Human Hospitality
by scoutergreen

Chapter 56

Keep Pushing

It had been more than eighteen hours since Bulma had experienced her first contractions while at work, and she wasn't certain how much more she could take.

"Keep pushing!"

She screamed and gripped the railing of her hospital bed, teeth grit and sweat rolling down her forehead. "I can't!"

"We're almost there, I can see the head now. keep pushing!" The hospital obstetrician guided her patient through the final process of giving birth. It had been a long ordeal for her patient, who seemed particularly nervous about the ordeal ahead of her despite all assurances everything was perfectly normal.

Damp with sweat and so deep in agony that she wanted to die that that moment, Bulma gripped the guardrails of her bed and screamed as she pushed one more time, feeling as though a ring of fire had erupted in her belly.

"One more push! You're doing great!"

Several seconds of blankness passed before Bulma's mind caught up with what was going on, brain flooded with endorphins and eyes flooding with tears. She figured out her newborn son was being cleaned and recorded and sighed with relief when everything seemed normal. She caught the sound of a baby crying very loudly and gasped with delight when the infant was guided into her waiting arms.

He was a tiny, pink ball of fat, with thick black hair covering his scalp, eyes squeezed shut as he screamed, and small hands clenched into fists. He had a tiny nub on his tailbone, and Bulma wondered if it would soon turn into a tail.

"Oh, he's beautiful..." she sniffed and marvelled at his tiny face, "look at him..."

Within seconds the baby was latched onto her breast, and Bulma couldn't help but laugh. She already knew that baby was going to have a huge appetite. Despite all her worries throughout the pregnancy, her panic when she realized she was going into active labour while driving home from work, and the terrible pain she had just experienced while actually giving birth, Bulma decided it had all been worth it.

Bulma slept for a few hours after feeding her son for the first time, and awoke to a very large breakfast and her son sleeping at her beside, safe in his own tiny mobile crib. There was a stack of unopened cards and wrapped gifts on a nearby couch.

So I really am a mother now, she thought, this little baby is mine. Wow...

As she tucked into a plate of scrambled egg and fruit salad, Bulma's mother came to visit. She set a huge gift bag down on the floor and immediately approached the crib.

"Good morning, sweetheart! And how is my beautiful grandson doing? Ohh," she gently picked him up and cradled him, "look at you..." she cooed.

"He really is beautiful..." Bulma sighed and set her empty plate aside, "worth the effort after all..."

"You're going to be very popular with the ladies when you grow up, baby," Mrs. Briefs talked to her grandson in a soft, high-pitched voice, "you look like a nice mix of your beautiful mommy and your handsome daddy!"

"Ugh. Sperm donor, Mom," Bulma hissed, "he's just a sperm donor."

"You two will work it out, just you wait and see," Mrs. Briefs resumed looking at her grandson and chose to end the conversation there.

Stretching and yawning as he made his way into the ship's kitchenette, Vegeta struggled to keep his mind off what had been yet another fruitless stop that failed to challenge him. He'd landed on an isolated planet that served as a huge base for transit ships, and although there were plenty of soldiers to battle and resources to take as he pleased, what it lacked was a decent fight that pushed him to his limits.

He reheated two ration packs, fetched some fresh fruit from the refrigerator, and dropped into his seat at the tiny kitchen table. Heaving a sigh, he watched distant stars pass by the port windows and tried not to think about what he could possibly do next.

He had to do something in order to keep pushing his limits. Waiting around would do him no good.

Vegeta hated the feeling of being lost or unsure of what to do with himself above all other things. He needed to keep going; if he didn't progress, what point was there in living?

It could be weeks before I hit another decent-sized base or a planet, he thought, that's a lot of time to train on my own... what to do, what to do?

Another few bites of his first ration pack. It was awful stuff, but at least it kept his stomach reasonably full.

I bet that kid's been born...

After eating, he went downstairs to his living area and curled up on top of his bed. Soon, he fell into a deep sleep.

Vegeta stomped through the entrance to the cavernous shop and made his way to the very back, where he knew there were living quarters with an extra cot available if needed. He stood in the doorway, switched on the lights, and wasn't surprised to the tiny home empty.

"Anybody here?" He tossed his canvas bag onto the neatly-made cot in the room before turning back out into the shop again. "Hello?"

"Up here, kid!" A loud, husky voice called out from a platform raised and locked underneath the hull of a massive floating taxicab that had been suspended high above the main floor. Gloved hands took control of a remote and lowered the platform, and a very tall woman rolled up onto her knees and rose to greet Vegeta as she came to the ground. "Good to see you back in one piece... or what looks like one piece, anyway. Wow, Vegeta, you must have had a crazy mission, you're banged up!"

Vegeta took a look at his bandaged arms and bound ankle before sighing. "Things got a little crazy during the mission and again during the journey back here. I'm alright. The bandages are just to help some leftover cuts and burns heal up. My pod, however... did you get a call from Docking Bay 16 yet? They said they'd call and arrange to have it shipped over here. The navigation system is screwed up and my landing was really rough. Two of the airbags didn't deploy..."

"Oh, yeah! They called a couple days ago, maybe? They're supposed to be bringing it over later today. Did you just get out of the medical wing? C'mon, kid, we both need something to eat."

The Saiyan nodded in agreement and followed his trusted mechanic, Malar, to the cramped living quarters connected to her huge shop. She was a head taller than Raditz, quite curvaceous and well-muscled, with deep caramel skin, narrow grey eyes, plump cheeks, a wide, straight nose, full lips, and tightly curled forest green hair pulled into two buns on either side of her head. Vegeta had known Malar for close to three years, and within the last year he had been experiencing feelings he couldn't quite explain whenever he spent time with her. She was beautiful, she was "cool" (whatever that meant, anyway), and she always seemed happy to see Vegeta. Whenever Vegeta spent time with her, he swore he could feel a fluttering in his stomach. Sometimes looking into her eyes made him feel unsettled, and more frequently he noticed how her tops would cling to her large breasts and taut belly or how her trousers hugged her backside.

Malar put together bowls of spicy soup with chewy brown noodles and leftover roasted meat, made a pot of the same herbal tisane she always drank, and took the time to cut up fruit and serve it nicely spread out on a plate. It was all simple food, especially by Vegeta's increasingly-refined palate, but it was delicious and filled his belly.

"Can I crash here tonight?" Vegeta took another sip of his broth and hoped there was more to eat.

The mechanic's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I thought you were in that new apartment with the two big bedrooms and the view overlooking the water ports!"

"Ugh, Captain Hairloss and the skank are having another one of their "ragers" or whatever," Vegeta made air quotations with his fingers, "and it's so loud there I can't even think, let alone recover! They're drunk and probably on drugs and there's always whores coming through... of course, they didn't get cornered by a pack of enemy soldiers during the mission, so they're in perfectly good condition..."

"Of course you can crash here, Vegeta! That sounds like a rough situation! I'm just surprised you haven't gone to a hotel, considering youth spending restrictions no longer apply to you now that you're sixteen..."

"Uuugh!" Vegeta groaned and dragged his fingertips down his face, "they won't rent to me 'cause I'm only sixteen and you've gotta be seventeen to rent on this damn planet! I hate this!"

Malar gave Vegeta a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "I'm sorry your teammates are so rude and gross. Can't you talk to them?"

"No! They're so screwed up right now, trying to talk with them is like trying to talk to a wall."

"How long are you on leave?"

"Couple weeks..." he sighed, "could wind up being a couple months before our next assignment since we get direct communication from Frieza or his lackey Dodoria now." As much as Vegeta liked Malar, he knew it would be rude to stay at her tiny home for any longer than a few days, not to mention he didn't enjoy being in what he considered lodging for commoners.

"Mm," she nodded, "I see..."

"Only a few days, Malar. I just need some sleep."

"Oh, I'm not gonna kick you out, Vegeta. You obviously need the sleep because you look like hell! No offense..."

"I know. Unfortunately, my "private bedroom" became a shared bedroom since Raditz and Nappa argued they need the separate rooms for their, ahem, dates. Raditz is loud as hell, keeps alcohol in our room, smokes something that smells really strange and makes me lightheaded, and now that he keeps bringing prostitutes back... I... uuugh!" Vegeta faded away into a growl.

Vegeta couldn't stand being only sixteen: he wanted to be older, stronger, taller, more powerful, and most of all Vegeta wanted to be taken seriously. Nobody took him seriously, and it was a constant sore spot for him.

Malar just watched the young Saiyan's animated face and gave him a sympathetic nod. "You want some more soup?"

After a shared meal and an agreement to go see a movie at the closest entertainment complex, Vegeta found himself winding down at the same time as Malar, feeling very tired indeed and grateful for what was sure to be many hours of uninterrupted sleep in a quiet environment.

Down to his underwear and a light t-shirt, Vegeta lay on his cot (it had been folded out in Malar's bedroom, the only room where it would properly fit) and tried not to watch the mechanic washing her face in the connecting washroom. She was down to a pair of high-cut underwear and a loose tank top, revealing more than Vegeta had ever seen before, and the sight was enough to make Vegeta's face very red.

"Mmmm," Malar crawled into her bed and didn't notice when Vegeta caught a glimpse of her breasts, "that was fun. I like that you're quiet during the movie, Vegeta. Too many people talk when I just wanna watch!"

"Uh-huh," Vegeta rolled onto his belly, desperate to hide his erection, "yeah, you too. We should sleep."

"Yeah, okay," Malar switched off her lamp but immediately turned on her tablet, "do you want me to wake you up in the morning?"

"Huh? Oh, um, no," Vegeta avoided looking at Malar, who was now laying on her side with a thin sheet draping her body, "let me sleep."

"Okay. See you when you get up, then," Malar shifted her attention to her tablet, while Vegeta forced himself to keep his eyes shut and breathe slowly.

Twenty five minutes passed. Malar was finally winding down and about to turn off her tablet when Vegeta cleared his throat and spoke up, still keeping his eyes shut: "Malar?"

"Yes, Vegeta?"

"I like you."

"That's sweet, Vegeta," Malar shut off her tablet, "I like you too. You're turning into a real friend. Good night..." she turned over in her bed and shut her eyes.

Although the young Saiyan kept still and didn't reply, he felt as though a boulder had just slammed into his chest. An awful prickling sensation began at the corners of his eyes and down the bridge of his nose, and Vegeta buried his face into the pillow until he couldn't take it any longer.

After many minutes, Vegeta heard Malar's soft breathing and the occasional quiet snore. Traffic rumbled by on the street just on the other side of the wall. The regular trickle of lights from passing vehicles, diffused and hazy through the dark curtains. The soft click of a timed heater beginning another cycle. He rolled off the cot, tip-toed with his bag of belongings and clothing into the kitchen and changed there, and then headed out into the rainy night. Perhaps Nappa and Raditz would also be asleep when he arrived back at the apartment.