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His Sister The Keeper	By : TimedWatcher Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female Views: 796 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z nor the characters from it I do not make any money from the writing of this story

Chapter List
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The tall grass wavered from the wind, sometimes lashing against him painlessly. The plastic and metal pieces were unmoved by the howling; a chipped square corner crushing a flower. Glass tubing stenciled out from the soil. It was a real mess. The cold was needling his fingers, but stuffing them into his pockets wouldn't have helped. In fact, he was hoping the cold would temper his nerves. He was frustrated with Eighteen. Frustrated at his childish outburst. Destroying something that wasn't even his...
He had stayed out past dark -- but the strangest part was Eighteen didn't even look for him. He had developed a mental clock for her, and he had passed the threshold awhile ago. She had to be home. Why wasn't she... oh, who cares. This was another pointless show of his accomplishing nothing. She probably saw him through the window or on her flight back. In fact, she was the one with restraint for once by not bothering him. That showed a sense of class and maturity that he thought he had, but... she brought out the worst in him.
He swiped at his pants, beating them down as he rose up, hoping they hadn't stained. He stared down at the house from a bubbled up part of the land, his chin slicing. He sighed, making his way to the safety of the light, as he rattled his hands for weapons he didn't have near his sides. Sighing, hand on the knob, he wondered what he'd have to say to 18 to make this better.
Or do.
He cracked the door, and something hit him.
A smell.
Like... like... food.
Real food that didn't come from a can.
Somebody was in here. Somebody who wasn't Eighteen.
Should he have been scared? He wasn't sure. He might have been able to handle them, whoever they were... but wouldn't that mean somebody here was stronger than 18? He tried to perish the thought, but it festered in the back of his brain.
Turning an oak colored corner, his breathing froze up when he heard her voice. He peeked an eye around the bend as he watched her with a sense of awe. 18 stared into a silver plaque. A fishing trophy last he remembered reading. He understood why as soon as he saw the applicator. She painted her lips a solid gothic black, which felt totally unlike her. It was thick and all encompassing. He would have thought it was her natural lip color.
She wore a dark... dark dress. The kind he only ever saw in old magazines pre-destruction, worn by the most beautiful women...
18 was...
He shook his head.
The black top triangled up and around her neck, with a slicing low cut V like a driven knife. He was reminded just how dainty of a woman she was - despite what she was capable of. Though she wasn't built, she still had athletic definition in her arms, which was made obvious in the way she curled her arm to do her makeup. "Mmmhmmm~..." She hummed low and into her chest, as she passed it once then went over it again. She then kissed the air towards her reflection with a loud *pop* once she had deemed her redress acceptable enough, careful of avoiding her teeth. "Oh good. You're not late." She lifted the apron by the noose around her neck, before folding it over the stove handle. "Thought I was going to have to come get you." He ulped a little, then stepped in further -- and that's when he saw the rest of the scene. Warm bulbs of flapping orange floated above vanilla candles. Pots and pans were strewn about with large wooden spoons still sticking out of them. There was a rolling pin with a hint of dried batter or dough still caked on it sitting on a cutting board near a wet spot - but the kitchen table is where he kept his focus, as it was a meal fit for a king with not a square inch of the table unused for food, some of which was still recently served and wafting steam. He was genuinely surprised as he pulled up his chair with a loud scrape, excited for what was on his plate.
Before he even picked up his fork and knife however, he paused, watching her intently over the row of flames, seeing her go through several shades of orange, as it all reflected off her sequins in ghostly flicks.
What was the trick?
What was the game?
But god, it did look good.
"Go ahead. I'm not a grace kind of person." She took a perfectly girlish clasp of her bloodred looking drink from its underside and raised it, as 18 performed this seemingly well practiced tilt. He watched as she didn't even leave a trace of her moist and kissable noir color on the rim. "You'll be happy to know that this meal is a courtesy, as nobody was hurt today." He took that as his cue to eat.
The chicken had this orange hue that he only ever saw in cartoons; cooked to perfection with little flecks of greeniness that were probably the most healthy thing he had eaten in months. The skin and meat gilded to his teeth, and right then he knew. "I didn't know you could cook."
"Well... I had aspirations for something more..." Her finger swirled around her goblet.
"So what happened?" He could barely stop himself from talking with his mouth full. The meat tore like butter, with the yellow looking, lemon herb tasting, steamed rice, being shoveled down in tandem. He had attempted to go slow at first, but when it tasted nearly as good as the chicken, he couldn't help himself. Eighteen didn't even seem to mind, watching with intermittent blinks, as if watching him eat was all the nutrition she needed.
"I was turned into an android against my will."
He nearly choked on a piece of gristle. "Agh-gah-hrk." What? "You mean... this was... you're not... you are... were... human?" And a victim on top of that...
"Hey, don't get me twisted." She wasn't angry, but she was stern. "I like who I am now. I just take my pain out on others."
"There's more to life than destruction." It was a casual comment that came out from mindlessly eating - but maybe he shouldn't even have said anything at all and just kept his big mouth eating.
"Is there? Couldn't disagree more." Her playful attitude about what she did got on his nerves - but all he could do was drive his knife and fork deeper into his meat, stripping it down to the chicken bone.
"You can't... you can't keep destroying Earth." He found it hard to argue, his brain swelling from the smells before him and the thoughts of what she was doing to Earth, as he just wanted to regress to his most primal instincts right now.
"Who's gonna stop me from having fun, hmmm?" Shutting her eyes, she brushed her yellow hair back behind her ear, letting a cascade of strands fall as she then sharply blinked open her predator vision onto him. "You?"
That got him. He rested his fork with a clank. "All that 'fun' you have-" His fingers rabbit eared. "It's gonna be over soon if you keep this up, and then what?"
"I'll still have you." Her words ripped through him, a haunting reality. The meal in front of him now like ice cold roadkill. The closest connection he had to the outside world was the radio. For all he knew, everyone out there was dead - including Bulma...
18 must have noticed he was no longer excited about eating. "We've had this tired discussion before. Do we really have to do this now? Just eat with me." He still felt a little despondent. "Please?"
... A please? From Eighteen?
She took the initiative, lifting lids from several more ceramic bowls. His dour face lifted, as he felt like a kid in a candy store overlooking his options after his main course was done. He gave in, and dolloped out more of that food of hers onto his plate.
The white bun had this steamed feeling and smell - and as soon as he bit into it, he tasted sweet meat. Pulling away, redness spilled from it like a jelly doughnut, as chunks of chopped meat were dragged along with the blob. Seeing the inside made him hungrier, as he wanted to taste what he saw again. The mashed potatoes were whipped into a soft substance, and it had this hidden flavor he couldn't describe. It wasn't butter, but it was so good, that he didn't even think about adding a wedge of it. Bulma used to make enough for an army, and while it wasn't bad, it lacked that personal touch that this had. "Excuse me, but that's so good - what is it?"
"Sour cream."
He nodded in appreciation, eyebrows raised up. Wow. He woulda never thought of that.
"Try the gravy." Her blue eyes gestured. "I didn't steal that set for nothing."
He reached for it. Out of the nicest silver boat he had ever seen, he drenched the gravy in a creamy textured pour across his food, even getting some of it on the few morsels of chicken left as he could already tell by the way it moved it was going to be delicious.
He had never eaten this well in his life. So much so that part of him was expecting to wake up from hunger pains in the field, having fallen asleep outside and revealing it was just a dream -- but that never happened, as he chowed down like an honest to god pig. Nobody had taught him table manners, though he had always heard of them. Bulma would rarely get a chance to chastise him, but how could she keep doing it consistently with so many others like him?
Eighteen kept her eating light, careful with her makeup. Always making safe confirmed bites, the fork sometimes clacking against her teeth.
He tried to remember why he was outside. Why was he so mad at her again?
"So... have you been healthy for a human? I don't need to take you to a doctor, do I?"
"Oh... uh, yeah, I feel fine. Thanks." Did he just thank her? A part of him screamed to remind her about what she did to him, but... those words never formed.
She did look beautiful, leaned in like that, the back of her wrist pressed to her chin, actually paying attention to the words he spoke - those piercing blue eyes and drawn to the side blonde hair.
It was funny to think that he was pent up fury awhile ago, but he felt it begin to slip from his system, like an old phase of his life - but part of him still grabbed for it, not wanting to forget who she was and what she had done. "Look I'm not-" He swallowed his fourth helping. "One to question free food being offered, but... I could never have imagined you doing this before. I didn't even think you ate food, and you seemed content with bringing me canned stuff."
She shrugged a little. "It's... odd..." Her voice had her usual listless affectation, this time, mixed with a pang of wistfulness. "As soon as I destroyed the radio station... I felt bad about it." Her head adjusted. "That's strange, right?"
For her? Yes. For anyone else...
"Eighteen... I was so... so mad at you earlier-" He fake chuckled, as if trying to reassure her and himself. "But now... looking into your deep blue eyes..." His hand flung in the air, before coming down and slapping his thigh. As he talked, he felt more and more confused. Then he sat up, readjusting his position. "It's like the world out there doesn't matter, and it's just us." His free hand fell, resting on her open palm. "And maybe that's not so bad."
"You can still be mad at me." She was blunt. "I know what I did."
He picked up his drink, but then set it back down. It felt like she was testing him, but on what? "It's hard for me to be mad... looking at the food... looking at you and the way you're dressed right now."
She crossed her arms and leaned back, flicking her hair to the side. "Oh, so you never liked the way I looked until now?"
"No, ah, I mean, it's just the way you're all dressed up now and-" He'd be lying to himself if he said Eighteen 'cleaned herself up'. Beyond how the embedded sparkles of her armpit and cleavage revealing black top dazzled him, nor the way those dull solid colored pearl necklace and pearl earrings she wore only seemed to remind him of the perfection of her skin in comparison to them - at the end of the day, there was only one way he could describe Eighteen... attractive.
He needed some of her food to clean his palate of the bitterness he was now tasting.
She pinched her glass at the stem and brought it to her face. "Don't you want some wine?" She asked, almost insistently.
"Oh no. Bulma never let us drink that kinda stuff, so I never really liked it." Oddly, she didn't seem to like that response - her eyes no longer meeting his - but he was still too hungry to even notice; buried in his work.
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"Hmph." Eighteen accidentally tugged on her golden strands as she tried to suppress a giggle.
He felt lightheaded seeing that. She was a stone cold ice queen, and he was able to make her laugh. She destroyed cities. She killed people.
Yet seeing her laugh had him all... mixed up in the head.
"Oh no, you've never been a goofball before, you're not allowed to start now." He almost thought it was a serious decree from her at first, but something about the words she used and the way she said it had him quickly realise she was joking with him.
"What are you gonna do? Break my funnybone?" He stared at her, unflinching. "Pretty sure you already have, actually."
Eighteen got flustered. "Shut up."
For the first time, he actually felt happy about being on the island.
They walked side by side back to the entrance of her room. He had a happy sway in his step that he hadn't had in a long time, as 18 seemed to hide her smile with a half hearted throw of the back of her fingers across her lips - though she was still careful not to smear them, which is how he knew she was only acting as goofy as he was, letting him partially carry her by her shoulder. Being scared to death of her, he had forgotten he was actually taller than her.
They stood at their usual fork in the road. He tried to follow, as 18 kept him from her doorway -- almost blocking him. In fact, she even shifted a little as she tracked his path. That was strange...
She placed a lone finger to his solar plexus, before pushing him back; it felt like if anymore pressure was applied, she would have cracked it. She gave him a little shake of her head. "You don't have to do this tonight." Her speech was a little slower than usual, as if making her point very clear.
Suddenly, following protocol felt like the rebellious thing to do.
He leapt into her; like hitting the softest brick wall ever, he broke his landing with her bound together tits, pawing at them, as his face angled to meet her lip to lip. Considering their color, he was expecting the taste of death, but he faced her everyday so it was nothing new. Still, this was unexplored territory, and he felt like a student making an awkward pass at his teacher. Using her arms, she playfully pulled him down by the back of his neck to make their kissing easier, guiding him down lower to his knees, as she leaned down into him; her hair curtaining, as her wrists lazily overstepped one another, forming an x.
"Now wait wait wait-" She released herself from their kissing hug, hand above her heart as she caught her breath. "I'm serious. I'm not forcing you to do anything tonight. You can go to your room and-" He broke her stride, his kiss laid against her black lips again. "Mmphmmm..." Her eyes stayed open for a second, before getting back into it, finally moving into the room - but she once again cast him from herself with force this time, a waking reminder he wasn't in control. Up against the door, she had a dead serious look, her eyes colder on him than usual, her nose on him like she were smelling for his fear. "You killed my brother."
It felt like a dagger through his heart.
Just because it was true, didn't mean she had to say it...
"He was w-"
"He was family. My only family." He was gonna say that Seventeen was worse than her... but that would have been a lie. They were both just as bad.
His feet felt heavy, as the world around him felt like it was gonna spin off its axis. Why was she bringing it up now? Goddammit.
He looked to the floor, but he soon worked up his own sense of courage and finally turned back, with a greater counter than anything physical he had in his arsenal, as his face turned into a sneer. "Yeah, but you killed Trunks." They simmered longingly at one another. "Does that make us even?"
"Not by a longshot." She then tossed him to the bed with a squeaking landing. Propping himself up, he watched for what she was gonna do next. Eighteen cared little for undressing herself the natural way in that moment, using her hulking power to shred her outfit from her body like it was made of tissue paper. As it tore down the middle, seams burst before flaying. The beautiful gown was now in tatters, as she revealed the black lingerie hidden underneath. It was different than the bikini, a more intimate feel to it rather than a garish declaration. The ends were a solid black of flowery frilled webbing, before the middle material stretched over the more sensitive areas, looking almost transparent and nearly seethrough. 18 stood, modelling herself to him with her usual neutral expression. Her right arm curved slightly on her hip, her hand resting askew against her thigh. Her left arm triangled out, thumb pressed to her waist, with her index finger adjusting inward as she breathed, which caused her bottom row of ribs to look like they were gonna expand right out of her and her core four abs to become visible for a brief second before disappearing again. Slim yet powerful.
Hands now on her hips, she moved languidly towards him, her silky smooth legs covering one over the other, hiding their thigh gap. The low lighting and the darkness of the silky looking garment had him fooled for just a moment, but her dick's imprint became more and more visible as she approached inside the subtle interlocking honeycomb design. He expected the usual routine, and despite having already eaten, he was willing to chow down on her sausage. Yet as he got ready for her, Eighteen was the one descending down for a change. Her knees pressed together, smooth and slender looking, she moved to the floor in a slow and graceful showing, as both legs together like that hid a certain ugly outward growth.
"Off." Was all she commanded, and he followed it to a T, as he slipped down his pants for her. Being this erect for 18 felt like sacrilege, and even she didn't know what to do with it now that she was this up close to it. He sat, stirring, the exposed air on it having that mild shrinking effect as he waited for her to do something - and that raised the question in his own mind - did he want her to do something?
Her slender smooth fingers flew across his belly and down his crotch, but then stopped just as quickly as she started. 18 looked like a wild animal about to snarl, the thing before her like some kind of monster she had never seen before, her hackles raised.
Her thumb and index finger curled, before widening out, as if she were about to start measuring him. 18 pressed his tip below her nose, holding it there for an uncomfortable amount of time as she nearly silently inhaled him, all while refusing to make eye contact with him as she did it, irises sliced to the side. It was like she was smelling a picked flower that wasn't hers and afraid of getting caught. Pulling it away, a strand connecting him and her upperlip broke apart, a sourness on her face.
Tugging him with her two fingered approach, the underside of her three knuckles soon joined in as well, offering a full handed jerk. "It feels good, right?" She asked, sounding not the least bit concerned, but still unable to break her sights from his penis. This was completely foreign to her, as if nothing he had done to her had rubbed off at all. He almost started snickering as he noticed the intense focus she had - but it wasn't the angry intensity she had when she wanted to destroy something - it was more akin to a school test and she hadn't studied for it at all, and she seemed the type to hate getting backseat answers.
Her small tongue then stuck out, teasingly at first, before she pressed it to the underside of his head. 18 didn't seem to like what she had tasted at first, but knew there was no stopping now. Her moist dark lips opened, her eyes half lidded, as she sunk down into his lap. *Sllhlp* *Pop* Her cold disinterested stare met his, only it removed that sense of silent judging power it had, as she was the one with his cock against her tongue. There was a meanness in her eyes with his cock resting in her mouth, as if this was a burden he put upon her, but he wasn't the one making her bob her head back and forth upon his meat, making all sorts of noises as she did it.
"Unghnn... Eighteeeeen..." He mumbled in a groan. Reaching for her head felt unnatural, yet he couldn't help himself as he pressed down on her blonde strands. He wondered if he had made a huge mistake as she tensed up, but she soon relaxed. Dark streaks started as smears at first, before becoming marks that told him just how far she was willing to go, soon nearly reaching the base.
And it felt like he grew an inch taller - an utter revelation of pleasure as she kept up her swirling pace, reminding him that he had this all powerful woman, a woman that could destroy life, cities and maybe even worlds -- but she was on split legged haunches, blowing him instead. Blowing him wasn't enough for her however, as she had to stretch the material between her legs in a bikini-line like way, situating the straining material betwixt her right thigh, her fat cock and balls falling out of place in a slumping fashion, a look of relief on her face. The way that powerful limb pointed to the floor was like her third leg, a tripod thick and strong enough that it could easily support her bodyweight. He watched as Eighteen firmly grasped her sprung forward rod, looking as hard as iron, but she kept it between her thighs, stroking herself off and on.
Then the pleasure left him, and he almost protested, but Eighteen pushed him back, lifting him up by his thighs, her head still between his legs, now lowering between them.
What was she gonna-
He almost giggled like a cartoon character, the feeling ticklish. *Smack* *Pop* Her black colored lipstick left dark rings around his hole, which oddly made it more appealing to her to kiss it and grind her face against him more, which shocked him as he felt her explore more and more of him. Her tongue met his pucker, a soothing sensation as she spun it around clockwise. "Ulm, ulm, ulm." Her tongue lathered while staring up at him with her blue eyes, her nose buried deep somewhere he couldn't see. He almost wanted her to stop, the sensation new and kind of frightening, but also exhilarating -- he never would have asked a woman to do this, that male sense of his not to degrade or hurt women, not even 18. Yet now that he was experiencing it, he wanted nothing more than 18 to rim him from day to night. "Eighteen... Eighteen... Eighteen..." He repeated, writhing in place. She was not shy about sticking that slimy, slippery thing, wherever she could get it. The only limit on her seemed to be purely anatomical, or maybe she was still hungry. He loved the feel of her cheeks against his, the warmth almost steaming.
Eighteen's hot face left his area, as she then stood up, swiping her lips, a dark stain on the back of her wrist, her natural color mostly coming through, with some makeup remaining. The way he was situated on his back, he could see only her tight stomach, the pubic area and how the shaft started to emerge from her groin, as the rest of her massive cock was out of view, making him nervous, as he began inflating her inches in his brain. Her heavy sack completely covered anything below, as if saying that anything to do with her asshole was completely off the table for him.
"Wait." He held up his hand to her, and she stopped like he had some kinda power over her for once. "If I can quit anytime -- I'll only let you if we can do it eye to eye."
"I can't do that." Her frustration was obvious, as her hand balled, but in the way girls did it where it wasn't really a fist. "You're... I..." He felt smug about the reaction, but kept it internal. Her teeth clenched. "Fine." She raised her half-mast flag, bringing her pole up with a two handed grip. She shifted the meaty instrument forward, the pushback of his hole doing little to stifle her veiny hardness as she squished and dug against the spit laden hole.
One inch inside, he pushed back on her pelvic hip bone, not ready just yet - and she did something she had never done before:
She stopped herself.
"Wait, stop." Another inch, he did the same thing, this time hand on her stomach. "Ow!"
Eighteen gave him another inch, but he didn't want to complain, instead, he pulled at the sheet, his face grimacing -- and Eighteen stopped on her own without his instruction. Eighteen's prick pulsed, rising and falling. "Ugh! This is exactly why I never wanted to do it this way!"
One eye of his squinted shut, as he grunted out an observation. "That you'd have to realise I was a real person and not just a hole for you to fuck?
One of 18's eye's cocked, annoyed -- and what followed was a sudden violent jutting into him. He wished he kept his mouth shut, as Eighteen stabbed, her hands pressed down hard at the sides of his chest, as her expression made it clear that he shouldn't push his luck. "Don't get any ideas, loverboy. You have and always will be my hole." Her statement was punctuated with another thrust, filling his ass with as much of her cock as it could take. As it started to feel searing, 18 let off a bit, as she started up a regularly smooth rhythm that didn't make him feel like he was gonna die. The bed shunted nearly silently underneath him as Eighteen worked him over, his body relaxing, finally feeling like he was growing used to her.
She crawled into bed with him, his feet splayed above her shoulders as she held his hips at the perfect place for her assault.
PLAP PLAP PLAP
She violently fucked him. The way 18 moved inside him and made the bed rock felt like earned payback for the blowjob, a sudden fullness then an emptiness. Eighteen's steel grip took his dick in her hand, and it didn't take him long, as her earlier attempts and now scraping on his button, he came hard, her hand narrowly avoiding all his sperm, but she squeezed on it lightly, sending more and more out, milking everything, before finally letting it go, her hand casting it off like she were better than doing something so disgusting -- but Eighteen was far from done with him. Lifting him up, their perspired bodies meeting together and squishing his cum between the both of them like a sandwich, a stickiness that kept them together.
Falling into her lap was like landing on a drill, imagining that if her penis was any longer, that it'd be sticking out of his mouth by now, but before he could adjust, she was back at it. His upper body and shoulders rose and fell rapidly as she jackhammered into him. "Uhn, uhn, uhn!" His voice wavering as his ass took the beating from her. He couldn't help himself from whining -- he was 18's bitch and there was no hiding it. Eighteen's toes curled into the bed, nearly puncturing the surface, as the arches of her feet curved. Her back tightened, her shoulder blades at their sharpest looking.
He wrapped his arms around her back, feeling like he was gonna fall, but both Eighteen's hold on him and her member's penetration would have prevented that from happening, regardless of what he did. He broke down from the painful sensation, falling into her shoulder; his desperate attempt to hide his ugly and wailing face from hers. "Shhh, shhh, it's alright. I'm almost done." She whispered, as she stroked the back of his neck. She forced him up, his chin pressed into his chest, her sliced predatory eyes meeting his tear filled ones, before stealing a kiss from him. "Mmmmmm..." She croaked into his maw.
Eighteen's hair was thrown back, calling his name before falling into a series of quieter and quieter moans. "Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhh..." Like he was dying from the cold, he shook hard with a jitteriness from her eruption, as she filled him more than when they had dinner together, her paste covering him from wall to wall on his insides. Her cock left his ass with a *SHLORP*, a heavy oozing following, as her swollen tip still leaked white, her heavy cock throbbing, moving backwards toward herself with subtle lilting. Eighteen shoved it back in, corking him up, searching for a last bit of pleasure from him, before removing her intrusion.
Setting him back down, Eighteen left him. Squirming in bed, he felt more defeated than any other moment in his life, as Eighteen's cum flowed out naturally, feeling like it wasn't going to stop, the dark ringed doughnut gaping. There were footsteps, before 18 returned with a towel, as she wiped up the mess on the bed and the one he was still making. He blushed, thinking of it as an oddly motherly thing to do from someone like her. Reaching under his arms, she picked him up like he were the baby he had imagined, before maneuvering him with ease -- he expected another painful round with Eighteen, but he was too out of it to try and fight back or say no. Instead, she fell back into bed, her arm triangled around his head, as Eighteen kept him inside her pit, the sweat smell sweet. His hand squished her heavy boob underneath his right palm, his right thigh resting on her still burning loins. Letting go, he searched around, as he then tried to push on her steel-like stomach, trying to get up. Not wanting to get kicked out of bed and wanting to clean up with a bath. "Eighteen, if you want me to leave, you have to-"
"You're not leaving." She mindlessly responded with her eyes shut.
It took him a moment. "Okay." He buried his nose back into her pit, inhaling her wonderful musk through the night.
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His Sister The Keeper