Movement in the water

Dew stood in the oppressive silence, her breath hitching as she stared at the ripple-less surface of the pool. She was so focused on the void that she didn't see the pale, slick heads bobbing just inches from the waterline. Four amber eyes, slit with predatory hunger, watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. These were the adolescents—leaner than the warrior toads, their skin a translucent, sickly white, and their long, twitching tadpole tails still trailing behind them in the muck. Despite their youth, they possessed the same ruinous drive as their fathers, their long, slender cocks pulsing with a need to conquer. Suddenly, the silence shattered. A slick, pale hand erupted from the water, gripping Dew's ankle with a crushing force. She gasped, but before she could scream, a second toad lunged from the shadows, his claw digging deep into the soft flesh of her thigh. He didn't just scratch her; he injected a massive, uncontrolled dose of the aphrodisiac poison. Dew's scream died in her throat as a white-hot surge of electricity shot from the wound to her core. Her knees buckled, her vision blurring into a haze of pink and gold. The poison hit her like a tidal wave, erasing her discipline and replacing it with a starving, clawing desperation for touch. Her skin flushed a deep crimson, and her breath became a series of ragged, needy moans. She looked up to see the pale creatures circling her, their eyes wide with lust, and for the first time, the thought of their slick bodies against her didn't inspire horror—it inspired a frantic, agonizing hunger that demanded to be satisfied."