Bullfrog_404 has a minion!

Hoppy the Zombunny

premade profile by Chen

The Swamp Frog

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Her skin had been so soft. If he leaned in close he could smell cinnamon and cloves in her hair. He loved the way she blushed when he told her how beautiful she was. But, her snow white skin against the deep red, warm blood is what really drove him wild.

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The girls had been so naive. But then, he had always been a charmer. There is something to be said for the tall, dark and mysterious type. Though he had never been a burly man, the way he placed his hand on the small of a woman's back and subtly winked at her with that confident smile of his had a way of making her feel protected from the world.

It had never been about sex for him. Though, he was getting plenty of that. It was that rush, when he knew he had won her over and her infatuation entranced her into lowering any guard she had with him. When he could see the vulnerability in her eyes it would light something in his. The poor girl always thought it was love. Perhaps even admiration? The visible fire in his smoldering eyes couldn't be attributed to either. It was much more primal than that. It had been Dahlia to be the last one to see those flames. She would be his downfall.

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They had gone dancing that night. He had been as sharply dressed and smooth as ever. Everything was calculated. From the way he held her close on the dance floor to the way he let his dark bangs fall ever so slightly in his eyes. He knew that for some reason women found it irresistible. He walked her home and they stood in her doorway. Neither were ready to say good night. She had had a few drinks. It didn't make her clumsy, but it made the skin flush pink across her collarbone. She leaned heavily into his chest, breathing deeply. So content. So trusting.



"I want to show you something. Do you trust me?" She nodded. Of course she did. They always trusted him. He took her hand and led her to a wooded area not too far from where she lived. Tightly woven trees and thorns acted as a barrier that hid the swamp within. The full moon could barely pierce through the unruly foliage. There seemed to be no entry at first glance, but he expertly found a small break in the trees and led her down a muggy path. When the mud began to sink up to her ankles he swept her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way. When her eyes began to dart around, unsure of the path they were taking, he whispered in her ear and assured her his 'secret place' was beautiful. He would share it with no one else and it was worth the walk.

The eerie swamp finely revealed itself to them. The overhanging trees obscured her vision at first, but he was right. It was beautiful. In an unsettling way, that is. He tucked a strand of her hair tenderly behind her ear. She nearly melted as he stared at her seductively. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. Softly at first, but progressing to raw passion. She was so caught up in the moment that she never noticed him reach into his back pocket. His tongue was still caressing hers when the blade went into her neck. The shock made her throw open her eyes and attempt to push away from him. Her body bucked violently, trying to escape, but his hand was on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair and holding her forcefully against him. The sweet, metallic taste of blood flooded his senses as he kissed her hungrily and dug the knife deeper in her throat. She was his. Entirely his.

Finally, she stopped struggling. He gently pressed his lips to hers one last time, then tossed her body onto the bank of the swamp. The animals of the swamp would dispose of her body, just as they had the other girls. It had scarcely been a month since he had been here last and already nothing was left of his latest girl.

He stood still, savoring his adrenaline filled stupor, for several minutes before he heard a shriek behind him. Caught off guard, he immediately froze. He looked down at the body of the girl. No one else could be here with him. Gathering himself, he turned slowly and there, just inches from where he stood, a haggard woman with a wild thatch of mud brown hair loomed. She was short, but had a large presence. Her curved back and weathered skin told of her age. She held tight to a gnarled staff with various herbs and talismans tied to the end. She waved the staff deliberately above his head.

"It's you!" Her raspy voice pierced the night. "All those innocent girls left behind. They can never leave this hellish place!" She cracked the staff across his chest. Stunned, he took a step back then stood unable to move again, blood still running down his chin. "You're nothing but the lowest swamp animal creature yourself. This is where you belong. You'll decay here like the bodies you've left behind." Her eyes rolled into the back of her skull so only the whites showed. She raised her staff in her left hand and clawed at the air with her right. She muttered unintelligible incantations in a quick rhythm. He tried to run now, but was rooted in place. Not from his own shock, but it felt as though a physical presence were forcing his legs down. Then, a hot searing pain ripped through his body. He tried to scream but nothing came out. He doubled over from the pain and thrashed on the ground, his body pressing deeper into the muck.

The chanting stopped and he lay breathless in the mud. The world seemed larger somehow. His eyes dashed frantically, seeking answers. All he saw was the woman, cackling at his suffering. The rumors of a swamp witch, could they really be true? Had she done something to him? Had she caused this pain? It wasn't until he attempted to get up and make a run for it that he realized just what had been done. His hands were no longer human. The dead, hanging flesh was webbed. His new, corpse-like body was that of a frog's. This realization sent a wave of terror through his body and simultaneously sent the swamp witch into hysterical, cackling laughter.

"You like the swamp, do you? Well, this is your home now. The lowliest of swamp creatures you are. Do you feel it, boy? The pain? The agony in every limb from the weight on those brittle bones? The electric heat of your exposed nerves? The torture of your rotting skin hanging by a thread? This is who you are now. This is what you deserve."

"But, but...," he stammered. "No, you can't. I haven't, I'm, I, uh... no." Then, a glimmer of hope flashed into his eyes. "You've turned me into a frog. I know this one. If a woman kisses me I turn into a prince?" He looked up expectantly, wincing at his pain.

"Oh my dear. If you can get a girl to kiss you then it's even better than that. It's the only way you can die." With a final snorting laugh she disappeared into the swamp.

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