Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z, nor do I own any part of the Dragon Ball franchise.

Bulma puttered about the garden gleefully, picking her way through the rubble and bodies that outnumbered the edible plants.

She winced when her travel-eaten house slippers stepped on what looked like a piece of someone's toilet. The Blue-Haired, Blue-Eyed One sucked in the inside of her cheek and hopped up and down in pain while cradling her foot to her chest. Take that, physics.

When Bulma set her foot down, she nudged what looked like a little bushel of unripe strawberries, pale with youth. They'd be terribly sour and would probably give her a tummy ache, but maybe if she kept them in her bra, they'd ripen in there?

Man, her roaring stomach was beginning to deafen her brain. Bulma decisively left the strawberries alone, though she plucked the seeds off of the strawberry's skin.

Maybe she could plant the seeds somewhere.

She tucked it away in the childish gum-ball machine ring that had a plastic gem that opened up to sparkly strawberry-flavored lip gloss under it, but the lip gloss was long gone. She hid the seeds there.

The wind was lecherously pushing her night gown up, flashing whatever remaining life forms on Earth the granny panties Bulma wore only while she was on her period.

Speaking of which, it felt like her tampon was dripping blood down her leg. Damn her six-day cycle! It was day three, so from here on out, her flow would lighten up. It had been nightmarish hunting through the remains of her once very posh neighborhood for some Tampax.

"Mother Nature, you are such a slut." She mumbled absent-mindedly, whilst toting a box of Tampax under her arm. "I need iron in my diet when I'm on my period, damn it!"

One arm swished in front of her like a zombie's; she might as well be one. Brains might taste nice if properly cooked with a side of small intestines - oh, drat, her own brilliant brain was becoming more unstable by the second.

Because most nineteen year-olds didn't wake up to the sounds of her parents screaming while aliens punched holes through their guts and finished all the milk. The two aliens who had pillaged Capsule Corps. must have been all brawn and no brains, since they didn't bother taking anything from the lab.

Bulma had been in the lab.

The night before, right after bathing and dressing in a white nightie and slippers, she had tinkered with a tiny tracking device for her father's things, since he had the nifty talent of forgetting where he put his things. The girl genius had fallen asleep right there and then.

Bulma didn't have a hero complex; the blood-curdling shrieks for help and following boisterous bouts of laughter told her that bubbly mother and scatter-brained father were in harm's way. A small part of her wanted to run into the house to find them, but her self-preserving part of her told her to hide under the large desk that held the lab rats. Bulma had pulled her knees to her chest, and her lips to her knees. Cold jolts of fear froze her veins. Her pulse throbbed painfully in her neck, and her instincts were screaming that something was terribly wrong, if the loud crashing and cackling and shouting were any indication. She also had to pee.

Then the lab doors were ripped open and her heart began raging against her ribcage. She saw two pairs of feet; on fitted with white boots, the other horned and hot pink.

The feet walked past her. A soft sigh escaped her, but she froze when the tapping of their feet stopped. Bulma was sure she was going to die when the feet went to the table where at the she was hiding under.

But then a nasally voice had said, "What are those things?"

A deep voice snickered. "Earthlings have the strangest things."

Earthlings? A puzzled look came across Bulma's face.

A loud squeak told her that one of those beings had plucked out a white lab rat out of its tank. The squeak intensified when she heard the fine bones of the rat's body cracking. Blood splattered the floor next to her.

With a chuckle, the dead rat dropped down next to Bulma's feet.

To her horror, it was mangled beyond recognition, with it fur in bloody shreds and its bones poking out of its body, splintered beyond belief. Whatever those things were, they were strong. Really strong. Inhumanely so.

Earthlings. Inhumane. Horned pink feet. White boots.

A sob built in her chest. Bulma had clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to smother it.

When the lab doors closed, she sat stonily for hours. She shakily stood on her feet, stepping over the dead rat and towards the doors. Once outside, Bulma followed the bloody trail towards her home.

At least, what was left of it. The windows and doors looked like they had been melted off. The fridge was upturned, the walls were falling apart, and her parents were slumped over the broken kitchen table, two gaping, gushing holes going through both of their chests.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Bulma's throat closed. She stood there, staring at her murdered parents and her wrecked house. She whipped around in cold fear, paranoid that the aliens were hiding, waiting to kill her. Nothing came but silence.

She had escaped death. If she had fallen asleep in her room, she would have been killed while having breakfast with her parents.

She would be another body count. Just another body amongst the rest of Earth's population.

If only she had ran into the house when she heard their screams.

Then Bulma Briefs would be dead too. She was supposed to have died that morning.

But she had stayed selfish. The princess hid and saved herself.

Guilt tried to join grief, but self-preservation reminded her that even if she had run into the kitchen to play hero, she would have been killed anyway; it wasn't like Bulma could kill two planet-purging aliens.

That day, Bulma had carried her mom and dad back to their bed. Her hands went to her Daddy's purple moustache that twitched when he gave her a whimsical smile. She stared at the smile-worn eyelids of her mother's youthful face. Bulma covered them with their sheets. Her stomach clenched tightly.

So she cleaned the blood off the floor before the house started to collapse around her and before she vomited.

And so here she was, meandering around a dead planet. To Bulma's dismay, the supermarket was blown up, so she headed to the mall.

Blown up, too.

Bulma sat down on a bench flanking the little garden behind a house.

It still hadn't sunk in that most of Earth's population had been wiped out by alien pirates. Her insides just felt very hollow with her gut waxing omens to her instincts.

Death would be visiting soon to finish the job Fate had interrupted.

As she had done with the other two houses in her area, Bulma strolled right into the home, through the back door. The latest trend in everyone's home was empty fridges in undignified positions and dead people.

Bulma plugged her nose at the odor that corpses let out after a while and headed to the bathroom. Taking a shower was becoming rather exciting since she never knew what she would find in other peoples' bathrooms.

This bathroom was tiny. The shampoo was for color-treated hair and the bar of soap Bulma found was slowly dying into a vanilla-scented sliver.

The shampoo smelled nice. Bulma was just thankful to wash out the sweat and oil that threaded her shoulder-length aqua hair. Egad, improper hygiene.

Bulma found herself in a master bedroom that, for the first time since the Earth suffered her apocalypse three days ago, had a closet with clothes that fit her.

This was a family of three; a MILF, a daddy, and a toddler.

Bulma wormed into a pair of jean shorts and a yellow top with white polka-dots. The panties fit fine, but the bra was a bit loose, even for Bulma.

As she fell back onto the canopy bed behind her, she mused quietly, "Aren't I doing what those aliens did? Except without killing anybody?"

She turned over with her nose in a pillow. It smelled distinctly male. Bulma rolled onto her back.

"This is the life, huh? Free showers, free clothes," She shifted onto her stomach and whistled at the silence. "Nobody around..."

She rolled onto her back. With a loud sigh, she yelled at the ceiling, "I'm bored!"

Bulma sat up sharply. "Listen up, Bulma. We're one of the last survivors on Earth and we're surviving by free-loading. There's nothing to do now but gather supplies and look for some survivors," With a weak smile, she feebly added, "Who knows, there might be a banging-hot stud muffin who I'll need to repopulate the Earth with. But first, I need my beauty sleep."

"The Earth is still high in natural resources. It would be wise to collect them immediately," The King's advisor advised shrewdly.

"Fine," King Vegeta waved flippantly. As an afterthought, he added, "I would like to bring back any Earthlings that survived the purging. I wouldn't mind some alien babes. You said the Earthlings were similar in physical composition to Saiyans?"

"Minus the tail,"

"Of course,"

"Who are you sending?"

"Kakarot and Vegeta. The prince is becoming lazy,"

"Oh? Am I the one who sits himself on his throne all day doing absolutely nothing but harassing his son's chambermaids?"

Said (lazy) Prince of all Saiyans stalked into the room with a trademark scowl on his face.

The advisor left swiftly.

"Come now, boy. Toying with the women takes time and energy. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it,"

Prince Vegeta sneered in disgust. "Vulgar old man. You are lucky that Mother is dead or else you would be missing both of your tails,"

"Don't get fresh with me, brat. At least I have an active interest in women,"

"Women are needy harpies. I can do without,"

"You will marry if you intend to take my place,"

"Saiyan women are too manly," Vegeta admitted.

"Ah. You have my taste in women. Our chambermaids are all alien women, very pretty things, no?"

"I would not spoil royal Saiyan blood with some alien bitch's,"

"In other words, my son is a prude who can't pull any tail?"

"Old man, I am going to butcher you if you don't shut your fucking face," Vegeta hissed as his patience snapped.

"Oh, fine. I was merely suggesting that you might be inclined towards exotic women, but-"

"What planet am I destroying?"

"You are not to destroy Earth. Gather the natural resources and scout for survivors. Bring only the females back. Then report to Zarbon,"

Vegeta rolled his eyes at his King.

"Fucking horny bastard." He muttered before stomping out to find Kakarot.

The King's advisor quietly returned to the throne room.

"Your Highness, won't Lord Freiza be angry at you for destroying a perfectly profitable planet?"

"After Vegeta and Kakarot are through with it, it won't be worth anything. Frieza will send Zarbon to inspect it for any value. Without women or good resources, he will order him to destroy Earth. One less planet for the Ice Empire,"

"Surely he will begin to notice…?"

"Surely not if this is done without a recognizable pattern. Or if word does not get out. Should I hear of spies, I will see to it that my son has a new toy to torture,"

"I am loyal to you and only you, Your Highness,"

"Damn right you are,"

"But he sent Tollsha and Zibeth to purge it-"

"Tollsha is a Saiyan, and a clever one at that. Zibeth is an idiotic Durian. Tollsha did all the reporting while Zibeth was purging. Told Frieza that Earth was a barren wasteland with idiotic creatures on it."

The King's advisor frowned.

"ON DONNER, ON BLITZEN!" Bulma gasped awake.

There was a little drool dribbling down her chin that she wiped away wildly.

"Meow," A ball of fur greeted from her head.

Bulma had been dreaming about wearing a fuzzy hat that turned into a shark's jaws. The jaws had been the little black cat on her head clawing into her scalp.

"Meow?"

She gently pulled him off of her damp aqua head. Holding the kitten under its armpits, she stared at him.

"Meow,"

"You know, cat, you look a lot like Daddy's cat, Scratch. You can be Itch,"

"Meow," Itch approved.

"Looks like I didn't have to look too far for a survivor, huh?"

"Meow," Cat-speak for, "I guess."

"You peed in my hair, didn't you?"

"Meow," Itch confessed.

Bulma spent her morning furiously trying to scrub out the smell of cat pee. After several washes and a generous amount of perfume, the smell was gone.

Her stomach was grumbling at her. The kitchen was virtually empty and smelled like dead people, so Bulma gulped down some of her shower instead. Itch joined her shortly. The water shut her grumpy tummy up.

She stepped out of the shower naked and went about finding some socks and sneakers. Bulma rifled through the closet and decided on a tight, dark pink camisole and yellow cotton short-shorts with drawstrings.

She even had the luxury of blow-drying her hair straight, though at the expense of Itch hissing at her like she was the Anti-Christ.

Bulma's vanity drew her to the full-length mirror, where she wolf-whistled at herself. "Girl, you must be a model,"

Itch rubbed his head against her legs, purring in agreement.

"It's nice out, Itch. Let's go for a walk." Bulma gathered the black cat in her arms and left. She was walking for a while, until she suddenly heard a thunderous crash, followed by another ungodly crash that had her eardrums ringing and her body trembling and Itch's tail bristling.

To her horror, she saw the road splitting and veining under her feet. Self-preservation told her to run, run like the fucking wind, Bulma! Curiosity was holding a gun to Itch's head.

Bulma learned her lesson three days ago; to always listen to her instincts if she intended to stay alive. She bolted back inside the house, past the dead family of three, and up to the master bedroom. She slammed the door of the master bedroom and dove under the covers. Itch mewled at her.

"Hush, kitty."

Itch yowled indignantly.

Bulma shivered under the blanket, stroking Itch's fur absently. Itch let out a thoughtful meow, that in Cat-speak that translated to, "You know, human, those crashes sounded a lot like you're about to die."

She sent Itch a sour look. "Black cats really do bring bad luck, don't they?"

"Earth is real pretty. The sky is blue, Vegeta. Blue,"

The two Saiyans stepped out of their respective space pods.

"Quiet," Vegeta demanded waspishly. "I'm trying to focus,"

"Oh, sorry 'bout that,"

"Just shut up, Kakarot,"

Kakarot saluted with a bright smile and began sniffing. Vegeta could only think that his father sent the bumbling buffoon along with him because of Kakarot's senses, which were alarmingly sharper than any other Saiyan's. That, and that he was the Prince's royal body guard.

The taller Saiyan reeled suddenly, and he slapped a hand over his nose with an, "OW!"

"What?" Vegeta impatiently grunted.

"It smells!"

"I realize that, Kakarot. There are decomposing aliens everywhere. It's not supposed to smell like rainbows and flowers, you moron,"

"Actually, it does smell like rainbows and flowers,"

Vegeta speared the younger Saiyan with an icy glare.

"It's a really girly smell coming from a mile or so away,"

Vegeta sniffed.

Then his lips curled up into a smirk.

"Well, well, well, Kakarot. Looks like you are useful for something. Now I can have my boots washed for the first time this month. A human bitch will keep the old man busy. He keeps tiring out my chambermaids - my quarters haven't been cleaned since who knows when," The Saiyan royalty muttered irritably.

"I hear you. One of my maids couldn't walk for a week after King Vegeta borrowed her. I wonder why. Maybe they were sparring or something…"

"Hn. That's one way to put it."

The Saiyans walked towards the overpowering scent, Vegeta stomping on anything in his way; Kakarot stepping over anything in his way.

They came upon a round compound that was battered and broken like every other one the Saiyans saw on their short visit to the little blue planet. Vegeta stepped in through a hole in the wall, followed by Kakarot, who had to bow his upper body to fit into the space his Prince entered through with ease.

"That smell is coming from up there," Kakarot pointed. He became distracted by a tasty looking alien woman limp and bloody over a broken table. The soldier pulled off her arm and sniffed before taking a bite.

Vegeta turned with an annoyed twitch to his brow to see what had distracted his comrade. His stomach growled in response while watching Kakarot munch on the dark flesh. Vegeta ripped off the woman's other limb and began eating as well.

"Mmm. Not bad, Vegeta. Humans taste pretty good. Kinda sweet, though,"

"Hn."

After the snack, Vegeta strutted up the stairs with Kakarot behind him, taking their sweet time. The scent was undeniably female, now that Vegeta was close to the source, though heavily cloaked in other fragrances. If anything, it made his head spin.

Finally, Vegeta and Kakarot stood before the door where the smell came from.

With a grin, Vegeta kicked the door down.

Itch poked a claw at Bulma's left boob. The look on his face told her that hiding under the covers was probably not a good idea when the sound of feet and talking came from downstairs.

Bulma had half a mind to roll under the bed, but the fact that whoever they were pin-pointed this one house out of all the desolation was an indication that whoever they were, they knew she was here.

That crashing...could definitely be the alien spaceships landing.

Now Bulma was regretting how she scoffed at the homeless crying about the world coming to an end three days ago.

Bulma's throat constricted when she heard murmuring from behind the door.

Then, the door burst open.

Actually, that was a gross understatement; the door was ripped off its hinges and then promptly turned into saw dust.

A long pause stretched out.

Bulma was breathing heavily and quivering like a leaf; Itch stretched lazily on his stomach.

"Gee, Kakarot," A deep, gravelly voice, with a curl of an accent said sarcastically. "Where oh where is our little human friend hiding?"

Even if he wasn't Saiyan, he would have found the Earthling squirming on the bed dead-center in the room.

Vegeta decided to humor her.

Kakarot blinked at the Prince. "Vegeta, she's right there. She's on that bed,"

Vegeta pursed his lips, willing himself not to obliterate the fool.

"Hey, Vegeta," Kakarot whispered and jabbed a thumb at the black tail snaking out of the blanket. They watched with rapt interest when a fair, slender hand shot out and grabbed the tail.

Then there was yowling. Lots of yowling.

"You know, Kakarot, I feel offended," Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Is she even trying?"

"For your information, monsters can't get you if you hide under the covers! GOD! Everyone knows that!"

There was a stunned silence that followed.

"…I mean…meow,"

Then Bulma said her prayers and mentally signed her last will and testament. Itch would be receiving all her property when these two flayed her. Her small comfort was that a cat would hold her eulogy. "You better have nice things to say about me after I die." She muttered angrily to Itch. "I'm really pretty and really smart and really charming. Remember that."

Vegeta raised a dark brow.

The tall Saiyan came around the canopy bed to peel the covers back.

He was met with resistance, as two female hands clutched the covers over her head stubbornly.

"Kakarot, her power level is four," Vegeta dead-panned when his comrade struggled.

"Really? This thing's power level is six," Kakarot paused playing tug-of-war with the Earthling and grabbed the furry black animal by the scruff of its neck. It mewed at him. A smile lit up his face.

"Vegeta! This thing's really cute-"

"My power level is lower than a kitten's?" Bulma squawked in outrage. She tore the sheets away from her being and leapt up. She shot the cat an accusing glare. "Itch?"

"Merrrow," Itch rubbed his ear on the tall, spiky-haired man's wrist.

Kakarot stared at Bulma. Kakarot stared at Itch. Bulma stared at Kakarot. More so, she stared at his muscles.

"Uh...hey there, Stud Muffin. Haven't seen you around these parts," Bulma said nervously.

He stared down at her blankly. Then he turned his head towards the man at the doorframe. Her wide blue eyes followed.

He was short, but a head of thick, dark, spiky, fuck-you-gravity hair shaped like a flame lent him extra height. While vertically-lacking, his presence was intimidating and aristocratic enough to make Bulma shrink in her boots if she were wearing any. The dangerous air around him was practically tangible, as it reached out and strangled her fight instincts and jump-started her flight instincts. His head was tilted in a way that made him look down at anybody who dared to look him in the face and his arms were crossed over his chest in frosty unavailability. His face looked pinched, like he was in a bitchy mood, but his features were sharp and handsome, with a cute little nose and alert eyes black enough to absorb the sun.

And oh my, that blue spandex suit over golden skin with those rippling muscles underneath...

Man, these guys were built. Bulma's face felt very hot all of a sudden.

"Vegeta," The man standing in front of Bulma whispered loudly. He held Itch up like the cat was Simba. "I want to keep him,"

Sharp eyes flashed to hers. Coal black met bright blue. He ran his eyes over her body in a way that had pleasant chills shooting down her spine. Then Vegeta's stare returned to glare at the man cuddling Itch adoringly.

"And you are?" Bulma turned back to the cheerful man towering over.

The man beamed down at her. Itch had made his way onto the man's shoulder. The cat was nuzzling his cheek and purring loudly.

"Hi! I'm Kakarot. What's your name?"

Bulma bit her bottom lip, her brain frazzled. There was no way some murderous alien could be such an animal-loving happy ass, could he? She scrutinized the goofy smile on his handsome face and investigated for malicious intent. All she found was genuine curiosity and good-nature.

"Bulma Briefs," She announced proudly. She crossed her arms and shot a glare at the other man, Vegeta, was it? Him, he was definitely capable of malicious intent. "Are you the dorks who destroyed my planet?"

Vegeta pointed a finger at her. A bright yellow beam shot out from it.

Bulma yelped. The bottom of her dark pink cami curled up as a small fire devoured the stretchy material.

"STOP, DROP, AND ROLL, GIRL! STOP, DROP, AND ROLL."

Kakarot watched on curiously as the blue-haired alien rolled and rolled and rolled until she was at Vegeta's feet. The other Saiyan nuzzled his cheek to the cat's face and disapprovingly scolded, "That wasn't very nice of you, Vegeta."

Bulma shot up and pointed a finger at Vegeta's face, that while usually expressionless, held a bit of sick amusement.

"You set me on fire!"

"Shame. I was aiming for that ridiculous hair of yours," His stare dropped to the pale skin of the woman's exposed midriff and the soft dip of her small waist. Black tatters ended the strange pink garment that did nothing to cover her slim arms, slender neck, and the tops of her plump breasts that swelled when she crossed her arms under them. The garish yellow shorts showcased the creamy skin of her shapely legs and the curve of her hips.

Vegeta brought his eyes back to her face and that ridiculous hair of hers.

In all the planet-purging and intergalactic gallivanting he'd done, he'd never seen a creature with hair like hers. It was obnoxiously bright and blue, like this blasted planet's sky. It was also the source of the overwhelming sweet scent he and Kakarot had smelled. It fell softly down, hovering above sloping shoulders, instead of spiking like a Saiyan's. If anything, it was comparable to threads of teal silk woven into her scalp. As for her eyes, Vegeta had seen blue eyes before, but Saiyans were mostly all monotonously dark-haired and dark-eyed with the rare exceptions.

Pink lips were moving rapidly and blue brows were pinned together angrily, but Vegeta occupied his eyes with the sight of her heaving chest and raging baby blue glare.

Saiyan women were more...rough around the edges. Their hair was coarse, stiff, and black, their eyes narrower than this harpy's wide, crystal blues, their skin tanner and tougher. The Prince of All Saiyans knew if he applied even a little pressure onto that milky skin of hers, he would bruise the soft flesh. Hell, Saiyan infants probably had harder skin. The females on his planet were strong and aloof, never affectionate and never ones for emotional attachment; it would not do if a woman bawled over her mate at the mention of battle or death. This one looked like she would cry if he pinched her.

In short, Vegeta was beginning to think of what his father had said.

"You have my taste in women."

Alien women?

Vegeta snorted.

"-and don't you dare snort at me!"

"Kakarot, what has this woman been bitching about?"

"Iunno. I wasn't listening either," The taller Saiyan held Itch from his tail, and watched the creature pawing at him and making miserable mewling noises as he tried to scramble back on to the giant's shoulder.

"Men," Bulma huffed. Her tone became serious. "Are there any survivors on Earth besides me?"

Vegeta looked down at the woman and shrugged. "Probably. Though, now that I've dealt with an actual Earthling, I don't think I want to bring any more back to my home,"

"Come on," Bulma wheedled. "Just find another girl, please? Please? With sprinkles, Your Highness? I'm lonely,"

He stared down at her stoically.

"Vegeta..." She purred coyly, and shoved her arms up further so her boobs spilled out some more. He stubbornly held his gaze on her face, but in a moment that Bulma could have missed if she hadn't been staring back just as stubbornly, his eyes flickered down before jumping back to her face.

She smirked.

He scowled.

"Kakarot," He ordered, still giving the woman the stink-eye. "Sniff out another woman."

A soft smile broke across Bulma's face and her eyes softened as well. Her arms fell to her sides. She boldly stood on her tippy-toes and popped a kiss onto the Prince of all Saiyan's cheek.

Don't worry about Bulma. She won't be all lol-everyone-I-know-and-love-has-been-killed-but-there-is-hot-Saiyan-ass-to-be-pulled-so-fuck-the-Earth.

Angst will be dispersed throughout the story, but this will mainly by humor and romance and smut and maybe lemons if I feel like abusing the M rating.

Happy reading!

-Pony.