Bakunyuu Mama Juuhachi-go to /ss/ Dekigoto

BY : Tastatura
Category: -Misc Anime > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 29401
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.

A long-winded slog was the first thing that Android 18 imagined when first she committed herself to 'destroying' the Son-Goku of the future without doing away with his younger self. Many a 'base' would need to be covered at several different periods throughout the youth’s life to guarantee that the Son-Goku that she was tasked to destroy would never come to exist. She would have no aid in covering said bases, and no guidance as to an ideal 'order' in which to cover them. Shortly, the success of her endeavor was likely to come down to how well she used her knowledge of the boy's present and future to her advantage.

 

 

While pragmatic, 18’s thoughts surrounding the task that lay ahead of her were not so bleak as to rule out the possibility of enjoying herself as she went. The beginnings of her plan's execution and the airy looseness with which she approached most all of her problems had already provided her with reasons to be confident about this. Even if actual work was to be involved in her success, Son-Goku's body and the abject vulnerability of the world around her—a world without Super Saiyans and Namekians—promised to offset her labor with the sort of freedom and entertainment unavailable to her in the world she had escaped from.

 

One thing about her circumstance did irk her, however.

 

No matter how she thought and schemed on her own, she could not help but feel as though the task written into her being by Dr.Gero remained in complete control of her life. Such feelings were to be expected given what she was and where she had come from. Even so, the idea that one of the few significant 'autonomous choices' she had made since becoming an android might still belong to her creator did not sit well with the blonde.

 

 

Achieving her goal was necessary, but doing so with the mindless urgency of an actual machine would belittle what humanity she had left. This aside, the world around her was her own. If she wished, she could do whatever she pleased without having to face the sort of bothersome opposition put up by Son-Goku and his companions from the future.

 

 

Thus, in an effort to counteract her feelings of uncertainty and enjoy the world that she would create, 18 opted to make her reconstruction of Son-Goku's life much more 'scenic' than it needed to be. Acting solely out of self-interest as opposed to mechanical necessity, the firm 'definition' of her plan was progressively replaced by a mixture of idyllic self-indulgence and opportunistic alternations to the life course she had set the youth on.

 

 

Succinctly, the internal directive of “Destroying Son-Goku.” was stamped out of prominence within her mind by a mallet comprised of a much more appealing directive:

 

 

Enjoying Son-Goku.

 

 

The months that followed her making this decision—specifically the months that followed her traumatizing a juvenile Chi-Chi with the sight of her former-future-husband draining multiple loads of jizz out into the holes of an unknown woman—were among the best that the blonde could still recall. The uncontested freedom that her life acquired was a large part of their quality, but overall, it was monkey-tailed child she had been designed to destroy that made her days interesting enough (and enjoyable enough) to be memorable.

 

 

However petulant and ignorant, Son-Goku owned qualities that she found endearing. Putting aside his apparently bottomless libido and his willingness to violently flush his batter-dense jizz loads inside her until he lost consciousness, his simplicity and malleability allowed her to derive a great deal of feminine satisfaction from serving as his 'parent'.

 

 

As she had promised upon initially striking up a deal with the boy, a fraction of their time together was spent training. Equipped with battle programming based on the combat capabilities of all of the Z-Warriors at their respective peaks, the sessions that she held with him were not so much 'sessions' as they were ruthless beatings of variable duration and composition. Much to her surprise, they did not remain as such indefinitely. Per the uncanny definition of his lineage, a half year of being repeatedly beaten to within an inch of his life left Goku as capable of putting up a reasonable amount of fight. Not nearly enough to best her in legitimate combat, but more than enough to draw the youth's base strength above and beyond his 'peers' on Earth.

 

 

Though the primary product earned through her efforts was another important disruption of the original Son-Goku's developmental trajectory (a fact that 18 did not realize until the boy off-handedly succeeded at the first Tenkai-Ichi Budoukai that she attended alongside him), 18 also acquired something akin to the pride and endearment felt by parents of overachieving children. Having been denied the chance to live and develop as a normal woman and eventually give birth to a child of her own, her involvement in Son-Goku's progress further attached her to his existence in ways that she had once thought to be impossible.

 

 

Perhaps as a result of the sexual satisfaction the boy provided as combined with these feelings, it was not long before 18 began applying further stipulations to the training that she provided whilst living alongside him.

 

 

“As much as I prefer 18, having you call me that in public is starting to become a bit of a pain. Why don't you call me 'Mommy'?”

 

 

“If you lose today's fight, you're going to sit and eat something with me every now and then starting today. I don't really care if you still feel the need to stuff your face while you do it.”

 

 

“You're coming shopping with me today whether you can walk or not. I need an unbiased opinion, and you need something to wear that actually has sleeves.”

 

 

18 did not devote much thought to why it was she began demanding these things of her charge. She was of course very aware of what she was doing, but the extent of her contentment with life had left her far too satisfied to really care about what had caused it.

 

 

Rather than dwell on the absence of an explanation for her circumstance, 18's introspective view of her own behavior led her to a far more interesting conclusion:

 

 

For better or for worse, something within her altered frame was changing.

 

 

And she liked it.

 

-

WEST CITY DONE BEEN ALL FUCKED UP

 

Android 18 often found the interior of the bedroom that she shared with Son-Goku to be abnormally humid during the morning.

 

 

The presence and severity of this humidity had never once instilled curiosity or discomfort within her. For one thing, she was an android: it would take more than sticky skin and heavy air to make her feel anything resembling discomfort. For another, the 'source' from which this humidity stemmed was in part a product of her own actions.

 

 

Curiously, each and every morning that 18 spent inside of a humid bedroom with Son-Goku was a morning that the woman spent happily.

 

This was, of course, coincidental. In the present, and in every other instance of humid bedroom-lounging before it, the humidity itself had nothing to do with the happiness that she felt.

 

(bro what are you even talking about b)

 

In almost every case, this happiness was actually by-product of noise—noise exclusively produced by strenuous and satisfying sex.

 

 

Today was no different.

 

 

*SCHLRP-SCHLRP-SCHLRP-SCHLRP-SCHLRP*

 

 

Such was the gluey symphony produced each time she pumped her hand from the base of Goku's beat-red glans right up to its tip. Svelte and precum-greased, her palm was curled into the shape of a phallic vice and tightened such that the sex-greased bulk of her son's member was compressed to fit within it.

 

 

For as slogged as her limb appeared, 18 applied it with the sort of mechanical efficiency that saw testicles emptied by sex-toys and cocks rendered puffy and swollen by constant compression. Content to drive her make-shift cocksleeve across only the most relevant inches of her hazy-eyed partner's towering erection, the speed and consistency that she achieved in these break-neck ministrations had already taken on the appearance of a particularly vigorous instance of cock-milking.

 

 

Really, what they appeared to be was precisely what they were.

 

Today, just as she had at the beginning of every day prior to this one, 18 had awoken to the sight of her son's snoring frame sporting a grotesquely bloated and uncomfortable-looking erection. As his parent (and as a woman healthily dependent on the excess of clotted jizz so often packed into his balls), relieving his frame before the beginning of their day was as much necessary as it was ‘morally’ required of her.

 

 

No matter the number of orgasms that it required or the amount of body heat, cock-stink, or self-arousal generated from her 'assistance', 18 was of the opinion that Son-Goku functioned better when his balls were empty rather than full. Her stomach had agreed with this opinion when first she adopted it, which in turn imposed a familiar scene onto their bedroom during the morning.

 

 

Laid out on her side atop her shared mattress with Goku's back-spread frame set such that most all of his upper body could be found squished up against the clothed swell of her breasts, 18 again played the part of the 'centerpiece' for this scene.

 

 

Dressed in the same clothes she had fallen asleep in—an oversized white t-shirt donned for the purpose of containing the excess of her breasts and a pair of pink-cotton panties prone to  biting into the squishy, double-melon marble of her buttocks—the 'fundamentals' of her current appearance were completely forgivable. A light t-shirt whose hem sat just below the peaks of one's buttocks and a simple pair of underwear were a comfortable combination for a young woman sleeping through the summer months. Even if the garments served only to frame the shapely fat installed within her assets and the curve-embedded massiveness her figure, 18 herself remained faultless in choosing to wear them.

 

 

If one wished to persecute her for her appearance, the sweat peppering her features, the half-naked boy just shy of smothered by the size of her breasts, and the stray strands of black pubic hair glued to the corners of her lips were far easier visual targets to scrutinize.

 

 

Much like the slight trickle of mucus drooling from her right nostril and the honey-drenched sloppiness gilding her crotch, all three of these features were direct consequents of her stroking (and occasional throating) the oversized cock of a child. Worsened over the course of the minutes that she had spent grinding Son-Goku into completion after completion, 18 nevertheless found it within herself to wear them with pride.

 

 

Gross indifference to sexual normalcy aside, she didn't believe that there was anything for her to be ashamed of. These features were those worn by a mother in the midst of helping her child—no more and no less.

 

 

Alongside her figure and the position of her frame, it was the ubiquity of her perspective that truly secured her position as the most eye-catching portion of the scene within her room. Though her perspective could not be 'observed' in the traditional sense, the manner in which it shaped her actions was significant enough to convey its existence to all those who laid eyes on it.

 

 

The sole individual positioned to 'appreciate' it in this sense was Son-Goku. Perceptive in spite of his maintaining a handful of other mental inadequacies, the boy usually derived a great deal of pleasure from seeing 18 enjoy their early morning competitions.

 

 

Today, however, the nearly cross-eyed youth had found himself much too 'stimulated' to focus on anything other than the pleasure being squeezed up and down the inches of his glans.

 

 

The movement of 18's palm wasn't the sole reason for this stimulation either.

 

 

“Hora, hora, you've still got plenty of that stinking cock juice bunched up inside your balls, don't you?” 18 suggested, an even mixture of annoyance and urgency coddling her tone. “You're not getting up until your balls are absolutely empty, so hurry up and blast out another load for Mommy ♥. I'm going to squeeze out every fucking drop with my throat, so you won't have to worry about any of that awful mess being leftover when you get up ♥.”

 

 

“You've already cum twice so far—don’t get lazy on me, okay?”

 

 

Contrary to 18's suggestions, Goku did not doubt that another release would be pleasurable for him. Further, no part of him wished to draw the apparently ceaseless drive of her gooey palm-sleeve up and down the length of his shaft out any longer than it needed to be.

 

 

As was usually the case, the abnormal development of the boy's frame and his heritage as a Saiyan was to blame for his circumstance. In the same way that his combat capability surged each time his body was pushed towards the brink of life and death, so too did his sexual capability surge for every mind-rending orgasm that 18 treated him to. Whether or not his 'mother's' taste for sex actually maintained a ceiling was beyond him, but until she defined a limit for herself, his body seemed perfectly happy to rise to the occasions she created for it.

 

 

Regrettably, his mind's ability to tolerate the kind of pleasure wrought from the more punishing bouts of sex shrugged off by his frame enjoyed no such ‘commensurate gains’. From his first orgasm onward, the blended stimuli injected into his crotch through his member kept his skull tipped backwards into contact with the mass of 18's breasts whilst simultaneously holding mouth between the states of tooth-grit frustration and agape euphoria.

 

 

As well, 18's stroking ensured that the only words to leave the boy's lips throughout her efforts were direct responses to each and every suggestion that produced.

 

 

“N-Noooot....p-pretendin'...” groaned Goku, teeth grit in discomfort. “I-I wanna b-but...b-but...”

 

 

“Awh, but what? You don't want to bloat Mommy's stomach with even more of your sludgy baby-juice?” 18 teased. “That'd almost be sweet if it weren't so pointless. Like it or not, you're still too helpless of a brat to look after yourself properly. Your body will even itself out eventually, but until then, you'll just have to make sure you stick close enough to keep yourself from getting too backed up.”

 

 

“Besides...” pausing briefly, 18 leaned further to her left to push the sweetly-scented mass of her breasts from the edge of Goku's face into an outright smothering of his facial features. Whilst their impression was relatively light by virtue of her holding the weight of her torso off of his face, she followed up this shift with another act perhaps even more severe than suffocation.

 

 

After a short dip of her skull down towards Goku's' breast-covered skull, a thin whisper certain to be just barely perceived by the youth was passed through her cock-greased lips down towards him.

 

 

“That's what Mommies are for, isn't it? Even if it weren't, I'll bet that you'd want me to do it for you anyway... ♥”

 

 

For as much as Goku's body wished to disagree with this statement, his mind remained unwilling to support it. To reiterate, all of the mental resources not taken up in maintaining his consciousness had been consumed in observance of the greasy automaticity of 18's handjob.

 

 

If appraised solely for their speed and shape, 18's ministrations deserved every bit of the attention that they received. Prior to her initial envelopment of Goku's glans within her palm, 18 had folded her hand around the drooling pipe such that the underside of each of her fingers collectively smothered the underside of his cocktip. Instead of completing her grasp with a matching compression of her palm's lower half against his shaft's front face, she curled her thumb through a horizontal loop across the phallus section's girth right into contact with her index finger. Once pressed against one another, she differentiated the 'O' shaped cock-vice with a maddening intensification of the compression produced by her thumb and finger, and afterwards slipped into the manic, goo-sodden pumping-chain that she had maintained for the preceding half hour.

 

 

The end result of this combination was a monstrously effective wringing of Goku's cock that progressively dispossessed it of lubricant and cock-juice alike. A single upward flick of 18’s wrist drew the noose constituted by her index finger and thumb from the base of his glans to its tip in an instant. To accommodate the disparity between its span and the girth of the boy’s swollen helmet, a fraction of the otherworldly strength contained within her frame was injected directly into her hand. Through this, the spongy tissue of Goku’s cock was compressed to match the span of her noose throughout its blitz towards his cocktip. Discernable by the naked eye as a climbing deflation of his meat that allowed the beet-red inches of his glans not immediately pulverized by 18’s noose to fatten out to their usual girth, the sight itself was primed to evoke thoughts of a very pleasurable steam-rolling.

 

 

Even the phallus of an adult Saiyan was likely to burst if subjected to such concentrated amounts of stimulation–a child’s was simply begging to be victimized. Stroke by stroke, 18’s hand coaxed gratuitously dense blurts of precum out from the tip of Goku’s member directly into contact with the the inner surface of her noose and palm. Denying even the slightest trickle of the gluey mire the pressurized exit that its volume necessitated, her arrivals at this point saw her relieve some of the pressure of her vice such that the murky slime burbled out from Goku’s urethra like slime regurgitated from a sink drain.

 

None of it went to waste, either. Just as soon as the substance began overflowing over the rim of 18’s noose, a downward flick of her wrist saw the volume pooled at the region plastered across the entirety of his glans.

 

These releases and their subsequent glazing across Goku’s glans made up the bulk of the slovenly *SCHLK*-ing produced by 18’s ministrations. Second by second and stroke by stroke, her consistency saw the noises and the messes that accompanied them grow more and more significant until Goku’s frame was ground down to the same state of ‘receptiveness’ as his mind.

 


But not before 18 could comment on the subject herself.

 

“So this is your limit, huh? A little better than last time, but still pretty pointless. It makes Mommy very happy that you know what your limits are, though.” she began, voice no more ‘involved’ with the perverse weight of her actions than they had been minutes prior. “It’s okay, though, sweetie. This should be just enough to make sure that you get everything out…”

 

Pausing, 18 again adjusted her position overtop Goku’s frame. Wiggling down the length of the bed towards the boy’s crotch (and freeing his face from underneath her breasts in the process), she brought her lips to a position hovering over the nose of his spurting glans. Maintaining her strokes all the while, the move eventually culminated in her parting her lips right over the tip of Goku’s cock.

 

 

“Splatter everything out. Cake my mouth pussy with your cock juice ♥.”

 

 

Goku did not comprehend what 18 meant, but his frame abided all the same.  Not 10 seconds following her utterance, the disarmed expression plastered across his face tightened into one of distress, and all of the heated welled into his crotch by 18’s efforts was flushed from the root of his member up through to a monumental burst from the center of his glans…

 

-

 

With the discharge of an initial dollop of semen from the tip of Goku's cock came a ferocious surge of motion from 18's frame. Sultry and deliberate in all of her movements up until this point, she shattered her established mold with a downward plunge of her parted lips along his member and a sound flattening of her palms atop the face of both of his thighs. Succinctly, she skewered her throat full of cock and braced herself to the boy's frame in preparation to accommodate the torrent of semen that was to erupt from the nose of his shaft.

 

 

The point in time at which she chose to produce these motions was one selected with Goku's satisfaction in mind. Prior to reintroducing the pulsing meat of his erection to the slickened confines of her gullet, she allowed a single fattened strand of the boy's balmy nut to leap from the tip of his member up towards her face. Though she had positioned herself perfectly to take the chunked batter strand against her face or spread her lips to allow its contents to cake the back of her throat, she intentionally allowed it to rise and fall as a sewage-like fluid from a highly-pressurized fountain.

 

 

Only after the heated slime flopped down into contact with the exterior of Goku's cock did she dive downwards to plug her esophagus with his meat. As a result of her decision, the sound produced by her sudden plunge—a voracious *GLURP!* unmistakable as the hilting of an engorged and massively vascular length of cock's into an equally-slimy sleeve of esophagus meat—was made that much more swamp-like.

 

 

 Past this, the natural reflexes of her 'mouth-cunt' were called upon well ahead of schedule. Suddenly stressed by a jizz-plastered cock in the midst of blurting out strand after strand of tar-like nut into its depths, the organ's smooth muscle began contracting in time with 18's descent. Inhuman in force and efficiency, its ruthless peristalsis cleared the semen-clogged blockages that had begun to take shape at the base of her esophagus well before they could become genuinely taxing for her frame. Separately, the first few descending 'pushes' of quivering gullet meat across the cock inserted through its majority sheared the semen (and even some of the sweat) plastered to Goku's cock off his member and down into a sloppy tumble towards her stomach.

 

 

 All of this 18 gained from denying herself the taste of her 'son's' ripened nut for a split second before skewering her lips with his erection.

 

 

 Having utilized this strategy twice prior thus far, its results were not at all unexpected for her. They remained extremely satisfying for her, but not so much as to overwhelm her with the thickening layer of pleated nut within her stomach or the volume of the chained *GLRP-GLRP-GLRP* noises that sounded out from her skull as her esophagus drained Goku of his seed.

 

 

Really, the effectiveness of her decision was almost commonplace for her. If not entirely, then at least enough so for her to consciously applaud her own efforts as cock juice was packed into her stomach.

 

 

“I'm really not so bad at this whole 'parenting' thing, huh? Sure I'm not exactly human, but I doubt an un-enhanced woman would be able to help a kid like this anyway.” she mused to herself. “It probably helps that chugging his dick-milk is such a challenge, though. If I didn't have to think about how best to look after him, I'd be bored. Maybe even bored enough to actually go through with killing him.”

 

 

“Or not, who knows.”

 

 

Though her thoughts were completely unhindered by the repeated surge of meaty cock-juice strands across the lining of her esophagus, 18 remained ever aware of her position as a toilet for Goku's semen. Whilst squirming boluses of seed were wrung down into voluminous splatters against the contained ocean of semen within her stomach, the ghostly blue of her eyes remained trained on the face of the boy above her. Piercing but intimate, she conveyed through the expression a 'response' to the boy's orgasm that was as much detached and indifferent as it was inviting.

 

 

Of the 'changes' that she had made with regards to her interactions with the youth, this one was by far the most significant. Months prior, draining Goku of his seed was a task that she had approached with a borderline lifeless efficiency. The only real exceptions to this rule came during the instances wherein she allowed the boy to work himself into a state of feral aggression that was pleasurable enough to fish repeated orgasms from her uterus. Now, however—whether as a result of the increased quality of the fermented baby-juice his balls choked up or her desire to see the boy function at his utmost—special effort was put forth on her part to ensure that all of his orgasms were as debilitating as they were satisfying.

 

 

Presently, this effort amounted to the slightest twitch of her skull produced for each flush of off-white nut down her throat, and an intentional injection of inefficiency into her esophagus. Whereas the tube's base (and its entirety for that matter) stood equipped to contain all of the cock juice that Goku had to offer, 18 allowed a compressed backdraft of semen to rise up the length of her esophagus and into her mouth. Denied natural exit from her face as a consequence of her crotch-compressed lips (and her unwillingness to waste seed), the entirety of this spurt was discharged through her nostrils in a pair of haggard blurts through their openings.

 

18 maintained the perverse gaze she had directed up at Goku both during and after this happening.  Set in search of a facial response to her efforts, what little 'purpose' the gesture served was eventually removed by a significant ebb in the outflow of semen from his balls.

 

 

Upon perceiving this, 18 immediately connected the dots presented to her. First releasing her grasps on the boy's thighs, she drew her lips up along the studded girth of his cock until a familiar *PLORP* saw his glans pop from between her lips behind a contained flourish of semen.

 

 

Goku's balls were empty—even if she continued to milk him, no further responses would come from his frame until he recovered.

 

 

More or less content with what she had received, 18 pushed a final mouthful of semen through her throat.

 

 

With this, she spoke. Not as the cum-drunk harlot that she appeared to be, but with the affect of a parent expecting good behavior from their child.

 

 

“Good, that's better.” succinct and smooth, her voice offered no signs of the effort put forth from her throat moments prior. As usual, the only proof of her sloppy gulping effort was smearing of seed to her lips and its slippage from one of her nostrils.

 

“Now, up you get. We have to visit your little friend today.” she continued. “I doubt it’d make a difference, but I’d rather not give her another reason for her to make one of those faces at me…”

 

More so muttering to herself than Goku, 18 broke away from the youth’s crotch without affording him another glance.

 

In situations such as this, worrying about herself was the more practical option. No matter if she whispered softly or yelled into the youth’s ear, the amount of time required for him to recover from one of his stupors went unchanged. In the end, it would be up to her to help him through the process and see to it that they arrived at their appointment on time.

 

The Android 18 of the past may’ve criticized her choice as a ‘pain’ or a ‘drag’. Presently, though, she regarded it as a responsibility—one whose fulfillment represented the difference between parents and pretenders…

 

-

EFFECTIVE PARENTING STYLES FOR NON-HUMANS

 

18's decision to begin her day with another thorough draining of Goku's balls was not a decision made solely for her benefit. Her appetite for semen remained a large part of her self-centered 'decision making process'; provided she continued to derive even a fraction of the excitement she had felt when first Goku’s semen had bloated her uterus, it always would.

 

Today, an underlined practicality could be found in her actions.

 

Today, the two of them were to pay Bulma Briefs a visit at her family's laboratory/estate. Weeks prior, a purpose had been contrived for this visit, and a date set for it to actually take place. It was not intended to be a casual meeting between three 'friends', but rather a business-like exchange between two parties akin to the transactions carried out between artists and commissioners.

 

 

If one were to attend such an event with a child in tow, much less a child like Son-Goku, guaranteeing his good behavior through disorientation and fatigue could be considered a reasonable precaution. Though Goku did not have a history of 'acting out' whilst in 18's presence, she reasoned that keeping him emotionally flat throughout the visit would make it easier for their host to manage.

 

 

Much like the boy's self-proclaimed former fiancé, Bulma was not especially fond of the changes that 18 had imposed onto the life of her friend. The passage of nearly a year and many a shared visit and outing amongst the trio had done little to dissolve this pleasure—an unsurprising result if one considered that neither 18 nor Bulma made any real attempts at resolving their differences with one another.

 

 

18 did not believe that she had to. In a world without checks or legitimate consequences for her actions, she more often than not disregarded Bulma's discontentment as irrelevant. When she did acknowledge it, it gained no more 'sympathy' from her than the petulant jealousy of a spoiled child (albeit one with ideal fashion sense).

 

 

Bulma was simply disgruntled. While she did not have an attachment to Son-Goku in the romantic sense, her subversion as an extremely prominent and intelligent heiress stung her pride as few other things could. Without Goku's help, she could neither collect the Dragon Ball's to do away with 18, nor devise a strategy to destroy her. Effectively, she was relegated to the position of a powerless 'younger sister' to an older and less affected version of herself. Compared to this, the fact that this ruthless 'sister' was also willing to destroy the entire world at a moment's notice was an asterisk.

 

 

Prudent in spite of her discomfort, Bulma did not allow her feelings to get in the way of her survival. Following her reuniting with Son-Goku and 18 months prior at the Tenkai-Ichi Budoukai—a reunion riddled with aimless screaming and protest on her part—she swallowed the latest of reality’s bitter pills and worked to resume life as usual. Specifically, she resumed her quest for a significant other in a vain attempt at forgetting the fact that a blonde time-bomb from the future had taken up residence within the city that she called home.

 

 

Comically, this too was denied to her less than a month into her attempt. A sudden visit from 18 unaccompanied by the smell of semen and a telling dishevelment of her frame forcibly attached her free time to the completion of a request from 18 herself. At the time, she was handed blue-prints for several items that did not exist in the present, and instructed to complete them within a set period of time. She was to receive no reward for the effort, and her refusal would see the human race go extinct within a matter of days.

 

 

Without recourse, she did not even think to inspect the blue prints before begrudgingly accepting the task.

 

 

From the first day of her allotted construction period, Bulma regretted this decision as one of the worst of her life thus far (not including her decision to seek out the Dragon Balls). She went to work nevertheless, and, as was guaranteed by her bloodline, completed each of the items well before 18's scheduled deadline.

 

 

In spite of her initial unfamiliarity with the items she had been tasked to make, the quality that she attributed to the final products of her labor were such that she couldn't help but feel a certain amount of pride in them. When finally the arranged day of the exchange arrived, this pride became an uncanny excitement that could only be attributed to her being her father's daughter.

 

 

Bulma herself believed her excitement to be natural for an entirely different reason, but if asked, she did not intend to say more than this.

 

 

No woman—not even a developing and bratty teenager—could be without a secret or two all her own...

 

-

 

BRIEFS LABORATORY—MIDDAY

 

 

Too bleary-eyed to focus, yet far too sensitive to change to ignore the world around him, Son-Goku tread a learned path through a wide, gleaming hallway with no real thoughts as to where he was going and what he was doing.

 

 

For once, the boy was not to blame for his own befuddlement. Largely drained from a number of events packed into his morning less than hour prior and rendered even more comfortable on his feet by the freshest trackies a 3 foot nigga could cop and run alongside a baby-blue t-shirt fit for young niggas in the midst of tryna slay mad hoes, conditions primed to lure one into falling asleep on their feet had cradled him for hours now. The mere fact that he had remained awake and on his feet—much less with an empty stomach—was something of a miracle.

 

 

Miracle or no, his being on his feet guaranteed him a certain amount of functionality. Having wandered away from his guardian at some point upon arriving into the massive building that surrounded him, his legs had carried him through an aimless meander throughout the location before finally dumping him onto a path he had followed during the last visit he had paid to the place.

 

 

Awaiting him at the end of this minutes-long trek was an ajar door with noises spilling through its crack—a dream come true for all children taken up in exploration.

 

 

He was through it before he even recognized that he had taken a step. Awaiting him on the other side was louder noise, slightly less light, and faces familiar enough to remind him of the importance of greeting one's friends after spending time away from one another.

 

 

“Oh...hey Bulma...” raising his dominant hand in a wave through a focused patter towards the blue-haired girl, Goku imagined himself in the midst of producing an energetic greeting.

 

 

In reality, he almost seemed too tired and measured to actually be himself.

 

“What'cha working on? Did'ja build somethin' cool again? Can I see?”

 

Per usual, Goku had started speaking without first considered the situation he was interjecting in. Ahead of Bulma at her workbench was 18—part owner of the noises that had drained out of the room prior to his entrance and Bulma's conversation-partner up until this point. Dressed within a summer-ready combination of a white, long-sleeve henely cropped to extend just past her belly-button a pair of pale-pink tights embroidered at the hip with a familiar logo, and a pair of large, round-rimmed designer sun-glasses, her frame was yet again adorned by a combination of clothing too ideal for the massive assets stuffed into them. Though much of her pale white skin was actually covered by her outfit (not including the basin's width of glossy cleavage bleeding out of the top and bottom of her long-sleeve, there was no avenue through which one could argue that the blonde was more decent as opposed to less.

 

 

 

Equally privy to Goku's voice, 18's response to it was a quick slide to her left, and an even quicker squat down to her knees. Though she could have done so whilst facing Goku, 18 intentionally whirled around on her heels to continue facing Bulma whilst squatted down near Goku's height.

 

 

 Wordless, she squished her cheek left cheek flat up against the boy's right and nuzzled whilst flicking her gaze back up towards Bulma.

 

 

“See? I mean just look at this face...” she exhaled, trademarked condescension enveloping her tone. “If this isn't for the best, I don't know what is. Oh wait, I do; I'm from the future.”

 

 

Caught somewhere between disgust and an ambiguous brand of emotional cuckoldry, 18's words stitched a scowl across Bulma's face and briefly fattened her left cheek with hot air. With her hair bundled up in a familiar braided pony-tail—an effective style for extended work hours at her desk—the extent of her girlish grimace was made even more apparent. If not for its fleeting stay across her visage, one who observed it (18, for example) could hardly be faulted for assuming that the girl was genuinely upset.

 

 

“You're gross.” Bulma huffed flatly. “If you're what girls grow up to be in the future, maybe the world is better off being destroyed after all...”

 

 

Unaffected, 18 giggled.

 

 

“If you believed that, you wouldn't have been such a good girl in putting everything together for me.” retorted 18. “If only the world knew that their lives rested on the whims of a teenaged girl. Who knows? Maybe that boyfriend you're looking for would find himself for a change too?”

 

 

Understandably, there was only so much teasing that Bulma could take. In the blink of an eye, her pout erupted into the production of a loud “UGHHH I HATE YOU!” towards 18. Visibly (and audibly) fed up with her presence, she thrust her right hand out towards the older woman’s chest.

 

 

 Clenched within its palm was a capped syringe appropriately branded with the words “CAPSULE.CO”.

 

At its presentation, 18 was silent.

 

 

“There, just take it!” Bulma snapped. “One injection in the belly button is all you need to implant the organ and have it grow. The rest of the stuff is in that case on my desk. Can you please go now? I might not be able to treat you like the bitch you are, but don’t think for a second I won’t tell you the FUCK off until you kill me yourself!”

 

Endlessly amused by the fashionable teenager’s aggression, 18 met the hand she extended with one of her own. Slipping the syringe into her right palm, she briefly scanned its contents with the sensors embedded underneath her artificial flesh. Shrugging indifferently at its contents upon completion, she wasted no time in peeling up the hem of her henely and plunging the uncapped syringe directly into her navel.

 

 

18 felt the effects of the injection almost immediately. Flushed in through the syringe’s tip was a living warmth utterly benign to the warped interior of her frame. Nevertheless appropriate for where it had been injected, ‘space’ previously occupied by a number of contrived organs were made to collaborate with numerous squishy cells.

 

When finally the syringe was emptied, the section of body cavity underneath 18’s navel was made to mirror that of any other woman. In short, a uterus and a pair of ovaries were set where they belonged without disrupting the atypical organization of her innards.

 

These organs were not as natural as they appeared to be. Not seconds after changing shape, a biological timer invested in the egg-stuffed bulbs curled above 18’s womb willfully injected several ovum into its interior in short sequence.

 

No amount of stalwartness could have prevented 18 from happily clutching her still-flat midsection and directing an awed smile down at her stomach in response.

 

Denying herself these things was simply not in her nature.

 

Ever the ignorant by-stander, Goku perceived the event from an entirely different perspective.

 

“Coooool! Hey Bulma, is that thing ‘drugs’?” he suggested. “You never told me that they were fun t’eat! 18 never smiles or anything, but stuffing them into her stomach actually made her happy!”

 

“Can I try? It looks…super fun…kind—”

 

Though enthralled, the pace of Goku’s speech continued to lag behind its usual pace. In all, the amount of time that was required for him to produce his response slightly exceeded the amount of time that 18 stood flabbergasted by the spurting of eggs into her new womb, and the span of Bulma’s overall disgust with proceedings.

 

Both females made ample use of the time at their disposals. A number of steps and a transition from ascent back to descent saw 18 collect the capsule case atop Bulma’s desk whilst Bulma angrily rose from her seat to aggressively sandwich ‘drugs’ against Goku’s lips with her palm.

                                      

 

Though coincidental, the reasons for their actions could not have been more different from one another.

 

 

“You're really going to regret asking that, but it's better you just experience why for yourself.” Bulma began, hands clasped on her hips in disapproval.

 

 

“And you.”

 

 

Shifting towards 18, Bulma affirmed eye-contact with the blonde before raising her right hand away from her hip and pointing towards the door of her workshop.

 

 

“Take him and get out of here before you do anything gross with him. I am NOT putting up with this again, so if you think you can do any of...t-that in my house, you've got another thing com—NO! NONONO! WHAT DID I JUST SAY YOU GROSS WEIRDO!?”

 

 

The time that Bulma spent speaking and turning was time that 18 spent peeling her tights off of her thighs. Indifferent to both the time and place she produced this behavior, she drew the elastic garment down to her ankles alongside her panties prior to stepping out of them entirely. With this, she set out into an eye-catching saunter right back up to Goku's side.

 

 

Whereas Bulma was of the opinion that 18’s behavior represented a blatant* (typical) disregard of her dignity as individual, the reality of her plight was rooted in self-infliction. Contained within the capsule she had clapped into Goku's mouth was a combination of known stimulants and chemicals fabricated for the sole purpose of inducing sperm production and sexual arousal. Within seconds of Goku passing the thumb-sized pill into his stomach, blood from his brain was aggressively siphoned into his crotch, and the use of his legs was disallowed by a progressive engorgement of the monstrous tube of phallus-flesh carefully bound underneath his pants.

 

 

Knocked flat onto his rear and made to look even more delirious than he had upon entering the workshop, his body immediately became a bleeding carcass in the eyes of the blonde carnivore stationed only a few steps away from him within the room.

 

 

There could be no stopping this carnivore once tempted. Very much acquainted with the idea of taking things for herself (and recognizing the junctures wherein doing so was necessary), 18 descended to the ground in deference of Bulma's warning.

 

 

Propped up on her knees ahead of the youth, she beamed a warm and soullessly predatory towards him in hopes that the vile contents of her thoughts would be conveyed to him through it.

 

 

Even if they weren't. She did not intend to give him the option of ignoring her.

 

 

“I told you today would be fun, didn't I?” she began cooly. “Mommy knows you’re already pretty tired as it is, but this is a bit too good of an opportunity for me to let go to waste.”

 

 

Crippled but curious, Goku produced a lidded smile of his own.

 

 

“It is....kinda!” he exhaled. “W-Whaddya mean, though? I thought we were just comin' t'get some stuff from Bulma. Are we also...s'posta do...drugs and stuff?”

 

 

18 considered responding to this for a moment (this indicated by an arced roll of her eyes up into the top-left of their sockets). Words were rarely the best way to explain things to Goku; aroused or not, there were only so many ways one could phrase an explanation with the exception of him understanding.

 

 

This was not to say that the boy couldn't internalize an explanation if prompted to.

 

 

And he needed to—if not universally, then now in particular.

 

 

Like this, consideration (and not wanton efficiency) fished speech from her lips at the same speed that action was drawn from her frame.

 

“No, you little idiot. You did drugs; I just injected myself with an organ...” 18 began, hands outstretched into contact with the waistline of Goku's sweatpants.

 

 

“What's an organ?”

 

 

“We've been over this. It's like your stomach, but it serves an actual purpose.”

 

 

“Why would'ja need to put a stomach into your stomach? Don'tcha already got one in there?”

 

 

Rolling her eyes at the futility of her attempt, 18 turned her attention to exposing the boy's mouth-watering erection. Hooking fingers underneath the waistline of his pants, she rudely wrenched the garment off of his lower body as one might slide an old rug off of the floor.

 

 

In doing so, all of the frustration that his responses had generated within her was made worthwhile. At a moment's notice, the baseball-bat length pipe of well-used and excessively-vascular cock that she had become enamored with was exposed to the open air in all of its reeking and grossly-disproportionate glory.

 

 

This time, however, its appearance was even more mouth-watering than usual. The 'excess use' that the pale trunk had seen earlier within the day had rendered it much more responsive to the compounds that Goku had ingested. As far as 18 could tell, the clustered arrangement of pudgy cock-veins that creeped away from the bisecting-bloat of his urethra had become positively chubby whereas the girth and rigidity of tube itself—a fair match for pliant steel wrapped underneath sweaty flesh—now appeared internally destructive (with relation to the orifices it was to be slotted into).

 

 

Daunting as her favorite organ appeared to be, 18's motivation went unchanged. Following a lick of her lips, she again dropped her front forward to overwhelm Goku’s under-height frame with the feminine excess of her own.

 

The passage of a half year had done little to moderate the disparity between their sizes. With her breasts and midsection alone, 18 firmly obscure the entirety of Goku’s front from outside observation. The only regions spared from contact with the sweetly-scented plush of her breasts and the feminine affirmation of her abdominals were the very backs of his shoulder (cradled by a supportive curl of 18’s arms across his upper back) and his crotch (the ‘root of her position straddling/smothering his frame). Buttocks intentionally pressed back against the mammoth erection that sprouted up from his crotch, the sight of her frame atop his owned the degenerate suggestiveness of an extremely perverse woman in the midst of utilizing a child-sized sex toy.

 

Never one to place stock in the opinions of others (however objective), 18 spoke in deference of what was apparent just as soon as came to terms with musty heat billowing from the meat pillar behind her rear.

 

“God his dick is fucking hot. It’s always felt amazing before, but maybe it’ll be hot enough to make that new pocket inside me really sting…

 

I guess this is what I get for trying an analogy with you, huh?” 18 exhaled. “Look, just forget it; all you need to now is that I should be able to have babies now. Just be good for Mommy and help me with that, okay?”

 

Ever removed from reality, Goku spoke into the flesh of 18’s breasts with more enthusiasm than he had at any point throughout the day.

 

“Sure! It’s kinda dark, but I’ll try my best!” he chirped.

 

“Oh…wait…”

 

“How do ya make babies? Is it like a fight?”

 

In response, 18 peeled her right arm away from Goku’s back. Pushing the limb down past her right thigh, she felt around at the region for a few moments in search of Goku’s left leg. Upon locating the limb, she mushed her palm into the meat of his thigh, then snaked her grasp down to the boy’s ankle. This done, she forcibly spread the near-toddler-sized limb out and away from his crotch, and matched the preparative motion with a menacing elevation of her rear back against the exterior of his member.

 

And then she dropped it.

 

Smooth and serpentine throughout its ascent, 18 plunged the meat of her ass back down across phallic pillar it had traced with the graceless automaticity of a stake fired into the ground. Every inch of Goku’s member was messily slotted between her lower lips with only a gooey spurt of her internal lubrication against the youth’s crotch as proof that she had moved at all.

 

Not a noise slipped from her lips throughout the event. The flushing of her cheeks and her eyes’ slippage down toward the smothered youth beneath her could be taken as proof that a pleasured moan existed within the back of her throat—as it would’ve for any woman so thoroughly gutted with cock might.

She simply couldn’t release it.

 

She was far too busy smiling to want to.

-

 

SHOUTOUTS TO UH, UH…BULMA FOR MAKING COOL SHIT. SHOUTOUTS TO MY NIGGA UH, DR.GERO, FOR DOING THE INSTRUMENTALS ON MY MIXTAPE, I SEE YOU BRO I AIN’T FORGET. SHOUTOUTS TO U-UH, FUCK…DR.SLUMP THAT CRAZY NIGGA ON THE ISL—

 

 

18’s forward-minded assault of Son-Goku’s frame was motivated more so by practicality than it was reprehensible lust. Convincing someone of this fact (Bulma, for example) was a task rendered increasingly difficult by the ascent, descent, and ravenous gyrations of her hips along Goku’s erection. Even so, the fact itself persisted as an example of a truth whose inconvenience was matched by its accuracy.

 

18 had promised herself that she would live her life as she saw fit. Altering the past of the world she had been born into was inherent to this—as would have been any other set of actions she committed herself to. By living in accordance with her whims, she had come to the conclusion that there was no longer an explicit ‘need’ for her to deconstruct Son-Goku’s life when recreating it remained as viable (and far more pleasurable) of an option. By simply bending the contents of the boy’s life in a direction as far removed from his original self as possible, she could do whatever she pleased, and effectively guarantee that her purpose would be achieved at the same time.

 

This ‘change in perspective’ just so happened to coincide with the steady increases in the affection that she felt for the youth. Birthed from this was a plan of activity that had seen Bulma commissioned for her expertise, and Goku rendered malleable for what would ideally be a short and sweet activation of the uterus implanted within her stomach.

 

 

 

 

Putting her all into carrying out a plan so deeply rooted in her personal preferences was very easy for 18. For as much as she enjoyed allowing Goku to ravage her innards and cake their confines in his semen, rendering  his frame as an opposable and compliant masturbation toy positively loaded with jizz appeared to her as the most straightforward means of seeing herself inseminated.

 

 

Her opinion on this subject went unchanged throughout her goring the entirety of Goku's mast through the soaked grasp of her cunt right up until she began clobbering the gropable fat of her rear in and out of contact with his crotch.

 

 

With this, she could not help but long for the pleasure that she had lost in deciding to fuck the youth on her own.

 

Ever the wistful optimist, she did not dwell on the subject for long. Not a second after the first splatter of her moistened buttocks down along the ribbed and wriggling bulk of Goku's erection, reflexes installed within her hips saw her pierced folds drawn back up the length of his cock to a 'choke-point' a handful of inches below his glans.

 

 

The extraction of his hole-spreading pipe from her depths convinced her that the path that she had chosen would be just as satisfying. The stinging need left within her drooling folds by the absence of Goku's cock within her and her long established 'preference' for the stifling heat and invasive length of his shaft played their part in this. But as far as she could tell, the 'root' from which this feeling stemmed was entirely novel:

 

The organ set behind her abdominals wished to taste the chunked cock juice promised to it by the gutting nuzzle of Goku's glans against her cervix.

 

 

If the appearance of a biological desire within her was not grounds for excitement, nothing would be.

 

 

Motivated by it, 18 again turned her sweating visage down to the youth hidden by her bust, and deepened the impression of his front against her chest with her left hand. This done, she thoughtlessly slammed her hips downwards and inwards to see every inch of vein-studded cockmeat left to pulse outside of her syrup-plastered innards messily drilled back through her cunt to the tune of a fleshy *GLORP ♥*.

 

 

Innards set as they ought've been and pleasure surging from the meat of her inner walls up through to her womb, the android found herself filled with enough ‘positive affect’ to hungrily lick her lips prior to speaking out as she had intended to.

 

 

“Fuck~! Taking all of your cock inside me is never going to stop feeling good, huh squirt?” she exhaled affectionately. “ I did my best to make sure that you were totally empty before we showed up here, but it feels like you're already totally stuffed with jizz again ♥.”

 

 

“That's okay, though...”

 

 

Drawing her utterance out so as to buy time for a swivel of her hips around the smothered span of Goku's crotch, 18 finished speaking only after the short rotations had rolled the bloated veins embedded within his erection against the sopping cunt-lining that surrounded them deeply enough to elicit a sloppy burst of her feminine lubricant out against its exterior. Heavy and dense, its contents re-glazed the trapped extent of his cock before oozing out of her squished lower lips towards his testicles in the form of several slow-moving and succulent strands.

 

 

If not in terms of consistency, the words that she produced after the fact matched these strands in vulgarity.

 

 

“It's Mommy's responsibility to make sure every drop of her little boy's cock juice gets put to good use, isn't it? All you have to do is let out as much as possible so that you can put a baby in her tummy this time.”

 

 

“You'll do that for me, won't you?”

 

 

Whether or not Goku opted to take on the task himself, 18 did not intend to give him the option of defying her. As soon as she finished speaking, the grip that she had placed on the boy's right leg was reaffirmed, and the swell of her rear was sent on another syrup-spindled ascent up towards the tip of his cock.

 

18 denied herself further deliberate action past this point. The renewed suckle of her cuntlips to the upper reaches of Goku's cock was maintained for only an instant before another plunge of her rear did away with it. Subsequently, 18 began driving her rear upwards and downwards with the force of a sledgehammer and the speed of a piston. Squarely splitting her leaking folds with cockmeat in the same way that she emptied them, she willfully (and hastily) subjected herself to a bruising pummel of her cervix with cockmeat as accompanied by a masturbatory wringing of Goku's member with the meat of her inner walls. Seemingly deaf to the greasy *CLOP-SPLAT-CLOP-CLOP-SPLAT* produced by her rear each time she skewered herself ball's deep and happily enthralled with the writhing and throbbing put out by Goku's cock , she again took on the appearance and mannerisms of an irresistible female automaton desperate to swell her innards with a fresh excess of cock juice

 

 

At a glance, her metronome appeared thoughtless. Unhindered by concepts like 'fatigue' or 'over-stimulation', she curled her rear back through one stomach-fattening consumption of Goku's erection after another without any signs of slowing. In her current position—bent knees planted to either side of Goku’s waist and upper body bent down to impose chest-to-skull contact with his own— these backwards depressions amounted to a speedy 'bounce' of her rear across the distance spanned from his glans to his crotch. From any given hilt of cockmeat into her cunt, 18 utilized momentum to see the grasp of her cunt rebounded across the heated spire it swallowed right back up to the stopping point that she had defined. To accommodate Goku's minuscule size relative to that of his cock, both of these motion sets traced 18's lower body across a path shaped like a low hill.

 

As was suggested by their appearance, these ministrations were extremely effective.

 

 With Goku's upper back was braced out of contact with the ground by her left arm, each blindingly-fast dump of the pale android's backside was backed both by the weight of her frame and the gravity that pressed down onto it.

 

 Where her womanhood was concerned, this combination represented the difference between merely 'riding' Goku's member (with a punishing amount of speed and force), and the utter pulverization she was engaged in presently. Through the force generated within her faultless hips and the glossy mass shared between her ass and thighs, the puffy, specialized 'meat' of her cunt was disallowed its usual, compactor-esque suckle to the exterior of Goku's cock. Typically—if not penetrated by Goku himself with as much force as possible—the congealed density of her cunt imposed a pressure that slowed the invasion of phalluses to a crawl, and hugged their meat with enough sodden stimulation that the veins strewn about them ceased to writhe.

 

With only her hips and mass at her disposal, even 18 would have struggled to subvert the cock-milking tendencies of her innards on her own. As this was not the case, she was instead free to move at the ruthless pace mandated by her libido without incurring any significant 'losses' in the electrifying bliss that was jutted up into her cunt. Like clockwork, the descent of her rear fed the greedy pleasure receptors that infested her folds the familiar stresses of spreading around and suckling to Goku's member. Choked full with a succinct brutality, their engorgement was repeatedly sweetened by depressive smashes of his glans against her cervix and the progressive loosening of the chubby donut’s tautness towards complete non-function.

 

 

 Before implanting the womb that Bulma had made for her into her core, 18 had been of the opinion that the shape and quality of her self-imposed cunt-gutting would have been both satisfying and memorable. However, just before slamming her outer-lips down onto her son's glans, the metronome she had envisioned for herself prior to 'consuming' the boy was swiftly relegated into the realm of insufficiency.

 

 

 Suddenly, she needed more from her son—so much more that she became the only person capable of properly satiating herself in her mind’s eye.

 

 

 To ensure that she was eventually satisfied, 18 had preemptively secured her left palm to Goku's ankle. When the stuffing of her cunt and the consequential formation of a graphic spire of flesh-wrapped boy-cock at her abdominals failed to  scratch the itch that had wormed its way inside her, she nevertheless remained poised to properly take care of herself.

 

 

 The adjustment that she made was simple: Goku's leg was outstreched to avail more of his crotch surface to her cunt, and the invasive spikes of her cunt across his member were biased to the right to see to it that her folds were subjected to as much additional contact with his member as possible.

 

 

 The end result of 18's exploitative gesture was potent enough to hold a perverse smirk across her lips, and with time, coaxed her into the production or praise that Son Goku had done nothing to earn.

 

 

 “ A-And here I thought you hadn't done any growing at all...” though largely unchanged for the physical effort she was in the midst of, the slightest hint of pleasured disorientation could be heard in 18's voice. “Is it because you want to be a good boy and totally gut Mommy's insides with your cock? Or are you just so desperate to get rid of all of that dick sludge inside you that you want to make me fuck all of it out of you at once?”

 

 

 “Either way...”

 

 

 Unfeeling even in her most genuine displays of compassion, 18 abruptly adjusted the bounce of her rear in such a way that was bound to seal her tiny partner’s lips for good.

 

 

 All at once, the height of her syrup-slogged extrications was lowered down to a trio of inches. Housing nearly all of the boy's cock within a sputtering hanjob of fattened cuntflesh, 18 maintained the speed of her pumping as though the transition had not reduced her innards down to a swollen slot for the youth's cock.

 

 

 Per usual, the softened *PLAT-PLAT-PLAT* induced by the change went unacknowledged in her behavior.

 

 “I love it~! Hold everything inside for as long as you can until you can spew everything out inside Mommy's womb ♥. Turn her new womb into another over-stuffed batter vat for your cum!”

 

In the midst of his fourth bout of sexual intercourse in as many hours, the constituents of Goku’s consciousness were little more than liquefied grey matter held together in thier application towards a common goal: enjoying the sloppy constriction ground up and down the meat of his member until the inevitable eruption of his fourth orgasm.

 

Given this, the response that the youth produced was to be expected.

 

Really, it was almost impressive.

 

“18….I-I’m feelin’ ‘inda ‘hunny…” he stammered, words mumbled directly against the meat of her breasts.

 

“’thin’s gunna come o-out, ‘ay? I-itsh  ‘unna end up inside y-you…”

(Something is going to come out, okay? It’s all going to end up inside you…)

 

If slurred and unheard, Goku’s stammering sketched a partly-accurate depiction of reality. Orgasm after orgasm at the hands of 18’s frame had pared the youth’s sexual durability down to a state that was nearly appropriate for his size and station as a child. Drugs or no drugs, his body was ill-equipped to withstand the thrusting pattern that she had set herself into for more than a few short minutes.

 

He did try, of course. As 18 had astutely suggested, the numerous bouts of sex he had enjoyed with the older woman had predisposed him towards one of resistance or rebellion. In this instance, his body chose the former; his mind was in no shape to produce decisions on its own, and to begin with, instinct had always served as the boy’s foremost tool.

 

Hopeless as the task set out for it seemed, Goku’s body held the boiling reservoir of semen locked within its crotch back for as long as it could. The short-length wringing of his member—a nauseating depression of his breeding instrument into a quivering onahole topped off with an ideal, ring-shaped button for his glans—saw additional veins raised into the obscene root-system already spread atop its exterior.  The sopping wet sensation produced as 18’s mound splattered in and out of contact with the root of his member (and the exaggerated throating noises that accompanied it) were pushed to the back of his consciousness alongside other ‘useless’ sensations (namely the feeling in his legs). For a time, the sole focus of his body centered on the production of a resistance that might overcome 18’s incessancy.

 

And yet, it failed all the same. 

 

Soon enough, 18 began to desire a form of ‘payoff’ for battering her cervix with cockmeat at such a punishingly short distance and entertaining the monstrous distension that doing so created at her stomach. More aware of her ‘son’s’ limitations than he was of himself, she performed at her utmost whilst carefully tracking the amount of ‘resistance’ left in the boy every step of the way.

 

When his limit seemed nearest, she put the boy out his misery.

 

“Wow, aren’t you a good boy ♥.” she teased, sweetly. “Now, let’s have all that baby juice you’ve built up for me…”

 

Without warning, 18’s rear surged upwards. This time, her lower lips were drawn far enough upward to suckle against the midsection of his glans. Cuntmeat clinging to the exterior of Goku’s shaft all throughout the elevation, her mound’s arrival at this stopping point abandoned numerous smears of cunt-juice to a lonely slither through the cragged engorgement of the boy’s cock.

 

Not for long, though. Within the blink of an eye, 18 spiked every inch of phallus she had wrenched from herself back through the starved compaction of her cunt with more force than ever before.

 

Through it, the tip of Goku’s member became no different from a spearhead. Whereas the inches of cockmeat below it were engulfed just as they always were, the mash of his glans up against her cervix ended as a sharpened pencil tip’s depression against a sheet of paper:

 

With perforation, and a smooth slide of the pencil’s length through the gaped baby-button spread around its girth…

 

-

THE WORLD ORDER OF A SINGLE BLONDE

 

As familiar was 18 was with carnal pleasure and the sex acts most often attached to it, the concept of impregnation—the fundamental purpose of intercourse and an extremely 'fulfilling' event for most women—remained foreign to her.

 

 

Like a young woman in the midst of enjoying her youth, the idea of child-rearing lacked the kind of 'appeal' required for her to entertain the thought of enduring it. She never once mused on the subject for long enough to consider measuring it up against the pleasures that she derived from life as a young adult (these being a specific brand of material gain and wanton bouts of exhaustive sex). Nevertheless, her mind shoe-horned everything concerned the event—the inundation of her womb with semen, the piercing of one of her eggs with sperm, and the subsequent carriage and birthing of a child—as being far too boring to be worthwhile.

 

 

Time and experience did eventually change her perspective. Upon travelling to the past to destroy Son-Goku, the intercourse that she was treated to (and treated herself to) jostled the 'concept' she had discarded to the back of her mind to its forefront. Made more and more relevant by her intent to live freely and her fledgling addiction to the sensation of a child's fattened sperm cells wriggling around within her stomach and uterus, she was eventually tempted into the exact sort of 'wondering' that she had put off whilst still human.

 

 

Ironically, the onset of her curiosity came too late. Well before she could properly imagine a 'picture' of what it was the thing she desired might be like, the cool efficiency of her mind contrived a means for her to experience it firsthand.

 

 

Her first clue as to what she had missed out on ought've been the warmth and moisture that swallowed her crotch when her new uterus began to ovulate.

 


This warning and each one that followed it went ignored by her mindset.

 

 

The sole consequence that she endured for her carelessness was participation. When the freshly gestated surge of cock-batter responsible for the clogging of Goku's internal piping and the ghastly bloat of his erection erupted into the cock-spread confines of her uterus, her usual sultry indifference was set out of reach for her mind. Beset with the thought-rotting sensation of a reproductive organ's—her reproductive organ's—engorgement with Goku's flesh-scalding baby-batter, the responses yoked from her frame were the exact set that a much 'lesser' woman might've produced in her position:

 

 

The squealing and mewling of a yet-bred sow.

 

 

 

“Ohgod, ohmigoooood♥♥♥. B-Bay juice is getting s-splattered out inside my womb! M-My baby-maker is getting s-stained with a l-little boy’s cock juice !!” 18 stammered. “It's so...so hot~ The eggs inside me are g-gonna get violated. T-Those squishy cells a-are going to get raped so bad t-they won't work anymore ♥.” 

 

 

“I can feel it! Everything is wriggling s-so much~! G-Getting p-pregnant feel'sh s-so f-fuckin' good ♥♥!”

 

 

The measured babbling that 18 produced was entirely warranted. Given what was occurring within her, the fact that she had managed to restrict herself to legitimate outbursts as opposed to incoherent groans was a small miracle.

 

 

Following the final depression of her rear along the length of Goku's cock and the final gut-rending punch of cockmeat delivered up against the pudgy elasticity of her uterus, a volume of semen large enough to first cake, and eventually bloat the tented roof of the organ erupted from the nose of Goku's glans with a force just shy of a plugged hose suddenly relieved of the blockage restricting it. First subjected to the swell of the boy's member with the substance, then the ascending wriggle of its volume up his shaft’s length, and finally the stinging expulsion of its contents against the stretched lining of her uterus, a flurry of familiar (but compositionally enhanced) pleasures preceded the glutted burst and framed it in such a way that most everything about it somehow felt 'better'.

 

 

What 18 experienced was a pleasurable correctness so potent that even the artificial components of her mind began to consider repeated insemination as a far better use of her internal resources than actually living life.

 

 

 

Interestingly, she nevertheless perceived it as lacking definite shape and depth.

To her, it was all-consuming: a limitless substance that bent her thoughts towards the cells twitching within her womb and rendered her entirely indifferent to the 'un-dignifying' trickle of mucus across her lip from her right nostril.

 

 

However much of this 'view' could be reduced to the functionality of the organ set within her core, the quality of Goku's release closely matched it in proportion. Following the first geyser-like eruption of his shaft, repeated surges of seed were pumped through his member as a fool might chug cement. Semen qualitatively bisected between a chunked batter and a malleable slime (the end result being something akin to a lumpy plaster) was blurted out from the tip of his shaft in strands thicker than an adult male thumb, and just slightly longer than half the length of an adult forearm. Each of these intensified the weight and warmth introduced into 18's womb by the beginning of his orgasm just enough for their 'contributions' to her baby-maker to be differentiable from each other. Even whilst her mind sat consumed by the 'idea' of her womb's insemination, 18 was made aware of these voluminous contributions by way of sensation alone.

 

 

Not surprisingly, the compilation of these nutrient-laden strands demanded swelling and expansion from 18's womb within seconds of the event. Spurt by noisy, *GLORP*-accompanied spurt, the distension of her womb by Goku's cock was 'normalized' by the flushing of nut from the ceiling of the organ down across the walls of its interior. Beginning with numerous, off-white streaks, the pudgy pink of the organ's inner lining was progressively drowned underneath conjoined layers of semen until its natural volume was completely consumed by the mire. From this point onwards, each spurt of greasy nut from out of Goku's cocktip bloated the basin-shaped organ towards a more obese and sac-like shape, and simultaneously elicited a much more audible *GLRSH* akin to the squishing of flesh against flesh.

 

 

Subjection to such a sound filling, much less with several eggs already grafted to the interior of one's womb, was bound to 'addle' a woman's perception of reality. Yes: even if this woman was an android built and shaped to endure the very worst sort of physical stresses with a smile.

 

 

Viewed this way, 18's initial responses (both mental and verbal) to the fattening of her stomach could not be viewed as worthwhile topics of discussion. She was overwhelmed by stimulation that was, in fact, overwhelming; the finer details of the happening, if wildly obscene, were to be expected.

 

 

What transpired after her stomach was engorged with seed past the projection of a bloated, squishy (and non-existent) 'fourth trimester' of semen-based pregnancy was much more novel in comparison.

 

 

And not merely because of its coinciding with the sequential nuzzle of countless sperm cells against the eggs drowning within her womb.

 

 

“So much cock juice! You're filling me up even more than before! Getting turned into a stupid baby-maker with dick juice is the best ♥!” some seoncds after the beginning of Goku's orgasm, this conclusion was the first plated at the tip of 18's tongue. Others like it flowed from between her lips soon afterwards, but not before a downward tip of her skull down towards the smothered youth beneath her.

 

 

“That's it ♥! That's it, I-I don't care ♥!! Y-You're going to keep dumping cock juice inside me just l-like this again and again. I'm going to be a dumpster for all of your gooey dick-sludge!!

 

 

Whilst producing these utterance, the cross-eyed disarmament that had consumed 18's visage was replaced by an expression of focused affection. A much 'happier' iteration of one of her usual smirks could be seen spread across her lips from corner to corner. Additionally, the muted blue of her irises was replaced by a sharp pink, and the pupils at their centers swapped out for similarly colored hearts. Both of these directed firmly at the obscured visage of the boy beneath her, it seemed at first glance as though the older woman had somehow become more infatuated with the youth than she had been to begin with.

 

 

Whether or not this was actually the case, the object of her affections remained in no condition to properly respond to her intent. Thoroughly wasted on a combination of chemicals, stimulation, and fatigue, Goku did not so much as grunt at the sound of 18's intent. Face smothered underneath milk-swelled breast meat and frame mildly 'hugged' by the comparatively obscene mass of her frame, the extent of the boy's interest in anything other than the semen in the midst of wriggling out of his member and into the convulsing orifice sealed around his erection was virtually non-existent. 18's utterances were thereby allowed to reverberate throughout the room uncontested whilst 18 herself was allowed to assume that her unilateral affection' had been reciprocated by Goku in full.

 

 

Strictly speaking, whether or not he consented to her desires verbally was unimportant. Were it not that his words had failed him, the drooling grasp 18's cunt had sealed around the meat of his member and the smooth embrace her hand had set around his upper back would have guaranteed his consent to begin with.

 

 

Really, after all that had transpired, the only individual who stood in protest of 18's desires was Bulma. Rendered pigeon-footed (a poor attempt at concealing the needy drooling of her cunt) and sweaty by the sights still transpiring within her workshop, hers was the only mind within the area not entirely taken up with the sights and sounds of debased intercourse.

 

 

Today, her resistance was purposeful. Though she remained unable to do anything about the events transpiring ahead of her (and unwilling to remove herself from them), standing and watching as they unfolded provided her with both confidence and certainty.

 

The artificial organ she had crafted and the compound she had synthesized were effective. Enough so that a super-powered android and a monkey-tailed child could not help but submit to the perverse mandates of their composition.

 

Given this, there was reason to believe that the other ‘items’ she had crafted—namely those that she had created without 18’s knowledge—would be equally effective.

 

Perhaps enough so save a little girl’s hypothetical marriage.

 

Or better yet, save the world.



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