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Wasted Wishes	By : chroniclyflaming Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 1398 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own DBZ at all and am making no money off this

Chapter List
- 1-Wasted Wishes
- 1
The Prompt: Sick of Vegeta's condescending attitude, Bulma uses the dragon balls to turn him into a woman. Vegeta is naturally outraged and they argue for the millionth time, culminating in eventual hot angry girl-on-girl sex.

The fill:

She had time to think, wait, maybe this wasn’t a good idea, before the door was blown inward. It flew past her, slamming into the far wall. She heard the crunch, knowing that it was only metal being busted and broken. Yet still her mind conjured up images of skulls being smashed under a small, white booted foot, tipped in delicate gold.

The incredibly beautiful, intelligent genus of Capsule Corp had exactly enough time to squeak before a figure entered the room.

Despite its size, a shadow fell upon her.

Maybe this really wasn’t such a good idea?

“You did this.”

It was not a question.

Somewhere, there was still a reservoir of strength and spite and indignation. “Well. That’s what you get for making fun of women! Not so funny now, is it?”

“Out of all the wishes,” Vegeta’s breathe nearly smoked in the air, despite the temperature being quite pleasantly in the 70’s. It was a nice voice, of smoky clubs in the city, hard uncut drinks, fedoras and an old piano played by someone smother than the black and white keys.

Wonder what Vegeta would sound like singing---?

Then his fist slammed into the table.

Her fist.

“Out of all the wishes you could have made, you wasted one on this. This!” His voice rose (her voice) becoming something desperate and shrieking. It was not unlike Chi-Chi, and this made Bulma reach out for her newly dented table for support.

“You are insane. Truly you are.” Hair, lighter than Goku’s in the hard fluorescent lights, was tumbling into his face. That how angry he (she) was. Never before had Bulma ever witness him so aplomb with rage that caused his hair into an even more unruly mess.

He was running his fingers through it, tugging it.

I really got to him.

Go me.

…Kami, I hope we don’t have to use those dragonballs for anything important soon.

“Vegeta. Calm down.” She held out harmless palms, perfectly reasonable. If someone had seen them, they would have wondered why that lady was so mad at that other one.

Oh Kami, I didn’t specify how long I wanted him to be a girl. Crap. Now we have to wait until these dragonballs are recharged to change him back.

I really should have thought this thing through better.

Well. That’s Kami’s fault. He should have made things more efficient.

Wow. He shouldn’t be wearing a tank top right now. Not without a bra.

He looked charming as a girl. The snarl was almost cute. Endearing. Bulma would have cooed if she hadn’t known it might cost her life to do so. And it would take a year to bring her back to life.

Crap.

“YOU ARE THE CRAZIEST FEMALE I’VE EVER HAD TO PUT UP WITH! I WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU IF I DIDN’T…wait, why haven’t I killed you yet?” She cocked her head in puzzlement. The blue-haired scientist’s heart skipped a beat.

“Why haven’t I killed you?”

“Because deep down I charm you?”

She didn’t pause. “No, that’s not it.”

Vegeta seemed to be honestly thinking about why he didn’t just kill her. Both of them played in their heads those moments of her cruelty, provoked or not.

When she’d stolen all the towels while he bathed, even the rugs and hand towels. Slipping ice cubes down the back of his spandex-like outfit, right where he couldn’t reach them and had to wait for them to melt, in the middle of winter. The bad outfits. Sticking her finger into his food, then spitting on it when he seemed not to care about her thumb in his potatoes. Turning all his clothes pink. Going after him with a pair of scissors when he’d insulted her own haircut. Trying to set his training capsule for self-destruct. Dragging him to her friends’ parties, regardless of whether or not they were costumed parties or not. Making him deal with her mother.

Of course, most of this was because of something he’d said or done. Most of it.

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Huh.”

Suddenly, Bulma wished she wasn’t so alone. Yamcha was across town, or at least his apartment was. Goku and Gohan across the globe, Krillin not much closer, Piccolo maybe at the Sons…and none of them could probably fight off the rapid, insane Saiyan. They would be too shocked over him becoming a she that they would only stare while he tore her apart with his teeth.

He had sharp teeth too. Once Bulma had seen him casually tear off the bottle cap off of a beer with them. ‘Use the bottle opener!’ she had shrieked at him. Then thrown it at his head.

“I’m not so bad.” Bulma reminded him. “I made that training capsule.”

Vegeta gave her a flat look. “The one that keeps breaking?”

“Yes. That one.” Her eyes shifted away from his much darker ones.

“I thought your father made those?”

She tried a different track. “I make my mother make you meals.”

The Saiyan appeared unmoved.

Bulma raised her eyebrows, then crept closer. Sure, Vegeta was pretty enough, really lovely voice. And those cheekbones. Would look even better if there was a little mascara, some rouge, lipstick thrown on. But still. Not her type. But this or death….

“I could be nice to you. You know.” She looked up at him, teasing, sexy.

“I don’t think you could be.”

Her voice became very small. “Goku would be mad.”

“Yes,” An evil, evil smirk crossed that tanned pretty face. “He would. Wouldn’t he?”

…How many people had Vegeta killed anyway?

Surely none of them were as pretty as she was? Surely he had a weakness for a nice face.

Awkwardly, as stilted as a mannequin being posed by a paraplegic, Bulma ran her hand down the other woman’s chest. “I-I’ll make you feel good.”

Vegeta stared at her. Then things slowly clicked after an uncomfortable thirty seconds.

“Oh,” she said stupidly. “No. No thanks.”

There was another uncomfortable thirty seconds of silence. “Why not?”

She blinked those nice black eyes that called out for good eyeliner a few times. “Why not? Really?”

“I’m very pretty! I’d be a lipstick lesbian! You’d be so lucky to have me!”

Was she smirking again?

“Bitch.”

“Perhaps these other humans have such low taste as to consider you---“

“That’s not what you said on Namek!”

“…I was hungry. Tired. Delirious. Obviously.”

“Are you saying you could do better?” Bulma didn’t allow him an answer, a lie, damn her. “Because you could not.”

Vegeta paused. “You are not the most hideous being. But I will not spread my seed with a weakling like you.”

“Gross! Thank you for the mental image! ...and you don’t have any seeds Vegeta.”

A muscle rippled in her face. Her mouth opened, oh Kami, those teeth, did he sharpen them? She was too young and pretty to die in such a grisly way. The world would weep for her. It would, dammit.

“Hey, that’s right.” Bulma touched the other woman’s chest lightly, still feeling muscles above the very respectable breasts. “You wouldn’t have any kids if…” What was she saying?

Why was she saying this?

I have lost my mind. Yes, this is another stress related dream. I’m passed on my computer keyboard, and any second Mom will wake me up by covering me with a blanket like I’m still a little kid.

She was blinking again. “That is true.” Her sharp jaw went up and down, like Vegeta was considering something. Something horrible and uh.

Where was that horror she should be feeling?

Come on fear, terror, this strong, pretty/handsome rough prince/princess might be about to have their way with you.

COME ON FEAR

They just stared at each other. Eyes slipping down to look at each other.

Okay, Vegeta and I are checking each other out. Normal, hahaha, please Mom, wake me up now.

…You know, the short thing isn’t so bad. Especially when Vegeta’s a girl.

Mommy?

The dark, dark brown hair was very soft against her fingers. A nervous giggle escaped Bulma’s mouth.

I am in control of this. Normal. Sane.

Then Vegeta kissed her.

Or crazy and out of my hands. Whatever. I live a very stressful life.

She was pulled into Vegeta’s still strong ,firm arms that a fearless prince such as himself should have.

If I go insane, it’s not my fault.

She cracked open her eyes to look at Vegeta. The brows were drawn together in concentration, like this was another battle to win. Then, from the corner of her vision, she noticed the gaping door where the door was missing. There was the hallway, still singed from her last experiment in electric toaster making.

The briefest image of her parents coming into this lab at this exact moment came to her. ‘“Oh my!” “Hm, I didn’t know you were interested in members of your own gender, Bulma.” “No wonder you didn’t marry that nice Yamcha boy.”’

Bulma shoved her away. “I don’t even like girls! I swear!”

“Alright then.” Then she just froze, and stared at the blue-haired woman. Obviously, Vegeta didn’t have any clue what to do. “Alright.”

“Alright.

“…are you going to kill me?”

“Maybe?”

“Then I guess I have no choice.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

They bashed their heads together, grabbing for each other. The scientist fell back, clutching her aching head, cursing him and the world that better mourn for her if it lost her. Vegeta helped her back up, surprisingly gentle. The gloves covering the other technically female’s hands were soft.

Since she wasn’t in coma, Bulma guess she was impressed. “I guess you’re pretty strong for a human.”

“Maybe you’re just weak for a Saiyan?”

“Woman,” she grated out. “Just shut up.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll collect the dragonballs when they are available, and wish that you are a man.”

“Oh. So that’s what you’re into.”

“I told you to shut up!”

Bulma was picked up and tossed onto the table. Without warning or anything.

“Owwwww.” She rubbed her backside. “Bitch.”

But Vegeta was just staring rudely at her crotch. Just staring at it. “How…how would one go about…?”

“You’re the only man that doesn’t watch porn, I swear.”

“Do you know?”

“You,” Bulma squirmed, bruised butt forgotten. “Touch. And stuff.”

“Touch what?”

“You’re such a moron!”

She grabbed Vegeta, shoving the other woman against her. The Saiyan was even shorter now, and the blue-haired woman could wrap her legs around her chest. Bulma laughed and laughed, until she was grabbed and held down.

“You need to shut up now.”

“Make me!”

Thankfully, instead of strangling her, Vegeta kissed her instead. It was like something out of a romance novel. One written along the lines of what Master Roshi read, but still, romantic. Right here in her ingeniously designed lab

The Saiyan prince/princess leaned in close to her ear. Just the simple touch was enough to make Bulma sigh. Yes, this is what she had been waiting for, what she deserved. So what if it was Vegeta, a raging psychopath who had killed her ex? Wasn’t that what current boyfriends were for? “I don’t hate you so much right now.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you, I don’t even know if that’s an insult!”

Bulma tore off her tank top.

“Ha, I’m still bigger!”

Vegeta ignored that. “How did you even manage to tear that? I thought you said it was reinforced to protect me?”

“I lied.”

Her fist slammed down again to dent the metal table.

“I could make your murder look like an accident!”

“I could have poisoned your food!”

“YOU DID!”

“I ONLY TRIED!”

Then they were grabbing at each other. Bulma didn’t know if they were fighting or simply making out. But it was good, either way. Fun. Better than any of her other relationships had been. They had a deep dislike and attraction for one another, and that wasn’t so easy to find. Bulma hugged her.

“Tell me I’m pretty.”

“Why?”

“Just say it. Tell me how beautiful I am. Say it was love at first sight. Say it.”

“I’m not saying any of that garbage.”

Bulma made her best sympathy, love-me-love-me-love me! You asshole! face. “I’ll say it for you.”

“I don’t want you to say it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You to shut up!”

“Just take me!”

“Where?”

“Here!” Bulma’s own fist slammed into the table, making her wince. “Ow. Make me feel better.”

“You’re already here. And if that was enough to hurt you, then you aren’t worthy.”

“I didn’t know you were into such masochism. I don’t know why I didn’t know that.”

The Saiyan gave up. Her chin touched her chest, and it wasn’t until Bulma started kissing the fetching weirdo who kept trying to destroy her home did she perk up. Her hair really was quite soft, so much that Bulma wondered what kind of conditioner she used. Did Vegeta always feel like this? If so, why had she waited so long?

It was disconcerting to kiss someone with breasts. They kept touching her own, making her giggle at the strangeness and wonder if her own were really much bigger.

When Vegeta pulled up her shirt, tearing it since apparently undoing a clasp was beyond him, she sighed again. The carnality of this all, her poor shirt, the cold room, Vegeta’s still masculine odor. It was nice. This was all very nice. Bulma kissed his neck, listened to her hold back a noise, and smiled into Vegeta’s skin.

Then she noticed the gaping doorway. And that she was holding Vegeta, a sworn enemy to all her friends in her arms, about to make sweet passionate love, or an awkward, stilted sex they would both forever regret. Either way, no one would forgive her. “What do you mean, she got off and then went to sleep? You still slept with Vegeta!”

If they walked in, would they vomit in rage and disgust? “Bulma! How could you! He killed like half of us!”

No.

They would all just stand there, gaping, taking pictures and drooling.

Bastards.

Well, fuck them.

She would enjoy this. They both would.

Vegeta had a lovely body. All scared tanned skin, rough and obviously lacking in the moisturizing department. Exactly what a man from a romance novel, a rogue with a black tongue and golden heart would feel like. For Christmas, though, she would definitely make sure to buy him some a hand basket filled with lotion. The Saiyan’s hand slid up, squeezing her breast too lightly. Then too hard when there was a lack in reaction.

“Ow! Have you done this before?”

The hand fumbled more, and Bulma awwed. She was embarrassing him/her.

“No. There was no one worthy.”

“So I’m worthy?”

It was Vegeta’s turn to sigh. Rather than answered, she ran a hand down Bulma’s back. That was an answer, in a way.

“You’re so sweet. Deep down, you really do care.”

“At least you won’t be carrying my child this way.”

Her brown hair was further mussed when Bulma grabbed handfuls of it and yanked, right and left. “You’re such a bastard. Even when you’re not a guy.”

“I am still male. Just…not physically. Because of you.”

“You would be so lucky to have me have your baby. Or have my baby. Since you want to use the dragonballs to make me a guy. Or not. Since anyway, let’s be honest; that would be my kid.”

They grappled again, just shut up, just shut up you horrible woman, what do you think you are now, Veggie, don’t ever use that name again. Until finally they both lay on the table, aligned as best they could. Finally, Bulma grabbed his hand and led him in-between her legs. Here, you moron, here.

“I’ll even make sure the baby has my choice of names.”

Vegeta’s breathe seemed to falter in that solid chest. “But you’re family has the worst choice in names.”

Bulma laughed and laughed. He had warmed to the idea of an heir. “What would you name him? ‘Vegeta’?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that name.”

“Anything’s better than that.”

A vein nestled in long temple was shaking. “Fine. I don’t care what you name the child.”

“What if it’s a girl?”

The smallest smile crossed Vegeta’s face for two point three seconds. That vein looked less ready to burst. But he didn’t make any comment. “Where am I supposed to touch?”

“Here. Moron.”

“Is it supposed to feel like that?”

“YES!” Angrily, Bulma drove a hand into Vegeta’s on crotch. “Yours feel the same way.”

Vegeta actually gasped, like a Victorian woman being shown something modestly off-color. Bulma leered at him, pressing her face back into his neck to feel a rapid pulse. “Do you need a fainting couch?”

“I…goddamn you.”

“You’re blushing, Veggie.”

“Say, isn’t that weird. How you’re named after a vegetable---“

“I…am not…”

“And Goku was named after a carrot. Funny. Hmm. Never noticed that before.”

“What…about,” she gasped again. “Your name.”

“How dare you. Do you want me to stop?”

A sheen of sweat broke out over Vegeta’s charmingly large angular forehead. “Just don’t. Mention. Kakarotte again.”

Anything else she might have said disappeared just as Bulma’s fingers disappeared. “I guess you must really like me.”

Only stammers and a sad squeak left Vegeta’s swollen, girlish lips. When her hips bucked, rubbing against Bulma and was that a plea she heard? Was the great Vegeta begging? The scientist cackled madly.

Her fingers slid wetly into Vegeta’s mouth. Their eyes met, smoldering. His eyes seemed darker than Goku’s, and she wondered morbidly what the prince would do if he knew that she was thinking about Kakarotte right now. Probably hurt, but I thought you like me, even as he ripped her body apart.

“Okay, now me.”

She grabbed Vegeta by her hair, kissing him sweetly and long enough to taste her mouth, then shoved her downward. “Be nice. No teeth. Definitely no teeth.”

“Just give me a second, woman!”

She pulled at Bulma’s shorts, until the blue-haired woman rolled her eyes and showed him how to undo the button and zipper. “Even Goku figured this stuff out.”

“I TOLD YOU—-Oh. That’s better.”

Bulma felt hot a breath and understood why Vegeta had had such a hard time speaking. He/she was mumbling, “Where was it? Where was it?”

“No! Kami, why would you think that?”

“Here?”

“Yes. No. Slower.”

Things blurred. Vegeta was still there, but seemed to be less separate from her. Bulma kissed her rough fingers, then pushed them down to her breasts. They could have been like that for an hour or a week, or ten minutes like the clock overhead read.

After she managed to let go of Vegeta’s stupid, stupid spiky brown-black hair and notice that she was back to lying on the table than having her back arched above it. After that. She wanted him/her to just leave. So she decided to be nice.

“I’m sorry about making you a woman.”

Vegeta sighed.

“Are you going to forgive me?”

“No.”

“…well, at least no one saw us.”

The Saiyan suddenly tapped on her shoulder. Catching her attention, he pointed toward a discreet black security camera that her father had recently installed to make sure she didn’t lose herself in her work and use anything that involved gasoline. She had completely forgotten about it in her haste to round up the dragonballs and get her revenge for the thirteenth time this week Vegeta had disparaged the scientist’s intellect/strength/hair.

Bulma shrieked. “Why did you let this happen with the camera right there?!”

“I lied.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, that doesn’t even make sense.”

"...how long until we can use the dragonballs again?"

"A year."

"Alright."

"Alright."

"I'll be in space."
- 1
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Wasted Wishes