After three days in stasis, uncomfortably stuffed in the very limited confines of his spacepod, Prince Vegeta was more than happy to awaken to the sensation, rough and rattling though it always was, of entering the atmosphere of a planet and tearing into the earth in an explosive crater. He needed this, a planet purge, an outlet for his ever-present anger and the steadily increasing insecurity of his private life.
Zarbon had kissed him…and had done so in front of his fellow Saiyans, flaunting the nature of their association, taking him from prince to courtesan in one fell swoop. He had been caught totally off-guard, something he prided himself for never allowing to happen. But that sweet- talking fop…that duplicitous dandy, had actually had him starting to believe that he was only trying to help Vegeta, keeping him from the horrors of servicing that vile ton of putridity, Dodoria, or the equally foul and decidely more degenerate Jeice. Zarbon had a silver tongue—he knew this. It was what made him so valuable an asset to Frieza, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it. That and the undeniable fairness of his features more often than not duped a listener into seeing things in the light that Frieza chose to cast them.
So now the Prince of Saiyans was just like all the other dupes, distracted from the ugly reality of a situation by the pretty façade it was couched in. But even as he raged at his naivete he knew it wasn’t Zarbon’s looks or even the words themselves that had had him starting to trust his pleading explanation, it was his eyes—shining in what he had taken as earnest intensity. When judging the veracity of what another was saying, Vegeta had always looked to the eyes for confirmation or negation. He had seen truth there..or so he had thought. Maybe the blue-skinned alien was capable of lying with those eyes, not merely able to mask many feelings as the Saiyan himself did, but able to project false emotion.
After all, though Vegeta was inexperienced he was no innocent. He had recognized the evidence of the Megalian’s arousal when his body had collided roughly with the other’s. Zarbon had desired him, readily enjoying the intimate contact of the prince’s form pressed tightly against his own. Whatever he might say about only trying to help, the ice lord’s right-hand man wanted the Saiyan prince as a lover. It was obvious, the hard bulge in his pants proof. He was trying to help…trying to help himself to the prince.
Humiliated. He had been debased before Nappa and Raditz. Neither had commented at the time, preparations for launch occupying all their attentions, but he was sure that hulking cretin, Nappa, would take it upon himself to meddle in his business, acting as an unwelcome advisor. That buffoon seemed to see himself as some sort of surrogate father to Vegeta—an idea that the prince definitely did not encourage. His father was dead. No one could ever replace the king. The notion that anyone would try to do so was a grievous insult to the small prince and his hallowed memories of his beloved sire.
Raditz, on the other hand, was a wild card. More than likely the first-class warrior would not presume to step outside the sharply-defined boundaries of their relationship, keeping whatever opinions he had to himself. But this circumstance was so unsettling, a threat to the hereto now undisputed hierarchy of the Saiyan trio. He was the strongest, but he didn’t want to command by virtue of strength alone. He wanted to be followed because he was the prince, revered for holding that title, respected for the nobility of the blood in his veins. He needed that devotion and he had had that completely from Raditz before becoming a living trophy given in reward to Zarbon for services rendered to that bastard changeling. Would he still have it?
There was an abrupt jolt as the pod settled in its large depression, banishing his disturbed suppositions for later review. Before exiting his craft, he signaled to the others to power up, not wanting to risk the possibility, however slight, that they could be injured in a surprise attack by the populace of Tibias.
Zeroing in on the signals still transmitting from the scouters of the Carnid team, Raditz shouted from his position several hundred yards away, “No large power signatures within a fifty-mile radius, but the signals emitted by the dogs’ scouters are coming from about 1.5 miles due south of us.”
They arrived at the scene of the apparent ambush within minutes, scattering the feasting scavenger birds, choice morsels dangling from their beaks, with their sudden appearance. Touching down beside the rotting remains of what looked to be the leader, Fido, Vegeta toed the softening body in disgust, pieces of flesh clinging to and marring the once-pristine white of his boot as he brought his foot back. Flicking as much of the putrefying flesh off his boot as he could manage gracefully, Vegeta sneered in contempt, “Brainless dog warriors. They were slaughtered without causing any damage themselves.”
Licking his lips hungrily, Nappa growled, “I’ve always wanted to know what dog meat tastes like.” Shaking his head in disappointment, stomach echoing in support of his words, he said, “One day earlier and I would have risked it, but I don’t want the added crunch of beetles between my teeth.”
“I heard it tastes like beef,’ added Raditz, eyeing the rapidly-decomposing group of Carnids speculatively. “Raising the adrenaline levels is supposed to sweeten the meat’s flavor,” he added as he weighed his own burgeoning appetite and curiosity versus the foul odors emanating from the four carcasses. His powerful sense of smell would violently rebel against any attempt at sampling their former comrades he knew.
“This planet is brimming with fresh meat. The buyer wants it as a game preserve, a vacation home for him and a select few to enjoy fishing and hunting for a few months each year,” Vegeta said. “The population of Tibiasians is relatively small and concentrated in one large city. Once we eradicate them, you can hunt any source of meat you wish, including any of the several wild dog species available.” Nose wrinkling in disgust, he said disdainfully, “I prefer to eat boar myself. Dog flesh is rumored to be stringy and tough.”
With one last disparaging look at the spoiling remains at his feet, Vegeta gave order to fly to the Tibiasian city and lay waste to its entirety with an all-out aerial assault, ki blasts to disintegrate any evidence of the civilization.
Working expertly together as only those with the ease of long association can, the city was quickly relegated to the annals of history. They met little resistance, the Tibiasians a people of sorely limited physical strength, tall, meager builds at odds with any real attempt at engaging an enemy as powerful as the Saiyans in mortal combat, their weapons ineffectual. The entire episode over so quickly that the victims didn’t even have enough time to scream before experiencing the cold embrace of oblivion as the searing heat of the blasts turned them to ashes.
The Carnids had been fatally unlucky, overconfidence and the advantage of surprise joining together surreptitiously to bring about their destruction. The Tibiasian leader did make challenge to the Saiyan destroyers, capture his reward for that futile effort. He would be sacrificed that night in homage to the still-remembered primitive practices of the Saiyan past.
After securing their unconscious captive to a tree at the densely shaded campground near a small creek, they separated, each to hunt alone for the prey of their choice, the day’s meal. Nappa and Raditz were still under the persistent demand of curiosity. They hunted dog, longing to taste a new flavor. And these dogs had run, allowing adrenaline to build within their systems. The two larger Saiyans had taken a dozen when their prey was tallied, large hands snapping necks cleanly after the dogs were brought down. Vegeta came back with two large boar. He had exposed their jugulars with an expeditive and practiced slice of his knife.
They roasted their meal over a large, open fire, but only long enough to inhale the stirring aroma of cooked meat. Saiyans, given a choice, would elect to eat their meat raw to rare, savoring the metallic tang of blood. Not having eaten in three days, they tore ravenously into their supper with greater enthusiasm than even they would usually display. Nappa, alone, devoured eight of the wild dogs and half a boar, even sucking the marrow from the cleanly-stripped bones.
“Dog is tough and stringy but the flavor is pleasing,” belched Nappa.
Afterwards, they stretched lazily underneath the shade of a tree, fully sated, a pride of lions resting contentedly after a filling meal, tails waving in gratification. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then Nappa decided to relate to the young prince the many wonders of womanhood as encountered by him.
“I’m telling you, Vegeta, you haven’t experienced true pleasure until you’ve dipped your wick in the moist cavern of a female,” he related as he placed his hands behind his head, leaning back against the trunk of the large tree. “As you fuck them you can suckle at their teats. I always preferred the bounce and jiggle of bigger melons to the pert, smaller knockers, but big or small they love to be licked and nipped. I’ve tongued many a pussy and found most to be pleasing… although some were a bit fishy for my taste.”
Raditz stared incredulously, hand over his mouth at times, as Nappa continued in this manner for the rest of the afternoon, recalling in crude, painstaking detail, using the motions of his hands and mouth for added emphasis, the size of the assorted parts and various flavors of his many conquests. He didn’t seem to recognize the signs of an, at best, uninterested prince. If Vegeta had any reaction to the sordid tales, it was disgust at the vulgar nature of the disclosures, ebony eyes closing against the unsettling images of Nappa having sex.
~If Nappa thinks repulsing our prince will help guide him down the straight and narrow, he’s a bigger fool than I thought.~
At the welcoming approach of nightfall the Tibiasian captive was brought forward by the older Saiyans and placed before Vegeta. With an ancient benediction that the prince directed to the heavens, the man’s throat was slashed by Raditz. Laying the body flat on the moist ground, arms placed in contact with its sides, Raditz proceeded to remove the heart. A couple of hard, tearing stabs into its chest and the no-longer beating organ was revealed. Kneeling before his prince, head lowered and his arms outstretched to raise the heart to Vegeta in offering, he was reaffirming the fealty of servant to master in allowing his young prince the first bite. Sharp fangs ripping into the muscular organ, Vegeta tore off a jagged piece, bright red fluid dripping from the edges of his sensuous mouth, adorning the small Saiyan in the vibrant color of life.
~My prince. Never have you looked more beautiful.~ The left corner of his lips twitched in appreciation as Raditz peered up at Vegeta.
Vegeta offered the next bite to Raditz, a subtle jab at Nappa and his supreme confidence of his standing with the prince. Though they no longer believed that dining on the heart of an enemy transferred his power to the eaters, it was a tradition that they still found savagely uplifting.
In the darkness of the night, lit only by the flickering flames of the campfire, Raditz and Vegeta removed armor and clothing until their chests were bare. Raditz was more fully exposed, cloth only just covering his ass and member. Vegeta still had his pants, seemingly glued to his skin as they were, but his feet were uncovered as well. He wanted to feel the soothing sensation of cool earth between his toes. Staring at Raditz, watching as rivulets of sweat from the heat of the fire wound slowly down his well-proportioned torso, the Saiyan prince felt the call of the wild—a call to run fast and free. Tail twitching in anticipation, coal eyes gleaming brightly in invitation, Vegeta looked to the larger Saiyan in challenge. ~Catch me if you can.~
With the pounding rhythm of Nappa’s drum in his ears, Vegeta turned and ran to the denser foliage of the jungle, jumping into the trees, using his smaller size and quickness to outdistance the larger Saiyan who immediately followed and trailed closely behind. How long they played was undetermined. But finally the prince stopped, toes clinging firmly to a large branch of the tree, breathing heavily as he awaited the approach of Raditz.
The first-class warrior came upon his prince, beguiling in his satisfied smirk. Then without warning, Vegeta fell soundlessly from the trees, Raditz moving rapidly to catch him before he hit ground. He had passed out cold…asleep on his feet.
Pressing his nose to the neck of the prince, Raditz inhaled deeply of the unique scent that was Vegeta. The scent was changing…. and growing stronger. Soon the boy would be a man. Holding the small form close to him, Raditz gazed wonderingly at his better. To his mind there was no one left alive worthy of the Saiyan prince, power and pride and dark Saiyan beauty. He felt the terrible anguish, once again, at the realization that an alien would bed his lovely sovereign, his one consoling thought the hope that Zarbon would be kind to the youth.
Carrying the limp body back to their camp, he stopped occasionally to smell the boy, royal pheromones now enhanced by his approaching maturity. He also ran his fingers through the ebony flame of hair, enjoying the softness of it. Cupping the prince’s sharp chin in his hands, he fought the impulse to taste him. He would walk very slowly back to the camp, recognizing that in all probability he would never be this close to the prince again and meaning to enjoy this moment.
Part Seven |