Note: This story was written with assistance by an AI. I provided prompts and edited the results to make sense, creating something resembling a full story.

I thought it would be fun to explore the canon of the Dragon Ball F Universe. The story will follow the basic flow of Dragon Ball Z, but obviously there will be many differences. Some changes are made by the AI, some by me, but I think it helps to give this world its own feel besides the basic premise of it being a female-only world. I hope some of you will enjoy these stories, I’ll release them when I can!

The wish, uttered in a language older than stars, did not destroy. It rewrote. The seven colossal orbs of the Super Dragon Balls glowed with a light that did not illuminate but instead re-knit, their power stitching itself into the very fabric of reality, into the double-helix of every living thing. The fundamental equation of the universe, once balanced with a yin and yang of male and female, was solved for a new variable. A great, silent wave of change washed over everything, from the deepest caverns of Namek to the highest Lookout on Earth.

When it passed, the world was… changed.

Men were simply gone. Not erased, but transformed, their essence reshaped to fit the new cosmic balance. The strong, boisterous warriors, the quiet farmers, the kings and the paupers—all awoke to a new anatomy, a new center of gravity. The women who had always been women found the world suddenly, profoundly familiar, yet even they felt the shift in the air, a subtle realignment of societal and biological pressures. For a species to continue, the universe, in its infinite and bizarre wisdom, provided a solution. The mystical Senzu bean, capable of healing any wound, vanished from the world, its legend fading like a forgotten dream. In its place, a new bean sprouted in the same sacred gardens: the futa bean. A small, unassuming legume that held a potent, temporary transformation. To consume one was to feel a surge of power, a heat coiling in the groin, blossoming into a fully functional, often impressively proportioned, phallus—a gift that lasted only until the peak of climax was reached, a biological imperative to ensure propagation in this new, all-femme reality.

This is the world as it is now. A world where power is still measured in ki and battle prowess, but where the ultimate submission, the final victory, is often achieved not with a blast of energy, but with the relentless, intimate pounding of one warrior inside another. The lines between combat and consummation have been irrevocably blurred. To those who live in this reshaped universe, this is how it has always been.

Our story begins, as so many do, with a quiet life violently interrupted.

The air in the remote Mount Paozu region was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. A simple wooden house stood nestled in a clearing, smoke curling from its chimney. Inside, a woman with a fierce, dark bob of hair and a permanent scowl of endearment was setting the table. Her name was Chi-Chi, and she was a woman of singular focus. Today, that focus was on her daughter, Gohan, a sweet-natured girl with wide, dark eyes and hair that defied gravity in a way that was entirely her father’s.

“Gohan, stop reading those textbooks and wash up! Your mother will be back from her training soon, and she’ll be hungry enough to eat an entire dinosaur!” Chi-Chi commanded, her voice a familiar, loving drill sergeant’s bark.

“Yes, Mama,” Gohan chirped, closing her book on advanced theoretical physics. She was just about to head to the washbasin when the entire house shuddered. A plate rattled off the table and shattered on the floor. The air outside, once serene, suddenly grew heavy, charged with a malevolent energy that made the hairs on Chi-Chi’s arms stand on end.

A shadow fell over the sun.

Out in the fields, a figure straightened up, a massive dinosaur carcass slung over one shoulder. She was tall and lithely muscular, with a wild, untamed mane of black hair that stood up in every direction, ending in sharp, almost flame-like tips. Her eyes, a deep, warm black, narrowed as she looked toward the sky. This was Son Goku, the strongest woman on Earth, though she’d never think to call herself that.

“Huh?” she grunted, her head tilting. “That’s a weird ki. Really strong… and mean.”

Dropping the dinosaur with a ground-shaking thud, Goku shot into the air, her body a blur. She hovered, a hand shielding her eyes as she squinted at the strange, orb-like spacecraft that had just embedded itself in the mountain ridge overlooking her home. The hatch hissed open, and a figure emerged.

The alien was tall, statuesque, and clad in form-fitting black armor that accentuated a powerful, curvaceous frame. Two long, dark hair hung wildly over her shoulders, and a single scouter, glowing with a red light, was fixed over one eye. Her lips were set in a cruel, confident smirk. This was Raditz, a low-class Saiyan warrior, though Goku had no memory of her or their shared heritage.

Raditz’s gaze swept over the primitive landscape with disdain until it locked onto Goku. The scouter beeped frantically, the numbers settling on a reading that made her smirk widen.

“There you are, Kakarot,” Raditz’s voice was a low, condescending purr, carrying easily across the distance. “It’s been a long time. I must say, this… backwater planet has made you soft. Your power level is a joke.”

Goku landed on the ridge, a healthy distance away, her stance relaxed but ready. “Who’re you? And what’s this ‘Kakarot’ stuff? My name’s Goku.”

Raditz let out a short, humorless laugh. “I am Raditz. Your sister.” She let the word hang in the air, watching for a reaction. Goku just looked confused. “Our people, the Saiyans, sent you here to conquer this world. But it seems you’ve gone native. You even got yourself a family, didn’t you?” Raditz’s scouter twitched, pointing toward the distant house. “A mate and a child. How… domestic.”

A flicker of protective instinct, primal and fierce, flashed in Goku’s eyes. “You stay away from my family.”

“Or what?” Raditz taunted, taking a step forward. Her ki flared, a dark, violent aura crackling around her. The ground at her feet began to fracture. “You have no idea what true power is, little sister. I’m here to recruit you. Our princess, Vegeta, and I have a proposition. But first…” She cracked her neck, a predatory gleam in her eye. “I think you need a reminder of your Saiyan blood. A proper… welcome.”

Goku sank into her signature fighting stance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’re looking for a fight, you found one!”

What followed was a brutal, one-sided demonstration. Goku was fast, her years of training under Master Roshi and Kami evident in her fluid movements. But Raditz was faster, stronger, and far more ruthless. She moved with an economy of motion that was terrifying, casually blocking Goku’s most powerful punches and kicks.

“Pathetic!” Raditz snarled, catching Goku’s fist in her palm and squeezing. Bones creaked. “Is this the best my little sister can do?”

With a contemptuous shove, she sent Goku flying backward, crashing through several trees. Goku staggered to her feet, blood trickling from a cut on her lip. She cupped her hands at her side. “Ka… Me… Ha… Me… HA!” A brilliant blue beam of energy erupted from her hands, streaking toward Raditz.

Raditz didn’t even bother to dodge. She simply raised a hand and swatted the energy blast aside as if it were an annoying insect. It detonated harmlessly against a distant mountainside.

“A parlor trick,” Raditz sighed, appearing in front of Goku in an instant. Her knee drove deep into Goku’s stomach, forcing all the air from her lungs in a pained gasp. As Goku doubled over, Raditz grabbed a handful of her spiky hair, yanking her head back. “You’re weak, Kakarot. But you have potential. I can feel it. You just need the right… motivation.”

Raditz threw Goku to the ground, planting a booted foot on her back, pinning her in the dirt. Goku struggled, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

“Let’s see how you fight when something you care about is on the line,” Raditz purred, her scouter once again targeting the little house in the clearing. She raised a hand, energy beginning to coalesce into a deadly sphere.

“NO!” Goku screamed, a raw, desperate sound. A new power, wild and golden, flickered around her for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t enough to break free, but it made Raditz pause, her interest genuinely piqued.

“Oh? What’s this?” Raditz leaned down, her breath hot against Goku’s ear. “There’s the Saiyan spirit. Buried deep, but it’s there.” Her free hand, the one not charging the attack, trailed down Goku’s spine, making her shudder in revulsion and helplessness. “Perhaps a more… traditional Saiyan method of domination is in order. Conquest isn’t just about destroying cities, little sister. It’s about claiming what is yours. Subduing your enemies completely.”

Reaching into a pouch on her belt, Raditz produced a single, pale bean. The futa bean. She held it in front of Goku’s face. “You know what this is, don’t you? Even on this primitive rock, you have them.”

Goku’s eyes widened. She knew. Everyone knew.

“A fight is one thing,” Raditz whispered, her voice dripping with sadistic promise. “But this… this is a true defeat. This is how a real Saiyan establishes dominance. Now, be a good girl for your big sister.”

With a sadistic grin, Raditz swallowed the bean. A hot, prickling wave of power, thick and syrupy, flooded Raditz’s veins the moment the bean’s essence hit her system. It was a different kind of strength than the explosive ki that usually fueled her—this was a deep, primal, breeding power that coiled in her gut and surged downward. A low, guttural groan escaped her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure as she felt the fabric of her under-suit strain and then tear. The transformation was swift and brutal, a meaty, substantial weight burgeoning between her powerful thighs, springing forth fully erect and already weeping a bead of pearly pre-cum at its broad, flushed tip. It was a weapon as formidable as her tail, thickly veined and proudly Saiyan, a physical manifestation of her intent to conquer.

She released her energy attack, letting it dissipate. The immediate threat to Goku’s family was gone, replaced by a far more personal and intimate one. Goku could see it forming in the tight fitting black bloomers the tall woman wore. She removed her boot from Goku’s back and took a step back, a cruel, appraising look on her face as Goku slowly, shakily, pushed herself to her knees.

“There now,” Raditz said, her voice a low thrum of anticipation. She began to unfasten the clasps of her own armor, the rigid plates falling away to reveal the powerful, sleek body beneath. “Let’s see what you’re made of, Kakarot. Let’s see you try to fight me now.”

Goku could only stare, still on her knees. The fight had been drained from her, replaced by a cold, clenching fear in her stomach. This wasn’t a battle of ki blasts and martial arts anymore. This was something far more ancient and violating.

“See, Kakarot?” Raditz purred, stroking her own length with a possessive grip, her dark eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. “This is the true face of Saiyan power. Not just destruction. Ownership.”

She closed the distance in a single, fluid step. Before Goku could even think to scramble away, Raditz’s hand was tangled in her spiky hair again, yanking her head back painfully. “Now,” Raditz breathed, her hot breath ghosting over Goku’s ear, “you’re going to learn your place.”

With her other hand, she ripped the back of Goku’s gi trousers, the fabric shredding like paper. Goku cried out, a short, sharp sound of protest that was cut off as Raditz positioned herself. The broad, slick head of her cock pressed against Goku’s pussy, a blunt, unyielding pressure.

“Stop…” Goku gritted out, her hands scrabbling uselessly against the ground.

Raditz’s answer was a brutal, single-minded thrust, sheathing herself to the hilt in one devastating motion.

“GNNNH—!” Goku’s scream was choked, strangled into a ragged gasp. Her body arched, every muscle seizing as she was filled, stretched, invaded. The sensation was a white-hot brand of pain and shocking, unwanted fullness. Her fingers dug furrows into the earth, her knuckles white.

Raditz didn’t pause for mercy. She set a punishing, rhythmic pace from the start, her hips pistoning with a warrior’s brutal efficiency. Each thrust was a claim, a punctuation mark in her lecture of dominance. The wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting filled the clearing, a lewd counterpoint to Goku’s ragged, punched-out breaths.

“You feel that, sister?” Raditz grunted, her voice thick with exertion and pleasure. “This is what you were made for. To be beneath a stronger Saiyan. To take your seeding and be grateful for it.”

Goku squeezed her eyes shut, tears of shame and agony leaking from the corners. Her world had narrowed to this searing, rhythmic violation. But through the haze of pain, one thought, one instinct, burned brighter than any other: Chi-Chi. Gohan. Don’t let them see. Don’t let them get hurt.

She bit her lip until she tasted blood, refusing to give Raditz the satisfaction of another scream. She focused on the feel of the cool dirt beneath her fingers, on the distant sound of a bird chirping, on anything but the brutal, stretching fullness and the hot breath on her neck.

Inside the house, Chi-Chi had finally had enough. The initial quake and the terrifying energy were one thing, but the silence that followed was somehow worse. A mother’s intuition, a wife’s fear, was a force more powerful than any scouter.

“Gohan, stay here,” Chi-Chi commanded, her voice tight. She grabbed the family’s trusty battle axe from its place by the door, its polished steel a relic of a simpler time.

“But Mama—!”

“Stay!” Chi-Chi barked, and the sheer force in her voice left no room for argument. She crept out the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. The scene that greeted her as she peered around the corner of the house stole the breath from her lungs.

Her Goku, her strong, beautiful, simple wife, was on her hands and knees in the dirt. And a tall, terrifying woman in strange armor was… was on top of her. Moving. The sounds that reached Chi-Chi’s ears were not of combat, but of something far more intimate and horrifying. A low, guttural grunting, the wet slap of flesh, and Goku’s quiet, broken whimpers.

Chi-Chi’s grip on the axe handle turned her knuckles white. Her mind reeled, unable to process the violation she was witnessing. This wasn’t a fight. This was… this was… Her body trembled with a rage so pure it was cold. But she was frozen, a statue of horrified disbelief. To rush in now would be suicide, and what would that leave for Gohan? A cold calculation, born of desperate love, kept her rooted to the spot, a silent, furious witness to her wife’s defilement.

Raditz, lost in the rhythm of her conquest, was nearing her peak. Her thrusts became more frantic, less controlled. “That’s it… take it… take all of it, you weak, pathetic… NGH! Take your seed, Kakarot!”

With a final, deep, grinding thrust that forced a pained sob from Goku’s throat, Raditz stilled, her body tensing. A hot, gushing flood erupted deep inside Goku, a final, claiming violation. Raditz threw her head back with a roar of triumph, her own newly-formed cock pulsing as it deposited its load into Goku’s womb.

As the climax subsided, the physical manifestation of her dominance began to recede, the alien weight softening and shrinking between her legs. She pulled out with a wet, slick sound, leaving Goku collapsed and trembling in the dirt, feeling utterly empty and defiled.

It was then that Raditz’s sharp Saiyan senses picked up the second, much weaker ki signature nearby. Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto Chi-Chi, who was still half-hidden, her face a mask of tear-streaked fury and horror.

Raditz smirked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Ah. The mate. Come to see the new hierarchy?” She nudged Goku’s limp form with her boot. “Don’t worry. Your turn will come. But first, Kakarot and I have a planet to discuss.”

Raditz’s smirk widened as she saw the raw terror and fury warring on Chi-Chi’s face. The sight was more satisfying than any victory cry. This was true power—not just breaking the body, but shattering the spirit of those who watched.

“The little family is all here,” she purred, her gaze flicking from the broken woman at her feet to the defiant one by the house. Her scouter beeped again, locking onto the tiny, trembling ki signature inside. “And the brat, too. Perfect.”

Before Chi-Chi could even raise her axe, Raditz was a blur of motion. She moved with a speed that was a mockery of physics, appearing directly in front of Chi-Chi. A single, contemptuous backhand sent the Ox-Queen’s daughter flying, the axe clattering uselessly from her grip as she slammed into the side of the house and slid to the ground, dazed.

“MAMA!” Gohan’s shrill cry echoed from the doorway.

Raditz was already there. She reached inside, her large hand closing around the small girl’s arm, yanking her out into the open. Gohan screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror, kicking and flailing uselessly against the iron grip.

“Let… them… go…” Goku’s voice was a ragged whisper, torn from a raw throat. She tried to push herself up, but her arms buckled, her body screaming in protest from the brutal violation and the earlier beating. She collapsed back into the dirt, her face pressed against the cool earth, utterly spent.

Raditz laughed, a short, harsh bark. “You are in no position to make demands, Kakarot.” She hauled the struggling Gohan over to where Chi-Chi was struggling to her knees, and grabbed a handful of Chi-Chi’s hair, forcing her to stand. “Listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself. You have one cycle of this planet’s moon to prove your worth to me. You will go out into this world, and you will kill one hundred of its inhabitants.”

Chi-Chi’s eyes widened in horror. Goku managed to lift her head, her dark eyes clouded with pain and disbelief.

“Bring me their bodies as proof,” Raditz continued, her tone chillingly matter-of-fact. “Do this, and you may see your mate and your child again. Fail, or try to follow me…” She tightened her grip on Gohan, making the girl whimper. “…and I will start sending you pieces of them. Do you understand?”

Goku could only stare, a silent tear tracing a path through the grime on her cheek. The command was monstrous, an impossible choice designed to break what little was left of her.

“We’re leaving,” Raditz announced, and with a surge of ki, she shot into the sky, her two struggling captives in tow. Their screams faded into the distance, leaving behind a silence that was more deafening than any explosion.

Goku was alone. The weight of her failure, the phantom ache of the violation, and the chilling ultimatum crushed her more effectively than any of Raditz’s blows. She lay there, trembling, the image of Gohan’s terrified face and Chi-Chi’s furious, helpless one burned onto the back of her eyelids. Kill a hundred people. The thought was a poison in her soul. She was a protector, a defender. It was who she was. To become a mindless slaughterer… it was a fate worse than death.

A shadow fell over her.

“Pathetic.”

The voice was deep, female, and laced with a familiar, grating contempt. Goku forced her eyes open, turning her head slightly to see a tall, majestically built figure standing over her. Green skin, white turban, and the sharp, elegant features of the demon clan. Piccolo. She was clad in her traditional weighted cape and gi, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a look of profound disgust.

“I felt the disturbance,” Piccolo said, her voice a low rumble. “A power I’ve never sensed before. I came to see if you were finally getting yourself killed. It seems you’ve managed to find a fate even more humiliating.”

Goku said nothing. There were no words.

“I saw it all, Son Goku,” Piccolo continued, her gaze sweeping over the torn earth and the shreds of Goku’s clothing. “I saw you beaten. I saw you… subdued. And I saw that alien filth take your family.” She uncrossed her arms, her fists clenching. “She is a threat to this entire planet. My planet. I will not have some Saiyan mongrel from the stars claiming what is rightfully mine to conquer.”

She took a step closer, looming over Goku’s broken form. “You are weak. You are broken. You are covered in your own shame. But you are the only one on this miserable rock who even comes close to understanding the power we’re facing.” She let out a frustrated hiss. “My mother, the Demon Queen, would be spinning in her grave to see me offer this. But that creature’s arrogance cannot be tolerated.”

Piccolo extended a hand, not in kindness, but as a warrior offering a tool.

“An alliance, Goku. Temporary. We come together. We hunt that bitch down and tear her apart. It is the only chance you have to save your family. It is the only chance this world has to survive what is coming. Get up. Your self-pity is an insult to the battle you just lost.”

The words were harsh, stripped of all comfort. But they were a lifeline thrown into the abyss of Goku’s despair. A goal. A path, however dark and difficult, forward. With a groan that was part pain, part sheer force of will, Goku reached up and took Piccolo’s hand.

—–

The landscape blurred beneath Raditz as she flew, one hand clamped around Chi-Chi’s arm, the other holding a sobbing Gohan. She landed with a jarring impact in a wide, windswept field miles from Mount Paozu, the tall grass whipping around her boots. Tossing Chi-Chi unceremoniously to the ground, she raised her wrist and pressed a button on her scouting device.

A low hum filled the air, and a moment later, a small, spherical pod descended from the upper atmosphere, settling gently in the grass a short distance away. The hatch hissed open.

“Get in, brat,” Raditz commanded, shoving the terrified Gohan toward the pod. The little girl scrambled inside, her wide, dark eyes filled with tears. The hatch slammed shut, sealing her in a transparent prison, her small hands pressing against the cool glass as she watched the scene outside unfold.

Raditz turned her attention to Chi-Chi, who was pushing herself up, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and rage. The fire in her eyes, the defiant set of her jaw—it was a far more interesting reaction than Kakarot’s broken submission.

“My sister has… interesting taste,” Raditz mused, circling her like a predator sizing up its prey. “A primitive, but a fierce one. I can see the appeal.” She stopped in front of Chi-Chi, her shadow falling over her. “But you belong to the stronger sister now. It’s the Saiyan way.”

“Go to hell,” Chi-Chi spat, scrambling backward in the grass.

Raditz’s laugh was a low, cruel sound. She moved with blinding speed, pinning Chi-Chi to the ground, her powerful thighs straddling the smaller woman’s hips. One hand clamped around both of Chi-Chi’s wrists, pinning them above her head with effortless strength.

“Fight all you want,” Raditz purred, her free hand trailing down the side of Chi-Chi’s face, a mockery of a caress. “It only makes the claiming sweeter.”

Her hand moved lower, roughly tearing the front of Chi-Chi’s simple tunic. The fabric gave way, exposing her heaving chest to the cool air. Chi-Chi bucked and thrashed, a raw scream tearing from her throat. “Get off of me! DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Raditz ignored her, her fingers trailing over the soft skin of Chi-Chi’s stomach, making her flinch violently. “So much spirit. I bet Kakarot could never appreciate a proper fire.” Her hand slid lower, dipping beneath the waistband of Chi-Chi’s trousers. Chi-Chi’s struggles became frantic, desperate, her screams turning into ragged, choked sobs.

“No… please… no…”

Raditz’s fingers found their mark, pressing against her entrance. Chi-Chi’s body went rigid, a strangled gasp catching in her throat. With a cruel, deliberate slowness, Raditz pushed one finger inside.

Chi-Chi cried out, the sound a mixture of pain and utter violation. Her hips jerked, a futile attempt to escape the invasive touch. Inside the pod, Gohan screamed, her small fists pounding uselessly against the unyielding glass, her own terror mirrored in her mother’s tormented face.

Raditz began to move her finger, a slow, torturous rhythm, her eyes locked on Chi-Chi’s face, drinking in every twitch of agony, every tear that traced a path through the dirt on her cheeks. She added a second finger, the stretch making Chi-Chi arch her back with a pained whimper.

“That’s it,” Raditz breathed, her own breath coming faster. “This is what you are now. Mine.”

Suddenly, her scouter beeped, a sharp, insistent sound. The red lens flashed, displaying a power level that spiked dramatically before flickering and vanishing. Raditz’s head snapped up, her focus broken. She scowled, her fingers stilling inside Chi-Chi.

“What in the…?” she muttered, staring off in the direction of Mount Paozu. No, it wasn’t there. “A power level over a thousand? That’s impossible. This planet’s fighters are insects.” She followed the scouter’s arrows over to her own pod, where Gohan was trapped.

“Impossible! There’s no way… That little brat?” The scouter beeped again, the reading stabilizing back to the planet’s ambient, low-level energy. She tapped the device irritably, shutting it off. “Malfunctioning piece of junk. The atmosphere on this mudball must be corroding the circuits.”

Dismissing the anomaly, she turned her attention back to the woman beneath her. Chi-Chi was trembling, her eyes squeezed shut, trying to retreat into some inner sanctuary away from the horror. The brief respite was over.

“Now,” Raditz said, her voice dropping back to that intimate, menacing purr. “Where were we?” She curled her fingers inside Chi-Chi, a deliberate, searching motion that tore another broken sob from Chi-Chi’s throat. Raditz leaned down, her lips close to Chi-Chi’s ear, her voice a vile whisper meant only for her. “Let’s see how loud you can scream for me, little mate.”

Raditz’s fingers worked with a cruel, practiced rhythm inside Chi-Chi, a violation that was as much psychological as it was physical. Chi-Chi’s body had gone limp, her spirit retreating into a numb shell, the only signs of life the ragged hitches of her breath and the tears that streamed silently into her hair. The wet, squelching sounds were obscenely loud in the quiet field, punctuated by Raditz’s low, grunting breaths of pleasure and the muffled, hysterical sobs coming from Gohan’s pod.

“See how she yields?” Raditz taunted the unresponsive air, her dark eyes glinting. “This is what true power feels like, Kakarot. To take what you want and have them break beneath y—”

Her head snapped up, her monologue cut short. A golden cloud was streaking across the sky toward them, moving with impossible speed. It was the Nimbus, and standing upon it were two figures. One was her broken sister, clad in a new, orange and white gi, her face a stony mask of grim determination. The other was the green-skinned demon woman who had been watching earlier.

They landed twenty yards away, the Nimbus flying back into the air. Piccolo’s cape billowed around her, her arms crossed, her expression one of pure, undiluted hatred. Goku’s eyes immediately found Chi-Chi, pinned and exposed in the grass, and then darted to the pod where her daughter was screaming herself hoarse. A tremor ran through her, but she didn’t look away. She met Raditz’s gaze, and the brokenness was gone, replaced by a cold, focused fire.

Raditz’s smirk returned, wider and more savage than before. She didn’t remove her fingers from inside Chi-Chi; instead, she shifted her weight, making Chi-Chi gasp and flinch, ensuring Goku had a perfect view.

“Well, well,” Raditz drawled, her voice dripping with mock surprise. “Look who found her spine. And she brought a friend. How… quaint.” She curled her fingers deliberately, and Chi-Chi whimpered, her body twisting in a futile attempt to escape. “Don’t be shy, Kakarot. Watch. This is what happens to the things you love when you’re too weak to protect them. I’m just giving your wife a proper Saiyan greeting.”

Goku’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. But she didn’t charge. She stood her ground, her ki beginning to simmer around her, a faint aura flickering to life.

“You’re outnumbered, filth,” Piccolo’s voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a razor. “We’re here to send you back to the hell you crawled out of in a body bag.”

Raditz laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “You? You think two jokes with power levels as low as yours stand a chance against a Saiyan warrior? You’re delusional.” Still, she slowly, reluctantly, withdrew her slick fingers from Chi-Chi, wiping them casually on the grass beside her. The fun was over; a more traditional, and ultimately more satisfying, form of violence was now on the menu.

She rose to her full height, looking down at the two of them with undisguised contempt. Chi-Chi scrambled away, clutching her torn clothes to her chest, curling into a trembling ball of shame and relief.

“Fine,” Raditz said, cracking her neck. “If you’re so eager to die, I’ll oblige you. I’ll make you watch as I finish with your mate, Kakarot, and then I’ll mount your green friend’s head on my ship’s console.” She sank into a fighting stance, her dark ki flaring around her like a malevolent corona. “Come on, then. Show me what you’re capable of.”

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Raditz’s face as Goku and Piccolo began to remove items of clothing. Piccolo’s turban and cape, Goku’s wristbands and boots. The weighted clothing hit the grass with dull, heavy thuds, cratering the soft earth beneath them. Her scouter, which had been reading their power levels at a paltry 416 and 408, suddenly whined in protest. The numbers began to climb, jumping to 924, then 1,050, before settling at a steady, alarming 1,330 for Goku and 1,340 for Piccolo.

“Impossible,” Raditz breathed, her smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. “You’re suppressing your battle power? A cheap parlor trick!”

But the trick wasn’t over. As the two warriors sank into their stances, their auras erupted not with the wild, uncontrolled flare of a Saiyan’s rage, but with a sharp, focused intensity. Goku’s energy burned a brilliant, clean white, while Piccolo’s swirled a deep, violent magenta. They were condensing their ki, compressing it, honing it into a weapon far deadlier than its raw number suggested. It was a technique born of a world where martial arts had been refined over centuries, a subtlety lost on the brute-force conquerors of the wider universe.

“A cheap trick that’s going to cost you your life,” Piccolo snarled, and she launched herself forward, a green blur of motion.

The fight was joined in an explosion of speed and sound. Piccolo’s fist, a demon’s hammer, slammed into Raditz’s guard, and for the first time, the Saiyan warrior was forced back a step, her boots digging furrows in the soil. Goku was there an instant later, a spinning kick aimed at Raditz’s head that she only barely managed to duck, the wind from the blow whipping her wild hair back.

For a few, glorious seconds, it seemed like a real fight. Goku and Piccolo moved with a synchronicity that belied their former rivalry, their attacks flowing together, forcing Raditz onto the defensive. A ki blast from Piccolo forced her to leap into the air, only for Goku to meet her there with a vicious axe kick that sent her crashing back to the ground.

Raditz rolled with the impact, coming up with a smear of dirt on her cheek and a furious snarl twisting her lips. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a cold, simmering rage.

“Enough of this!” she roared. Her power flared, a dark, oppressive wave that made the very air feel heavy. She vanished, reappearing directly in front of Piccolo. Her fist, moving faster than the eye could follow, buried itself in the Namekian’s gut. Piccolo’s eyes bulged, a spray of spit and air exploding from her lips as she was lifted off her feet.

Before she could hit the ground, Raditz was on Goku. She caught Goku’s punch in her palm, her fingers closing like a vice. Goku cried out as the bones in her hand creaked under the pressure. Raditz yanked her forward, driving a knee into her ribs with a sickening crack. Goku staggered, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

This was the reality of the gap in their power. Technique and suppressed battle power could only bridge so far. Raditz’s raw strength, speed, and Saiyan durability were simply on another level. She moved between them like a force of nature, a whirlwind of brutal, efficient violence. She backhanded Piccolo, sending her spinning through the air to crash through a line of trees at the edge of the field. She grabbed Goku by the throat, lifting her from the ground, her thumb pressing cruelly into her windpipe.

“You see?” Raditz hissed, her face inches from Goku’s, her breath hot. “Your little tricks mean nothing. You are still just an insect. A slightly more annoying insect, but an insect nonetheless.” She threw Goku to the ground, where she landed in a heap next to the still-trembling Chi-Chi.

Raditz stood over them, her chest heaving not from exertion, but from exhilaration. The early dominance of her opponents had only made reasserting her superiority all the more satisfying. She looked from Goku, struggling to push herself up, to Piccolo, who was slowly extracting herself from the splintered wreckage of the trees.

“This has been a mildly amusing diversion,” Raditz announced, planting a boot on Goku’s back, forcing her face back into the dirt. “But playtime is over. It’s time to finish this, and then I believe I have a mate to finish breaking.”

Piccolo surged from the wreckage of the trees, her magenta aura blazing with feral rage. A gash on her forehead dripped purple blood down the side of her face, but her eyes burned with undiminished hatred. She unleashed a volley of glowing yellow ki discs—the Demon’s Slicing Shot—that screamed through the air toward Raditz.

Raditz didn’t even bother to dodge. With a contemptuous flick of her wrist, she batted the discs aside as if they were made of paper, sending them detonating harmlessly against the distant hills. “A dying insect flails the hardest,” she sneered. As Piccolo lunged forward for a close-range assault, Raditz moved with blinding speed, her fist slamming into Piccolo’s jaw with a crack that echoed like thunder. The Namekian warrior was lifted off her feet, spinning through the air before crashing to the ground in an unmoving heap, her aura extinguished.

Raditz stood triumphant, her chest swelling with arrogant pride. She looked down at Goku, still pinned beneath her boot, and then at Chi-Chi, who was watching with wide, horrified eyes. The sheer dominance, the complete and utter subjugation of her enemies, was a headier intoxicant than any battle high. But it wasn’t enough. The memory of Goku’s broken whimpers, of Chi-Chi’s violated body trembling beneath her, ignited a darker, more possessive hunger. A public beating was one thing; a public claiming was the ultimate victory.

“Watching from the sidelines is a privilege you’ve lost, Kakarot,” Raditz declared, her voice a low, menacing thrum. She reached into the pouch on her belt and produced another one of the pale, unassuming futa beans. “You’re going to participate this time. You’re going to learn what it means to be mounted by your superior while your precious mate watches.”

She popped the bean into her mouth and swallowed.

The familiar, searing heat flooded her veins, a surge of raw, generative power that was even more intense than the first time, fueled by her battle-lust and sadistic anticipation. A guttural groan ripped from her throat as the transformation took hold, the fabric of her under-suit straining and tearing once more. The thick, veined weight of her cock sprang forth, fully erect and already throbbing with a desperate need to bury itself, to seed and claim. It was larger now, more imposing, a physical manifestation of her absolute control over the situation.

She removed her boot from Goku’s back, grabbing a handful of her spiky hair instead and hauling her to her knees. Goku struggled weakly, her body screaming in protest from her broken ribs and the lingering trauma of the first violation.

“Now,” Raditz purred, her free hand grabbing Chi-Chi by the arm and dragging her closer, forcing the terrified woman to her knees beside Goku. “A little family reunion.” She positioned herself behind them, her impressive length pressing against the small of Goku’s back. “You first, sister. A reminder of your place.”

With her hand still tangled in Goku’s hair, she used her other to guide the broad, slick head of her cock to Goku’s entrance. Goku squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh tear tracing a path through the dirt as the familiar, terrifying pressure returned. Raditz didn’t thrust; she pushed, a slow, inexorable invasion that made Goku’s breath hitch in a silent scream, her body forced to accommodate the brutal girth once again.

Once she was fully sheathed inside Goku, Raditz reached around with her now-free hand, her fingers finding Chi-Chi’s core, still wet and sensitive from the earlier violation. Chi-Chi flinched violently, a broken sob escaping her lips as two of Raditz’s thick fingers pushed back inside her with ruthless efficiency.

“See how I take care of you both?” Raditz grunted, her hips beginning a slow, deep rhythm into Goku, her fingers mirroring the motion inside Chi-Chi. The dual penetration was a masterpiece of degradation, binding them together in a shared, intimate hell. Goku could feel every movement Raditz made inside her, could hear Chi-Chi’s pained whimpers just inches away. Chi-Chi could feel the vibrations of each of Raditz’s thrusts through Goku’s body, a constant, horrifying reminder of what was happening to her wife.

Raditz set a punishing pace, her breath hot and ragged against Goku’s neck. “This is your life now,” she hissed, her voice thick with exertion and pleasure. “This is all you’ll ever be. My toys. My property.” She drove deeper into Goku, making her gasp, while her fingers curled inside Chi-Chi, seeking a spot that made the Ox-Queen’s daughter cry out in a mixture of agony and unwanted, traitorous sensation. The wet, slapping sounds of flesh and the ragged symphony of their suffering filled the air, a lewd serenade for their unconscious ally and their imprisoned daughter. Raditz was in her element, a conqueror at the peak of her power, fucking her dominance into the very souls of her enemies.

Raditz’s rhythm was a brutal, metronomic assertion of dominance. Each deep, grinding thrust into Goku’s violated body was synchronized with the cruel, scissoring motion of her fingers inside Chi-Chi, binding the two women together in a shared, excruciating shame. Goku’s face was pressed into the dirt, her silent tears creating tiny mud puddles, her body a vessel for nothing but pain and powerlessness. Chi-Chi’s whimpers had faded to a low, continuous moan of despair, her mind retreating from the reality of her wife being used as a sheath for the monster that was simultaneously defiling her.

“This is the song of your defeat,” Raditz grunted, her breath hot and ragged against Goku’s ear. Her hips snapped forward, burying herself to the hilt, making Goku’s entire body jolt. “The wet slap of my flesh on yours… the pathetic little sounds your mate makes… this is the music of Saiyan victory. You should be honored, Kakarot. Honored that I find you worthy of my seed, that I deign to use your pathetic bodies for my pleasure!”

She leaned over, her teeth grazing Goku’s shoulder, a possessive, marking bite. “I’m going to fill you both. I’m going to pump you so full of me that you’ll never forget who owns you. And when I’m done, I’ll drag you both across this planet and make you watch as I burn it to ash around y—”

CRACK!

The sound was not of breaking bone, but of shattering armor and reinforced glass. A spiderweb of fractures exploded across the surface of the spherical pod. From within, a light began to glow—not a ki aura, but a raw, untamed, golden-white radiance that pulsed with a terrifying, chaotic heartbeat of power.

Raditz’s head snapped up, her gloating monologue dying in her throat. Her scouter, which had been reading the brat’s power level at a negligible 1, suddenly screamed in a frantic, panicked whine. The numbers spiraled out of control—710… 1,307… 2,805—before the lens itself cracked with a sharp ping!, overloading and going dark.

“What in the—?” was all Raditz could manage before the pod exploded outward.

It wasn’t a blast of fire and shrapnel, but a concussive wave of pure, furious energy. Standing in the wreckage was Gohan, but she was transformed. Her small body was encased in a crackling nimbus of fiery light, her frayed around her. Her eyes, once wide and innocent, blazed with an ancient, feral rage. A raw, wordless scream of pure, unadulterated fury tore from her tiny lungs, a sound that should have been impossible for a child to make.

“LEAVE MY MOMS ALONE!”

She was a blur. A fiery comet of incandescent rage. She crossed the distance between the pod wreckage and Raditz in a nanosecond, far too fast for the stunned Saiyan to even register. Gohan didn’t throw a punch or a kick. She simply launched her small, rock-hard forehead directly into the center of Raditz’s chest plate.

The sound was a deafening KRA-KOOM! of shattering alien alloy and breaking bone.

Raditz’s eyes bulged, a strangled gasp of shock and agony ripped from her as she was lifted off her feet. The once-impenetrable armor shattered into a dozen pieces, flying away from her torso like shrapnel. The force of the impact sent her flying backward, tumbling head over heels through the air to land in a broken, gasping heap thirty yards away, the futa cock that had been her instrument of terror vanishing instantly as the shock and pain severed her concentration.

The fight, and her dominance, had been utterly knocked out of her.

The aura around Gohan flickered and died as suddenly as it had appeared. She dropped to the grass, her small body trembling, her hair settling back into its usual soft spikes. She looked down at her hands, then over at her mothers, her face a perfect mirror of confusion and fear. “M-Mama? Mom? What… what happened? I was so scared, and then I got really hot, and then…”

Goku, still lying in the dirt, managed to push herself up onto her elbows. The pain from her ribs and the deep, aching violation were secondary to the sheer, staggering disbelief coursing through her. She stared at her daughter, at the shattered pieces of Raditz’s armor littering the field, at the smoking remains of the pod. Her daughter. Her sweet, bookish, gentle Gohan. That power… that raw, explosive, untamed power… it dwarfed anything she had ever felt, even from Raditz. It was a storm contained in a teacup, and it had just erupted to save them.

Before she could form a single coherent thought, Gohan was scrambling toward them, her small face crumpling as she took in the sight of her battered, exposed mothers. She threw her arms around Chi-Chi’s neck, sobbing. “Mama! I was so scared!”

Chi-Chi, shaken from her traumatized stupor by her daughter’s touch, wrapped her arms tightly around Gohan, clutching her as if she were the only solid thing in a world that had just shattered. Her eyes met Goku’s over their daughter’s shoulder, a silent, desperate communication passing between them—a mixture of overwhelming relief, lingering horror, and a dawning, terrifying question about the child they thought they knew.

The moment of stunned relief shattered as Raditz, with a guttural roar of pain and fury, surged to her feet. One arm was clutched around her ribs, her chest bare and heaving, the pale skin already blooming with a massive, dark purple bruise from Gohan’s headbutt. But her eyes, burning with a mixture of agony and incandescent rage, were fixed on Gohan.

“You little bitch!” she snarled, spitting a glob of blood onto the grass. She lunged forward, her movements clumsy with pain but still terrifyingly fast. Her good hand shot out, closing like a steel trap around Gohan’s collar, yanking her brutally away from Chi-Chi’s embrace.

Gohan screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror, her small legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“Let her go!” Goku screamed, trying to push herself up, but her body, broken and violated, betrayed her, collapsing back into the dirt with a cry of frustration.

Raditz held the struggling, sobbing child at arm’s length, a vicious, blood-stained grin spreading across her face. “Oh, I will let her go, Kakarot. I’ll let her go all the way to Princess Vegeta. I don’t need a broken, weak-willed fool like you.” Her gaze was locked on Gohan, a look of avaricious hunger in her eyes. “This power… that raw, untapped potential… it’s a dynasty waiting to be unleashed. She is worth a thousand of you.”

She began to back away, dragging Gohan with her. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m leaving you with your pathetic life and your used-up mate. The girl belongs to the Saiyans now. We’ll mold her into a true warrior, a conqueror worthy of our bloodline. She’ll forget you ever existed.”

Despair, colder and sharper than any blade, pierced through Goku’s heart. She was helpless. Beaten, broken, and utterly powerless to stop this. She could only watch as the monster who had defiled her and her wife now stole their child, their future.

But Chi-Chi was not broken.

As Raditz turned, beginning to gather her ki to flee, a memory, sharp and clear, cut through Chi-Chi’s trauma. A cold night years ago, curled up with Goku after a fierce battle, listening to her wife’s quiet, embarrassed confession about a strange, almost silly weakness. A weakness Goku no longer possessed, but one her sister, with that long, furry appendage twitching behind her, clearly still did.

As Raditz took her first step, Chi-Chi moved.

It wasn’t a warrior’s lunge, but a mother’s desperate, final gambit. She sprang forward, her body a coiled spring of frantic energy, her hand shooting out not for Raditz’s arm or leg, but for the base of the long, brown tail that swished arrogantly behind her.

Her fingers closed around the furry appendage.

The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic.

A strangled, high-pitched gasp, like the sound of a bellows being crushed, escaped Raditz’s lips. Her entire body went rigid, every ounce of her formidable Saiyan strength evaporating in an instant. Her grip on Gohan’s arm went slack, and the girl dropped to the ground, scrambling away on all fours. Raditz’s knees buckled, her face a mask of pure, uncomprehending agony. She trembled violently, her muscles turning to water, a pathetic, mewling sound the only thing that escaped her throat as she collapsed into the grass, completely and utterly paralyzed.

Chi-Chi stood over the paralyzed form of the Saiyan warrior, her breath coming in ragged, furious pants. The terror and violation of the last hour crystallized into a cold, sharp point of vengeance. With Raditz utterly helpless, her body trembling and weak, Chi-Chi’s hand, which had moments before been pinned above her head, swung down in a sharp, stinging arc.

SMACK!

The sound of her palm connecting with Raditz’s bare, muscular ass cheek echoed in the sudden silence. Raditz jolted, a humiliated squeak escaping her lips.

“How does it feel?” Chi-Chi hissed, her voice trembling not with fear, but with a rage that had been simmering for a lifetime. “How does it feel to be completely at someone else’s mercy? To be used?” She delivered another sharp slap, then another, each blow a punctuation mark for every tear she and Goku had shed. “This is for my wife! This is for my daughter! This is for me!”

From the edge of the field, a low, resonant hum began to build. Piccolo had risen, one hand pressed to her injured jaw, the other held aloft. Her two fingers were pointed directly at the prone form of Raditz, and a terrifying vortex of energy was spiraling around them, pulling in light and sound, condensing into a single, piercing point of magenta destruction.

“Enough games,” Piccolo’s voice boomed, devoid of all emotion save for a cold, surgical intent to kill. “This technique is called the Makankōsappō. It will drill a hole straight through you, and there is nothing in this universe that can stop it. Your reign of terror ends now.”

The reality of her situation crashed down on Raditz. The paralyzing weakness, the vengeful human spanking her like a child, and now the unmistakable aura of a killing blow charging mere feet away. The arrogant conqueror was gone, replaced by a cornered animal. Her eyes, wide with primal fear, found Goku’s.

“Kakarot! Sister, please!” she begged, her voice a reedy, pathetic whimper. “Don’t let her do this! We’re family! Our blood is the same! I… I was wrong! I see that now! I apologize! Please, for the sake of our mother, Bardock, have mercy!”

Goku, finally managing to push herself to her knees, stared at her sister. The woman who had beaten her, violated her, threatened her child, and defiled her wife. But the word ‘family’ echoed in her soul, a concept she had always held sacred. A conflict warred in her deep, dark eyes—the instinct to protect her own, and the ingrained, fundamental belief in mercy, in second chances.

Chi-Chi saw the hesitation on her wife’s face and her fury redoubled. “Don’t you dare listen to her, Goku! She was going to take our baby!” To emphasize her point, she delivered another stinging slap to Raditz’s ass, the sound cracking through the air like a gunshot. “She doesn’t know the meaning of family! She only knows how to break it!”

“I’m charging it now!” Piccolo roared, the energy around her fingers intensifying, the air itself screaming as it was torn apart by the concentrated power. The tip of the beam began to glow with a light that promised absolute annihilation.

Raditz’s pleas became frantic, desperate sobs. “I’ll leave! I’ll never come back! I swear on my honor as a Saiyan! Just let me live! PLEASE!”

Goku looked from her sobbing sister, broken and helpless in the grass, to the determined, furious face of her wife, to the terrifying, final solution gathering in Piccolo’s hand. The fate of the Saiyan who had brought them all so low hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of a beam of pure, concentrated death.

The air turned to syrup, thick and heavy, each sound stretching into a distorted, low-frequency drone. Goku’s eyes, honed by a lifetime of combat, saw the shift in Raditz’s energy not as a flare, but as a catastrophic, inward collapse. The Saiyan’s trembling body wasn’t just paralyzed with weakness; it was becoming a furnace, her ki core turning in on itself, compressing into a singularity of pure annihilation. The desperate plea in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a final, grim resolve to take her captors with her into oblivion.

Piccolo’s voice was a distant, warped roar. “—FIRE!” The piercing magenta beam of the Makankōsappō lanced forward, a needle of concentrated death aimed at Raditz’s heart.

But it was too late.

A sun was being born in Raditz’s chest. A light so bright it bleached the color from the world, erupting from her skin, from her eyes, from her screaming mouth. The very atoms of the air began to scream in protest.

Goku didn’t think. There was no room for the conflict of sisterhood, no calculus of mercy or vengeance. There was only a single, primal imperative, written in the code of her soul long before she ever fell to Earth.

Protect Chi-Chi.

Her broken body, which moments before could barely hold its own weight, became a conduit for a final, desperate surge of power. She moved not through the air, but through the frozen time itself, a golden blur against the expanding white hell. She didn’t shove Chi-Chi away; there was no time for that. She became a shield.

She slammed into Chi-Chi, wrapping her arms and her entire body around her wife, turning her own back into a wall of flesh and bone against the coming storm. Her eyes met Chi-Chi’s for a fraction of a frozen second—a silent, final apology and a declaration of love more profound than any words.

Then the world ended.

The self-destruction of a Saiyan warrior is not merely an explosion; it is the violent, uncontrolled release of a star’s worth of energy contained within a biological vessel. The shockwave hit Goku first, a physical hammer blow that pulverized her already-cracked ribs and ruptured organs she didn’t know she had. The sound was the end of all sound, a force that shredded the eardrums. Then came the heat, a blast furnace that incinerated her gi and seared the skin from her back in an instant.

But she held. Her muscles, her bones, her very spirit, locked into a single, unyielding purpose: to absorb the fury meant for the woman in her arms. She was a dam against a tsunami, and she felt every splintering crack, every tearing sinew.

Chi-Chi, cocooned within Goku’s embrace, was thrown backward by the concussive force, but she was spared the direct, vaporizing heat and the shrapnel-like pieces of her own wife’s body. She felt the impact, heard the sickening, wet crunch of Goku’s body taking the full force of the blast, and then the world dissolved into a roaring, blinding inferno of light and pain.

When the light faded and the deafening roar subsided into a high-pitched ringing, a crater smoked where Raditz had been. The grass for a hundred yards in every direction was gone, replaced by glassy, scorched earth. Piccolo was on one knee, her clothes in tatters, having been thrown back by the periphery of the blast.

And in the center of it all, Goku lay motionless on top of Chi-Chi, her back a horrific landscape of charred, blackened flesh and exposed bone. She did not move. She did not breathe. The ultimate price for love, paid in full.

The world was a silent, smoking ruin. The only sound was the crackle of cooling earth and Gohan’s heart-wrenching, hysterical sobs as she clutched at her mother’s arm. Chi-Chi lay pinned beneath her wife’s body, her own breath coming in shallow, disbelieving gasps. She could feel the terrible, absolute stillness of Goku, the lack of a heartbeat against her own, the shocking cold of the charred flesh pressed against her cheek.

“No… no, no, no, Goku… please…” Chi-Chi’s voice was a broken whisper, her hands trembling as she tried to find a patch of unburned skin, a sign of life. “You can’t… you can’t leave us. You promised. You promised you’d always come home.” Her words dissolved into ragged, guttural cries, her body shaking with a grief so profound it felt like it would tear her in two. Gohan buried her face in her mother’s side, her small frame wracked with tremors, the world she knew utterly annihilated.

Piccolo stood at the edge of the crater, her own injuries a dull throb compared to the scene of raw, human devastation before her. The Namekian felt a strange, uncomfortable tightness in her chest, an alien sensation she couldn’t name. She had come here to kill Son Goku, to prove her superiority. She had never imagined standing as a witness to her rival’s… her ally’s… self-annihilation. She took a hesitant step forward, her boots crunching on the glassed earth.

“Woman,” Piccolo’s voice was uncharacteristically gruff, lacking its usual contempt. She didn’t know Chi-Chi’s name. “Your mate… she is gone. But this planet holds methods of resurrection that are unknown to the wider universe.”

Chi-Chi’s tear-filled eyes lifted, a flicker of desperate, impossible hope amidst the despair.

“The Dragon Balls,” Piccolo continued, her gaze shifting to the horizon. “If her friends gather them, they can wish her back to life. It has been done before.”

The revelation was a lifeline, a single, shining thread in an abyss of blackness. Chi-Chi clutched at it, her sobs quieting to a choked silence as the logistics, the hope, began to form in her shattered mind.

As she spoke, Piccolo’s sharp hearing caught a faint, static-laced crackle from a piece of debris near her foot. It was the shattered remains of Raditz’s scouter, its internal components sparking feebly. She bent down, picking up the broken device. Pressing it to the side of her head, she filtered out the wind and the crying, focusing on the faint electronic signal still bleeding into the air.

At first, it was just static. Then, a voice, distorted and cold. “…confirmed. Raditz’s signal has been terminated, but it sounds like this Earth planet holds the legendary Dragon Balls. A resource of that magnitude cannot be left in the hands of primitives.”

A second voice, haughty and sharp, replied. “A year. It will take us a year to reach that backwater sector. Let the insects on Planet 4032-Gre enjoy their false security. When we arrive, we will take these Dragon Balls for ourselves. And if Kakarot and Raditz have failed, we will purge the planet ourselves. Nothing of value will be lost.”

The transmission cut out. Piccolo’s green hand clenched, the fragile scouter casing crumpling in her grip like foil. She crushed it into a useless lump of metal and wiring, letting the pieces fall to the scorched earth.

She looked from the grieving family to the sky, her expression hardening into a mask of grim foreboding. The immediate threat was vaporized, but a far greater storm was now on the horizon, its countdown already begun.

“The Dragon Balls…” Piccolo said, her voice low and deadly serious. “They are our only hope for your mate. But we have just alerted a much larger, much more powerful nest of hornets. The one who called herself Raditz was merely the scout.” She met Chi-Chi’s horrified gaze. “Her comrades are coming. And they will be here in a year.”

Chi-Chi’s desperate, clinging hope was shattered a second time. As she held Goku’s lifeless, charred form, a soft, ethereal light began to emanate from the body itself. It was a gentle glow, utterly at odds with the violence of her death, a pale gold that seemed to cleanse the air of the stench of ozone and burnt flesh. The weight in her arms began to lessen, not as if it were being lifted, but as if it were dissolving into motes of light.

“No! No, what’s happening?!” Chi-Chi cried, clutching frantically at the fading form, her hands passing through the shimmering particles. “Goku! Don’t go! Please!”

Within moments, the body was gone. Nothing remained but the imprint of her shape in the scorched earth and the lingering, phantom warmth on Chi-Chi’s skin. She stared at the empty space, her mind refusing to process this new, surreal layer of loss.

“No doubt it was Kami,” Piccolo stated, her voice a low rumble that cut through Chi-Chi’s panic. She had watched the phenomenon with a knowing, almost resigned expression. “The Guardian of this world. She has taken her body. Likely to the Sacred Land of Korin, or higher. It is where a warrior of her caliber belongs in death. It is… an honor.”

The words meant nothing to Chi-Chi. Honor was a cold comfort when her wife was gone from her arms. But before she could give voice to her fresh wave of grief, Piccolo moved. In a single, decisive motion, she strode forward and grabbed Gohan by the collar. The little girl yelped, startled out of her tears.

“What are you doing? Let go of her!” Chi-Chi scrambled to her feet, her body screaming in protest, her fists clenching uselessly.

“The brat stays with me,” Piccolo declared, her grip firm but not cruel. Her fierce eyes bore into Chi-Chi’s. “You saw the power she unleashed. A flicker, uncontrolled, but it was enough to shatter a Saiyan’s armor. That is not a power you can coddle with books and bedtime stories. In one year, warriors far stronger than the one who just killed your mate will descend on this planet. We will need that power. She will be trained.”

“She’s just a child! My child! You can’t take her from me!” Chi-Chi’s voice was raw, a mother’s last, desperate stand.

“Would you rather I leave her with you, untrained, so she can be slaughtered or taken when they arrive?” Piccolo’s words were brutal, a cold splash of reality. “Or worse, so she can watch you die, powerless to stop it, just as she watched her other mother die today? I am offering her the only chance she has to survive what is coming.”

The logic was a knife to Chi-Chi’s heart. She looked at Gohan’s terrified, confused face, then at the empty space where Goku had lain. She had never felt so powerless. Her strength, the strength of the Ox-Queen’s daughter, was a joke against the monsters of the wider universe. Piccolo was right. Horrifyingly, devastatingly right.

Her shoulders slumped, all the fight draining out of her. “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Promise me you will keep her safe. No matter how hard you train her, no matter what you have to do… you bring my daughter back to me alive. You swear it.”

Piccolo looked down at the small, trembling girl in her grasp, then back at the broken woman before her. A flicker of something that was not quite empathy, but perhaps a warrior’s understanding of a debt, crossed her features. She gave a single, sharp nod. “You have my word. She will be returned to you alive.”

Without another word, Piccolo shot into the sky, a green streak against the bruised twilight, Gohan’s fading cry of “Mama!” the only thing left in her wake.

Chi-Chi stood alone in the vast, silent crater. The wind, now the only sound, whipped at her torn clothes and tugged at her disheveled hair. She was miles from home, with no Nimbus, no transportation, and no strength left to even walk. The enormity of it all crashed down on her—Goku’s death, her body’s disappearance, her daughter’s abduction, the promise of an even greater apocalypse in a year. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the residual heat from the blast, and wondered how in Kami’s name she was ever going to find her way back to an empty house.