Frogling

A long, long time ago there lived a king who had a young son, the prince, who had just came out of his teens. Once the king threw a large feast in his court with de­lec­table wine and yum­my mead, rav­ish­ing half-naked bel­ly dancers and flex­i­ble gym­nasts dressed in noth­ing but few jew­els, all kinds of ex­ot­ic food and en­ter­tain­ment. Even the king him­self got in­cred­i­bly drunk, so he de­cid­ed to pull a wise man to be re­mem­bered in the aeons for his in­ven­tive­ness:

"My son," he rose from his throne. "To­mor­row. You'll bring your best friends. Each of you will m-make him­self a bow. And an ar-rrow. And shoot. Aim well cuz... Who­ev­er catch­es the ar­row will be y-your pet. So yan­no... bet­ter aim well," he sat on his throne and al­most im­me­di­ate­ly snored.

On the next day the prince and his two best friends, the son of an army gen­er­al and the son of a no­ble mer­chant, shot their self-made ar­rows from their self-made bows, just as the king had or­dered.

The prince's friends aimed well and got them­selves very nice pets: a white swan and a black cat, but the prince's poor­ly shot ar­row land­ed some­where in the marsh­es. The king was se­vere­ly an­gered and or­dered the prince to go to the marsh­es any­way and search for the ar­row and bring back who­ev­er or what­ev­er caught the ar­row, even if it's a swamp mon­ster, he will have to take care of it!

"How nice!" the prince cursed his life sar­cas­ti­cal­ly while walk­ing through the marsh­es. He walked and walked un­til he reached a place where the wa­ter in the marsh was clean, de­spite many wa­ter lilies pop­ping out here and there, among oth­er un­usu­al plants that he had nev­er seen be­fore.

The place looked mag­i­cal and with his mouth half open the prince con­tin­ued to walk fur­ther in­to this lit­tle oa­sis in the swamp. Soon he walked in­to some­thing that re­al­ly made his heart pound.

A beau­ti­ful an­thro­po­mor­phic frogling sat there up­on an over­grown wa­ter lily. With a roy­al crown up­on his charm­ing head, shiny rings in his ears and nip­ples, the frogling sat there in the most ex­ot­ic pose with his legs bent all over his head and his mem­bra­nous feet rest­ing in front of his chest, while the back of his head some­what touched his bare butt. The full, smil­ing lips of the frogling held the long searched ar­row!

The prince could not be­lieve what he saw, so re­fined and beau­ti­ful was the view that he adored the frogling to no end from the first sight. "Even if it's a swamp mon­ster, he said..." the prince re­mem­bered the words of his fa­ther and smirked to him­self. He talked with the frogling and ex­plained in de­tail the mean­ing of the ar­row. The frogling sud­den­ly agreed to fol­low the prince back to the palace, say­ing that he was wait­ing for him, since the swamp witch had fore­told that "maybe some prince would agree to take you as a pet one day." And damn, was she right! The frogling some­how made a so­phis­ti­cat­ed jump from the bendy po­si­tion he was in, turned in­to a re­al frog in the air and land­ed up­on the prince's hat to be tak­en to­ward the palace.

"Very well, boys," the king said dur­ing the next feast thrown by him to cel­e­brate the young men's union with their pets. "See how wise is your king? Each of you had found a per­fect pet. Now, how about you show me what your new pet is good for!"

As per the king's or­der, the white swan went for­ward and waved its huge wings, turn­ing in­to a beau­ti­ful boy, tall and pale, with long white hair. His on­ly wear was wide bag­gy pants made of pure white silk, con­trast­ing with his bare tor­so, so very long and thin. When he sat on the floor and raised his slow­ly wav­ing arms in the air for his ini­tial po­si­tion, every­thing about his looks still re­mind­ed of a swan even in the hu­man form. His dance was of un­earth­ly grace and nat­ur­al beau­ty.

Sec­ond went the black cat who did a som­er­sault in the air to turn in­to a very cute boy of cun­ning looks, with a short black hair and a thin but toned body. His tiny black thong couldn't pos­si­bly be any small­er, but his black fluffy leg warm­ers looked re­al­ly huge in con­trast, and so did his fluffy gloves. The mag­ic was a bit in­com­plete and his fluffy tail and cat ears re­fused to dis­ap­pear even in the hu­man form, but that even looked pret­ti­er on him, per­haps it was even made on pur­pose. What­ev­er his dance was sup­posed to be, it looked more like an adorable fight against an in­vis­i­ble op­po­nent with a lot of high kicks, jump­ing and ac­ro­bat­ics. This black cat must have had a black belt in some mar­tial arts, at least he man­aged to do some im­pres­sive things with his long and mus­cled legs, and he fin­ished his dance with a sud­den feat of flex­i­bil­i­ty, stretch­ing his legs in­to an over 300 de­grees over­split!

The king on­ly smiled see­ing what love­ly pets the boys had found for them­selves. But it was the frogling's turn. Peo­ple went back to eat­ing be­cause no­body ex­pect­ed much from the frog. But the frog jumped for­ward, land­ed in his hu­man form and raised arms, arch­ing him­self like a gym­nast. With much grace his arms went back­wards un­til they grabbed on his own knees from be­hind. He pulled and fold­ed him­self in half back­wards so firm­ly and tight­ly that even a bathing tow­el couldn't be pos­si­bly fold­ed more. Every­body be­gan whis­per­ing to each oth­er: "Look, look!"

Af­ter hold­ing the im­pos­si­bly tight back­fold for a while, slow­ly turn­ing around to let every­body see it, the frogling fi­nal­ly straight­ened and grace­ful­ly be­gan his per­for­mance. He moved like a rhyth­mic gym­nast and bent any part of his body as if it had rub­ber in­stead of bones, he bent and twist­ed his spine and did in­cred­i­ble over­splits and oth­er stretch­es that don't even have prop­er names yet. All of this looked so el­e­gant and skill­ful that peo­ple just stared at the bend­ing frogling as if they were see­ing a dream, look­ing in awe at these won­drous moves and pos­tures im­pos­si­ble to do for al­most no one else in the room.

And so af­ter this last dance the king con­grat­u­lat­ed the boys on find­ing the most pre­cious pets like that, and then the no­ble gath­er­ing went back to eat­ing while en­joy­ing the scant­i­ly clad dancers and gym­nasts who once again filled the palace's din­ing hall...

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