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 dense, mushroom-like forest of Namek provided a fragile sanctuary. Krillin, Gohan, and the trembling Namekian child huddled in a deep crevice between two massive, twisting roots, their ki suppressed to the barest whisper. Above them, the air thrummed with Dodoria’s furious power.

“Where are you, you little runts?!” the pink behemoth roared, her voice echoing through the trees. She hovered, her piggish eyes scanning the landscape, but without her scouter, the subtle energy signatures of her prey were invisible to her. She was blind.

Frustration boiled over. “Fine! If you won’t come out, I’ll just blast the whole area to dust!”

She raised her hands, gathering a massive, swirling ball of violet energy. With a guttural shout, she hurled it downward. The resulting explosion was cataclysmic. A huge swath of the forest was vaporized in an instant, the shockwave rippling outwards, tearing trees from the ground and turning the earth to glass.

Deep in their root-cave, the trio clung to each other as the world shook around them. Dust and debris rained down, but the natural fortification held.

After a few minutes, the rumbling ceased. Dodoria floated over the smoldering crater she had created, scanning the devastation. Nothing moved. No signs of life.

“Hmph. Must have gotten them,” she grunted to herself, a smug satisfaction replacing her rage. “Pathetic. Didn’t even put up a fight.” She turned, already forgetting about the mysterious interlopers. “Whoever they were, they’re bug splatter now.”

She flew off, heading back to report to Frieza, her mission—as she saw it—complete.

In the silence that followed, Krillin dared to peek out. The landscape was a scarred wasteland. She let out a shaky breath.

“She’s gone,” Krillin whispered, her body slumping with relief. “She thinks she got us.”

Gohan hugged the Namekian child closer. The small green girl looked up at them with wide, grateful eyes.

“We did a heroics,” Gohan said softly, a mix of fear and pride in her voice.

“Yeah,” Krillin sighed, running a hand over her bald head. “We did. And now we’re stuck in the middle of a warzone with a kid, no Dragon Balls, and two of the most powerful monsters in the universe looking for us. Bulma is going to kill us.”

Krillin looked at the small Namekian girl. “Can you fly?” she asked gently.

The girl, Dende, nodded, her large eyes still wide with shock. “Y-yes. I can.” She gave a wobbly bow of her head. “Thank you… for saving me. My name is Dende.”

Gohan gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Dende. We’re your friends now. We should get you back to our ship. It’s safe there.”

Krillin nodded in agreement. “It’s the best place for her right now. Let’s go. Maybe Bulma will have an idea of what to do.”

—–

The familiar hum of the Namekian ship was a welcome sound to Bulma and Launch. They had been anxiously monitoring the radar and the silent comms, waiting for any sign of Krillin and Gohan.

“Hey, I hear something,” Launch said, her head cocked. “Sounds like they’re back.”

Bulma let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Maybe they actually listened for once and didn’t get into trouble.”

The two women walked around the side of the ship, expecting to see their friends. Instead, they froze.

Standing there were two of Frieza’s soldiers. They were not the low-level grunts from the village; these two had an air of seasoned cruelty.

One was a powerfully built woman with lilac skin, a pair of short, curved horns protruding from her forehead, and a shock of spiky orange hair. A blue scouter was fixed over her eye. This was Banan.

The other was a lithe, reptilian woman with purple, scaly skin. A sharp fin ran down the center of her head, and her face was dominated by a skull-like nasal structure. A red scouter with a small, mounted ray gun cannon was attached to her left arm. This was Sui.

Banan grinned, a predatory flash of white teeth. “Well, well. What do we have here? Looks like we found the unidentified ship.”

Sui’s ray gun arm whined as it powered up, the barrel pointed directly at Bulma and Launch. “Surrender,” she hissed, her voice a dry rasp. “Or we’ll add two more corpses to this planet’s count.”

Banan’s predatory grin widened as she looked Bulma and Launch up and down. “Not bad for primitives. A little skinny, but we can work with that. Clothes off. Now.”

“Go to hell,” Launch snarled, her hands already blurring. Her machine gun materialized, and she opened fire without hesitation.

BRRRRRRT!

The hail of bullets ricocheted off the two soldiers’ armor and skin with a series of sharp pings, not even leaving a scratch. Banan laughed, a harsh, grating sound.

“Cute,” Sui rasped, her voice like grinding stones. Her red-scoutered eye glowed. “My turn.”

The mounted ray gun on her arm hummed, gathering energy before releasing a thin, crimson beam. It didn’t aim for Bulma or Launch. It lanced straight through the front of the Namekian ship, piercing the organic hull and severing a critical power conduit with a shower of sparks and a sickening sizzle. The ship’s gentle hum died, replaced by an ominous silence and the smell of ozone and melted glass.

Bulma’s face went white. “No! The ship! You idiots, you’ve stranded us!”

“That was the point,” Banan said, taking a step forward. “Now, you have two choices. Strip and put on a nice little show for us, or we start carving pieces off you until you do.”

Tears of pure frustration and terror welled in Bulma’s eyes. She looked at Launch, who met her gaze with a look of furious, helpless resignation. They were trapped, outgunned, and their only way home was now a smoking wreck.

With trembling hands, Bulma began to unbutton her shirt. Launch, her jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack, followed suit, pulling her t-shirt over her head.

“That’s it,” Banan purred, crossing her arms to watch. “Make it sexy. Show us what you girls are made of.”

Under the twin, predatory gazes of Banan and Sui, Bulma and Launch’s striptease was a agonizingly slow spectacle of degradation. Bulma’s hands shook as she let her pants and panties fall, revealing her pale, trembling body. Launch, her usual fiery defiance extinguished by the reality of their powerlessness, moved with a stiff, resentful slowness, her nudity a stark contrast to the grim set of her jaw.

“Not bad,” Banan mused, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. “A little scrawny, but the blue-haired one has spirit. I like breaking spirit.”

Sui simply watched, her reptilian eyes unblinking, the low hum of her ray gun a constant, threatening reminder of their helplessness.

Once the two Earth women stood completely naked, their clothes a pathetic pile on the grass, Banan produced two futa beans. She tossed one to Sui. “Let’s have some real fun.”

They swallowed the beans in unison. The transformations were swift and impactful. Thick, monstrous cocks, glistening and veined, sprouted from between their legs. Banan’s was a sickly lilac to match her skin, while Sui’s was a mottled, scaled purple.

“Alright, playtime’s over,” Banan growled, striding forward. She grabbed Bulma by the arm, her grip like a vice. “You’re mine, blue.”

Sui, moving with a serpent’s grace, closed in on Launch. “The loud one is mine.”

Banan shoved Bulma face-first against the still-warm hull of their ruined ship. “Beg,” she demanded, positioning her grotesque member at Bulma’s entrance.

“Please… don’t,” Bulma sobbed, the cold metal against her cheek.

“Not good enough.” Banan drove into her with a single, brutal thrust, tearing into her unprepared body. Bulma screamed, her nails scraping against the ship’s surface as Banan began a ruthless, pounding rhythm.

A few yards away, Sui forced Launch to the ground, pinning her with surprising strength. Launch struggled, her muscles straining, but it was futile. Sui’s scaled cock pushed into her, a dry, agonizing invasion that made Launch cry out in a mix of pain and fury.

Banan’s assault on Bulma was a masterclass in cruel, deliberate domination. She didn’t just fuck her; she used her body like a tool for her own pleasure, her thrusts deep and grinding, designed to elicit the most pained, shameful responses.

“That’s it, blue,” Banan grunted, her lilac cock buried to the hilt. She leaned over Bulma, her hot breath on the back of her neck. “Let’s hear that pretty mouth of yours scream.” She delivered a sharp spank to Bulma’s ass, the sound cracking through the air. “You’re just a set of holes now. Admit it.”

Bulma could only gasp and sob, her body jolting with each powerful thrust. The pain was a sharp, stretching fire, but a traitorous, unwanted heat was coiling deep in her belly. The sheer, overwhelming force of the violation, the complete loss of control, was sparking a dark, humiliating arousal. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan as Banan’s cockhead rubbed against a spot that sent a jolt of pleasure through the agony.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Banan purred, sensing the shift. She changed her angle, focusing on that spot with a relentless, pounding precision. “Your body’s betraying you, slut. Your cunt’s getting wet for me.”

Across the clearing, Sui’s violation of Launch was colder, more methodical. Her scaled cock moved with a slick, reptilian rhythm, each thrust a dry, rasping invasion. She held Launch down with an unyielding grip, her skull-like face expressionless.

“Struggle is pointless,” Sui hissed, her voice a monotone. “Your resistance only prolongs the inevitable.”

Launch thrashed, her teeth gritted, but Sui’s strength was immense. The strange, textured surface of Sui’s cock created a friction that was both agonizing and, to Launch’s horror, uniquely stimulating. A low, guttural groan was torn from her throat as her body, against her will, began to respond to the relentless, alien stimulation.

“See?” Sui stated, her red scouter glowing faintly. “Your physiological responses indicate arousal. You are a compatible organism.”

The dual scenes of violation played out under the Namekian sun—Banan’s hot, mocking cruelty and Sui’s cold, analytical rape. Both Bulma and Launch were being broken, their bodies used and their spirits crushed, their moans and sobs a symphony of degradation for their captors’ pleasure.

“This is getting boring,” Banan grunted, her thrusts never slowing. She yanked Bulma’s hair, pulling her head back. “Let’s make it more interesting.”

With a brutal shove, she forced Bulma away from the ship and towards the center of the clearing. At the same time, Sui, understanding the command, dragged a still-struggling Launch to her knees to face Bulma.

“Now kiss,” Banan ordered, her voice thick with perverse amusement. “Show us how much you love each other while we fuck you.”

Tears streamed down Bulma’s face as she was forced to look at Launch. Launch’s eyes were wide with a mixture of fury and shared humiliation. Sui’s scaled cock continued its relentless rhythm inside Launch, making her body jolt with each thrust.

Banan positioned herself behind Bulma again, driving back into her with a force that made Bulma cry out. “I said kiss her, you blue-haired bitch!”

Helpless, trapped between their rapists, Bulma and Launch leaned in. Their lips met in a clumsy, tear-salty kiss. It wasn’t an act of passion, but one of shared, devastating shame. They could feel each other’s trembling, hear each other’s muffled sobs and the wet, obscene sounds of their own bodies being used.

Banan laughed, pounding into Bulma harder. “Yeah, that’s it! You two make a cute couple. A couple of fucking whores.”

Sui, her expression still unreadable, increased her pace, her thrusts becoming sharper, more jarring, forcing a choked gasp from Launch’s throat directly into Bulma’s mouth.

The forced, tearful kiss between Bulma and Launch was a grotesque pantomime of intimacy, their bodies jolting and their sobs muffled against each other’s mouths as Banan and Sui used them. The aliens were so engrossed in their cruel sport that they failed to notice the three new energy signatures approaching until it was too late.

A golden blur shot from the treeline. Krillin’s hand, hardened by a lifetime of training, chopped down on Banan’s wrist with a sickening crack. The lilac alien screamed, her grip on Bulma faltering.

Before Banan could react, Gohan was there, a small, furious whirlwind. She drove her fist deep into Banan’s stomach, the impact so concentrated it ruptured organs internally. Banan’s eyes bulged, and she collapsed, gagging and clutching her midsection.

Sui, hissing in alarm, tried to bring her ray gun arm to bear. But Krillin was faster. A single, precise Destructo Disk materialized and sliced through the air, cleanly severing the arm at the shoulder. Sui stared in shock at her stump for a second before Krillin delivered a swift, powerful kick to her head, snapping her neck with an audible crunch.

In seconds, the two soldiers were dead.

Krillin and Gohan quickly snatched the scouters from the corpses and crushed them underfoot. The immediate threat was neutralized.

“Bulma! Launch! Are you okay?” Gohan cried, rushing to their side.

But the relief of the rescue was instantly overshadowed. Bulma, pulling away from Launch and grabbing her discarded clothes, pointed a trembling finger at their ship. “The ship! They shot it! It’s dead! We’re stranded!”

Krillin’s face fell as she took in the smoking hole in the vessel’s hull. The delicate, organic technology was clearly beyond any field repair. Their one way home was gone.

In the stunned silence, Dende, the young Namekian, stepped forward, her large eyes filled with a surprising calm. “Do not despair,” she said softly. “There is another who can help. The great elder of our planet. She can tell you what to do.”

Hope, fragile and thin, flickered in the darkness of their situation. They were stranded, but they were not without allies. Their mission had just become a fight for survival.

—–

Dodoria flew through the Namekian skies, her pink face still mottled with the lingering frustration of not finishing off her prey personally. The satisfaction of blasting the forest to bits was already fading, replaced by the nagging thought of having to explain her delay to Lord Frieza.

A figure dropped from the sky, landing directly in her path with a casual, arrogant grace that made Dodoria’s blood boil. It was Vegeta.

“You?” Dodoria grunted, coming to a halt. “I heard Cui went to deal with you. I’m surprised to see you still breathing.”

Vegeta’s lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach her cold eyes. “Cui underestimated me. A fatal mistake. One you’re about to make as well.”

Dodoria let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You? Defeat me? Don’t make me laugh, you Saiyan runt. Your power level’s always been a joke compared to us.”

“I’ve never been one for jokes,” Vegeta retorted, her voice dangerously calm. She made no move to attack, simply standing there, her arms crossed. “I am far beyond what I was on Earth. Far beyond you.”

Dodoria’s scouter was gone, shattered by the Namekian elder, but she didn’t feel she need it. Vegeta didn’t seem any stronger than she ever had to her. This was just the usual Saiyan bravado.

“You’re bluffing,” Dodoria snarled, her fists clenching. “You got lucky with Cui, but you won’t get lucky with me. I’m going to enjoy pounding you into the dirt with my big, fat cock.”

Vegeta’s smirk widened. “By all means, you bloated pink fool. Try.”

Dodoria roared and lunged, a pink blur of spiked fury. She didn’t throw a ki blast; she went for a grapple, intending to overpower Vegeta with her sheer mass and strength. Her thick arms wrapped around Vegeta’s torso, squeezing.

“Got you now, you little bitch!” Dodoria grunted, her breath hot and foul in Vegeta’s face.

Vegeta didn’t struggle. She simply braced herself, a condescending smile on her lips. “Is this the best you can do? I’ve had more stimulating embraces from corpses.”

Enraged, Dodoria shifted her grip, one hand sliding down to roughly grope Vegeta’s ass, her fingers digging into the firm muscle through the armor. “I’m going to break you in half, then fuck what’s left!”

“Promises, promises,” Vegeta purred. In a move too fast to follow, her own hand shot up, not to strike, but to deliver a sharp, stinging spank to Dodoria’s broad, fleshy backside. The sound echoed across the plains.

Dodoria flinched in surprise, her grip loosening for a fraction of a second. It was all the opening Vegeta needed. She twisted free with effortless grace, spinning around to face the larger woman.

“You fight like a common thug,” Vegeta taunted, circling her. “All brute force, no finesse. It’s pathetic.” She darted in, not with a punch, but to deliver another quick, humiliating grope to Dodoria’s heavy breast before dancing back out of reach.

“You’ll pay for that, Saiyan slut!” Dodoria bellowed, her face flushing a deeper shade of purple. She charged again, this time swinging a meaty fist aimed at Vegeta’s head.

Vegeta ducked under the blow, her body flowing like water. As she passed, her hand snaked out and delivered another sharp slap to Dodoria’s ass. “You’re slow. Predictable. I could do this all day.”

Vegeta’s movements became a fluid, contemptuous dance. Dodoria’s powerful swings and lunges met only air, while Vegeta’s retaliations were precise, humiliating strikes.

Dodoria threw a wild haymaker. Vegeta leaned back, letting the fist whistle past her nose, then stepped in and delivered a sharp pinch to Dodoria’s thick nipple through her armor. “Tsk, tsk. So clumsy.”

Spitting with rage, Dodoria tried to tackle her. Vegeta sidestepped, hooking a foot around Dodoria’s ankle and sending her stumbling. As the pink giant flailed, Vegeta’s hand cracked against her ass again, this time with enough force to leave a visible red handprint. “You’re making this too easy.”

“Stand still and fight!” Dodoria roared, unleashing a volley of weak ki blasts.

Vegeta didn’t even bother to deflect them. She weaved through the energy bolts with an infuriating ease, her smirk never wavering. She closed the distance in an instant, her body pressing flush against Dodoria’s back. One hand snaked around to grope Dodoria’s breast again, while the other delivered a stinging slap to the side of her head.

“Why would I stand still when you provide such delightful moving targets?” Vegeta whispered directly into her ear before shoving her away.

Dodoria was panting now, her frustration boiling over into sheer, unadulterated fury. She was being toyed with, molested, and mocked by someone she had always considered inferior. Vegeta wasn’t just fighting her; she was systematically dismantling her pride, proving that every ounce of Dodoria’s power was useless against her newfound speed and skill. The cat was indeed playing with its mouse, and the mouse was realizing, with dawning horror, that it was truly, completely outclassed.

Dodoria’s rage had made her sloppy, her attacks telegraphed and wild. Vegeta, seeing the opening she’d been waiting for, moved in for the kill. She ducked under a telegraphed swing, planted her feet, and drove a fist directly into Dodoria’s solar plexus.

The air exploded from Dodoria’s lungs in a pained whoosh. Her eyes bulged, and she doubled over. Before she could recover, Vegeta spun, delivering a devastating roundhouse kick to the side of her head. Dodoria crashed to the ground with a earth-shaking thud, dazed and disoriented.

Vegeta stood over her, placing a boot firmly on Dodoria’s chest, pinning her. “It seems the mouse has run out of tricks,” she purred, looking down at her defeated foe. “And I’ve grown tired of playing.”

With her free hand, Vegeta produced a single futa bean. She popped it into her mouth, her body shuddering with the familiar, powerful transformation. A thick, veined cock, already erect and glistening, sprang forth.

Dodoria’s eyes, wide with pain and shock, now filled with a fresh, primal terror. “N-No… Vegeta, wait…!”

“Wait?” Vegeta chuckled darkly, applying more pressure with her boot. “After all the smacks and gropes? After you promised to fuck my broken body?” She leaned down, her voice a venomous whisper. “I believe it’s my turn to enjoy that fat pink ass you’ve been so generously presenting.”

She released her foot from Dodoria’s chest only to roughly roll her over onto her stomach. Dodoria tried to push herself up, but a swift, brutal kick to her ribs flattened her again.

“Stay down,” Vegeta commanded, kneeling behind her. She spat into her hand, slicking her cock, before positioning herself at Dodoria’s entrance. “This is what happens to those who underestimate a Saiyan.”

With a grunt of supreme satisfaction, she drove into Dodoria, the penetration a brutal, unforgiving invasion. Dodoria screamed, a raw, guttural sound of agony and utter humiliation as Vegeta began to claim her prize.

Vegeta’s thrusts were a brutal, piston-like rhythm, each one a deep, claiming stroke that drew another pained cry from the massive pink woman beneath her. But simply fucking her wasn’t enough. Vegeta wanted to see the flesh jiggle, to mark it as her own.

With a savage tear, she ripped away the backplate of Dodoria’s armor, exposing the broad, pale pink expanse of her back. Her hands, free now, roamed over the soft, yielding flesh. She groped and squeezed Dodoria’s heavy sides, her fingers digging into the rolls of fat, leaving red marks in their wake.

“All this blubber,” Vegeta sneered, delivering a sharp spank that made the flesh ripple. “And yet, so weak.” She leaned forward, her chest pressing against Dodoria’s sweaty back, her cock buried to the hilt. “You feel that? That’s real power. Saiyan power.”

Dodoria could only sob, her face pressed into the dirt, her body violated and now exposed. Vegeta’s hands continued their exploration, sliding around to grope Dodoria’s massive, pendulous breasts, pinching the nipples hard.

“You thought you could dominate me?” Vegeta growled into her ear, her hips never slowing their punishing pace. “You’re nothing but a fleshy toy. A cum dump for a true warrior.”

She shifted her angle, driving upwards, seeking a spot that would elicit a more telling response. Dodoria gasped, her body arching against her will as a sharp, unwanted spark of pleasure shot through the overwhelming pain and humiliation.

“There it is,” Vegeta purred, a cruel smile twisting her lips. She focused her thrusts, a relentless, grinding assault on that sensitive spot. “Your body betrays you, you pink sow. Even you can’t hide the fact that you were made to be beneath me.”

Vegeta reveled in the complete physical and psychological breakdown. She wrapped a hand around one of Dodoria’s spikes, yanking her head back, forcing her to look at the alien sky she was so brutally defiling her under.

“Look at you,” Vegeta snarled, her breath hot against Dodoria’s ear. “The mighty Dodoria, Frieza’s favorite attack dog. Reduced to a sobbing, fat fuck-toy for the Saiyan she thought was beneath her.” She punctuated the sentence with a particularly deep, grinding thrust that made Dodoria wail.

She released Dodoria’s head, letting her face slam back into the dirt. One hand returned to its work on Dodoria’s body, not with desire, but with a possessiveness that was far more degrading. She kneaded the soft flesh of Dodoria’s ass, her fingers leaving deep, red impressions. She traced the line of Dodoria’s spine, then delivered another stinging slap, this time right on the small of her back.

“You’re not even a challenge,” Vegeta taunted, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a warm, wet hole. A convenience. I should have done this years ago.”

She changed her rhythm again, slowing to a deep, almost languid pace, each withdrawal agonizingly slow before slamming back in with enough force to steal Dodoria’s breath. It was a deliberate torture, designed to prolong the humiliation and make every second of the violation stretch into an eternity.

“Beg for it,” Vegeta commanded, her voice low and dangerous. “Beg for your conqueror to fill you up.”

Dodoria shook her head, a final, feeble act of defiance, a muffled sob escaping into the earth.

Vegeta’s response was to stop completely, pulling out until only the tip remained. The sudden emptiness was its own form of torment. “I said… beg.”

The sudden, aching emptiness was a torment worse than the brutal fucking. Dodoria’s body, against her will, clenched around nothing, a traitorous ache for the violation to continue. The silence was deafening, broken only by her own ragged, humiliated sobs.

“I said… beg,” Vegeta repeated, her voice a cold, final warning.

Defeated, broken, with no pride left to salvage, Dodoria broke. The word was a wet, choked whisper into the dirt. “P-Please…”

“Louder.”

“Please!” Dodoria wailed, the sound tearing from her throat. “Please, Vegeta! Fuck me! Just… just finish it!”

A dark, triumphant smile spread across Vegeta’s face. “As you wish.”

But she wasn’t done. Vegeta grabbed both of Dodoria’s thick wrists. She yanked them up and back, pulling Dodoria’s shoulders into a painful, arching stretch that forced her chest off the ground and exposed her throat.

“Now you’re in the perfect position,” Vegeta growled, her voice a husky rasp of pure dominance.

She drove back into Dodoria with a single, powerful thrust that buried her to the hilt, drawing a sharp, gasping cry from the pinned woman. With Dodoria’s arms locked behind her, completely helpless and exposed, Vegeta began to fuck her in earnest. No more teasing, no more games. This was a raw, punishing, claiming rhythm, each slam of her hips a physical declaration of victory.

Dodoria could only hang in her grasp, her body used as a mere object, her every gasp and moan a testament to Vegeta’s absolute conquest. The position was the final humiliation, a brutal reminder that she was not just being fucked, but utterly and completely subdued.

Vegeta maintained the brutal, arching hold, her powerful thrusts never faltering. Dodoria’s body was a taut bowstring, her massive tits flapping painfully, every nerve ending screaming, her position making her feel every inch of Vegeta’s invasion.

“You like this, don’t you?” Vegeta grunted, her voice thick with exertion and pleasure. “Admit it. You love being Princess Vegeta’s personal fuck-pig.”

Dodoria shook her head, a strangled sob her only answer.

Vegeta increased her pace, the wet, slapping sounds of their joining becoming obscenely loud. She leaned forward, her lips brushing Dodoria’s ear. “Say it. Or I’ll keep you like this all day, breaking you piece by piece.”

The threat, coupled with the overwhelming, degrading stimulation, shattered the last of Dodoria’s resistance. “I… I love it!” she wailed, the confession torn from her soul. “I love being your fuck-pig!”

“Whose?” Vegeta demanded, pounding into her.

“Yours! Princess Vegeta’s!”

“And what are you?”

“I’m your fat, pink whore! Your cocksleeve! Please, just cum! I can’t take anymore!”

The desperate, humiliating pleas were the final trigger. With a guttural roar of triumph, Vegeta slammed home one last time, holding herself deep as her climax erupted. Hot, pulsing ropes of Saiyan seed flooded Dodoria’s depths, a searing brand of her defeat and submission. Vegeta held the position, grinding against Dodoria’s ass as she emptied herself, ensuring every last drop was deposited inside her conquered foe.

Finally, she released Dodoria’s arms, letting the massive woman collapse into a sobbing, soiled heap on the ground. Vegeta stood over her, her temporary cock already receding, looking down at the broken form with cold satisfaction.

“Remember this feeling,” she said, her voice calm once more. “The next time you consider yourself my equal.” She turned, leaving Dodoria weeping in the dirt, another obstacle thoroughly and utterly eliminated.

Vegeta stood over the sobbing, broken form of Dodoria, her hand glowing with lethal ki. The pleasure of her conquest was already cooling, replaced by the pragmatic need to tie up loose ends.

“Please… don’t kill me,” Dodoria begged, her voice a raw, pathetic whisper. She curled into a fetal position, covered in dirt and her own humiliation. “I… I have information! About Planet Vegeta!”

Vegeta’s ki flickered, but didn’t extinguish. “What could you possibly know, you bloated fool? It was destroyed by a meteorite. A tragic, natural disaster.”

Dodoria managed a weak, bloody smile. “Is that what Frieza told you? That’s what she tells everyone. It wasn’t a meteorite.” She took a shuddering breath, seeing the faint curiosity in Vegeta’s eyes—her only chance at survival. “It was her. Lord Frieza. She destroyed it herself. She saw the Saiyans as a potential threat. She decided to… prune the branch before it could grow.”

The news should have been a cataclysm. The destruction of her people, her birthright, her entire world—it was all a lie. A deliberate, cold-blooded genocide orchestrated by the tyrant she had served.

But Vegeta didn’t cry out in rage or fall to her knees in grief. A slow, cold fury began to burn in her eyes, far more dangerous than any hot-headed outburst. Her ki sputtered and died.

“She used me,” Vegeta whispered, the words dripping with venomous realization. “She made me her attack dog. She had me slaughter for her, all while knowing she murdered my entire race. She kept me as her pet Saiyan.” Her fists clenched so hard the leather of her gloves creaked. “All this time… I was a puppet. A joke.”

The betrayal wasn’t in the destruction of a planet she barely remembered. The betrayal was in the manipulation. Frieza had taken her pride, her autonomy, and twisted it into a weapon for her own use.

She looked down at Dodoria, her expression unreadable.

A flicker of her old arrogance returned to Dodoria’s eyes, seeing Vegeta’s contemplative silence as weakness. “You should be grateful,” she sneered, pushing herself up on one elbow. “Lord Frieza saw your potential. Your royal blood was the only reason you were spared. She saw a use for you where the others were just… vermin.”

The word ‘use’ was a spark on a powder keg.

“Grateful?” Vegeta’s voice was dangerously quiet. “To be the sole survivor of a massacre, raised as a weapon for the murderer? To be a living trophy?” She took a step closer, her shadow falling over Dodoria. “I am not a ‘use.’ I am a ruler. I should be ruling over Frieza. Over you. Over this entire cursed empire.”

A new, twisted idea formed in Vegeta’s mind, a perfect fusion of her cruelty and her newfound ambition. “Tell you what, you pink sow. I’m feeling… merciful. Renounce Frieza. Swear loyalty to me. You can live. As my pet. My personal, fat fuck-pig. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A permanent purpose.”

The offer was so degrading, so utterly contemptuous, that it overrode Dodoria’s fear with pure, unadulterated rage. “I’LL KILL YOU!” she roared, summoning the very last dregs of her power into a final, desperate ki blast aimed point-blank at Vegeta’s face.

Vegeta didn’t even flinch. Her hand snapped up, a small, concentrated ball of energy already formed.

“A pity,” she said.

The blast, no larger than a marble, shot from her palm. It pierced straight through Dodoria’s hastily gathered energy and into her forehead, exiting out the back of her skull in a spray of pink matter.

Dodoria’s body froze, her expression locked in a final mask of fury and shock, before slumping back to the ground, definitively still.

Vegeta stared at the corpse. The secret was hers alone now. And it changed everything. Frieza wasn’t just a tyrant to be overthrown. She was a betrayer to be annihilated. The game was no longer about immortality. It was about vengeance. She smirked to herself.

“Frieza fears the endless potential of the Saiyan..!”