DISCLAIMER: The Legend of Zelda, and all related characters, places, concepts, ect., mentioned within are property of Nintendo and Shigeru Miyamoto. All other original concepts presented within are property of me, myself, and I.
Three weeks? Has it really been that long? Mireille thought as she turned the shower in the bathtub on.
Hot warm water streamed out of the shower head. She stepped into the tub, relishing the cleansing water on her bare skin and hair. She quickly pulled the shower curtain back, and reached for the nearby bottle of shampoo. As she scrubbed her hair, she found herself lost in thought.
Is that... how long I've been like this?
She continued rinsing her hair as she closed her eyes and pulled her head back, letting the water run down her face. The water felt strange running down her ears, like an itching sensation that went further along than it should have. She moved her head out of the stream of cleansing water. Her eyes traced her arm, surprised by the toned, semi-muscular appearance they now possessed. As her eyes traveled down her body, she found that the rest of her body had also become toned.
Mireille found herself unsure of what to think.
Grandpa always used to tell me I needed to work out more. I'm... not sure this was quite what he had in mind....
Her gaze then shifted towards her chest and onto her breasts. They were smaller far smaller than she remembered. It was as if she had lost a lot of weight, resulting in an entirely different build than the one she once possessed. While they were far from unnoticeable, the size decrease in her bosoms was unsettling to the teenager. A confused expression formed on her face.
In the face of the more masculine form that had graced her appearance, only her femininity remained unaltered by the forces at work with her. Mireille gazed at her body, perturbed by the shift in her figure. Only few of her curves remained evident in her form. The frightened woman felt her disgust grow with every passing second as she furrowed her eyes in anger.
Whatever force that had changed her had completely transformed her. Never before had she ever felt so uncomfortable as she did now. She had never been a vain individual, but she was used to having a more fuller appearance. This... was bizarre and alien to her.
Feelings of anger burst forth from within her as she clenched her fist. She felt violatedno, 'violated' did not even begin to describe how she felt. This was something far worse than even rape itself. For the second time that night, she felt herself waver. Another torrent of emotion burst forth, and she found herself seething in unbridled rage. Her rage quickly turned to sadness as her hand fell limp and a lone tear ran down her cheek.
Regaining her composure, Mireille stood back up onto her feet and grabbed the bottle of conditioner.
Mireille stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, ruffling a towel through her hair. Despite how dirty her clothes were, she was dressed in them once more. Her hair was a mess even as she attempted to remove the excess water that remained. It was at that moment that she wished she had a brush or comb to tame the mane of tangled blonde hair on her head.
Content that her hair was no longer dripping wet, a thought crossed her mind. She opened each of drawers of the dresser in front of her, and to her surprise, she found a small, black hairbrush, unused and covered in dust. Removing it from the drawer, she examined it closely.
Someone must have left this here. Wonder why they didn't find it?
Deciding not to question the small amount of good fortune that had come before her, she walked towards the kitchen sink and rinsed out the brush. After a few minutes, she began to brush her hair with it. A yawn escaped her lips as she continued brushing. She felt her eyes begin to droop. Content that her hair was now in order, she fell back on the bed. Mireille closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Mireille's eyes snapped open as she bolted forward, gulping in air in ragged breaths. She recoiled back onto the bed with a painful twang. Her eyes frantically moved towards her arms, where she found large cuffs restraining her wrists. Her frightened gaze ran down to her feet, which were also restrained. Panic rushed through her mind as she began to pull against her restraints in an attempt to break free. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to contain her terror any longer.
Her breathing became rapid as she let out a horrified scream. In her mind's eye, she envisioned the restraints snapping apart. Shortly afterward, the sound of metal bending and breaking filled the air. Mireille found herself falling onto the floor below onto her hands and knees. As she opened her eyes, she glanced over her shoulder at the bed that had restrained her and gasped.
It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Sparks flared from the now broken cuffs that had once held her down. The bed itself was raised at a significant angle as a small light glared down from above. Black lines traced down the back of it, revealing a logo just below the padding near the top. This logo was an elaborate caduceus symbol, with jagged lines etched to their sides. In the center was the word "Palmaris" in large letters, followed by smaller letters that read, "Medical Research".
Mireille turned around and scooted up against the nearby wall.
What is this place? she thought, a sick feeling growing in her stomach, How did I get here?
The walls of the room were a dark, lifeless gray, while the ground was covered in black tile. Across the room behind the bed were computers. A loud beeping sound filled the air, and Mireille found herself resisting the urge to cover her ears. It was as if the sound was more intense than usual. A bright light shown from one of the monitors, and several flood lights suddenly burst on, blinding her. She held her hand up to block out the light, only to notice the leather gauntlets covering her hands.
Wha...? I don't remember putting on any gloves when I left the house....
Her gaze traveled down her forearm. The gauntlets covered her entire hands, wrists, and forearms, ending just below the elbow. Only her fingers managed to poke through. They were surprisingly thick along the back of her hands as well as down the rest of her forearm. Underneath them was what appeared to be a white shirt. As her gaze moved up her left arm, she spied a short, green sleeve covering her shoulder.
Confused, she looked at her torso, and found herself dressed in a tunic. Only a small belt separated the main body of the tunic from the lower half that covered her thighs. Underneath this was a pair of white tights. Thick leather boots covered her legs, ending just below her knees. A single buckle on each boot secured them to her leg while the top portion of her boots were pulled over them. She stood up and gazed at her clothing in a confused manner.
...Why am I dressed like this? Whose sick joke is this?
Before she could do anything else, a group of armed men burst into the room, pointing their guns in every direction.
"My God, he's broken free!"
"What on earth...?"
"Hold it right there!"
Mireille froze in her spot, her eyes fixed on the men in front of her. They waved their guns at her in a threatening manner. She felt confused and afraid. One of the men walked closer and she felt herself back into the wall, startled by the sudden hostility. That was when a thought crossed her mind.
Did... did they just call me a guy?
"Whoa, whoa," Mireille said, "No need to point those at me. I think this is all just one big misunderstanding. For one thing, I'm not a g-"
A startled gasp escaped her lips as her hands flew to her throat. An expression of disbelief crossed her features as her eyes went to her hands. The voice that spoke her words... it was not her own. It was too deep, as if a confident young man were speaking for her. She cleared her throat, hoping she was simply hallucinating this change. When she found that her voice remained unchanged from moments before, she fell onto her knees in shock.
My voice... what's happened to my voice?!
That was when she felt a slap to her face. The recoil of the attack sent her sprawling on her side. As she looked at her attackers, she could feel blood dripping down the open wound on her lower lip. The leader stepped back, wiped away the blood on his gloves, and cocked his gun at her once more.
"Shut it, freak! If you say another word, I'm going to knock your freaking teeth out. Do you understand me?!"
Mireille stared back at him, not wanting to incur his wrath any further. This only aggravated the man as he stormed back over to where she lay and pulled her off the ground by her throat.
"I said, 'Do you understand me'?!"
The transformed woman choked, unable to breathe. As she struggled to get air into her lungs, she grabbed him by his arms.
"Get... off... me!"
An unknown strength filled her being as she pried the man's hands off her throat and tossed him into the wall across the room. His companions looked on in shock. Mireille looked on, gasping for air while looking at her arm in disbelief. She could not believe what just occurred... and neither could her attackers. The victim of her attack regained his senses and growled in anger.
"That's it. I don't care if Palmgate wants you alive or not anymore, you are dead, freak! Get him, boys!"
The other two soldiers charged at her. Mireille found herself cornered in the room, unable to escape from these men. As they drew closer, she screamed.
"No! Get away from me!"
In her mind's eye, she envisioned them being thrown across the room. As she held her hand out, a powerful force threw the men back. They screamed as they flew through the air and into the computers across from where she awakened. A terrified expression formed on her face as she watched them be electrocuted by the open circuits within. Like a panicked animal, she ran outside in an attempt to escape....