Surprise
The next morning, Bulma woke with a start. She sat up in bed, and peered around the living room in wonder. What the heck? How did I get down here on the sofa? With a yawn, she pulled herself up and shuffled to the bathroom. As she started to pull down her pants, she realized how big her fingers had suddenly gotten, which made her look up the muscular arms. "What the hell is going on?" She whispered, and had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she already knew. Gulping, she undid her pants and look down. And she screamed.
Quickly, she ran out of the restroom and up the steps, trying her best to coordinate the bulkier body and not to stumble over the big feet. Please don't let the kids be up!
"Hey, Dad!" Trunks called out to her, and she slumped over. Damn! "When are you taking me and Bulla to the park?"
"Er-um. Later? At erm- three?" Bulma said, grateful that her voice sounded like a man's and not hers.
"Okay…" Trunks gave her a suspicious look. "Are you alright, Dad? You seem…funny. Your chi feels different."
"Erm. I am-uh-doing a new training technique?" That's something he does, right? Training and stuff? "Um, yeah. It's making me much stronger." She put her hands on her hips and laughed triumphantly.
The lilac-haired eight year old just nodded slowly, and stepped back before running off into his bedroom as if someone had caught his underwear on fire.
Okay, so I don't have his personality down just yet…With a shake of her head, she dashed to the bedroom at the end of the hall. "Ve-I mean, Bulma! Answer the door!" She yelled, pounding on the door.
Suddenly, it opened, and she gave a shout of protest before being yanked inside. The door was slammed behind her before another word was spoken.
It took a lot of energy to stop Bulma from giggling at the sight. There he-well, she- was standing, looking like his angry self, only…it was so girly! The arms-crossed-eyebrows-knitted-in-the-middle-angry-scowl look was simply adorable on the female's face. "Aw, you're a cutie!" She laughed, but cringed when it came out in a deep raspy voice.
"Shut up," Vegeta growled, flicking back a strand of blue hair. "What the hell did you do, woman? You did this to me, didn't you?"
"What?! No! Why the hell would I want to be in your lumpy body? I don't want to be a stinky man like you! I would at least switch with someone nicer, like Goku…" The name sounded simply strange coming out in the prince's voice, as if speaking a different language.
Vegeta grunted, which sounded almost like a moan coming from the feminine voice, and he blushed when it blurted out. "Well, how the hell are we getting out of this mess? I don't want to be stuck in a woman's body. Least of all, you. I would at least go for Kakarott's woman. Tough and level-headed."
"Hmph! Fine, then go marry her!" Bulma said, turning her back on him, trying to hide her tears burning at her eyes.
The prince sighed, hugged Bulma from behind-I'm hugging myself…I need to work out more, my waist is too thin.- "I didn't mean it like that, woman. Stop sulking. We need to think about this rationally, so lets sit down and try not to argue while we work this out."
She sniffled and turned around, smiling-ugh, you can't tell this guy doesn't smile enough. His mouth is stiffer than hell.- and joined him at the bed.
"First things first, I don't want any of those idiots knowing about this. If I hear any jokes about it, I will kill them."
"Okay, so that's off limits." Bulma rolled her eyes. Such a drama queen sometimes, I swear! "If we're gonna do that, then I suppose we'll have to learn how to be like each other."
Vegeta smirked, and when he caught himself in the mirror across the room, it widened into a grin. Not bad for a woman. She should smirk more often. Looks sexy. "That should be an easy one. So all I have to do is bitch and moan all the time?"
The heiress gasped in shock. "Oh yeah! Well, all I have to do is-um- act like a big fat jerk with big feet all the time!"
"Oh, please. Don't hurt my feelings anymore!" Vegeta chuckled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Next thing, we should try and look up information of people switching souls, like in our situation. The more we know, the better chance we have of finding what the hell is going on."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Bulma grumbled, but smiled a half-smile when he glared at her with two familiar blue eyes.
Uneasily, Vegeta wiggled down the steps, trying to balance on the obscene high heels and keep the skirt from riding up at the same time.
"Hi, Mommy!" Bulla called. "Aw, you're dress is real pretty!" She ran up the steps and tugged on the thin material. "Ooh. Is it silk?"
"Er. Yeah, I guess."
"Neat. Where'd ya get it?"
"At the store. Where else, the fucking moon?" Vegeta nudged her aside. "Can't you see I'm busy trying to get down these damn stairs in these ridiculous things?"
Bulla looked at her mother with curiosity, and hurt feelings. "B-But…Mommy…" she whimpered, pouting out her lower lip.
He sighed, with both relief at having made it down the steps, and because he hated it when his daughter gave him the pouty face. "Yes, Bulla."
"Don't you remember? You said we were goin' shopping today!"
The prince mentally cringed, and the brief thought of suicide snuck it's way up for a split second. "I did?"
"Yeah! We're gonna go to Tiffany's an' Old Navy an' that other place that starts with a 'p'," Bulla said, jumping down the steps.
"Penny's." Why the hell do I know that? "Well, um. Sweetheart. I have, um, important stuff to do. Can't it wait until-Fine. We'll go. Get in the car." Damn pouty face!
They walked out, Vegeta a bit clumsily, and Bulla with the happy, hoppiness of a seven year old girl. Grumbling to himself, he pulled out his keys and started to unlock it, when his youngest giggled. "What's so funny- wait, my skirt isn't up again, is it?"
"No. It's just that you're unlocking Daddy's car! I thought you said that this was his and that we should never go in cuz he'd hurt us if we ruined it?"
"I did? Er, I mean, yes, I did. And I was very right to say that because I-I mean your father-will hurt you if you ruin his baby-I mean, car." Vegeta turned to the other vehicle, the one Bulma used, and let out a groan of dismay.
It was a minivan, with a nice assortment of bumper stickers that proclaimed things like, "Proud to be a Soccer Mom!" and, "I support Women's Rights." And the worse part was that it was pink. He had once heard that only real men wore pink. But what do they call a man's soul in a woman's body sitting in a pink soccer-mom van?