Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or Martha Stewart.
AN: This was first written as an exercise, just to see if I could write a 'realistic' dream sequence. I think it turned out okay. It's also one of my first attempts at humor. Enjoy.
Vegeta's Seriously Messed up Dream
Vegeta didn't know why it took him so long to notice, but somebody had painted his gravity room lime green. The color itself didn't bother him all that much, just the fact that someone had changed something in his private space without his permission. He'd deal with it for now. And so he began training, doing his best to ignore the flashing, spinning, colored lights someone had installed on the ceiling (probably at the same time that the chamber was painted).
A harsh, female voice filtering in from somewhere interrupted him however. He stopped with a groan of exasperation; Bulma. What did she want now? So grumbling, he stopped his training, pulled on the pants he hadn't realized until then that he'd been lacking(though he had been wearing his shirt), and walked out of the GR, nearly tripping over the Namekian Dragonball someone had placed in front of the door. He stared at it quizzically for a moment, before pushing it into a nearby broom-closet and continuing on his way.
Around the bend he came across Kakarot, Nappa, Raditz, and Gotenks playing strip-poker in the middle of the hallway. Raditz seemed to be winning, judging by the pile of clothes behind him and the smug look on his face, not to mention his opponents' various states of undress (Kakarot down to his boxers and bracers, Nappa in his minuscule spandex and one boot, and Gotenks in nothing but a purple thong). Skirting around them as Raditz won yet another hand, Vegeta continued on.
Further down the hallway he ran into a hooker, one he was sure he recognized from somewhere.
"Hey there, sexy, looking for a good time?" the hooker asked him in a thin, somewhat masculine voice that Vegeta would have known anywhere: Frieza.
"No, I'm not," he answered simply, trying move around his former employer.
"Are you sure?" Frieza pressed, draping himself on Vegeta's shoulders. "I do discounts."
'I bet you do,' Vegeta thought, brushing him off, but instead opted for a sharp, simple: "No!"
And before Frieza could press his advances any further, Vegeta slammed a convenient door between them. He sagged against is in relief, and briefly wondered why he didn't just kill the bastard. But then realized that killing Frieza meant touching him, and even the thought of that made him shudder. Frieza's death would have to wait until the freak changed out of that whore's uniform he'd been wearing.
It was then that Vegeta realized that he wasn't alone in the room he'd entered; Zarbon was in there as well, cheerfully humming and dusting the bookcases while wearing a French maid outfit. Vegeta shuddered at the sight, especially when he bent over far enough for the Saiyan to see that the green-haired warrior wasn't wearing anything under his skirt, but thankfully, his former superior didn't seem to notice him. Small favor, indeed; he didn't need Zarbon asking if he was 'looking for a good time' either. But unfortunately the only exit that didn't lead back to Frieza the Hooker was a window in the far wall. Sighing and seeing nothing else for it, Vegeta walked over to it and climbed out.
Vegeta touched down on the obnoxiously green grass outside only to leap up seconds later and hover twenty feet in the air as a mob of black-clad, sword wielding figures swarmed beneath him.
"Ninjas?" he asked of no one in particular as he stared down at the press of bodies below him. 'So that's what a ninja stampede looks like…'
Shaking his head at the sight, Vegeta re-entered the house through one of the third-floor windows. But unfortunately for him, the weirdness had yet to end; for there was Hercule Satan, genuflecting before a cardboard standup of Martha Stewart.
"Well… there's something I wasn't expecting to see…" Vegeta mumbled to himself as he stared at the antics of the self-proclaimed savior of the world. Deciding it would be best to ignore the loud-mouthed idiot, he simply jumped over him and walked out the door.
He continued on his way uninterrupted for a few minutes before something else got in his way. Vegeta groaned and dragged his hand down his face when he realized who it was.
"I guess I'm three for three with cross-dressing former superiors today…" he grumbled as he beheld the tutu wearing Captain Ginyu standing tall and proud before him.
"Well, hello there, Vegeta," the purple warrior greeted him cheerfully. A little too cheerfully.
"What the fuck do you want, Freak?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I am, in fact, very secure in my masculinity," Ginyu announced with a grin, adjusting the pink tutu, before prancing off to parts unknown. Leaving a weirded out Vegeta to stare after him.
"This day can't get any stranger…" But thankfully there was no more weirdness between him and Bulma. Who was in the sunroom reclining on a lounge chair in a bikini being fanned and served cold drinks by a group effeminate slave boys. And these boys weren't just a little effeminate; they were so effeminate that they looked like flat-chested girls.
"Well, what they hell do you want, Woman?" Vegeta growled out, pointedly ignoring the slave boys who seemed to be staring at his ass.
"Oh, you're daughter called," Bulma replied, casually examining her nails. "Said there was someone she wanted you to meet."
As if on cue, Bra walked into the room through the bead curtain, wearing a black leather cat-suit. She came to a stop in front of him and smiled sweetly. Or it would have looked sweet if she hadn't been running a finger along the bull-whip coiled around her hips at that time.
"Hi, daddy!" she chirped, making Vegeta more nervous. "I'd like you to meet my fiancée!"
Again as if on cue, someone else walked in through the bead curtain. A bubblegum-pink someone. Someone Vegeta recognized in an instant.
"Hi," Majin Buu greeted cheerfully. "I guess I should call you 'dad' now or something, shouldn't I?"
And for the first time in his long, traumatic life, Vegeta woke up screaming.