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 ornate, brightly colored doors of the little palace swung inward as Goku approached, revealing an interior that was just as opulent and out-of-place as the exterior. The air was thick with the scent of exotic incense and something sweet, like candied fruit. Before her stood a line of stunningly beautiful women, each clad in a sleek, high-collared qipao of shimmering emerald green or deep violet silk that hugged their curves and fell to the floor. But it was the woman in the center who commanded all attention.

Princess Snake was a vision of deliberate, captivating elegance. Short, fiery orange curls framed a face of perfect, almost doll-like beauty, her lips painted a demure green. Large, amethyst earrings dangled beside her neck, which was draped with a luxurious, snowy white fur boa. Her own qipao was a masterpiece of purple snakeskin, the pattern shifting with her every subtle movement, the dress cut to emphasize a narrow waist and generous hips. Long, pristine white gloves covered her arms to the bicep, and her feet were nestled in a pair of dangerously high-heeled pumps the same deep purple as her earrings. She was the picture of a refined, untouchable aristocrat, a stark contrast to Goku’s simple, travel-worn gi.

The Saiyan warrior stared, her mouth slightly agape. “Wow!” she blurted out, her voice echoing in the hushed hall. “You must be Queen Kai! You’re a lot prettier than I thought you’d be!”

A delicate, musical laugh escaped Princess Snake’s lips, a sound like tinkling wind chimes. Her eyes, a striking shade of violet, swept over Goku’s powerful, lithe form, from her wild, untamable hair down to her dusty boots, and a spark of deep, possessive interest ignited within them. Her attendants exchanged knowing, subtle smiles.

“You are too kind, my dear traveler,” Princess Snake said, her voice a silken purr. She glided forward, the sound of her heels a soft click on the polished marble. “But I am not Queen Kai. I am Princess Snake, the mistress of this humble oasis on the long, lonely road. We so rarely receive visitors of such… vibrant energy.” She reached out a gloved hand, not to shake Goku’s, but to gently brush a speck of cosmic dust from her shoulder, her touch lingering for a heartbeat too long. “You look exhausted, my dear. Please, allow us to offer you our hospitality. A hot meal, a soft bed… whatever your heart desires.”

The attendants murmured their agreement, their eyes also fixed on Goku with a unified, smitten intensity. They saw not just a traveler, but a rare and fascinating prize that had stumbled into their gilded cage. The palace, for all its beauty, was a trap, and its beautiful keeper had just found a new pet.

Goku’s cheerful grin faltered. “Oh! You’re not Queen Kai? Darn it.” She scratched the back of her head, already turning back toward the door. “Sorry to bother you then! I gotta get going. A million miles is a really long way, and I’ve already wasted a bunch of time falling off and stuff.”

A flicker of genuine panic crossed Princess Snake’s perfectly composed face. “Leaving? So soon?” she said, her silken purr taking on a slightly strained note. She gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod to her attendants.

In an instant, the mood in the room shifted. The line of beautiful women broke formation, gliding forward not as a welcoming committee, but as a flock of captivating, cooing distractions. One in a green qipao pressed close, batting her eyelashes. “But you just got here, strong one,” she murmured, her voice like honey. “The road is so lonely. Don’t you want a little… company?” Another, in violet, trailed a gloved finger along Goku’s arm. “We’ve heard stories of the great warriors who walk the Serpentine Highway. We’d be so honored to hear yours.”

Goku, completely oblivious to their amorous advances, was about to politely push past them when a new, overwhelmingly delicious scent hit her nose. Her stomach let out a gurgling roar that echoed in the opulent hall. Her head snapped toward the source. Several attendants were now wheeling in a series of golden carts laden with a feast fit for an empress—or a perpetually hungry Saiyan. There were whole roasted creatures glistening with glaze, mountains of steaming rice, pyramids of exotic fruits, and platters of glazed meats and delicate pastries.

“Whoa!” Goku gasped, her mission momentarily forgotten. Her eyes went wide as saucers. “That looks amazing! I thought that Fruit of Might from Hell would keep me full for a week, but my stomach’s already yelling at me again!”

Princess Snake’s smile returned, sharp and victorious. “Then you simply must stay and dine with us,” she insisted, gesturing grandly toward the groaning tables. “It would be our pleasure to replenish your strength. The road will still be there after you’ve eaten your fill.”

Goku’s resolve crumbled in the face of such a glorious buffet. The endless miles of Snake Way suddenly seemed a little less urgent. “Well…” she hedged, her feet already carrying her toward the food. “I guess a little bit couldn’t hurt. A quick meal, and then I really gotta run!” She plopped down in the offered chair, her eyes fixed on the feast, completely unaware that the most dangerous trap on the Serpentine Highway wasn’t a monster or a chasm, but a beautiful princess and a free lunch.

Goku dug into the feast with her typical single-minded gusto, piling her plate high with roasted meats and glazed tubers. The flavors were incredible, a symphony of savory and sweet that made her momentarily forget the million-mile trek. She was halfway through a drumstick the size of her forearm when she felt a presence under the table. A moment later, the blonde attendant in the green qipao slipped beneath the linen tablecloth.

“Hey, what are you—” Goku started, her mouth full, but her question was cut short as she felt deft, gloved hands at the waistband of her gi trousers. There was a soft rustle of fabric, then a rush of cool air against her bare skin. Before she could protest further, a warm, wet mouth closed over her pussy.

Goku jolted, nearly dropping her drumstick. A muffled sound of surprise escaped her, a mixture of a gasp and a choke. She looked down, then across the table at Princess Snake, her eyes wide with confusion. “Uh… she’s… down there…”

Princess Snake took a delicate sip from a crystal goblet, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement over the rim. “But of course,” she purred, as if commenting on the weather. “It is our culture, dear warrior. To provide pleasure as we provide sustenance. It is the highest form of hospitality. To refuse would be… terribly rude.” She gave a slow, meaningful blink. “Simply relax. Enjoy your meal.”

Goku frowned, the logic seeming strange but not entirely unwelcome. The sensation was… distracting. The attendant’s tongue was skilled, tracing slow, deliberate circles around her clit before delving deeper with a firm, lapping pressure. It was a stark, intimate contrast to the act of chewing and swallowing the rich, heavy food. A low, involuntary moan vibrated in Goku’s throat as she took another bite, the dual sensations of taste and touch beginning to merge into one overwhelming wave of pleasure. Her hips gave a slight, unconscious twitch, pressing herself more firmly against the mouth working between her legs.

She decided, with a simple shrug of her shoulders, to follow the Princess’s advice. Why fight it? The food was delicious, and the feeling growing between her thighs was undeniably good. She leaned back in her chair, one hand holding a glazed fruit, the other gripping the edge of the table as she surrendered to the bizarre, dual-feast, her focus split between the flavors on her tongue and the building, coiling heat in her core.

The final, shattering peak of her climax left Goku slumped in her chair, a profound, heavy lethargy seeping into her bones. The enormous meal sat heavily in her stomach, and the release had sapped the last of her energy.

“Maybe… maybe just a short nap,” she mumbled, her head nodding forward, only to be caught by another attendant’s skillful mouth, kissing her as her body trembled, the last aftershocks fading. The attendant in the green qipao emerged from under the table, her chin glistening, a smug, satisfied look on her face.

Princess Snake smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. “Excellent. The hot springs are perfect for soothing tired muscles… and for enjoying other pleasures.”

Goku could barely keep her eyes open. “I really should… get back… to the…” The sentence trailed off into a soft snore.

Princess Snake watched the powerful, yet utterly guileless, warrior drift into unconsciousness, her breathing evening out into the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. The endless, golden path of Snake Way could wait a little longer.

Princess Snake allowed Goku a few minutes of deep, food-and-orgasm-induced slumber before gently shaking her shoulder. “The springs await, my dear. You’ll feel brand new.”

Goku stirred, blinking blearily. “Huh? Oh, right. The bath.” She pushed herself up from the table, her movements sluggish, and followed the princess through a sliding paper door into a secluded grotto. Steam rose from a natural hot spring, the water clear and inviting, surrounded by smooth, black rocks.

Without a hint of self-consciousness, Goku began stripping off her gi. The orange top was tossed aside, followed by the trousers and her boots. In moments, she stood completely naked in the steamy air, her powerful, lithe body on full display. The lean, corded muscle of her arms and abdomen, the surprising fullness of her breasts, the strong curve of her back leading to a perfectly rounded, muscular ass—it was the body of a consummate warrior, and Princess Snake’s breath caught in her throat. She had expected modesty, or at least some hesitation, but Goku’s flippant disregard for nudity was as intriguing as it was arousing.

“See something?” Goku asked, noticing the princess’s stare as she waded into the hot water with a contented sigh.

“Just… admiring the form of a true warrior,” Princess Snake recovered smoothly, her own fingers moving to the intricate fastenings of her snakeskin qipao. She undressed with a deliberate, theatrical slowness, revealing a body that was all soft, teal curves and elegant lines, a stark contrast to Goku’s hardened physique. She slid into the water opposite Goku, the heat causing a delicate flush to spread across her chest.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of lapping water and Goku’s relaxed sighs. Then, Princess Snake moved closer. “The water does wonders for tension,” she purred, her soft hands sliding through the water to rest on Goku’s shoulders. Her touch was firm, beginning to knead the tight muscles.

Goku, her eyes closed, just grunted in appreciation. “Yeah, that feels good. My back’s been killing me from all that running.”

Emboldened by the lack of resistance, Princess Snake’s hands began to wander. They drifted from her shoulders, down the defined muscles of her back, tracing the curve of her spine before sliding around her waist. One hand splayed across Goku’s flat, hard stomach, while the other dipped lower, fingertips brushing through the damp hair between her legs.

Goku’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Shhh,” Princess Snake whispered, her lips close to Goku’s ear as her fingers found their mark, stroking with a practiced, teasing pressure. “This is also part of the culture. The ultimate relaxation. Just let it happen.”

Goku opened her mouth to protest, but the sensation was already short-circuiting her resolve. The heat of the water, the skilled fingers working between her thighs, the full belly… it was all too much. With a soft, surrendering groan, she leaned back against the smooth rock, allowing the beautiful princess to have her way, the steam rising around them like a veil over her continued seduction.

Princess Snake’s soft, teasing touches quickly evolved into a full, possessive exploration. As her fingers continued their clever, rhythmic work between Goku’s thighs, dipping inside her and circling her clit with maddening precision, she leaned in, her painted lips finding the strong, tanned column of Goku’s neck. She didn’t just kiss; she sucked and nibbled, leaving faint, promising marks on the Saiyan’s skin, her hot breath a constant whisper against Goku’s ear.

“Such a perfect, powerful body,” she murmured, her other hand abandoning Goku’s stomach to cup one of her full, firm breasts. Her thumb swept back and forth over the hardening nipple, rolling and pinching it gently, then not so gently, eliciting a sharp, surprised gasp from Goku that was swallowed by the steam.

Goku’s head fell back against the rock, her own hands gripping the slick stone at her sides. Her body was a live wire of conflicting sensations—the relaxing heat of the water, the demanding, intimate invasion of the princess’s fingers, the sharp pleasure-pain of the attention on her breasts and neck. She was being worshipped and claimed all at once, and her usual single-minded focus was fragmenting under the sensual assault.

Princess Snake was relentless. She switched her mouth from Goku’s neck to her breast, taking the peaked nipple between her lips and sucking hard, her tongue flicking rapidly. At the same time, her hand at Goku’s pussy increased its pace, fingers thrusting deeper, curling inside to find that spot that made Goku’s entire body jolt and her back arch clear out of the water. A guttural, helpless moan was torn from Goku’s throat, her muscles tensing.

Not content, Princess Snake’s free hand slid down, around the curve of Goku’s hip, groping and kneading the firm, rounded flesh of her ass, pulling her closer, forcing her fingers even deeper. She was a maestro of pleasure, playing Goku’s body like a fine instrument, determined to wring every last drop of resistance and ecstasy from her.

From the house, through the paper screen door, the other attendants watched with envious, hungry eyes. They saw their mistress claim the magnificent warrior, saw the powerful body they had all desired now trembling and yielding under Princess Snake’s expert ministrations. They saw Goku’s hands, once clenched on the rock, now splayed open in surrender, her knuckles white. They heard the ragged, pleading quality of her moans as Princess Snake drove her inexorably towards another shattering climax, this one promising to be even more intense and soul-stealing than the last. The hot spring was no longer a place of relaxation; it was a throne room where a queen was taking her prize.

The steam from the hot spring coiled around them like thick, wet silk, clinging to their skin and amplifying every touch into an electric jolt. Princess Snake’s mouth was a brand of fire on Goku’s skin, moving from one breast to the other, her teeth grazing the sensitive peak in a way that made Goku’s breath hitch. The princess’s skilled fingers worked a relentless, corkscrewing rhythm inside her, a dual assault of penetration and the clever, circling pressure on her clit. The dual sensations—the deep, stretching fullness and the focused, maddening friction on the most exquisitely sensitive bundle of nerves. Goku’s hips began to move in a small, involuntary counterpoint to the thrusts, a desperate, instinctive movement that betrayed the pleasure coiling deep in her belly, a hot, tight spring about to snap.

Princess Snake leaned in, her lips finding Goku’s again, her tongue tracing the shell of her ear before she whispered, “Let go for me. Show me how a true warrior finds her release.”

Goku’s hands finally released their death grip on the rock, her arms falling limp at her sides as her body surrendered completely. A final, guttural cry was torn from Goku’s throat, her back arching so sharply it was a miracle her spine didn’t crack.

“Give me everything,” she breathed, her own arousal a palpable heat in the air between them. “You are magnificent.”

Her fingers thrust one last time, curling deep, and Goku’s climax seized her. It was not a gentle wave but a seismic rupture that left her shuddering, every muscle turning to liquid fire. She slumped back against the rock, utterly spent, her breathing a ragged, shallow pant. The world was a soft-focus blur of steam and sensation. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead weights. “Nnngh… I really… gotta get back… to running…” Her words slurred into a soft mumble, her head lolling to the side. “So… sleepy…”

Princess Snake, her own breath coming faster, felt the powerful, rhythmic clenching of Goku’s internal muscles around her fingers, a final, pulsing aftershock that made her toes curl. “The path… Queen Kai…”

But the words lacked all conviction. The combination of the massive meal digesting in her stomach and the two devastating orgasms had drained her of all energy. Princess Snake guided a boneless Goku out of the hot spring, the cool night air a shock on her overheated skin. She could barely keep her eyes open, let alone summon the will to stand, let alone run a million miles.

Princess Snake helped her to her feet, her own body thrumming with power and possessive satisfaction. She guided the half-conscious Saiyan back toward the gaudy little palace, the promise of a soft bed now far more appealing than the endless, golden coils of the Serpentine Highway waiting for her.

Princess Snake guided Goku’s stumbling, exhausted form through the sliding paper door and onto a vast, plush bed piled high with silk cushions and soft furs. The moment Goku’s back hit the mattress, the room seemed to come alive. The attendants, who had been watching with barely-contained hunger, descended upon her like a beautiful, chattering flock of exotic birds.

Hands were everywhere. Soft, gloved and bare, skated over her damp skin, tracing the hard lines of her abdomen, the powerful curve of her quadriceps, the surprising softness of her inner thighs. Goku mumbled a weak protest, trying to push herself up on her elbows, but a pair of attendants gently pressed her back down, their mouths already finding their targets.

One woman, with lips painted a deep plum, knelt between Goku’s legs, her tongue immediately delving into her still-sensitive pussy with a hungry moan, lapping up the mingled taste of hot spring water and the lingering evidence of her climax. Another attendant, her green qipao discarded, positioned herself lower, her tongue tracing a slow, wet path from Goku’s perineum to the tight, puckered rose of her ass, probing and teasing the forbidden entrance with a relentless, wet pressure.

Goku’s head thrashed on the pillows, a broken moan escaping her as the dual oral assault sent fresh jolts of pleasure-pain through her overwhelmed system. “Have to… go…” she slurred, the words meaningless.

Princess Snake herself took possession of Goku’s feet, lifting them with a reverent grace. She began to massage the soles, her thumbs working into the arches, before bringing one foot to her mouth and sucking on the toes, her tongue sliding between them in a act of intimate worship that was both degrading and exquisitely pleasurable.

Other attendants focused on the rest of her. A tongue traced the shell of her ear, then dipped inside. Another mouth found her armpit, licking the salt from her skin, the strange, tickling sensation making her squirm. Lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her spine, while hands cupped and kneaded her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples until they were hard, aching peaks.

They were a symphony of sensation, a cacophony of touch and taste designed to overwhelm her completely. Goku was their living altar, and they were the fervent, desperate worshippers. Her body, which had known only the blunt force of combat and the harsh lessons of survival, was now a map of pure, undiluted sensuality. Every inch was explored, tasted, and adored. Her weak struggles ceased, replaced by a full-body tremble as the relentless, multi-faceted pleasure short-circuited her brain and drained the last dregs of her will. She was drowning in a sea of hands and mouths, and the distant call of Snake Way faded into a forgotten dream.

The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of sensation, a symphony of touch orchestrated by a dozen hungry hands and mouths. It was a full-sensory assault, a deliberate, systematic unraveling of every last defense.

The new attendant at her feet was not merely sucking on her toes; she was taking the entire heel of Goku’s foot into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked and licked the sensitive arch, her tongue tracing each individual toe before sucking it deep, the lewd, wet sounds echoing in the opulent room.

Princess Snake claimed Goku’s mouth in a deep, plundering kiss, her tongue mapping the roof of her mouth, claiming it with the same possessive intensity as the rest of her body.

An attendant’s tongue, slick and warm, swirled around Goku’s ankle before moving up her powerful calf, her teeth grazing the taut muscle, her hands stroking up her thighs.

Another woman, her violet qipao pooled around her knees, positioned herself between Goku’s legs, her face buried in the damp thatch of her pubic hair, inhaling her musky, Saiyan scent before her mouth moved lower, her tongue delving into the tight, forbidden pucker of her ass, probing and teasing with a relentless, wet pressure that made Goku’s hips buck involuntarily.

A different attendant focused on Goku’s abs, her tongue lapping a slow, wet trail from her navel up to her sternum, tasting the salt of her sweat, the lingering sweetness of the feast, and the unique, potent flavor of Goku herself. The sensation was so intense, so violating and yet so exquisitely pleasurable that she could no longer tell the difference.

They licked her back, tracing the line of her spine from the nape of her neck all the way down to the cleft of her ass, her tongue lapping and circling the sensitive skin there.

Goku’s body was no longer her own. It was a feast, and they were starved.

The pleasure was a riptide, pulling her under, dragging her into a warm, dark, syrupy oblivion. A third, cataclysmic orgasm tore through her, wracking her body with violent, helpless tremors, her voice a raw, broken sound as she came against the mouth devouring her pussy, her ass clenching around the tongue violating it. Her consciousness frayed at the edges, the world dissolving into a blissful, senseless fog. She was sinking, surrendering completely to the velvet darkness.

And in that darkness, a face bloomed. Chi-Chi. Not as she was in the field, broken and weeping, but as she was in their kitchen, a smudge of flour on her cheek, her dark eyes sparkling with a fierce, loving light as she scolded Goku for tracking mud on the clean floor. The image was so vivid, so real, Goku could almost smell the rice cooking. Then, another face, small and bright-eyed, with hair that defied gravity. Gohan, giggling as she showed her a picture she’d drawn, her little voice saying, “Look, Mom! It’s you and Mama flying on Nimbus!”

The warmth of the memory was a physical blow, a searing brand against the numbing pleasure. Her family. Her wife. Her daughter. Raditz’s sneering face, the self-destruction, the void of death, Piccolo’s grim promise of a greater threat—it all crashed back into her with the force of a Kamehameha.

Her eyes snapped open.

The fog of lust and exhaustion burned away in an instant, replaced by a clarity so sharp it was painful. The mouths and hands on her body, which moments before had been instruments of ecstasy, now felt like chains.

With a surge of strength that startled even herself, Goku moved. It wasn’t a violent shove, but a firm, unyielding push. Her hands came up, planting themselves on Princess Snake’s shoulders and gently, but with impossible strength, moving her back. She shifted her hips, dislodging the attendant feasting between her legs. She pulled her foot from the mouth worshiping it.

A stunned silence fell over the room. The attendants stared, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion. Princess Snake’s expression was one of pure, uncomprehending betrayal.

“I have to go,” Goku said, her voice low but steady, devoid of the slurring pleasure of moments before. She swung her legs off the bed, her body thrumming with a new, urgent energy. She ignored their protests, their reaching hands, their pleading looks. She gathered her discarded gi from the floor, the simple, orange fabric a stark reminder of who she was and what was at stake. The silken sheets, the perfumed air, the beautiful women—it was all a gilded cage, a distraction from her true path.

Without a backward glance, she strode toward the door, pulling her clothes on as she went. The million-mile path was calling, and Son Goku was finally, truly, listening.

The ornate doors of the palace slammed shut with a deafening boom just as Goku reached for them. The floor beneath her feet undulated, the polished marble tiles cracking and shifting. The walls themselves began to contort, the cheerful, bright colors peeling away to reveal glistening, dull-violet scales the size of shields. The entire mansion was coming alive, the pillars twisting into coils of powerful muscle, the roof retracting to form a massive, wedge-shaped head with eyes like burning yellow lanterns. The beautiful oasis was a monstrous, living serpent.

Goku ran for it, just barely escaping out the mouth of the serpent and landing on Snake Way. She turned as the snake rose up. Princess Snake’s voice, magnified and distorted into a sibilant hiss, echoed from the cavernous maw. “You spurn my hospitality? You reject our worship? Foolish Saiyan! If you will not stay as my guest, then you will stay as my meal! We have tasted every part of you but your flesh. It seems a fitting final course!”

The giant snake’s head lunged, its jaws gaping wide enough to swallow a bus, descending toward Goku with terrifying speed. The scent of its breath was no longer perfumed incense, but the raw, coppery smell of a predator’s maw.

Goku didn’t freeze. Her body, still humming with the residual energy of the Fruit of Might and her own rekindled resolve, reacted on pure instinct. She dropped into a low slide, zipping between the serpent’s lower fangs as they snapped shut on empty air where she’d been standing. The force of the bite sent a shockwave through the path.

She sprang to her feet, sprinting along the road. The creature thrashed, trying to throw her off or crush her against the floor. Goku leaped, flipped, and weaved, a tiny, orange-clad acrobat against a mountain of enraged reptile. A massive coil swept toward her, aiming to pin her. At the last second, she backflipped over it, her hands grabbing the trailing edge of the scale-covered muscle as she passed.

Using her own momentum and the snake’s violent thrashing, Goku began to run in a tight circle, the snake’s head chasing relentlessly. She darted under another loop of its body, pulling it through the first one she held. It was like tying a monstrous, living knot.

With a final, powerful heave, she pulled the head of the second coil through, creating a gigantic, messy bow. The serpent let out a furious, choked hiss, its own immense body now tangled and constricted. It struggled, but the more it fought, the tighter the knot became, pinning its head down and rendering its fangs useless.

Goku landed lightly on the now-still snout, looking into one furious yellow eye. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “I really do have to run. Thanks for the food, though!”

With that, she bounded off the trapped serpent’s head, landing clear of the tangled mess. The golden path of the Serpentine Highway gleamed ahead, unobstructed. Without a single glance back at the gilded trap she’d escaped, Son Goku put her head down and ran, her spirit lighter and her purpose clearer than ever. The real Queen Kai was waiting.

—–

The sun was a merciless bronze eye in the badland sky. Gohan, her small body slick with sweat and dust, moved with a new, sharp purpose. She didn’t just dodge the boulders Piccolo hurled at her with telekinesis; she weaved through them, her feet finding purchase on the crumbling rock faces, using them as springboards to launch a counter-attack. Her ki-empowered fist slammed into a larger rock, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

“Faster!” Piccolo barked, but there was a grudging note of approval in her voice. The child was no longer just enduring. She was learning to fight back, her movements losing their clumsy terror and gaining the beginnings of true martial form. Every bruise, every scraped knee, was a lesson she absorbed, her dark eyes fixed not on her tormentor, but on the horizon, on the unseen threat that had taken her other mother. She was a sapling growing in a storm, bending but refusing to break.

—–

High above the world, on the pristine tiles of the Lookout, the air crackled with a different kind of energy. Chi-Chi stood panting, her gi torn at the shoulder from a near-miss from Yamcha’s Wolf Fang Fist. Across from her, Tien stood ready, her three eyes narrowed in focus. The spar had been a brutal, three-way deadlock, leaving all three of them breathing heavily, their bodies thrumming with adrenaline and simmering ki.

There were no words. The understanding was absolute. Training here was holistic; it forged the body, the spirit, and the intimate understanding of power in all its forms.

Yamcha and Tien moved in unison, their hands going to the small pouches at their waists. In a synchronized motion, they swallowed the futa beans. The familiar surge of transformative heat washed over them, their bodies tensing as the potent, temporary power blossomed between their thighs. Yamcha’s cock was a thick, proud length, while Tien’s was a monument of disciplined, veined strength.

Chi-Chi didn’t flinch. She met their gazes, her own chest heaving, a smear of dirt on her cheek. She saw not a violation, but a challenge—another peak to scale, another limit to push past. She turned, bracing her hands against the cool, white railing of the Lookout, presenting herself to them not as a victim, but as a warrior accepting the terms of her own forging.

They took her together. Yamcha first, his thrusts a hungry, reclaiming rhythm that spoke of her own buried frustrations and rediscovered strength. Then Tien, her entry a deep, methodical claiming that sought out every secret, vulnerable place and filled it with relentless, focused power. Chi-Chi’s knuckles were white on the railing, her cries echoing in the thin air, a mixture of strain and a fierce, defiant pleasure. Her body, pushed to its absolute limit in combat, was now being tested in a different, equally demanding crucible. She took them both, her mind a focused mantra—stronger, faster, harder. For Goku. For Gohan.

Miles apart, one in a wasteland and one in the clouds, mother and daughter endured. Their bodies ached, their spirits were tested, but their eyes, one pair dark and determined, the other wide and resolute, were fixed on the same star-streaked horizon. The Saiyans were coming. And they would be ready.