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* Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction * Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction *
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 Switch: Odds and Ends: Three White Lies by Nikholas "Switch" F. Toledo
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Please do remember that Ranma 1/2 is a trademark and a copyright of and
by some big name people and companies I am not even worthy to introduce.
Anybody who says that I took any of their stuff better not find me
hiding. Also, great thanks to whoever reads this and likes it, good
thanks to whoever reads it anyhow, and teeny thanks to whoever saw this.
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Skipping about in the story, and compiling whatever post-mortem and pre-
natal side stories which may come to mind, Odds and Ends has them all.
Side stories from the minds of the people (and non-people) of NFT fics.
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(fifteen going on sixteen) Day 2


 [Despite the author's best efforts to the contrary, this segment
contains lemony bits. Just take it as a warning as to the hazards of
passion spice use, along the shelf with Christian Gadeken's "Passion
Spice", Paladin's "Lemonade Punch", and "Okonomiyaki Orgy". A tip of the
hat to Roy Rim, wherever he may be. Caveat emptor.]



 He was a dark and stormy night.
 He was the night when his father brought him to the Tendos' place.
He was the river that flowed violently that night, murky and swift. He
was the rain, falling in pieces, never really giving it all; there was
more than enough for the next morning. He was the destroyer, breaking up
with a few words the single bestest chance at a trouble-free life.
 He was a Sunday night.
 And, on that night, he slept.

 The roof creaked.
 Akane giggled in a completely incongruous manner. She tried so
hard to imitate what could pass as ninja gear, but the only real life
sample she had was Kuno's bucktoothed manservant, Sasuke, and that wasn't
any help. She rummaged around in her closet for anything to put into the
mix to help her blend into the surroundings, and ended up groaning in
disgust.
 She didn't have anything in black.
 She remembered a hot little number that Nabiki tsk-tsked at,
scolded her for (what would Kasumi say?) and never saw again. It was a
midnight type of blue that looked good to take off, smooth to the touch
and fell to the floor with the least amount of noise. (Was it getting
hot? Akane asked herself, as she rubbed her ruddy arms in the conditioned
air of her room.)
 Pulling outfits and shorts and underwear (who cared? Ranma said
that the little freak was out of commission in his tired and utterly sexy
voice) and what's this? She blushed slightly as she realized that the
yellow shirt she held was Ryoga's (as were the black cotton pants that
came along with it). Quickly slamming the closet door (turning her head
from it, as though expecting a naked Ryoga to leap out of it), she went 
to work.
 Tiptoe-giggling-stumble-right across the stretch of roof that must
have been so familiar to her prey, Akane theatrically took her time to
peer inside the room.
 As to be expected, the panda was not there, sleeping fitfully.
Almost as an afterthought, she tried to place where she had kept the
leftover de-aging mushrooms that she had pilfered off of Mousse's supply.
Aww, what harm could come from 'shrooms? She giggled a little more, then
put a hand to her breast, inhaling and exhaling, having suddenly lost the
ability to breathe unconsciously.
 With exaggerated motion, Akane slid the window to the second floor
guestroom open.

 Ranma was downstairs, in the guestroom, again.
 Now that was kind of wrong. He hadn't been sleeping there since
Happosai came. No, the dripping sound that the carp made splashing into
and out of the pond sounded the way that it should so. Happosai won't be
back in a while, what with that blast he and Cologne used to cream him.
 Something troubled him with the whole matter of Mt. Fuji.
 Sure, it would have been better to have him bagged and brought home
and all, but something about the way Happosai fought that bugged him. He
wasn't fighting the way he used to. Usually, it was with the intention
of getting away with something, or as an act of vengeance. But, to have
it on Mt. Fuji, with no way out...
 "Ranma."
 He turned over. Ryoga bent over to face him. "C'mon, Ranma, let's
fight."
 "Not now, Ryoga," he mumbled, turning the other way.
 "C'mon, Ranma," Ryoga giggled, "you keep starting fights. Now,
it's my turn."
 Ranma quickly turned cold with sweat. Ryoga NEVER giggled in that
way. Definitely not with any guy he knew. Dreading the possibilities,
he turned back to Ryoga.
 Akane shifted and squirmed in her ill-fitting Ryoga costume. "Oh,
come on. A little one on one? Mano y mano?"
 Weird dream, Ranma confirmed to himself. Akane was practically
bursting with a healthy femininity. Uninhibited was a term. Nymphomania
was another. "Ain't it a little late for sparring, Akane?" Did Kodachi
try to ambush her again? Was Kodachi trying to... naah, not her style.
 The unfastened shoulder slid off of Akane in an ill-timed
choreography. Ranma finally noticed the traditional peeping disguise
that topped her ensemble. "I'd say that it's finally the right time for
marriage training, Ranma..."
 That's when she squeezed his butt.

 Nabiki was sooooo right.
 Unfortunately, Akane wasn't able to savor much of the "Grade A", as
she fell forward, having overcompensated her weight (and that of Ryoga's
clothes). If she hadn't when she had, she probably would have gotten
hopelessly entangled with Ranma, or gotten some nasty bruises, as Ranma
violently jerked away from her. As it was, she fell squarely into
Ranma's waiting (and slightly spasming) arms.
 Akane's soft-hard-warm body nestled itself onto Ranma's with a few
*crunch*s, *crack*s and a *goosh*.
 Never a softer sound crushed several moods so soundly.
 Ranma's immediate indignation got shoved by his dread as he
realized that one hand had grasped Akane's right breast in undignified
caress. Dread brought family as he realized that his left hand was
halfway up to its forearm inside Ryoga's shirt.
 But even these were brushed aside by his fiancée's heartfelt, knee-
melting, pleasure-coated moan.

 Panic ruled Ranma's cerebral synapses.
 Get your hand off her breast, moron!
 I don't know how it got there in the first place!
 Who cares? Get it off before she gets any funny ideas!
 Stop shouting in my ear!
 She moaned!
 Slight pause.
 Is she hurt? You hurt her!
 Me?! I don't even know what's going on!
 Idiot! She likes it!
 Will you please stop shouting?! I can't hear you over the ringing!
 What did you say?
 She feels good.
 Perv!
 She could be hurt!
 She's not hurt!
 Oh, yeah? Then why'd she moan, then, huh?!
 Akane moaned again.
 Half of his brain cells turned to jello.
 She likes it, the rest conceded.

 The drizzle that promised rain filled the silence in light drips.
 In the tingly afterglow of some kind of wonderful (that being a
connection made), Akane smile-purr-nuzzle-blinked. She could smell his
sweat undergo a transformation from a mildly musky and delightful scent
to an intoxicating perfume of manly desire. Ranma's hand felt so warm
and electric to the touch, and it took route straight up her spine,
transmitting to her erogenous zones with large, languid periodicity. His
muscles tensed, but there were only a few she gave particular notice to.
 For all his physical glibness, all his stock knowledge, all his
quite painful experience, Ranma did not move a muscle. Of course, his
volatile energies, for lack of outlet, forced him to do The Bad Thing:
he opened his mouth.
 "Miss Hinako's breasts are bigger."
 Akane's eyes shot open.
 Ranma's hand flew out of Ryoga's shirt.
 Ranma sat up, arms in the flailing posture necessary for warding-
evil-hoping-to-prevent-pain.
 A pair of fists closed on the straps of his undershirt.
 Akane pulled Ranma up.
 "Oh shit, not again," Ranma was saying.

 It is now necessary to turn to the birds and the bees.
 They fly.

 "Oh shhmmmmm..." Ranma said, rudely interrupted by Akane's kiss.
 Ranma fell on his elbows as Akane smoothed herself along his body,
hugging the air out of his lungs. To add to his surprise, the way that
Akane pressed merely two layers of cloth between her and his extremely
sensitive skin (much as they were beginning to dampen with what he only
assumed to be sweat) made it clear to him that Akane was clearly not
wearing any underwear.
 Ranma embarrassedly realized that, because of the impression she
had on him, he was making a growing impression on Akane under his boxers-
and-undershirt ensemble.
 He felt the back of the loose shirt for the reversal jewel, but, of
course, did not find it. He stopped when Akane started to mimic his
ministrations on his shoulder blades.
 Behind her back, he started doing the nervous finger thing.
 This was too bad to be a joke, wasn't it? This had to mean
something, right? She had to have felt something, didn't she? What was
she doing?! Desperate, Ranma pushed at Akane's intruding tongue with his
own but ended up only rolling it around hers.

 "They've stopped."
 "Yes. What's happening?"
 Silence.
 "They're probably kissing..."
 "Or they're about to."
 The sound of a comforter hitting the paper-thin screen.
 "Or that they've found us out. Let's go."
 "Wait!" The latter picked up the camcorder, and they departed post
haste.

 For moments, Akane felt heady with the pounding of Ranma's heart
against hers. Their slightly syncopated rhythm gave her the image of
waves lapping, chasing each other to the shore, powerful, rolling,
meeting in crests, in troughs, and in the cradled interim.
 Ranma drew softly from her, holding her shoulders, head turned,
eyes closed. She noted that an area around his lips was glistening with
her saliva, where she had covered the skin with her mouth. Behind her,
he still had a leg raised, poised from where it had released the blanket
towards the door.
 With a gentleness that the darkness helped to mask, Ranma picked
her completely up and off him.
 The buzzing in his ear, he realized, was the soft oscillation that
the warm (hot) body he held was generating and passing onto him in full-
bodied waves; it was also rising in amplitude and frequency. He had the
distinct feeling of a bomb waiting to go off, but chalked it down to
sincere paranoia rather than personal experience.
 "Akane..." he started.
 He stopped because Akane had slapped her hand across his mouth in a
wiping manner, covering it. Putting on her most seriously-cute face, she
breathed, "no. Don't speak."
 Shaking her hand off and taking it one of his own, he exploded
hotly, "dammit! That hurt, y'know!"
 The hurt that immediately registered on her face struck him harder
than any quick slap would. "S-sorry... I... Ranma... would... Ranma,
look at me...."
 An unwanted chill ran down his spine. "W-why?"
 "Please..."
 He found himself raptly (he had hoped for nonchalantly) eyeing the
now-disheveled head of raven hair, finally ending on the bangs that were
casting shadows onto her introspecting eyes.
 Akane tilted her head back, and he could feel their eyes lock into
alignment; he could swear she was trying to see into his skull.
 What she saw obviously puzzled her.
 "Why... why won't you love me?"
 "Eh?"
 "I... I..." She stopped, biting her lip, trying to find words
where actions had apparently failed. "I was so sure that you were the
one." She bowed her head, afraid to see his mocking orbs.
 With regret, Ranma noted that, if there was something that could
stop him cold on a dime, it was Akane crying. Anyone crying. Akane
crying. Crap.
 "God, no, look, Akane, I, what, what?"
 "The one." She shook her head slightly, and sniffled. "I... I
really, really didn't like you when you first got here." She smiled
slightly. "Even though you were kind of cute... and looked great nude."
 He didn't think he could do a full-body blush before. "L-look...
not so bad, yourself, I mean..." he muttered.
 "I mean, you couldn't have come at a worse time. Everything was so
awful without Mom... getting into high school... Kuno's stupid speech...
grabby boys... I NEVER wanted a fiancé... and you turned me around, like
that. I... I wanted to listen to someone, anyone: you."
 She's never said anything like this before, Ranma realized.
 "And you kept shouting me away... I kept shouting you away... you
starting doing stupid things... I wanted to show you... but I just
remember being so bottled up and so spilled out all the time."
 To Ranma, she sounded haggard, fragile. Almost unnoticeably, he
wrapped an arm around her shoulders. In the dew-lit moonlight, the
shadows seemed to not have moved.
 Her voice was barely a whisper. "Why couldn't you give me what you
gave them?"
 Ranma heard himself speak. "I didn't give'm anything."
 "You kissed them."
 "I didn't."
 "You kissed Shampoo thrice. You even kissed Kuno. When you kissed
me, you even denied it." She leaned into the hollow of Ranma's shoulder.
"You can sneak into my room in the middle of the night to molest me but
you couldn't even give me A FRIENDLY KISS?!?"
 Grabbing Ranma's pigtail while bending forward fully, she threw her
unprepared fiancé halfway past the gaping window.

 Soun tried not to wake up at the noises near the Saotomes'
guestroom. Maybe Genma came back from wherever he vanished to (without
dinner, he noted recalling the double-sized meal he had). Maybe that
young boy Hibiki was coming back. (In the drizzling rain, that would
mean that he would also be crawling into Akane's bed.) Maybe, just
maybe, Ranma and Akane were consummating their marriage, fulfilling his
life's goal of unifying the Tendo and Saotome Schools of Anything-Goes
Martial Arts.
 Maybe it was just the thunder and the lightning.
 Avoiding any mention of the words ogre, demon, master or pervert,
Tendo completed his prayers and continued his half-sleep, shivering in
fearfulness.

 The passion spice was doing its job quite well, augmenting Akane's
anger and strength beyond even her normal limits. Her crackling blue
aura laced with fiery red tendrils, and her eyes were doing a pretty
scary burning effect. "Die, Ranma!"
 A (bottom-) half-drenched and completely (not really) female Ranma
stepped into the room. He was caught off-balance by the fierce uppercut
that Akane belted him, and he fell on the roof once again, the youngest
Tendo following.
 Ranma stood, teetering on the edge of the shingling. He looked up
at the descending female, not noticing the trail of blood on his pouty
lips. Akane came in fast with the mallet of justice in hand, righteous
indignation as her shield.
 Side-stepping, Ranma met Akane's trajectory, which took them merely
meters above the carp pond.

 With a vicious swipe, Akane turned her body, allowing the torque to
add to the impact of the mallet on Ranma's arm. Even if his outer
forearm hit only the handle, Ranma had to fight down the urge to follow
up the block in retaliation.
 Instead, with his leading arm, he caught Akane's back, pressing
their chests together. His free hand latched onto the back of his
fiancée's head, as he allowed the combined torque to have them turn in
mid-air.
 Akane noted that: a) she couldn't hit Ranma with the mallet
because he was already too close; b) they were falling, roughly on their
sides, right into the middle of the pond; and, c) Ranma's breasts were,
indeed, larger than hers. Because she was busy noting these, she did not
have time to react to Ranma's kiss, just as they hit the water's surface.

 The pond was unconscionably cold, and Akane's lips were invitingly
warm, even scalding. The taste of her was bitter, a bilious flavor of
strong, but, with Akane wrapping her arms around him, it smoothed to a
salty-sweet affair. Ranma closed his eyes, trapped in the embrace of the
one pledged to him before they were born, and spoke his heart's truth:
he had never felt as free.
 He couldn't help thinking of chocolate ice cream as they started
floating.

 The door to the Tendo dojo slid open fully, and two soaked figures
hobbled in. Ranma closed the door just as silently, and walked over to
the light switch.
 "KEEP IT OFF," Akane boomed.
 These were the first words they had spoken since they had come out
of the pond. They were also this short of 130 decibels, where Ranma was
standing. After scraping his face from off the wall, Ranma gingerly
turned to Akane, who put the cordless microphone back where she found it,
made shushing motions, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
 Ranma sat down beside her, sorely tempted to take off his
undershirt and wring it dry.
 "It's okay. No one can see you in the dark, anyway."
 He tried not to sound too surprised. "No way! You'd get angry and
say I didn't have any 'feminine modesty' or sommmgumbf." The last word
was muddled through the wet fabric of the discarded yellow shirt stuffed
into Ranma's once-gaping mouth.
 Akane was fiddling somewhere around Ranma's waist, much to Ranma's
chagrin. "Give me... your... shirt."
 In-between giggles, Ranma spat out the cloth. "What?" The
undershirt came up, stopping his train of thought once more.
 Wrestling with the cotton garment, Akane leaned towards Ranma and
dabbed at the right corner of his mouth.
 "Don't move!"
 She cleaned the wound in silence. Ranma twiddled his thumbs in
agitation, but complied. She poked his face chaotically in the dark.
 An insight found its way into Ranma's noggin. "Okay, Little Miss
Mind-Reader... I know what you're thinking."
 Akane looked thoughtful as she continued the haphazard-poking
ritual. "Okay, try me."
 Ranma pondered the point a while more, trying to snatch hints from
her faceted eyes. "Skating."
 Akane blinked. "Well... I suppose that the rain... the dark...
stripping down to one piece of clothing each... it would be a toss-up
between skating and strip-cramming for one of Miss Hinako's exams."
 He smirked, which was immediately attacked by Akane's well-meaning
forefinger. "I meant Martial Skating."
 Akane stuck her tongue out. "Of course. Everything that comes out
of your mouth has a default 'Anything-Goes Martial Arts' prefixed to it."
 Ranma goggled. "You don't remember?"
 Akane took final dabs at his face, then unfurled the fabric.
 "Nope."
 Ranma crossed his arms over his breasts. "What?"
 Akane made a show of folding the undershirt. "I don't recall
anything - say, is that a bug on your shoulder?"
 "Huh?" He tried to follow Akane's right hand as it zagged its way
to his shoulder - not noticing the left as it swiftly made its move.
 In one fell swoop, Ranma soon found himself off his hiney. "Waah!"
 Akane stopped his fall with her lap under his head. "Nasty dip?"
 "I thought you didn't remember."
 Stroking the red hair she started to carefully unbraid, Akane
sounded as distant as she could with a whisper. "That red Chinese shirt,
I was wearing a skirt and a sweater and thigh boots... I put some
bandages... here... here... and one right about here... but I don't
remember a thing about it."
 Tentatively, Ranma ran a hand through Akane's short-cropped bob.
"I wouldn't have kissed you then, Akane Tendo."
 "That's what you said that time, too."
 "That's not what I said." He retracted his hand. "I said that
kissing was something you did with someone you liked."
 "Oh." She lightly pressed her forefinger to his nose. "You kissed
me earlier."
 He reciprocated the action. "Only after you kissed me."
 "So you wouldn't have kissed me if I hadn't kissed you."
 "No. No, I wouldn't."
 She ran a hand through her hair. "Why not?"
 "You really want to know?" He rubbed his thighs, and Akane
couldn't tell whether it was a nervous gesture... or not.
 She thought about it. "No, I'd rather be doing something about the
dark and the fact that I've got you exactly where I want you."
 "Idiot." Ranma smiled but edged back slightly. "In that case,
I'll just tell you."
 "Spoilsport." Akane stuck her tongue out, leaning forward
slightly.
 Ranma sat up, much to her dismay. "Please, Akane. We're gonna be
in so much trouble tomorrow morning as it is."
 "That's your problem, Ranma. You think too much."
 He sighed, a deep effort. "You're absolutely right. I mean," here
he sidled over once more, "if I kissed you now..."
 "You mean," Akane took him in her arms, "like this?"
 "Mmmm... yeah, I mean, well, mmm... I'd, well, y'know, mmm..."
 "I don't... mmm... see the problem... mmm... with kissing..."
 Pushing Ranma's bangs back, Akane gently leaned the redhead back.
Ranma found his arms wrapped around Akane's shoulders, as the latter
shifted her weight on her knees, carefully shifting so that she would end
up straddling the smaller female.
 Ranma shifted his arms to Akane's back, and smoothly rocked them to
their sides and to a topsy-turvy, completing the transition.
 "You cannot imagine," Akane interjected between breaths, "how many
times... I've dreamt of being... in this position..."
 "Uh... Akane..." Ranma shifted a little, trying not to stifle her.
 "Ranma..." Akane's breath came in hot swaths along his neck.
 Ranma tried to move his arms from under them. "I... I feel
weird... is it me, or... are your breasts getting pointy?"
 "Ranma..." This one went directly into his ear, as Akane's hands
took the scenic route down the length of Ranma's backside.
 Ranma focused a moment on putting all his weight on his elbows.
"Don't... jiggle around... Akane... don't want to... lean on you..."
 There was a teasing tone in her voice. "I'm a martial artist, too,
Ranma..."
 "Never... meant... to say... otherwise..." Ranma found it was
getting harder to breathe. "What... what was that?"
 Akane barely noticed, her eyes glassed over. She murmured an
"eh?", but it came out strangled, what with her mouth full of saliva.
 The shiver traveled southward along his spine again. "There! Did
you feel it?"
 Akane sounded confused. "What? Feel what?"
 There was something in that that made Ranma do a double-take.
 Akane made her move.
 "You just tried to take my pants off!"
 "You want me to take my pants off?"
 "Yes. No!" Ranma vigorously shook his head to make his point.
"Gaah!" He disentangled himself from Akane. "I'm such a pervert!"
 "Stop it!" With a yank, Ranma was back on top of her, fastened
quickly by her powerful legs. "You are NOT a pervert! Stop saying
that!"
 "Eh?" Ranma couldn't expound on it, because Akane buried her face
in his flowing tresses.
 "It's hard enough to convince myself otherwise, sometimes," she
sobbed. "Don't... don't you know what I had to do...?"
 "Please tell me that this is NOT just some sort of passion spice
thing or something," Ranma whispered back.
 A pause. "What if it is?"
 "Huh?"
 "What if something I ate earlier gave me this sudden urge to
confess undying love to you? What if something *you* ate earlier is
telling you to kiss me?"
 "Now YOU'RE thinking too much."
 Akane shook her head, whispering into Ranma's ear. "No... no more
thinking... no more words... I... I give... my all... to you..."
 A slight jerking motion accompanied Akane pushing herself upward.
With a kick (which nearly tossed them across the room), the black pants
flew to a side.
 "Uh... Akane... what... what...?"
 "You said you wanted my pants off..."
 "No!" Ranma pushed Akane up by her shoulders. "We can't!"
 "It's perfect..."
 Frustration welled up in Ranma's throat. "No, it's not!" he
yelled, pushing himself on his hands and knees.
 Ranma felt Akane's loving hands trace his face.
 With her longer arms, Akane wrapped her arms around Ranma's neck.
In a voice he was sure was a distinct imitation, she purred, "and now,
Ranma, make... me... your... own..."
 Akane grabbed a breast.
 Ranma gulped.
 Akane slid her hands to Ranma's waist, bringing him down.
 Lightning flashed.
 "MROWWR?!"

 Okay, so she was having a terribly bad day.
 So she used hate potion on Mousse (which was intended for Tsubasa,
who she didn't even see for the entire day), and he was the only free
help that they had. She wasn't feeling too good for today, and slept
most of the time.
 Understandably, her great-grandmother was upset: Mousse had taken
some of the secret herbs and spices (really, just some odds and ends),
and he was the only cheap labor that they could get. (Curiously enough,
if Hiroshi and Daisuke had applied, they probably would have asked for
the same wages as Mousse: occasional feel opportunities with Shampoo.)
In her opinion, Cologne was hiding something, another more pressing
concern, but she could not spend time to think about it.
 And so, she made her way to... kidnap Mousse.
 At least, that was the plan.
 The sight that greeted her as she crept into the training hall,
needless to say, shocked her. How long had they been cavorting in the
dark like husbandless Amazons in the Great Passion Spice Epidemic of Long
Ago? How greatly had husband-in-law been affected by his body-altering
curse? Why was he fiddling in the dark with the most homely and uncaring
of the women in his life? And why, of all times, was she trapped in the
form of a cat at this time?
 With the blood of the Amazons rushing in her veins, Shampoo did the
best thing that would come to mind when the husband begins to pretend
being a female:
 Show him who really wears the skirt.

 "SH-SH-SHAMPOO?!"
 With a feline snarl of defiance, the pinkish cat screamed at the
face of horror, and -
 "GET OUT!!"
 She was barely able to avoid the fierce swipe that cut through her
trajectory.
 Akane's aura flared crimson and azure. "CAN'T YOU SEE WE DON'T
WANT YOU HERE?!" Ranma struggled with Akane's hand covering his eyes.
 Shampoo hissed her dissent, making Ranma cringe in response.
 "HE NEVER WANTED YOU HERE! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE! JUST GO AWAY!!"
 The fur on the cat-girl's back fluffed up, showing her extreme
dissatisfaction with the situation. It was then when she noticed where
Akane's left hand was.
 "NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"
 "QUIET!!" Wide-eyed, the Tendo heiress stood to a sumo stance.
"WHAT?! WHAT DID I DO WRONG? ALL I WANTED WAS SOME TIME ALONE WITH MY
FIANCÉ - WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!"
 Behind her inferno impression, Ranma Tokyo-shuffled his panic, with
Shampoo all over him.

 Mousse was downstairs, in the guestroom.
 "Kasumi... thanks for... guestroom? I-I couldn't... too kind..."
With a roll to his side, he shifted from sleeptalk to snoring.

 "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO ARE DOING?!" Akane turned on her heel,
smoldering with the accelerated wrath of a passionate lover scorned.
 Ranma huddled his smaller body in the corner. Of Shampoo, neither
hide nor screech. The redhead moved slowly, rhythmically, small motions
which involved the neck and face.
 With solid, wide-striding, macho stomps, Akane halved the gap to
the corner in question. "I SAID, WHAT ARE YOU DO-!"
 Ranma turned his head.
 Shampoo was in his mouth. More accurately, he was holding Shampoo
by the nape with his teeth.
 Surprised, Akane jumped back most of the way.

 A playful gleam grew in Ranma's eyes. The smaller cat had already
been cleaned, and his (master? mate? goddess?) seemed eager to play.
Would she share in the happiness of a bath? Ranma knew that he felt
slightly sticky, and tired, and especially hot.
 Especially hot.

 With a bound, Ranma landed on top of Akane, pinning her hips with
his body. With a feral swipe -
 He proudly presented the cursed Amazon to his fiancée.
 Akane looked, from the confused (yet well-groomed) feline, to the
warmly appraising gaze Ranma gave her, and back.
 She took the proffered cat, stroked it carefully, then threw it
through the open window when it began to turn hostile towards her.
 Ranma wasted no time bathing his friendly friend, lapping and
licking Akane's face, stroking the fine hairs into shape and body.
 With a sigh, Akane reciprocated the gesture, the back of her mind
buzzing with anxiety and anticipation as the tactile comb slid down her
neck and started on her collarbone...


 Day 3 (4X4 FWD/RWD)
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 (Detach here)
 It pains me to admit that it has become harder and harder to write
the parts as they come out, as this will be written between the writing
of chapters twelve and thirteen of Switch. I have yet to detail the Mt.
Fuji fight in Battle of Witlesses, and Dr. Tofu's post-manga situation in
Letter #361. Much as I would like to think that I am one year matured
into the fanfic writing biz, I strain to think that I have lost my touch,
and lost touch with this, my namesake.
 Maybe I spent too much time writing Tsubasa's origin in Park Life.
Perhaps I'm still lagged by the sheer number of short fiction I've been
pulling out, or the other projects I've lined up for myself.
 Sigh. Life goes on.
 Another day has been marked herein, and finally, FINALLY, I might
be able to pull my rabbit from out of the hat. Day three will no doubt
be the oddest assortment of events that will grace the pages of any of my
fanfics. Eight chapters of mayhem and madness and angst (and, most of
all, switches) will mark my departure from this fanfic. Oh, no, just a
vacation... I plan on doing at least the first storyline in Lovers and
Friends, as well as orchestrate the entirety of the plot until it boils
down to the end.
 So, how was this story written? I tried to make this as sexually
tense as it could get without getting anywhere. Don't you think it asks
to be ignored? A Ranma-and-Akane lemon with passion spice as the
catalyst.
 Why didn't I just have them do it? Trust me, you'll be glad I
didn't. Really. Honest.
 (Detach here)
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