Chapter Text
One could only take a sword to the gut so many times before it stained the spirit deeper than death could clean.
One could only take a sword to the gut so many times before it started to get a little tiring.
“This time,” Ganon said idly, “I’d like to try something different.”
Link, awake now, thrashed. It didn’t do much. Ganon had tied him down effectively, each limb secured to the four posts of the one bed in the castle that had remained somewhat intact: that of this timeline’s goddess incarnate princess.
Which felt a little much, really. But she always had the nicest room. High. Secluded. A beautiful view of Hyrule which, currently, shone with Ganon’s power, manifesting in a form that the princess’s notes (tacked over her desk) called gloom. Same as last time. At least there was some consistency.
“Gloom” was imbued on the leathers that secured Link to the bed. It flared as Link fought, burning him through his hero’s armor, and Ganon sat on the bed’s edge and waited patiently for Link’s stamina to peter out, for his breathing to grow ragged with effort. Ganon lifted his hand and Link shouted, made some wordless noise of defiance and fury that did absolutely nothing to prevent Ganon from resting his hand on Link’s chest.
Under his palm, through the hateful green tunic, Ganon felt the strong beat of Link’s heart. As always, it was an intoxicating rhythm, a war drum. He hated that this tiny Hylian’s vicious pulse was the meter that his existence was dragged and puppeted about to, over and over. He hated that even now, feeling the hero’s heart flutter beneath his fingers, he felt a craving in his chest.
Quiet it, the craving said. Grant me beautiful, luscious silence.
Ganon extinguished the gloom.
Given reprieve, Link fell slack. His chest heaved beneath Ganon’s palm. Still, exhausted, Link mustered the gall to glare.
Ganon had lived enough lives to understand what that glare was saying: Kill me already.
“No,” Ganon replied. “Frankly, trying to kill you has never once worked out in my favor. Fate always has one last trick for me up Her sleeve. But I noticed there’s something different about this Hyrule. And this time, I want to be the one with the trick.”
His hand, still on Link’s chest, illuminated. His nails grew, dagger-long, dagger-sharp. One swift movement was all it took for a nail to catch on mail and fabric; then he slit Link’s tunic open from collar to belly. Ganon’s power caught, like embers, on the sheared threads, chewing, smoldering, rendering the clothing into ash that scattered glinting into the air when Ganon leaned forward and blew.
Link seized as his skin was exposed. He’d been trained, no doubt, to meet Ganon with that wretched sword in hand, on some wretched battlefield, playing to the same wretched outcome. He did not know what to do with this.
Ganon smiled.
“Relax,” he advised. He dragged his nail, lightly, over Link’s bare chest, and down, down. Link was lithe, muscular, a sleek machine whose design was old as time, whose every component was put in place to murder Ganon specifically. Not that there wasn’t occasion here and there for recreation and distraction, apparently. Link’s skin was tanned, as well as faintly freckled and scarred from his vagaries—all the way down to his legs, Ganon learned, when the trousers were destroyed next, and the boots. His skin was blotched with bruises all over, from the bout they’d had shortly before Ganon subdued and carried him here. Stripped to his underwear, the hero of Hyrule looked even smaller, and thrashed even more viciously, to even less effect.
“This Hyrule’s genders and sexes are fascinating,” Ganon said, conversationally. “I’ve been reading all about them, in this castle’s library, while you’ve been on all your little quests. There’s a wide spectrum, and many possibilities for overlap, but I must say the two that stand out to me the most are alpha and omega. It seems that an omega properly sealed to an alpha becomes dependent. Unable to fight. Unable to resist. A mere plaything, living for the whims of its bonded master. As it would happen, I’ve learned that my body in this life is an alpha’s. An alpha voe, born to the Gerudo but once every century. As for your body, hero…I have a suspicion, but I’ll give you a chance to tell me, first.”
Ganon waited. Link said nothing. He was testing the straps, to see if they had loosened now that he was all bare wrists and bare ankles.
“I’m no fool,” Ganon informed him. “And if you won’t tell me, I am happy to find out myself.”
When Ganon rested his clawed hand on Link again, it was directly on his underwear, which, like the rest of the clothing, dissipated easily, leaving nothing between Link’s cock and Ganon’s palm. Link shouted, and fought, and learned somewhat immediately that the latter led only to pushing himself up against Ganon’s waiting hand. He tried then pushing himself into the mattress, but there was no way to avoid Ganon taking Link’s cock, and squeezing experimentally.
Recently, the hero had been almost unaccountably short, while Ganon himself felt that his bodies were only getting bigger. Like a joke. See—even a speck like this can kill you, again and again. Still, the hero of Hyrule was fairly well-propositioned for his size. The tip of his cock, encircled by Ganon’s hand, peeked out between thumb and forefinger. As Ganon began to stroke, Link flushed, and grit his teeth, and gripped the straps. To see him flail on his back, even a little, was intoxicating. All the more heady when Ganon leaned down and applied his tongue to Link’s slit, moistening it, dipping just the slightest bit in, causing Link to—moan.
It was a noise Ganon had never heard from him. It was not loud, and not long; Link had bitten off, so hastily and harshly that blood beaded on his lip. But Ganon felt himself smile, again, wider. Nothing had stopped Ganon’s hand—no miraculous surge of power, no blessed (damned) beam of sacred light smiting him for the sin of existing, and wanting more than his doomed little lot in life. Fate allowed it, which meant his plan might just work. Calmly, relentlessly, he continued—stroking, lapping, teasing—until, with great satisfaction, he received his confirmation.
Link gasped, and Ganon released him, revealing: there, undeniable. A knot.
Of course the hero of Hyrule would be an alpha. As Ganon watched, Link’s face contorted with a kind of torment; his hips thrust, helpless, seeking pressure that never came. Without it, he emitted only a dribble of precome, and Link panted and shuddered as the rest remained within him, stoppered. An alpha’s long and leisurely orgasm, cut painfully short.
Still, a hero was a hero. Link fought himself next, to regain his composure. Never had Ganon witnessed the stone of that face grow so molten. Link’s arms jerked against his bonds again; his fingers fluttered. Trying to speak?
”Feel free to say something,” Ganon said, and Link’s fingers moved. It was not positioned correctly, but the brusque flap of one hand was unmistakable.
Fuck you.
So impatient, Ganon signed back. If you’re so eager, I’ll oblige. But let’s clean you up first and see what we have to work with, shall we?
Link’s face, to Ganon’s great delight, reddened even further. It was not often Link was both caught unawares and let it show. Ganon decided he had not yet had his fill of that.
Link’s hands were moving. Spelling, since he could not sign properly while restrained.
Z-E-L-D-A, he said. W-H-E-R-E.
Ganon had lured Link here with an illusion of her prancing around the castle grounds. The whole charade had been easier than he expected. Then again, Link had been alone. What meaning had courage without a wise little partner to direct it and ensure it was applied to some proper use?
“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Ganon said. “She’s doing just fine.”
Rummaging in a dresser, he retrieved a very white and pleated gown.
“You,” Ganon continued, “have other things to focus on.”
He began to wipe Link off, carefully, so as to not stimulate Link’s still-very-needy knot. As he did so, he made a cursory examination of the rest of the hero’s rear end: balls, hole, and—
Link snarled. He fought the straps again, his wrists and ankles starting to color visibly. One leg, somehow, kicked free, and shot out straight at Ganon’s face—and Ganon caught it, before it landed, and hefted it, high, so Link was spread even further apart, presenting a much better view of what he was looking for.
“There it is,” Ganon breathed.
It looked like nothing more than a discolored line of skin on Link’s body, like a long-healed scar. Ganon traced it with a nail. It felt impenetrable.
Goosebumps rose on Link’s thighs. His hands moved again.
C-A-N-T-S-E-A-L-M-E-N-O-T-O-M-E-G-A.
“Yes, you’re no omega,” Ganon allowed. He shook his hand, dispelling his magic and the claws that came with it, leaving his nails short and blunt once more. Then he opened the chest at the foot of Zelda’s bed, which he’d taken the liberty of emptying and filling with items of far greater use to him than notebooks and clothing. One of these items he took out now: a bottle, with a liquid that on his palm pooled clear and slippery. He coated his fingers, and then raised Link’s leg even higher, spreading him so wide that Link winced. His leg strained, but could not close, could not do anything when Ganon reached and oiled him and began to circle his hole, gently.
“At least,” Ganon continued, “you’re no omega yet.”
He pushed in, with just one finger, just the tip of it—but the effect was instantaneous, delicious. Link’s entire body stiffened upon entry, and his struggles began anew, and Ganon inched closer to him, hooking Link’s loose leg over his shoulder, causing Link’s body to cant upward, hips lifted from the mattress. The angle did not quite allow Link to dislodge his leg, nor to hide himself. It was, in fact, a very good angle for pushing in, and out, and then in, another joint deeper.
“It’s an old legend,” Ganon explained. He smoothed his other hand over Link’s quivering stomach, over his chest. “Transformation, of an alpha to an omega.”
Link’s pulse sped.
L-Y-I-N-G.
“To you? Never. Well,” Ganon conceded with a laugh, “sometimes. But not this time.”
I-M-P-O-S—
“No, I doubt it’s impossible. It does seem to be a long, troublesome process, so it may take some time for us to see results. But, as we know, legends do tend to be troublesome. And, real.”
With that last word, Ganon jabbed his finger in, to the knuckle. He wanted another moan, or at least a cry of some kind, but was denied—Link had turned his head, had bitten a pillow to muffle himself.
Annoying. Without further delay or ceremony, Ganon applied a second finger, and thrust again, straight in, straight toward a particular stretch of flesh inside that he’d felt and which he wanted to make sure Link felt too, beyond any ability to hide. It worked, almost. Fabric tore; Link had bitten through the pillow, and choked as Ganon fucked him vigorously. He coughed, spitting downfeathers. His abandoned knot twitched. Ganon noted it.
And leaned. Rested his weight down on Link, folding Link’s leg beneath him, a stretch Link performed with a wince and arch of his back. Ganon smashed his hand on Link’s face to keep it sideways and still, so Ganon could press his face close enough to scent him: grasses, nightshade, and that undertone of something alpha, which itched his nose like pollen. Ganon ignored it. He murmured directly into Link’s ear.
“This is the main part of the transformation process: conditioning you to me, your future master. I’ll train your insides to take me, gradually, repeatedly. I’ll fill you with my own essence, until your body hungers for more, until it craves me so badly that it opens that slit of yours up to take my knot and goes into heat to tie itself to me. It’s working already, I see,” Ganon murmured. “Don’t think I don’t see that you’re still hard. I think you want to be turned by me, hero.”
Link hissed. But Ganon was close enough that he saw hairs rise all along his nape, that he saw his ears redden, to their tips. Promising. Ganon was still thrusting his fingers into him; he picked up the speed, angled to hit him more precisely. The oil made the sound of his fingerfucking loud. Obscene.
Obscene enough that Ganon could feel his own cock hardening, could start to imagine what it would feel like to be the one, for once, to bury himself in the hero’s guts. To vanquish him.
But not yet. If the princess’s books were right, he could not rush this. And Ganon was patient. He had waited lifetimes to get even this close.
“I’m ending legend,” Ganon said, low, warm. “Here and now. No more fighting. No more death. No more duty, either. Wouldn’t you like that? Haven’t you felt as tired, by your responsibilities, your duties, endless role? Devote yourself to me. You’ll no longer need to think of anything but pleasing me, and having the reward of your own pleasure in return. What do you say?”
Link’s eyes were wide. Ganon loosened his hand from Link’s face, a fraction, and—Link took his chance then, he lunged, he took Ganon’s finger in his teeth, and bit it—hard, but not hard enough. Ganon laughed. A little blood was nothing. He shoved the bitten finger into Link’s mouth, deep, positioning so Link could not quite gain the leverage to bite down again. To Ganon’s surprise, Link shuddered beneath him. Mouth open, Link could no longer quite stifle himself, and panted around Ganon’s hand, until finally, some thrust into his hole pushed him over the edge. He twitched fitfully, his voice wetly hoarse and garbled against Ganon’s fingers.
Ganon straightened. His fingers emerged from Link’s mouth dripping with saliva. Link’s cock had leaked a fair amount of some clear and watery substance that did not appear to have done anything whatsoever to relieve the swell of his knot. While Ganon marveled, Link used what few faculties remained with him to kick, and this time managed to pummel Ganon in the jaw with his heel.
Which did hurt.
And was as fine an excuse as any to go ahead and proceed to the next step.
“You always have a fight in you, don’t you? It’s going to get in our way, Link. Luckily I’ve brought something to help you. A gift, all the way from the desert.”
It was a cock cage, just the right size for a short, well-proportioned Hylian. It was comprised of gold rings attached together, with a sapphire mounted on its tip, which Ganon rubbed until it was cold enough that it steamed in the air. Link bloodied his lip again as Ganon rubbed the sapphire against Link’s livid knot, rendering him as small and soft as possible.
“The one thing I appreciate about my people,” Ganon said. “The strength of our craftsmanship.”
A craftsmanship he himself wanted to apply to hammering and reforging the hero anew.
Link could not contain his horror now. Nor could he resist much as Ganon parted Link’s legs once more, pinning one down with a knee, fitting Link’s cold-shriveled cock and balls inside the cage. The cage’s sapphire crowned his trapped cock like a diadem on a crown.
“This will prevent your knot from forming,” Ganon explained. “Your body needs to realize it’s no longer meant to get hard at all. That’ll hasten your transformation. Or so I’ve read. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
S-T-O-P, Link signed. His heart beat now like the wings of a frightened bird. Ganon could sense it. Hear it. Like music. S-T-O-P-N-O-T-O-M-E-G-A-S-T-O-P-S-T—
“But I have one last gift for you, hero. You’re a royal knight, aren’t you? Didn’t you ever learn the etiquette of Hylian court? It’s good form to accept gifts with grace and gratitude. Especially gifts that have been made specifically for your use.”
It was really not a single gift, but a set. He took out a roll of sandseal leather, and unraveled it in Link’s view. Inside, tied down in order, were a variety of plugs, also Gerudo gold, each one wider and longer than the last.
“For that hole of yours,” Ganon explained. “To help it accommodate my size. You’re very tight. You need all the assistance you can get, and we want your body to prefer and crave fullness. You’ll keep these in at all times from now on, unless you’re relieving yourself, or I’m attending to you directly. They’ll be of great service to you.”
Link’s body readily accepted the first plug, after the stretching and fucking from earlier. He was even still well-oiled enough that the plug slipped in easy, though Ganon rowed it in and out a few times, testing it, wanting to know how well it would stay inside him when not held in. The answer was very well—the shape of the plug’s base caught on Link’s rim, used his own internal muscle to lock it in place, so nothing showed outside his body but the ruby embedded in the plug’s base. One tap, and the ruby glimmered, making it so the metal would emanate warmth inside him, a sensation that made Link huff and toss his head.
That complete, Ganon tied Link’s leg down once more, and checked the other bonds, and then surveyed his work. Even denied a true climax, Link was still breathing hard and flushed from being toyed with. Or perhaps he flushed from all his helpless fighting. Or perhaps he flushed from rage. Or humiliation. Either—or all—were fine with Ganon. Red looked good on him. As did gold.
“Fine work today,” Ganon complimented. “We’ll have longer days later, but this is a strong start. For now, I have a kingdom to attend to. Enjoy your gifts.”
Link was signing, with a trembling hand. F-R-E-E-M-E, he spelled, F-R-E-E-M-E-F-R—
“I will, Link,” Ganon said. “You’ll have freedom greater than you could have ever imagined in any of your dreams, in any of your lives. Only obey me. You’ll see soon enough.”
He stroked Link’s chest. He relished the fluttering pulse, for just a moment; then left.