Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yamcha's Wish ❯ Chapter 1

Yamcha's Wish

by Debby Dea

"Your wish has been granted."

The deep, booming voice of Shenlong never sounded so good as it did to Yamcha's ears right then. Even as the dragonballs lifted high in the air and soared off in seven different directions, he jumped and shouted for joy. It was the happiest he had been in months.

Ever since the Saiyan Prince moved into Bulma's house with them, his life had spiraled down into the proverbial toilet. As hard as he tried, there was no way he could compete with Vegeta - both physically and for Bulma's attentions. He had never met a more demanding man in his life. Bit by bit, Bulma spent less time with Yamcha and more time catering to her new tenant.

Vegeta's mysterious evil past, devilishly good looks and rock solid body had made it hard for even Yamcha to ignore him. If he had been able to afford it, he would have moved out as soon as the arrogant Saiyan prince moved in, but he was determined to keep an eye on Vegeta for Bulma's safety.

Out of sheer frustration, Yamcha started to go out more and more. He loved the night-life, but since Bulma liked staying home, he found himself sitting on a couch night after night. When he found himself sitting there by himself, he couldn't stand it any longer. The flashy night clubs beckoned to him, almost calling him home.

Being well built and, he believed, passably handsome, the girls flocked around him. They didn't seem to care that he never had any money. They bought him drinks as they listened to his stories of his desert bandit days, martial arts training, and all the fights he had been in. They caressed his scars and ran their fingers through his short, black hair. His bruised ego was soothed by the pretty women's attentions. By the time he returned to Bulma, he was pleasantly numb - and usually horny as hell!

Bulma would complain every now and then that he kept disappearing, but since he always returned to her eager to hop in bed, she knew he wasn't cheating on her. When her complaining ceased altogether, Yamcha should have suspected something was wrong. When her lovemaking began to become routine, he knew it.

After Vegeta's accident in the gravity chamber, everything changed. Bulma refused to leave the injured man's side no matter how hard Yamcha tried to seduce her. He even tried keeping her company while she kept vigil, but looking at man who had been responsible for so many deaths, including is own, made him too angry. He began to spend more time at the clubs, dancing and drinking with the women. By the time Vegeta was pronounced healthy and returned to training, Yamcha had become addicted to the night-life.

One morning, he awoke in Bulma's bed with a massive hangover and no memory of what happened the night before. That's when he decided something had to be done. If he couldn't even remember if he had enjoyed Bulma's company or not, he was not worthy of her.

He rolled over, meaning to wake her to apologize, and found a muscular arm wrapped around Bulma's waist. His head pounded and his stomach rolled as he struggled to lift himself up to look over her shoulder. A cold shaft of dread ran up his spine at the sight of the familiar black, spiky hair nestled against his girlfriend's back.

"Bulma?!" he whispered urgently, trying to wake her without waking Vegeta. Her eyes opened slowly and she gave him a sleepy smile.

"Good morning," she whispered huskily.

"Bulma, what is Vegeta doing in your bed?"

She glanced behind her and smiled broader. "Sleeping better than he has for a long time, I'd guess," she said.

"Bulma!" Yamcha whispered, exasperated by how casual she was being. "Why is he sleeping here? With his arm around you?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean? Don't you remember last night?"

Yamcha blushed guiltily and shook his head.

"This was your bright idea!" Bulma hissed back at him, glancing back to make sure she hadn't woken the Saiyan. "You've got to remember!"

Again, he shook his head.

Bulma let out a huff of breath. "You came home and insisted that we have a three-way! You were babbling something about being willing to share me as long as it was with someone as sexy as Vegeta! You wouldn't shut up about it until he agreed! And now you're telling me you don't remember anything?!"

Yamcha felt sick. He was blushing so hard, he was feverish. Tears filled his eyes as the massive guilt that lay heavy on his heart became more than he could bear.

"I'm sorry, Bulma," he nearly cried. "I am so sorry I put you through that."

"Sorry?" she asked, her eyes wide. She sighed and shook her head. "I can't believe you forgot something that spectacular!"

Yamcha barely made it to the toilet in time. As he retched up the undigested drinks from the previous night, he strived to remember anything at all. The dull ache in his naked backside was proof that something happened.

When he was sure his stomach was empty, he dragged himself up to the sink and splashed cold water on his face and neck. He froze when he heard footsteps over the sound of the running water. From his bent over position, he cautiously watched Vegeta's reflection in the mirror as he walked passed him to relieve himself in the toilet.

Yamcha couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. The thought of what Bulma told him he said and what may have happened last night combined with the vision of Vegeta's naked form was almost more than his brain could handle.

He had only seen Vegeta nude for a brief minute before this. Right after his accident, Yamcha had carried Vegeta into the house and helped Bulma undress him and check for injuries. But that was no comparison to this view. Vegeta's muscles undulated as he stretched, but to Yamcha they looked as if they had been carved out of pure granite. He more resembled a moving statue of a god than a living man.

Vegeta sensed Yamcha staring at him and turned to face him, his fists on his lean hips and his legs slightly more apart than normal. It dawned on him that Vegeta was making sure Yamcha got a good look at his perfect body. It also dawned on him what position he was currently in - standing, naked, still bent over the sink. Yamcha swallowed hard as a blush burned across his face and down his neck, but he was unable to look away.

Vegeta gave a snort of amusement before turning to step into the shower. The last thing Yamcha saw before the door closed was the smug look of superiority on Vegeta's face.

A decision bothered Yamcha all day. Should he leave or stay? If he left, he would be sacrificing Bulma to the likes of Vegeta. If he stayed, he would be sacrificing himself. Neither thought sat well with him.

The only constant in his life was Puar. His best friend had stood beside him through thick and thin. So when he couldn't make up his mind, he consulted the blue cat.

"Oh, Yamcha!" Puar said in shock. "How could you do something like that? I know you want to stay with Bulma, but that Saiyan had you killed!"

"I know! I know!" Yamcha said and dropped down onto the chair in his bedroom. "If only there was some way to get him to leave."

"Poor Yamcha," Puar purred and floated down to rub the back of his neck.

"But I've loved Bulma for years and want to marry her someday. If I leave now, she'll never forgive me! I don't know if I can live without her, Puar!" he cried out.

"Yamcha," Puar began, settling on his lap to look him in the eye, "we've been without Bulma before. Remember?"

In a poof, Puar transformed into an exaggerated version of a beautiful blonde and began rubbing against the front of Yamcha's pants. He sighed and smiled at the familiar feeling. Even though the cat's transformations didn't look real, they sure felt real. But then an image of Bulma flashed in his head.

"I'm sorry, Puar," he said and a sad Puar poofed back to his normal state. Yamcha stroked the cat's ears. "I'm going to stay until I've either convinced Bulma to marry me or get rid of Vegeta."

To Yamcha's dread, Bulma announced at supper that she wanted a repeat performance of last night's escapade. When Vegeta grunted his assent while reaching for his fifth helping of noodles, Yamcha knew he couldn't back down. Secretly, he snuck a bottle of Vodka back to his room.

"If it worked before, it should work again," he reasoned to Puar - who just shook his head sadly as Yamcha drank.

The alcohol did boost his courage, but didn't allow Yamcha to forget any of the sordid details. The next morning found him with a splitting headache and Vegeta's arm flung casually across his chest. Bulma stirred on his other side and slid her knee up to his groin. Helplessly trapped, Yamcha closed his eyes and tried to picture a woman in Vegeta's place - a buxom blonde, a sassy brunette, a fiery redhead, a passionate blue-hair. But each image was shattered by the memory of what he had done with Vegeta that night.

For the next couple of weeks, Yamcha tried to talk Bulma out of inviting Vegeta to join them. Each time, she laughed and reminded him of how much fun they were all having. He tried to get her to ask him to leave. She reminded him that he had nowhere to go. He asked her to marry him. She reminded him of all the times they had broken up before.

It was after a particularly grueling evening that an idea began to form in Yamcha's mind. It would mean being away from Bulma for a while, but at least it would also get him away from Vegeta. Their activities were getting more creatively erotic, but deep down he was repulsed by the way he was aroused by it. He had to make it stop - or go crazy.

On the pretense of going off to train, Yamcha snuck off with Bulma's dragon radar and began the month long search for all seven dragonballs. His plan was all set in his mind and he was positive the dragon, Shenlong, would be able to successfully grant his wish.

Yamcha flew the Capsule Corp. jet back as fast as it would go, the seven dragonballs safely nestled in a box in the back. He had been tempted to make his wish in the scorching desert he had found the last dragonball, but wanted to see the look on Vegeta's face when he heard the wish before the mighty dragon.

"Yamcha!" Bulma called as he descended from the jet. He waved back, resisting the urge to run to her and carry her off to the bedroom - alone.

"Bulma, I've missed you so much," he said as he gave her a hug. But when he tried to kiss her, she turned away. "What's wrong?"

"I've got something to tell you," she said and led him inside the house. "I guess there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just come out with it. I'm pregnant."

At first, Yamcha just stared in shock. Then a wide grin spread across his face. It was the answer to his prayers; the perfect way to keep Bulma forever. "This is great, Bulma! I'm so excited! I can't wait to be a father!"

"I did a scan, Yamcha," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders to get his full attention. "The baby isn't. . .I mean I did a DNA test and everything. . ."

"What are you saying? There's something wrong with it?" he asked, his heart in his throat. "Is the baby going to be all right?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. It's . . . just not yours. It's Vegeta's."

Yamcha's world came crashing down around him and he crumpled down onto the sofa behind him. He wanted to feel betrayed, but couldn't. It had been his drunken, bright idea that lead Vegeta to her bed in the first place. And he hadn't been strong enough to stop it after that first time.

"Is he going to marry you?" he distantly heard his mouth ask.

Bulma sighed and sat down in a chair. "I really don't think Vegeta is the marrying kind," she admitted.

"Then marry me!" Yamcha said, suddenly finding a ray of hope to cling to. "You know I love you. I could learn to love the baby, too."

"No," she said, sadly shaking her head. "That wouldn't be fair to any of us. I want the baby to know its heritage. I don't want to have you look at him or her and always see Vegeta." She took a deep breath before adding, "Besides . . . as much as I care about you, I've fallen in love with Vegeta and want to try and make it work between us."

Yamcha felt completely empty. He walked up to his bedroom as if in a trance. Although Bulma assured him he was more than welcome to stay, he packed to leave. He just couldn't stand being reminded of his loss day in and day out. Or risk being asked into the same bed as Vegeta again.

"But where will you go?" Bulma asked as he loaded his suitcase in the jet, being careful to hide the dragonballs from her.

Yamcha looked down at the woman he had loved for so many years. Whom he still loved. He knew if he didn't break it off clean with her, she would consider him a close friend that she would continually be dropping in on. It would drive him absolutely mad to watch her steadily grow larger with Vegeta's child.

There was only one way he knew she wouldn't be tempted to find him. And it was an easy enough lie to pull off, considering his less than perfect past record.

"Well," he began, forcing a sheepishly guilty look on his face, "to tell the truth . . . I wasn't training all this time. I went down to the beach for a little relaxation and . . . you know . . . one thing led to another . . . and I was . . . invited to stay there."

He knew by the look on her face that he had hit his mark. She gave him a sharp reply and disappeared into the house. He was glad, too. That way, she couldn't see how it hurt him to hurt her.

"Are we going to Master Roshi's?" Puar asked.

"Not right away," he sighed, looking longingly at the Capsule Corp. house as the jet lifted off the ground. "I just want to be alone for a while." He gave Puar a sad smile. "With you, of course."

He flew to an old, abandoned cabin he had discovered during his search for the dragonballs. It was far enough away from anyone or anything for him to be able to work through his sorrow. During the day he trained, half-heartedly, to be ready to fight against the foretold androids. At night, Puar did his best to help him forget how lonely he felt.

The dragonballs sat, unused, until Yamcha could think of what wish he wanted to ask for. His original idea wouldn't be fair to Bulma, and he didn't want to make a vindictive wish if it meant Bulma's unhappiness.

One day, after giving up on training due to lack of concentration, the perfect wish came to him as he walked back toward the cabin. Excited, he grabbed the box of balls and hurried off to a clearing in the woods. Puar tried to ask him what was going on, but Yamcha was in too much of a hurry to answer.

"What is your wish?"

No matter how many times Yamcha saw the impressive dragon, Shenlong, he knew he would always be this nervous. A monster that enormous could wipe out an entire city with a snort of one nostril. How something that powerful could be completely contained by seven small, starred balls was a mystery to him.

Yamcha made his wish and waited, breathlessly, to see if the dragon would be able to do it. After the wish had been granted, he raced back to the cabin. Nearly shaking with anticipation, he threw open the door.

"Yamcha! Did you do this?" Puar's voice demanded from the shadows. "I can't believe you wished this without asking me first!"

"But I thought you'd be happy about it," Yamcha said, a hurt tone in his voice.

"Well . . . " Puar began, thinking about Yamcha's feelings, ". . . if it makes you feel better I guess I could learn to get used to it."

Puar stepped from the shadows and Yamcha smiled happily. His eyes were wide as he took in the slender legs topped with a short mini shirt. Continuing upward, he perused the full breasts contained in the tight tank top and up to the familiar face beneath long, blue hair.

"It's perfect!" Yamcha cried out. "You look just like her! And don't worry, Puar, you can still transform back when other people are around. But you look so good," he added, "I don't think we're going to be seeing anyone for a long time!"

The gleam in his eye drew Puar into his embrace. He had to admit that it was much easier to hold Yamcha this way without having to concentrate on keeping a transformation. They kissed deeply, enjoying the sensations of their new arrangement. Yamcha removed the tank top, spilling perfect breasts into his hands to massage into peaks.

"There is something you forgot," Puar said and stepped back, pulling the mini shirt down to puddle at his feet. Yamcha's eyes bugged out. "You wished for me to look like Bulma . . . but you forgot to make me female."

Yamcha's mouth hung open for a few seconds, taking in the definite male attributes on Bulma's female body. The fondling he had done of Puar's new breasts had aroused more than just the nipples. The erection stood long and full between them, its size proportionate to the increase in Puar's body mass. What should he do now? He couldn't undo the wish for another whole year!

"Oh, what the hell," Yamcha said with a wicked grin. It was like having Bulma and Vegeta rolled together in one neat package. He slammed the door shut before carrying Puar off to the back room.

Neither were seen for days.