Everyone left the room to get on with their days, leaving me alone. I had a whole day to do with as I pleased. I will admit, the idea of taking a nap was an appealing one. However, Twilight did say I had been out for two days. A quick sniff of my armpits told me that, yes, I was getting a bit ripe. So, my first action would be taking a shower.

I threw off the covers of the bed and immediately ran into my first problem. The completely alien sensations of my new body were horribly distracting. I was almost sorry I hadn’t stuck to my new male form, but I knew I had to get used to this sooner or later anyway.

The feeling of my bare chest rubbing against the fabric of my shirt made me wish very much for a bra. How did the original Ranma survive without one? I hadn’t even started walking and just breathing was driving me wild. Of course, Genma would’ve probably verbally slaughtered his son and Nodoka might’ve literally killed him had either of them caught him wearing a bra for more than just some scheme. I felt my respect for the pigtailed martial artist rise quite a bit.

Even that was competing with the sense of missing something from between my legs. I was so used to sitting down with my legs spread slightly apart and being mindful of my junk that it was with a fair amount of shock that I realized I was sitting with my legs pressed together and not feeling the slightest bit of discomfort. There were dozens of other small things competed for my attention, but I could ignore them for now and parse them later.

Steeling my nerves, I stood and walked out the room. Then I realized I probably should’ve asked for a general layout of the castle. Twilight probably thought I was going to stay in my room. To be fair, I thought I was going to stay in that room too until I realized I was getting a bit stinky. So now I was faced with the choice of staying put and waiting an unknown amount of time for Twilight, Spike, or Starlight to come back and show me around or go exploring for myself.

Sitting around with nothing to do, not even a book to read, was never one of my strong suits. I wanted to be doing something or sleeping and I had already discarded the idea of sleep. So that meant I’d be putting on my imaginary fedora, grabbing my pretend whip, and setting out for adventure!

I say adventure, but what I really meant was poking my head in every door to see if I could find a bathroom or a towel or a laundry room. It took me almost thirty minutes of searching every room, but I eventually found what I needed. Fortunately, the bathroom and the laundry room shared a joint space and there was a towel hung up ready to use.

Unfortunately, that brought me to another problem. Showering in my new body was going to be absolutely necessary, but beyond that, what was appropriate? I was born a male in a completely different body. Was the current circumstance of inhabiting a female form morally wrong or creepy? Should I blindfold myself in the shower so I wouldn’t see Ranma’s body, either male or female? Where should the line be drawn? Did a line need to be drawn?

There was also the consideration that, with the Multiverse being a thing, there were probably an infinite number of me with their own lives who looked exactly like I used to. What if one of them was a sex worker? Did I have any right to complain just because they bore a resemblance to me? I had used the term ‘original’ in relation to the Ranma I was familiar with, but who actually was able to lay claim to being the ‘original’. If there even was an original and they didn’t all spring up at roughly the same time on a cosmological scale, did that original deserve to have a say on how the others behaved? That started to smack of authoritarianism in a way I didn’t like.

While I was sitting cross legged in the laundry room, turning these thoughts over in my brain, Spike walked into the room.

“Oh, hey dude, why are you sitting on the laundry room floor?” Spike asked. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out the way I wanted.

“I can’t think of a way to say it without sounding stupid,” I finally confessed.

“Word of advice, everyone is dumb. Some are just better at hiding it than others. If you just listened to the words Twilight used you’d think she’s the smartest person ever and never had an idiot moment in her entire life. However, if you listen to what she’s actually saying or watch her in action, it’s pretty easy to see she can and does fuck up like the rest of us. So, just say what you want to say,” Spike encouraged.

“I feel like this body isn’t my own so I should have as little to do with it as possible. It doesn’t help that short, busty redhead is pretty much my ideal in looks and it has low key been turning me on. It makes me feel like a molester or something,” I explained.

“Dude, you’re thinking about it too hard. I’ve lived with Twilight my whole life, so trust me when I say you are definitely thinking about it too hard. Are you a body snatcher?” Spike questioned pointedly.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” I replied.

“Then it is still your body, even if it looks differently. That means it is yours to do with as you please. You want a tattoo? Go ahead! You want to ‘get to know’ your new body better? I think that isn’t just reasonable, but important. I speak from experience when I say that walking around in a semi-constant state of arousal and doing nothing about it will just drive you crazy. There is no reason I can think of as to why you shouldn’t be allowed to do what you want. You’re an adult, right?” Spike wondered.

“Uh, I was 23 at home and I have no idea how old this body currently is. In the anime and manga Ranma was 16 at the start, but no one is sure how long the story takes and I’m almost positive this body is at least 20, so I think I still qualify as an adult? Maybe we should ask Twilight if she knows a way to identify someone’s age.” That was a good question. I hadn’t measured myself in any way, but I was pretty sure my female form was taller than my manga counterpart and going off the mirror I had found in the bathroom my proportions were ever so slightly different. Of course, there was translating an artist’s drawing to an actual flesh and blood person to be considered, but the art of Ranma ½ was usually fairly realistic with Ranma himself.

“Yeah, we probably should,” Spike agreed, “But for now, I need to use the toilet and I think you were looking to take a shower.” With that the young drake walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I almost asked him how he knew I was there for a shower, but suspected he might have a superior sense of smell. In any event, Spike had lifted a huge weight off my shoulders and I was very grateful to him. Heck, I continue to be grateful to him. He’s a good friend.

Eventually Spike finished his business and left after promising to tell Twilight to come see me sooner rather than later. Now it was time for the harrowing experience of undressing for the first time. Not wanting to agonize over it, I just slipped off my pants, shirt, and shoes. I already knew there were no undergarments, but I wondered why there wasn’t even a pair of boxers. It was unimportant at the moment. I dumped the clothes into the washer and turned it on and walked into the bathroom.

Walking without clothes was both better and worse than being clothed. On the one hand, the fabric was no longer setting me off by rubbing against my new chest. On the other, they were jiggling unconstrained and that was extremely distracting in its own way. I know people don’t tend to wake up one morning and suddenly have fairly sizable tits where there were none before, but I still had to wonder how women with bigger chests went about their daily lives. It was a skill I was going to have to learn. As much as the idea made me uncomfortable, I was going to have to at the very least talk to Fluttershy and Rarity about it. I could ask Pinkie too, purely for my own amusement, but getting a coherent answer out of her on such a subject might be asking too much.

It wasn’t that the other girls were flat except maybe Rainbow, but Fluttershy and Rarity were the ones I thought most likely to have actually useful tips and hopefully Rarity would be able to make me clothes that didn’t risk arousing me with every movement. I didn’t know if my level of sensitivity was normal and I was just overreacting because I was unused to it or I was particularly sensitive. Another thing I would have to figure out sooner or later.

That was a discussion for another time, however. For now it was time to do a bit of experimenting in the shower. First things first, I wanted to know exactly what temperature triggered the change from male to female. Well, I was in a shower, so I wouldn’t have the exact measurements, but that could come a little later. The results surprised me.

There was no single temperature that triggered the curse if the water was above or below it. There seemed to be a fairly sizable dead zone. If I was female, it took water temperature comparable to a hot shower to change to a male. If I was male, it took a temperature of about refrigerated water to become female. Admittedly, it had been a few years since I had read the manga or watched the anime, but I don’t recall the curse being anything other than a hair trigger. Of course, the story only covered very specific parts of lives of the Nerima Wrecking Crew, so it was certainly possible the change conditions were cherry picked for the sake of the story and/or the rule of funny. It was also possible that my version of the curse simply operated on different rules to the one of the manga. With the preliminary results providing more questions than answers, I decided to move on to examining my new bodies. Deciding to start with what I know, I turned up the water temperature until it triggered the change to male.

One thing that immediately became clear to me was that the change between male and female was not a shallow one. They seemed to be, for all intents and purposes, completely separate bodies. My female form had nearly flawless skin, but my male form had scars. A healed puncture wound on my left shoulder, the scarred remains of a gash on outside of my right thigh, and what were clearly claw marks across my abdomen the perfect size for house cats. However, there was one scar that shocked me: a thin, diagonal scar across my right breast. That was one of my scars.

I had been roughhousing with two of my younger brothers in our backyard. I had been 10 at the time and we were having a lot of fun. It was one of the last happy memories I had of my family. One of my brothers had shoved me and I fell to the ground. Under any other circumstances I would have tackled him back and we would have continued having fun. There was a sharp obsidian rock where I landed. It cut easily through my shirt and into my pectoral muscles. I wound up needing stitches for it and naturally it had scarred. Either this was the coincidence of all coincidences, or this really, truly was my own body given a different form and a new curse. This small confirmation made me happier than I care to admit.

Anyway, looking over my male body, it wasn’t hard to see Ranma was an excellent specimen of a young man in his prime. Well defined musculature, healthy looking hair, clear eyes, and after only a small bit of coaxing, a penis that was about 6 inches long and 3 ½ inches wide. So it was a little longer but with a little less girth than the average. I was absolutely fine with that.

Patting myself down and feeling firm muscle everywhere I touched was an exhilarating feeling. I had kept more or less in shape by biking around town, but there had always been a little bit of pudge around my stomach that I had never felt particularly motivated to knuckle down and get rid of. However, now that it was gone and I inhabited a body similar to a martial arts prodigy, well, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let this physique go!

Now for the final jump for my male form. I was going to take care of the erection I had invoked but hadn’t gone down. I noted that I was uncircumcised, whether because Ranma hadn’t been or because I hadn’t been was unclear. I carefully made sure my penis was clean before starting. I know some people like to lather up before masturbating, but I had always felt it was a waste to do so as I was perfectly capable of getting myself off without it. It didn’t help that the only moisturizer I did like to use was prohibitively expensive.

I wasn’t dumb enough to think that everything that had felt good in my old form would feel good in this one. I did expect at least some overlap, but I would need to do some investigating. I gently grasped the shaft closer to the tip than the base with one hand. The other hand went to my scrotum. I usually never bothered with my balls, since toying with them was almost never worth the effort, but again, new body new rules. They were noticeably more sensitive, but I still didn’t think they were worth the effort.

As I began stroking, I was pretty thankful I rarely used porn to jerk off. I usually preferred using my own imagination to construct fantasies and it wasn’t uncommon for me to get off while writing these fantasies down for later examination. That wasn’t even necessary here, because I was literally living a fantasy. As my arousal built, I started moving faster and faster. I played a bit with my foreskin and found it to my liking, but mostly grasped at my shaft at various points and rubbed. Not long after I started, I felt myself coming closer to the edge. I braced myself against the shower wall as I went past the point of no return and my knees went weak as I ejaculated.

That familiar feeling was, in a word, comforting. I could wax on about how having something stay roughly the same in a sea of change was good for me, but I won’t. Instead I discovered something very shocking entirely by accident. After I had ejaculated, I went to lower the water temperature so I could change. I did this without giving my arousal the chance to fully calm down, not giving it a second thought. I nearly screamed when the change hit. I certainly made a strange noise I’m not sure I can reproduce.

I had read that men and women experience arousal differently. In my experience as a man, arousal started in the penis, sending a heady feeling to the brain that encourages continuing the arousing act, reinforcing the feeling of arousal in the penis and the cycle continued until I pictured a crusty old politician in a Speedo, I jerked one off, or I simply tried to ignore it for a while.

Reading something and experiencing it firsthand are quite different. All my male arousal that was still hanging around was translated directly into female arousal and given a turbo charge. My core felt like it was on fire. I’m not sure how exactly to describe how my vagina felt other than hot and horribly empty. My breasts, most notably my nipples, felt sensitive enough that even the water of the shower was nearly pushing me over the edge and my nipples felt hard. What was going on in my head was the closest thing to what male arousal felt like, but even there I want to describe it like having a different flavor. Like comparing vanilla to strawberry ice cream, they were both ice cream yet both undeniably different.

The real problem was that I had zero idea on how to actually take care of myself outside of a few smut stories I had read that were unreliable at best. Still, I wasn’t in a position to be picky about what advice I took. I was so incredibly horny that I am absolutely sure that if someone, anyone, had poked their head in the door I would have instantly jumped them. I slid down to the floor of the tub and as slowly as I could tolerate I poked a single finger into my vagina and set my other hand searching for my clitoris. I’m not ashamed to admit I shrieked like an animal or maybe more like the damned. Completely new sensations overrode my conscious thoughts. This was like the first time I had jerked off as a guy but somehow so much worse! Or better, depending on your point of view.

I had once, foolishly imagined that putting a finger in a woman’s pussy was in some way comparable to putting a finger in your mouth. I was an idiot and would like to apologize to women everywhere for ever having that thought. My new pussy was soft and sensitive and moving around my finger and sensitive and did I mention sensitive? As for my clitoris, I’m pretty sure I only touched it through the hood but I don’t have the words to describe how intensely pleasurable it was.

I’m pretty sure I came immediately. I had no idea what a woman’s orgasm was like, but I spasmed, juice was now coating my hand, and I felt the arousal abate enough that I could string two thoughts together. I was still wildly aroused, but it wasn’t to an animalistic I-Need-To-Fuck-Something-NOW level anymore.

“Note to self: if I don’t want to spend the whole day as a quivering, horny mess, don’t transform while aroused. I wonder if it goes both ways or only from male to female?” As curious as I was, if it did go both ways then I might have flat out died if I tried it then and there given I was still as horny as a rabbit.

I certainly wasn’t leaving the bathroom until I had come down to a point where I could at least pretend I didn’t want to nail everything that moved. I absolutely did not trust my legs at the moment, but I also wasn’t a fan of the cold water pouring down on me as it did nothing to abate my need. So I slid myself around until I could reach the valve and make the water warm enough to be comfortable but not nearly warm enough to trigger the change.

Now that I was no longer in freak out mode, I did my best to ignore how much I wanted to stick my finger back in my snatch and went about feeling the rest of my body. There was certainly a lot of muscle on this form as well, but it was all covered by a delightful amount of feminine fat, just enough to look soft without actually being soft. Feeling the curvature of my waist down to my hips and into my butt was surprisingly erotic for me. I was and will continue to be a tits person, but I couldn’t deny my new body cut a fine figure in every regard, even if I would never say that out loud. I don’t quite have the ego Dash does.

Speaking of tits, I had expressly avoided mine. Now, I had looked into the matter when I was much younger, but cup sizes and things still didn’t make any sense to me. Beyond the general idea that A cups were mosquito bites and DD cups were pretty big, I was utterly clueless. So I had no idea where on the scale my new body landed. That was a conversation with Rarity I wasn’t sure I was looking forward to or not. All I knew was they looked pretty big on girl Ranma’s frame in the anime and manga and they looked even bigger from my new perspective. Deciding not to hesitate, I grabbed at my new boobs to see how it felt.

“Ow! Ow! Gently you idiot!” I berated myself. Turns out that just clawing at sensitive titflesh was a bad idea. If anyone asks, I’m going to blame that particular lapse in judgment on how horny I was. I tried again, this time just gently rubbing and kneading everywhere except my nipples and areole. It was quite pleasant. I don’t know if I was just already so aroused that more didn’t really register or if it was something else, but just calmly touching my breasts was somehow relaxing. It didn’t abate my lust, but it was relaxing none the less.

Eventually I decided it was time to move on to my areola and nipples. They were certainly sensitive and my nipples were proudly poking out. I knew what I had to do. I had to at least try it. I put my left nipple between my pointer finger and thumb. At first I flinched away due to how much feedback I got from that alone. I gathered my nerves and went for it.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I screamed and writhed around for a bit. I think I triggered my second orgasm. I was just thankful no one was around to hear me or if they had, they were merciful enough to leave me to my own devices. I decided then and there that I would not tweak my own nipples in the future. It was simply too much power for me to have over myself.

At this point I was feeling a little worn out and less horny. I wasn’t sure how long I had spent in the shower. I would have very much liked to continue my self exploration, but I had probably used up too much water as it was. So I quickly washed myself with soap and conditioner and shampoo because I can never remember which to use first, turned off the water, carefully dried myself off, and then realized I’d have to wait around naked while waiting for the dryer to dry my clothes.

I was a guest, so I wasn’t going to make a mess on the laundry room floor, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been very tempted.

I hope this wasn't too painful to read. Obviously, I'm a guy and have only ever been a guy. However, even in TG porn and hentai, they almost always skate over how males and females experience arousal differently. So I wanted to pay special attention to that point.

For any ladies reading this, could you tell me if this was way off course? I know I portrayed Ranma as perhaps unrealistically sensitive, but I think it's balanced out by the fact that she/he was previously a guy and was utterly unprepared for any female sensations. Thus we don't get a very good idea of how sensitive Ranma actually is. Still, I want the smut aspect to have at least some grounding in reality. Reality in a story about an aquatransexual martial artist in an anthro pretty pony land... *cries in self-hatred*. But seriously, feedback is super appreciated in this.

Next chapter we have Ranma's first interview with Twilight and discovering his/her new age. And before any of you wig out, he/she is over 18. I would slice off my own hands and never write again before writing pedo stuff, even as crack and even if it didn't go against the site's TOS.

Also, Spike is still best dragon bro.

I'm going to have to try and research bra sizes and shit again...yay.

I almost forgot, don't submit this story to the Displaced group. Apparently any lowlife can place any story in any group. So I had to bother the poor moderators of that group to get this story removed because I don't intend to follow their rules and didn't want to leech off the "Law Abiding Citizens" of that group.