I Hate Being Right

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fanfiction written for pure, sick angst. Absolutely none of these characters truly exist and no parts of this story are based on true events. Akira Toriyama is the original creator of Dragonball Z and Vegeta, Yamcha, and the DBZ universe belong to him.

*Hello, everyone. Thank you for the wonderful reviews! With a story like this, I’m always nervous to see what readers truly think and feel. Please read all the disclaimers and warnings before diving in. Also, I am aware that in the actual DB world, Yamcha could most likely grab the dart gun, Hal’s gun, and the control device from Skip…but that would just make my plot too boring, hee hee. Thank you again for reading and reviewing!*

Warnings: Lot’s o’ violence. Torture, blood, rape, N/C, humiliation, drugs, electrocution, angst.

Ch. 16

Yamcha had never felt so terrified in his life. He had faced battles, heinous enemies, and even experienced death…but none of those things could dissuade him from what was happening in the small, cracked bedroom at the moment. In all of Yamcha’s life he had fought to protect the innocent and defeat the bad-guys. Even in the face of danger, Yamcha knew that his actions were helping others and he would never be punished for fighting alongside Goku and his friends.

But the knowledge of actually committing this horrible and disgusting crime made Yamcha’s soul feel filthy and rotten. Even if Vegeta had done terrible things in his life, Yamcha knew that this was unjust and despicable punishment. Vegeta was being tortured and horribly abused by the wrong people for the wrong things.

And yet, Yamcha could only stare distractedly at the dark wall as his twitching fingers slid to the loose waistband of Vegeta’s pants, his eyes wide and unfocused as he undid the snaps and zipper that kept the lengthy garments attached to the saiyajin’s strong hips. The trembling human had somehow turned his brain off as he slowly undressed the wounded prince. Yamcha’s dark eyes traced every detail of the cold, dreadful room, his mind taking note of the random bullet holes in the concrete walls and deep cracks that spider-webbed across the gray stone. His eyebrows lowered as he realized the room had faced some wild energy, the lamp shades and corners of ceiling burnt and darkened with some kind of electrical blast.

“Did you have your ki-energy at some point?”

Vegeta followed Yamcha’s line of vision and noticed the burn marks on the walls and objects of the room. Sighing, he nodded, remembering the lovely and freeing feeling of his power.

“I did not have much…but it was enough to get away for the time being. Then I ran into you,” he added spitefully.

Yamcha closed his eyes, wishing so strongly that he had never met with Skip that day. Vegeta would have gotten away and Yamcha had stupidly interfered.

“And those bullet holes?”

“They decided they needed some target practice,” Vegeta explained quietly.

Yamcha’s hand paused on the top of the prince’s pants and he squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace. They shot at Vegeta like a pig in a pen. As if he were just an animal, these men laughed and jeered as they terrified and used the saiyajin like some disposable beast.

Opening his eyes slowly, Yamcha peered down at the wounded alien under him. Yamcha realized his vision was blurred with tears, but he did nothing to hide his emotions. He needed Vegeta to see that he was truly sorry. He needed the prince to understand that he wanted none of this.

But the icy warrior just stared up at him, his face tight and cold. Vegeta would have none of this human’s pity. He refused to be fucked by some weakling who cried on his chest as he thrust into him. Vegeta was finished with the humiliation and wished the scarred man would just get on with it.

Seeing the anger in Vegeta’s face, Yamcha bowed his head and slowly slid the red and black tartan pants from the saiyajin’s narrow hips. He was surprised to see that there was no underwear underneath, but quickly admonished himself as he realized Vegeta had probably pulled on the pants quickly in his escape. Yamcha gulped and felt his stomach clench as he eyed the saiyajin’s manhood, seeing that it was very…human. The warrior prince was large and thick, but there seemed to be nothing alien about him.

Blushing profusely for hesitating and staring, Yamcha pulled the pants quickly from Vegeta’s shorter legs, flinching as the injured saiyajin let out a sharp cry, his back arching in pain. Yamcha had lowered the material too hurriedly, causing Vegeta’s right leg to bend at an awkward angle. Gasping, Yamcha released the pants and gaped at the bloodied leg, his wide eyes landing on the blackened hole in his upper thigh. For the past hour or two that Vegeta had been moving on the injured limb, the bullet hole had spewed so much blood that blotchy patches of red smeared the prince’s entire leg.

Yamcha’s teeth chattered as he let out an uneven breath of air and he very carefully pulled the crumpled pants over Vegeta’s feet, mindful not to bump or move his swollen right ankle. Gazing at the purple and yellowed skin around his foot, Yamcha brought a trembling hand to his mouth and shook his head. How could these men have done this to another living being?

His roving eyes caught all the deep bruises and cuts on Vegeta’s legs and hips. His once tan skin was an unhealthy yellow and Yamcha could only wonder how much pain the strong-willed warrior was in. He slowly gazed up to Vegeta’s inner thighs and immediately flew backwards, his unsteady legs falling from the mattress as he backed away, his mouth opening in disgusted and horrified shock.

Dark blood splattered his inner thighs, tendrils of red trailing from his rear and caking his skin below. Vegeta only stared up at the ceiling, his expression trying to conceal his humiliation and shame, but finally he was unable to hold in his pain and turned his head to the side to bury his burning face in his upraised arm.

“Oh my God,” Yamcha whispered. His shocked eyes turned to the shadowy men by the door. “There is no way….the blood…the pain…I can’t.”

The four figures in the shadows all looked at one another before turning back to Yamcha. Skip’s glasses still reflected in the dim lighting, the two giant lenses burning into Yamcha.

“There are towels in the bathroom. Wash him off if you must.”

Yamcha shook his head and trembled. He felt like a small, terrified child under the intense scrutiny of an angry parent. He was naked and helpless as everyone stared at him.

“He’s in too much pain,” he stammered. “I can’t do this.”

He heard Skip growl under his breath and knew that the man was preparing to electrocute the saiyajin once more, but another voice quickly jumped in.

“I think he needs a chill pill,” Rich said. “Seriously, get him one or two of those pills to help him relax.”

The others laughed with agreement. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Bruce mused.

Yamcha stared into the shadowy part of the room nervously. They wanted him…to take drugs? There was a sound of a bottle rattling and the giant ogre stepped forward, his large hand holding out two simple pills.

“You actually think I would take drugs from you psychos?” Yamcha spat in disgust.

“I assure you, Yamcha,” Skip said. “These pills are meant to soothe you. They help you relax and enjoy the situation.”

“The last thing I want is to enjoy this! I would be just like you monsters!”

“Good luck getting it up then,” Hal barked. “How do expect to fuck the saiyajin if you’re completely limp? In fact, how do you expect to cum if you’re so damn nervous? You’ll be injuring the saiyajin even more if it takes you a fucking hour to finish.”

Yamcha stared desperately at the four men before him, his brain feeling as if it were crawling through sludge just to make one coherent thought. Much to his horror, what they were saying was true. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to get an erection from this situation. The terror and humiliation within him made it impossible to even get near the saiyajin. But to enjoy it? No, he could NOT allow himself to enjoy one moment of this! He truly would be raping Vegeta if he received one bit of pleasure from having sex with him.

“Take the pills,” Bruce said lightly, his beastly hand outstretched.

The two white ovals stared Yamcha in the face and he turned to Vegeta, but the saiyajin was motionless as he pressed his face into his strong bicep.

“What do I do?”

But the only people who gave him an answer were the men before him. Vegeta provided no advice. Glaring at the four monsters, Yamcha felt his heart pounding in his chest wildly.

“What exactly do they do?”

“They are nothing more than Relaxers,” Skip explained. “A weak sedative. They make you calm and help you get an erection, that’s about it.”

Vegeta let out a harsh scoff but said nothing, leaving his head turned to the side.

“Vegeta?” Yamcha questioned desperately.

But the saiyajin said nothing, his silence frustrating the earth warrior more and more. Snatching the pills from Bruce’s hand, Yamcha hesitated as he stared at them. The worst that could happen was the drugs killed him. If that was the case, he would be clear of this situation and the others would wish him back. But he knew Skip would not want him dead. If all they did was relax him, then he could still keep a cool head, have sex with Vegeta quickly, and then plan the escape. If Vegeta was not objecting, then perhaps the pills were not so threatening and would indeed make this whole situation more tolerable.

But he would not enjoy this or receive any pleasure. He would let the drugs aide him in getting an erection and nothing more. He was a clear-headed warrior and could control the pills, not the other way around.

Turning around, Yamcha headed for the dingy bathroom, his hand reaching for the rickety faucet. Putting the two pills in his mouth, Yamcha poured a handful of water into his hands and swallowed them down, then grabbed a little washcloth from the wall and dampened it with warm water. Returning to the bedside, Yamcha gulped nervously as he stared down at the darkness that stained Vegeta’s inner thighs and genitalia. Taking a deep breath, the human sat down on the bed and lightly pressed the washcloth against the prince’s taut skin.

Vegeta flinched from the sensation and Yamcha could see his body begin to shake at the contact. A feeling of guilt and pity washed over him, but he bit his lip and continued to clean the blood that caked the area around his rear-end. As gently as he could, Yamcha wiped the crusted redness from his inner thighs. Pushing the cloth further, Yamcha reddened in the face as he dabbed the prince’s entrance, the stained towel clearing the clots of blood from his aching, torn flesh.

Vegeta was trembling wildly now, his body twitching and vibrating with anxious fear as the human touched him and washed the bloody skin around his ass. It was truly going to happen. The fool had taken the pills and was going to lose himself in a wave of ecstasy just as he had done in the bathroom hours earlier. And all he could do was lie there as Yamcha tried to soothe his pain and injuries. The human was attempting to be the grand hero now, but very soon he was going to fall victim to the pills…and Vegeta was terrified how he was going to react to the waves of warmth and pleasure that would soon filter through his body.

The washcloth was removed and Yamcha tossed the rag onto the floor. He turned to the figures in the shadows. “I need a condom.”

Instant laughter filled the small room and Yamcha bristled angrily.

“Do we even have any?” Hal cackled.

“Who knows how many diseases you’re swimming with,” Yamcha growled. “If you’re going to make me do this, I demand some sort of protection.”

The laughter continued but they made movement as they searched the darkened room. Yamcha eyed them coldly, but was relieved when someone handed over a small square wrapper. Good. It was not expired either. Going about his business, Yamcha opened the small package and rolled the rubber along his penis. He felt strangely relaxed and in control. The pills must have been kicking in.

“Lube?”

“The table next to the bed.”

The room buzzed with heated excitement as Yamcha rolled onto all fours and crawled across the bed. Hovering over Vegeta, the man was surprised at how steadily he grabbed the tube of gel, his hands no longer trembling in fear. Squirting the clear liquid onto his fingertips, Yamcha refused to look Vegeta in the face, his mind strangely set and ready for action. Even his previous guilt slowly faded and he felt determined, as if preparing for an intense battle.

Crouching lower, Yamcha slowly pressed his fingers into the saiyajin’s sore ass, his digits working the lube throughout the tightness. Vegeta’s eyes squeezed shut and his back arched slightly at the rough entrance. The torn, ripped skin was nowhere near ready for another assault and it felt as if the pain had tripled. Yamcha’s fingers drew out and Vegeta heard the squirt of more liquid before his flesh was plundered once again, this time harsher than before. Gritting his teeth, the saiyajin prince held back a choke of pain as Yamcha’s fingers worked ferociously into his heated, scarred asshole.

Cracking one eye open, Vegeta squinted up at the human fighter, his stomach dropping at the almost trance-like expression on his face. It appeared that the pills were beginning to work. Vegeta could only pray that the stupid warrior could keep his wits and not get carried away. If Yamcha lost his mind…Vegeta truly would be completely surrounded by crazed, horny monsters. And if Yamcha got too wild with his power…

Vegeta did not want to think about it. Being fucked by someone with the amount of energy Yamcha held would be disastrous…if not murderous.

“Are you still…within your mind?” Vegeta whispered tentatively.

Yamcha withdrew his fingers and squeezed the lube directly onto the latex around his penis. He appeared annoyed suddenly and worked his hand around the cock, his actions instantly raising the once-limp member.

“Look…just…shut up for now,” Yamcha snapped. “I need to concentrate so I can get this done and get us both out of here.”

Vegeta’s curved eyes widened at the words and he felt a flash of anger and fear. The human had just told HIM to shut up; Vegeta, the prince of all saiyajins! And if he had the balls to say such a thing, he probably had the courage to go much further with those pills in his system.

“Listen human,” Vegeta growled. “Don’t you dare forget who I am. When we get out of here, I’ll have you bowing at my feet.”

Yamcha opened his mouth to reply with an equally angry retort, but his mind jumped directly to another option. If this saiyajin wanted to play that way, Yamcha would oblige him.

Placing his hands on either side of Vegeta’s head suddenly, Yamcha wasted no time in swiftly thrusting into the saiyajin’s red asshole. The alien prince’s mouth opened wide, his breath catching in his throat as his giant, shocked eyes stared into Yamcha’s face, a look of agony and betrayal on his face. The human hesitated, his clouded eyes viewing the tilted eyebrows and rigid pain of the gasping saiyajin, yet there seemed to be a heavy blanket covering his brain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at him to stop and help the wounded prince, yet the rest of his addled brain cried out in pure pleasure and glee. The power over the loud-mouthed being under him made Yamcha’s abdomen explode in a wave of heated ecstasy, the warmth spreading throughout his body and making him inexplicably aroused.

Collapsing on top of the gasping alien, Yamcha drew back and plowed into the entrance again, the muscled saiyajin’s incredibly strong body hugging his penis tightly. Letting out a keening whine of utmost pleasure, Yamcha felt his hips move on their own accord. The warmth that surrounded him completely overtook all clear thought and care. This was where he wanted to be. This was what he needed to overcome the terror and stress of this entire situation. There was no saiyajin under him. He wasn’t fucking a wounded defenseless being. It was the drugs in his system just aiding his masturbation. Vegeta was elsewhere. Yamcha could help Vegeta later.

Thrusting into the hot, incredibly tight body under him, Yamcha panted and moaned, his world completely gone as all he felt was sensation and outright pleasure. He never wanted this arousal to end. The warmth on his lips spread down to his arms and then to his legs. Falling completely on top of the solid muscles under him, Yamcha wrapped his strong arms around the smaller being, hugging the prince tightly to his naked body. Pushing as deep as he could, Yamcha’s hips shoved back and forth wildly, the base of his dick and balls slamming against Vegeta’s ass-crack.

Vegeta had tried to hold in his pained cries at first, but the human grew more and more frantic. His rock-hard dick plowed into his torn, bleeding flesh at an alarming speed and Vegeta started to scream as he felt the skin inside rubbed raw at the man’s inhuman velocity. Tears of agony formed in the corners of Vegeta’s eyes and he threw his head back and hollered as Yamcha moved even faster, his breath panting in Vegeta’s face and eyes staring blindly. The bed slid on the floor and crashed into the wall as Yamcha howled in pleasure, his tongue licking at the sweat on Vegeta’s pale face. The jolting action caused the cuffs to rip at the saiyajin’s wrists, the padded material tearing and twisting into the already bloody flesh.

And then suddenly, all four men were around the bed. Skip stood at Vegeta’s head, an expression of cruel madness on his face as he watched his love destroy the saiyajin under him without a care. Hal stood off to the side, his head tilted as he studied the rate and speed of Yamcha’s movement, the warrior’s actions making the pierced man stare in awe, his insane obsession with power growing even more. Rich was once again writing frantically, his eyes following each movement with intense detail as he wrote his observations and reactions in his notebook. Bruce stood on the other side of the bed, his giant body overshadowing the lurching mattress. He took no interest in covering his own erection as he watched the scene unfold, his piggy eyes staring lustfully at the two on the bed.

“It is truly pathetic how much you thought you mattered,” Skip said in a cold even tone over Yamcha’s heavy panting and moaning. Vegeta grit his teeth, his eyes squinted in absolute agony as tears streamed down his cheeks. “In a universe where no one cares about you at all, do you truly need to exist? Your power, strength, and importance only mean something to you. To us and all those around you, you are merely disposable trash. You claim to be a saiyajin prince, but the only other living saiyajin is 100 times stronger than you and could care less about your existence. You are a murderer, Prince Vegeta. You are a worthless, vile animal who destroys the lives of everyone around you. And now, you will be disposed of in the same way you carelessly killed others. And no one will care.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened in horror as he felt Yamcha’s body begin to grow abnormally hot. Looking away from Skip, Vegeta could see a faint red glow beginning to form around the warrior’s body. In his drug-crazed mind, Yamcha had begun to power up, his entire body lighting with intense power as he hammered into Vegeta with ferocious strength. The prince felt unimaginable pain below as even Yamcha’s erection lit with ki-energy. Feeling his skin burn and ache, the rushing force of Yamcha’s movement caused Vegeta to scream hysterically as his skin inside was charred and shredded.

“You won’t even need to electrocute him, Skip!” Hal murmured in morbid fascination as he watched the human warrior burn Vegeta from the inside.

Rich slowly backed away from the bed, his face slightly pale as he watched the brutal onslaught.

Vegeta could only scream and writhe on the bed as he felt his flesh burn and bleed from Yamcha’s wild energy. He was going to die. He was going to die in the most humiliating and excruciating way by the man who had claimed he could save him. The tears of agony poured down Vegeta’s face and he felt his mind scream in uncontrollable pain as Yamcha’s flaming energy engulfed both of them. Throwing his head side to side, Vegeta roared with terror and blinding torment as he felt his skin become scorched everywhere.

“NO! PLEASE!” He begged desperately into the blank face above him. “NOOOO! YAMCHA!!”

Bucking his hips, Vegeta’s weakened form could do nothing to remove the iron grip around his body. Letting out a breathless scream, Vegeta threw his head forward as hard as he could, the pointed widow’s peak on his forehead colliding with Yamcha’s nose. The impact was not much, but the painful sensation seemed to snap Yamcha out of his pleasurable fantasy. Blinking wildly, the scarred man paused and was confused as to why his vision was filled with sheets of red energy. He could see the others beyond the wall of flaming power, but he had no idea where the ki-energy had come from.

Blinking down at the face under him, Yamcha’s mind slowly began to move through the strange haze that blocked all thought. There was an unimaginable source of heat and pleasure throbbing within his genitals and he had his strong arms wrapped around Vegeta’s hot body tightly. The saiyajin was jerking and sweating profusely, his eyes half-lidded and peering at him guardedly. Tears streamed from the prince’s eyes and Yamcha felt a dawning horror begin to grow within him. The red flames surrounding the bed slowly died and Yamcha’s face fell as he realized what had happened. Relinquishing his hold around the whimpering, pale warrior under him, Yamcha pushed himself up and allowed his erection to slide from the gory flesh below.

He was intensely confused, but knew that he had done a truly terrible thing. Crouching on his knees on the bed, Yamcha could only stare in shock at the dark red, almost blackened blood that soaked into the mattress where Vegeta lay. His large eyes swiveled down to peer at his own blood-stained erection, the condom completely gone—burned away from the energy that had exploded from him.

Tears slowly fell from his eyes and Yamcha’s shoulders jerked as grief and panic washed over him. He had just…raped Vegeta. He had almost killed the saiyajin and laughed and moaned in sick pleasure while he fucked him. He had smiled and licked at the saiyajin’s terrified face while he raped and attempted to murder him in the most torturous way possible.

Vegeta lay on the bed, unable to move. The pain in his body was monstrous and he found that he had absolutely no strength to even speak. His body trembled wildly, but he could do nothing to stop it. He bled profusely onto the once white sheet below him, the skin inside of him ripped and scorched brutally. His chest and stomach were rubbed raw and his once tan flesh was now ghostly white and marred with deep burns and cuts. The shirt he had been wearing was only a few scraps clinging to his neck, the black material wet with blood and sweat. In only a few hours with his injuries, he was sure he would die.

“Why?” Yamcha sobbed. “Why did I do this?”

“It was the right thing to do, Yamcha,” Skip said softly. Yamcha continued to weep into his hands, his fingers digging into his skull as he hunched over the choking saiyajin. “And now you see what men have to offer. I will give you everything, Yamcha. Do not pity this beast. He is not human.”

“Would you do this to Goku?!” Yamcha shrieked, his wild eyes glaring into Skip with pure hatred. “Goku isn’t human! He has saved this planet countless times! Would you do this to him?!”

“Yes,” Skip answered automatically. “Not to this extent, though. They are not human. They have no laws to protect them and no rights. They came to our planet and brought all the problems with them. We can do with them as we please.”

Yamcha gaped at the madman, his lips quivering with disgust.

“And yet you treat humans the same way,” Vegeta whispered through a crackling throat. His head was turned to the side, yet his eyes were staring blindly into the mattress. “You treated Yamcha the same way you treated me. This shirt that I am wearing…I know it was ripped from some unwilling female. All these excuses…just to make yourself sound better.”

Skip’s face contorted angrily and he lifted the controller wildly. His dark eyes glared at the motionless prince on the bed and he licked his lips as he switched the dial on the edge to level five. He no longer had any use for the saiyajin.

“NOOOO!!”

Yamcha dove for the little man, his red energy igniting once more. The room exploded with yells of shock as the others acted. A dart flew past Yamcha’s shoulder as Rich fired the poorly aimed syringe at him. Seeing Hal leveling the gun at the helpless saiyajin, Yamcha screamed out once more and let his energy flare wildly. Grabbing his head in rage, Yamcha allowed the power within him to explode insanely, blowing up the entire room and causing the giant forest house to collapse downward on top of the crazed men.

The pills were still in his system, but Yamcha had enough to sense to shield Vegeta from the falling debris. The area was filled with a deafening roar as the wood and plaster lurched and shattered, completely engulfing everyone in the small basement room. Using his red energy as a shield around them, Yamcha wrapped his arms around the shivering saiyajin and eyed the darkness that surrounded them.

On the bed, Yamcha’s dome of power held the splintered wood, plaster, and concrete at bay. He saw Skip lying unconscious on the floor nearby, miraculously untouched by the fallen debris of the house above. The others were nowhere to be seen. Peering around, Yamcha eyed his pants and long-sleeved under-shirt sticking out from under some planks of wood. Leaving Vegeta, he carefully hopped off the bed, widening his shield to protect both of them and grabbed the articles of clothing. As he did so, he also spotted the red tartan pants Vegeta had been wearing. Pulling on the garments with shaking hands, Yamcha crawled back onto the bed and very slowly pushed Vegeta’s limp legs into the torn pants.

“I’m so sorry, Vegeta,” he whispered as he hiked the lengthy material up to the prince’s waist. Quickly fastening the pants, Yamcha leaned over and ripped the weakened wrist cuffs from Vegeta’s bleeding flesh. The black material had been torn from Yamcha’s pure strength and the man felt another wave of tears assault him. Pulling Vegeta into a sitting position, Yamcha hugged the alien tightly to him, his tears streaming down his face onto the prince’s muscular shoulder. He wished so hard that the proud saiyajin would say something, but Yamcha could only rock back and forth as if trying to soothe a baby. He cried into Vegeta’s shoulder, praying that the prince could feel his guilt and absolute shame at what he had done to him.

Yamcha’s eyes opened briefly as an arm lifted and a weakened hand pressed against his shivering back. Sniffling, the human closed his eyes again and just held the broken saiyajin as he tiredly hugged him back. The two said nothing. What happened had happened and the tight embrace seemed to help both of them recover from what they had lost. Yamcha never would have imagined hugging the shrewd, arrogant saiyajin, but it seemed so appropriate now. He didn’t want to let go of the prince. He needed to let Vegeta know that he truly was sorry, even if a simple hug was all he could offer at the moment.

*More to come, don’t worry!*