AN: LAST WARNING: This story contains gratuitous drug use and other such fun things, along with a lot of bad language, a very perverted Mr. Hibiki and some explicit sexual content. I don't know what possessed me to write this silliness, besides needing a good giggle-release over this blegh weekend; but my friend really liked it, so I built up the confidence to post it here. *_* I KNOW ITS RIDICULOUS. DONT JUDGE ME FOR WRITING IT AND I WONT JUDGE YOU FOR READING IT, OKAY? I might consider writing more to this if anyone takes an interest, but otherwise, I'll probably just be keeping it a shameless little one-shot ^^"

TRAPPED!...

Frantically, Ryoga shook the doorknob and pushed and pulled, and when that didn't work, he kicked the door, punched it, threw the entirety of his weight against it; the damned thing didn't even crack.

"...Unreal," he muttered in awe and shook the knob one last, very desperate time. Every exit in the house was sealed off in the same seemingly-mystical way, and the rain outside was coming down so hard that they couldn't see a thing through the windows.

Ranma had given up on escape nearly an hour ago. He'd tried everything he could think of, but hey, if they were trapped, they were trapped - at least there was food here, and TV, and in fact, quite literally every comfort of home. He could think of worst places to have to await rescue.

"Will you quit it already?" said Ranma as he came back down the stairs. "You ain't gettin' out. Just relax."

Ryoga ignored him, put some distance between himself and the door and went running at it. He felt his shoulder crack as he slammed into his immovable target. He slid to the floor and groaned in pain.

Ranma shook his head. "See?"

"You couldn't make your own exit anywhere?"

"Nope. The whole place is like this."

Ryoga ran his palms over his forehead and through his hair in madenned frustration. "This is insane," he said.

"Eh," Ranma shrugged. "I've seen weirder stuff."

"I don't wanna be trapped in here with you!"

Ranma scoffed. "You think I asked to be trapped with you? Things happen, deal with it. Someone'll find us. That's pretty much guaranteed."

The young Soatome stood there frowning as the other boy got back up and began hopelessly beating on the doors and walls some more. "Relax," Ranma insisted. "What good would you be out there, anyway? Two steps outside and I might as well just toss you in the petting zoo. Really, chill out - we're fine."

With that, he turned and left Ryoga to sulk. He headed toward the bathroom, but something along the way caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. Happosai's door had been left slightly ajar; Ranma's interest was piqued. Happosai's quarters, which happened to be located in the biggest room in the house, was one of the few places kept almost perpetually off-limits. Ranma had to wonder what it looked like in there - he had this mental image of what might be described as a rolling landscape of women's knickers. Not that he wanted to see that kind of thing, but he didn't get many opportunities to explore the Tendo house with no one else around. He figured he may as well take a peek while he had the chance. He stuck his head in the door and flipped the light switch on.

In actuality, the floor was surprisingly bare. A few booze bottles lying around, but nothing too out of order. It smelled nice, too - like lemons. With a small, pleasantly surprised laugh, Ranma took a step inside the room and looked around. There were some big, bulky looking sacks of he-could-only-guess-what sitting on the bed, but Ranma didn't even give those any thought when he saw what was sitting atop the nightstand. His jaw dropped open in shock.

"Oh, I fucking love you, Happosai," Ryoga heard Ranma's voice carry through the house. "You dirty fucking old man. I love you."

"Did you find a way out?" Ryoga called back, scrambling toward the source of Ranma's voice.

"Better," said Ranma with a dumb grin on his face when Ryoga appeared in the door way. The pig-tailed martial artist was holding several clear pouches that looked to be filled with dark green plant matter, with still more bags piled atop the nightstand beside him. Ryoga's expression went flat; he blinked at Ranma and turned right back around. Seconds later, Ranma heard the thumps and thuds of yet more failed escape attempts.

"Oh, c'mon," the pigtailed boy said as he left Happosai's room with a few bundles cradled lovingly in one arm. "I could really use a smoke right now. And if you ask me, so could you."

"You'll forgive me for wanting to keep my mind sharp," Ryoga snapped sourly. Ranma shrugged a shoulder and veered off for the sitting room.

"Suit yourself," he said. "We could be here for a while."

Ranma crouched down in front of the couch and began breaking up the sticky green bulbs on the coffee table. Not very long after, Ryoga reappeared in his peripheal; the boy collapsed into a seat and let his head fall back with a growled sigh.

"Poor P-chan," Ranma teased. "This'll make you feel better."

Ryoga's words were stiff and rude. "No, Thanks," he said.

Ranma rolled his eyes. "I had no idea you were such a choir boy. Look, you need *something* to calm you down." He got up to retrieve his school bag from nearby, fumbled through it, and pulled out a small, thin cardboard container. From this he pulled a few blunt wraps and laid them out on the table.

Ryoga straightened up and narrowed his eyes incredulously. "Why do you have those?"

Ranma spared a glance up at him, but he didn't say anything. Minutes later, he was sparking the end of what was, without a doubt, the fattest blunt he had ever rolled, and proceeded to - despite multiple proposals - enjoy it by himself.

He would remember later that around this time, Ryoga started complaining and nagging him about something or another, but Ranma couldn't find the focus to pay any attention to what he was saying. It was like his mind warped into another reality. It wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced just from smoking before - head highs, body highs, that lovely floating-feeling, these were all old news to him, but this was different. For what seemed like ages, it was as though the room itself was dancing - not spinning, which wouuld suggest some nausea or sickness about the ordeal, but dancing; wild motion that was nonetheless pleasant and soothing like a dream. All too soon, the sensation settled and he returned to reality.

"Are you even listening?" Ryoga was saying now. Ranma's eyes cut to him and he shook his head.

"No," he said, breaking into a laugh. "I'm kind of not. Holy shit, this stuff is really good."

Ryoga's brow curled into a scowl. "Do you know what that can do to your lungs?"

"Do you know what that can do to your lungs?" Ranma repeated in a mocking tone and rolled his eyes. "You're worse than Akane. Don't knock it til you've tried it."

"I don't need to try something like that to know that it's -"

"Ryoga," Ranma interrupted, lifting himself up onto the couch. He leaned forward and stared the other boy in the eye. "I don't know if you realize this, but you're faced with a choice right now," he said, his eyelids becoming heavy as drowsiness set in. "We can get in this moral argument for however-long-we're-STUCK-here-together, or, you can hit this thing and stop pissing me off."

Ryoga went quiet and stared uncertainly at him. "...And those are the only choices?"

Ranma snorted and shook his head. "I'm just joking," he said. "I'm not gonna make you do something you don't want to and all, but all I'm saying is, you know, it'd chill you out... and you're a little high-strung right now."

Ryoga drew in a sharp sigh and sat with his arms crossed, volatile emotion contorting his features. Who could blame him for being "high-strung" right now? He felt a pang of envy at the other boy's optimism, and as the thick aroma of smoke met his nostrils, reluctant eyes dragged to the fiery orange tip of the blunt in Ranma's hand.

[[[[two hours later]]]]

The two boys sat on either end of the couch, bent over and out of breath from laughter. They were surrounded by the remnants of just about everything the Tendo's had been keeping in the fridge.

"So then, basically," Ranma said when he found the composure for more words, "She comes to Nerima looking for me, and I end up accidently 'defeating' her or something - while I'm a guy, this time around, which, because of some Chinese-Amazon law, means I hafta marry her."

Ryoga wheezed; a torrent of smoke escaped him as he broke into a chuckle and passed the blunt in his hand to Ranma, saying, "And suddenly she's just in love with you? What the fuck?"

"Yes! See what I mean?" Ranma shook his head. "You think I'm a bastard, but it's not my fault. All this crazy shit just keeps happening to me."

"You know what? I don't think you're a bastard for that," Ryoga said, settling into the couch and tilting his head at the other boy. "No... I think you're a bastard because you can't appreciate it. You know what most guys would give to have gorgeous women just falling into their laps?"

"Oh, whatever," Ranma waved a hand, took a long drag and said while he held the warm smoke in his lungs, "See, if I looked at it that way, then I would be a pervert. Probably why it happens to me." He exhaled. "Fate's cruel."

"God, it is." Ryoga squeezed his eyes shut. They felt very dry.

Ranma looked at the blunt in his hand, so small now that he could just barely hold it with two fingers and avoid its flame. He snuffed it out and discarded it, his high renewed for the third time that night.

Ryoga sank into the couch and stared up at the ceiling, which he could almost swear was a swirl of movement. "Wow," he muttered; he could feel his whole body tingling.

"Yeah..." Ranma agreed. "Let me know when you're ready for another one."

For a long time after that, the two boys shared a mutually distracted silence. Ryoga would be the one to break it, his words soft and slow.

"Hey, Ranma..." he said.

Ranma rolled his head over in Ryoga's general direction.

"Can you do that thing..." he asked, "...where you turn into a girl?"

Ranma couldn't say what he found funnier at the time: the way Ryoga had asked the question, or the content of the request itself. He burst into a sudden fit of hysterical laughter.

"Why would you ask me that?" he spat, tearfully amused, then repeated the question in a more composed tone of voice. "Why would you ask me to do that?"

Ryoga was sinking even deeper into the couch, his face covered up save for the crack of a grin. He bounced with breathless laughter at Ranma's reaction, palm over his eyes.

"No, no no," Ranma said, pointing at the boy and playfully reproaching, "You know what? There's not even a reason you can give me right now that would make it okay for you to ask me to do that," he said, gasping to contain the laughter. "You are such a sick bastard. I say it all the time and no one believes me, but if anyone could just see you right now..."

Ryoga slouched and put his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying," he said, "The beautiful women that are all over you? Okay, yeah, pretty nuts. But you know what's even crazier than that? You fell in THE best cursed spring you possibly could have. Hands down!"

"Oh, come on..."

"No, really. Now when you get splashed, not only can you still function, but you turn into one of the hottest chicks I have ever seen."

Ranma looked at him in silence, the corners of his mouth quirking while he decided whether he wanted to laugh or throw up. "Ew," he said. "And you fell in the most fitting spring, hands down. Hands down."

Ryoga gave him a softly indignant and distant look, one that told Ranma, if anything, the he was very definitely very stoned. "It's not you, right, so what's your problem?" he asked, "They're not really your tits, right? So why should it bother you if I like looking at them?"

Ranma was struck with the sudden urge to slap him. "Seriously? It doesn't, freak; but it does start to bother me if you wanna get off on them," he said.

Ryoga laughed, shook his head and spoke with a lop-sided smirk. "Forget I said anything."

"No, hold on - just what the hell did you want?"

"Just forget it..."

Ranma narrowed his eyes at him and began shaking his head incredulously. "No... nu-uh... you stay right there. You stay right there, motherfucker," he said, laughing and stumbling over his own feet as he got up and left the room. "You want a peep show, is that it? I'll give you a god damn peep show."

Ryoga stared at the doorway until Ranma returned, a few inches shorter and several bra sizes larger. She rounded the coffee table and stood in front of him, busily unbuttoning her shirt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ryoga laughed, putting a hand up to block her from view and turning his head away.

"What? This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Ranma said, folding her shoulders back and letting her shirt slide off. "So take a good look."

Ryoga risked a peek and slowly lowered his arm, eyes becoming glued to her exposed chest. "Umn," he laughed, not knowing what to say and fully expecting to have something heavy thrown at him any moment now.

Ranma scrunched up her nose at him. "Yeah, there ya go. Take a real good look," she said. Ryoga, in an almost dream-like state, drank in the sight of her.

"And you just remember that it's me under here," Ranma went on, "And I'm gonna break your neck for looking later. That get you off, weirdo? You wanna see my pussy, too?" She gave her pants a push; they fell loose and she kicked them away. "How 'bout I just finger my hole for you, how 'bout that?"

Ranma turned around, bent over and gave him a good view of what he wasn't getting. She reached one arm under herself and carressed that warm, inviting slit. "This is what you want, right, baby?" she asked seductively, feigning sweetness.

Ryoga might've pieced together some semblence of a come-back, but the rush of blood leaving his head in favor of his loins made thinking into an even more difficult task than it previously was. Ranma straightened up and turned back around, her tone and mannerism snapping back to normal. "Filthy pig," she said as she stood nude in front of him. "You really think it's better to look like this? Please. All it means is, not only do I hafta deal with the psycho fiances, but horndog guys like you, too."

Jesus, Ryoga thought in a daze, that was *hot*. He'd gone hard as steel; he shifted, hoping his loose pants would hide his shame. He was awkwardly silent for a long time before speaking again. "...Yeah," he said, "But, that's got to be a small price to pay, right?"

Ranma's features scrunched up into a frown. "A small price to pay for what? What do you think the upside is, exactly?"

"Well, I, I mean..." Ryoga stuttered and shrugged a shoulder, rousing a laugh out of her. His gaze centered around her upper body, making sparing trips upward to meet her eyes. He gestured a hand at her and said, "Just look at you. That's the upside."

Something about his statement filled Ranma with an unexpected warmth. She shook the feeling off and crossed her arms, sauntering back over to the couch without bothering to retrieve her clothes. She didn't get enough chances to walk around in the buff in this body. Taking a shot at Ryoga's more than obvious ogling, she said, "Yeah, well - take a picture, why don't ya?" and laughed when the boy instinctively leaned away when she plopped down beside him.

"It actually ain't all that bad," she admitted. "I guess. But everyone else is weird about it, so it makes me weird about it, too. I just wanna be normal, you know?"

Ryoga nodded slowly. He could certainly sympathize, but he was not at all in the right mind to carry on a conversation. Ranma happened to glance down and notice the bulge he'd hoped she wouldn't.

Ranma scoffed. "Seriously? You are so easy," she commented.

"Well, excuse me," Rygoa said, "Go finger yourself in the mirror and tell me you wouldn't be hard after that. ...You are seriously... really hot." It seemed weird to say that to her, almost as weird as it seemed to just openly admire her looks and curves like he was, but it was just like she said - it was only Ranma under there, after all. So long as he just kept reminding himself, it's Ranma, then he felt perfectly comfortable.

"You should let me touch them," he jibed - only half jokingly - and Ranma instantly knew what he was talking about.

"Dude, like, you have no idea - go ahead, they're like god damn pillows, I'm telling you," Ranma said, moving to give him access. She reached up to squeeze one of her own breasts and commented, "Straight week after this happened, this was all I did. No lie. Gets old after a while, though."

Ryoga could hardly believe that had worked. In his stupor, he swallowed, then cautiously reached a hand out to touch and squeeze. "Really?"

"No. Are you crazy? Fucking feel that. Of course not."

Her hand came over his as he cupped her breast; the breath caught in Ryoga's throat. Over and over, he kept telling himself, it's Ranma, but each time he remembered, less of him cared. He began to run his thumb in little circles over her nipple, the entirety of his focus honing in on how long it took the velvety pink flesh to turn from soft to stiff.

Ranma's vision clouded over as Ryoga began to play with her. She thought for a second that she might pass out, but once she grew use to the tickle of nerves, the haziness settled into distress. Okay, you're making this a little weird, she wanted to say, but for some reason, the words didn't come out.

Ryoga's mouth was watering. How cruel fate truly was, to have put his mortal enemy inside of such delicious anatomy. He fondled her, carressed her; his thoughts came in waves, reassessing the situation each time he drifted into reality and rememebered what he was doing. Here he was in a big empty house, with no place else to go, sitting next to a pretty naked girl. His cock ached, and he had to ask himself why he was resisting the boiling urges that grew in him. It hurt to resist, physically and mentally. It felt good to touch. To taste.

"Holy shit," Ranma gasped as Ryoga moved to take her nipple in his mouth. "O-okay, stop. STOP. That's enough," she said, shivering as she felt the nibble of his teeth and flick of his tongue.

It's Ranma, Ryoga heard ring through his head, but honestly, who cared about that anymore? He didn't. He'd have given anything just to fuck that gorgeous body, let Ranma have anything she wanted from him, let her hold his depravity over his head for the rest of their lives if she wanted, he didn't care. There wasn't enough blood in his brain to care.

"Stop," Ranma said again, and Ryoga obeyed, only to press up against her as he breathed in the curve of her neck. "Can I touch your pussy, too?" he asked quick and feverishly, his words hot on her skin.

"W-whoa," Ranma whimpered, leaning far to the opposite side, but Ryoga stuck to her. The boy ended up practically on top of her. "Dude...! Stop it..."

Ah, the old conundrum: her words said no, her eyes spelled horror, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Something possessed her to open her legs, and within seconds she was made to realize it. Ryoga tried to wait for an answer - he really did - but the sight of her thighs spreading far apart was such an open invitation, he could hardly help himself. His palm closed over her pussy, fingers exploring the warm, slick opening.

"Nmn... you're really wet," Ryoga said in her ear. He began to massage her, fingertips teasing at her entrance.

"Shit, Ryoga..." Ranma gasped, "What the fuck, man...?"

Ryoga pushed two fingers into her, heart pounding in his ears. They slid in with ease and he smirked with heavy lidded eyes at the way Ranma writhed around them.

"Ah!" Ranma clenched her teeth. "Okay, no, really," she decided, "That's too much. Take them out. Take them out."

Ryoga did as he was told, then shoved them back in again, and again, quickening his pace until Ranma was groaning with his movement.

"Ugghhn... ughnn.. you... FUCKER! Mmmn!" Ranma growled, her head falling back. She probably could've pushed him off, or hit him, or yelled at him, or done *something*, but the more Ryoga continued on with what he was doing, the less she wanted to. She never would've anticipated anything Ryoga did to her feeling this good, but damn, she was quickly becoming delirious. She rose her waist up as he pounded his fingers into her, the friction and stimulation shaking her to her core.

Ryoga stared at her with ravenous eyes. He was painfully hard now; he shifted, feeling the dampness of precum in his pants. He situated himself over Ranma, keeping his fingers inside of her. When his thumb found its way over her clit, she began to fuss and whimper in a way that drove him right over the edge. He stopped and yanked his pants down enough to release his throbbing cock; then he was still, finding sense enough in his mindless frenzy to ask, "Do you want me to stop...?"

Ranma stared up at him, her breathing heavy. Her gaze fell from his eyes to his dick and fluttered back up to his eyes again. She glared at him. "Now you fucking ask that?" she spat, "You wanna fuck me, then fuck me, asshole; make me cum. God, I wanna get off so bad."

Permission granted, Ryoga wasted no time sliding the length of his cock into her. "Aghh! Holy fuck, Ranma..." he moaned as she closed hot and tight around him. "I don't know if I can - ..." he trailed off, fighting to keep himself from exploding into her right then and there. Jagged breaths hissed through his teeth. He began slowly, gently sliding in and out of her.

"Fuck is this?" Ranma teased impatiently, "You better go faster than that, faggot."

Ryoga huffed a breath, but began to speed up nonetheless. "Name calling, huh?" he breathed back. "I wouldn't press your luck, cock whore..."

Ranma tilted her head in surprise. Cock whore, huh? She hadn't expected that one out of him. The sheer astonishment of it made her laugh, a sound which was lost amidst her whimpers as Ryoga began pounding mercilessly into her. His knees sank into the cushions, his back arched; he thrusted forward again and again and again, until his legs cramped and his body ached. God damn, he was strong - by the end of it, he had her flat-out screaming in a mixture of pleasure and pain, writhing and thrashing against him. Her mind blanked as she came, and Ryoga wasn't far behind.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Ryoga shouted as he finished; Ranma wasn't sure she'd ever heard so many expletives come out of his mouth at once. Even once he stopped moving, she could feel his cock's final twitches as he collapsed onto her; his clothes were practically soaked with sweat.

Neither of them said anything once it was through. In fact, they both seemed more than happy to fall asleep just as they were, a sweaty heap atop the couch.

[end ... ! ?]

RAEDE