Welcome to Boxer & Rice

Deep in the cold grey underground, illuminated by buzzing fluorescent lights Gohan stood by an automobile. Only the slight smell of petrol hung in the air, overpowered by the stony pong of concrete.

Across from him stood his husband, holding a blindfold at the ready. Trunks’ blue eyes fixed on his love’s every movement, hoping to see the emotions captured on his face for all time. He then said, “Well, my Prince if you’re sure about your choice, it’s time to put on your blindfold.”

Holding it out to Gohan, Trunks waited for his husband to take ahold of the cloth and raise it to his face. Gohan’s smile just before he fastened the blindfold around his face was clear assent and heralded the fun that was about to begin. Trunks could barely restrain his hands from rubbing together but did so once the blindfold was in place.

Still he waved a hand on either side of Gohan’s temples. Gohan remained perfectly still not even twitching. Nodding, Trunks’ blue eyes sparkled with unrestrained anticipation. Reaching out for the other’s tie, Trunks yanked him forwards. He placed both hands on his husband’s temples and crushed his lips to Gohan’s eagerly.

Their tongues danced in the merged space of their mouth for a few precious seconds. Gohan groaned as did Trunks, but the lavender haired demi Saiyan pulled back, albeit reluctantly.

Once he let go of Gohan’s face, he took his lover’s hand, and pulled gently.

“This way, Prince,” he said enticingly.

“Right,” Gohan replied, walking forwards, without missing a step, Trunks realized.

The tiny smile tugged at the lavender haired demi-Saiyan’s lips. He then strode with his husband past a few vehicles towards the back of the other vehicle present, a Rover Defender. Urging Gohan to stop, Trunks pressed a button on his key fob. The dark haired demi Saiyan heard a click herald the rising liftgate of the trunk.

“Now, my love, you strip,” purred Trunks, patting his husband on the ass lightly.

Gohan grinned a bit, shedding his jacket and tossing it towards Trunks voice. He undid his tie and unbuttoned his fancy dress shirt before pushing one shoulder off, then the other. Taking time, he unbuckled his pants and kicked off his shoes. Down the pants dropped and Gohan got out of them. Trunks picked up the discarded clothes and set them in the back seat.

“How’s that?” asked Gohan with a smirk.

“Take off your shorts too, you minx,” Trunks ordered with a chuckle. “I’ve got something for you to slip into.”

Soft silk boxer shorts were exchanged for a pair of burlap shorts. Gohan stepped into them with his lover’s help. When he pulled them up, he made a face, due to the friction of rough threads on his crotch and privates. It felt like a bad case of jock itch if he moved just the right way. While the material was breezy, its constant scratchiness became prevalent in his mind.

“These are… ah... unique… I mean I feel like I’m wearing a potato sack,” Gohan chuckled.

“Indeed love, and now it’s time for your trip to start, my prince,” said the lavender haired Saiyan. Trunks bent down, arm positioned behind Gohan’s knees, the other behind his back.

Gohan yelped in surprise as he was scooped up love cradle style at first. The next instant Trunks hurled him into the back of the Rover, so Gohan hit the hard back of the seat.

“O0f… what the hell Trunks,” Gohan managed to splutter out, only for Trunks to slam the liftgate shut so the whole Rover vibrated.

Snickering, Trunks quickly dashed to the driver’s seat, opened the door, then slid behind the wheel.

“Time to drive,” he announced in a loud voice. In response he heard muffled shouts from his husband. Turning the key in the contact, Trunks revved the motor up, before shifting and backing out abruptly. He heard a thud and more muffled cursing from his cargo.

Jerking the wheel around, he made the tires squeak and lurched forward, changing his foot from the clutch to the break violently. The Rover then rolled out of the garage and into the open air of the streets of Paris.

They would not be there for long, Trunks told himself, tapping the rear-view mirror with two fingers. He caught a glimpse of his eyes and the rear seat where he heard the continued confused grunts. At every traffic light he pulled to an abrupt stop, jostling the Rover unnecessarily so he heard the sound of Gohan’s body bumping the trunk floor.

Once out of Paris, Trunks followed the signs toward Savoie. Yet he wasn’t going there by the main route. Instead he headed on the roads towards his first destination, Gâtinais Français Natural Regional Park. Off the D837, the various rocky terrain was intermittently given way to by trees. Trunks stopped to absorb the beauty spot around him as he pulled off the road. Just heading to the more elevated areas, the lavender haired demi saiyan could peer over the gorge with a forest that stretched for quite a distance and put the city out of his mind for a few minutes. He walked under a wooden pavillian not far from a picturesque lake and admired the way the sky mirrored in its surface.

So breathtaking he just had to get a picture, so he pulled out his camera and snapped one. Quickly he texted it to Goten, who soon sent a reply.

“How’s Gohan liking the trip?” it said.

“See for yourself,” Trunks chuckled as he texted a picture of the closed trunk.

He then got in, belted himself and turned on the engine. This time as he pulled back onto the road, turned up the stereo to a loud music channel, and sang along to it, knowing Gohan hated that loud rock music he was blaring. The base beat vibrated the vehicle.

On the next stop, he drove along the Rue d’ France. Soon he reached the site of Château de Fontainebleau and parked the rover once more. He strode to the grounds, well-manicured lawns and gardens, to spot the chateau itself. At the heart of the château was a large rectangular structure, crowned with a trapezoidal roof and twin chimneys. Two wings spanned from that central construct. Trunks followed the lines of the construction of either side, connected by a thinner length of construction with roofs angled towards him, to two other houses on either side, which were capped in double dormer windows. Symmetrically the narrower arms ended in corners of the main body of the chateau. Each was a wider building, one of which was crowned with a clock tower that tapered to a point. At a ninety-degree angle, two more wings connected to the main part of the castle with similar ranks of thin oblong windows. Ornate stairs led down from the center entrance, in two half circular stairwells to the well-kept grounds from multiple entrances.

Phone up to his ear he dialed Goten, and heard the voice on the other end say, “Where are you now, world traveler?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Trunks said, as he turned on the recording ap and held up his phone. Along one wing Trunks walked, seeing the reflecting pools as they magnified the splendor of the Chateau in a reverse image, wiggly and ethereal.

“That’s awesome. I’m certain Gohan would love seeing all that fancy stuff. Make sure you get post cards…”

“Will do, Goten. I also am playing that new band you recommended, so Gohan has some good traveling music…”

“UP to volume 11 I hope?” Goten snickered on the phone.

Trunks disconnected the call and admired how the fan windows in places complimented atop the rectangular. Low stone railings surrounded the pools and fountains at knee height, made of the same stone as the Chateau itself. All mathematically precise and laid out from the heart it was.

After a time, Trunks returned to the vehicle, and moved close to the trunk and said loudly, “You should have seen Fountainebleau, Gohan. You’d get a kick out of the baroque architecture. It’s a beauty spot all right. My legs are tired from walking in all those beautiful gardens…”

A muffled grumble could be heard, and Trunks cupped a hand to his ear, saying, “What’s that? Can’t hear you, sorry. Well, let’s get on the way…”

Once he had taken in the sights of Fontainebleau, Trunks resumed his ride. Within the trunk of the Rover, the heat was starting to stifle the breath from Gohan’s lungs. With each breath he inhaled gasoline fumes. Turns and stops as well as bumps knocked him from all sides. Like an apple in a cart he was bruised and thumped to and forth. He was becoming quickly upset with each passing minute. His world smelled of burlap, sweat, gasoline and whatever polymer comprised the scratchy trunk lining.

Trunks noticed that the gas tank was close to E. He spotted a gas station and pulled into it to refuel. He banged on the trunks as the gasoline filled, calling out, “Welcome to La Chapelle-Saint-Luc, Gohan. Too bad you can’t join me, but I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of the pictures I’ll post… see you in a bit.”

Instead of returning back to the vehicle right away, he parked and noticed the next beauty spot. La Chapelle-Saint-Luc awaited his perusal, and Trunks soon investigated the small boat with one mast in the center of a pond Fourchy amidst a raft of lily pads. He imagined himself sitting in that boat with its furled sail, lightly trailing his fingers in the still waters. The sunlight beamed down on the surrounding woods, dancing off the waters and the meandering Lilly pads in gentle rivulets.

In contrast to the tranquil outside, Gohan found his world growing steadily warmer. Even though the loud music had stopped, he was still stuck inside, hearing nothing but silence and what sounded like still water. He was unaware of the town’s medieval streets of houses mingled with more renaissance architecture that his husband was now enamored with.

Since he arrived in Troyes, Trunks took in the sight of the white church, St Madeleine, its rectangular bell tower rising a few stories over the street. The church’s geometrical shape fanned out from the center pointed roof.

“Gohan,” he called knocking on the trunk. “You’d love seeing this place. Cathedrals, medieval architecture the whole lot…”

Further down the streets he spotted a half-timbered tavern with a cylindrical tower on its corner. Then the gothic architecture of Troyes Cathedral of Pierre- St. Paul caught his eyes. Stained glass windows were bordered by the stone of the building, shining through with the stolen luminosity of the sun. Yes, he had gone inside, to taste the quiet tranquility of this marvel of architecture. Hundreds of years and a few generations of people had built these places.

Inside his prison, Gohan felt the vehicle rumble to life once more after what seemed an hour. Loud music rumbled along with the engine sound droning in his ears to a volume where it almost drowned out his fractured thinking process. Added to that was the constant contact of burlap on his pelvis, ass, dick, balls, and inner thighs. Sensitive skin grated with that friction burn and he was sure he would go mad from needing to scratch. Just as soon as he reached down to itch, another bump in the road send him crashing into the top of the trunk only to land unceremoniously against the hard floor. What was the floor, and what was the side, he started to wonder?

Along the scenic road, Trunks followed the signs to Dijon. He loved Troyes, but there was still much more to see since he was taking this scenic route. Far more twists and turns would make this a memory he would treasure always. Now he arrived at 1 Porte du Canal. He was glad when he stopped by the Péniche Cancale, a barge among the many boats tied up at the waterway.

Extracting his cell phone, Trunks snapped a picture of several boaters out on a pleasure cruise. He then stood in front of the barge, and the click of his phone camera produced a grinning demi Saiyan. He added the caption, “Lunch on a boat” to it and posted it.

Entering, he relaxed and stretched on his way to the maître d to confirm his reservation. He was led to an orange table, and sat with a view of the canal, able to see the boats bobbing up and down at their various moorings. Colorful triangular flags flapped in the breeze. A nice drink of water and a plate of steak, carrots, green beans among gravy, a plate of tapas, and rice awaited his palate. Soon it appeared alongside other snaps with the caption, “My lunch… don’t get jealous!”

Inside the stopped truck, Gohan’s stomach squirmed full of French cuisine, which was now working its way through the rest of his digestive system. A queasy sensation started to sour the fullness and he put a hand over his mouth, willing himself not to puke up all that good food. His stomach felt hard and his throat choked with disappointment, sadness, and shock at what was happening to him. Yes, he had agreed to it, but he had no idea things would start out like this. Confined to a hot box like a coffin prison in Mongolia, with no way to see a crack of light except when a piece of bread would be pushed into your cell. Just like those prisoners written about in a book in early 20th century, he had not enough room to sit up, stretch out fully or straighten his limbs. Rather relegated to a modified fetal position he wondered if this gas smelling womb would birth him into another unknown destination. Sweat started to drip down his forehead, and coat his inner thighs, soaking the burlap so it stuck and itched now.

“Hello mom,’ Trunks said loudly, as he leaned on the back of the vehicle. “Yes, I’m have a GREAT time…. You saw the photos?”

“Yes, I’m very pleased to see that son. Are you and Gohan enjoying yourselves?” Bulma answered over the speaker phone. Gohan winced, hearing every word loud and clear.

“Oh yes, he’s a bit occupied at the moment…” Trunks chuckled, leaning hard into the vehicle so it swayed back and forth. “But I’ll send you a post card when I get a chance mom”

“Keep the pictures coming son, I’m enjoying everyone,” Bulma called out. “I liked the selfies at the museums.”

“I know. I’m going to make sure that you hear all about our sightseeing on this little jaunt, so check the WeSpace website…”

“Will do,” Bulma replied. “Be sure you two behave, and if you’re painting the town red, don’t send me the bill.”

“No problem with that,” Trunks chuckled with a big smirk. “I think that Gohan and I are having a very pleasurable us time together.”

Bulma giggled at this, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Mom, you’ve got a big imagination,” Trunks laughed, glancing back at the trunk where he heard thumps of indignation.

Further along the trip, in the front seat, Trunks had reached the town of Nuits-Saint-Georges. The town square had rectangular buildings a slightly similar style to the Chateau hours ago. A clock tower atop a three-story building overlooked street cafes. The post office had two barred windows. A wire ran with a series of icicle lights and a ‘star’ that was not yet lit. Along the other side of the street café Trunks saw another building with a clock tower. The shuttered and narrow rectangular windows of the three-story homes showed the upper residential floors, while the stores occupied the main floors.

“Good, I’ll get a few postcards,” Trunks decided, wandering into one. This was not the only reason, a feast for the eyes. No, he was here to buy some fine wine to tempt his palate. A leisurely trip to the Maison Colin Seguin was in order. It was a long low building with 45 degree pitched roof, small clock tower rising out of the one end of the structure. Geraniums and other potted flowers decorated here and there. Small arches surrounded two or three windows through which he could see the logo of the place, and the racks of wine. He enjoyed the sample that was offered to him, tasting its flavor to decide what it best went with.

Yet another stop, Gohan ached all over from the jostling. He was sure that a lot of time had passed between each stop, which was an odd way to mark it since he was deprived of a clock. Unless he happened to hear the chiming now and then of what town-square timepieces must be.

“Gohan, here we have the winery with it’s multiple selections,” Trunks said loudly. “All the red, white, and rose you could pair with infinite food combinations.”

Gohan heard the clink of bottles, and then sighed. Trunks was putting them probably in the back seat in order to avoid opening the trunk. Now the gasoline smell resumed from the shuddering of the engine into life. Motion resumed. Each minute lasted an hour, or was that hours lasted seconds. He started to lose sense of time in his prison, listening to the cacophony blaring into his ears. Deprived of sight first, he was now deprived of temporal sense and his hearing and smell flooded too.

Macon was the next stop that Trunks made, seeing that the gas was burned almost to the quarter mark again. Another river town, it sported a mix of modern architecture here and there with the traditional. Of note was the muli00 arched bridge that spanned the river. Tour boats drifted up and down its length while swans swam close to the banks. Again, he left the vehicle and Gohan to their own devices and admired the twin cylindrical spires of St. Pierre de Macon rising into the sky atop the squarish church building, its bottom story comprised of three arches. A rosette window broke up the square and rectangular lines of the construction nicely. Inside he saw the vaulted cathedral ceilings and once more absorbed tranquility. Small pools of light shined into the dark shadows of the thick walls and pillars.

Within the vicinity he stopped at the Musee des Ursulines, walking along the grounds. Ducking in, he decided to look at the various military vehicles, statues, and other sites while he had the time.

“Mom will love a few snaps of these. I’ll hit the souvenir store,” mumbled Trunks. “I’ll need plenty of stamps though.”

Once out of the museum he strolled on the grounds of the chateau de Vizelles, with its vineyards aplenty. The rows of green grapes would become future wine with enough yeast. Just like his relationship would take time to transform from vanilla to the bondage they embarked on. And like wine it would age finely.

“Hello, Goten, I’m getting plenty of wine to go with dinner,” Trunks said as he got out his phone.

“You’re the best, Trunks,” Goten said. “How’s the parcel?”

Trunks walked over and put the phone to the trunk of his vehicle where a loud grumbling could be heard. Gohan cursed to himself, wondering why all the stops were being made without even opening up the trunk to see if he was all right. His stomach rumbled, desiring even a crust of bread. He would be happy to feel that wonderful crusty hard French bread with its hearty center. Now he felt like he was baking in the oven like bread.

More bouncing and thumping unlike bread in the oven later, he felt the vehicle screech to another stop. He smelled a new scent over the gasoline, that of water, and sand. Now aware of the deeper silence he could make out the noise of lapping water. Not to mention he heard Trunks singing one of the French tunes that replaced the blaring loud rock on the radio. He had switched to popular movie themes, and then to contemporary French radio.

“Ah, the Plage Municipale Du Bourget Du Lac,” Trunks called out loudly with a sigh, spanning his arms out wide as he stood by the vehicle. “Look at that view… I can see the mountains reflected in the lake… and the air is so pure and pristine it’s like drinking in sunlight…”

Gohan inside his trunk wished he could tear the back open and see for himself, but Trunks loud narration was not making it any easier.

“Got to go, Gohan, the shore’s beckoning to me…” Trunks sing sang before he walked down towards it to see the hills and mountains that ringed the body of water. Walking along the shore he came to the edge of a hiking trail. He strode up the dirt path, so he could trudge among the trees. A slight climb later he stood on the side of a hill so he could get a better perspective on the valley. Blue of the sky was a shade lighter than the blue of the water mirroring it. If he only had an aisle and paints, he could get a nice relaxing day doing a watercolor of this scene.

Instead he settled for yet another selfie, grinning like a madman as he snapped it.

Boaters glided their craft into the lake, their voices echoing lightly in the acoustics of the area. On his hike he listened to the rush of a waterfall while he savored the fresh breeze whipping through his hair. Whipping out his cell phone he held it in front of himself and snapped a selfie with two fingers held up.

Pulling up to his next stop, Trunks slid out of the driver’s seat and rounded to the trunk lid, slamming it with the flat of his hand. He drawled out, “I’m going for ice cream Gohan. What flavor do you want?”

Gohan’s answer was a frustrated muffled scream. With the car parked in the bright sun, Trunks purchased a mouthwatering dessert consisting of waffles and ice cream. Poking his spoon into it, he paired the crunchy waffle with the soft cream which melted on his tongue. Mental images of Gohan cooking in that trunk with a rumbling stomach came into his head. How he would ache for just a tiny bite of this decadent treat. Yet he was likely a sweaty mass of Saiyan curled up like a loaf of bread, steaming hot.

“Ice cream… Ice cream…” echoed the vendor’s sound, calling Gohan to prick his ears up. Somewhere in the sounds and smells a new scent reached his nose: a freshly baked smell of waffles. Was Trunks eating what he thought he was? At that his mouth watered, pushing away the gas smell that spoiled the delicious food smell now tantalizing his gas saturated olfactory cells. Steadily the temperature of the already warm trunk increased. Gohan huffed, and grumbled, his burlap shorts sticking to his legs in those sensitive itchy places. He could try to imagine that cool ice cream sliding down his tongue, but it was Trunks who enjoyed it now while he baked. He hoped that any minute Trunks would open the trunk and give him a bite of whatever he was now partaking of. Even his inner legs stuck together, and his chest sweat pooled on the liner of the trunk now.

“Goten, I’d make sure to bring you some, but it’d be all melted by the time we’re here,” Gohan heard his husband say with regret. After baking, Gohan grumbled more, wiping away sweat with sweaty hands which was useless. He was glad for the quick reversal slamming him into the trunk yet again, and the circular motion of the vehicle turning around a few times. At least they were headed somewhere else again because he soon welcomed the rumble of the engine droning.

It was hard to even think of dozing, but he must have nodded off when he next jerked awake. In the driver’s seat, Trunks watched as evening approached, the sun lower to the horizon. Signs for Chambery appeared, and he knew from the empty seat in the back that he needed groceries for the upcoming week. He enjoyed the walk around the center monument ringed by pink buildings that rose to four stories. A modern building represented but was rare amongst the familiar architecture he had come to savor the sight of. At the monument he walked up to see each elephant drizzling water out of the ends of their trunks.

He angled his camera so he could get a perfect shot of himself near the elephants, and grinned. Another photo went up on his WeSpace wall, with the caption, “These elephants never forget anything they see.”

Another marvelous cathedral at Chambrey had red doors that were slightly open. Scalloped gothic arches greeted his vision, topped by a row of windows, lancet. Above that was a row of statues, under a rosette window and the two bell towers flanking it. These churches and cathedrals each had their own stamp of individuality, reflecting of the communities that constructed them over generations.

Hearing a ping from his cell he consulted it, before he brought up his WeSpace account to see likes on all his pictures so far. A comment from Bulma said, “Make sure you go inside the cathedral here. They’re all different on the inside, and I know Gohan would appreciate seeing the mathematical precision of the designs.”

“Oh, I’m sure Gohan would love to see this,” Trunks said with a smirk as he headed to peruse.

Inside this cathedral, the walls soared high and light, with carved walls. Glass windows let in a great deal more illumination, casting a purple glow on the alter. The nave of the cathedral had an ornately carved roof, matching the curved patterns on the walls. He thought it felt far more organic than the previous ones, and then posted his observations on WeSpace for good measure.

He returned to the trunk, and called out, “I’m going for some groceries, Gohan. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“Where am I going to go?” Gohan shouted at the top of his lungs in the trunk, his cheeks red from shouting in anger.

Now Trunks rushed out to the grocery stores, taking his time shopping for produce at each. He could enjoy the square and the evening setting down around him like a comfortable blanket of shadow on the town. Catching a glimpse of the Chateau des Ducs de Savoie, Trunks smiled at the scaled down architecture reminiscent of Fountainebleau. It had a more Grecian style with its central columns and trapezoidal roof. Chimneys stuck up at intervals from the side wings, and the whole stone had a gold and slightly coral color.

Every so often he returned to the Rover to check in with Gohan. This time he announced, “I’m going to visit the house of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. I’m sure you’d love to see it for yourself.”

Of course, Gohan banged his fist against the inside of the trunk lift gate. Trunks barely heard it but giggled all the same. Both of them had read his works as well as his contribution to history; missing this must be driving Gohan insane.

Well, all the better for me, Trunks told himself with glee.

As for the house, it was a two-floor stone edifice with a peaked roof, and wooden shutters. A low stone wall surrounded it, behind square lawns edged by rectangular hedges. Heading inside he saw various things that he knew Gohan would love to see, but while he was feasting on eye candy, his husband was blindfolded in darkness. One of the things that caught his eye inside was a huge vase which was jade green in color. Atop the handles sat two cherubs, facing each other.

“Hm, not unlike myself and you, Gohan. But you’ll be under me instead of across from me,” Trunks chuckled as he admired it and other exhibits.

To Gohan, back in the trunk, this last stop stretched for what seemed like an eternity. His bladder was starting to protest though he pressed his legs together to stop it. At least his former training had given him better control of his bodily functions.

“Gohan, I’m back, sorry to disrupt your busy schedule, but we are going to see some lovely mountain vistas next,” Trunks voice echoed in Gohan’s ear.

At last the truck jostled with the sound of heavy items being placed in the back seat. Then an extra loud slam punctuated the end of the rustling paper and crinkling plastic sounds. It almost deafened him, his ear ringing. A slight angling of the vehicle made him wonder if they were driving up a slope. The juddering and bumping of the vehicle coupled with the rising humidity of his own sweat sticking to his face elevated his thirst.

Mountains rolled along as Trunks cruised up the roads. Hairpin turns were common, and he relished the quick toss of the steering wheel back and forth. The whisper of a waterfall on the side of a stone face met his gaze, and he glanced on the other side into the valley running its way along the hills. The shadows of clouds passed along the fields and forests. Higher and higher he climbed, till he saw the ridges and stratigraphy of the mountainside. Small boulders would fall off the light brown earth and bounce onto the conifers below. A goat with brown and white markings, perched on a rocky outcrop, looked curiously as the vehicle zoomed past it.

From the map, Trunks could tell he was passing through the Reserve Naturelle des Hauts de Charteuse. The distinctive color of the earth and trees together with the landscape painted the area with its own hue.



A drive of eight hours or more brought them finally to Savoie, in the middle of the vast French wilderness of mountains, evergreens and pristine waterfalls. The air was remarkable chilled and fresh like a mountain spring. Trunks had opened the windows to take deep gulps of the atmosphere in.

Golden fields of wheat, green fields of other grains, and fallow fields left to regenerate spread out to the horizon. Only here or there did he see a stone stable or farmhouse. Just the mountains and the valley painted in green or shadows by clouds overhead. The road became bumpier under the struts of his vehicle.

Gohan cursed and thumped like a piece of popcorn in a hot pot of oil. Already he felt hot enough to pop into white fleecy fluff, or else his brain was borderline hallucinating.

At last the destination was in sight for Trunks. Various conifers provided the perfect backdrop to the long low stone structure with its wooden roof. Cracks here and there bore witness to the better days of the stable.

He pulled the rover to a halt, and waited a bit, before unbolting and getting out. Just a few more minutes he would let Gohan stew before liberating his passenger from the confines of the trunk.

Not far from the ancient stable rose the form of modified Capsule farmhouse. Unlike capsule homes this one had more rustic touches that were perfected to his exact specifications. No dome roof dominated here. Rather stone, mortar, and a large veranda. Broken fences delineated the fallow fields growing wild with grasses, weeds and flowers.

Trunks walked around to the trunk and rapped hard on it. “Gohan? My Prince we have arrived. I hope you’re ready!”

Muffled shouts answered him as Trunks cupped his ear to listen. “Oh my, you are ready. Or should I leave you in there a little longer?”

Inside, Gohan gritted his teeth, and slammed his elbow on the roof of his prison, his legs pressed together as he held in his water. “I need to pee…”

“Okay I can’t have you pissing in my rental,” Trunks chuckled as he unlocked the back with the press of a button on his remote. As soon as the beeping happened, Gohan felt air rushing into his oven and the difference in temperature almost felt like a window opened on Heaven.

He felt Trunks arms lift him roughly, and then the dusty ground impacted his side as he landed like a sack of potatoes. He smelled manure, dirt, and dust. The call to nature was inevitable.

“Are you ready to start, my prince?” asked Trunks, bending down to undo the blindfold.

“Yes master… but please forgive me, I need to pee…” he repeated, but a hand rested on his lips.

“Here,” said Trunks, dragging up a bucket with something engraved on it. Gohan frowned a bit but saw the look in his master’s eyes.

“Is it too good for you? I could have you go in the bushes…” Trunks teased, a light of mischief in his eyes.


“I’m waiting for permission to… void, Master,” Gohan gasped as he squeezed his legs together. Muscles strained to hold the urine in his bladder.

“You may commence pissing, my prince,” Trunks said as he dragged the other to his feet by one ear. Once he dragged Gohan to the bucket, he then turned his back.

Gohan feverishly unzipped his shorts with shaking fingers and commenced emptying his straining bladder. The distinct noise of urine hitting the bucket echoed into the night like someone pouring lemonade into a glass.

There was no feeling quite like taking a leak after hours of holding it, and he remembered certain fetishes of omorashi. Trunks seemed to be bordering on that, but he was not that surprised since this was going to be a unique experience.

With a sigh of relief Gohan shook the last drops from himself and tucked himself back inside. He turned around to his master and dropped to his knees before Trunks.

“I am done Master,” he said, on all fours.

“Are you ready for your real experience, my Prince?” asked Trunks as he looked down at the other. However, Gohan was puzzled by the detached look in Trunks eyes all of a sudden, as if he was expecting something else.

“Master, I am ready,” Gohan confirmed, crawling over to kiss the shoes of his beloved.

“Took you long enough,” a voice interrupted through the experience. Gohan froze as he recognized it. Of all the people to be here with them, why was it him? Questions raced through his head as his stomach dropped and flip flopped.

He could not help but remember being in this position with those bunny ears and a carrot clenched in his mouth. Now another demi Saiyan had walked out of the house, and into their shared experience like an interloper into a romantic outing.

More like cock blocking because the owner of the voice grinned and said, “I thought you had gotten lost yourself, Trunks on the drive over…”

“We had the most relaxing drive here to the farm, Goten,” Trunks chuckled, his eyes shining with glee. Or what Gohan perceived to be glee because he was sure the look on his face was worth making fun of.

“What is he doing here?” Gohan spat, his words dripping with disappointment. Literally the spit from his mouth dripped down his chin on the dirt as he leapt to his feet.

Immediately both demi Saiyans whirled on Gohan, their eyes hard and cold. Gohan flinched and shrank down, slumping his shoulders into the submissive position of a slave. It was so easy to slip up, and he guessed from their wrinkled brows and tensing muscles he was in trouble.

Two legs swept under his in unison, so he toppled to the ground once again. A pair of booted feet kicked him hard in the ribs and over to his belly. Next that boot pressed down on his shoulders to grind down a bit. His face pressed into the mud by the force of the other leaning weight on him.

“This is your FIRST and FINAL warning, Prince,” Trunks angry voice echoed loudly around the empty farm.

Shivers up and down Gohan’s spine caused him to flinch. He could not speak with his mouth in the mud. Nor could he grunt in protest at the harangue continuing to lash in his ear, “Such foul behavior will NOT be tolerated in MY stables. This is Master Goten, and he is my second in command. You will address him as ‘sir’, as well as pay him proper respect…”

Deeper the heel of the boot dug into Gohan’s neck, pressing him into the mud so he tasted it in his nose and mouth. He shivered submissively to the power of Trunks voice alone, hearing him shout, “He has full authority to keep you in line, slave, by whatever means he sees fit.”

He could not even look up to see the expressions on their faces, but he could hear the disdain in the voice dressing him down. Gohan then whimpered a bit hearing the last sentence, “Did I make myself clear, Prince?”


At last the verbal tongue lashing ended, yet the boot on his neck twisted a bit. He could only shake his head and hold up one hand with a weak thumbs up gesture. The boot relaxed the slightest bit before Trunks said, “Now go greet Master Goten with proper gratitude that he deserves, and apologize for your inappropriate and insubordinate behavior…”

Those words hit him harder than the boot, teasing his inner desires and tingling to his groin. He could feel his cock twitch against the hard ground and his body light up with fiery arousal. Oh, the scenarios that voice alluded to, which were hidden treats he could barely wait to taste erotically.

Gohan felt the boot raise from his neck and he crawled or scuttled crablike to where Goten stood in boots and pants, with a white shirt. His younger brother looked down on him with that same disdain.

“Kiss my boots, slave,” said Goten, with a crooked grin. Gohan slowly made his way over and kissed the tips of the tall boots that came to Goten’s calves. They resembled those that Trunks wore. Riding boots.

Goten then said, “When you start, you have a rendezvous date, when you can continue or stop, Prince.”

Gohan looked up but Goten tugged his ear. “Ah, I’ve not finished speaking. Be silent… till spoken to…”

Trunks toe touched the shoulder of Gohan for a minute and he said, “I have something to say. You won’t lay eyes on me for an entire week Prince.”

Gohan spluttered, “But Master…”

“Did I not warn you?” Goten shouted, his hand reaching out. A stinging slap connected with Gohan’s face and he crumpled to the ground.

Holding his jaw, Gohan blinked up in shock and confusion as a bruise blossomed on his cheek. He dared not say a word but looked up to Trunks with pained eyes filled with disappointment and an unspoken question.

“You wonder why, Prince?” Trunks asked, tossing his hair that swirled around his head. “Well, I want to become a stranger to you. So, you’ll more easily adjust yourself to our new relationship.”

Stomach lurching and twisting in pain and loss, Gohan absorbed the reality of these harsh words. This was not the plan was it? Why did he have to be stuck with Goten? His master was going away. All these realities floated through his spinning head as he felt his ear tugged up to face Trunks in a kneeling position. The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan swept his arm towards Goten, continuing, “In the meantime, you will work in the fields under Goten’s supervision.”

“You hear that, slave? I’ve got you to myself for an entire week,” Goten snickered, forcing Gohan to kneel with a boot on his neck.

Trunks spun around, and Goten let Gohan up a bit so he could see the way his husband flounced with a bounce of his lavender hair and strode away. He stopped and glared at Gohan one last time to say, “Now OFF with you, SLAVE!!”