Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What About Pride? ❯ First Attempts ( Chapter 1 )
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By: projectsynapse 
Bulma attempts to seduce the prince into submission.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.18.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 871 | Status: Work In Progress
Bulma attempts to seduce the prince into submission.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.18.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 871 | Status: Work In Progress
“If you’re so smart, why don’t you just invent a boyfriend?”
Tears began to sting the normally crystal-clear eyes of the one and only Bulma Briefs. It was unending, unrelenting, and completely uncalled-for, but nevertheless, every day upon her arrival at school and throughout her day, the girls in her class found reasons to track her down for her daily dose of humiliation. It was obvious to everyone why they did it. She could show up the boys with her adventurous attitude and voracious appetite for new and more dangerous experiments, and when it came to the other side of the battle of the sexes, there was no contest when it came to being the prettiest, the smartest, and the most talented female around.
Not to mention that when she first arrived, she had brought with her a giant-sized attitude for such a pint-sized girl. Bulma had entered the 11th grade when she was just 13. Needless to say, 17-year-old boys weren’t exactly interested in a date with a pip-squeak. So she had kept her nose in the books, even though each night she dreamt about going to the prom with the man of her dreams. This man didn’t quite have a face in her dreams, though…yet. She was still working on that part.
But upon graduation night as she observed the title of valedictorian beneath her name on the program which was carefully framed on her parents’ mantle, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a somewhat hollow victory. Sure, she could get into any school she wanted and she would never have to worry about making a living… but didn’t she already have that by birth? Unfortunately, the only thing that would make her happy seemed to be the affections of a boy. And it couldn’t be just any boy. It would have to be her prince charming.
It was for this reason that the prospect of seven magical balls which could grant any wish (perhaps even including a…boyfriend!) sounded incredibly appealing to the teen.
-*- Ten years later -*-
“Come on, Vegeta. It’s just one night. How many nights have I spent up for hours working on your stupid training room? And you can’t even spare me a couple of hours?” Bulma stood, hands on hips, in front of her not-so-prince-charming with a look of irritation plastered on her face that could most likely kill a plant or small animal, if they were ever caught in such a glare.
“How many times must I tell you, woman? I am not about to become one of your little dress-up dolls just because you feel you’ve earned the right to parade me, the Prince of all Saiyans, no less, around your paltry Earthling gathering! ‘No’ means ‘no’, and that’s my final word on the matter!” The stocky Saiyan marched straight for his training room and ended the conversation with a loud, metal thud.
“Ooohhh!” Bulma threw her hands into the air. She had just about had it. If it weren’t for the occasion, she wouldn’t even bother any further with the matter. Most of the time when she attended galas or other such social events where most of the attendees would be bringing dates, she hadn’t even bothered to bring it up to Vegeta. She could go by herself and shine like the diamond she was, without so much as a second thought. Every once in a while, when she absolutely needed a date for the special occasion, she would drag Goku along for the free food, much to the relief of his wife who would only be cooking for two ravenous aliens that night.
However, this time it was different. This time it was her high school reunion. The big one. Twenty years. If she didn’t go, what did it say about her? Well, that didn’t matter so much as compared to what they would say about her. Her entire graduating class would continue thinking of her as the timid little Bulma with braces and tears welling up in her eyes from their vicious taunting. They wouldn’t remember her as the Bulma Briefs in the newspaper, or even the one in the tabloids. Nope, until she was in that room with them again, brimming with confidence (and a gorgeous boyfriend to boot), they would always think of her as a scared, defeated little girl.
But was it possible for her to shine through this without a date? She had given it some consideration and the answer, sadly, was no. She couldn’t just show up and expect anyone (namely her arch nemeses, Electra Vossler and Natasha Ruford - the two most popular girls back in high school who seemed to delight in her torture the most) to show her half as much respect as they would if she brought along a hunk for a date. Especially a hunk with as much class and debonair dignity about him as the prince had…which ruled out Goku for a stand-in, since she couldn’t risk a single mistake on his part. Certainly she wouldn’t want a repeat of the last ball she had attended with the oafish (but well-meaning) Saiyan. He had turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer, and had followed up his performance by emptying several people’s plates around the table they shared with the vice president of the company sponsoring the event. Needless to say, they weren’t invited to the spring gala.
In other words, there were no other options that she could see at the moment. Bulma would either convince the prince to go with her, or die trying. She didn’t expect the latter option to come into play, though, as she knew her brains just about as well as she knew her body.
In keeping with her plan, later that night Bulma wrapped herself in her most stunning negligèe just as she expected Vegeta to come in from his training. The kids were in bed, the servants had all gone home, and the house was completely quiet save for the rushing of water in their shared master bathroom. He must have entered the room from the opposite side so as to avoid her. But there would be no avoiding what she had in store for him once he got out.
A few minutes later the prince emerged from the foggy room, wrapped only in a white towel that complimented his golden skin. As she gazed at him, pausing only to make sure her drool wasn’t actually leaving her mouth, she suddenly realized just how ingenious this whole thing was, and how…beneficial it would turn out for the both of them.
Vegeta unheedingly stalked to the other side of the room, searching for a change of clothes. He pulled a tank top from his drawer, then continued to search vigorously through his belongings. After a good amount of time had passed, he suddenly whirled around with a scowl on his face. “Woman! Where did your worthless housekeepers put my-”
It was at that moment that the scowl faded into a slightly more surprised expression. He then cleared his throat, so as not to appear fazed. “What…what are you wearing?”
She smiled seductively. “Mmm…do you like it, my prince?” Inside, she grinned devilishly. She knew just how much to stroke his ego when she wanted something.
His towel drooped to one side. “I…er, yes, I like it very much.” Realizing how very un-princely he must look at that moment, he suddenly arched his back and regained his posture. Then he continued in a more commanding tone. “So I see you’ve learned how to behave.” He approached the bed with a glint in his eye.
She bristled at the comment, but retained her seductive pose. “Oh, yes. I know how to behave when I…want something.”
“Oh?” the prince asked, beginning to nuzzle her collarbone and working his hands down toward the clasp of her delicate garment. “And by something you mean…me, hm?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper.
“Mmm, yes. That, and…” she pressed her lips up against his ear. “A date.”
He stopped working at the clasp just as it popped open. “What do you mean, a date?” he asked in a more questioning, less sexy tone.
“You know…a date,” she said casually. “We dress up, we go out, we meet people, maybe dance a little…”
“You don’t mean just a date, do you?” He sat up accusingly. “You still insist on bringing me to that asinine gathering of schoolmates, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. “Well…”
He stood up from the bed violently. “You are above nothing, are you, woman? Put some clothes on. Don’t assume you can lure the Prince of all Saiyans into an agreement through the use of your body.” He pulled his head through the tank top, then narrowed his eyes at her. “You sicken me sometimes.”
“Hey!” she snapped the back of the dress closed hastily. “That was uncalled-for.”
“As were your actions tonight,” he shot back. “I will be sleeping in the guest room. Goodnight, tramp.”
“Goodnight, ass!” She shouted back, offended, as he slammed the door on his way out. “Ugh!” she beat her pillow into submission. Although she blamed herself for making the assumption in the first place, this was going to be harder than she thought.
Tears began to sting the normally crystal-clear eyes of the one and only Bulma Briefs. It was unending, unrelenting, and completely uncalled-for, but nevertheless, every day upon her arrival at school and throughout her day, the girls in her class found reasons to track her down for her daily dose of humiliation. It was obvious to everyone why they did it. She could show up the boys with her adventurous attitude and voracious appetite for new and more dangerous experiments, and when it came to the other side of the battle of the sexes, there was no contest when it came to being the prettiest, the smartest, and the most talented female around.
Not to mention that when she first arrived, she had brought with her a giant-sized attitude for such a pint-sized girl. Bulma had entered the 11th grade when she was just 13. Needless to say, 17-year-old boys weren’t exactly interested in a date with a pip-squeak. So she had kept her nose in the books, even though each night she dreamt about going to the prom with the man of her dreams. This man didn’t quite have a face in her dreams, though…yet. She was still working on that part.
But upon graduation night as she observed the title of valedictorian beneath her name on the program which was carefully framed on her parents’ mantle, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a somewhat hollow victory. Sure, she could get into any school she wanted and she would never have to worry about making a living… but didn’t she already have that by birth? Unfortunately, the only thing that would make her happy seemed to be the affections of a boy. And it couldn’t be just any boy. It would have to be her prince charming.
It was for this reason that the prospect of seven magical balls which could grant any wish (perhaps even including a…boyfriend!) sounded incredibly appealing to the teen.
-*- Ten years later -*-
“Come on, Vegeta. It’s just one night. How many nights have I spent up for hours working on your stupid training room? And you can’t even spare me a couple of hours?” Bulma stood, hands on hips, in front of her not-so-prince-charming with a look of irritation plastered on her face that could most likely kill a plant or small animal, if they were ever caught in such a glare.
“How many times must I tell you, woman? I am not about to become one of your little dress-up dolls just because you feel you’ve earned the right to parade me, the Prince of all Saiyans, no less, around your paltry Earthling gathering! ‘No’ means ‘no’, and that’s my final word on the matter!” The stocky Saiyan marched straight for his training room and ended the conversation with a loud, metal thud.
“Ooohhh!” Bulma threw her hands into the air. She had just about had it. If it weren’t for the occasion, she wouldn’t even bother any further with the matter. Most of the time when she attended galas or other such social events where most of the attendees would be bringing dates, she hadn’t even bothered to bring it up to Vegeta. She could go by herself and shine like the diamond she was, without so much as a second thought. Every once in a while, when she absolutely needed a date for the special occasion, she would drag Goku along for the free food, much to the relief of his wife who would only be cooking for two ravenous aliens that night.
However, this time it was different. This time it was her high school reunion. The big one. Twenty years. If she didn’t go, what did it say about her? Well, that didn’t matter so much as compared to what they would say about her. Her entire graduating class would continue thinking of her as the timid little Bulma with braces and tears welling up in her eyes from their vicious taunting. They wouldn’t remember her as the Bulma Briefs in the newspaper, or even the one in the tabloids. Nope, until she was in that room with them again, brimming with confidence (and a gorgeous boyfriend to boot), they would always think of her as a scared, defeated little girl.
But was it possible for her to shine through this without a date? She had given it some consideration and the answer, sadly, was no. She couldn’t just show up and expect anyone (namely her arch nemeses, Electra Vossler and Natasha Ruford - the two most popular girls back in high school who seemed to delight in her torture the most) to show her half as much respect as they would if she brought along a hunk for a date. Especially a hunk with as much class and debonair dignity about him as the prince had…which ruled out Goku for a stand-in, since she couldn’t risk a single mistake on his part. Certainly she wouldn’t want a repeat of the last ball she had attended with the oafish (but well-meaning) Saiyan. He had turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer, and had followed up his performance by emptying several people’s plates around the table they shared with the vice president of the company sponsoring the event. Needless to say, they weren’t invited to the spring gala.
In other words, there were no other options that she could see at the moment. Bulma would either convince the prince to go with her, or die trying. She didn’t expect the latter option to come into play, though, as she knew her brains just about as well as she knew her body.
In keeping with her plan, later that night Bulma wrapped herself in her most stunning negligèe just as she expected Vegeta to come in from his training. The kids were in bed, the servants had all gone home, and the house was completely quiet save for the rushing of water in their shared master bathroom. He must have entered the room from the opposite side so as to avoid her. But there would be no avoiding what she had in store for him once he got out.
A few minutes later the prince emerged from the foggy room, wrapped only in a white towel that complimented his golden skin. As she gazed at him, pausing only to make sure her drool wasn’t actually leaving her mouth, she suddenly realized just how ingenious this whole thing was, and how…beneficial it would turn out for the both of them.
Vegeta unheedingly stalked to the other side of the room, searching for a change of clothes. He pulled a tank top from his drawer, then continued to search vigorously through his belongings. After a good amount of time had passed, he suddenly whirled around with a scowl on his face. “Woman! Where did your worthless housekeepers put my-”
It was at that moment that the scowl faded into a slightly more surprised expression. He then cleared his throat, so as not to appear fazed. “What…what are you wearing?”
She smiled seductively. “Mmm…do you like it, my prince?” Inside, she grinned devilishly. She knew just how much to stroke his ego when she wanted something.
His towel drooped to one side. “I…er, yes, I like it very much.” Realizing how very un-princely he must look at that moment, he suddenly arched his back and regained his posture. Then he continued in a more commanding tone. “So I see you’ve learned how to behave.” He approached the bed with a glint in his eye.
She bristled at the comment, but retained her seductive pose. “Oh, yes. I know how to behave when I…want something.”
“Oh?” the prince asked, beginning to nuzzle her collarbone and working his hands down toward the clasp of her delicate garment. “And by something you mean…me, hm?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper.
“Mmm, yes. That, and…” she pressed her lips up against his ear. “A date.”
He stopped working at the clasp just as it popped open. “What do you mean, a date?” he asked in a more questioning, less sexy tone.
“You know…a date,” she said casually. “We dress up, we go out, we meet people, maybe dance a little…”
“You don’t mean just a date, do you?” He sat up accusingly. “You still insist on bringing me to that asinine gathering of schoolmates, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. “Well…”
He stood up from the bed violently. “You are above nothing, are you, woman? Put some clothes on. Don’t assume you can lure the Prince of all Saiyans into an agreement through the use of your body.” He pulled his head through the tank top, then narrowed his eyes at her. “You sicken me sometimes.”
“Hey!” she snapped the back of the dress closed hastily. “That was uncalled-for.”
“As were your actions tonight,” he shot back. “I will be sleeping in the guest room. Goodnight, tramp.”
“Goodnight, ass!” She shouted back, offended, as he slammed the door on his way out. “Ugh!” she beat her pillow into submission. Although she blamed herself for making the assumption in the first place, this was going to be harder than she thought.