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Of Frogs And Men

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When recounting the incident in later years (on the rare occasion when he was drunk enough to be persuaded to tell) Lusiphur blamed, alternately, a potion, the influence of a cursed ruby, a spell set to ensnare him personally and, on one especially intoxicated occasion, the skin secretions of a certain species of frog.

"It jump'd into m' mug when I was'n look'n."

"If you weren't looking, how d'you know it was there?"

".... footprinsh!"


"Saw frog footprinsh on the table the nexsh morning. Had to be it. Frogs's tricky."

Most likely, all Lusiphur had that evening was ordinary alcohol.

Whatever the cause, the fact of the matter was that one evening in a rented room in a quaint little tavern which was hosting Hypogryff Lodge #156's annual awards dinner down below, Lusiphur found himself in bed with the unlikeliest of people - an elven mage, one who had tried to kill him previously.

Actually, the attempts on his life weren't what made it unlikely. If Luse excluded everyone from his bed who had once attempted to kill him, a number of memorable evenings would not have happened. No, as long as someone wasn't presently trying to kill him, Lusiphur was willing to let the past be the past. The unlikeliness here was due to the other elf's penis. Rather, the fact that the other elf had a penis.

Lusiphur didn't object to penises in general. He was rather fond of his own, although it had gotten him into a number of, ah, sticky situations. Still, it was his own and it was rather possessive of him. It normally didn't like being near another of its kind - not unlike Lusiphur himself. At the moment, though, it was receiving a great deal of close personal attention and was not inclined to complain.

"I experimented a bit in my youth, of course," Tenth said as stroked Lusiphur. "Haven't been with a man since, oh, I can't even remember. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it could be."

Lusiphur stared up at the ceiling and made an incoherent noise.

"Do you mind if I take you in my mouth?"

Lusiphur made a vaguely affirmative noise. That frog toxin had been quite debilitating, it seemed.

Tenth wrapped his mouth around Lusiphur's penis and sucked lightly. "Although," he said, coming up for a breath, "it would help if you bathed a little more often."

Lusiphur let out an impatient groan.

"All right, all right," Tenth sighed. "Does any woman ever sleep with you twice, I wonder?" He lowered his head. "Sithe ithn't everything, you know."

Lusiphur closed his eyes and decided not to worry about the whole penis thing. A mouth was a mouth, after all. Everything else was just biology and he wasn't much of a fan of the sciences.

His new philosophy worked quite well for the next five minutes or so, until a spit-dampened finger prodded at his rear entrance. Lusiphur's eyes shot open and he jumped up. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Do calm down!" Tenth exclaimed. "It's quite enjoyable, I promise- put that away!"

Lusiphur had drawn his gun. (He was still wearing his gunbelt and spurs. Did I forget to mention that? Getting naked with a man was one thing, but he wasn't going to go unarmed.) It was a sheer instinctive reaction to being startled. "If this 's goin'a happen," Lusiphur said, still heavily under the influence of, uh, the frog toxin, "'s gonna be my way. I do the pen'trating!"

"Fine, fine! Now will you put that away and come back to bed?" Tenth sighed.

Lusiphur eyed him suspiciously and took a step towards the bed.

Now, you must understand that the town of Jaren'th had had a series of devastating fires the previous years. The local labor wasn't sufficient to handle the workload that resulted, so many of the buildings had been rather hastily patched up. Including the tavern, whose quaint décor hid a number of weak spots. They had compensated by covering the weak spots with furniture so that no one would be harmed. But beds were moved, both by guests and by maids and little by little, the bed in Lusiphur's room had crept sideways over the past year or so, leaving the weak spot in the floor exposed, right next to the bed.

Which was where Lusiphur stepped now.

After a sharp *crack* and an abrupt downward movement, Lusiphur landed on the dinner table of an elderly couple who had just accepted an award for "Nicest Thatched Roof." Lusiphur's bobbing, still-erect penis pointed directly at the eyes of seventy-three-year-old Delores.

"Oh my!" she said in surprised. "Is this part of the prize package?" She reached out to touch it.

Lusiphur let out a horrified yelp as her cold hands touched him and he swung the gun towards her.

"How dare you!" yelled her husband, seventy-eight-year-old Kenth. He pushed his wife aside and faced Lusiphur himself.

Tenth peered down through the hole in the floor. "Oh dear," he said, assessing the situation. With a wave of his hand, he turned Lusiphur's gun into a cucumber. Lusiphur glared up at the ceiling.

"That'sh my bes' gun!" he yelled.

"ARREST HIM!" yelled Kenth.

Lusiphur took a quick look around at his situation and decided a hasty retreat was best for all involved. Or at least, best for him, as his spare weapons were upstairs with his clothing and he could do very little damage with a (now) half-erect penis. It wasn't Kenth that was the threat, of course. It was the well-armed brute squad advancing on the table that he was worried about.

His fists and spurs, of course, were capable of inflicting quite a bit of damage, but hand-to-hand combat took on a new dimension when one's delicate bits are in so vulnerable a position. Lusiphur hopped off the table and ran for the door.

Out the door and down the street he ran. He ducked into the first alley he saw, hoping to get a chance to double back and get his clothes from the room upstairs. The alley was a dead-end, but he found an open door near the end of it. Unbeknownst to him, this was the studio of famed artist Lorenzo Venatelli. Which is how Lusiphur became the subject of Venatelli's famed "Naked Man with Cucumber" portrait. Alas, Venatelli refused to share any of the royalties with Lusiphur. But that's another story and shall be told another time.