2 Weeks
Later…

Zelda had a silken handkerchief pressed into her mouth in an
attempt to muffle her moans as her body trembled with another orgasm. She still
didn’t know why, but for the last couple of weeks, she was ashamed to admit she
could barely keep her hands off herself. She remained dignified, with perfect
decorum during the day when around others but at night all her self-control
left her and all she could think of was the burning desire between her legs
spurred on by the pleasurable feeling in her lower tummy as if sex was being
fed into her pussy from there.

Zelda’s skin possessed a healthy almost ethereal natural glow. Her
energy never failed her. It was like she had an extra pocket of reserves to
keep her going, even her spells were more potent and lasted longer. Sometimes
she tried to convince herself that her rampant desires were a side effect of
the holy power inside her growing in strength. She almost half believed it now.

Just like she had somehow convinced herself that her handmaidens
and servants couldn’t detect the scent of sex in her room whenever they came
in. Denial was her island of safety and comfort in the middle of an ocean of
sex and desire that threatened to pull her into the depths of debauchery which
she was determined to stay afloat of.

In the space between her orgasms, when the need reseeded, she
often found herself thinking of Impa. It was like her friend was always at the
back of her mind, a constant presence. She hadn’t heard from her in a while,
and she was starting to worry. She hoped her dear friend was ok. And just like
the repetition of a rolling tide guilt soon followed as she began to squirm on
her bed again, grinding her thighs together until just as every other time
before, her hand began to slither its way down her body and between her legs.
She prayed that this didn’t make her lesser or a bad person to pleasure herself
while thoughts of worry for her old friend were still fresh in her mind.

Several times she had convinced herself that it didn’t make her a
bad person. There was no reason to think anything was wrong with Impa. If there
was, surely, she wouldn’t give in to her sexual desires, surely.

Within her small intestines, the warrior once known as Impa was
almost unrecognizable. She had already reached a point where she no longer
claimed her name. Impa was a warrior who was best friends with her goddess who
gave her life in service to her. She didn’t even consider herself a she
anymore. People and animals were a she and he. She was
an it. A part of her goddess body the same way her stomach or villi were.

Its body had been perfectly moulded into Zelda’s small intestines.
The villus in its mouth constantly pumped chyme into its body which it body
processed into refined nutrition and mana. The villi in its ass and cunt
constantly stimulated it and forced orgasms which were then fed into the
goddess’s mana. The villi attached its tits never stopped milking, pulling the
protein and mana in from it and into the goddess.

The fat had been melted away from it, processed into either
nutrition or waste. Ass cheeks once plump and spankable were gone and in its
place was the base of its back with a hole that a villus filled and constantly
stimulated while burning away any dirt or undesirable growths that appeared.
Its tits had shrunk and were condensed into two small hard pebbles of thick
tough muscle. Thighs once soft and strong now were firm and thin, half consumed
by the walls of the small intestine occasionally they were stroked and teased
by caressing villi, their touches granting pleasurable burns to it.

It was a part of the goddess’ digestion process.

And if it could still process emotions, it would say it was happy.

This was how it was always meant to be.