Timeline: 2.5 Years Before the Android Saga
Location: Capsule Corporation, West City
CH. I: Sense
Bulma had a variety of go-to activities when her life needed to make some sense: lab work, shopping trips, spa appointments...It seemed that sense refused to find itself as of late, however.
She tried developing improvements to the now-nostalgic dragon ball radar first. Her focus was impossible to maintain, though, so she acquired a new wardrobe on a day out with her mother Panchy instead. When Bulma's head still refused to clear, she booked an all-day spa excursion (with mani and pedi included, of course). Yet even after the masseuse turned her overly tense muscles into majestic mush, she still didn't feel like herself.
Years ago she would have flung herself into an adventure with Goku...but now he was off with his own little family-and more importantly, focused on training to confront the dangerous androids foretold by that strange and stylish Saiyan boy from the future.
And no, that's not what's consumed all of Bulma's attention.
...well, not exactly, anyway...
For now, Bulma languished on the couch with an empty silver tray of sweets beside her. The cute new crop top she wore was dusted with powdered sugar.
"Oh, Bulma! You ate all the sweets yourself?" Panchy said in her high-lilting voice. She shuffled over, blonde hair coiffed perfectly, and picked up the tray.
"What? Sure, yeah; I didn't have any lunch," Bulma responded flatly.
"You didn't save any for Vegeta?"
Him?!
"Why should I? All he does is train and stomp around! He already eats all our other food anyway. He doesn't appreciate anything!" Bulma huffed and rolled over to avoid looking at her mother.
"You have to admire that dedication, though," Panchy said.
"Hmph," Bulma grumbled.
"Oh," Panchy paused on her way out of the room, "by the way-Yamcha called again earlier."
"Like I care!" Bulma cried. She crossed her arms across her chest and seemed to compress into a smaller, tighter ball of couch-cushioned anger.
"Well, alright, dear. I'll find you if he calls again!"
"Mom, don't-"
Panchy didn't hear her daughter's protests and instead hummed happily down the hallway. Bulma groaned, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it.
Eventually, her anger sizzled away as the sugar crashed her system. The afternoon grew dark and heavy with the orange light of a late sunset. A small dribble of spit curled from Bulma's mouth as she snored against the buzzing background of summertime cicadas.
***
The gravity machine met Vegeta's expectations. It did not exceed them-how rare it was to ever truly please a prince-but it was sufficient for his needs. His body was used to the strain of 300G at this point; the difficulty of the drones now needed to be increased. Vegeta selected a more aggressive mode for the drones to act on, forcing him to move with an agility he had yet to achieve easily.
Vegeta's decisions on when to end a day's training tended to be arbitrary. He never stopped due to the difficulty of a training session, nor due to any amount of pain...it was usually the simple answer of needing to eat, relieve himself, or sleep. On rare occassions, even boredom warranted a break. (Although usually boredom simply pushed Vegeta to try new training techniques on a brief stint away from the Capsule Corporation estate.)
Today, it was the rumbling of his stomach that eventually prodded him out of the gravity machine. Sweat poured down his face, streaking from his sharp hairline down his faceted jaw and along the statuesque contours of his body. He wiped his thick brows with a damp towel and wandered into the Brief abode.
He didn't like it there-but he also didn't hate it. For Vegeta, it was enough that he didn't loathe his current living situation. The Earthling woman was frustrating to be sure, but she and her kin provided useful services. While they weren't servants in name or occupation...they certainly served him well.
The elder human couple were out on the terrace drinking something bubbly and saccarine; he could smell the overly sweet liquor. The blonde one waved at Vegeta as he went into the house. He gave a quick glance and moved on before she or her mate could attempt conversation.
Neither bothered Vegeta terribly, of course. The old man was quite sharp despite his age and human handicap. His mate was pleasant to look at and-unlike her loud, uncouth brood-didn't yell or shout or chide him for gods-knows-what. No one in the house could really cook, but they kept the kitchen stocked enough to sate his hunger. Mostly.
The chittering Earth insects continued to make their awful buzzing noises outside while Vegeta scavenged the kitchen for a meal. It seemed the blonde woman must have restocked the refrigerator as he found the supply of red meat replenished. Whatever it was, it made a decent meal. He piled on thick slabs of the rare-cooked steak onto a plate while tucking orange root vegetables under his arms and stashing a thick, sticky grain ball in his mouth.
Vegeta carried his small feast to the living room where he found the blue-haired human woman napping rather loudly. He smirked a bit as he saw drool pool beside her head. She presented herself as this precious, perfect thing, yet here she was snoring like a beast. He swallowed the last of his ball of grain before ripping a chunk of meat off with a fierce tear of his canines. He started to continue his walk back to his quarters.
"Unh...Vegeta..."
Vegeta chewed quickly and swallowed in order to snap back at the woman. Just as he was about to reply, though, he saw that she was still deep in sleep.
She's...dreaming of me? Vegeta thought. His lips curled in sudden and fiendish delight. How angry and embarrassed she would be if he overheard her unconscious thoughts! What secrets could he possibly learn and wield?
The Saiyan prince took a seat on a nearby armchair and began chewing on another meaty morsel.
I wonder...is it a true dream? A nightmare? Perhaps she yells at me even in her sleep.
"Oh...Vegeta...no, not here..." The woman groaned and her face twitched.
A nightmare, then.
"Tch," he muttered before snapping into one of the orange vegetables. He wasn't truly surprised this woman would have a nightmare of him...after all, he did attempt to destroy her planet and had Nappa kill her weakling of a mate. (Or ex-mate? He had not seen that pathetic human man in a while and the woman made no secret of her frustrations with him since his resurrection with the dragon balls.)
But...why was he bothered by the idea of starring in her nightmares?
It didn't make sense.
He started tearing into another steak.
"Yes...oh, fuck...V-Vegeta...harder..."
Everything in Vegeta flash froze.
It's not a nightmare...it's a f-fantasy!
When the woman moaned softly again in her sleep, hot electricity shot through Vegeta; his member hardened, pitching against his black shorts. His face flushed red with a vegetable still hanging out the corner of his mouth.
What a vulgar woman! He thought, widened eyes slowly relaxing.
His gaze refocused on the woman. No longer did he just take note of the embarrassing drool and unkempt bedhead-he drifted along the soft curves of her body. While terribly weak in power, her physique itself was healthy: slender but strong legs; wide, fertile hips; ample breasts; clean jaw lines; plush lips; smooth skin...
He was well aware of her beauty. Now, though, her dreaming moans rekindled his attention to that beauty. In this quiet room, without her snide remarks or fits of anger, he felt a certain...fondness? No, much too sentimental. Attraction? Yes, attraction. That is a natural thing, something even a prince could fall prey to at times.
"Vegeta...I'm...I'm cumming..."
Vegeta's cock twitched and strained against his shorts. The woman's face hinted at pleasure, blush rising fiercely to her cheeks. The prince remained frozen in place, hands still full of food.
He very quickly unfroze, however, when he heard the sleeping woman's parents return from their terrace dining.
"Agh!" He gasped. With impressive speed, he scrambled to his feet and ran down the hallway to his own quarters. He barrelled through the door and slammed it shut far louder than intended. In his flustered sprint, he had accidentally dropped the last steak and root vegetable in the living room.
Vegeta gritted his teeth in frustration. His focus should be on training-the sight of a lewd woman should not have brought his guard down! And now he skittered to his room like some flustered boy? It was undignified and unacceptable.
His grimace deepened realizing how stubborn his erection truly was.
This is your fault, woman, he hissed mentally-though without any true venom.
Vegeta kicked off his boots and sighed with relief when he removed his shorts. He started to stroke his shaft as he walked to the attached bathroom. He shivered lightly as pleasure sparked from each stroke. He turned the shower on and let a breathy grunt escape as the hot water began to stream down against the slate tiles.
As Vegeta continued pumping his stiff cock, the voice of self-criticism within his head grew silent. His imagination was unshackled from his own expectations, allowing images of the blue-haired woman...Bulma...to fill his mind's eye. He stepped into the shower, breathing heavy. He closed his eyes, fantasy transforming his firm hand into Bulma's hungry mouth.
Yes...yes, she would eagerly suck him; her tongue would firmly press against the soft underside of his cock and lap up the first hints of pre-cum happily. Her hair-long and matted wet from the shower...he would grab it in his fist and rock into her mouth. Deeper, deeper. She would moan and seal her mouth over his member even tighter. Her mouth would be hot and wet, perhaps even more than the shower itself. She would grip his hips tight, nails digging in as he bucked faster, faster, faster-
"Ungh!" Vegeta groaned and shuddered as he came. He breathed heavily, chest heaving, while hot water ran over him and washed away the thick cum that shot onto the floor.
He did not want to admit it, but each fantasy he entertained that starred the blue-haired woman...well, it felt better. He didn't often need to relieve himself, but whenever he did...
Vegeta did not wish to waste more thought on the woman. He sated his current desire. His body was satisfied. He sighed and continued to wash before retiring for the night.
***
Bulma roused shortly after the sun had set. A headache was firmly nestled between her eyes. She groaned and sat up, clutching her head.
"Ugh..." Bulma sighed. She blinked away some sleepy tears and wiped away the rest on the back of her hand. When she looked around, she noticed a small pile of abandoned food on the ground: wagyu beef and carrots. They were just carelessly tossed on the ground. There was only one resident of the Brief abode who could be responsible for the mess.
"That slob!" Bulma hissed.
Urgh, that Saiyan-!
Bulma's anger was quickly extinguished by the sudden memory of her naptime dream. It...it starred that very Saiyan. She couldn't remember any narrative details, but she did remember the imagined flex of his muscles as he entered her, again and again and again.
Bulma blushed with embarrassment, irrationally worried that someone would secretly know of her princely fantasies. The embarrassment deepened when she realized that her new panties were thoroughly soaked from the intensity of her wet dream. The fact that her new cute pink panty was already tainted with the stubborn longing she apparently harbored for Vegeta irritated her to no end.
The embarrassment and irritation managed to distract Bulma from the strangeness of a Saiyan abandoning any scrap of food, even one as seemingly uncaring as Vegeta. She was fixated instead on her own stubborn attraction to the rude, mean, and very hot alien prince.
"I don't want to think about this right now!" Bulma chided herself. She went to her room to change before setting out to find something proper to eat.
And something to drink.
She needed a drink.