AN: Okay, I know this is not my usual area, in fact it is quite the reverse, but I read a challenge many years ago on AFF asking for this sort of story involving this couple. At the time, well I wouldn’t rush to use the word repulse, but wasn’t far off. However the last couple of months I’ve felt like I wanted to grow in some new way and this might be a nice, original, way to try. And also I came up with the idea almost in jest, yet like some of my other more famous works, it stuck with me and now I am writing this to get it out of my head.
I warn you, don’t expect a deep meaning full story of taboo love, this is very much a short PWP that I am engineering to fit in nicely at the start of the Majin Buu.
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ and am making no profit off this work.
There were times when Hercule found life to be such a glorious thing.
In his youth, he had been an avid Rugby Player. He had been a layman at best in his studies but his sporting prowess distinguished him nonetheless and he had made a solid centre in the Orange Star city’s team until his part in an overly aggressive riot caused a tribunal to ban him from playing in any Tournament matches. So he had turned to martial arts.
Living off the considerable sums he’d amassed over the course of his prior carrier, he’d spent five years training intensively in mixed martial arts before entering the world’s martial arts tournament. He had rarely been as excited as he was that first day, he had made a point of watching every recording of the previous games he could find and knew that he had nothing to fear. The previous champion had been a puny punk with a stupid hair-cut and none of the style the people of earth expected in their champions. Nonetheless, he had studied the recordings relentlessly until he had known the various styles of every fighter ever to compete in the tournament.
When the day was done, Hercule had been proclaimed world champion and the only sweat he’d broken was during his avid showboating. Yet he had felt somewhat deflated by the conquest, he had been anxious to prove his superiority over the reigning champion only to find that the spiky haired runt, Son Goku, had failed to turn up. Without that victory, the title seemed almost hollow. How could he show the world he was the greatest without them seeing his triumph over the previous idol of fighters? But by the nights end, when he had been swimming in a sea of champagne and the half-naked fan girls; he had forgotten the dilemma and was busying telling everyone who cared to listen that the former champ must have turned up, only to see the great Hercule before turning and running like a coward.
The story had been much the same for the next tournament, and for the two years that followed he had enjoyed a life of fame the likes of which the rest of the world could only imagine. Then the cell games had come and the entire world looked to Hercule to save the day. It would have been a lie to say that he hadn’t been a tiny bit apprehensive about the proposal, Cell was just another freak sure, but he was a freak who had eviscerated the inhabitants of two backwater towns out there in the sticks. It was only prudent of him to show some concern.
He had accepted the charge all the same. He was the champ after all and was expected to sort out these minor troubles.
Even after all these years, he still wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find out there in that wasteland. Probably to discover it was all some big joke, a hoax conjured up by the people of earth to celebrate their beloved champion. Yet the truth had become apparent the moment he stepped out of his team Hercule van to see the almost exact replica of the WMAT’S fighters’ ring out there in the middle of nowhere.
He had not been alone however; beside his personal caravan of wannabes, cameramen and publicist/ sugar baby, there had been a small group of people clustered atop an overhanging cliff. Hercule hadn’t been able to place it at the time, but there had been something very familiar about the group, particularly the tall figure that had stood at the front with spiky blond hair and wearing an orange Karategi. It had perplexed him so greatly that he had misjudged his opening assault and allowed that fiendish grasshopper to slip beneath his guard and knock him out of that ring with a lucky punch.
That one mistake could have ended his carrier and certainly ruin his reputation and legend as champ had the unthinkable not occurred. It always surprised him how fast everything had happened; in movies they seem to make action sequences stretch on for hours but in reality, the Cell Game’s had lasted less than an hour and when the dust settled, Hercule had seen the opportunity to immerge on top.
Had he done wrong? Hercule didn’t think so. Wrong was merely a matter of one’s point of view. He had taken the credit for ending Cell, but it was all for the greater good. The people of earth needed someone they could turn to, someone whose name they could cheer and idolize. If that little delivery boy didn’t want to step up, why should he deny the people a saviour.
It had been a chore but now, seven years later he could look back on that day with a true sense of accomplishment. Anybody could throw punches, however it took a real hero to assume such a responsibility. Yes, for Hercule Satan, life was very grand.
Taking a long sip from his brandy glass, the seasoned drink swirling hypnotically within, Hercule couldn’t restrain himself and snorted with laughter as he watched an image of his younger self hurl the equally burly opponent easily over his shoulder. The cameraman had jumped when the fighter hit the tiles, causing the footage to leap upwards for an instant before coming back down to show his youthful doppelganger wrestling the bloodied lump across the ring, all the while showboating to the enthusiastically roaring crowd.
The champ spent much of his days watching these recordings, though it was hardly necessary, he recall every detail of that day. He’d had to fight in five matches almost back to back, each one a vicious battle against foes of similar skill and size. Yet he was Hercule Satan, and he had crushed them all one by one until there had been none but him to stand on that podium. A voluptuous redhead in a skimpy, low cut uniform had dressed him with the Champ’s belt, a great hulking skin of supple brown leather decorated with a dozen golden medallions, and then he had got down on one knee and asked his love to marry him.
Touched by the memory, Hercule’s head twisted and, against his better judgment, he cast his eyes over the photo frame on his bookcase. It was a beautiful thing of sterling silver inlaid with vines of gold filigree along the edges. Beneath its solid crystal screen was an overly creased photo of him and his bride on their wedding day. She had looked so lovely that day, encased in his arms. Her dress was made from pure white silk and had hugged her body close with every movement. Beneath the veil, her long raven hair had been spun into gentle ringlets and her eyes seemed to twinkle like two great sapphires.
They had first met in playschool; she had been little more than a squirrel back then, with a face of freckles and her hair tied into two long pigtails. She had followed him around like a lost puppy from then until they entered secondary school, when his little squirrel suddenly became a long legged goddess. She had been beautiful, gorgeous, and so wonderful he had found himself besotted with her. For three years they had danced around one another, she the head cheerleader and him the captain of the rugby team. Twice he had asked her to the prom and twice she turned him down. Yet unwilling to take no for an answer, he had snuck into the headmaster’s office and asked her again over the intercom, but only after singeing ‘I think I love you!’
There had been much laughing, but in the end she accepted and since then she had always been his girl. She had supported him even when the leagues kicked him out. They had been so close; he had thought they would be together for ever. And then…
His good mood suddenly evaporating, Hercule set his half empty glass down and rose up out of his chair. He was only wearing a robe, but made no effort to fasten his loosening tie as he moved towards the bookcase. Reaching out, he tried to take the frame from its shelf but realised one of the servants must have moved it as no matter how far he stretched, he couldn’t reach. It was probably for the best; that was the photo’s third frame this year.
Grumbling to himself, he was about to return to his recordings when he heard a gentle creak overhead. Cloudy eyes widening, he glanced to the ornate gold clock on his desk and saw to his surprise that it was already 8:30pm. Forgetting his videos, he drunkenly stumbled out of his den and into Satan Manor’s foyer to find his teenage daughter coming to the bottom of the winding stare. She was trying to be stealthy, even going so far as to carry the glamorous pair of high heels she intended to wear in her hand as came down the steps, but even the lightest movements would make the stairs above his den creek and Hercule didn’t need to be sober to realise his baby girl was planning on sneaking out.
“Videl!” He bellowed, causing the teen to suddenly go as still as the foyer’s white marble walls. “And just where do you think you’re going young lady?”
Visibly sighing, her shoulders sinking with defeat, Videl turned to face him. “Hi Dad,” She said, her sweet voice filled with a false confidence. “I was just going round to my friend Erasa’s, she needs some help with her homework and I said I-“
“You’re going round to your friends, dressed like that?” He asked, his eyes slowing giving his daughter an expert onceover. She’d taken her hair down from its usual pair of pigtails to fall down past her shoulders. There was no sign of her usual baggy overlarge shirts and biker shorts. Instead she had donned a resplendent sleeveless dress of crimson silk that clung to her body like a second skin until it reached her lower abdomen where it fluttered lightly as a skirt all the way down to just past her knees. Its V-shaped neckline was low, too low, and spilled half way down the valley of her well rounded breasts, offering a tantalising display of flawless milky flesh. The sight stirred the beast within him. “Are you sure it’s not a boy you’re sneaking out to see?”
For a moment, Videl looked as if she was about to protest, but she cowered under the weight of his gaze and all her lies escaped her. “Daddy…I swear Erasa just wants me to go to a club with her…I wouldn’t…I couldn’t…”
Hercules’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right, you won’t.” He growled, his voice taking on a low and dangerous tone as he approached the stair. “You know you can’t see any boy unless he can beat me, and that is never going to happen, I am the champ! And no one with ever beat me! I won’t let some snot nosed little punk steal my baby girl from me! Now come down here.”
Unable to meet his gaze, Videl kept her head lowered as she silently obeyed. He was pleased she knew better than to annoy him further. Coming off the last step, she dropped her shoes and continued to stare at her feet. “Take it off.”
Surprised, Videl looked up; her doe eyes suddenly staring up at him questioningly with a stray lock of her raven coloured hair hang between them to tickle her nose. She had her mother’s hair, her mother’s big sapphire eyes, even the same pointed nose and gently rounded chin. “Dad?”
“Take the dress off, now.” There was no bartering in his tone and his daughter had no choice but to obey. Visibly shaking, she reached up and pushed the straps off her shoulders. The garment effortlessly slid to the floor, exposing the unblemished perfection of her sylphlike form as it pooled around her bare feet. In an instant, Hercule felt himself become completely sober. It had been well over a decade since he had last seen this much of his little girl and it was a shocking reminder of how much she had grown up since the days he carried her on his shoulders and played in the park. Utterly naked for all but a pair of lacy black panties, she had a shapely hourglass figure that was well toned from her martial arts training and complimented to no end by her long shapely legs and full rounded breasts. ‘An easy C-cup, maybe even a small D.’ He observed as his eyes greedily devoured the feast of young flesh, only half noticing the growing hardness in his loins as he said “Good girl, now go down on your knees and take it out.”
Unable to hide her fear, Videl took a frightened step back toward the stairs. “N-no…Dad please not again.”
Suddenly angry, Hercule resisted the urge to slap her and instead placed a firm hand on her shoulder and forced her down while his other reached within his loose robes. He would not be refused by her, her bitch of a mother had denied him but she would not. Already hard as steel, his rigid arousal sprung into his grip as he took himself in hand and presented her with his cock.
Looking up at him her big blue eyes, glassy with unshed tears, the teen meekly nodded before leaning forward, her full lips parting slightly as her small tongue darted out to lick the bulbous crown.
Uttering a low groan from the back of his throat, the champ unknowingly loosened his hold on his daughter’s shoulder as she lightly licked his tip before sensuously swirling her talented tongue around his cock’s sensitised head. Videl knew what he wanted; she concentrated on that for a moment, working him into a wild frenzy as she twirled her tongue around the pulsating ridges and glands, only to suck the tip into her mouth.
“Mmm…good Girl” He moaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt the head of his cock being slowly engulfed by her warm orifice, her plush lips squeezing him tightly. As her mouth settled over his engorged organ, her tongue slithered underneath to message his sensitive underside while she began to earnestly suckle. She was obviously determined to finish him quickly, yet she was going so slowly, hesitating, reluctant to continue even though she knew the penalties that would surly follow if she dared refuse him now. It was a game they always played, every time since that first night when he came to her bedroom on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. She’d been scared then, but she had learnt quickly when given the correct motivation. She was so like her mother, determined, stubborn, and never willing to back down from a challenge. It had been so easy to train her as to what he liked, yet no matter what there was always that little part of her that would resist him. No matter, he would put an end to all that tonight. Videl was his; no one would ever take her from him.
Seized by a moment’s primal desire, Hercule uttered a low animal growl as he placed both his hands on his daughter’s head. Her inky raven hair was soft and silky to touch and he gloried in the feel of it coursing between his fingers as he roughly yanked her down, embedding his cock deep into her throat. With a muffled scream, Videl’s hands flew up to brace against his hips as she instinctively tried to pull away, only he was stronger and his grip had an iron will that forced her to remain there. It was only fortunate she had lost her gag reflex, or she might have chocked.
The feeling was so delicious his hips bucked automatically when his cock entered her throat, forcing more of his length into her molten orifice. Videl struggled for a moment, the muscles of her throat writhing around him as she tried to adjust, to swallow the long phallus, then just as quickly, she began to relax. Sighing as he felt her breath wafting over his flesh, Hercule fought against the pleasure building within him to look down on his daughter but the sight that greeted him was so erotic he almost spilled himself down her throat.
It was, without a doubt, one of the most carnal scenes he had ever beheld. Poised on her knees before him, her full lips stretched impossibly wide around his hard flesh as a single drop of saliva rolled down her perfect chin. And all the while her eyes stared back up at him, a furious fire suddenly blazing in her cool sapphire depths. Hatred burned inside her, giving her new strength. Without warning, her lithe fingers seized the base of his cock and began to roughly jerk and squeeze.
Losing himself in the sudden rush of sensations, Hercule could only gasp and pant as she moved back up his length until just the bulbous head remained in her warm cavern, when she plunged back down. She repeated the process again, and again, taking him deeper into her throat with each downward stroke until his hips began to move of their own accord.
“Oh Fuck! Yea that’s it Videl…Swallow it…worship your daddy’s cock” He growled; shifting his feet to move a little closer as his hips bucked up to match her delicious tempo, pushing his cock in and out of her greedy mouth. His fingers were still in her hair, preventing her from pulling all the way off his cock, yet Videl was resolute and worked her orifice in perfect sync with the rhythmic pumping of her hand. Her heavy breasts were jiggling, her torso twisting this way and that as she worked, using her jaw muscles to hold and suck him while her tongue swirled around his shaft’s underside.
Hercule was losing his mind, she was too good. He was close, so very close, kami how could she be this good, had she been practising away from home? Maybe with some little punk who thought he was the shit by banging the champ’s daughter, like her mother had. Well, he’d show her, if she wanted to be a whore, then he’d treat her like one.
It took all of his strength of will to break free of her spell and with a low growl; he all but threw his daughter off his cock. Reeling back, Videl landed hard on her buttocks and broke into a coughing fit as she tried to catch her breath. Hercule felt no pity for her. “Get up stairs, you little whore.”
Stilled by the coldness of his tone, her big doe eyes could only look up at him with confusion before she once again gave him a tiny nod. Rising up, she reached for her dress but under his gaze seemed to think better of it as instead she turned and begin to slowly ascend the spiralling staircase. Ignoring his erection’s painful throbs as it jumped with his every step, Hercule followed close behind, rarely letting his eyes stray far from the seductive sway of her round buttocks as they ascended past the manor’s first three flours. On the fourth, Videl tried to head down the corridor to her own room, but she was gravely mistaken about their destination and Hercule quickly set her right by giving her an unceremonious push up the next three steps. Videl went on quietly, though her feet began to notably drag.
On the topmost floor of the Manson, there were no corridors to navigate, only a wide gallery with a high glass dome ceiling beyond which stood a set of thick oaken double doors. Stepping forward, Hercule threw both doors open before motioning for her to enter. Sleeplessly, she did as he commanded.
Inside, Hercules’s master bedroom was decorated with all the extravagance as that of a sultan. The walls were painted red and the floors covered by thick black carpeting that felt like genuine fur underfoot. His furniture was oaken and each wall boasted an immense portrait depicting one his great victories. And in its centre, his great king-size awaited. When Videl saw it, her big doe eyes grew even wider. “Dad…“
“Get on the bed.” Though visibly chewing her lip, she might yet of hopped it was all a bluff and went meekly to the bed. “No; on the bed.” He growled warningly as she tried to sit on its edge. Again she obeyed, avoiding his gave as she climbed upon the immense four-poster’s black satin sheets. “That’s it, on your hands and knees like a little bitch in heat.” It was a miracle she did not bark at that, but she knew what that would bring her so she held her tongue.
Confident of her submission, Hercule shut the doors and crossed his bedchamber, with only a long admiring stare at the way her pale shapely form appeared to glow in the low light, before coming to one of the two cabinets which stood alongside the bed. From within its draw he withdrew a small unmarked jaw that when opened appeared to be half filled with a thick translucent jell. Grinning, he scooped a glob of it into his fingers before applying it to his still glistening erection, moaning lowly at the warm sensation it sent rushing along his nerves.
“Now, turn around and face the door.” He instructed, upon noticing the way Videl’s eyes watched his every move. Swallowing nervously, she shuffled about until the full checks of her buttocks faced him as he climbed onto the bed and manoeuvred behind her. Hooking a finger under the hem of her lacy black panties, he quickly tugged the garment down her thighs.
“No Daddy…please anything but that…”Videl gasped, her voice hitching slightly as he reached out and touched her folds with one thick finger. He could feel her wet warmth radiating out and was seized by the overwhelming urge to fuck her, to claim her and make her scream and beg like a whore. But that wasn’t what he had planned.
“Are you talking back to me? Such a naughty little whore” he growled before seizing her heart shaped rump, his large hands roughly kneading her round cheeks to expose her trembling anus. “Very well, you leave me no choice…” Sneering, he guided the purple head of his cock to her rear entrance.
“What! No!” She gasped and attempted to turn around as she realized his intentions but it was far too late. “No not there…Aaagghhhh!” The cry left her lips in a ragged scream as he jabbed his hips forward with such force that her tight sphincter opened up and swallowed his shaft’s pulsating head.
Hercule couldn’t help but moan as he felt the intense heat of his daughter’s butt enveloping his cock. Though her body had gone still, every one of her rectal muscles was convulsing around him, working in the common goal of trying to force the invader from their depths but serving only to heighten his delight. “Oh Yea! Struggle all you want little whore, I’m going to stick all of my dick inside your tight asshole.” In answer, Videl could only utter a strangled gasp as she clawed the sheets and lent forward in what must have been a last desperate attempt to drag herself clear of his invading flesh. Not willing to let her get away however, he dragged her back and then pushed the rest of himself inside of her, filling her tight bowels completely. “Ohhh fuck…so tight!”
Surprised by the complete violation, Videl’s back arched and her mouth opened in a silent scream, her big doe eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. Too drunk on his own pleasure, Hercule didn’t give her time to adjust. Keeping a firm hold on her slender toned waist, he pulled back until all but the head remained inside her trembling anus before driving back into her with such fervent vigour that a sob was torn from his daughter. Alas, she was much too tight to allow him the speed he would have preferred, but aided by the glistening lubricant, his motions lost none of their savagery as he began driving his cock back and forth in a fierce rhythm.
“S-S-Stop! No daddy…you’re hurting me…” Videl pleaded; her once strong voice now nothing but a mix of pained gaps and sobs with none of its former fire. A mere shadow of her usual self, she seemed to have lost all the strength of her arms and had half collapsed, her angelic face pressing against the dark silk sheets while her rump was held up by her trembling legs. Sparkling crystal tears were rolling down her cheeks as she clawed uselessly at the bedding. Utterly powerless beneath him, her every attempt to escape him was thwarted when his large hands wrenched her roughly back onto his invading phallus. “Ahhh …I-I can’t stand it…too deep…your tearing me apart!”
“What are you saying? I can tell your ripe little ass is just craving for my big cock. I bet you love taking it up the ass, don’t you?” The bed was rocking with his rhythm, its heavy oaken beams creaking loudly every time he plunged back into her intense warmth. With each of his devastating thrusts, a bit more of her depths opened up and he could feel himself probing a bit deeper. Again and again, he bucked into her until one particularly deep thrust caused the girl to moan. He grinned wickedly at the sound. It wouldn’t be long now; anal sex was a queer thing and had a unique feel for every woman, but her mother had always loved it rough. Despite her protests, Videl’s body had betrayed her. The lubricant he’d employed was in fact an extremely potent herbal aphrodisiac engineered to stimulate the pleasure spots of the anus. She could fight it all she liked, but her surrender to the feelings stirring within her was inevitable…
“No…please…stoohhh Kami…so…so hot…I…I can’t take anymore…” she suddenly moaned as the flood of sensations sent her into a sexual frenzy. Pushing up with her hands to grind her buttocks against his thrusting hips. “Oohhh Kami…So good…Yes daddy…take my ass…take it…take it…”
"That’s it, my good little whore. Your arse is mine. Take my big cock and know that no other man will ever please you again." he growled, grinning in triumph as he felt her rounded buttocks moving to meet his thrusts, pushing him even deeper and making her moan in rapture.
As their rhythm intensified, the sound of their hips slapping together mixed with the bed’s loud creaking and Videl’s heated moans to form a crescendo that must have been heard throughout the city. She’s as loud as her mother, Hercule recalled, and the way she writhed and thrashed and bucked against him, they were so similar even in their passionate throes it was hard to believe they could only be mother and daughter and not twins separated by time.
“Ohhh Yes Daddy, my ass is yours. You can fuck it whenever you want to; just please, I want more. Fuck me harder…ohhh harder!” A hot shiver shot up Hercules’s spine at her lustful cries before an idea occurred to him and his eyes darted to where he had once most conveniently placed a free standing oaken mirror. Perfectly positioned and hidden within a shadowy corner, few noticed it there unless they knew of it before hand and all for the better, or else its purpose and his pleasure would be spoiled.
From where he sat, he could see Videl’s whole reflection perfectly and on her hands and knees as she was, she had no secrets from the mirror. Darker now, her piercing blue eyes had become veiled by desire and stared out at nothing in particular from beneath her dishevelled raven ringlets as her lips hung open in wondrous pleasure. Arousal had flushed her skin a deep pink and with each powerful thrust, her supple breasts would bounce so enticingly that Hercule wanted nothing more than to take the full orbs in his mouth and suck on her pert rosy nipples.
For his part, Hercule was more than glad his own reflection was half hidden in shadow. It had been many years since his sporting days and his once magnificent chest, etched with muscle and equally as smooth as his daughter’s magnificent rump, had become covered by a forest of coarse hair. His muscles remained, mostly, but a prominent bulge had begun to shape his softening stomach. He didn’t know who he’d see there but it wasn’t Hercule Satan, it wasn’t the champ.
Renewed anger suddenly raged in his heart. No, he was the champ. He was the greatest, no man could stand against him and he would prove it. No little puck could hope to match him, he would show this whore what he was capable of; he would let Elaine experience the true power of the world’s champion.
“Oh-oh-oh-ohhh Kami…so…so rough…yesss…more…daddy…fuck me more…”Her cries disintegrated into a stream of near inaudible words and moans as he gave up all restraint. Letting rage fire his movements, he gave himself over to his desire and hammered her supple young body with unrestrained abandon. Subconsciously he could feel his own release brewing, yet he refused to let these feelings end. Gritting his teeth, he did all he could to restrain his mounting climax as she bucked against him. He wouldn’t last much longer, the alcohol in his system was beginning to go to his head and proved to be almost too much for him when coupled with the intense heat and the way her still tight channel writhed around him. “Ohhh…Kami…so hot…don’t stop…daddy…you’re amazing!”
“That’s it Elaine, beg for my cock. Isn’t it better than his; bigger than any other, I bet that wimpy little punk never fucked you like this?” Hercule growled, watching the beauty writhing beneath him. His eyes devoured her milky flesh as the tremors of his every herculean thrust rippled across her toned form, but his eyes saw only the memory of a night long ago, a memory he’d once hopped to drown away in a flood of alcohol.
Videl appeared not to hear him however. “Something’s coming….Oh Kami I…I’ve never felt like this before…I think…I think I’m going to cum….I’m going to cum!” She moaned, writhing and bucking against him before her arms suddenly failed her and she collapsed into the rumpled satin sheets. Snatching desperate breaths, he drove into her with bruising intensity. He could feel her wetness running down her thighs in thick rivulets and the bed was creaking so loudly, it was a miracle the oaken beams hadn’t shattered. Still keeping an iron tight hold on her rolling buttocks; Hercule carried on regardless as her anus contracted around his pulsating member. Yet it was too much and with a ragged gasp, he pulled her against him and exploded inside her quivering bowels.
"I can feel it," Videl moaned, still trembling as the force of her own release washed over her. "Oh Kami Daddy, I can feel your cum in my stomach! It’s so hot…so hot…”
The world champ could only grunt as rope after rope of his pent up seed flooded her anus. Feeling the tension in his loins ease, he released his hold on Videl’s hips and let himself fall back into the waiting pillows. Too exhausted to speak or move, his daughter simply sprawled across the mattress and lay there in an unconscious stupor as his essence began to seep from her gapping anus. A veil of sweat covered her body and her knickers had become tangled around her knees and though suddenly exhausted, the sight of her in such a pose made Hercule want to laugh.
He would have her again later, he decided, and again tomorrow and then again the day after. Videl was his; he would take her every day until she learnt that, only then would he take what was left of her virginity. He would not make the same mistake he had with her slut mother. He had loved Elaine and given her every luxury she could have desired. He had been soft and kind and lenient, but in the end she had left him and vanished with some wretched punk half his size and without a penny to his name. He would not lose Videl however; she would learn her place and become a dutiful, obedient daughter who would never leave him. He would make sure of that…
…Three Days later Son Gohan came to Orange Star High.
AN: Ok, I’m not so sure how this turned out. I thought to enhance the flow of the story I would try doing it strictly from Hercules’s POV. This story is pretty much an experiment for me, a test of my abilities but I will leave it up to you the readers to decide how I did.