The door slid open with a hiss. Vegeta stepped inside, already composing a curt nod of approval in his mind. Trunks was a young boy but he was also clearly more than old enough to watch over Bulla for a few hours. Responsible. Mature.
He would have to be in order for him to be his son after all.
He took one step into the living room and froze.
A toy xylophone lay upside down near the base of the stairs. Three rubber blocks were scattered across the rug like landmines. A half-empty bottle of baby formula sat on the arm of the sofa, leaking a small puddle onto the cushion.
Baby blocks were scattered along the floor. A teddy bear was resting with its stubby arms and legs pointed upward. The baby walker had crashed into the wall, somehow with no baby present within it. Where even was the freaking baby?
Oh but he found Trunks.
There he was, standing with his arms dangling, eyes wide and looking stunned by the scene he was at the center of. It was as if he had just walked in on the mess he was responsible for.
Did he think feigning surprise would grant him amnesty from the great Vegeta? Absolutely not! He put his trust in him and this is how things ended up? Did he expect sympathy or was he fishing for a chance to trick him?
Well, we’ll see about that.
“Trunks.”
The young Saiyan looked up, mildly surprised. His voice was in a bit of a squeak. Vegeta could hear him gulp.
“Oh. Hey, Dad. You’re back early.”
Vegeta’s eye twitched. “What,” he said slowly, gesturing at the wreckage, “is the meaning of this?”
Trunks blinked. His eyes darted to the left and then back at his dad. “Meaning of what?”
“This!” Vegeta swept his arm across the room. “The destruction! The disarray! I left you in charge for a matter of hours, and you’ve let the entire house fall into ruin! What kind of irresponsible… where is Bulla?”
“She’s fine,” Trunks said, straightening up, beads of sweat on his forehead. “She’s napping. Well, she was napping. She might be awake now. Look, Dad, it’s not my fault. Babies make messes. That’s kind of their thing.”
“Don’t you dare blame an infant for your own laziness!” Vegeta’s voice rose. “A true Saiyan warrior takes responsibility! I expected you to watch over her, not to wallow in filth while she-what is that?”
He pointed at a bright pink sippy cup resting on top of the television.
Trunks shrugged. “She’s got a good arm.”
She baseball pitched a sippy cup so that it landed perfectly on top of the TV? A baby?
“Do not test me, boy.” Vegeta crossed his arms, falling into his familiar lecturing stance. “A prince does not leave his domain in shambles. A prince-!”
“Okay, but you said ‘a true Saiyan warrior takes responsibility,’ right?” Trunks interrupted, smirking. “So if I’m responsible for the mess, then you’re responsible for leaving me in charge. Which means the mess is actually your fault. By your own logic.”
Vegeta’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“That’s different,” he managed.
“Is it?” Trunks’s grin widened. “You could have hired a babysitter. You could have stayed home yourself. But you trusted me. So really, you should be mad at yourself.”
“What was that?!” Vegeta snarled, leaning forward.
Trunks leaned back, grin widening but body shaking a bit. “Whoooa, dad. Stay calm. Don’t get so mad at yourself for this. You couldn’t have known how crazy strong Bulla is. She barely shows it right?"
“I am not mad at myself!”
“You kind of sound like you are.”
Vegeta sputtered. Trunks giggled.
He actually giggled, right in his father’s face. The sound was light, teasing, and utterly infuriating.
“You think this is funny?” Vegeta asked.
“I mean…” Trunks trailed off. “It’s quite the big blunder.”
“Yes! It is! You should be ashamed!” Vegeta snapped.
“Yeah, but you left me in charge so–” Trunks tried to circle back to that.
“You could have handled it!” Vegeta snapped again.
“Clearly, I couldn’t,” Trunks gestured to the room.
“I am so disappointed in you,” Vegeta narrowed his eyes.
“So YOU’RE the one who is ashamed then?” Trunks asked, raising his brow.
“Yes!”
“Ah-ha! So you were the one who actually should be ashamed… and you are! So congrats dad! You’ve learned your lesson!” Trunks said, spreading his arms.
“I didn’t learn my lesson! I’ll make the same mistake again!” Vegeta snapped. “Wait… no–!”
“Whoa dad, you will?” Trunks made an inquisitive face. “I know you’ve got that Saiyan pride but deliberately making the same mistake again? Sheesh.”
“I didn’t mean to do thi–WAIT! STOP making me think this is MY fault! It’s YOURS!” Vegeta snapped, realizing he got turned around even worse than before.
Trunks laughed, hunched over a bit with his hands on his gut. His dad was scary, yes, but he was also such a stupid loser sometimes. It was kind of relaxing doing this to him.
Of course, Trunks forgot at that moment that Vegeta tended to have a visceral and powerful reaction to being mocked. That was something that Trunks wore on his sleeve with his laughter and it wouldn’t be ignored.
“That’s it.” Vegeta lunged forward and grabbed Trunks by the ear, twisting hard. “I’ve had enough of your backtalk. I am going to spank you until you remember who’s son you are and who once stood as the pinnacle of the Saiyan race as a prince around here!”
“Ow! Dad, let go! I’m not a baby anymore!”
“Then act like it!”
But before Vegeta could follow through, a tiny blur shot across the room.
Bulla had woken up. And she was thrilled.
“DADA!”
She had been playing on the floor near the hallway, stacking blocks that Trunks had long since abandoned. The moment she saw her father’s familiar silhouette, her little face lit up with pure, incandescent joy. She toddled up, stumbling onto her feet, and waddled into the room.
“I am acting like it!” Trunks whined and flailed his arms while kicking his legs. His voice sounded so whiney now. If he could hear himself now he’d be embarrassed and claim the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
“Oh shut up. I’ll give you something to cry about in a minute!” Vegeta snapped, turning Trunks around while he was suspended in mid-air. That way his butt could be facing him properly.
“GEEP!” Trunks shivered, already feeling the sting against his backside.
However, what he saw when he was turned around somehow scared him even more.
It was Bulla, toddling into the room with her hands up, giggling excitedly.
“Oh no,” Trunks’ face fell.
“Oh yes!” Vegeta said, still under the impression that he was the scariest thing in the room right now. Bulla was ready to greet her daddy.
She kicked off the ground in what should have just been a baby’s excited leap.
Except Bulla was no ordinary baby.
She launched herself like a missile.
The air cracked. A miniature shockwave rippled through the room. The toys rattled. Trunks barely had time to register the tiny, speeding shape before Bulla’s forehead connected with Vegeta’s stomach at what could only be described as vehicular impact velocity!
WHUMP!
Vegeta’s eyes went wide. A strangled noise escaped his throat. It was something between a grunt and a wheeze.
Then his bladder, thoroughly betrayed by the sudden catastrophic pressure, let go. A warm, embarrassing dampness spread across the front of his training gi.
Trunks was let go and landed on his feet, staring up at the sight with his jaw dropped and sweat pouring down his face yet again. The scene was intense.
Bulla’s head drove deeper into his gut before she slid down Vegeta’s body like it was a pole. Vegeta was in mid-freefall.
He stared ahead, eyes crossing. He couldn’t even look down at Bulla, who was now giggling and hugging his leg.
“...No,” he whispered.
Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a felled tree, landing spread-eagle on the scattered blocks. One thumb, by some unconscious reflex, found its way limply into his mouth.
That’s just the way his arm fell.
Silence.
Bulla sat down and began giggling and clapping.
Trunks stared at the scene: his father, the Prince of all Saiyans, unconscious and suckling his thumb like a newborn, with a very obvious wet stain spreading across his pants. His baby sister cooed happily and patted Vegeta’s cheek.
“Did she just-?” Trunks’s voice cracked.
He looked down at himself.
His own pants were also soaked.
He hadn’t even noticed.
The terror of witnessing Bulla’s strength had been so absolute, so primal, that his body had simply… given up.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “Oh no, no, no.”
Trunks grabbed at his pants. He felt the steaming hot wetness on them and grumbled. He wished he had remained numb to the fact that he wet himself because now the clamminess was going to take hold and stick to his legs. Yuck.
He hated the fact that he was also kind of conflicted about this.
On the one hand, his dad deserved that in his eyes. He was a jerk and seeing him so thoroughly humiliated by a literal baby gave him the kind of happiness you could only daydream about.
Just looking at him lightly snoring there while he made a puddle on the floor gave him life. This was incredible!
On the other hand… HE was wet too. He was left in charge of Bulla and the situation he’d been in until his dad returned home was… just more of this.
Not as instantaneous but my word. Her throwing arm was immaculate. She played like a baseball pitcher. She threw stuff and it would clonk him on the head and feel like a cannonball.
He’d stumble around with his tongue lolling and his eyes rolling, doing weird two-left feet swishes about the carpet, before fixing himself and trying to regain control of the situation.
It just didn’t work.
The weird part was he was certain she hadn’t been like this before. Either her powers had awakened early or he and his dad needed way more training.
“Ugh… n-no time to think about this,” Trunks muttered, looking down with his arms out. His pants were sticking to his legs now, as he feared. “I gotta go change and–!”
The front door slid open.
Trunks jolted, spurting a little more into his underwear with surprise.
Goten stepped in, holding a bag of takeout. “Hey, Trunks, I brought food… and…”
Goten blinked. “...What the-?”
He stopped.
He took in the scene. There was the mess, the unconscious Vegeta with his thumb in his mouth, the wet pants, the diapered baby girl beaming with pride, and Trunks standing frozen in his own puddle.
Goten made a snorting noise. Trunks flinched, eyes fidgeting.
Goten then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he dropped the takeout.
He doubled over, slapped his knee, and made a sound like a dying seagull.
“He’s-he’s sucking his thumb!” Goten wheezed. “And you-YOU wet yourself too! Oh my god, this is the best day of my life!”
Trunks’s face burned. “I did not-!” Trunks stopped. No, it was too obvious that he did. “Okay, fine, I did, but it was a reflex! She’s a monster, Goten! An adorable little monster! You didn’t see what she did to him!”
“I see that he’s still peeing his pants and passed out like a baby.” Goten wiped a tear from his eye. “This is priceless. We have to document this.”
“We are not documenting anything!”
Goten’s smile stretched wider.
Twenty minutes later, Trunks found himself walking back from the corner store with Goten, carrying a pack of adult-sized diapers.
The humiliation was already curdling into something else. It was a reluctant, wheezing laugh as they replayed the scene in their heads.
They returned to find Vegeta still unconscious. Bulla had curled up on his chest and fallen asleep, her tiny fingers clutching his torn gi.
“Well,” Trunks snickered. “At least he finally stopped peeing.”
“Okay,” Goten said, ripping open the diaper pack. “Help me roll him over.”
“He’ll be grateful to us for doing this. The feeling of a soaking wet training gi has to be way worse than a poofy, soft diaper!” Goten laughed.
Trunks was fully on board now. With a bit of a pep talk from Goten on how to further capitalize on his father’s humiliation, they had decided to take things further by getting him dressed the way he was acting. Like a big, dumb, diaper baby!
Together, they maneuvered Vegeta’s limp body over, shuffled off the wet gi (which was way harder than shuffling off wet pants), slid the diaper under him, and fastened the tabs. The Prince of Saiyans now wore a thick, crinkling diaper with little Dora the Explorer prints on it.
They stepped back to admire their work.
“So,” Goten said, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “What do we do with him next? Baby bottle? Footed pjs? A note signed ‘From your loving children’?”
Trunks snorted. “We could leave him in the front yard. Let the neighbors see.”
“Ooh, or we could call Piccolo. Have him do that disappointed stare thing when Vegeta wakes up.”
“No, no! Wee should take him to Capsule Corp’s main lobby. Propped up in a chair. With a sign that says ‘I peed myself.’”
Goten was cackling now. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Okay, your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
Goten held up another diaper. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the two chairs and the two signs ready.”
Trunks backed away.
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not–I’m not a baby! The only baby here is my stupid dad!”
“Trunks.” Goten’s voice was calm, almost gentle. “You wet yourself too.”
Trunks’ eye twitched. “Wait… so you… you tricked me into buying my own diapers?!”
Goten stepped forward with a twisted grin and narrowed eyes. “You were scared of your baby sister. You peed your pants. You are literally no better than him right now.”
“Goten, d-don’t you dare-!”
N-No. Wait! What was he afraid of? It was just Goten! He could totally handle–!
A fist connected with Trunks’s temple. His skull rattled. Trunks’s eyes crossed, and he crumpled to the floor beside his father.
Goten hummed cheerfully as he stripped off Trunks’’s newly replaced pants and tossed them aside so that they landed on his previously discarded wet ones. He shuffled off his Transformers briefs next and tossed them to the side as well. He then fastened a fresh diaper around him, and arranged both Saiyans side by side. Vegeta still had his thumb in his mouth. Trunks, while unconscious, made his thumb slowly drift into his mouth so that he mirrored his dad.
Bulla woke up, saw the two diapered Saiyans, and clapped her tiny hands together.
“Goten nice!” she squealed.
She waddled over and hugged his leg.
Goten scooped her up, grinning. “You know what, kid? You’re my favorite.”
Bulla giggled and patted his cheek.
Behind them, Vegeta let out a soft, unconscious sigh. His thumb slipped out of his mouth for just a moment before finding its way back in.
Goten pulled out his phone and began snapping photos.
He heard a loud hissing sound. It was coming from Trunks.
He zoomed in on the front of Trunks’ diaper as it expanded.
“Ah… guess he had to go again,” Goten smirked. “That ‘I peed myself’ sign is gonna be super redundant now cause I ain’t changing him.”
---
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