Thursday, March 26, 2015

A Webit of Trouble

A Webit of Trouble

by Pyro

v 1.1


Queen Padmé Amidala of the House Naberrie sat attentively on her throne, dressed in her crimson red gown with an elaborate, rounded headpiece.  Golden sunlight was pouring in the windows behind her, Naboo's sun still low this early in the day.  The young monarch’s eyes darted about the expansive desktop before her, her attention completely focused on the wealth of information being given to her.  Holograms of buildings and landscapes, lists of names and organizations, mug shots and hidden camera holograms were all laid out in a cacophony of intelligence gathering bravura.  Her Chief Defense Officer Kharl Dennef, dressed in a manner that belied his mercenary background, spoke in a gruff, gravelly voice.

“It’s been seventy-two hours since the ship, the Touchstone’s Payoff, arrived in the Gallo Swamp regions.  Our sensors were unable to pick it up during entry but atmospheric disturbances eventually tipped us off.  The gungans picked up on it right away, as this is deep into their territory,” said the middle-aged man with short, tousled hair.

“Have we been in contact with them regarding this intelligence?” asked the eighteen-year-old Queen in her commanding voice.  Her normal voice was softer and sweeter, but when holding court, or operating in any public capacity, the young girl had been taught long ago that depth of voice informed a depth of knowledge.

“Yes, M’Lady.  We contacted them immediately following the abrupt shift in climate in that vicinity.  Upon the ship’s landing, Webit launched a full contingent of slaver droids.  They generate a lot of heat.”  Kharl was still getting used to addressing royalty.  It hadn't been that long ago he was working as a mercenary on Nar Shaddaa.  He had accepted a kidnapping job, something he was loath to take on but the credits had dried up and he had been desperate.  It turned out that the mark had been the Queen in disguise.  She had come to Nar Shaddaa for some purpose of which he still didn’t know, and he’d managed to track her for over forty blocks.  By the time he was able to make a move, he had realized she was something out of the ordinary. Not just a pretty little lost girl, but someone with real street knowledge, or at least some hefty resources to keep her well informed.

When Kharl cornered the young beauty in the back room of an outfitters’, she made the offer of a job.  After some aggressive negotiations, he took a chance and was rewarded with a luxury trip back to Naboo on board the Queen’s yacht.  That was the beginning of his career and his rivalry with Quarsh Panaka, Captain of the Royal Naboo Security Forces, who trusted him less than a veermok.

“Droids…” Amidala said with disdain as she looked over an image of Webit, an avian looking h’nemthe, with beige skin and narrow, vicious eyes.  He looked as unpleasant as his file suggested.  Adding insult to injury was his use of battle droids.

“Yes, they’re modified battle droids supplied by the Trade Federation,” Dennef added.

Following Nute Gunray’s first trial before the Republic Supreme Court, the Federation had been forced to disband much of its Trade Defense Force. Many of its larger assets had been nationalized by the Republic’s Judicial Fleet and Outland Regions Security Force, but Gunray and his cronies had tried to recoup their losses from the Naboo Occupation by clandestinely selling off as much as they could to smaller pirates, gangs, mercenaries, and slavers… such as Webit, apparently. Having those mechanical monstrosities back on her planet’s soil ignited a fire within her. “That makes this all the more troubling.  I expect the Trade Federation covered its tracks when making the deal?”

“Of course.  They’ll claim they were stolen or are pirated copies.  We’ll have little evidence to the contrary.”

The Queen grumbled before asking, “When can we move our own Royal Security Forces in?”

“We can’t, Your Highness.  It’s gungan territory.”

“The gungans haven’t asked for our support?”

“No. Well… not exactly.  They’ve asked for you.  Boss Nass has put General Tarpals in charge of this matter and he has requested that you join them.  I understand they have an operation in mind already.”

The Queen nodded.  This was to be expected; the gungans were big on honor and grandstanding.  Why do something simply, when you could do it dangerously and make a bigger show of it?

“Very well, then,” Amidala conceded. “Where is the staging point?”

Captain Panaka was about to protest when the Queen lifted her right hand to silence the senior guard.  The dark skinned man pursed his lips in frustration and clenched his right fist.
Dennef continued. “A hundred kilometers south of the landing in the small mountain village of Kundi, in the Gallo Mountain range.”

“Very good, Chief.  Thank you for your report.”  Amidala looked to her Captain of the Guard, seeing the frustration on his face.  She had sidelined him ever more in recent years, and soon enough she’d have to get rid of him altogether.  “See my travel arrangements are made immediately, Captain.”

Panaka nodded once and then left the large room, his footfalls echoing through the chamber.
The Queen stood and her handmaidens quickly joined her at her side as she gracefully exited.  Beside her, Sabé held a small datapad. As Chief Handmaiden, her attire was distinguished from her handmaiden sisters as one of singular importance.

“Prepare the appropriate wardrobe, Sabé,” Amidala said. “I imagine I’ll need something practical.”

Sabé nodded. “Of course, M’Lady. I have just the thing in mind.”

<><><>

Queen Amidala arrived at outskirts of the small town of Pennana a few hours later, the sun just reaching its peak in the clear sky overhead.  She wanted to put an end to the antics of this slaver, Webit, as soon as possible, and was encouraged by the gungans’ similar enthusiasm.  She expected it as much, as the slaves being taken were gungans.  

The arrival of the amphibious species on the galactic stage following the Invasion of Naboo had demonstrated their hardiness and fortitude.  They rivaled wookiees in strength and were unfortunately similarly limited in education.  In other words, they were exactly what a slaver would look for in a population to exploit.  It was up to the Queen to prevent that and see that they remained free – especially given the Naboo-Gungan Peace Treaty she herself had negotiated had ended the final legal vestiges of gungan slavery on Naboo, and brought her galaxy-wide fame. Her own future on the galactic stage could be resting in the balance.

The young monarch had left behind most of her usual entourage, save for Sabé and two personal guards, Baras Perosei and Hogan Tinmar, who were outfitted in the new, advanced armor.  After the invasion of Naboo, the Royal Security Forces had undergone a program of revisions and upgrades, moving beyond the appealing, yet less functional aesthetics of yester-year.  Those traditional uniforms were still in use in public, but while on operations of significance, their attire now more intimidating with steely greys and dehumanizing helmets.  

Despite building up their forces for outside threats, the time following the invasion had resulted in far more harmonious and altogether friendlier Naboo.  The Queen had to deal with some troubles following the initial Peace Treaty with the gungans, including the Farmers’ Guild and the spice miners on the Rori moon, but once those matters had been dealt with she could travel with almost no fear for her safety.  

Amidala had made several trips to gungan settlements in years past with almost no escort at all, trusting the gungans to see to her well-being, which they had always done with aplomb.   This trip was no different and Tarpals in particular had earned her favor long ago during the invasion. Moreover, Amidala certainly did not need Panaka’s sneering and condescending objections to her every decision. To think I once let him plow me nerf-style back on Coruscant…

The camp for the gungans’ Grand Army had been set up some days ago, with about a half dozen tents erected, including four large ones that served as barracks for the troops.  The Queen noted those and looked to Sabé. “Remind me to pay the troops a visit before we leave.  They may need a morale boost before the battle.”

The aide nodded and tapped something into her datapad.

The pathways were mostly empty, save for messengers and a few officers moving between shelters, though in the distance, on the other side of the barracks to left, the Queen could hear the exercises of a large group taking place.

Ahead of her, around a kilometer away, the town of Kundi looked quaint and private. It was a mixed gungan-human colony established two years ago; it had been deliberately located near her own childhood home village of Cokenvee, to honor her own legacy of improving interspecies relations on the world.  Amidala hadn’t visited it yet, though she had made sure to do so with earlier interspecies settlements to encourage further unity and peace between the inhabitants of Naboo.

Amidala made her way down a central pathway toward a broad tent at the end.  It was the command center for the operation.  Dressed in her dark maroon battle gown, though slightly retailored to be less confining and more revealing, the Queen instructed Sabé to stay behind with her two guards and entered the tent by herself.

Inside the dimly-lit shelter, Amidala saw three gungans huddled around a table, pointing at a map laid out and talking animatedly.  Hovering glow balls illuminated the small space, which had a low ceiling for the tall males.  The short Queen had no such concern.  The trio of amphibious warriors hadn’t noticed her yet.  Padmé headed toward Tarpals, the only gungan she recognized here and one she occasionally had contact with.

“General, it’s good to see you again,” the eighteen year old Queen said warmly.

Roos Tarpals turned to see the short girl and grinned.  He stepped back from the table and bowed, his two subordinates doing likewise.  “Wesa very grateful for yousa joining da battle against da slava,” Tarpals said in his broken, heavily-accented Basic.

“I’m glad for the invitation.  I cannot abide slavers, especially ones on my home planet.”

“Wesa have been re-vuwing intel-lee-junce for da slava.  His name isa Webit.”  Tarpals passed a flimsiplast to Amidala, showing a picture of a dangerous looking h’nemthe, a species with a sharp beak and four horns on their heads.

“A h’nemthe. I’ve never encountered one before,” Amidala commented.

“Dem ugly bastads,” Tarpals said with contempt.

“This one is certainly a hideous person. There can be no doubt of that.”

For the next thirty minutes, the General outlined his plans to the young Queen.  An attacking force would approach the slaver’s spacecraft and base of operations from the south and west, which were exposed.  Meanwhile, the gungan general wanted the Queen to infiltrate up the rear with a squad of gungan hunter operatives and get inside the ship and try to take out Webit, with negotiation if possible or deadly force if need be.

“You certainly have no trouble putting me in harm’s way, General.” Padmé commented with an arched eyebrow

“Yousa brave warrior.  And yousa best with yousa mouth.  Get job done, Queeny will.”

Amidala smirked at his remark and asked, “What can you tell me about his internal defenses?”

“Webit has-a personal guard oof four gam-morreans.  Othawise wesa believe he isa dee-fense-less.”

“Gamoreans?”  Amidala nodded and rubbed her chin.  “They’re fickle, but good fighters.  Their allegiance can be bought out easily.”

Tarpals shrugged. “If yousa say sosa.”

“I like your plan, General.  When do we attack?”

“In seven houa!  When dee sun down and it dark oot.  First wesa drink and prepare for our glory!”  The General raised his arms in triumph, his men following his lead.

“Drink?”  Amidala recoiled slightly.  Starting at the Peace Summit, she had learned all too well how drinking with gungans could get out of hand very quickly.

“Yes, wesa drink Jumba Juice to strengthen oura boo-dies and oura souls for da fight ta come!” Tarpals spoke proudly. He stepped over to wooden table and grabbed a large, clear jug amid several others on top of the small surface area.

The Queen swallowed.  “Jumba juice?  I’ve tried it…  If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”  Amidala moved toward the exit and quickly stepped outside.  She found her guards and Sabé waiting nearby.  Her aide was busy doing something on her ‘pad but quickly noticed her Queen, who waved her over to her side.

“We’re going to be drinking Jumba Juice as part of some… ritual or something.  Please tell me you’ve brought something I’ll be able to fit into.”

Sabé smiled. “After Mama Suk Suk, whenever we deal with gungans, I always bring something just in case.”

<><><>

An hour had passed before the Queen could finally excuse herself from the General’s tent.  She had downed several glasses of the spunky Jumba Juice and had been feeling the effects of it for a while.  Her breasts had grown so much that it felt like at any moment her top could explode.

Sabé quickly escorted the uncomfortable young girl to a personal tent that had been erected further down the camp.  Once inside Amidala quickly pulled open her blouse, letting her now huge tits fall free.  “By the great goddess Shiraya, I could hardly breathe!”

Sabé gulped as she looked upon her friend, bare-chested with two enormous orbs of fleshy breasts exposed before her.  It was an enticing sight.

“Good thing you got out of there in time,” Sabé said. “Giving those gungans a vision like this wouldn’t have ended well for you.”

“What, three gungan generals?  I could handle them without much trouble.  You know that, Sabé,” Amidala playfully retorted.

“True enough.  Would you like to change into the gown I brought for you?”

Amidala walked over to a full length mirror and admired her physique, turning from side to side.  “Just remarkable, this Jumba Juice.  And yes, I need to put on something.  I’m sure the gungans would appreciate me walking around with my tits out, but it might be a bit much.”

“I think they might prefer you in this, actually,” Sabé said with a grin, holding up a hanger with a red outfit hanging off it.  It was easy to tell it was form fitting and more than a bit sexy.

“Sabé, you expect me to wear that into battle?” Amidala asked, as she gestured to the skimpy outfit.

“It’s well suited to gungan culture.  They revere you and this will only enhance your standing with the men.”

“I think it might enhance their erections as well,” Amidala quipped.

“That too. But it’s dual ray-shielded, and the material will dampen and deflect explosive force.  It’s tear resistant and coated in a high-grade poly synthatex mesh.  In other words, it’ll look fabulous even in the middle of a war zone.”

“I’m more concerned with staying in one piece than looking sexy.”

“Now you can have both.  The self-charging personal shield deflectors are particularly inspired.  Each breast plate is embedded with a static charger.  The more you move your breasts, the more charged the shield becomes.  These flourishes,” Sabé pointed to the winged details on the breast coverings, “emit the shield.”

“Are you responsible for this design?”  Amidala felt she should have been shocked and embarrassed, but at this point in her irregular reign, she wasn’t.

“With some help from some eager techs in the Handmaiden Academy R&D Branch.  They based the technology off of the Colicoid shields scavenged from droidekas after the Occupation. They thought there was some poetic justice in repurposing that technology for a more peaceful purpose. I was happy to field test them.”

“I’m sure you were.  I suppose I should be glad you’ve managed to turn a potential hazard, such as these outrageously big breasts, into something beneficial.”

“I’m happy to be of service, M’Lady,” Sabé bowed her head slightly.  "You should be aware of a defense mechanism built into the shield function.  An abrupt jostling or battering of your chest will also activate it.  So in case you were engaged in a melee and your hands are otherwise occupied."

Amidala nodded and said, “All right, let’s get it on me.”

Twenty minutes later, Queen Amidala emerged from her tent.  Her headpiece, based on the famous battle-armor of the ancient warrior-Empress Teta of Koros, was golden with two symmetrical buns of hair on either side, reflecting the large, round protrusions on her chest.  Her gown itself had bare shoulders but a red collar with gold trim, a design theme seen throughout the garment.  Her arms were slipped inside sleeves from her biceps to her palms, her fingers bare save for the middle knuckle where an attached ring on either hand held the long glove in place – and concealed a retractable monofilament vibro-shiv knuckleduster.  Two pairs of matching bronzium bracelets dangled on both wrists.  A small cape hung from her collar, which supported the converging lines of her dress that covered her two enormous breasts, each the size of her own head.  The aforementioned golden wings on either boob gave her massive breasts a majestic quality.  Her chest was decorated with a stylized Marek Phoenix, a symbol of a famous clan of warriors of virtue for generations. The skirt of her gown stopped short of the end of the buttocks, to allow for freedom of movement, as well as a provocative view.  Two red stockings rose to her thighs and hard, bronzed, high-heeled boots protected her small feet.



Her two guards did double takes as they took in the breathtaking sight of their busty young Queen.

“Easy, boys.  Keep your blasters in your pants,” Amidala snarked.

Sabé followed closely behind as the front-heavy Queen strolled down the pathway, her breasts jiggling and bouncing in time with her footsteps.  A couple gungans crossed paths with her and nearly tripped over each other as their gaze locked onto her chest like heat seeking missiles.

Amidala stopped at the entrance to one of the barracks and looked to Sabé.  “We have several hours before the attack, don’t we?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The monarch nodded and pulled open the cloth entrance and looked inside.  She saw dozens of gungans milling about, some on bunks, some rough housing, many chatting or playing games.

“I want to make sure the men are… properly motivated for the battle to come.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Sabé agreed.

Queen Amidala stepped inside the tent, Barosei and Tinmar staying behind outside with the handmaiden.

<><><> 

Five hours later, the Queen arrived at Tarpals’ tent, a bit worn out from her rowdy pep-rally at the barracks, but no less eager to begin the operation.  The three generals were all wide-eyed and speechless at her appearance.

“Your Jumba Juice has an interesting affect on human women, General,” the Queen explained.

The aged gungan nodded and then shook his head, coming to his senses.  “Ah yes, wesa ready to launch the assault.”  Tarpals looked to one of the gungan officers. “How are the men?”

“Theysa in order.  Morale seems especially good,” he responded.

Amidala gave a wry smile and added, “They were in high spirits after I left them.”

Tarpals sniffed at that.  “Thank yousa, Queeny.  Wesa ready to move out!”

<><><> 

Forty minutes later, Queen Amidala was standing beside a tree in a darkened forest, looking through electrobinoculars at the rear entrance to the massive slaver ship. The Touchstone’s Payoff seemed to be a modified Trade Federation Captor-class heavy munitions cruiser. She saw two droid guards posted there.

“Either Webit doesn’t know we’re coming, or this is a trap,” she commented, handing off the binoculars to a gungan warrior beside her.

Sabé and the muscular Royal Guards had stayed behind at the camp, which no doubt would give the sex-starved Chief Handmaiden a chance to reacquaint herself with Tinmar and Perosei after their Life Day rendezvous the prior year.  Currently the Queen was defended by a group of elite gungan soldiers, seven in total.  She felt well protected.

“The bird-face not interested in traps.  Only credits.  Wesa safe,” the gungan warrior said in a deep, barely accented voice.

Amidala nodded. “I agree.  Let’s move out.”

The seven warriors, armed with blaster rifles provided by the Naboo, dashed forward, a pair of their sharpshooters taking two quick shots, knocking off the heads of both B-1 droids before either knew what was coming.

The squad flanked the retracted boarding ramp as one pried open a wall panel and got to work hot-wiring the entrance.  Amidala trailed behind them, armed with her blaster pistol of choice, clenched in her hands tightly, her huge breasts squeezed between her arms.

A few tense moments passed and then the boarding ramp descended from the ship.  The seven Gungans raced up it and into the vessel.  The hallways were dark and lit with sparse red illumination.  They moved deliberately from corner to corner, making as little noise as possible, the Queen keeping her position at the rear of the group.

One of the gungans pulled up a hologram of the ship’s interior and directed the team leader through the ship.  They moved up two levels, taking out light resistance.  By now the battle would have started and most of the droids would be on alert.

Arriving at the command center of the vessel, a heavy door at the end of a long ramp, Amidala stayed back several meters, around the corner at the base of the hallway.  Five of the gungans were at work with explosive charges, setting them on the door frame and wiring together a timed detonation.  On either side of the Queen were the remaining two warriors, keeping themselves close to her body.  Their rippling muscles and cool demeanor made them a bit sexy, a quality she had never attributed to a gungan before.  She had long found them appealing, in their own special way, but never fully attractive or seductive. 

“What are your names, soldiers?” asked the Queen.

“Mesa Paps,” said the gungan to her left, kneeling beside her, blaster rifle trained down the branching hallway. Amidala wondered if he was related to Paps Cluck, the Boss of Otoh Pola. Or maybe it was just a common gungan name and she was being racist.

“Mesa Yambo,” said the other, facing the opposite direction.

“Paps and Yambo.  I feel lucky to have you as my protection.”

“Wesa here to fight and die for yousa.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.  I’d like to get to know you all better.  I don’t recall any of you at the pep rally in Barracks 2 this afternoon.”

“No, wesa have own barracks, off camp.  Wesa stay separate.”

“Oh, I see.  After this is all over I’ll be sure to reward each of you in person.”  As the Queen spoke, she started to reach around the front of Yambo, her hand questing for his crotch and the blunt club he had hidden there.  A sudden robotic stomping further down into the ship pulled her mind back to reality.

“Hurry, wesa got company!” shouted Paps up the ramp to his comrades.

As if in response, a loud explosion rocketed back in their direction, shooting a plasma fireball down the corridor.  The Queen was spared any damage, and turned to appraise how her companions had fared. She looked just in time to see the remnants of the gungan explosives squad disintegrating under the plasma ionization effects.  Closer by, Paps was on the ground, his left arm ripped off and shrapnel jabbed into his leg.  Yambo scrambled over to him and quickly got to work bandaging his wounds, tying a rag around the remaining stump of his arm.  The daunting, robotic march of the droids pushed Amidala out of her shock.

“Yousa run, Queenie!  Make for da command deck!  Mesa hold dem off!”  Yambo bellowed.  Amidala made a dash for the blown open entrance to Webit’s command center.  Jumping through smoke and debris, she landed on her feet in a wide open room, two gamorrean warriors were on her in an instant with force pikes pointed at her, just centimeters from her soft face.  She dropped her blaster and raised her hands in surrender.  Behind her a blast door slammed shut, sealing away her only exit.  Looking up, she saw at a shielded booth some ten meters up the room’s bulkhead.  Through transparisteel panels she could see the hideous Webit, dressed in black robes that dragged behind him as he paced.  On either side of him were two more gamorrean guards, all dressed similarly, as if they’d been plucked from the ranks of a Hutt’s den.

“The Queen!  I have the Queen!” he squawked.

Amidala grimaced at his unpleasant voice.  She put her hands on her hips defiantly.  “What you’ll really have is a lot of trouble, if you don’t let me go,” she responded coldly.

“No…. I have a lot of credits coming my way, I do.”  He leered down at her, his beak slightly bobbing, his eyes dark and piercing.

The young girl looked around her surroundings, and in particular at the two gamorreans before her.  They were drooling vacantly as they stared at her, their pikes lowering from her face to her breasts along with their eyes.  Amidala's gaze wandered over their chubby bodies till she noted their pudgy hog-cocks peeking out from under their codpieces.

Making another quick scan of the room, the Queen could see no other defenses, only the two grunting thugs, and the other pair of gamorreans locked away with Webit high above.  She lowered her arms slightly, leveling her biceps with her breasts and pressing them inward to squeeze her round, big tits together.

The gamorreans snorted and gave what looked like grins, their pikes dropping even lower.

“Looks like you should have hired better help, Webit,” Amidala said as she moved her hands to huge melons and pressed them harder together. “I’ve negotiated with senators, Jedi, and generals from across the galaxy. Do you really think a few common mercenaries will be beyond my… diplomatic prowess?”

“Wh-what?  You fools, stop looking at her filthy tits!” Webit cawed violently.

The gamorreans dropped their weapons altogether and approached the self-molesting Queen.

“How about I give you two a better offer and you see me out of here?” Amidala asked.  Both gamorreans nodded quickly as their hands reached for her large, round breasts.

Within a second, the teen Queen was on her knees, gripping two fat pig-dicks in either hand, jacking them off frantically as she looked up at the shocked expression of Webit, watching in horror as his last line of defense failed.

“Sorry, Webit,” Amidala said. “Looks like I’ve got the upper hand now.”

The young Queen opened her ruby red lips wide and wrapped them around one of the gamorreans’ green meat poles and slithered her tongue around the puffy crown.

“Mmmmm, everything tastes better with bacon,” she commented, popping her mouth of the dick to suck his companion’s cock.

“No, you fools!” Webit screamed, “Kill her!  Kill her!”

“MmmMM, delicious pig dicks…. I mean… sorry.  I shouldn’t use such derogatory language.  That was rude of me.”  The Queen bowed her head slightly apologetically as her small hands continued to stroke both of the fat, bulbous cocks.  Her hard, golden boots clanged on the floor as she shifted her body, getting more comfortable as she positioned herself for faster, deeper cock sucking.

“You two, go put an end to this!”  Webit screeched at the two guards beside him.  The gamorreans grunted and opened doors at opposite ends of the enclosed command center.  They walked down narrow ramps along the walls and around beside their two companions getting head from the slutty monarch.

“Come to join in on the fun?” she asked, flicking her tongue against the squishy, green head of a gamorrean’s prick.

The two guards made no pretense and threw down their weapons, pulling out their chubby cocks and offered them up for the eighteen year old.

“I feel like I’m getting spoiled here!”  Padmé giggled.  She could barely see Webit through the crowd of fat green aliens around her.

All four of the hog-cocks were waving and slapping in Amidala’s upturned face.  She stuck out her tongue as the dicks rubbed on her skin and along her mouth, smearing precum on her soft, pink skin.

“No! Blast it all, you fools!” Webit screamed as he watched.  “I’m ruined!”

Padmé worked her hands along the fat shafts of the green dicks as her mouth alternated between the two remaining cocks, soaking each in her saliva till they dripped onto her huge tits, before moving onto the next.

“I’m due for a good porking, boys.  Who wants a go at my royal gash?” the Queen asked, as she fidgeted on the ground, her lips wet with precum and saliva.

The gamorreans all snorted and grunted in approval and the eighteen year old sat back on the ground and spread her legs wide, her short skirt already above her crotch, exposing her red panties, embroidered with the Royal House of Naboo insignia. She reached between her thighs and ran her painted nails over her crotch, gasping as she rubbed her clit momentarily.

“Go easy on me, loves, I haven’t had a pig roast in a while.”

The gamorreans briefly tussled as they shoved and jockeyed for position between Padmé’s young legs before one won out with a sharp squeal and a stern look.

“Seems Webit hasn’t been seeing to your needs.  That’s why you should join the Royal Security Forces. I always personally see to my men’s needs.”

Amidala wasn’t sure if they were listening to her, or could even understand her, but she was ever the diplomat, and if she could come out of this with four new gamorrean guards, all the better.

The fierce looking hog warrior between her opened legs gripped his fat dick and stroked it roughly several times as he leaned himself into the Queen, his dick brushing up against her covered crotch.

“Oh, let’s make an opening for you first,” she offered, pushing aside her panties.  “Then this will go much easier.”

Padmé felt the bulbous head touch her naked sex and then push into her.  “By the Maker… you are thick,” she commented and looked around her at the three other gamorreans surrounding her upturned face, their dicks hanging out invitingly, waiting for more.

“Don’t be shy now; consider my mouth an open invitation.”  Padmé opened wide and tilted her head back even further.  A gamorrean stepped over and shoved his cock inside, his balls slapping against her nose and eyes as he jammed himself into her.  The thick dick was visible in her throat as the grunting hog slid his prick through her tight lips, traveling down her neck as the meat pumped her gullet.

The Queen held herself upright with both arms as kneeling gamorrean pressed harder into her tiny pussy, stretching her labia wider than it had been in months.  These pig-dicks are thicker than gungans! she thought to herself. Feels like he could tear me apart!

The hog creature squealed and thrust again into her, forcing his domed dick head through her constricting pussy lips and into her silky tunnel.  Oh by the Great Goddess Shiraya, that’s a fat cock!  Amidala exclaimed mentally, though only moaned loudly around the cock stuffed in her mouth, her vision obscured by a sweaty sack of pig balls.

The gamorrean started to pound into her snatch, driving more and more of his long, fist-thick dick into her.  Amidala only mewed and moaned with each stab of huge meat into her, her mouth never unmuffled by dick to say a word of passion.  She could hardly catch her breath as the pig guards switched places.

So consumed in pleasure, she hardly thought anything of it when she felt the prods of their cocks on her huge tits, followed by eager paws on each fleshy orb.  She kept sucking and her body kept bouncing as the fat pig dick jammed into her pussy.

A pop of static filled the Queen’s ears as she suddenly felt a gush of cool air around her body.  She opened her eyes and saw nothing standing behind her, despite the cock in her mouth remaining.  She turned her head upright and realized the dick between her lips had been separated, violently so, from its former owner.  She quickly spat it out, disgusted but also confused at the lack of blood.  She looked between her legs and saw a similar sight of dismembered hog cock between her pussy lips.  Padmé plucked it out and tossed it aside as she realized what had happened.

Their rubbing of her breasts had activated her personal shield.  She looked around the room and saw the four discarded gamorreans.  Each seemed to be alive, though two were without their pricks.  Thankfully for her, the shield had cauterized the wounds instantly.  In short order she heard loud squealing and moaning as they two hog men discovered their wounds.  The two other got to their feet and looked upon Padmé as some kind of demon.  A demon of lusty desire.  They knelt before her.

“What in the Fire Rings of Fornax was that?!” the Queen heard from above her.  She saw Webit still entrapped in his command center, standing at a control console.

“That was my power, Webit,” Amidala pronounced in her commanding, deep voice. “Do you surrender?”

“Never, you slutty princess!  I only wanted to see the show and save it as a memento of my visit to your garish planet.  Thank you for the dirty footage – I guarantee you will see both it and myself again, soon!”  Webit hollered and then slammed a claw down on a large red button.  A succession of loud thuds sounded around the chamber and thick metal panels slammed over the windows of Webit’s compartment.  A second later there was an explosion and the entire encasement rocketed out of the chamber, through the ceiling and into the sky.

Amidala clenched her fist as she watched the slaver get away and swore he would meet justice one day – and at her hands.

<><><> 

One week later, Queen Amidala stood in the rear courtyard of the Royal Theed Palace, surrounded by a small cadre of gungan soldiers, Otoh Gunga dignitaries and the disapproving members of her own Royal Advisory Council.  Dressed in a gown that echoed the one she had worn four years earlier during the ceremony that had united the peoples of Naboo in peace, she was here to give an award to Yambo, the brave sole survivor of her personal guard during the mission to defeat the vile slaver Webit.

While she had been “negotiating” with the h’nemthe, Paps had unfortunately bled out, dying slowly as the battle had continued outside on the plains for some time.  Nearly the entire contingent of gungans had been lost in the fight, including everyone from Barracks 2.  Apparently her pep rally hadn’t done much to help the men focus.  Their commanding officers said they were distracted by thoughts of lust for “Da Red Boobsie Guddess” of the Naboo.  Queen Amidala felt terrible.  The least she could do was honor the dead by recognizing the living.

Dressed in a skimpy, tight dress that barely reached her hips, Amidala had downed a healthy serving of Jumba Juice an hour before, resulting in her huge breasts bursting out of her top and being completely exposed.  Her legs were covered in thigh-high shimmersilk stockings with the Royal Insignia at the top of each.  A white-petaled scarf hung over her shoulders and a silver necklace dangled at her neck.  Her face was painted white, as usual, and her forehead was overlaid with a pattern of slim chains with three small gems.  Behind her head was a beige fan to further contrast her from her surroundings – though in her present state, no one could miss her.

Standing atop a small platform, Padmé held a Jafan Award for Bravery in both hands, as Yambo walked towards her.  Dressed in fine gungan armors, polished to a reflective shine, she could see herself in his chest plate – and the disapproving expressions of the councilors standing behind her.  The strong, tall gungan stopped before her and she realized she could reach his neck.  It was against custom for a gungan warrior to bow while honoring their gods, which was the only way they accepted any honors.

Amidala gulped. This was awkward.  “Umm, Yambo… where am I to hang your medal?” she asked quietly, glancing aside at the dozen or so who had come to witness this ceremony.

Yambo looked down at her, his expression grim.  She wondered if he knew what had transpired with her Webit while his friend bled out.  The silent gungan reached for his crotch and pulled away the armoring, his green, erect cock springing forth.

“Oh my goodness!” Amidala exclaimed, as she saw the gungan warrior’s fat green dick pop out before her.  “I suppose this will do…”



The young Queen leaned over, exposing her bare backside to the council behind her.  She could see their expressions in Yambo’s armor.  Governor Sio Bibble, Prime Councilor Hiron Bracken, Dennef, Graf Zapalo, and Hugo Eckener all looked on with interested expressions, while Lufta Shif, Hela Brandes and the other women only fumed hotter. She was only glad that Horace Vancil and Mexus Malvane were no longer on the Council. The elderly human might have had a heart attack, while the falleen Malvane might have found the display stimulating of pheromones that would cause the ceremony to get diverted.

As it was, the award ceremony concluded in a way that would be scandalous for the more conservative culture of Theed, but would be right at home for the sexually-liberated city of Moenia. As Amidala reached forward to lay the medal over the shaft of the gungan warrior, he grunted several times, his long, thick dick spurting out several shots of white, milky semen onto her remarkably huge breasts.

“Dis for Paps,” Yomba dourly stated.



“I accept it in his honor, brave Yomba.  Now please accept this.”  Amidala laid the ribbon holding up the medal over his dripping dick and bowed respectfully.  Yomba took the medal from his cock and put it around his neck, and quickly re-covered his crotch before turning around.

The gathered audience clapped and whispered, unsure of exactly what had transpired as the tall, broad gungan had blocked their view.  Whispers of the white cream on the Queen’s breasts drew suspicions, but the presence of the newest members of her Royal Guard – two burly gamorreans – quieted any unflattering comments.

<><><> 

Later that evening, the Queen visited the Theed Royal Infirmary, a brightly lit white room in the lower levels of the Palace.  Her chest had mostly deflated by now, and she was dressed in a more modest gown, befitting her persona as the innocent young virgin of Naboo.

The large room was mostly empty, save for two gamorreans resting on beds, white sheets covering their bodies.  The fat, round beasts were sleeping soundly as a pair of narrow, spindly medical droids monitored their vitals.

“Was the surgery a success?” the Queen asked one of the droids, MD-3.

In a high pitched, clipped voice one of the droids responded, “Yes, Your Highness.  They should be ready for discharge by morning.”

“Discharge?” Amidala smirked. “I should hope so.”  She walked over to the nearest resting gamorrean and lifted the sheet covering him.  He was naked underneath, his grotesque body was as unsightly as ever, but her interest lay in one area in particular.  The eighteen year old Queen reached for his crotch and felt a long, thick phallus.

“We followed your desired specifications to the letter, Your Highness,” the droid added.

“Perfect.  Their two friends, Ung and Tard, will be jealous.”  Padmé pulled away the sheet entirely, revealing a fifty centimeter flaccid cock, thicker than her fist lying across the leg of the sleeping pig creature. It had been flash-cloned from the gamorrean’s cells – with some genetic tinkering – and grafted onto the cauterized wound site. “But I’ll have a special place for these two, Penga and Hostra.”  She looked from one to the other.  “I’ll have to properly initiate them into my service tomorrow.”

THE END

Monday, March 2, 2015

The Padmé Amidala Show: Trip to the Undercity

v1.1

The Padmé Amidala Show: 

Trip to the Undercity

By Pyro

Padmé Amidala reviewed her reflection in the ornate full length mirror, admiring her elaborate gown and hair-piece, a round silver halo of curved wings inspired by those of the Angels of Iego. She enjoyed the purity of its symbolism, something she aspired to as both a senator and as a person. Prudence and modesty in all things was her personal motto. The senator smoothed her long velvoid skirt, admiring her expensive, custom made gown. It was more akin to something she had worn as Queen of Naboo years ago, a confining outfit with a high collar and that left everything to the imagination. Her sleeves were just short of her wrists and expanded to a wide opening at a slight angle. Her top was more formfitting than anything she had worn as queen, however, and her secretly large bust was tightly wrapped in a thick layer of blaster-resistant fabric. She could have done with a bit of cleavage but thought better of inspiring any lust in the eyes of strangers, particularly where she was headed.


Satisfied with her appearance, Padmé walked briskly from her bedchamber. As usual, her Chief Handmaiden, Dormé, was but a half-step behind. A small floating orb about the size of a gervi fruit hung in mid-air above the politician, ducking quickly under obstacles as it persistently followed the every step of its target. The captain of her guard, Gregar Typho, stood stiffly with his hands behind his back, a disapproving look on his face as Padmé entered the veranda. He could tell the senator was attempting to defer his expected protest with a hasty exit. Dormé fussed over Padmé’s elaborate dress until Amidala shooed the nervous young woman away with a sweet smile.


“I’ll say this one last time, M’Lady. This public relations...stunt is too risky. The lower classes are furious with the Senate right now. Years of war have left the disadvantaged people of the underlevels in a dire state."


“I know the dangers, Captain,” replied Padmé as she walked to the edge of the veranda, approaching her small personal airspeeder, a bronze two-seater DC0045 with a transparisteel dome. “I’ve visited the Undercity before on several occasions, and have always managed to come out in one piece. Even without the protections of your security detachment.”


The waiting speeder sat idly, engine purring as one of its wing doors opened upward for its passenger. The young politician lifted her voluminous skirts as she stepped inside the craft. “I need to be down with the people right now, to show them that the Senate cares. It’s my duty to ease their daily burdens. Besides, I’ll be on the HoloNet the entire time. What could possibly happen to a senator with the eyes of millions on her?” She gestured toward the floating chrome-plated orb that had been shadowing her.  It's wide, jutting lens locked onto her like a magnet.


“I wish we could have outfitted D-z with a stun blaster at least,” Typho grumbled.


“I’m not unarmed, Captain, you know that,” Padmé said as she patted her left sleeve, where her ELG-3A blaster pistol was holstered.


When the captain opened his mouth to continue his protest, the senator simply raised her right hand. “I’d rather not have any more delays, Captain. Thank you for your concern.” Senator Amidala glanced up at the droid. “Come along, Daisy,” she added needlessly as the droid bobbed into the speeder’s compartment.


Typho bowed his head as the speeder door lowered and sealed shut. Padmé settled into her seat as the droid pilot, DZ-4, pulled away from the veranda and veered off into traffic before diving downward. Normally her rodian pilot Meego would fly her, as on her galactic tours, but for this particular… mission… Padmé thought it best to spare his sensibilities. The speeder glided through streams of flying traffic as it sunk lower towards the Undercity of Coruscant, where the sun was barely seen and the fog of pollution wafted through humid air.


Padmé checked the holdout blaster she had tucked away – an unfortunate but necessary precaution – and took a deep breath. The ride was quick, taking her to the closest maglev transport station in the lower levels. Her ears popped a few times during the steep descent. DZ-4 settled the expensive speeder onto an open landing pad, little more than an outcropping on a busy walkway, and opened its passenger door for the senator. Padmé peered out into the dense crowd and then took her first step out on the stained, filthy street. The floating holocam droid zipped outside the craft and turned its lens onto the young woman. It beeped and a light on the side of its smooth ultrachrome surface turned to red. Padmé heard it and thought to herself, The show’s begun. Let’s hope I can put on a good one.


Senator Amidala moved off the landing pad and into the vast crowd shifting down the wide walkway, behind her she heard the speeder lift off, DZ-4 already having been told to return to her apartment in the Senate Apartment Complex. Padmé mingled with the mass of aliens and humans alike along the litter-strewn causeway. Creatures and species of all shapes and sizes walked and pushed at each other as they moved along garishly lit promenades, where all manner of goods and services from across the galaxy were on display behind wide, grubby windows and dilapidated store fronts.


The smell of so many gathered together made Padmé’s pert nose burn. She was used to the fine aromas and sweet scents that came with a life of luxury. Most of the pedestrians wore tattered clothes, looking and smelling like they hadn't bathed in days. Legless beings sat along walls and begged for money, Padmé tossed what few credits she’d brought with her into webbed or furry hands. She was continually reminded that her actions were being broadcast by the mechanical whirling of D-z’s lens, but she tried not to play to the camera. It had been Dormé’s idea to directly promote this good-will trip through the HoloNet, but Padmé wondered if it could be taken as purely politically motivated, and not out of true kindness or concern.


Amidala continued on, letting the current of the crowd guide her, taking in the sights and trying to remain as anonymous as possible, despite her notably more refined appearance. The young woman followed the mass until she arrived at the run-down Elcor Station some distance away from her landing pad. A waiting maglev was taking passengers and Padmé shuffled aboard one of the stuffy, spray-painted riding cars.


The cramped maglev offered few luxuries and as expected, all of the seats were occupied. Padmé stood as the doors slid shut and the floating transport lurched into motion along a magnetic rail that snaked through the Coruscant Undercity.


As she stood quietly holding a hanging grip with her right hand, Padmé noticed several of the passengers sniffing in her direction. The young senator suddenly wished she hadn't put on the perfume that Anakin had given her during his last brief leave from the Outer Rim Sieges. Padmé blushed as she recalled that long, sweaty evening. Anakin had been particularly vigorous that night; Padmé had comforted him as best she could after he’d told her that Ahsoka had left the Jedi Order following the actions of their mutual former lover, Barriss Offee. Anakin had been on the verge of tears when he had told Padmé in bed, so as any good wife should, she had gone down on him. It had progressed from there to a night of furious fucking so intense that Padmé’s knees quivered under her long skirts just thinking about it.


The petite politician was so lost in her pleasant memories that she failed to notice the scruffy human male who had pushed his way through the crowded maglev to stand behind her. The unshaven man glanced up at the hovering holo-camera droid that was recording the lovely senator.


“You’re that senator I hears about on the ‘Net. The fancy one that makes all the trouble in the Senate,” he said hoarsely into Padmé’s ear. The man looked around the car and saw others nodding, each of them recognizing this strange, beautiful woman who had entered their world.


The senator was pulled out of her reverie by his gruff voice and hot breath against the nape of her neck. Padmé stiffened. Her first impulse was to let go of the hanging grip and take out her blaster, but she was immediately reminded of D-z’s presence, not to mention that drawing a blaster in a crowded maglev car would create a panic. With the hovering holo-camera transmitting a live stream of her time in the Undercity, it would destroy all the goodwill she was trying to build if she pulled a blaster on a citizen.


After the senator failed to respond, the man pressed again, “So you come down here to give us a little something for all those taxes you squeeze out o’ us?”


Padmé bit her lower lip when the man wrapped his strong left arm around her slim waist. She grimaced when she felt him press his crotch into the back of her velvoid dress. Even through the thick fabric, Padmé could feel the man's bulge rubbing between her buttocks.


“I certainly think I’m due a bit,” the greasy man grunted into the short young woman’s right ear as his unwashed right hand reached around to squeeze the senator’s breast through her dress.


Keeping calm, Padmé kept her gaze straight ahead. The other passengers were grinning as they watched the famous senator get fondled by the horny vagrant. Amidala could see the molesting man’s reflection with her own in the riding car’s large side windows. He had unwashed hair, long but balding on the top of his head. Scuff marks and dirt smudged his face and his shirt looked like it had been used to wash the underside of a garbage pit hauker. His left eye was nearly solid white, a tell-tale side effect of shooting up snow-spice. I’ll call you Whitey, Padmé said to herself.


Whitey released his grip from her soft, covered breast only to begin plucking the buttons running down the middle of the senator's blossom wine-colored dress.


Padmé whimpered when the scruffy stranger slipped his harsh, callused right hand into her unbuttoned dress and grabbed tightly at one of her big, full breasts.


“Hey, you got some nice titties. Never woulda guessed. Bitches don't have ‘em this nice in the Undercity,” growled Whitey behind her as he firmly milked Padmé’s large left breast.


Amidala’s cheeks glowed pink as she lowered her eyes, watching the rough hand work her breast out of her gown, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh. Padmé moaned softly as the molesting man pinched her left nipple to hardness, all the while grinding his throbbing hard-on into her velvoid clad backside.


When she glanced at some of the other passengers watching, Padmé blushed even hotter as men and aliens alike were fondling their members as the whispering stranger kneaded her big breast. The grubby man was practically dry humping her in the crowded maglev car as the holo-camera transmitted the scene to everyone on Coruscant and anyone logged into the HoloNet.


<><><>


Captain Typho gripped Dormé’s hips in his gloved hands, pulling her naked backend rigidly onto his throbbing cock. The young girl from Moenia moaned as her whole body jostled, each sharp trust betraying his frustration. Gregor was taking out his anger with the senator on her willing aide’s clenched vagina.


“Shouldn’t we check the HoloNet?” Dormé asked raggedly, her speech broken up by the jabbing thrusts into her aching snatch.


“If the senator wants to go this alone so badly, she can,” the captain grumbled and then pounded particularly hard into the handmaiden’s accommodating pussy.


<><><>


Whitey, his breathing intensified and raged, pulled away from Padmé, ceasing his incessant grinding into her plump ass if only for a moment. The senator hoped the worst was over. Maybe the man had came already and was to wander off with his newly messy crotch. But the man suddenly reached down with his right hand, pulling up her flowing velvoid skirts and slipped his fingers underneath.


“Wh-?” moaned Padmé, looking down at the masculine arm sticking out from under her dress. She felt the disgusting stranger's questing fingers as he reached between her legs and pulled aside her Selab moth-fiber panties to find her sticky snatch.


“D-don’t!” groaned Amidala huskily before Whitey dipped his rough, calloused fingers into her undies and started fondling her pussy in full view of the passengers and the recording holo–camera.


“Why you so wet down here, senator?” chuckled the stranger as he stroked Padmé’s shivering sex, her juices dribbling down her naked, trembling inner thighs.


The senator’s pretty face flamed when she suddenly realized she was rubbing her ass into the stranger’s bulging crotch. The heavily-breathing man took Padmé’s limp left hand with his own and brought it behind her to his raging erection. He stuck her hand into his ratty pants; her fingers brushing over his penis before Padmé wrapped her delicate fingers around the thick, throbbing member.


“Squeeze it, slut,” whispered the man in Padmé’s ear as he stroked the petite senator’s hot, juicy pussy, his fingers drenched with her wetness.


Padmé leaned back into the stranger, resting her head on his chest as she caressed the swollen cock in her hand, feeling every pulsing vein as she worked her left hand down to the man's hairy scrotum. She teased his sack with her long, manicured nails before moving her hand upward again along his length of cock.


“You do that real good, Senator,” taunted the stranger before he wiggled his right index finger up into Padmé’s squishy snatch. “As good as one of those Slan Street girls.”


“Uhhhh,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she felt the smelly man’s dirty fingers poking further up into her vagina, coaxing more and more warm nectar from her gushing cunt to slide down her splayed thighs.


Amidala’s grip on the stranger’s cock tightened as her stroking sped up. She forgot all about the staring passengers or the hovering holo-camera as she grinded her ass against the stranger's hard frame, her right hand clutching the man’s right wrist as his lascivious fingers poked and penetrated her throbbing, dripping wet twat.


The stranger nuzzled Padmé’s coiled hair when he groaned, her ministrations bringing his cock to a gushing climax. Padmé whimpered when her cock-filled left hand was drenched in jizz, but continued milking the ejaculating prick even as her own sex juices gushed from her finger stuffed twat and soaked her quaking inner thighs.


The lights in the maglev car flickered and then went dark all together. The stranger behind her turned Amidala around, and then forced the beautiful senator to her knees. When Whitey opened his fly, his fat, cum covered prick sprung out and slapped Padmé in the face. Sticky semen smeared her right cheek and her pursed lips. The young senator couldn't see in the pitch-black maglev car, but knew exactly what was expected of her.


“Suck it, you Senate whore!” snarled the looming man.


Without a word of protest Padmé opened her mouth for the stranger’s filthy cock. Semen and saliva spilled down onto Amidala’s impressive cleavage as she slurped loudly on the hairy man's thick dick, swallowing the long, veiny appendage down her greedily gulping throat.


The hovering holo-camera turned on a beam of white light and aimed it right where Padmé was giving the maglev passenger head. There were shocked gasps and some lewd chuckles from the watching passengers as Padmé slurped wantonly on the moaning man's pecker, her tight lips working further and further down the veined shaft until the stranger's hairy balls rested on her saliva streaked chin.


The stranger clutched Padmé’s bobbing skull as he fucked the kneeling senator’s sloppily sucking mouth, his hand on the top of her halo as he drove his dick in harder and harder down her throat.


Padmé’s O-shaped lips slid faster and faster along the hairy man’s penis until he rammed his whole member down her tight esophagus and shot his thick wad into her mouth. The senator used her left hand to milk the stranger's smelly, hairy testicles as she drank all the man's salty discharge. Semen escaped from Padmé’s cock-stuffed mouth and dribbled down her glistening chin, long strings of spunk oozing off her face and splashing into the blushing cleft between her big tits.


Amidala made loud gulping noises as she finished sucking off the stranger's sticky dick. When she finally opened her lust glazed eyes, the lights were back on and she saw two human men old enough to be her father and a huge, overweight wookiee that had to hunch over to fit inside the cramped maglev car. All three had their cocks out, ready to receive the same Senatorial special.


Padmé licked her cum-covered lips and looked up at the recording holo-camera.


“I’m doing my part for the people of the Republic,” purred the senator before she took a huge, hairy wookiee cock between her sticky lips and proceeded to suck off the tall, growling beast. She was reminded of the ror’tukor she had experienced on her galactic tour when she had made a visit to Kashyyyk, and another wave of heat rose through her.


The other two men circled around her as the spent stranger walked away, satisfied with his service. In just a few seconds the young senator was surrounded by dicks, her hands at work on the two throbbing shafts of the older men while her hungry mouth worked down the meaty length of a huge, overweight wookiee with a dark, chubby cock.


<><><>


As the long maglev glided on its magnetic rail through the bowels of the Undercity on Coruscant, the floating holo-camera D-z continued to record the illustrious Senator Padmé Amidala, savior of Naboo and hero to the galaxy, as she rested on hands and knees upon the passenger car floor, sloppily slurping a trandoshan’s scaly green penis. A skinny rodian hooted as he clutched the prone senator’s rocking hips, pounding Padmé’s upraised, beading wet ass, her purple skirts thrown over her back.


The hovering holo-camera broadcast the senator’s maglev encounter to the HoloNet, which transmitted the live scene all across the galaxy. The counter on the HoloNet playback was at one billion hits and rising – especially on the worlds serviced by the pirate signals of the CIS Shadowfeed – as Padmé smoked the trandoshan’s thick, slick cock. Memories of her reptilian lover Xizor came to mind.


Amidala’s hair and headpiece remained perfectly in place, a testament to Dormé’s talents, as the senator’s beautiful flushed face swallowed the lizard alien's thrusting member. Her halo tiara studded with veda pearls offered a striking contrast to her current behavior. Padmé’s luscious lips locked tightly around the hissing alien’s dark green prick as the trandoshan held himself steady against a vertical pole bolted into the floor of the maglev, the dick-hungry senator guiding her own actions with enthusiasm. Padmé moaned loudly with her meat-stuffed mouth, her tongue exploring the unusual texture of the alien’s dick. The trandoshan pulled out and slapped his prick against one side of her face, pronouncing something in his native tongue that Padmé couldn't understand. She guessed he was asking her a question, or perhaps just taunting her. Amidala spotted D-z hovering overhead, waiting to record her response to this diplomatic quandary.


As her body rocked back and forth to the pounding of the rodian behind her, the good senator from Naboo spoke. “As a Republic representative, I am here to serve you…” Her eyes followed the dick as it slid across her forehead, smearing pre-cum on her smooth skin. “…And here to serve your cock, apparently,” she finished up, reaching with her left hand and guided the wayward phallus back into her mouth. Giving a wink for the camera, she resumed her wet, hungry blowjob.


Men and aliens were jerking off in their maglev seats as the big eyed rodian humped the young girl’s bare backside. The snout nosed alien drilled his cock furiously into Padmé’s dripping wet, slurping snatch, stuffing his stiff penis to the balls up Amidala’s tightly contracting vagina.


Padmé’s gleaming tits swung from her unbuttoned gown, smacking together in rhythm with the rutting of the alien taking her from behind. The young senator’s erect brown nipples brushed against the grated floor of the maglev as she slurped deeper and deeper on the scaly penis ramming its way all the way down her gulping throat.


Pulling her face away from the green cock, Padmé placed her right hand around its thick shaft, giving it a series of quick jerks as she spoke to the camera. “Trandoshan biology has always fascinated me. Your limbs grow back, but does your penis as well?” she asked, looking up at the growling alien as she stroked his dick. She had made a diplomatic visit to Trandosha during her galactic tour, but somehow had never found the time to ask detailed questions about trandoshan evolutionary history.


The trandoshan said something harshly and shook his head. Padmé wasn’t sure, but that seemed like a negative answer. “I suppose not. I promise not to bite off your cock, then,” she said with a chuckle and then resumed sucking on the thick, rough dick.


The maglev was approaching the next station when the trandoshan growled and flooded Padmé’s wanton mouth with thick, salty sperm. The senator guzzled the lizard alien's gushing fuck as the rodian hooted again just before he blasted a torrent of rodian cum into her accommodating cunt.


Milky jizz dribbled down Padmé’s chin and out of her thoroughly plowed pussy, splashing to the filthy plasteel floor of the maglev. Padmé kept drinking the trandoshan’s cum until the maglev settled to a stop. The two aliens standing over Padmé withdrew themselves and tucked their sticky, spent dicks back into their clothes.


The disoriented senator climbed to her feet, wiping some fat drops of cum off her perky, full breasts. The petite senator lowered her voluminous skirts before buttoning up the top of her velvoid gown, her mind racing with conflicting feelings of regret and glee. She noted D-z still floating nearby, its lens restlessly fixed on her. She forced a smile and said, “It’s always my pleasure to experience the difficult cultures and practices of other species. And it’s encouraging that we can find a common… interest in which to share.”


She heard a few stinkers and chuckles around her on the maglev. “This is better than subscribing to Bang Cruiser,” she heard an aqualish mention to a pho ph’eahian.


The passenger car doors opened and the crowd of humans and aliens reluctantly filed out, casting covetous glances at the flush faced young woman. Padmé licked the lingering trandoshan semen from her wet lips, and then gave the hovering holo-camera a glare for recording the entire raunchy event on the maglev.


As she stepped out onto the dank streets of the Undercity, the lingering taste of trandoshan spunk reminded the young woman of the pom leaves back on Naboo. As a young girl in her home village of Cokenvee, she would collect them with her sister Sola in the streams of the Gallo Mountains and then return home, where her mother Jobal would use them to make a tea. One time she and her sister encountered a wandering gungan named Bekbee. Padmé pushed that memory aside; she didn’t need any more distractions on this trip.


<><><>


Anakin Skywalker stared out at the darkened buildings of the Undercity through the blaster proof windscreen of the Low Altitude Assault Transport. The hazy neon lights and streaks of white danced off his stern face as they descended through the thick smog of pollution. The steep angle of their craft tilted everyone aboard forward, forcing Anakin to brace himself on the bulkhead above him. An armored clone trooper sitting in front and to the side of him worked the controls of the craft silently.


To the rear of the cockpit was an open bay with benches lining the re-enforced walls of the combat-scorched gunship. Four more soldiers sat in pairs opposite one another, strapped in and armed to the teeth. One clone, his armor detailed with orange stripes, held up a datapad and snickered as he watched the screen.


“Check out this, Cracker,” he said to the squad mate beside him, a clone with brown splotches on his otherwise standard issue armor. The other clone turned his helmeted head and looked at the screen.


“Damn it, Vex, you shouldn’t be watching this trash while we’re on mission,” he said in a gravelly voice.


“This is our mission! Senator Amidala. She’s on the ‘Net, doing this!”


“Kark! No way she’s doing that on the ‘Net.”


A clone opposite them, his armor dotted with small patches of black and blue camo, spoke up. “Let me see.”


Vex handed over the ‘pad and the other clone whistled.


“See, Spax likes it too,” Vex said defiantly.


“Keep it quiet,” spoke up the last clone, his armor entirely white and clean, but his voice revealed a steady confidence. “The general wouldn’t want to see this. He has a thing for the senator.”


“I heard she’s fucked half the 501st,” Cracker added.


“I heard it’s all poodoo,” Spax said. “Those holos of her with the nexu on Geonosis and the gungans on Naboo and the rest are just Shadowfeed propaganda from the Seps. She was a queen. She’s probably a virgin.”


Vex chuckled. “There are a lot of stories, Spax. But maybe we can ask her ourselves when we find her.”


“What’s the chatter?” Anakin said sharply, standing at the entrance to the cockpit.


“Nothing, General,” said the white-armored clone as he pulled the viewer from Spax’s gloved hand and tucked it between the seats.


“That’s good, Aton. I need you and your men sharp. This is a dangerous part of town. Stay alert, find the senator and get her back to the gunship.” Anakin paused for a moment. “I wonder why she went into the Undercity in the first place?” He shook his head. “Either way, the Chancellor called upon us specifically for this, so don’t let him down.”


<><><>


The orb shaped holo-camera hovered over Padmé as she walked along an elevated walkway. The bright glowlamps suspended overhead lit her way through an otherwise dark, murky environment. The senator could still taste of cum on her tongue, and her pussy ached from the rough jousting of the rodian’s thin but lengthy cock.


Amidala felt ashamed for what she’d done, particularly in full view of the Republic. She’d have to think a way out of this mess. Perhaps claiming it was a fraud would suffice. A trick perpetrated by the Separatists to ruin her good standing. An impostor sent out to embarrass one of the most revered and recognizable senators in the Republic, not to mention one of the most powerful. A clone of her, raised in a rough environment without her culture and education. Perhaps her holo had been hacked – that was a certainly a more plausible explanation.


As Padmé considered the repercussions, she weighed another possibility. Her actions may not have been wholly damaging. In fact, they might have done more good for her cause than she could have hoped for otherwise. It was no secret she was lusted after by males galaxy wide, and some females too for that matter. Letting a few of those most under-privileged live out a fantasy from their wildest dreams would only increase her popularity, and show the people that the senators aren’t so detached. At least this one isn’t. Senator Amidala is a politician who will put herself at your service and she’s here to help. She’s in this with you, not above you. It was just that sort of attitude that Teckla had once told her was why she was so popular. As long as she could keep Anakin in the dark – something easily accomplished when she considered how easily fooled he had proven thus far – she could come out of this with a vast new bloc of supporters. This would give working the polls a whole new meaning, Padmé thought to herself.


Of course there were other senators to deal with, but with her allies like Bail Organa or Mon Mothma she could use the fraud angle, and her opponents were either those widely recognized as being just short of Separatist sympathizers, or the Militarists who would never slander one of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s closest allies. Besides, something this provocative wouldn’t likely come up in conversation. It was so outlandish that more than likely her peers will dismiss it out of hand, even if they then secretly masturbated to the footage in private. But even that would just make her even more desirable and powerful. Another advantage for being me.


Suddenly a ringing caught the senator’s attention and she recalled her comlink at her side. She pulled the small circular device from her waist pocket and activated it. She saw her husband’s head flicker into view.


“Senator! Are you all right?” he asked impatiently.


Padmé knew he must be in the company of someone else, otherwise he wouldn’t have called her by her title. And thankfully enough, as she was still being transmitted to the entire Republic via D-z.


“Yes, Jedi Skywalker, wh-why do you ask?” She was worried he had seen the HoloNet video stream.


“The Chancellor heard of your intention to go into the Undercity alone. For some… publicity stunt. It’s far too dangerous for someone of your stature to go into such a dangerous area without a guard.”


“I’m just… working some polls, that’s all.” Padmé smirked and winked at the camera. “The people of the Undercity are not to be feared. They are in need. I am here to provide succor to those hard… men, with their big… troubles.”


Anakin huffed, “I’m on my way with a squad to secure you. Stay in your position and we’ll be there shortly.” With that, the Jedi ended the transmission.


Padmé felt deflated. That was exactly what she didn’t want. The Jedi were seen as overlords, daunting authority figures who overruled all others. This would only strengthen that belief that the war was simply a ruse by the Jedi to leash the Senate to their High Council. Amidala put away the comlink and decided to carry on instead. Anakin would have to come and find her.


Continuing on down the darkened walkways, passing by beggars and street urchins alike, the senator kept to herself as best as possible. On occasion she would hand a few credit chits out to those who asked for them. After her ordeal aboard the maglev, Padmé wasn’t entirely caught off guard when an elderly man with a mud stained blanket approached her and exposed himself.


“Shiraya!” Padmé said, aghast as the man old enough to be her dead Grandfather Luke threw his blanket to the ground, leaving himself completely naked and proceeded to grip his erect penis in one hand and jerk it furiously as he eyed her, grinning a toothless smile.


The senator looked up at D-z, and then decided to side step the masturbating man. The elderly fellow giggled widely as he jacked himself off, keeping himself pointed at her as she passed by. Padmé looked over her shoulder as the man ejaculated and then ran screaming down the walkway in the opposite direction, leaving behind his blanket.


“What a poor unfortunate,” Padmé commented to the holo-camera. “It looked like he could have used a hand,” she added with an arched eyebrow and wry smile. A bit of levity and humor wouldn’t go amiss in this circumstance.


A loud hum from above the senator caught her attention and she looked skyward, just in time to see a bank of backlit grayish fog as a gang of swoop riders dove out of the smoggy heavens with their engines blaring and headlights shining down at her. The group landed in a rough circle around Amidala as she stopped in her tracks. She felt for the holdout blaster in her wide sleeve but then gritted her teeth; she'd lost back on the maglev!


The swoop thugs were all human, sporting shaved heads or garishly colored hairstyles, each more intimidating than the last.


“Look what we have here, boys!” crowed the leader, a bald headed thug with pale green eyes and bare torso. He stepped off his bike and started toward the frightened young woman, his tight synthleather pants squeaking as he walked.


“The princess looks lost. We don't see your kind in the Undercity,” drooled another thug with spiky blue hair as he threw a leg over his swoop and got to his feet. He wore large goggles that seemed to allow him to see through Padmé’s gown, judging by the swoop rider’s sudden erection in his otherwise baggy pants.


The senator raised her arms to her chest and took a step back. The holo-camera was still transmitting, so she had to diplomatic about this.


The goggle-wearing thug stalked around Padmé, admiring her body and her tight top, then flipped up the back of her long dress to pinch Padmé’s ass. Amidala spun to admonish his lewd action, allowing the bald leader to lunge in and seize her slim arms.


“Let’s take her into the alley and have some fun!” sneered the swoop gang leader, before he dragged Padmé into a steamy, stinking alleyway just a few meters away.


The leader of the swoop gang shoved Padmé hard into the wide alley. The recording holo-camera hovered over the leering band of thugs, flicking on its high beam to illuminate the action in the darken alley as the swoop gang followed their leader. The four men surrounded the gown-clad senator, each grinning with devious intent. Padmé looked from the bald leader, half naked but with an impressive body to show for it, to his left where a man with spiky blue hair and goggles stood, gritting un-brushed teeth. Next to him was a younger boy with a pink mohawk and leather jacket that looked several sizes too big for his small body. Behind the senator was a blonde boy in a vest and shorts, tapping a hydrospanner in one palm threateningly. Baldy, Goggles, Mohawk, and Spanner, Padmé named them to herself.


“We don’t see high class ladies wandering the streets of the Undercity. You looking for something special those rich aurodium-plated types can’t provide, bitch?”


“I just... it’s a goodwill tour!” stammered Padmé, casting glances up at the floating droid broadcasting everything to the galactic HoloNet.


“You want to get close and personal with the great unwashed masses, huh?” smirked the green eyed bald man.


At a nod from their leader, Mohawk and Spanner grabbed Padmé’s shoulders and forced the young woman to the dirty alley floor. The senator fought meekly, not wanting to agitate the situation any further.


“Please… be gentle,” Padmé requested with a whimper.


Suddenly a flurry of blaster bolts rained down the length of the alley. The gang all dropped to the ground in an instant and an amplified voice blared out, “Cease your illegal action immediately!”


Within a split second Padmé was the only one not cowering on the filthy surface of the alley. She saw four clone troopers with their blasters pointed at the group of would-be gang-bangers. Behind the troopers she made out the unmistakable Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Knight, the Hero with No Fear, and her secret husband. In his left hand he held a small speaking device, in the opposite his un-ignited lightsaber.


“Ana…uh, General Skywalker,” she said, catching herself. Getting to her feet she felt the urge to run and hug her husband but quickly thought better of it.


“Senator, you seem unharmed,” Anakin said in a detached tone befitting their cover.


“Yes, thank you, General,” Padmé said as she brushed her skirts. “You came in the nick of time. No telling what those hooligans had planned for me.”


Anakin nodded. “No doubt something treacherous.” He looked down at the group of four thugs as the clones secured them with binders and hoisted them to their feet. “Hmm. Looks like Zoloz, to me. Usually don’t see them this far in from the Rim.” Anakin’s attention returned to his wife and he smiled. “You look as lovely as ever, Senator.”


Padmé blushed and noted the floating holo-camera still recording her every action. She was grateful that Anakin wasn’t one to pay attention to the HoloNet, or else this would have been a very different confrontation.


“Thank you, General. My trip to the Undercity has been a trying one but one that hasn’t been wasted, I hope.” She looked over to her right, at stained and graffitied wall the five hoodlums were now lined against, their backs to her, the clone troopers working quickly to secure the scene. “I hope we can be lenient on these poor unfortunates. After all, I feel I’m as much to blame for their circumstance as they are.”


Anakin gaped, and a beat passed as he struggled to find the words. “Senator… I’m not sure how that can be the case. In any event, we’ll let the courts sort this out.” With Wilhuff Tarkin as the newly-appointed Adjutant General operating under recent wartime powers granted to the Office of the Chancellor by the Senate, the once-withered judiciary could now act surprisingly efficiently against those who challenged the Republic.


“I’m not pressing charges, General. These men are free to go if I have anything to say about it,” Padmé said proudly, cocking her head.


Anakin fumed. This was frustrating and embarrassing. He had little recourse in this situation as he couldn't very well put her over his knee in public, and he didn’t want to get into a verbal argument in front of his men. “We’ll have to process them at least.”


“I think that would be fine,” Padmé replied with an magnanimous tone.


The Jedi hated it when his wife was in politician mode. Typical stuck-up holier-than-thou know-it-all.


“I’ll go get the local Coruscant Security Force detachment. Troopers, if you’ll escort the senator back to the ship,” Anakin said as he walked away.


“I’m not ready to leave yet. My good will tour of the Undercity has only just begun,” Padmé said assuredly.


Anakin paused in his steps, and then continued on. “Fine. Spax and Cracker, stay behind with the senator. Aton and Vex, come with me.”


Padmé watched her husband leave the alley and round the corner with the two clones flanking him. She looked at both of the troopers left with her, standing silently, some distance away to monitor the group of thugs and her.


Padmé approached her attackers as they stood at the wall.


“Easy, Senator, these men are not to be trusted,” said the clone with brown markings on his armor. “The Zoloz are notorious for robberies, spice smuggling, sex slave trafficking-”


“I understand the dangers, soldier. But I represent these men as well. It’s my duty to ensure their rights as galactic citizens are looked after,” she said over her shoulder before turning her attention back to her would-be assailants.


The gang leader turned his head as best her could toward the senator, without moving his body and said, “How about a quick suck, love? Before I get locked up for life?”


Padmé sniffed at his vulgarity but still managed to evenly reply, “You won’t be going away for life. Or for any length of time. I hope you can use this opportunity to better yourselves and your community. Focus your organization toward helping your fellow citizens of the Undercity, rather than preying on them.”


The gang leader chuckled. “The only thing that matters to me is getting my wick sucked and having food in my belly by crash time. You can help me with at least one of those things.”


“It’s too bad I don’t have any food on me, then,” Padmé said, and then stepped away. She noticed one of the clones had his hand to helmet, evidently getting a message.


“Cracker,” he said to his partner, “new orders from Coruscant Command HQ. We’ve got to get back to the transport, ASAP.”


“What about the senator?”


“She’s not mission priority. Stays behind.”


“Shavit. The general will be pissed.”


“He’s got the same orders. Let’s move out.”


The two clones started to hustle down the alley. Padmé called out to them, “W-wait! What am I supposed to do with them?” she asked, gesturing toward the gang, but the clones ignored her as they left the alley way and turned right.


“Great,” said the gang leader. “Looks like we’re left to look after the princess.”


The gang stepped away from the alley wall and gravitated toward the abandoned politician. Padmé tried not to panic as she was surrounded. Above her the droid D-z continued to bob about, its lens still fixed on her.


The group closed ranks, trapping Amidala in the center of their circle, all of them leering at her.


“Alright, Miss High and Mighty. It’s time you put your rosy talking mouth to good use.”


Padmé gulped and nervous looked around her. “Wh-what do you want?”


The leader looked down at his crotch and then up at her. “You know what I want.”


Padmé hesitated and realized there was no escape, at least not safely. It wouldn’t do to have her abused on the HoloNet, or these thugs for that matter. She took a breath and then reached for Baldy’s crotch. She rubbed the bulge underneath the ragged fabric and then slipped her hand inside his waist band, finding a hot shaft inside. She gasped, wrapping her fingers around its thickness and then tugging down his pants with her other hand, exposing his long, fat cock.


“Oh my goodness,” she said quietly, admiring its size as her hand slowly stroked it up and down, the tip already dripping with precum.


“Suck it, Senator. Give me something back for my taxes!” he barked.


The other thugs snickered and Padmé looked around her at the three other men and their aching boners, hidden away in their stretched out shorts and pants. The senator slowly descended to her knees and took in a deep breath and looked up at D-z, blasted by the droid’s bright light, and then back at the fat dick dangling before her. The senator leaned forward and stuck out her tongue, licking the leader's hovering knob, bouncing it on her tongue as precum dabbed onto it. Padmé closed her mouth to taste it and then stuck out her tongue again to lick more fervently at the hot cock.


“Look, the slut likes it!” crowed the leader as the young beauty held his cock.


Padmé licked the rounded tip until it gleamed with her saliva. Her fingers were locked around the base of his cock as she tongued the puffy crown of his dick, her other hand cupping his hairy balls. Taking another deep breath, Padmé then leaned in further and wrapped her full lips around the knob and sucked the veined member into her warm mouth. After a moment’s hesitation she pushed her face in deeper and took the meat stick down her tight throat.


“Uhhh,” groaned the swoop thug as he began to thrust with his pelvis, fucking Padmé’s luscious, tightly locked lips. “Aww yeah, that’s the stuff.”


Amidala’s head bobbed over the burly man's erection. Strings of her saliva slid down the stiff prick as she gobbled Baldy’s cock, her tongue caressing the bottom of the boner as her O-shaped lips worked all the way down to his hairy scrotum.


“I want the slut to suck me off too!” barked the swoop thug in goggles as he nudged at Padmé’s shoulder with his hidden boner until she let the leader’s dripping dick slide out of her open mouth. Her eyes darted to her left and she spotted the covered crotch of Goggles. She roughly tugged down his pants with one hand, revealing an erect but neglected cock and quickly took the blue-haired thug’s penis between her soaking wet lips.


“Mmmmph,” moaned Padmé with her mouth full of meat as the watching holo-camera captured everything.


The skinniest of the gang, Spanner as she had named him, stood to the senator’s right and began nudging his crotch at her smooth shoulders as well. “Come on, bitch, show us some tits!”


Padmé pulled at the buttons of her violet dress, opening her top to expose her surprisingly large and perky tits. Her brown nipples were fully erect, betraying a keenness for her current task.


The senator’s right hand reached out toward the nudging blonde gang member, finding the buttons of his shorts and quickly working them open with one hand. Her hand slipped inside and tugged out a third erect cock as she smoked the goggle wearing thug’s dripping wet prick. Goggles panted and humped Amidala’s flushed face until the leader shoved the blue-haired swoop thug aside so the cock-sucking senator would return to giving his drool drenched dick affection.


Padmé looked up at the gang leader with large, brown eyes as she swallowed the big man’s thick member.


“Mmm, mmmm, mmmm,” moaned the senator as she devoured the swoop thug’s throbbing, pumping appendage.


“I heard that you Senate types were always polling, but I didn’t know you meant this,” the leader said with a chuckle. Padmé pulled away from the cock, drool spilling down her chin in sloppy strings. She took the leader’s cock into her right hand to stroke as she spoke to the floating holo-cam. “It’s important to take a sampling of the populace. Input from our constituency is vital.”


The senator replaced her mouth on the cock and gurgled as she deepthroated the thick prick. The gang leader shook his head. “Fucking girl is running for Chancellor here. Don’t worry, bitch, I’ve got plenty of campaign contributions for ya!” The bald man groaned and thrust down into Padmé’s throat, his balls resting on her chin as he grunted and moaned loudly, abruptly ejaculating as he fed her a torrent of salty spunk.


The senator coughed and choked briefly on the burst of jizz that had erupted in her mouth before pulling away from the spent dick.


“All right, senator, let’s get to the real fun. Pull up that stupid big skirt of yours and let’s go to work on that sweet honey snatch of yours.”


Padmé bit her lip and looked up at the still restrained man. “You mean… sucking your cocks isn’t enough?”


“Oh, you’ve got real skill, princess, but we both know what you want,” the bald man grinned.


“You must promise to devote yourself to charity first,” Padmé bargained.


“No, you dumb cunt. Now pull up your skirt and let us fuck you!”


The senator didn’t want to keep negotiating and reached in a hidden pocket on the side of her gown, her fingers searching for a small square device. Something Anakin had given her after a disastrous mission to Rodia when she was restrained by Separatists and the foolish Jar Jar Binks had to come to her rescue. He had certainly earned his reward that evening. She pressed the button on the small remote. Pops and hisses sounded behind each of the thugs as their binders were fried and fell loose from their wrists.


“Oh no… now I have no choice but to let these dangerous men have their way with me,” Padmé said with feigned terror.


Within seconds Padmé’s skirt was hiked over her waist, revealing her naked sex as she laid spread eagled on the alley floor. Her top was pulled further down, her large breasts jiggling in the bright glare of the floating holo-cam spotlight. She sucked Goggle’s thrusting cock while the swoop gang leader pounded her sucking sex.


The two remaining thugs, Spanner and Mohawk, rubbed Padmé’s glistening breasts with their raging erections. “I didn’t know this bitch had such nice tits. She always looks so flat in those Seppie vids,” Mohawk commented.


Padmé pulled her mouth free of the cock driving into her throat. “On Naboo… large breasts… are considered… immodest,” she gasped in between poundings of her twat. “One must… strive… for modesty!” she finished with a squeal, as the leader’s cock jabbed particularly hard into her aching pussy.


The two thugs laughed. “They teach you to suck dick on Naboo?” asked Spanner as he slapped his cock against one of her full, round boobs.


The leader pulled his cock from her cunt for a moment, as if to give Padmé the chance to answer. The senator looked up at D-z and remembered the Longdogian she had met in her formative years and the tough but important lessons Enna Racté had taught her. She said, “I received many forms of negotiation training… Roj Neremy would be proud of his pupil.” She looked at Spanner’s twitching cock. “Though, I’ve learned a few new tricks since then,” she allowed invitingly. The thug shifted up toward her face, slapping his cock down on her cheek before the senator angled her mouth and quickly consumed the full length of the thin man’s cock. Goggle’s finished himself off by hand and showered Padmé’s bouncing breasts with jizz as the big leader’s member re-entered her pussy with dripping dick.


Padmé’s breasts took a quick second load of spunk from the tit-playing Mohawk as the senator’s filthy wet lips slid up and down Spanner’s plowing penis until he ejaculated with a groan and shot another stream of semen down Amidala’s gulping esophagus. The senator tried to recall exactly how many loads she had eaten today thus far, but before she could tally the numbers Mohawk quickly shoved aside Goggles. Dribbles of his sperm splashed Padmé upon her upturned face just he jammed his still erect boner into her sticky mouth and shoved down her gulping throat.


The leader humped between Padmé’s splayed apart legs faster and faster, pounding the supine nude woman's slurping slit until he climaxed and ejaculated into the senator’s dripping wet snatch. The bald leader stepped away from Padmé’s naked body and Goggle’s impatiently dropped down between her open legs. He cupped Amidala’s ass and lifted her enough so he could press his knob to Padmé’s pouting bung. The senator’s eyes went wide at the realization of this new penetration. But in a split second the thug was inside her tight rectum, drilling the moaning, slurping senator's yielding pink sphincter.


Spanner and Mohawk dangled their dicks above Padmé’s cum splattered face and she took turns sucking on each thick, throbbing member. The pair rubbed their dicks over Amidala’s semen soaked breasts as she busied herself blowing the other, shooting their goo onto her swollen nipples and into the sweaty cleft of Padmé’s bare bosom.


<><><>


Ten minutes had passed and Padmé was on all fours, slurping the filthy wet cock of the bald leader while Spanner and Mohawk rammed their cocks into her sore sphincter and puffy pussy. All three thick dicks shoved into the senator’s open holes, while the half-naked, cum-splattered senator sucked and fucked with abandon, completely unconcerned with the holo-camera transmitting everything to the galaxy.


Spanner’ cock shoving into Padmé’s raw rectum gushed cum into her plump, wet ass just before the Mohawk’s member in her twat exploded and sent sperm into her jizz filled uterus. Amidala’s tightly locked lips worked faster and faster on Baldy’s meat pumping in and out of her drooling mouth, and right when the thug ejaculated down her gulping throat, the clone troopers Cracker and Spax reappeared in the alleyway, leveling their rifles at the group and letting loose a hail of blaster fire. Each of the Zoloz thugs were struck with precise hits, knocking them to the ground in dead heaps of scorched flesh.


In an instant it was over and Padmé was in shock, each of the cocks slipped from her body as the corpses tumbled to the ground. Below her Mohawk’s head was a charred mess. The senator quickly scrambled to her feet and covered herself with her discarded gown.


“Wow, helluva shot. No wonder they call you Cracker,” said the clone with black and blue camo markings on his armor.


“Sorry to frighten you, Senator,” said the other clone with brown decals on his chest plate. “It was a false call. Confusion from the Chancellor’s Office. I regret the error, shouldn’t have left you behind.”


“It’s all right, trooper. I handled myself just fine,” Padmé said as she quickly stepped back into her gown and dressed herself.


The two clones watched intently, Padmé could imagine their expressions as they gazed at her naked body.


“Can I help you two with something?” Padmé asked.


<><><>


“Cracker, report,” came the voice of Anakin Skywalker over the radio.


The clone trooper put his hand to his helmet and responded, “Yes, General!”


“What the status of the senator? Is she secure?”


“Yes, General. The senator is safe and secure.”


“Good, are you en route to the gunship?”


“Ah… momentarily, sir.”


“Well, get on with it!” Anakin barked, as the transmission ended.


Cracker heard the link close and he looked down at the once again fully-clothed senator kneeling before him, his cock disappearing between her lips.


“Mmmmmm, I knew there was something I could help you with,” she mewed, drooling around his cock as strands of her saliva spilled down chin. Opposite him Spax also has his dick out, receiving a loving handjob from the senator before she leaned over and covered her mouth over the other clone’s cock, her right now jerking off Cracker’s spit soaked dick.


“The General will be waiting for us at the shuttle, Senator,” Cracker said.


“He can wait a little bit longer, trooper. I’m not done showing my appreciation,” Padmé replied after popping her mouth off Spax’s dick. She tugged on both pricks, pushing them in closer to her mouth before rubbing her lips and wagging her tongue over both puffy cock-heads. She pushed them together and took both in her wanton, cock-hungry mouth at the same time.


“You know there are some more men back at the transport that you could show your appreciation to,” Spax brought up. “You’d sure beat the usual barracks pleasure house whores we get assigned.”


Padmé’s eyes lit up, but then she recalled Anakin’s presence. That would be tricky to pull off… but fun, nonetheless.


Behind the dick-crazed senator were the still smoking corpses of the four thugs. D-z floated low to give a close up of the senator’s sucking lips on the fat members of the twin troopers she was gleefully sucking. She looked at the camera and popped her mouth off Cracker’s dick.


“It is regrettable that my trip ended with such tragedy, but I’m always eager to support our troops.”




THE END