Chapter Text
You squint against the searing lights as you slowly peel your eyes open. The room seems to spin around you, effectively disorienting your senses. Cold metal bars of a chair press against your back, the only thing keeping you from toppling over. After a series of blinks, blurry shapes begin to form in your vision, and it gradually becomes clear to you that there’s a strange, indigo-coloured creature in your presence. When ‘it’ begins to speak, you’re shocked you’re able to understand the unfamiliar sounds pouring from its mouth.
"Glad to see you're awake, my dear. I've been instructed to wake you."
You have to strain yourself not to get distracted by the liquid-like quality of its voice. "You've been purchased by Prince Vegeta, an elite member of the death squad under Lord Frieza," it continues in a stream of just as peculiar-sounding words.
This doesn’t make any sense to you. Through your haze, you look around to determine where you are, as you search your memory. A small surge of panic courses through you when you draw a blank. You don't know where you were before this, where you are now, and how you got here.
The creature before you seems to sense your confusion and speaks again. “It’s to be expected to lose more than a few memories after stasis, my dear. But some of them might return to you eventually.”
Your gaze is fixed on its moving mouth devoid of lips, and it takes a moment for the creature's words to register in your mind. With its numerous tentacles, more than eight, you think, it's like you're conversing with a colossal cuttlefish or an octopus.
“Besides, it’s probably for the best for now,” it continues, “not much remains of your world and race. You’re the last one of your kind that’s been perfectly preserved as far as I know”. The alien looks down on you with pity and places its twitching tentacle on your shoulder.
You intentionally avoid looking at it, afraid that even in your half-hazy mental state, you'll freak out. You’re already on the verge of breaking down, but right before the first tear is able to slip from your eye, you’re distracted by the appendages swaying in the air behind the creature's body as it walks away from you. While it sits down behind a computer and starts going over some charts, you look at the sight incredulously, captivated by the movements of its tentacles, reminding you of anemones gently floating through the water.
You rub your hands over your face when it dawns on you that you must be utterly baked or something else in that direction. Even though the most devastating news humanly possible has just been delivered to you, you keep getting distracted. There’s some inexplicable detachment you’re feeling that feels foreign to you. You realize this doesn’t bode well at all, but at least you’re not erupting in a panic attack. For the moment, you decide to just focus on figuring out what’s going on, prompting you to ask the creature to give you more information.
It informs you that you're on a small planet that deals in slave labor of ‘various kinds’. You can tell the creature is being intentionally vague about the matter. The specific role or service expected of you remains undetermined for now, as the creature believes you may be capable of fulfilling multiple roles. The only thing that's clear to you is that you're considered a highly valuable and unique 'purchase’.
You're thankful the oversized cuttlefish offers you a drink, as your throat feels as if you've swallowed a mouthful of dry sand. After downing the liquid in one go, your tongue begins to tingle strangely.
Suddenly, the cuttlefish shines a bothersome light in your eyes, and as it instructs you to look up and down, left and right, it enlightens you further on your situation. A chip has been implanted in your ear, allowing you to comprehend 'the common tongue' and grasp some basics of the Saiyan language extracted from their files. You have no idea what this entails, but according to the creature, the Saiyan language is on the verge of extinction, and the one who has bought you is among the very few in the universe who still wields it.
Oh, that’s right, you've just learned that you've been 'purchased,' whatever that may precisely involve. Upon learning that your buyer ranks among the top ten strongest beings in the universe (implying that it's a great honor to be purchased by him) and that it's expected of you to address your buyer as 'Master,' a small knot tightens in the pit of your stomach.
You need a minute to take it all in, and you grip the metal armrests tightly. Apparently, you’ve been stripped of your homeworld, your identity, and your freedom. Everyone you know and love is dead, and some freakishly strong alien murderer is going to be completely in control of your life from now on. In a world where you know no one. In fact, you’re not even sure who you are yourself. You remember a few loose fragments about a past that happened many years ago, according to this creature. Why you aren’t deathly scared is beyond you. You grip the roots of your hair in bewilderment in a feeble attempt to make sense of it all, but the movement merely makes you wobble unsteadily in the chair.
"You're likely experiencing the effects of cryosleep and the substance that slaves of your class are administered through their food and drinks. It serves as a sort of fear inhibitor, and it makes the slaves... more compliant and at ease. I've administered something to you while you were still asleep to ease the transition, and it was in the glass of water you just drank."
If you had been sober, you would have felt utterly horrified, but you are not.
The cuttlefish instructs you to attempt standing on your feet, and once you're out of the chair, it gently guides you down a corridor. You struggle to keep up, your movements as wobbly as a newborn fawn trying to stand on its legs. However, you're captivated by your surroundings. The ‘medlab’ is bordered by tall, windowless white walls, and rows of strange, foreign-looking machines line the way. ‘It's as though I've stepped into a state-of-the-art, futuristic hospital from a science fiction novel,’ you marvel.
You follow the swaying form of the cuttlefish to another clinical-looking area, where it presents you with garments that are intended for the 'merchandise.'
The merchandise that is now apparently you.
The creature explains that you will receive different types of clothing based on your 'versatility.' It displays various uniforms and revealing dresses for you to wear, and although you might have forgotten who you are exactly, you are certain these styles are far from your personal fashion taste. Unfortunately, the cuttlefish urges you to put on one of the more flimsy, see-through dresses. You swallow hard as you're led into an adjoining room, which resembles a basic bathroom. As you close the door behind you, the lights noisily spring to life from hidden sources.
****
Your shower passes in a steamy rush, and after drying your hair with something resembling a blow dryer, you gaze at your reflection for the first time. The drugs make you feel like every sensation is dulled, making everything seem unreal. ‘'Cryo chambers must possess healing properties,’ you muse, seeing as your face is as smooth as a peach's skin, and your eyes shimmer unusually bright. You vaguely recollect a few scars that have now faded. You can't recall ever wearing glasses or contact lenses, but at least now your vision is perfect.
You spin around to examine your attire. The dress resembles a lilac negligee that barely covers the curve of your ass. Your hip bones protrude daringly through the see-through fabric. You offer gratitude to the gods that the alien cuttlefish has permitted you to wear the 'standard' plain black underwear beneath. You grimace at your reflection. You look like a high-class stripper, prepared to perform for an exclusive audience.
The alien shortly knocks before it hands you a pair of long, thick over-knees with thin shoe soles sewn in. When you try them on, they fit surprisingly well, and you think it must be made of a material that conforms to the wearer.
When you’ve put them on, the cuttlefish informs you through the door that your ‘Master’ has arrived and is waiting for you. Despite the sedatives, a hole filled with nerves and alarm yawns open in your gut.
You won’t be more prepared for this, but you’re stalling behind the door with the doorknob in your hand. You hear the gurgling sounds of the cuttlefish calling you again, and you draw in a deep breath before opening the door.
You look around in a space that resembles a lobby, and your eyes immediately fall on a dark, sturdily built frame by the window with coal-black hair sprouting upwards from the thick cords of his neck.
Your stomach twists on itself when he turns around and tries to hide a gasp, taking you in at full view.
The strokes of sunlight touching your supple form make for a striking sight, and in a deeply tucked-away corner where Vegeta methodically buries all of his potential vulnerabilities, something comes alive and stirs.
****
Vegeta had always led a solitary life, just the way he preferred it. When alone, he could simply be. He had his Saiyan brethren, but he only engaged with them when required. When he was sent to Frieza at the age of ten, he rapidly acquired the skill of building barriers between himself and the outside world. He'd been marinating in his own pool of weariness and distrust ever since. As a consequence, being around other individuals was always going to be an unpleasant ordeal for him.
Vegeta clasps his hands behind his back, waiting for your arrival, his form military straight, as per usual. Every trace of nerves is meticulously swallowed down like he was trained to do many years ago. Vegeta understands that by acquiring you, you are effectively bound to him by contract. The question is: will you prove to be more trouble than you’re worth?
He recalls encountering your image in an advertisement alongside nine other women, all of them appearing much more alien in appearance. He had been mindlessly flipping through a digital brochure when he stumbled across your image, and an uncomfortable yet undeniable truth had dawned on him. He was experiencing an existential crisis in an empty restaurant on an asteroid, enclosed by windowless steel walls. The covert rebel society, burrowed underground in mineral-rich rock, had shielded its city with curved steel along the walls and ceiling. Its modest population of a few thousand had been wiped out an hour ago. Vegeta leaned back, balancing the chair on its hind legs, and tossed the tablet with the brochure onto the table.
He had executed the mission successfully, but it hadn’t satisfied him at all.
Vegeta had felt this way before, and something deep inside was telling him it had to do with the ceaseless, totalitarian rule of Frieza that had been gnawing away at him over time. With each planetary purge and resale on behalf of that filthy lizard, his old bloodlust had dimmed further. Vegeta knew that as the years passed, he had gradually outgrown his former soldier mindset. He grew increasingly restless, craving something else, something more. His once fervent desire to become the mightiest warrior in the universe had matured beyond the urge to mindlessly slaughter the weak and defenseless. This no longer provided him with any sense of challenge or accomplishment. He now yearned to be his own man, to act and think independently, and to resist external influences. This meant being capable of defying his oppressor, Lord Frieza, a wish that would never come true given their vast difference in power.
Trying to occupy his mind with something else, he picked up the tablet again and mindlessly flipped through the feed. He had to navigate through numerous advertisements to get to the first news article. He scanned the text, another report praising Frieza for his ability to ‘liberate’ another civilization. Vegeta frowned over the realization that the number of viable worlds suitable for purging and reselling had rapidly diminished over the years. There were hardly any un-enslaved civilizations left as far as telemetry could tell, and the few remaining viable worlds and moons had falling cost-to-profit ratios, due to the current universe-wide underpopulation. Vegeta was well aware of what this meant for him and his Saiyan comrades. With every successful mission, they were slowly coming closer to obsolescence within the Lord Frieza Empire.
He also sensed that with his steadily growing power, Frieza was beginning to see him as a threat. Vegeta caught himself swiping back to your picture once again. This time, he studied your profile carefully. Considering how much you resembled a beautiful Saiyan female, he found your physical features remarkably attractive. Vegeta slightly wrinkled his nose, feeling a sense of shame as he gazed at you in this frozen state. Your vacant eyes stared back at him, indicating that you were still in stasis.
Despite his uneasiness, he clicked on your description. Grumbling about what an outdated piece of junk it was, he waited for the information to load. Vegeta impatiently drummed his fingers on the tabletop, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Something had to be done about Frieza, and it had to be done soon, perhaps within the next year or so.
Life at the Capitol, his 'home base,' was gradually becoming more hostile toward him. A few weeks ago, he had narrowly caught a poisoned needle intended for his neck. The perpetrator's identity remained a mystery, but he suspected Zarbon's involvement. Or perhaps it was Frieza's doing, either to undermine morale or simply to fuck with him. Since then, Vegeta had abandoned his scouter, his communication device that could also track his movements.
Vegeta poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one large gulp. With an underhanded throw, he shattered the glass against the steel walls of the diner. Micro surveillance devices, placed by cleaning servants, posed a potential risk as well. They could have been planted in his room, or worse, implanted subcutaneously without his knowledge.
If he were to stealthily carry out a coup d'état, he would need to counter or outsource some potential risks. He needed to do or acquire something that could act as a buffer from this point forward. But what? Relocating to another world seemed impractical, and adding another rebel soldier to their squad seemed too risky. Maybe one of the few remaining civilians or unaffiliated slaves could work?
Perhaps.
He traced your face on the screen with his index finger. Theoretically, a slave would answer to him and him alone. A slave could tend to his wounds, pre-test his potentially poisonous food, clean his room…and maybe even warm his bed at night. A wave of heat creeping onto his neck further flustered his mood.
The brochure finally revealed a few pictures of you. You’re clad in plain black undergarments, which made his throat bob and his redness deepen involuntarily. He was used to seeing sharp, harsh lines in the beings around him, but your angles were smoothed down alluringly, with soft-looking facial features. It was the first time he’d ever come across a female Saiyan look-alike in decades under Frieza, and he hated that the mere image of you awakened something primal in him. Ignoring the feeling of his insides being stirred, he began skimming your profile text.
‘Female Earthling, near-extinct race.
Beautiful humanoid specimen.
Average life-span of eighty years.
Mammalian, evolved primate species.
Suitable for most slave divisions, except heavy labor.
Power level of 3. Low muscle density.
Soft skin. Prone to injury and illness.
Moderately obedient, empathic, and intelligent race.’
Vegeta scoffed. A power level of three was so low that he didn't even know it was possible and he wondered if it could be a typo. His fingers hovered over the ‘buy now’ button for a few seconds before he begrudgingly clicked, feeling slightly repulsed by himself.
****
The cuttlefish creature gently but firmly pushes you onto your knees with two tentacles on your shoulder. You are to wait for the arrival of some sort of neckband, with the inscription of your new Master. The undeniably intimidating-looking man in question stands before you, stock-still. He hasn't said a word, only nodded when you had awkwardly greeted him. The sharp and symmetrical lines of his jaw and nose make him handsome, but his disconcerting stare makes you want to squirm away. Wanting to keep a strong front, you avert your eyes to the side instead.
The 'slave drugs' must be starting to wear off because when you spot an open door leading towards a corridor, you make a run for it. The cuttlefish tries to stop you, but is held back by Vegeta.
"I’ll get her."
Still a little unsure on your legs, you cross the corridor that leads to a large iron door. You frantically pull on the handle, but it's not locked, so you stumble outside as the door swings open. Immediately, a hot wind rushes into your face, carrying debris that stings your eyes. You squint, as gusts of swirling red sand make it hard to see anything. With panic constricting your chest, you take a few cautious steps forward.
You fail to notice a giant toad-like creature that's getting closer, and just as you attempt to find your way through the blinding storm with your hands shielding your eyes, the creature grabs you by the neck. Suddenly, you’re yanked backwards as cold, webbed hands wrap around your neck. You struggle to free yourself, but to no avail. You flail and kick in its direction, but your muscles are still far too weak to accomplish anything.
Suddenly, you and the toad are both lifted up before being dragged back into the corridor you just stepped out of. The toad holds you close to its cold, broad body in an unmistakably possessive manner, and when Vegeta closes the door behind him, his expression darkens.
Overcome with blind panic, you don't know which way you're trying to wriggle free: away from the monstrous toad attempting to strangle you or toward Vegeta, who is closing in with the most murderous look you've ever seen.
Vegeta forcefully pulls the toad's webbed, pockmarked hands away from you, and the toad roars something that your translator transcribes as: “There’s no collar, she’s rightfully mine and—!” His words are cut short as he’s sent crashing into the corridor wall and into a blinding burst of light. You have to tightly shut your eyes against the sudden, white inferno, and when you open them again, there's nothing left of the toad but ashes.
What. The. Fuck. In what kind of nightmarish world did you just wake up to? You can't believe that the man who's supposed to be your new Master just killed some terrifying mutant right before your eyes with a hot beam emanating from his hands. There's no time to wrap your head around the predicament you're in because the dark form of your Master suddenly obscures your vision. You try to cower away from him and into a corner of the room, but your trembling legs slow you down. He grabs your chin firmly and effortlessly forces you to meet his gaze.
"Calm down, woman. Now, why would I kill someone I just spent a year's salary on? I'm not interested in hurting you unless you disobey me.” Vegeta's cold eyes bore into you, demanding obedience. Your eyes dart away from his imposing presence, but a tug on your chin forces you to meet his intense gaze once again. “I like that you've got some spunk,” he continues in a deathly calm voice, “but this is the last time you run away from me, understand?!"
You nod reluctantly, not daring to break eye contact this time. He yanks you by your chin, urging you to speak. The difference in strength feels like he’s handling a ragdoll. Tears start to prick your eyes when you submit defeat. “Yes, Master”.
He releases you and turns his back on you brusquely. “Good.”
The silicon band is clasped around your neck with a ‘snap’ sound.
****
On the way to the docking bay, you thank all the gods you've ever known that the bay is attached to the building, and you don't have to venture out into the red storm again.
Your new Master hasn’t said anything after his outburst, but when you reach his unusually small ship, he snaps in your direction that you ‘look like a whore’ and instructs you to cover yourself. You watch him open a remote-controlled hatch door before retrieving a T-shirt from under the seat and tossing it in your direction. Too subdued by a new dose of narcotics to be offended, you quickly pull the T-shirt over the revealing garment you're wearing.
You’re beginning to feel a rosiness that’s mildly pleasant, but the spell you’re under is temporarily broken when your Master seats himself in the cramped space of the metal sphere and meaningfully points to his lap. The realization dawns upon you that there is no other place to sit except on top of him. You take a few steps back, hesitation written all over your face.
"There's only room for you to sit here. Now, I could leave you alone and vulnerable on this planet if you'd prefer that," he says, a wicked smirk playing on his lips, his two small fangs reflecting the white LED lights overhead. He's a handsome devil, you have to give him that. Too bad he's also a gigantic ass.
For a moment, you consider running away again, but the prospect of being crammed into a small spaceship with this creep seems less frightening than the other options that you have.
You catch him slightly sniffing the air as you carefully lower yourself onto his firm thighs. Avoiding his intense gaze, you swing both of your legs to one side. With one hand on your back, he holds you steady while securing both of you into the chair with straps. Unexpectedly, his warmth radiates through you, sending a shiver down your spine. But there's no time to dwell on that as he starts pressing a series of buttons. A blue gas begins to fill the pod, making you instantly drowsy. You find yourself leaning into his shoulder for support before everything fades to black.
Vegeta hadn't expected you to go out so quickly, but he deems it for the best because your supple flesh is delightfully pressed into his frame. Due to his fast metabolism, he has to wait a few agonizing minutes for the gas to take effect. While he watches the ceiling of the massive chamber open to allow his small spacecraft to exit, he concludes that your species is indeed compatible, just as he had expected. Your alluring scent begins to intrude on his nostrils and rapidly invades his brain, giving him a sensation that can only be described as taking a punch to the gut. A very pleasant punch to the gut…
Vegeta vigorously presses down on the upcoming urge to run his hands over your naked thighs and lap at your neck, where he can smell a concentration of your pheromones. Deeply regretting his decision to buy you, Vegeta tries to resituate you to alleviate the strain on his budding erection. The action causes the revealing ‘dress’ and the shirt you’re wearing to ride up a little, exposing more of your alluring thighs.
‘Fuck.’
****
As you slowly awaken from stasis, the first thing you hear is the deep voice of your new Master, explaining that you'll soon reach 'Homebase' or 'The Capitol,' where he has his own small quarters, where you'll be residing as well. As you blink your eyes open, you realize that you're flying through the dark expanse of outer space, surrounded by stars streaking past in all directions. The experience of traveling in a spaceship to another planet, with only three inches of steel separating you from the vacuum of space, feels incredibly surreal.
With half-lidded eyes, you peer through the porthole, making out a yellow dot standing out from the darkness of space and the other stars. You realize that you’re heading straight for it. As you draw nearer to the star system, a series of planets comes into view, each emitting a distinct shade of light blue. The pod shifts course toward the palest one. Still feeling caught under the influence of a heavy daze, you listen to what Vegeta has to say about his 'home base,' even though most of it goes over your head.
You don’t know if it’s the effects of the gas on him or yourself, but you find yourself basking in the calm, low voice your Master speaks in. Unconsciously, you snuggle up to his chest, seeking warmth and shelter from the big, scary world you just woke up to. That is, until you realize that the narcotics in your blood have made you betray yourself. Suddenly, you remember that this terrifying man just bought you like a common commodity, and you don't want to think about what nefarious plans he might have for you.
This man, or alien, is not your friend.
You abruptly lean away from his chest, groggily rubbing your eyes.
Vegeta notices the shift in your demeanor, and the perceived rejection stings his pride, while at the same time wondering why he would allow himself to be this affected by a mere slave. To regain control, Vegeta mentally gives himself a stern, self-inflicted reminder.
You observe him pressing a few buttons as the ship approaches the planet. Shortly after, you're thrust forward with a powerful force as it enters the atmosphere. To avoid getting crushed against the porthole, you cling tightly to his neck.
A few very turbulent seconds later, you arrive at the designated landing spot. When the door opens with a hiss, the icy air hits you in the face as the new world is exposed to your senses. Despite the clear sky and the pale face of a large sun in the center, the downpour of lukewarm sunbeams doesn't seem to make any difference to the freezing temperature.
And, as if you weren't cold enough, Vegeta immediately gives you the cold shoulder. Avoiding eye contact, he grabs you by the arm, and starts dragging you through a buzzing crowd filled with all sorts of exotic-looking aliens that you don't have time to examine closely. The morning wind bites at your skin as he drags you along, your body shuddering as you struggle to keep hold of the suitcase simultaneously.
You're still fearful of Vegeta, but as you struggle to keep up with his brisk pace, you find yourself wanting to get closer to the comforting warmth radiating from his body. While stumbling behind him, you feel that the warmth emanates from a gentle blue aura enveloping his form. You may have few memories, but you're sure you've never seen anything like this before.
In a brief span of time, you're bombarded with a multitude of impressions, each one more bizarre than the last. Your teeth clatter as you try to drink in every detail of the unfamiliar place. The bustling crowds obscure your view, but occasionally, you catch glimpses of the blue and turquoise vegetation in the distance. Many scary creatures in the same uniform your Master is wearing seem curious about you, but also hesitant to approach. Vegeta seems aware of their curiosity and reacts by tightening his hold on you and baring his teeth as a warning to the onlookers.
After a brief yet bone-chilling journey through the crowd, you are guided into a massive complex that rivals the size of a small village, giving off an aura of impending decay. The extensive structure houses hundreds of levels and thousands of rooms on this side alone, with aged concrete walls that seem to reach into the heavens.
Stepping into the colossal building, you find out it looks just as unimaginative and dreary on the inside. Vegeta pulls you into an elevator near the entrance and finally lets go of your arm. His grip over the last few minutes has been so tight that it elicits a groan as you rub at the tender swell rising on your skin. Your new 'Master' shoots an incredulous glance at it, then quickly averts his gaze, muttering something about your species being filled with weaklings. You roll your eyes when you're sure he's not watching.
The elevator ascends vertically before shifting horizontally, transporting you deeper into the building. After several minutes of thickening silence, it finally arrives at a corridor that leads to his apartment. As you follow him in hushed silence down the hallway, you're faced with the same unsightly concrete panels again, this time with rusty liquids bleeding from the cracks.
Vegeta places his hand on what appears to be a scanner to unlock a door, impatiently explaining that you'll be able to access the room with your neckband using the same scanner. You can't help but think sarcastically, ‘Great,’ as you follow him into a room that appears simple and undecorated.
You allow the dense suitcase containing your clothes to thud onto the floor as you take a look around while Vegeta stows away some items inside his nightstand. There’s a two-seater, a desk, and a simple linen closet. You open a door to the side, revealing a bathroom with a small sink, a toilet, and a shower.
Soon, in a gruff tone, Vegeta begins to explain where you can find designated areas for servant slaves because, as he puts it, 'you better start being useful to him asap.' You mockingly imitate his condescending tone in your head as he explains what he wants you to do. It rapidly becomes clear to you that this guy wants you to clean his quarters, wash his clothes, and perform first aid duties after his training. On top of that, he wants you to keep a watchful eye out for what he calls 'foreign and small-looking tech' hidden in the room. It sinks into you that you genuinely have the status of a lowly servant here, and every fiber of your being strongly protests, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he throws some protein bars and a first aid kit in your direction, almost hitting you in the head.
"I expect you to tend to my injuries later today, so educate yourself. You're not going to wander around in this place if you know what's good for you," he warns, casting a meaningful look your way. "Stick to the designated slave districts," Vegeta grunts lastly, before slamming the door shut behind him, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process and making you wince at the sound.
You cuss him out for every curse word you know under the sun and stars. After you’ve cooled off a bit, you decide it’s best to play it safe and just go along with whatever your ‘new Master’ demands. For now, at least. It seems like the only thing you can do to have any chance of survival in this place.
You examine the suitcase of clothing that you brought with you. It's the size of a handbag, but it feels much heavier. As you open it, a rush of air escapes and a small mountain of compressed clothes bursts out in your face. You let out a deep sigh as you annoyedly remove the clothing on top of your head. You sift through them, searching for the least revealing and warmest pieces, because even though you've just arrived on this planet, the cold has already seeped into your bones.
After adding a few layers to your attire, you manage to fend off the biting cold to some extent. However, you need to keep moving to prevent your teeth from chattering again. You start by clearing a thick layer of dust from a desk. It's obvious that the apartment hasn't seen a cleaning rag in months. You work at a brisk pace to avoid freezing solid and find that it distracts your mind from your troubles, at least for the time being.
After making the room as dust-free as possible with the tools at your disposal, you diligently study the manual of the medical kit while nibbling on the bland protein bars with a bit of reluctance.
Soon, Vegeta makes an appearance, his scowl intact, but the rest of him looks outright disheveled. Fresh and dried crimson stains adorn his blue spandex uniform from top to bottom. You're starting to grasp why he emphasized his laundry needs earlier this morning.
His gaze lands on the makeshift bed you've arranged on the couch, but he says nothing of it. You let out a sigh of relief. At least he doesn't seem intent on forcing you to sleep in his bed. Instead, he begins to inspect the room, moving with a fluidity that reminds you of a large cat, while you slowly chew on your protein bar. He bends forward to examine the area behind the bed. You can't help but steal a glance at his super-tight glutes while you fish something out of your pocket.
With your mouth still filled with a dry bite that you can't seem to swallow, you silently offer him a small cube that you discovered within the bed frame. The cube is made of dense, solid black material, about the size of a golf ball. You watch him inspect it briefly before, with little effort, he crushes it between his thumb and index finger. Your eyes widen in astonishment as he tosses the gritty remnants out through the window. The words of the cuttlefish echo in your head. Apparently, the top ten strongest under Frieza are really, really powerful.
He nods curtly in your direction, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment that your hard work is somewhat being appreciated, even though you hate that you're already trying to win his approval. After a quick shower, Vegeta emerges from the bathroom wearing only spandex bottoms. Despite the many fresh wounds and purple bruises forming on his body, his near-godlike physique brings heat to your core, making you realize you might be in more trouble than you thought.
Knowing that it's expected of you, you diligently begin working on his injuries with compresses, disinfectant, and some sort of medical glue you found in the kit. You gently press a wound together, waiting for the adhesive to take hold, trying to mimic the instructions from the manual you read earlier. His intense, scorching gaze is locked onto your hands and face, shamefully making your cheeks flush with warmth, despite the freezing room.
You free yourself from his intensity when you move around to clean his back. As you carefully apply disinfectant to his wounds, it's challenging to ignore the perfect definition of his back muscles under your hands. While you urge yourself to focus on tending to the lacerations on his shoulder, his gruff voice suddenly cuts through your concentration.
“We will head out to the canteen shortly, and you are to wear that vulgar dress you wore yesterday.”
You halt your ministrations as you face him with panic in your eyes.
“Trust me, you want them to think you are my whore,” he grunts, his eyes as cold as his words.
You muster up every ounce of bravery you can find to ask him the next question. “And, am I?”
“We’ll see.” He grins wickedly at the embarrassment washing over your face.