It’s an important part of Link’s duties to help protect Hyrule from new threats… sometimes, he has some brutal methods for doing so. A clan of werewolves have recently been terrorizing local villages; Link decides he needs to send a message. Unfortunately, Matchy the werewolf just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and his balls pay the price~

Hello, castrators and castratees! This was a commission from Matchy, in which his character, Matchy the werewolf, ends up being the subject of Link’s mission. Unfortunately for Matchy, he’s losing both his balls and his life tonight~

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This story contains: MxM, ballbusting, CBT, castration, slight gore, unwilling sub, snuff, assassination

Word count: 1983

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	The kingdom of Hyrule was not a safe place for everyone inside, not as safe as it needed to be, at least. Zelda had known this for a long time, but there was only so much she could do to make it safer, even despite her seat of power and the military might that she commanded. However, she had some champions she could call upon whenever she had a particular target in mind, someone who she could really bring the proverbial hammer down on.

	Link, of course, was her champion of choice… and tonight, he’d been tasked with eliminating a few members of a certain tribe that had been terrorizing local villages.

	Link stalked through the night in the Sheikah Set, armor that was made particularly for the purpose of helping him to be stealthy, to move through shadows and darkness without being detected, while still protecting him, should he come under attack. His hair was tied up in a bun to stay out of his eyes and prevent wayward movement, his face was partially covered by a black mask over his neck, mouth, and nose. The rest of the armor consisted of navy blue, skin-tight cloth, with some armor plates in areas that were most likely to come under attack. The backs of his hands, his shoulders, his ribs, and his calves, in particular, were armored; these were the best places to allow for the most mobility with the least sound possible. On his feet, he wore sandals, which were entirely noiseless in the dirt.

	He hid behind a large tree, scouting out the area ahead; the tribe was not necessarily primitive - they had technology, and they had language. But most of all, they had their natural skills and weaponry. They were all werewolves, humanoids that were half-wolf, half-human, their features clearly showing this - they resembled humans aside from their large ears and fluffy tails. They almost could’ve been cute, if they weren’t such vicious predators; the royals had received numerous reports about them already. This night, it seemed they were nearly all asleep, all except for one, a single patrolling member of their forces. 

	Link now examined this particular one; he looked to be more dog than wolf, with floppy brown ears and a fluffy brown tail… he held a spear, though he hardly seemed very capable of wielding it. He was alert, but he wasn’t alert enough - there was a clear lack of skill and battle knowledge in the way he stood. Link would have no trouble at all taking him down. 

	The stealth set-clad knight of Zelda’s army swiftly but silently ran through the night, toward the camp; the guard was going in circles around the walls of the encampment, which was simply a tall log barrier, the tops of each log sharpened into a circular spike. Link ran up as soon as the guard was out of view; he jumped up, and, using his sword, easily sliced off the top of one of the logs, still entirely silent, letting it fall into the dirt on the outside side of the wall. It was a quiet little fall, just going right into the grass… but as soon as the guard saw it, they’d surely run over and investigate. Link stood on the now flat log - he wouldn’t have been able to easily place his feet there before, but now he could. He blended into the night well.

	Of course, as soon as the werewolf showed himself again, turning the corner, he saw the piece of wood and ran right over, confused. He reached down and picked it up, inspecting it, not making the connection, until finally, he realized. He looked up… 

	…but nobody was there.

	Link leapt down, right behind the guard, and immediately grabbed him. His goal here was not to wipe out the tribe, not to slowly pick them off or anything, but rather, just to set an example, to show them that, if they continued messing with innocent civilians and bothering the Kingdom of Hyrule, they would face very dire consequences… and he’d show exactly what kind of consequences those would be.

	The Hyrule Warrior put a hand over the werewolf’s mouth; immediately, the target began to squirm and thrash, trying to move the spear to use it, trying to shout and call for help, but Link’s hand muffled all noise perfectly, as he’d trained for. The Hylian pulled out his sword with his free hand and effortlessly chopped the tip right off the spear, then put his sword back and snatched the now useless stick from the guard’s hand, tossing it soundlessly onto the ground. The guard now moved to try and remove Link’s hand, but he was too strong - it stayed right in place, his muscles flexing as he kept a firm grasp on the victim of his mission. 

	Link moved his hand along the waist of the wolf, rubbing it closely, the guard feeling it through his uniform in a way that made him shiver in discomfort; the Hylian slowly felt until he found the crotch. 

	The werewolf’s uniform was a loose set of barbaric leather armor, lined with fur; it offered some protection, but it was mostly made for mobility, and so that any transformations into a more werewolf-like form wouldn’t destroy it. However, this werewolf in particular wasn’t going to be getting any chance to transform at all - he was stuck as he was, pressed so close to Link’s body he could feel the Hylian’s abs and hard chest, too restricted to use his abilities to their full extent. Even worse, the panic and fear he was experiencing stifled his skills, stopped him from being able to compose himself and focus long enough to activate anything. He was screwed.

	And what did this assassin want with his crotch, the wolf wondered in concern. He’d soon get his answer, though it wasn’t an answer he liked. 

	Link slipped his hand into the werewolf’s undergarments, making the guard suddenly stiffen and shiver as he felt the very cold skin of the Hylian’s fingers and the even-colder cloth surrounding his palms… He shook with fear as he looked down, helplessly watching, as the assassin slowly wrapped his fingers around the nutsack… and began to squeeze.

	The wolf let out a muffled yelp, followed by a whimper, tears coming to his eyes, as his balls were wrung out like a washcloth. Link was merciless, his muscles bulging, veins showing, as he squeezed with all his might. The guard’s legs trembled; he was losing his ability to stand now, wanting to fall to the ground, but Link held him up, forced him to keep standing, as he squeezed, harder, and harder, and harder, as though he was trying to pop the balls in his hands while they were still attached to the wolf’s body… is that what he was trying to do!?

	The guard’s liver pulsed and panged and ached, his muscles feeling sore and weak, his heart beating fast, his mind filled with a raging, tumultuous headache. Pain directed at the balls was nothing to scoff at - especially at this level, it had a way of entirely incapacitating a person, leaving them entirely at the world’s mercy, unable to help themselves or do anything. This wolf was already dead at this point; even if Link had let go, the leftover pain and soreness would’ve been debilitating. 

	Link’s goal was, indeed, to pop the ballsack; it was partially to help send a message, and partially because doing something like this would help to guarantee fewer new werewolves being born, therefore also lessening the issue a bit. This werewolf’s family tree would end with him, Link would make sure of it; his lineage was over here. 

	However, the Hylian was struggling; he had to keep changing his grip and the position of his hands, moving them around, wriggling his fingers and adjusting his grasp. He switched between squeezing one ball, then the other, jamming his fingers into them, even kneeing the poor guard between the legs to soften and bruise them. All of this just made the pain so much worse, but still they wouldn’t give way. And at this point, the werewolf was just wishing they would already, just so this would be over… though he had no idea how much he would regret wishing such a thing. 

	Link stopped, moved his hand out of the underwear, giving the wolf only the slightest moment of relief followed by the horrible aching soreness throughout his whole body. The Hylian grabbed the underpants and pants of his target and pushed them down to the ground, exposing him now, and immediately, Link kneed him, once, twice, three times, as hard as he could, the wolf yelping with each one. Finally, the assassin grasped the balls yet again and squeezed hard as he could. They were swollen, bruised, weakened, and squished, flattened by his knee and his grip; they were so vulnerable, there was no chance he could fail at this point.

	And indeed, he didn’t. With all the power of his various adventures and his musculature, Link felt the balls give way, felt them suddenly breaking apart, heard the loud squelching nose as tons of cum poured out from between his fingers. The wolf didn’t make a sound, his mouth just going wide in shock, the pain spreading through him unbearable and indescribable; the Hylian finally let go, just letting him fall, as he shook the gross remains of his ball sack off his hands and onto the ground. He was sure to finish the job; he took his sandaled foot and stomped it into the skin sack, pulling back and tearing it off the body, then grinding the remains of what little cum and seed was left inside into the dirt. 

	He then walked up to the wolf, raised that same sandal yet again… and stomped on his head, easily smashing his skull and reducing his head, brain, and bone all down to a mush of red, pink, and white. He died instantly, Link’s strength far too much for him to handle - the Hylian was able to go a lot harder when he was using his legs like that, rather than just squeezing his hand. He looked at the mess without emotion; the wolf was dead, clearly, as dead as could be - this would be an extremely effective message.

	And, just to make sure that message was really ground in… he stomped on the remains of the testicles he’d crushed, the cum he’d shaken off his hands, and ground it into the dirt, ground the lineage of the wolf into the grass and soil.

	His work was done, and not a soul had noticed… all that was left was to retreat to Princess Zelda. 

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