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 hospital room felt different now. The air of despair had been punched through by a single, tangible thread of hope. Bulma stood before her friends, her arms crossed, a blueprint of sheer audacity in her eyes.

“Popo can’t leave the Lookout,” she announced, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “Which means I have to learn enough Namekian to fly the ship myself. She’s going to teach me, but I can’t go alone. It’s a two-month trip there, who knows how long on Namek, and two months back. I need a crew.”

A lecherous grin split Roshi’s face. “Two months? Alone in the void with you, my dear? I’ll pack my lotion!” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Absolutely not,” Bulma shot back without a moment’s hesitation. “The last thing I need is you trying to grope the control panel while we’re navigating an asteroid field.”

From her bed, Goku tried to sit up, wincing in pain. “I’ll go! Just… give me a few days…”

Chi-Chi gently but firmly pushed her wife back onto the pillows. “You have more broken bones than unbroken ones, you idiot. You’re not going anywhere for months.”

“I’ll go,” Krillin said, her voice quiet but firm. She met Bulma’s gaze, a shared understanding passing between them. They had both been there. They had both lost too much. “I’m almost healed. And I’m not letting you face whatever’s out there alone.”

The timid, blue-haired Launch sniffled, then sneezed violently. In an instant, the aggressive blonde was back. “Yeah! I’m in! If there’s a chance to get my Tien back, I’ll blow a hole in anything that gets in our way!” She hefted an imaginary machine gun.

Then, a small voice piped up from the corner. “I want to go too.”

All eyes turned to Gohan, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, her small hands clenched in her lap.

Chi-Chi’s response was immediate and absolute, a mother’s final, unyielding line in the sand. “No. Absolutely not.” She walked over and knelt in front of her daughter, her voice softening only a fraction. “You have already missed a year of your studies training with Piccolo. You are five years old, Gohan! It is time to put down the fighting gi and pick up your textbooks. You are going to focus on your mathematics and literature and prepare for a proper education.”

Gohan’s small hands balled into fists at her sides, her chin trembling but her voice surprisingly steady. “I have to go, Mama. Ms. Piccolo… she died for me. She was the only family I had for a whole year, and she gave her life to save mine. I have to be there to help bring her back. I owe her.”

Chi-Chi’s stern expression faltered. The memory was a physical blow—the sight of Piccolo standing in front of Gohan, taking the full force of Nappa’s blast, the life fading from her crimson eyes. She knew that debt. She felt it in her own soul.

“Then… then I’ll go,” Chi-Chi said, her voice thick with a mother’s desperation. “You stay here. You’re too young.”

“But Mama Goku needs you!” Gohan insisted, her large, earnest eyes pleading. “She’s really hurt. She needs you to take care of her. I can do this. I’ll be with Bulma and Krillin and Launch. I’ll be safe. Please.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Krillin nodded slowly, her own eyes glistening. “The kid’s right, Chi-Chi. She’s stronger than any of us were at her age. And Piccolo… she was her teacher. It’s right that she’s there.”

Bulma added her voice, softer now. “She’ll be the most powerful member of the crew, Chi-Chi. We’ll look after her.”

Chi-Chi looked from her determined daughter to her broken wife, then back to Gohan. The war between the overprotective mother and the woman who understood honor and debt raged within her. Finally, with a shuddering sigh, she knelt and pulled Gohan into a tight embrace.

“Alright,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Alright, you can go.” She pulled back, holding Gohan by the shoulders, her expression deadly serious. “But you promise me. You promise you will take your textbooks. You will study every single day on that ship. No falling behind. You are a scholar first, Gohan. Promise me.”

A radiant, tearful smile broke across Gohan’s face. She nodded vigorously. “I promise, Mama! I’ll study so hard! I’ll do all my math and reading! I promise!”

The deal was struck. The Ox-Queen’s granddaughter was going to space, her luggage a mix of fighting gi and curriculum.

—–

The days ticked by in a strange, disjointed rhythm. In the hospital, Goku’s healing was painfully slow, her body wracked by fever and fitful sleep. The rest of the crew, however, made swift recoveries. Krillin’s wound closed, her strength returning in a steady, relentless march. Chi-Chi’s broken jaw healed, her appetite undiminished. Gohan, miraculously, suffered no lingering effects from her ordeal, her young body bouncing back with the resilience of childhood.

At Capsule Corp., Bulma’s days were a whirlwind of learning and… other activities. The Namekian ship was relocated there for cleaning and repairs. Ms. Popo proved to be an exacting taskmaster, her lessons as intense as her lovemaking. Bulma found herself spending hours bent over ancient Namekian texts, her brain aching from the effort of absorbing a new language. And yet, every evening found her and Popo tangled in the soft, humming darkness of the ship, their bodies pressed together in a dance as old as time.

Launch, meanwhile, found herself adrift in a sea of her own making. She haunted the bars of West City, her blonde hair a beacon in the smoky darkness, her laugh too loud, her drinks too many. She missed Tien with a physical, gnawing ache, her sneezes a desperate attempt to fill the void left by her girlfriend’s absence.

And Roshi… well, Roshi was a constant, lecherous presence at the hospital. She visited Goku daily, her excuse thin as the nurses’ uniforms she seemed to favor. But her true purpose was clear. She would slip away from Goku’s room, a sly grin on her face, and make her way to the supply closet. And there, she would find Nurse Anya, waiting with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Their trysts were as frequent as they were bizarre, a dance of dominance and submission that left them both breathless and spent.

—–

The day of departure dawned bright and clear, a stark contrast to the stormy, blood-soaked week that had preceded it. Bulma stood before the Namekian ship, her bulky, yellow space suit a stark contrast to the vessel’s organic curves. She fidgeted with the helmet under her arm, her cheeks flushing as Krillin and Launch approached.

Krillin, dressed in her a casual jacket and baseball cap, raised an eyebrow. “Bulma, what’s with the getup? We’re not going to the moon.”

Launch, in a simple t-shirt and jeans, snorted. “Yeah, and last I checked, space suits aren’t exactly fashionable. You look like a marshmallow.”

Bulma’s blush deepened. “Well… I just thought it would look… official. You know, like a real space explorer.”

Krillin shrugged. “Suit yourself. But trust me, that thing’s going to get hot and sweaty real fast once we’re on board.”

Bulma was about to respond when Chi-Chi and Gohan approached, the latter lugging a mountain of luggage. Gohan’s hair was cut into a neat bowl, her school uniform crisp and pressed. In her arms, she clutched a stack of textbooks, a pile of notebooks, and a small, stuffed Piccolo.

“Mama, can you help with my bags?” Gohan asked, her voice muffled by the weight of her cargo.

Krillin smirked. “Well, well, look who’s the little scholar now. All ready for your space classroom, Gohan?”

Gohan’s face fell. “I… I just want to be prepared. For when we get back.”

Bulma sighed, her hands on her hips. “Gohan, we’re going to be gone for months. You can’t bring all your books.”

Gohan’s lower lip trembled. “But… but I promised Mama I’d study. I have to bring them!”

Chi-Chi, who had been helping Gohan with her bags, gave Bulma a stern look. “She’s a child, Bulma. Let her have her comforts.”

Bulma threw her hands up in exasperation. “Fine! But if that ship starts to sink under the weight of your textbooks, Gohan, I’m throwing your books out the airlock!”

Gohan’s face lit up, her tears forgotten. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Bulma rolled her eyes, but her voice was soft. “Yes, Gohan. I’d do that for you.”

With that, the crew was finally ready. Bulma, Krillin, Launch, and Gohan. A motley, mismatched group, bound together by loss and hope, about to embark on a journey that would change them forever.

Chi-Chi stood at the edge of the Capsule Corp. landing pad, her arms wrapped around Gohan, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The rest of the crew huddled nearby, a ragtag bunch of hope and determination.

“Be safe,” Chi-Chi whispered, her voice thick. “Bring them back. Bring all of them back.”

Bulma, her heart swelling with a mix of nerves and determination, gave a nod as the platform lifted them into the ship. She closed her eyes, stepping forward, the Namekian phrases for launch echoing in her mind. She felt a strange, almost reverent connection to the ship, a hum of power that resonated in her very bones. She spoke the words, and the ship responded.

The hum of the ship’s power core deepened, the organic surface shimmering with an otherworldly light. Slowly, it lifted off the ground, the wind of its ascent ruffling their hair. They began to rise, the Earth falling away beneath them.

Gohan, her school uniform already discarded in favor of a makeshift purple gi, clutched her stuffed Piccolo tightly, her eyes wide with wonder. “We’re in space! We’re really in space!”

Krillin grinned, clapping her on the back. “You look good, kid. Like a real fighter.”

Gohan blushed, her grip tightening on her stuffed friend. “Thank you, Krillin.”

Bulma, meanwhile, had already shed her bulky space suit, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. She stretched, a satisfied smile on her face. “Well, that was anticlimactic. I mean, we just launched into space and it was easier than parking my car.”

Launch, who had been quietly watching the Earth shrink, turned to her. “You know, for a genius, you sure are full of hot air.”

Bulma just laughed, the sound echoing in the chamber. “Come on, everyone. Let’s find the Dragon Balls.”

—–

It had been seven uneventful days. The ship hummed along, a silent, efficient machine, its destination locked into the ancient, organic controls. Bulma sat in the captain’s chair, her eyes scanning the myriad of alien gauges and displays, her mind still struggling to grasp the sheer, alien otherness of it all. She had piloted before, of course, but this… this was something else entirely.

In the back of the chamber, Gohan and Krillin sat cross-legged on the floor, their eyes closed, their faces scrunched in concentration. To the untrained eye, they looked like a pair of meditation fanatics, but Bulma knew better. They were locked in a silent, mental sparring match, their telepathic powers clashing and parrying in the void between their minds. It was a way to stay sharp, to be ready for whatever might come their way.

Bulma sighed, her eyes flicking to the pair. “I swear, if they start glowing or something, I’m throwing them out the airlock.”

Launch, sprawled on a nearby couch, snorted. She sat up. “You and your airlock threats. You know, for a genius, you’re awfully dramatic.”

Bulma opened her mouth to retort, but a sudden, warm pressure on her thigh made her jump. She looked down to find Launch’s hand, sneaky and bold, sliding up her inner thigh. She was wearing nothing but a tank top and panties, her usual attire since they’d left Earth’s gravity behind.

“Launch!” Bulma hissed, trying to slap the hand away without drawing Gohan and Krillin’s attention. “What are you doing?”

Launch just grinned, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate ascent. “Bored, aren’t you? I mean, look at this place. All these weird, glowing things. It’s like a freaky alien playground. And you, all tense and focused. I figured I’d give you a hand. Or two.”

Bulma squirmed, trying to keep her voice low. “We’re on a mission, Launch. A serious one. This isn’t the time or the place—”

Launch’s fingers found the edge of Bulma’s panties, tracing the lacy trim. “Oh, come on, Bulma. You’re all tense. I’m all… loose. It’s a match made in heaven.”

Bulma bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. She knew she should stop this, should push Launch’s hand away, but… but it had been so long since her last night with Ms. Popo. And Launch’s touch was warm, her fingers sure and confident. She felt herself leaning into it, her hips shifting slightly to give Launch better access.

“Fine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the ship. “But keep it quiet. And if Gohan or Krillin so much as glance back here, you’re sleeping in the airlock tonight.”

Launch’s grin widened, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric. “Deal.”

Launch’s confidence was unshakeable. She knew the pair in the back were too deep in their mental sparring to notice anything short of a nuclear explosion. And even then, she doubted they’d break concentration. She smirked, her fingers finding Bulma’s clit with an expert’s precision.

Bulma gasped, her back arching slightly. She bit down hard on her lip, her eyes wide, but no sound escaped. Launch chuckled softly, her fingers beginning a slow, steady rhythm. She could feel Bulma’s wetness, could feel her body responding to her touch, her hips shifting in tiny, involuntary circles.

“Come on, Bulma,” she whispered, her breath hot on Bulma’s ear. “Let’s hear you. Just a little moan. No one’s watching.”

Bulma shook her head, her teeth sinking deeper into her lip. She could feel the pleasure building, a warm, coiling tension in her core. She tried to focus on the controls, on the alien displays, but all she could see was a blur of color and light.

Launch’s fingers slipped inside her, her thumb pressing down on her clit in a steady, relentless rhythm. Bulma’s breath hitched, a soft, strangled sound escaping her. She felt herself teetering on the edge, her body tensing, her hips bucking against Launch’s hand.

“Come on, Bulma,” Launch urged, her voice a low, seductive purr. “Just a little moan. I promise, I won’t tell.”

Bulma’s eyes fluttered closed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her climax crashed through her. Her body convulsed, her hips grinding against Launch’s hand, a low, guttural moan tearing from her throat. She bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood, but the sound was unstoppable.

In the back of the chamber, Krillin and Gohan’s eyes snapped open, their heads turning in unison toward the sound.

Bulma’s cheeks flamed as Krillin and Gohan turned to look at her, their expressions curious but unjudging. She fumbled for an excuse, her mind racing.

“Uh… sorry, guys,” she stammered, trying to sound nonchalant. “I… I just had a massive brainwave. You know how it is, geniuses and their eccentricities.” She waved a hand dismissively, her eyes darting to the ceiling, anywhere but their faces.

Krillin raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. “Sure thing, Bulma. Just let us know if you need help… brainwaving.” She turned back to Gohan, and the two closed their eyes, resuming their mental sparring. Krillin smirked, wondering if what they were doing could also be called “brainwaving.”

As soon as their attention was back on their training, Launch’s hands were on Bulma’s thighs, pushing them apart. She slid in front of Bulma’s seat, her head disappearing beneath Bulma’s tank top.

“Launch, what are you—” Bulma started, but her words turned into a gasp as Launch’s tongue found her clit, hot and unyielding. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white, as Launch began to lick and suck, her fingers sliding inside her.

“Shh,” Launch murmured, her voice vibrating against Bulma’s sensitive flesh. “They can’t hear us. Not with their minds all closed off like that. Just… enjoy the ride, genius.”

Bulma bit her lip, her eyes wide with panic and pleasure. She could feel another orgasm building, could feel her body tensing, her hips shifting to meet Launch’s tongue. She tried to stay quiet, tried to keep her moans to a minimum, but it was a losing battle. Launch was too skilled, too determined.

In the back of the chamber, Gohan and Krillin continued their mental sparring, blissfully unaware of the silent, lewd show playing out just a few feet away.

“Launch,” Bulma whispered-hissed, her voice tight with panic and pleasure. “They already heard me moan! If I do it again, they’ll know!”

Launch just grinned, her tongue never pausing, her fingers never slowing. “So? Let ’em hear. They won’t interrupt. They’re too into their little mental tango.”

Bulma’s grip on the armrests tightened, her knuckles white. She was right, they wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop her body from responding to Launch’s skilled touch. A soft, strangled moan escaped her, then another, louder. She bit down hard on her lip, trying to stifle the sounds, but it was a losing battle.

“Launch… please…” she begged, her hips shifting, her body tensing. “I can’t… I can’t be quiet…”

Launch just chuckled, the vibration of her voice sending fresh waves of pleasure through Bulma. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her tongue flicking against Bulma’s clit. “Let it all out, genius. I like the sound of your moans.”

Bulma’s body convulsed, her climax ripping through her, a loud, guttural moan tearing from her throat. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t hold it back. She was a slave to the pleasure, to Launch’s touch, her body wracked by the force of her release.

In the back of the chamber, Gohan and Krillin paused, their eyes flicking open. They exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. Then, they shrugged, and turned back to their mental sparring, leaving Bulma and Launch to their silent, lewd interlude.

Bulma’s body still hummed with the aftershocks of her climax, but her mind was already racing ahead, her eyes scanning the alien displays. She noticed something, a blip on the radar, a faint, glowing speck in the void. She frowned, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Launch,” she said, her voice low but urgent. “Back off. We’ve got company.”

Launch’s head popped up from beneath Bulma’s tank top, her eyes wide. “What? Who?”

“I don’t know,” Bulma said, her fingers flying over the controls, trying to maneuver the ship away from the blip. “But it’s… it’s following us. And it looks… it looks like our ship.”

Launch’s eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on the viewport. “What the hell? How can there be another one of our ship?”

The blip grew closer, the glowing speck swelling into a familiar, ovoid shape. It was their ship. Identical in every way, down to the jagged spikes protruding from its top and bottom. It was growing larger, faster, and they were on a direct collision course.

“Bulma, what do we do?” Launch asked, her voice tight with panic.

Bulma’s mind raced, her fingers dancing over the controls. She tried to veer, to dodge, but the other ship mirrored their every movement, a silent, inexorable predator. They were seconds away from impact.

As the two ships hurtled towards each other, Krillin and Gohan finally broke off their mental sparring, their eyes snapping open in alarm. They turned to look at the viewport, their expressions mirroring the panic on Bulma and Launch’s faces.

“What’s happening?” Gohan asked, her voice small and scared.

“It’s… it’s another ship,” Bulma stammered, her hands flying over the controls, trying desperately to avoid the collision. “But… but it’s our ship! And it’s… it’s not stopping!”

Launch, in the chaos, let out a violent sneeze. She was no longer the blonde, aggressive version. Her hair was blue, her eyes wide and confused. “What the…? Bulma, what’s going on? Why are we in space?”

Before anyone could answer, the ships met. But instead of a catastrophic collision, their ship seemed to… dissolve into the other. The other ship, the real ship, was revealed to be a colossal, mirror-coated vessel, their tiny ship a mere speck within its vast, reflective expanse.