hand." "Don't take it hard, lad." Dandelion looked sympathetic.
"It's a gift. A rare gift. Hasn't happened in…" He counted silently, ran out of claws, then shrugged. "Well, it hasn't happened in a long time." A wise eye raked over Vegeta. "Gotta be a reason for it." Vegeta sighed. "You know something, old dude? I'm pretty fucking sick of all this mystical magic and legend shit. If I could've kept my dick in my britches I'd still be there now, herding cows or something, instead of becoming a frickin' dragon." Dandelion's eyebrows rose. "Sounds like you fucked with a fairy, kid." Vegeta wrinkled his nostrils. "How did you guess? Of course, I didn't tell you that or it nullifies clause seventeen in the spell or something." Vegeta's voice was morose.
"All I wanted was a bit of nookie, you know?" "It comes with a high price, lad. Sometimes too high a price." Dandelion stretched, a bone-cracking reach of claws and tail. "Like I said, there's gotta be a reason for it. Maybe it'll help you get your freedom back. Sure as shit you weren't meant to be a dragon." Vegeta bridled at that, flexing his muscles. "You don't think so? Personally, I figure I'm doing okay at it." The older dragon chuckled. "Yeah. If you want your bod all over some romance novel cover." "What's wrong with that?" Vegeta was affronted.
"Nothin'. Nothin' at all. But you're a real dragon, boy. Not a cover model for a dragon.They never get the heroine, do they? Usually all they get for their hard work is a sword up the ass from some overbearing schmuck in a tin suit with a grudge against dragons who thinks he's gonna get into the pants of the heroine by slaying one." Dandelion settled down once more. "Look, if I were you, I wouldn't worry too much about this whole linking thing. Sounds like you got a few years yet before anything too exciting is gonna happen since you're still at the naked doll stage. Let it go for a bit and see where you end up." He snuffled a little.
"Nothing gained by rushing into anything." Vegeta realized that Dandelion probably hadn't rushed into anything for several centuries, so he filed this piece of wisdom under "yeah right". Disconsolate, Vegeta headed home. He had received assurances that he wasn't a crazily mixed-up sexual pervert, which certainly went into the "plus" column. In addition, he'd apparently developed a link with a human—something that hadn't happened in untold ages. Another thing for the "plus" column. It didn't, however, involve the chance of meeting any female dragons and getting laid. A large entry into the "minus" column. And it didn't—at the moment anyway—seem to exhibit any signs of breaking the spell cast upon him.
Which pretty much sent the "minus" column into overload and Vegeta's spirits plummeting into his boots. Or where he would have been wearing boots if he wasn't a dragon. Tiredly, he flew back to his roost and moped in the familiarity of his own nest. Life, not to put too fine a point on it, sucked. He was destined to be at the beck and call of some royal no-brainer who played with dolls. He'd never regain his human form, and—worst of all—he'd never get any decent sex to speak of. With this miserable conclusion uppermost in his mind, Vegeta dozed off. Only to dream again, but this time not of dolls or birthday parties. This time, he dreamed of Princess School .
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