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 ground erupted where Goku had been standing a split-second before, a massive, fur-covered fist the size of a small car pulverizing the bedrock into dust. The shockwave hit her like a physical blow, sending fresh waves of agony through her already screaming muscles. Every leap was a knife-twist in her gut, every frantic dodge a searing reminder of the price she’d paid for using the Kaio-ken times three.

She was a gnat buzzing around a titan. Ape Vegeta’s roar was a physical force, a pressure that threatened to flatten her. Another fist came down, and Goku pushed off a crumbling rock spire, her body a blur of orange against the colossal brown fur. The air displacement from the miss alone was enough to send her tumbling.

She landed badly, her ankle twisting with a sickening pop that was lost in the cacophony of destruction. A gasp of pain was torn from her lips. She was fast—faster than she had ever been, her reflexes honed to a razor’s edge on King Kai’s planet—but her body was a battered, failing engine. She was running on fumes and sheer, desperate will.

The Oozaru’s tail, a monstrous, whip-like appendage, sliced through the air where her head had just been. Goku dropped into a roll, the world a nauseating whirl of sky and fur and dirt. She came up panting, her chest heaving, her gi soaked through with sweat and stained with blood from a dozen minor cuts.

She couldn’t keep this up. She was a symphony of pain, and the conductor was a fifty-foot-tall monkey with the voice of a vengeful goddess. She needed an opening. A weakness. Anything.

Anything.

—–

The ground trembled below, a deep, rhythmic vibration that had nothing to do with any natural quake. A roar, impossibly loud and gutturally alien, tore across the landscape, making the very air shudder. They had been flying for what felt like miles, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the cataclysm, but the sound found them anyway.

Krillin skidded to a halt in the air, her face paling. “Wh-what was that?”

Chi-Chi froze, her senses screaming. She didn’t need to see it. She could feel it—a ki so monstrously vast and malevolent it felt like a black hole had opened up over the badlands. It dwarfed everything they had felt before. It was Vegeta’s power, but magnified a hundredfold.

Gohan’s small hand tightened in hers. “Mama… that sound… Mama Goku…” Her large eyes were wide, not with the petrified fear from before, but with a new, desperate terror. “We have to go back! We have to help her!”

Krillin shook her head, her own fear a palpable force. “Gohan, no! We can’t! That… that thing is on a whole other level! We’d be slaughtered! We’d just be more people for Goku to worry about!”

“She’s right, baby,” Chi-Chi said, her voice strained, her own heart a frantic drum against her ribs. The thought of turning back towards that… that roar was a physical revulsion. Every maternal instinct screamed at her to keep running, to protect her child. “Your other mom is strong. She’ll find a way. We have to trust her.”

“But she just came back!” Gohan cried, tears welling in her eyes. Her small body trembled, but her jaw was set with a frightening determination. “We just got her back! I can’t… I can’t lose her again! I won’t!”

Those words struck Chi-Chi like a physical blow, shattering her resolve. The memory of that year of emptiness, of a world without Goku’s bright, simple presence, was a fresh wound. The thought of having to live through that again, of having to tell Gohan her other mother was gone forever… it was unthinkable.

She looked at Krillin, whose face was a mask of conflicted terror. She looked down at her daughter, whose eyes held the same fierce, stubborn love that had first drawn her to Goku.

Her better judgement screamed in protest. It was suicide. It was a tactical nightmare.

But love, it turned out, was louder.

“Okay,” Chi-Chi whispered, the word a surrender to a force greater than fear. She squeezed Gohan’s hand. “Okay. We go back. But we stay back. We watch for an opening. We do not engage unless it’s the only way. Do you understand?”

Gohan nodded, a fierce, grateful light in her eyes.

Krillin let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping in resignation. “You two are going to be the death of me. Alright. Let’s go. But if that thing looks at me, I’m throwing both of you at it and running.”

With hearts pounding a frantic, fearful rhythm, the three of them turned and began to fly, not away from the nightmare, but straight back into its gaping maw.

—–

The Oozaru’s roar was a physical thing, a pressure wave that threatened to flatten the very rock spires Goku used for cover. She was a flicker of orange against a mountain of brown fur and primal rage, every dodge a symphony of agony conducted by the Kaio-ken’s brutal aftermath. Her muscles screamed, her bones felt like glass, and the colossal beast showed no sign of tiring.

Desperation clawed at her. She couldn’t win a battle of attrition. She needed a moment. A single, precious second to breathe, to think.

As the massive head swung towards her, one giant, crimson eye fixed on her tiny form, Goku saw her chance. She poured the last dregs of her immediate energy into a single, focused point at her fingertip. It wasn’t a Kamehameha, not even a Masenko. It was a pinpoint blast, a lance of pure, white-hot ki.

She fired.

It struck true, hitting the Oozaru directly in her enormous, glowing eye.

A shriek of pure, animalistic pain erupted from Vegeta, a sound so vast and terrible it seemed to tear the sky. The beast recoiled, her massive paw flying up to clutch her now-smoking, ruined eye. She thrashed, blind on one side, her roars now mingled with curses in the Saiyan tongue, all of them directed at the “low-class filth” who had dared maim her.

This was it. Her opening.

Goku didn’t waste it on another futile attack. She dove behind the largest rock formation she could find, pressing her back against the cool stone, her chest heaving. She was hidden, for now. Vegeta, without her scouter, couldn’t sense her ki. She was blind and senseless.

Goku closed her eyes, blocking out the world-shaking roars of the enraged beast. She reached out with her spirit, not for her own power, but for the energy of the world she was fighting to protect. She raised her hands high above her head, palms open to the heavens.

A tiny, shimmering sphere of pure, blue-white light began to form between them. It was small, no larger than a marble, but it pulsed with a gentle, nascent power.

Please, she thought, her mind reaching out across the planet, a silent, desperate prayer. Everyone… all living things… lend me your energy. Lend me your hope. I just need a little more time.

The tiny sphere of hope between Goku’s palms swelled to the size of a melon, pulsing with the borrowed life force of every blade of grass, every insect, every creature on Earth that clung to existence. It was almost ready. Just a few more seconds…

A shadow fell over her.

Goku’s eyes snapped open. The one good eye of the Oozaru was fixed on her, burning with a hatred so profound it was a physical heat. She hadn’t been fast enough.

A massive, fur-covered hand, each finger as thick as a tree trunk, shot down and closed around her. The grip was absolute. The other hand clamped over the first, sealing her in a cage of flesh and bone. The Genki Dama winked out, its gathered energy unused.

Then, the pressure began.

It wasn’t a swift crush meant to kill. It was a slow, deliberate, agonizing application of force. Vegeta was savoring this.

Goku gasped, the air forced from her lungs. She heard the sickening, wet crack a split second before the white-hot agony blossomed in her chest. Then another. And another. Her ribs, already strained to their limit, splintered under the immense pressure. Each creak and pop of bone was a tiny, brutal symphony of her defeat, played for an audience of one.

She screamed, a raw, ragged sound that was torn away by the Oozaru’s rumbling growl. Stars exploded behind her eyes. The world swam in a haze of nauseating pain. She was being tenderized, her body broken not for a quick death, but for the sheer, sadistic pleasure of making the low-class Saiyan who had humiliated her suffer. The message was clear: her defiance had only earned her a more intimate, more prolonged destruction.

“Scream, Kakarot! Let me hear you beg for your miserable life!” she snarled, her voice a guttural rasp in Goku’s ear.

The pressure intensified, a slow, grinding agony that stole the very breath from Goku’s lungs. Each creak of her splintering ribs was a drumbeat to Vegeta’s gloating.

“You feel that, Kakarot?” the Oozaru’s voice boomed, distorted and gargantuan, vibrating through Goku’s broken body. “That is the sound of your insignificance. All that training, all that posturing, and you are still just a bug in my hand. I could end you now. A single, satisfying crunch, and the last of your pathetic line would be wiped from the universe.” A low, rumbling laugh shook her. “But where is the fun in that? I want you to feel every second of your failure.”

Goku could only gasp, her vision spotting, the world narrowing to a tunnel of pain and that single, hate-filled eye.

A high-pitched, buzzing whine cut through the Oozaru’s monologue.

Vegeta’s massive head snapped to the side just as a razor-thin, shimmering disk of energy—a Destructo Disk—sliced through the air where she had been. It sheared clean through a distant rock spire instead, the top half sliding off with a groan.

The Oozaru leaped back with a surprising agility, her one good eye locking onto the new arrivals. Krillin stood panting, her face a mask of terror and furious determination, Chi-Chi and Gohan flanking her.

“I missed!” Krillin wailed, her shoulders slumping in despair. “It was a perfect shot and I missed!”

Vegeta’s laughter returned, deeper and more menacing than before. “More insects to swat! You return to die with your master? How… sentimental.” Her grip on Goku tightened another fraction, a fresh wave of agony making the Saiyan’s body go limp. “This changes nothing. I will simply crush her in front of you, and then grind you three into the dirt.”

The sight of Goku, limp and broken in the Oozaru’s crushing grip, shattered any last vestiges of fear in Chi-Chi’s heart, replacing it with a wife’s feral rage. “LET HER GO!” she screamed, launching herself forward, a blazing aura of fiery ki erupting around her. She flew straight for the beast’s face, her fists a blur aimed at its one good eye.

At the same moment, Krillin conjured another Destructo Disk, her face set in a grimace of concentration. She didn’t throw it at the body; she sent it arcing low, aiming to sever the massive Oozaru’s tail, a weakness she’d learned from growing up alongside Goku.

Gohan, tapping into the last dregs of the power that had awoken within her, unleashed a desperate, full-power Masenko, the blue-white beam streaking toward the beast’s chest.

It was a brave, coordinated, and utterly futile assault.

Vegeta didn’t even need to use her hands. Her tail, a monstrous, whip-like appendage thicker than a redwood, snapped through the air with a sound like a thunderclap. It intercepted Chi-Chi mid-flight, swatting her out of the sky as if she were a gnat. She tumbled through the air and crashed into a rock face with a sickening crunch.

The tail then swept downward, a brutal, casual flick that hit the flat, harmless side of Krillin’s Destructo Disk, sending it spinning harmlessly away to detonate against a distant mesa. The force of the motion alone was enough to knock Krillin off her feet, sending her skidding through the dirt.

Gohan’s Masenko struck the Oozaru’s fur-covered chest and dissipated like a firework against a mountainside, not even leaving a scorch mark. Before Gohan could react, the tip of the massive tail flicked forward, catching her squarely in the stomach and launching her backward. She landed in a heap beside her motionless mother, the wind knocked out of her, her small body wracked with pain.

In less than three seconds, the rescue attempt was over. The Oozaru stood triumphant, the three would-be saviors broken and scattered around it, their strongest attacks having been little more than minor annoyances. It tightened its grip on the barely-conscious Goku, a low, rumbling growl of satisfaction echoing through the canyon. They were all out of tricks.

The Oozaru’s grip tightened, the final, crushing pressure that would reduce Goku’s broken body to pulp. Vegeta’s single, blazing eye was alight with triumphant malice, savoring the moment of ultimate victory over the low-class warrior who had dared to humiliate her. She drew in a deep, rattling breath, the prelude to the final, satisfying snap.

A silver blur, almost too fast to see, shot from behind a shattered rock formation. It wasn’t a ki blast. It was a simple, well-honed sword, wielded with a glutton’s surprising desperation.

Yajirobe, her face a mask of pure, pants-wetting terror, had finally emerged from her hiding place. With a guttural scream that was half-prayer, half-battle cry, she brought the katana down in a single, perfect, sweeping arc.

The blade met its mark with a clean, wet shhh-thunk.

The Oozaru froze. Her triumphant roar died in her throat, becoming a strangled, gurgling sound of shock and disbelief. The massive, fur-covered tail, the source of her transformation, tumbled away from her body, hitting the ground with a heavy, meaty thud.

The transformation reversed in a violent, convulsive instant. The fifty-foot-tall beast shrank, her fur receding, her bones cracking and shrinking back to their original form. In the space of a single, dizzying heartbeat, the monstrous Oozaru was gone. In its place stood Princess Vegeta, naked, vulnerable, and utterly stunned, her hand instinctively clutching at the bleeding stump at the base of her spine.

The crushing pressure around Goku vanished. She fell from Vegeta’s suddenly human-sized grasp, collapsing into the dirt like a discarded toy, gasping and wheezing as her shattered ribs screamed in protest.

Silence descended, broken only by the drip of Vegeta’s blood onto the stone and Goku’s ragged, painful breaths. The balance of power had just been shattered by a coward with a sword.

Yajirobe’s moment of heroism evaporated into pure, unadulterated panic. She scrambled backward, her eyes wide as saucers, but Vegeta was a bolt of violet fury. She crossed the distance in an instant, her fist driving into Yajirobe’s ample gut. The air exploded from the large woman’s lungs in a pained whoosh. The force of the blow lifted her off her feet and sent her cartwheeling through the air to slam back-first into the unyielding face of a cliff. She slid down the rock and landed in a heap, upside down, her head and shoulders on the ground, her legs splayed uselessly in the air. The impact had torn her yukata, the fabric pooling around her waist and leaving her large, pale ass and thick, exposed pussy completely bare to the open sky.

Vegeta stalked toward her, her naked body gleaming with sweat. The humiliation of her defeat, the loss of her prized tail, it all coalesced into a rage that demanded a violent, immediate outlet. She pulled a futa bean from a hidden pouch on her discarded armor and swallowed it without breaking stride. The transformation was instantaneous, a thick, veined cock springing forth, already fully erect and throbbing with malicious intent.

“You fat, sniveling worm,” Vegeta snarled, her voice a low, venomous hiss. She stood over the dazed Yajirobe, looking down at the vulnerable, upside-down form. “You think you can interfere with a royal and live? I’m going to make you regret the day you were born.”

Vegeta didn’t bother with positioning or preparation. The sight of the large, helpless woman splayed out before her, her most intimate parts offered up by sheer misfortune, was an invitation she took with brutal glee. She grabbed Yajirobe’s fleshy hips, and drove her cock into her exposed pussy in one brutal, shearing thrust.

“Useless! Fat! Earthling! Slob!” Vegeta snarled, each insult punctuated by a deep, punishing drive of her hips. The slapping of her flesh against Yajirobe’s ample backside was a sharp, rhythmic counterpoint to her rage. “You cut off my tail?! I’ll split you in half, you worthless cow!”

But a strange sound met her ears. It wasn’t a scream of pain or a plea for mercy. It was a low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Ooooh, yeah…!” Yajirobe groaned, her head lolling back despite her upside-down position. “Harder, you big meanie! Call me a fat bitch again!”

Vegeta froze for a split second, her rhythm broken by sheer, bewildered fury. “What?”

“You heard me, space mommy!” Yajirobe panted, a wide, delirious grin spreading across her face. “Punish this hungry slut! I’ve been a bad, bad girl! I need it!”

This was not the reaction she had anticipated. This was not fear. This was… enjoyment. The humiliation, which she had intended to inflict, was being thrown back in her face as a form of twisted gratification. A fresh wave of incandescent rage washed over her.

“You disgusting… gluttonous… WHORE!” she roared, resuming her thrusts with renewed, frantic violence, pounding into the woman as if she could physically fuck the insolence out of her. But with every crude name, every degrading insult, Yajirobe only moaned louder, begging for more, her body welcoming the violation with a shocking, eager hunger. Vegeta, the proud Saiyan princess, was being reduced to a instrument of pleasure for a howling, upside-down glutton, and the sheer, absurd injustice of it made her see red.

Vegeta’s hands, slick with sweat, dug into the heavy, quivering flesh of Yajirobe’s hips, her fingers leaving deep, possessive bruises. Each brutal thrust of her cock was a piston of pure, frustrated fury, slamming into the glutton’s sopping wet depths with enough force to jiggle her entire massive body. The lewd, wet squelching filled the air, a vulgar soundtrack to the princess’s humiliation.

“You feel that, you bloated sow?” Vegeta snarled, her voice a raw, guttural thing. She leaned forward, her breath hot against Yajirobe’s ear. “That’s the cock of a Saiyan Elite you’re milking with your greedy, fat cunt! You’re nothing but a fleshy sheath! A hole!”

Her hand came down in a sharp, stinging spank on Yajirobe’s jiggling ass, the sound a loud crack that echoed off the canyon walls. The pale skin bloomed a bright, angry red.

“YES! SPACE MOMMY!” Yajirobe shrieked, her voice trembling with ecstasy. “Spank your fat slut! I’m your greedy little pig! Stuff me! Stuff me full of your royal Saiyan cum!”

“SHUT UP!” Vegeta roared, her composure shattering. She delivered another spank, then another, her hips never ceasing their relentless, pounding rhythm. She was fucking her with a violence meant to punish, to degrade, but every lewd, encouraging cry from Yajirobe twisted the act into something else entirely. “You’re a disgrace! A walking, talking hole! You exist only to be used and thrown away!”

“Use me! Throw me away!” Yajirobe begged, her words slurred with pleasure. “Just don’t stop! Fuck your fat bitch! Make me your cum dumpster!”

The crude, eager acceptance was a poison in Vegeta’s veins. She was supposed to be the one in control, the one doling out humiliation. But this… this Earthling trash was reveling in it. With a final, enraged scream, Vegeta slammed home, burying herself to the hilt as her climax erupted, a hot, furious flood that pulsed deep into Yajirobe’s core. The large woman convulsed, her own orgasm a shuddering, screaming wave of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

—–

Gohan stirred, a low groan escaping her lips as consciousness returned in a wave of dull, throbbing pain. Every part of her ached. She pushed herself up on trembling arms, her vision swimming. The world was a haze of dust and devastation. Her mother, Chi-Chi, lay nearby, still unconscious. Krillin was groaning as she tried to sit up.

And then Gohan saw it.

Hanging in the sky, a malevolent, silver eye, was the artificial moon Vegeta had created. Its cold, alien light washed over the battlefield, and as it touched her, something deep within her Saiyan blood stirred.

A primal heat, familiar and terrifying, bloomed in her gut. It was the same feeling she’d had during her brief, fiery outburst, but older. Wilder. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs, a frantic, bestial rhythm. A low growl rumbled in her small chest, a sound that didn’t belong to a child.

Her gaze, hazy with pain, drifted across the battlefield, past her fallen mother, past the groaning Krillin, and landed on the source of the lewd, slapping sounds and crude, snarling taunts. She saw the naked Saiyan princess, her body gleaming with sweat, violently fucking the large, upside-down woman.

But Gohan didn’t see the humiliation or the struggle. Her eyes, beginning to glow with a faint red light, were fixed on the silver orb. Her breathing became ragged, her small fingers curling into the dirt as her body began to tremble. The bones in her back twitched and ached. A transformation, slow and insidious, had begun, its catalyst the very weapon Vegeta had created, its progress masked by the princess’s single-minded, furious focus on her own degrading revenge.

—–

Vegeta stayed buried inside Yajirobe for a long moment, panting, her body trembling not with exertion, but with the sheer, baffling fury of having her ultimate act of dominance turned into a glutton’s feast. She had never felt so powerful, and yet, so utterly, insultingly defeated.

The moment her climax subsided, a fresh wave of disgust and fury washed over Vegeta. This couldn’t be it. This fat, simpering creature could not be allowed to enjoy her punishment. She needed to find a limit, a breaking point. She needed to hear a scream of real pain.

With a grunt of effort, she pulled her slick, softening cock from Yajirobe’s well-used pussy. The glutton let out a disappointed whine.

“Aw, come on, space mommy, I was still hungry…”

“Silence, you insatiable hog!” Vegeta snarled. She repositioned herself, her feet digging into the dirt on either side of Yajirobe’s head. She grabbed the woman’s fleshy thighs, forcing them wider, exposing her other, tighter hole. She spat into her palm, slicking her length with a crude, contemptuous gesture before guiding the head to Yajirobe’s ass.

“You liked that, did you?” Vegeta hissed, pushing forward. The initial resistance was far greater, the ring of muscle straining against the invasion. “Let’s see how you like this, you greedy slut.”

She drove in, a brutal, dry, tearing thrust that finally, finally ripped a genuine cry of shock and pain from Yajirobe’s lips.

“OH! FUCK! That… that stings!” Yajirobe yelped, her body tensing.

A savage grin of triumph split Vegeta’s face. “There! There it is! The sound of a worthless bitch getting what she deserves!” She began to move, a shorter, sharper, more punishing rhythm, each thrust a deliberate act of cruelty aimed at the sensitive, unprepared passage. “This is not for your pleasure, you blubbering cow! This is for my tail! This is for your insolence!”

But the victory was short-lived. After a few more agonizing thrusts, the initial sting began to fade, replaced by a different, deeper sensation. Yajirobe’s pained cries began to morph, curdling back into those low, hungry moans.

“Ooooh… oh, wow… it’s so… full…” she gasped, her body beginning to relax and accept the violation. “You’re… you’re so deep, space mommy… fuck your pig’s ass… make it yours…”

Vegeta stared down in utter, apoplectic disbelief. Even this. Even this most intimate violation was being twisted into a service for this bottomless pit of a woman. She was fucking her ass raw, and the fat bitch was begging for more. With a roar of pure, unadulterated frustration, Vegeta gave up, surrendering to the rhythm, pounding into Yajirobe’s ass with a fury that was now directed entirely inward, a seething acknowledgement that she had, against all odds and reason, met her match in the most humiliating way possible.

The initial, tearing agony of the invasion began to shift, mutate into something else entirely. The brutal, dry stretching was giving way to a deeper, more invasive friction, a brutal massage of her most intimate, internal muscles. The lewd, wet sounds of her thrusts into Yajirobe’s ass was a graphic counterpoint to the brutal symphony of her destruction. Vegeta’s thrusts became deeper, more rhythmic, as if she were trying to find a rhythm that would truly break her.

“Tighter, isn’t it, you fat cunt?” Vegeta grunted, her voice thick with a mix of fury and a grudging, horrified respect for the woman’s bottomless capacity. “You’re just a… a fleshy, greedy hole, aren’t you? Tell me you’re my personal cocksleeve!”

Yajirobe’s head lolled back, a blissful, vacant smile on her face. “Yeah… that’s the spot… right there… oh, space mommy, you’re so deep…”

“SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!” she roared, her rhythm faltering for the first time. The sheer, unyielding tightness was a stark contrast to the slack, well-used pussy. “You’re not… you’re not supposed to… mmmph… like this…”

Vegeta’s hands roamed over the vast, jiggling landscape of Yajirobe’s backside, the sharp crack of the spanks now mingling with the wet, slapping sounds of their frantic joining. The air was thick with the musky scent of sweat and sex and the faint, coppery tang of blood from the initial tearing. “You’re… you’re going to make me… Nnngh… I’m gonna cum from you fucking my ass, you big meanie!”

Vegeta’s rage was a white-hot star about to go supernova. “You’re… you’re supposed to be broken! You’re supposed to be crying! Not… not begging for more!”

She fucked her with a renewed, almost frantic violence, as if she could pound the insolent pleasure out of the glutton’s body. The pleasure was the insult. The enjoyment was the humiliation. And it was the most infuriating thing she had ever experienced. This was not the victory she had envisioned. This was a maddening, frustrating stalemate against a bottomless appetite for degradation.

“I’m gonna cum from my ass!”

“Then cum, you worthless pig!” Vegeta bellowed, her hips a blur of violent motion. She was losing control of the narrative, and the fat, greedy slut beneath her was loving every brutal, humiliating second of it. The ultimate dominance was being denied by the target’s perverse delight.

“Fill your fat slut’s ass! Make me your royal toilet! Do it!”

Vegeta’s thrusts became a final, frantic piston of motion, her hips slamming into Yajirobe’s backside with a final, concussive impact.

She pulled out, leaving the large woman’s ass gaping and overflowing with thick, hot cum. Yajirobe’s head lolled back, a blissful, cum-drunk smile plastered on her face. The sensation of her release flooding the tight, clenching passage was a final, claiming violation. Yajirobe lay in the dirt, a used and discarded vessel, her body glistening and her mind awhirl with the aftershocks of the brutal fucking.

“Space mommy… that was… so much…” she slurred, her body limp and satisfied.

Then, Yajirobe blinked, her eyes clearing for a moment. “Marry me… be my wife… my big, mean, space mommy wife…”

Vegeta stared down at the simpering, satisfied woman beneath her, was a final, humiliating defeat. She had been used, filled, and marked as property.

“Please… I’ll be so good… I’ll eat all your pussy… just marry me…”

The sheer, absurd audacity of the request was the final straw. Vegeta stared down in speechless, apoplectic disgust. She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort that would vaporize the fat Earthling where she lay.

But the words died in her throat.

A shadow fell over them.

Vegeta’s head snapped up. Her own futa-induced cock was receding, but that was the least of her concerns. Her eyes, wide with a dawning, ice-cold horror, were fixed on the other side of the battlefield.

There, where the small, terrified hybrid child had been, a new Oozaru was rising. Her form was smaller than Vegeta’s had been, its fur a lighter brown, but her growth was swift and terrifyingly certain. She was already twenty feet tall and still expanding, her blunt muzzle tilting back to let out a raw, juvenile roar that shook the very heavens. The artificial moon she had created still hung in the sky, its Blutz Waves now empowering her enemy’s offspring.

The sight of the transforming Gohan, the realization that her own trump card had just been turned against her in the worst possible way, hit her with the force of a planet-busting blast.

All the rage, the frustration, the humiliation of the last few minutes evaporated, replaced by a single, crystal-clear, and utterly terrifying thought.

Oh, shit.