City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in dbs super hero bulma. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with dbs super hero bulma,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“dbs super hero bulma, dbs super hero bulma, dbs super hero bulma!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “dbs super hero bulma” down on the streets fifty stories below.