The Lusting Swarm 3: The Witch's Bog

 Bringing back this old piece. Old and different, but popular. A banished noble finds a sex-crazed race of shortstacks that he uses to breed a literal army. It's always been one of the darker stories I do, written with some of the Overlord video games in mind. Just a ruthless dude in a medieval setting out to ruin somebody's shit with his slutty forces. ​​​​​​​It's about as much revenge porn as genuine.

Keeping Gareth's character in mind was an ongoing struggle. I'm not always mean enough to write him and his cold logic, and I do want him doing anything besides railing dozens of dregs in a row. That led to this chapter where he basically establishes he's basically quit humanity as a whole and has the whole "anything for revenge" thing going on while still being calculating.

It had been a wild year for the former lord Gareth. He had gone from noble to outcast traitor, his fellow conspirators quick to push the blame of an assassination solely onto him. He was banished, only to find the strangest and most valuable army hidden in the mountains he’d been forced to survive in. The squat and overly curvy things called dregs were solely female and in desperate need of a leader and a stud to bring them out of hiding. At his most moral of times, Gareth was an opportunistic man. At his lowest, he was a regicidal sadist with little disdain for such distractions as family and friendship. It was an easy choice for him to make to seize control of the lusty and largely idiotic creatures, rallying them into breeding him an army that he used to strike out at the kingdom that had turned its back on him.

Their first assault had been outlandishly successful. The fortress of Ryker’s Stand had been laughably unprepared for their ambush, especially in the face of such strange and stealthy creatures like the dregs. Only two of his thousands of troops had died, which seemed to be mostly by their own stupidity rather than their enemy’s competence. He had even discovered that one of his mutants, the “singleborn,” was capable of corrupting other humans into turning into obedient dregs themselves. A resounding victory as far as Gareth was concerned.

The fallen lord had spent so much time with the little monsters that he had felt himself starting to slip. The idea of overcooked mountain goat had started to sound like a fine meal to him in his days of marathon sex deep in a cave of loyal breeders. Since they had silently taken over the fort, the ability to sleep in an actual bed was a comfort. Finding that the troops had actual ale, bread and cheese was a godsend. They were far too complicated for most of the dregs to create on their own, and he put a strict order for them to leave the finer foods for him.

They seemed just as content to eat the fallen enemies and horses anyway. It wasn’t as if they’d be much use to him, considering that most of his minions were three feet tall. All things considered, they were settling into their new base of operations quite nicely.

---

Leck stared up at her master, her eyes glassy. She was bounced along the bedsheets by his dick ramming inside her. The busty, brown-skinned gremlin of a shortstack’s broad, pointed ears were perked up high, showing he had her complete attention. The nude Gareth humped her lazily as he bit into his jam-slathered bread, letting crumbs and drops fall onto her breasts. A long tongue stuck out of her grinning mouth to lap it up like a helpfully hungry dog.

“I wouldn’t have thought I’d miss such simple tastes, Leck,” he observed aloud. “Stale bread and jam. I’d have dropped a dozen of you off the cliffs for a plate of these back in the mountains.”

“Thank ya for sharing it, m’lord!” the dopey goon praised him over his spilled crumbs. The grateful little beasts had been impressed that he was a man with a penis. Anything else was icing on the cake. He’d have to find if the captain had stashed any cake somewhere as well…

Leck gasped in a high, shrill voice as Gareth almost absentmindedly came inside her. He had been impregnating a half dozen dregs in a day during the mass breeding, so filling the tight little thugs had become second nature to him. Her snatch clung to whatever seed it could while more of it flooded her so much it spilled out between her thighs.

“Speaking of messes: clean it up,” he ordered as he pulled back out of her with a wet sucking sound.

“Yes yes yes! Thank ya, lord!”

Leck happily turned to stoop on all fours, slurping up his leftover cum. He could already see her skin changing like a chameleon from brown to blue, showing he’d hit his target. Dregs changed color based on how many litters they’d been impregnated with and grew in strength along with it.

Gareth took the last bite of his bread and ignored the groveling dreg licking his bed clean. The little beasts were stupid, but they were loyal, resourceful, strong and durable. Better than most of the forces he’d led when he was still among humans.

There was a knock at the door of his bedchamber. Only so many of them were bold enough to do so.

“Is that you, Sheg?” he called as he pulled on a loose robe.

“Aye, lord. I bring news that may interest you.”

The cracking voice of his shaman and main advisor was easily distinguished. She was another of the singleborn, though her gift seemed to be the fact that she was intelligent and sane enough to carry on a real conversation with Gareth. He opened the door to the purple creature in a similar robe to his own. It took him a moment to realize she’d just replaced her old animal fur robes with a shirt from one of the resident captains, fitting big enough to act as a robe for someone so small.

Sheg looked approvingly at the freshly turned Leck on his bed. She scampered out of the room past them as Sheg looked back to him.

“What’s your news?” Gareth asked, sitting in one of the few armchairs in the fort.

“We’ve found crows, sire.”

The broad and bearded leader stared at her without so much as blinking. She broke into a wicked smile.

“I’d imagined you’d think so. The lookouts had taken to stoning them for entertainment when they got too close to our new home. I went to investigate, because birds can be cunning. We’d been killing several every day and they kept coming back. I saw them proper, lord. Them’s magic birds.”

“And what’s so magical about them?” Gareth asked. He quickly went to the next question that came to his mind when considering almost anything and anyone in the world: “Are they something we can use?”

“Not directly. There’s only magic in ‘em, lord. Someone’s making the birds come and watchin’ through they eyes. I think that’s people magic.”

Gareth interlocked his fingers while he thought. The good news was that it wasn’t his former kingdom.

“The traitors of Urndell burn witches,” he informed her. “They were too ignorant to know a resource when they saw one.”

“No offense taken,” Sheg smirked. She was the only dreg who seemed to fully grasp what he was doing, and she seemed to hold some respect for it. The creatures needed a leader as much as a mate, and she felt that being dragged into a revenge scheme was better than remaining hidden in the mountains.

“Likely the druids of the Esher Swamp. The land’s too insufferable for any kingdom to seize and it’s tactically useless. We’ve turned a blind eye to them as they don’t seem interested in leaving and getting caught.”

“Sound a bit like us, don’t they?” Sheg asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. Gareth quickly picked up her meaning. “So what would they be wanting with us?”

“They may have been watching the fort well before we arrived,” he suggested. “Or somehow detected the battle and sent their winged spies to investigate. We’d be best to draw them out, regardless.”

“Which you say they don’t do. Your kind haven’t treated them kindly, so they’ve no reason to trust you.”

“Except for the fact that I’m killing the ones that hated them,” Gareth added. He studied Sheg for a moment. “Can you do what they did?”

“Kill a bird with a stone?”

“I mean the witches, not the guards. Can you send another spy back to them to show we know what they’re doing and are capable of the same? Show them that we’re not out to get them for their magic if we use some of our own.”

“Aha. Wise as ever, sire. You’ll pardon this old dreg’s way of thinking. Diplomacy was never our strong suit.”

“You’re a lot of tiny fuck machines that lived in a cave on forbidden grounds. It’s not as if you’d have practice.”

“You humans seem to have a lot of places you’re not allowed to go,” the elder dreg chuckled.

“It’s called territories.”

“A silly concept,” Sheg scoffed. “But it sounds like these wretches might have some common interests then,” Sheg mentioned. 

Gareth nodded slowly. “I’m considering the options. Just prepare the spy bird and see how they respond. I’ll be able to formulate a clearer strategy from there.”

“Fair enough. I’ll try to get the girls to stop killing birds long enough to catch one.”

---

Things went about as Gareth had predicted. Their scout crow spotted humans, almost completely grown women of various ages and cultures living in the swamp. Sheg reported her visions to him through the bird while sitting in a meditative position. It didn’t take long before one of the women looked up and noticed the bird. She pointed it out to another woman near her before they started making hand signals towards it. She didn’t understand them, but acting them out for Gareth while staying otherwise still, he pieced it together.

“Scout signals,” he determined. “We used them in the military when we were too quiet or far to shout orders. It meant ‘show yourself.”

“How should I respond?”

“You can respond?” Gareth demanded.

“In a sense. The bird won’t like it much.”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he sighed. “Ask them where.”

Sheg went back into her focused state. She mimicked their response again, coming back to him as inside the swamp, a half mile from their position.

“Tell them a quarter mile and no further. Tomorrow morning. They’re pressing their luck just by making me set foot in that muck in the first place. At least the caves were dry…”

Sheg projected herself again and gave him an affirmative gesture.

“Good. Gather up the troops. We’re taking a platoon of dregs with us, and make sure Speepa takes up the rear. One way or another, we’re making allies or eliminating an enemy.”

---

Speepa was all too happy to tag along on their march through the mud. The corruptive pink dreg seemed built for life in the swamp as much as anywhere else, keeping up with the other dregs as they flanked out throughout the bog. Sheg and a pair of dregs remained close to their lord as he begrudgingly waded through the muddy water.

Most nobles would have been annoyed with the mess and smell of going through the swamp. Gareth had at least served in the army among the soldiers, so he had been bracing himself for some time preparing for the trek through mud. Even finding the proper boots for the job around the fort didn’t make it pleasant.

Gareth still possessed a powerful poker face despite his days out of the courts and castles, so he did a fine job of hiding his fatigue and annoyance. If the witches had planned on an ambush, they didn’t have the time or location for it. He had, by chance, picked a particularly muddy spot where thirteen women waited in dresses of varying quality. Many were muddle while some were eerily pristine. Whether magical or not, he had no doubt it was meant to intimidate or throw him off. Just as his mix of practical armor, royal adornments and practical garb was meant to make him recognized but hard to read.

“What is your business spying on us?” one woman spoke up first. She had jet black hair and fair but stern features. The kind he could imagine being snatched up as a concubine or maybe a bride to a lesser noble if she were in the right spot at the right time.

“Just returning the favor,” Gareth answered casually. “I thought it was some kind of local custom. I am King Gareth, former lord of Urndell. I ask that if you intend to work in the shadows that you stay out of mine.”

“We know who you are,” the harsh brunette answered curtly. Her eyes roamed over the trio of short, curvy creatures beside him. “But what are those?”

“This is Sheg. My advisor and the one who answered your house call. These are my trusted guards, Nik and Kut.”

The random red guards he’d selected looked around at the women, already elbowing each other and muttering filthy things under their breath.

“-would kiss the last breath out of the tall one,” Kut mumbled.

“I wanna ride the fat one like a goat,” Nik snickered quietly. Gareth firmly flicked them in their ears, getting them to yelp and snap to attention.

“They’re not bright, but they’re cooperative. I’m afraid I can’t say the same of you all. What did you want with me?”

“We’re always watchful. The fortress held enemies, whether they knew it or not,” the brunette spoke. She started again when Gareth gave a cutting gesture at the air.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“Delia,” she replied with a cautious impatience. “Headmatron of the witches.”

“Good. Then negotiations are now open. You either stay out of my way and keep back in your hidey hole or serve under me and my army. Get a fair shot at the world that scorned you by taking some revenge and a sizable slice out of it for ourselves.”

The witch didn’t look pleased with his curtness. She took a step off her patch of mud and onto the murky water ahead of her. Her footstep didn’t even disturb the pool as she walked a few steps over it. Fog rose up around her and shaped itself into small but crackling storm clouds.

“And you stand in the swamp we have guarded for generations. Poorly guarded. If you think that you can step on our ancient-”

Gareth sighed and patted a lowered hand against Sheg. She nodded and held out a fist, cracking her knuckle. The clouds suddenly vanished around her as she cut off the spell. The witch was briefly startled before Sheg whistled sharply. As Delia took her next step over the water, four dregs came bursting out of it with delighted cackles. The witch barely had time to gasp before they dragged her under, pawing and pulling as a few scraps of dress went flying.

“I get her teetas!” one of the horny thugs shouted.

“Lemme get inside her gooper!” another gurgled as they yanked the witch under the water with them. The rest of those in attendance stared in stunned silence until Gareth pointed at one of them at random.

“You. What’s your name?”

“C… Cecelia,” a more uncertain young woman with bushy red hair and full, pale breasts answered.

“Don’t stammer, girl. It’ll make me let her up for air faster. Now who among you can do magic?”

“All of us, sir!” Cecelia blurted. “Any into their teens can weave at least some spells.”

“And how important is Delia to your order?”

“Terribly!” the answered quickly. “Very important! She inspires and leads us in all our decisions.”

Gareth grunted curiously. He gestured and Sheg whistled again. The dregs popped back up and hurled the head witch at his feet, leaving her coughing and retching up swamp water. No state to cast spells in, he imagined.

“Let me spell this out to you,” Gareth said, not even looking at Delia. “You’re a small and powerful force. That’s what I work best with and that’s similar to what I have already. That makes you valuable, and I don’t want that kind of value running rampant when I’m trying to orchestrate my schemes. I have these things…”

Gareth reached out and patted the head of one of the dripping wet dregs. She purred noisily, rubbing her mud-stained face into his groin like an obedient (if horny) pet.

“I’m already working with monsters that can serve and satisfy me.” It got a surprised look from the witches in attendance. “So if you think I’ll regard you with fear and perversion, I’m one of the last you’ll need to worry about.”

He nudged Delia with his boot. The witches seemed on edge for a moment before he stooped down and patted her hard on the back. It got her to belch out another mouthful of water to clear out her lungs at last.

“You may have missed some of that," he coldly advised the half-drowned witch. "But it's a join me or die situation. Now are you willing to drop the bullshit and cooperate?”

"We'll join you!" one of her cohorts blurted, but he raised a hand and looked to Delia.

"Yes," she sputtered. 

"Good. Then pick one of yours over there." He gestured at her accompaniment. "I'll turn that one into a dreg to make sure you understand what we're up to here."

Delia stared at him in shock. "But you can't-"

"Pick one or I pick two at random. I don't care. I just need to make sure you're listening and not about to change your minds about what I can and can't do here."

Delia was clearly dumbstruck, but Cecelia stepped forward. 

"I volunteer!" she blurted. "I'll become your creatures!"

The gathered dregs gave some impressed and curious chattering, clearly eying up her large breasts.

"I'm starting to like that one," Gareth said to no one in particular. He patted the head witch on her wet head. "Glad to see you're not all so stubborn."

He could read their expressions clearly. He'd sent a shock through them all, and they clearly had less practice in bluffing people while living in their humble swampland. With their leader downed so easily, they were a lot more willing to listen to reason. He truly didn't care about them in the end beyond being a powerful and maneuverable game piece.

"Ground rules are simple! You listen when I send orders. You can leave your bog as soon as you're ready and live at the fortress until we decide where to strike next. You need anything, you ask Sheg or myself. You can ask the creatures at your own risk. You can all live in the stables and the inner wall as you like. You can stay inside the fort as you like, but the dregs tend to get handsy so that's your own risk as well."

He tugged on his short cape and turned to walk away. "Pleasure doing business with you. I truly hope this becomes a step up for the both of us."

---

Gareth had the dregs keep an eye on the witches for the first few days, but they didn't take any clear action against him. His hospitality was genuine, and the dregs were happy to sleep on a pile of clothes as much as a bed so there was supplies to spare for them. Clean water and enough dry firewood to get them each some baths was easily provided and much appreciated by many of them. Delia kept an eye out for him, but it was clearly out of uncertainty and discomfort more than hate for all he did for them in the end. Again, it was no skin off his nose. He still lived like a king among his cretinous forces.

None of the ladies took up the offer to live inside the fort itself. However, on their second night at Ryker's Stand, Cecelia came calling. 

She was escorted by a pair of dregs keeping their hands on the hem of her dress. It was one of the few things he couldn't provide for them; armor and trousers were most of what the armed guards had to spare. The chesty and modest redhead was shoved at the back of her thighs, stumbling into Gareth's room. She started to speak but quickly halted as she was what he was up to.

There was a cum-soaked dreg laying by the foot of the bed, looking drunk on pleasure as his semen overflowed from between her legs. One was seated on his lap, feet planted on her naked lord's thighs to bounce her pussy as rapidly and hard as she could, burying his dick deep into her bizarre insides. A brown one was laying on her belly, her huge breasts pushed to either side of her slimy body as she sucked on Gareth's balls. It seemed to encourage him to cum inside the riding dreg faster. His load overflowed out of her pussy, and she was still changing colors when the lower dreg shoved her out of the way to take her place.

"I... didn't mean to interrupt," Cecilia muttered warily.

"Believe me," Gareth assured her. "This is an everyday thing. Strengthens them and prepares more young for the future army. It's almost paperwork to me at this point."

The witch nodded like she understood. It suddenly made sense why he assured them no threat to their sexuality. He just grabbed the latest dreg by the tits and yanked her onto his still-leaking shaft like he was stamping a piece of paper. The dreg still squealed with glee as she started to ride him roughly.

"So what is this about?" Gareth asked casually. The witch tried to shake off the distraction.

"I just thought I could come and make myself useful to you. You've been... surprisingly reasonable with my sisters so far. After the... drowning incident. Not that we've had much luck with outsiders before."

One of the dregs who had escorted her in sniffed at her leg and purred curiously. Cecilia gave her a puzzled look.

"Fine. Take a seat and a dreg. Let's talk," Gareth offered as if he weren't balls deep inside one of the wailing shortstacks. 

"Do I need the dreg?" Cecelia asked warily.

"Yes. The little beasts are insatiable." 

"Thank ya, boss!" the dreg on his dick snickered.

"It means ‘can't be satisfied."

"Ah. Thanks again, boss!"

Cecelia sat in one of the spare chairs, awkwardly looking over the few stray dregs around the room. She pointed at the one pink one in the bunch, who perked up a little.

"But not that one," Gareth warned. "Anyone but that one."

"Aww," Speepa groaned.

"Aww," Speepa groaned.

“Alright… is she your favorite?” Cecelia asked cautiously.

“No. Speepa will literally turn you into a dreg if she touches you.” A slight exaggeration, but enough to warn her off it. The witches didn’t need to know everything, even if she was being genuine.

Cecelia finally pointed at one of the blue ones.

“Fine choice. Tig is very capable.” Gareth gave the dreg half a nod. “Go see that our guest enjoys her stay.”

“It’s really not necessary,” the redhead tried to excuse. The busty blue shortstack with hip-length black hair had already hurried across the floor and stuffed its head under her dress. She shivered as Tig’s paws pulled at her panties. Her slimy tongue was already out as she sniffed and licked at the human’s thighs.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Gareth admitted as he stuffed his latest minion full of his dick. “So tell me; we’re going to be working together. What can the witches do?”

“Most things you’d expect,” Cecilia answered quickly, squirming as the dreg noisily started to eat her out. “Command the elements, conjuring items, fly EEE!”

She squeezed her legs around Tig’s head, squashing her bat-like ears to head. It didn’t keep the curvy creature from twisting its head and stuffing its slender tongue into her pussy.

“Ooh, she’s a good’n!” Tig announced from under her dress. Cecilia shuddered and leaned back in her chair in a mix of relaxed and tense.

“What about the stories? That you can twist the hearts and minds of men.”

Cecilia frowned and shook her head, just to clench her teeth as Tig stuffed her face into her crotch and look a long, deep lick amidst their meeting. Gareth watched her unphased between his diplomatic training and simply becoming accustomed to knocking up his underlings over the recent months.

“Not as much. Physical changes are simple. The mind and immaterial that we cannot see are more difficult to manipulate. It… oh shit…”

The tongue digging into her and flicking at her clit made her squeeze the arms of her chair.

“Do go on. Tig, pull it back a bit. This is getting interesting.”

“It can be done,” Cecelia admitted. “They would just need to be at short range and it’s… unsubtle.”

“Good to know. I knew you’d be of use.” Gareth grabbed his dreg by the hair and decisively slammed his hips into the curvy underling. She gave an excited shriek as she raised her ass, bouncing her pussy more eagerly on his shaft. With a few rough thrusts he gushed inside her, overflowing her as her skin turned another shade. He popped her tight-fitting body off him and let her scurry off the bed.

“So was that what you… what…”

Cecilia found herself shuddering as despite all her reservations, she orgasmed into the dreg's face. Tig gave a muffled giggle as she lapped up her cum rapidly like it was a sweet treat for the creature. She gave a messy burp before pulling her head back out from under her dress, wiping her sticky lips.

“Just as good as master’s,” Tig commented brightly. “Not as much of it though.”

Cecilia swallowed and nodded, not sure what to say to that. “Is that what we’ll be doing, then? Changing minds of prisoners? Wiping memories of those who find us here?”

“Oh definitely not. We may make a spy out of one or two, but I’m not interested in allies. Or hiding.”

Gareth pulled on a robe, simply out of comfort than any remaining modesty.

“I had agreed to be part of a conspiracy among the other nobles before I left. They simply left me holding the blade when the king was dead so that they had someone to pin it on. I’d already made my choice to turn on them, so I don’t have any issues with taking down a few more unwanted rulers.”

He nodded towards one of the cum-stuffed dregs laying listlessly on the floor, her belly already puffing up slightly.

“If that means letting these ladies devour a few kingdoms and run across the land like locusts, then I’m glad to lord over them while they take my seed in exchange for doing my dirty work.”

He stepped up to Cecelia and patted a hand firmly on her shoulder.

“Trust me: just do what I tell you to. I truly do not care about you if you’re not a threat to me. Once my fellow traitors are in shallow graves, you can have all the swamps or land or whatever it is you want. You just might have some noisy neighbors, but they know that they answer to the one person who can give them what they want.”

Cecilia swallowed tensely, but he saw an understanding in her eyes. Not for his siege on his own country or mating with a swarm of sloppy, busty monsters, but for all his tactics and diplomacy, Gareth simply wanted to spite the ones he’d spend months hating away from the rest of humanity.

“If that’s all,” Cecilia said carefully. “Then we hold no love for the kings of the land either. Our magic is yours in return for proper sanctuary.”

“I work with brainless, cum-hoarding mutants. They’re some of the best soldiers and trusted allies I’ve ever had,” Gareth spelled out. “So I have no issues with dealing with witches. Do me no harm and you’ll be safely protected behind a sea of horny thugs.”

“That shouldn’t sound as tempting as it does,” the redhead chuckled. She kept her eyes on his face as she curtsied. “I’ll speak to my sisters. I’m sure they’ll agree to your goals, Lord Gareth.”

"My goals will happen whether you agree or not. But I'm glad to hear it." He gestured dismissively. "No need for formalities. I lived in a cave for the better part of a year. Though... keep the lord bit. It's still a fine balm for the wounded pride."