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 golden path of the Serpentine Highway was a blur beneath Goku’s feet, a river of light she navigated with a single-minded desperation she had never known. The memory of her friends, of Chi-Chi and Gohan, was a fire in her chest, burning away any thought of fatigue. She shot past the garish, brightly-colored palace of Princess Snake without a single glance, the memory of its seductive traps now nothing more than a trivial distraction in her race against time. Every second counted. Every second her loved ones were facing the monsters she had been sent to train against.

—–

In the sun-bleached badlands, the air was thick with the smell of ozone and fresh grief. Nappa paced like a caged animal, her boots kicking up puffs of dust. She glared at the remaining Earthlings—Piccolo, Gohan, Krillin, Tien, Chiaotzu, Chi-Chi, and Yajirobe—who stood in a grim, defensive line.

“This is boring, Vegeta!” Nappa roared, gesturing dismissively at them. “One at a time? It’s like pulling the wings off flies. Where’s the challenge? Where’s the fun? Let me take them all on at once! Let’s see what this pack of mutts can really do when they’re desperate!”

Princess Vegeta, who had been observing the proceedings with the detached interest of a scientist dissecting insects, let out a long-suffering sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your lack of discipline is an embarrassment to our race, Nappa.” She waved a hand, her expression one of profound annoyance. “Fine. Do what you want. Just make it quick. I grow tired of this planet’s stench.”

A savage grin split Nappa’s face. She cracked her knuckles, the sound like gunshots in the tense silence. Her massive ki flared, a visible, crimson aura of malice that pressed down on the defenders like a physical weight.

“Alright, you maggots! You heard the Princess!” Nappa bellowed, sinking into a low, wide stance. “Come on! All of you! Show me what a year of preparation taught you! Let’s see if you can make me break a sweat!”

The warriors exchanged a single, determined look. There was no more room for individual pride, for one-on-one duels. This was a battle for survival. As one, they flared their own auras, a constellation of white, blue, and gold light rising to meet the Saiyan’s overwhelming crimson tide. The final, chaotic battle for Earth was about to begin.

The air shattered.

Fueled by a shared, desperate fury, five warriors became a single, coordinated weapon. They didn’t charge; they erupted.

Tien was the spearhead, a tri-colored blur. She soared high, her arms crossing, and unleashed a blistering volley of Dodon Rays. The crimson beams weren’t aimed to kill, but to harass, to force a reaction, streaking towards Nappa’s face and joints with three-eyed precision.

As Nappa batted the energy blasts aside with contemptuous swats, Krillin and Chi-Chi struck low. Krillin, a whirlwind of motion, darted between Nappa and the sun, her Solar Flare erupting. The flash was meant to disorient, to blind the senses for a critical half-second.

In that half-second, Chi-Chi struck. The Fist of the Fire, honed by grief and a mother’s rage, was unleashed. She didn’t aim for the heavily armored torso. She drove a ki-reinforced fist into the back of Nappa’s knee, a precise, powerful blow meant to buckle the massive warrior’s foundation. The impact was solid, a satisfying thud that actually made Nappa grunt and stagger a single step.

Piccolo was the anvil. While the others harried and distracted, she charged a brilliant, yellow-orange energy sphere between her palms—the Light of Death. With a guttural cry, she thrust her hands forward, and the massive beam lanced across the battlefield as a focused, concussive cannonball of pure destruction aimed directly at Nappa’s center of mass.

Nappa, her vision still spotted from Krillin’s flare and her balance compromised by Chi-Chi’s blow, couldn’t dodge. She crossed her arms, taking the full force of Piccolo’s attack head-on. The explosion was deafening, engulfing her in a fireball that scorched the earth and sent a shockwave rippling outwards, forcing the attackers back.

For a single, heart-lifting moment, it seemed they had hurt her.

The smoke cleared. Nappa stood, her armor scorched and smoking, a fresh, shallow burn mark on her forearm. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, staring at the red smear with an expression of pure, unadulterated rage.

“You… insects,” she snarled, her voice a low, dangerous tremor. “You actually touched me. Nobody makes me bleed my own blood!”

While the battle raged, two figures were conspicuously absent from the fray. Yajirobe had scurried behind a large, jagged rock formation the moment the fight began, her considerable bulk surprisingly stealthy as she pressed herself into the shadows, her eyes wide with self-preserving terror. She had no intention of joining that suicide pact.

And Gohan… Gohan stood frozen, a statue of petrified horror. The brutal, casual execution of Yamcha had replayed in her mind on a loop, short-circuiting the fighting instincts Piccolo had drilled into her. Her small fists were clenched, her body trembled, but her feet were rooted to the spot. She was a child again, watching a monster she couldn’t possibly comprehend.

The coordinated assault had been beautiful, devastating, and utterly futile. They had thrown everything they had at her, and all they had managed was a nosebleed. The true horror of the power gap was now laid bare. Nappa’s ki flared again, brighter and more malevolent than before. The warm-up was over.

The air was thick with the ozone stink of charged ki and the coppery tang of desperation. Tien and Krillin zipped around Nappa like furious hornets, their attacks little more than stinging distractions against her armored hide. Chi-Chi, her movements a blur of focused rage, landed another solid blow to the Saiyan’s kidney, earning only a grunt of annoyance. Piccolo, her own powerful attacks seeming to barely keep Nappa’s attention, risked a glance over her shoulder.

Her blood ran cold.

Gohan hadn’t moved. She stood exactly where she’d been, her small body rigid, her eyes wide with a terror so profound it had leached all the color from her face. The training, the harsh lessons, the newfound strength—it had all evaporated, leaving only a terrified child.

“GOHAN!” Piccolo’s voice was a whip-crack, raw and furious. She deflected a casual backhand from Nappa that sent shockwaves up her arm. “What are you doing?! Fight! This is what we trained for! MOVE!”

The roar, which usually would have galvanized her into action, only made Gohan flinch. She took a single, terrified step backward, her lower lip trembling. The memory of Yamcha’s body vanishing into nothingness was a wall her courage couldn’t scale.

“Leave her alone, Piccolo!” Chi-Chi screamed, ducking under a sweeping blow that would have taken her head off. She risked everything to put herself between Piccolo’s line of sight and her daughter. “She’s just a child! She can’t do this! Forget about her and focus on the monster in front of us!”

As if to punctuate her point, Nappa let out a bored laugh, swatting a ki blast from Krillin aside as if it were a bothersome fly. The beam detonated harmlessly against a distant mesa. The Saiyan wasn’t even winded. She was playing with them, and their desperate, coordinated assault was doing nothing more than mildly irritating her. The fight was a foregone conclusion, and their only hope was frozen solid, twenty yards away.

Nappa moved with a final, contemptuous burst of speed. A backhand sent Krillin tumbling through the air like a discarded ragdoll. A kick to Chi-Chi’s midsection folded her in half with a sickening crunch of armor and bone. Piccolo took a fist to the face that cracked the air and sent her sprawling, her purple blood spraying. Only Tien remained standing, her three eyes wide, her body trembling with exhaustion and defiance as the mountain of Saiyan muscle loomed over her.

“The three-eyed one,” Nappa grunted, a predatory gleam in her eye. “You’ve got more fight in you than the others. Let’s see what else you’ve got.” She pulled another futa bean from her pouch and swallowed it. The now-familiar transformation surged through her, the thick, veined length of her cock springing forth, already weeping with anticipation.

Tien tried to raise her arms, to summon one last Dodon Ray, but Nappa was on her in an instant. Her massive hands tore through Tien’s gi as if it were paper, shredding the fabric and exposing her lean, muscular, and surprisingly vulnerable body to the dusty air. Tien struggled, a rare flash of panic in her three eyes, but Nappa’s grip was absolute.

She forced Tien onto her hands and knees in the dirt, the position one of utter submission. Without a word of warning, Nappa positioned herself behind her and drove forward.

The invasion was brutal and complete. Nappa’s cock speared into Tien’s ass in one merciless, stretching thrust, forcing a choked, guttural cry from the tri-clops warrior. There was no preparation, no gentleness, only the raw, tearing pressure of being filled beyond capacity.

Nappa set a punishing, jackhammer rhythm from the start, her hips slamming into Tien’s with enough force to jolt her entire frame. One of her large, calloused hands palmed Tien’s bald head like a basketball, yanking her head back and arching her spine into a painful, vulnerable curve. The other hand roamed over Tien’s body, mauling her ample, firm breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples until they were hard, aching peaks.

“That’s it,” Nappa grunted, her breath hot against Tien’s ear as she fucked her with deep, grinding strokes. “Fight it. Clench around me. Your resistance just makes it better.”

Tien, the most disciplined of all of them, tried to retreat into her mind, to detach from the violation. But the sensation was too overwhelming—the deep, soul-scouring penetration, the sharp pain of her arched back, the humiliation of being so utterly conquered. Her body betrayed her, a traitorous heat coiling in her gut despite her terror and rage. Broken, involuntary moans were punched from her lungs with every powerful thrust.

Nappa reveled in it. She leaned down, biting the side of Tien’s neck, leaving a dark bruise as a claiming mark. She spat on her back, the liquid sizzling slightly on her heated skin. This was more than sex; it was a systematic dismantling of a warrior’s spirit, a demonstration of absolute power. She fucked Tien until the last vestiges of her defiance were pounded into dust, until her body was nothing more than a slick, used sheath for the Saiyan’s pleasure.

Gohan stood frozen, a silent statue of horror. The world had narrowed to the brutal tableau before her. The grunts, the wet, slapping sounds, the sight of Tien—proud, disciplined Tien—being reduced to a broken, violated puppet… it was a nightmare her young mind couldn’t process. Her breath hitched in her throat, a tiny, trapped sound. This was worse than Yamcha’s death. This was a slow, deliberate unraveling, and she was powerless to stop it. Her fists clenched so tight her nails drew blood from her palms, but her feet remained rooted, a scream locked behind her teeth.

—–

At Kame House, Bulma had collapsed into a chair, her face buried in her hands. She couldn’t watch. The crystal ball showed it all in lurid detail. Roshi stood behind her, her usual lecherous grin replaced by a grim, stony mask. She watched as Nappa’s massive form dominated Tien, her hands clenching into impotent fists at her sides.

“Turn it off, Baba,” Roshi said, her voice low and tight.

“No,” Baba croaked, her single eye fixed on the orb. “They must bear witness. We all must. The fate of our world is at stake.”

Oolong and Puar huddled together, their faces pale. There was no humor, no prurient interest in the display. It was a violation, a desecration of a warrior they had trained beside, a woman of immense strength and integrity. Seeing Tien’s body used so brutally, her spirit systematically crushed, was a deeper horror than any of them could have imagined.

—–

Back in the badlands, Nappa’s assault was reaching its climax. She had one hand tangled in Tien’s gi, using it as a handle to yank the tri-clops warrior back onto her cock with every thrust. The other hand roamed freely, groping and slapping Tien’s ass, leaving angry red handprints on the pale skin. She leaned over Tien’s back, her mouth close to her ear.

“That’s it,” she grunted, her voice a low, bestial rumble. “Take it. You’re not a warrior anymore. You’re just a hole. My hole.” She drove deeper, her rhythm becoming more frantic, more possessive. Tien’s body, slick with sweat and forced arousal, jolted with every impact. Her own climax, a traitorous wave of shameful pleasure, was being ripped from her by the relentless, grinding friction. A broken, shuddering moan escaped her lips, a sound of utter defeat.

Nappa’s brutal rhythm was unrelenting, her grunts of pleasure echoing as she used Tien’s body. Tien’s mind was a fortress under siege, her discipline the only thing keeping her from shattering completely. Then, a voice, thin and clear as a bell, rang directly in her mind.

Tien! Don’t move! I’m going to stop her!

Chiaotzu, no! Tien’s mental cry was one of pure terror, but her body, trained to absolute obedience, went rigid.

A tiny, white-and-red blur shot through the air and latched onto Nappa’s broad back. Chiaotzu wrapped her small arms and legs around the Saiyan’s back, clinging with a psychic-enhanced grip. Immediately, her entire body began to glow with a terrifying, incandescent white light. The air crackled, not with ki, but with the raw, unstable energy of a soul preparing to tear itself apart.

Nappa froze mid-thrust, her senses screaming. The power building on her back wasn’t an attack; it was a bomb. A tiny, suicidal bomb.

“What the—? Get off! Get off me, you little pest!” she roared, her arousal instantly replaced by panicked fury. She reached back, her massive hands clawing at her own shoulder blades, but Chiaotzu was too small, her position too perfect. Nappa’s thick fingers scraped uselessly against her own armor, unable to get a grip on the tiny warrior.

She bucked and twisted, trying to throw Chiaotzu off, but the psychic grip held firm. The white glow intensified, burning brighter than the sun, the heat beginning to sear Nappa’s skin even through her armor.

“GET OFF!” Nappa shrieked, her voice rising in pitch, true fear entering her eyes for the first time. She abandoned Tien completely, stumbling forward as she frantically tried to dislodge the living explosive cemented to her spine. The tables had turned in the most horrifying way imaginable.

A cruel, cackling laugh cut through the chaos. Princess Vegeta watched Nappa’s frantic dance with utter delight. “Look at you, Nappa! Brought to heel by a gnat! The mighty Saiyan elite, bested by a child’s toy!” She shook her head in mock disappointment as Nappa roared in frustration, slamming herself back-first into a towering rock spire. The stone exploded into dust and rubble, but the tiny, glowing figure clung on, a star going supernova on her back.

Tien could only watch, her heart a frozen lump in her chest. Chiaotzu…

The white light from Chiaotzu’s body became unbearable, swallowing all sound, all color, all thought. With a final, silent psychic cry of farewell, the tiny warrior detonated.

Goodbye… Tien…

The world turned white.

A sphere of pure annihilation expanded outwards, vaporizing rock, boiling the earth, and sending a shockwave that knocked the already-injured fighters off their feet. Tien was thrown backward, her eyes screwed shut against the blinding fury of her best friend’s sacrifice.

Silence. A ringing, absolute silence.

The light faded. Tien pushed herself up, her three eyes desperately scanning the epicenter of the blast. Nothing. There was nothing. A smooth, glassy crater where Chiaotzu and Nappa had been. A sob of grief and grim triumph caught in her throat. She had done it. Chiaotzu had—

A figure stirred at the far edge of the crater.

Smoke rose from scorched, naked flesh. Nappa stood there, swaying, her armor completely obliterated by the blast. Her massive body was covered in burns and lacerations, blood trickling from a dozen wounds. She was naked, vulnerable, and breathing in ragged, furious gasps. But she was alive.

She had moved at the last possible nanosecond, her raw speed carrying her just far enough to avoid the core of the explosion. It had cost her her armor and her pride, but not her life.

Nappa lifted her head, her eyes burning with homicidal rage. She locked her gaze on Tien, the architect of her humiliation.

“You…” she snarled, the word a promise of unimaginable pain. “You’re next.”

The sight of Nappa, naked and seared but radiating pure, undiluted fury, was more terrifying than her armored form. The futa bean’s effect still raged within her, her cock a thick, angry brand of her power and intent. She took two stomping steps toward the prone Tien, her eyes promising a violation that would make the previous one seem like a caress.

“You think your little friend’s sacrifice meant anything?” Nappa snarled, her voice a gravelly rasp. She palmed Tien’s scalp, yanking her head up. “It just pissed me off.”

She forced her cock between Tien’s lips, a brutal invasion that choked off any cry. Tien’s three eyes, still glazed with the horror of Chiaotzu’s death, widened further as Nappa began to fuck her face with short, savage thrusts, using her mouth as nothing more than a receptacle for her rage.

“Gohan, now!” Piccolo roared, ignoring her own injuries as she launched a volley of ki blasts. Krillin and Chi-Chi attacked in unison, a Kamehameha and a blast of fiery ki streaking toward the distracted Saiyan.

Nappa didn’t even look at them. Her free hand shot out, a casual backhand that deflected Piccolo’s blasts and swatted Krillin and Chi-Chi out of the air as if they were gnats. They crashed to the ground, their attacks having done nothing more than make Nappa’s fucking rhythm momentarily more aggressive.

“THE MASENKO, GOHAN!” Piccolo screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. “DO IT NOW!”

Gohan trembled, her small hands coming up, a flicker of blue energy sputtering at her palms. She was trying. She wanted to. But her body was locked in fear.

Nappa paused her assault on Tien’s throat, turning her head slowly. Her eyes, burning with malice, locked onto Gohan. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She just stared.

That look was a physical weight. It was the memory of Yamcha’s death, the sound of Tien’s violation, the silent void where Chiaotzu had been. It was a promise of what would happen to her, to her mother, if she dared. The flickering energy at Gohan’s palms died. Her hands fell to her sides. A single, terrified tear traced a path through the dust on her cheek as she stood, utterly paralyzed, while Nappa returned to her brutal work, the wet, choking sounds a testament to their complete and utter defeat.

“Useless… three-eyed… cunt,” Nappa grunted, each word punctuated by a deep, throat-fucking thrust that made Tien’s body convulse. “Is this all the great Earthling warrior can do? Gag on my cock?”

Through the haze of violation and suffocation, Tien’s discipline ignited one final time. Her hands, trembling violently, rose from the dirt. She ignored the Saiyan pounding her throat, ignored the filth dripping from her lips. Her fingers formed the sacred triangle. A brilliant, white-orange light, pure and desperate, began to swirl between her palms, drawing directly from the wellspring of her own life force.

Nappa felt the energy build and let out a derisive laugh, never breaking her rhythm. “What’s this? A little light show? Trying to make me cum harder?”

The Tri-Beam erupted. It was not the massive, arena-filling blast of her youth, but a concentrated lance of pure, self-sacrificing energy. It struck Nappa square in the center of her chest, the impact actually staggering her back a single step. The light seared her skin, leaving a blackened, smoldering crater over her sternum.

Nappa looked down at the wound, then back at Tien, a fresh, sadistic grin spreading across her face. “Ooh. That actually tickled. Felt like you were just… stimulating my nipples.”

The final, taunting words were the last thing Tien heard. The Tri-Beam had taken everything. Her life force was spent. As the light died in her eyes, Nappa slammed forward one last time, burying herself to the hilt in Tien’s throat as her own climax erupted. A hot, pulsing flood filled Tien’s esophagus, a final, violating claim as the last spark of life left her body.

Nappa pulled out, letting Tien’s lifeless form collapse into the dirt, a pool of cum and saliva leaking from her slack mouth. The mighty Tien was gone, her ultimate technique having done little more than mildly annoy her killer.

The silence that followed was heavier than any gravity. It was the silence of a world with three fewer heartbeats. Yamcha, vaporized. Chiaotzu, erased in a flash of selfless light. And now Tien, broken and discarded like a used cum rag. Krillin stared at the bodies of her friends, her mind unable to process the scale of the loss. A raw, guttural scream was torn from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that echoed across the desolate landscape.

“GOKUUUUU!” she howled to the empty, uncaring sky, her voice cracking with tears and fury. “WHERE ARE YOU?! GOKU, PLEASE!”

Nappa, still naked and smirking, cracked her knuckles, ready to move on to the next victim. “Alright, who’s—”

“Wait, Nappa.”

Princess Vegeta’s voice was calm, analytical. She floated down, her scouter whirring as she focused on Krillin’s outburst. Her gaze, cold and calculating, swept over the remaining fighters. “Goku? Did that insect just say ‘Goku’?” She pointed a finger at Krillin. “You. Is this ‘Goku’ the low-class warrior known as Kakarot?”

It was Chi-Chi who answered, her voice hollow but defiant, her body trembling as she stood over her frozen daughter. “That’s what your buddy called her. And yes, she’s coming. The Dragon Balls brought her back, we all saw the sky darken. She’s on her way here right now.”

A slow, contemptuous smile spread across Vegeta’s face. She threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that held no humor. “You pathetic fools! You’re pinning your hopes on Kakarot? A low-class Saiyan runt who was sent to this mudball because she was too weak to handle anything more? You think that failure is your savior?” She shook her head, the picture of regal disdain. “This is too rich. I haven’t been this entertained in years.”

She turned to Nappa. “We’ll wait.”

Nappa looked stunned. “Wait? Vegeta, they’re right here!”

“Three hours,” Vegeta declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. She looked at the broken Earthlings as if they were lab specimens. “I want to see the hope drain from their eyes when their legendary savior arrives and is crushed like the bug she is. It will be the final, perfect touch to this conquest.”

She found a tall, flat-topped rock and sat, crossing her legs as if settling in for a play. The message was clear: their lives were now on a three-hour timer, and the executioner they were waiting for was the one they hoped would save them. The cruelty was so profound it was almost artistic.