Bakunyuu Mama Juuhachi-go to /ss/ Dekigoto

BY : Tastatura
Category: -Misc Anime > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 9945
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This is a fictional story. I do not own Dragon Ball or Dragon Ball Z. I make no money from writing this. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. Love your pal Jesus.

 

Amidst a vacant pocket of level land nestled into a mountain range appeared a single, towering outlier.

 

 Very much unlike the full-brown stone and dirt that surrounded it, the motionless tripod structure was without any signs of age of damage. Seemingly, its presence was a legitimate outlier; an object within an environment to which it could not be easily imagined as naturally belonging to.

 

Unheard and unseen, a section of the capsule-like bulb at the structure’s top separated itself from its ‘whole’ as a tangerine section plucked from its neighbors. Peeling upwards with a hiss of hydraulics, its removal revealed a semblance of cockpit, and within that cockpit, an individual.

 

At once, the structure could no longer be defined merely as a ‘structure’. Internally and externally, its appearance became indistinguishable from that of a ship.

 

Exhaling wearily, the individual within the cockpit—a blonde female sporting piercing, ice-blue eyes— sprang outwards into a standing position directly below the ship’s agape mouth. Flipping the narrow bangs hanging from the left side of her face, she moved from this position into a series of stretches for her neck and arms. On her face was naught but boredom and distaste. Nevertheless, her eyes sat as engaged in a dedicated observation of the area that surrounded her.

 

“I guess it worked.” she thought to herself. “Looks like I’ll have to give that blue-haired kid a little gift when I get back—assuming 17 decides to toy with him for that long…”

 

Proceeding forward by several steps, the blonde stopped at a point several feet from the ship before bounding upwards. Unhindered by gravity, she rose higher and higher into the air until the mountain range beneath her became an indistinguishable stretch of brown.

 

“Now then…” now speaking aloud to herself, she focused her eyes forward on the lush greens of the land that surrounded her landing point. “Time to kill Son-Goku. You know, again.”

 

The moment this thought passed through her, a funneling of energy through her frame gave way to the burst of a sharp white aura around her figure. Once coated by it, she leaned forward and effortlessly propelled herself through the sky at a blinding speed…

-

THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE—EARTH

 

Seated cross-legged atop dry earth peppered green by patches of grass, Son-Goku stared avidly at the crackle of a fire of his own making. Built around this flame was a handcrafted spit-roast whose center sat loaded with a sizzling slab of flesh.

 

With each breath he took, an aroma more and more familiar to that given off by an edible piece of meat was drawn into his nostrils. Growls from his stomach timed to the longest and deepest of these breaths could be heard rumbling from his middle, and the trail of drool streaming from the corner of his mouth could be seen growing thicker and longer as the scent itself became more precise.

 

Timing his meal’s as best he could, its completion saw the youth burst to his feet, and whip his head backwards to direct a shout at the structure behind him.

 

“Bulma! Th’food’s done!” he shouted. “If you don’t want any, just say something so I can eat it, ‘kay?”

 

Despite having been told several times about his travelling partner’s eating preferences, Goku remained seated in wait of some sort of response from her. Largely, he did so for her sake: in his mind, the sandwiches and sweets that she so often consumed were bound to leave her hungry for something more filling.

 

The sound of thudding from within the miniature house settled behind him filled his heart with the satisfaction of ‘rightness’. Just as quickly, the burst of a cerulean haired young woman from its mouth and the parting of her lips replaced this satisfaction with fear and discomfort.

 

“Mouuuuuuuuu! How many times have I told you that I don’t want to eat any gross fucking bugs or animals that you’ve killed?!” Bulma shouted. “Can you not get it through your skull already that girls don’t eat that kind of crap? God! It’s like your memory span only lasts a day!”

 

One could infer from both her posture and facial expression that her frustration was far from genuine. Still, exasperation could be clearly seen weighing down on her sleepwear-clad frame—an additive that just so happened to enhance the features her body presented.

 

Seemingly drawn out of some form of relaxation or napping, the ripe, melon-sized orbs that sloped downward to a perky and youthful height at her chest were made more pronounced by the authoritative stance that she assumed. Similarly, the parting of her thighs—an unnecessary enhancement of the natural thigh-gap she maintained—exposed the pale and doughy flesh that the white fabric of her over-sized t-shirt failed to cover.


Clad in nothing further than a pair of sneakers and the often-used red hair band that sustained the single pony-tail at the side of her head, discerning which of her ‘parts’ could still be considered as juvenile apart from those that had been blessed by her faultless genetics became a task no more difficult than looking and seeing.

 

If one were a normal individual, of course.

 

If one were Son-Goku, the individual that stepped from the house’s interior was no different than the usual, frowning, Bulma.

 

Rolling his shoulders at her response, Goku stood to his feet and took up the spire of meat still sizzling ahead of him.

 

“Ok, Ok! I’ll try not’t ask anymore!” he started, hints of fear to his voice. Lowering the steak spire’s center opposite his lips, a quiet mumble slipped past his lips. “It wasn’t like a bug or a wolf or nothin’. She could’a at least tried it...”

 

Chocking her refusal up to the mercurial nature of females, his confusion passed, and his lips parted to tear a massive bite from the steak at his lips.

 

“You’re going to die. If you do not stand and fight, you are going to die.”

 

Jaws spread, a warning was abruptly vomited into the forefront of his consciousness. It had not come from him; these words were produced by the activation of the honed fight or flight mechanism ingrained within all Saiyans. Without an ounce of remorse, his dominant hand viciously discarded the spire of meat that it contained. Both of his hands were subsequently drawn into fists whilst his profile shifted in the direction of the sensation responsible for the utterance. Inch by inch, he scanned the horizon in silence. The anxiety coursing through him drew blood from his palms in time, though his gaze remained firm.

 

His life depended on it.

 

Shocked and fearful at the boy’s sudden hardening, Bulma raised a hand to her mouth.

 

“Oh shit! It’s probably some monster again…” she mouthed out to herself. “I-I’ve never seen him throw away food for something like that though. C-Could it actually be…”

 

As if allowed to feel a fraction of the discomfort that swirled within Goku, the appearance of a disquieting tightness within her gut momentarily pinched her tongue into non-function. When it loosened, further ‘realism’ was injected into her train of thought.

 

“Could it be something worse? I-It couldn’t be, right? B-But then…” step by step, she shuffled her way up to a position directly behind Goku’s much-shorter frame. “W-Why does he look like this? I-I’ve never seen him actually look scared before a fight before!” she lamented.

 

Distressed more-so by the sight of her protector than the threat that loomed over their heads, her first instinct was to see first to his reassurance, then to a solution for the physical ‘problem’ that they would soon face.

 

The woman observing the disarmed pair allowed no such ‘reassurance’ to be conveyed. From a position shielded by cloud-cover, a slender and stylishly dressed blonde descended down to an upright position feet away from their campground’s fire in the blink of an eye. Contact between the soles of boots and the ground outed the fire instantaneously, and simultaneously removed all noise from the area that surrounded it.

 

For a brief instant, both Goku and Bulma were overwhelmed by a presence so significant that their bodies failed to recall the importance of breathing. Goku did eventually acclimate to the weight of this presence, though his time spent immobilized in the face of it was utilized by the blonde figure in a steady, almost lackadaisical approach towards his front.

 

When next he found his body willing to breathe and act, the female’s body—the killing potential of her limbs in particular—had become the focal point of his world. This focus was mandatory; his core believed that devoting his attention elsewhere for even a moment would result in his dying instantly.

 

Ahead of him stood a woman sculpted and sized against all of the norms he had come to associate with combat prowess. In place of the outright musculature required for the feats she was no doubt capable of were concentrations of fat, flesh, and curvature whose purpose his mind could not resolve at a glance.

 

Atop her shoulders and around her neck could be seen the opened torso portion of a denim jacket. Sleeves torn from the threads of her shoulder blades, the thin white and blue-stripped sleeves of the long-sleeve underneath it could be seen extending across the feminine dimensions of her arms.

 

Visually, these areas were devoid of the fat and flesh that nonetheless defined the woman’s frame. Their potential remained imposing, but the majority of Goku’s attention was rightly drawn towards the areas where these things were concentrated: her breasts and thighs.

 

At her chest, G-cup mounds that defied the petite torso to which they were affixed could be seen engorging the jet-black fabric of her long-sleeve’s torso-portion. Whereas the garment itself did not appear stretched or stressed by the sloped bloating imposed by both mounds, their size as contrasted against its color made the garment section appear as somehow fuller and rounder than it ought to have been. Blame for this rested equally in the dough-like qualities of the flesh that comprised her breasts, and the garment’s initial attempt at smothering their excess inwards. The visual product of this ‘tug of war’ was an invalidation of the denim jacket sections that hung loosely from either side of the breast-swelled garment, and the invocation of mental images concerning both motherhood and lactation.

 

Goku proved ignorant to the former, though instinctually, the latter was caught and processed by his nostrils as a scent familiar, yet simultaneously unknown to him.

 

At her waist, a belted denim skirt could be seen loosely gloving the slenderness of her middle prior to extending downwards into a well-stretched lamp-shading of her thighs. As the width of her middle remained in relative conformity with the size of her body, the waistline of this garment and the designer belt that secured it sat atop her middle as they should have. The further one’s eyes progressed down the skirt’s meagre length was the more ‘incongruous’ its fit became. Cut off a half step above her mid-thighs, the hugging of its lower hem to each of her thighs seemed largely over-shadowed by the sleek, torso-width fullness that the limbs presented. Both gloved by black tights no thicker than the skin that they covered, all of their qualities—from the squeezable, turgid-fullness of their fat-infused flesh to the various faint indentations of the quadriceps muscles underneath—could be seen without the need of exposure of a spec of bare skin.


Despite its being hidden from him, Goku’s mind ‘filled in’ the appearance of her body as viewed from behind via an extrapolation of her qualities from the front. Her back was non-descript, but the buttocks situated above her thighs offered the same gratuitous thickness of her breasts and thighs.  Together, the plush limb-sections formed a perfect, fabric-gloved peach that—in spite of its coverage by her skirt and tights—stuck outwards with the same eye-catching plumpness as her breasts.

 

No stranger to such dire (or perverse) looks, Goku’s staring pulled a sly smirk across the soft pink of the blonde’s lips.

 

“Same old, same old, huh? Even as a cute little tyke, you’re still ready for a fight to the death that you know you can’t win, huh?” she spoke aloud, a giggle chasing her utterance. “That’s kind of admirable. Horribly stupid and depressingly annoying, but admirable.”

 

Leaning her torso forwards and downwards (and allowing her breasts a much needed downswing under the weight of gravity), an expression laced with faux affection and venomous condescension quickly contorted her features into one of the few ‘positive’ iterations she was capable of producing.

 

“Anyway, time isn’t really a factor here, but I’d rather not drag out something so simple. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m here to kill you.” she continued. “If there wasn’t one way in particular that you wanted to die, I’m going to go ahead and make this quick. Boring as it is, I’ve still got some business I have to settle in the past.”

 

 

Momentarily, the gaze that she directed at the black-haired boy beneath her shifted to the teenager trembling behind her.

 

“You heard me little miss genius; this kid’s gotta die, so if you don’t want to end up seeing something you wish you hadn’t, I’d suggest being a good girl and running along back inside that little house.” whilst speaking, the blonde’s eyes were focused not on those of her conversational partner, but instead on the words sewn into the oversized gown that covered her chest. Tracing over the words “RICH THOT” as branded into the garment’s material, a more genuine smile popped to her lips.

 

“Love the shirt by the wa—“

 

On attempting to finish passing along a compliment, the blonde was cut off by the surge of a fist up toward the right side of her face. Its approach brought its knuckles just short of contact with the region’s smooth flesh before natural reflexes written into her body snapped her dominant hand upwards to block it. Stemming its approach with the placement of a sharp grasp around its wrist, the blonde found both the limb and the section of it she had grasped to be childishly narrow.

 

Given a moment’s conscious thought on the subject, both of her eyes acquired a predatory sharpness, and curled away from Bulma to a point at her front. Dangling from his trapped arm was Son-Goku. Though a scowl was on his face, his failure to land a clean blow had not left him broken and helpless. All of the fearful preparedness that his stance had maintained prior could still be seen in him in spite of his body’s suspension in midair.

 

For a moment, the blonde considered killing him there and then. Even as an admirer of confidence and forwardness, these traits as expressed with no chance of ‘success’ were perceived by her as equivalent to incurable stupidity.

 

As her gaze harshened, so too did her opinion shift. No matter how she funneled an intent to kill into the air that the boy hung within, his scowl never faded. Combat potential continued to bleed from his limbs, as did a desire for a confrontation to the death. Soon enough, a pained smirk appeared at his lips as well.

 

Seeing these affirmed a fact that she had internalized long before travelling to the past: even with no chance of success or survival, Saiyans can be expected to prefer pointless confrontation to sitting still and accepting death. From adults of the species, this trait was troublesome. Sometimes painful. From a child—one of the few ‘brands’ of Saiyan that she had yet to lay eyes on—it was…endearing.

 

Painfully so.

 

Abruptly, the blonde adopted a much ‘looser’ demeanor. Resolving her scowl, she flashed a deceivingly warm smile down toward Goku prior to funneling a crushing amount of force into her grasp. Awaiting the crunch and *POP* of the bones within his wrist, she followed the act with a swing of her free hand towards his neck, and the impression of its index finger’s finished finger nail into the side of his neck. Still smiling, she followed these acts with a remorseless flooring of his body (as one might flog a carpet into flatness on the ground, and an imposing squat overtop it.

 

“Congratulations.” she started. “You were dead up until about a minute ago, but now you get to live for a little while longer. That’s more than the other you managed against me after a whole lifetime.”

 

Whilst speaking, both of the blonde’s hands engaged in a streamlined and suggestive undressing of her frame and Goku’s. Beginning with her skirt, the denim article was unfastened, and tossed aside to present her tight-gloved lower body in all of its plump and tactually-tantalizing glory. Next, as though decency had meant nothing to her to begin with, a sharpening of her nails saw a pair of symmetrical gashes torn into the crotch section of her tights. The size of these gashes was afterwards widened by an outward peeling by both of her hands. At the end of their expansion, the pudgy and hairless mound at the center of her crotch was exposed alongside a great deal of the milky-white flesh that surrounded it.

 

Once finished with herself, equally aggressive action from her limbs saw the bottom portion to Goku’s gi loosened and torn from his frame.  Exposed in this process was a semi-erect length of cock very much unlike the youthful bulb of sexual organs that his crotch ought’ve sported. In its current-state, the flesh colored organ offered a thickness twice that of its owner’s broken wrist, and an impressive 10 inches of overall length.

 

 As far more ‘growth’ appeared in store for it, these statistics put a smile on the blonde woman’s face.

 

Naturally, Bulma’s perception of proceedings was far less positive.

 

“H-Hey! W-What are y-you going to do with him? I-I haven’t understood a s-single thing you’ve said since you got here!” she shouted. “W-Why do you want to kill him? He’s just some stupid kid t-that grew up in the mountains! I don’t care who you are; nothing you could possibly have against him makes any of this ok!”

 

Against her better judgment, the blue-haired teenager took a step forward to impose herself.

 

“If you don’t s-stop right now, I’m g-going to make you wish that y-you never messed with Bulma Brie—!!”

 

Out of disinterest in her stammering spectator’s empty threat and interest in the boy squirming underneath her, the blonde responded to Bulma’s utterances non-verbally.  A downward plunge of her upper body saw the sealed breasts at her chest pressed into Goku’s middle, and her lips delivered into an especially-deep kiss with his own. Momentarily, she teased and manipulated the confines of his oral cavity as she pleased. The passage of a handful of seconds—seconds spent overwhelming Goku’s tongue with her own and stimulating his oral cavity into salivation—saw her break this kiss, and return to a more-or-less upright straddling position above him with only the severance of a long strand of saliva between their lips as consequence.

 

Now peering up at Bulma, a smirk of condescension returned to her lips.

 

“I did tell you to go back inside that house before you saw something you shouldn’t have, didn’t I?” she suggested. “I could care less if you watched, but your standing there isn’t going to change the way I choose to entertain myself. I’m probably going to forget that you exist in a bit, so if you could do the same for me, I’d really appreciate it.”

 

With this, she turned her gaze back down toward the boy pinned beneath her. Between the kiss that she had fed into his mouth and the substance she had cut into his bloodstream, a great deal of the aggression he had displayed had melted into a daze caught between persistent thought and helplessness.

 

Inexplicably, the sight of this spiked her excitement further.

 

“Now, where were we?” she spoke aloud. Knowing full well where in her chosen ‘activity’ they stood, she raised herself out of her knee-bent straddle of the boy’s crotch into a deep, flat-footed crouch directly above it. Chest still mushed partly against his own, the shift raised her rear and the drooling mound beneath it to a height just above the monstrous erection that now extended from his crotch. Rightly soothed by the heat that the vascular, now 11 inch organ breathed out onto her womanhood, several seconds passed before she produced an answer to her own question.

 

“Oh, that’s right. You gave me a reason not to kill you right away, so now we’re going to have some fun instead…♥.” she explained. “You’re really a lot cuter when you can’t fight back like this, so if you manage to make it interesting, maybe I’ll hold off on killing you for a little while longer.

 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she suggested.

 

Try as he might, Goku’s mind was in no condition for the production of a verbal response. That which his frame produced instead was stressed, childishly-toned grunt, and the perforation of the corner of his bottom lip with one of his incisors in frustration.

 

Taken in further by the display, the blonde giggled. Again dipping downward to lap up the blood that seeped from the wound, she held eye-contact with him as a means of further conveying the ‘pointlessness’ of attempting to regain himself. Simultaneously, she began stirring her hips around in narrow circles whose center point at focused on the nose of his glans. Through these, her lower lips were pressed and swirled into the throbbing cock-section with a punishing tightness, and the slick, artificial warmth of her syrup-glazed innards was allowed to tease the most potent nerve endings on his shaft.

 

Then, without warning, her hips dropped. Moving from outright temptation to outright penetration, she slammed her hips downwards to pierce her womanhood with the swelled nose of Goku’s shaft, and afterwards part her syrup-adhered inner walls with inch after inch of his massive erection. Lowering herself from its tip to the hairless base from which it extended, her self-stuffing with his endowment passed without a single moan of pleasure passing through her lips.

 

In lieu of this, an expression of perverse enjoyment rarely seen across her emotionless visage had appeared.

 

“….Well.” she continued, voice devoid of distortion. “It’s alright if you don’t feel like talking right now. We’ll have plenty of time for small talk after I’ve had my fill of all of that slimy baby-juice you’ve got welled up inside you ♥. I know non-resistance isn’t really in your nature, but how about you lay back and just accept that you don’t have a choice this time around?

 

“If you do…”

 

Peeling her chest from off of Goku’s middle, she withdrew her dominant hand from its cupping of his right shoulder blade. Curling it inwards, she fed its index, middle, and ring fingers underneath the unsealed hem of her t-shirt. Then, as if peeling a sheet from off of some otherworldly ‘surprise’, she utilized her makeshift grasp to drag the garment upwards and outwards, thereby exposing the succulent mounds trapped underneath it. For each inch that she peeled away, the overwhelming fatness maintained by both of the pale, sweat-peppered orbs became more apparent. Finally, when her progression saw her shirt pass over the cylindrical bulbs of her nipples, the garment’s grasp on both mounds failed entirely. Simultaneously, both of the I-cup mounds (two full cup-sizes larger than they had appeared to be whilst clothed) flopped downwards into an imposing bounce directly atop Goku’s face.

 

Basking in her newfound ‘freedom’, the blonde dropped the wadded fabric of her t-shirt into a bundled ‘banding’ of her mounds at the very top of her chest, and immediately took to drawing her hips up and down across the pulsing length of cock screaming for pleasure within her.

 

Undaunted by the fattening of her inner walls and the consistent creep of pleasure into her mind, she raised her chest upwards just far enough to leave the engorged nipple of her right breast swaying above Goku’s lips.


From this position, the size of her breasts was unlikely to be the only thing that the youth perceived. No; here, his eyes were bound to fall on the droplets of milk that bled from the ducts spread plentifully about its exterior.

 

Via the very same hand that had exposed the orbs, the blonde pinched the tip of this nipple to send a spurt of milk into a messy discharge between Goku’s lips.

 

“If you do…” she reiterated. “You can drink of much that as you want alllllllll the way through. That’s something that you missed out on when you were little, isn’t it?”

 

 

To her surprise, Goku’s response to the flow of the fluid into his mouth was largely neutral. His lips remained agape, though reflexive twitches from the back of his throat saw the creamy substance delivered down his throat as intended. Following this, he remained effectively stunned beneath her without an apparent desire for more.

 

Recognizing this, the blonde made a decision for him. Biasing the hang of her breasts over his face to the right, she encircled the pink of her areola with his right hand. Dipping her torso downward, she guided the leaking bulb of flesh towards his lips before forcibly squeezing its sweetly-scented flesh between his lips. This done, she immediately returned to pumping and stirring his fattened member in and out of her cunt. Accompanying these plunges of her hips were gestures of intimacy. Hands that had once dug into the smoothness of his shoulders could now be seen wrapped in a cradle along the back of his head, and, for his own sake, her stomach was kept perfectly level with his own (albeit curved at a downward angle to facilitate the position of her breasts).

 

The appearance of these gestures was not coincidental. In them was a purpose—just as could be said for all of her other actions thus far. Having secured her underage partner within a position best suited for smothering her rear up and down against his crotch, speech very-much relevant to the situation she had created flowed from her lips without audible signs of ‘stress’.

 

“Ah, that’s right…” she began, her feminine tone partly subdued by the increasingly-noisy clapping of her moistened rear against a smooth and fluid-plastered crotch. “I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I know everything there is to know about you, but you’re about 2 decades or so away from learning anything about me.

 

“A certain old degenerate gave me the name ‘Android 18’, but feel free to call me Mommy instead ♥.”

 

Seemingly satisfied with her introduction, that which followed the utterance could be best described as a focused, mechanical effort geared towards the completion of task.

 

Or an adult woman fucking a child. Either or.

 

-

LOOKING AT PICTURES AND DESCRIBING WHAT HAPPENS 101

 

If a woman is to make the most of a reverse breeding press—a position rooted in a very depraved sort of sexual hunger and their partner’s inability to satisfy it directly—there exist several prerequisites that said woman must, one way or another, fulfill.

 

Putting aside the most obvious of these (owning a body larger than that of their partner and the physical strength required see a cock skewered in and out of their orifices without assistance), genuine desire can be thought of as the ‘cornerstone’ to making effective use out of the position. Specifically, a sexual desire equally rooted in the spillage of seed into their depths and the forced extraction of it from out of an underage, undersized, or perhaps even inadequate partner could not be excluded if one wished to succeed with it.

 

Seconds into the focused stirring and clobbering of her lower body against that of Goku’s, one could safely mark 18 as a woman in possession of all three of these things.

Right from the first of her vigorous hip-drops, the razor-sharp consistency of her ministrations served as the primary indicators for this. With her abdominals and breasts smothered along the length of her partner’s upper body, the engulfment of Goku’s shaft into her slobbering cunt necessitated momentary exacerbation of the pressures exerted by her upper body. Manipulating herself as a form of teeter-totter, the deepening of her upper body’s slant facilitated ascensions of her rear from off of its choked impalement with Goku’s cock. The resultant ‘angle’ created for her rear was subsequently put to use by the artificial musculature of her core and lower body to see her lower lips (and the feminine innards behind them) dragged up along Goku’s endowment until over half of its sex-glazed exterior could be seen outside of the pink and clingy tunnel it had been driven into.

 

Instead of holding these graceful upward slides throughout a complete extraction of his member (or even a placement of its glans directly between the mouth of her cunt), 18 made certain that her chosen ministrations would be kept devoid of relief. On arrival at his endowment’s halfway point, the slight angling of her frame was reversed via a savage plunge of her rear back down into contact with the too-small crotch meant to support it. In the process, all of the inches painstakingly drawn from her folds were messily forced back through her canal, and an audible *GLRK* reminiscent of a cock’s hilting within a throat were brought about. Well before the gluey excess of female lubricant that glutted her innards could begin seeping outwards again, the angling of her frame was again reversed, and the motion pattern that she had set began anew.

 

In spite of their intricacies, the above described shifts were executed by 18 at a pace fit for a pseudo-human. Outwardly, the speed with which she flicked her rear up and down the vein-mapped erection of her ‘partner’ appeared on par with that achieved by a male on the verge of orgasm. This was to say that her shapely, fabric-wrapped buttocks could be seen clearing the distance from the middle of Goku’s length to its base at least twice per blink of the average ‘eye’.

 

Cumulatively, the speed of her ministrations and their composition painted an easily understood ‘image’: 18 maintained control, and until she grew tired of proceedings, no form of respite would be provided for the male that she had decided to drain.

 

This was not to say that 18 herself had committed herself to such a plan of action, however.

 

Throughout the initial minutes of the rapid-fire ‘rise and fall’ of her rear, an expected amount of lust-fueled redness had merged with the paleness at her cheeks. Despite this, no exhalations of pleasure passed through her lips, and no longing stares of appreciation were directed down at her partner. All throughout, her face remained as it had started: smirking lustfully, starring condescendingly, and dedicated to observation more so than participation.

 

‘Why’ was a matter of selfishness: 18 wished for nothing more than to drain the muddy, virile cock juice stockpiled within target down to the very last drop, but in the process, she intended to enjoy herself. The key to this enjoyment was not her, but Son Goku; his defiance had instigated her ‘change of plans’, and even now served as her primary point of interest concerning him. Fundamentally, she required participation from the dazed youth. Without this, the cunt-melting pleasure rippling through her composite frame would remain tame.

 

With this in mind, 18 broke pattern when her first salvo of rear presses failed to draw a sufficient reaction from the youth.

 

“Aw, what’s the matter?” again, whilst her voice was free of distortion, the guttural *CLOPP-CLOPP-CLOPP* of her buttocks against his crotch and the vigorous *SPLRT!* noises that often accompanied the hilting of his member through her folds made her utterances difficult to perceive. “You were too weak for an actual fight, but are you really so beneath me that you can’t even make milking your cute little cock interesting?” she suggested.  “I specifically told you not to resist, but I didn’t say anything about barring you from participating ♥.” she teased. “Where is that cute Saiyan sprit of yours? You’re not just going to let an enemy steal your blood from you so easily, are you?”

 

As they were spoken from a mouth directly above his face, Goku heard every word that left 18’s lips. Some of the concepts that she spoke of were far beyond his ability to unravel (more so considering the stresses on his psyche) though the ‘gist’ of utterances remained apparent. He was being mocked; not merely for his weakness, but for a lack of ‘fighting spirit’ as well. Both of these things represented considerable points of pride for the boy. Even so, neither his temper nor will could be ignited in deference of her claims.

 

To blame was the vice-tight sleeve of flesh grinding up and down his cock. Over and over again, a disarming bliss was pressed up to the middle of his length, and afterwards pressed back down across its basal inches to deliver those at its top into a suffocating squeeze against the turgid bulb of flesh built into the sleeve’s back. No matter how violently the inches of his member were extricated or engulfed, the impact of his glans against this turgid, greasy, nerve-wracking bulb remained consistent.

 

Simply, there were no openings that his body could take advantage of. Even whilst drugged, even whilst force-fed a sweet substance unlike anything he had tasted prior, resistance remained his frame’s foremost desire. In this case, however, the ‘enemy’ he was meant to resist had assaulted his frame in a manner that his instincts could not defend against. Worse still, his realization of this fact—one meant to be infuriating for a Saiyan—was perceived by his body as an inevitability.

 

Whilst conscious, this was not something that the boy could simply accept.

 

“That’s not right.”

 

“I’ll never learn anything if I don’t try fighting back now.”

 

“Ending up dead ain’t an excuse not to fight!”

 

In the midst of despair, a hope discernable only by those bred to fight shone through Goku’s daze. Mustering his remaining focus, he reached out towards it, and in doing so stumbled onto a helpful truth:

 

At present, there existed a part of his body situated to fight back.

 

Shutting his eyes, a moment’s concentration preceded a tightening of his oral cavity’s squeezing of 18’s nipple. Bit by bit, enough pressure was exerted from the roof of his mouth and the base of his tongue to force another significant burst of milk from its ducts. In response to it, he actively gulped down the fluid whilst sending his tongue to lash and flail against the pink spire’s meat. Wild and imprecise, these strokes cleared the refreshed beads of milk that plugged its ducts as they reformed, and bridged the gap in activity left by the expected loosening of his momentary suckle.

 

Uncertain of his attempt’s impact (if even produced), he produced a second moments after the end of the first. Drawing strength from a reservoir long-since emptied, he devoted himself to the (pointless) task of wringing as much of the delicious fluid from his opponent’s breast as possible.

 

For his efforts, he was rewarded with energy. Energy, and inexplicable applause from the same person who had relegated him to such petulant, ill-fitting defiance…

-

 

Having been proven wrong in the only manner she had left ‘open’ for her miniature partner, 18’s first response to the compression of her nipple was a pleasurable squeak. Devoid of surprise, its duration and the sultry giggle that followed it implied satisfaction, and to a point, happiness.

 

“Mhm, now that’s what I wanted to see ♥.” she commented. “I’d have hated to get my womb stuffed with the cock juice of some kid who can’t even stand up for himself, but it looks like I won’t have to worry about that now…” again turning his gaze down to meet Goku’s, her cradling of his skull abruptly acquired a much more possessive tightness. “Now that I know you’ve still got some fight in you, how about I be nice and put you out of your misery? I did promise that I’d get rid of all of the vile little boy-sludge you’ve managed to pack into you, after all ♥.” she repeated.


Pausing for a moment, 18 watched and waited for a response to come from Goku. When it became apparent that she would not receive one—a natural consequent of his subdued mental capacity and the focus of his energies on the drainage of her breasts—she happily selected the option that she had intended to select regardless of what her youthful victim chose for himself.

 

Unlike her pinning and fucking of his frame, this choice carried with it a reasonable amount of ‘justification’—assuming one’s mind remained flexible and acceptant, of course.

 

“Yeahhh, that about tears it, kiddo…” 18 exhaled. “The veins in your cock are throbbing and squirming against the inside of my cunt like they want to explode. That’s just no good; you Saiyans only get stronger the more times you’re allowed to survive failure.” she continued.

 

“So…”

 

At the behest of the warm throbbing that Goku’s efforts had introduced into the flesh of her breast, 18 again cupped the flesh of her right mound with its matching hand. Tugging it out from Goku’s mouth, she deftly slid the position at which her upper body pressed into his own downward by several inches. Now buoyed by the meat of her breasts, she pressed her skull downwards to set her lips against the ‘gap’ left at his mouth by her nipple. Guiding her tongue straight into the creamed cavity, she extended her dominance of his frame to the confines of his mouth and the tongue that it contained.

 

To her, the flavors that enveloped her tongue were unimportant. What mattered was the writhing of her partner’s tongue, and what volumes of saliva she could draw into her mouth. To this end, her time spent ‘kissing’ him was devoted largely to a wringing of his tongue for its moisture, and a suckling of her lips to its exterior. Attaining (partial) satisfaction within seconds, she briefly peeled his tongue from between her lips to speak.

 

“Be a good little boy and give up absolutely everything you’ve got.”

 

Intent on insuring her panting partner would be left with no other choice but to heed her suggestion, she set herself into an ‘adjusted’ version of the punishing cunt-stuffing she had initiated prior.

 

If the excited smile responsible for the spread of her lips was any indication of the amount of ‘motivation’ she intended to put forward, one could safely assume that an end to her devouring of the boy beneath her would appear sooner rather than later…

 

-

ALRIGHT, SELL THIS TO ME TASTATURA

 

To begin with, the position that 18 had assumed was one that required a parting of both of her legs to either side of Goku’s frame, and a very tight bending of the underside of her thighs down onto the comparatively ‘dainty’ extensions of her calves.

 

Through this arrangement (and those mentioned previously), the soaked flogging of her increasingly-exposed rear up and down the rugged exterior of Goku’s cock came to consist of the following:

 

At the peak of one of her impalements (a point marked by the slow ooze of murky strands of cunt-syrup from within her folds downward from the middle of Goku’s cock), needy convulsions were pumped through her inner walls in response to the ‘ever-present’ threat of the juvenile cock responsible for their spreading being torn from out of them ahead of schedule. As these lost strength, a reflexive tightening of its interior around the length of his member that remained within the humid vice’s grasp turned the conditions within her cunt into a gooey and fully-functional flesh piledriver.

 

Repeatedly, the orgasmic stimulation that these conditions threatened was avoided via breakneck descents of 18’s rear, and the consequential disappearance of Goku’s member within her. Inches of engorged cockmeat were ground through an especially oppressive sleeve of cuntmeat until its knob-dense tip was forced into a pleasurable and painful kiss with the meat of her cervix. No matter how rapidly her rear descended or how vehement a discharge of honeyed lubrication spewed from her split folds, not an inch of his glans was allowed passage through her cervix. Contact between the buoyant flesh button and the nose of his shaft did not represent progress; only a reminder as to which of the pair was a ‘predator’ and which of them ‘prey’.

 

Nevertheless, what precum frothed to the tip of Goku’s mast was swiftly suckled away by the organ during these instances. Additionally, just as was the case with the lining of her inner walls, separation from the organ section created a sight akin to the separation of an adhesive from the surface to which it had been applied.

 

The pace that 18 set for herself subjected Goku’s cock to a steady oscillation between the above described conditions. Given the potency of the drug that had rendered his cock into its current state and his own youthful ignorance within the realm of sexual stimulation, one could imagine 18’s initial efforts as being not merely ‘sufficient’, but excessive—even more so if one considered her actual aim (the orgasm of her partner).

 

In the event that it has slipped your mind, the purpose behind noting all of this relates to the fact that, following her kiss with the youth, the ‘appearance’ of her self-impalement on the pulsing spire of cock she had trapped within herself acquired more visceral, and likely-effective qualities.

 

What does that mean? Well, they could be described just as her original pattern was, but that’d be pretty wack.

 

Let’s just do the other thing I always do instead.

 

-

 

I’LL TAKE A BROKEN WRIST FOR THIS, SHIT. NOT EVEN A BAD DEAL IF YOU ASK ME

 

“Would you look at that...” 18 commented flatly. “Your cock is responding more to this than anything else I’ve done so far.  Even when they’re tiny, I guess Saiyans really can’t be underestimated, huh?

 

“I know, I know.  No need for you to not say anything again. You’ve only got a couple minutes of survival instinct left in you before your body fails, so you’ve still got plenty of room for improvement. I’m still impressed, though ♥; maybe I can find a use for you that doesn’t involve dumping your corpse in some shallow grave…”

 

These utterances were produced by 18 in the midst of her most depraved and effective punches of cockmeat through her squirming womanhood yet.  Manipulating her cunt as a ‘pocket’ and Goku’s shaft as the only object sized and shaped to properly fill it, metronomic elevations and descents produced fractions of a second apart depicted her buttocks as a jiggling mass of flesh bound only by fat-accentuating patches of fabric. Equally, these motions depicted her cunt as the taut maw of a tireless, insatiable beast intent on throating its latest ‘meal’ into a bruised spire of drained, twitching flesh.

 

Time and time again, her feverish pace reproduced the sight of an inwardly curved length—its veins, its girth; every inch of flesh that comprised it—as strenuously swallowed by this maw. Executed at a possessive angle indicative of feminine dominance and garnished by gratuitous bursts of cunt-syrup per ‘stroke’ she completed, it could no longer be said that the blonde responsible for them was in anyway ‘holding back’.

 

Still—for every physical activity there exists a ceiling. In return for working herself to a sweat—one that messily plastered the crescent-shaped bangs on the left side of her face to the rosy surface of her cheek—18 had arrived at the ceiling for her breeding with the youth beneath her, and had brutally exceeded it in search of a more stimulating reward.

 

Even her own body was forced to recognize the significance of her efforts. The energy that sustained its function remained infinite, though the stimulation that surged through her inner walls teased her depths into one orgasm after another.

 

These too failed to draw appropriate affect from the woman who enjoyed them. Rather than moaning or squealing, the convulsive grasping of her folds to the phallus responsible for their bliss served only to harshen the quiet superiority ingrained into her features.

 

To a point, this was to be expected. Whilst abusing Goku’s shaft to the best of her ability, 18’s gaze remained firmly fixated on his face, and her lips remained tantalizingly close to his own. His frame was her focus; everything from the length of the pants that passed through his lips to the frequency of the throbs that rippled through his member were of greater importance than monitoring herself. Making the most of his orgasm when it arrived demanded as much.

 

Counting seconds and stimuli down to the very last possible second proved effective. Just as an orgasmic grunt and a reflexive gritting of teeth were teased by Goku’s facial structure, 18 found herself positioned to ensure that his orgasm played out her way.

 

As his cock began to swell, she produced a cutting plunge of her rear to re-hilt his member ahead of schedule. Acting ahead of the surge of semen bound to bolt through his member as a result, she followed the hasty motion with short, circular rolls of her hips meant to grind and stir his member against the heated sleeve that had tortured its inches so consistently.

 

“That should make sure that the first spurt he releases is nice and fat…” she thought to herself. “Now for the finishing touch...”

 

Thinking and acting in unison, 18 produced a final dip of her skull to re-consume the smaller lips of her target.

 

In return, the cock nuzzled against her cervix burst to provide her womanhood with its very first taste of underage reproductive fluid…

 

 

-

 

PLANS CHANGE

 

 

Exhilarating as it was to experience, 18 was not surprised by a single part of the deluge of semen introduced against her cervix. The biological information regarding Saiyans that had been written into her brain had been structured to facilitate a calm and prepared approach to anything and everything that their bodies were capable of producing.

 

Despite this, she moaned. With lips smothered against that of a child of the race her creator deemed ‘accursed’, the stimulation fed into her cunt via the splatter of steaming and clotted reproductive sludge against (and often through) her cervix tempted pleasant and prolonged moans out of her throat.

 

Being an android, the reason for her moaning remained apparent to her: no matter how artificial her frame, key organs within her—namely those concerned with reproduction—were human. Without a mind sufficiently callous or broken enough to blot out this fact, the spurting of virile seed into her vaginal canal and its jetting through her cervix would always remain an enjoyable experience for her. Through internalizing this fact, her conciseness was freed of the burden of maintaining itself, and was therefore allowed to focus on all of the grotesque details concerned with the discharge of fermented seed into her feminine core.

 

Following the initial dousing of her cervix with the first rope of the muddy-white glut to spill out of Goku’s member, her cervix yielded several vital inch-fractions in diameter. Whether a consequence of the thickness of the seed that coated it or the abnormally-hot (yet all—too—pleasant) temperature that it offered, the decision to accept his seed directly into her core was one influenced solely by the organ itself. In the seconds that followed, several equally-clotted strands erupted outwards against the end of her vaginal canal.  As no reservoir existed for it swell, these strands formed a foundation for the inundation of her womanhood with semen from the bottom up. Ultimately, nearly half of her canal was packed full of the chunked substance before the entranceway into her womb was made large enough for the remainder of Goku’s orgasm to be pumped into it.

 

Such was the adhesive quality of the cell-packed mire that even after this came to pass, the blockage of a tall glass’ worth of semen between her inner walls remained firmly in place.

 

Simultaneously, amounts of semen hotter and viler than those fed into her womanhood were pumped through pressurized deliveries past her cervix and into her womb. Contact between these strands and the lining of her uterus saw another perverse moan wrenched from her throat, and pushed straight into the mouth of her partner.

 

“What stupidly-excessive sperm count for such a helpless little kid.” she thought, her inner voice labored by exasperation. “If I were anyone else, I’d genuinely have to worry about what all of this goo would end up doing to my ovaries ♥. It’s so dense and grimy that it’ll probably be sticking to my insides for weeks …

 

“Well, whatever. I signed up for that, so it really doesn’t matter.” she affirmed. “The only thing left is seeing how much I can squeeze out of him right here, right now ♥.”

 

Her priorities set, 18 turned her attention back to the still-growing expulsion of semen within her. On doing so, she found that the passage of mere seconds had seen over half of her womb’s interior plastered with several layers of pungent seed. As it turned out, the volume of jizz packed into the lace-length ropes that Goku produced had only increased upon gaining access to her womb. Consequently, a short-lived compounding of their contents to the ceiling of the womb had swiftly given way to its swelling from the bottom up.  When finally her ‘view’ of proceedings had cleared again, the ‘water level’ of cock juice within her womb had risen downwards into contact with the organ’s (relatively) sealed bottom half.

 

Predictably, swelling followed. As Goku’s erection showed no signs of softening, the prolonged and strenuous outflow of seed through it enforced a steady expansion of her uterus in ‘accommodation’. For a human organ enhanced via chemicals and a variety of other made up shit meant to facilitate what I’m going for here, this expansion was not only welcomed, but quietly encouraged by the rest of her womanhood. As it grew fatter and tactually squishier with its heated payload, contractions and convulsions on par with those produced during her own orgasm were output against Goku’s member. Intended as ‘incentives’ meant to coax yet more seed from his balls, each were produced repeatedly without giving away immediate signs of slowing or stoppage.

 

With time—and the repeated fattening and deflation of a boy’s urethra with semen—these conditions fed 18’s womb to a swell indistinguishable from pregnancy. Nevertheless contained by the long sleeve draped over her upper body, the slumping of a gut burdened by an outrageous quantity of semen remained apparent at her middle. On 18’s frame as it was—a supple body gifted with excess in key feminine areas—its growth seemed far more ‘becoming’ than it ought to have been.

 

Perhaps recognizing the ‘aesthetic sweet-spot’ for its owner’s swelling with seed, neither her cervix nor uterus facilitated a distending of her stomach much further past the mimicry of a  third trimester. In response to the continued outflow of seed from Goku’s member, both organs relaxed in tandem to undo their rigid containment of his nut altogether. Like an over-filled dam finally allowed to rupture, a curtailed explosion of seed pushed through her cervix. Taking much of the curdled slime packed into her vaginal canal along with it, a crotch-drenching splatter of the substance rushed from her cunt as a lumpy, off-white mudslide.

 

With nowhere to ‘escape’ to, Goku’s crotch and much of the ground beneath his rear were smothered underneath this outflow to the point of unrecognizability. At its end, only the twitching of the muscles at the underside of his thighs could be made out underneath the cum that coated them.

 

Shortly after this point—a full 5 minutes since the beginning of his orgasm—the jetting of jizz strands from his cock tip came to an end.

 

Without a hint of fatigue or discomfort, 18 snapped into functionality the very instance she processed her successful draining of the boy. Severing contact between their lips, she peeled her upper body from off of his, and finally planted her feet to press her frame upright again.

 

As non-plussed as ever, no signs of affect could be seen on her face throughout. She neither whimpered at the vicious extraction of her partner’s still-erect shaft from between her puffy slit, nor groaned in disgust at a second regurgitation of his semen from her unencumbered mound. She just stood; a smile on her face, and her gaze directed down at her unconscious target.

 

“Well, that was fun.” she spoke aloud. “I didn’t think I was still capable of feeling things like that; it sure was nice of old Gero to leave some human parts in me…” following a slight bend of her knees, she reached downward with her left hand to wrap its palm around Goku’s unbroken wrist. Hoisting him into midair as a sodden doll, she confirmed his vitals, and afterwards flicked her gaze forwards.


Not far ahead of them sat and trembled the same blue-haired teenager she had warned some minutes prior. Facially-flushed and harboring a significant puddle of fluid between her legs, 18 inferred that, for whatever reason, she had opted to watch as opposed to saving her own life.

 

Forgoing a scathing tease of the girl for her perversion required a great deal of effort on her part—so much so that it nearly wasn’t worth the effort.

 

“You...uh….” rolling her eyes into the top right corners of their sockets, she searched her mind for a name. “Bulma, right? Whatever. Whoever you are, I’m going to need some of the capsules you have on you.”

 

Demands of this sort typically prompted an askee to press an asker for a reason ‘why’. As a woman sweaty, disheveled, and bloated with the semen of a child, this question was not one that 18 intended to entertain. To this end, she widened her smile, and continued speaking to deny Bulma a choice.

 

“I sort of enjoyed feeling the way I did just now, and I’d like to be able to feel that way again in the future. Basically, your friend and I are going on a little trip.” she explained. “Trips require supplies, and supplies require capsules. I could kill you or some other poor idiot wandering around this place for them, but I’d rather not if I don’t have to…

 

“So, yeah; hand them over. Maybe if you do, I’ll make a little video out of whatever I end up doing with his body next ♥.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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