DISCLAIMER: This story contains themes of bondage, voluptuously vile villainesses and paddle-enthusiast amphibians. If that isn't your thing, you know what to do. ------------- "Aargh! You warty mud-wadding freaks! You'll pay for this!" A sharp, powerful voice cut through the air, filled by malice and simple, unbridled frustration. It was the kind of voice that no one would ever want to hear directed at them, especially when they were on the receiving end of the speaker's fury—and to those who knew the Dark Queen, being on that receiving end usually resulted in being burnt to ash and scattered to the wind. She was a tyrant. A sorceress. Voluptuous. Very sharply dressed. And perhaps just a tad bit alluring to the eyes of men, women, and mutant creatures alike. But one thing she was not was good at handling loss. Least of all, loss at the hands of three shape-shifting and utterly infuriating amphibians. "Yeah, right. How many times have we kicked that leather-clad butt of yours