((For Susan and Calley-toad continued from Before the Princess, there was the Witch))

Three days. It has been three days. It was still springtime. The weather was still beautiful. The book stacks were still scattered around Susan's room. Slate was still living with her.
Slate was still a toad.

Some things did change though. For one, there were definitely less springtime flies buzzing around. Probably less mice too, although Susan made a point of not contemplating on that. There were much more notes and papers scattered around, with words and spells and incantations in various languages. Some of them also had toady footprints and tongue-marks all over them.
The room smelled like frog. It was not a strong smell; even Susan's nose didn't always pick it up, but when her eyes occasionally turned blue, she could see mud all over the place.

She was out of ideas. Three days had passed, and there was no change in the toadness. This story had to end, one way or another.
And it became very, very clear to Susan that there was only one ending possible.

AATh 440. The folktale type known as 'The Frog Prince'. It has hundreds of variants throughout the world; some of them include the infamous slamming-against-the wall incident. That's supposed to be the original version. But, Susan decided, before she has to settle for such a dramatic solution, she might as well try the more toad-friendly approach.

Thus happened that once upon a time a very frustrated young witch fished a toad out from under her bed, and set out on a quest.

"Come on, Slate. Let's find you a princess."

It was Spring. Glorious, warm, snowless and Spring. In celebration of this Twyla Ashby had shed her heavy layers of Winter clothing and swapped the jeans and sweaters for tank tops and shorts. Luckily, this was not hard as she'd just been sent a box of Spring/Summer clothes. Some of the things in the box had been old, like her oldest sister wore them when she was a tween old--but that was just the way her family rolled. You keep what you can keep so that you don't have to buy. Some of the older tops and bottoms had questionable colors and designs on them that reminded Twyla much too much of the things her mother had bought for her when she went through her girly phase. Shudder shudder. Terrible memories of bad make up and pretending to be obsessed with boys surfaced at the sight of them.

Funny thing, they were from the short span of time when the girl was thirteen until she started high school. Waste not want not and all that, especially if they still fit you in most places. There was a novelty to the sequined shorts and the graphic tanks that said obnoxious things like 'Queen Bee' and 'Spoiled' that she almost liked. So in memory of Springs Past she was decked out in some of the most awful articles from the box. Yes, Twyla Ashby was walking around the Mansion proudly in pink shorts with light purple flowers stitched in and embellished with sequins and an almost tight green tank top that in bright purple glitter proclaimed 'PRINCESS' across her bust. She almost liked the color pallet with her hair, not that she would ever admit it. The outfit was a joke, meant to be fun and nostalgic, even if it made her look kind of crazy and almost a little juvenile.

The 'princess' in question was hanging out restlessly in the living room, trying to decide what she wanted to do that day--it was a rare empty day for the young mutant and she was having difficulty deciding whether or not she wanted to watch the lame MTV programming that was dancing half naked across the screen she was only kinda watching. Outside was a nice option, not that she knew what she'd do once she got outside. Maybe a book would be a good companion to the sunshine and the lack of snow. But she really didn't feel like getting up...

So Princess Twyla readjusted herself on the couch cushions and decided that if she felt the urge to move she'd get around to it...eventually.

Three days. It had been three days. Three not entirely unpleasant days, either, he might add. Spring was the time of year when bugs awoke, and mice snuck curiously inside. Spring was the time when a toad could grow fat while a witch slept, preying on the nocturnal food chain of her room.

Three days meant Calley had nearly perfect control of this form. He could hop with self-lobbing grace; his tongue could dexterously seize a furred foe before it even had time to squeak a last protest into the night. He could hiss loudly enough to scare Cold Steel's infernal cat away from mewing at his door. He could ooze hallucinogenic fluids from his skin.

He was a king among toads. Therefore, he had no objections to seeking a princess.

Calley could feel it: he was almost ready to turn back. Just a little longer. If Susan was thinking what he was thinking she was thinking… then he might just be able to give the witch a proper fairytale ending.

Finding a princess in a 21st century boarding school was... not very likely. This was the main reason why Susan settled for finding any girl who would accept the role of a princess for a kiss, noble bloodline or not. She tursted her senses to spot any probable candidate.
Fairy tale princesses don't usually have PRINCESS written all over them.
This one did.
"Twyla" the witch recognized the girl, from their nightmareish adventures not so long ago. Walking up to her, Susan reminded herself of people skills. So she said "Good morning" before holding up Slate in both hands, under Twyla's nose.
"I need you to kiss this toad."
After a moment of hesitation, she decided that sentence might have sounded weird. She cleared her throat.
"He's a, um, friend of mine, and I, acidentally, turned him into a toad. So I, er, need a princess, to change him back."
She motioned at the writing across her, um, chest. Since she was still holding out the toad with both hands, this resulted in some rollercoaster-effect, and a wild swinging of toady feet. Then the witch lifted the toad back up to eye - or, rather, mouth - level, and looked at Twyla with expectation.
"Um. Please?"

There are many things you come to expect after you have lived in close quarters with other mutant children for over half a year. You expect that sometimes you'll have to look both ways when crossing the hall and that sometimes you might step in the organic purple slime that someone has just oozed on the carpet. You do not, however expect to be approached about toads--more directly, kissing a toad. So it stands to reason that the half asleep princess was more than a bit confused when she was asked by Susan, the girl she'd met in the...house, to kiss the toad she had in her hands.

Manners were first, even if accompanied by quite a lot of blinking. "Good morning, Susan." When rapid fire blinking did not make the scene in front of her disappear, the blond on the couch got very worried. She looked down at her tank top and then back up at the toad the girl was holding in front of her face. Curse her thirteen year old self, curse her, curse her, curse her. A million times over. Why oh why had she thought for that brief span of time that it was more wonderful to be pink and glittery than her usual plain and slightly dirty self? This was an awkward situation that may not have been brought on if the tank top had never been in her possession, curse the tank top for good measure.

Twyla sat up straighter, trying to look past Susan's 'friend', so she could look the other girl in the face. "Um...I thought that in the uh, story that the 'princess'" Twyla inserted some hand-made parenthesis with the word princess. "kissed a frog...You just said that um, your friend is a toad..." Twyla trailed off, hoping to use some fairytale logic to wriggle out of kissing any amphibians (assuming, of course that a toad was an amphibian--the girl didn't really know). It was funny that the prospect was freaking Twyla out so much, considering that when she was younger she had kissed a frog before. Were they really all that much different?

Another furtive glance at the large toad. Yes, they were decidedly different. Much more lumpy and a little less cute.

Another glance at Susan. Had she really turned some random person into a toad? Was the possible? Twyla didn't really know much about the 'witch's' powers--maybe it was part of her mutation? If it was part of her mutation did it even make sense to kiss whoever it was? Did it matter? The look on the other girl's face was kinda hopeful and she did say please, making guilt creep up the blond's throat in the form of: "Um, can I see it--him--er her--or whatever...?" Eyebrows were wrinkled, as if the girl was confused at her own words and the fact that her arms were raised to remove the creature from Susan's hands.

The bulbous beauty of the grayish-greenish Colorado river toad was clearly lost upon this particular princess. Perhaps this was an unfortunate result of the close range: he was clearly too close for her to focus on his mighty baseball-like bulk as his courtier, the ever delicate Susan, held him out in both hands. Twyla straightened, clearly attempting to perceive him better: unfortunately, his enthusiastic retainer made sure he kept pace with the young lady's rising nose.

Also, pendulum legs. The toad had exquisitely long and muscular legs, toned with the alluring color of leaves, decomposing on a pond's bottom. Ladies couldn't resist that: princesses, clearly, were no exception.

Twyla reached for him. His amphibious forelegs reached for her, too, aiming to charmingly lay themselves atop her royal hands. Once she held him, he would be certain to puff up his throat sack and croak a lover's welcome.

Come hither, Princess Twyla. My moist toad lips await.

Something about her name--Twyla--seemed familiar. That was quickly forgotten, however, in the heat of their moment. If and when those lips landed, the royal lady would find a naturally clad lad in her lap.

You make me warm-blooded, baby.

He couldn't wait to see the look on the witch's face.

"Um...I thought that in the uh, story that the 'princess' kissed a frog...You just said that um, your friend is a toad..."
"That distinction has no taxonomic basis" Susan shrugged "It is purely based on looks. They are both amphibians."
She plopped the wiggling amphibian into Twyla's hands, and wiped her hands on her skirt before folding her arms across her chest.
The princess didn't seem thrilled by the idea of kissing the prince, toad or not. Which called for desperate measures, since Susan was intent on changing Slate back into human. She was sick and tired of making sure he was covered by a towen every time she was getting dressed.
So the witch did what was most logical: she lied.
"He is a very clean t... frog." she pointed out "Indoors frog." she added, for good measure "Hand fed."
Twyla didn't need to know the actual menu. White lies are better than... flies. And mice.
"His name is Slate" she ventured "He is a, um, healer and telepath. Most of the time. The shift is, umm, blocking his powers. That, or he just doesn't want to talk to me."
Susan was not sure how convincing it all sounded to the princess. The witch herself never thought about kissing an amphibian.
"Um. Please?"

If she thought about it, Twyla surmised that there were a lot worse things that could be asked of her by any number of people. Kissing a random animal was not all that bad. Wasn't there something about enjoying life that she was trying? Not being scared of everything and all that? Did it stand to reason that sometimes you just had to roll with whatever your day throws at you? Even if the animal in question wasn't on Twyla's Top Kissing Cuteness List? An inward sigh as she used her own logic against herself.

Twyla decided as she took the large toad into her hands that the whole situation was best summed up by the word 'whatever'. Whatever had prompted her to buy the stupid tank top was at fault, as was whatever had prompted Susan to turn Slate or whoever into a toad. Whatever made her emotions kick in was making the girl squirm in some freaky form of nonsensical guilt while whatever it was that the toad secreted was getting all over her hands. Whatever.

It was no big deal.

Really.

Just a kiss to help an almost friend do...whatever it was that she was doing. The girl carefully stood up, because it felt awkward with Susan standing right in front of her on the couch, and then moved down a little bit where there was room to stand in front of one of the sections with an arm rest. Some rapid fire blinks (just in case) and a deep breath. Her brow furrowed for a second but then was smoothed out in a hesitant smile (that didn't reach her eyes, it was almost a pained expression). "Susan, I'm gonna say you owe me for this." Twyla looked at the other girl for a moment, stalling, and then rested her brown eyes back on the toad,er,Slate.

"This is really awkward. Like, I feel as if we should have had dinner first or something--I wonder if real princesses have to take a class on Proper Amphibian Treatment or anything..." She was blabbering now, and to a random animal no less. If said toad did not in fact turn into a person Twyla was going to be very questioning of hers and Susan's sanity. I can't believe I'm doing this...

The girl brought the large gray-green creature closer to her face. "Whatever." A moment later her barely chapsticked lips were planted lightly on a pair of slimy-ish toad ones. And so the not-princess kissed a toad and successfully ruined the children's story for herself for forever in one fell move.

Timing is everything. It determines how you perceive things, what you happen to see, and how your story progresses from that point. Funny, timing usually is the best when you are not thinking about it at all.

Like, for example, Maya, who just happened to wander around the Mansion with a bowl of cereals, looking for Twyla who was not in her room (already checked). She had no particular reason to look for her, apart from the fact that she liked her company, in a special way.

And then Timing took care of the rest.

Maya entered the living room just in time to see a naked Calley kissing her girl... friend.

"Wha..." bowl of cereals hit the floor, adding to the dramatic effect "... CALLEY!"

Because when you see the girl you love kiss the steed you ride, it obviously has to be the steed's fault. Twyla would never do anything like this on purpose.

Maya crossed the living room at almost teleporting speed, and grabbed Calley by the shoulder, pulling him away from the girl. The fact that someone else (Susan?) was also in the room didn't matter right now. Explanations didn't matter much either. Maya stood between Twyla and Calley, staring down the latter with a murderous glint in her eyes.

"What. The hell. Are you doing?!"

Thanks to Susan, Calley and Twyla's relationship started out with lies. He himself could not be blamed, though. There was nothing untrue about the way his skin excreted in her hands, or the way his clammy toad fingers rested atop of hers.

Their kiss was magic. Gettin' neked magic.

Calley's distinctly more manly hands still rested on hers as he drew back with a grin. "You have my eternal thanks, Princess Twy--"

>> "Wha... CALLEY!"

The shoulder grabbing, the jerking, the spinning, and the in-his-face: not appreciated. It took his eyes a moment to focus on the face in front of him. The yelling face.

>> "What. The hell. Are you doing?!"

"Maya?" He slid into another grin, holding his hands up harmlessly. "Chill, Lady Knight. I don't know what part of this you walked in on, but she kissed me."

Twyla. The name was still familiar, somehow.

"Why, what's it to you?"

>>"...she kissed me."

Maya's eyes flashed, glaring at the steed. He had to be lying, Twyla wouldn't just walk up to a naked guy and kiss him. Maya trusted her girl/friend with her life, it was just so much beyond Twyla to do something like that.
Conclusion: Calley was lying.

And that, that grin, that was getting annoying too.

>>"Why, what's it to you?"

Click. Flash. Bam.

Of all the punches Sam had taught her not so long ago, Maya decided to backhand Calley, as much for the grin and the question as the kiss itself. She didn't aim to break any bones. 'It's about speed, kid, not strength'. Excellent for wiping off annoying grins.

"She's my girlfriend, dumb*ss, that's what!"

His tentative steps into the outside world pretty much cleared up his delusions that he would die from the germs. His pretty much sterilised room now left behind him he confidently stepped toward the nearest TV He knew where to find THAT at least. T.V. was his lord and master; he would love T.V. now, perhaps grow old and adopt the teletubbies and tell people they were his children with the TV... No that was a little weird, maybe not that. It seemed the door was already open, he could see someone inside. It appeared to be female. Perhaps he would make a new friend today. That could be nice.

'Alright, happy face on, it's meeting people time.'

Cafas steeped into the room and the girl struck someone. A someone who had caused nearly instant hyperventilation and tunnel vision, but we'll not get into that. Someone was naked, as usual. As usual should never be a statement one can make about nakedness in someone else. Wait, SHE HIT CALLEY!

'Oh my god, you hit Calley! You bastard!'

"Oh no you didn't girlfriend!" Three steps, he was directly behind the strange girl. Arms shot out, back and up. Momentum pushed forward. One of the girl's wrists in each hand, pushed almost to the top of her shoulder blades And Cafas slammed the love-of-his-life abusing girl face first into a wall, his full 90kg shaking the wall through her body. "No-one hits my..." A quick, somewhat sad glance at Calley, "Friends." With that out of the way he turned an exasperated look in the direction of his 'friend' "How do you always end up naked?"

'Eyes up...'

"Susan, I'm gonna say you owe me for this."
"Of course." Susan nodded, aknowledging her debt, and held her breath, waiting for the kiss to happen. She was tury, deeply curious about what woud happen - if anything happens at all.
Then, suddenly, a lot of things happened at once.
Number one: Slate turned back into human. That was noted by the witch with a proud grin, the charm did work after all. A split moment later eyes were covered with a yelp, as the fact sunk in that Slate was, well, not really dressed at all. Susan blushed deep red as she pressed her palms over her eyes. Unfortunately, that is of little use to a person who can see with all of her senses. The blush got worse.
Number two: someone (a girl?) yelled 'Calley', and the next time Susan dared to look up Slate (Calley?!) was getting punched in the face by a very pissed off girl who smelled familiar. Susan's mind struggled with finding out who she was as well as why she called Slate Calley, among other foggy details like why he was getting punched. Did she know him? Was it about the kiss? Susan blinked in various colors. Very foggy.
Number three: Said girl was getting attacked by someone who just joined the scene; he didn't look familiar, but he was obviously intent on protecting Slate. Susan backed out of the way in such a hurry that she ended up sitting down onto the couch. One hand was still pressed against her face, but she was watching between her fingers.
"How do you always end up naked?"
Blink blink blink.
Always?!...

"Umm... Slate?"

It should be noted that Twyla Ashby was decently familiar with the male body, from the waist up at least. She had two brothers and a slew of male cousins to thank for this familiarity and her comfort in the realm of naked chests. After countless summers spent playing tackle football and going swimming in the river you tend not to bat an eyelash when you see a guy shirtless--that's just how it is and if you're related there's no point in looking anyway. When a guy is pantless on the other hand...well then all of that roughhousing and dunking each other underwater doesn't mean much (her parents never would have allowed Twyla to play with the boys if they were doing it all-natural).

After the kiss, as promised by Susan, Slate went from toad to man. What the princess failed to add to her equation was that there was a possibility that a naked toad would turn into a naked man. A totally naked man was standing in front of her.

Twyla's face got really hot and the rest of her followed suit.

Her breathing sped up and her eyelids shot up and down quickly as she tried to compute what was going on.

Do I have a fever? A hand went up to her forehead to check if this was all a crazy fever dream.

Her last though was: Who's Calley?

And then, like any self-respecting princess faced with a hectic situation, Princess Twyla fainted. She fell backwards onto the couch just after realizing that Maya had entered the room and was yelling.

>> "She's my girlfriend, dumb*ss, that's what!"

Backhanded.

>> "How do you always end up naked?"

Ogled.

>> "Umm... Slate?"

Insulted.

Calley rounded on the witch, one hand covering a suddenly sore cheek. “Croak!” He snapped. Force of habit. “I’m Calley. Thanks for asking.” She really didn’t deserve the glare he shot her way. She’d done a good job of sharing her room with him the past few days, and of not inadvertently killing him. He couldn’t seem to help it, though. The Lady Knight had just physically assaulted her steed, and now Cafas was—

Cafas was...

...here.

His three day toading hadn’t been nearly long enough, when it came to thinking on certain matters.

The nineteen year old delicately slipped a pillow out from under the fainted Princess’ head, and used it to cover certain areas he’d rather not have his roommate seeing. Either of them, really.