THE TUSHIE PINCHER
DBZ © Akira Toriyama, Bird Studios, etc.
FanFiction © Stef-chan

Dedicated to: Pudgoose, my very favorite of my favoritest, and Walis, my "phanatic" motivator.

Chapter One
The Tushie Pincher
Day One — 8:24 am

It was probably the Saiyan instincts, that primeval trait both born within him and bred into his personality during those countless years of survival. "Survival of the fittest", they call it, and it was a basic survival skill to be constantly aware of everything going on in a person's surrounding. One must be alert, wary, and prepared. Always.

And it was on a certain morning that his brain buzzed, the tip of his nose tingled, his heart paced, and his stomach turned anxiously as sure symptoms of alert. The dark pupils of Vegeta's eyes glanced back and forth from every shadowed corner of the Capsule Corporation complex, as well as every character that sluggishly moved around in the lazy rhythm of a summer's hot morning.

He sensed no ill powers, no threats, no nothing. So why did he feel so unsettled and uncomfortable? He felt as if someone was watching him, waiting for the right moment to make a sure attack and kill him when he would least expect it. His death certainly would not be a loss to anyone, which was why everyone was mentally listed as his prime suspects.

He loosened the stiffness in his body and sat himself down in front of the breakfast table, eyeing the food as if poisonous contents were hidden inside and were waiting to burn a hole through his stomach like acid. He swiftly glanced at the kitchen tools hanging on the wall beside the stove—murder weapons? That butcher knife certainly did not look very safe and harmless; even a mere human could take advantage of him if he was to be stabbed by something so ferociously large and sharp. He warily glared at his glass of water. Was that water? If not, then what is it? He would pick up the glass and sniff the content to make sure that it was drinkable, but held no intention of making a complete fool out of himself before these strange creatures.

And he still felt those eyes on him… Who the hell was looking at him?

"Honestly, Vegeta," Bulma snorted, her eyes staring at the plate of hot, steaming breakfast rolls. She grabbed one and then glared at Vegeta; he stiffened inwardly. Glaring people were never to be trusted, even if this woman was glaring out of annoyance. "You've been living here for three months now, and that's not including the time you lived with us while the Nameks were here, and you're still acting as if we were plotting to kill you or something."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. …What was that supposed to mean?? Was that her silent suggestion for him to flee the planet while he was still alive?

"Vegeta, knock it off," she barked as she spread butter on her roll. "Listen up, you. Your seriously weird mood swings creep me out sometimes. One minute you're being a total jerk and the next you act like some undercover agent. For Pete's sake, there's no one here but you, me, Bunny, and Papa, who spends most of his time in the laboratory and out of your way anyway. Loosen up, will you? And just trust us."

"A real warrior will never 'loosen up'," he responded tartly, and deciding to risk the possibility of food poisoning, grabbed a roll for himself and took a big bite out of it. Besides, the Old Woman's cooking, whether it be poisoned or not, was just way too tempting. "And there is no one here that I would trust," he mumbled with his mouth full. "Not you, not your scatterbrained mother, or even your father. Anyone and everyone on this mudball are not to be trusted."

"Says the man who tried to kill us those years back," Bulma retorted, rolling her eyes again. "And I clearly don't remember switching roles."

"We never switched rolls," Vegeta said absent-mindedly as soon as he swallowed. "I already ate mine, idiot."

Saiyans. They weren't wrong when they said that Saiyans were clearly not the intelligent type. Bulma was caught between laughing and being stupefied, but decided to go for the latter. She took a much smaller bite than Vegeta just as her mother strolled over to the table and cheerfully placed plates and plates and even more plates of food. Before turning to snatch more plates, she stopped beside Vegeta, patted his back in a motherly fashion, and complimented him on his "healthy appetite".

"Why do you bother being so nice to that dumb jerk?" Bulma queried as she dipped her spoon into the bowl of soup and sipped. "He's rude, conceited, and all-in-all, just plain weird…"

Vegeta grunted in response, as if he had no problem with Bulma's adjectives, for he could definitely say the same things about her. He was much more concentrated on the food (good thing it wasn't poisonous) than any opinion of a worthless human girl.

"He's such a sweetheart," Mrs. Briefs giggled, and Vegeta would have cringed had his mouth not been full with all the delicious foreign dishes. "He's a very nice young man and…" She giggled again. "He's so cute. I haven't seen a boy with that kind of a tushie since Yamcha!—and in more ways than one, Vegeta's, here, is much, much cuter. It must be all those long hours of working out."

Vegeta smirked. Finally, someone who realizes that I am far better than that weakling in every way possible…

"Oh spare me!" gagged Bulma, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment for her mother. "And WHAT are you doing looking at the behinds of all the guys, anyway? And my boyfriend, no less?!"

Mrs. Briefs only giggled and walked off, not at all intending on answering her daughter's question.

And Vegeta's sixth sense still tingled—things a lot weirder were sure to happen.

Yea, they tingled all right.

As soon as Vegeta stepped out of the gravity room a while after the Briefs's lunchtime (a meal that he always missed out on so he could spend the extra time training) and entered the living quarters of Capsule Corporations, those sixth senses started kicking in like crazy. He had only taken one step into the house and already he felt the tension in the air—and he still felt those eyes… If only he could catch who the spy was. He still could not discern any distinct, odd ki.

Sure enough, though, he was right about the tension for Dr. Briefs was pacing back and forth, looking at his wristwatch, then at the grandfather clock beside him, and then at the stairs that led to where all the bedrooms were. Interestingly odd humans. He shrugged it off and headed towards the kitchen to find himself a glass of water, when he heard those familiar footsteps bounding down the stairs: Bulma's footsteps.

He glanced at her without any care but was taken by surprise when he saw her holding onto lavender-colored suitcases (by the millions, he thought) and was actually dressed out of her casual jeans and CC T-shirt. A business suit. Is that what humans called it? It was a white suit jacket and a matching skirt, accompanied by matching white heels and he noticed that her hair wasn't a ball of fluff anymore like it had been in the morning. …When the heck did she straighten it out?

"Oh! Vegeta!" Bulma panted as she dragged down the suitcases. "Give me a hand, will you?"

He just stood there.

"Ugh! Nevermind. Listen, Papa is asking me to help him with this business deal. He thinks it's a great opportunity for me to learn the business side of CC rather than just the manual, so I agreed and decided to go with him. I'll be gone for four days. Is that okay with you?"

"Do you honestly think I care?"

She frowned. "Well, you'll be home alone with my mom for three days but I'm sure it doesn't matter to you, as long as you get your dose of food every morning and night. If something goes wrong, however, be sure to call me. Here's my cell phone number." She stopped by a counter and ripped off a part of an envelope, then scribbled down ten digits with her less-than-impressive handwriting. It was definitely the handwriting of a mechanic's. "Not that you'll call but just an FYI kind of thing."

He just stood there.

"Okay and one last thing…" Bulma's face darkened. "You've been cooperating—in your own standards, anyway—for the past year and I want it to remain that way. If you, by any chance, jump into that weird mood swing of yours and you blow ANYTHING up or even dare think about harassing Bunny, I swear I'll do something about it. I'll…I'll go to your precious 'Kakarot', call him over, make sure he dislocates every bone in your body and then kick you off into space, where you'll suffocate and DIE. Is that clear?!"

Vegeta had a weird mental image of his X-eyed, bone-dislocated self floating out in space while stick figure versions of Bulma and Gokou laughed uproariously at him. …NOBODY LAUGHS AT THE SAIYA-JIN NO OUJI! His face darkened, darker than even Bulma's, and he nodded once.

"Fine."

"Good boy! I'll give you your doggie treat once I get back," she joked, but he did not find the remark funny. It was rather insulting, actually. She straightened her face and cleared her throat. "Okay well… If you're not going to help me with my bags, then that's just fine. I'm saying my good-byes here. …Bye."

Grunt.

She rolled her eyes and joined her impatient father, and not a second later, the door slammed shut and everything was silent. He was alone.

Good riddance.

Somewhere in the shadows, a pair of blue eyes opened as soon as the door was closed. It followed Vegeta as he walked over to a water bottle and chugged the contents down. The eyes stared at every single movement made, from the way his head bent back as he drank, to how his Adam's apple bobbed as the clear liquid slid down his throat… Oh Kami help me! The eyes looked fixedly at the stream of water dripping and sliding down his neck…down his chest…and then dampened that blue spandex training material.

The owner of the eyes stopped breathing when Vegeta paused and looked about him, as if sensing her presence, then breathed again when he shrugged those beautiful, sweat-matted chiseled shoulders and strolled back towards the gravity room. Oh those beautiful muscles… How they naturally flexed and rippled with every movement. And the eyes, the spying blue eyes, looked down from the flame of his hair, to his narrow waist, and then stopped at his torso.

The Tushie Pincher smiled; the eyes and the set of white teeth the only things visible in the darkness.

Stef-chan's Notes

Ahhh...I can't wait until I start posting future chapters! It's going to be one strange and tormenting ride for poor Vegeta, who, at this point, has no idea what's in store for him. Anyway, it's been an incredibly long time since I posted anything new that's not a one-shotter. I remember the good ol' days when I popped out a new story every other week. My, my... You know I still have those bazillion-and-one stories saved onto my computer. Just last night, I was reading through my A Shoulder To Lean On trilogy and was laughing at how horribly it was written. Oi...

Anyway, there's more where this came from. Expect a new chapter soon and, quite possibly, another new story. Until next time!