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The Lynel's Den

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The winds picked up quickly on the plains. Link pulled his hood up around his neck and face to ward off the chill. The seasons were changing and the sun overhead no longer ensured warm walking temperatures. Link stared up at the clouds in the distance, their shapes sharply whipped and threatening rain, perhaps even thunder. He would have to pick up his pace in order to reach Riverside Stable not just in time for nightfall, but to outrun the storm.

He peered back at the creaky, wooden horse head of Highland Stable, surrounded by a circle of trimmed cypresses. To the west, a band of wild horses grazed on the tall grasses.

Maybe I should have gone back through Faron, Link thought.

He didn’t relish the idea of tracking back through dense jungle. When he’d emerged victorious, he’d ended up staying a long time at Highland recovering from the bug bites that covered his arms, legs, and quite frankly, places that bugs should not have been able to reach. Finally bite-free, he didn’t like the idea of getting back to Hateno by way of Faron. No, he’d take the extra time to follow the main roads in far more temperate locales. Even a rainstorm or three would be better than trudging through the humid oven that was Faron.

So Link turned forward and kept his path on the plains leading to Lake Hylia.

For now the day was peaceful. Horses ran past, cranes flew overhead. There wasn’t another traveler in sight, either. Link opted to leave the road to avoid as much of Faron’s trees as possible, cutting over the plains instead. He had a fairly decent sense of direction from his constant travels. Another reason to get out of Faron—the thick jungle canopies often obscured the sun, his best indicator of direction. Out here in the open where the skies were endless, it was perfectly simple to navigate.

At least, that was what he assumed, before he’d gone quite a long way and the lake nor the bridge still weren’t in sight. He’d gone over grassy flats, rolling hills, through meadows and across streams. Still, no lake. The bridge’s tall stone towers didn’t show themselves on the horizon, either, in any direction that he looked. Looking back from the direction he’d come, he could no longer see the tall horse head of the stable, nor the massive expanse of horse-grazing field around it. Hills, thick trees, and more grass were all that were in sight.

Overhead, the clouds got thicker and darker. Streaks of cloud vapor dragged downwards in the distance, a surefire indicator of the rains to come. Link could smell the rain on the wind. He picked up his pace into a worried power walk, skipping down hills and sliding on fresh grass in order to reach the lake faster. Instead he ran into more hills and grassland.

I’m lost.

He didn’t want to admit it but there was no other explanation. He hadn’t followed the road and now he was in the middle of the wilds without a clue of where to go. If he stumbled onto any monster camps, he was sure to be outnumbered. He had a short sword at his hip; his bow was in splinters somewhere in Faron. He could fend off a single, stupid bokoblin if he had to. Two, maybe three. Anything more, though? He’d have to play it smart.

As if manifesting all his fears by thinking about them, a cold droplet hit his cheek. And then another. Before he could look up at the offending cloud, a roar sped across the landscape to accompany the sudden, rushing downpour.

Link let out a hiss of annoyance. He had dry clothes in his pack, but he had to find shelter first.

Looking around, he could only find one promising source of shelter: a tall cliffside surrounded by thick trees to the west. Perhaps there would be caves, or at least a decent tree to set up beneath. Link broke into a run, darting across wet grass and rapidly dampening dirt. All he had to do was cross this field and the trees would shade him much better than being locked out into the open.

A dark shape manifested over the next hill.

Bokoblin? Easy to fend off. Moblin? He could make a wide circle around it; they were slow and dumb.

What he found was much worse. He stopped hard, too hard in the slushy hillside. Rather than coming to a skidded halt in the dirt, his boot slid straight through it and momentum toppled Link over. In the chaos a glint caught his eye—his sword, somersaulting through the air and away from him. In a flurry of emerald grass and wildflowers, Link hurtled downhill straight towards the dark shape: a patrolling lynel.

Link came to a rolling stop at the bottom of the hill. Groaning, he lifted his head from the sopping wet ground beneath him. Hurriedly, he glanced in the direction he thought the lynel was in. There was nothing but grass and distant cliffs. He whipped his whirling head another way. Nothing. Rain fell even harder, pushing his hair down into his eyes. He shook it out of his vision like a wet dog. The shadow of the storm cloud drifted over the landscape, shrouding it in daytime darkness.

But the grassland was just as gray as before.

The shadow wasn’t from the storm. Link gasped, turning onto his back.

The lynel loomed over him, impossibly massive. Link could hardly take in a breath. His lungs seized up and his throat closed with fear he’d never before felt. He’d heard of lynels. Knew what they did to poor travelers who wandered too close. To even seasoned adventurers, warriors, who thought they could face them head-on.

And this was closer than he’d ever wanted to see one on his own. To face one with an army at his back was already a terrifying endeavor. Even the hearts of the bravest men would quake before such a fearsome monster.

This one was so massive Link could hardly focus on any one part of it. From the heavy horse-like body with solid hooves, up to its long, muscular torso, all of it was a dark, olive brown blur to Link. It was the creature’s glowing golden eyes that Link stared at—and the lynel stared right back.

His hand went to his shoulder. Air. His sword was too far away to reach, resting in mud thirty feet away.

“N-no,” was all Link could stammer.

He knew the things were intelligent, far more than any other monster in Hyrule. Solitary as they were, they still had societal and social workings just as complicated as any Link had seen and lived in. Given the beasts’ superior weapon-making skills, lynel weaponry was a common fake, sold at exorbitant prices to the uninformed with heavy pockets. To actually acquire the real deal required skill not seen in at least a hundred years.

So talking to it didn’t seem like a useless endeavor. It might not have understood his language, but maybe it might think Link was harmless. He was small, after all. Boyish in looks. Not at all like the bulky, bearded warriors who often went in search of lynel-defeating glory.

The beast let out a loud, snuffling breath from its flared nostrils, pierced through with a surprisingly well-crafted ring of solid gold. Link yelped; his eyes watered even as he fought to maintain a sense of composure and dignity before his inevitable demise.

“I can go,” Link said evenly. “Please. I didn’t mean to invade your territory.”

Fiercely territorial, most adventurers died by lynels’ hands after stumbling into their boundaries. Maybe they thought they could take them on, get some of that expensive and elite weaponry the lynels wielded, only to be pounded into a bloody pulp. Or maybe, like Link today, it was all an accident.

He just hoped this angry beast could tell the difference.

The lynel’s black horns dripped with rain. Its dark mane was soaked through but still remarkably full-bodied, with gold threads woven into the locks. Link couldn’t yet figure out if the monster’s face was more humanoid or leonine.

It didn’t matter. The thing’s massive, muscled arms reached down towards Link. He screamed so loudly his voice rivaled the thunder that echoed in the distant sky. The beast picked Link up off the grass and tucked him roughly beneath one arm.

The hooves beneath Link began to beat against the wet earth. Mud and grass were nothing; all of it was easily trampled beneath the beast’s sure footing. Golden bracelets tapped out a strangely melodic rhythm that complemented the whisper of rain. Whipped back and forth, Link nearly lost the biscuits and cheese he ate for lunch. The ground passed too quickly, disorienting him.

Most importantly, without his sword, he was going to die.

 




The grass gave way to rock and clay, then just rock. Darkness suddenly poured over Link. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. They were in a cave of some sort, a rather large chamber cut into the cliffside. The smell of cooking meat filled Link’s nostrils. It might have inspired hunger in him if he weren’t so afraid.

Before he could scream again, the lynel released him. Link fell a long way from the lynel’s side down to the hard rock. The wind left his lungs and when he could suck in another breath, he immediately coughed. If he didn’t break a rib from the impact, he counted himself lucky.

“Unnh...”

He looked around. This was absolutely the lynel’s den. A bit cramped for the beast but still tall enough to accommodate its ridiculous height, horns and all. Link estimated that the creature could lift both hands towards the ceiling and just barely scrape the top of the cave with its fingertips.

There was a cooking spit in the middle of the cavern. It might be surprisingly well-constructed if Link hadn’t heard so much about the craftsmanship and whip-smartness of lynels. A large hunk of venison hovered over the roaring flame. The lynel reached down, twisting a handle to turn the spit. The thick smoke curled upwards, vented out of a mossy crack at the very zenith of the cave ceiling. Ivies and flowers made for oddly charming, natural decoration. They even caught most of the rain that dripped in; the rest of the water ran in rivulets over the rock walls, draining out away from the designated living spaces.

Past the fire was a soft bed: a wooden frame set on the floor with a thick padded mattress. It was quite nice for a mattress, sewn with a heavy but precise hand. Given the quality of everything else in the cave, Link assumed the lynel had crafted the mattress too. But where did he come across fabric like that? It looked like a standard, clean bolt of cloth one would find at the market. Link had slept on far worse at some inns and stables.

Strange that this beast had such well-made items and yet set up house in a cave. Admittedly, it was a nice cave. There were tapestries bolted into the rock walls, carpets and mats spread out on the floor, and decorative blankets draped on the bed and other cushions scattered around. Melodic, tinkling charms—of shells, metal, clay, and glass—hung from delicate chains. There was a warmth here comparable to any stable inn Link often stayed in. It was the homiest cave Link had ever seen. Link supposed he sure as hell didn’t know how to build a house, so why not just move into one the earth had carved out for you? Hard work done, furniture could pop right in, and bam, you had yourself a cozy den.

But he wasn’t here to admire a house. He was here to get mauled and die.

Oh, goddess, did lynels eat people?

Link thought he’d heard about that in the stories parents told their kids in the village, but he couldn’t be sure. His memory didn’t extend back that far; that time was long gone to anyone still alive. He snatched what tidbits of stories he could from various orphanage matrons in villages he visited. (He personally liked the scary ones but they never told those to avoid upsetting the younger kids.)

With that thought in mind, Link stammered, “You don’t have to do this.”

The lynel peered back at him from his place beside the cooking pit.

“I-I can go,” Link said. “I can just go on my way. I was just trying to reach the bridge. I can go.”

“You’ll go nowhere.”

What? It talks?

In no story had Link ever heard of lynels being able to talk, much less in Hylian. It seemed obvious now that they would be able to. Their intelligence was often one of the first things elders warned travelers about. If they could craft such weapons, armor, and beautiful furniture, why wouldn’t they be able to communicate? The beast’s voice was resonant and dark, certainly the sort of voice that would emerge from a chest so large. There was a strong accent to it that Link couldn’t place; it reminded him of the Gerudo ladies he’d met on his travels, but not quite close enough. The cave acoustics only amplified the lynel’s quiet command, giving it a finality that locked Link’s legs in place. No, he wasn’t going anywhere after all. Even if he made a run for it, that thing would catch him before he ever made it to the cave entrance.

The lynel stopped fiddling with the cooking spit at last. It whirled about, backing its hefty body away, just barely avoiding Link on the ground. It leaned down, easily plucking Link off the exposed rock. One massive hand around Link’s waist was all it took; with it, the lynel lifted Link to face level with disturbing ease. Link squirmed in its grasp, whimpering at the crushing strength it possessed. The grip didn’t hurt but it still startled him.

This close, he was able to really take in the beast’s face. Its glowing amber eyes were striking, but past that, its face was distinctive. Even... handsome? Link’s heart thumped.

Am I really thinking this about a monster? Maybe hormones were wreaking relentless havoc on his young body (hey, it might have been a hundred years but he’d been frozen in time, basically) but to think that way about a giant, six-limbed man-beast was a little far. But the longer he stared, despite his quaking fear, the less doubt he felt about his own bizarre feelings. They really weren’t as bizarre as he first thought.

Link had seen lynels before, of course. He’d fought—and vanquished—his fair share as a knight. In the heat of battle, one didn’t stop and study them this closely. It was time to kill or be killed. Monstrous things with packed muscle head to toe, hands wielding lethal weaponry, and beastly visages, more lion than man. This one, however, had features tipped closer to Link’s own—not boyish and cute, no, but overwhelmingly Hylian in nature. There were still fierce, leonine cheekbones, nose, and elongated canines to contend with, but his face was not wholly foreign or unpleasant. No, not unpleasant in the least.

The heavy black rim of his natural eye markings were only accentuated with matte liner, applied with a heavy but precise hand. Link had seen a few black pieces of what had looked like charcoal or black crayon in shapes that would make sense to hold and apply eye liner. The ring in the beast’s septum gave his nose a sort of cow-like look but it was nothing to scoff at. Indeed, in one of the patchy and rare memories he had of Before, Link had seen a fierce death in the form of a bull goring a farm hand. He never took cows lightly and he would not take this lynel lightly, either. Its lips, full and strangely sensual, parted.

“You stare.”

“Uh. I. I just—” Link had no idea what to say to being caught. He was too obvious, gawking at the lynel like that. Even as he was called out on it, his eyes lingered on the beast’s mouth, still slightly open, red tongue on display, and its teeth particularly ominous.

Teeth like that can make mincemeat of me, Link thought. The lynel’s canines were horrifyingly large, perhaps only second to a moblin’s. Unlike a moblin, however, this beast had way more sharp teeth lurking within besides just his prominent, feline canines. If he bit into Link....

No. Surely he wouldn’t just rip into him like that. He’d kill Link first, right?

Right?

“Are you going to kill me?” Link blurted out.

The lynel raised an eyebrow. Or, where an eyebrow would have been. The shape of his face there was prominent enough to suggest one. His dark mane of hair shook gently, little rain droplets misting onto his shoulders.

“I mean,” Link hurried on, “it’s just. I’ve fought your kind before. I should be dead by now—”

“You want to die?”

“No!” Link yelped. “No, of course not!”

“Then shut up.”

The beast drew Link in closer, turning him this way and that within his grip. Link felt like a doll. He flopped to the left, then the right, then over when the lynel wanted to peek at his other side. Link blushed, embarrassed at his ass perked up in the air like this, a monster taking a good, hard look at it.

Okay, it’s normal that he’s curious, Link assured himself. His anatomy is way different. I’m missing the horsey half he’s used to with his people. It’s okay. Wait, when did I start thinking of it as a “he?”

The creature turned Link back around and leaned in. Link began to panic; he didn’t want the thing’s mouth anywhere near him. Mouth meant teeth. Teeth meant devour. Link whimpered as the beast’s nose came close to his cheek, sniffing heavily at his skin and hair. He drew back, turning his gaze towards the cave entrance, where Link’s cloak lay in a damp circle on the rock. It had kept his hair mostly dry. It must have slipped off as they entered the cave. The lynel’s nostrils flared gently a few times, as if making a correlation between the cloak and Link’s scent.

Link certainly couldn’t smell whatever it was the beast could. All his simple Hylian nostrils took in was the scent of cooking meat and wet grass. If he had a smell, Link couldn’t smell it. He’d bathed before leaving the stable, so there wasn’t much to pick up.

“This one looks and smells like a female,” the lynel said.

If he wasn’t being held aloft by a giant, scary beast, Link might have been offended. Might have scoffed at that. He was a knight of the royal guard. He’d long since moved past being insulted by those who underestimated him due to his small stature and pretty face. But damn, did being mistaken for a girl hit differently when it came from a lynel’s mouth.

“Yet sounds and moves like a boy,” the lynel finished, puzzlement in his deep voice.

“I am a boy!” Link protested. He wiggled in the lynel’s grasp but the massive hand didn’t budge.

“A boy with no sword?” the lynel scoffed. “What kind of man does not come into a lynel’s territory ready to fight? Are you simple?”

“What! No! I do have a sword!” Link said. Except that sword was out in the rain, collecting mud and rust at the bottom of the hill that had gotten him into this mess.

The lynel tilted his head.

“I... I had a sword,” Link corrected.

“Then you are here to fight?”

“No! I... I can fight, but I have no quarrel with you!”

The creature’s glowing eyes widened slightly and remarkably, he didn’t seem aggressive, just curious and perhaps even amused.

“I’m on my way to Necluda. Just traveling through.”

“Necluda.” The lynel repeated that slowly. It sounded strange on his tongue. Clearly whatever Necluda was called in lynel language was not the same.

“I’m not here to fight you. I just got a little lost and then I slipped.”

“Fell down entire hill,” the lynel remarked. “Stupid Hylian.”

He broke into a startling laugh, hearty and genuine. If Link weren’t so afraid of the beast he might have laughed along with him; it was that sort of contagious and... charming? Link truly began to wonder if he’d hit his head on the way down the hill. If these were different circumstances, he might have fallen halfway in love with this handsome beast.

“H-Hey,” Link whined softly. “It’s raining. I didn’t want to get wet.”

“You failed,” the lynel offered up bluntly.

He moved close to the bed and, much to Link’s horror, began to peel his tunic off.

“What are you doing?”

The lynel didn’t respond this time.

“Hey... cut it out!”

“Your wrappings are wet,” the beast said.

“Oh.”

His wet tunic fell to the ground, just off the decorative rug where the bed was set. He lowered Link down onto it. Link sank a shocking amount downward. The mattress was softer than it looked, like sitting on a big, firm pillow. The blankets were thick and warm, inviting to the extreme. Away from the cooking pit, a different scent emerged, strong enough for even Link’s mediocre nose. Strong and strangely dreamy: patchai herb and vetiver. Herbal and woodsy, the kinds of scents Link would never have associated with a beast like this. Not only that, but there was a gentle haze of something warmer among it, something that drifted off the lynel’s skin. Was that his own smell? There was none of the mucky, horsey smell Link expected. (He loved horses, but there was no avoiding that.) The warmth overtook him; Link felt his eyelids grow heavy almost immediately.

He wasn’t here to curl up and nap, however. It struck him again that he was in a lynel’s den.

I shouldn’t be alive, Link thought in a panic. What is he keeping me alive for?

A surge of primordial horror coursed through Link as the lynel knelt onto the bed beside him. His thoughts, shamefully and worryingly, went straight to sex. Surely that wasn’t... a thing... that lynels did to people. Link hadn’t heard of abductions or rape, but then, most of his foundational learning when it came to the monsters had been based in battle tactics. Flanking and dodging, hitting them where it hurt; not whether they kidnapped people for pleasure.

“Um....”

The beast clambered onto the bed, careful not to completely smash Link to bits in the process. For such a powerful and mostly graceful creature, kneeling down and settling was a far clumsier task when one was so gargantuan. Link didn’t escape the bulk completely; the lynel’s movements sent him down into the sea of blankets, face-down, his yelp muffled. With his alarm bells still ringing fresh, he flipped over onto his back, only to find the lynel uncomfortably close to him.

“Oh, um, you can get really low, huh?” Link remarked, his voice perked up a full octave in his nervousness.

The beast’s four legs were planted on either side of him, but his torso dipped low, bringing him in close to Link’s face. His arms at either side of Link’s head only contributed to the sense of imprisonment. He tilted his head back, brown hair toppling back onto the down-feather cushion that thankfully happened to sit beneath his head. Like taking a comfy nap.

With a giant monster on top of him. No big deal.

I’m going to die. I’m really going to die. What did I do to deserve this fate?

The beast’s face was close to his own. Link looked away, too anxious to meet his glowing eyes. He focused on the two locks of thick, dark brown hair that dangled gently close by, tied decoratively near the ends with leather string. The shaggy mane wasn’t all that uncontrolled and messy, now that Link could see it up close. It was a little on the wild side, sure, but only due to the body and the way it grew out in subtle waves. Here and there the beast had tied it or plaited it—that took manual dexterity that was shocking with hands that size—and Link found himself charmed by the rustic styling.

It was less charming when the lynel’s nose touched his cheek. The gold of his nose hoop was cold, followed by warm flesh slightly cold at the tip thanks to the rainy cool of the cave. The soft snuffle of the lynel sniffing him did not go unnoticed. Link was stiff, too afraid to set the creature off in any way.

Is this where it eats me? Oh, goddess. I promise I’ll be better. I’ll stop being cocky. I’ll quit doing reckless things. Whatever you want, please just get me out of here.

Something wet and uncomfortably hot touched his cheek, right next to the corner of his mouth.

Wha...?

Link’s first thought was maybe the gross beast had a runny nose. Despite all the other signs of intelligent life, a lynel was still just a beast, after all. But his nose was perfectly dry as it brushed across Link’s cheekbone. The lynel’s full lips parted and out emerged his tongue, tasting Link’s skin like he was a bonbon to try at the confectioners’ shop. If that was the case, he seemed to enjoy this particular candy, because the next pass of his tongue was firmer and more decisive.

“Nnh....” Link’s lip curled and his entire face was beet-red, hot to the tips of his pointed ears.

The little noise was met with a deep, chuffing growl from above. Link squeaked loudly, sure this was the point where he was absolutely going to die. But the lynel just kept on going, moving his soft licks to Link’s mouth.

“Nn... what are you doing?” Link blurted out, panting from the shock.

He’d never felt so overwhelmed in his life. His heart raced like the stallions on the plains outside, drumming faster than the rain could keep up with. His sternum was even sore with the thrum of it, the adrenaline. His cheeks were so hot he felt like steam might spout from his ears. Whatever piece of his brain made thoughts malfunctioned, its dying gasp being that timely “What are you doing?”

“You smell ready,” the lynel said.

Link stared up at the monster’s terribly un-monstrous face. How dare he not look overly inhuman. How dare he stir strange sensations in Link’s lower abdomen. There was a warm tickle that drifted lazily down into Link’s thighs, a feeling he knew all too well but had never felt so strongly before.

Admittedly, he’d never been this close to someone before. Woman, man, or... lynel, the proximity of another warm, muscular body stirred something primal in Link that he really didn’t want to feel right now.

“Ready?” Link finally managed to ask. “Ready... for what?”

The lynel laughed. “This one really is a stupid Hylian.” After laughing some more, he looked back down at the boy pinned down on his bed. “Ready to mate. To be mounted.”

“M-mounted?!” Link screeched.

The lynel tilted his head at the sudden noise but shook it off. “This is a... how do your Hylians say? Honor.”

“No!” Link protested, squirming. “It really isn’t!”

“Honor in being mounted by Mirza. Strongest in this territory.”

Mirza? Was that its name? It sounded awfully mundane; Link couldn’t rationalize the beast’s harsh appearance coupled to a name so flowery, almost.

“I don’t care! It’s not possible!”

He attempted to wiggle out from between the lynel’s limbs (why did he have so many!) using his small size to his advantage, but the beast—Mirza—was too quick and strong for him. Link met a sturdy pillar of a leg or a sweeping, muscled arm wherever he turned. Those arms scooped him up easily, flipping Link onto his stomach.

Cold sweat trickled down Link’s neck.

“No, no, no,” he whispered feverishly into the blankets. This wasn’t happening.

Mirza’s large hands tugged Link’s pants down with ease, leaving his naked ass exposed to the cold cave air. There were no twists or turns, no rock walls to halt the gust of stormy air from coming in from outside. There was a tied back drape bolted into the rock near the mouth of the cavern, but it was pulled aside. Link could only watch as his pants flew from Mirza’s hand to the floor. He was in another world entirely. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

All it took was one of Mirza’s hands to wrap around Link’s waist. He tugged upwards, yanking Link onto his knees so that his ass was raised up in the air. Link moaned pathetically. He couldn’t escape this if he tried.

Despite the sudden horror of the situation, there was something even more mortifying: Link felt a familiar slickness between his cheeks now that his ass was exposed. He told himself it was just the excitement and adrenaline making his body react in strange ways. It had to be. He wasn’t turned on by... whatever this whole mess was. Besides, no amount of slickness was going to help unless the beast had a comically tiny member. Somehow Link doubted it. He hadn’t really checked out the undercarriage, so to speak, but it didn’t seem logical for a lynel to have a man-sized dick. Link just hoped he was wrong about that. He couldn’t take anything more. (Not that he had any experience in the matter anyway.)

Something hot and firm brushed against Link’s butt.

He stopped breathing. Not only was he correct, he had underestimated. The thing rubbing against his quivering ass was horrifically massive. Link pulled himself up onto his elbows so he could look back at what was happening. His blue eyes went entirely round and his mouth dropped open.

It wouldn’t fit. There was no way. The monster would kill him, but it wasn’t the quick, sword-slashing death Link expected upon his roll down the hill. He was going to put that weapon inside him and rip him in half until Link bled out and died painfully and pathetically.

“Y-you can’t,” Link whispered. His breaths hitched in his throat, which was suddenly swollen and dry. “It won’t....”

Mirza shoved Link back into the pillows with a solid hand to the back of his head. Link whined, though the noise was muffled by the feather-filled fabric.

Something warm and honey-like dribbled between his cheeks. It was thick and syrupy, with a pleasantly grassy fragrance. Whatever it was, the lynel’s thick fingers slid through it easily, rubbing it in against Link’s flesh. Link gasped at the sudden feeling of being touched there. It was too intimate a place and Mirza handled it with all the care of, well, an animal. Link flushed hotly at the slick, rhythmic sounds of what was clearly the lynel slicking that oil or whatever it was onto his shaft. All the while, the stuff dripped off Link’s perked-up rear end and warmed rather pleasantly against his flesh.

Mirza pressed the thick, blunt head of his cock against Link’s ass. The size difference didn’t compute for Link. The logistics were impossible. Link whimpered, begging the beast to stop, to be gentle, to let him go, to just kill him. Anything but this.

The beast was indifferent to his pleading. A jolt of not-quite-pain and not-quite-pleasure coursed through Link’s spine as Mirza forced something inside him. It wasn’t his cock, though. Still big, but from the feel of it, a finger? For Link, who’d never touched himself there, it was still a lot. He protested through the pillow, closing his eyes shut and trying not to do the same where it really counted. It didn’t hurt but it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable, either. The honey-like substance helped with the slippy factor, easing the lynel’s finger in and out with disturbing simplicity. It didn’t take him any effort at all. It had just popped right in.

Maybe it was less the honey and more Link’s fault. Shame trickled into his cheeks in the form of a violent red blossom. Am I just meant for taking this? Is that why this is so easy?

Perhaps. But Link really preferred to hope that it was the magic sex honey.

Link’s next loud yelp was not muffled by the pillow. He groaned it into the air, letting it echo off the cave walls, as the beast forced in a second finger. Good goddess, that was already the equivalent of another man’s cock inside him. It still didn’t compare to what Link had in store, but it was already so much.

“Nnn... I can’t,” Link panted. He gripped the blankets. The herbal fragrance drifted up off them, lulling Link into a state of heady relaxation despite everything going on. His heart rate slowed just enough for him to endure.

Mirza’s thick fingers burrowed into his ass, sliding around with reckless abandon. Link winced at the way each thorough push stretched him out, priming his body for what was to come. The thought of that alone, the threat of something more, was what kept Link from completely relaxing.

“You are small,” Mirza remarked.

No shit! Link wanted to shout, but he bit his tongue.

“Still, you will do.”

“No,” Link whined.

He didn’t want to do. He didn’t want to take this monster’s cock.

And yet... he did?

Shame welled up in his cheeks and reddened his flesh to the tips of his long ears. Despite everything telling him to protest, the movements inside his virgin body were beginning to stir up pleasant sensations. They only got stronger as Mirza used his free hand to shove Link’s thighs apart wider, spreading him open. Between his quivering thighs, his cock began to stiffen. He was just glad the giant beast couldn’t see that from his angle. How embarrassing to actually get off on this.

He had been abducted by a monster for this purpose. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. This was the part in all the stories where a charming fellow hero would run into the cave and fight the foul beast off, rescuing the damsel (well, Link) from harm. But there was no hero besides himself, plus a very horny lynel and some ominous thunder rumbling overhead.

Mirza pulled his fingers free with a slick noise, leaving Link’s ass feeling suddenly strange. Empty, even. As if it being filled was its natural state and he needed it to be. That was ridiculous. There was just something in the scent of the blankets and the feel of a solid body so close to him making him feel things he shouldn’t have been.

Once again, the touch of the beast’s heavy and heated cock head pushed against Link. He could feel it sink into the divot of his now far more pliable entrance, but it still seemed physically impossible.

“Don’t,” Link whispered. In the cave it sounded louder that it was, even with the rain tapping against the rock outside. “It’s not gonna go in.”

Mirza seemed determined to prove his captive wrong. He pushed forward and fought the resistance that met him. Link gripped the fabric of the mattress, his mouth open in a silent scream. The head of his cock had to be almost as big as Link’s fist and it was stretching him wide open, farther than Link thought possible. His next breath emerged as a shaking moan, pathetic and soft as unspeakable sensations fluttered and ripped through him. Maybe-pleasure and maybe-pain, once again, only amped up to the extreme. He could feel a definite burning sensation, but there was something almost ticklish and pleasant to accompany it.

With a heavy groan from above him, Mirza managed to push inside. His giant cock sank in a comfortable inch or two before coming to a halt. Link cried out from the sudden slide of it. It wasn’t as far in as he’d shoved his fingers, but the girth of it was so much that Link’s body was putting a full-on protest.

“You’re going... to kill me,” Link whimpered, his breaths labored.

There was a soft noise from above that Link only registered two seconds later as a chuckle. Mirza’s hand came down softly on Link’s back, the warmth of his palm suffusing Link’s bare lower back with some small comfort. His fingers rested between his shoulder blades, almost touching his hair with their length. It still shocked him how purely large this thing was. His hands, his body, his dick. It made sense that he should be proportional all over, but that didn’t mean Link had to like it.

Not when the lynel was ripping him in half with his inhuman largeness.

He rocked his bulky body, sending uncontrollable shockwaves up Link’s back. Somehow, the thing began to push in deeper, slicked down with both the special, heated oil and Link’s own aroused fluids. Because even in his fear and discomfort, his body was still reacting positively to the sensation of being penetrated.

If he got any redder, he’d turn purple. Or his ears would start whistling like a tea kettle.

There’s no one here to witness your shame, a little devil in his head whispered. If you want to enjoy it, enjoy it. Doesn’t it feel good being fucked by a feral monster? Isn’t this what you’ve needed after so long without?

Link could have screamed if he wasn’t left so breathless from the heavy cock that pushed into his ass, leaving zero room for any thoughts or reaction. There was nothing to think about but that sensation. Mirza’s hand slid down from his back and gripped the curve of his hip. He pulled Link into the next thrust inwards. Link moaned loudly.

Mirza’s cock furrowed deeper, stretching Link open not just outside but inside, too. Link felt his belly grow against the mattress; if anything was uncomfortable, it was that bloated, weighty feeling of being so full. But his entire body was an electric playground of tingling pleasure, blooming like star-flowers across his skin. He was damp with sweat and so was Mirza, who smelled even stronger of that intoxicating scent that lulled Link into a daze.

His powerful body worked diligently. He pulled back, making Link groan with the slick tension from within, before thrusting right back in. Slowly but surely, he started up a crushing rhythm, fucking Link properly. Link could only lie there and endure it. He was a melty puddle against the mattress, only his ass tilted up into the air for the lynel’s use. The smooth length of his cock fed deeply into Link’s ass, pushing against his insides and filling him full, before sliding back out with a wet drip.

The honey dribbled down Link’s ass and balls, dripping off the end of his embarrassingly hard cock. Milky fluids oozed forth to join it. He was so aroused it was unreal. It was as if a spell had been cast on him.

Any memories of staring the lynel’s kind down, challenging them to a duel to the death, were washed away with the storm. None of that existed here. It was as if this were a dimension beyond Hyrule, somewhere safe where he didn’t have to be a hero, didn’t have the world in his hands. Here he could be vulnerable. He could lose, with zero weighty consequences.

He wanted nothing more than for this beast to fuck him within an inch of his life.

“Harder,” Link whispered.

Mirza made a soft noise, as if he didn’t quite hear.

So Link repeated it louder: “Harder!”

Mirza gave him what he wanted, speeding up his heated thrusts and giving each one just a little more power behind it. It didn’t take much. The beast’s muscles rippled as he worked harder, his impossibly large hands gripping Link’s tiny waist. Link moaned between panting breaths, struggling to keep up even though he’d asked for it. Mirza’s cock found its way even deeper, opening Link up to his limits.

“Unh... it’s so good,” Link whimpered.

He pushed himself up off the mattress with all the strength he had left in his quavering limbs. His arms were weak but so were his knees and he still managed to stay upright thanks to the lynel’s hands holding him up by the hips. The discomfort in his abdomen eased up now that he was off the mattress. Each plunge of the lynel’s cock made Link’s belly swell. It might have been uncomfortable if it wasn’t so pleasurable to be on the receiving end of the beast’s feral need to mate.

It didn’t matter that Link wasn’t compatible with him. There was nothing he could do to stop Mirza and at this point, he didn’t want to. Knowing he was helpless somehow only turned him on more. He was at the lynel’s mercy.

He cried out as his entire body shook violently. His orgasm was unexpected, sudden, and extremely strong. Stronger than anything he’d brought on himself. Pleasure sparked within him and his cock spit up onto the mattress below. He moaned, quivering through his climax, shocked that he wouldn’t stop coming. It was a long and almost taxing orgasm, leaving an embarrassingly substantial mess underneath him. All the while, his insides sucked greedily at the lynel’s long, thick shaft.

“More,” Link panted, weakened by his orgasm.

The lynel didn’t disappoint. He kept powering through, fighting the sudden tightness that traveled the length of his cock. His breaths were heavy, their heat on Link’s back intense. His entire top half was leaned low, close enough to Link that he could feel those locks of hair brush against his shoulders and neck.

With a shocking roar that startled Link into an embarrassing yelp, the lynel met his climax. Link winced at the heat blossoming deep within his belly, like fireworks in the sky. Mirza stayed there a moment, making sure Link received every drop, before slowly pulling out. That was torture. His spent cock dragged slowly out of Link’s abused insides, leaving a thick trail of cum in its wake. It took effort, too, to pull out completely; the thick cock head took a hard pull in order to pop out entirely.

Link’s asshole gaped, wholly unable to close back up after such abuse. He shifted his weight gingerly, which only sent a tumble of thick white out of his open hole. It slid hotly down the back of his thigh.

“Th... there’s so much,” Link panted.

“It is honorable,” Mirza repeated. “To be bred by the most powerful in this territory.”

Link sure didn’t feel honored. Battered, maybe, in more than one way. His entire body was sore. Of course, his ass hurt the most. Now that the adrenaline and flutterings of pleasure had left, only soreness and a deep twinge remained in their place. He was also a mess. No matter how he moved, more of the lynel’s seed poured out of him. It was hot and thick, reminding Link of the pancake batter he’d watched the stable owner’s wife pour into the pan that morning for breakfast.

How much of it is there? he wondered. It won’t stop.

Link rolled over with great effort, dropping onto his back. Mirza didn’t stop him. He got up off the bed and made his way towards his meat on the spit, giving it another turn. His horns caught the firelight from the cooking pit. Black and ridged, they gave him a sort of noble look, like a crown. But something else caught Link’s eye: his cock, still on full display, shining up to the point where it had been inside Link.

He really fit that much inside me?

It was a wonder he wasn’t in more pain. Whatever was in the lynel’s little pot of lubricant worked miracles. Even now he could feel its residue, warm and tingly, both on his skin and deep inside where it soothed whatever discomfort there was.

“Mating makes you hungry, Hylian?” Mirza asked then.

Admittedly, the smell of cooking meat did stir a grumble in Link’s stomach. He hadn’t eaten since leaving the stable and night was on its way. So he nodded.

And to his surprise, a smile lit the lynel’s full lips. It might have been menacing thanks to his sharp teeth, but there was an unmistakable warmth to it.

For the first time since this whole ordeal had started, Link realized he wasn’t going to die after all. Pleasantly warm from the fire, the blankets, and the afterglow, he finally relaxed. He watched Mirza cook and waited for his share. There was something else on his mind now that it was freed up from thoughts of imminent death and danger.

“Mirza?”

The beast peered over, his ears perking from within his dark, lustrous mane.

“I have fought your kind before,” Link said, eyes dark. “And won.”

Mirza’s smile grew into an all-out grin, his canines glinting in the firelight. “Funny Hylian. You. Small thing.”

Link had no choice but to laugh, too. He supposed he wouldn’t believe it, either, after that.

“Good for mounting,” Mirza said. “Not so good for fighting, Hylian.”

“Link.”

The lynel looked at Link with a tilted head.

“My name is Link.”

“Well, then, little Link,” Mirza said, breaking away from the cooking fire. He put a hand onto Link’s head and pet him softly, pushing his tousled, soft hair to one side. “Eat first. Then you will have another turn.”

Link smiled despite himself, his cheeks pink with anticipation. Maybe the rest of his journey could wait a little longer. It had been a hundred years; what was another day?