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Changing Times.	By : bloodyreign Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female Views: 1699 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dragonball Z characters. I do not make any profits off of this. I do not own Dragonball Z in any way, nor do I own any of their characters. Standard disclaimer applied here.

Chapter List
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I scurried about my kitchen, quickly throwing things together. I was making tacos! My favorite food. A knock at my door made me yell, “Come on in, Gohan!”

He opened the door and walked in quickly, laughing. “You always know when it’s me!”

“Three days in a row, Gohan. You always show up at my house. You’re late today.”

“Dad wanted to do a little training. What are you cooking?” He came to stand beside me, looking in the sizzling food. “Smells good.”

“Tacos.”

He smiled. “I like when you make tacos. They turn out really well.” He reached up and pulled gently on my ponytail. “You cut your hair,” he said accusingly.

I laughed. “Gohan, I had to cut it! I needed it above my knees.” It was just slightly below my ass now. “It got in the way.”

He sighed. “Fine, but I liked it long.”

I shrugged. “Deal with it.”

“Hey, mom wants you to come over to dinner tomorrow night.”

I smiled, rolling my eyes. “Again?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Ai, I swear your mother is trying to make me fat.”

He laughed. “So, what do you say?”

“Why don’t you three come over tomorrow for dinner? Here?”

He nodded. “Okay, yea, sure! I’ll ask mom.”

The wheels in my head were working now. “In fact, how about a dinner party! We’ll invite Tien, Chaozu and Yamucha . . . Piccolo--we’ll invite everyone!” I smiled, thinking. “Burama, Chichi and I will cook for it, organize it. Tomorrow, wouldn’t it be nice? Everyone together for one last time before the Cell Tournament!”

Gohan rolled his eyes. “Get out all the invitations in less than a day? Do you realize how hard that’ll be?”

I looked up at him, pouting. “But you can do it, right Gohan? You’re fast enough and your dad can help. Right?”

“Story-”

“Please? Please, please, please?”

For a moment, he was silent, staring at me. Then he sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” I squealed, hugged him, jumped up and down five times, hugged him again and turned back to the food. Gohan was laughing at me. It was done. I turned the stove off, still bouncing up and down. I turned and started to walk toward the counter where I‘d put the spoon--

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into him, hard enough I gasped. “Wait,” he said softly. “I want to . . . I want to try something.” He fisted his hand in my hair and yanked the hair-tie out of my hair.

I gasped, struggling, hair falling around my shoulders. “G-Gohan-what are you-”

He turned me toward him, looking down at me with a smile and a blush. “Just trust me.” He lifted me easily, hands on my waist, to set me on the counter. Now we were at eye level. He studied me, looking at the low-cut yellow top I wore, hands moving up to rest just beneath my breasts, thumbs gently touching the underside. “How do you feel about this shirt?”

“I-I wore it to cook in.”

He smiled. “Good.” His hands tensed.

“Why, what are you going to do?” I asked frantically.

“I’ll give you three guesses. Guess correctly, I won’t do it.”

“Laundry?”

“Wrong.” His hands moved slightly upward, tense still.

I panicked a bit, mind whirling. “Uh, picture?”

He shook his head.

“Uh, oh God . . . I-I don’t know! Um-”

“Answer three, wrong.” His hands tensed a bit more and there was a rush of movement, the sound of tearing cloth, and I felt air touching my almost naked breasts and naked stomach.

I crossed my arms over my chest, blushing madly. “Gohan! What are you doing?!” I yelled.

He forced both arms away from my chest, cupping one hand around both wrists and, keeping both of my arms captive, he curled his fingers around the middle of the bra. “In less than a week, we may all die. Before that happens, I want to do one thing.” He yanked the bra off, snapping it easily.

I swallowed a scream, struggling to get my arms back. “Go-Gohan, don’t.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not going too far and I won’t hurt you.”

“This isn’t too far?!”

He shook his head. “Not as far as I could go.” His hand trailed down to the front of my jeans and he flipped the button open, unzipping them. For a few minutes, he worked on moving them down, far enough down I started to protest and struggle more. He stopped, studying me. “No. This isn’t right.”

I wanted to scream for joy.

“Wrong position. The bed will work much better.”

I felt my smile fade. “W-what?”

He lifted me off the counter by putting one arm around me and lifting, then held me tight to him and walked to the bedroom, hitting the door open with his shoulder, kicking it shut. A moment later, I was airborne.

I bounced on the bed twice, squealing, and he turned and locked the door, then started toward the bed. I tried to scramble away, but the bed was silk and silk was hard to move quickly on.

He climbed onto the bed and grabbed my legs, yanking me into him while putting his hips between mine easily. “Okay, this is better.”

“This is-no, not happening. Bad, this is bad. Stop.”

He shook his head. “I won’t go too far.” He moved down slightly and, after a moment of thought, ripped the jeans off, along with the panties.

I tensed. “Gohan, this is too far.”

He smiled at me. “Not as far as I could go. My clothes are still on.”

I shook my head at him. “No, get off me. Stop this.”

He pressed his mouth to mine, insistent, pinning both my hands, after a short struggle, above my head with one of his hands. He pulled back, smiling. “I just need your defenses down, then I can stop.”

“Yea, because this will put my-Oh, God, no, don’t.” I felt him gently cup me. I squirmed. “No, please, no.”

Ignoring me, as he now seemed to be good at doing, he plunged one finger into me, fast.

I wiggled against him, managing to move up enough that it forced his finger away.

Quickly, in a rough, hard movement, he forced that finger back into me, hard enough I let out a soft, slightly pained sound. “Don’t run from me, Story. I’ll follow.” His mouth came down on mine and he moved his finger inside me, gently at first, then harder, faster, until he was swallowing sounds I was making. His chest was heavy against mine. He pulled his mouth away to murmur, “I’m going to do something.” He trailed his mouth down my jaw, down my neck, softly, leaving little nibbling kisses here and there. He took the tip of my breast into his mouth and sucked, matching pace with his finger. Sharp teeth gently grazed my breast and he pulled away, once again trailing his mouth down my body, down the center of my stomach.

I squirmed. “This isn’t right.”

“Why?” he asked, mouth pressed against my stomach.

“Because you’re way too young for this.”

He looked up at me and his eyes were roiling with anger. “Too young.“ He said the words like they were vile. He pressed his mouth lower, above where his finger played. “I’ll show you just how young I am.” He moved his hands to grip onto my hips in a harsh, tight grip and moved his mouth lower until he licked across me, quickly, gently, then pressed harder against me and delved as deep as he could reach, using teeth, tongue and even lips in a way that had me writhing.

A heaviness settled down in the very lower part of my abdomen. It was a warm, bubbling kind of heaviness that seemed to move lower every time he sucked, or licked or delved. It moved lower and lower until I panted, “Gohan, wait, please, stop.”

He moved away from me just enough to ask, “Does it hurt?”

“No. It feels weird. I-I can’t, please.”

He pressed his mouth over me again, licking and sucking more, harder, until he pulled the feeling down and out.

I screamed, clawing at the bed sheets, struggling against his hands. I felt him move up, felt him take my left breast into his mouth and felt him bite down, hard, fast, and felt blood spring forth. He lapped at my blood, pulling my power into him with every swallow of blood. Then he raised up and put his left nipple to my mouth.

The scent of his blood flooded me and the need to bite something hit me and I bit down, hard, drawing blood. With every swallow, his power entered my body. His power and my power fought. His power won and my power gave in to his, submitting completely.

He drew away from me and pressed his bleeding wound to mine, letting our blood mingle. He was gone for half a second and I had a moment to wonder if I was free, but then his body was against mine, bare. He pushed his hips between mine and I froze, feeling something that should’ve been clothed.

“Go-Gohan,” I tried to say, “no. I-you’re too young, no, don’t.”

“I’m not too young for anything,” he growled and, grabbing my hips, he gave one powerful thrust that sheathed the very tip inside me.

Pain. Oh, God, pain. I gasped.

He was still, letting me adjust. “Hurt?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Talk to me, Story. What’s your favorite color?”

“S-silver,” I said softly.

“Favorite food?”

“Tacos.”

“Favorite thing to wear?”

“Jeans.” These were all things he knew. Why was he asking?

He kept asking mindless question, slowly, gently moving inside me, against me, until I realized the intent of the questions. Finally, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

I was quiet a moment, letting myself feel. “No, but Gohan, we shouldn’t--you-”

“Don’t tell me what I should feel and what I shouldn’t! Dammit, can’t you see that obviously since I’m doing it, I’m not too young?!” He growled. “I’m going to do what it takes to show you I’m not too young!” He dropped his body atop mine, gripped my hips in his hands tightly and withdrew. When he was half out, he shoved back in, hard, fast. His hands tightened and he withdrew slowly, slowly enough that it made me squirm, then when he was spilling free, he shoved in, then up right before he hit the end of me.

I screamed, struggling against him, pushing at his shoulders.

He kept that pace up, hard enough it was half pain, staying inside me until it was pain, the withdrawing slowly enough I wanted to scream, until I felt that familiar heaviness again. It was much heavier this time. He kept his pace up, fast, hard. “I can feel you . . . tightening, having spasms around me. Oh, God, it feels amazing. You’re about to orgasm.”

I struggled against him. “Please, God, Gohan, don’t, wait, please, don’t.”

He threw his head back. “I like that . . . Story, I like your begging.”

I pushed against his shoulders. “Please, Gohan.” A second later, I was screaming and I could feel something spilling from me. I fought against him and he pinned me, continuing his pace easily as though nothing had changed. Finally, as that started to dim, it hit again, harder, making me fight against him. In the midst of that, I felt something hot and liquid spill inside me. It made me squirm.

He collapsed atop me, breathing hard, sweating, slightly holding himself up on one arm. He pushed off me, pulling me into his arms. His heart beat against my chest, his chest slick and sticky with sweat. “God,” he breathed. “I never thought . . . I never imagined that it would feel that way.”

I said nothing.

“I mean, I dreamt of having you like this . . . I dreamt of you beneath me, screaming, writhing, but I never dreamt it would be this amazing.” He took a deep breath. “I-God, I love you, Story.”

I froze, looking slowly up at him.

He was blushing. “I know . . . I know I love you. I want you, I need you in my life.” He chuckled. “Saying I want you is . . . moot. God, Story, I need you more than I need air.” He trailed his hand down my sweaty body, down to cup his hand around my ass. “I love you. Don’t leave me again. I mean,” he took a deep breath, “I know you have to leave, but don’t leave permanently . . . you can’t leave permanently now. I marked you with a permanent mark. You are mine and you’re tied to me.”

I shook my head. “You can’t love me. You-I’m not . . . I’m nothing special. I’m just me. I’m not even human.”

“You’re gorgeous, funny, sweet and strong and, God, you’re an amazing woman. I love you and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

I stared at him. “G-Gohan. . . .”

“You’re perfect. For me. To me.” He smiled. “Story, I-”

“Hey, Story! You here?!” Trunks’ voice called out.

I froze against Gohan. “Oh, no,” I gasped.

Gohan called, “Yea, hey, Trunks! We’ll be out in a minute!”

“Hurry up.”

Gohan stood and pulled me to my feet. “Come on, let’s take a shower really fast.” He lifted me up and carried me to the bathroom. “We smell like sex and Saiyans and Demi-Saiyans have extraordinarily good sense of smell.” A few minutes later, I was dressed, he was dressed and we were outside. I, thanks to someone, couldn’t stand or walk on my own, so Gohan carried me into the kitchen and set me on a chair, then went about fixing the food.

Trunks stared at me, a particular look in his eyes. He turned to Gohan, studying him accusingly. “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Gohan asked innocently.

“I can smell sex and she’s blushing and not looking at you or anyone and you’re in a good mood.”

I blushed.

Gohan blushed, too. “Come on, Trunks. I’m eleven.”

“Don’t give me that. I’m a boy. I was eleven, too, once. I know that eleven is when you start having ‘those feelings’ for the first time. You went into heat and dragged her with you.”

“H-heat?”

Gohan glanced at me. “It’s a Saiyan thing. And what if I did? You going to tell?”

Trunks opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head. “You know I won’t.”

Gohan smiled. “Good.”

“But you shouldn’t involve Story in it. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’ve marked her as my mate, Trunks. If she’s not the one that I involve, who should I involve?”

He shook his head. “Fine, you’re right.”

“He’s eleven!” I said. “He’s not right!”

Trunks shook his head at me. “You’re not a Saiyan. You wouldn’t understand.”

I glared at him. “Why is nobody on my side!?”

Suddenly, both Gohan and Trunks stiffened. Gohan looked at me. “My dad is on his way.”

I stumbled to my feet and ran to the bedroom, Gohan after me. I stripped the sheets off the bed with Gohan helping and put them in the bathroom hamper, spraying the strawberry perfume all around the bathroom and my bedroom to cover up the scent. Then Gohan and I went back outside. I went to the tacos to warm them up.

Goku knocked and Gohan went to get it. “Hey, Story.”

I blushed, waved. “Hey.”

“Hey, Gohan, did you tell Story that Chichi wants her at our house for dinner tomorrow?”

Gohan nodded. “Yea. Story came up with a good idea, though.”

“Oh? What is--hey, tacos!”

I laughed. “Want some, Goku?”

“You bet!” He hurried over to the table and sat down.

Gohan got up and went to the fridge, pulling out more ground meat. “We’ll need more. I’m starving, myself.” His eyes caught mine, a knowing glint in them, and I blushed, turning away. “Story thinks it would be a good idea to have a dinner party tomorrow. The biggest thing we need to do is get the invites out.”

“That’s a great idea! Chichi would love that!”

“Story also thinks it would be a great girl-bonding thing for Burama and mom to cook with her, for the three of them to cook together.”

Goku laughed. “Oh, Chichi would love that!”

I set the taco meat that was already done aside and put the ground meat on to cook. “Okay, the tacos are ready. Come help yourselves. If we run out, I’m making more right now.” I got myself a taco, meat and cheese, then sat down.

Gohan, Goku and Trunks got their tacos, Gohan sitting beside me, Goku across me and Trunks beside Goku. “This is great!” Goku said through a mouthful.

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’ve agreed to help give out the invitations,” Gohan said conversationally after swallowing a bite.

“I’ll help, too!”

“So will I,” Trunks said, smiling at me. “Of course, Story knew that. She could bat her silver eyes are get anyone to do what she wanted.”

Gohan laughed. “That’s kind of how she got me to agree to it! She pouted.”

Trunks laughed. “That would get even my dad to do anything!”

“Yea, she’s got Vejita under her thumb, though.” Goku stared at me. “I don’t know how he did it. It’s like he thinks of her as a daughter.”

I smiled. “Vejita’s softer than he acts. . . .”

“Boy, is that true!”

Gohan looked up, smiling. “I guess everyone is soft toward Story, though.”

“Yea.” Goku took another bite. “I love eating here almost as much as I love eating at home!”

I smiled. “Wow, that’s a huge compliment!”

“So . . . Story, you really going to do the dinner party tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Yes.”
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Changing Times.