“And that’s how it went.” Bulma shrugged, sniffing and wiping the tears from her eyes. “I worked at the hospital not even a month when a dying patient regrettably told me his life’s secret. That there were seven large marbles, the color of a fire’s base, that could grant me anything I wanted. For weeks I mulled over these thoughts, staying in a woman’s shelter at night, dreaming of a day when I would own an apartment of some sort.
“I was poor Goku, believe it or not. I ate at the hospital because I had just enough money to buy the discounted food. I had my scrubs for clothes and I usually was forced to sleep in them as most of my clothes were among the missing by the first two weeks.
“Realizing that my dreams weren’t going to be fulfilled as soon as I had hoped, I snuck home during the day time hours, stealing a case full of capsules, trusting my father’s habitual hibernation in his laboratory, and avoiding my eccentric mother at all costs. And off I went, using whatever mental skills I had acquired or already possessed through genes and creating a device that could locate any marble based substance that was around the size that the unfortunate deceased had described. And then I found you.”
She looked into my eyes, a small, Mona Lisa smile creepy onto her mouth.
“There you were in the middle of no where. My little savior. My little hero, carrying your big fish and beating my car.”
I forced a small chuckle, resting my forehead against hers and looking down at her crossed legs, tempted for just an instant to touch her thigh and feel the warmth of her human body through her tight jeans.
“And I realized what my wish would be.” She whispered. “I wanted to marry someone like you.”
I lifted my head in the ultimate stupor, staring at her and feeling my heart tighten.
“I wanted a boy that I could make into my own mold. Someone I could ensure was perfect and would never hit me. I couldn’t very well spend my life alone, with no one, never being married or having a family. And so I wanted to ensure that I never made the mistake my mother made of marrying a monster. What better way than to create exactly what you want? But I realized all too quickly, you cant make people the way that you want them can you?
“And so when I met Yamcha, an embarrassingly shy desert hoodlum, I wanted him immediately. If he was too afraid to simply have a conversation with me, to lay a hand upon me would have been a commodity he’d never possess. And I rivaled in the fact that I could treat him like dirt, surely you know this Goku.
“You watched how I was with him, always screaming, always the high tempered bitch to anyone around me. Always the bossy, self confident, domineering monster of a woman that men like you and Krillin would have avoided altogether if you could, and don’t pretend you wouldn’t have!”
I smiled shyly again, shaking my head and feeling the short spikes of my hair run along hers.
“But I want you to know that when I acted like that, when I screamed and treated everyone like dirt, when I bossed and insulted, I loved every minute of it.” She said with a grin. “How often did a girl who’d been afraid of men altogether, get to insult them and put them in their place with her own intelligence? It seemed like every time I treated Yamcha bad, made him do what I wanted, it was like I was slapping my father in the face. Like I was proving to him that I would NEVER be treated like that again. That time was over for me.
“And every time that I frustrated and hurt Yamcha with cold, heartless words, a deep part of me didn’t care because in some way, I was saying those things to my father. I was distancing myself from dad with every fight, and too blind to see that I was doing the same to Yamcha.
“But I kept my promise to my father,” she said, her smile fading. “I own twelve home’s for women in this city and countless others around the world. I’ve built entire corporations bent on ending spousal abuse and cruelty to women and children. I’ve donated unspeakable amounts to charities and to organizations for child services and protection. I own a hotline for women who suffer from abuse. And in every dime I give to these causes, its just another slap in my father’s face.”
“You’re a good person Bulma.” I said softly, nuzzling her ear only by accident as I moved closer. “You’re a strong person.”
“Am I?” she whispered wistfully, looking forwards in a daze. “Am I such a good person? Am I so strong anymore? I hardly know. It seems that in my causes, my endeavors to reek vengeance on my father, I’ve lost any amount of happiness I might have had. In a way, he’ll always control me. I cant trust men, I cant form attachments, I cant love. In so many ways, I wonder if life might have been different had I developed the courage sooner. Every day, I wonder in my heart if I could even cry at his funeral.
“You say I’m strong. But maybe I’m stupid.”
“Why would you say such a thing?” I scoffed, pushing her hair behind her forehead.
“Aren’t I making the very mistake I always promised myself I wouldn’t?” She looked directly into my eyes. “Do you see the same goodness in Vegeta, Goku?”
I couldn’t speak for a moment, trying to form words that were a complete lie. Vegeta was not good. Not in the way that Bulma was. There was a purity in her heart, a fullness. A completeness.
“Surely there’s good in him.” I said kindly, rubbing her back. Lying out of my teeth.
“There is good in my father too.” She said seriously. “But there is also a darkness in Vegeta isn’t there? A hatred and a contempt for life that he carries with him constantly. He would never treat me good. And yet my heart aches when he’s around.”
She placed her fingers gently on my face, one by one, her thumb moving on my cheek.
“I love him Goku.” She whispered, and I realized to my horror, that she truly meant it. She loved the creature that I created gross adultery with nearly every night. She’d given her crushed and broken heart, so sacred and so rarely offered, to the one person in this universe who could never understand the sacrifice it had cost her.
“I love him in that blind way that makes others look at you and shake their heads. In the way outsiders can never understand. The blind way. Yes. Yes, that’s the perfect word for it. I love him blindly. But I can’t tell my heart to shut off. I shut it off for too long with Yamcha, refusing to give that to him, lest it be the last bit of me my father hadn’t truly destroyed.
“I’ve used men Goku. I’ve slept with men I didn’t love and I’ve done it because it makes me feel alive. It makes me feel like they love me and I have the power simply because I don’t love them. I make men fall for me and I break them all the same because I can. Because it feels good to hurt, and to wound, and to break. Misery loves company. And I’m tired of being alone.
“And now I fall for the man who’s just like my father, like so many girls in my case do. Don’t you find it unfair? Don’t you find it ironic that we always marry men like our fathers? Girls with nice fathers meet nice men. Girls who have been tortured by their dads find men just like them to continue the cycle. So sad. You’d think that after so many years of fear, a girl would deserve to be treated right and would know a bad guy when she sees them. But I’m attracted to men who would treat me bad and there’s nothing I can do about it. The horrific cycle. A joke from God.”
“But Vegeta isn’t like your father Bulma.” I said reassuringly. “Vegeta is what you see. He doesn’t pretend to be good hearted and kind, only to turn into a snake later on. Perhaps what people didn’t see in your father was the evil. Perhaps what we don’t see in Vegeta, is the good. Give him a chance and let yourself love for once. You owe yourself that much.”
She smiled, gazing into my face in a way I’d only seen her do to Vegeta, making me suddenly uncomfortable in our close position on the floor. There were tears in her eyes as if she had a never ending supply and when she kissed me on the cheek, I was too startled to respond.
“There’s only one other man in this world I could ever love as much as you Goku.” She breathed, her hot tears rubbing onto my cheek. “And even then, you’ll always be competition for him.”
“Why do you say such things?” I sighed.
It seemed I was becoming intoxicated by her, my senses dulling and the sound of my heart beat flooding my ears. I could feel her closeness to me like a drug, running its course through my system and slowly building and exciting me. I began to think of scenarios and rotten, forbidden ideas, picturing how it would be to commit sin of my own accord, without the help of Vegeta to force me through. What would it be like to be the seducer, to make her do things that she didn’t want to, but knew she needed? And the harder I pushed these thoughts down, the more came to take their place.
“You tempt me.” I whispered, feeling as if it was someone else using my voice. “You make me want to pull you closer.”
And as my voice said these things, I felt her body being held closer to my own, my arm being the culprit as it, of its own accord, yanked her against my chest and the other held her chin gently.
“You make me want to do things I shouldn’t.” My voice said in a sultry tone I didn’t know I possessed, the sheer sound of it dripping with masculine sex. I began to kiss the sides of her jaw line, hearing her breathing change from quiet to rapid and excited as she let me do the unthinkable, her life long friend holding her tightly and kissing her in the way that only lovers did.
I let my fingers slid down her throat, feeling the little curves of her collarbone, feeling her chest move up and down as I finally kissed her on the mouth, the dry, soft flesh bending as I pressed my lips to it.
“Do you want this?” I whispered against her mouth as we both closed our eyes. I pulled her forcefully onto my lap, making her feel my strength between her legs, making the thick crease of her pants dig into her special spot as I grinded against it. She groaned as I pushed, both of us realizing we were going too far to stop now.
“Tell me you want this.” I demanded, pounding hard into her, gripping her hips forcefully and making her dig into my groin. She gasped as my hardness pressed against her covered vagina, looking down into my eyes and pressing her breasts into my throat.
“I…….” She stammered, goaded on by another dry, sexual thrust. “I want it,” she breathed into the ceiling. “I want it.”
