A requested fiction with just enough plot to tie the scenes together, written with specific kinks! Pay attention to the tags before reading.
Warnings: monster fuck, cuckold, non-con, size difference, female penis.
1
The swamp swallowed them in its stinking, murky dampness. Duke M jumped onto the mud, clutching his wife's hand with an urgency. The ground beneath them squelched with each step, sucking at their boots as if the earth itself sought to drag them down, and some unseen creature slithered through the stagnant water, brushing at their ankles. Above them, the gnarled branches of ancient, twisted trees reached out like skeletal arms, and the insects screamed similar to the souls of the damned in hell. The air was thick with decay, the stench of rot clinging to their clothes, seeping into their lungs with every laboured breath.
As the duchess whimpered in disgust, her husband ushered her to silence. Their enemies were not yet far enough. He glanced at her, seeing the terror in her eyes, but he had no comfort to offer. His heart pounded with dread, each beat echoing the certainty that they had escaped one horror, only to walk straight into another. Their caravan was probably slaughtered, all of his most loyal soldiers, his wife's maids and servants, some of them blood of their blood. How could they have been ambushed so easily inside their land?
But there was no time for tears.
The duke dragged his wife on. As they pushed deeper into the swamp, the ground grew even more treacherous, the mire pulling at their legs like quicksand, and the death magic everywhere tugged at their very souls.
"Aileen, listen. There was much I wanted to tell you..."
"Dear, no. Don't speak like that. We will not die today."
"Indeed, we won't. But the means to our survival you might find disturbing... My family has owned this land for centuries, you see, and it wasn't taken, but bought with treaties and trades. One of those treaties is what will save us today, but I ask of you to be brave in this time of need. Braver than you have been so far."
Aileen wasn't fae touched like him - she was the daughter of a very human, very religious noble family, married to him by alliance more than affinity. And even though their contract had bloomed into friendship and then love, there was much of his world that she didn't know. And as the Duke hesitated on how to tell her, Aileen surprised him, for her hazel eyes held courage and determination only a worthy duchess could have.
"I trust you, my love, my husband."
The duke hugged her to his chest, and kissed her head. And as his eyes moved to the horizon of mist and damp green, he spoke:
"Baba Lorna, lady of the bog, I beg your help."
A low, ominous croak echoed through the swamp, followed by the rustling of barely visible creatures moving just beyond the edge of the fog. Then there was a cackle, low, like the feet of a chicken scraping the earth. Aileen jumped on his arms.
"What is that?"
"Remain quiet, my love, for our own good."
The smell of fire and herbs pierced through their senses. An ominous wind blew, drawing their attention to the space at their back. Where had been only water and mud, now there was ground, solid, on which stood a fence. Behind it, there was an organized garden, pots, and plants in a patch of tented earth, and after that, a cottage, rough and old, made of wood, stone, and mud, whose windows were alight, shining colour onto the gray gloom. The roof caved in places, covered in moss and creeping vines, as if the swamp itself was trying to reclaim it.
The Duke pulled his wife's hand. They crossed the threshold, and it seemed like the air was lighter, softer, and warm. He followed the path of stones until he knocked on the crooked, wide door.
"Come on in, duke of M" a raspy voice answered, hoarse as bark and stone, "son of X, descendant of Y, long may he reign."
He opened just enough to speak more clearly.
"I'm afraid, Baba, that my boots are soiled and my clothes are muddy, and that I might dirty your floors."
"You can leave your shoes by the door, deary."
The Duke removed his boots and instructed his wife to do the same, and so they entered, stepping on the warm wooden floor with their bare feet. The space was large, but it was all just the one room. The furniture was sparse and worn out. There was a table made of a thick, gnarled tree trunk, its surface scarred from years of use. A single chair, seemingly too large for any human, beside it, covered in patches of old leather and fur, with deep grooves in the arms where something had gripped tightly, perhaps in thought or frustration. There was a bed with a gigantic pile of blankets and linens. Hanging from the low ceiling are bundles of dried herbs, clusters of strange roots, and twisted charms made of bone, feathers, and twine. They sway gently with the steps of the visitors, creating a constant, faint rustling sound that mingles with the crackle of the fire and the bubbling of the cauldron. And one crude stone hearth from which the only light came, the bright yellow of fire.
The owner of the house stood by it. The creature had spoken like a human, but it certainly wasn't one. It reminded Aileen of bullfrogs and lizards, a round bulbous green thing that couldn't exist anywhere but in that swamp. It certainly was human like-- it had a head, arms and legs, a round belly and thick thighs, it even had what could be called a bosom showing up above the edge of its clothes. Yet it was horrendous and large, at least three heads taller than her husband, and it moved like a pig, pushing its weight from one leg to the next to waddle. It was dressed in a coat and a large hat. Tall, broad, with yellow glistening eyes and sharp teeth from pale green lips.
It spoke to her husband like it knew him.
"Look how grown you are! Oh, buy you smell like death, young Duke... Many reapers passed by you, I believe? Just now?"
"Yes, Baba, we were attacked by invaders."
The monster chuckled.
"Lucky, lucky you were, then, to be near my swamp when that happened, hm?? Where else could you hide so well?"
"I am always thankful for your help, Baba. Ah, I believe you haven't met my wife."
The monstrous gaze turned to Aileen, slit pupils studied her up and down, and her wide mouth curled into a grotesque grin. The tension in the air thickened as she shuffled closer, her feet dragging across the floor.
"The Duchess is as beautiful as the gossip promised she would be. Certainly, not what your ancestor would have chosen for you. Her blood is of our enemies of old, I can smell it. But it doesn't matter. It won't taint your children."
Aileen had never wanted to hear the legends of her husband's land. Stories were the way the evil spirits crawled onto one's mind, the priest used to say. But she had never expected to meet a monster such as that one which now stirred the fire. What sort of profane relationship it had to her duke?
"Baba" the Duke continued, "I require help to reach my fortress before my enemies reach me."
"Of course you do. Baba is glad to help, always glad to help the poor mortals. What will you offer in return, young Duke?" she asked, her voice dripping with malice. "You know nothing comes without a price."
The Duke tightened his hold on Aileen's hand, his jaw clenched. He had expected this, but now, faced with the reality of it, the weight of the decision pressed down on him like the mire beneath their feet. His family's dealings with the wicked fae were long and tangled, but he had hoped--desperately--that this time, the cost wouldn't be too high.
"I can pay in gold and produce. I just need to return home, and I'll have them sent your way," the Duke spoke.
"You know Baba doesn't trade in late payments. Tell me, what you have on you right now?"
"I have... I have my jewels. I have my sword."
"Trinkets," the witch spat, her tone dismissive. "Those are nothing to me." She leaned closer, her breath hot as she looked down upon the duke. "What else do you have to offer? How much is your entire kingdom worth, hmm? For that is the price of delay. In days, your enemies will claim everything you own, dear Duke."
Aileen, sensing his hesitation, squeezed his hand. "Whatever it takes," she whispered, though her voice trembled. Baba Lorna chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like distant thunder. "Ah, the brave little Duchess," she cooed, though there was no kindness in her tone. "You speak boldly now, but would you be so eager if you knew how far man can go for their power?"
The Duke looked at Aileen, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face. She trembled still. He had vowed to protect her, to keep her safe, and now he was faced with a decision that could damn them both. The Duke's heart pounded in his chest as he looked into Baba Lorna's gleaming eyes, then back at his wife. There was no other choice.
"We will pay in service, then. One cycle of the moon for my quick passage to my castle. Aileen," the Duke turned to her, his voice tight with desperation, "I need you to stay here with Baba Lorna. Help her. Just until I return for you. It won't be long, I promise."
Aileen's eyes widened, and she instinctively pulled her hand back, disbelief and fear flashing across her face. "Stay here? I could never..."
