Hysterics in Hyrule : The Iron Knuckle Indoctrination (*/f, f/f, ff/f tickling)

[Gargalesis Ghost]

Everyone swooned over Urbosa back when BotW came out, but I've always had a soft spot for the original hot Gerudo, Nabooru. And I always wondered what might have happened in the seven year span after Koume and Kotake captured her, considering the next time you see her in the game she legit tries to murder you. This story contains a lot of sexualized tickling, magical bondage, brainwashing and eventual mind break. Enjoy!

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Hey, look at that. The kid found the Silver Gauntlets.


Nabooru saw Link pop out of a door and open one of the gilded chests that sat in prominence atop the Spirit Temple, then a glint of silver as he held the Silver Gauntlets up to the desert sun. She’d had doubts about asking a child to explore the western side of the Spirit Temple, but there was no way she’d have been able to crawl through that little passage. She raised a hand, wondering if the kid could see her from atop the Spirit Temple, then felt her legs sink into the ground to her ankles as the sand swirled around her.


“What the hell…” Nabooru cried, pulling at her stuck legs frantically, until the wind died down and the sand cleared from her sight and revealed the old hags of the temple, Koume and Kotake, circling her in the air on their brooms and cackling as they wove a spell together. This is bad, her mind screamed as she struggled to lift her legs out of the sand and instead sank deeper, down to her knees. The Twinrova, as the sisters were called, played mother to the Gerudo king, Ganondorf, and had lived in the deepest chambers of the Spirit Temple for as long as any living Gerudo could remember. “Hey! Where are you taking me?! Yearggh, let me go!”


Nabooru felt herself pulled deeper into the same again, now to her waist, as a vortex of dark magic appeared around her. “You fiends! Ganondorf’s minions!” She spat, bracing her arms against the ground to try and hold her upper body steady and pull herself out of their foul spell. Koume and Kotake ignored her words and continued to circle on their brooms, chanting dark magic in some forgotten language. Koume, noticing Nabooru held herself above the sand, hovered downward and wriggled a single finger into her underarm, breaking the young woman’s concentration and forcing her body to jerk and making her hands slip. Nabooru was almost immediately sucked into the vortex to her chest. Shit!


“Link! Get out of here now!” She yelled up at the kid, holding one arm as high as she could in the hopes of catching his attention. Her body sank further down, to her neck, and she added, “These witches! They’re using black magic on me!” Then the sand rose to her face and everything went dark, her world becoming a hellish nightmare of flowing sand, swirling magic, and impossible darkness until she lost consciousness, the only sounds in her ears the slither of shifting grains of sand and the distant laughter of Koume and Kotake.


______


“Ugh, what happened?” Nabooru groaned as she sat up. She found herself on a slab of sandstone in chamber lit by one sad, sputtering torch on the wall that served little purpose but to make the darkness around her seem even more ominous. Somewhere nearby she heard sand hitting the floor, sliding through some unseen crack in the ceiling a grain at a time for the last hundred years and realized that Ganondorf’s witches must have pulled her into some deep underground section of the Spirit Temple. Nabooru stood and brushed sand off her clothes, frowning at how so much of it also clung to her skin no matter how many times she swiped at it, then groaned again as she noticed that her top, a traditional Gerudo garb, had slipped and that she’d been passed out with one of her breasts bared to the world.


She righted her clothing and looked around again, her long red hair whipping around in time with her head. “I wonder how far underground I am? When I find my way out of here, I’m going to gut those two freaks.” Nabooru set off, walking towards the torch in the hope that its scone was near a passage to a different room and was happy to see her guess was a correct one. As she stood by it, she could see the angular shadows of an opening nearby that ran perpendicular to the chamber she’d awoken in and she made for it next, peering around cautiously before lightly stepping around the corner.


“Hmm. No light at all.” She squinted down the new hall. Thanks to the nearby torch, she could see that it was made of the same sandstone that comprised most of the Spirit Temple, with the floor being laid with larger slabs and the walls with smaller bricks of it, but there was no other light source in the distance and the passage tapered into impossible darkness just a few paces ahead of where she stood. It was, however, narrow enough that she could walk along and trail a hand on each side so she wouldn’t miss other openings, but she wouldn’t be able to see at all. She looked back into the first chamber, her eyes scanning around again for anything else that might lead to the surface and saw nothing but shadow and sandstone.


“Well, I am a thief. What’s a little darkness?” Nabooru sniffed, then coughed in the stale underground air. She was afraid, without a doubt, but the longer she stayed in one place the likelier it was that Koume, Kotake, or one of the other monsters serving Ganondorf would find her and that worried her on all accounts. She might be able to hold her own against another Gerudo or a Hylian, but the gods only knew what horrors crept through the halls of the Spirit Temple, shut away from the light for centuries. Running into the witches had already been bad luck and she didn’t want to find out what sort of pets those two kept.


Nabooru made her way slowly down the pitch black corridor, arms spread wide enough to trail her fingers down each of the passage walls to feel for possible openings. It seemed to be a straight, unbroken hall several paces in, but she didn’t want to take any chances and continued with her arms outstretched until the light of the single torch near the entrance was a distant pinprick behind her in otherwise complete darkness.


Should I keep going? Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she thought. A few more steps and she’d lose sight of the entry to the corridor completely and there might be no finding it again if something happened and she got turned around in the dark. Steeling herself, Nabooru continued forward. Even if she became lost beneath the Spirit Temple, the fact was that the chamber she came from had no other exit that she could see, so it was plunge forward into the darkness or wait to die of hunger and thirst with nothing but the sound of shifting sand to drive her mad.


She paused and glanced behind her one last time, noting that she could no longer see the torchlight in the distance, then turned and nearly fell as the wall to her left disappeared the very next step and she nearly lost her balance. Nabooru paused, listening, and heard a shuffling, scraping footstep in the distance down the new corridor to her left, like something stumbling around in the dark with a bum leg that it dragged along rather than lifting to walk. Whatever it was let out a soft moan in the dark and sounded far closer than Nabooru would have liked. She took two more steps and the wall on her left reappeared. She sighed in relief, then bit her own tongue when a second moan came from the corridor, seemingly in response. Shit, shit, shit!


She walked faster, worried that whatever was in the corridor might decide to follow her, and it did seem that she continued to hear its limping footsteps no matter how far into the dark she walked. Nabooru paused and definitely heard the shuffle-scrape of its steps behind her. Shit, shit, shit! Chances are, it was a Gibdo. A close cousin of the ReDead, there had been multiple sightings of the mummified monsters in the desert over the last several years. Still, she knew they were slow, so as long as she kept moving it would pose little danger to her and would be easy to deal with once she made it out of the corridor and into some light. Really, so long as she didn’t slow down, she’d easily outpace it.


Nabooru took two more steps, then suddenly the walls on either side of her vanished. She stumbled, grasping at the air on both sides as her balance was momentarily lost, and felt hands wrap around each of her wrists and pull her arms taut.


“Gah, what is this?!” She cried, trying to pull free of whatever had grabbed her in the dark. Her only answer was a soft moan similar to the one the Gibdo behind her had been uttering, and she realized that more of them had to have been hidden somewhere in the dark passages and had heard her coming or that, perhaps, the monsters had some way of communicating that she wasn’t aware of and the shuffling one behind had warned its mates about her approach. It mattered little, now the important part was getting out of their grasp before…


A new moan came from directly behind her as the shuffling, scraping step came to a stop and the Gibdo following her bumped into her back. It even smelled dry, a mixture of dust and old spices and death, and it moaned again directly in Nabooru’s ear before wrapping its arms around her torso in a dry, reeking hug.


Shit, what do I do?! She’d heard that Gibdo feed on their victims in the same manner as ReDeads, by draining their life force, and with three of them at hand her prospects were bleak of surviving. She braced herself, then squealed in the dark as linen wrapped fingers skittered up her rib cage and into the hollows of her armpits. “Wait, what?!” She babbled, then the fingers drilled in deeper and she couldn’t help but start laughing as she tried to squirm away from the tickling. “W-why!?”


Her only answer was another moan as the Gibdo continued its awkward tickling. Of all things, why tickling?! Nabooru had always been, in her own opinion, unreasonably ticklish from head to toe, a weakness that many of the other Gerudo had taken advantage of when she was younger although that (and much other light-hearted behavior, if she was being honest) had ended when Ganondorf rose to power. The memories came flooding back as she hopped from foot to foot, giggling and squirming in the dark and trying to move away from the monster’s probing fingers. Sweat dripped from her, beading from her skin with the stimulation and fear despite the subterranean passage being rather cool, and the slickness of it actually made the Gibdo’s tickling worse as it clumsily grabbed at her, the stiff fingers of one hand exploring up and down her ribs and side while the other remained resolutely buried in her armpit and sending electric shocks through her body with every flex.


This is it, I’m going to die down here, tickled to death by mummies, she thought, then the Gibdo hit a particularly ticklish spot on her rib cage that made her jump so hard that her sweat-slick arms slid out of the hands holding her still on either side. Nabooru’s reflexes kicked in and she took off straight ahead, leaving all three of the monsters in a confused jumble as they reached for where her body had been only seconds before. Run, don’t stop, don’t let them catch you again! She panted, barely able to suck air into her lungs after the tickling as she ran and hating the taste of the stale, dead air that she was able to breathe in. A pinpoint of light appeared in the distance straight ahead and she headed for it, her chest burning and her feet pounding on the sandstone floor as everything slowly went from pitch black around her to a faint grayscale and, finally, real illumination that made her eyes prickle and burn after being stuck in the dark for so long.


She burst from the passage, her whole body heaving, and found herself in a new chamber full of torches burning so brightly that the sheer amount of light stung her eyes. Nabooru blinked, trying to get used to the sudden difference, when she heard a something slam down and turned to find the passage behind her blocked off by a slab of stone. Good! Those monsters can tickle each other in the dark for the next century! Freaks! Nabooru turned away from the sealed passage and froze in her tracks, shivering as a bead of sweat tickled its way down the center of her back.


The new chamber was far warmer and well lit, with torches sputtering along the walls every few paces rather than one lone sconce, and in the center of the room stood at least a dozen sarcophagi, each standing on end and decorated with elaborate carvings.


“Well that doesn’t look good,” she mumbled, then stepped backward as the sound of stone scraping on stone filled the chamber and each lid began to slide to the side and reveal a waiting Gibdo. I barely got away from three! How am I supposed to escape a dozen?! Thankful that she wasn’t caught by surprise and held this time, at least, she backed herself up to the wall and unsheathed a small knife she wore on her hip. Gerudo traditionally fought with scimitars and she was no exception, but she hadn’t expected to run into a room full of monsters and had left hers in her quarters at the fortress. The mummies stepped forward, almost in perfect unison, and the chamber filled with their moans. One near the front of the pack, only a few paces away from Nabooru, reached up to its face and unwound the bandage around its head enough to reveal parchment thin gray skin and a rotten mouth with yellowed teeth.


“Wait, can they…” she began, then the room echoed with the Gibdo’s scream, a deafening screech that left her ears ringing horribly and froze every muscle in her body. I didn’t realize they could scream like a ReDead! Shit! Both undead monsters were capable of uttering a scream that would temporarily paralyze the living, though Nabooru hadn’t been aware that the Gibdo were capable of it as well and watched, wide eyed and helpless, as the crowd of mummies shuffled closer to her with outstretched hands, the one with the uncovered mouth screaming every few seconds to keep her frozen in place. Then the crowd was on her, all dry, grasping fingers and moans, and everything went dark.


______


Nabooru awoke with a start only to find out that she couldn’t move or see anything. Her entire body had been wrapped from head to… ankle… in some sort of linen, tightly wound around her body. She suspected that it was the same sort of wrapping that the Gibdo wore, and the thought that she might be bound in the same bandages that an ancient corpse had been wearing made her want to wretch. Whatever had wrapped her, it had been done to deliberately allow her nose an opening to breath and for some reason ended at her ankles, leaving her feet poking out one end and a mess of red hair, dusty and disheveled, at the other.


“Eeheehee, she’s awake, Kotake!” Oh shit.


“Heeheehee, indeed she is, Koume!” Nabooru couldn’t see the witches, but they had a palpable presence that she felt as they stood over her. “Does she like those old bandages, I wonder? Your pets wrapped her up for us nicely.”


“Mmmph!” Nabooru tried to speak through the wrapping but could only produce muffled, garbled noises. The witches were strange women, even among the Gerudo. They both claimed to be Ganondorf’s mother, a blatant impossibility, and were fiercely loyal to him. Most of the other Gerudo were as well, but Nabooru didn’t trust him. They might both be thieves, but Ganondorf’s methods were brutal, relying on violence rather than stealth or craft, and that sat wrong with Nabooru. Her refusal to follow his leadership was what had led her to the Spirit Temple to begin with. Whatever Ganondorf and the two witches were planning, it was going to start there.


“Now, what shall we do with her, Koume? She let that little rat into the temple and he actually managed to take the Silver Gauntlets.”


“I think we should make her work for the great Ganondorf, Kotake. Despite her regrettable beliefs, she is quite skilled.” Fat chance, you old crone! I’ll never work for that monster! She tried to speak again but only produced more muffled noises instead, shuddering a bit at how similar to the Gibdo she sounded.


“A splendid idea, Koume! But she’s a stubborn one to a fault. Do you think we can convince her to join us?” She couldn’t tell what the old witches were doing, but she could feel them moving around her, two malignant presences that hovered around the room until, curiously enough, they congregated around the only part of her body that wasn’t bound in old wrappings - her feet. Nabooru wondered why, then remembered her ticklish treatment from the Gibdo and her blood ran cold as she felt Koume and Kotake slide her slippers off and the cool air of the subterranean level of the temple caressed her sweating soles.


Not like this! Not my feet! I’ll go mad! Nabooru tried to wriggle in her binds, but the monsters that had wrapped her had done a superb job. No matter how much she tensed or attempted to move, she failed to so much as loosen a bandage, and finally gave up with a heavy, tired breath and waited, her whole body overheated from her struggle and the full body wrap to the point that she felt tacky with sweat all over and vaguely nauseous from the heat.


“My, she must be nervous! She’s soaking through those bandages! And look at these cute little feet glisten in the torchlight!” The old women sounded nearly identical and Nabooru couldn’t tell which was which unless they addressed each other while they teased her. Whichever one had just spoken dragged a single finger down the center of her sole and she felt her body go rigid again as every muscle tensed. Please, I won’t even be able to squirm! Panic bells rang all through her mind as the witch that hadn’t touched her yet cackled at the muffled squeal she’d let out and the way her foot reflexively wiggled away from the touch.


“Ooh, a sensitive one, Koume! It’s been too long since we’ve had a sensitive one! And with pretty feet, too! Most of the Gerudo these days seem to just stomp around until their soles are pounded into leather, but these,” Kotake paused, running a finger across the underside of the toes on Nabooru’s left foot and pulling another muffled shriek from her, “these are exquisite! Small, soft, well shaped, and sensitive to the touch!” As if to punctuate her excitement, Kotake gently prodded the center of Nabooru’s arch and grinned with rotted teeth at another muffled squeal from within the bandages. The pair wasn’t even tickling her in earnest yet, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks where she blushed, both stimulated by the sensation and embarrassed at her own helpless squealing.


“And they don’t even smell after walking around in the desert heat all day! Your gnarled old dogs are enough to paralyze a Gibdo with their reek! Eeeheehee!”


“What?! You’re one to talk! The Dinolfos won’t even go in the same room you leave your boots! They smell that rancid!” Nabooru listened as the two crones bickered, relieved that they seemed to have forgotten about her feet for the moment.


“Say that again and I’ll roast the flesh off your bones!”


“Just try it! I’ll freeze all the blood in your dusty old body before you have the chance!”


Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll kill each other, Nabooru thought, and the concept was amusing enough that she made the worst mistake she’d made since the witches had caught her. It was only a snort… but Nabooru laughed, a single rimshot sound through her unwrapped nose. The crones ceased bickering immediately and the thief felt the air thicken with menace.


“She thinks we’re funny, Kotake,” Koume hissed, her voice dripping with malice.


“So she does, Koume, so she does,” Kotake growled, her voice even less pleased than her twin sister’s. “Why don’t we give this whelp a reason to laugh, since we’re so funny?”


“Mmmph!” Fuck! She heard the witches shuffle around, then without another word they assaulted her soles, Koume using one hand to pinch and bend the toes of her left foot back so the spindly fingers of her other hand were free to stroke and prod up and down her taut sole while Kotake used both her hands to skitter randomly up and down Nabooru’s right foot, her lanky fingers somehow honing in on every spot that made the Gerudo want to scream. Nabooru clenched her abs, bit down on her tongue, and squeezed her eyes shut even in the darkness of the wrapping just to try and keep a hold on herself. Somehow she knew, if they got real laughter out of her, some sort of struggle between herself and the crones would be lost as well as a fair bit of her dignity. It was one thing for other Gerudo to tease and tickle her for having soft, sensitive feet, but friends and lovers playing around was far from being tormented on a slab by two ancient witches.


“O-ho, she doesn’t seem to want to laugh now, does she? It’s coming, though. You can hear it in the little sounds she can’t help but make!” The witches shared a glance, then both switched tactics to what the other had been doing, Koume raking all her fingers up and down one sole while Kotake held the toes of her right foot back and targeted the ball of her foot and stems of her toes. Nabooru felt tears well up in her eyes as the need to laugh became nearly unbearable, every nerve of her feet screaming through her entire body that she desperately needed to let it out before her mind snapped.


Then it simply happened. One moment, she was gritting her teeth, determined to hold out as long as possible, and the next a finger swipe and a hiccup shattered her resolve and the chamber filled with muffled laughter. Her control slipped away from her, she laughed hard enough that she even deafened herself to whatever teasing words the witches brayed at her, deaf to everything but her own hysterical agony, both ringing in her ears despite the bandages and roaring full blast in her mind as raw sensation chased rational thought into a far corner. Even once the initial burst cooled and Nabooru laughed steadily as Koume and Kotake continued tickling her and some semblance of sanity restored itself, she couldn’t get the giggles back under control. The lid had opened and wouldn’t close again until the tickling stopped, and the witches didn’t seem to be tiring.


“Ha! I knew it was only a matter of time! This younger generation is too soft, I think,” Koume said, watching the way Nabooru wriggled in the bandages and appreciating the shape of the woman’s body. It had been a dreadfully long time since they’d had a guest that hadn’t ended up food for the Gibdo or the Dinolfos in the temple, assuming the previous trespassers even made it to the Spirit Temple in the first place. “Say, Kotake, do you think you can handle both her feet? I want to go play somewhere else.”


Kotake glanced at her sister, a knowing smile forming on her face. “Well, well, aren’t you the lucky one,” she chuckled to the still cackling Nabooru, “it isn’t every day that Koume takes a liking to someone!” She stopped tickling for a moment, grasping each of Nabooru’s big toes in one hand and focusing on them.


What is she doing? Nabooru, glad of the moment to catch her breath, worried what the pair still had in store for her. Somehow she didn’t think they were done playing with her just yet. Then her toes felt impossibly cold and set her teeth chattering as Kotake stepped back to admire the thick ring of ice she’d conjured around the two big toes with her magic. Attached to each other almost painfully, neither foot would be able to wiggle away for relief once she began tickling again.


“There! Now I can use both hands and won’t have to hold your wiggly feet still!” Kotake laughed, then dragged an old nail down Nabooru’s left sole, then up her right and wrenched a fresh squeal from her. “Are you ready, Koume?”


“Not just yet. They did a good job wrapping her up, and getting to the sweet meat might be a little difficult.”


“Just use your magic!”


What else are they planning? Nabooru was near delirious, overheated and weary from the tickling, and couldn’t fathom what else the witches might do to her. Then she felt a sudden heat, like a flare up in a hot, grease filled pan, directly between her legs and screamed in fear and confusion.


“Oh hush, I’m not burning you, just some of the bandage and your clothes beneath,” Koume scolded her. If Nabooru had been able to see, she would have been able to watch as the witch held a hand over her and, in a red glow of magic, used a small stream of fire to strip away just an area around her groin of wrapping, then the light pants she wore, and finally the surprisingly lacy undergarment until the cool air of the chamber chilled her freshly exposed womanhood. “Kotake! She’s already soaking wet!”


Nabooru felt her cheeks burn anew, even under the wrappings. It was true, though, that the tickling had reached a crescendo before and her body, in an act of sheer betrayal, had become aroused against her will. The short break helped to calm her down, but when Koume reached between her legs and slid a single finger down the length of her lips she lost it and started screaming incoherently.


“You were making prettier sounds than that before,” Kotake said, then raked the fingers of both hands down Nabooru’s trapped soles and the screams turned into a screeching giggle. The old witch paused a moment, allowing Nabooru’s dread to build, then her fingers clawed at her, skittering over the tender flesh of the Gerudo’s feet and wrenching fresh gales of laughter so desperate that they sounded like a wounded beast rather than the pretty young woman wiggling helplessly on the stone slab.


Koume, on the other hand, watched intently as Nabooru wiggled helplessly, admiring her quickly re-moistened pussy, a perfect pink slit in the woman’s dark skin. Even the small thatch of pubic hair above it, carefully trimmed and the same flaming red color as the thief’s hair, made the old woman drool. She teased Nabooru’s vulva again, dragging a finger slowly along and enjoying the slippery feeling of the already re-moistened pussy and how just touching it turned the helpless cackle from the thief into a hiccuping, giggling moan.


“Kotake, you sure you don’t want a turn up here too? She has a sweet little cunny.” Koume removed her hand and sniffed at the wetness covering her finger, then lapped at it with a dry old tongue. “Tastes sweet, too! We should have captured this one years ago instead of letting her cook up her plot against Ganondorf!” Her hand returned to Nabooru’s crotch, stroking and teasing her lips until she moaned nearly as much as she laughed, then with a sly smile Koume easily slid a finger inside her, eliciting a muffled scream from the woman.


Too terrified for coherent thought, Nabooru screamed once again, loud enough that even the wrappings that covered most of her face couldn’t dampen the sound and both of the witches winced. She tried to buck her hips, but with her movement so restricted all she really managed to do was pump herself up and down on Koume’s finger. Even though she realized, and felt disgusted at herself for the sensations it sent coursing through her body, she continued to wriggle and buck, desperate to get the old witch’s finger out.


“Eeh hee hee! I think she likes it!” Kotake cackled, her nimble fingers still stroking and scratching at the soft feet in front of her.


“Then she’ll really like this,” Koume said as she stuck her tongue out, a habit she had formed when focusing on something, and twisted her finger around inside Nabooru until she found the engorged little flesh nub she’d been seeking. In the bandages, Nabooru’s eyes flew wide open even knowing that she wouldn’t be able to see. Not there! It’s too…


Then Koume rubbed her clitoris, gently and in relentless, endless little circles, and Nabooru’s laughter reached a pitch that would have been earsplitting if her mouth wasn’t covered. So great was her reaction that she might have bounced and twisted right off of the stone slab she lay on if it weren’t for Koume realizing and holding her steady with her free hand. Worst of all, even through the desperate ticklishness of her clit, it still drove her arousal to an unbearable height, and after mere moments of attention to both clit and feet an orgasm rocked her, blotting out the entire universe into white noise for several seconds.


“… and such a tickly little clitty too!” Nabooru heard Koume saying when the ringing in her ears stopped. The witches had paused in their torment when she came, possibly noticing because of her body going rigid or, more likely if the sticky, soaked bandages clinging to her thighs were any indicator, Koume had seen the flood coming and instructed Kotake to wait a moment. Nabooru’s breathe wheezed in and out, her mind struggled to form a coherent thought, and her entire body burned, overheated and brimming with unwanted lust.


“Koume, I think she’s back with us. What should we do?”


“Well, she didn’t pass out yet, so…,” Koume replied, and the finger that still rested inside Nabooru began its merciless, circular strokes again as Kotake’s unreasonably long nails focused just under the toes of each foot, their pointed tips teasing in between each digit and finding every ticklish little fold, and Nabooru’s world became nothing but darkness, laughter, and mind-blotting orgasm after orgasm.


______


Nabooru sat up, sweat soaked and confused. She was no longer wrapped in the reeking bandages of the Gibdo, which was an immediate relief, but her memory dimmed completely when she tried to recall what happened after the witches started tickling her sex as well as her feet. Everything was just sensation, darkness, terror, and the smug laughter of the two horrible old women over it all.


She peered around the chamber, unsure if it was the same as where Koume and Kotake had tickle tortured her. Like much of the Spirit Temple, the walls and floor were made of ancient sandstone, the bright torchlight around her bouncing off it to give the whole place a rather golden hue. Nabooru braced herself on the stone slab she’d awakened on and stood, her knees shakily taking her weight, then looked down at herself.


Her shoes were unsurprisingly absent and most of the fabric of her pants around her groin was burned away, both rather vile reminders that she really had spent gods knew how long laughing and cumming all over herself at the hands of the witches. Her top, which barely qualified as such considering she eschewed extra garb over it and only wore a traditional wrap that covered her breasts, was intact, as were the rest of her pants, though the fabric of both was grimed with sweat, dust, sand, and in the case of her pants, her own juices. It repulsed her, but she couldn’t just strip and go naked, so she shrugged off the revulsion and peered around the room.


The chamber itself was well lit with torches lining the walls every few paces. The large slab on which she’d awakened sat squarely in the center, and she was surprised to see in the corner that there was a cloth laid out on the floor next to a small brick oven with a fire crackling within. Atop the oven sat a large copper pot, and whatever was in it seemed to be boiling along merrily with steam rolling from the top. She was more surprised by the items laid out next to it on the cloth, though, and walked over to examine them.


Nabooru’s attention was drawn, first and foremost, to a metal tray piled high with cured meats and fresh fruit, fairly standard desert fare for the Gerudo, but it had been an unknown amount of time since her last meal and just the sight made her stomach rumble and mouth water. There would be time for food soon, though. She wanted a better understanding of her situation first.


Near the food sat a flagon of clear water, and this she did not hesitate to pick up and drain to its halfway point immediately. Dehydration is a killer, every desert dweller knows it, and she’d lost a lot of fluids recently. Nabooru burped and put the flagon down, almost able to feel the cool water spreading through her body and relishing it, then her eyes caught something she absolutely did not expect to see. A fresh outfit, almost identical to the ruined one she wore, lay on the cloth just a couple paces from the food and water. She did note that the ensemble, while clean, also lacked an undergarment and a pair of shoes, a chilling reminder that the witches might have more in mind for ticklish toes and clit. Her eyes moved back to the copper pot sitting on the little stove and she saw, on another small metal tray, a bar of soap and a towel.


“Okay, so I’m obviously meant to wash and feed myself. But why?” Nabooru asked the empty chamber. No answer came, though, so she continued checking her surroundings. She’d double back to the food and the fresh clothing soon enough, but she still had a little more of the room to explore.


Two more corners of the large chamber revealed only sand, but then strangely enough in the final one, on the exact opposite side from the food, she found a suit of armor. It stood, proud and gleaming in the torchlight. It was strange because the Gerudo largely eschewed armor almost completely, relying instead on agility when they fought. After all, only a madman would encase themselves in metal and march into the blistering desert heat.


She touched the suit’s breast plate and ran a finger down the front, finding the metal pleasantly cool, then looked into the empty eyes of the helmet before stepping back. The rest of the suit was comprised of plates for the arms, gauntlets, a hauberk that would be worn beneath, heavy greaves, and a metal belt that had a ceremonial cloth with the Gerudo tribe’s crest dyed on it.


Put it on. The thought came, unbidden, to her mind. Could the armor protect her as she made an escape? The suit’s left hand was wrapped around the haft of an obscenely large axe, perfect for splitting enemies in twain and guaranteed to whistle through the air faster than a witch could chant a spell. Put it on.


Nabooru shook her head, confused for a moment, then stepped away from the strange suit of armor and finished exploring the room. There was nothing in the other corners, and when she peered upwards, the ceiling was too high for her to see by the torchlight, so she returned to the spread out cloth and undressed, then used the hot water in the pot and the soap to quickly clean her body. Whatever else may come, she was at least glad for that. The built up sweat, sand, and sexual discharge had left her feeling the filthiest she’d ever felt in her life, and the hot water cut through all of it. When she finished, she patted herself dry with the towel and dressed in the fresh clothes, then padded barefoot, making a face at the sand digging into the sensitive soles of her clean feet, and sat on the cloth by the tray of food and began to eat.


The food was bland but her body welcomed it, her belly rumbling and roaring as she filled it and then drained the rest of the water, sat back, and belched. Then realized that, as she’d checked the room, that there was one thing all rooms had that this one seemed to lack.


“There’s no door,” she said quietly to herself. Four walls, a slab in the middle, no visible ceiling, and no door in or out. The witches had to have placed her in the chamber with their magic once she lost consciousness, but that also meant there was likely no way out again without their magic being involved. “What do I do?”


Nabooru leaned back, closed her eyes, and wondered what course of action to take. There were no obvious doors, but ancient structures like the Spirit Temple often held secrets like hidden switches and disguised doors. She needed to check the walls more closely, brick by brick if it came to it, before she assumed that she was completely trapped.


She didn’t notice the shadow forming around her, a pool of darkness that started growing out of her own on the floor, until it was too late. Her eyes snapped open as a Wall Master, a monstrous, person-sized hand, dropped from the ceiling and gripped her body in its claw tipped fingers, then spirited her upwards into the darkness above as her terrified scream echoed off the walls.


______


The monstrous hand wrapped around Nabooru deposited her onto a different sandstone floor, her fresh clothes already streaked with sand and dirt from the impact, then it was gone, diving back upwards into the ceiling. She stood on shaky legs, wondering where she’d found herself now, when a high pitched cackle came from behind her.


“So glad you had time to freshen up!” Kotake said as Nabooru turned to face her. The witch floated in the air on a broom, her wrinkled hands clutching the handle as though she could go sideways and fly off any second. “It would have been a disappointment if you were all grimy and smelly for your visit.”


“What are you going to do to me?” Nabooru asked, taking a hesitant step back as she spoke. Her knife was gone, but if she could take Kotake by surprise then she might be able to disable her before she could react.


“Why, we’re going to convince you to join us in helping the great Ganondorf ascend to his proper place in the world. Even now, he’s working tirelessly to obtain the Triforce, and he’ll need all of us in the days afterwards as we bring all of Hyrule to heel beneath him. Why didn’t you put on the armor?”


“What?” How does she know about that?


“I asked why you didn’t put on the armor, you stupid girl. This could all be over if you had.” Kotake leaned back, her thighs squeezing tighter as her hands released the broom handle and she shrugged. “I guess that does mean I get to have a little more fun, though.” Kotake held one hand out, palm facing Nabooru, and a blue light coalesced around it.


“Shit!” Nabooru said and pumped her legs, diving to the right just as the beam fired from the witch’s hand. Instead of hitting her square in the chest as intended, Kotake’s ice spell struck her in the hip and a block of ice formed around her, expanding almost instantly from the point where she was hit. When it stopped, Nabooru found herself suspended in the air, her head and shoulders sticking out of the top of the ice block with just the palms of her hands protruding from the very front, while the bulk of her rear stuck out of the upper back corner of the ice and her bare feet helplessly stuck out behind, frozen all the way to the top of her foot so the soles couldn’t even wiggle. The rest of her body was encased in ice and the chill of it instantly set her teeth chattering. She looked as though she was crawling on hands and knees in mid-air, thanks to the awkward position she’d been in when the magic struck her. “W-what is th-this?!”


“It’s ice magic. Or did you already forget the frozen toe ties?” Kotake hopped off her broom and set it against the nearby wall. “Now then, you didn’t actually answer me. Why didn’t you put on the armor?” The witch circled Nabooru as she spoke, one wrinkled hand stroking her chin as she took in her handiwork.


“Why do you want me to put it on? Not worried that I’d use it to try and escape?” Nabooru asked, genuinely flabbergasted that the witch seemed to be encouraging her to arm herself. She shivered as she spoke, clenching her jaw to keep from stuttering with the cold surrounding most of her body. Nabooru wondered, vaguely, if Kotake kept her partially frozen for too long whether it was possible she could freeze to death.


“Oh, we’re not worried about that at all, girl. Did you think it was your own thoughts that compelled you to put the armor on when you got near it?” Kotake paused in the circles she walked and looked Nabooru in the eyes, her old face creasing into a malicious grin. “The armor is enchanted. Not only will it call to you, grow in your mind with every passing moment, but when you do finally don it, you’ll be completely under my and Kotake’s control. We intend to make you into one of Ganondorf’s chief warriors and the de-facto leader of the Gerudo once he successfully takes Hyrule Castle.”


“I refuse.”


“For now, perhaps. For now.” Kotake stared at her, then grinned wider. “Eeheehee, your lips are blue. Is that from the cold ice, or is it some of that silly makeup the younger Gerudo wear these days? I swear, the last three generations have been… lacking… in taste.” Kotake caught Nabooru’s chin with a finger and tilted her head up so she could look at her face clearly.


Nabooru, taking the opportunity, spat full on in the witch’s face, striking her in the cheek even through her trembling lips and shivering body.


“You vile little bitch!” Kotake fumed, wiping the spit away with the back of her hand and then slapping Nabooru across her face. “It’s time to teach you a lesson in manners!” Nabooru’s cheek throbbed where the witch struck her, the older Gerudo’s thin frame hiding surprising strength, but she smirked through the pain as Koume walked to the opposite side of the ice block holding her in place.


I knew it would circle back to more tickling, Nabooru thought, but it’s worth it if she shuts up. She braced herself, sure that her feet were about to fall prey to a fresh round of torment, then gasped as she felt Kotake grab the exposed fabric of her trousers and tear them open, exposing her bare ass to the cool air.


“Wait, you’re not going to tickle me more?”


“Don’t you worry, you’ll be getting all sorts of attention,” Kotake shot back, her voice thick with anger. Blue light washed over Nabooru from behind, a sure sign that Kotake was using her ice magic again, but stuck as she was Nabooru couldn’t twist around to see what she was doing with it. If she’d been able to look, she would have watched in horror as Kotake used her magic to form a long, smooth, and very phallic rod with her ice magic. It glittered maliciously in the torchlight once she finished, and Kotake’s grin returned as she looked from it to the wiggling, confused ass cheeks in front of her, then she gave one of them an open hand slap.


“Ow! Stop that!” Nabooru cried, then burst into laughter as the same hand that had just smacked her butt wriggled its fingers along her left foot. “N-no!”


“Just getting started, girl.” Kotake tickled Nabooru’s left foot with her free hand, her pointed nails tracing every wrinkle that the foot’s helpless flexing made as the thief, caught off guard after the smack, howled and giggled. Her eyes flitted up to Nabooru’s wiggling butt, though. She had little movement available, so her rear just shook back and forth in the air, one cheek already glowing with a pinkish handprint. Kotake stopped tickling for a moment and struck the other so that they would match, satisfied as a sharp cry punctuated Nabooru’s helpless laughter. “You know, I think I can tell why Koume took a fancy to you. I can just see that little twat from this angle and it looks like you’re already starting to trickle a bit.”


It was true and Nabooru hated herself for it but she couldn’t help it. It was like the nerves in her feet had a direct connection to her crotch and within seconds of the tickling beginning anew her pussy had moistened. The tickling suddenly ceased and she felt something horribly cold gingerly touch her vulva and screeched in surprise at the sensation.


“No, no, no!” Nabooru tried to wriggle away, but stuck in the block of ice she was helpless as Kotake gently teased her lips with the frozen rod, running it up and down the outside of her sex until the heat from her own arousal started to melt the ice enough that the witch could raise it up and let the cold meltwater mixed with Nabooru’s own discharge dribble off onto her ass cheeks.


“Such a dirty little creature! A little tickle and a tease and you’re ready to go! Why, if you weren’t frozen like that, I imagine you’d be sticking your rump in the air anyway like a bitch in heat!” Kotake cackled, then tickled Nabooru’s right foot with her free hand until the Gerudo thief cackled along with her.


“Please, stop!” Nabooru managed to sputter through the laughter, but Kotake ignored her and her long fingers dug into the ball of her foot and scratched at it hard, toeing the line between ticklish and painful. She bucked as much as she could, but her feet were unable to do anything but flex and the witch’s unnaturally deft fingers followed the worst spots no matter how hard she tried to wiggle them away from her horrid nails. Even worse, between the deadly cold of the ice block and the constant struggling of her muscles, Nabooru could already feel her body losing strength. It had been, at most, only a few minutes, but her muscles burned and she struggled for breath.


Kotake stopped tickling for a moment and Nabooru shivered and wheezed as she tried to catch her breath. Her relief was short lived as she felt the rod of ice prod at her pussy again, impossibly cold, until Kotake reached forward, parted her lips with a hand, and slid the rod inside of her. Nabooru screamed, her teeth chattering as her whole body went cold from the icy penetration, then continued to scream as Kotake pumped the rod back and forth hard enough that the Gerudo could feel it thudding painfully against her cervix. After a moment, Kotake switched to thrusting the ice dildo with one hand and her other returned to Nabooru’s helpless soles, nails skittering all over randomly as she tickled her captive anew. Nabooru sobbed, screeched, and laughed, her body reacting helplessly to the different stimuli even as the areas the witch wasn’t torturing grew cold enough in the ice bondage that she started losing sensation. Her insides grew so cold that they burned and her breath came in giggling, staccato hitches as she laughed and wheezed helplessly, every desperate suck at pulling air into her lungs thwarted by the impossible cold and the ruthless foot tickling. The chamber around her swam in and out of focus, and with a final, helpless giggle, Nabooru slumped forward and passed out.


______


Nabooru awakened to find herself back in the chamber with the stone slab in the center. She had no idea how long she might have been unconscious, or even how long the witches had already kept her imprisoned in the temple. It was hard to keep track without experiencing an actual day and night cycle. She sat up, wincing at the aches in her body, then slowly pulled off the already ruined clothing she’d found upon her last visit to the chamber, then stood on shaky legs.


A fresh set of clothing identical to the one Kotake had ripped open to violate her sat next to a bubbling pot of warm water yet again, and Nabooru wiped herself clean and dressed again, wishing they’d at least give her some slippers as she walked to the cloth where she rightly assumed a fresh spread of food and flagon of water would be waiting.


“At least they don’t seem interested in starving me, I guess,” she mumbled, then picked up a few pieces of fruit and wandered around the chamber, tapping experimentally at some of the bricks in the walls. A secret passage wasn’t out of the question in ancient structures like the Spirit Temple, and she just couldn’t believe that magic or the horrible Wall Master monsters were the only way in and out of the room they had left her in. She stepped past the gleaming armor and felt her skin prickle, then heard its silent call again. Put me on and it will all be over. No more tickling, no more violation. She pushed the intrusive thought away and kept tapping suspicious bricks as she circled the room and ate the fruit, any that looked set differently or seemed to be a different color than the rest. After several minutes and no result, she sighed and returned to the cloth with the food.


“I wonder how long I have until they decide to fuck with me again?” She sat and finished the rest of the food, mostly fruit this time, then drained the flagon of water and realized that her bladder was uncomfortably full. Nabooru stood and wandered back to the suit of armor, then passed it by to squat in the corner near it, slide her trousers down, and piss on the floor next to it. It wasn’t much, but it took care of a need and made her feel at least a little like she was fighting back instead of being helplessly tortured. Besides, they could take her again any moment and while she might not be able to prevent her erotic reactions to the touch, she’d be damned if she would give Koume and Kotake the satisfaction of seeing her soil herself like a child.


“You know,” Nabooru said to the armor as she stood and pulled the trousers back up then stepped away from the puddle being quickly absorbed into the sandstone floor, “they could at least have left some books in here or a deck of cards. Something to keep me entertained while I wait for them to pull me to some other random chamber for more torture. It’s just inconsiderate, you know?” The armor did not respond, and while the urine might be absorbed quickly into the thirsty stone, the smell lingered and made Nabooru’s nose wrinkle so she winked at the gleaming suit, tossed her red hair back, and strode back to the cloth on the opposite side of the chamber. She only made it about halfway before she noticed the shadow growing around her. “Ugh, Wall Master again, huh?”


She paused, then side stepped at the last moment as the horror dropped from the ceiling. The monster, which looked like a severed, rotting hand that walked spider-like on its fingertips, scrabbled blindly on the floor, confused at its target’s last second movement. Nabooru took the opportunity and kicked at it. Her bare foot sank into its flesh and she shuddered, backing away as the Wallmaster righted itself and scrabbled along the floor after her, its claws angrily clacking and scraping the sandstone.


“I’d give anything for a scimitar right now,” Nabooru groaned, hopping backwards out of the monster’s reach and trying to scrape the residue on her foot from kicking its rancid body off on the floor. She wasn’t sure how to fight it without a weapon of some sort. Her kick had caused no noticeable damage, and it was fair to think that further unarmed attacks would be similarly ineffective. It might be possible to dodge it long enough to wear it out, but she wasn’t sure if that was a viable tactic. They were undead creatures like the Gibdo, after all, so it was entirely possible that they didn’t even get tired. She hopped to the side as it lunged, easily evading it though she hissed in pain a second later as her bare foot came down on an unseen rock in the floor.


Nabooru hopped away, favoring the foot that had just been hurt, as she tried to keep circling so that the Wallmaster couldn’t get lined up to lunge at her again and found herself nearing the suit of armor. There wasn’t time to put it on, but the axe could make all the difference in fighting the monster, she reasoned, then froze on the spot when she saw that the armor’s position had shifted. Instead of holding the axe in front of it with the head planted on the floor, the armor stood with one arm held out and a mailed glove wrapped around the haft, as though presenting the axe to her. Use it, protect yourself, then put the armor on, the thought echoed in her mind. She reached for the axe, her fingers brushing it, then recoiled.


“No! I’ll not fall for their mind games!” Nabooru spat, shaking her head and stepping away from the armor. She’d beat the Wallmaster to death with a rock before she’d let them trick her into wearing the armor and activating whatever sort of curse they’d placed on it. Wait, the Wallmaster! The armor and the axe distracted me! Where did it go?! Nabooru looked around frantically for the giant hand, only realizing where it had to be at the last second as she spun on her heel just in time for the creature to slam into her chest instead of her back, its weight knocking the wind out of her and slamming her to the floor. She lay dazed as it gripped her body in its claws, then dragged her upward into the darkness above.


______


Nabooru came to her senses some time later, her head swimming from the Wallmaster’s tackle and subsequent trip through whatever dimension the creatures used to travel through shadows like they did. Her first instinct was to rub her temples, and she quickly discovered that she was unable to move her arms though it wasn’t from lack of effort. As the world came into focus, she found that in her unconsciousness someone had stripped her naked and strapped her to a wooden table with some sort of protrusion in the middle that forced her body into a position that thrust her ribs and breasts outward. The protrusion was padded, at least, so while the position was awkward and a bit uncomfortable, it wasn’t actually painful.


“Ahh, I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the waking world,” Koume cackled. Nabooru’s head whipped around, looking for her, and finally caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye, far enough away that she had to turn her head and strain her eyes to keep the witch in sight. Koume stood at another table, smaller than the one Nabooru currently occupied, that seemed to be covered with an array of tools. “I’m disappointed in that Wallmaster, you know. It was instructed to bring you here unharmed, not unconscious with a lump on your skull. We should have begun over an hour ago already, and I do so hate running behind. Don’t worry, though. I treated your wounds and have punished the Wallmaster.” Koume motioned to the wall on the opposite side of the room, and Nabooru looked over and saw the inert form of the hand monster dangling in the air, stuck to the wall with a spear. A purple fluid trickled out of it, dripping in the floor and running in rivulets down its claws and the haft of the spear that impaled it.


“It’s a monster, but you so casually kill your own minions?” Nabooru asked, her eyes glued to the dead Wallmaster.


“It had one purpose and failed. No worries, when it’s time to send you back, I’ll summon a more competent one.” Nabooru’s gaze returned to Koume, who still stood just in sight and seemed to be gathering up items from the other table and stuffing them into unseen pockets in her robes. The witch turned, eyeing her prize and almost salivating as she admired the gentle curves of Nabooru’s body. “My, but you still look a treat. Have you decided to put the armor on yet?”


“You, your sister, and your armor can all go fuck each other,” Nabooru said conversationally. “Why is it so important to you both?”


“The other Gerudo respect you,” Koume replied as she took a step closer to Nabooru, one gnarled hand clasped around an almost comically large, wispy feather of some sort. “They fear Ganondorf, which is a powerful motivator, but they don’t respect him like they do you, and most of them aren’t even aware that Kotake and myself exist. We need someone to be our face, as it were, and have decided on you.”


“I’ll never do it.”


“Oh, you will. You just need a bit more convincing. Lucky for you, we have very persuasive methods, as you’ve already discovered.” Koume brandished the feather, her face wrinkling in a malicious grin, and Nabooru sighed.


“Is some huge peacock feather really the best you’ve got? I know I’m ticklish, but come on. That seems a bit soft after what I’ve already been through.”


Koume held her empty hand up and snapped her fingers. A moment later, the sound of stone scraping on stone filled the room as a hidden panel slid up, then four man-sized lizards strode into the room, each wearing breast plates and a sword or short axe hanging from their belts. Their visible hide was scaly and dark green, with several spikes and spurs, particularly around the crowns of their heads. The one in front opened its mouth and a huge tongue slid out, lapping at its face, then dribbled saliva on the floor as its attention fell on Nabooru’s helpless form.


“Dinolfos?! I thought we’d all but eradicated those things, with the last few in captivity in the training grounds!” Nabooru felt her blood run cold looking at them. Dinolfos were known to be brutal and ruthless combatants, much hardier than the similar Lizalfos, and native to the desert. The one in front, its tongue still lolling about its face, took a step towards her and the three behind it followed in suit.


“Yes, these four are my personal pets,” Koume told her as the monstrous lizards surrounded the table where Nabooru lay strapped down. One of the monstrosities went directly to the foot of the table while two more took up positions on either side of her. The final one, the same that had its tongue out before, stood directly above her head. All four clicked their claws together as though they were eager to start whatever Koume had planned for her.


“What are they going to do to me?” Nabooru asked as she watched them watching her, their claws still clacking together. Fear swept her as she noticed one ceased clicking its claws and started to reach for her side.


“Don’t worry, I’ve personally blunted their claws and specially trained them for one particular purpose.”


Nabooru felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back. She knew the answer, of course she did, but some damned instinct in her made her open her mouth and ask the question anyway. “What… purpose is that?”


Koume grinned anew and snapped her fingers again. At the sound, all four of the Dinolfos set upon Nabooru, their claws digging in. The ones on either side of her pinched and kneaded along her ribs and prodded at her hip bones and belly, their claws just sharp enough to immediately elicit ticklish shrieks from her that turned into a babbling laugh as the one on her left side found a spot in between two of her ribs that she hadn’t even known about and it quickly became unbearable. At least, it felt unbearable, but that could also be said about the monster at her feet as it raked both her sensitive soles with its own claws, gracelessly dragging them up and down. What it lacked in technique it made up for with speed and coverage as Nabooru’s feet were petite enough that it was able to tickle almost the entire sole of each constantly, which was bad enough until it discovered that it could fit the tips of its claws in between her toes and she screamed, her whole body shaking with forced mirth as the scream petered into helpless belly laughs.


She realized through the tickle haze that she wasn’t sure what the one by her head was doing, then she felt a claw trace her jawline and down the side of her neck, making her whole body scrunch involuntarily to that side as she squeaked, surprised at how gentle the touch was. The beast gave her no time to recover, either, quickly running another claw down the other side of her neck and ripping another squeak from her, an interesting punctuation in her near endless laughter. It lowered both its arms to either side of her head and began to alternate between them, gently tickling her ear lobes, the sides of her neck, and the edge of her collarbone on each side. Between that and the attention from the other Dinolfos, Nabooru felt her brain switching off as her body gave in to the overwhelming sensations and she just laughed.


In her agony, she didn’t notice that Koume had crossed the chamber and stood only a couple paces away, watching Nabooru’s torment with a hand in her robes suspiciously close to her crotch. The old witch reveled in the young woman’s laughter, drinking it in with her eyes as the poor creature bounced and screamed, hiccuped, laughed, and occasionally got out a few pleading words, her deft old fingers finding her own slit, wetter than it had been in decades, and happily sliding in. It only took three ‘come hither’ motions with her fingers and a babbling crescendo of giggles from Nabooru for the witch to cum, her old frame shivering happily as the orgasm rocked her.


“My, my, it hasn’t happened so quickly in years,” Koume sighed, her hand resurfacing and an obvious wet spot spreading around the crotch area of her robe. “I’m going to have to change clothes once I’m done with you!” She looked at her own juices on her fingers, smiled, then stepped forward, taking a spot next to the Dinolfos that currently amused itself by counting the ribs on Nabooru’s right side.


“Here, taste me,” Koume said, holding the hand she’d used to work herself up to orgasm under Nabooru’s nose and filling the woman’s world with her own heady scent. Nabooru, her eyes wide even though she still laughed uncontrollably, jerked her head to the side as far as she could to avoid Koume’s hand.


“G-get away!” Nabooru managed to cry through her laughter, then Koume caught her chin and jammed her wet fingers into the thief’s mouth. A musky flavor, not wholly unpleasant, filled Nabooru’s mouth and she recoiled then tried to bite down on the witch’s hand to make her pull it out of her mouth. It might have worked, too, if Koume hadn’t started making the same curling motion with her fingers that she’d used to bring herself to orgasm. Nabooru screamed, the sound muffled by Koume’s hand, when she felt the witch’s nails scrape across the roof of her mouth.


It tickles so bad! Why? HOW!? Already overwhelmed by the four monsters tickling her, the roof of her mouth caught her completely by surprise and all thoughts of fighting back or biting Koume fled her mind, replaced by desperate panic and garbled begging whenever she managed to keep enough air in her lungs to push a ruined word out around Koume’s hand.


“You, go help at her feet,” Koume said to the Dinolfos next to her. The beast nodded and joined the other at the foot of the table, the pair now able to double the assault on Nabooru’s helpless soles. Koume brandished the feather again with her free hand, trailing it around Nabooru’s breasts and over her nipples, delighted at how the nubs swelled at the light tickle, while her fingers still teased the roof of her mouth. “Don’t you worry, I haven’t forgotten about your little quim either. I can already see you making a puddle on my table, dearie. I’m sure these Dinolfos will resent cleaning that up later, which might be why they’re being so ruthless now. I haven’t seen them tickle someone like this in years.”


Nabooru didn’t reply, her words blocked by the offensive hand shoved in her mouth anyway, but she did begin to sob, a body-wracking howl of grief that managed to break through the near maniacal laughter as her nerves were tormented beyond what she’d have believed possible. The wispy feather made it worse, its tickle a soft, pleasant one that she felt travel around her nipples, teasing them and filling her body with even more fire and need before its tendrils traveled down to the cup of her navel, teasing the sensitive flesh there.


“A little farther down and I think you might just pop,” Koume said, watching as Nabooru bucked on the table, her hips especially trying to slam upward unconsciously even as she sobbed. “It’s too bad that the great Ganondorf won’t need heirs. I get the feeling that he would fill your need right now quite nicely. Alas, I am but an old woman with a feather.” Koume trailed the feather downward, its wispy kiss brushing against Nabooru’s lips. That was all it took. The single caress pushed the thief over the edge and an orgasm so powerful rocked her that she felt her whole body spasming against the straps holding her down and her pussy clenched so tightly as her senses rode the waves of pleasure that coursed though her that she sent a shot of squirt across the faces of both Dinolfos at her feet.


Koume and the monsters stopped, though they kept their positions and none of their hands moved from her body, and Nabooru’s chest rose and fell as she sucked in air, her pulse pounded in her ears, and the room around her almost faded out of focus altogether. Her body finally started to calm down, then she heard the witch chuckle and felt the fingers in her mouth move first, the nails renewing their merciless tease along the roof of her mouth, and a second later every ticklish sensation was back as they set upon her again, only taking a long enough break to ensure she didn’t pass out.


Time stretched and shrank for her, becoming something foreign and nonsensical, as they tormented her through laughter and tears to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm until, finally, her body gave out and warm, blessed darkness enfolded Nabooru.


______


Nabooru sat on the cloth, legs pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around her knees. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, the different encounters blending together in her mind as time passed, nor was she quite sure how long she waited in between summons from one witch or the other. It felt as though she’d been in the Spirit Temple for months, either dreading the next time a Wallmaster came for her or laughing like an idiot at the whims of Koume and Kotake.


She’d been pulled to other chambers countless times, she knew that. Sometimes there would be Dinolfos, or Gibdo, and always one of the witches. It did strike her as odd that they had never appeared together beyond the first encounter. Nabooru wondered if they took turns, one playing with her body while the other worked on whatever their plan was to advance Ganondorf’s agenda.


“Are you ready to put me on yet? The tickling won’t stop until you do.” Nabooru looked up into the gleaming helmet and giggled.


“Go fuck yourself, armor. I won’t do it.”


The armor shrugged, then extended its arms and made tickling motions in the air with its fingers. Nabooru squealed and fell over, giggling. When she finally calmed down and sat up, the suit of armor was in the opposite corner of the room where it had stood since they’d originally left her in the chamber.


“I’m going insane,” she mumbled to herself, then giggled again and drained the flagon of water nearby before standing and stretching. She’d given up on finding a secret door or passage out of the chamber long before. Koume and Kotake always used a Wallmaster or a portal to move her around the temple, giving her no clue even as to what direction a door might be, and there were only so many hours she was willing to spend tapping stones in the wall for a hidden switch or even an echo giving away hollow space on the opposite side.


Instead of checking the wall more, Nabooru strode across the chamber to the suit of armor that absolutely had not been walking around and talking moments before and stood in front of it with her hands on her hips. Maybe I should put it on. I might get a few moments as myself before whatever strange magic is cast on it takes over, possibly even long enough to separate one of their heads from their shoulders. Nabooru didn’t support killing in general, especially when it came to how Ganondorf and his minions dealt murder indiscriminately, but a body and mind can only take so much torment before the dark thoughts begin to seep in through the cracks. There was no blood on her hands after a lifelong career as a thief, but if the first dabs of it belonged to the old witches then she could live with that.


The sound of stone scraping on stone cut through her thoughts like a knife and she spun on her heel, facing the direction of the noise. A section of the wall nearby slowly slid upward, grinding as though the mechanism had sat unused for centuries and barely worked. Nabooru watched as it struggled upward, became stuck for a moment, then with a final crash slammed the rest of the way and revealed a surprisingly well lit passage beyond. She peered through, wondering if it was a trap of some sort. Nothing sprang out at her, so Nabooru stepped through the opening then jumped when a stone immediately slammed down from a hidden slot behind her, shutting her out of her cell.


“I guess that means there’s no choice, now. Forward I go,” she muttered, running a hand over the stone door. The other side was made to look like the wall in her cell, but this side of it was smooth and polished. Likewise, the stones set in the floor were smooth and pleasant beneath her feet, much different than the rough sandstone bricks she’d become accustomed to in the Spirit Temple. Torches sputtered and licked at the walls every few paces, illuminating the passage better than any she’d yet seen in the temple, so Nabooru shrugged and walked. It was possible that her jailers had committed some odd oversight that freed her, and if that was indeed the case then she had to at least attempt to escape.


She stopped and chuckled to herself as the passage widened enough that three people could have walked abreast without bumping into each other easily. Escape? Not likely. I’m probably walking into some sort of horrible new idea they’ve had to tickle me senseless, she thought. However long they’d had her in the temple, they hadn’t come close to a mistake, so it seemed far more likely that her exit of the cell was intentional. The passage took a hard right turn a few paces ahead of her so Nabooru stepped to the corner, flattened herself against the wall, and peered around.


Around the corner and ahead revealed more of the same, polished stones set into the floor, sandstone walls, and sputtering torches, with a door only a moment’s walk from where she stood and nothing else. Unless she’d passed some hidden doors on the way, it seemed the passage directly connected her chamber and whatever the room ahead of her was. Considering that the Desert Colossus only had one entrance on the ground level, it was safe to assume that she wouldn’t be escaping through the door looming ahead. Nabooru sighed at the thought, dejected.


“Might as well get whatever weird torture they have over with,” she said aloud, though there was a slight tingle starting to spread through her abdomen, a combination of fear and more than a little excitement. Goddess, help me! They’ve got me conditioned to enjoy it! Nabooru stepped around the corner and down the last length of the passage, then froze with her hand on the door. There was nothing but silence from the other side, and she wondered which witch waited for her and what cadre of monsters or devices she had ready. She gathered herself, taking a moment to knot her hair into a pony tail, then pushed the door open and stepped through.


The new chamber was dimly lit by strange, green torches that gave an other-worldly glow to everything in sight, though there wasn’t much for the glow to illuminate to begin with. A large bed sat in the middle of the room, its softness beckoning her, but otherwise there seemed to be four walls and not much else to the place that she could see. Nabooru, at a loss, walked to the bed and sat down, her butt immediately sinking into the mattress. Ever since the witches had abducted her, she’d been tied to all manner of stones and tables, and had nothing in her cell but the cloth spread on the rough floor. The bed felt almost heavenly beneath her rump and after a moment she threw herself backward, spread out, and let her entire body relax.


“Well she’s just making herself right at home, isn’t she?” Koume said from somewhere in the room, her voice bouncing around and seeming to come from every direction all at once as Nabooru shot back up into a sitting position.


“Eeeheehee, indeed she has, indeed she has,” Kotake’s voice answered. It seemed to be everywhere all at once as well while neither witch appeared to be anywhere in the room that Nabooru could see.


“Where are you?! Show yourselves!” Nabooru cried, standing up. Her eyes darted back and forth, seeking the crones, but still couldn’t find them. She was shocked when she noticed, however, that the suit of armor from her cell was in front of the same door she’d just used to enter the room, it’s steely stillness blocking the only exit she knew of. “Shit, when did that get there?! Did I fall asleep and not realize it?”


The torches on the walls flared, the shadows in the corners of the room flickering and dancing wildly in their eldritch light, and two of the shadows, directly in front of the armor coalesced and grew until they became two pools of darkness far deeper than the other shadows. Nabooru watched in horror as a witch rose through the floor from each of the deeper pools of darkness. Once both stood solidly on the ground, the torches died down, reverting back to their original steady glow, and Koume and Kotake stared at her, the fire witch with her held held back and hands on her hips while the ice witch leaned on an old broomstick in her hand like a cane.


“We’ve run out of patience with you, girl,” Kotake said, leaning forward until the broomstick in her hand bowed with her weight. “Ganondorf is becoming impatient and we need someone to help us keep the rest of the Gerudo in line.”


“Playing with you has been fun,” Koume added, her eyes slipping up and down Nabooru’s figure as she licked her lips, “but we can’t keep our son waiting much longer. You’ll be in this room until you put the armor on. No more breaks, no more rest.”


“I won’t do it. Call whatever monsters you plan to use. You and Ganondorf can all go piss up a rope.”


“Still such foul language from such a pretty face! I’d have thought she would have leaned better than that by now, at the very least,” Kotake laughed, then held a gnarled hand out to her sister.


“The final lesson is coming soon enough,” Koume said ominously, then reached her own hand out and grasped the one offered by Kotake.


“What are the two of you…” Nabooru started, then a wave of magical power knocked her backwards onto the bed. The room filled with light, and the air seemed about to freeze solid or burst into flame at the same time as the raw power swirled so thick that it left the thief gasping for breath. She clawed her way across the bed and tossed herself to the floor on the opposite side, desperate to escape whatever spell the two witches were casting. Nabooru waited, wondering what would become of her as the light faded and left spots in her vision even from her hiding spot behind the bed.


“Stand up, girl,” a voice said, husky and melodic, and Nabooru found herself struggling up to a standing position on knees that trembled so much they nearly buckled and dropped her back to the floor. “Good, now turn and look.”


She didn’t want to, but Nabooru turned slowly toward the voice and gasped. Koume and Kotake were gone, but in their place stood a tall Gerudo woman wearing robes similar to what the old witches had donned. The woman looked older, but not unattractively so, and it was more part of her demeanor than any physical hint at age. Her skin was smooth and unlined, and her movement languid as she approached the bed. Her headdress, which held her pure white hair up, was decorated a fiery orange on one side and an icy blue on the other, and then the realization hit Nabooru and her knees almost buckled again.


“That’s… how you’re both Ganondorf’s mother…” she stepped backwards, her shoulders bumping into the wall behind as she realized she had nowhere in the room to get away from the creature on the opposite end of the bed and that the only door out was blocked by a suit of armor.


“I’m called Twinrova. And yes, I am the great Ganondorf’s mother. Now, come here.” Twinrova sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, then pointed to Nabooru and beckoned her with a curling finger, a movement which sent a shudder of fear and excitement through her with its similarity to recent experiences. Twinrova curled her finger again, then patted the mattress next to her and waited. Nabooru gulped, then slowly stepped around the bed and sat next to the witch.


Up close, the difference between the combined Twinrova and the original witches was astounding. Her hair was white, but not the crackling, dry old hair of the crones but a healthy, glossy white tied in a tight bun beneath her headdress. The headdress itself had a large gem set into the front, a custom of the Gerudo tribe in general, though the one Twinrova wore was split down the middle into the same cold blue and warm orange colors of the rest of her headdress. Her robe, while the same style as Koume and Kotake, now looked more like a blouse, accentuating her curves and flat belly and only just covering the swell of her bust. Didn’t really cover it, in fact, as Nabooru realized she could see the top of the witch’s areola on both sides. Her bottom half was covered with simple trousers that Nabooru hadn’t even been aware the old witches had on as the robes they wore drooped and covered their whole forms. Twinrova watched the thief studying her, and when Nabooru looked back up into her face she winked at her.


“Like what you see? Most have, over the years.” Twinrova leaned back and stretched, watching as Nabooru’s eyes were drawn to her body again. “Go ahead, drink it in.”


“What are you?”


“Twinrova, as I said, and the great Ganondorf’s mother. A being of magic created by the witches Koume and Kotake, master of fire and ice magic. I’ve lived for nearly 400 years, quietly guiding the Gerudo tribe from the shadows to culminate in the birth of our true king all so I can stand by his side as his greatest servant.”


“You’re very… supportive,” Nabooru said, scooting away from Twinrova.


“A mother does what she can,” the witch replied, then sat up straight again. “Now, will you don the armor and serve your king as the commander of the Gerudo? He’s already in the process of taking Hyrule Castle and needs someone at the fortress he can trust.”


Nabooru shook her head. “I refuse.”


“Wrong answer,” Twinrova said, then pointed at Nabooru and winked again as a gout of flame shot from her fingertip and engulfed the other woman. Nabooru was on her feet in an instant, panicking and beating at the flames with both hands. “Calm down, it’s only burning your clothes away. Touch the flame, it won’t even feel hot to you.”


Nabooru, through sheer will, forced herself to stop hopping around and placed a hand on the flames that quickly burned away her clothes. Twinrova spoke true - while her clothing crackled and burnt quickly, her flesh was unharmed and the flames themselves were no more than a pleasant warmth on her skin. “But how?”


“I told you, I am a master of fire and ice magic. I could burn you to ash if I wanted, but you’re not worth much as a corpse.” Twinrova paused, watching as the last charred remains of Nabooru’s clothes fell away, leaving the redhead standing naked in front of her. “Mmm, you know, you really are a sight to look at.” Nabooru blushed and tried to cover herself with her hands. It amazed her that, after all the times both witches and all the monsters had seen her naked that she still felt shame, yet there she was, her face heating up in embarrassment in front of this strange new witch that was both Koume and Kotake but also different in a way than the both of them. Twinrova stood and stepped next to Nabooru, hooking her chin with a finger and forcing the thief to look up into her eyes.


“What are you going to do to me?” Nabooru was astounded at how tall the combined witch was, easily a full head and shoulders over her own height, and she realized that her heart pounded in her chest with a mixture of raw fear and heady excitement. Twinrova ignore her question and instead released her chin and grasped both of Nabooru’s wrists, firmly pulling her arms until they were spread and unable to cover her.


“Beautiful,” Twinrova hissed, her voice thick with lust as she drank in Nabooru’s form and licked her lips, then with a burst of strength she whipped to the side and tossed Nabooru onto the large bed. The redhead squeaked in surprise, bouncing across the mattress and trying to catch herself to stop the tumble but Twinrova was on her in seconds, flipping her onto her back and straddling her. The witch’s knees came down on her arms and she settled her butt onto Nabooru’s stomach.


“Get off me!” Nabooru yelled, but her protests were immediately cut short as Twinrova’s hands both found their way into her underarms. Unable to pull her arms down or try to wriggle away, Nabooru immediately burst into laughter as fingers far more nimble than Koume and Kotake’s ancient digits drilled into the sensitive hollows. “St-stop!”


“Mmm, you’re so sensitive,” Twinrova laughed, switching from deep drilling pokes to more of a spidery scratching in Nabooru’s armpits, making her eyes go wide and her laughter dial up a notch. “I’m just getting warmed up, you know. I hope you’re ready.” Twinrova’s hands moved to Nabooru’s breasts, playfully caressing the mounds and flicking her fingers over her nipples until both stood erect and puffy while Nabooru squirmed beneath her, uttering sounds that were halfway between a moan and a throaty giggle.


“P-please…” Nabooru could feel the flush in her face and another different heat building between her legs rapidly. Twinrova looked down at her, then wordlessly reached a hand behind her and found Nabooru’s crotch. All it took was the pressure of one solid squeeze and the Gerudo thief stiffened, her eyes rolled back, and she came hard. She lay for a moment, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, then felt one of Twinrova’s fingers gently push into her, her pussy so wet that the digit met no resistance. The fingertip found her clitoris and pressed firmly down on it, the sensitive nub still thrumming from the orgasm and panic flooding into Nabooru’s mind. “Don’t!”


Twinrova ignored her and the pad of her finger firmly rubbed up and down her clit, sending jolts of unbearable pleasure through her. Nabooru screamed and bucked, desperate to dislodge Twinrova and her devious finger. The witch was far larger than she was, though, and her frantic attempt to end the torturous stimulation were in vain. Nabooru came again, the second orgasm accompanied by a helpless scream, and she could feel her own wetness seeping out of her and spreading across the mattress beneath her ass, making every jerk and bounce on the bed increasingly uncomfortable.


“One more, I think, and then I’ll really get started,” Twinrova said, her finger resuming its merciless up and down rub over her clit, though now she added in an occasional side swipe and her free hand, until then inactive because of the odd position she had to take turned halfway around, found Nabooru’s quivering belly and danced its fingers across it. The third orgasm hit Nabooru mere seconds after the light tickling on her stomach and she spasmed, sobbing and giggling as Twinrova continued the dual assault all the way through the orgasm, until she finally went limp and Twinrova slipped her finger out of her. “There, that’ll do.”


Nabooru watched, barely conscious, as the witch sidled off her and to the edge of the bed, then stood up. Twinrova’s own trousers, much like the bed, were covered in Nabooru’s juices. Without a shred of modesty, the witch slid them off and tossed them across the room, then did the same with her boots and stockings. She stood naked from the waist down and stretched, and Nabooru, even in her haze, couldn’t help but notice that the witch herself was more than a little damp between her legs.


“Might as well lose this, too,” Twinrova mumbled, then thumped her robe with her left hand. The garment burst into flame as Nabooru’s own clothes had, quickly burning away until the witch was able to pull it off and toss it smoldering into the corner. Fully nude, she turned to Nabooru, grabbed her own breasts, and squished them together. “Not bad for my age, right?”


Nabooru, still reeling, weakly nodded in agreement. Truth was, standing there naked, Twinrova was one of the most imposing and beautiful things Nabooru had ever laid eyes on. She found a number of thoughts bubbling up in her mind, from a desire to lay her own hands on the witch’s breasts to wondering what she tasted like and, not least of them, a sudden desire to please her by putting on the armor. She pushed all those thoughts away, knowing they weren’t truly her own, and attempted to struggle into a sitting position.


Twinrova was on her again in a flash, grinning wickedly. She pinned both of Nabooru’s wrists to the bed and a blue glow filled the room. When she moved her hands, each wrist wore a cuff of pure ice. She stretched first one and then the other to the corners of the bed and, with more ice magic, created thick chains of ice and attached the cuffs to the headboard with them then sat back and admired her handiwork. Nabooru pulled on the frozen restraints, trying to break them, but the ice was frozen far too thick. It would be hours before it melted enough to shatter, and that was assuming Twinrova didn’t have some magical means of keeping it from melting at all.


“Ankles next, and don’t even think of trying to kick me or you’ll regret it.” Twinrova repeated the process of making ice shackles for Nabooru’s ankles, pulling her legs open and stretched to each corner before attaching them to the bed as well, leaving the redhead in a spread out X shape on the bed. She shivered , both from the cold of the shackles and in anticipation of what Twinrova might do next. The witch pursed her lips and rested her hands on her hips, looking down at Nabooru.


“You could at least have dried the bed off,” Nabooru said, her rump and lower back still uncomfortably sitting in her own discharge.


“You’re not here for your own comfort,” Twinrova shot back, still staring down at her captive. Her left hand still snug on her hip, Twinrova reached out with the right and ran it the length of Nabooru’s left sole, pulling a fresh squeak from the red head.


“Don’t! I’m still too sensitive!” Nabooru cried, alarmed at how little she could actually move. Twinrova had pulled her tight with the shackles, leaving her little give to do more than wiggle her fingers and toes and bounce helplessly in place.


“Sounds like your problem, not mine. Too bad, since these pretty little feet would be covered if you would just put the armor on.” The witch, done teasing, lowered both hands to Nabooru’s feet and raked her nails up and down both of them. Nabooru immediately burst into laughter, her body still tingling and sensitive from the orgasms. Twinrova clawed at her soles, her nails digging into the balls of both feet, tracing the changing wrinkles all over her soles as they flexed and changed, and scratched mercilessly at particularly ticklish spots on her heel and her instep.


“Stop, stop, stop! I can’t!” Nabooru babbled, her words lost shortly after as Twinrova’s nails scraped upward and assaulted her toes. The left foot saw them wriggling in between her toes, the sharp digits tickling the unbearably sensitive spaces in between each one, while the right foot was subjected to nails focusing on the toe stems themselves. Nabooru bounced, shivered, laughed, and screamed as the electric sensations traveled from her feet all the way up her body, her muscles already tiring from struggling against her shackles and, worse, a fresh warmth growing between her legs. She just had to go for the feet! She has to know by now that it makes me horny! FUCK!


“You’re dripping again,” Twinrova said casually, her eyes peering between Nabooru’s legs though her hands didn’t slow their tickling in the slightest. The thief was, indeed, wet again, a new puddle forming on the bed beneath her and spreading. She paused, sidling up the bed a bit until she sat on her knees in between Nabooru’s legs, then Twinrova bent down and buried her face in Nabooru’s pussy, first lapping at the juices dripping from it, then easily pushing her tongue inside and flipping it upwards so the tip just grazed the thief’s engorged clitoris.


Nabooru’s whole body stiffened again, waves of pleasure rocking through her, then Twinrova, face still buried and tongue still flicking and teasing her clit, reached up with both hands, grasped Nabooru’s hips, and pinched and kneaded them. The thief burst into fresh laughter, her hips bucked as much as possible, but she was unable to dislodge Twinrova’s mouth or her tickling fingers. She came yet again, her juices flowing freely and dribbling down Twinrova’s chin, and the witch finally removed her tongue though she kept kneading and tweaking Nabooru’s hips, an action which tickled far more in the moments after an orgasm.


“Stop! Stop!” Nabooru cried, desperate for any sort of break. Her entire body thrummed and tingled, sensations overwhelming her even as they clashed and melded. Her hands and feet had started going a bit numb from the ice shackles, her clit was so over-stimulated that it still felt like something was teasing it and it left this odd, horny, buzzing feeling going through her, and the tickling had become relentless. Twinrova still had a hand on her hip, but the other snaked up and found her ribs while her mouth latched onto Nabooru’s belly just left of her navel and alternated between agile, ticklish licks and a clamped down raspberry on her quivering belly flesh.


Twinrova ignore her begging and kept tickling, moving around the thief’s torso at random with hands and mouth. Nipples tweaked, armpits teased, tickled, and licked, ears, neck, and collarbone stroked… Twinrova left no spot untouched, even spidering her nails over the numb palms of Nabooru’s hands and in the crook of her elbows. She could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness, the warmth of oblivion enveloping her and blotting out the tickling gradually.


Nabooru snapped back to reality with a scream when she felt a searing pain on her thigh. She looked and saw Twinrova, one finger glowing orange with fire magic, pressing into her flesh. “Can’t have you passing out, now, can we? You’ve been escaping your punishments that way for too long now. There will be no rest.” Before the thief could answer, the tickling began anew, Twinrova’s fingers tweaking the insides of her freshly sensitized thighs.


Laugh, scream, beg, cum. Laugh, scream, beg, cum. Over and over, Nabooru babbled through Twinrova’s attentions, never allowed a break, and brought back to her horrible reality by the witch’s magic any time she neared unconsciousness, either with a blistering hot finger pressing into a sensitive area or an impossibly cold one. Time lost meaning, moments stretching into hours thanks to the witch’s trailing, torturous fingers. She was no longer sure if Twinrova had been tickling her for an evening or an eternity, but something in her finally snapped as she cackled through Twinrova playing with her toes, her mouth clamped over one foot as she lapped and licked the wiggling digits while her hands teased and poked at the toes of the other foot.


“A-anything! Anything! Please, just stop!” Nabooru screamed. There was a quiet popping sound as the witch removed her mouth from Nabooru’s toes and looked up at her.


“Anything? Anything at all? Are you sure?” Twinrova teased, shifting around and tickling the soles of both feet with her hands while Nabooru struggled to spit an answer out through her laughter.


______


You know, I don’t know why I resisted it for so long. The armor is… comforting. The Iron Knuckle sat on its stone chair, still as death. Its axe leaned against the stone wall in the corner of the room, discarded after its return from the Gerudo Fortress. There was rarely a cause to visit the fortress these days with Ganondorf’s near total domination of Hyrule, but something was stirring in the land and Koume and Kotake were nervous. Something about a few of Ganondorf’s more powerful followers perishing at the hands of some Hylian boy. It didn’t matter to the Iron Knuckle. If anyone besides the pair of witches came through the door into its chamber, then its axe would cleave them asunder.


Or at least, that’s what the Iron Knuckle intended, but there hadn’t been a visitor to its chamber aside from Koume and Kotake in, well, as long as it had been stationed there. Two, maybe three years? It really didn’t know why the witches were so worried. Only a fool would try and cross the desert.


The Iron Knuckle blinked, yawned, and dozed, its dream strange and full of soft things like feathers, bare flesh, and an unrealistic amount of giggling and it awoke shortly after with a start, the body inside the armor tingling uncomfortably as though it remembered some phantom sensation. Even more surprising was that, when its eyes opened, Koume and Kotake stood before it. They were speaking to someone on the far side of the chamber, in front of the door, though the Iron Knuckle couldn’t make out the words. Only one stuck out in its mind, and that was “servant.”


Looks like I’m up, it thought, standing and readying itself before it realized that its axe was across the room. A young man with blonde hair in a green tunic stood before it, sword drawn. This is the boy? He’s scrawny. The Iron Knuckle snapped and its axe appeared in its hands, a nice little trick the witches had taught it years before, then it yelled and rushed the Hylian, intent on cutting him in twain so it could get back to sitting.