The Continuity of Padmé Amidala
The Means to the End
Padmé stepped over to the blue and gold chair and took a seat. Her extraordinarily large breasts swayed as she lowered herself onto the cushion. Twenty four years of drinking Jumba Juice had eventually caught up with her, permanently expanding her chest size to something absurd. That was fine for Padmé, though; because of her chest size, and lack of any official images of her with enhanced breasts, she was completely unrecognizable to anyone looking for the former Queen of Naboo or Senator of the Chommell Sector. Without exception, whenever Padmé met someone, her breasts were the focus of their attention for ninety percent of the conversation. She couldn’t blame them, either. Luckily for the former senator she enjoyed having them so big, and their unnatural origins hadn’t made them too heavy either, so she happily avoided any back problems.
Living incognito had its perks and its draw backs. Padmé missed some of her old friends, even to this day, over a decade after having faked her own death. The once-famous politician had considered changing her name but couldn't bring herself to do it. She loved her name and the life she had lived with it, and the resonance of her family names. Besides, ‘Padmé’ was common enough, and had become far more so after her reign as Queen. It seemed every father on Naboo wanted his daughter named after her.
Padmé recalled returning home late in the war, early in her pregnancy before she started showing, and discovered the young girl living next door to her family residence in the town of Cokenvee had been named after her. From the window of the bedroom she herself had become a woman in, the senator saw the young pre-teen out reading in her yard under a perlote tree. She was a delicate beauty, appropriately fitting her name sake. After a short while of spying on the girl, Padmé saw her father approach his daughter. He was a big man with a beard and gruff exterior that only enhanced his intimidation as he spoke harshly to her.
Padmé could sense something was wrong and hurried outside. By the time she had arrived in the neighbor’s garden, she had come upon a situation that was frightening but ultimately too familiar among the planet’s remote regions. The father had his trousers down, gripping his cock while he struggled with his daughter from behind. The look on the daughter’s face as she laid eyes on Padmé was the same as if she were beholding an Angel who had arrived from Iego. The father was likewise stunned and immediately let go of his daughter. He was mortified at being caught in such a vicious, cruel act. Padmé could tell he had long been enamored with her, as had perhaps every straight man on Naboo.
That afternoon Padmé sat the father and daughter down and talked out their issues, which had stemmed from the death of the mother, Jané, two years prior. Under the ancient law of the Lex Varinae, a widowed father could select one of his daughters to assume the “motherly tasks” of the household. This practice had never fully died out, but had only grown with the arrival of the war and the absence of many men in the civil defense militias or volunteering in the Republic’s Grand Army.
Padmé recalled that afternoon’s diplomacy fondly now, helping heal the breach between the man and his daughter, whom she had learned were named Pepyn and Padmé Braxa. As a politician it was so hard to do any good on a galactic scale, but on a personal, one-on-one basis she could make a difference. That was one reason she was now happy to leave the life she had built behind.
When Padmé returned to Cokenvee a few weeks later, she was invited over for dinner by the family. After leaving for evening she had a sneaking suspicious that something more untoward was going on. She was a little shocked, though not entirely surprised, to discover an incestuous relationship had developed between Pepyn and Padmé. Padmé had watched from outside the living room window as the father shoved his cock into his daughter's waiting mouth. She could still hear the father’s voice saying, "That's it, Padmé, suck Daddy’s cock. You have to be the new Mommy now."
Despite her better judgment, Padmé reentered the household, under the false pretense of having left a piece of jewelry behind. She feigned shock at the sight of the daughter's mouth being stuffed by her father's meaty dick – only to then coyly ask, "You didn't invite me for dessert?" The evening proceeded as expected with the good senator giving lessons to the younger Padmé on proper blowjob etiquette. The poor girl wasn't ready yet to be penetrated so Padmé offered herself instead and let the burly single father pound from behind while she sucked on his daughter’s tiny breasts.
“Maybe next time you have a manly urge,” Padmé said to the father when she was done, “you can call me back over and I can play Mommy with you. That way we can make sure little Padmé can still have the attention of both parents she needs.”
The forty-year-old Padmé stirred in her seat as she recalled the memory. Before her, an elderly man with beard and balding head set up a canvas on an easel. He was dressed in old clothing, of the Republic Classic Era. It was an age of elegance and civility long past, an era far before the Emperor had sunken his withered claws into the galaxy.
"Is this good?" Padmé asked her painter, as she adjusted her pose.
"Yes, yes. That's fine," the man responded in his shaky voice. He dabbled a paint brush on his palette and set back to work.
Padmé continued to reflect on her life. It had been a wild ride to this point. Her life could have turned out far more tragic had not her expected path in life diverged drastically when a clone of herself showed up out of the blue on an otherwise-average day.
It was early in the second year of the war, and not long after she had celebrated the second anniversary to her marriage to Anakin Skywalker. Padmé's old friend and former Chief Handmaiden Sabé had arrived at her Coruscant apartment without notice. They two caught up, having not seen each other in some time. Padmé was surprised to learn that Sabé was working for the Royal Naboo Security Force as an agent for Colonel Panaka. She had a cover life as a stay-at-home mother to her two daughters, named Meira and (of course) Padmé, but most of her time was spent out on dangerous missions, taking down spice miners from Rori or Uni Gunga separatists on Ohma-D’un. After trading recent histories, Sabé introduced the senator to a companion she had brought along whom had been waiting quietly, and out of Padmé’s notice, on her balcony.
Padmé was shocked and bewildered when the girl pulled down her crimson hood and revealed herself to be a perfect clone of her, but aged younger. She looked exactly like she had when she was Queen. The mystery surrounding her creation was never resolved, despite their best efforts, other than to find a whispered rumor of a military project on Timira City on Kamino. Even more confounding was the fact that this clone wasn't an exact copy of her fourteen year old self. She was a hermaphrodite.
Indeed, she had a rather lengthy cock at that.
For the next several months the clone, whom Padmé had named Winnie after her grandmother, lived with her in the senator’s apartment, taking on the role of a Handmaiden Trainee. After some initial uneasiness and suspicion on Padmé’s part, the two grew fond of each other and soon became like sisters. And like Padmé's relationship with her own older sister, this one became intensely intimate. Winnie quickly replaced most of her lovers, including her husband, who never learned about the clone. After a time Padmé introduced some more variety into their sex life, thanks to the interesting side effect to the Felucian sulka slugs and their Enzyme 1138.
A year prior, when her mother was dealing with a newfound status as a hermaphrodite, Padmé had investigated a few experimental treatments in order to restore her to her natural state. It didn’t work for her mother, but Padmé was happy to discover that when she ingested the enzyme she temporarily converted into a dickgirl herself. That let Padmé serve out some much desired revenge against her mother and the harsh ways she treated her in the early days of Jobal’s new condition.
|Dinner time in house Naberrie|
|Jobal makes some batter|
So Padmé secured more of the enzyme but quickly learned its affects were somewhat unpredictable, particularly when coupled with Jumba Juice. For weeks Padmé experimented with different dosages and combinations, sometimes resulting in cock greater than sixty centimeters, and breasts which simply couldn't be contained by any of her gowns. Those were fun nights for her and Winnie. That poor girl's asshole had become stretched wider than the exhaust vent on a Republic cruiser.
|Padme at full staff|
|Winnie probes Padme's depths|
|Winnie under pressure|
Her sex life during that time became especially adventurous. Anakin was far away and a recess in the Senate gave her ample opportunity to play. She discovered that Mon Mothma, beloved beauty and the soft touch of the Senate, was a natural-born dickgirl.
|Mon Mothma makes a point|
|Sabers and deathstars|
As the war grew more intense and Winnie's presence on Coruscant became more risky, Padmé decided to send her away to Naboo to be with her mother. Her parents’ marriage had recently come to an end and Jobal was living on her own. Her mother was happy to have the company, and moreover the two had something in common. It didn’t seem to take long before Jobal and Winnie developed a very carnal relationship.
|Jobal shows Winnie how to poll|
In the last days of the war, Padmé grew worried that her life was in mortal danger and made arrangements in case of the worst. It was a gut feeling she credited with saving her life. Her husband had grown mad and dangerous, killing children and trying to usurp power. After confronting him, and nearly being killed in the process, Padmé trusted in Obi-Wan to help her escape into obscurity. After giving birth to Luke and Leia, the senator had been injected with a drug that made it appear she had died, leaving her in a deep comatose state for days. She was present at her own funeral, though she was thankful to have slept through it. Sabé came for her in the night and rescued her from the Theed Funeral Temple.
Their escape wasn't without incident, though. Two of Panaka’s guards had arrived and blocked their path. While Sabé opted for a more stealthy approach to the dilemma, Padmé had other ideas in mind. The newly risen beauty attracted the pair’s attention, and summoned them into her crypt. The soldiers arrived to a sight that must have been unbelievable. Padmé Amidala sat on her sarcophagus, twirling the japor snippet around one finger. She told the confused pair that the goddess Shiraya had risen her for a sacred mission, and they would now do their part for the resurrection of the sacred vessel her body now was.
They couldn't manage to utter a word in response to that, which was just as well, as it gave Padmé time to go to work, sliding off of the stone lid and falling to her knees. She pulled out their cocks and let her tongue and lips do enough the talking for the three of them. Sabé watched in silence from outside the chamber, tempted to join in but knowing that would only ruin Padmé's ruse. The eager guards took turns sodomizing the slutty former senator on top of her would-be grave and made her scream loud enough that they were lucky the remains of Qui-Gon Jinn hadn’t risen from their nearby grave.
At the end the ‘savior’ received a copious facial that dripped off her naked body onto the Naboo emblem carved into the top of her coffin. Before the guards could get their bearings and perhaps complicate matters further, Sabé hit them both with stun blasts. They would awaken hours later with only the smell of sex to lend any credit to their experience. Rumors persisted from that day forward of the horny Queen continuing to rise from the grave to fuck her subjects, and students of Theed Royal Academy would often sneak into the Funeral Temple to turn the Amidala Mausoleum into an orgy chamber on the anniversary of her funeral.
After their tricky, and sticky, escape, Sabé took Padmé to the underwater city of Otoh Gunga, where she remained for several months. During that time, as was typical of Padmé, she took many gungan lovers…one of whom impregnated her. This was the first known case of a gungan impregnating a human without a medical procedure for decades, long before the abolition of the gungan slave trade. Later tests would suggest that Padmé's frequent diet of Jumba Juice, a byproduct of gungan semen, could have eventually altered her body to adapt to the alien seed. It seemed appropriate to Padmé, considering her history. And now over fifteen years later, she had twin gungan sons, whom she named Junda and Bix Naberrie.
As Padmé sat still in her chair, her two sons, always mischievous, unsheathed their large cocks and went to work prodding at her giants breasts. Padmé shooed them away, but not without getting some precum smudged onto soft skin.
"All right, I'm finished for today," the artist said after an hour of work. "I'll come back tomorrow around the same time."
"Very good," Padmé replied as she saw the man out. Her home was peaceful little cabin, out on its own in the foothills near the Gallo Mountains, but on the other side of the range from Cokenvee, ensuring no one from her hometown would likely run into her. Her sons would travel for goods to Dee’ja Peak, a quiet settlement that didn't support the Empire as enthusiastically as Naboo's current Queen, Kylantha. Padmé herself would go occasionally, though she attracted more attention than she wanted. She was often hassled by security patrols, as was to be expected considering her… dimensions. But Padmé knew how to handle a group of men. During one visit to the town with her sons, whom she referred to as her students to hide their true identity, she was stopped at a check point by stormtroopers looking to vent some frustrations at being stationed on such a remote world.
Padmé was able to let her sons leave without incident, though they had to bide their time while seven horny men took turns with their mother behind a shuttle station. When Padmé had finally exhausted the troopers, she returned to her sons, who were both sporting erections that would do any gungan warrior proud. They had watched the entire thing, and clearly enjoyed it as much as Padmé had. It wasn't long afterwards that her relationship with her sons became a bit more special.
A week later the old artist finished the portrait of Padmé, with a couple additions she was expecting but none the less found amusing and oddly appropriate. She promptly hung the portrait in her living room with pride.