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Lily Pad Loop

Written by Leo_Todrius and Bigby

Supported by the Patrons

Convenience stores, by their very definition, were not designed for luxury. The layout and the fixtures were both rudimentary and designed to accomplish the most with the least amount of effort or time. Even the location of the store was intended to be convenient but the question then became 'convenient for who?'. The EaZ Mart that sat about six miles down I-60 was not near any well established city, suburb or even RV park. The fact that it sat at the intersection of Lily Pad Loop might have been a hint if anyone ever used it, but the road was so disused that the pot holes had filled with pond water before it even reached the swamp it was named for.

The sound of a car engine idling echoed off the front windows as one of its employees was dropped off. Jeremiah slunk out of the beat up Honda's passenger door, bowing his head in thanks before the car peeled off and headed back towards civilization. Jeremiah stretched up to all five foot ten of his height, his slightly curly brown hair minimally tamed into a mullet that seemed somehow appropriate to working at the edge of a swamp. Likewise, a thin mustache arched over his upper lip to complete the look. His black polo shirt with green panels running down under the arms had stitch work over his heart with the 'EaZ' logo while his black jeans appeared to be the same pair from the day before.

While the store appeared to be a lone structure emerging from a dense and overgrown copse of trees, shrubs and vines, it looked over I-60 and a small canyon on the other side. While they never saw sunrise, the sunsets were notoriously beautiful - at least until the mismatched blue and yellow fluorescent lights out front kicked on and drew every mosquito, fly and moth for five miles in any direction. Jeremiah loped into the store through the front door, setting off the tiny mechanical ding-dong of the motion sensor.

Inside; the aisles were overpacked with merchandise - both on brand and obscure. The coolers were stacked floor to ceiling with national standard brands as well as flavors that were only obtainable in strange places like the EaZ Mart. There was even a hot food station where dubiously aged hot dogs, egg rolls and vegan dogs rotated on rollers in a state of perpetual limbo. The chili and hot cheese machine gurgled softly to itself as if an ancient god was stirring in its slumber. To Jeremiah it was work, but it was a good kind of work. Jeremiah believed that anyone that took an easy job for granted and got bored had a mental failing of the imagination.

“You're early," a voice said, void of any reproach. Behind the counter was his coworker Elliot, the only other vendor these days. Clad in the same polo shirt, the uniform clashed with his short frosted tips and the piercings adorning his eyebrows and ears. Their boss Manuel had banned his septum and lip rings, since it was apparently too repulsive for the customers; and Elliot hadn't really bothered to argue. At 27, he was well aware that he was wasting away working there, but after crashing midway through highschool, he didn't exactly have plans or ambitions besides getting high and occasionally laid.

“Didn't have anything better to do." Jeremiah shrugged a bit. Truth be told he admired Elliot's more extreme look and felt like it was a crime that their boss had held his friend back. What were some truckers to say about a nose ring? Elliot, however, had something worth sharing.

“Apparently there was a roadblock down I-60, something about a chemical accident? So we're barely getting any traffic today."

“As opposed to?" Jeremiah smirked, taking the low hanging fruit of a joke before he sobered a little, “Isn't that like the… second or third chemical spill this year?" he asked. Elliot shrugged.

“Beats me. I don't follow the news, and even tap water's full of chemicals anyway." He eyed the security camera, cursing its presence for stopping him from having some high fun. “Still, we gotta stay put. At least that means we won't have trouble cleaning up the bathrooms," he chuckled with a knowing grin. Both men were fully aware that the EaZ Mart on the I-60 was known for having a couple of glory holes that were sometimes used by the passing truckers and other travelers. Jeremiah had been lucky enough to use it a time or two himself, though he knew the importance of cleaning it up from time to time.

“So what do you think… Can stacking contest? Chaw hockey down the middle aisle?" Jeremiah smirked.

“I like your ideas… But after you take out the trash," Elliot grinned. “Last time it was me, remember? You're lucky there's barely any bags today, with no customers around." Even in a vacuum there were products that expired and the general waste of maintaining the place. Jeremiah groaned a little. The dumpster was behind the store, facing the swamp. It wasn't exactly pleasant thanks to the smell, both from the trash itself and the stagnant waters, not to mention the constant buzzing of flies.

“Alright… but only because you slipped last time." Jeremiah smirked, affixing his name tag to his polo and clocking in before he made his way behind the small door to gather the trash. The store didn't really need two employees but the owner had decided it was safer that way. Elliot worked four tens while Jeremiah worked five eight hour shifts, leading to a lot of overlap. Jeremiah wouldn't have had it any other way.

The bags rustled and clanked, shifting as jars and bottles rolled around along with disposable mop heads and paper towels. Hoisting them up against his shoulder, Jeremiah made it out of the back and trudged along the mossy sidewalk that ringed the place. Despite how far the market was from town, the dumpster had still been covered with graffiti as much as it had been eroded by rust. Jeremiah used an elbow to lift the heavy black plastic lid and then used momentum to swing the garbage bag out, up and over the rim before letting it clatter to the basin inside.

As the sound of the garbage fell away, Jeremiah was struck by the noises of the swamp. It was a constant symphony of frogs croaking, crickets chirping and the buzzing of bugs. Nothing unusual, but they were much louder than usual. Perhaps it was due to the lack of traffic covering their noises? There was also a strange smell all around, not necessarily unpleasant but definitely unique. It could mostly be described as moist, acrid and peaty.

Jeremiah's eyes drifted toward the swamp, and he immediately noticed how shiny the water looked today. It looked very still as always, but it was strangely colorful, draped in a thin sheen that reflected light like a prism. It danced on the water in a slightly hypnotic way until Jeremiah remembered it was probably oil run off from the interstate. He shook his head and turned to head back inside, making it a few paces until he felt the uneven and cracked portion of cement shift beneath his foot. He toppled forward into the marshy mud with a wet splatter before he started sliding down the embankment towards the swamp.

“Shit, shit, shit!" Jeremiah cursed, trying to dig his fingers and shoes into the muck to stop his forward momentum. All he managed to do was to coat himself liberally in slop as he went careening into the edge of the waterline with a spray of viscous muck that saturated his polo shirt and instantly stained his already dirty jeans. The mud had flecked across his face like freckles but that was nothing next to the fetid aroma of decomposition, skunk cabbage and an oddly savory smell that he hadn't recalled coming from the swamp before.

Elliot would never let him hear the end of this, he thought. He'd even ribbed his coworker on the fact that he'd slipped and that had only given Elliot a muddy shoe. Karma hadn't just been instant, it had been vindictive. Jeremiah's skin crawled in disgust at the overwhelming smells surrounding him and the bugs buzzing around with more fervor than before. He was alone, saturated and soaked, mired in mud with the added garnish of the dumpster smell wafting over. Jeremiah tried to pull himself free but the mud felt like it was trying to tug him down even tighter.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a lone green frog peering at him from the water, only its globulous eyes visible from the surface. It was staring, unafraid, almost curious and maybe even… judgmental? The yellow eyes were vibrant against the lime green skin. Jeremiah watched its neck start to bulge a little before it let out a croak, adding to the concert of its amphibious fellows. Jeremiah started to lower his head in defeat before he realized the brackish water was mere inches below.

Letting out a grunt of effort and wriggling his hips side to side to break the sucking force of the mud, he managed to get up onto all fours, then to rear up and finally to stand. Turning in defiance, he took a step toward the market, then another. When he lifted his foot for the third step, his shoe remained lodged behind. His face scrunched up in dismay as his wet, socked foot plunged into the swamp water but he continued on anyway. Little by little, he emerged from the swamp like some hillbilly monster. His polo shirt was a tie dye monstrosity of greens and browns. His pants looked as if they were made of mud and a faint rainbow sheen ran down the skin of his arms.

Making it back to the sidewalk that ringed the market, Jeremiah debated his options. He could get the hose, sure, but there was no way he'd be able to reach everything. If he was going to try and salvage the day he'd have to enlist the help of the last person he wanted to see him like this. Jeremiah let out a sigh and went half way around the market, pulling open the side door. He leaned his head in, still smelling the swamp muck that he'd brought with him.

“Elliot, do you want your Christmas gift early?" he called into the shop through the back room and onto the sales floor.

“What, did you find a stash of porn behind the dumpster again?" Elliot laughed and dropped the magazine he was browsing. Midway to the side door, the smell already hit him. “Dude what the fuck did you… Ohmygod. No way!!" Jeremiah heard footsteps suddenly accelerating and backed away, before the door slammed open and his colleague stood there, his mouth agape before bursting in laughter. “How did you even do that?!! I love your Swamp Thing cosplay, it's so nerdy!" He reached into his back pocket and grabbed his smartphone, ready to snap a pic for his personal collection. “I am so sorry for you man, really!" He was sincere, but behind the laughter and shit eating grin, it was hard to take it seriously.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… I'm serious. Eat it up, this is your gift. I know you're going to make a meal of it. Get your pics and then hose me off, dude. Otherwise I'm going to go get in your car." Jeremiah smirked.

“Aww, you don't want to spend your whole shift like this? But it's so local, the tourists would love it!" Elliot took more pics before sighing, his laughter finally dying down. “Alright, I guess I'll help ya. Can't have you stinking up the EaZ. Just don't touch me, okay?" He moved past Jeremiah, careful to keep a wide berth in case the kid decided to prank him and smear him with that stuff, and unrolled the hose. “You sure you want me to spray you with these clothes on?"

“I had time to think about it when I was crawling out… If you don't spray the clothes, they'll never get halfway decent… So I guess spray me like this and then I'll strip down." Jeremiah said, accepting the humiliation.

“Suit yourself. Now close your mouth, stinky." And with that, Elliot turned the ice cold hose on, calibrating the stream to something that would be powerful enough to power wash the clothes without making Jeremiah's skin sting. The sound of the water cutting through the mud was gratifying, as was the way the clear water turned into a rainbow of nature's hues as it returned the murk back where it began.

Jeremiah kept his eyes shut as he rotated around like a rotisserie chicken, letting the stream pelt him beneath his pits and across his backside before he peeled off the nearly ruined polo shirt. While the hose seemed to do the trick with most of the mud, it didn't seem to do much for the smell. Jeremiah's socks were a lost cause, making him think about the store's no shirt, no shoes policy. He couldn't get kicked out of his own store, could he? The mullet haired clerk's pants went next, leaving him to get hosed off in nothing more than his underwear. By now the clear water had reached Elliot's feet as well, leaving some of that sheen around his ankles. He was starting to actually feel bad for Jeremiah, he had the whole shift ahead of him.

“Hey, I got no plans tonight," he said, stopping the flow for a moment. “I think I might have some spare clothes in my trunk, but if you want to go home, I can call Manuel and cover your shift… You'll owe me one, but we'll figure it out next time," he winked. Jeremiah shook his head.

“And miss the highway being closed? I'll take the spare clothes in the trunk but I'll make it through. Just think of the stories we'll be able to tell." Jeremiah said, though he was starting to shiver. The hose water had never been intended for use on humans and had no heat whatsoever. Elliot sighed and turned the water off, before going back into the market to fetch some old towels in a side closet. He returned to throw them at his cold bud, giving him his car keys in the process. Despite the sun starting to set, the nights weren't very cold this time of year.

“Clothes are in the blue bag, you might have to sort through the old leftovers." Elliot said. While it was unlikely they would have any customers, they had left the sales floor an unusual amount of time. With Elliot heading back in, Jeremiah pulled on his wet polo and pants for modesty before jogging out into the parking lot.

While all the spaces in front of the EaZ Mart were empty, a well worn spot beneath the glowing sign was occupied by an old black Camaro where the paint had rusted off in spots only to be patched up with matte black house paint. It was far from the prettiest vehicle on the road but it ran and that was what was important. Jeremiah tried not to fumble the keys as he opened the trunk, the pneumatic assist wheezing as it helped hold up the metal.

Elliot's car wasn't exactly the cleanest inside either; it smelled of weed and was full of takeout wrappings he'd been meaning to throw out. The trunk, thankfully, was spared of the day to day grime. Instead it had an assortment of moldy jumper cables, backpacks of paraphernalia and ultimately the blue duffel bag. Not wanting to be in the wet clothes a second longer than he needed to, Jeremiah took the bag, slammed the trunk shut and headed into the market. Mindful of leaving nasty footprints, he took long loping steps to get off the sales floor and into the employee bathroom.

Shutting the heavy door behind him, he turned on the light which flickered and buzzed with the ancient glory of fluorescents. The swamp's stench was once again potent back there, sneaking in through a small window near the ceiling. Unzipping the bag, Jeremiah was again hit with the aroma of weed. Beggars couldn't be choosers though and Jeremiah started to sort through what items he'd be wearing for the rest of the day. Luckily, Elliot didn't exactly wear tight fitting clothes. There was a pair of old and stained black jeans, a bundled up red tank top with the anarchy symbol, some yellowed white socks and a pair of worn out boxer shorts with the fabric tearing up between the legs. Finally, at the bottom rested a pair of cheap sneakers that would likely be a size too small for Jeremiah.

Exhaling a bit, anything was better than his slimy clothes. Stripping down once more and using the towel Elliot had given him to pat dry, he was soon dressed in the baggy pants, red tank top, yellowed socks and… the shoes didn't fit. Jeremiah tried putting them on standing up and sitting down but they just wouldn't work past his heel. He'd lost one of his own shoes to the swamp and these were a non starter. He'd just have to stay behind the counter when customers were present, but maybe it would be a bit like a fun game. Taking one last look in the mirror, Jeremiah realized even his hair looked a bit green around the edges. Shaking his head, he braced himself to get ready for one of the longest shifts of his life.

****

The motion sensor triggered again, letting the fourth customer of the day exit the EaZ. The roadblock was still in effect, but what few locals lived nearby still needed groceries and essentials. By now, night had fallen and the market glowed like a fluorescent beacon, the giant EaZ sign as bright as the moon. The shop itself was exceedingly quiet aside from the curated playlist of company-approved 90s hits. Jeremiah and Elliot had both dreamed of hacking the store's music system to insert something a little more up to date.

Elliot was taking his last break of the day behind the building and near the dumpsters. Despite the fact that it hadn't been a very tiring shift, he still wanted to unwind. With a blunt between his fingers, he exhaled a long trail of smoke, watching it fade in the air. The cement around his feet was still a bit wet from the earlier shower and he could discern the start of Jeremiah's tumble into the mud despite the darkness. Unlike the front of the store, the back was nearly pitch black aside from what little moonlight made it through the trees. At this hour, the swamp made itself known mostly through smell, but especially sounds.

Elliot didn't know squat about zoology, but judging by how loud the frogs were tonight, he figured it was probably mating season for them. The croaking was constant, like a droning noise sometimes broken by splashes or bird cries. It was a familiar and almost calming melody, so why was he slightly on edge? They had been croaking like that the entire day, and with the absence of customers, that symphony had been living in his head rent free. Maybe he could throw a rock down the slope to disturb them and stop the song, even for just a moment. Or conversely, perhaps carefully approach the mud and listen closer…

As he took one last drag, he saw something hop toward the dumpsters. A frog, no, multiple frogs actually. Probably a whole family, they advanced fearlessly toward the metal container. The retail worker wondered if they were interested in the trash, but soon saw their tongues shooting wildly in the air, feasting on the fly buffet. Never seen that before, usually they stayed down by the water. Maybe Jeremiah's trail had given them a path up. Either that or the plagues really were descending upon them.

Speaking of the kid, it was probably time to head back, Elliot felt bad enough for him already and figured he could try retrieving his shoes tomorrow with some actual sunlight, it would be a nice gesture. He stubbed the blunt against the cement wall and flicked it off into the dark. Returning to the market, Jeremiah was dutifully standing behind the counter. He yawned and stretched a bit, a faint greenish-yellow sheen to his long, lanky arms and his exposed shoulders. None of the customers had complained about his alternate wardrobe, though a few had wrinkled their noses at the young man's strange cologne.

“You didn't fall in." Jeremiah said with a tired, wry smile at seeing his compatriot. He reached up to scratch at his throat a little idly, wiggling his toes in the yellowed socks his friend had loaned him. There was little doubt that the first thing he'd do when he got home would be to take a very long, hot shower.

“Well I'm not the one with two left feet," Elliot smirked, heading back to the counter. Jeremiah's scent hit him once more though it had diminished to merely match the regular swamp smell. He leaned on the counter next to him and picked up his phone once more, browsing his social media feed. His shift was almost done but he was debating staying longer. “So it looks like the road block's gonna last until tomorrow and they put out a boil warning and said not to touch the swamp water until they test more stuff," he read on his phone before wincing. “Oops. Good thing we sprayed you down. You're feeling okay?"

“Yeah, just embarrassed mostly. Your clothes are pretty comfortable." Jeremiah smirked.

“You're lucky I hate skinny jeans," Elliot snorted. His eyes wandered to the security cameras feeds by the register. Obviously, the vast majority was still and showed no activity, but there was some movement by the dumpsters. It was, once again, the frogs, feasting on bugs. Despite the image quality, he could discern a lot of small forms hopping here and there, even more than during his smoke break. Elliot squinted, leaning closer to the screen. “What is up with the frogs today…" he wondered.

“Maybe it is a full moon or something. Either that or I smelled so good they're all going on dates." Jeremiah smirked, rubbing at the skin between his fingers. Elliot chuckled and stepped down from the counter, moving to the slushie machine. It had been churning for hours now, its synthetic neon filling constantly swirling. It was located in a dead angle for the cameras, meaning that no one would know if the employees used it for themselves. He poured himself a large serving of blue slushie, supposedly blue raspberry flavor, just for the road.

“I'm done in five. You gonna be okay getting home and holding down the fort?" Elliot asked.

“I got it. You've helped enough today and you got an earlier start than me tomorrow. Have a good night, bro." Jeremiah said with a tired smile. He watched his friend gather his things and head out the front door, the chorus of frogs croaking spilling in while the door was open before becoming muffled again when it shut.

****

There was just something about being awake too late that felt different. It was a lightness of the body, a hollowness of the brain - then again, many had accused Jeremiah of that later detail for years. He stepped into the home he shared with his brother, though with his brother deployed in Japan he was fortunate enough to have it to himself for the next several months. His keys dropped loudly into a bowl on a shelf by the door and he maneuvered his way directly to the bathroom. The pipes hesitated, sputtered, and then began gushing forth with water as he turned the faucet on the tub and as he reached for the shower plug, he realized just how tired he was. Weighing the options, a bath just seemed to be the compromise he needed.

The drain was stoppered and the water began building up, affording Jeremiah the time to peel off Elliot's hand me down clothing. He stripped in front of the mirror and he had to admit, showing off his arms and lanky body was kind of hot… He wasn't strong by any means but he still thought he could get it if he really wanted to. Setting the shirt aside and dropping the pants next, he grinned a little more. He had gotten rid of his underwear on his last break, opting to go commando in his friend's pants. Again, that gave him a little thrill.

Bending down with surprising ease, Jeremiah snatched at the yellowed socks, sliding them off slowly. He wasn't sure if they had yellowed from being in Elliot's trunk, being around too much smoke, or for some other reason, but again it was so perverse that it was kind of hot. Jeremiah wondered a bit if he'd discovered a new fetish. Maybe being dirty was sexy? If so, he'd certainly gotten a crash course in it today. With all the clothing discarded, the metallic glint of six metallic beads glinted from the underside of his shaft. His hand reached down, cupping his cock, stroking it a few times to awaken it from its turgid slumber.

Lifting his long, shapely leg over the rim of the tub, Jeremiah lowered his plump digits into the rising water. He shivered a bit at the temperature change, closing his eyes to enjoy it while unaware of the rainbow sheen slowly spreading out across the surface of the liquid where he made contact. The surface of his skin between his toes had been crusty and itchy in the market, but now exposed to water it began to grow soft and gooey. Shifting his weight to the wet foot, Jeremiah stepped all the way into the tub, turned, and lowered down. The water slicked up his legs, his hips, his ribs, and rose ultimately to his sternum. He spread out and got comfortable, draping his left arm over the side of the tub and his right arm along the shelf-like rim on the right.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Jeremiah relished his choice to treat it as a spa rather than forcing himself through a shower. Showers were work and effort. Baths were pure relaxation. He murmured happily, making a sort of rhythmic humming as the water licked and lapped higher, reaching his puffy nipples and the underside of his armpits. He hadn't made an effort to scrape any of the leftover grime off yet, thinking if he marinated in the water it might be easier. He let his mind drift, something that was particularly easy, making it impossible to realize he had not turned on the exhaust fan and the steam and smell of the swamp were growing potent in the bathroom.

The water had the intended effect of soaking into the muck and grime and letting it release from his skin, at least enough for the water to take on a greenish-brown tinge. He lifted one foot out of the water, using his dexterous toes to turn the faucet off. He found it surprisingly easy to grip the round knob, almost as if his toes were working in tandem better than they had before. When the foot slipped back into the water, the current had to work past a little bit of webbed flesh that was starting to knit the toes together.

Jeremiah smiled happily, still making pulsing noises with his throat, sloshing and shifting. While the mud and dirt and slime had spread out from him, it had left behind dark forest green freckles on top of green stained skin. Jeremiah slipped lower in the tub, bringing the water up to a dangerously high level around the rim. The water coated his throat and chin, bobbing right at his lips. The itchy skin along his throat began to soften, taking on a slippery sheen and a distinctive yellow-green hue. The freckles were spreading across his shoulders as well, the skin all over his body shifting from the pliant, rubbery human texture to something a bit more slippery and squishy.

The curly mullet was water soaked now, but Jeremiah was grinning from ear to ear. His cock was buoyant in the water and swelled longer and fatter. His hand wrapped around it, making him shiver with just how slippery and almost slimy it was. He began to jack off, not caring that water was sloshing over the sides of the tub. As he jerked off his cock only grew fatter and longer, slowly staining a mossy green color. The skin grew tight, stretching taut, but despite that it was almost as if he'd dipped the whole thing in lubricant. It was so delightfully slippery.

Jeremiah began to shiver and arch his back. His throat began to bulge a little as he compressed muscles and breathed erratically. He grunted, then grunted again, then let out a croak. His toes curled and uncurled, the webbing growing longer between his toes. More water spilled messily onto the floor. He threw his head back and his eyes snapped open. The hazel color nearly seemed to boil to gold before the color spread out. Jeremiah's throat bulged and grew outward suddenly as he let out a massive croak and his long, fat green cock began to spurt out thick ropes of sticky lime-colored seed.

In the swamp-like broth of the bath, he hadn't so much gotten clean as he'd allowed the particulate he'd brought home to wash around him. His body had turned from pink to green, his toes had webbed and his feet were stretching out longer. His gangly body was slick and slimy and his mouth seemed to stretch wider on his face. His grin was strange and alien as his lips parted. He looked down at his large cock with golden eyes before he unfurled a long, inhuman tongue to wrap around it.

He leaned forward suddenly, sending a cascade of water over the edge of the tub. His head plunged into the water as he took his entire cock into his mouth and throat. He began to bob up and down, sucking himself off, getting gulp after gulp of tangy frog cum as a reward. He wanted more, he wanted it all, he wanted others to enjoy it. Emerging from the bath water like a leviathan, Jeremiah continued to croak, his yellow-green throat bloating and releasing with the oscillation of the swamp.

****

Elliot felt like shit. He had barely slept last night, turning and tossing in bed, waking up in a cold sweat and even two warm showers hadn't helped. Surely the sugary slushie was to blame. He had tried calling sick, but Manuel had brushed him off, something about he was busy today and couldn't even go past the roadblock. That's right, it was still in place, and despite that, Elliot still clocked in for his shift once again.

Luckily, it was once again a very quiet day customer wise, which was perfect to nurse his nausea. His skin felt clammy, almost rubbery, taking on a red tint, while most of his joints ached, right down to his hands and feet. Thankfully, the many aspirin he'd taken seemed to be effective, and over the course of his shift the fever had died down. Still, he was itchy in some places, from his throat to his toes, but also down there. Around noon, he had taken a quick break by the dumpsters to smoke, unbothered by the very potent filthy smell, and quickly rubbed one out, the touch of his rubbery digits seemingly calming down the rash.

The few customers that visited today oscillated between staring at him with worry and looking similarly sick, but Elliot had barely been able to focus and did not notice their bulging necks, or the webbed hands picking up their change. Time both stretched and accelerated at the same time, the croaking chorus constantly humming in the background, even drowning the store's playlist. All he wanted was for his shift to end, so he could take off these clothes and leave this place, but until then, he coped by staying hydrated with more slushies, the cold and tainted drinks settling nicely in his stomach.

For all of Elliot's efforts to manage some semblance of normalcy, all of that fell apart when the door chimed and announced Jeremiah's entrance. He was on time for his usual self, but that was all that was usual. When Elliot looked up he saw a distorted version of reality, something that couldn't possibly be. It was Jeremiah, but it wasn't. He was a little taller, a little more gangly. He had his mullet and his mustache, but his skin was lily pad green and his throat was a yellowish color. Deep golden eyes looked at him and a wide, frog-like mouth was curved into a grin. He had once again worn Elliot's tank top, revealing his long, slick, green freckled arms with the yellow underside. He wore shorts that did little to hide an immense bulge and his long, luxurious legs were likewise ill-colored. Webbed toes splayed on the linoleum.

“Elliot…" Jeremiah said, his throat puffing a little with excitement. Elliot was gobsmacked, unsure if he had smoked too much, if this was a prank, or even real. Whoever was before him definitely looked like Jeremiah, but a wrong version of him, distorted and stretched. He'd recognize that mustache and mullet anywhere.

“Wh…What uh…Are you… okay?" He managed to stammer, words and actual thoughts failing him. The retail worker didn't know where to look, his friend's whole body was changed, but his eyes definitely lingered on that bulge. If anything, the most normal part of Jeremiah was his outfit. Jeremiah strode over with a confidence that seemed a little out of place. He put both webbed hands on the counter and leaned in close, still with that shit-eating grin.

“I'm more than okay, bro… I can't explain it. I've become something far better. I think it was from falling in the swamp? I mean, I slept all night in the tub too but… I feel amazing, Elliot. It's like a constant full body high." Jeremiah said happily. Elliot gulped, surprised by his boldness. From that close, he could fully see the stretchy skin, and definitely smell the swampy stench. But for whatever reason… it was comforting now. In fact, it was making him thirsty.

“Dude, you, uh… You know you look like a frog, right?" He felt so stupid saying this, but he really didn't know how to react. Elliot couldn't even fake some panic response, or pretend he didn't find Jeremiah's new look unattractive. Curious, he tentatively placed a hand on his friend's webbed fingers. Immediately, prickles coursed through his own digits, turning them numb as if he had been sitting on it for a while. His eyes widened as he realized that skin had been growing between his own fingers. “Wow…"

“I think we look like frogs…" Jeremiah said, reaching up with one webbed hand to hold Elliot's head before he leaned in for a kiss. It was gentle at first, tender, but instinctively Elliot knew that there was a great power waiting to be unfurled from Jeremiah's mouth. His throat bulged a bit, mostly from shock, before he breathed in and parted his lips, allowing Jeremiah in. They both knew the other liked men, and had covered each other's trips to the bathroom's glory hole, but they had never acted on it before…

All thoughts were brushed away as a long, powerful, prehensile tongue shot into Elliot's mouth. It wriggled and moved like a dancing serpent, stimulating his tongue and cheeks and embracing his own. Jeremiah's throat bulged and bloated, warbling with potential energy as they kissed, bent across the sales counter. Jeremiah's scent was earthy, rich, savory and bitter-sweet. He was clammy to the touch and yet slick, comfortable, just the right temperature to Elliot's skin.

Jeremiah's kiss was aggressive and rough, but as it went on, his tongue found less resistance in Elliot's mouth, his cheeks and throat feeling more flexible and welcoming, his lips opening wider to match his friend's amphibian smile. Elliot's eyes glazed over, his senses assaulted by the toxins in Jeremiah's skin, his potent scent and the thick, slimy frog saliva he was swallowing. It was a drug rush, the biggest one of his life, and it was just the start. Their kisses were wet and lewd, their erections both growing insistently.

When Jeremiah withdrew his hand from Elliot's cheek, a string of slime connected it for just a moment before snapping free. Elliot's skin was starting to pick up flecks of shades of blue and black that contrasted with the frosted tips of his hair. Jeremiah opened his large mouth wider, letting their tongues play and ply, wrestling back and forth. At one point he even coiled it around Elliot's tongue, letting the muscle squeeze and massage and work at Elliot's tongue until it began to stretch and lengthen.

The two were shameless, embracing in full view of the security camera. If the large windows hadn't been papered over with decades of advertisements for cheap beer and cheaper soda they could have been seen from the parking lot. Despite the capitalist camouflage, it almost sounded as if they had been seen by the swamp's amphibious population. The chorus of croaking frogs had been omnipresent the last few days, but now it was rising into something that could be heard inside with nearly crystal clear clarity.

Elliot laughed dumbly at how much he was enjoying himself, now that his mind was free of worries. All previous pain was gone, his muscles instead relaxing and letting go of all tensions. He reached a hand up mid-kiss, watching blue webbing fully covering the space between his fingers, taking some twisted pride in that. Their change was a big middle finger to the EaZ, frogs weren't shackled by society's expectations after all! They were free to hop, to croak, to swim, adaptable to water and air alike!

Jeremiah broke the kiss, his throat puffing up and swelling before he let out a massive croak of satisfaction, running one webbed hand down to grope at his swollen package, admiring Elliot as the changes spread. Splotches of blue fanned out across his cheeks and neck, appearing on his arms as well as splotches of black appeared. In a way he reminded Jeremiah of the blue raspberry and black cherry slushies he always seemed to go for. It somehow made him even more endearing.

Watching Jeremiah's throat puffing like that elicited a moan from Elliot, who felt his own throat bulging in response. It had been weirdly erotic to him, like watching a strong man flex his muscles. Panting, he steadied himself on the counter, aware that something was coming. The chorus of the outside frogs was luring him in, urging him to join, and he wanted to. He reached a hand to his throat, nervous, like a runner gathering momentum, and…

A croak, at last. A timid one, but his throat swelled nonetheless, like a blue balloon. With a proud satisfied grin, he let out another one, and then a bigger one! Elliot leaned his head back, letting his friend admire and hear how good his croaks were getting. He had no idea his voice could sound this good! As he posed, Jeremiah could discern the blue and black pattern spreading under his clothes, the fabric turning slimy and slightly translucent from the fluids. Jeremiah tugged down his shorts, giving his long green cock several strokes, croaking himself in camaraderie.

“Dude, we should try out the swamp…" Jeremiah suggested conspiratorially.

“Fuck bro, you're right…" Elliot nodded vigorously, his eyes locked on the slimy green tool. His own bulge was painfully tight in his moist pants. He followed Jeremiah through the market, awkwardly removing his shirt and pants along the way, leaving them on the aisle among their wet footsteps. The backdoor opened and the chorus of their brethren fully greeted them, with many tiny frogs answering their croaks, from the swamp to the pavement. The air was delightfully damp, with an enticing stench of rotten wood, decomposing leaves, rich soil and something not quite normal.

“Grrr-aaaah!" Jeremiah croaked, his throat inflating fully before each call. The frogs in the swamp went wild, realizing that much larger cousins had arrived. Elliot followed suit, looking at the little ones with brotherly affection. The mud trail didn't look dangerous anymore so much as inviting. They could see the water down below, calling to them. Elliot started to slide down the slope, the mud easily trapping his shoes. Laughing once more, he wiggled his toes and extracted his feet, revealing another pair of smelly, wet socks fully stretched over two palmed feet. Too bad he had no use for them anymore, the scent was definitely pleasing.

After the socks, his boxers were next to go, landing on a gnarly tree branch. Now Elliot's froggy skin could finally breathe fully, reveling in the heavy humidity of the place. Beneath his black abdomen bobbed a still humanoid dick with a metallic pearl at the top, a single piercing on his blue tip. The length was slowly darkening, gaining a familiar black and rubbery tint. He began stroking it idly, croaking happily, each pull seemingly giving it an additional inch.

The air cracked as a long pink tongue snapped out, coiling around Elliot's cock. Jeremiah began to tug his friend toward him, milking and squeezing the cock before he dropped down on all fours, gobbling up Elliot's dick in his wide lipped mouth as he began to suck and slurp, his limbs sinking into the mud. Elliot moaned and dropped to his knees, his long tongue lolling out of his mouth until something small entered his field of vision, a mosquito. Without thinking, his tongue shot forward and swatted it mid-air, whipping the morsel back into his mouth - a tasty little snack.

Elliot thrust his hips into his friend's mouth, his balls slapping Jeremiah's powerful throat as he kept croaking happily, clamoring to everyone around how horny he was. Jeremiah was relentless, pawing at his stomach and balls with his sticky webbed hands, golden eyes blinking independently of one another. Soft sloshing noises came as he started to hump the mud beneath him, loving how it felt against his skin. This was comfort, this was the true life!

Elliot gently stroke Jeremiah's clammy cheek, smiling contently. He was so grateful to his bro for showing him how wonderful the swamp was, and all the benefits of being a frog. He just had to return the favor after all! Shifting his pose so that he was sitting with his legs on the sides, his tongue darted beneath Jeremiah and found a familiar green shaft, wrapping itself around it like a tight cock ring. He could taste both the rank slime covering it, and the familiar mud it humped against. What was considered filthy for humans was paradise to them…

The two flailed, falling over sideways in a splash of biofilm and swamp water. Their legs kicked and twitched but their wide mouthed grins soon locked on each other's groins. Their throats bulged and constricted, hands groping each other. It didn't take long for Jeremiah to start unleashing his potent, tart tasting lime green frog cum. It was savory and delicious to Elliot and it seemed like it paired perfectly with mosquitos… All around them the other frogs were hopping and jumping, enjoying themselves almost as much as the two former shopkeepers.

Elliot finished soon after, feeding his friend his fresh new blue seed. The pair kept humping and exploring each other before hopping deeper into the refreshingly polluted water, their rubbery skin allowing them to breathe with no issues. The EaZ had been a capitalistic prison, and the two giant frogs would never dream of going back. It was only a matter of time until the roadblock was lifted and they could teach anyone that ventured down Lily Pad Loop the wonders of the swamp…