Just one more chance (part 1)




Preface: Hai, there it is, the first part of my new FF. First of all, this story is very long here, as you can see for yourself. So for everyone who likes short stories, sorry. Besides, I'm not vouching for any mathematical or astrophysical or whatever formula that appears in here. It's all made up. Oh yeah, and I made a few changes to the charas. Do not be angry. Bulma is a year younger than Goku and Goku is smart and doesn't live in the forest (I know some will want to assassinate me now). So don't be angry with me and have fun with the story. Of course, I am always happy to receive comments. A lot of it would be best, but I don't want to appear arrogant. (everyone: "You do!")


P.S.: I took the liberty of including a few of your names in the story.




From Goku Daimao


The sun shone brighter than ever before, as if it wanted to show everyone that it was the true queen of the solar system.The large, round and bright yellow disk hung almost menacingly in the sky and again showed the whole world that the heat wave that had just started was not over yet. On the contrary, it was just about to begin, and so the star went about its usual tasks. It warmed the asphalt and the brick pavement so that you would burn your feet if you walked around barefoot outside, it also dried out the last of the flower beds and turned them into a flower cemetery, it made the air stuffy, which you thought you could suffocated from it and he made the empty streets look like unreal hallucinations that only pretended that there was a drinks market there, although there really was one, only that it had closed, like so many shops in the western capital. Nobody even dreamed of working. That was outright suicide. In general, the city was deserted. Nobody ran around outside, no car sauntered down the streets, and no animal raced across the lawns.The once powerful and bustling metropolis had grown quiet, turned into a ghost town, eagerly waiting for a storm to break up and finally bring the long-awaited rain.


For a heavy downpour, Bulma Briefs would have done everything in her power. The young girl opened her eyes sleepily and yawned, whereupon a couple of her turquoise hair strands fell wet on her face. She had sweated an awful lot the previous night. Even though she only wore a shirt and even left off the blanket. She rubbed her eyes, yawned again, and then sat on the edge of the bed. Her throat was dry, her tongue even drier and her eyes burned as sweat ran in from her forehead. She rubbed her face and then rummaged through her hair to really wake up, but instead the desire grew in her to lie down again and go back to sleep all the more.

A few rays of sun penetrated through the closed blinds, which at least spread a pleasant coolness in the room, as if to remind her that she had to go to school right away.


Bulma gave a short sigh, gave a jerk and stood up. Her pajamas, if you could call a light blue T-shirt with the words "I love Rock`N`Roll" like that, stuck to her body like a second skin and her hair, which reached almost to her hips, stayed everywhere hang. On her shoulders, on her neck, on her cleavage, everywhere.


Still not fully awake, she began to get an outfit for the day from her closet. She decided on short jeans and a white shirt and then disappeared into the bathroom.


It was boiling hot here as no one had darkened the room. The young girl could not stand in the same place for long, otherwise one would burn her feet. Why did the bathroom floor have to be covered with black marble, when black was so warmth.

And so she tripped to the laundry basket, threw her soaking wet shirt in, trotted to the shower and let the cool water patter over her. It was a relief. You might be frightened at first, but afterwards it was just pleasant. She would have loved to stand under the shower forever, but firstly the waterworks bill would have been too high and secondly she would have missed school.


When she thought about it again, she felt very uncomfortable. She had a bad feeling in her stomach when it came to this subject. Every morning she got this pull in her stomach that wouldn't stop. Every morning she had to struggle to go to Orange High. It wasn't that she didn't like school, or that she was bad at school, on the contrary, she was one, if not the best student this school has ever had. She wasn't afraid either, because someone might threaten her or even beat her up. It was more of a shame why she didn't want to go there.She was afraid that something embarrassing could happen to her again and that she would become the mockery of the class again, as it had happened so often before.


That was it. There was a certain racial segregation at every school. Once upon a time there were the chearleaders and the models, mostly the same girls who could only do one thing. To look good. Their IQs mostly lagged behind that of third graders, but they kept getting better every year. Plus, they were the most popular. Just because they looked pretty, always wore the hottest clothes and of course only hung out with the athletes. That was the second large group of the high school genres .. They were, so to speak, the male variant of the models and chearleaders. They were also dumber than Stroh, but got their certificates very good because they made sure that the school always came first in the football or martial arts competitions. Then there were the freaks. These were people who fell out of line for a variety of reasons.Some just went crazy dressed, others had a firm belief in UFOs. They were shunned by almost everyone except the losers. And there we would have come to Bulma. The losers were the worst representatives of the lower groups. So the freakiest freak, the most stoned stoner, the most ambitious nerd and so on.


Bulma was one of them. And she hated that. She hated herself because she was so upset that she was a loser when she wanted to stand above such things. But she didn't, she got upset about it and it was so annoying to her.


With a heavy heart she turned off the water and patted a towel to the sink. There she dried off and put on her clothes to go downstairs to the kitchen. But before that she looked at herself again very carefully in the mirror. Her young body was slightly tanned. She did not agree with herself at all. It wasn't that she was fat. She was already slim, but her hips were a bit broad.And then there was such a little problem. What she had too much downstairs, she had too little upstairs. Although she was only fourteen years old, all of her classmates were already quite large. And you. The fact that she had never had to wear a bra spoke for itself. She let out a bit of disappointment and then pulled on her clothes. She just didn't like her body, even if her mother always said that she envied her figure. But if she really had such a great body, how was it that she had never, but really never had a boyfriend?


Why didn't a male find her attractive at Orange High? Even the ugly guys didn't turn around to look at her, even if that wouldn't necessarily flatter her. But at least. But no boy was interested in her.


On the other hand, she didn't care either. What did that matter? Then she had never had a boyfriend before, so what?She didn't understand what was so great about them anyway. All they could do was play football, say stupid things and think they only did with their third leg anyway. She was probably just too good for this bunch of underprivileged and drive-controlled bulls.


When she finished, she suddenly liked herself better than ever. Today she would show the world that she didn't need a man in her life to be happy.




"Morning, darling, slept well?" Asked her mother in her always cheerful and leisurely manner. Patricia Briefs was always, really always the calm itself. Even a fire right next to her didn't stop her from fetching the little porcelain animals first and wrap them neatly in paper so that they don't break.


She wore a dark blue summer dress and over it a plaid apron. She was just a housewife with body and soul. She had her golden hair pinned up and her face was heavily made up.She looked a little like a clown, but very little.


The breakfast table was well set. However, Bulma was not very hungry, it was just too hot for that. So she just took a glass of cold orange juice with ice cubes and emptied it in one go.


"Come on, don't look like that. You will surely get heat-free today and besides, you will have vacation soon anyway." Her mother said thoughtfully and began to wash up.


"Do you think? Lately the teachers shit our suitcases and didn't give us any heat."


"Bulma, where do you learn all these expressions?" Patricia got a little aroused. Normally she didn't care what her daughter said, but this weather made her freak out even at the smallest little things.


"Where? In school, of course. There is even a separate subject for. It's called obscene talking. Our teacher's name is Mr. You can all do me. Yesterday we had our work on the topic: stupid bitches, old sacks and stupid Getting bitches back.And I had a big lick on my ass. That was the shitty work in the whole class. "joked Bulma, running her finger along the rim of the glass.


Her mother started laughing hard and Bulma couldn't help but grin.


Another reason why the guys should run after me, she thought, in reference to her humor. Yes, it always had been. Funny and not on the mouth. She wasn't one of those who would hide and cry at the slightest insult, she was a fighter and it took something to subvert her.


But unfortunately there was one person who could do just that in a playful way. With a slightly sorry look she thought of Maname Ling. She was her personal enemy. Her