Work Text:
Planet Designation: DB22-57-5201
Native Name: Vegetasei
Sentient Life: POSITIVE
Advanced Technology: NEGATIVE
Dominant Species: Saiya-jin
- Early technological development
- Highly aggressive
- Physical Characteristics: [DATABASE CORRUPTED]
[ATTEMPTING UPDATE AND SYNCHRONIZATION]
[REMOTE CONNECTION FAILED]
[SYNCHRONIZATION FAILED]
[DATABASE CORRUPTED]
"—requesting immediate rescue. As soon as humanly possible. For the love of God, if you hear this message, come get me—"
The ship was, at the very least, no longer on fire; but it definitely wasn’t going to be flying anytime soon. If she couldn’t find the right parts, it wouldn’t be flying again ever. Bulma had managed to get the distress beacons running, but only just.
Hopefully hearing her repeated demands on a loop would annoy someone into getting off their butts and stopping by.
Bulma dragged a forearm across her brow. The top of her coveralls was knotted about her waist, and the jungle heat had her sweating all the way through the tank she wore. Her gaze lifted back up to the strange sky, crimson through the jungle treetops. She wished she knew enough about atmospherics to pinpoint which particles were responsible for the color.
She wished her sensors were working enough to tell her.
She really wished her computer was working enough to tell her.
Bulma glanced over at the terminal she’d fed into the ship’s central database, but only found the message she expected: yet again, the database had been unable to repair itself.
"Fuck you," she told the computer.
The computer offered no response, clearly too terrified and intimidated by her lethal combination of beauty and brilliance.
Bulma drew in a deep breath. "Calm down, girl," she told herself, stubbornly aloud. "It hasn’t even been a day. You can not afford to start going nuts this soon."
The noise of the jungle around her was a constant background orchestra with a neverending cycle of chirps, buzzes, and squawks. She’d seen some of the native aviary swoop in and out, as well as a few creatures that looked mammalian. Most had only gotten close enough to sate their curiosity regarding the hunk of metal that had crashed landed in the middle of their backyard; otherwise, instinct clearly had them keeping their distance from the potential predator.
That’s right. Fear me. I am terrifying.
It made her feel a little better to think so, at least.
A prick at the back of her neck, an unnerving feeling of being watched, had Bulma whipping her head around to look behind her, but all she could see was the green and brown of the jungle.
"This is fine," she whispered to herself. "Fear me. I am terrifying."
"Fuck shit fuck—" It had been nearly a week. Bulma still had water and food enough to last her, but not indefinitely, and she didn’t want to end up searching for a water source when she was at the end of her supply.
And thus: tromping through the jungle.
She smacked her hand against her portable sensor again; it had been glitchy ever since the crash, and she’d done her best to get it in working order, but one of the parts that needed replacing was the sort of delicate piece she didn’t have lying around the ship. She thought it could at least last her long enough to hunt down a water source, but now she wasn’t so sure.
A sound of movement rustling through the trees had her straightening up, eyes wide as she turned towards the sound.
"There’s nothing there," she insisted aloud, willing the words into truthful existence. "Or if there is something there, it’s just a tiny little adorable animal that definitely can’t hurt me."
The sound was solid and rhythmic. It grew louder.
"THERE IS DEFINITELY NOTHING DANGEROUS RUNNING THIS WAY IN THE JUNGLE," Bulma willed louder. "THERE IS NOTHING — oh, shit."
The closest approximation her brain could come up with was a boar. Except larger, and scarier, and also nothing like a boar. It had too many limbs, and too many tusks, and too many eyes. It was alien, and it was dangerous, and it was mad.
Bulma ran. The intelligent part of her brain was screaming that she was a fucking idiot and there was no fucking way she could outrun a creature like that. The lizard part of her brain screamed at the intelligent part of her brain to shut the fuck up and run faster.
The sound of the creature’s hooves — or hoof-like limbs — pounded behind her. She zigged and zagged, trying to use her smaller size and presumed greater agility to her advantage, only to found that the creature would just plow through trees to get to her.
Great. Cool. Love that for him.
It was so close she could practically feel its breath on the back of her neck. Bulma wondered if she was going to see some fun montage of her life flash before her eyes, and hoped that it would focus on the best sex she managed to have in her absolutely badass life—
—when she was suddenly being hauled bodily off the ground.
It all happened so fast she couldn’t even parse it. She was flung over a shoulder, held fast there with the grip of one massive hand. And then she felt herself being carried towards the creature. There was an angry roar from it, and then a pained squeal, and then silence.
Suddenly, she was on the ground again.
The creature was on its side before her, still and silent. Dead. Slowly, her gaze tracked to the figure of her presumed rescuer. It was...humanoid? It had the requisite arms and legs, at least, but she’d definitely never mistake it for human.
The figure turned to look at her. Red-magenta fur covered much of its — his? his — frame, but his face, forearms, and chest were bare flesh. He had a wild mane of hair the same color as his fur, a spiky upsweep that also fell about his shoulders. His arms were longer and thicker than a human’s would have been, and the lash of a prehensile tail suddenly put the image of an Earth monkey in Bulma’s mind.
No. Not a monkey. An ape.
Bulma’s gaze lifted back to his face. His eyes were vivid red, and they studied her with an intensity that suddenly wasn’t bestial at all.
It was intelligent.
"H...hi?" Bulma attempted a shaky smile for her rescuer.
The man — the alien — narrowed his gaze on her, and said something in a harsh, clipped language she didn’t recognize.
"Hello," Bulma tried again, as if this would help.
The man responded with a similar level of non-success.
"Got it. Okay." Bulma twisted her hand in her hair and tried not to hyperventilate. "Sorry, I — I don’t understand your language. My computer’s kind of busted and it can’t access the full records..." Her voice trailed off. "Why am I telling you this? You can’t understand me either."
She took a deep breath and pushed her way gingerly to her feet. She squared up to him, looking him in the face, and set a hand on her chest. "Bulma," she introduced herself. And then she pointed more directly at herself, trying to emphasize her point. "Bulma."
The man’s tail lashed as he watched her. He was silent a long moment, and then his head tipped thoughtfully. "Bulma," he repeated slowly. His accent curled strangely about the name, but he managed all the consonants.
Her smile blossomed. "Excellent! Communication!" She nodded in enthusiastic encouragement and set her hand back on her chest. "Bulma," she reiterated. And then she pointed at him and lifted her brows to prompt him.
He was silent again. He looked the tiniest bit insulted at her repetition. "Bulma," he finally echoed, as if she might be a bit slow.
She sighed. "No, I’m Bulma." Once again: hand on her chest, and then pointing at herself. "Bulma." She pointed at him with considerably more emphasis. "And who are you?"
He inhaled with a sense of comprehension. Smirking, he pointed at her. "Bulma," he said. Then he pointed at himself. "Vegeta."
"Vegeta!" she echoed as she clapped in delight. "Look at that! We have totally bridged the human-whatever you are divide." Bulma paused to peer at him a bit more closely. "What are you, anyways? The computer said...Saiya-jin?"
The word drew Vegeta’s attention, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment. Bulma brightened again. "Awesome. So I know you’re a Saiya-jin, and I know your name is Vegeta. Next game of charades is...water?" She pulled out her canteen from her pack and took a performative sip. "You know, for drinking?" She gestured out around them, then wiggled the canteen with a questioning look.
It’s not like she needed dignity. Definitely not as much as she was going to need more water.
Vegeta snorted at her performance, but seemed to comprehend it. He nodded, and Bulma relaxed, confident that he was definitely about to lead the way.
He promptly threw her back over his shoulder again and all but flew through the trees with her instead.
Bulma couldn’t always see Vegeta, but she often had the sense that he was out there somewhere. Keeping an eye on her. Kind of like a stalker, but a helpful one, so she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
The stream he led her to had been a godsend. Other requests over the coming days proved a bit more difficult to communicate.
"So, like, you definitely don’t have any circuit processors?" Bulma showed him the innards of the computer she was trying to repair, pointing at the exact piece she needed to replace, and even attempted her very best puppy dog eyes that usually got her everything in the world she wanted.
Vegeta looked at her with a bored, vaguely contemptuous expression.
In fact, he never really seemed to like her at all. Their games of charades wore at his patience, and while requests for things like water didn’t perturb him, some of her more outlandish, technological asks just served to annoy him.
And yet he would still show back up at her camp every day with a fresh kill slung over his shoulder or dragged behind him. He would drop it at her feet, smirking at her instinctive recoil, and then watch with amusement as she forced herself to deal with the logistics of cooking. Bulma’s attempts to skin anything were clumsy at best, but survival was an excellent educator. At least she knew how to make a fire.
Every night, she tracked the journey of the twin moons, taking notes of their path just to fill her mind with something. They had been waxing since her arrival, growing fuller and fuller, until they had finally reached paired completion overhead. Even with all her years of exploring, Bulma hadn’t grown tired of learning a new sky.
A rustle in the jungle nearby had Bulma tensing instinctively as she peered into the darkness beyond the fire. The firelight glinted off something’s eyes and sent a frisson of dread down her spine. She was just about to try screaming when the creature shifted close enough that she could recognize the outline of firelight on Vegeta’s features.
"Oh Kami," Bulma sighed out. "You scared me to death. I thought you were—"
Bulma had grown somewhat accustomed to Vegeta’s manner and habits over the past week. She was used to feeling studied by him, and she didn’t mind it; she studied him, too. But now he was staring at her so intently that some primal instinct whispered in the back of her mind: predator. She realized that his eyes were so dark, she couldn’t see the red of his irises anymore.
Vegeta smiled at her, slow and anticipatory, and a voice screamed inside of Bulma’s head.
Run.
Her pulse was hammering in her throat so hard Bulma felt it would burst. She ran full tilt through the jungle, leaves and branches scraping her skin as she sprinted.
All the while, she could hear the sound of leaves rustling above her. Following her from tree to tree.
Fuck, she thought. Fuck.
He didn’t have to rush. She knew how fast he could move through the jungle.
He was playing with her.
Her shoe hooked on a root, and she stumbled, nearly tumbling to the ground; but she grabbed for the nearest tree trunk to keep dragging herself forward. She left a smear of blood behind as the bark scraped her hand raw.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
She didn’t even know how long she was running. Some part of her head, cold and remote, tried to calculate the distance. It wondered how long the adrenaline would hold out before she lost to exhaustion.
Not long, it told her.
Another hundred feet and her leg buckled beneath her.
She fell.
She felt impossibly large hands close around her. Bulma twisted ineffectually in his grip, but her body had nothing left to give her. No more adrenaline. No more strength.
She squeezed her eyes shut and waited to die.
And then she felt Vegeta’s breath on the back of her neck as he leaned in close against her. His teeth scraped at her nape, nipping at her flesh, but not breaking the skin. His whole body pressed against her back, encompassing her, and Bulma felt the grind of his hips against her ass. And a very, very specific firmness there.
Oh, she thought. Oh.
"Vegeta," she said with exhausted, hysterical humor, "you could have told me you were just trying to hit on me instead of trying to hunt me down in a jungle and eat me."
His hands pawed at her with single-minded focus. Single-minded entitlement, really.
"Listen," Bulma said, attempting some sort of gentle reasonableness. She didn’t even know if she was scared anymore. "I’m not saying I definitely wouldn’t ever, but—"
His furred arms were shockingly soft against her skin where they wrapped around her. His hands found her breasts and squeezed and kneaded through her shirt, and Bulma found herself shuddering despite herself.
Girl, you are messed up.
His breath was panting against her nape now, and he nuzzled and sniffed at her skin with bestial need. Bulma startled when she felt something soft slither across her waist, before she realized it was his tail wrapping around her.
He growled impatiently behind her, groping harder at her breasts, before he finally tore open her tank top and sports bra in rapid, ruthless succession to get at the bare skin of her breasts. His hips humped rapidly against her ass as he grasped her breasts, and he grunted small, pleased sounds against her skin.
Bulma started to feel something warm pool inside of her. Fuck. His length felt huge against her ass, even with the layers of fabric between them, and he kept dragging and grinding it against her as if she was nothing more than a toy for him to hump.
It shouldn’t have been turning her on as much as it was.
The wrap of his tail slipped from her waist to wind about her thigh and hip and between her legs. It tightened between her thighs until the pressure squeezed at her cunt, and a shocked moan escaped her.
"Fuck," Bulma whimpered, and rocked her hips into the pressure to chase the sensation.
Her sounds seemed to encourage him. The continued press of Vegeta’s mouth against her skin wasn’t exactly a kiss, but as if he was tasting her. His voice almost hummed as he humped her, and his tail kept shifting and tightening between her thighs until Bulma’s hips were jumping with need.
"Okay," she said weakly, the words more breath than voice. "It’s not like — anybody needs to know about this, right?" She reached to loosen the tie of her coverall sleeves about her waist, pulling them open so that she could slide the coveralls down past her hips. Her hands were shaking, but not with fear.
Not only with fear.
Vegeta’s tail unwound from between her legs as she pushed her coveralls down, and then she felt fur slide against her bare skin as the tail wound between her thighs again. Her knees pushed farther apart on the jungle floor, and the wind of his tail tightened to press the length between her lips.
Bulma moaned in another moment’s shock. The feeling of his tail against her cunt, the velvet of his fur between her lips, was luxurious. She ground her hips against it, shocked at the strength and solidity of its grip, until she found herself all but riding it.
"Oh Kami," she gasped, Vegeta’s hands still held tight around her, squeezing and groping at every part of her body as she kept riding the length of his tail. "Oh fuck—" He shuddered and growled behind her, his breath heavy and hot on her skin, with every roll of her hips.
He feels it, some part of her brain realized. His tail feels it just as much as—.
Any attempt at rational thought was set aside with the crashing pressure of her orgasm. She keened and shivered in his grip as the pleasure shocked through her in waves, until she was gasping and damp with a new layer of sweat.
Mine. The sound in her head snapped Bulma’s eyes open once more. The whisper had been low and dark, and distant enough that she couldn’t even be sure she heard it.
"Vegeta—" she started to say, but her moment of bliss had clearly not given him any sort of pause. His tail loosened around her, as if he was about to let her go. But instead, he just drew it back enough to brush its furred tip against her cunt. It made her shiver through the catch of her breath, almost but not quite tickling.
Her lips parted on a breath, a near-laugh, only for the sound to get caught in her throat as his tail began to press inside of her.
Bulma moaned with shock and helplessness as his tailed eeled its way inside of her. The sensation was shockingly alien, and her body instinctively bucked and recoiled. Vegeta gripped her tighter. His tail eased back out, but she only had a moment’s relief to consider before it circled about her waist to hold her tight against him, and then the end slipped back between her thighs, and pressed between her lips, to force its way back inside of her.
Holy fucking—.
Vegeta leaned close enough to press his chest flush against her bare back. One arm braced his weight on the ground beneath them, and the other wound about her chest as tight as a vice, pinning her arms to her sides. Between his arm and his tail, he bore nearly the entirety of her weight. Only her knees and feet touched the ground.
It wasn’t long before she realized why.
Vegeta began to fuck her with his tail with the sort of force she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up against; the fact that he was keeping her torso aloft was the only thing keeping her face from being ground into the dirt.
Mine, that distant voice in her mind said again.
The tail slid in and out of her with a sensation that felt both alien and familiar. It wasn’t as rigid as an erect cock, although it certainly wasn’t soft; the prehensile nature of it meant she could feel the rippling of muscle inside of her. In and out, and then in and in and in—.
Bulma wasn’t even sure if the sounds escaping her were human anymore. The tail inside of her was relentless, and every thrust and pump drew whimpers and moans from her until she was all but choking on her own voice.
"Fuck," she whined. "Oh, fuck — don’t stop, please, please—" It didn’t matter that they didn’t share a language; everything that escaped her was pure instinct now. The only anchor she had was his body and the pleasure inside of her. She felt fur and flesh against her skin, heard the sound of his bestial grunts at the back of her ear. Heat rose higher and higher until it was overflowing once more, until it was spilling and crashing over her as she cried out through the strength of her second release.
Her cunt spasmed around his tail, and Vegeta’s grunts morphed into a sharper groan at the sensation. His hips ground against her ass, and she felt something warm and liquid splash against her lower back.
Bulma’s breath escaped her in a sound not quite formulated enough to be a laugh. "Wow," she breathed. "Your tail must be...really sensitive..." Her body felt like little more than a puddle of aftershocks at this point. She let herself relax against his grip; she’d surely have a moment to catch her breath after that. Especially with Vegeta nuzzling at her neck and inhaling her scent again in a way that made her knees feel even weaker than they already did.
And then his teeth sunk into her flesh, and she screamed.
Mine. The voice was crystal clear in her mind now, and Bulma could finally recognize it as Vegeta’s. Vegeta’s voice in her head, somehow speaking her language, or speaking no language at all. Just the concept of it. Mine.
His tail slipped out of her and tightened about her waist again. The shift of his body made Bulma suddenly realize that the firmness she had been feeling against her ass was still there. Unabated, despite his release. She could feel it skin against skin now as his cock dragged up her leg, between her thighs, grinding and searching.
"Wait—" Bulma started to say, feeling faint. His tongue was pressed against the punctures he left in the joint of neck and shoulder, lapping up her blood in a way that made her shudder. She felt the head of his cock finally find her entrance, and it began to press.
She hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, but she’d already felt how large it was. And now that it was pushing, forcing its way inside of her, Bulma was swiftly overwhelmed by the size of it. "Wait," Bulma whimpered again, her body trembling with tension now. "I think — wait, it’s too big—"
She writhed and bucked in Vegeta’s grasp, but his grip was like iron. Stronger than iron. The engineer in her was swiftly running through a mental list of metals of rapidly increasing strength until her brain finally ended up at katchintite. A little mental exercise to keep herself sane in the event that she didn’t survive this supremely ill-advised alien sex.
It will fit, he growled inside of her. Bulma felt her lips stretch and strain around his girth as he pushed inside of her. It wasn’t just his voice that she heard, but now the sensations as well. She felt not just the burn of her cunt as it worked desperately to accommodate him; she somehow felt the whisper of his own experience, the feeling of her cunt splitting open for him. She felt her own drenched warmth as he ground his way inside of her.
Pain bled at the corners of her mind, but it twined and melded with a pleasure that was already overwhelming her.
It fits, Vegeta growled, because it is mine. You are mine. Made for me. The sensation of his need crashed wildly against her mind; she felt the overwhelming the strength of it, the instinctive drive that was pushing him forward. The instinct that drove his hunt, his kill, and now his claim.
Bulma’s breath heaved in her chest as his cock pushed inside of her another inch. She could feel his frustration, his desperate need to be inside, and the pain seemed unimportant now. The pain was only a necessary struggle to take what she needed.
What he needed?
What they needed.
"Please," Bulma gasped, straining, trembling with exertion. "Please, I need it, I need—"
Vegeta growled behind her, the sound vibrating at her shoulder, all need and heat and frustration and impatience. He gripped her in the vice of his arms and tail, holding her completely in his power, and shoved his cock inside of her to the hilt.
Bulma screamed. She didn’t know if it was pleasure or pain she was reacting to. But she felt so incredibly full, and so incredibly right, and maybe the question didn’t even matter. Her cunt was burning around him, stretched to the breaking point, and he hadn’t even moved yet.
Vegeta’s cock dragged back out of her, and Bulma was almost breathless at the emptiness. And then he slammed back in.
Good, Vegeta groaned in her mind as he started to fuck her properly. Good. You feel so good—. His hips snapped in rapid rut against her ass, leaving her flesh trembling — and, she was sure, instantly bruised — as he dragged his pleasure from her with violent need. Mineminemine, his mind sang inside of hers with every thrust.
"Yours," Bulma found herself saying, gasping, whimpering, moaning. She was so slick, so wet, and he was right: her cunt was made for this. For his cock. Somehow, he had forced it into the perfect shape, and now every thrust all but whited out her vision with pleasure.
Vegeta’s body seized around her as he groaned, and Bulma felt his cock swell and spasm inside of her before it flooded her cunt with cum. But he kept thrusting, churning the mess inside of her until her thighs were spattered with his seed.
He paused only for a moment, breath panting, and twisted her in his arms and tail until she was looking up at the wildness of his dark eyes. For a moment, they held perfectly still; even Bulma’s breath was frozen in her chest. She was held aloft only by the grasp of his tail and arm around her.
And then Vegeta tore apart the remainder of her coveralls and started to thrust again. His tail slithered up from her waist, sliding between her breasts, and circled the tip about her throat. Bulma dropped her head back with a heaving breath, and Vegeta’s tail tightened about her neck.
He leaned in to graze his teeth against her throat again as he fucked her, and then lowered his head to lap eagerly at her breasts. Every thrust set her flesh trembling, and his gaze caught on the sight of her breasts bouncing along either side of his tail.
Bulma felt the warmth of this new pleasure in her mind, and she pressed her arms in to squeeze her breasts around the velvet length of his tail. She felt him shiver, and so she closed her hands around the length of tail beneath her breasts, and that rewarded her with an even stronger shudder of his muscles.
Every thrust was not just the slam of his cock inside of her, carving her out until she was empty of everything but him. It was also the pulse of his tail, squeezed by her fingers and her breasts, until he was howling wild with pleasure.
Yes, he cried out, flooding her mind with utterly bestial triumph. She was prey, and he had claimed her. Perfect. My mate is perfect.
Vegeta drew back onto his heels, bringing her with him with effortless strength, and the hands on her hips and tail about her waist forced her body into delicious compliance as he dropped her onto his cock again and again until she saw stars.
Bulma kept squeezing and pumping his tail in her hands, vaguely aware that someone was screaming nearby, yoursyoursyours.
It wasn’t until she was blinded with yet another orgasm moments later that she realized the voice was hers.
Bulma awoke more sore than she had ever felt in her entire life.
As her eyes slowly opened, and her vision gradually focused, she became dimly aware that she was back at the camp she’d set up for herself at the landing site.
She became much more strongly aware of the fact that there was a body pressed against her back. And also arms and a tail wound about her.
Her face flushed crimson. Oh Kami. Ohkamiohkamiohkami—.
She looked slowly — carefully, trying to move her head as little as she could — down her body. She tried not to jump out of her skin at what she found.
It was an arm and a tail, yes, but — different. The arm was slimmer, and tracking her gaze farther up the muscle revealed no red fur. The tail was nearly the same, except for its coloring being brown instead of red. Bulma furrowed her brow, taking stock of other details, and realized that she couldn’t feel any fur against her skin, apart from the tail. Only flesh.
With a slowness that almost made her tremble to maintain, she turned her head, inch by inch, until she could finally see him behind her. Dark hair. A smaller, slimmer body, but hard with muscle. Her eyes studied the lines of his face — different, but familiar — and dropped to the soft line of his mouth.
She felt him start to stir, and Bulma’s head snapped back forward as her pulse pounded in her throat. What the fuck, she mouthed without voice.
"You are confused," a low, rough voice murmured behind her, and Bulma swore she heard humor in it.
With all the dignity she could muster, Bulma yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK."
Vegeta tightened his grip around her. "The moons are waning," he said simply. He nuzzled at the back of her neck and inhaled deep of her. "You did so well, my mate. But I should not be surprised. I would never have selected someone less than perfect."
"Your what," Bulma squeaked.
Vegeta’s laughter was mostly vibration in his chest, thrumming against her back. "My mate," he whispered into her ear. "How else could you understand me?"
And Bulma suddenly understood. He was not speaking her language; her mind was simply translating his words from the meanings she heard in her head. If she concentrated, she could separate the sounds he made from the words inside her mind.
He was still inside her mind.
"Do not worry," Vegeta murmured, his hand curling at her thigh to pry her open for him. "I am more than capable in this form, as well." His cock prodded against her sore cunt, pressing inside of her with an ache so perfect that it was like he always belonged there.
He began to thrust, slow and deep, as Bulma arched back against him with a whimper. "And in a few months," he growled against her skin, "the moons will wax once more, and I will hunt you again."
Bulma whimpered, the bite wound on her neck throbbing, and opened her thighs wider to welcome him.