Warnings/Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern-Day Space Pirates, Dystopia, Wartime, Open War, Extremely Explicit, Mature Audiences Only, Steampunk of Sorts, Gothic Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Ideologically Sensitive, Dark & Disturbing Themes, Blatant Sexism/Racism, Sexual Objectification, Graphic Sexual Content, Profane Language & Expletives, Twincest, Experimentation, Clones/Cloning, Guns & Weapons, Aphrodisiacs, Made-Up Drugs, Drug Use, Habitual Alcohol Consumption, Slavery, Sex Trafficking, Bestiality, Gore, Cannibalistic Nature, Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - C-PTSD, Suicidal Tendencies, Dubious Consent, Recurring Rape/Sexual Abuse, Sexual Torture/Disciplining, Interspecies Sex, Interspecies Romance, Cynical Anti-Hero Gohan, Jaded Innocent-Slutty Piccolo, Genius Mechanic Bloomer, Side Kick Kririn, Distinguished Roshi, Villain King Vegeta, Sadistic Consort Kakarot, Emo Prince Trunks, Warrior Princess Videl, Canon Male-Hermaphroditic Piccolo, Piccolo!Whump, Gohan!Whump, Uke Piccolo, Seme/Uke Gohan, R-21, NSFW, NaNoWriMo 2017, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, 飯Ｐ, モブＰ, モブ飯, 腐向け, Teaser Chapter (for now)
Note: This is the CENSORED version. The original chapter is far too explicit to be posted on FFnet (which doesn't allow Rated MA works). If you want to read the UNCENSORED version, please head on over to my AO3 (Username: EikoWest) for the complete chapter. Just be sure you're mature enough to handle it. Oh, and on that note, please read on below so you don't get into anything you don't want to:
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This has been written like– ages ago! I decided to finally post the first chapter. This is just a *teaser* chapter though, meaning that even if the first chapter is complete, this story won't be my priority until after I finish "The World Is The Distraction", ergo, it'll be a while before I get back to post the next instalment. So, if you don't want to be "teased", I would advise you don't read this teaser first chapter. ?
I labelled this an AU but it's more like: What if "Gokuu" never existed, only Kakarot, and Vegeta inherited the throne and never became a good man? What if Bloomer was younger and met Gohan instead of Gokuu and they're the ones who went on an adventure instead? What if the Nameks were all wiped out and Piccolo was the sole survivor who was taken prisoner of the Saiyajins? And so on and so forth… So it's still *somewhat* canon-compliant except that it's set a little more in the future with everything shaken up a bit.
Some important notes to avoid confusion:
This isn't a polyamory or (insert number)-somes fic (although, there will be sex involving more than 2). Almost all of the other pairings involving Gohan and Piccolo here are one-sided or purely sexual (no love). There are so many because, well, just like in real life, people fall for those they don't end up with (this is a very long fic—like, saga kind of long, so a *lot* will happen); Piccolo is sort of a uhm, "rent boy" here so he has many, erm, "professional" relationships; and Gohan is a sort of unsung/low-profile hero figure, so there's a lot of hero worship and pining from admirers and rivals alike.
The main pairing is Gohan x Piccolo (of course), while side pairings you can expect are: Kakarot x loomer & Kririn x Bloomer (more of a friends with benefits relationship), although there's going to be heavier emphasis on low-key Bloomer x Gohan, Vegeta x Bloomer (sort of), Vegeta x Kakarot (this is also somewhat one-sided, but it's relevant enough), and Vegeta x Piccolo (also one-sided, some squinting required). Vegeta happens to be a young-ish king here who has as many crushes as he does wives so he's probably the only one who is technically "polyamorous", although it's not always mutual so it's more "pining" than anything. Oh, and there's also the Broly x Gohan sexual-tension-between-fierce-rivals kind of relationship and the Videl x Gohan side pairing that stays one-sided, but they do have their sweet moments – as friends.
Those're the ones I can think of for now—there are so many but most are just hinted at, mentioned, or shown/alluded to very briefly. Lastly, are you sure you're up for this? Did you read the warning tags? This is not for the faint-hearted. It has dark, disturbing, and (at times) very depressing themes like slavery, oppression, and implied underage abuse (this is set in a DYSTOPIAN future teeming with crime and corruption, what do you expect?). It has a hefty amount of rather graphic sexual content and is extremely explicit! because most of that will consists of sexual torture and raep (and no, I won't sugarcoat, relabel or attempt to disguise it using other terms that trivialize it because I don't wish to mislead anyone! I own up to what I write; it is what it is! I'm no hypocrite who writes about something and pretends it isn't that! So my stories aren't for hypocrites either). With that all said…
If you're sensitive and have triggers: get far, far away from this! If you're a fanatically religious prude who takes everything literally and personally and has problems distinguishing works of *fiction* from reality, then, this isn't for you: walk away now. Neither is this for those who hang on for dear life to their sacred childhoods and wish to remain there till the day they die: skedaddle along now, kiddies!
This is *strictly* for mature audiences only: those who have happily relinquished their childhoods in favour of embracing the darker, more daring world of fiction! Because that's exactly what fiction is for! If you don't get that, then stay away from material you can't handle, capisce?
To those who haven't fled by now, I sincerely hope you enjoy this (somewhat crude) teaser chapter. Despite all the challenges and misfortunes our heroes will go through, this is really meant to be a feel-good story. ❤️ Cheers!
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Xenoverse/Super/etc. belong to their respective owners. I own nothing except this derivative fanwork which I do not profit from.
Music: "Magnificent" by U2
Justify until we die
You and I will magnify
Magnificent
—U2
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There was a time when he used to love mornings. But that was so long ago that the memories of it have been washed ashore to that secret place where parts of ourselves trapped in the past are slowly but surely pushed back and eventually lost. Memories faded to half-forgotten dreams that are preferable to present reality. Sometimes, he would visit that place. Where mornings are the melodious cacophony of chirruping birds, golden sunbeams filtering in through a huge curtained window, and the smell of freshly cooked home-made breakfast wafting with the promise of a brand new day…
But reminiscing about things that could never be brought back, no matter how sweet they once were, will always be bitter—and that's what mornings were to him now. His relationship with mornings were like that of estranged love. Something you once knew and loved well, but can't seem to recapture anymore, no matter how hard you tried and how much you gave. Or maybe, he was confusing mornings with something else…
Story #43:
"Anatomy
of the Perfect Deluge"
1
Being a quirky morning person, it was very hard not to be reminded of his "lost love" every time he woke up. Some days especially so than others. Today, he woke to a creaky ceiling fan haphazardly screwed in place to termite-infested rafters, and peeling wallpaper that stank of mould and pre-war nostalgia. It wasn't an unfamiliar place. He turned his head towards a window which he expected to find open considering the sweltering summer heat… It was boarded up.
Gohan Son took a deep breath, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. As his present day mornings went… The hangover (or "morning sickness" as his compatriots often teased him with) was to follow shortly. He did not look forward to it.
Mornings always reminded him of things he preferred not to be reminded of. The least of which was how, come mornings, he always especially regretted those extra ten or so shots of whatever he was challenged to drink at the Kaoih Ken Tavern whenever he and his crew dropped by for their traditional "night-out-after-a-week-of-successful-looting-and-troublemaking" party (he really needed to come up with a better name for it), consisting of the usual booze and buffoonery. He was a modern day space-pirate captain, of course he was all for fun and games—and sure, being the leader of a gang of merry misfits had its perks, but… Being obligated to outdrink everyone during their celebratory feasts was not one of them.
He groaned as he slowly sat up and the rest of his surroundings didn't sit up with him. His head was hating him to the lowest levels of hell once again, and if his crew didn't know him too well by then to hide his gun, he would have most likely opted to shoot himself in the head, just to put it out of its misery. Maybe Bloomer or Kririn had forgotten to pat him down last night? He was optimistic as he blindly patted the nightstand behind him. They were also pretty smashed, as far as his hazy memory served him, he had good reason to hope… Those measly hopes are dashed, however, as he confirmed (to his disgruntlement), that he would have to tough out his "hangover from hell" because no, none of his crew were remiss in their crewing.
Now came the second thing he least wanted to be reminded of in mornings like this: how he never seemed to remember half the things he did the night before. Well, he knew that he most assuredly did the same old shitty things he was wont to do when wasted out of his mind: like accidentally piss on someone's sleeping face (most likely Kririn's, because he always mistook his shiny head as the loo's urinal for some reason), shave off part of the Old Man Roshi's prized beard, or beat up some low-life pervert (usually caught smacking Bloomer's rear or copping a feel) who happened to be unfortunate enough to be in the pub at the same time he and his crew were—among other unsavoury things he would never be caught dead doing sober… This particular "mischief" he woke up to now was not one of his favourites at all and yet, it happened too often for his taste, even if once and a while, it did manage to sooth some of his more somatic aches if not the more psychological ones.
Well, he supposed it was always better than that waking up naked next to his co-captain, who—although not wanting in all aspects a man usually craved in a woman—was more like a big sister to him, and he would much rather remain forgetful about whatever "non-platonic" things might have transpired between them.
Gingerly, he relocated the arm draped across his waist and slid out of the bed to pull on what was left of his cargo jeans after noting with some dismay, that his pseudo-lover had once again ripped apart all of his clothes beyond repair (it wasn't dignified for a captain to be seen in patched up clothing, even more annoying since he was the one who did the patching – none of his crew knew how to sew). He made a mental note to recruit someone who could as soon as possible, and maybe one who could actually cook as well, yes, that would be nice. How he missed decent home-cooked meals! All that cheap take-out "food" throughout the years has effectively killed his Saiyajin appetite. His stomach then made a point to grumble loudly; he sighed. If only it just killed his capacity to feel hunger altogether, then his murse would be so much happier.
Luckily, there was still enough of his jeans and jacket left to utilize for a decent escape. He never understood the Mazonyan Tribe's custom of ripping the clothes of their lovers before "love-making". Maybe in ancient times, sure, he could picture it being sexy—and liberating, especially since Mazonyan male pre-war era fashion was horrid. These days, destroying precious hard-to-find resources like good quality garments just wasn't practical. It was only one of the things he hated about "accidentally" ending up in bed with their tribe princess, Videl—next to the persistent marriage proposals.
Hangovered as he was and raring to leave, he couldn't pass up the rare opportunity for a free shower with all the luxurious smelling and expensive bath oils and scrubs, which he gave himself ten minutes tops to enjoy. As a child he had always loved long baths and it had become a habit he couldn't break, despite the need to. Earth water was a precious resource the Saiyajins hoarded as well, and it didn't come cheap. Sometimes, he was convinced that the real and only reason he even allowed himself to bed with Videl was for the chance to partake of these expensive baths…
He didn't regret the little indulgence and as always, the princess was still out like a light and would not be roused, not until past noon, even if a full circus band complete with stomping elephants and fireworks marched in on them at that moment. And he knew this, not because it was a habit of Videl's; it was something that all women he "accidentally" slept with experienced, and something they absolutely hated him for when they finally woke up with their own "hangover from hell" consisting of ungodly body aches and odd injuries. He knew that he should really stop "accidentally" ending up in anyone's bed, lest he one day wake up next to a cold corpse.
Which reminded him to check her pulse before he left, just to be sure, releasing a controlled sigh of relief through his nose when he negated his worst fears. As per usual, a marriage contract and a fountain pen was neatly set up on the nightstand. Stuck on it was an adhesive note that said:
You know this is going to be the best for both of us.
He picks up the pen, turns over the contract and writes: "Sorry.", before slipping two one thousand zenny bills underneath. He knew Videl slept with him because she liked him and not for money. It dented her pride whenever he "compensated" her, but he paid her anyway, more for the "inconveniences" he inadvertently caused to her person. Also, just as importantly, to keep things "professional" between their factions. The Mazonyans were a tribe ruled by very strong and wilful women, and whether he wanted to marry into their clan or not, he wanted to keep up good relations with them. They were his potential allies against King Vegeta's army after all, even if on the surface they took a neutral stand in the "war"…
With his "business" there concluded, he quietly slipped out. His crewmates usually ended up in odd places after nights like yesterday and he knew he still had a long morning ahead of him gathering them to return to his ship. With the "big boss" and his Saiyajin cronies in town, he really had no plans of hanging around much longer than necessary.
-x-
His arms felt like they were coming off. They had been bound for so long above his head that it wouldn't surprise him if it did. (Not that it would be that big of a deal.) He could grow new ones, no problem. But it always hurt like hell and he would very much rather not do it, if possible. Then again, that was a rather hypocritical thought coming from someone whose entire life was one long hellish nightmare of pain and humiliation every single day.
Today was no different. It was "Torture Day". Well, that would be misleading too. Everyday was actually torture day, the torment just came in different faces and intensities. Today, it was one of the more blatant, no-nonsense types of torture being served up to him. His tormentors referred to it as "punishment". He was often punished for many reasons, often for him exercising any form of free will where it wasn't allowed (which was basically all the time). It didn't matter if it was an unintentional act brought about by self-preservation. Hells, they would punish him if they didn't have anything better to do, so he supposed today was one of those days they were gracious enough to be reasonable…
He was being "disciplined" for "biting" one of the clients.
The punishment had begun yesterday. They had left him in the same position all night, with his hands pulled high above his head and bound together at the wrists and elbows with thick, reinforced titanium alloy cuffs, which in turn were suspended from metal beams in the ceiling via heavy chains. Towering in height as he was, his captors made sure his body was stretched to its limit spectacularly, so he couldn't move at all. His legs which were quaking very badly and stained with all sorts of bodily fluids—mostly his, but there were contributions from many different donors—struggled to maintain its footing on the ground at the very tips of his toes on only one foot. His right leg was pulled up at a right angle and kept in place with coarse, abrasive ropes. So with practically just the tips of his toes supporting his weight and keeping his arms from being ripped off, needless to say, it hardly counted for anything; especially so each time those toes that kept him on the floor bent involuntarily as his pleasure spot was once again prodded and drilled into by a rotating and vibrating object.
Piccolo Daimaoh Jr choked on a groan as it was ground even deeper into his core and the intensity of the rotation and vibrations were cranked up. Saliva dribbled down his chin as his head flew back and a stream of sobs and stifled moans amidst ancient Namekian curses bubbled forth from his blood-stained lips.
"You're lucky shaving off those pretty fangs of yours ain't an option 'cause them VIP clients actually pay for your exotic Namekian features!"
"Had enough, lil' girly?" Another crony who had been fondling his chest from behind slurred lasciviously in his ear.
The pair of his tormentors were of an alien mutant race—as was common for those under the Saiyajin race's employ: brutishly huge bodies, inhuman and more beastly features, reptilian eyes and scaly skin—some of them had bony thorns and horns protruding from their backs and heads, while others looked tamer and less menacing. Those accounted for most of the slaves in the "strong-arm" and military forces department. Those with brains bigger than their brawns worked in the labs handling weapons development, genetic engineering, and whatever other stuff of nightmares, he did not want to think about – although, he was inside their "torture chambers" often enough all the same, strapped down cold metal tables, poked and prodded some more whenever they deemed it "necessary".
All slaves of the Saiyajin Army were hardly paid in monetary value, as their basic needs were all provided by the empire, but those that served Lord Vegeta well got treated to the job's unique perks every now and then as a bonus. Most of the more barbaric of the serfdom enjoyed any excuse to inflict pain and were perpetually horny as fuck. Typical of the kind of company Piccolo was often surrounded with. Which could account for him not really feeling sociable at any given time. Such as then…
His tormentors stopped their actions to move in front of him, their glassy, beady eyes ogling at his bared modesty; their mouths dripping with drool.
"Look at that! It's always shiny! How is it always shiny?"
The speaker guffawed and slimy grey spittle struck Piccolo's exposed regions. He silently gnashed his teeth in revulsion, unable to do much else.
"No wonder the customers love Namekian cookie! Too bad there ain't any more hermaphroditic-type Namekians alive, eh?"
"Maybe they're dead 'cause they ain't as pretty as this one. I've seen their kind up close, nuthin' special; most of 'em look really clean and tame, that's it. I'm more surprised the big V kept this one alive. Everyone knows 'ow much the king hates Nameks, pretty or no. I heard he massacred their kind in one fell swoop, ate the lot of them too!"
"Meh! Saiyajins. They'll eat anything!" The pudgier of the two turned somber. "They ate my mother when I refused to come with… But this little lass got lucky… Or, unlucky."
The duo snickered.
"Maybe the king kept him alive so he'd have a nice toy to play with."
"So that everybody gets a real nice toy to play with, heh! The king scored big with this one. Everyone wants to stick a finger in his sweet dessert."
More sniggering.
"Today is your lucky day, Namek! Baron Beerus and his consort Whis, they didn't demand their money back for what you did. But… they did have a special request."
Piccolo's eyes nearly popped out its sockets as a creature was ushered into the room. It looked like a gigantic dog, except that it had horned spikes protruding from its spine and was black as soot. Oh bloody hells, not that mutt again! the Namek groaned inwardly. It was usually aliens of different sorts. Different humanoid beings of all sizes and shapes. After being sold off to numerous patrons throughout the years, he thought he would eventually become inured to the horrors of it all but, apparently eight years of slavery in forced prostitution never got one "accustomed" to the waking nightmare the way he had hoped it would. To some degree, he was able to tune it out and just accept the never-ending degradation, only because he didn't have a choice… He had, of course, tried to kill himself more times than he could count, but the Saiyajins wisened up to that quickly: implementing necessary countermeasures and implanting certain "safety features" in him to prevent such "acts of rebellion". Begging to be administered higher doses of the aphrodisiac drugs made the "ordeal" a little easier, but… Artificially mutated alien-race pet animals? He hated those with a vengeance. The bloody things were almost always never groomed or cleaned properly, they smelled terrible and they were… never subtle. Ever.
"Uwaarrrrgghhh!" Piccolo's cries were uninhibited as the deformed beast began assaulting him with its tongue. The Namek had gone blind from the sensations by then, mindless noises poured from his mouth beyond his control.
It's true: he hated every waking moment of his life; he hated servicing sexually depraved customers and would rather be lifeless space debris if he could help it. But more than all of the above, he absolutely despised these "disciplinary" sessions. One thing he hated about these was that he was not given any aphrodisiacs to help fool his brain that he enjoyed the "punishment". But as much as he did his damnedest to avoid violating their rules, he couldn't help biting down when his customers the previous night insisted on ravaging him all at once. It was an accident, but of course, they didn't really care either way. However, upon request, he was rented out to clients with whatever "accessories" of their choosing. If last night's customers really wanted to prevent his jaw from reflexively shutting, they should have fitted him with a brace!
"Uuhh, nnggh, aah! Ahhh!" Piccolo's mind was slipping away from too much delirium and he knew at this point it that was no use to even try to fight it. "S-stop! N- no more… no mmm… nnnggg… uuuhh… ngghh! Aahhhhh!"
The grating sound of sharp nails against the wall made him wince. He knew the whole room was filled with scratchings of his different tormentors who usually competed in teams who could make him come the most. He didn't even need to see it to know that there was hardly any space left to mark from how many times he had heard nails scratching against those walls. Depending on the offence, he would usually be tortured for hours. If the offence was bad—or if the client was a wealthy or important figure—his punishments stretched from an entire day to sometimes even a whole week…
His only chance of reprieve was to lose consciousness—when he got too tired to even stay awake; and given his stamina and the "training" that his body was incessantly put through, with the right kind of drugs, he could last for days…
…
'Stay awake! Open your eyes!'
…
Maybe it was just as well that he was the only Namek left in the universe. The Saiyajins used everyone and everything as they pleased and they were notorious for being stone-cold heartless. If they didn't rape or enslave other races, they ate them. Unluckily for him, he got to experience all of the above. And why not? He was a hybrid Namek who possessed both male and female genitalia, he was significantly stronger than most, with the uncanny ability to heal at a godly rate, they didn't get sexual diseases—or any kind of disease for that matter. Even as a fledgeling, his elders often told him he was perhaps the most 'exquisite' of their kind, because of his antennae that was longer than most, his elegant face, how his lips glowed deep violet, how he was not only tall and sinewy, but muscled and strong, with well-developed fangs and, for some inexplicable reason, intense azure-blue eyes—believed to be a rare mutation in Nameks.
Wealthy customers and collectors went wild about anything extraordinary, unique, or boasting the only one of its kind. To them, such possessions symbolized power over others. Despite Nameks in itself being sought after for their many talents that could be put to practical use in almost any facet of one's life and that "owning" a Namek alone was considered auspicious, it was almost unprecedented to come across a Namek whose features stood out from the rest of them. Being an exotic breed on his own is what condemned him to the hellish life he was now living. He's lost count how many times he wished his elders had been wrong about him…
Naturally, the Saiyajins were quick to make a sea of money off his "desirable" merchandise. They could charge exorbitant prices given that the supply was literally just one in the whole universe and the demand for it was staggering; and since he was robust in body and resilient to drugs as well, they didn't have to worry about overdosing, they could make him come endlessly. He was, in a way, an inexhaustible resource. Through him, one could unleash their wildest, most uninhibited fantasies. "Absolute sexual freedom" is what they marketed him as – a service that proved to be much more valuable than any thing else, especially in the eyes of powerful individuals who could not go all out with their weaker partners. To a savage, bloodthirsty and perpetually horny race like the Saiyajins, the Nameks were not only a delicacy, but the perfect sex machines.
So why did their king hate them and decide to annihilate the entire Namekian race?
-x-
'Open your eyes!'
-x-
"You're… different."
Staring death in the face, it was the last thing he expected to hear. Least of all from the mouth of the Saiya prince who had captured him and had just ordered the slaughter of his whole race. Him and his kind were already ravenously "feasting" on the remains of his fellow Nameks, few of them like himself were still alive as they begun to be eaten. The Saiya prince didn't gobble him down like a famished wild animal, instead he slowly chomped on his arm which had been torn off in battle (his legs already partially consumed, rendering him immobile), those coal-black eyes fixed on his fading blue ones as he quietly masticated, never tearing away his gaze even for a fraction of a second even as he ripped away more of his flesh to devour. At only three years of age, Piccolo Daimaoh Jr had fought bravely alongside his fellows and for as long as he could against the cruel and merciless invaders; his life had been short, yet he had no regrets… all but one: He wished he could have been stronger—strong enough to beat the Saiyajins and protect his planet…
But as more and more parts of him were torn off, munched on and swallowed over and over again, he knew… It was time for him to die. He was proud of what he has accomplished thus far and in those last moments, welcomed a strange surge of contentment and peace, knowing that he would be united with his beloved brethren soon… With one last defiant breath, he finally allowed his tired eyes to fall.
That's when he felt it. The tang of blood on his lips and the taste of raw flesh inside his mouth. Fuzzy as his mind was, he could not understand what was happening. With much effort, he opened his eyes and managed to lift his eyelids by only a millimetre, but what he saw terrified him to his core. The Saiya prince's lips were engulfing his. Was he being tasted from his mouth now? Did the fiend think eating his head first would make him taste any different? He did not know what scandalous rituals the monsters practised in their own planet amongst themselves, but to a Namek, the mouth was sacred territory. It was what they used to utter holy spells of their forefathers and was supposed to be kept pure at all costs. Piccolo scrunched his eyes harder and prayed with all his soul that he would die sooner. Had not he been defiled enough?
'Open your eyes!' a voice commanded. 'Open them! I wish to see it as I partake of you to the very last morsel! I order you to stay awake! Did you hear me? I said—
"Open your eyes!"
The next time Piccolo opened his eyes after that, he wasn't in the Other Side as he had hoped he would be. There was no sign of his fellow Nameks as he had longed to find. He was alone in a massive ship filled with Saiyajins and their equally sadistic slaves.
-x-
It had been a while since he had returned to his home planet. When he used to live there, the marketplace was almost always first on his itinerary of the day. His mother insisted on fresh produce and the only way to ensure that was to be there at crack of dawn. There were fewer vendors lining the market streets each time he visited. Gohan couldn't blame them. Many feared for their lives in these times of chaos and unease between the planet's residents and their bellicose rulers, made worse by rumours of a brewing uprising—one that could very well spark a full-blown insurgence. That is, if a civil war didn't break out first: unresolved tension between those pro-Saiyajin and anti-Saiyajin rule not boding well for the people in general; a conflict dangerously close to boiling point. Tensions ran especially high on days like this, when the mammoth Saiya mothership could be seen docked in the distance, ominously visible from even a hundred miles away given its hulking size. A sure indication as ever that "The Great King of Saiya" himself was paying one of his domains a "royal visit".
Ever since the initial invasion and the anti-climactic war that followed, Gohan had made it a point to stay as far away for as long as possible. He accomplished as much, practically spending his early teens to late adolescent years in other Earthling-colonized planets. It was relatively peaceful, but it wasn't the same. His travelling companions often joked that whenever Mr Monster came "home", things always get shaken up. He couldn't say that he didn't believe them; part of him was convinced that was why he stayed away as much. For some reason, whenever he was on Earth, he always managed to "stir the pot", so to speak.
It's not as though he was actively choosing to be a trouble-magnet. He always strove to lie as low as possible. But sometimes, one had to do what one had to do. Even though more often than not, he fought so hard not to.
"Mr Monster" a moniker his crew adopted from "monster"—what the Mazonyans called the Saiyajins; but since he was a kind-hearted Saiyajin, they thought he deserved the "Mr" before "Monster" or the standard honorific suffix at the end: "Monster-san". It was an in joke among the tribe that stuck. Funnily enough, they stopped referring to the Saiyajin race in general as monsters when they started calling him Mr Monster. Instead, they reverted to what the Earthlings generally called them: ruffians, barbarians, ape men, and Saiya scum being among the most popular. Their princess, Videl, didn't call him Mr Monster though, just "Monster". She may enjoy sharing her bed with him but she didn't like how "someone with his warrior heritage" dealt with the situation. She felt it was undignified and cowardly, deeply excoriating him for his "betrayal" against Earthkind whom she felt he should be identifying with more, given that he grew up on Earth and was raised by an Earthling mother and nurtured by the planet and its people all his early life.
'Only someone with Saiyajin blood can stand up to them; you may be the Earth's last and only hope yet you chose to run away! Hah! I never took you for a pussy, Monster.'
Videl and the Mazonyan tribe has always been a headstrong and self-willed bunch, more so after the hostile takeover. But while it's true that he had Saiyajin blood flowing in his veins, he's never shared their propensity for nonsensical violence, destruction, and bloodshed. Besides, he was five years old when the invasion happened. Despite having witnessed a lot of people he knew die right before his eyes, he's never really had a change of heart even after fifteen long years. Ironically, his five-year-old self wanted nothing more then than to rip off the head of the Saiyajin who murdered his only family. For what it was worth back then, he did try. After that, the memories got all jumbled up and distorted. He couldn't distinguish which were real and which were from his nightmares. That thirst for revenge drastically dumbed down throughout the years. He had lost the one most important person in his life a long time ago and nothing and no amount of fighting and bloodshed could bring her back.
It didn't stop him from trying to start over and make a difference though, no matter how small. He had managed to round up a few individuals here and there with the same zest for adventure and a desire to get as far away from their pasts as he did. After all these years, he's come to know a home in their ship The Ztellar, and a family in his travelling comrades. He knew the feeling was mutual (even if none of them would ever say it out loud). As long as he was able to protect them and keep them safe, that's all that mattered to him now.
'I never took you for a selfish person. All that potential and all you choose to do is cower and hide!'
'Maybe you're right. I am selfish. But I have nothing left to fight for, nothing that I can really do anything about. I chose to protect what I have, and to let go of what I've lost so that I can finally move on. Maybe you should do the same, Videl-san.'
The Mazonyan princess' eyes flared up in anger and something else… hurt?
'The world is more than just us and the people we've lost! Many suffer endlessly under Saiya rule! You know that but you keep denying it—you pretend you don't see what's right in front of you!'
'I see it!' Gohan boomed, grabbing Videl's shoulders and giving it a light shake. '…Okay? …I see it.' He calmed himself. 'But we can't save everyone, don't you understand that? We can't. There's a whole army of thousands of them and less than a handful of us! It will only cost us more innocent lives!'
At that point, Videl's mouth began to tremble and twist into a long pout, one reminiscent of what he saw when they were still teenagers and a sure precursor that she was about to cry… hard. Tears spilled down her cheeks and those shoulders he still held on to started heaving uncontrollably. She shook her head over and over and over again, her sobs finally breaking through in little sniffs and hiccups.
Gohan pulled her into a protective hug. 'I'm sorry, Videl-san. I know you think I'm the one who can put a stop to this because I'm part-Saiyajin. But, as much as I want to be what you want—what everyone needs me to be, I have to be honest with myself… I'm…
'I'm not strong enough…'
The Mazonyan princess' erratic sniffling turned into a full-on bawl then, her head shrugging and her fists stubbornly pounding against her long-time friend's chest.
'I don't want to let anyone down… Not anymore. No matter what we do, there will always be people who will suffer. The best we can do is stick up for each other whenever we can and look out for ourselves…'
"Anythin' I can interest ye in, sonny?"
Gohan blinked, stirring from his not-so-distant memories. He found himself in front of a fruit stand staring at a pile of red apples. This is where he and Videl had first met… Where a Saiya soldier tried to abduct her, but she fought back. He was already sixteen then, and on one of his rare visits to Earth. He doesn't remember much of what followed, except that the Saiyajin was no longer standing and everyone was staring at him with what he felt were exaggeratedly shocked expressions. Since then, Videl had never stopped proposing to him that they join forces against the Saiyajins…
The weather-beaten old man manning the stall gave him a toothy grin, still patiently awaiting his reply. With a small smile, he fished for a couple of coins from his windbreaker trench coat (one that had thankfully escaped the Mazonyan ripping ritual) and forked it over in exchange for an apple.
"This be waay too much for an apple, son!" he called.
"It's fine, you can keep it."
"Bless yer soul, young man!"
No sooner had he gone a few paces from the stall than he was stopped in his tracks by frantic yelling.
"Get yer filthy hands off my property, ye Saiya scum!"
…
One minute, he had been reaching for an apple, the next moment he was on his rump on the ground and kicks were raining down on him. He would have put out his arm to defend himself, except that his wrists were bound in place in front of him with weighty iron shackles.
"How dare ye try to steal from me! Go back to whatever great ape hell you crawled out from!"
Piccolo curled into himself from the intense pain. His entire body was still sore from the abuse it had received earlier, and with hardly any sustenance provided to him whenever he was being "punished", he could not heal himself as fast as he was normally able to. Before the two thugs had proceeded to torture him, he had also endured a thorough beating from his handler, one of the Saiya commanders.
"Hey! Stop that!"
Piccolo swooned and slumped to the ground after a particularly strong kick to his arm. Mercifully, the assault is halted and the next minute, he felt his body being lifted then cradled in strong arms, bridal style. He did not see who it was through the pulled up hood of his cloak, but he was so hungry and weak that it made no difference, he had no strength to resist either way. His head collapsed limply onto his rescuer's shoulders as he blacked out.
…
"Whoa, Gramps! What's with the unnecessary violence? Can't you see, he's chained and can't even fight back!"
Gohan couldn't believe it. Is this what it's come down to? Violence wasn't inflicted by the Saiyajins alone, but also the commonfolk amongst each other?
"Oh, you better not pick that up, sonny." The same vendor Gohan had purchased an apple from backed away slightly, rubbing his fingers together nervously. "His cuffs have the mark of those ruffians… Dem Saiyajins! He's one o' them—their slave to be sure, and gettin' yer hands dirty by helpin' one o' dem ain't gonna be good for anyone!"
"I don't care who or what he is! He isn't a threat, you didn't need to hurt him!" Gohan returned heatedly. The stranger he had picked up was tall and lean for sure; he couldn't see what race he was because his body was mostly cloaked, but from what little he could see of his forearms and ankles, he was sure he wasn't Saiyajin… Going by the state of him, he was quite sure that he wasn't being treated right by whoever owned him either.
"S-suit yerself, sonny. B-but, best be gone from here before dem Saiya soldiers catch you touching their property. We don't want to be involved now…"
"Fine." Gohan huffed as he lightly bounced to readjust his hold on his dead weight cargo to support him better. "Just give me the amount of apples I paid for and I'll get out of your hair!"
-x-
Gohan carefully laid his burden on a worn out mattress in a private room he managed to book at a nearby inn. The Ztellar was parked too far away, and he wasn't about to risk running all that way with his sensitive cargo. As carefully as possible, he undid the string on the stranger's cloak before easing it off his shoulders. Underneath, an ill-fitting tunic that seemed to hang off his shoulders was all he had on, which Gohan thought was odd… It was hardly protection from the elements.
The force of the kicks weren't hard enough to cause severe internal bleeding, as far as he could tell… And yet, there was blood on the stranger's mouth and chin, as though he had coughed up a lot. Using a flannel he soaked in warm water with some drops of lime juice that he had requested from the inn, he very gently wiped the bloodstains off. Then he proceeded to cover the stranger's lower body with a blanket before gingerly lifting up his tunic until he could see the afflicted areas. He rubbed some ointment on the bruises that he assumed were from the kicking but was shocked when he uncovered so much more all over his body. He tried to apply medication to all of his injuries, including the more severe ones on his back and inner legs, but he quickly ran out, and so he decided that taking him to a hospital was best. He got up to retrieve his coat.
"Why…"
Gohan turned just in time to see his patient stir.
"Why… did you… save me?"
The Saiya-blooded young man blinked, still stunned at how someone so grievously injured could wake up, let alone speak. The voice was faint and airy, almost deathly. He rushed over to his side and gently placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Shh, don't waste your strength now. I'm taking you to a hospital."
The stranger seemed disproportionately perturbed by the idea, as his closed eyes scrunched tighter and his head shook slightly from side to side, presumably in protest. Then, with much effort, his eyes finally manage to flutter open.
Gohan's mouth fell slack as orbs like the deepest blue ocean were unveiled. He knew at a glance that the being that he had rescued was of Namekian race, and that in itself was remarkable enough, knowing that the Planet Namek was wiped out many years ago by none other than the Saiyajins. Nameks were known throughout the galaxy for their exceptional mystical prowess, but he has only studied them from books and from second-hand accounts during his many interplanetary exploits… He had been deeply fascinated with them from the start and had felt genuinely heartbroken that he would never get to see one up close and personal…
Or at least, that's what he thought.
His sheer excitement over having actually come into contact with a living, breathing—albeit barely, and very real Namekian was greatly diminished by the said Namekian's condition. If this was indeed a Namek, his priority was to save his life; marvelling over him could wait.
He was derailed from his plan, however, because he wasn't prepared for what he saw when those eyelids finally drew back. He had heard tale of legendary warrior Super Nameks from wise and wizened old-timers of many a different planets and how they were wiped out in an ancient war that took place hundreds of years before their time. No one in living memory has ever seen one, so the stories of them were practically myth. But legend has it that the only way to tell them apart was their eyes… Where non-warrior Nameks had eyes in varying shades of brown, these unique breed of Nameks had blue—a shade of blue so deep and so distinct that they seemed to have their own perpetually bioluminescent glow. It was…
Like staring into a vast and endless ocean.
It took a while before he managed to break away from the spell those eyes cast upon him, and it was only because his patient was attempting to sit.
"No, don't! You're badly hurt, lie down."
"No… hospital," the Namek said hoarsely.
"Okay, okay! Just, just lie back down, alright?" Relieved that his companion stopped trying to sit up, he instead propped some pillows under the Namek's head before standing up to fetch him a glass of water along with the apples he purchased. When he had finished helping him drink it, he set it aside on the nightstand. Seeing that he could manage with the apples by himself just fine, he drew up a chair and quietly sat as his patient finished his sustenance.
By the time he looked back, those unreal iridescent blue orbs were curiously staring up at him. The longer he stared, the more Gohan found himself possessed of an irrepressible urge to kiss him. He swallowed hard and found his fingers lightly tracing the bloody-red marks around those bound wrists. A part of him crumbled at the thought of any kind of harm being inflicted upon such a creature; it made him feel so helpless—even more helpless than he's ever felt before. Drowning once again in those azure depths, he said in a breathless whisper, "What's your name?"
The Namek only continued to stare.
"I'm Go—"
"Names don't matter. They'll come for me soon, you must… you must allow me to… repay you…"
"What? Repay me for—?"
On cue, three soldiers were cramming into his room charging straight for the figure on the bed as if not noticing any other presence. They only notice the other being in the room when a powerful gust of wind courtesy of the said being pushed them back a few paces; one hits the wall and loses his balance, falling on his behind.
Gohan made a show of slowly walking up to them while cracking his knuckles, before balling them together in a tight fist in front of him. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"
The burly armoured intruders looked disorientated at first, but upon seeing Gohan's fists, backed up warily. After taking in his appearance, their eyes slowly widened and they swallowed hard.
Dark brown eyes.
A bright red scar on the left side of his face. Running a jagged diagonal line across the very centre of the eye from just above a thick brow to the tip of the cheekbone…
"You… You're the faux prince…!" the one who was on the floor stammered as he scrambled to his feet.
"That's rightful prince to you arse-wipes," Gohan muttered crossly, almost only to himself.
"Uhm, w-we don't want no trouble, b-but that slave belongs to the king Lord Vegeta, err, your fauxness…"
"Oh, is that so?" Gohan sneered. "If he belongs to the king… Then, he's mine then!"
The trio of alien guards exchanged uneasy looks.
"I have some unfinished business with him…"
Everyone turned their attention to the Namek, startled at his sudden interjection. He was now sitting up, looking a less pale shade of green than he had only minutes ago.
"I'll come willingly after it's finished." Blue eyes flashed like glowing embers. "I'm sure the king wouldn't want me indebted to the faux prince of all people?"
After some hesitation, the biggest of the lot grumbled, "Fine. The ship leaves at dawn. You are to conclude your personal 'business' before then."
With begrudging looks, the guards trudged outside one by one, before slamming the door behind them. But not before reminding the room's occupants that they would be waiting right outside.
"You're the faux prince?" Piccolo said when they were alone again.
"My reputation precedes me." Gohan gave a theatrical bow.
"I thought you'd be…"
Gohan raised a brow. He knew the many rumours circulating about him have spawned many absurd lies.
"Bigger… Older… And—"
"Sorry to disappoint. I'm just a scrawny twenty year old."
"—Nothing but a myth."
Gohan stared at his companion for some long seconds. "I could say the same about you."
The blue-eyed Namek stared back the whole time. "I didn't say I was disappointed."
Before Gohan could react beyond his cheeks heating up, the stranger had planted his feet on the ground and pushed up to stand. The hybrid Saiyajin rushed over to stop him.
"Hey now, you're not supposed to—whoaa!" His feet skidded to a halt, his neck not appreciating how fast he snapped his head to look away…
But it was too late.
The lubricious image of that slender slyph-like body bared before him was already imprinted in his brain as though impressed by a searing hot branding iron. The Namek had grabbed and torn off his flimsy tunic from the collar up and had managed to step out of its tattered remains so fast that he could only be dumbfounded.
"Uhm, errr…" Gohan began, his voice cracking superbly. "Why are you—uuhh… w-why did you… tear off your clothes?"
In a few graceful steps, the tall being was in front of him, and before Gohan could get his brains to work, an impossibly soft and supple mouth was on his neck, lavishing it with sensously divine kisses.
"Ahh!" Gohan couldn't stop the shiver that shot up his spine, his head tilting out of the way of its own accord, welcoming… inviting.
"To repay you, what else?" came the sultry whisper against his skin.
"Nnghh, oh Kami… uhh!"
For some moments, the halfbreed could do nothing but lose himself in delirious bliss. He felt his already semi-alert little man come to life so fast that it shocked him to his senses somewhat, hands grabbing the sweet-smelling creature before him and putting some distance between them so that he could function somehow – very little distance.
"Wha-w-wait… Whu—what do you mean 'r-repay me'? You mean you'll—?"
"Don't worry," the Namek murmured as he leant down enough for Gohan to feel his warm breath on his ear. "I'm clean, they have me checked regularly."
"Fuck that!" Gohan spat heatedly, pushing his companion away with more resoluteness this time; angrier at how his body was reacting than he cared to admit. "I didn't help you for this!"
Blue eyes blinked down at him, clearly confused, before another emotion joined it for a flitting moment… was it disappointment? And then, in a few blinks, his countenance was back to passive-neutral.
"I don't have anything else to offer you as payment."
Gohan heaved long and deep, still quite aghast. "Are you trying to insult me? I'm not anything like those filthy Saiya brutes!" he sidestepped his companion to grab his cloak from the bed before pulling it back over those broad yet graceful shoulders. "You don't have to pay me back for anything, got that?"
The Namek hung his head and this time Gohan was sure it was dejection on his vulpine face. The very next moment, a twisting sensation wormed its way from his gut to his chest, expanding slowly as his towering companion silently whispered his thanks before padding towards the door, still with his head low.
Oh. Right…
Now that he didn't have any more business with him… he was going to return to the Saiya ship!
"WAIT!"
The Namek halted, obviously startled at the volume and urgency of the outburst.
"I… I do want something in return!" Gohan's cheeks burned as the creature slowly turned to face him, hope gleaming off those breathtaking pools of blue. "Uhhmm…" he scratched his cheek in embarrassment. "J-just… err… your name… for starters. I– I need to know—"
"Piccolo."
"Piccolo…"
Gohan found himself at a loss once again. He didn't expect he would get an answer instantly; he expected he would be able to buy some time to think of a better strategy while he wheedled the information out of him. He knew that he had to think of a way to keep Piccolo here: maybe some small talk would do for now…
"I'm Go—heey!"
Piccolo had resumed his trek to the door!
"Hold on a second!" With a neatly executed flip, Gohan landed right in front of him and ceremoniously escorted him back to sit on the bed. "Please… don't go… Why not… just stay with me until morning?"
Piccolo just blinked up at him, confusion evident in his eyes.
Of course. That was insane, right? What were they going to, sit side by side for seven hours? Have a slumber party? Literally sleep together? (That wasn't such a bad idea, actually.) But can he really do that?
From the moment he first got a whiff of Piccolo at the marketplace, even without having seen his ethereal face and those accursedly bewitching eyes, his scent alone already sent his head spinning and his blood flowing. Then, seeing him in all his naked glory and having those luscious lips on his skin…? Until then, despite his healthy sexual appetite, he was extremely proud that his resolve has always won over his libido (at least when he was sober). But now, he wasn't so sure that was going to be the case. He knew he wanted Piccolo badly. And not just for a one-night stand.
While it's true that he has never been faced with a temptation this great before, he wasn't the type to extort anything from anyone, no. That would make him no different from those pure-blooded Saiyajins. Right now, he just needed to convince Piccolo of a good enough reason to stay, and if he needed to claim some sort of "payment" from him to achieve that, then fine. He could work with that. The guy was hell-bent on offering sex, but perhaps he could ask for something fairly harmless and yet mutually beneficial—something along the lines of their common interest…?
"There is something more you can offer me…" Gohan took a deep breath in an effort to loosen the knots in his stomach. "A kiss."
"A kiss?" Piccolo's brows furrowed. "That's what you want as payment?"
"No." The demi-Saiyajin shook his head. "I don't want it as 'payment', I just want to do it… you know?" Another deep breath. "If… that's okay with you… of course…" He was usually smoother with the ladies—and occasional guys—than this. He didn't fidget stupidly or fumble with his words the way he was doing now. But then again, he's never felt his heart beat so fast and so hard in his chest before either… "Well… I—Is it?"
Piccolo searched his eyes for some moments, as though trying to discern if he was being serious… Finally, he gave a non-committal nod.
"Are you sure that's all y—"
Fingers that had gently pressed over the Namek's lips, slowly withdrew.
"Yes," Gohan replied with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
He was lying of course. He didn't know how this gorgeous creature ended up in the Saiyajins' clutches or what "duties" he performed for them—sure, he had an idea, but it was one that he didn't want to entertain. All he could see for sure was that Piccolo was incredibly naïve. For some unspeakable reason, he thought it was okay to offer up his body as payment to people he owed, and there was just no way he was going to take advantage of him like that, no matter how much he wanted Piccolo.
Gohan's eyes fell on the giant cuffs around Piccolo's wrists. It didn't look, by any measure, comfortable.
"Can't we get this off… even just for a little while?"
When Piccolo dismissively shook his head like it was some normal everyday accessory not worth bothering with, Gohan felt some part of him crumble a little more. And whatever part it was, just continued to crack and fracture further, the longer he tried to wrap his head around the truth about the Namek's plight.
'The world is more than just us and the people we've lost! Many suffer endlessly under Saiya rule! You know that but you keep denying it—you pretend you don't see what's right in front of you!'
Easing the Namek back against the pillows, he carefully crawled on top of him on the bed until they were eye level. Their gazes locked on for some moments, before his fingers went up to pet those pliant lips, lightly caressing the bright purple bruises and fresh cuts.
'No matter what we do, there will always be people who will suffer.'
Piccolo's lips parted eagerly, urging him on.
To which Gohan easily gave in.
'I don't want to let anyone down… Not anymore.'
The kiss was modest, bordering chaste. Piccolo obediently kneaded against those lips and opened his mouth when he felt Gohan's tongue. When their tongues met, they both moaned. In spite of the intense headrush and spiking arousal, the pace remained tentative and tender yet desperate in an inexplicably innocent way. Oddly enough, it was a kind of kiss that neither of them were accustomed to and it imbued the mood with an atmosphere of misplaced romanticism that both of them didn't know how to handle. So they just went with it, letting the lip-lock draw out torturously slow and deceptively loving. They didn't know why it felt as though they had never kissed anyone before then.
Gohan didn't know when his body started shaking or why there was wetness in his eyes, but he didn't question it nor did he allow himself to try to make sense of it at the moment. But soon it got too overwhelming; he simply felt too light-headed and much too aroused—and he knew that if didn't pull away now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. When he regrettably separated from those heavenly lips, the room fell into a charged silence with nothing but the sound of their deep breathing.
"Are you satisfied with that?" Piccolo finally asked in an offhand manner after observing Gohan zone out for some minutes, a faraway look on his face.
Startled, Gohan shifted his weight, about to reply in the affirmative when the action caused him to accidentally brush his now undeniable hardness up against Piccolo's bare chiselled abdomen. "Oh, shit! S-sorry!"
Piccolo's brows went up slightly as he pointedly stared at his would-be "lover", trying to capture that deep-brown gaze which refused to meet his. "Are you sure you don't want to go all the way?" To which Gohan groaned.
"Look, if you want to do it, just do it. You don't seem like the type who likes to hold back."
"Do you want to do it?" Gohan shot back in all seriousness, surprising even himself.
Piccolo seemed to consider it and for a moment it looked like he was actually going to give an answer that Gohan could work with, but…
"I'm not allowed to want anything."
Gohan scoffed. It was a shocking thing to hear for sure, but not completely unexpected. Piccolo was a slave after all. Nevertheless, he wasn't discouraged; there were other ways to coax an honest answer out of him. Piccolo didn't say he didn't want anything, just that he wasn't allowed to.
"Answer me, squarely."
He hovered the tip of his nose over that delightfully exposed clavicle, lightly touching and teasing with soft inhales and exhales through his nostrils. He felt the Namek almost imperceptibly tense below him, lightly holding his breath. Bringing lips to skin with feather-light and slightly moist kisses, Gohan proceeded to worship that long neck all the way up to an elfin ear, thoroughly revelling in Piccolo's alluring taste and fragrance. Not long after he had begun anointing that green earlobe with leisurely licks, he heard a reticent mewl from its owner before he felt clawed fingers clasp and tug at what it could of his now distressed shirt. When he turned his head to face Piccolo, his mouth was met with feverish kisses, which he gladly returned.
He couldn't hold out for much longer; he needed to know! Breaking away, he cupped Piccolo's face and looked him straight in the eye.
"Do you want me?"
It wasn't posed as a question. It was more of a demand.
Piccolo blinked rapidly up at him, cheeks deeply tinted, lips parted and mildly out of breath.
He needed Piccolo to want him; that was all he needed to know. Because if Piccolo wanted him too… Then that would change everything.
"Yes."
To be continued…
(2016/04/25-2021/04/26)