Journal of a Demi-god: Mask of Royalty
A Princess Zelda Costume TG Transformation story by JanusDaGuardian
Michael Phillips could hardly believe the words that came out of his boss’s mouth.
“You’re firing me?”
His boss nodded in a false-show of grimness, even though Michael knew that he wasn’t sorry for his decision at all. “It has been brought to my attention that several claims that crossed your desk didn’t meet adequate criteria for authorization.”
“Didn’t meet the criteria? Which ones are you referring, too?”
“Well, let’s see...” Michael’s boss sucked in his breath as he looked over a list placed on the desk in front of him. “There was the claim from a Mr. John Stevins, Ms. Ellen Roberts, and a Mr. Shawn Edwin, and the list goes on from there..."
“Corporal Stevins suffered a traumatic brain injury that keeps him out of work, Staff-Sargeant Roberts has served in the military for more than ten years, has been sent on four war tours, and suffers from repeated episodes, and Private First-Class Edwin had his shoulder decimated by heated shrapnel. With all due respect, sir, I believe all of the Veteran claims you’ve just mentioned more than met the criteria, and that is why I’d approved their claims.”
“I’m afraid, it doesn’t matter what you believe, Mr. Phillips. You’ve violated standard procedure and have cost this business significant amounts of profit.”
“Sir, we’re the U.S. Department of--”
Michael’s boss shot out of his chair, towering over his employee with a murderous scowl. His boss’s brown toupee practically rose with his anger like a cat’s ass while getting its head scratched. It was probably made out of cat hair, too.
“Are you trying to lecture me?” he snapped. “I know who we are, damn it! I’ve been in charge of this branch for much longer than you’ve been my employee, Mr. Phillips, and I know damn-well how this place is meant to be run!” The boss sighed, as if to calm his nerves before sitting right back down into his large, cushioned swivel chair once more. “You have the rest of today to clean out your cubicle... Have a good life, Mr. Phillips.”
“I’ll only need five minutes...” Michael rose to his feet. “sir...”
With that, Michael stormed out of his now-former boss’s spacious office surrounded by two walls of glass that gazed out into the city. From there, he followed the cow-path to his cubicle, where he grabbed his day planner, an “I Love NY” mug, a bag with his day’s lunch, and a small picture and frame which depicted him and his family of two other brothers and his parents. With that, he shouldered his coat and stalked off towards the elevator, the second-to-last threshold before he had this corrupt place out of his life.
Some of his coworkers watched as he went by, but none of them called out to him, nor offered any words of sympathy or encouragement. Some of them stared, but others looked away. There were no friends for him there.
As he went past the break room, he paused to look at the coffee machine and saw that there was still a small serving of Chelsy’s medium-roast brew still in the pot. Seeing how the break room was empty, he glanced down at the empty mug in his arms and decided to postpone his departure for just long enough to sample what was left of the brew.
After relieving himself of his cubicle essentials by placing them onto a nearby table, Michael, poured what was left into his coffee mug and took his first sip. The machine must have been switched off for a little while, as evidenced by the temperature of the beverage, but Chelsy’s brews had always been the best, and they always made Michael feel optimistic despite how shitty the day may have seemed. Unfortunately, that sentimental feeling did not last.
It was at that moment that Michael felt a uncomfortable presence behind him. He nearly spilled his coffee when turned to see who it was.
It was a man, and he was dressed in a full, black trench coat and hood that was cinched completely shut. On his feet were a pair of brown leather boots with belt straps that looked almost as worn-out as his coat. On his hands were black, fingerless gloves that covered only the backs and sides of his hands, leaving his alabaster palms bare. He did not tower over Michael, who’s height of 5’10 was nearly even, but the absence of clear facial features on the stranger prompted Michael to mentally recoil.
“I’m sorry. Did I surprise you?” the man-in-black asked.
Michael flashed a friendly smirk, even though the man’s presence was giving him the jitters. It was too early to blame it on the caffeine. “N-Not at all. I just didn’t expect to see a customer in here.”
“I’m not exactly a customer... but I am looking for some help.”
Michael chuckled nervously. “Well, if you’re here to drop off a claim, you missed the front desk by about eight floors, sir.”
“Thanks, but I’m not here to drop off a claim. In fact, I’m not even a U.S. Veteran.”
“Well... Good for you then...”
“Why do you say that?”
The long pause that followed prompted Michael to sigh shortly after taking another swig of his coffee. “I suppose there’s no reason not to share this, considering... You see, there’s a bad joke going around this office, or at least was, that many veterans would be better off sending their documents into a ‘black hole’ than here. You wouldn’t believe how many of those 23-page applications have been either sent back or refused this past year alone. I’d say about 70% are either the first or the other, and the complexity of that application doesn’t help much...”
“Sounds very disagreeable.”
Michael snorted. “That’s only the half of it. I’ve heard that a good handful of employees or so actually get a big, fat bonus for denying or sending back the most claims. Don’t know if it’s true or not, but it definitely raises a brow or gets the blood boiling.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Me?” Michael glanced down at the floor as his voice grew even quieter than before. “Hell... I’d say that it’s a bit of both... I mean, come on... The people who submit those applications here are flesh-and-blood Americans who’ve served anywhere between three and twenty years either protecting our country or trying to stabilize another, and we’re capitalizing on them? Good God, it’s messed up.”
“Do you hate this job?”
Michael nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah, I do. Or at least I did hate this job. As of today, I’m on full-time unemployment, for what will most likely be the foreseeable future, and I was only doing my f***ing job, too.”
“For doing your job?”
Michael nodded. “Yeah...”
Another long pause ensued, one that was only interrupt after Michael slugged down the last of his coffee with a half-content sigh.
“You know, when I first took this job, I thought I was going to be helping people, and those people would be amongst the most deserving. But then I got handed the new employee manual and things went downhill from there. Pretty soon, I was expected to turn down or send back any and all of those 23-page documents that had even the slightest mistake. I know of several claims that I had to personally stonewall for several years. It was only during this year that I tried to bend the rules a bit for the sake of several dozen applicants who’ve made great sacrifices for our country that I couldn’t turn them down. It was this mindset, apparently, that got me fired.” Michael sighed, again. “Well, life goes on, I guess...” Michael walked past the oddly-dressed stranger to grab his things off an adjacent table. “Thanks for hearing me out. It was nice talking to you...”
“What if there was still a way you could help people? Not just a couple dozen each week, mind you, but a whole population.”
Michael paused. “Impossible.”
“On the contrary, it’s quite possible. In fact, there’s a population I know of right now that are in desperate need of a kind and just leader, and I think you just might do.”
Michael smacked his lips. Then, after another moment silence, a grim smile appeared on his face, coupled with a slight shrug. “If that were the case, I’d say ‘When do I start?’, but--”
“Right now... I have dissolved some knockout drops into that brew of coffee you have just drank...”
Michael wasn’t sure if he’d heard him correctly.
The sounds of the office and the man’s speech began to slur, like the entire building had been submerged in water, and just like being underwater, the colors in the room began to blur and mix together as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Pretty soon, he lost his balance and fell. The last thing he remembered before passing out was feeling of his fall being gently broken by something strong... and gentle.
Michael awoke to what he took was nighttime. It was pitch-dark almost everywhere he looked. The only problem was that it wasn’t considerably cold, but he was feeling a slight breeze on his back. Reality seeped in when he tried to rub his forehead and ease the headache threatening to burst out of his forehead and felt that his hands were bound behind his back. Scooting over in the darkness, his back thumped against something cold, metal, and somewhat loose. The next thing he knew, a plastic bottle filled with liquid bounced off of his head and landed on the floor next to him, followed by a plastic rod that smacked him on the legs.
Michael’s eyes soon grew used to the dim light as he vaguely made out the shapes of a broom and a bottle of what smelled like Windex. Michael then put two-and-two together and realized exactly where he was.
“What am I doing in the custodian’s closet?”
As his eyes and awareness grew stronger, Michael discovered the reason for the draft on his backside. His office clothes were gone, and what was covering him now was nothing short of a long, white silk dress, complete with a purple silk, open-back corset, and white silk gloves that covered his arms from his fingertips to his biceps. Secured to his shoulders with a long cord that ran under his armpits and around the tops of his shoulders and a large, golden, winged broach that lay against his bare, upper-chest were a set of shoulder guards. Hanging around his waist was another long cord and clasp that held a jagged sash that reached to nearly the same length as the dress. Underneath the dress’s skirt, his legs and lower body was cloaked in leggings that felt to have been woven with a spandex blend of some sort, his legs from the knees down encased in a pair of brown, leather riding boots with buckles near the heels and ankles.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me... Dude walks into a break room, drugs me, and then puts me in a dress?” Michael played with the bonds tied around his wrists. “Oh, yeah, and ties me up like some damsel from a bad Disney cartoon.” Michael shook his head. “This is so messed up...”
“If you think this world, this situation, these circumstances are ‘messed-up’,” Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw a dark silhouette hidden amongst the shelves and items adjacent to him. “I could tell you of other places--of other worlds--that are out of order to such an extent that they threaten the stability of the very fabric meant to hold the many universes together.”
It was the man from the break room. The one dressed in black.
“What the hell is this all about?”
“Saving something more precious than money and power. There are lives that have been all but extinguished, and the absence of those lives have left an instability that shall reap unprecedented consequences if left unaltered.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“You are a potential Bearer, Mr. Phillips. A vessel with the contents necessary to bring one such life back from a state of nil-existence, a life which is not only responsible for the rule and protection of an entire kingdom but is meant to become a prime advocate, a prime supporter of a fated pair who will save not only her kingdom but another kingdom hidden from the world itself from a great evil that even now is at her doorstep... I realize that my words may confuse you. However, if you wish to see proof of your charge, look down at your hands.”
Michael scoffed. “‘Look--Look at my hands’?” He said, struggling with his bonds. “They’re tied behind my back, you--” His hands slipped out, one after the other, prompting Michael to pause as he brought both hands into his field of vision.
Something was wrong. First, whether it was because of the sleevelet’s/long, feminine gloves, his hands looked somewhat smaller than when he last saw them, except for the length of his fingers, which actually looked to have grown some. As he scanned his wrists and forearms, he also noticed that his arms had gotten smaller, too. Even the flabby biceps he’d been meaning to work out were lean slabs of meat and flesh.
“I don’t understand...”
“The rest of her essence appears to be reacting to your kind and just heart; Your transition has already begun under the folds of her garb...”
As Michael’s shoulders collapsed on either sides and his upper frame began to compress with a tenderness equal to a slight tingle, the former VA employee glanced down through the darkness towards the dress’s skirt beneath him and watched as his underused office legs, slimmed down, his thighs maintaining their solid insides if not expanding whilst the excess fat inside seemed to dissolve under the white silk like powered sugar on a moist tongue. The legs themselves grew slightly in length, as if to offset what he’d lost on his upper body. His calves now fit snugly into the brown riding boots, followed by his feet, which shrank until they were small and petite.
If these changes didn’t make the situation evident enough in Michael’s mind, his back snapping into an arch like a quick punch to his lower back, coupled with his hips flaring out to the sides, really put things into prospective with a quick gasp. His rump’s mass actually decreased, arriving to a state of near-firmness that would be attached to one who spent much less time in a chair and did not eat more than what their body could properly metabolize.
“What are you doing to me?”
“I believe the right question is: what have I done to you? The answer to that question is that I have simply introduced your body and your essence to that of a young princess whom was attacked by--”
Michael rose to his feet and practically launch towards the man in black. “I don’t care! You need to stop this right--ACK!”
The sudden sensation of weight being added onto his now very flat chest, the obvious difference in body weight, the shift in his center of balance, along with the unfamiliarity of being closed-legged, caused Michael to stumble forward. His right boot caught a bit of his dress’s front seam as it came down to brace himself, the momentum forcing him into a forward tumble with a yelp.
His fall was halted mid-way down by the familiar, strong, gentle resistance caused by the man-in-black’s right arm, which grappled his now noticeably thin, taught waist, sliding slightly upwards as he stopped, the man’s forearm cupping the underside of the new, large, sensitive mounds of flesh attached to his chest.
“You should sit down.”
It wasn’t like Michael had much of a choice. The man-in-black practically forced him onto his knees, a layer of the dress acting as his only cushion between his effeminate legs and the wooden floor boards of the custodian’s closet. A moment later, a foreign sensation in his groin area caused Michael to let out a near-pleasure-filled moan that prompted a blush to form on his face. When it had subsided, Michael reached down, his arms squishing the mammary glands on his chest together as he felt the recently affected area for verification. ‘He’ was now an incorrect pronoun for Michael Phillips.
“Oh my God, it’s gone! I’m--I’m a...”
“You’re almost there,” the man-in-black said.
From the folds of his trench coat, the man-in-black produced a beautiful tiara set with golden leaves stretching from the sides towards the front, where there was a golden cross with folded wings, a sapphire gem perched between the “V” at the cross’s tip.
Seeing this trinket, Michael put two-and-two together and realized what it meant. She then seized the man by the hem of his cloak, desperation evident in both her actions and her voice. “Please, don’t do this. I can’t--This is too...”
“Uncomfortable?” The man-in-black’s hood jostled a bit from one side to the other, an obvious shaking of the head. “I afraid that I cannot... Once the nil-existence has bonded with the bearer’s body, separating them is not only an arduous task but is one that would threaten both entities. I’m sorry...”
Michael’s gaze fell in surrender, tears welling up in her eyes as reality finally settled into her mind.
That was when the man-in-black knelt down and cupped the now-young-woman’s chin, lifting it so that her gaze was level with the invisible gaze of his hooded own. She doubted that he had done this for her benefit because gazing into what looked like an empty hood seemed as pointless and discouraging as gazing into the hood of Death himself, so his gesture must’ve been for his own...
“Do you remember what I asked you before in the break room? I asked, ‘What if there was still a way you could help people?’, and there are people that you can help--no--that you can save if you have the courage...”
“But why do I have to become a girl?” Michael glanced down. “A woman?”
“The existence that was nearly extinguished was that of the crowned princess of Hyrule. Her name is Zelda, and without someone like you to help restore her, her story and her people will surely perish along with countless other stories that are meant to succeed hers. It’s a cause-and-effect scenario that has far reaching consequences... consequences that I can neither plan for nor contain...
Believe me, if I could relieve you of this burden, I would. This is not something I would wish on any member of my own kind, especially one as upstanding as yourself, but I cannot, and what is even worse is that the being who caused her existence to nearly vanish is still out there somewhere, and the longer I spend time trying to talk you into accepting this, the more existences will be extinguished...
You have what I need, Mr. Phillips. Your bonding and transitioning has gone smoother than any I have regretfully set in motion prior to our meeting. That’s more than enough proof that you are a worthy Bearer.” the man-in-black touched her forehead with his index finger, “With a clear mind”, and pointed to her chest, “and a kind and just heart, you can save her people... Please, Michael...”
Michael paused for the longest time, which was probably something the man-in-black didn’t want due to his urgency, but he didn’t try to force the tiara onto her head. He was patient with her... and it was because of this fact, amongst other things, that she rewarded him with a soft nod of consent as she wiped her moist, brown eyes with the side of her gloved, right arm, inner strength returning to her facial features as she uttered the words, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
With a tenderness that almost matched his disposition, the man-in-black slipped the tiara into place. The rear of it hugged the back of Michael’s head whilst the front rested upon her brow.
Michael’s hair grew, lightening several shades until it was a light shade of brown as the hair itself grew past her shoulders, stopping just past the small of her back. Her side-bangs grew as well, all the way down to her waist. As this happened, her ears became pointy and extended outwards, giving her what some might consider “elvish” ears. Her face was next, the bones reconstructing themselves and causing her to wince slightly as her cheekbones rose and her skin and facial structure smoothed, eliminating any signs of the facial hair and acne Michael once had in the process. Her eyebrows thinned out as her eyes changed color from a medium-brown to an icy-blue, her nose becoming less pronounced as her eyelashes grew.
With her face complete, Zelda’s essence worked its magic on Michael’s throat, causing it to grow thinner and delicate. The last thing to change was the lump in Michael’s throat, seizing her Adam’s apple and the vocal windpipes nearby. For a moment, Michael lost the ability to breathe, but the air soon returned, signaled by the feminine gasp that escaped her equally-feminine lips.
A slight pause followed before the man-in-black placed his hands gently on Michael’s shoulders, causing Michael to blink. “The Kingdom of Hyrule needs its princess, and thanks to you, it will now have her. You will save a lot of lives, Mr. Phillips because she will be there--you will be there--when the fated pair arrive. Thank you.”
The action that followed his speech was so surprising that the man-in-black hardly knew what to do. Michael Phillips--no, Princess Zelda-- wrapped her sleevelet-covered arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder, her chest pressing into his. He returned this gesture, wrapping his arms gently around her head, stroking the top of her head, letting this continue well after the tears started to flow once more, this time from the eyes of both the princess and the former employee.
“When this is all over, I swear to you, I’ll look after your family.”
His fingers would remember the feeling of her soft, silky locks just as the skin on his shoulder would remember her tears long after the wave of light appeared and transported the young princess to the point where she would begin her story anew...
Heh... Took long enough, huh? Don't be surprised to find a couple errors here. I only ran a spell-check after I finished the first draft, and only the first 1/2 or 3/4 quarters got a thorough-ish proofread because I grew somewhat tired of writing this. *Shrugs* Sorry, but I still did my best.
Part 2 of the Man-in-Black short series.
Image is used with permission from . Thanks again, mate.
Part 2 of the Man-in-Black short series.
Image is used with permission from . Thanks again, mate.
I herby give you the certificate of appretiation 3rd one in a whole year
.Certificate of Apretiation/nobody was stabbed or killed in the making of this certificate/Certificate of Mistakes included
.Certificate of Apretiation/nobody was stabbed or killed in the making of this certificate/Certificate of Mistakes included
btw Zelda is blond not brown (why do people mess up all there facts) ?
I was using Zelda's model from Smash Bros Brawl when I originally wrote this. Otherwise, I would've made that description "dark-blonde" since that's how her hair is depicted in Twilight Princess. *Nods*
this is before ive read a single word but I clicked on this because it reminded me of ledgend of Zelda (the pic)
Loved it again one of my favs. Hope you do more sailor moon or other mask stories soon
*after redin turns into zelda* what the hell?!
Good? Bad? What does your "wow" mean?
Excellent job, well written and the characters are nice and sympathetic.
That's what I was going for. Thanks for the feedback.
No problem. Am I sensing a theme though? Two characters so far have been related to the military somehow. A common theme or a coincidence?
Mostly a coincidence. To be honest, I almost went with a high school/college aged guy from a corrupt Student Council club, but I learned about what was happening in some of these government-run programs and I decided to give it a shot. I won't spoil what profession the next one will be, but I can safely say that it won't be a former soldier or VA employee.
Another good one. Michael deserved a better life.
Looking forward to seeing more of this in the future.
wow, i cant wait for more of this. although poor guy gets kicked out of his job for doing right because the place is corrupt. just strikes me as sad but a good reason to provide his transformation