DISCLAIMER: Vegeta and DBZ belong to Akira Toriyama. Vegeta's soul belongs to me, but only because I stole it (and also because it, um, doesn't exist ... seeing as how he's a fictional character and all). The internet is a series of tubes, and thus belongs to no one. No one but itself, that is.
WARNING: This fic contains a lot of bad language, and a lot of references to some rather "taboo" sexual acts. Let me just say, unless you have a very open mind, you might be a redneck (actually I meant to say 'disgusted' … sorry, I love Jeff Foxworthy. Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader is the best game show ever!!!! Those kids are so smart!!!) Anyway, I can't tell you specifically WHAT the nasty sexual things you might encounter are, because that would spoil the story for you. So just consider yourself WARNED!!! Also nothing, absolutely nothing, in this fic is meant to be taken seriously. So please don't. Oh, and be careful of your internet when reading this story; it's not a truck, you know, it's a series of tubes!!!!! And yes, I am fully aware that this is an old, old, very very old quotation. But to me, it's still just as funny as it was the first time. So I feel that I am obliged to beat the proverbial dead horse.
The Internet is a Series of Tubes
Normally, when Vegeta entered a room he waltzed in as though he owned the place.
Anyone else currently occupying said room would no doubt be aware of his presence as he announced it in every way possible, including shouting the occasional, "I'm coming in so you'd better get the Hell out of there!" He mostly shouted that particular phrase when he caught a whiff of Trunks' ki masturbating in a place where a Saiyan most certainly should not masturbate, such as in his mother's lab or his grandmother's garden. Vegeta never had been able to fathom what the Hell his son found so erotic about machines and flowers, anyway. Then again, Trunks seemed to have absolutely no interest in women—which made his father suspicious that he was either gay, or sexually attracted to inanimate objects. Vegeta desperately hoped that it was the latter, as then he could buy the boy a blow-up doll and hope the phase passed on its own. If not … well, Bulma would just have to make a hollow cylindrical invention that their son could use for his pleasure. And if it turned out that the boy was a homo … well, there was no way he'd let his son would be an uke for Kakarott's damn brat! If it came to that, he'd have to kill them both. It would be the only way to preserve his honor and pride as a Saiyan Prince. On the other hand, as long as his son was the seme, it would at least be better than ejaculating onto the damn flower beds.
Or so Vegeta had thought at one time.
At the current moment, however, Vegeta was creeping through his house—which was really a giant dome that belonged to Capsule Corporation, his father-in-law's company—on tiptoe, trying and failing to act incognito. Vegeta never had been good at the whole "hiding" thing. His hair stuck up way too much, his footfalls were naturally heavy, and he had the Saiyan version of Tourette's Syndrome, which caused him to involuntarily shout out exclamations such as "You bastard!" or "I'll send you to the next dimension!" in the midst of battle, and "Bitch!! I'll fucking kill you!!" during sex, which had often gotten him kicked out of bed. In the end, he'd been forced to show Bulma a doctor's note saying that he couldn't help it due to his medical condition; even so, she still made him wear a gag during sex, in order to muffle his obscene cries. But at least she'd never discovered that the only way he'd been able to get a doctor's note was by threatening to kill the doctor if he didn't write one; Bulma would probably kick him out of bed permanently if she found out about that incident! Then again, she might not be too pleased to find out about the incident last year involving the 23 prostitutes, a 40 oz of liquor, a very drunk Goku, a stolen roulette table and slot machine, and 15 previously-owned Halloween masks/costumes either, but thankfully Vegeta knew that anything that happened in Vegas was meant to stay in Vegas!
But, moving back to the current moment for a moment, Vegeta currently wore a much-too-short bathrobe that barely covered his man-parts (which was only a problem due to the fact that he preferred to go commando), fuzzy slippers that he'd found in the back of his closet, and a pair of glasses with fake eyebrows and a fake nose attached, which as his rather poor attempt to hide his identity. For some reason, he had not taken into consideration the fact that only family members were allowed in this wing of the dome, and that upon seeing him, anyone in their right mind would burst into laughter. And after the laughter had come and gone, that person would no doubt recognize him. And then, upon recognition that this funny-looking person was not just anyone, but Vegeta—the Vegeta—the person who had mistakenly come upon him would burst into laughter once more, and bore a good chance of quite literally winding up, as they say on the internets, ROFLOL—rolling on the floor, while at the same time laughing out loud. Furthermore, he had originally put a newsboy cap atop his head to complete his disguise, yet the hair which he had so unceremoniously stuffed underneath said capped had almost immediately afterwards sprung up of its own accord, throwing said cap aside as though said cap had never even been atop his head in the first place. Thus, his disguise was, in a word, inadequate, ineffective, and incomplete.
In this terrible disguise, he attempted to sneak into what had been termed as "his" study, which made absolutely no sense since Vegeta refused to study anything, even simple manners or the English language for that matter. Yet it was inside this very study, which Bulma had set up for him for some reason or another that he neither knew nor cared about, that he could find the object of his careful preparations, for which he had disguised himself so poorly and attempted to creep without making his presence known.
The object of his desire was … his computer.
Yes, Bulma had bought for him, along with the fine mahogany furniture in the study—most of which were replacements for the previous mahogany furniture, which he had accidentally broken in a fit of rage along with his first computer—a sleek and beautiful laptop with a navy blue sheen—his favorite color! It was upon this very laptop—or rather, the predecessor to this very laptop, which was completely identical in every way to the current laptop, since they had been purchased merely one day apart—that he had first discovered the wonderful series of tubes better known as the internet.
Ah, the internet. Unbeknownst to his wife, Vegeta was currently having an affair via the internet—and he was willing to go to any lengths to make sure that this fact never became known to anyone aside from his computer, the other party, and himself.
What he had seen that first day when he had logged onto the internet had enraged him so much that he had let out an explosion of rage, which had initially destroyed the beautiful study that Bulma had worked so hard at preparing for him. And yet, the very next day when his study had been repaired and a new computer purchased for his private and personal use, it was that very same thing that had so enraged him that pulled him back into the welcoming arms of this series of tubes known as the internet. And he had soon become so enthralled in their embrace that he had forsaken everything else in his life, begun an affair, and blocked all of those damn usernames that kept popping up on his screen when he was in the middle of conducting his affair, including usernames such as SaiyanPrincessBra (which had at some point changed to Trunksizanubxp), Trunksiz2kewl4uluzerscapsulecorp.dbz, and BulmaisaGeniuswithaCapitalG. Damn annoying brats and woman!! Why couldn't they learn to mind their own business?!
He conveniently ignored the fact that he wasn't particularly good at minding his own business, either.
Nonetheless, Vegeta had finally reached his destination undetected. He rushed inside his study, slammed the door shut and locked it with both the key, the two chains and the three deadbolts he had installed upon the door to ensure his utmost privacy. He had also ripped out the window in the wall and put in its place a large slab of concrete, so that none might be able to see into his private abode. And there, sitting calmly at the center of the large mahogany desk, was his own personal computer, his gateway to the series of tubes formerly known as the internet superhighway.
Vegeta tore off the glasses with the fake nose and eased himself out of his bathrobe, though he kept the fuzzy slippers on—they were quite comfortable, actually! He slowly sat down in his chair, powered on his laptop, and waited about ten minutes for it to boot up. Once it had finally booted up, he opened his preferred internet application, with which he would "surf" the web, or at least select his preferred tube amongst the series of which the internet was constructed. Once his preferred internet application appeared on the screen, he set his fingers upon the keyboard and typed onto the keyboard, "dbz bulma hentai."
He'd been furious the first time he discovered naked pictures of his wife posted all over the internet. But after he blew up his study, he couldn't stop thinking about them. Bulma really had been hot when she was younger, but the years had not been kind to her. She'd put on a lot of weight when he'd knocked her up for the second time, and had opted for a combination C-section plus tummy-tuck. After that, she'd kept going back for more and more plastic surgery. Her skin, once so vibrant and youthful, had been ruined by years of indulging her chain smoking habit of five packs a day. Her face had been rendered nearly unrecognizable by all the plastic surgery. And her body, which had once been so gorgeous as to entrance him and trap him into "accidentally" knocking her up (though she later admitted that she had planned Trunks' birth all along), was now so diminished by tummy tucks and liposuction and various other surgical procedures that it made him cringe to look at it. He, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as the day he'd first landed on earth, with rock-hard abs, soft-yet-supple black hair that stayed in place without the use of numerous styling products or hairspray, and a cock the size of a ruler. A very large ruler, to be exact. In fact, one might say that Vegeta's cock was even larger than his ego—which would be surprising, since there really weren't all that many things that were larger than Vegeta's gigantic ego!
And so, stuck with a mate who was no spring chicken while he himself was still a stud not yet ready to be sent to pasture, he had turned to the internet to satisfy his passions. As he browsed through the pictures of his wife when she was young, beautiful, and very, very naked, he began to drool. Although the idea of other men looking at these same pictures and reacting the same way as him had once made him seethe with jealousy, he now only pitied them; after all, he'd had the real thing, and none of them ever would! Then again, none of them had to live with her now either; and for that, they were the lucky ones!
"Why the fuck do Saiyans have to mate for life," he muttered under his breath as he wrapped his hand around his hot, hard erection and began to stroke it while he continued to look through his wife's pictures.
Finally he stopped with a beautiful, full-color rendition of a naked Bulma fingering herself, her legs spread wide open and giving the perfect view of her youthful beauty. Vegeta didn't care anymore where these pictures had come from; the fact that Bulma had once posed naked in a wide variety of sexual poses did not interest him in the least. It was probably Yamcha who had persuaded her to do it, anyway; that sleazebag would do anything to make a buck, including selling naked pictures of his own girlfriend over the internet.
Vegeta continued masturbating to his wife's erotic naked picture until he finally came. Luckily, his study came furnished with a very useful box of tissues, and he could easily burn away the evidence with his ki, so no one would ever know of his indiscretions or of his "affair."
But just as he was about to log off from his session exploring the series of tubes that is the internet, he took another look at the picture. His brow furrowed as he stared at it. Something wasn't quite right about it. It looked like Bulma, in fact, it bore an extremely strong and rather striking resemblance to his wife, but it seemed as though it was not, in fact, her.
And then he looked at the face of the naked woman in the picture and his face paled; he looked at the caption beneath the picture, which he had not bothered to read before this moment, and his face paled even further as the realization hit him.
All this time, he'd been mistaken. He hadn't been jacking off to a picture of Bulma like he'd thought.
It was instead a picture of someone who resembled his wife a great deal: his thirteen-year-old daughter, Bra.
And that was how Vegeta came to blow up his study in a fit of rage for a second time … just before running naked, with long blond hair cascading down his back and clad only in a pair of singed fuzzy slippers, down the hallway towards the bathroom, where he proceeded to fill an entire bathtub with his vomit.
THE END
A/N: I hope you enjoyed that. It was disgusting, but fun to write. Please review, especially if you hated it. I look forward to receiving some well-written flames!!
Oh, and please look forward to the sequel, in which Vegeta discovers fanfiction and yaoi. Will he be more upset that his virtual self is getting knocked up by Goku, or that he's the uke? Knowing Vegeta, probably the latter. XD
PS: If you have a Vegeta mpregs fic (in which Vegeta is the one who gets pregnant), or a story in which Goku is the seme and Vegeta is the uke that you wouldn't mind me referencing and/or quoting in the sequel to this story, please let me know!! Thank you.