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Extent of Power	By : Anzi Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3680 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I attempt to own, the characters OR the series itself from Akira Toriyama’s DragonBall ( Z and GT included ) series. And I don’t profit from it either, obviously.

Chapter List
- 1-Extent of Power
- 1
[b]Extent of Power[/b]
By Fen-cyra

Rating: From M to NC-17 (Towards the end)
Pairing: Frieza/Vegeta
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I attempt to own, the characters OR the series itself from Akira Toriyama’s DragonBall ( Z and GT included ) series. And I don’t profit from it either, obviously.

N/A: Yeeeeeeeeeeah... I blame my stressed out brain for my complete lack of reasoning with this one. And Frieza’s shiny new, sexy voice in DBZ Kai.

Error Status: Still have no Beta Reader. Expect errors. : /

x-x-x-x-x

“I refuse.” There was an almost tangible silence.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly? But did I just hear you refuse my direct order?”

“I am of royal blood; I don’t have to stand here and take orders from the likes of you!” Young but prideful, the young price stood his ground, with his chin raised high. Planet be damned— he was determined to win this little spat, as this wasn’t the first time he’d mingled with the other. Ignorance allowed him to keep his bravery in check.

For now.

“Why, you little brat!”

For the first time since the prince had been on the ship, this was the first time he’d seen that form hop so gracefully from its seat. The room was stagnant with apprehensive silence. A rough hand grabbed a hold of his smaller chin and jerked it down, fingers clenching until the jawbone beneath creaked under the pressure.

“You will listen, as I will only say this once. You are here for nothing more than to aid me. You are indebted to my services by my rule over your father. You may be Prince on that greasy little mud ball of a planet, but here you work under me. Should you continue to disobey my orders I shall see to it that your father is thoroughly enlightened; and I will do so personally. I’m sure you would hate to see ‘daddy’ suffer the consequences of your bad behavior, and so I suggest you do as I say from now on. Do I make myself clear?”

Noting the clear threat in his superior’s voice, the prince gave a tiny nod, suddenly so speechless. His mouth was slightly agape, and he knew he should have probably voiced his agreement, but he simply couldn’t. All he could think about was if the other was indeed capable of harming his father. His father was the most powerful, right?

“Zarbon…”

“Lord Frieza,” someone from the prince’s right spoke up. A new creature, so oddly dressed, with skin such a sickly pale green stepped into view.

Frieza must have seen the young saiyan’s thoughtful gaze. “Would you kindly bring in one of our prince’s guards? It would seem I need to better illustrate my meaning to our dear little prince.”

The prince looked anxious, still not knowing what to say as one of his father’s elites walked into the room. The elder saiyan bent in a gracious bow, his features blank. “My Lord.”

Slowly, Frieza crooned his body to peer into the prince’s face. “Tell me: What do you think of daddy’s little guard there?” He motioned over to the saiyan that had just regally addressed him. “Would you say he is strong?”

Unwillingly the child nodded in obedience. “He’s…one of our strongest men…an Elite Saiyan Warrior.” He took a slow breath, trying his best to recall his father’s words. “…And the Saiyan Elites are unmatched by no other race.”

“You don’t say.” A signature smile appeared on his face. A flick of his hand was all he needed to disprove the poor child, instantly killing the saiyan soldier before them without as much as a fight. A fresh bout of blood splattered in a wave across the Prince’s face.

“Saiyan Elite indeed.”

Beyond shock, the prince didn’t need words to explain Frieza’s hidden meaning. If he could so easily demolish one of the strongest warriors in the Saiyan race…then…destroying the King wouldn’t be much of a task either.

“B-but…I…Ho—” Who was this ‘Frieza’ really? How was he so powerful?

A forceful hand gripped his shoulder and turned him. Zarbon was already trying to push the young prince towards the mechanical doors when Frieza’s voice temporarily stopped him.

“See to it that Prince Vegeta is made clear of the rules while onboard my ship. And don’t you dare leave a thing out of place when you’re finished if you decide to have a little…fun. I do so hate blood stains on my walls—it’s quite the stubborn substance. But don’t kill him; I still need the child. And I expect him here in my quarters within twenty four hours, and for his sake he’d better come prepared.”

The paler alien nodded and bowed, the long braid of hair at his back whisking away to the side in a gentle sway. When the alien turned and spoke, the prince identified it as a male, and did nothing as he was shoved forward. He fell onto his knees, hurrying to scurry to his feet with some semblance of dignity.

“I can walk by myself, you know,” He whispered hotly, his ears tinged red with embarrassment. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

Before Zarbon could counteract, Frieza’s suave voice permeated the room one last time.

“Oh, and Zarbon? Do make sure he understands fully. The medical lab will be functioning late tonight.”

x-x-x-x-x

Everything hurt. Defeated again, at the hands of Frieza. Damn it! He should have seen it coming. He should have known better than to stand against Frieza— especially when he was angered. Like right now for instance.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” The tyrant’s words were as cold and bitter as his heart, his bare foot coming down hard against the other’s abdomen. “Really Vegeta, I’m beginning to wonder. Do you enjoy my punishments?”

Said Saiyan coughed, generous amounts of blood spilling over his lips. His chin quivered, his stomach clenching in attempts to rid itself of the crimson liquid seeping past the thick lining during its abuse. “F-…fuck.” He tried his best to keep his voice stern and challenging, but the unpleasant nausea was quickly weakening his throat muscles.

“Oh my, has the mighty prince run out of things to say? Well, it would seem there is a way to shut you up.”

Snarling, Vegeta cleared his throat, steeling himself long enough to spit towards his enemy in clear distaste. It landed, with perfect aim, right against Frieza’s cheek. Vegeta smiled, still fighting the urge to vomit. “You wish,” He grunted, his voice lax and cracking. “As if I could ever run out of insults for you, Frieza.”

Frieza regarded him calmly, smearing the cooling spit to dry across his own ivory skin. “Such a pity, Vegeta. I thought that by now you would have learned your lesson.” Sadism crept into the corner of his smile, turning it wicked. “And yet here you are at my feet, begging for more. Always the glutton for punishment, I see.”

Before him, a single black toenail backed up from his view and for a moment he thought Frieza had had a change of heart. But in that split second it returned, and Vegeta found his throat pinned between two pale toes, the blackened nails digging into the soil beneath him. Only the toes applied pressure at first, digging the prince’s head further into the earth. He could hear the hardy laughter of his assailant above him, could see his arms crossed arrogantly across his chest.

The prince sputtered and choked, coming to a horrible realization with a hint of fear. Frieza wasn’t even trying.

“Still want more?”

Somewhere amongst the scenery, Vegeta could hear the tiny gasps and heavy breathing of the Earthlings he’d feigned to join with. He grew morbid with humiliation, his cheeks suddenly burning. They were watching, weren’t they? They were watching him, the mighty Prince of all Saiyans, getting his ass handed to him by an alien being that had, more than once, pronounced him as ‘his’. To him, embarrassment was beyond the word.

“F…fu-ck..y-you, Frie…za,” the prince stumbled, his own embarrassment at the situation fueling his ever rebellious nature. Frieza might be winning, as he always had. But Vegeta would be damned if he just laid there and took it, especially while others were watching. He could easily blame it on his saiyan pride. “You d-don’t…phase…m—GCK!”

He was effortlessly silenced by the force of the other’s heel as it cut sharply into his chest. Blood spurted from his mouth, his stomach horribly clenched as he heaved. The vibration of power echoed through his body, further churning his stomach while he retched a few more specks of blood from his throat.

Frieza was positively ecstatic at the sight, the prince’s tears finally making their ‘tell all’ appearance at the corners of his eyes. He was breathtaking like this, Frieza had to admit. Covered in his own blood and writhing in pain was the only good way Frieza liked to view him. But still, there was one detail missing in this little charade…

“That’s enough!” Someone sounded hurt, their voice a little shaky.

Frieza’s eyes reached a little higher, mouth tight with seriousness and aura daringly satanic.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

Krillin swallowed hard, gathering his courage which, he had to admit wasn’t much at the moment. “We get it; you’re strong, a lot stronger than all of us combined.” He breathed in deep, sighing to try and shake his nerves. Vegeta had saved them during their fight with the Ginyu Force. It was his turn to try and return the favor. “I’ll take a guess in saying Vegeta works for you and all, and all of us can vouch that yeah; he’s a total jerk. I know he probably deserves it for all that he’s done, but…just look at him,” He explained, pointing to Vegeta’s broken body beneath Frieza’s foot. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve won, so why don’t you just let him go?”

Frieza look amused to say the least. “But you see…that’s just the problem with these babbling monkeys; they never know when to shut up. And this one here…” He nudged the prince further into the grimy dirt with his foot, which was fully and firmly planted against his chest now. “…never shuts up. If he’s not trying to get under my skin with his petty antics, he’s going on endlessly about that ridiculous Super Saiyan garbage.”

When he felt Vegeta twitch under him as he was mentioned, Frieza bent his body so he could look into his eyes. “Which reminds me; just a moment ago you were announcing your own super saiyan status, were you not?” Frieza shook his head playfully. “And look at you now, still unable to defend yourself against me. My dear prince; you’re still in denial. There is no super saiyan, and if there is it certainly isn’t you, my weak, absent minded little prince. Because you don’t have what it takes; power.”

Gasping for breath, Vegeta struggled under Frieza’s enlarged foot, anger temporarily taking the place of his humiliation. It wasn’t the vigorous struggle he had hoped for, cursing at the large amount of energy he’d lost just trying to previously defend himself, but he still tried to break free. Being on the ground and under Frieza were two things he liked to stay clear of. And now, they were both happening at once. Not good. But the sheer strength of those leg muscles kept him stuck in place. Had Frieza really grown so strong in his last transformation that Vegeta was unable to even budge from under the weight of his foot? Impossible…

“Still got some fight left in you, I see.” For a moment, something akin to fear flashed through the saiyan’s eyes. Unnoticeably, Frieza’s new body shivered with delight. The foot around Vegeta’s neck pulled back. His tail wrapped around Vegeta’s neck, slow and gentle, his eyes curious to notice the lack of struggle in the younger prince when he hoisted him up by the neck.

Crimson locked onto ebony. And for a while they merely stared at each other, Vegeta suspended by Frieza’s backside appendage, and Frieza himself standing triumphantly before him. The three onlookers held their breath in anticipation, innocently thinking that the cold hearted lord might spare one of his own. But then again, the way Vegeta had so easily murdered his own comrade in battle…he could only get such a nature from one being. And that certain being was currently face to face with him. They all, especially Gohan, knew it was over. And yet still they watched with curiosity, wondering whether or not Frieza would spare him.

“Why is it you pride yourself in disobeying my orders, Vegeta?” Frieza began, tone slick with sarcastic hurt. “I truly care for you, treat you to the best hospitality I can offer for one of saiyan blood, allow you special training sessions, and yet here you are; once again trying to slay me while I have my back turned. Really, you are too much.”

“Hospitality…did I *cough* reall just hear that come out of…your mouth?” Vegeta was slowly recovering from the heavy beatings, silently relieved to have a decent amount of air filling his lungs. But the war was not over yet, not by a long shot. He still had some fighting let in him. His body hurt, but his ego hurt more. He would not be so easily beaten— especially in front of the two Earthlings and the child Namekian.

He pointed an accusing finger at Frieza, hand lifting up past the tail still wrapped loosely around his neck. “You know nothing of hospitality! Hospitality is when I blast your ass to the next galaxy! But don’t worry. Once I’m done, I’ll send all the pieces of your shredded corpse in a nice little package to your father. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Frieza sighed and rolled his shoulders. “I see that you are once again subjected to your own ignorance. Perhaps…I’ve spoiled you for far too long.”

Vegeta swallowed hard, knowing he wasn’t just kidding himself but those around him. He couldn’t beat Frieza, not in the past, and most certainly not now. Already defeated, he was just digging his own grave. And Frieza was helping him in it. Damn it! Enraged, Vegeta raised his energy to waver near his limits. He kicked forward, intending to wipe the smug look from the perfected alien’s face. A click, a snap, and with a rush of air he was stopped dead in his momentum. The surge in power kicked up dust like a sandstorm, and before the prince could blink he was already falling from his cracked indent in the stony, dirt packed wall of a nearby cliff. His head throbbed from the collision as he tumbled lethargically to the ground below.

Horrible gasps echoed a distance from him, reminding him he wasn’t alone. Shit! Why does this always happen?

The ground beneath him trembled. Terror clutched at his heart. There wasn’t a moment to spare, not with Frieza. Get up! But Frieza was faster than even his thought process. A stab of pain jolted through his stomach, forcing remnants of bile and stomach acid from him until his throat burned. They mixed with the blood of his inner wounds, giving the final product of the liquid a nice, waxy look. Limbs heavy with insufferable damage, Vegeta slumped over into an awkward, crouched position on his side. Defense was beyond him now, held only in an unmerciful Frieza’s hands. He was ragged and rapidly deteriorating, his mind reeling with the blinding pain. He willed his body to stay solid, and for his mind to stay sane enough to endure it all without tears. He’d been through Frieza’s beating tantrums. Granted, it wasn’t in this form, but he was determined to try.

His mind was so hazy…but still the kicks continued. His stomach was sore. He was sure a good few ribs were broken, especially when the kicks made their way a little higher. He could still move his legs, although they felt a little on the numb side. He tried to stand, but each time he was only slammed face first back into the dirt.

“What’s wrong Vegeta? Feeling weak?” An amused purr of a chuckle rumbled past dark stained lips as Frieza savored to sight under him. “And here I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

A few more, relentless minutes, and Frieza calmed his abuse, standing silent in thought. Vegeta wasn’t moving. Frieza wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“H-hey…hey Krillin…do you…do you th-think he’s…dead?” Gohan was shaking. He was shocked at the sheer brutality, and also at the fact that he’d just witnessed the most powerful foe they’d first encountered back on Earth so easily battered. From the trio’s current point of view it was hard to even see if the prince was still breathing.

“I…I don’t know, Gohan.” Krillin swallowed hard. “But it doesn’t look good. He’s pretty banged up, and I doubt he could continue fighting…even if he is still alive…Frieza doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘Goku’ type.”

“B-but…I don’t get it,” Young Dende spoke up, his voice quivering. “Vegeta already lost to Frieza. Why is he still hurting him?” He huddled close to the two out of fear when Frieza’s gaze met theirs. Krillin tried his best to stay strong for the two.

“Who knows, he—”

“—Because punishment is the only service I can possibly offer to one who only delights in disobeying,” Frieza cut in nonchalantly. His form bent forward to better view the crippled saiyan prince. “Quit playing ‘Dead’.” With a quick snap of the wrist Frieza had the other’s hair in between his fingers. Nails dug into fistfuls of hair to scratch at the other’s scalp as Vegeta’s head was pulled back.

Dark eyes cracked open. They tried to focus beyond the bloodied blurs, trying to figure out if his head injuries had burst some eye vessels or not. But the blurs weren’t of blood at all, but eyes; Frieza’s eyes. “A-a—….hn—” He tried through clenched teeth, but no words would come out. Only noises now.

“Much better.” Cold skin chilled the prince’s cheek as it was caressed. Finger’s prodded the tiny cuts in his face, smoothing the blood into his temple like a kind of lotion. Hypnotized, Frieza continued to play idly with the battle wounds along the saiyan’s exposed skin. To anyone else it might have been awkwardly confusing, but Vegeta knew better. After all his years of living under Frieza’s control, he was well aware that this was only the true beginning of his torture. This was only the calm before the storm, and he was about to head straight into the eye of the hurricane; against his will. “I know for a fact that it would take more than a few broken bones and an upset stomach to kill you.”

With a flash of white, like a ghost, something whistled past his vision. It caught him by his throat, which had been so vulnerably bared before Frieza. And again he was left in a haze of momentary confusion when his body collided with something solid. All he could remember was looking up, briefly, admiring the peaceful sky that was so unlike what he was used to seeing.

“You saiyans are all the same. When will you learn to hold that restless tongue of yours, Vegeta?”

Said saiyan tried in feign attempt to make out the words. But by now they were only distorted and muffled. His ears were too full of clotted blood, his brain too swollen with impacted pressure to comprehend. He could only moan his discomfort, unaware of his surroundings. Things were beginning to darken. Not a good sign.

Dishonorably, Vegeta found himself wishing for nothing more than a little mercy to be thrown his way. If only he could sleep off his wounds or crawl into a healing tank before he passed out, that would be great. The situation was becoming too much for him. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. And like his pride, he was beginning to crumble.

“Pick yourself up,” Frieza’s voice commanded.

Instinct took hold of the prince’s former pride, and he began to give in like he always had. Intense suffering was always the nudge he needed before his consciousness could finally bend to Frieza’s will. But Vegeta tried to think of it in another light; necessity. He needed to live to be able to exact his revenge. He needed to give a little until he was strong enough to face him. It might be a few years of heavy beatings, but he was always up for the challenge. That had been his plan since his initial introduction to Frieza.

…But it’s been more than just a few years, hasn’t it? Where was that unbeatable power he was supposed to obtain after all his near death experiences under Frieza’s hand? Where was his legendary super saiyan status?

Blood seeped from the gashes along his arms as he tried support his own weight, his legs trembling weakly beneath him. He grunted through ragged breathes, his chest aching with pain. Coughing, Vegeta couldn’t help but clench his teeth at the sudden onslaught of depression over his own weakness. His life wasn’t supposed to be this way. It just wasn’t. Damn him!

Frieza lifted a hand in elegance, beckoning him. “Come here.”

Vegeta hated himself for giving in, hated each and every unsteady step forward he took. He didn’t need to glance to the side to see that the others were watching him. He knew they were. Hell, they were probably laughing too. Maybe through fear of Frieza, but they had stopped bothering with hiding their energy levels now. Vegeta managed a wheezing laugh as he stumbled over his own dusty boots. Hah, they were afraid? They had no idea. Fear wasn’t a good enough word.

With his head down, Vegeta made his way over to the pale devil, cursing at how badly his legs were trembling. The nerves were all shot to hell, but he would be damned if he gave up now. He’d already lost and he knew it. But even dead he would still be Frieza’s puppet. Alive or dead; it didn’t matter. The only reason he kept him alive, Vegeta assumed, was to be his little servant boy out for demolition work. So why not give the bastard a good workout?

“Good boy.” Frieza sounded disgustingly delighted.

Vegeta coughed. The echo rumbled through his chest like a sore pain. A thought occurred to him. A name. Kakarot. “You think…you’ve won.” He coughed again, trying to stand straight and keep himself stationary. “But there’s ah- another like me— another saiyan.” The laugh was even harder on his raw throat, but he did his best to ignore it.

He needed to bide time for Kakarot. It might not be the same kind of revenge he wanted, but maybe the third class saiyan was actually strong enough to beat Frieza. By now, Vegeta was running out of ‘Plan B’s. “Too bad for you he’s far beyond your power level.”

Frieza looked mildly amused at most. “Let me guess; a super saiyan? I don’t know what to be more amazed at; your ignorance or your acknowledgement that you are not as strong as you may like to think. It’s been amusing up until now, to watch your little games, but I’m afraid I’m no longer entertained.”

A swift punch to his diaphragm left the prince breathless. He tried to return the favor, only to receive a follow-up to the chin before he could land it. Vegeta fell to his knees before Frieza, his form swaying with the sudden burst of wind like a worn out rag doll. Blood poured from a cut in his now swollen lip, the beaten corner already turning a lovely shade of darkened purple.

“Ha…H-I’m…”

“Utterly moronic,” Frieza finished. “You never did know when to give up.”

Once more, Frieza’s tail coiled around Vegeta’s neck, holding him upright and upturning his head. His grip wasn’t stifling, but it was tight enough that he could feel the other’s jugular pumping lazily against the smooth skin of his tail. And Frieza had to admit— it was nice. It made him want to tighten his grip even more, if only to feel that vein throb ever more in dismay.

Frieza looked down at the fallen prince. “What a sight. The mighty Prince of All Saiyans, here, at my feet. And on his knees, no less.” The way the prince looked now was one in which Frieza wished he could stow away under lock and key. Shame…it was such beautiful shame. Vegeta could only look his best when humiliated. Then, he looked like the beautiful child he once was; like he was ready to run into his mother’s arms in tears and try to hide between her breasts. Ah, nothing could replace that look. It was so rare, and even rarer to be seen in public. Frieza wanted to make it last. And there was only one way to keep such a defeated look on that charmingly royal face.

Stony fingers reached out to clear some of the blood from Vegeta’s chin, a thumb glazing over the underside of his swollen lower lip. They lingered over the open gash while Frieza himself let his eyes wander to the bystanders a ways away. “You look a bit bored,” he pointed out, fingers still over Vegeta’s knotting features.

The others, who had previously been dumbly floored and silent, jumped at the suave voice. Dende hid somewhat behind Krillin while Gohan took a step back. And while none of them really welcomed any kind of confrontation between the higher links of the food chain, Krillin decided it was best to go along with whatever Frieza had planned. Communication wise, that is. It’s not like they had a choice anyway. They were too weak to even pose a threat.

“Not…really.” If Vegeta stood no chance against Frieza, then what good could the three of them do?

Frieza’s laugh only caused Krillin to grimace. “Is that so?” He held both sides of Vegeta’s face, looking down at him with faux enthusiasm. “Just look at what you’ve done.” He said. “Your little guests are becoming bored…and you know how rude it is to keep one’s guests waiting, Vegeta.”

Vegeta coughed through the choke hold, trying to swallow before stating smugly, “Maybe you’re just that boring.”

Frieza’s face was completely blank, but his eyes held a hint of excitement. Oh how he loved to watch his prince fight back. He paused, his eyes panning from the others, then back to Vegeta. Let the show begin. “Oh really.”

His tail slithered more firmly around his victim’s neck, the end crawling higher to his chin. Clearly Frieza was not taking the prince seriously. His neck pivoted to angle his view on Vegeta’s face. Frieza’s tail forced Vegeta’s face to the side again without the saiyan’s consent. “Hmm…which shall it be, Vegeta; punishment for disobeying, or death? You know how much I care for you. I’d much rather just punish you instead…but I’ll leave the choice to you.”

Vegeta remembered those words well like dialogue from a script. Every fake word of love was just his demented way of humiliating him more. They made his stomach churn. “G—…g-go…to…hell, Frie…za.”

The darker, thinner end of Frieza’s tail was at his lips now as the bulk of the tail continued to snake its way around Vegeta’s neck and upward still. “Wise choice.”

The longevity of the appendage was good enough to allow Frieza the most demeaning of tricks. And he delighted in taking advantage of it all. He grinned at Vegeta’s expression when the tip of his tail nearly slid past those parted lips. Was that fear he saw?

“Death,” Vegeta’s sudden, panicked voice nearly shouted, outraged that he was now in this situation. He was trying to wrench himself free again. “I choose death!”

Frieza leaned in a little closer, his tail hugging Vegeta’s neck mockingly. His grin widened when the prince audibly choked. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“K— gak!…Ki…ll—m.” He coughed, gasping for air. That tail was now prodding at his lips teasingly, but even as he managed to raise his arms; they were useless. He’d lost far too much energy to effectively fight back now. He instead turned his head. But the tail followed.

“Kill me, damn it!” he finally managed through clenched teeth, shouting hoarsely.

“Too late.”

The grip Frieza had on Vegeta’s neck lessened, allowing the prince to speak after he’d finished with his rather unattractive hacking episode. Frieza could spare a little time to hear him begging for death. It was another one of those ‘rare moments’ he couldn’t get enough of. But it was too much of a lesser form of emotional destruction. Frieza didn’t want to see him beg, no; he wanted to see him broken.

“You…you said I had the choice to make!”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Vegeta’s cheeks were tinted with anger. “That’s bullshit! It was my choice!”

My, my, still such a child. “Throwing a tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted? So childish and yet, I would expect nothing less from you, my prince.”

The anger the prince felt was fuel enough to empower him a bit more. It may not have been much to fend off the wagging appendage at his face, but he took hold of it with his hands in the firmest grip he could as his last defense. His hands tightened when it tried to push past his clenching fingers.

The chokehold Frieza had on Vegeta’s neck tightened again in retaliation. The cold hearted tyrant remained perfectly composed as Vegeta struggled, knowing all too well that he would win in the end, as he always had. He was merely having a little fun before hand. Loss was imminent for Vegeta, and Frieza was pretty sure the prince himself knew it too.

Frieza looked once more towards their guests. Each expression was a perfect mirror of the one next to it, with such confusion written all over their faces. Ah, such ignorance is bliss. But they were about to witness, first hand, just why their saiyan enemy had shown fear when in the hands of Frieza.

But really, he only does it out of love for the young saiyan, to show him that his rebellious behavior is unacceptable. He only wants to show him the correct ways to act— even if it’s done by force. Right?

“Open your mouth.”

Vegeta declined, keeping his lips firmly together. Just kill me and leave me be!

Too bad Frieza had other things on his mind. Without warning, Frieza hoisted a knee into the other’s stomach in an upward thrust. Vegeta’s mouth opened with an outcry of pain. And that was it; game over.

Vegeta lost.

Fuck. That tail was already on his tongue, feeling the insides of his mouth out curiously. He would have bit down only, in his panic, he began to weakly thrash about. His head jerked to the side in hopes of avoiding any more of the length. But it refused to be ignored. Frieza watched with amusement as he forced the thinner part of his tail down the other’s throat.

“This seems to be the only way to shut you up.” His tail, although bulky by nature, managed to slip further down, feeling the other’s throat clench around it. The sensation was…interesting at most. “I think it’s quite effective, don’t you?” His eyes turned to Dende, Krillin, and Gohan.

Krillin forced his younger comrades completely behind him, whispering for them not to watch. It wasn’t exactly the most kid friendly thing he’d seen since coming to Namek. Disgusting and wrong, Krillin couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather not watch that could be any less attractive than this. This…was beyond logic. He didn’t want to say anything. Vegeta…Krillin could easily say he disliked the boastful saiyan. And although he might have thought differently when he’d last met the saiyan prince back on earth, a wave of sympathy came over him. How long had Vegeta been under Frieza’s control like that?

“Oh I see. Too afraid to speak now, are we? Are you worried you will receive the same treatment?”

Krillin visibly swallowed. His mouth ran unbearably dry. “You could say that.” But he had a strange feeling they would not receive what Vegeta currently was. Something told him it was meant for only him, and that almost made it worse. “But you’re the more powerful one here, so we can’t really do anything to stop you. Isn’t that right?”

“Smart little earthling,” Frieza sighed. “Too bad the saiyan race didn’t have the same logical reasoning.”

Frieza turned his head back to Vegeta’s face. Raw with panic and disgust, the prideful prince could not will his body from heaving against the onslaught pressing down his throat. Bile mixed with his saliva and leaked from the corners of his mouth. His lips were stretched, his jaw threatening to crack under the building length. He would have liked nothing more than to bite down, but his gag reflex was too strong. It left his throat unbearably weak. And, regrettably, it was slowly being ravaged by something utterly unsavory.

He could vaguely hear Frieza laughing as he continued to gag. That tail tightened in fake spasms around his neck. Vegeta knew his hands were clawing at that tail. But he also knew he didn’t stand a chance. Frieza always did what he wanted, no matter what it entitled.

As the tail slid further down, a thought occurred to him. Something along the remembrance of a taste. Like dirt and gravel, mixed with blood and sweat; it was truly disgusting. “Had enough?” He heard, knowing it could only be Frieza. Bastard. He knew the prince couldn’t answer. So why bother with asking him a question?

Vegeta was unaware of how much had managed to wriggle down his throat, probably not much, but by now he had tears in the corners of his eyes from all the strain. If his stomach could burst it would from all the forceful heaving he’d done— and was still trying to stop. Silently, the beaten saiyan begged for some kind of an end to come. Sadist. It would have been better if Frieza himself had face fucked him. At least then there would be some kind of end to this madness.

“Hopefully next time you’ll know better when you open that mouth of yours.” Thankfully, he could tell that Frieza was getting restless. That could be good or bad. “Maybe, after all these years, I’ve run out of effective ways to punish you.”

The tail withdrew with force and in an instant it was out. Vegeta was left to try and compose himself, his own hands covering his mouth and throat protectively. His ‘punishment’ as Frieza so lovingly deemed it, well, he never remembered it being so quick. Was it the lack of reactions from the others that caused such a retreat? Normally Frieza’s lackeys would be at the sidelines with endless snide remarks and cackles of amusement to coax their lord on. But here…they were already dead.

Only one stunned Earthling, a Half-bred Saiyan, and a young Namekian boy remained.

“Perhaps it’s time to bring back a more…effective treatment.” Vegeta’s blood ran cold. Frieza’s voice…it was— it was different.

In his weakened state, it was easy enough for Frieza to pin the other to the ground. With one, three toed foot he set it against the top of Vegeta’s spine and slammed him forward. His face careened into the dirt. But Vegeta made no sound other than a wordless gasp. He growled afterward, and tried to move. But he couldn’t. Frieza had him locked in place.

He couldn’t see Frieza’s eyes turn from the others, down to his bent over form. He couldn’t see the smirk that blossomed on his face, nor could he see the unknown gleam in those crimson eyes. But being in the position he was currently in, Vegeta knew better. It could only mean one thing: Frieza grew bored of shame, it was time for humiliation.

“Just kill me already!” The prince managed to cough out, his voice raspy and strained.

But Frieza wouldn’t allow it. “Is that a request? It may have been the wind, but I am sure I heard you begging for me to kill you.”

“I…-grah!” Frieza’s heel dug a little more solidly into the back of his neck. It made it more difficult to speak. “-do not…beg!”

“Are you sure? Because I am most certain of what I just heard.”

Vegeta was about to make another stab at sarcasm when he stopped dead in his tracks. His face paled. Something had managed to fit through the form fitting fabric encasing his ankles, and was wandering further up behind a bruised knee and a battered thigh. It was cold, and a little wet. He might not have recognized it had it not been for the unmistakable ridge a ways away from the beginning of what he could only guess to be…

“Surprised? You shouldn’t be. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been bent before me before an audience.” The plump ridge of the object ghosted against the side of his hip. His tail.

“Damn it!” The prince growled. Why did it come to this? He knew Frieza never gained any sexual gratification in this—He wasn’t sure if the creature even had any such urges, and if he did Vegeta didn’t like to think where he hid his weapon of choice in his current form—, he never had. Vegeta guessed it was only twisted sadism that drove Frieza into this kind of game. It was because he knew it bothered the saiyan, and any way he could break him he wouldn’t hesitate in doing so.

“You sick— fuck!” Frieza’s victim shouted out of rage, punctuating the last word out of sheer frustration. The prince grew livid. Vegeta hated himself. Although he could name a multitude of things, right now it was for showing his dislike in his current situation. He always imagined, to some form of rational thought, that as long as he stayed inanimate in front of Frieza he would be left alone. Too bad for him he wasn’t very good at keeping his mouth shut. The emotional stress of the torture he’d endured during his upbringing with Frieza helped no more than what he was doing now. Frieza had him, and there would be no escape.

Always pissed and always unstable. Maybe Frieza was right.

“It’s merely discipline, my dear prince.”

Frieza was barely fighting to keep the prince still, mainly because he didn’t need to expend the energy to suppress his ever relentless prey. It was however, a bit monotonous. Frieza orders; Vegeta disobeys, Frieza offers repentance through punishment; Vegeta refuses to accept it. Frieza reinforces; Vegeta finally submits. Same shit, different day. It bored Frieza. He needed a wild card once in a while.

“I assume you’re not going to cooperate. Am I right, Vegeta?”

The snarl never left Vegeta’s lips. “Never.” If he would continue to be so negative, then Frieza would simply have to try another approach. His tail recoiled, swaying loosely behind him.

“Ah, I must admit that in certain cases I do find your rebellious nature quite appealing.” A single, weighted foot lay dangerously over one of the saiyan’s legs. “But it grows tiresome.” He applied pressure, stepping down more forcefully. A clear crack resounded, followed by Vegeta’s agonized scream.

Temporarily stunned, Vegeta panted through the throbbing pain vibrating through the now broken bones. A string of mental curses entered his mind, but he kept them stagnant with gritted teeth. He knew he was shaking now, his broken leg off to the side obtusely.

Vegeta, in his mind, had already lost. The only reason any of it continued was purely for Frieza’s enjoyment. “Is…—gah…is that…all you can do?” He knew he shouldn’t have, but he kept going at it like a lost ship at sea, just kept talking big like he had the upper hand. Old habits really do die hard.

Laughing, Frieza stood between the saiyan’s now parted legs. One of his feet now held the back of the other’s intact leg in place. “You’ve still got some fight left in you. Impressive as always.” Frieza looked towards Krillin, and also to the two smaller bodies hiding behind him. He bent forward to grab hold of his victim’s neck, holding his face against the ground with relative ease. In faux affection he nuzzled Vegeta’s tousled hair, whispering, “But you’re still just a stubborn little brat, my prince.”

Frieza’s tail moved. The cold wetness only briefly touched his bare and broken leg, before it made its move.

There was no warning, and Vegeta went rigid. Wrought with a vaguely familiar stinging pain, Vegeta arched his chest to meet with the ground. He let go a thick grunt of disgust and tried his best to hide his face from the others’ view, knowing they could see just as much of the clear evidence of the violation as he could feel. If the moving bulge under the expandable fabric over his rump wasn’t enough, well, he couldn’t imagine any other such ignorance. “Damn you,” he growled under his breath. “Damn you to hell, you sadistic f— ghn!” He tried to voice his repugnancy against the other. But when a few sharp jabs poked less innocently at his innards, he could do little to stop the semi vocal noises falling from his tongue. At times he wasn’t too sure of what he was saying, but he was sure more than a few curse words were in the batch.

Frieza merely chuckled, tapping a single pale finger against his chin in thought. “You know,” he began, pretending to ignore Vegeta’s current foul mouthed obscenities. “In an odd way this almost reminds me of something you saiyans call ‘mating’. It involves a similar, if not exact penetration, does it not?”

Vegeta did his best to remain as dignified as possible, thoroughly embarrassed by the mere mention of Frieza and himself looking like a couple in heat. Queue the next round of nausea.

“You know nothing!”

“And you know more, I presume?” Frieza found himself caught in his own honest laugh. “How could you possibly, considering your entire race has been wiped from the universe, and you’ve been in my care since you were nothing but a tiny little brat?” His words held more than a simple implication, but it was enough. Ignorance was key.

“Why you—!” With the hit to his ego putting a critical crack in his pride, Vegeta fought to hit Frieza behind him, hoping to do some kind of damage. But Frieza’s hand at his neck made it difficult to move his upper half. It made him look quite awkward.

Frieza put a quick end to it with a threatening clench of his fist. It tightened with a fury around the Prince’s reddened neck, already raw from all the abusive chafing. Vegeta choked and sputtered, his body convulsing.

“My dear Vegeta,” Frieza tried with false empathy. “I thought I warned you about that tongue of yours. Were you not listening?”

Sounding so calm and regal, Frieza thrusted his knee up against the bowing prince. It was intended to be another form of punishment, and one Vegeta didn’t appreciate nor see coming. The blow was harsh and unforgiving, landing in the spot just under the orifice where Frieza’s tail was currently occupying. For a moment, Vegeta couldn’t breathe. He could only pant with pained exhaustion and fight to remain still, his haggard breathing a clear sign of his emotions. The pain had caught him off guard. Even the tiniest of movements was beyond any ordinary pain. Hot and searing, it felt like he’d just been castrated. Either that or his testicles were crushed. Either didn’t appeal to him very well.

His nails ground into the heavy soil until bits and pieces stuck underneath his fingernails. All he could do was groan pathetically. The pain was unimaginable.

“Now, if I’m correct, those were what you would have used to spawn more of you worthless weaklings. Well…providing you had a willing female. Too bad all the odds are all stacked against you.” Frieza laughed when Vegeta shivered, most likely with the prince still being in pain.

“Don’t worry; they’re not broken if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Vegeta was unable to speak. His whole universe had become the pain and humiliation he was facing. In fact, he’d even forgotten about the other three in the vicinity. It could have been from his embarrassment, but a lot of things were being blocked out by now.

“Let that be a warning, Vegeta,” Frieza whispered ominously. “—should you choose to open that mouth of yours again.”

The prince stumbled over his breathes before uttering a final, “Fuck you.” And that was it.

“Suit yourself, my prince.”

Frieza’s tail now moved with renewed vigor in response to Vegeta’s pain and anger. It moved, slowly, pulling free from the other’s body and waiting until the muscles grew taught before forcing itself back in. Each movement was a jolt of white hot pain, one in which Vegeta found he couldn’t predict. Frieza was monitoring his reactions, and strategically violating him differently every time Vegeta grew used to a certain way or angle.

Unable to steel his body through the pain, each movement was hot like wildfire within him. If he wasn’t already on his knees he would have crumbled by now. He assumed he was bleeding from some kind of inner wound he’d received since that tail had entered him, given the blinding heat and the uncomfortable wetness sliding against his cheeks. But it’s not the ache or the blood that haunted him. It was purely him. Frieza; he was laughing.

However, Vegeta was not. And after a while of mind numbing penetration, he couldn’t help but move his hips into a better angle for some relief from the pain. He knew it was petty and a clear sign of weakness, but his insides were burning.

His skin broke out in a thin layer of goose bumps. And like a worm on a hook; Frieza was wriggling inside, mercilessly. Vegeta found it damn near impossible to stop vocalizing his discomfort by now, resorting to biting his tongue when he felt the unpleasant urge to scream.

“How does it feel, Vegeta?” Frieza’s words were sultry and mocking.

Vegeta breathed in deep, grunting past the pain. “Disgusting.”

“Perfect.”

There was an unpleasant tinge of bile in the back of his throat, but the prince fought off the urge to vomit. He’d done enough of that already to last an entire year. He didn’t need the throat ache of any more heaving. The appendage inside him was growing thicker by the second, the tip crawling further still through his innards. Vegeta’s anal cavity was throbbing beyond its normal capacity, the skin covering the muscled ringed orifice beginning to rip and bleed. The tearing was small, but it burned none the less, especially when Frieza’s tail continued to rub against it. Vegeta grunted with each thrust, with each movement.

Frieza, knowing all too well how to make the saiyan bend to his will, made sure that in some way, some part of the other’s tail would manage to rub against one of Vegeta’s sweeter spots. The prince would shiver and, unwillingly, his erection began to make an appearance. Mentally, Vegeta cursed. His body was giving in.

“Damn it,” He muttered, ignoring his broken leg and crushing his knees together to make sure his newly forming erection remained hidden.

Frieza could easily tell his prince was trying to hide. It made him want to chuckle. “Is something wrong, Vegeta?” His tone was mocking.

“Nothing,” The saiyan spat, trying to remain still. He tried to crush the mounting pleasure with pain with his knees buried roughly against the head of his erection. He knew Frieza wasn’t stupid. That bastard was smiling. Frieza knew.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself.”

“I’d sooner die!” Vegeta growled.

“Then why is it I get the feeling you’re lying? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Vegeta?”

Vegeta could easily place the sarcasm in the other’s voice as he felt his own body go numb at his words. Frieza’s tail was poking teasingly against his prostate, and he could feel his erection throbbing in response. Each time he tried to tighten his body and block out the sensations that tail only pressed harder. And despite the pain in his scrotum, the sac was taking the shape of two perfect orbs. Slowly, the dull ache began to change into pleasure. Frieza would soon have his way. The tyrant refused to be ignored. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Swiftly, Frieza yanked Vegeta up by his hair, forcing his body to bend backwards and expose his front. When Krillin’s eyes made contact with Vegeta’s, he shivered. Behind all the pain, behind all the suffering and resentment, there was a clear ‘don’t you dare’ message hidden behind those dark eyes. Krillin swallowed hard and shut his gaping mouth, trying not to stare. Vegeta was hard. It was all too easy to notice through the tightness of his blue garments. But despite the prince’s excited state, it wasn’t difficult to see the clear repulsion in his expression.

The body was betraying the mind. It was going against his will and try as he might Vegeta just couldn’t stop it. It was real, and it was happening. And like everything else in the prince’s life, Frieza was forcing him into it.

Frieza’s tail was relentless inside him. It thrashed and twisted, probing to find the prince’s weaker spots. The tyrant was beside himself with accomplishment when the other’s breath hitched sharply against of his more angled movements, and from there, he pinpointed his aim.

Vegeta gritted his teeth and growled in frustration, furious with his lack of self control. He could feel his body giving in. His muscles were growing taut, his mind was reeling, his breath coming out more ragged than before, and it sent him spiraling with fear and humiliation. He tried to hold on to his sense of self, hoping it would help his body to turn away from the stinging onslaught of pleasure. What he needed was a distraction, something to take his mind away from the overwhelming situation.

“I used…to think,” he began, his voice heavy with restraint, “that you were some sick pedophile.”

Frieza’s laugh was nothing new. Vegeta knew this act hadn’t happened too often during his life, but words hit more powerful than any blow could often times. He continued. “But maybe…you’re just thatinto sodomy that you don’t give a damn who’s beneath you.” Vegeta laughed, even when Frieza’s tail made a sudden, vigorous stab at his prostate. He gasped, swallowing hard, before his jaw relaxed. “Did your daddy teach you those tricks?”

Frieza’s face turned dark. “You presume entirely too much, my prince.” Vegeta’s legs quivered along side the strength pumping between them. By the fist in his hair, Frieza forced Vegeta’s head back even more so that he could look into his cracking expression. “I wonder how long you can hold out, now that you’re all grown up.”

Gritting his teeth hard enough to break them, Vegeta struggled to compose himself. He was so close to an orgasm that every movement hurt, but if he failed at his self control then he truly had nothing. It was all he had left along side his pride and that alone was already beginning to tear. His erection was painfully hard, precum long since staining the front of his body suit. He closed his eyes, not wanting to stare into Frieza’s any longer. That monster was already laughing again.

“Do you give up?”

The prince tried to answer, tried desperately to argue otherwise, but his mind was growing hazy. Overwhelmed by a consistent pounding against his prostate, his ability to form any kind of intelligible sentence was now beyond him.

But it wasn’t the speed of Frieza’s tail that had him reeling. The pace had been, for the most part, torturously slow. It was the tail in itself that, accompanied by its sheer bulk, when it applied pressure the sensation was spot on. Vegeta was stretched to the point that at every penetrating thrust his sac was brushed. It effectively doubled the pleasure.

Vegeta clenched his throat when a whine escaped. His restraints were giving in. Frieza grew downright abusive with his efforts, knowing the prideful prince must have been teetering on the edge of sanity. Vegeta audibly cursed, his eyes still tightly closed. His loins were already giving off waves of spasms. His mind darkened and grew blank without thoughts, his body visibly taut and numb. He could vaguely feel his hips moving in smaller thrusts to ride whatever emotions had caught them with such intensity. Suddenly the tightness of his body suit felt like heaven against the head of his erection as he tried feverishly to rub against it, not noticing one of his hands there as well. It pushed the head of his erection against his stomach as he thrusted, forcing the fabric harder against that most sensitive spot while his cum soaked through to his hand. Everything seemed ten times more pleasant, even the pain. The more, the better.

The prince could barely register Frieza’s tail moving anymore, probably because his body was clamped too tight around its bulk. And while he could vaguely remember that it should have been all too easy for Frieza to force his tail further, in his all too powerful form, Vegeta found that he didn’t care to ponder on why he chose not to. Whether it was moving or not, it felt wonderful inside him. And Vegeta couldn’t give a shit otherwise. Not right now, anyway. He knew he would regret it later though.

Frieza’s laugh rang through his ears. Vegeta wasn’t fully aware of what had happened until, somewhere in the back of his clouded mind, he heard a haunting voice. It ghosted over his ear. He shivered involuntarily and, embarrassed and humiliated, came to realize just where his own hand had been rubbing.

“You lose.”

With a weight at the small of his back, he was slammed face forward, without warning back into the ground. Tiny clouds of debris rose up as dirt and gravel lurched from the force of Vegeta’s fall. The prince didn’t have time to recover as a fist careened into his spine. He wasn’t aware of the tail’s absence from his backside until it was pounding against the back of his chest, no doubt with Frieza smearing whatever substances had since stained his heavy appendage with.

Each blow was deafening. Vegeta was breathless. He wanted to yell for his assailant to stop, that he’d had enough abuse for one day and for Frieza to fuck off, but without the energy or lung power to do so he was left mute. The blows came harder. That tail returned and wrapped around his broken leg, twisting crushingly around his already shattered ankle before flinging him to the side. His face slid against the indifferent soil, scratching his face before his body fully lifted off the ground. His back slammed against the side of a sloping cliff, leaving Vegeta’s body to bend backwards over it. The saiyan prince let out a pained grunt; sure that some of his vertebrae had been bent and broken in the process.

His breathes were uneven and shaky. He could feel Frieza’s energy coming closer. A foot pushed his chin up in a solid kick before a tail slammed him back down. Vegeta rolled over onto his back when he finally landed.

He heaved for breath. “F-…Frie—GAHK!” Had it been any other of the countless times Frieza had given his prince ‘punishment’, his fury would have ceased by now. Having raised the once tiny saiyan into the adult he was now Frieza knew and understood the limits of the prince’s saiyan body. But this was going beyond. Hadn’t he gotten what he wanted from him yet? Was torture, violation, and humiliation not enough anymore? Frieza should have stopped.

But Frieza wasn’t stopping. “What’s wrong, Vegeta? Too much to handle?” He emphasized his words with a punch to the stomach, watching saliva and blood spray from the other’s mouth.

From his angle on the ground, Vegeta looked up at his tormentor. Frieza looked demented, his grin wild and insane. He’s gone mad. Vegeta couldn’t speak properly, or he would have pointed out the obvious in enlightening Frieza that he looked positively insane. The other was still using his tail as a weapon to cripple one of his arms, effectively breaking it at the elbow. Vegeta screamed, but it was muffled behind pursed lips.

“Get up, Vegeta.” But the prince can no longer move. He can hardly breathe.

“I-I…” He tries to explain through a hacking episode, but his mind isn’t forming the words right.

“Finally had enough?”

Frieza looked down at his fallen prince, admiring him. With so much blood covering his body, his face so coated with his own drying, smeared DNA, he looked stunning. His lips were quivering with pain and the elder could easily tell Vegeta was trying to hold back his tears. He was always so childish when you finally broke him down. Frieza loved it. He lived for it.

He stared at the prince in awe, wondering how close he was to death. He guessed that maybe he had gone a little too far but, after all Vegeta had done to go against him, he only thought it would be appropriate enough to administer a more lethal punishment.

Vegeta’s whole body began to shake. It was subtle, and not very noticeable. But Frieza saw. Vegeta groaned, his beginning sentence tuning into a bout of wheezing coughs. Blood spilled over those swollen lips and…

Nothing could be more superb. Frieza was having another moment.

He lifted Vegeta with his tail, running his tongue over the corner of those blood soaked lips before flinging him to his left and into the ocean below. The prince didn’t float, but instead he floated to the bottom in a perfect contradiction to what should have happened. Frieza followed him, parting the seas so that he had a perfect view of his victim.

“Just as I thought; you’re too weak.” Frieza chuckled as his feet touched the rocky bottom, cocking his head. “I was thinking…that I should kill you for your insubordinance. However…seeing as how weak you are, I’ve decided to give you another chance.”

Vegeta just lay there, trying to recuperate, his breathing dangerously unsteady. He knew whatever Frieza had to offer wasn’t going to be in his favor.

“I will give you your life, but only if you beg for it.”

His prince would have laughed had it not been for the blood clotting his throat. “N-ne…ver...”

“Still trying to be stubborn? You normally would have given in by now.”

Vegeta tried to kneel, to lift himself at least to his knees. It took him a few minutes of struggling, but he made it. He was forced to steady himself by kneeling over, with his hands on the ground. His head hung between his shoulders. “No.” It was firm, solid. It sounded more like it was directed more to himself than at Frieza.

“Delightful little thing, aren’t you?”

Vegeta coughed, and suddenly something was choking him. He couldn’t recover, not as blow after blow landed so solidly on his back. The wind was knocked from his lungs, saliva dripping from the corner of his lower lip. It mixed with the blood of a cut just beneath it and fell in tiny droplets against Frieza’s skin. The grip around his neck tightened, and he could feel the strain in the backs of his eyes.

Since he was young and under Frieza’s supervision, he was certain there would never be a day when Frieza would actually let him die. Frieza would never be disinterested in using him to satisfy his own sadism. It was part of the reason why Vegeta felt so secure in his little daily rebellions. There would always be a regeneration tank waiting for him at the end of the day.

He wasn’t so sure of that now.

His slowing heartbeat pounded in his ears, his head bouncing lethargically with each blow behind him. His vision faded into black. He couldn’t help thinking, as his mind slipped into darkness, what he’d done to deserve such a destiny in the first place.

Frieza’s voice echoed in his mind like a broken record.

“I truly do care for you, my prince.”

x-x-x-x-x

There was a heavy knock against the metallic door. Someone sighed just as heavily.

“Really, I do wish they would learn some manners.” The estranged, scientifically adept creature sighed again while he paced over to where the non to soft thuds could be heard. He lifted an arm, pressing one of the red arrows on the electronic panel. Metal panels slid aside to let through the appearance of a rather bored looking Zarbon.

“Either you or Dodoria; I knew it would be one of you or the other.”

“Did Lord Frieza inform you?”

The other shook his head. “No, but I think by now I should know what to expect from— oh?” He spotted something hanging near Zarbon’s leg. Although most of it was hidden behind Zarbon himself, there was enough to know it wasn’t apart of him. “What is that you are holding?”

Zarbon grinned, looking down and back at what he held so loosely in his grip. “Oh, this?” He raised his clenched fist to reveal his spoils. “Nothing really. Just Lord Frieza’s new little monkey.”

Bruised and battered, the bloodied child-prince only groaned. It was a weak sound, as if he were really just asleep. His tail lay hanging limply behind him in an equally bloody mess.

“A Saiyan child?” There had been rumors and, although the scientist had not yet encountered the boy until just now, his mind was not put to rest with this new bit of information, but riddled with more questions. For him, this was the first time the young saiyan had been sent to the medical chambers. Was it so, that the child had somehow managed to escape Frieza’s wrath for even a matter of weeks?

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Unceremoniously, Zarbon sauntered on past the other creature and carelessly dropped the saiyan child onto the metallic table. Various tools and books scattered onto the floor. The scientist was instantly flustered, though he hid it well.

“Must you be so violent? I just cleaned that table, you know.”

Zarbon looked dubious, but spared him the sarcasm. “Not my problem. Frieza mentioned nothing but promptness when dealing with monkey-boy here.”

Zarbon left just as swiftly as he had come, leaving the unearthly scientist to ponder his own thoughts. With a hiss the door was shut once more, and all was silent and calm. The prince was still unmoving and sprawled across the table.

“So it’s true then,” He thought openly, “Frieza has taken a saiyan onboard his ship.”

The child moaned again, lightly and barely audible. A pinky twitched, and his chest heaved in a quick breath. Taking a closer look, the intelligent lizard like creature could see the gashes in the young saiyan’s skin, could see the twisting in the broken bones of his legs that lay so awkwardly at the sides of the table. His tail was ruffled and matted with blood, but thankfully there was nothing else out of the ordinary there. It was clear this child’s condition was nothing short of critical.

“Count on those two to pick on something much weaker than them,” He stated quite matter-of-factly, walking over to the table. There, he began to better observe the young one’s wounds.

At every poke and prod, the boy winced, alerting the elder that he was still conscious to some sense of degree, which wasn’t good.

“Assuming that you are awake, to some extent, I will ask that if you are able to, please try to lift your hand. It can be either. I need to see what kind of nerve damage, if any, you have.”

Hearing only a weak moan in reply, he sighed. If he was to use the regeneration tank, he would first have to correct the child’s broken bones. Letting the broken bones heal in their current place would be nothing short of disastrous. And if the child could not so much as lift a finger, then there would be more work at hand. Still the scientist made sure his patient knew the consequences of such ignorant lethargy. “I realize you may be tired from your battle with Zarbon, but I need you to do away with your laziness and find where your strength is, because unless you want me to relocate all of your bones you would do well in showing me which are not broken.”

His voice was stern and foreboding. Sometimes force was the only way to make these saiyans understand.

The child’s left hand twitched with life, but it took more than a few moments in failed attempts before the entirety of the arm was lifted. Even then, it was only for a moment before it fell back at his side. A few more minutes of empty silence, and the child lay as still as he had been.

“If you can breathe, then surely you are able to lift more than a single arm. Are you so weak that you can not even lift a leg as well? Your race is built sturdier than that, as I have seen children much younger than you still fighting at the brink of death. You do realize that whichever limbs you can not move I will have to break back into position.” His voice was still as crude, but he immediately softened when he noticed the wetness forming at the corners of the boy’s eyes.

Saiyans were ruthless, brutal creatures. They did not cry, and they did not beg. From infantry to adulthood they stood as fearless killers of anyone who stood in their way. Saiyans had not emotions other than apathy. Or…so it was told. They were formidable and prideful in their ways. No one but Frieza could stand above them in power.

Despite that, however…here, a tiny male saiyan lay over the scientist’s table like a lamb ready for the slaughter. His moans turned to whimpers as fresh teas slid sideways down dirtied cheeks. He was such a pitiful sight. And at first, the elder didn’t know quite how to handle it.

He put a careful hand to the child’s chest after a moment of silence. “…I’ll try to be gentle.”

x-x-x-x-x

A/N: I ADDED SOME SHIT, HOPE YOU ENJOYED.

Don’t worry; I floored even myself with this one. I really don’t have a word worthy enough to express my thoughts with this. Will I be writing more of it? Who knows.

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Extent of Power