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 sterile white walls of Wukong Hospital were finally a memory. Goku stood in the bright sunlight outside Capsule Corp, stretching her fully-healed limbs with a wide, relieved grin. The restlessness that had driven her to train recklessly was now channeled into a fierce, focused energy.

Chi-Chi stood beside her, a packed bag in each hand. “I still don’t like this,” she muttered, but her eyes held a grudging acceptance. “But if you’re going, you’re not going in some rickety alien junkheap.”

They were greeted at the main entrance not by Bulma, but by her mothers. Dr. Briefs, a woman with the same brilliant blue hair as her daughter but a perpetually gruff and distracted air, wiped her greasy hands on an already-stained lab coat. “About time you got here. The calibration sequence is delicate.”

Beside her, Mrs. Briefs, looking far too young and vibrant to be Bulma’s mother, giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at Goku. “Oh my, all healed up and looking so strong! It’s a good thing, too. The trip can be so… strenuous.”

Dr. Briefs led them through the sprawling complex to a massive hangar. Inside sat a ship unlike anything Goku had ever seen. It wasn’t organic like the Namekian vessel, nor was it a cramped Saiyan pod. It was a sleek, polished silver craft, larger than a house, its design an obvious fusion of Capsule Corp technology and scavenged Saiyan engineering.

“Used the navigation data from the Namekian ship,” Dr. Briefs explained, pointing a wrench at the hull. “And the power cores and hull plating from those two Saiyan pods Nappa and Vegeta left behind. Reinforced it, of course. Added a gravity generator. Should get you to Namek in about a week, maybe less if you push it.”

Goku’s eyes shone with excitement. “A week! That’s amazing!”

Mrs. Briefs sidled up to Chi-Chi. “And there’s plenty of room for two, dear. I made sure of it. A long journey… it’s important to have… comforts.” She winked.

Chi-Chi blushed furiously while Goku just grinned, oblivious to the implication. Her mind was already light-years away, on a green planet where her friends were in danger and a legendary battle awaited.

Goku’s excitement was a palpable force in the hangar, but a practical question cut through it. “Hey, Doc,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Did you put in the gravity machine? The one I asked for?”

Dr. Briefs pushed her goggles up onto her forehead, leaving a smudge of grease. “The multi-phase gravity generator? Of course I did. It’s the most dangerous piece of equipment on this ship. It can simulate up to 400 times Earth’s gravity. It could crush you into a paste before you even realized what was happening.”

A brilliant, determined smile spread across Goku’s face. “Perfect! On Queen Kai’s planet, I trained at 10 times gravity. If I can get used to 100, or even more… I’ll be stronger than ever!”

To everyone’s surprise, Chi-Chi stepped forward, her expression resolute. “And I’ll be training with you. I won’t be left behind again, and I won’t let you go into danger without being able to watch your back.” Her tone brooked no argument.

“Alright!” Goku cheered, clapping her wife on the shoulder. “It’ll be just like old times! So, we’re ready to go, right?” She made a move towards the ship’s ramp.

“Not so fast,” Dr. Briefs said, holding up a hand. She gestured to the sleek, seemingly complete vessel. “It’s not ready yet.”

Goku stopped, her head tilting in confusion. “Huh? But it looks finished! What’s left?”

Dr. Briefs fixed her with a deadpan stare. “The speaker system isn’t installed.”

A beat of silence hung in the air. Chi-Chi looked incredulous. Goku just blinked.

“The… speaker system?” Goku repeated.

“For playing motivational training music at a high fidelity,” Dr. Briefs elaborated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Can’t have a state-of-the-art spacecraft with subpar audio. It’s unprofessional.”

Goku waved her hands dismissively. “Who cares about that! We don’t need music! We’re going to space! To save our friends! Let’s go!”

Mrs. Briefs giggled. “Oh, let them go, dear. Young love and adventure wait for no speaker system!”

Dr. Briefs sighed, looking from her flirty wife to the two impatient warriors. “Fine, fine. But don’t come complaining to me when you can’t get properly motivated without eighties workout jams. The warranty is void the moment you lift off.”

The sleek silver ship roared to life, its engines humming with a power that vibrated through the entire hangar. With a final wave from Goku’s grinning face and a more restrained nod from Chi-Chi, the vessel lifted off, shot through the open hangar bay door, and disappeared into the blue sky, a shimmering speck heading for the stars.

Dr. Briefs watched it go, her shoulders slumping slightly with the post-project fatigue only a massive engineering undertaking can bring.

Mrs. Briefs sidled up to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Ooh, all that raw power gets me so hot,” she purred, nuzzling her wife’s neck. “You know you’re always at your horniest after you finish a big project. All that pent-up creative energy needs… an outlet.”

Dr. Briefs allowed a rare, small smile to touch her lips. “The calibration was particularly satisfying,” she admitted, letting herself be led away from the hangar. “I suppose the speakers can wait.”

—–

On Namek, the mood was grim. Huddled in a small, hidden cave, the four Earthlings and the young Namekian, Dende, took stock of their desperate situation.

“Our ship is destroyed. We’re stranded,” Bulma summarized, her voice tight with stress. “And every monster in the galaxy seems to be here looking for the same thing we are.”

Krillin nodded. “We can’t fight them. Not Frieza, not Vegeta. Our only hope is to get the Dragon Balls first.”

All eyes turned to Dende. The small Namekian girl had been quiet, her large eyes still holding the horror of her village’s destruction, but now they shone with a glimmer of purpose.

“There is one who can help,” Dende said softly. “The Grand Elder. She is the wisest and most powerful of all Namekians. She is very old, and very tired, but she holds one of the Dragon Balls.”

“She does?” Gohan asked, her voice full of hope.

Dende nodded. “Yes. Her home is far from here, in the mountains. It is a sacred place. If we can reach her, she will know what to do. She can guide you.”

It was a thread of hope, thin and fragile, but it was all they had. A journey across a hostile planet, to find the one being who might hold the key to their survival and the resurrection of their friends.

Gohan immediately jumped to her feet, her small fists clenched. “We have to go right now!”

Bulma was already shaking her head, her expression firm. “No, Gohan. Absolutely not.” She knelt down, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “I made a promise to your mother. A big one. I told her I would keep you safe. Sending you out there, with Vegeta and that… that Frieza on the loose? It’s suicide.”

“But—” Gohan started to protest, her eyes welling with frustrated tears.

“But nothing,” Bulma said, her voice leaving no room for argument. She looked up at Krillin. “Krillin, you go. You’re fast, you’re smart, and you can hide your energy. Dende can guide you.” She turned her gaze back to the group, laying out the logic. “Think about it. If we have just one Dragon Ball, they can’t make a wish. They need all seven. As long as we protect one, we hold all the power. We control the game.”

Krillin met Bulma’s gaze and gave a slow, determined nod. The plan was sound, and it played to their only strengths right now: stealth and misdirection. “You’re right. It’s our best shot.” She turned to Dende. “Are you ready to show me the way?”

Dende nodded, her large eyes serious. “Yes. We must hurry.”

Launch, who had been quietly cleaning her gun, spoke up. “Don’t get yourselves killed. It’d be a pain in the ass to have to come find you.”

With a final, reassuring smile for Gohan, Krillin and Dende slipped out of the cave entrance and into the alien twilight, two small figures setting out on a mission that could decide the fate of their friends and the entire planet.

—–

Standing over Dodoria’s corpse, the revelation about Frieza’s betrayal burning in her mind like a cold star, Vegeta’s thoughts were already turning to strategy. Rage was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She needed a plan.

The Dragon Balls, she thought. Frieza needs all seven. I just need one.

Her scouter was gone, but the fight with the Earthlings had taught her a more refined skill. She closed her eyes, blocking out the world, and focused. Her senses expanded outward, across the vast plains and mountains of Namek. She felt the weak, flickering energies of small animals, the dense, ancient ki of the planet itself… and then, clusters of stronger, more complex signatures. Namekian villages.

Most of them felt… wrong. Tainted by fear, or worse, extinguished entirely. Frieza’s work. But one, far to the north, pulsed with a calm, unified energy. Untouched.

A cruel smile touched her lips. Perfect.

They would be complacent. Peaceful. They would have no idea what was coming. And they would almost certainly be guarding one of their precious orbs.

With a surge of power that cracked the ground beneath her feet, Vegeta shot into the sky, a purple streak of vengeance and ambition heading north. She would take their Dragon Ball, secure her bargaining chip, and then… then she would decide how best to make Frieza pay for a lifetime of lies.

Vegeta landed in the center of the northern village with an arrogant thud, her boots sinking into the soft, green turf. The Namekians, who had been going about their peaceful lives, froze, their large eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear. This one felt different from their own kind—sharper, angrier.

“Listen up, you green-skinned freaks,” Vegeta announced, her voice cutting through the tranquil air. “I am Princess Vegeta. You have a Dragon Ball. Give it to me, and I might let your pathetic village stand.”

A heavyset, elderly Namekian woman with wise, weary eyes stepped forward. She carried an air of quiet authority. “I am Tsuno,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Second eldest of our people. The Dragon Ball is not a trinket to be handed to any who demands it. It is a sacred trust. If you wish to possess it, you must prove yourself worthy. You must pass a trial of the heart.”

Vegeta stared at her for a moment, then let out a short, derisive bark of laughter. “A trial of the heart? Don’t waste my time with your primitive superstitions.” Her eyes scanned the crowd of nervous Namekians and settled on a young woman standing near the front, her face a mask of apprehension.

Without another word, Vegeta raised a single finger. A thin beam of ki shot out, piercing the young Namekian’s chest. She gasped, a look of profound shock on her face, before crumpling to the ground, dead.

A collective, horrified gasp rippled through the village. Tsuno’s calm demeanor shattered, replaced by a look of pure grief and outrage.

“That is my trial,” Vegeta said, her voice cold as space. “My heart is conquest. My worth is measured in power. Now, bring me the Dragon Ball, or I will paint this entire village purple with your blood.”

The murder of their kin shattered the Namekians’ peaceful restraint. With cries of rage and grief, five of the village’s strongest warrior women launched themselves at Vegeta. They moved with a coordinated grace, their ki flaring to life—a brilliant, emerald green that was both beautiful and deadly.

Vegeta’s scouter-less senses instantly gauged their strength. Impressive, she thought with a flicker of professional respect. Each one is on par with that Piccolo, from Earth. A formidable force.

But Piccolo hadn’t even been a challenge for Nappa, nevermind for the princess of all Saiyans.

The first warrior reached her, a fist wreathed in green energy aimed at her face. Vegeta didn’t block it. She simply leaned her head to the side, letting the blow whistle past her ear. As the Namekian overextended, Vegeta delivered a sharp, almost playful chop to the back of her neck, sending her stumbling past.

Two more came at her from either side. Vegeta dropped into a low sweep, knocking the legs out from under one, while simultaneously catching the other’s punch in her palm. She squeezed, feeling the bones in the Namekian’s hand creak, before shoving her away with enough force to send her crashing into a hut.

She was a phantom among them. She ducked under energy blasts, weaved through grappling attempts, and answered every attack with a humiliatingly precise counter—a jab to the ribs here, a kick to the back of the knee there. She wasn’t trying to kill them yet; she was demonstrating the absolute, unbridgeable chasm in their power.

“Is this the best your ‘trial of the heart’ has to offer?” Vegeta taunted, casually backhanding a fourth warrior who tried to blindside her. “Your hearts are weak. Your power is a joke.”

Finally, growing bored, she decided to end it. Her movements became a blur. An energy blast, no larger than a marble, shot from her fingertip and pierced a warrior’s shoulder, disabling her arm. A swift, powerful kick shattered another’s leg. A focused ki blast to the stomach left a third writhing on the ground, unable to breathe.

In less than a minute, all five of the village’s champions were defeated, lying broken and moaning in the grass. Vegeta stood untouched in the center of the devastation, her expression one of utter contempt.

“You see?” she said, her gaze locked on Tsuno. “Your power is nothing. Your traditions are nothing. All that matters is strength. And I am strength incarnate.”

The fight had left the air thick with the scent of ozone and blood. The groans of the defeated warriors were the only sound until Vegeta’s voice cut through it, cold and absolute.

“The trial is over,” she announced to the horrified Tsuno and the weeping villagers. “I’ve passed. Now, the Dragon Ball. Or I start on the children.”

Tsuno’s shoulders slumped in utter defeat. The light of defiance in her eyes was extinguished, replaced by the heavy weight of responsibility for her people’s survival. With a slow, pained gesture, she motioned to a young woman, who scurried into a nearby hut and returned, trembling, with the glowing orange Dragon Ball.

Vegeta snatched it from her, holding the sphere aloft. A triumphant, cruel cackle tore from her throat. “YES! With this, Frieza’s ambition is mine to control!”

But her triumph was not complete. The humiliation had to be total. Her eyes, gleaming with malice, fell back upon Tsuno.

“The trial may be over,” Vegeta purred, her voice dropping to a intimate, terrifying whisper. “But the lesson isn’t.” She strode forward, stopping directly in front of the elderly Namekian. “On your knees.”

Tsuno’s breath hitched. She knew what was coming. She looked at her people, at their terrified faces, and knew she had no choice.

“Please…” she whispered.

“Now,” Vegeta commanded, her tone leaving no room for plea or protest.

With a shudder of shame that seemed to age her a hundred years, Tsuno slowly sank to her knees in the soft grass. Vegeta grinned as she removed her armor, exposing her pale, neatly trimmed pussy to the entire village.

“Show your people what true submission looks like,” Vegeta said, gripping Tsuno’s head by her antennae. “Serve your conqueror.”

Tears of utter humiliation streamed down Tsuno’s face as she was forced forward. The village watched in horrified, silent anguish as their wise, respected elder was made to service the evil Saiyan princess with her mouth, a final, degrading act that stripped them of all dignity and cemented Vegeta’s absolute dominance over them.

Vegeta’s head tilted back, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips as Tsuno’s tongue began its reluctant, shameful work. The sensation of power was even more intoxicating than the physical pleasure. She had not just defeated these people; she had broken their spirit, forcing their most revered elder to kneel and worship her with her mouth.

But it wasn’t enough. Dominance, to Vegeta, was an ever-expanding hunger.

Her eyes, heavy-lidded with pleasure, scanned the crowd of horrified onlookers. She pointed a finger at two of the younger, more attractive warrior women who were still conscious, nursing their wounds.

“You. And you,” she commanded, her voice husky. “Get over here. Your elder is doing all the work.”

Trembling, the two women shuffled forward, their faces pale with dread.

“You,” Vegeta said to the first, gesturing behind herself. “Put that tongue to better use.”

The warrior woman hesitated for only a second before a sharp glare from Vegeta sent her scrambling. She positioned herself behind Vegeta, her face flushing a deep green as she was forced to bury her tongue in the Saiyan princess’s ass.

“And you,” Vegeta said to the second, enjoying the way the woman flinched. “Dance. Something lewd. Entertain me while your betters service me.”

The command was so absurd, so degrading, that the warrior simply stared, frozen.

“DANCE!” Vegeta roared, the force of her ki making the very ground tremble.

Jolted into motion, the Namekian woman began a stiff, awkward, humiliating dance, her movements a pathetic parody of seduction as her elder ate Vegeta’s pussy and her comrade licked her ass.

Vegeta reveled in the symphony of degradation. The wet, slurping sounds of forced oral sex, the sight of a proud warrior reduced to a clumsy stripper, and the palpable waves of shame and horror radiating from the entire village—it was a feast for her senses. This was true conquest. Not just taking what you wanted, but making those you conquered willingly, miserably, give it to you.

Vegeta’s pleasure was a dark, sprawling thing. She let her hands roam, not over her own body, but over Tsuno’s head, guiding her, forcing her deeper, making sure every last shred of the elder’s dignity was smothered against her cunt.

“Faster,” she grunted, tightening her grip on Tsuno’s antennae. “You call that service? My lowest soldier has a more talented tongue.”

She then turned her attention to the warrior eating her ass. “You’re barely scratching the surface. Put some effort into it, unless you’d like me to demonstrate on your village next?”

The threat sent a fresh wave of terror through the onlookers and galvanized the two Namekians into a more frantic, desperate pace. The dancer, seeing this, tried to make her movements more fluid, more suggestive, her face a mask of utter mortification.

A wicked idea sparked in Vegeta’s mind. She pointed at another villager, a young woman who was trying to hide behind others. “You! Get over here. I want to see you jerk your pathetic little cock for me. Let’s see what Namekian seed looks like.”

The young woman froze, her eyes wide with terror, but the collective fear of the village was a whip at her back. She shuffled forward, her hands trembling as she fumbled with her loincloth. She popped a futa bean, and began stroking the cock that sprung forth from her groin.

Vegeta threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing cruelly across the village. This was it. This was the pinnacle. She wasn’t just a warrior; she was a queen, a goddess of ruin, and these were her groveling, terrified subjects. Every reluctant tongue, every humiliated dance move, every tear of shame was a tribute to her power. It was the perfect catharsis for a lifetime of being Frieza’s pawn. Here, on this backwater planet, she was finally, truly, the master of her own destiny, and she was bathing in the proof.

The pressure built within Vegeta, a coiling, electric tension fed by the absolute power she wielded. The frantic licking, the humiliated dancing, the sight of the young Namekian forced to masturbate for her—it all coalesced into a single, shattering peak.

“That’s it… you green whores… now take it!” she snarled.

Her body convulsed, and with a guttural cry, her climax erupted. Hot, wet cum shot across Tsuno’s face, coating her features, dripping from her chin and antennae obscenely. The elderly Namekian knelt there, frozen in shock and degradation, her face a canvas of Vegeta’s triumph.

Vegeta took a moment, catching her breath, a look of supreme satisfaction on her face as she looked down at the soiled elder. She then casually pushed Tsuno away.

“Thank you for the… hospitality,” Vegeta said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she re-fastened her armor. “It was most enlightening.”

The relief that had begun to flicker in the villagers’ eyes was short-lived. Vegeta’s expression hardened. Witnesses were a liability. Loose ends were for fools.

She raised a hand, palm open. A brilliant, violet glow gathered, swelling into a massive ball of destructive energy.

“No… please…” Tsuno whispered, her voice barely audible through the mess on her face.

Vegeta ignored her. “Galick Gun.”

The beam of pure annihilation lanced out, not as a single blast, but as a wide, sweeping arc. It vaporized Tsuno first, then swept through the rest of the village—the warriors, the dancer, the young futanari, the children hiding in huts. In seconds, the entire community was erased from existence, leaving only a smoldering, glassy crater where a peaceful village once stood.

With the same cold efficiency, Vegeta flew to the edge of a nearby lake. She plunged the Dragon Ball deep into the murky water, letting it settle into the silt at the bottom. Without a scouter, even Frieza will never find it here.

She closed her eyes, reaching out with her senses. Far to the south, she felt it—a powerful, ancient ki, unlike any other on the planet. It had to be the guardian of the final Dragon Ball.

A cruel smile touched her lips. The game was almost over. She shot into the sky, a purple comet of vengeance heading south, ready to claim the last piece of the puzzle.

—–

The air back in Dende’s dead village was still, thick with the the lingering psychic residue of mass death. Zarbon stood at perfect attention before Frieza’s floating chair, her beautiful face a mask of composed concern.

“Lord Frieza,” Zarbon began, her voice a smooth, respectful cadence. “Dodoria’s absence is… concerning. It has been too long. She should have reported back after pursuing those runts. With your permission, I could—“

“Forget about Dodoria,” Frieza’s high, chilling voice interrupted, laced with bored disdain. “If that bloated simpleton is incapable of capturing two puny pests and a single Namekian child, then she has outlived her usefulness to me.”

The finality in Frieza’s tone brooked no argument. Zarbon gave a slight, acknowledging bow of her head. “Of course, Lord Frieza.”

Frieza’s gaze, heavy with unspoken threat, settled on Zarbon and the lone remaining soldier, the purple, long-headed Appule. “This delay is tiresome. Zarbon, you and Appule will cease waiting and find the remaining Dragon Balls. I grow impatient.”

Appule shifted nervousl. “But, Lord Frieza… without our scouters, how are we to locate the villages? The planet is vast. We would have to… search the entire surface.”

Zarbon didn’t even glance at her subordinate. “Then that is precisely what we will do, if it is necessary.” She turned her full attention back to Frieza, her expression one of unwavering loyalty. “Do not trouble yourself, my lord. We will not fail you. We will scour this wretched rock until every last orange sphere is in our possession.”

A faint, cruel smile touched Frieza’s lips. “I expect nothing less from my most elegant enforcer.” The chair began to float backward, turning slowly. The Dragon Balls floated alongside her, lifted psychically. “I will be waiting aboard my ship. Do not keep me waiting long. Deliver the final two Dragon Balls to me.”

With that final, unambiguous order, Frieza’s vessel lifted silently into the air and shot toward the horizon, leaving Zarbon and Appule alone amidst the ruins.

Zarbon’s serene composure didn’t falter. She looked at Appule, her eyes sharp. “You heard Lord Frieza. We search. Grid by grid. We will turn over every stone and drain every lake if we must. Let’s move.”

The wind whipped past Krillin and Dende as they flew over the sprawling, vibrant landscape of Namek. The silence between them was comfortable, but Krillin’s mind was buzzing with questions. The sheer strangeness of this world, and its people, was slowly starting to make a bizarre kind of sense.

“Dende,” Krillin began, her voice raised slightly over the rush of air. “Back at the village… you said the Grand Elder is the mother of all Namekians? How does that work?”

Dende, flying beside her with a natural grace, nodded. “It is our history. Long ago, before any of us were born, our world was dying. Great fires fell from the sky, and the sun hid for many years. The cold and the darkness nearly ended all life.”

Krillin listened, a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with their altitude. A planet-wide catastrophe… Her mind instantly flashed to the story of Kami and Piccolo—how a Namekian child had fled a dying world and crash-landed on Earth. This must have been that time.

“The Grand Elder, Guru, was the only one strong enough to survive,” Dende continued, her voice filled with reverence. “She endured the long winter alone. And when the sun finally returned, she began the Great Work.”

“The Great Work?”

“To bring life back to Namek,” Dende explained simply. “Our people do not need the beans your kind uses. When the time is right, and the will of our god is clear, a Namekian can lay eggs. Guru laid the first clutches. She was our mother. From her came the first new generation—the warriors, the healers, the dragon clan. We have been rebuilding, slowly, ever since.”

Krillin looked at the small, green girl with newfound awe. She wasn’t just a child; she was part of a miraculous, centuries-long effort to resurrect an entire civilization from the brink of extinction. The lonely, determined figure of Kami on her lookout, and the fierce, divided existence of Piccolo, suddenly felt like echoes of a much larger, more tragic story. They were all children of that same, desperate survival.

The revelation about Guru and the near-destruction of Namek settled heavily on Krillin. It painted a picture of resilience that made their own struggles feel both smaller and more connected to something vast.

After a few moments of quiet flight, Dende spoke again, her voice curious. “Krillin? What will your wishes be? When you have the Dragon Balls?”

Krillin blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Wish for? Well, to bring back our friends who were killed by the Saiyans, of course.” She then paused, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. “Wait, you said ‘wishes’? Plural?”

Dende nodded, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. “Yes. Our Dragon Balls grant three wishes.”

Three wishes. The concept was staggering. On Earth, a single, hard-won wish had been their entire goal. Now, the possibilities suddenly exploded.

“Three…” Krillin whispered, her mind racing. She looked out over the pristine, emerald world below them, then back at Dende, whose large eyes held the fresh memory of her village’s annihilation. The connection clicked into place with the force of a physical blow.

“Dende… the forces that attacked your village, the ones who killed your people… they’re the same ones who killed my friends. Frieza’s army.” Her voice grew firmer, filled with a new resolve. “Our planets are both victims. We’re fighting the same enemy.”

Dende’s expression was solemn. “Then we should fight together.”

Krillin felt a surge of protective determination. This wasn’t just about Earth anymore. It was about justice. She looked Dende squarely in the eye, her promise as solid as stone.

“We will,” Krillin vowed. “I promise you, Dende. We won’t just get our wish and leave. We’ll find a way to use the Dragon Balls to help Namek, too. We’ll stop Frieza and save your planet. You have my word.”

For the first time since her rescue, a genuine, hopeful light shone in Dende’s eyes. The journey was no longer just a desperate retrieval mission. It had become an alliance, a pact between two warriors from different worlds, united against a common, cosmic evil.

—–

The interior of the spaceship was a stark contrast to the infinite blackness outside its viewports. The hum of the gravity generator was a deep, pervasive thrum that made the very air feel thick and heavy. Five times Earth’s gravity pressed down on everything, a constant, tangible force.

Goku stood in the center of the training chamber, her legs braced, a fine sheen of sweat already coating her skin. Her muscles, fully healed, sang with the exhilarating strain. “This is great, Chi-Chi! I can really feel it working!”

Chi-Chi, standing near the control panel, watched her wife with a mix of admiration and fierce determination. She had stripped down to just her shorts and a tight tank top, her own body feeling the crushing weight. But her focus wasn’t on the gravity. It was on Goku. On the need to close the gap between them, to be strong enough to stand by her side no matter what.

“You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about how to get stronger,” Chi-Chi said, her voice a little breathless from the pressure. She pulled a small, pale futa bean from a hidden pocket. “A warrior needs to be ready for anything.”

She popped the bean into her mouth. The transformation was swift and intense. A thick, impressive cock sprang forth from between her legs, already fully erect and straining, its weight a new and potent sensation under the multiplied gravity.

Goku’s eyes widened, not in shock, but in pure, unadulterated excitement. A wide, hungry grin spread across her face. “Whoa, Chi-Chi! That’s a new one!”

“Consider it… cross-training,” Chi-Chi said, her voice dropping to a low, husky register as she strode forward. Every step was a conscious effort, her powerful thighs carrying her through the dense air until she stood before Goku.

She didn’t say another word. She simply pushed Goku back against the cool metal wall of the ship, the impact a dull thud. The gravity seemed to amplify every sensation—the coolness of the wall against Goku’s back, the heat radiating from Chi-Chi’s body, the overwhelming presence of her cock pressing against Goku’s stomach.

Chi-Chi’s hands were rough and demanding as she tugged down Goku’s shorts. She hoisted one of Goku’s legs up around her waist, opening her up. “You ready?” she breathed, her forehead resting against Goku’s.

“Always,” Goku gasped, her body already arching in anticipation.

Chi-Chi pushed inside. The feeling was staggering for both of them. For Goku, it was a filling, stretching fullness that was magnified by the gravity, each inch a delicious, heavy claim. For Chi-Chi, it was the incredible tightness and heat of her wife’s body, a resistance she had to powerfully, deliberately overcome.

She set a slow, deep, grinding rhythm. Each thrust was a monumental effort, a conscious flex of muscle and will against the planet-crushing force trying to pin them down. Their bodies slid together, slick with sweat, the sound of their joining a wet, rhythmic counterpoint to the ship’s hum.

“Fuck… Goku…” Chi-Chi grunted, her hips driving forward, burying herself to the hilt.

Goku could only moan in response, her head thrown back, her fingers scrambling for purchase on Chi-Chi’s sweat-slicked back. The pleasure was a coiling, building inferno in her core, intensified by the sheer physical challenge of the act itself. This wasn’t just sex; it was a testament to their strength, their endurance, their bond.

Chi-Chi leaned in, capturing Goku’s mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, swallowing her wife’s cries as she fucked her with a relentless, powerful pace under the crushing weight of five Gs, pushing them both toward a shattering, shared climax.

The pleasure was a white-hot coil, tightening unbearably in both of them. Chi-Chi’s thrusts became frantic, her grunts desperate. Goku was right on the edge, her body tensing, a scream building in her throat. They were seconds away from shattering together.

Suddenly, Goku’s eyes snapped wide open. Her body went rigid, not with climax, but with surprise. A familiar, booming voice echoed directly inside her skull, drowning out all other sensation.

“GOKU! HEY, GOKU! CAN YOU HEAR ME? IT’S YOUR FAVORITE GALAXY QUEEN!”

The intimate spell shattered. Chi-Chi felt Goku’s inner muscles clench in a very different way, and she froze mid-thrust, a frustrated, confused groan tearing from her lips. “Goku? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Goku’s gaze was distant, focused on a voice only she could hear. “Shh! It’s Queen Kai!”

Chi-Chi stared, her own arousal warring with sheer bewilderment. “Queen… who? Is that one of your alien girlfriends?!”

“GUESS WHO JUST SHOWED UP ON MY DOORSTEP?” Queen Kai’s telepathic voice was brimming with excitement. “YAMCHA! TIEN! CHIAOTZU! AND GET THIS—PICCOLO! THEY ALL CROAKED FIGHTING THOSE SAIYAN BRUTES AND WERE SENT TO ME! JUST LIKE YOU!”

Goku’s jaw dropped. “What?! All of them? Even Ms. Piccolo?!”

“YES! AND THEY’RE RARIN’ TO GO! THEY SAW WHAT YOU ACCOMPLISHED AND THEY WANT IN! I’M PUTTING THEM THROUGH THE SAME TRAINING, GOKU! WE’RE GONNA HAVE A WHOLE SQUAD OF EARTH’S FINEST, READY TO RUMBLE BY THE TIME YOU WISH THEM BACK!”

The news was so incredible, so monumental, that it completely overrode the interrupted passion. A brilliant, joyous smile spread across Goku’s face.

She refocused on Chi-Chi, whose expression was a volatile mix of concern, frustration, and impatience, her cock still buried deep inside her wife.

“Chi-Chi, you’re not gonna believe this!” Goku exclaimed, her voice giddy. “That was Queen Kai! She’s the ruler of the entire North Galaxy! She trained me after I died fighting Raditz! And guess what? Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, and Ms. Piccolo are all on her planet right now! They’re going to train just like I did!”

Chi-Chi blinked, the information slowly processing. The name ‘Queen Kai’ meant nothing to her, but the names of their dead friends… “They’re… they’re all there? Training?” The anger and frustration began to melt away, replaced by a dawning, hesitant hope.

“Yeah!” Goku said, her excitement infectious. “So we gotta get even stronger too! We can’t let them show us up when we see them again, right?”

She looked down at where their bodies were still joined, then back up at Chi-Chi with a renewed, determined fire in her eyes. The interruption was forgotten, transformed into fuel.

“Now,” Goku said, her grin turning wicked as she tightened her legs around Chi-Chi’s waist, “where were we?”

Chi-Chi’s mind was reeling, the heat of their interrupted passion now mingling with the staggering news. Her hips had stilled, her cock buried deep inside Goku, but her thoughts were a million light-years away.

“Wait… this Queen Kai,” Chi-Chi breathed, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Her planet… what’s it like? The training?”

Goku, still buzzing with excitement, grinned. “It’s the best! Her whole planet has ten times Earth’s gravity! Just standing up is a workout! I had to learn to move all over again. That’s where I learned the Kaio-ken and the Spirit Bomb!”

Ten times gravity.

The number hit Chi-Chi like a physical blow. Her eyes widened, then darted to the control panel for the ship’s gravity generator. The display glowed a steady, mocking ‘5.0x’.

They were only at half that. Here she was, fucking her wife under what she thought was an immense strain, while their friends—their dead friends—were already training in an environment twice as harsh. A fierce, competitive fire, hotter than any carnal desire, ignited in her chest.

“They’re already ahead of us,” she whispered, the words tasting like ash.

“Huh?” Goku asked, confused by the sudden shift.

In one fluid, decisive motion, Chi-Chi pulled out of Goku. The sudden emptiness was a shock. She ignored Goku’s sound of protest and marched, her movements already labored under the 5G load, toward the control panel.

“Chi-Chi? What are you doing?”

“If they can handle ten, so can we,” Chi-Chi stated, her voice iron. “We’re not falling behind. Not even to ghosts.”

Her finger slammed down on the control, dialing the multiplier up.

The change was instantaneous and brutal.

WHUMP.

An invisible giant’s hand slammed down on the entire chamber. The deep hum of the generator pitched higher into a strained whine. Chi-Chi, who had been standing, cried out as her legs buckled instantly. She collapsed to her hands and knees, her muscles screaming in protest, every breath a desperate, ragged gasp. The sheer, crushing weight felt like it would splinter her bones and pulp her organs. Her vision swam, the room tilting dangerously.

While Chi-Chi crumpled under the immense pressure, Goku’s body remembered. Her muscles, forged in this very crucible on Queen Kai’s planet, reacted instinctively. She grunted, her knees bending slightly to absorb the shock, but she remained standing, her stance solid. The pleasure was gone, replaced by a surge of protective alarm.

“Chi-Chi!”

She was at her wife’s side in an instant, the movement only slightly slowed by the crushing gravity. She knelt, her hands reaching out to help.

“Don’t…!” Chi-Chi gasped, the word a strained hiss. She slapped Goku’s hands away, her own trembling violently as she pressed them flat against the cold floor. Her face was a mask of agony and pure, unyielding will. Every muscle fiber screamed in protest, her lungs fighting for each shred of air. “Don’t… you dare… help me…”

With a guttural roar that seemed to tear from the very depths of her soul, Chi-Chi pushed. Her arms shook, her back straining, but she forced herself up from her hands and knees, first to one knee, then, with another explosive effort, to her feet. She stood swaying, drenched in sweat, her body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, but she was upright.

Her eyes, blazing with determination, locked onto Goku’s. Her temporary cock, which had softened slightly during the collapse, now began to stiffen again, a testament to her fierce focus.

“I said…” she panted, taking a heavy, staggering step forward. “…we were… not done.”

She reached Goku, her movements clumsy and slow-motion under the tenfold weight. She didn’t gently push Goku against the wall this time. She simply leaned into her, using Goku’s braced body for support, her own legs threatening to give way at any second.

Positioning herself was a Herculean effort. She fumbled between Goku’s legs, her movements awkward, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. But she found her mark. With a final, grunting thrust born of sheer stubbornness, she pushed back inside.

It was nothing like before. This wasn’t about skill or rhythm or mutual pleasure. This was a brutal, grinding act of pure defiance. Each shallow, struggling thrust was a victory against the gravity that sought to pin them down. It was raw, it was painful, and it was the most fiercely intimate thing they had ever shared. Chi-Chi was proving, with every fiber of her being, that she would move heaven and earth—or withstand ten times its pull—to stand by Goku’s side.

The air in the chamber was thick, heavy, tasting of sweat and sheer, straining effort. Chi-Chi’s world had narrowed to three things: the crushing weight trying to flatten her, the feel of Goku’s body against hers, and the burning need to prove herself.

Her initial, clumsy thrusts grew more determined. A guttural sound ripped from her throat, a mix of pain and furious resolve. She drove into Goku, each movement a battle won against the oppressive force. The pleasure was a distant, secondary thing; this was about conquest. Conquest over gravity, over her own limitations, over the very idea that she could be left behind.

“I… won’t… be… weak…” she grunted through clenched teeth, her hips finding a brutal, pounding rhythm.

Goku could only moan, her head lolling back against the wall. The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn’t just the deep, stretching fullness—it was the raw, physical proof of Chi-Chi’s willpower. To be fucked with such desperate, ferocious intensity under this gravity was the biggest turn-on she had ever experienced.

Then, Chi-Chi did the impossible.

With a roar that seemed to shake the ship itself, she bent her knees, her muscles screaming in protest, and lifted. She hoisted Goku’s entire body up, slamming her back against the wall for support, and hooked both of Goku’s legs over her shoulders. The strain was monumental; her entire body trembled violently with the effort of holding them both up under ten times their weight.

But she held. And from this new, dominant angle, she began to fuck Goku in earnest.

It was a ravaging. Deep, punishing strokes that stole the air from Goku’s lungs. Chi-Chi’s face was a mask of agonized ecstasy, her eyes locked on her wife’s, silently screaming, See? See what I’ll do for you?

Goku saw. And she was lost to it. Her hands scrambled against the smooth metal wall, her cries echoing in the chamber—not of pain, but of utter, complete surrender to her wife’s magnificent, stubborn strength. This was more than sex; it was a vow, forged in sweat and strain, that they would face whatever lay ahead together, as equals in power and in passion.

Chi-Chi’s world was a roaring, crimson haze of exertion. Every muscle fiber shrieked in protest, her lungs burned like they were full of fire, and the joints in her legs and back felt on the verge of shattering. But she held Goku pinned against the wall, her wife’s powerful legs draped over her shoulders, and fucked her with a single-minded, brutal focus that blocked out everything else.

The angle was devastating. With each desperate, driving thrust of her hips, her cock plunged deeper into Goku than ever before, hitting places that made Goku’s eyes roll back in her head. Goku’s own strength, usually so dominant, was useless here, surrendered completely to Chi-Chi’s overwhelming determination. Her fingers curled into fists, pounding weakly against the wall as choked, broken moans were fucked out of her.

“Is this… enough?!” Chi-Chi gasped, the words tearing from her raw throat. Sweat poured from her, dripping onto Goku’s chest and face. “Am I… strong enough… for you now?!”

Goku couldn’t form words. She could only nod frantically, her body convulsing around the cock pistoning inside her. The sight of Chi-Chi—her strong, stubborn wife—pushing her body to its absolute physical limit, all for her, was the most potent aphrodisiac in the universe. The crushing gravity amplified every sensation, turning the violation of her body into an exquisite, soul-scouring claiming.

Chi-Chi’s rhythm became frantic, losing any semblance of control. It was pure, animalistic need. Her thrusts were shorter, harder, a frantic jackhammering as she felt her own climax, a product of both physical pleasure and sheer, adrenalized willpower, clawing its way up her spine.

“Goku… I’m…!” she cried out, a warning and a plea.

That was all Goku needed. The sound of her wife’s voice breaking with release shattered her own control. Her back arched violently off the wall, a silent, breathless scream locked in her throat as her orgasm detonated, a white-hot supernova that wiped her mind clean. Her inner muscles clamped down on Chi-Chi’s cock in a series of violent, milking spasms.

The sensation tipped Chi-Chi over the edge. With a final, guttural roar of triumph, she slammed home and came, her own release a hot, pulsing flood deep inside her wife. Her legs, pushed far beyond their limit, finally gave out.

They collapsed together in a heap on the floor, a tangled, sweating, gasming mess of limbs under the relentless 10x gravity. The weight was still crushing, but now it felt like a heavy blanket, pinning them in the aftermath of their shared, hard-won climax. Chi-Chi’s body trembled uncontrollably with fatigue, but a profound, fierce satisfaction burned in her heart. She had done it. She had proven her strength, not just to Goku, but to herself.

Goku, her own body thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure and the familiar strain of 10G, pushed herself up on trembling arms. She looked at Chi-Chi, who was pale, drenched in sweat, and breathing in ragged, shallow gasps that sounded painful. A deep pang of concern lanced through her.

“Chi-Chi, let me turn it down,” Goku said softly, her hand moving toward the control panel on the wall beside them.

“No!”

Chi-Chi’s hand shot out, her fingers closing around Goku’s wrist with surprising strength. Her grip was weak, but her will was iron. She met Goku’s gaze, her dark eyes blazing with a fire that the crushing gravity couldn’t extinguish.

“If… if Queen Kai’s planet is always like this…” she panted, every word a struggle, “…then this… is my new normal.” She took another gulping breath. “I won’t be the weak one. Not when our daughter is out there. I need to be strong enough… to protect her when we find her.”

The mention of Gohan solidified her resolve. This wasn’t about pride or competition anymore. It was about a mother’s promise. She would not arrive on Namek as a liability. She would arrive as a warrior.

Goku saw the unshakable determination in her wife’s eyes. She understood it on a fundamental level. The drive to get stronger, to protect your family—it was the same fire that burned in her own heart. A slow, proud smile spread across Goku’s face. She stopped reaching for the controls and instead laid her hand over Chi-Chi’s, their fingers intertwining.

“You’re amazing, Chi-Chi,” Goku whispered, her voice filled with awe and affection. “Okay. We’ll keep it here. This is our gravity now.”

They lay there together on the floor, hands clasped, under the immense weight that sought to press them into the metal. It was no longer a punishment or a training tool alone. It was a promise. A shared burden and a shared goal. The ship hummed around them, carrying them toward an unknown battle, its interior now a permanent crucible where a mother and a wife would forge herself into the warrior she needed to be.