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A Ranma ½ fan fiction story
by Ukyou Kuonji

Disclaimer: Ranma ½ and its characters and settings belong to Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Kitty, and Viz Video.

-Lemon Warning-: Okay gang, you know what this means: graphic sexual references. Just so you've been warned, ne?

And I'm fully aware that this thing's non-linear as far as time goes… I really don't know what else to do with it.

C&C, flames, whatever, accepted gratefully. No hentai drooling, if at all possible, please…

(Manzuri: literally, "ten thousand rubs")

"Take care of things for a moment, Konatsu, would you? I have to, uh… use the toilet." And with that, Ukyou ducked hurriedly into the kitchen.

Konatsu watched as the door swung back and forth a couple of times, then turned back to the customers. "Now, you had the pepper-pork, and you had the Neptune, right? Okay…"

Ukyou nestled herself in a secluded corner of the kitchen. It was her little niche, where she wouldn't be seen as she unsheathed her battle spatula, and straddled it like a witch might her broom. She pulled the handle up so that her buttocks were resting on the blade, and the handle pressed against her front. She closed her eyes as she bent and

unbent her knees, rubbing herself against the handle. Pretty soon, she could feel herself beginning to tingle from the friction of her clitoris against the handle, and was aware that her tights were getting damp.

She didn't care.

She was in heaven, as she imagined herself dancing tightly against Ran-chan, and feeling him pressing her there. Her knees buckled as the first wave hit…

With her sisters (and Ranma) off at school, and the fathers out either at the pub or the public baths, Kasumi felt she had time to enjoy herself. She strode off to the linen closet, and shunted the door open. There it was, tucked under a pile of old blankets and spreads… her little heirloom.

It had to have been passed on down through at least three or four generations, judging by the evidence of wear, and the fact that ivory had not been legally obtainable for some decades, now. But it was her 'little man' (though at nearly eleven inches, it was far from little), and she enjoyed it thoroughly. Even more so in the last few years, as she had come to note how its color resembled prepared soy cakes… and ever since, she wondered about the man whose name that color reminded her of.

She kissed the ivory shaft, and wet it thoroughly with her tongue. As she lifted her skirt, she trembled as she slowly pushed it inside… would it be like this when she and the good doctor finally…?


Kodachi tugged as the crotch of her leotard. It was damp by now, and not much from sweat; she'd just stopped in the middle of the routine she was practicing, and had been standing there, running her fingers over the rose leaf pattern that covered her by-now flooded delta.

She was permitted this sort of daydreaming, even on school grounds; after all, she was squad captain, was she not? Besides, the gymnasium was empty this late at night. She smiled as she reflected on the origin of the word 'gymnasium'. Well, why not honor the tradition, after all?

She very nearly tore her leotard in her haste to remove it. Her fingers flew unfettered across her sex as she leaned against the gym wall. Passers-by would well have noticed the gasps and cries for "Ranma-sama!" emanating from Saint Hebereke's and tended to conclude the place was haunted.

During the afternoon lull at the Nekohanten, Shampoo decided to take advantage of the free time to do some practicing of her own. Not the usual martial arts practice; she was learning a skill that Airen (and only Airen) would be able to appreciate… someday. Down on all fours, she winced as she thrust her index and middle fingers into herself as deep as they could go. From this point, she could feel the results as she attempted to squeeze her fingers with her pelvic muscles. Ahh… now she could feel it.

Her fingers instinctively tried to wriggle free from the grip she held them in, causing her thumb to press hard on her clitoris. Her back arched, catlike, as she yowled out her own pleasure.

With her buttocks wriggling in the air, pointed at the entrance to her room, she was unaware that she had not properly closed the door. Nor was she aware that someone else had discovered this fact already.

As titillating as the sight was to Mousse, it was also infuriating. He knew what she was thinking about as she began to cry out.

It occurred to him that she was probably thinking about Ranma, that ingrate.

It occurred to him that she was probably oblivious to the world by now.

It occurred to him that he could probably come up behind her, and she'd never notice until he was right on top of her, and by then, she'd be enjoying herself too much to care.

It occurred to him that there was somebody behind him.


Nothing was occurring to him anymore.

"Oaf," muttered Cologne to no one in particular, as she looked down upon Mousse's unconscious form. She would have to speak to Shampoo, however, about closing her door securely if she was planning this kind of exercise in the near future.

Another would-be voyeur was equally unconscious in Akane's room, if only by his own doing. P-chan was on his side, a small pool of blood forming on the floorboards where he had fallen with a severe nosebleed. Akane was in no condition to notice, lying on her back with her index and middle fingers thrusting fast and deep inside her vagina. The heel of her palm covered her pubic region from view, but it by no means rested there. Intermittently, she would bring the heel of her hand down hard against herself, and the clitoral sensation merely spurred her on.

It would have been easier to do this if she had her Butterfly™, but she hadn't been able to locate it recently, and she really needed the release right now more than the item itself. And at this point, with her hips gyrating and her fingers moving like a sewing machine, she could care less.

She knew the walls in the house were thin, but what difference did it make now? A loud cry escaped her lips, and her hips began gyrating wildly. It wouldn't be long now…

Nabiki could hear her little sister through the thin walls that separated the two bedrooms, and a faint smile crossed her lips. Not a bad idea, considering… She pushed herself away from her computer, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a little on-off switch. The switch's wires ran from itself to an indeterminate place inside Nabiki's jeans. She leaned back, and turned the switch on…

Ahh… she cooed to herself, in tune with the hum of the Butterfly™. It was a pleasant, yet mild sensation, as the vibrator buzzed tightly against her sex. Every so often, she would twitch involuntarily in response, and with increasing frequency as it continued to rub relentlessly against her. She clenched her teeth, and a tiny trickle of sweat ran down the side of her face, as she fought to control herself for as long as she could. The longer the battle, after all, the greater the release…

The doors to the dojo were shut fast, an unusual thing at the Tendo compound, which was almost always available for people to drop in (not that this was by choice). A sign hung outside the dojo: "Class in session, do not disturb."

One student, and one teacher lay naked on the floor in the middle of the dojo, and she was one and the same. Strewn around her were all manner of paraphernalia only related to martial arts by the remotest of means — a misspelling.

Ranma-chan was sweating profusely as the Butterfly strapped to her labia whirred furiously. It was at its highest setting, and it was bringing her almost to the breaking point, as she strained to resist the temptation to succumb. Six times she had ascended, and six times she had stopped just short of the summit. She felt as if she were about to burst.

The time had come, she decided with a small smirk.

She switched off the Butterfly™ and unfastened it. Still lying on her back on the dojo floor, she reached for a nearby teakettle. It had been boiling when she had shut the door, but after all this exertion, it would be cool enough to be tolerable; she hoped it would suffice to make the change.

She poured the water on her head, and he felt a horrendous ache in his groin as he transformed. He looked down; he had never seen himself so large. He knew he would have to let go, and soon, or he could seriously injure himself.

He reached down, grasping his shaft eagerly. He moved his hand rapidly up and down its length, quickening the tempo with each stroke. Finally, he could take no more, and with a loud grunt, thrust his hips upwards. A single burst of white foam flew from him, barely missing the ceiling, and landing just shy of his ear while his member continued to pulse out the rhythm of his orgasm.

Exhausted, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, for several minutes.

Finally, he rose unsteadily to his feet. Grabbing a nearby towel, he proceeded to wipe himself off, as well as the spot on the dojo floor. He picked up his clothes from a heap in the corner, and put them on. He sighed as he collected the broom, the ivory phallus and the Butterfly™, to be returned to their proper places.

"I'll get it to hit the ceiling next time…"


Author's notes: Somehow, I think Ran-chan could even be competitive about something like masturbation, don't you? I think it must be a "guy thing"…

Anyway, I like the sequence and individual approaches, but if someone can think of more appropriate manners, by all means… Anyway, I gotta go… uh… use the toilet.

Itsu mo,
Ucchan ^_^

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