Drop all your power stone or l might do something l regret 😞 ....
I will drop your pant and show Everyone your little surprise 🫢
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Frieza ascended the dais with unhurried grace, the golden throne of Bucephalus rising to meet him like a subject kneeling in reverence.
He settled into it, crossing his long legs, the red-and-purple suit shifting perfectly with the motion.
The throne room was a cathedral of power — vaulted ceilings etched with conquests, marble floors veined in gold, holographic stars swirling lazily above.
He leaned back, basking.
Power thrummed through him — infinite, refined, absolute.
From a short alien tyrant to this: tall, flawless, human in form but god in essence.
*How far I've come,* he thought, a quiet, savage satisfaction curling in his chest.
The galaxy bent. Planets fell. Legends knelt.
And it was only the beginning.
His gaze drifted to Cym, standing attentively at the base of the dais.
"Land Bucephalus on the nearest uninhabited planet with a breathable atmosphere."
Cym consulted his tablet. "The closest suitable world is five minutes away via warp drive, my lord."
Frieza nodded once. "Do it."
Cym bowed and relayed the order.
The massive ship hummed as engines flared, space folding around it in a brief, violent lurch.
Just then, the great doors parted.
Broly entered first — massive, controlled, his presence making the vast room feel smaller.
At his side walked Celine, her steps light but glowing with that unmistakable radiance — the flush of a girl who had stepped fully into womanhood, eyes bright, skin luminous.
Frieza's eyes narrowed faintly, pleased.
The experiment bore fruit sooner than expected.
He smiled — warm, almost kind.
Broly and Celine easy closeness freeze the moment they laid eyes on Frieza.
Broly stopped dead — massive frame going rigid, eyes widening in genuine shock. The man on the throne was tall, pale, sharply handsome… but those red eyes in black sclera, that unmistakable Aura — it was *him*.
"My lord…?" Broly rumbled, voice low with disbelief. He dropped to one knee out of habit, but his gaze stayed locked upward, processing. "You… changed."
Celine's hand flew to her mouth, a soft gasp escaping.
She had heard rumors, whispers among the crew when she arrived but seeing it — seeing *him* — was different.
The short, alien tyrant was gone.
In his place sat a strikingly human figure — 6'7", elegant, almost beautiful in a cold, predatory way.
Her cheeks flushed despite herself.
"L-Lord Frieza…" she stammered, bowing quickly to hide the heat in her face. Inside, her thoughts raced: *He looks… perfect. Terrifying. Like a god playing mortal.*
Broly glanced at her, then back at Frieza, a faint, protective frown creasing his brow.
He suddenly felt that he had somehow wore an green hat
Frieza simply smiled — amused, knowing.
"Surprised?" he asked lightly.
Broly grunted. "You're… taller."
Frieza:- ᕙ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ
Celine managed a shaky laugh. "You look… incredible, my lord."
Frieza's eyes gleamed.
"Good," he said. "Adjust quickly. We have work to do."
"However I do have to say Impeccable timing. I was about to summon you."
Celine bowed, smiling shakily. "How may I serve, my lord?"
Frieza's expression remained kind.
"I've decided to reassign you. Broly is stable now. Sector 69 requires your particular talents."
Celine's glow dimmed.
Her heart stuttered.
Did I misread him? Was I only ever a tool?
She had come to Broly at Frieza's design — loyalty anchor, subtle influence.
But time had changed it.
Broly was gentle beneath the power.
Broly was kind in his quiet way. Smart beneath the brute strength. Shy when it mattered. He cared — truly cared — in a way no one ever had.
And now… gone.
Broly who had stood up after kneeling once again dropped heavily to one knee, the deck vibrating faintly under his weight.
"My lord Frieza," he said, voice low but unwavering, "please hear my selfish request. Allow Celine to remain with me."
The throne room fell into a hush so complete the distant engines seemed to fade.
Cym tensed — he knew Frieza's tolerance for defiance was thin as void ice.
Frieza raised an eyebrow, intrigued rather than angered.
"And why," he asked, voice silk and steel, "would I indulge that?"
Broly didn't flinch. Sweat beaded on his brow,
but his eyes stayed locked forward.
"Because she is important… to me, my lord."
Frieza leaned forward, elbows on the armrests.
"As a companion? A friend?"
Broly's fists clenched.
"I love her."
The words rang out — raw, loud, absolute.
Celine's breath caught.
Tears welled instantly, spilling down her cheeks.
He said it. To Frieza. For me.
Her heart cracked open — love, relief, awe.
If I could live it all again… I'd still choose him.
Frieza regarded them in silence — Broly kneeling resolute, Celine trembling with quiet sobs.
Cym braced for the storm.
Frieza finally spoke, voice calm and measured.
"Very well."
Broly's head snapped up.
Celine gasped, hand flying to her mouth.
Frieza's smile returned — genuine, with a hint of dark amusement.
"But on one condition."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
"Broly — your loyalty to me must remain absolute. Unquestioned. Eternal. She stays only if you never waver. One hint of division… and she pays the price first."
Broly didn't hesitate.
"I swear it, my lord. My life, my strength — all yours. Always."
Frieza leaned back, satisfied.
"Then...she remains."
Celine dropped fully to her knees, sobbing in relief.
Broly rose slowly, turning to her, massive hand gentle as he helped her up.
Frieza watched, red eyes gleaming.
Love as a leash, he thought. Stronger than any chain.
The ship shuddered again — descending through atmosphere.
A new world below.
New games to play.
And with Broly's devotion now double-bound…
The empire had gained another unbreakable weapon.
Frieza's smile deepened.
Perfect.
---
the vast chamber's crimson lights casting a predatory glow across his pale, sculpted features. The air thrummed with restrained power, the ship's distant engines a low growl beneath it all.
He regarded Broly and Celine with a gaze that stripped layers — amused, calculating.
"Broly," he said, voice a velvet blade, "prepare yourself. In one day, we spar. I intend to… test the progress you've made these past two months. Thoroughly."
Broly straightened, eyes locking with fierce determination. "Yes, my lord. When?"
Frieza's smile deepened, slow and dangerous. "One day from now. On the surface below. Don't disappoint me."
Broly nodded, resolute.
As the pair turned to depart, Frieza's voice cut the air like a whip.
"Broly — leave us. I have a private matter to discuss with dear Celine."
Broly hesitated — a flash of protective fire in his eyes, body tensing as if ready to challenge the command.
He glanced at Celine, searching her face.
She gave a small, reassuring nod — though her pulse raced.
Broly bowed stiffly. "As you command, my lord."
The doors sealed behind him with a heavy thud.
Frieza snapped his fingers.
A plush chair materialized before the throne — luxurious, intimate, positioned close enough that their knees could brush.
He gestured, voice low and inviting. "Sit."
Celine's breath caught. She approached, lowering herself carefully, thighs pressing together as heat flushed her skin despite the fear.
"How… how did you—?" she whispered, awed.
Frieza's smile was indulgent, almost intimate.
"Magic."
She nodded, letting it go, but her body remained taut — hyper-aware of his proximity, the way his red eyes traced her form.
He extended his hand — palm up, fingers long and elegant.
An unspoken command.
Celine hesitated, heart thundering.
*What does he want? My body? My loyalty? Both?*
Fear coiled tight, but so did something darker — the memory of his power, his touch in her dreams, the way he commanded everything.
She placed her hand in his.
Frieza closed his fingers — warm, firm, possessive.
His thumb stroked her knuckles slowly, sending unwelcome sparks up her arm.
"Tell me," he murmured, voice dropping to a husky timbre that vibrated through her, "how is Broly treating you? Does he… satisfy you?"
Celine's cheeks burned crimson.
The question hung heavy, laced with innuendo.
The words spilled out in an excited rush — how Broly was kind beneath his strength, thoughtful in quiet ways, shy when it mattered most. How he listened, protected her without smothering, made her feel safe in a galaxy that had never been kind.
"I love him," she finished, voice trembling, eyes shining with raw emotion. "With everything I am."
Frieza listened, thumb never stopping its slow caress.
His smile was soft — almost tender — but his eyes burned with dark satisfaction.
"I hope," he said, leaning closer, breath ghosting her skin, "you'll keep him happy… and utterly loyal."
Celine met his gaze, voice steady despite the heat pooling low in her belly.
"I will, my lord. Always. You've given me everything — safety, him, purpose. My loyalty… my everything… is yours."
Frieza's fingers tightened briefly — possessive.
He released her hand.
"You're free to go."
Celine rose on unsteady legs, bowed deeply, and fled — heart pounding, body flushed.
Frieza watched her leave.
The spar tomorrow would test Broly's strength.
But this?
This ensured his soul.
The ship settled on the planet below.
---
Frieza reclined upon the golden throne of Bucephalus, the chamber's shadows wrapping around him like conspirators in a plot only he understood.
The holographic star map pulsed before him — worlds flickering in submissive obedience, tribute streams thick and unbroken, rebellions dying in their cribs before they could cry out.
The empire was flourishing.
A sickening, exquisite bloom.
Planets that once spat defiance now begged for his protection, their leaders groveling in gratitude for the "stability" he granted.
Populations multiplied under his gaze — not from kindness, but because alive workers produced more than corpses.
They built cities in his name.
Sang praises in their schools.
Taught their children that Frieza's mercy was the greatest gift.
*They flourish,* he thought, the words slithering through his mind like poison in wine — sweet, insidious, lethal.
*They flourish because I have taught them to crave the chain.*
*They thank me for the illusion of choice.*
*They love their cage because I made the bars invisible.*
His fingers drummed a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest — each tap a heartbeat in a galaxy that beat only for him.
Reforms had been the perfect venom.
Mercy doled out in measured drops — enough to breed hope, enough to foster dependence.
They needed him now.
For safety.
For prosperity.
For the lie that they were free.
*How masterful,* he mused, a cold, serpentine satisfaction coiling tighter in his chest.
*They hate me in whispers... but they fear a universe without me more.*
*Their loyalty is not given.*
*It is extracted.*
*Distilled.*
*Perfected.*
Broly, bound by love's delicate noose.
Celine, the gentle poison ensuring it tightens.
No distractions.
Only the garden.
And he, the gardener — smiling as he watered despair with false dawn.
*They bloom for me.*
*And when the bloom peaks...*
*The pruning will be divine.*
*The screams will taste like gratitude.*
Frieza closed his eyes.
The empire flourished.
And in its poisoned light, his darkness reigned supreme.
Unseen.
Unchallenged.
Eternal.
He then decided to take a little nap to digest his thoughts.
---
Frieza's breath was hot against her ear as he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his body a cage over hers. "Tell me," he whispered, voice low and velvet-smooth, "how much you hate me."
Macki's heart hammered, tears spilling as she shook her head. "I... I can't..."
He thrust deeper, slow and deliberate, making her gasp. "Say it," he commanded, hips grinding in a rhythm that blurred pain and pleasure. "Admit it. You despise me for killing them."
She sobbed, body betraying her with every arch. "I hate you... you monster..."
Frieza smiled, dark and triumphant. "Good. Now tell me you need this."
His free hand slid between her thighs, fingers circling her clit with expert cruelty — fast then slow, building her to the edge only to pull back.
Macki whimpered, hips bucking desperately. "Please..."
"Say it," he growled, thrusting harder, filling her completely.
"I... I need this," she choked, shame flooding her as the words escaped.
"Louder," he demanded, pace turning punishing, dick slamming into her pussy with relentless force.
"I need it!" she cried, orgasm crashing over her like a wave, body clenching around him in shameful ecstasy.
Frieza laughed softly, burying himself deep as he came, flooding her with heat. "See? Even your hate belongs to me now."
She lay broken beneath him, mind shattered, body owned.
Just then Frieza woke up. Realizing that he hust had a wet dream.
He put his head in his hand and realized that maybe it wasn't the greatest idea to kill his pocket pussy.
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Thanks y'all for 500k views. This chapter was a little longer as a little token of thanks.
Would be interested in a planet full of cat girls