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.”