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!

 

Deep in the cold, airless void between stars, two spherical Saiyan pods hurtled in formation, their hulls glowing with the friction of realspace travel. Inside one, the air was thick with the scent of recycled oxygen, sweat, and the distinct, musky aroma of furious self-gratification.

Schlick. Schlick. Schlick. Schllllick.

A low, guttural grunt. A sharp, hissed breath.

In the lead pod, Princess Vegeta’s eye twitched violently beneath her battle scouter. The device, designed to track power levels and facilitate communication, was currently broadcasting a symphony of her subordinate’s boredom in excruciating, wet detail. She could hear every frantic thrust, every ragged breath, the creak of the flight harness as Nappa’s massive body shifted and strained.

“Hnnngh… ugh… come on…”

Vegeta’s gloved hand clenched into a fist so tight the leather creaked. She had been tolerating it for the better part of an hour, her own meditation on the coming conquest of Planet 4032-Gre, what the locals called Earth, shattered by the relentless, sloppy audio.

GRUNT. FAPFAPFAPFAP—SPLOOSH.

A final, wet, messy sound was followed by a long, satisfied sigh that crackled directly in Vegeta’s ear.

“That’s it,” Vegeta snarled, her voice a whip-crack of pure fury over the comms. “What in the name of our dead world is wrong with you, Nappa?”

There was a moment of staticky silence, followed by Nappa’s sheepish, rumbling reply. “What? I’m bored, Vegeta. A year in this tin can. A lady’s gotta do something to pass the time.”

“We are not ‘ladies’. We are the last Saiyan elites. Act like it,” Vegeta hissed. “And if you are that desperate to relieve your… tensions, then we will make a brief stop. The next rock with a breathable atmosphere, we land. You can ‘stretch your legs.’ I will even let you find a few locals to entertain you. But if I hear one more… squelch… over this comms channel, I will turn this pod around and jettison you into the nearest sun. Are we clear?”

Nappa’s voice was instantly eager, all traces of embarrassment gone. “Crystal clear, Princess! A little warm-up before the main event. I like your style.”

Vegeta cut the comms link with a sharp, irritated gesture. She brought up a star chart, her scouter highlighting a small, insignificant planetoid designated Arlia. A brief, brutal distraction was exactly what her brutish companion needed.

The Saiyan pods screamed through Arlia’s thin atmosphere, carving fiery trenches into the barren, rust-colored rock. The hatches hissed open, revealing a landscape of utter desolation under a sickly purple sky. Nappa stomped out first, her massive frame clad in form-fitting battle armor that gleamed under the alien sun. She cracked her neck, a sound like grinding stones.

“This is the pit stop?” she grumbled, kicking a loose stone that skittered into the emptiness. “There’s nothing here! Not even a decent tree to set on fire.”

Princess Vegeta emerged from her pod with a silent, lethal grace. Her smaller stature was no less imposing, her scouter glinting, her tail twitching with restrained power. “Patience, Nappa. Even the most barren rock can hold… distractions.”

As if on cue, the ground trembled. From behind a jagged rock formation, two figures appeared astride monstrous, segmented steeds that moved on hundreds of legs. The riders were tall, insectoid creatures with chitinous grey exoskeletons, large red eyes, and sharp, clicking mandibles. They leveled ornate spears at the Saiyans.

“Halt, aliens!” one of them buzzed, its voice a dry rattle. “You trespass on the sovereign soil of Arlia! Surrender yourselves for processing, or be disintegrated!”

Nappa let out a bark of laughter. “Processing? You hear that, Vegeta? The bugs want to ‘process’ us!”

The lead Arlian’s mandibles clacked in fury. “Your defiance is noted! Feel the wrath of the Arlian Royal Guard!” Both riders leaned forward, their thoraxes vibrating. A moment later, twin beams of concentrated yellow energy lanced from their mouths, striking Nappa and Vegeta dead-center in a blinding, concussive explosion of rock and dust.

The Arlians watched, their crimson eyes reflecting the fading light of the blast. “Foolish, soft-skinned creatures,” the first one buzzed with satisfaction. “They never stood a chance.”

The dust settled.

Nappa stood exactly where she had been, brushing a speck of soot from her shoulder plate. Vegeta hadn’t even flinched, her arms crossed over her chest, a look of profound boredom on her face.

“See?” Vegeta said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Distractions.”

The Arlians stared, their spears lowering in stunned disbelief. “Im-impossible!” the second one stammered. “Our energy blasts can melt through solid steel!”

Nappa cracked her knuckles, a savage grin spreading across her face. “Alright, you overgrown aphids. Playtime’s over.” She took a step forward, her ki beginning to flare.

“Wait, Nappa,” Vegeta commanded, her voice a low, purring order.

Nappa froze, confused. “Huh? But, Princess—”

Vegeta’s lips curled into a cruel, predatory smile. “They want us to surrender? Fine. We surrender.” She held her hands out, wrists together in a mocking gesture of capitulation. “Take us to your leader. Let’s see what kind of… hospitality… a planet of insects has to offer its prisoners.”

Understanding dawned in Nappa’s eyes, followed by a slow, wicked grin of her own. The hunt was always more fun when one took the time to savor it.

The Arlians, emboldened by the Saiyans’ apparent surrender but still wary of their impossible durability, bound their wrists with heavy, rusted chains. They were marched through the desolate wasteland to a massive, crumbling fortress that clawed at the purple sky, its stones scarred by ancient battles. The air inside was thick with the smell of dust and decay. They were thrown into a deep, dark dungeon, the heavy iron door slamming shut with a final, echoing clang.

In the dim light filtering through a high, barred window, a third figure stirred. It was another Arlian, her violet exoskeleton dull and chipped, one of her antennae broken. She looked at the new prisoners with large, weary eyes.

“You are new,” she said, her voice a soft, defeated buzz. “I am Atla. What crimes did you commit to be thrown into Queen Moai’s oubliette?”

Vegeta leaned against the damp wall, examining her chains with detached amusement. “The crime of existing on her schedule. Who is this ‘Queen Moai’?”

Atla’s mandibles trembled. “She is the scourge of Arlia. A tyrant from a distant star who conquered our world and drained it of its life, its beauty… its hope.” She held up a delicate, golden bracelet that gleamed faintly in the gloom. It was a simple, beautiful thing, utterly out of place in the grim cell. “She took everything from me. On the day my bride, Lemlia, and I were to be joined, Moai’s soldiers stormed our ceremony. They took Lemlia away to serve in the tyrant’s palace. They threw me in here.” She touched the bracelet. “This was my gift to her. She managed to slip its twin to me as they dragged her away. It is all I have left of her.”

Nappa, who had been listening with growing impatience, snorted. “Boo hoo. You lost your girlie. Big deal.”

Vegeta, however, was silent for a moment, her dark eyes fixed on the golden bracelet. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face. It was not a smile of empathy, but of opportunity.

“A tyrant queen,” Vegeta mused, her voice a low purr that promised violence. “A stolen bride. A planet begging for a new master.” She looked from the bracelet to Atla’s hopeless face. “Tell me, insect… how would you like to be reunited with your beloved?”

Atla’s large, blue eyes widened, a flicker of desperate hope igniting within their depths. “Reunited? You could… you could do that?” The hope was immediately crushed under a wave of bitter reality as she looked over the two Saiyans—their soft, fleshy skin, their relatively small stature compared to Moai’s armored guards. “But… you are just two. You are bound in chains. What could you possibly do against Queen Moai’s entire army?”

Nappa’s face flushed with rage. “Just two?!” she roared, yanking against her chains. The thick metal groaned in protest, but held. “You little bug! I could crack your whole planet in half with my pinky finger!”

“Calm yourself, Nappa,” Vegeta said, her voice laced with dark amusement. She found the insect’s doubt utterly delightful. “Let her think what she wants. Reality has a way of making itself known.”

Before Atla could reply, the dungeon door groaned open. A squad of four hulking, armored Arlian guards marched in, their spears leveled. “The Queen demands entertainment! The soft-skins will fight in the arena! Move!”

The Saiyans were roughly shoved out of the cell and marched through torch-lit corridors, emerging into the blinding light of a massive, open-air coliseum. The roar of a thousand Arlians buzzed in their ears, a deafening hum of anticipation. The arena floor was stained dark with old blood and littered with insectoid body parts.

In the royal box high above sat Queen Moai. She was a massive Arlian, her exoskeleton a deep, malevolent purple, her horns twisted and ornate. A cruel, disinterested smile was plastered on her face. And seated rigidly beside her, a golden collar locked around her neck, was a stunningly beautiful Arlian with a delicate pink exoskeleton and large, sorrowful eyes. It was Lemlia. On her wrist, a golden bracelet—the twin to Atla’s—gleamed in the harsh arena light.

Queen Moai’s amplified voice echoed across the coliseum. “Behold, my subjects! Two new morsels for the grinder! Let us see how long their soft flesh lasts against our champion!”

A massive gate on the opposite side of the arena began to rise, revealing a hulking, multi-limbed monstrosity, a creature bred solely for slaughter.

Nappa cracked her neck, a feral grin spreading across her face. “Finally. A little warm-up.”

Vegeta didn’t even look at the monster. Her eyes were locked on Queen Moai, and then on the pink Arlian at her side. A slow, predatory smile touched her lips. This was going to be more entertaining than she had anticipated.

The arena champion was a nightmarish fusion of carapace and muscle, a hulking beast with four crushing claws and a stinger-tipped tail that dripped with neurotoxin. It charged with a ground-shaking roar, its single-minded fury focused on the two small, soft-skinned creatures before it.

Nappa didn’t move. She stood her ground, a bored expression on her face until the beast was almost upon her. Then, she moved.

It wasn’t a fight. It was an execution.

She sidestepped the crushing pincer with an insulting ease, her hand shooting out to grab the beast’s leading limb. With a grunt of effort that was more about annoyance than strain, she twisted. The sound of chitin and bone splintering echoed through the coliseum, drowning out the crowd’s roar for a split second. The beast screamed, a high-pitched, alien shriek of agony. Nappa, her blood now up, didn’t stop. She ripped the mangled claw clean off and, in the same motion, drove it like a spear up through the creature’s jaw and into its primitive brain.

The monstrosity collapsed, twitching, at her feet. The entire fight had lasted three seconds.

The coliseum fell into a stunned, buzzing silence.

Nappa kicked the corpse, a scowl on her face. “Tch. Pathetic. Didn’t even break a sweat.”

“You fool,” Vegeta hissed, her arms still crossed. “I told you to draw it out. To make a show of it. You have all the subtlety of a meteor strike.”

Up in the royal box, Queen Moai had shot to her feet, her purple exoskeleton seeming to darken with rage and alarm. “What sorcery is this?! Guards! Seize them! Tear them apart!”

A squad of twenty of her finest warriors, clad in polished chitinous armor and wielding energy pikes, flooded into the arena from multiple gates, surrounding the Saiyans.

Nappa finally grinned. “Now this is more like it.”

The guards charged as one. It was the last coordinated action they would ever take.

Vegeta didn’t even uncross her arms. She simply raised a single finger. A pinpoint of blinding white light appeared at its tip, and then a thin, incinerating beam lanced out, sweeping in a casual arc. It didn’t explode; it erased. Where the beam touched, guards, armor, and weapons simply ceased to exist, vaporized into nothing more than a faint, greasy smoke and the smell of ozone.

Nappa chose a more hands-on approach. She became a blur of motion, a whirlwind of dismemberment. She didn’t throw energy blasts; she used her hands, moving through the ranks of guards like a scythe through wheat. A backhand sent a guard’s head spinning from its shoulders. A straight punch vaporized another’s chest plate and the torso behind it. She grabbed one by the leg, using its body as a club to smash two others into a pulpy green paste against the arena wall.

In less time than it had taken to kill the arena beast, the entire squad was gone. Not defeated. Annihilated. The arena floor was a charnel house, littered with smoking, dismembered, and liquefied remains.

The silence in the coliseum was absolute, thick with the smell of ozone and charred chitin. The Arlians in the stands were frozen, their multifaceted eyes wide with a terror so profound it had stolen their buzzing voices. Nappa stood amidst the carnage, her chest heaving not from exertion, but from the sheer, unsatisfied bloodlust coursing through her. She kicked a smoldering piece of armor, a low growl rumbling in her chest.

“Barely a warm-up,” she grumbled, her voice echoing in the unnatural quiet.

Vegeta, who had observed the slaughter with the detached interest of a scientist, landed lightly beside her. A cruel, knowing smirk played on her lips. She reached into a pouch on her own armor and produced a single, pale futa bean.

“You seem… pent up, Nappa,” Vegeta purred, her voice carrying easily in the dead air. “All that power, and no proper outlet. Here. Let’s give the locals a real show.”

Nappa’s eyes lit up with feral understanding. She snatched the bean and swallowed it without hesitation. The transformation was instantaneous and grotesquely impressive. A surge of raw, generative power visibly swelled her massive frame, her battle armor straining against the sudden, formidable erection that sprang forth from between her thighs. It was a thick, heavily veined weapon of flesh, already fully erect and throbbing with a desperate, brutal need.

While Nappa was transforming, Vegeta’s attention turned upward. Her eyes locked onto the royal box, where Queen Moai was frantically backing away, her purple exoskeleton seeming to pale with terror. “Lemlia! The collar! Release me!” the Queen shrieked, but the pink Arlian at her side was frozen, her large eyes fixed on the horror below.

Vegeta shot into the air like a dark comet. She didn’t bother with the stairs. She landed directly in the royal box, her presence scattering courtiers like frightened insects. Queen Moai stumbled backward, tripping over her own robes.

“You! You cannot— I am a queen!” she stammered, her mandibles clacking in panic.

“You were,” Vegeta corrected, her voice cold. She grabbed the Queen by one of her ornate horns, her grip like iron. With a contemptuous jerk, she ripped the terrified tyrant from her throne and launched herself back into the arena, dragging the screaming, flailing Arlian behind her like a child’s toy.

She landed with a jarring thud, throwing Queen Moai face-down into the blood-soaked dirt at Nappa’s feet. The crowd, which had been holding its breath, let out a collective, buzzing gasp. Then, from somewhere in the stands, a single, hesitant cry rose.

“DO IT!”

It was a spark in a sea of kindling. Another voice joined it, then another, and another. The hesitant buzz became a roar, a cacophony of repressed hatred and fear transforming into a unified, vengeful cheer. They were no longer afraid. They were witnessing the fall of a tyrant, and they were loving it.

Nappa looked down at the cowering, purple form in the dirt, then up at the roaring crowd. A wide, savage grin split her face. This was better than killing. This was conquest.

She didn’t say a word. She simply knelt, her powerful knees bracketing the Queen’s thorax. One large hand grabbed the base of Moai’s horns, forcing her face into the dirt while arching her back, presenting her lower body. The other hand guided the broad, flushed head of her cock to the Queen’s lower entrance, a slit hidden beneath the overlapping plates of her exoskeleton.

Queen Moai let out a shrill, terrified shriek as Nappa pushed forward. There was no gentleness, no preparation. It was a brutal, splitting invasion, the sound a wet, tearing crunch of chitin and flesh being forced to accommodate the impossible girth. The crowd’s roar reached a fever pitch, a symphony of schadenfreude.

Nappa set a punishing, jackhammer rhythm from the start, her powerful hips slamming forward with enough force to jolt the Queen’s entire body with each thrust. The wet, slapping sounds of flesh on chitin, the Queen’s muffled, gurgling screams, and the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd created a lewd, violent orchestra. Nappa fucked her with a single-minded intensity, each deep, grinding drive a physical manifestation of Saiyan dominance, a claiming of this world and its former ruler in the most primal way possible. She was taking out a year of boredom, of frustration, on the tyrant’s very body, and the liberated citizens of Arlia cheered her on with every brutal, soul-shattering thrust.

Nappa’s rhythm was a brutal, metronomic assertion of power. Each deep, grinding thrust into the fallen queen’s violated body slammed the tyrant’s face harder into the bloody dirt, her shrieks now reduced to wet, choked gurgles. The crowd’s roar was a living thing, a wave of sound that fed Nappa’s savage euphoria. She was their instrument of vengeance, and she played the queen’s body with devastating, primal force.

Her massive hands gripped the queen’s hips, her fingers digging into the softer joints of the chitinous plates, threatening to crack them. She drove herself deeper, the thick, veined length of her cock burying itself to the hilt with a wet, squelching impact that was audible even over the din. The queen’s body, built for domination, was now a broken sheath, forced to accommodate a conqueror far beyond her comprehension.

Nappa leaned forward, her breath hot against the back of the queen’s neck. “This is what real power feels like, you bug bitch,” she grunted, her voice a low, guttural rumble. “You thought you were a queen? You’re just a hole. My hole.”

She increased her pace, the slapping of her flesh against the queen’s carapace becoming a frantic, percussive beat. The sensation of the tight, clenching interior, the feel of the crowd’s adulation, the sight of the once-proud ruler reduced to a sobbing, broken toy beneath her—it was a headier intoxicant than any battle high. Her own climax coiled tight in her gut, a building pressure demanding release.

With a final, roared cry that silenced the arena, Nappa slammed home and held, her body rigid. A torrent of hot Saiyan seed erupted deep inside the queen, a searing, claiming flood that seemed to have no end. The queen’s body convulsed violently, a final, helpless spasm as she was filled beyond capacity.

Nappa stayed buried inside her for a long moment, panting, before pulling out with a wet, slick sound. She stood, leaving Queen Moai collapsed in a twitching, soiled heap in the dirt, a pool of opaque fluid already leaking from her ruined entrance. The crowd erupted into a deafening, triumphant frenzy. The tyrant was truly and utterly broken. Nappa looked down at her handiwork, then up at the cheering masses, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across her face. It had been a good stop.

The roar of the crowd curdled into screams of pure, anarchic rage. Centuries of oppression under Queen Moai exploded into a full-scale riot. Benches were torn up and used as weapons as the oppressed Arlians finally turned on their former masters in a wave of long-suppressed fury. Guards were dragged from their posts and torn apart by the mob. The crumbling fortress, once a symbol of tyranny, was now the epicenter of a revolution.

Nappa and Vegeta watched the chaos from the arena floor, their expressions mirror images of cruel amusement.

“Look at them, Vegeta!” Nappa boomed, gesturing to the chaos with her still-dripping cock. “Look what you started,” she laughed, a harsh, grating sound of pure delight. They didn’t care if the Arlians liberated themselves or slaughtered each other. It was all the same to them.

From the midst of the surging mob, two figures emerged, running towards them. It was Atla, leading the trembling, pink-form of Lemlia down from the royal box.

Princess Vegeta’s smirk deepened as she watched the two Arlian lovers reunite, their delicate antennae touching, their soft, buzzing cries lost in the tumult.

Atla looked at Lemlia, her own golden bracelet gleaming. “You… you truly defeated her.”

“Your world needed a new master,” Vegeta stated, her voice cutting through the noise. “Consider this a… regime change.”

Atla threw herself at Vegeta’s feet, not in submission, but in a desperate, grateful offering. “We are yours,” she buzzed, her voice trembling with emotion. “Our lives… our loyalty… it is all we have left to give.”

Vegeta’s eyes gleamed with possessive hunger as she popped a futa bean of her own. “Now… you will both serve.”

The Saiyans saw the adoration and the raw, desperate hope in their eyes as Vegeta’s new cock sprung forth.

Nappa’s grin widened, a predator’s flash of teeth. “Consider this a… regime change.” They were the spoils of war, and they were claiming them both. The crowd’s rage was a bonfire, and they were more than happy to throw another log on the flames. “A fitting reward for a job… adequately done.” She gestured to the prostrate form of Queen Moai. “A new queen for a new Arlia.”

Vegeta’s smirk was a blade of pure, possessive pleasure. “A fitting division of the spoils.” Her gaze, dark and hungry, fixed on the delicate, pink Arlian. “The pretty one is mine.”

Nappa grunted in agreement, her own eyes roving over Atla’s more weathered but loyal form. “This one’s got fire. I like fire.”

They didn’t lead them to a chamber or a bed. The blood-stained arena floor, with the riot still raging in the stands, was their throne room. Vegeta guided Lemlia to her knees, her touch surprisingly firm, not cruel, but leaving no room for refusal. The pink Arlian looked up, her large, dark eyes wide with a mixture of fear and a strange, burgeoning awe for the being who had toppled her world.

“Open,” Vegeta commanded, her voice a low thrum of power.

Lemlia’s mandibles parted slightly. Vegeta didn’t hesitate. She guided the head of her cock, slick with her own anticipation, between the Arlian’s lips. It was an intimate violation, a claiming of the most personal space. Lemlia’s eyes watered as her mouth was stretched, a soft, buzzing whimper escaping her as Vegeta began a slow, deep rhythm, fucking her face with a controlled, dominant precision.

Beside them, Nappa was less refined. She grabbed a handful of Atla’s head, pushing her down onto her own massive, still-glistening length. “Suck, bug. Show me your gratitude.” Atla, driven by a desperate need to please her liberator, took her eagerly, her own buzzing moans vibrating around Nappa’s girth as the Saiyan set a rougher, more frantic pace.

After several minutes of this oral worship, the Saiyans pulled back. A silent understanding passed between them. They positioned the two Arlians on their hands and knees, side-by-side in the dirt. Atla and Lemlia instinctively reached for each other, their hands clasping tightly. The matching golden bracelets on their wrists clinked together, a tiny, defiant symbol of love and survival amidst the carnage and the carnal.

Vegeta positioned herself behind Lemlia, her hands resting on the Arlian’s slender pink hips. She entered her in one smooth, powerful stroke, a deep, filling invasion that made Lemlia cry out, her grip on Atla’s hand tightening. A moment later, Nappa sheathed herself inside Atla with a grunt of satisfaction, her thrusts immediately deeper and more jarring.

The Saiyans moved in a contrasting rhythm. Vegeta’s pace was a relentless, rolling piston, each thrust a masterful exercise in control, designed to wring every possible sensation from her prize. Nappa’s was a pounding, animalistic drive, a raw expression of power and release. The two Arlian lovers held onto each other for dear life, their bodies becoming the shared focal point of the Saiyans’ pleasure. Their soft, buzzing moans intertwined, a strange, beautiful melody against the backdrop of the ongoing riot.

Vegeta, feeling her climax coiling, drove deep into Lemlia, holding herself there as she began to pulse, a hot, claiming rush flooding the Arlian’s core. Seeing this, Nappa let out a final, guttural roar and emptied herself into Atla with a series of powerful, shuddering thrusts, her own release a torrent that seemed to go on forever.

For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant chaos. The Saiyans pulled out, leaving their new prizes trembling and filled on the arena floor, their clasped hands and gleaming bracelets the only clean things in the ruin. They had not just conquered a planet; they had claimed its heart.

—–

The Saiyan pods tore through Arlia’s atmosphere, leaving the crumbling fortress and the rioting world behind. Inside her pod, Vegeta watched the orange-brown sphere shrink on her viewscreen, her expression one of utter contempt.

“A revolting species,” she stated, her voice flat. “Weak. Sentimental. Clinging to baubles while their world burned around them.”

Nappa’s gruff laugh crackled over the comm. “The violet one wasn’t a bad lay, though. Tighter than I expected for a bug.”

“Their entire value was in that brief distraction,” Vegeta replied, her fingers dancing across the console. “The planet itself is worthless. The climate is shattered, the resources depleted. There’s nothing here to salvage, nothing to sell.” She held out a single gloved hand, aimed for the planet. “A failed experiment. Best to clean the slate.”

On the surface, Atla and Lemlia held each other, their bodies sore but their hearts full, their golden bracelets pressed together. They looked up at the sky, free at last, ready to rebuild.

A pinpoint of light blossomed in the heavens, brighter than their sickly sun. It swelled in an instant into a silent, all-consuming white sphere that vaporized the atmosphere, the crust, the mantle, the very core of Arlia. The planet, and every last Arlian on it, was erased from existence in a flash of pure, indifferent energy.

The Saiyan pods flew on, untouched by the shockwave, leaving only an expanding cloud of incandescent dust where a world had been.

As the void of deep space enveloped them once more, Nappa broke the silence. “Well, that was a fun little pit stop. Hope these Earthlings are better fucks than those bugs were.”

Vegeta didn’t answer, her eyes already fixed on the distant star that housed their real prize. Planet 4032-Gre. Earth. The Dragon Balls. And, if they were able to kill Raditz, perhaps a challenge worthy of a Saiyan Princess.