The Saiyajin Pet

Chapter 8: Resolve

For almost two hours Vegeta sat rigidly against the headboard, shell-shocked. The sun had traced its path well into the firmament before he finally stumbled out of bed on shaky legs. He made a beeline for the bathroom, then thought better of it and hurried back to yank the soiled sheets off to take them along, so the staff couldn't find out. He knew it was a mistake to sleep in the buff that night! He dragged the sheets to the sink and scrubbed furiously at the stains, then dropped the bundle to the floor and hid himself in the shower. Every nerve felt hyper-aware.

Vegeta curled up at the base of the tub, letting the hot water from the shower stream over him. Rubbing his thumbs into his eyes and over his forehead and temples in a circular motion, he attempted to massage away some of the tension in his panicked head, which still felt as though it thrummed with electricity.

Ugh, this massage didn't help nearly as well as when Kakarot– No! Don't think about that!

Vegeta clutched his hair and grimaced, his inner turmoil like bile in his throat. How could this have happened? How could he have had such dreams? In hindsight he felt like such a fool for not knowing all along that the phantom lover had been his pet. The sharp teeth, the height, the tail as the mysterious fifth limb, the attentions so similar to how Kakarot had soothed him the night before– it should have been obvious, it was so logical! But then dreams rarely abide by the convenient rules of logic.

What possessed him to dream such a thing, and not just once, but repeatedly? He was not a faggot, he was not a zoophile! Never before had he felt aroused by a man. He barely even tolerated the touch of other men, except in formal handshakes and friendly shoulder jostles. Until Kakarot. Why was he always the exception? Kakarot, whom he let caress his hair, massage his head and neck, hug him and nuzzle him daily. Now he could never regard the other in the same way again.

The dream itself did not disturb him. What he found alarming was that even now, in the cleansing light of day, the feelings it had unearthed only multiplied and grew stronger. He tried to dismiss the dream as a fluke, an aberration resulting from the period of abstinence, but after indirectly experiencing such ecstasy he found that the idea appealed to him far too much. The more he thought about the dream, the more it turned him on, despite his best efforts to denounce it as ridiculous, perverted weakness.

Just thinking about it now, and seeing in his mind's eye those intense golden eyes, those skillful hands, that teasing tail, all brought together in one unparalleled emblem of wild masculinity, made him feel... made him feel... No, no!

With a desperate snarl Vegeta leapt up and twisted the shower knob to ice cold, desperate to tame his shivering, burning body.

"Damn you, Kakarot, you're turning me into a fag! I am not a fag, I won't do it, I won't, I can't! You– I'm normal, I always have been! What the hell have you done to me?!"

Vegeta stopped short then, eyes growing wide as he formed a horrifying conjecture. What if his body and mind had not betrayed him? What if this was all Kakarot's fault? Of course, it made perfect sense. Kakarot was the one who wanted him, not vice versa. The possessive behavior, the dislike of Buruma, the petting and caressing and saying he was beautiful– it was the creature's desire he felt, not his own. He harbored no such mutual desires toward Kakarot... none at all. Kakarot had to be controlling him somehow, controlling his mind.

The thought filled him with both dread and a shaky relief. He was not a fag, but the saiyajin was trying to manipulate him. Hadn't he already shown he could command strange energies, and project his voice into the minds of others? Vegeta knew from the start that voiceless speech was dangerous. And now Kakarot had the audacity to play at some sort of mind control, entering his dreams, trying to put thoughts in his head.