The Frog Prince | By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1975 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
April fools! ^_^
This is just a bit of fun with no point but turning Vegeta
into a frog and putting Goku in a harem outfit.
Pairing: Vegeta x Goku
Warnings: NC-17, oral, anal, frogs, mild bondage (yes, mild.
Stop snickering.)
Disclaimer: ia,
ia, Cthulhu fthagn. No, wait: I do not own Dragonball,
but I am plotting to kidnap Akira Toriyama and keep
him in my basement.
The Frog Prince
By Sefiru
The giant lizard
roared and struck, shattering rocks and treetrunks as
it hit. Or rather, missed, Vegeta thought with satisfaction. This quest was
turning out to be entertaining after all. “Beneath
the Mountain of the Red Fangs lies hidden a treasure of ancient power, equal to
full five kingdoms in worth,” the old scroll had said. (And how it had come
into the old turtle man’s possession, especially filed between Catgirls Gone Wild and The Kraken Always Comes Twice: Tentacles for the Discerning Viewer,
he would never know.) “Guarded by a great
beast, the like of which no mortal man’s strength can defeat, the like of which
has slain the greatest heroes of many ages …”
The treasure
didn’t particularly interest him, and the author wouldn’t win any prizes for
literature, but the prospect of a super-powerful monster was much more to his
liking. Training in the gravity room was all well and good, but the robots were
too predictable. And sparring with Kakarott was … just … no. So, feeling the need for a vacation, the Prince of All Saiyans packed a capsule of supplies and set off for the
(atrociously named) Mountain of the Red Fangs.
The monster lived
up to its advertising. He’d found the place last night, camped, and started in
at dawn. It was now late afternoon; he had been fighting for eleven straight
hours. A challenge worthy of a Prince. “Final Flash!”
he shouted, aiming the blast at the lizard’s underbelly. It tried to turn its
armored back to the threat, but it was too slow. He was winning, but barely;
this had taken all of his skill and power. Just one more …
“Solar Flare!” The lizard shuddered and dropped to the ground. I declare this vacation a success.
Vegeta landed beside it and surveyed his damage. Not bad. Maybe I can cut off one of those spikes as a trophy …
A whirlwind
suddenly appeared beside him and he powered up again, but no attack was
forthcoming. A figure appeared, a bony human in a robe
and turban, a fan of large feathers in its hand. “Behold, Warrior, the Guardian
of the Treasure of the Mountain of the Red Fangs, which you have won in
rightful combat.”
“Hn. Keep it. I only came for the fight.”
“What? You do not
wish to possess this great treasure, of which there is no equal in all the universe?”
“Who the hell
writes your scripts, old man? I don’t want it.”
The apparition
turned livid. “How dare you mock the Treasure of Red Fang Mountain!
I curse you! I curse you with the form of a frog; only the one who has lived in
your skin shall know you, and only the kiss of your true love shall restore
you!”
Fuck, even his curses are la – Vegeta’s thoughts
broke off as pain consumed his flesh.
***
When Vegeta came
to, the world was a much changed place. Part of it was that he was now about
six inches tall. Also, his eyes were on the sides of his head. He was, indeed,
a frog. A particularly large, bright green, yellow-eyed frog, as he saw on
looking into a nearby puddle.
“Damned spirit guardians and their curses,”
he tried to say. It came out as “Ribbit.”
At least he
could still use ki. He lifted himself and, after
thinking about it, the puddle water, into the air. He might as well go home;
his skills seemed to be intact, and if he could read and write, he could prove
who he was. Looks like my next project
will be collecting the Dragonballs. True Love, my ass.
***
His arrival at
Capsule Corp went as badly as he expected. No one was home when he got there;
he landed on the kitchen table and occupied himself by catching houseflies. (Which tasted delicious, much to his disgust.) Not long
after, the entire horde of Z fighters piled in the door, fresh from who knew
what idiotic amusement. Yamcha was the first to spot
him. “Eeew! How’d that thing
get in here?”
Vegeta added that
to the list of things he would make the human pay for. As he considered finding
out if a frog could ascend, the Z fighters gathered around curiously; Kakarott
brought up the rear. “Guys, that’s Vegeta.”
“Huh? It’s a
frog, Goku. How could that slimy thing be Vegeta?”
“I dunno why he’s a frog. But I’m sure that’s him.”
How the hell do you know? “Ribbit.” He floated up until he
was eye level with the other Saiyan, scowling as best
he was able.
“Ack! It’s floating!”
“I guess it does
look a little like Vegeta now …”
Of course! The fusion – he really has lived in my skin. Does that mean the other
clause works literally as well? Fuck. “Ribbit.”
“But if it’s
really Vegeta, how do we get him back to normal?”
“Well, I remember
there was a fairy tale like this.” Before Vegeta could react, Kakarott scooped
him up in both hands and brought him towards his face. Damn. He’s not seriously going to … He was. Lips touched nose –
there was a flash of nothingness – and then Vegeta was once again in his
original form.
Lip-locked with Kakarott.
The first thing
he did was deck him.
“Wow. It really
was Vegeta.” Ignoring the comment, Vegeta gave them all a deadly glare and
stalked out of the room. Fortunately none of them noticed his hard-on.
***
It was impossible. Unbelievable.
Outrageous, ludicrous, preposterous, absurd. He, the
Prince of All Saiyans, could not have a musclehead third-class idiot for his True Love. That was
what he wanted to say, were he not standing on the porch of Kakarott’s
hunting lodge, snapping his tail in irritation. His arrival had been greeted by
a shout of, “Vegeta, hi! Hang on a second!” followed by much thumping from
within. Why was he not surprised?
Just the hint. Just the hint that there was some kind of
interest between them was enough to send his hind-brain into the most perverted
fantasies. He’d imagined whipping him with a branch of thorns, as they used to
do in the royal harem. Or pouring honey all over him and then licking it off. Or lying on his royal couch while Kakarott mounted him … gah. He’d
come here to confront the third-class idiot, only to be left waiting on the
doorstep while the moron did his spring cleaning. “Okay, you can come in now!”
Vegeta snorted.
“If you think I’m here for your amusement, Kakarott, you’ve …” He slammed the
door open and strode into the house. He caught sight of Kakarott. And all of
his consciousness was drowned in one single idea. “…Fuck.”
Kakarott was
dressed – barely – in a Saiyan harem slave’s costume.
A brief pleated kilt, more like an apron, that tied at the back over the tail.
Heavy gold cuffs at wrists and ankles, inlaid with precious minerals. Matching collar with two thin chains that ran down his chest and
flanks to another ring at the base of his tail. His tail had come back. Vegeta
had never seen Kakarott with a tail before. A lush, sensuous,
shimmering black tail. He just stopped himself from licking his lips.
“How the hell did you get that outfit?”
“Well, I found this
in Master Roshi’s collection years ago, and, well, I
thought you might like it.” He pointed at a book lying on the sideboard. To
Vegeta’s surprise, the title was in Saiyan: “Erotic Art of the Royal Harems.” He
leafed through it, ignoring the descriptions written in his native language; he
remembered this book, Nappa had had a copy, and he
and Raditz had spent much time in their adolescence
perusing it. The old geezer really did
have everything. “What possessed you to think this would be a good idea?”
“When we kissed
that time you seemed to like it, so I thought maybe we could, you know, go a
little further.”
“Does the harpy
know about this?”
“Aw, she doesn’t
care anyway; she’s gay. And so am I.” And, as Vegeta’s jaw hung open at this
calm announcement, “So, you wanna?” Kakarott
stretched languidly against the couch, his tail curling against his ankles.
Vegeta’s brain
stood still as all his blood surged to points south. “You – how many men have
you been sleeping with!?” Instead of me,
bastard!
Kakarott shook
his head. “There’s only one man on this planet I want.” His tail curled again
in the opposite direction. “I got some roses.” Roses? Vegeta turned around. Beside
the door, in a vase, was a bundle of long-stemmed red roses. Thorns still
attached. Did he read my mind or
something? Beside them on a hanger hung a … garment.
A sleeveless silk robe, about knee length, in his signature colours
of blue and white. The royal crest was embroidered on the left breast.
Vegeta stared at
it, wavering between two options. This was his rival, the man he had sworn to
defeat in combat, whom he’d hated for years, or so
he’d thought. But … that damn fine tail was being offered to him, free for the
taking. His right as Prince. Without a word he seized
robe and hanger and disappeared into the washroom. When he came out, Kakarott
was no longer on the couch; he was arrayed on a fur rug before the fireplace,
in a pose that Vegeta pegged immediately. “The
pleasure slave presented for the King’s approval” by Kaarion,
oil on stone panel, reign of Vegeta XXIII, was the book’s description. But
the slave in the painting was a pasty-faced weakling compared to the living,
breathing work of art in front of him.
Kakarott flicked
his tail again; Vegeta’s eyes followed it like magnets. “I think this is where
I say something like, how may I please you, my prince?”
Vegeta smirked.
He picked up a rose and swung it. “In the harem, they used to flog slaves with
thorn branches to heighten the senses, make the skin more sensitive. How well
do you remember that book?”
Kakarott rose up
on his knees, back to the prince, with his hands on the back of his head. “Like
this?”
He must have the
soul of an artist. Or model. The curve of his spine, the lay of his tail, the
glow of firelight on his skin matched the paintings perfectly and surpassed
them. It’s a plot. How can I ever fight
him now, when I’ll see that every
time I face him? If it was, he didn’t care. He brought the rose stem down
on Kakarott’s back with a snap and listened to him
gasp. On a Saiyan’s tough skin the thorns did no more
than sting; Kakarott’s tail snaked across his ankles
in pleasure. Vegeta struck again and again, the scent of roses, sweat and Saiyan musk filling the air.
I must taste him. Vegeta suddenly
dropped the rose and jerked Kakarott’s head back,
then plunged his tongue into the other Saiyan’s
mouth. He pushed him down, straddling his waist for leverage, and stifled a
gasp of his own as he felt Kakarott’s hardness under
him; it sent a tingle through the base of his tail. And his robe, too, was
split from tail to hem … later. He
pressed Kakarott all the way to the floor, running his hands all over his
muscled torso. Rock hard, but velvet soft, he’d never noticed that before – and
he was flushed alluringly from his caning.
Vegeta settled
himself between Kakarott’s legs. He reached around to
untie the kilt and threw it aside. Now this harem slave was bare before him,
except for his golden shackles. He ran his hand down one long leg, and then
curled it around Kakarott’s straining shaft; Kakarott
jerked and a drop of fluid seeped out. Vegeta leaned down to lick it off. Delicious. He
ground his hips into Kakarott’s and both of them
growled. His cock-tip stroked Kakarott’s entrance …
wait. He grabbed the chains hanging from Kakarott’s
collar and used them to haul the other Saiyan up. “The lube. Where is it.”
“Right here.” Kakarott stuck a hand under the edge of the fur
and came up with a bottle; Vegeta snatched it from him. A quick slather, the
bottle went over his shoulder, and he grabbed Kakarott’s
thighs.
“Now, Kakarott,
bow before your prince!” With one sharp thrust he was inside.
Tight. Hot. He could feel the heartbeat around his flesh,
deep and rapid. Their tails twined together of their own accord and the fur
crackled between them. He needed more leverage, more
sensation; grasping Kakarott’s hips he stood up and
put his whole body weight into his thrusts. Kakarott apparently liked the view.
He purred, and his tail tightened around Vegeta’s. Kakarott,
his greatest rival. Five thrusts, ten, sweat beaded his chest and his
skin flushed with exertion. He was a constant challenge: physically, in the
test of battle; mentally, he was a puzzle to be solved; emotionally, to
confront emotions he would rather ignore. Twenty, twenty-five, his vision
blurred; Kakarott was gasping. What did a Saiyan love
better than a challenge? He lost count, his balls tensed,
he roared and shot his seed into his lover’s
body. A moment later Kakarott shook and came, groaning Vegeta’s name. His semen
splattered all over his face and chin.
Vegeta lowered
them both to the fur again, then crawled up to lick the other Saiyan’s face clean. He curled up, satisfied, by Kakarott’s side. Constant challenge.
Hot body. He could live with this. How long was I in denial anyway?
“Hey, Vegeta? How did you end up as a frog?”
It didn’t take
long to tell. He felt comfortable telling Kakarott; the younger Saiyan never laughed at him. At the end of it, he leaned
over and nuzzled Vegeta’s hair.
“What was that
for?”
“I’m honored that
you’d have me as your true love.”
“The Prince of
All Saiyans does not have one-night stands.”
“Great! Maybe I
should go raid Master Roshi’s stash again.”
“Does he have
more Saiyan porn?”
“No, but there’s some cool martial arts stuff.”
“Are you joking?”
Vegeta blinked at him.
“Nuh-uh. Lust-Crazed Ninjas is pretty good, but the sequels are crap. And
then there’s Have Me Both Ways,
starring Wild Stallion Saotome – see, if anyone beats
him they get to use his body, but if they lose, he makes them pay a penalty …”
Vegeta lay back
and ran a hand through his hair. “This I have to see. Especially
if you put as much effort into it as this scene.”
“Hey, everyone
has a hobby.”
***
Ribbit. ^_^
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