I have toned down this re-posted story to hopefully fit the M rating, and have posted the uncensored version at Archive of Our Own (AO3).

The original author of this chapter was N F R. It was posted at Anime Addventures for anyone who pleased to add to. The opening excerpt is mostly original, but I've rewritten the rest of the chapter using N F R's plot.

I do not own anything written by Rumiko Takahashi.


Accurate information on Succubae and Incubae is very rare. They are rarely observed directly, and not only can the effects of their actions be mistaken for normal human deviations, but human sexual problems are blamed on them when they aren't even around.

Succubae are nature spirits, without solid form. Unless the succubus makes an effort, they are invisible to the naked eye. They can pass through solid matter without difficulty, only stopped by living beings, which makes holding one for examination problematical. It is also the likely reason that Merlin, the son of an incubus, was imprisoned within a living oak tree.

Succubae are excellent mimics, able to look and sound like whomever they want. It has been suggested that there aren't two separate genders, incubae and succubae, but one gender that can choose how they wish to appear. Certainly it is possible for them to appear as the opposite gender, but no hard proof as to the number of genders has arisen.

They feed off of the sexual energy given off by others, and need it not only to survive, but to grow in power. It is unclear which abilities are inherent in the most starved succubus, and which are the results of empowerment by feeding.

The feeding does not have to be injurious to the health of the victim, and can, apparently, be performed from a distance; although, whether for reasons of efficiency or personal preference, direct contact is the norm.

Succubae have an influence on dreams in their vicinity, although, once again, we do not know how much of it is under their conscious control. They can appear within dreams and control them, introducing ideas and concepts that were unknown, and likely unimaginable, to the dreamer.

As nature spirits they are, as a group, neither good nor evil, although individuals can be. To religious groups that regard sex as sinful they are, of course, regarded as unremittingly evil hell-spawn requiring extermination. No affiliation with any outer-planar group has been recorded.

Nothing is known about how they reproduce.

Excerpt from Every Magical Girl's Guide to Sexual Predators


Floating half out of the pool of glowing water, Ranma stared down at the twin mounds of flesh now protruding from her bare chest. They couldn't ... couldn't be ... Trembling, her hands lifted (slimmer, more delicate than they had been only moments before) to grasp the two large breasts, and she gasped at the feel of her fingers on soft skin. One hand flashed down between her legs, to find ... nothing. No, not nothing, and she twitched as her hand ran along the gash she found, but it certainly wasn't the appendage she'd been hoping for. She was a girl. He fallen into the pool, and turned into a girl. And that meant that the panda that had knocked him into the pool — using one of his father's favorite moves — was ...

She lifted her eyes from their horrified lock on her breasts and looked around — there was the black-and-white-furred mass of the panda that had kicked him off the bamboo pole and into the pool. Her father.

With a high-pitched shriek, she flashed from the pool toward her target, knocking him backward off his feet. Before he had a chance to recover, one foot smashed up between his legs, and the panda gave out a high-pitched squeal of his own as he curled up where he lay on the ground. Not giving her father a chance to recover, Ranma kept kicking and punching through his feeble resistance from where she floated over him, until she finally realized her father was no longer even trying to protect himself.

Still shaking with anger, she forced herself to back off, fighting for control. After two years of trying to force Ranma into his own perverted mold of manhood, he pulls this stunt! But he didn't intend this. He's a panda, now — at least I'm still human, he isn't even that!

Finally getting herself under control, she turned to the Guide, to find him looking down at the unconscious panda. Ranma's own eyes widened at the sight of the Chinese man. Before, he had been dressed in an old Red Army uniform. Perhaps he still was, but now that uniform was completely see-through, almost invisible, the man's less than fit body on full display and seeming to glow. Ranma glanced around, only now registering the sudden bizarre view of glowing pools of water, the bluff apparently formed of brownish, murky water shot through with roots, trees and grass lit up from the inside, the translucent shape of the Guide's hut.

She started to shake again, but this time it wasn't anger. "How do I change back?!" she demanded, and clapped her hands over her mouth in shock at the high, shrill pitch of her voice.

"Only temporary cure," the Guide replied in his broken Japanese. "Hot water, I go get. Wait here."

He ducked into his hut, and emerged a moment later with a steaming kettle. "Young customer, where are you?"

"I'm right in front of you. Can't you see me?" Ranma demanded.

"You is invisible when cursed. You fall in spring of drowned spirit girl. It take holy man to figure out, but he no know what kind. May be just ghost. I pour water, you get under."

The Guide lifted the kettle and tipped it, and Ranma stuck her head under the pouring water, yelping a bit from the steaming heat, and at the way he fell to his knees as he shifted into his human male form. He quickly looked around, and to his relief the world was back to normal ... and he was naked.

As the boy grabbed his pack and pulled out his extra gi, the Guide refilled the kettle and put it on the stove to reheat. "Hot water make you normal, but cold water make you cursed again," he explained as he waited.

"How do I cure this for good?" Ranma asked as he got dressed and tied the raven hair falling past his shoulders back into a ponytail.

"There is no cure. Curses mix, so spring of drowned man no help. When older customer wakes, I take you to Amazon village. Elders may know more about curse. Let me get clothes from pool."

The Guide grabbed a hooked pole leaning against the hut. As he carefully fished in the pool Ranma had fallen into, the raven-haired boy stared down at the unconscious panda, thinking of all the crap his father had put him through over the years. Turning into a panda wasn't enough. His father deserved ... something more.

Looking up when the Guide returned, carefully holding the bucket he'd put the soaked clothes in well away from his body, the teenager said, "You said the curses mix. Is there a pool of drowned woman here?"

/oOo\

Ranma was in hell. Things had been all right for awhile, after his father woke up. He'd been hungry and there'd been little they could do about it, they had had only a little food left in their packs and the Guide hadn't had much more to share, but that was nothing new on this neverending training journey. And he'd enjoyed poking fun at his father as they hiked, pointing out that with his father's cursed form, the outside now reflected the inside (and chortling to himself about the prank he and the Guide had played, and wondering how long it would take the Panda to figure it out).

But then had come the sudden rain shower, and Ranma had gotten another unpleasant surprise, as her pack and clothes dropped through her suddenly intangible body — she hadn't lost her clothes in the pool because of her size change, after all. Sure, that meant that the Panda had to carry both packs, but Ranma was still finding it almost impossible to keep up.

The problem wasn't the speed her father and the Guide were walking, it was that this new smaller, naked, red-haired (and hadn't that been a shock, when she'd caught sight of red locks floating in the corner of her eye), female form didn't have any traction! When she tried to walk, her feet would just slip right through the dirt and rocks of the trail they were following, as if it really was the brown-murky water it now looked like. She'd quickly found that she could touch anything that glowed with its own inner light, and was now pulling herself along from branch to branch through the trees lining the path, but she was barely keeping up with even the ambling gait the Panda was keeping. Only the fact she that was also weightless was allowing her to keep up at all.

Wait, weightless. She was weightless! If she didn't have weight, how had she given the Panda his beatdown after he knocked him into the pool? For that matter, how had she gotten to him at all? She certainly hadn't pulled herself from bamboo pole to bamboo pole — could she even touch them? Thinking back, she remembered surfacing in the pool, finding she had breasts, realizing her father was the panda that had knocked him into the pool, looked around until she found him, and ... and she'd flown. She'd flown!

Okay, Ranma, don't get all excited just yet. Looking around, the newly-minted nature spirit found that the Panda and the Guide had moved ahead while she'd stopped to think. Okay, this could be fun... Staring at the two translucent backpacks on her father's furred back, she focused, aimed, and willed ... and found herself flashing up the path, barely getting her fists in front of her before they smacked into the Panda's back right through the backpacks.

As Genma jerked at the impact, Ranma rode her momentum to flip up and over her father's head, spinning through the open air over the trail. "I can fly!" she caroled. "I can —" Shut up, before Pop figures out I'm a girl. He rags on me enough already, since I won't jump in bed with every girl he shoves at me — or shoves me at — no need ta make it worse.

Ignoring her father's shout about his disrespectful son, Ranma started experimenting, trying out how maneuverable she was, how fast, and quickly found it to be a mixed bag. Being able to change directions in the middle of mid-'leap' was great, and so was being able to fly up well above head height, to avoid attacks from the ground. On the other hand, her maximum speed sucked, and her turn radius wasn't as sharp as he was able to do by ping-ponging — and while she ought to be able to ping-pong with trees, it wouldn't work with walls or ceilings, she'd just go right through them.

Oh, and flying into a tree because she wasn't paying attention to where she was going hurt (though oddly enough, she didn't get the star-spangled vision and dizziness that typically came with solid hits to the head). At least she'd had enough self control to deepen her tone, make it sound more like her male voice, when she'd cursed the result.

Her euphoria over her new mode of transport knocked out of her for the moment by the collision, she settled down to exploring her new nature, between the occasional jab at her pop of how nice it was to not have to carry anything for a change (continuing to keep her voice as much like her normal male one as possible). As with the bluff around the pools, she could stare down into the trail, looking through the packed dirt like murky water, follow the twisty path of tree roots until they eventually sank out of sight. Holding her breath and sticking her head and then upper body down into the path, her sight deepened, the distance she was able to see depended on how deep she was, not how deep under the surface she went — good, she could travel underground, and so long as she didn't go so deep she could no longer see the surface she wouldn't get lost. A glorious smile spread across her face as she thought of diving underground, coming up at opponents underneath like a fish breaching the surface of a lake after a fly...

But that would only work for nonliving surfaces, dirt, concrete, stone; what about grass? As the small party passed through a meadow, she looked where long grass bordered the trail. The roots didn't go very deep, but ... nope, when she dove into the trail and flew under the grass she could see the tangle of roots from underneath, glowing the same as all above-ground life did, but not through those roots to the surface. But those roots didn't go very deep ... and yes, when she put a finger against the roots and tried to fly up, her finger pushed the grass up and out of the way, and when she put her eye to the hole she could see a patch of sky. Good — not only did she have a way of getting a look up where she was going, if she really pushed she'd probably be able to burst through.

Flying through the earth back to the path and up again into the open air, she took a deep breath and looked around. Okay, next step — seeing how well I can handle things, maybe come up with makeshift weapons. As the three came to the edge of the meadow and were once again surrounded by forest, Ranma examined the trees as they passed. The leaves were glowing, but so were the trunks and branches. Wait, no, only most of the branches, she could barely see several that were obviously dead, bark peeling off in strips, both bark and bare wood as see-through as the backpacks the Panda was carrying. And when she tried to grab them, just as intangible. Okay, so it isn't just stuff that's never been alive I can't touch, it's stuff that used ta be alive. Wonder how long it takes? Pulling a glowing leaf off a passing branch was easy enough, but the glow started to fade immediately and within a few minutes it completely disappeared and dropped through her fingers to drift down to the ground. Okay, looks like makeshift weapons are out, let's see how I do without anything. Nobody bein' able ta see me will be a big help — I certainly took Pop down easy enough — but what if I run inta somebody that can see me?

Thinking back to the beatdown she'd given the Panda at the edge of the pools turned out to be useless — she'd been so furious that the first clear memory she had after realizing what the firm, sensitive mounds on her chest meant and finding her father was floating over his unconscious body. But she'd been right about one thing, ping-ponging from tree to tree worked as well with her new body as it did with her old one, just as she'd hoped, even if she had to stick to horizontal bouncing — as she'd learned the hard way when she'd hit a branch not strong enough to stop her momentum on an uptick and found herself headed feet-first for the sun when her hurtling body simply shoved it aside. And the time what she'd thought from a brief glance was a patch of moss turned out to be rough dirt in shade ... she shuddered as she remembered the panic that had flashed through her when she'd found herself so deep underground that the surface above her had vanished in the murky brown of earth. Fortunately, nothing turned her around before she was able to bring herself to a stop and reverse course, but the thought of being lost underground as her air ran out, never to again see the sun or another human being ... Enough a' that, let's try out some katas.

The redhaired spirit quickly found herself really wishing she could remember how she'd delivered her father's beating, because it quickly became apparent that practically everything she'd learned was worthless. Like walking, it required traction — even the soft arts, throws and redirects, required firm contact with the ground. Sure, dodges still worked fine, better than ever. And she figured that she could use moves that would normally push an attacker's blow out of line to now let the attack push her out of the way. But anything intended to knock an opponent off balance was worthless without something living to brace herself against (though the new angles available with flight opened new possibilities in the right circumstances), and she strongly suspected that her new form wasn't as strong as her normal one.

Then the trio walked out of the forest into the open sunlight of a very wide open area surrounding a village, and a whole new world opened itself up to Ranma's wide eyes.

/\

Genma was in hell. First, there was the discomfort of his new form — or rather, her new form. Turning into a panda wasn't so bad — the massive form would be a damage sponge beyond even his normal human form, it was even stronger, and the lack of human vocal cords wasn't much of a problem thanks to his ability to create signs (a technique learned from a deservedly obscure clan of ninjas, as a soundless method of communication). True, the lack of opposable thumbs was a pit of a hassle, but the real problem with her new body, as she'd learned the first time she'd felt the need to relieve herself, was that it was female! The thought of his humiliation if knowledge of that fact became widespread (especially to No-chan) was enough to make her shudder. At least Ranma hadn't seemed to notice, so she had a chance to keep it a secret.

Second, there was her physical discomfort. Sure, some of the discomfort was coming from the fact that by the time he'd recovered consciousness all the food was gone, and her body was complaining vociferously. And more was because of the aftereffects of the beating his son had given him. But Genma had been hungry before, and bruising — even extensive bruising or worse — were only to be expected in the life of a martial artist. No, this discomfort was because, for the first time since Ranma had grown enough to carry a decent pack, his father was carrying all their gear. This was even worse than it would have normally been, since Ranma had been carrying a disproportionate load for some time, for all sorts of 'reasons' from "it's endurance training" (actually a semi-valid excuse), to "you should be willing to do it for your father," "because that's how it worked out when I packed, now stick the breakfast dishes you cleaned in your pack and let's go," to even "because I said so." Though the effectiveness of that last had been decreasing, which led into the third cause of Genma's current pain.

Things had been going downhill for months. Years, really, if he was honest with himself (something he tried to avoid when possible) — ever since Ranma's disastrous fourteenth birthday, when he'd decided it was time to begin molding his son in the image of his wife's sexual ideal of manhood. For the first time his son had outright refused to follow his lead, but it hadn't been the last as Genma had tried again and again to push Ranma to prove his virility.

While that disobedience hadn't carried over into Ranma's training, the young teenager had been getting increasingly mouthy, disrespectful, and now the beating his newly-invisible son had inflicted on him truly had him worried. Not at the physical effects — as unpleasant as the massive bruising had, he had endured much worse under his perverted master — but because this beating hadn't been from one of the rare times his son had gotten the upper hand in a spar. No, it had been an outraged son inflicting punishment on his father, and that was unacceptable. Only it was going to have to be acceptable, because his son didn't need to beat on him when his father's actions made him angry, he just needed to leave, he was almost old enough that he could actually get by alone, and thanks to the curse there would be no way for Genma to find him, or even know immediately that he was gone.

Then Genma stepped out of the forest to find herself at the edge of a wide open space surrounding a village, the trail running between fields green with early crops, men moving along the rows.

"This Nyucheizu, village of Amazons," the Guide said. "If cure possible, they know. But be careful, they no respect men."

The Panda shrugged as they continued toward the village. Whether people (other than his son and wife) respected him had never been one of his major concerns. Except as a martial artist, of course, and there she didn't expect any problems — what backwater village that he had never heard of would have anyone that could match him, whoever ran it?

As they passed from the fields into the village proper, they found it mostly empty except for some children and an occasional (male) minder until they found themselves at the lip of a large hollow at the village's center. The bottom of the hollow held a large log suspended on ropes. On the log was a large, muscular, green-haired woman holding a long-handled spiked mace facing off against a teenaged girl with purple hair holding a chúi in each hand. From the lip of the hollow to the bottom, the sides were filled with women ... and a few men ... cheering on the contestants.

The Panda briefly examined the closest women, reluctantly impressed by what she was seeing. True, none of them could match him, but all the women were sleekly muscled, with the scars of warriors — weapon-users, then. Understandable this far from civilization and dangerous in groups if there wasn't any room to maneuver, but easily defeated once one took their weapons away from them.

Then Genma's nose twitched as a wonderful scent drifted across it, and her stomach rumbled ... food! And very good food, at that. Now where? Glancing around, she saw a table on the edge of the hollow, piled high — fruits, melons, pasta, breads, chicken, beef, venison. Backing up, she slipped around the edge of the cheering crowd to the table and dug in with both paws, the Guide's protests lost in her eagerness along with the fact that her son hadn't joined her — or for that matter, made a sound since entering the village. She wasn't sure of everything she was eating, but especially good was some kind of spiced bread and noodles swimming in a sauce she didn't recognize. But whatever it was, it was the finest noodles she'd ever eaten and not just because she was starving.

Suddenly, a blow smashed into her rump, and Genma whirled around only to take a splash of warm water in the face. As the middle-aged balding man blinked the water away to find the purple-haired girl with the chúi he'd seen earlier on the log glaring at him while the crowd that had been cheering her on (or her opponent) a moment earlier quickly circled them, the Guide said, "She say she think you man, if you with me. Why you eat her victory prize for become champion?"

"Victory feast, huh? Well, there's one fighter you haven't beaten yet, my son. If he wins, there's no problem, is there?"

"She say, what son?" the Guide translated for the glaring girl.

"What son? He's right ... right ... Ranma! Get over here!"

The women looked around expectantly ... nothing.

"Ranma! Stop playing around!"

Nothing.

The crowd started to mutter as the new champion barked out something at the Guide. "She say you lying thief who try get out of punishment. She say she challenge you," the Guide translated.

/\

Xian Pu was in hell. This was supposed to be one of the best days of her life, a memory that she'd cherish through the years and decades. And up to a few minutes ago, it had lived up to every expectation as she'd defeated competitor after competitor — some as young as she was, but others skilled warriors with years of experience. In the end, she'd proven herself the youngest champion in the history of the tribe, with a glowing future of honor and glory stretching out before her, as sure as the sun in the east, and — if she lived — a guaranteed seat on the Council.

And now a few minutes later, she was lying on the ground by the suspended log, her chúi scattered, staring up at the man — the man — that had defeated her. An ugly one, at that: old, balding, strong (as she'd just discovered) but portly. And one that was smirking at her!

The man lightly leaped down from the log (surprisingly so, for his bulk). #So, that takes care of that!# he boasted in the Japanese she'd learned from her great-grandmother, sounding loud in the total silence that had slammed down over the crowd at her defeat. Puffing out his chest, he glanced up at the table, loaded to the point that even his heroic efforts earlier hadn't measurably reduced the food she had been supposed to graciously share with the beaten competitors. #Would you like some of my food?#

With a sigh, the teenager pulled her aching body upright. Why couldn't he at least have been young and handsome? she thought bitterly. Straightening her slumping shoulders, she smoothed out her expression and stepped forward to complete the ruin her offended pride had made of her life. A hand on each cheek, she stood on tiptoes to kiss the stranger on the lips. "You I love," she murmured, finishing the ritual, then stepped back.

The silence held for a moment longer, then a shriek of outrage came from the front of the audience, the voice of her childhood friend turned constant annoyance. "He must die!" Mu Tse shouted. Her new husband turned, and dropped as swords and knives thunked into the suspended log in a line across where the older man had been standing a split second before. The stranger rolled under the log to the other side, narrowly escaping a handful of spears imbedding themselves where he had dropped. He rolled to his feet, grabbed the backpacks that he had left there when he'd mounted the log, and bounded through the wary and still-stunned crowd and was gone, yelling again for Ranma as he went. Perhaps there really was a boy?

Whether there is or not, he isn't here now, and it looks like I have a Husband Hunt to 'organize', she thought, thinking of the time to come she would spend nodding agreement to the elders' 'suggestions'. She tried to ignore the possible might-have-beens flashing through her mind as relief and disappointment warred within her. Things would have gone badly for Mu Tse if he'd succeeded in killing her new husband — much worse than she would wish for her old friend, however annoying he'd gotten since hitting puberty — but it would have simplified her suddenly complicated future enormously, and she had a great deal of work to get to, to repair her blunder, and she'd have to put it all on hold until she returned with her errant mate.

/\

Ranma was in heaven. In spite of his determination not to become a lying, cheating, thieving and — most important in this case — wenching waste of space like his father, Ranma was a normal boy, with all the teenage hormones that implied. Only at the moment she was a very abnormal girl. He hadn't really considered what her inability to see more than the faintest hint of clothing would mean when she got back to civilization, but now the reality was staring her in the face as she found herself floating over a crowd of women. They were cheering on a duel taking place on a suspended log, but for once Ranma wasn't interested in the fighting. She had other things on her mind, like more naked flesh than she'd ever seen in her life, all well-toned and fit, almost all female, and all unashamedly on display because none of the women knew they were naked, and try as she might she could not bring herself to look away.

Ranma had to keep herself from laughing as she remembered the locker room boasting that had gone on at the all-boys school he'd attended for a few months not too long ago, the loving details the other boys had dwelt on. Now that the reality was spread before her, the liars' complete lack of imagination was clear to see — breasts that were barely there; breasts high, round and firm; breasts so massive they must be a hindrance in a fight, interfering with balance and freedom of movement, and needing serious support from the foggy hints of clothing she could see. Funny how the only size the boys had mentioned were large ones, and they didn't mention the different shapes at all. He had thought at the time they were making everything up, and now she was sure of it.

The invisible redhaired girl drifted along above the audience, gazing at the view laid out before her, until she finally shook herself free of her dazed appreciation of the visual feast, tearing her eyes away. Enough, Ranma, time ta prove ya aren't a pervert like yer pop or the guys at school, she thought. Ya may not be able ta keep from seein' women naked, but that doesn't mean ya have ta dishonor them by takin' advantage of it. She glanced around at the area above the crowd. They were in a hollow, and just about every woman in the village had to be here, so if she got up into the village proper she'd be away from the nearly irresistible temptation the crowd couldn't help but offer her.

Flying up past the rim of the hollow, the nude girl sighed in relief as she found herself with not a naked girl in sight — almost. On the other side of a barely-visible house, there was a pair of girls, doing ... something, Ranma wasn't sure what. It looked like they were kissing, but that couldn't be it, right? Did girls do that with each other? Curious, she flew up over the house for a better look (uncomfortable with flying through someone else's private home, however easy it would have been and even if she could see not only into but through every nook and cranny and with no one else inside the house, anyway). The girls were kissing! And more than that — Ranma could see the hazy outlines of tunics covering everything important, but that wasn't stopping the girls' hands from roaming over each other's bodies.

Blushing beet red, the invisible girl finally forced herself to turn away, berating herself for staring — this was even worse than what she'd been doing at the fight! But while she was able to stop watching, she couldn't seem to pull herself away. There was something about what the girls were doing that made her feel ... she wasn't sure what. Comfortable? Warm? And not from the blush still burning her cheeks. It felt like soft sunlight on her naked skin, and her blush deepened even more at the gentle caress. What was happening?

"Ranma!" The redhead was jolted from her introspection at the sound of her father's voice coming from within the hollow. "Ranma!" She rolled her eyes at the sound of panic in the tone of the shouts — they were getting run out of yet another village. And her father had been in the village less than half an hour, that actually might be a record. With a sigh, she flew upwards, looked around ... and there was Genma, human again, racing out of the village at a dead run, both packs bouncing on his pack. She swept down after him at her best speed. It was nowhere close enough to catch up, or even keep up, but she knew her father. She'd be able to find him again, knowing which way he was running.