Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ The lessons begin ( Chapter 22 )
Anime/Manga: Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Martial Arts / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.26.2019 | Updated On: 03.01.2019 | Pages: 6 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 1.4K | Status: Work In Progress
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Once she was gone I busied myself with cleanup.
Glasses washed, the large metal bowl that held the popcorn had the unpopped kernels and salt dumped in the trash before it's wash, then I turned to my couch.
Popcorn had been spilled when our hands touched, and after picking it all up, I gave the leather of the couch a quick spray, as I didn't want the oil of the artificial butter making the room reek of stale popcorn for the next month.
That done, I went to have a quick bath.
Now you might be wondering, why I was lallygagging about when there were tapes to retrieve, copy, and watch, especially with work tomorrow.
The answer came as I first went to pick up the glasses; a blinking red light.
Ranma had snuck back into my house.
Honestly, if she hadn't, I'dve been way more suspicious.
Once in the area where both the toilet and the washer and dryer were kept, I noticed that the washer was going quietly.
The dress, the undergarments, all were in there, and the machine was set to 'delicate'.
Cute, probably worried I might paw the underwear like Happosai. I admit the idea had some merit, at least on a traditional level, but I had a much grander prize awaiting me in the bathroom proper.
I undressed and wrapped a towel around my waist and my large fluffy bath robe on to cover me from neck to shin, before I snagged a couple hairs from my comb. I pulled the large WILL box out from under the towel shelf, dragging it noisily into the middle of the room. I didn't touch the WON'T box tucked in the corner of the room, save garnishing the far flaps of the cardboard box with a single hair.
The other hair I placed the other on the WILL box, just for curiosities sake.
Ready, I leaned on the rack to press the camera's disable button discretely and opened it up.
The bathroom was empty save for the thin metal box I had laid out, one that I knew was empty, it's contents in the washing machine.
Now, this was before the Umi-Sen Ken and he could turn goddamn invisible. But even without it he was still hella sneaky and could no doubt crawl on the ceiling like a spider. I didn't look up, instead stepping through, carefully looking down and making sure my prosthetic didn't slip, then shut the door.
We had swapped rooms. If it weren't for the fact that I was intensely aware of my surroundings I don't think I'dve noticed the air above me shift slightly.
I looked at myself in the mirror, knowing that just behind it was some delightful video, and a camera I had shut off.
"I'm still me." I said to my reflection, not like a whisper like Ranma did, not a shout, but loud enough to be heard through the bathroom door by him. Certain, confident, commanding, that's how I sounded.
That done, I went to scrub myself, then soak.
In the furo proper, I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Just to be sure he hadn't been clinging above me the whole time.
What would he be doing? Taking items from WILL and sneaking them into WON'T? The opposite? Checking to see if I cackled maniacally or something?
All he was going to see, aside of me in my bath robe getting ready for bed, was me tossing the dress and bits into the dryer and tossing my own into the wash.
I wasn't going to put the next outfit together until tomorrow, after I swung by Kumo to pick some silky bits up.
I finished my bath, dried off by towel, wrapped the bath robe carefully around me, and opened the bathroom door, all while keeping the switch off.
Once again, nothing appeared out of place, but the washer had finished and was silent now. That, and the fact I was fresh out of the water meant I heard, or thought I heard, nearly silent footsteps behind me and felt the shifting of air above me. I shut the door behind me without looking and listened carefully, keeping the button on the camera disabler pressed.
The bathroom window opened with a quiet click, then closed. Ranma had left, or wanted me to think she left.
Why hadn't he left the house while I was in the bath? Panic or did he know that the far door was loud enough to be heard from the bath if it was quiet?
No matter, my clothes went to the wash, hers in dryer on the delicate setting, and I went upstairs to bed.
A touch early for me, but catching Ranma in the act wouldn't help me tonight, another time yes, but all her efforts had to prove fruitless tonight.
The hairs on both boxes had been knocked off, so I would be checking both.
-=-=-=-
I had a little time in the morning before I headed off to work, so I did my examinations after breakfast.
First off, the WON'T box had much less in it than the WILL, mostly underwear, but I had itemized lists for both.
From that came Revelation One; Ranma had taken some underwear, specifically the undergarments she'd used against Happosai, from the WON'T and added it to the WILL box.
Interesting, clever even, but not unexpected. Ranma was trying to keep control over Girl.
She'd worn those items once before after all, she could do it again. Even if the top would be a little tight. And if I just grabbed wildly, it was on top of the pile.
But I wasn't. I had Kumo specials awaiting me.
On to the tapes.
Opening the mirror, I noted only two red dots, which helped me map out what had happened.
When Ranma went in that first time to change, she started the first tape. Once started, it'd go for one hour or until I pressed the disable button hidden behind the towel rack.
She'd gone in, changed, then came back and added the underwear, that would be one dot. The second dot would be after the movie was over. Had there been more dots, that meant Ranma would have come back a third time, at least through the window or into the bathroom. So, she hadn't been hiding in the bathroom and trying to trick me, it had been a quick in and out.
I made a note to myself, talk to Kimura and see if there was a way to log dates and times, if it wasn't too difficult.
Considering the amount of time I had left, I really wanted the information, so I could think about it while at work.
With time running low before I had to leave,I did something I rarely did, I played the original tapes, not the duplicates. I'd still copy and splice the bits I wanted, but that would be something to do in the middle of the week.
The first tape was pleasant, Ranma went in, got undressed, put on the dress, checked her hair, smiled at her reflection, and went out to show me. Just boxers, no bra, firmly Ranma. Now, I pushed the volume up and tried to hear our conversation.
Aside of Ranma's initial outburst which was really faint, no, nothing. Something I didn't know about my house. I fast forwarded until she came back in.
She was grumbling, upset, and looking absolutely adorable, especially with that dress. Like Cologne, her appearance was incredibly deceiving, and even though I'd watched her smash things with enough force to rip apart engine blocks, I had to remind myself to be incredibly careful, there was no way to force anything with her.
Her hands flew to the buttons, and the dress fell off her. Turning away, she fished out the silky garments from the box and absently tugged the her boxers down. Lovely ass as always.
And then she froze. This was the critical part.
Her hands started to shake, briefly, before she took a long breath, and slipped the panties on.
Then the bra.
Slowly, she turned to the mirror and looked at herself.
She was terrified.
She was ravishing.
I wondered if Ranma actually looked at herself in a mirror when she was making the photos to beat Happosai. Given her reaction now, you'd think she hadn't, maybe she'd had help? Kasumi? Or perhaps it was because the situation was that dire at the time. Being stuck forever weak would drive one to do many desperate things.
She didn't have that excuse now, there was Ranma, in a girl's body, in a girl's underwear, because I'd said so.
I'd seen her naked, I'd seen her bathing, and this was different, yet equal. With the former two, she was still Ranma, just sans clothes, delightful.
It was the femininity being forced on her I think, almost smothering the power Ranma had, making her apear smaller, weaker, fragile. Delicate.
She stood in front of the mirror, barely breathing, hand almost touching the glass.
I wanted her in my arms so badly.
That thing she was so wary of? That thing both he and she hunted for in her reflection?
There it was.
In lingerie.
Girl.
Ranma whimpered, barely audible in the cameras microphone. Then she tore her gaze away, grabbed the dress, and hastily put it on.
Covering it up.
I'm not sure if the dress made it better for her, or worse.
And then she was gone.
Off to show me the results.
-=-=-=-
The second tape was almost a reverse.
Girl arrived, and once again unbuttoned the dress.
It pooled at her feet, exposing that simple, silky underwear.
Only now it was different. She'd had a date in it, been tense and hyper-conscious about it, been once again technically photographed in it, technically as the dress had stayed on.
It was Girl's now.
Not Ranma's.
Slowly, almost seductively, she undid her bra, breasts bouncing free. Her eyes followed their motions and as she tossed the bra into the box without looking, and her thumbs went to her panties.
Again, almost as if she was putting on a show for me, she slid them down, bending forward as she did. As they clung to her ankles one hand went to her groin, covering it, the other to her breasts, pressing them together.
After flicking the panties into the box with her toes, slowly she stood straight, hands covering herself from my gaze.
Such erotic innocence.
She spent a minute like that, studying herself and covering things with her hands, but it was different from Ranma's usual gaze.
Was she looking for Ranma?
Abruptly she turned away, hands dropping to her sides, and stalked over to Ranma's clothes.
Boxers, tank top, pants, red Chinese shirt, armbands, all on in record time.
She turned around and froze.
"No." She said quietly, a rictus of panic on her face. "No, no, no..." And rushed to the mirror.
By body language alone I knew that Ranma hadn't come back. Girl was still there.
She to a single panicked step towards the furo, wet clothes be damned, and froze.
I could practically taste the thought echoing in her mind.
What if it didn't work? What if she was stuck?
A moment was spent hyperventilating, another shaking, before a choked sob made her swallow hard.
And then she remembered the collar. Her hand flew to the red velvet.
She wiped her face with her sleeve and went back to the mirror.
She stood straight, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
"I'm still me." She whispered.
"I'm still me." She prayed as her hands undid the clasp.
The choker came off. Her eyes opened.
"I'm still me." She breathed as her posture changed subtly.
Ranma looked at herself in the mirror.
And I sighed in satisfaction.
Only one more mystery remained.
Her panicked entrance from the bathroom window was indeed about the dress and accouterments, but why?
I rewound and watched it again.
She grabbed the dress and the bra easily, but hesitated with the panties, gingerly picking them up.
Acting on a hunch, I rewound back until it was Girl, in her underwear, in front of the mirror.
Staring hard, I finally saw it.
Thank you Extended-Definition.
There was a tiny little stain on her panties.
-=-=-=-
I had a good day, and it showed.
It got better when I went down to see Kumo on my break.
In one day he had something ready for me. It was a simple enough thing to produce, he'd made plenty of them this month alone.
It was a staple of the early 90's.
Hight cut clingers, and a playing card bra.
Sorry, those were work slang, the actual names eluded me.
To explain: you know how in some videos the girls have panties that look like they were mapping every contour? That's a clinger, and every major studio had their own variety and style.
Ours were cut high, not a thong or an eye patch, but also not the innocent full coverage of standard styles. Almost like bloomers. Sporty.
And it was implied that due to sheer healthy activity that it was getting wedged and clinging like it was. It was our thing.
The bra was even simpler to explain. Japanese girls have smaller breasts than the average American girl. Push up bras helped, but only so far. But push at the right angle, and even a humble idol can have some cleavage.
Now take that sturdy, pushy bra and put it on a girl with implants, or be as magically gifted as Ranma. What you get is cleavage that can hold a playing card in place.
With these, Ranma would feel it.
-=-=-=-
Monday came around and so did Ranma, after school, quietly through the back door. We didn't have long, only an hour this time, and that meant most movies were out. Plus I didn't want her sitting there, I wanted her moving about and feeling these ones this time.
And it was grocery day for me, which meant I had a lot of bags of things in the kitchen to put away. Unlike most Japanese, I didn't do frequent little trips, mostly because while walking wasn't bad, walking with a few bags rapidly became uncomfortable, so I did it in larger batches.
Ranma had helped me put things away before, both as a girl and a guy, but not as Girl capital 'G'.
Looking at her, she was both more and less nervous the second time.
It wasn't a surprise what was coming this time, but it was happening again. I affixed the collar, and without a word she went to the bathroom to change. It took a little while, but less than that first time, and I smiled when I saw her come around the corner.
She was definitely wearing everything this time, the way her chest was proudly emphasized, the way she walked.
"Ready?" I asked. Eventually I knew I wouldn't need to even do that, just seeing the choker on would be enough.
"Yeah." Her voice was quiet, like before, but not as fragile, not as terrified. Was this to be Girl's voice? Time will tell.
It was almost obvious what needed to be done, so I had her clean a bit in addition to putting things away.
And I watched her do it, which really made a difference.
Unlike the first bra which supported gently and was a silky thing, this was a mix of cotton, lycra, and firmer things. Her breasts weren't just supported, they were held, pressed, presented, whenever she moved she felt them rub together under the dress. Whenever she bent down to put cans away, the panties were no doubt being felt as well.
And with her distinctly feeling those places, and my gaze, it was like my gaze was making her feel that way. Aware of the parts she tried to ignore.
When she was done, I rewarded her, not only with that intangible yet oppressing debt being decreased, but also with some of her favorite snacks, fresh from the store.
Ones she didn't have to share, or shovel in lest they be seized, and she accepted them with a smile, along with the barley tea I poured for us both, hers sweetened, mine plain.
Then it was sweeping the floors, more motions making her feel her chest, and more fabric pressing into her groin when she bent to use the dustpan. And my gaze, of course, on her back and behind as she did.
Fifteen minutes later she was done, and we had only had fifteen left before the hour was over. I gestured to the couch, and we both sat and relaxed in silence for a few minutes.
Ten minutes to go, I told her that was good enough for the hour, and to get ready to head back to the Tendos.
She retreated back to the bathroom, spent a short time there, and emerged as Ranma once more.
It was easier that second time, all told.
Only one tape, and as I'd hoped, she was begrudgingly proud of how her chest looked, artfully pushed up like that.
She was less thrilled when it came off, and rubbed at the red lines it had pressed into her skin. A sacrifice for that extreme cleavage.
Then she saw the panties, her panties, the way they was pressed into her sex, how they felt far differently than regular ones.
She tugged then, adjusting herself like a man, drawing a small sigh of relief from her and a snort from me.
Yes Ranma, girls get underwear wedged in too, just like the guys.
She walked towards the mirror still wearing the collar and the panties, still Girl, and she studied herself, like always.
At one point I'd spliced a dozen different glances and stares, trying to see if there was progress. This one was different.
Silently, with subtle shifts of her thigh and hips, her left leg rose, and rose, and rose.
Standing on one, kicking straight up.
The underwear held up. Kumo didn't make wretched products unless it was supposed to be.
And it was a hell of a sight for me.
Testing done, she turned away from the mirror, absently tugging at the underwear with a finger again, becoming Ranma once more as the collar came off.
-=-=-=-
The Wednesday session would also be just an hour, Ranma had to fight Ryoga later that evening, but that was enough time for a lesson.
An uncomfortable lesson.
Ranma would be wearing, literally, the exact items she pulled from the WON'T box. The lingerie she'd used to beat Happosai. All under her white dress.
I'd looked at it and initially discarded it, but swung back to it as a possibility specifically because it was a bad decision, only to find Ranma had snuck in again and placed them in the metal box during lunch, hence the literal.
Trying to keep control over things. Even if her changes weren't pleasant, they were her choice and thus a facet of control. Plus in theory I'd never know.
Now don't get me wrong, the stuff was pretty to look at, but it had problems. As I recall, Nabiki had gotten it for Ranma for a photo shoot, but there was no doubt Nabiki had been hoping Ranma'd wear it to the fight.
This wasn't bits you wore normally, even for a morning, this was for the short trip from a bathroom to a honeymoons bedroom, or to be torn off in front of a camera. Do-me underwear, the kind men pull down with their teeth.
Uncomfortable beauty was the word.
And this wasn't a sitting day, this was a cleaning day, and those delicate looking straps would dig in and those tiny buttons and ribbons which were actually quite uncomfortable would pinch and grind into sensitive spots.
That was to be the point. Whenever Ranma interfered I'd let the consequences be hers to feel.
And the hour was not fun for Ranma. While she fought down the fidgeting and squirming whenever I turned her way, pressing a wan smile onto her face, her posture when her back was turned to me spoke volumes.
A good lesson, but one it would be difficult to bring up in a topic.
And, from the post session video tape, I could guess Ryoga was going to get a sound drubbing, judging on how quickly Ranma was getting that peeled off. A lot of irritation and discomfort would be channeled towards Hibiki tonight.
From Wednesday I slowly drifted towards Friday, to our next session, and the news from Kumo between those days, plus the delivery, made the wait delicious.
To distract myself, I went to and studied the audiio tapes of the Tendo home. Listened to how things had changed.
Nabiki had started to believe the construction work was real, having been carefully teasing the words from Kasumi, the gossip, and putting the picture together. Ranma didn't need much in the way of tools, he had shown himself pushing the nails into the wood with his thumbs in front of her after all. She'd even asked her father about it, and he seemed quite impressed with Ranma's training. That got Akane's attention, which became a demonstration in front of the Dojo.
Now I didn't understand most of it, something about the slow pressing of the nail being different than the hardened strike of a palm to push the nails in. Akane clapped when her father pushed one in, and spent the rest of the day trying to get one in the same way.
Satisfied that Ranma wasn't up to something beyond training, Nabiki's guard relaxed, and that reduced her mysteries down to a few.
Other recordings showed that Ranma was getting quite friendly with Kasumi. Nothing romantic, but a quiet friendship, one of those enduring things. It helped that he gave her much of the money he was earning to her to stay out of the freeloaders status he so loathed.
-=-=-=-
Ah, Friday, three almost four hours, this one would have some real impact.
Into the box went the newly washed dress, and the the accouterments. And there were many now, not just a bra and panties this time. Thankfully, Kumo included a small fold out instruction set with pictures whenever he did a full set like this. He made a point to do that as many a girl had put them on wrongly, or in the incorrect order which made the shooting awkward and drove him spare.
There was no way Ranma wouldn't notice that this was something I had added.
Dinner, some light activities, and a movie, my pick this time.
-=-=-=-
"Whenever you're ready Girl." I said to the girl with the choker.
Ranma, Girl, nodded and then she went to the bathroom to change.
This would be the hardest one by far, and I'd have much to explain, if she would even come out at all. It may be too much, too soon. But it would be most effective now.
Five minutes became ten, fifteen. Bad on the nerves, but the anticipation heightened everything.
I heard the door open in the distance.
I heard the quiet footsteps, but were they Ranma's bare feet, or...
"I'm ready."
I turned to see... Girl, dressed in everything, though only her hands up her elbows and feet showed any difference in their white silken gloves and stockings. The dress covered the rest of it.
Wrapped from neck to her toes. Inside and out.
Where the clingers and playing card bra I snuck in was something she might have acquired and simply forgotten, this was definitely not one of hers, and she knew it.
Yet she wore it regardless.
"You have questions, and many will be answered, after," I gestured at the table where our beef bowls and rice balls I'd gotten from a pretty good place a couple train stops over. "We eat."
It was a quiet affair. Though I'd chosen the items to minimize mess, Ranma was making the effort not to get anything on her dress, the gloves, meant that it was taking time.
The awkwardness was quickly getting intolerable, thus I dragged the source of it kicking and screaming into the light.
"A question for you." I said without looking up from my bowl.
The click of her chopsticks told me I had her attention.
"Why didn't you keep washing the clothes after that first time in order to disguise it better?"
"Wh-what?" Clearly this wasn't the approach she expected.
"Having lived here for so long, I can tell when the washing machine is going. The sound of water moving in the pipes, the little sloshing sounds, the quiet vibrations." I explained, looking at her squarely in the eyes. "That first time, when you left the house it wasn't on, but halfway through me cleaning up it suddenly was. But you didn't come in through the door."
Her gaze was locked down on her bowl. A flush growing on her cheeks, shame perhaps?
"You only did it the once, and then you sneaked in again on Wednesday. I allowed it and the things you changed."
Definitely shame. Ranma's face was ever expressive even if I couldn't see a lot of it.
"Uncomfortable, wasn't it?" I waited for her sullen nod before I continued. "When I went in for a final check and found you'd changed it, I wondered why you did it. After all, wasn't this your idea?"
She looked miserable but I couldn't stop here.
"Girl, if you don't trust me, then don't do it. Just come back out as Ranma, simple as that."
As far as chastisement went, I think I did well enough. No yelling, no threats, nothing like how her father did it, and she looked contrite enough.
I listened to her mumbled apology before I gestured at her chest. "Is that comfortable? Rather, is any part of it not comfortable?"
She looked down at herself, gave a subtle little shimmy, then finally looked at me.
"No, it's fine." An admission that it wasn't bad was another step forward.
"What you are wearing is as follows: bra, panties, a garter belt, garters, stockings, elbow length gloves, and a camisole on top, and then the dress." I pointed with my chopsticks where each went. "And don't worry, that set was an extra from the studio, one that wasn't needed."
A load of crap naturally.
Perfectly fitting lingerie in her proportions was quite rare, and it was actually a Kumo set, one I paid a fair bit for, but she didn't have enough experience with undergarment shopping to know that. I just didn't want her hesitating because of money, and "finding" it was similar to how Ranma gathered her things. I wouldn't be able to find too much or run the risk of her thinking I was lying.
"Okay...?" She hadn't caught on. "I mean, I guess it's good to know what all the bits are called, but I don't get why you brought it up."
"The point," I replied sternly, "is that I've spent years in studios behind both video cameras and photographic ones. I've seen just about every kind of clothing on every body type, gender, and age. Don't be afraid to ask me questions if you aren't sure about some bit of clothing. And if you don't trust my judgment on the clothes, don't wear them. Understand?"
At her submissive nod we resumed eating, albeit at a faster pace.
We also skipped past any questions she wanted to ask me.
The movie tonight was the excellent Rocky movie, though she had a bit of trouble with Stallone's accent. At the final fight, her hands were making tiny jabs and uppercuts as fists clashed.
She didn't even notice all the lingerie she wore at all by the end. Not the bra holding her breasts, nor the panties, nor the stockings clipped up high on her thighs, all covered by the white dress.
And this fact above all else would be my key tool.
The tapes that night were lovely. In the before one, Ranma had to refer to the picture card included several times to get everything on, this being her first full set.
As always when putting it on, she purposely didn't look at herself. So when she turned to the mirror to get a good look, it lead to her having a near mini-breakdown on the bathroom floor at the sight of herself dressed even further than what she'd picked for herself on Wednesday. Her previous limit had been women's undergarments, racy stuff, but this was full blown lingerie.
She almost took it off then and there, session be damned. Almost being the operative word.
The after tape of her actually taking it all off showed that she'd learned the lesson I had for her.
First, she'd accepted the chastisement I gave her.
Second, she accepted the fact that, in the end, it wasn't uncomfortable or unpleasant, so much so that she'd nearly forgotten it save for the popcorn stains on her gloves.
Third, she accepted that she looked damn good in it, and watching the girl in the mirror undress was captivating, until the collar came off and Ranma was all that was left.
That's right Ranma, it'd be easier next time.