Hyrule, Ripe for the Taking

Previous Story (Chapter 07): [LINK]
Beginning (Chapter 01): [LINK]
Next Story (Chapter 09): To Be Continued…

 

In the nadir of the Depths, where even the valiant glow of Lightroots guttered like dying embers—faint, fractured pinpricks swallowed by endless void—the air hung thick and poisoned. No wind stirred here; no echo bounced from the cavern walls. Only silence, vast and malignant, cradled the remnants of the Demon King’s malice. Gloom pooled in viscous, inky rivulets across the obsidian floor, seeping from cracks like the blood of a slain god. It lingered, patient as a predator, waiting for a spark to reignite its fury.

 

A crackle split the dark. Not thunder, but something sharper—red lightning forking from nowhere, veins of crimson laced with obsidian cores that writhed like living smoke. Another bolt followed, then a dozen, stitching the blackness with erratic fury. The air hummed, charged with ozone and rot, the ground trembling as if Hyrule’s bones themselves recoiled.

 

The discharges converged, coiling inward until they birthed a sphere: man-sized, pulsating with the fury of a storm trapped in flesh. Crimson arcs danced across its surface, the black heart within throbbing like a diseased pulse. Inside, shadows twisted, coalescing into form—a skeleton first, ribs stark and jagged, skull grinning with empty sockets that burned like dying stars. The energy surged, feeding it, birthing it from the ether.

 

When the sphere imploded with a soundless crack, the figure that remained knelt in the gloom’s cradle: a mummy, desiccated and ancient, skin like cracked leather stretched over bones too prominent to be mortal. His limbs trembled, fingers clawing at the stone as if anchoring himself to this world. The Gloom stirred then, alive with recognition. Tendrils rose from the pools, slithering toward him like supplicants to their king. They poured into his form—through his mouth, his eyes, the pores of his desiccated flesh—reknitting what catastrophe had unraveled.

 

Flesh plumped, veins bloomed blue-black beneath skin turning tawny and vital. Muscle corded his frame, broad and unyielding; hair unfurled in fiery red waves, bound by a crown of hammered gold that evoked ancient Gerudo thrones. His eyes snapped open, amber slits gleaming with predatory intellect. The Gloom drank inward, every last drop siphoned into his core, leaving the cavern barren and echoing—purified by absence, as if the poison had found its true vessel.

 

Ganondorf rose, towering, his Gerudo form resplendent in naked power: broad chest scarred from battles older than the kingdom above, limbs like forged iron, a mane of flame framing a face both regal and ruthless. He flexed his hands, marveling at the return of sinew and heat, then reached up to the crown-like ornament binding his hair. From its central socket tumbled a gem—jet-black, veined with malice, the size of a man’s fist. His Secret Stone.

 

It struck the ground with a brittle clink, fracturing instantly into a hundred shards that glittered like shattered obsidian, their power guttering out like spent embers. Useless. Dead.

 

Ganondorf stared at the fragments, lips curling in a snarl that bared teeth filed to points. “Damn,” he rumbled, voice like gravel under chariot wheels, laced with the dry amusement of one who had clawed back from oblivion. “Moving between worlds was more costly than I thought.”

 

He knelt, scooping a single shard between thumb and forefinger, holding it to the weak Lightroot glow. It crumbled to dust, scattering on a breath. No matter. The stone had been a crutch, a relic of Rauru’s meddling age. He was whole now—Gloom incarnate, unbound by trinkets. Above, in the fragile light of Hyrule’s so-called peace, the hero and princess reveled in their pyrrhic victory. But the Depths remembered. And now, so did he.

 

With a low chuckle that echoed into the void, Ganondorf turned his gaze upward, toward the distant pulse of the surface. The game resumed. This time, on his terms.

 

Ganondorf strode upward through tightening fissures, the stone walls slick with condensed moisture from the Depths’ eternal chill. His bare feet slapped against crystalline outcrops, muscles coiling and flexing with reborn vitality—tawny skin taut over a frame forged for conquest, fiery mane swaying unbound. Nakedness meant nothing here; the Depths were no court of prudes, and he was their unchallenged sovereign.

 

The passage widened into vast emptiness, a cavernous expanse mirroring Central Hyrule’s fractured plains above. Lightroots flickered faintly overhead, their heroic glow now unopposed, casting long shadows across barren rock. No trace remained of the Gloom that had once festered like an open wound—no violet-black pools, no creeping miasma, no suffocating haze. His restoration had devoured it all, leaving the air crisp, almost sterile, the ground dry and unyielding. The Depths breathed easier, unwittingly cleansed by the very plague it harbored.

 

He pressed on, strides purposeful, until a low rumble echoed from the gloom-shorn murk ahead. Crimson eyes gleamed in the half-light: a Lynel, silver-maned and armored in bone plates etched with ancient runes, its massive form silhouetted against a distant Lightroot. The beast pawed the ground, hooves cracking stone, a colossal bow slung across its equine back, sword and shield at the ready. In life, it would have charged any intruder with thunderous fury, horn lowered like a siege ram.

 

But this one paused. Its leonine head tilted, nostrils flaring as it scented the air—Gloom’s absence, replaced by the raw, incarnate malice radiating from Ganondorf like heat from a forge. Recognition flashed in those predatory slits. No roar of challenge, no arrow loosed. Instead, the Lynel lowered its bulk, front legs folding as it knelt, head bowed low in submission. A thrall to its ancient master, blood calling to blood.

 

Ganondorf’s laugh boomed, deep and resonant, shattering the silence. He vaulted onto the beast’s broad back in a single leap, thighs clamping iron-tight around its muscled flanks, fingers twisting into the coarse silver mane. The Lynel shuddered beneath him, not in fear, but eagerness—a war steed sensing the hunt.

 

“Take me to the Gerudo Desert Depths,” he commanded, voice a whip-crack of authority.

 

The Lynel exploded upward with a deafening roar that shook stalactites loose from the ceiling, raining shards like brittle hail. Hooves thundered against the stone as it wheeled southwest, galloping into the sprawling void. Wind howled past Ganondorf’s bare skin, the Depths blurring into streaks of indigo rock and pulsing Lightroots. Chasms yawned below, Abandoned Mines flickered by like forgotten tombs—echoes of the surface’s mirrored layout, now bent to his will.

 

Southwest: toward home. Toward the sands that birthed him, the Gerudo heartlands entombed below. There, in the far-flung southwestern reaches, his people—or what remained—would kneel as well. The Gerudo Desert Depths awaited: flat expanses riddled with coliseums, cemeteries, and dark skeletons of ancient bone, ripe for reclamation. The Lynel’s gait devoured distance, a crimson blur hurtling through the underworld veins. Above, Hyrule slumbered in false peace. Below, the king returned.

 

The Lynel skidded to a halt at the base of a sheer basalt cliff, its hooves scraping sparks from the stone. A narrow fissure yawned in the rock, exhaling a breath of warmer, drier air that carried the faint scent of sun-baked sand. Ganondorf slid from the beast’s back, gave its mane a single approving tug, and strode into the crevice without a backward glance. The Lynel watched him vanish, then wheeled and galloped back into the Depths, its roar fading into distant thunder.

 

The passage twisted upward like a serpent’s spine, widening after a dozen strides into a natural cavern. Torch stubs guttered in iron sconces, their wicks recently trimmed; fresh tallow still gleamed. Crates (sturdy, Gerudo-stamped cedar) stood stacked against the far wall, lids pried open. Someone had been here within the week.

 

Ganondorf’s bare feet made no sound on the packed sand floor. He crossed to the nearest crate and flipped back the lid. Inside lay folded garments: a sleeveless tunic of deep crimson silk, black leather trousers reinforced with bronze scales, and a heavy cloak lined with sandfox fur. Beneath them, wrapped in oilcloth, rested a single Gerudo scimitar (its curve worn from use, the edge nicked but recently honed) and a compact recurve bow of whitewood and sinew, a quiver of iron-tipped arrows beside it.

 

He dressed with economical grace. The silk slid over his shoulders like a second skin; the leather creaked as he flexed, testing the fit. The scimitar’s belt cinched tight at his waist, the blade settling against his thigh with familiar weight. He slung the bow across his back, the quiver at his hip. No crown, no ornament save the empty socket in his hair where the Secret Stone had once sat. He needed none.

 

The cave mouth opened onto a ledge high in the Gerudo Highlands. Snow lashed sideways in a wind that could flay skin from bone, the sky a bruised iron-gray. Below, the desert lay buried under a rare winter storm, dunes erased beneath white drifts. Most men would have shivered, teeth chattering, breath fogging.

 

Ganondorf stepped into the gale and felt nothing. The cold kissed his bare arms, his throat, the scars across his chest (then slid away, repelled by the furnace of malice burning in his veins). Snowflakes melted on contact, steaming into nothingness. He drew a slow breath, tasting pine and frost and, beneath it, the distant promise of sun-scorched sand.

 

He started down the mountain path, boots crunching through fresh powder, cloak snapping like a war banner. The storm howled around him, but the king walked on, unhurried, unstoppable.

 

The Highlands’ snow gave way to the Canyon’s furnace in a single, brutal step. One moment Ganondorf was descending a pine-shadowed ridge; the next, the trail spilled onto sun-bleached stone, and the air hit him like a hammer. Heat shimmered off the canyon walls, distorting the horizon into liquid gold. Sand hissed under his boots, each grain a needle of fire. The sky above was a lidless eye, white-hot and merciless.

 

He walked south along the ancient trade road, the scimitar’s hilt warm against his palm. Lizards skittered from his path; a lone vulture circled once, then thought better of it. The Gerudo Canyon Stables appeared at dusk (timbers warped, canvas awnings shredded, the signboard half-buried in a drift of red sand). No horses whinnied in the corral; no travelers bartered over watered wine. The place had been abandoned since the Upheaval, maybe longer. Wind moaned through empty stalls like a dying thing.

 

Ganondorf’s breath came steady, but the muscles in his thighs burned; the Gloom’s restoration had knit flesh, not endurance. Night would bring a knife-edged chill, and even a king needed walls against it. He shouldered through the stable’s warped door. Inside: overturned benches, a cold forge, a single oil lamp still half-full. He barred the door with a broken yoke, then scavenged kindling from splintered crates.

 

Outside, a gray wolf prowled the corral’s edge (lean, ribs showing, eyes reflecting the last smear of sunset). It snarled when Ganondorf stepped into the open, but the snarl died in its throat. The beast took one look at the man silhouetted against the embers of day and froze. Ganondorf moved first: a blur of crimson silk and bronze scales. The scimitar flashed once. The wolf dropped without a sound, throat opened to the stars.

 

He dragged the carcass inside, gutted it with practiced strokes, and spitted the haunches over a fire built in the forge’s belly. Fat hissed; the scent of seared meat filled the stable, chasing out the must of abandonment. Ganondorf ate in silence, tearing flesh from bone with his teeth, blood slicking his fingers. The fire’s glow painted his face in shifting bronze and shadow.

 

When the last strip was gone, he wiped his hands on the sand, banked the coals, and stretched out on a pile of moldering saddle blankets. The night wind rattled the shutters, but the stable held. For now, it was enough. Tomorrow, the desert proper. Tomorrow, the Vai who had forgotten their king.

 

The fire settled into a nest of dull red coals, the stable’s rafters creaking in the wind like old bones. Ganondorf lay on his back, one arm behind his head, the other resting on the scimitar’s hilt. The wolf’s blood had dried on his fingers; the taste of iron lingered on his tongue. Outside, the desert night pressed cold against the walls, but inside the forge’s embers held the chill at bay.

 

He stared at the soot-blackened ceiling and let the memories unspool.

 

In the world he had fled, the seal had finally cracked. Not with thunder or drama—just a slow, inevitable crumbling, like sandstone under centuries of wind. Rauru’s light had guttered out, and the gloom that had been his prison for ten thousand years seeped back into his veins. He had awakened beneath Hyrule Castle, mummified but aware, every moment of the Calamity’s rampage etched into his mind. He had watched—helpless, furious—as that pig-snout abomination wearing his name ravaged the kingdom, only to be cut down by a slip of a princess and her mute knight. Hyrule had survived, stronger for it. To strike there would have been to batter himself against a wall of steel and legend.

 

But this timeline… this one was wounded.

 

Here, his counterpart had also fallen—reduced to ash and memory in the skies above the castle’s depths. The Upheaval had shattered Hyrule’s spine: towns half-rebuilt, garrisons thin, the royal coffers bled dry by reconstruction. The hero and princess were alive, yes, but distracted—reveling in their hard-won peace, rebuilding homes, fucking in new beds while the kingdom’s edges frayed. The sages were scattered, the Zonai relics hoarded or forgotten. The Yiga lurked, the monsters multiplied, and the Gerudo—his Gerudo—were leaderless, their chief a child barely out of diapers playing at thrones.

 

An army could be raised. A single roar in the right ear and the desert would answer. But brute force was a blunt blade, and he had no Secret Stone to sharpen it. The black gem’s shards lay useless in the Depths, their power spent ferrying him across the rift. To seize another would mean hunting dragons or bargaining with ancients who hated him more than Rauru ever had. No. The old ways would fail.

 

Ganondorf’s eyes narrowed, reflecting the coals’ dying glow.

 

Direct assault is for beasts. I am no beast.

 

He would move like sand through cracks—slow, unseen, inevitable. Infiltrate the towns. Whisper to the dispossessed. Turn the Yiga from clowns into knives. Seduce the Gerudo with promises of glory their young chief could never deliver. And the princess… the princess who had once been a dragon, whose blood still hummed with ancient light… she would be the keystone. Not to kill—killing her would martyr her—but to break her. To make her doubt, to make her choose the dark.

 

A slow smile curved his mouth, sharp as the scimitar at his side.

 

Roundabout, he thought. Like the wind that carves canyons.

 

The fire popped, a final ember flaring before it died. Ganondorf closed his eyes, the taste of wolf and vengeance on his tongue. Tomorrow, the desert would wake to a new shadow.

 

Dawn bled across the canyon in molten gold, the first light gilding the stable’s sagging roof. Ganondorf rose from the ashes of his fire, muscles loose, hunger sated, mind sharp. He stepped through the warped door into the newborn heat, cloak thrown back, scimitar glinting at his hip.

 

A lone figure stood in the dust of the old corral: a Gerudo woman, tall and sun-bronzed, her white hair braided tight. She wore the traveler’s cut of their people—sand-colored wrap, bronze vambraces, a spear slung across her back—but the fabric strained across breasts fuller than any Gerudo he’d seen in centuries, round and heavy beneath the linen. Young, maybe twenty summers, her eyes wide with the wariness of the road.

 

“Hello?” she called, voice clear but cautious. “Is someone there?”

 

Ganondorf stepped into the light. The sun caught the red of his hair, the gold of his skin, the sheer size of him—broad, unyielding, radiating power like heat haze. The woman’s spear clattered to the dirt. Her knees buckled. She dropped, palms scraping sand, a low, involuntary moan spilling from her throat. Desire slammed into her like a physical blow; her thighs clenched, breath hitching, pupils blown wide. Gerudo blood remembered its king, even when the mind did not.

 

Ganondorf crooked a finger. Come.

 

She crawled. No hesitation, no pride—only need. Sand clung to her knees, her palms, her braid dragging behind her like a leash. When she reached him, trembling, he knelt, cupped her chin, and claimed her mouth. The kiss was brutal—teeth and tongue, a conqueror’s brand. She whimmed into it, hands clawing at his tunic, desperate to touch skin.

 

He ripped her wrap away in one motion. Linen tore like parchment; bronze clasps pinged into the dust. Her breasts spilled free, nipples dark and peaked, swaying as she gasped. Ganondorf shoved her down into the dirt, the stable wall at her back, and freed himself. His cock sprang out—monstrous, longer than his thigh, thick as her forearm, flushed dark and veined, the head already slick. The woman’s eyes rolled back at the sight, a broken cry tearing from her throat.

 

“V-Voi…” she stammered, the old tongue slipping out. “My king—”

 

He drove into her without warning. One brutal thrust, and she screamed, back arching off the ground, legs splaying wide to take him. The stretch was obscene—her pussy lips stretched thin around his girth, inner walls forced to yield to a cock that filled her to bursting. Sand scraped her shoulders as he rutted, hips slamming, balls slapping her ass with wet, heavy thwacks.

 

“Swear it,” he growled, voice gravel and smoke, one hand fisted in her hair, the other pinning her thigh to the dirt.

 

“I swear!” she wailed, voice cracking as he bottomed out, the head of his cock battering her cervix. “I swear fealty—my body, my womb, all of it! Breed me, my king—fill me, get me with child!”

 

Her legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper. Ganondorf fucked her like a storm—relentless, savage, the stable wall shuddering with each thrust. Her breasts bounced wildly, nipples dragging across his chest, leaving streaks of sweat. She came with a howl, pussy spasming around him, squirting into the sand, but he didn’t slow. Another orgasm ripped through her, then another, her voice reduced to broken pleas.

 

“Seed me—please—give me your heir!”

 

He snarled, hips stuttering, and came. Thick ropes of cum flooded her, pulsing deep, painting her insides white. She shrieked like a whore in heat, body convulsing, nails raking his back as her womb drank him dry. Cum leaked around his cock, pooling in the dirt beneath her ass, the scent of sex thick in the morning air.

 

When he pulled out, she collapsed, legs trembling, cum and slick dripping from her swollen pussy. Ganondorf stood, tucking himself away, and looked down at her—spent, claimed, his.

 

“Rise,” he said. “You’ll carry my banner now.”

 

She pushed up on shaking arms, eyes glazed with devotion, and pressed her forehead to his boot. “Yes, my king.”

 

---

 

The Yiga Clan Hideout thrummed with a new, darker energy beneath the Gerudo Desert. What had once been a chaotic warren of banana-obsessed assassins was now being reshaped into something far more sinister. One of the largest chambers had been cleared and transformed into a makeshift throne room. Torches flickered with eerie purple flames, and captured Lightroot crystals had been corrupted into glowing violet orbs that bathed the space in ominous light.

 

At the far end, upon a raised dais of black stone and stolen Zonai tech, sat Ganondorf. He lounged like a king reborn, one leg draped casually over the arm of his throne, a golden plate of perfectly steamed bananas resting on his lap. He ate slowly, savoring each bite with deliberate indulgence.

 

Kneeling at his feet was Yana. The proud Gerudo warrior he had claimed a week ago at the stables had been utterly broken in by lust and devotion. She now wore nothing but a skimpy loincloth of red silk that barely covered her mound and a tight black bikini top that struggled to contain her massive breasts. Her sun-bronzed skin gleamed with a light sheen of oil. She pressed her cheek against his thigh, fingers lazily tracing the hard muscle of his leg while gazing up at him with open, shameless hunger.

 

Elite Yiga assassins stood silently along the walls, their masks glinting, blades ready.

 

The heavy doors at the far end opened. Master Kohga strode in, chest heaving, followed by four burly Yiga foot soldiers carrying a large platform piled high with dripping, grotesque Molduga parts — massive chunks of armored hide, jagged teeth, and pulsating organs.

 

Kohga threw himself into a deep, theatrical bow the moment he entered the chamber.

 

“My King!” he wheezed, voice thick with reverence. “We have returned victorious! As you commanded, we felled a wild Molduga out in the wastes. It took nearly everything we had, but your humble servants delivered!”

 

Ganondorf’s amber eyes flicked down, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Kohga’s near-hero-worship was almost comical, yet useful. The man had recognized him instantly and had fallen over himself to swear loyalty. The Yiga were fools… but motivated fools had their place.

 

“Well done, Kohga,” Ganondorf rumbled, voice deep and resonant. “It is a shame the ancient methods to tame Molduga have been lost to time. I know them… but teaching you now would be tedious. And it would risk drawing unwanted eyes.”

 

Kohga straightened slightly, still bowing. “If I may ask, my King… what do you need the parts for?”

 

Ganondorf set his plate of bananas aside and rose slowly. “Practice.”

 

He gestured, and the Yiga soldiers hurriedly set the platform down at the base of the throne. Ganondorf descended the steps, Yana crawling obediently after him like a devoted pet. He extended one powerful hand, palm outward.

 

Black-purple Gloom erupted from his skin, thick tendrils spreading like living smoke. They engulfed the Molduga remains completely, writhing and churning with wet, disgusting sounds. The mass of parts began to dissolve, melting into a thick, oily sludge that bubbled and shifted. Slowly, horrifically, it rose and coalesced into a distinctly humanoid shape.

 

The Gloom peeled away like shed skin.

 

A perfect, naked replica of Princess Zelda stood before them.

 

Every detail was flawless — the short golden hair, the elegant curve of her neck, the soft swell of her breasts with their pale pink nipples, the gentle flare of her hips, and the smooth, hairless mound between her thighs. She stood motionless, eyes closed, breathing steadily as if in a deep sleep. A living puppet, indistinguishable from the real princess at first glance.

 

Yana let out a soft, jealous whimper at the sight, pressing herself tighter against Ganondorf’s leg.

 

Ganondorf reached out and cupped the puppet’s chin, tilting her face upward. A cruel smile spread across his face.

 

“I have made living puppets like this before,” he said, almost conversationally. “For deception. For spying. For turning Hyrule’s own people against their rulers.”

 

He ran a thumb across the puppet’s lower lip, parting it slightly.

 

“But this one…” His voice dropped to a low, dangerous purr. “This one has a very different purpose in mind.”

 

He glanced down at Yana, who was staring at the fake Zelda with a mix of arousal and envy, then back at the motionless puppet.

 

“Much different.”

 

Kohga’s masked face tilted with visible fascination. He crept closer, the bells on his ridiculous outfit jingling softly. Hesitantly, he reached out and poked the fake Zelda’s cheek with one gloved finger.

 

“Whoa… she’s warm,” he muttered in awe. “And her skin feels real. Like, actually real. Soft and everything.”

 

Ganondorf let out a low chuckle, stroking the puppet’s golden hair possessively. “That’s because she is real, Kohga. A homunculus. Flesh, blood, and bone—all grown from the Molduga’s remains. She wouldn’t be of any use to me if someone could tell she was fake just by touching her.”

 

Kohga circled the motionless woman slowly, eyes roaming shamelessly over her bare breasts and the smooth curve of her hips. “So what do you plan to do with her, my King?” He grinned beneath the mask. “She’s naked and all… but you’ve already got Yana there for that. I’m sure some of the boys could put her to good use for a while. Keep morale up, y’know?”

 

Yana shot Kohga a venomous glare from her place at Ganondorf’s feet, pressing herself tighter against her king’s leg.

 

Ganondorf’s lips curled into a dark, amused smile. “You’re not too far off the mark, Kohga. I did make this one to test certain magics I’ve never bothered with before.” He raised his hand, palm open. “But first…”

 

He snapped his fingers sharply.

 

A spark of light ignited in the puppet’s eyes. Her body jolted as if struck by lightning. The fake Zelda gasped, sucking in a sharp breath, and her head whipped around in confusion.

 

“Wh… Where am I?” she asked, voice trembling with genuine panic. “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was—”

 

Her eyes finally focused on the scene before her.

 

Ganondorf towering above her with a cruel smirk.

 

Master Kohga leering openly.

 

Dozens of masked Yiga assassins watching her with hungry interest.

 

And her own naked body — completely exposed, pale skin glowing under the violet torchlight.

 

Zelda screamed.

 

A raw, terrified sound echoed through the throne chamber as she frantically tried to cover herself. One arm flew across her full breasts, the other diving between her thighs to shield her sex. She stumbled backward, bare feet slapping against the stone floor, eyes wide with horror.

 

“No—! Stay back! Don’t come near me!” she cried, voice cracking. Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed herself against the cold wall, trying desperately to hide her nudity from the dozens of leering eyes. “What is this place?! Link! Link!”

 

Ganondorf’s deep, mocking laughter rolled through the chamber like distant thunder. He watched her frantic struggle with clear satisfaction, amber eyes gleaming with dark anticipation.

 

“Perfect,” he murmured under his breath. “An excellent first reaction…”

 

Kohga jolted back a step, bells jingling wildly as the fake Zelda screamed and tried to hide her naked body.

 

“Wha—?! She’s really freaking out! Acting just like the real deal!” he exclaimed, sounding genuinely impressed.

 

Ganondorf chuckled deeply, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Of course she is. She believes she is the real Zelda. I gave her memories constructed from everything I know of the princess. They’re… imperfect. Fragmented in places. But close enough that even she cannot tell the difference.”

 

Kohga tilted his head, staring at the trembling, naked woman pressed against the wall. “So… What’s the plan, boss?”

 

Instead of answering immediately, Ganondorf extended his hand toward the quivering homunculus. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a glowing symbol materialized in the air directly above her lower abdomen — the crest of the Hylian royal family, shimmering in soft pink light.

 

The fake Zelda’s eyes widened in terror as the symbol sank into her skin, settling into a beautiful, ornate pink tattoo right over her womb. For a split second, nothing happened.

 

Then her entire body jerked violently.

 

“Ahh—?!”

 

A long, throaty, and shamelessly lewd moan tore from her lips. Her knees buckled as heat exploded through her core. Her hands flew from their protective positions and dove straight between her thighs, fingers pressing desperately against her suddenly aching pussy.

 

Her breasts visibly swelled, growing larger and heavier until each one was easily the size of her head, jiggling heavily with every shuddering breath. Her nipples stiffened into hard peaks, flushed dark pink.

 

“M-my pussy… Ahhh! What’s happening to me?!” she cried out, voice thick with confusion and rising pleasure. “It’s so hot—my pussy is throbbing! I-I can’t stop—ahhn!”

 

Her fingers began rubbing frantically, slick sounds filling the throne room as her pussy drooled arousal down her thighs and onto the stone floor in obscene glistening strings. Her hips bucked against her own hand, eyes glazing over with sudden, overwhelming lust.

 

Ganondorf watched with dark satisfaction, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

 

“Inmon magic,” he explained calmly, as if discussing the weather. “Crude, but very effective. It twists desire into something… primal. Irresistible. This one will serve as an excellent test subject for what I have planned.”

 

The corrupted Zelda let out another broken moan, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor with her legs spread wide. Two fingers plunged deep into her dripping cunt as her massive breasts heaved with every panting breath.

 

“P-please… it feels too good… I-I can’t think—ahh, fuck!”

 

Kohga stared, utterly transfixed. “Well I’ll be damned… That’s one way to shut her up.”

 

Yana, still kneeling at Ganondorf’s feet, glared jealously at the moaning homunculus, but even she couldn’t hide the flush creeping across her own cheeks.

 

Ganondorf let out a low, amused chuckle that echoed through the throne chamber like distant thunder. His amber eyes gleamed with dark delight as he watched the corrupted homunculus frantically fucking herself on her own fingers.

 

The fake Zelda had dragged herself over to a simple wooden bench nearby. She now straddled it desperately, thighs spread wide, grinding her dripping pussy against the rough wood while three fingers pumped furiously in and out of her soaked cunt. Her massive, head-sized breasts swayed and slapped heavily against the bench with every frantic movement, nipples rock-hard and leaking tiny beads of clear fluid.

 

“Such a needy little princess already,” Ganondorf purred.

 

He stepped forward. With a swirl of dark Gloom, his clothing dissolved into wisps of malice and faded away, revealing his powerful, naked body in all its glory. His cock hung heavy and monstrous between his legs — thicker than his own thigh, veined and dark, reaching well past his knee even while only half-hard. A large, ornate gold cockring glinted at the base, engraved with ancient Gerudo runes, keeping the immense organ heavy and swollen.

 

The fake Zelda’s eyes widened in pure shock as the colossal shadow fell over her. Ganondorf moved behind her, then stepped around the bench so his gigantic cock swung forward like a pendulum, the thick, heavy shaft flopping down right beside her face with a meaty thud.

 

Her cheek pressed firmly against the burning-hot side of his dick, the sheer girth forcing her head to tilt as the veiny side rested against her flushed skin. The musky, masculine scent of him flooded her senses.

 

“Wha—?! N-no… that’s… that’s impossible…” she whimpered, eyes crossing as she stared sideways at the impossible monstrosity resting against her face. Her hand never stopped pumping between her legs, lewd wet sounds continuing as her pussy drooled even harder at the sight and smell of him. “It’s… it’s too big… gods, it’s bigger than my arm…!”

 

Her breath came in hot, shaky pants against his cockflesh. The Inmon magic burned hotter in her veins, making her hips jerk wildly against the bench while her free hand instinctively reached up, trembling fingers barely able to wrap around even half the circumference of his monstrous shaft.

 

Ganondorf smirked down at her, one hand lazily stroking her golden hair as if she were a favored pet.

 

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” he said softly, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Go on, little princess. Look at what’s going to ruin you.”

 

The fake Zelda’s eyes were glazed with overwhelming lust and horror, her cheek still squished obscenely against the side of his gigantic, throbbing cock. Ganondorf looked down at the corrupted princess with clear amusement, his lips curling into a predatory smirk.

 

“Go on, then,” he said, voice low and mocking. “Have a taste, Princess.”

 

The fake Zelda’s eyes widened in humiliated shock. Even through the thick haze of Inmon magic, a sliver of her programmed pride remained.

 

“I—I would never!” she gasped, voice trembling even as her fingers continued pumping desperately between her soaked thighs. “I’m not some common whore! I’d never put something so filthy in my mouth—!”

 

Thwack.

 

Ganondorf lazily swung his massive cock, slapping the heavy, throbbing shaft against the side of her face with a meaty smack. The sheer weight and heat of it made her head jolt to the side, a glistening smear of precum left across her flushed cheek.

 

The fake Zelda let out a broken whimper. Her resistance crumbled almost instantly.

 

“It’s… it’s so big…” she moaned, voice growing breathy and needy. “And the smell… Gods, that thick, musky scent is making me crazy… my head feels fuzzy…”

 

She shuddered violently, another wave of Inmon magic flooding her system. Her massive breasts heaved as she panted, nipples painfully stiff.

 

“I… I… I can’t help myself!” she cried out in defeat, her willpower shattering.

 

Turning fully toward him on her knees, she grabbed his colossal cock with both hands. Even using all her strength, her fingers couldn’t fully encircle the monstrous girth. She lifted the heavy shaft, staring at the enormous, leaking tip with glassy, lust-drunk eyes.

 

With a desperate, needy moan, she opened her mouth as wide as she could and pushed forward.

 

“Gllllk—!!”

 

A long, wet, choking moan vibrated around his cock as she forced the fat head past her lips and into her throat. The sheer thickness stretched her jaw to its limit, her lips wrapped obscenely tight around him. Her neck bulged visibly, the outline of his gigantic shaft clearly visible as it sank deeper into her gullet.

 

Her green eyes rolled back in their sockets almost immediately. A powerful orgasm ripped through her body without any direct stimulation to her pussy. Her cunt clenched hard, squirting messily onto the stone floor beneath her as her throat convulsed and spasmed around his invading cock.

 

“Mmmph—! Glllk… glk… gluuuurk—!!”

 

Wet, sloppy gagging sounds filled the throne room as she desperately tried to take more of him, tears streaming down her cheeks, drool already pouring from the corners of her stretched mouth. Her hands pumped the massive length she couldn’t swallow, stroking him worshipfully while her throat bulged and rippled around the head of his cock.

 

Ganondorf let out a deep, satisfied groan, one hand resting on top of her head as he watched the fake princess cum violently just from sucking him.

 

“Pathetic,” he murmured with dark delight. “But very promising.”

 

Ganondorf’s smirk widened into a cruel grin as he looked down at the drooling, cock-drunk homunculus. He reached down with both hands, gripping the sides of her head firmly.

 

“Enough playing,” he growled.

 

Without warning, he brutally shoved his hips forward, forcing another thick, veiny inch of his monstrous cock down her already overstuffed throat.

 

“GLLLLLLLLK—!!!!”

 

The fake Zelda’s eyes bulged as a loud, wet, choking moan exploded around his shaft. The massive head pushed so deep it pressed against the pit of her stomach, making her belly visibly bulge outward with every inch.

 

Ganondorf immediately began fucking her face with long, powerful strokes — using her throat like a cheap cocksleeve. Wet, obscene GLUCK-GLUCK-GLUCK sounds echoed through the throne room as he rammed into her mercilessly.

 

The corrupted Zelda’s eyes rolled back again, tears pouring down her face as another violent orgasm ripped through her. Her massive breasts bounced wildly, milk-like fluid leaking from her swollen nipples.

 

“AHHGGUH!! BHIG! SHO BHIIIIIG!! GUH—GUG—GUK!! PHILLINGH MUH MOUPH PUSSHY!! SHO GUUUUUUUD!!!” Her words came out completely slurred and muffled around the gigantic cock destroying her throat, drool and precum spraying everywhere with every brutal thrust.

 

Ganondorf threw his head back and laughed, deep and mocking, as he continued brutally fucking her face.

 

“Hah! Listen to you. How does it feel, Princess? To suddenly become nothing but a filthy whore?”

 

He slammed particularly deep, holding her nose pressed against his pelvis for a long second before pulling back.

 

The fake Zelda gasped and gagged, coughing up thick ropes of spit, but the Inmon magic had her completely broken. Her eyes were crossed, tongue lolling as she answered in that same wrecked, slurred voice, “GUUD!! GUUUUUD!! PHEELSH SHO GUUUD!! BEEINGH A HORE ISH GUUUUD!! GUUMMINGH— AYE’M GUUMMINGH PHROM MUH MOUPH PUSSHYYYYY!!!!”

 

Another orgasm tore through her as she screamed around his cock, her pussy gushing violently onto the floor beneath her.

 

From the side of the room, Master Kohga watched with a very obvious, tented erection straining against his tight uniform.

 

“Damn…” he muttered, voice thick with envy. “I really gotta learn that magic too…”

 

Meanwhile, Yana remained kneeling beside the throne, one hand aggressively kneading and pinching her own heavy breast while the other dipped between her thighs. She bit her lip hard, eyes burning with jealousy and raw arousal as she watched her king brutally throat-fuck the fake princess.

 

Ganondorf kept his grip on the fake Zelda’s head, ruthlessly fucking her throat with deep, punishing strokes. The wet GLUCK-GLUCK-GLUCK sounds grew louder and filthier as thick strings of drool and precum poured from her overstuffed mouth and down onto her massive heaving breasts.

 

“GUH—GLLK—GUK!! MOOOAAAR!! PHUCK MUH MOUPH PUSSHY MOOAR!!” she gagged desperately around his cock, her eyes completely rolled back, tears and mascara running down her face.

 

He finally pulled her off his monstrous dick with a wet pop. The fake Zelda gasped and coughed violently, thick ropes of spit connecting her lips to his cock. She looked utterly ruined — eyes crossed, tongue hanging out, drooling like a broken bitch.

 

“NOOO!!” she wailed immediately, voice cracking with raw desperation. “PUT IT BACK!! PLEASE!! I NEED YOUR COCK IN MY MOUTH-CUNT!! I’LL DIE WITHOUT IT!! PLEASE, MY KING, FEED ME YOUR GIANT COCK!!”

 

She sobbed openly, reaching for his throbbing shaft with both hands, trying to shove it back down her throat.

 

Ganondorf laughed darkly and grabbed her by the waist. He lifted her into the air as if she weighed nothing, her legs kicking weakly. Then, without any mercy, he slammed her down onto his colossal cock.

 

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”

 

The fake Zelda screamed in pure ecstasy as her pussy was instantly impaled. His impossible girth brutally stretched her wide open, the thick head punching straight through her cervix and into her womb. Her belly bulged obscenely, the clear outline of his gigantic cock visible from the outside, stretching her abdomen into a lewd, distorted shape.

 

She came instantly, her whole body convulsing violently in his grasp.

 

“I’M CUMMING!!! MY WOMB IS BEING FUCKED!!! AHHHHHH!!!!”

 

Ganondorf began moving her up and down on his cock like a living sex doll, using her body with casual, brutal strength. Her arms and legs flailed helplessly with every thrust, her massive breasts bouncing wildly.

 

“OHHHH FUUUUCK!!! I LOVE COCK!!! I LOVE BEING STRETCHED LIKE THIS!!” she screamed, face twisted in mindless pleasure. “MY PUSSY IS BEING RUINED!! IT FEELS SO GOOD!! I’M A COCK WHORE!! I’M NOTHING BUT A COCK WHORE WHO EXISTS TO FUCK BIG GIANT COCKS!! STRETCH ME MORE!! USE MY ROYAL CUNT!! I’M YOUR PERSONAL COCK SLEEVE!! AHHHH— I’M CUMMING AGAIN!!”

 

Her juices sprayed everywhere with every savage bounce, squirting violently down his shaft and onto the floor. Her eyes had gone completely vacant with lust, tongue lolling out as she babbled incoherently between screams.

 

“COCK WHORE!!! I’M A FILTHY COCK WHORE!!! MORE!! FUCK MY WOMB HARDER!!!”

 

Ganondorf grinned savagely, continuing to bounce her on his monstrous dick like a toy while Kohga watched with open lust and Yana fingered herself furiously beside the throne, panting with envy.

 

Ganondorf let out a deep, guttural groan of pleasure as he watched the once-proud princess completely break apart on his cock. His grip on her waist tightened, and he began slamming her down onto his monstrous shaft with even greater force.

 

The fake Zelda’s body started shaking violently, limbs jerking and twitching as if she were being electrocuted. Her head thrashed wildly back and forth, golden hair whipping across her face.

 

“AAAAAHHHHH!!! MY PUSSY IS CUMMING!! IT KEEPS CUMMING OVER AND OVER!! IT WON’T STOP!! MY BRAIN IS MELTING!! YOUR DICK IS CHURNING MY MIND INTO MUSH!! IT FEELS SO GOOD!! SO GOOOOOOD!!” Her screams grew more broken and mindless as Ganondorf fucked her harder, using her like a living fleshlight. Her massive breasts bounced violently, milk spraying from her nipples with every brutal impact.

 

“CUMMING CUMMING CUMMING CUMMING!! I’M CUMMING!! MY PUSSY KEEPS CUMMING SO MUCH!! MY BRAIN IS GONE!! ALL THAT’S LEFT IS COOOOCK!! COCK COCK COCK!! I LOVE COCK!! COCK COCK COOOOOCK!! FUCK THIS COCK-WHORE PRINCESS MOOOORE!! CUUUUMMMMMMINGH!!!”

 

Ganondorf threw his head back and laughed, loud and cruel, clearly enjoying every second of her total degradation. He fucked her even more savagely, bouncing her tiny body on his gigantic cock with raw power.

 

Then, with a final, violent slam, he buried himself to the hilt inside her womb.

 

Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted from his cock like a geyser. Her belly immediately began to swell, ballooning outward dramatically as he pumped her full. The obscene outline of his cock disappeared completely under the sheer volume of his load, her stomach rounding into a heavy, cum-swollen orb that sloshed with every spurt.

 

The fake Zelda screamed in one final, mind-shattering orgasm before going limp in his grasp, twitching and drooling.

 

With a satisfied grunt, Ganondorf pulled her off his still-hard cock and dropped her unceremoniously onto the stone floor. She landed in a messy heap, cum pouring out of her ruined pussy in thick rivers.

 

For a few seconds she just lay there panting… then she began giggling. A high-pitched, insane little laugh that grew louder and more unhinged, “HEHE… HEHEHEHE… COCK… MORE COCK…”

 

Her body suddenly dissolved into swirling red and black Gloom mist, collapsing in on itself until nothing remained but a few fading wisps.

 

Ganondorf exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. “Hmmph. I’ll need to make the next one a bit more durable.”

 

He turned and walked back to his throne, his massive cock still glistening with her juices. Once seated, he lazily gestured toward Kohga.

 

“Bring me more Molduga materials tomorrow. For now, let your troops rest. I am in no rush.”

 

Kohga bowed deeply, still visibly aroused. “As you command, my King!”

 

As the Yiga began to file out, Yana crawled forward on her hands and knees, pressing her face against Ganondorf’s thigh with desperate need. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy with lust.

 

“My King…” she begged, voice trembling, “please… give me the Inmon mark too. Use me like that. Break me. Turn me into your cock-whore just like her. I want it… I need it… Please mark me and ruin me!”

 

She looked up at him with pure, shameless desperation, pressing her heavy breasts against his leg while her hand slipped between her own thighs.

 

---

 

(Story by User: SailorIo)