Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters I have chosen to borrow for this story.
“Another one?” His secretary asked, running to keep up with him as they went down the staircase of the main building. “That’s your sixth this week. Isn’t that pushing it, even for you?”
He looked over at her, face void of any feeling or reaction.
“No.” he grabbed an envelope away from her, opening it up and examining the papers inside.
“He’ll be hard to replace,” she grumbled, examining her own stack of documents.
“I pray you’re referring to the company.” He snorted.
“Trunks, this obsession you have for sex is driving you mad,” the doctor explained. “You use outward physical attachments in place of any emotional ones.”
“Well,” Trunks sighed, playing with the stress reliever ball his mother had given him. “Physical attachments are more exciting than anything emotional, doc. Less crap to accompany them, maximum pleasure, minimum bullshit.”
The doctor sighed, leaning back into his red chair that clashed with the dreary tone of his office. He thumbed his beard, glancing over his glasses at the young man that sat so casually, flopped over the arm rest of his concentration couch. A young man so beautiful that it seemed Aphrodite herself would burn away with jealousy. Beautiful, stunning, yes, but monstrously detached from the world. Selfish, vain to the point of extreme narcissism and an undoubtedly cruel individual.
Like a fictional vampire, the president of such a lucrative company preyed upon his unsuspecting victims: one glance, one smile, one anything and they were offering their necks to him despite the well known price. For eight years he had watched the 24 year old grow, expand, mutate into this cold, calculating soldier, constantly on missions, constantly inventing new ways of torment.
At first, he had been unable to contemplate the 16 year old that had been sent to him, watching as the boy had so nonchalantly exposed his sexual preference in front of his mother, the doctor catching a glimpse of a smile when the poor woman burst into tears. He loved to shock, he loved attention, he thrived on the pain of others.
And the true horror of it was that there was no reason why. Serial killers, pedophiles, rapists- they have their reasons. Not excuses, but reasons. Trunks Briefs? He merely enjoyed it.
Perhaps inherited down from his sadistic father, rather then physically attacking people, Trunks adored nothing more than watching the reactions portrayed from a broken heart. He had more then 12 lovers at a time, men and women, that he would essentially date, leading them on for months, lying, playing, teasing their fickle human nature. And when he had gotten what he wanted, succeeded in thrilling them to the point of infatuation and sometimes even dangerous obsession, he would watch each emotion play out like a predictable movie right before his eyes. Like watching the same rerun over and over and over again…only, it never sated his need for it.
“Trunks,” the doctor sighed again, getting out his notebook and pen. “Let’s go through this again. Why don’t YOU tell me what you think the problem is.”
“Well that might be a tad difficult if I refuse to believe there is a problem, now wouldn’t it?” he smartly replied.
“You hurt people for a hobby.” The doctor looked at him squarely. “I used to believe it was because you couldn’t inflict physical pain upon them that you compensated for emotional. But now, I don’t believe anything would hold you back if you were inclined towards physical violence. But you’re not. For eight years I’ve watched you grow, thinking, praying, imagining that you would shed this dreadful obsession. But you haven’t. Rather, you’ve only honed your skills at it. Why do you enjoy hurting people Trunks?”
The tan face fell cold throughout the doctor’s description, haunting blue eyes demanding silence. It was hard to look at Trunks. It was hard to stare into that ethereal face, those immaculate, God-like features and try to remember the monster behind the mask. The face of an angel and the soulless insides of a devil.
“I don’t so much think I am hurting them, doc,” the younger man replied, relaxing slightly. “It’s all a matter of how you choose to see it. What is life without emotion, without pain? Answer me that. What more am I doing than supplying them with a crucial reminder of life? You act like I’m this heartless, savage beast when I’m simply renewing them. What is life but the emotions and interactions we have on the way to death?
“You say I give them pain. I provide them with LIFE! I make them feel, I make them love for the first time, make them feel as they’ve never felt in their lives. And I break them just the same, giving them that slap in the face that brings them out of a dream world and sinks them back into reality. I make them live as they have never lived before. And I fuck them mercilessly and thoughtlessly.
“You say I have a problem when you know it’s a lie. The world would love to hate me but in all truth, people just want to BE me. I am the epitome of what these humans wish they were. They say they hate me? They ENVY me. Let the world drown itself in its emotional attachments. I do what I want, I say what I want, I fuck what I want and I give no apologies for it later. I have the qualities that people only dream of.”
“Perhaps.” Nodded the doctor. “Or perhaps it’s the other way around.”
The young saiyan’s face went colder, all expression leaving.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Maybe you’re envious of them Trunks. Maybe, deep down, you dream of experiencing what you can only inflict.”
“Ludicrous.” He spat.
“Maybe that’s why you do it Trunks. Maybe that’s why you give them pain. Maybe that’s why you make them hurt. You do it because it’s a gift of what you can never have. You give them feelings, Trunks.”
“I think that’s quite enough for today, don’t you agree doctor.” Trunks got to his feet, looking somewhat paler and less calm.
“Yes,” the doctor sighed, nodding his head.
“God knows I wouldn’t even come here if that wretched mother of mine didn’t insist on it.”
“You’re mother is an astounding woman,” the old man informed him. “She obviously cares about you very much.”
“My mother is a withering old hag with a severe case of emotional diarrhea,” he said wickedly, throwing his coat on. “See if you can cure that doctor.”
“And how do you feel about your dad?” the doctor inquired, wanting to elongate the conversation as, for once, Trunks was expressing something that resembled emotion.
“My dad? You mean that distant piece of throbbing, rock hard cock that looks about two days older then me?” the younger man was enthralled by the look of disgust on the elder’s face. “What? Does the idea of me wanting to fuck my daddy upset you doctor Camden?”
“You’re trying to get a rise out of me.” came the reply. “It won’t work.”
The young man sobered, smile melting slowly.
“Perhaps,” he nodded. “Perhaps.”