The void of space lay host to a singular ship. It’s sleek, dark
design almost allowed it to be camouflaged within the tapestry of
stars. Curved wings gave the twin-ion vessel a signature appearance.
Any apt observer in the galaxy would know, with great fear, to whom
it belonged.
Through
transparent material, the occupant could gaze at the cerulean orb
that occupied the view-port. Thick white swirls of condensation
dominated the planet. The dark side of the planet, the side he would
have felt more at home, held little to none of the bright speckles of
artificial light that indicated civilization. A dark glove tightened
at this sight.
His
apparel was almost as black as the void itself. All articles, from
the simple tunic that was woven tightly around his torso, his pants
and boots, and the rudimentary mask that concealed everything aside
from two sickly, glowing amber eyes, appeared to be designed to deny
the entry of all light. The only thing that broke this dark theme was
a flash of chrome at his waist, his life, the weapon of a civilized
age.
Thumbing
at the controls, he set a course for descent into the planet. His
beating heart hastened its labor. The thrill of the kill, the passion
for the murderous craft of assassination, fueled his power.
It
is my destiny, my master has decreed this. Jedi Master Gald’ira, it
is time to join your precious Force.
…
A
light smattering of rain pelted gently upon the forest trees. The
dead branches that were scattered across rich, black, dirt grew
moist. Within the thickest of foliage lay what was once the largest
of the trees. No matter how mighty and tall it stood, now, it was
barren, and had shattered near its base, a fallen corpse of wood.
Its
mighty stump had been hollowed out. The top was covered with branches
and leaves, arranged in a near-checkered pattern. There was a narrow
chimney of wood shooting out the side, puffing out pure, white smoke.
Gald’ira
set her pale, delicate hands near the fire. Her heavy brown robes,
despite the length of her residence upon this outer-rim world, still
retained a sense of cleanliness, sporting neither a blemish nor
stain. Her hood was drawn up, concealing her eyes, but leaving her
mouth and chin exposed.
She
sat with crossed legs in the center of her hovel. Placing her
now-warmed hands upon her knees, the Jedi Master slipped into a
meditative state. Her heart slowed, and her breath was rendered into
near-silence. The crackle of the fire provided a calming music to her
ears, perhaps a guide from the Force itself to assist her in
communing with it.
In
a state of absolute serenity, nothing would disturb her … for now.
…
The
rain had intensified, but this did not disturb the dark figure as he
navigated the forest. Black boots softly rolled upon the ground,
leaving not a trace of an impression. Contemptuous breath flowed
through the wraps around his clenched mouth, but it was not the
perspiration he resented.
Spite
took ethereal form, as he reached out with his senses. Disgust grew
more and more as he was made privy to every droplet of rain, every
fold of bark upon the trees, as well as the various creatures that
crawled below and above the dirt.
His
revulsion hit its apex as his senses peered into a hollowed-out tree.
The Light that emanated from it was so pure, it could have blinded
him. Amber eyes strained, even though they were not being used to
“see” her, in a sense.
The
sith’s head bowed down, as he disciplined his breathing. Darkness
passed over him once more. A comforting shroud calmed the masked
man’s nerves, as he gave himself over to shadow. From head to toe,
his form grew nebulous, transparent, before vanishing completely.
Yet, he remained corporeal, an unseen malevolent mass that now
haunted the overcast forest.
With
the shroud of the dark side protecting him, he ventured further in,
disturbing not a leaf, nor twig as he made his way. His gait was
swift and smooth, with boots rolling effortlessly over the muddy
terrain.
Soon,
he caught sight of the hollowed-out stump that had been sensed out
before. Again, the sickening purity wafted from the dead bark. Yet,
as his eyes veered over to the rest of the fallen tree, a sly smile
manifested from underneath his mask. Rot and decay had wilted and
sapped the mighty plant. Darkness once more had claimed victory.
As
he approached, he caught sight of her through one of the carved-out
windows, shrouded in her heavy Jedi cloak. She sat cross-legged,
motionless, perhaps utilizing her Jedi teachings to contemplate the
consistency of the avian fecal matter that had fallen upon the top of
her quaint hovel … or so that’s what he entertained.
He
ducked and glided, dancing into every shadow, compelling the dark
side to continue to conceal him from sight, smell and sound. The
assassin was subject to the thrill of an increased heart rate,
compelling adrenaline to rush into every muscle.
The
entrance to her hovel was a primitively constructed door that merely
needed to be pushed to the side. Squeezing through the quaint windows
of the structure would prove to be a uselessly painful task, better
that he tried to fit himself through the eye of a pin then attempt
that sort of approach. He then peered up the wooden chimney. There
was little smoke puffing out from the top, and the soft glow that
illuminated the interior did not appear too intense.
Thus,
the sith dashed to the side of the hovel, effortlessly scaling the
height of the hollowed-out stump. Steading himself at the top, one of
his fingers traced the cold metal of his lightsaber strapped at his
hip. A ferocious grin formed. He then thrust himself through the
chimney-top.
A
lifetime of trained acrobatics, fueled with the dark side allowed him
to compensate for the curves of the primitive construction. Despite
what little tools Gald’ira possessed, or at least, what he assumed,
it was clear her carving of the chimney was done with great care. The
interior was smooth, showing off the natural patterns of the wood she
utilized. Insulating mud was fitted with a sort of inhuman grace that
complemented the interior’s design. Meanwhile, the char from the
heat and smoke of various fires implanted a rich, dark color. All of
this passed the sith by, as he dashed down, through the fireplace.
His
foot lightly tapped the earthy back of the fireplace, compelling him
forwards. He sailed through the air, and landed with a soft thud,
directly behind the Jedi. She had not moved, perhaps remaining
ignorant to his presence, due to how the dark side had hidden him
thus far.
I
wonder what dying in such a manner would be like? Will she wake up as
one of those insufferable ghosts? Will there be great agony, being
ripped from her precious peaceful trance? Will her Force at least
notify who had killed her? I can only hope.
Moving
unseen, almost gliding upon the dirt floor, he raced up right next to
her. The Jedi’s exposed back was nearly screaming, screaming to
have a lightsaber pierce it. Obliging these instincts, the assassin
quietly unhooked his weapon, lining the emitter towards Gald’ira’s
torso. Amber eyes were filled with murderous vision of his victory at
hand.
And
through victory, my chains are broken. I have accomplished what even
you could not, master.
He
activated the blade, sending a beam of blood-colored light into the
center of the Jedi’s back.
But
death, he did not sense. Not only did life not leave her, but her own
spirit was still very much secure in its temple. His eyes widened, as
they peered down at the point of contact. His blade had met its mark,
but once it had touched the Jedi’s robes, the energy beam had
simply stopped. There was no sign of a cauterized wound, nor even
burning cloth. Just a blade that had been neutered by … something.
Cold
shivers raced up his spine. The protective shroud that had hid him
from her senses had begun to melt away. His dark, thin figure was now
visible for all to see. In the earthen hovel, he stuck out as a sore
thumb, while his lightsaber hung listlessly, still unable to even
scratch the Jedi Master.
Immediately,
he retreated, pulling back his blade, while his feet slid in dirt.
The Jedi’s own hovel provided little room to maneuver. The walls
were curved and sloped, forcing him to crouch.
The
Jedi, meanwhile, had risen to her feet, turning to face her assailant
with not a hint of desperation. Her hand had not made a move towards
her own saber. She maintained a posture that was akin to someone who
was casually conversing with a friendly stranger.
“Unfortunate,
I was hoping my meditation would not be disturbed today.”
Gald’ira’s voice was light as the wind, carrying an ethereal
quality that appeared to illuminate her own humble dwellings to a
greater degree.
The
Sith’s voice, by contrast, came out as a low, brooding rasp that
cloaked the entire area in a shadowy miasma. “You may contemplate
your petty musings for eternity, in the embrace of death.”
Her
pale lips curled into a slight smile. The assassin could even detect
a hint of a chuckle, as if news of her imminent death was an amusing
joke. “You require my life, dark one? I know your master has
desired my demise for quite some time, but why impose yourself with
her burden?”
“Ha!”
spat the servant of the dark side, “Because you are a worm, not
even worth her attention. And though I am an apprentice, I have
mastered powers far beyond any Jedi could even dream of. You may have
survived by pure fortune from my first strike, but will you survive
my next?”
The
assassin could feel his sickly, glowing eyes practically burn with
twisted power. Passion, anger, surged through his veins, as he took a
fighting posture. His blade, which was held ready, was now gripped in
reverse, a perfect orientation for his murderous talents. And yet,
the Jedi did not ready her weapon.
“Your
control over your own powers is a lie. One can only benefit from true
strength by becoming a servant of the Force.”
“More
Jedi nonsense,” he rebuked. The Sith felt energy dance at the tips
of his fingers. If she will not defend herself due to her
ridiculous code, I shall oblige her death wish!
Lightning,
a deep blue, arced form his free hand directly towards Gald’ira.
Quick as a Gundark leaping on a bloody carcass, her hand rose,
catching the dark side energy. It amassed in a great glowing sphere,
the volatile charge now docile and kept in check. In little time, the
cobalt glow vanished, leaving not a trace of his attack.
“Nonsense?”
mused the Master, her hooded face taking an almost contemplative
expression. The tension on her lips tightened, while her jaw ever so
slightly clenched. “Perhaps … you must be shown just how
insignificant you are compared to the power of the Force.”
She
reached out, as if grabbing for her adversary. The assassin braced
himself. The very air felt as if it was warping and unraveling. His
eyes darted about, to and fro, searching for any malicious objects
levitating, at the ready to antagonize his being. Black boots planted
themselves in the dirt, as he prepared to to resist any Force from
whichever direction the Jedi could conjure.
Despite
expectations, not a grain of dirt moved. He felt his arms begin to
slacken. Perhaps her attack failed?
As he prepared a mocking retort, relief had indeed swept over him,
for there had been a certain anxiety regarding the potential
hindrance the master could have inflicted upon him. Even his mask and
gloves felt loose.
His
shoulders sank, and kept sinking. Even more alarming, his mask had
begun to unravel. An unfamiliar sensation swept throughout his entire
body, as if he was both sinking and drowning at the same time.
The
Sith’s dark tunic soon overtook his head, having come loose from
his torso. He flailed his arms in panic, yet they were caught in
sleeves far too loose and long for him. It had suddenly become as if
he were fitted for articles three times his size.
This
is the Jedi’s doing! She’s causing me to be absorbed .. by
something!
Desperate,
he reached into the depths of his anger and hate, but without proper
knowledge of the strange curse placed upon him, the Jedi’s
conjuration persisted in swallowing him up into the dark folds of his
own tunic.
The
Jedi kept her hand extended, witnessing the Sith apprentice sink into
nothing. In a way, it was an unnerving sight, if a familiar one. She
was reminded at seeing fellow Masters become one with the Force by
having their physical body vanish, while their mortal vestments
remained in an empty pile.
Soon
enough, the Sith’s clothes indeed possessed no body to support
them, and they too, collapsed in a dark heap upon the dirt floor. The
assassin’s weapon fell as well, clanking and clattering without a
hand to wield it. For but a moment, through her hooded gaze, the Jedi
remained almost entranced by the pile of articles. Neither a rustle
nor a quiver disturbed them.
Turning
away, the Jedi walked slowly towards her bed, a small cot lying near
a far wall. While the coverings were made of simple, crude material,
they were spread in a neat manner across the quaint mattress. Upon
her back, she lay. The end of her robes receded ever slightly,
resulting in her feet poking through, sporting nothing but wrapped
stirrups.
Sleep
took a hold of her, and her heart came to rest, for the threat had
been neutralized.
…
Once
more, the Sith had found himself within the sanctuary of darkness.
But, this came as no comfort to him. Nebulous, heavy material
enveloped and weighted down upon his form. Soft and abrasive, it gave
way as he pushed back against it.
He
reached out with his senses, yet they felt muffled and clogged, much
like trying to hear with plugged ears, or smell with a stuffed nose.
The feel and reach of his powers had diminished.
Grasping
one of the dark folds, he found it rather similar to a fabric. Its
texture was most peculiar, with large bounds of thread crisscrossing
at great intervals. He managed to lift himself up, only to be impeded
by another great mass of material. Taking in a deep breath, he
discerned something familiar about the odor permeating through this
seemingly endless dark dimension.
What
sort of curse did this Jedi place upon me?
He
found another grip. Whatever this material was that hindered him, it
appeared to conform to his grasp, allowing him to pull himself even
higher.
Perhaps
this is some accursed pocket dimension she has banished me to. Are
there other Sith trapped here? How long would they have lingered
here? And, is there a way out?
It
felt as if he were crawling in a strange orientation. He hung from
yet another fold, both his hands and feet grasping the edge. A shift
appeared to provoke a massive change; for the briefest moment, he
beheld a dim flash of light emerge from above. So quick was its
dissipation, the Sith feared he had imagined it.
His
efforts redoubled, pulling him ever higher. Again, his movement
provoked another flash of light from above. The material had parted
at some sort of seam, allowing whatever shined from up top to peer
through. Illumination revealed the texture of what he had grasped,
although it proved unfamiliar to him.
But,
he did observe the opening was near. To a mortal man, the distance he
had to close would have been imposing, perhaps even impossible.
Wherever it was the assassin had found himself within, there was a
great chasm between where he lay, and the seam that led to freedom.
Dark
energies flowed through his body. Despite their diminished state, he
knew he possessed enough to make the jump. Closing his eyes, the
power of the dark side compelled his limbs to push off, and he flew
upwards.
One
of his hands found the seam, and his grip held strong. The opening
gave way to his efforts. It was much like lifting a grand tarp. Light
flooded his vision, and what lay beyond the strange dimension of
shadow was revealed to him.
Gazing
at the dark rolling landscape before him, once more, he was struck
with a sense of familiarity. The terrain appeared to be composed of
tightly bound ropes, all black in color, that crossed in a threaded
pattern. This material formed an island, and island that appeared to
be surrounded by dirt, much like the crude ground that made up the
Jedi’s hovel.
As
he took gauge of his surroundings, the Sith let out a gasp of
surprise. He recognized the quaint fireplace of his enemy’s
residence. Yet, from what he remembered, it had been a small, humble
construction that barely came up to his waist. Now, it appeared
imposing, towering, like the great statures of Korriban where he had
been trained. And, where once it had taken him one or two dashes to
exit the fireplace and land at the other end of the structure, now it
appeared a great trek would be necessary to reach it.
He
craned his neck upwards, taking in the carved wooden roof. Whereas
before, he had to crouch to mind his head, in the present, it was as
if the ceiling was stuck in the atmosphere. Only his TIE vessel could
be expected to scale such an altitude in a reasonable time.
Amber
eyes widened as they caught sight of a massive metal object. It was
cylindrical in shape, the size of a great building. He was able to
identify various buttons and switches upon it, all exceeding his own
stature by far.
His
own lightsaber, the weapon of his life, was easily recognized. Yet,
the weapon’s immense size proved to be an alien phenomenon. Much
like everything else, once manageable dimensions had been amplified
to utterly prodigious proportions.
The
sound of quiet breathing was detected, and he turned to face the
source of the sound. Upon what resembled a quaint cot, laid the
sleeping form of the Jedi. She rested atop the sheets, her brown
robes covering nearly all of the bed. From his vantage, he could not
make out Gald’ira’s hooded head. Only her partially-wrapped feet
were visible.
Everything
had not grown. There was no intricate pocket dimension. And, judging
from the fact that these strange images did not fade away when he
pinched his cheek, this was not some grand illusion. The Jedi Master
had shrunk him down.
Just
exactly how small did she make me? And, how severely are my powers
inhibited from this?
He
forced himself to look down upon the dark, roped ground that he stood
upon. This strange material, this fabric, was his own. It smelled of
him. These were his discarded robes, now far too large to fit upon
his body.
A
breeze tingled his nethers. He shuddered at his nakedness. The sith’s
complexion was pale, sickly and chalky. His mask once held in a thick
mop of jet-black hair. Now, it fell down over his neck, and almost
obscured one of his eyes. The assassin’s physique was fit, yet
slim. And while his face featured not a blemish of aging, the dark
circles around his eyes, along with purplish veins that squiggled out
like forks of lightning, made his allegiance to the dark side plain
to see.
A
growing wave of resentment filled his chest, as he gazed upon the
slumbering form of the Jedi. Such foolishness, to leave
herself vulnerable while I still live.
The
distance between them was great, but straightforward. His path to his
target was bereft of great obstacles. If I can make the
journey to her resting place before she awakens, I can kill her in
her sleep. I don’t need my lightsaber, the dark side will be my
weapon. I just need to get close so my powers can finish her.
It
took the Sith assassin far longer than anticipated to vacate the pile
of his discarded clothes. The journey itself was comparable to the
dozen or so desert planets he had the misfortune of finding himself
on. Shifting, wavy terrain rendered balance a perilous task. Rolling
dunes of wrinkled fabric proved arduous to trek over. Use of the
force hastened his efforts, but even then, it seemed an eternity
before his feet met the first trace of actual soil.
His
eyes caught every granule. Pebbles that would have been invisible
before, now lay as stones larger than his foot. These rocks were
utilized for additional leverage, for the moist dirt terrain impeded
his progress.
As
he drew closer to the Jedi’s cot, a peculiar odor struck him. It
was as grassy as a forest bed, but held within, the smell of flesh
marinating in vinegar. His eyes fell
upon Gald’ira’s exposed foot, which grew ever larger with each
step he took. Her sole was tainted with smears of dirt and foliage,
while the stirrups wrapped around the arch had certainly seen cleaner
days. Yet, despite her primitive living, the Jedi had seen it fit to
maintain some sort of grooming. The skin underneath the dirt and
grime was smooth. Wrinkles only manifested as her toes occasionally
wiggled and bent.
The
Sith’s heartbeat hastened, although he could not purely attribute
this to physical exertion. Try as he might, his gaze could not be
torn off of the Jedi’s ped. Even from a distance, it towered like a
spire upon the Academy. Great effort would have to be exerted if he
had even wished to scale the length of her sole, grasping the subtle
ridges that lined the skin, and
navigating her dirty foot-wraps. Sturdy would his will have to be to
resist the fresh earthy smell that exuded from its bulk, to not
become distracted by the hypnotic wriggling of her toes, each surely
as large as a speeder, if not larger…
There
must be some sort of protective measure affecting me. I’m losing
focus!
Renewed
resolve compelled him on, yet the fragrance of the Jedi’s foot only
intensified. Luckily for him, movement out of the corner of his eye
managed to distract him from the near-omnipresent scent.
What
had caught his attention was
an insect, a mite, currently scuttling through the dirt. The Sith was
almost envious at how the six-legged creature was able to navigate
effortlessly over fallen twigs and embedded rocks. A crude estimation
of the bug’s size was that it was nearly as
large as a hound to him.
Into
hills of dirt, the bug vanished. It displayed
neither aggression, nor
interest towards him,
perhaps for the best. Yet, even as he experienced a small mote of
relief, there was something deeper, darker, churning within the
depths of his gut.
He
pushed such sensations aside, continuing his trek across the hovel’s
ground. There was a slight incline, where dirt was gathered and
packed as it met the cloth of the Jedi’s cot. One his fours he
crawled to scale the quaint slope, before his hands caught the weave
of the mattress.
Gald’ira’s
sleeping arrangements were as primitive as her hovel. The weave of
the cot was made from some form of fiber, no doubt foraged from the
surrounding foliage. Even in his shrunken state, the Sith could feel
leaves crinkle and crunch as he made his way across the mattress.
Each step caused his feet to sink into the terrain, impeding his
progress.
Gazing
up, there was great strain required to even see the top of the Jedi’s
own foot. Her inner
robes, fashioned into a simple dress, concealed everything beyond her
ankles. Even peering through the opening proved fruitless, for what
lay beyond was cast in shadow.
A
haze once more swept through his mind, the source of it right in
front of him. The odor from her feet dominated the very atmosphere.
Its
fresh scent, evocative of the wet forest, appeared to generate a sort
of magnetism or gravity. Each step taken towards the prodigious ped
appeared to be compelled by some greater force, perhaps the Jedi’s
own infernal Force she had prattled and preached upon.
The
ridges on her heel could each be accounted for. An arm’s length
away, he stood. The very air he breathed was a concentrated vapor of
her foot’s aroma. From his vantage, the toes that
hung above were obscured by the bulk of her sole.
He scrutinized every smear of dirt, every stain of grass that marked
the vast fleshy wall in front of him. He committed to memory, each
wrinkle that dimpled the otherwise smooth, fair skin. The simple
wraps that covered her arch could have easily trapped a Corellian
freighter three times over. He wondered if he found himself trapped
within, if escape were possible, fighting against the Jedi’s
imposing flesh, subject to the stinging musk of her foot….
Smooth,
smoother than he had expected. That was at least, the impression he
had after setting a hand upon her heel. The ball of Gald’ira’s
foot alone was a monolith, comparable to a two-story residence.
Fathomless was its weight and mass, a mere shift of her foot would
delegate him to an insignificant stain, washed away in the soft
forest rain.
He
peered down at his waste, and to his dismay, his nakedness made plain
these strange desires that had manifested within him.
The
assassin stepped away, but each stride felt hindered by something
comparable to quicksand. Were it not for his determination, for his
murderous intent, he would have lingered by the Jedi Master’s
infernal foot for eternity.
Surveying
the opening to the Jedi’s robes, he could only guess what lay
beyond. Not even capital ship hangar bays were this vast and gaping.
Making it around the humongous heel proved to be a journey in of
itself.
He
straddled the limb as he ventured into the darkness of her skirt. The
tendon that connected her heel to her calf was itself a structure.
Every wrinkle etched across its length appeared gaping. The
apprentice wondered if his entire hand could
fit into one.
To
the edge, the Sith approached. Gald’ira’s robes were indeed
thick, spun with a heavy amount of brown thread of various shades.
From his vantage, just like his own articles, he could make out each
individual thread. It was surreal, that he had to step up to make it
on to the cloth,
as if he were making his way up a ledge, in order to get on what was
a mere piece of fabric.
What
little light there was glowed softly upon the Jedi’s exposed flesh.
It appeared, under her robes, Gald’ira wore little. Her calf was a
bastion of smooth skin, and inconceivable mass. While not comparable
to a capital ship, a small cruiser or destroyer would have been its
equal in size.
The
strange odor her foot had entranced him with had dissipated, but was
replaced with something else. His nose could detect the quaint smell
of her clothes, and the small trace of burning wood that kept the
Jedi’s hovel warm. Yet, these aromas were secondary to the pungent,
piercing taint that invaded his olfactories.
There
was only one way to describe it, the scent of a woman.
And,
with each step, the feminine musk intensified. He nearly lost his
balance, for the terrain of her robes was treacherous. A
hand braced against the
Jedi’s vast calf, steadying
himself. The appendage nearly
sunk into her soft flesh. An entrancing warmth engulfed it,
something that could have trapped him like a
sarlacc pit.
But
still, he pressed on, pressed on further
within this vast atrium that
composed the Jedi master’s
own robes. The crook of her knee passed him
by. What little light the sith could use as a guide was now so
insignificant as to be useless Thus,
he had to rely upon smell,
touch and sound alone. Yet, he could tell that even the arch of her
knee had suspended it far beyond reach, and for a moment, he was
blindly grasping in the dark.
Soon,
he found her again. Now, her
skin was drawn taut. Even in
his puny state, he could detect a small measure of muscle that lurked
beneath within her flesh.
He had made it to the Jedi’s thigh. If her calf had proven massive,
then this mass of organic
matter was even greater
still. A town, or the entire Korriban academy could have been hosted
atop its fleshy bulk.
Should Gald’ira be compelled to close her legs for whatever reason,
there was no doubt the young Sith would be crushed by the immense
pressure, all resistance a futile gesture. Would his remains even be
noticeable upon her?
Blood
rushed through him, causing a flutter within his stomach. He knew one
organ of his was getting more flow
than others, and he grunted in frustration.
A
drop of sweat slid down his face. As he ventured deeper into her
robes, the environment had grown
warmer. Trapped between the Jedi master’s monolithic thighs, and
drawing even closer to her main body mass, he
experienced even greater heat emanating from her.
Combined with that distinct feminine smell, the
Sith was given the impression
he had been marooned upon a swamp planet.
With
another step, he found himself slamming into a great wall. What the
assassin had collided with was not of flesh, but cloth. Just
from touch alone, the warmth was of a higher degree,
and that distinct odor that occupied the air was at its most potent.
The sith could only imagine what lay behind such a barrier, and how
pathetic and insignificant he was compared to it.
For
such a being possessed by chastity, it was hard to believe such a
lecherous, feminine,
organ existed between the massive legs of the Jedi. Leaning up
against the modest fabric, he could feel the pulsing, intimate warmth
of the flesh. Massive, wrinkled lips, each exceeding his own size one
hundred times loomed behind the barrier of fabric. If she neglected
to groom such a place, her hair would be as a forest to him. And
indeed, what did such sensitive folds guard, but a hot, gaping
cavern?
Grasping
the Jedi’s underwear, he began to scale up her crotch. Desire grew
within him once more, as his exposed body rubbed up against the mass
of fabric while he climbed. Heat and smell filled his head, rendering
him a creature of instinct. Up, up, up he continued, a mere speck
upon the groin of his hated enemy. Every movement of his allowed him
to feel the contours of Gald’ira’s prodigious privates.
His
breathing began to hasten, transforming into desperate, animalistic
panting. Concerns about reaching the top of the cliff were now
beneath him. Sensation alone directed him. The sith’s face was
buried within the great tapestry of the Jedi’s undergarments,
attempting to suck in every last cubic inch of odor. His naked hips
gyrated, his own exposed member growing and pulsing against the
private area he had found himself in.
“Damn
you Jedi.”
He
had reached the apex, ready to burst in a vulgar display of the most
primitive of passions. Alas, clarity struck, and the climax was
avoided. His head hung down, allowing his thick, dark hair to fall
over his face.
Already,
the journey had rendered his strength sapped. There was no soreness
within his limbs. Yet, each felt as if they were weighed down by
durasteel blocks. Still, he was able to continue to hoist his body up
the towering crotch.
Soon,
the incline of cloth normalized, and he fell over. The apprentice
laid there, face-down, both triumph and despair coursing through his
veins. Only halfway to his target, and yet, he was in such
a weakened
state.
A
steady breath filled the air. The ground below gently rose and fell,
carrying his sprawled form with it. After all his efforts, the Jedi
remained sound asleep, having taken no decisive action on her own. It
was clear that his presence was still under her notice. This caused
him to clench his fists in frustration.
But
this still means I have a chance at victory! I can strike at where
she is weak, and she remains completely unaware! This foolish Jedi
will die in her sleep! She’ll be laughed at by her deceased
peers once she is one with her Force for having perished in such an
embarrassing way!
Tired
arms pushed his body upright. The ground beneath still oscillated
from the Jedi’s breathing. Like the mattress
of her cot, his foot still
sunk into the ground, although the effect was less so. Steps turned
to strides, as he made his way over the vast torso of the slumbering
Master.
The
Jedi’s underwear was soon left behind him. Once more, the skin he
trod upon was smooth, almost unnaturally so. Firm
and taut, the flesh underneath proved to be.
However, his progress was impeded, for
the oscillations he
experienced grew in
magnitude. Each expansion and contraction of her
massive diaphragm threatened his balance. Sometimes, he had to manage
by crawling on all fours just to ensure he could continue.
A
yelp of surprise was let out as he found himself tumbling forward
into some sort of chasm. The ground within this pit had was wrinkled
and folded. In the darkness, he felt sparse, wiry hairs molesting his
form as he rolled about.
Luckily,
he was able to utilize his own momentum to regain his footing. His
mind began to wander once more, wondering if the Jedi had been toying
with him, before luring him into a trap. Realization of the reality,
however, caused his own spirit even more humiliation.
There
was no clever trap, nor trickery concocted by the Master. He had
simply fallen down her belly button.
Fortunately,
the sides proved to not be too imposing for him to scale. The skin
itself was loose within the chasm, allowing a secure grip. In no time
at all, he had climbed over the walls of the belly button, returning
to the vast, smooth plain of the Jedi’s stomach.
Having
conquered yet another obstacle in his path, the Sith found a second
wind. His legs propelled him forwards. Gradually, he began to adjust
to the motions of the Jedi’s breath. Each expansion and contraction
was anticipated and accounted for.
A
loud drumming was picked up by his ear. It boomed with the intensity
of thunder, but sounded nothing like it. An organic resonance to the
percussive beating echoed in
his head. His target was in
sight.
While
visibility under the Jedi’s heavy robes was indeed limited, the
Sith, now more than ever, could sense what lay ahead. Two massive
hills of flesh, worthy structures in of themselves, towered
over his pathetic stature with womanly grace.
Without even physically touching them, he could sense their
formidable mass and volume. Dunes of desert planets would have been
less imposing to trek over. In the short time he had encountered
Gald’ira, he could have never hazarded a guess at her endowment,
for her robes covered her figure well.
Once
he had finished her off, he would have to see just how large her bust
was compared to the rest of her body.
He
could feel himself enter the grand valley, bosoms at each side
stretching into the sky and beyond at either side of him. A small
sliver of light became visible far ahead. The Sith could not discern
what lay beyond, although he estimated that was where her neckline
began. His feet now stepped upon firm ground, supported by the
massive sternum that lurked underneath.
His
very bones rattled at the Jedi’s heartbeat, which felt as if it
occurred everywhere at once. The assassin’s own heart appeared to
adjust to match.
At times, he experienced
quakes powerful enough to
send him to his knees.
At
last, he had completed his trek. Gald’ira’s beating organ lay
directly beneath him. Her own resting body had tested him to its
limits. But
now, through passion, strength and power, victory was at hand. Now,
it was time to set the thrashing muscle into submission.
For
one final strike, he mustered all the dark side could give him. Anger
and fury were focused at the needle’s point, directed as skillfully
as he would have directed a
lightsaber, given the chance. His amber eyes appeared to glow ever
brighter, bright enough to provide a rudimentary source of
luminescence in the dark
valley of the Jedi’s chest.
Casting
out his arms, he compelled the dark energies within forth. Teeth were
clenched as he fought the massive muscle. He fought against its
pulses, its contractions,
its expansions.
He fought to squeeze the tiny blood vessels that lay within. He
fought to lay discord in the tiny electric ticker that allowed each
fiber in her heart to act in harmony.
Grunts
escaped his mouth, yet her heart kept beating. He curled his fingers,
letting out a growl. Simply stopping her heart would not suffice, he
would have to crush it. Veins popped out within his forehead as his
power encircled the organ.
It
was too large. It was too massive. Attempting to encompass such a
vast object dissipated his strength around it. But such a task should
not have been impossible. Never, had he been so close to a vulnerable
spot on an enemy. He bit his tongue as he attempted to damage her
heart once more. All of his passion, all of his anger, and yet, not
one fiber of the organ was sabotaged.
“No!”
he screamed, sending a violent Force push, hoping to crack her
sternum. But not a bone on her lay broken
“This
can’t be true!” he fumed, as focused his powers on a specific
point on the heart. Yet, the chambers in the muscle, and its mighty
aorta remained whole.
“It’s
impossible!”
Light
burst through, nearly blinding him. He fell back, catching sight of
the flesh-colored walls that flanked him.
He
saw a massive cloth tarp, being hoisted up by what looked like a
couple of fingers. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he finally saw
what lay beyond the opening.
Gald’ira
was peering through, no longer with a hood concealing her face. This
allowed her golden-blond locks to fall at her
sides, framing her temples.
The skin upon her face was smooth and youthful, with full, unpainted
lips pursed in a slight smile. A simple, dark blue tattoo traced a
line down from her forehead, over one of her eyes, before ending over
a cheekbone, positioned high.
The
Jedi’s eyes were perhaps the only part of her that revealed her
true age. Iris’s of pale blue were striking in their intensity and
brightness. Gazing into her pupils, one could discern they held
ancient wisdom of eras long past. The power of her glare alone could
have rendered him still and helpless.
For
nearly an eternity, neither said a word. The assassin was held
captive, looking into a face that was surely hundreds of times his
size. Gald’ira’s soft lips alone could have smothered his form
completely.
Soon,
those lips parted. The Jedi’s voice, as windy and ethereal as it
was before, now carried a great mass and weight beneath it, rolling
over him as a sandcrawler would upon a desert planet.
“What
do we have here? Still trying to kill me Sith?” she mused, her
mouth still oriented in a smile.
“You
should have finished me when you had the chance!” he spat back,
wondering if his puny voice would even reach her ears. “Now, I can
strike where you are most vulnerable Jedi. Now, you shall die!”
“Indeed,”
Gald’ira appeared to concede, although her voice still disrupted
the Sith’s balance, causing him to take a tumble. “Your
persistence is impressive, all this to fulfill your master’s
wishes?”
“Dead
Jedi bring me joy, and I have indulged in that pleasure countless
times,” bragged the Sith, standing back up again. “My master has
decreed that you are to die anyways, so I might as well fulfill her
desires as well!”
“Darth
Epikrata has made her distaste for me well-known. She surely would
have wished to perform the deed herself, even if she considers me to
be, in your own words, ‘a worm’.”
An
arrogant laugh escaped the Sith’s mouth, “My master is more
powerful than you can even conceive. She is far above such a
challenge.”
“But
you’re not?” prodded the Jedi, “Why would she send a mere
apprentice after me?”
“Because
I am ready! Because I have proved myself! Because I…”
“Did
she expect your return? Or … was she hoping otherwise?”
Like
a band that had been stretched beyond the limits of its tension,
within the psyche of the Sith, something had snapped. A roar of
unbridled rage flew out of his lips. He extended his hands. Cobalt
blue lightning erupted from it. A comparable opponent would have
surely been burnt to a crisp, had they found themselves on the
opposite end.
The
attack crashed into the Jedi’s chest. Her massive walls of flesh
were tainted by the blue glow of force lightning, as it arced and
crackled around.
Even
before his power dissipated into nothing but a few sparks, the
futility of his efforts were laid bare. Not a scratch, nor a burn
marked her flesh. There was one patch of slightly reddened skin, but
that was all his powers had amounted to.
The
ground quaked. Gald’ira was giggling. One of her pale hands had
covered her mouth as she did this.
That’s
all I am, a puny bug that’s only fit to be laughed at.
“Shall
I strike back?” she said, her airy voice taking upon a soft,
teasing tone.
In
one last desperate attempt, the Sith sprung up, like a wounded beast
hoping to get in one last gash. The dark side propelled him, almost
sending him flying. He flew towards her face in a mad dash, that face
of nearly unworldly beauty. If he was to make a mark before his
demise, his only chance would be to destroy such beauty, to twist it
into something unrecognizable, a parody of itself.
But,
no matter how high he flew, the walls of flesh to either side of him
still loomed even
higher. No matter how quickly he dashed forwards, the Jedi’s face
remained nearly an eternity away. There was not a single twinge of
fear marking her serene expression. In fact, her lips appeared to be
stifling yet another giggle.
The
heaving mounds of mammary that flanked him had begun to close
together, much like a trash compactor.
Their sheer mass and size began to block out the newfound light.
Soon, even the Jedi’s own face was obstructed by her gargantuan
bosoms.
The
walls had closed in. Flesh, soft to the touch, but great in mass and
momentum, slammed into his puny form. All motion ceased, as his tiny
body was held in place by the blubbery mounds that squeezed in at all
sides. Every breath took in the strong scent of the Jedi’s skin,
fresh and flowery.
Every
part of him
was buried
within the expansive, compressed cleavage. From his face, to his
shoulders, arms, legs and feet, all
were smothered into squishy
blubber. While the skin easily gave way, even to his own minuscule
presence,
there was simply too much of it to
allow for any significant
movement.
Still,
he attempted to thrash and flail. Yet, the Jedi’s bosoms held him
in place. Truly, he was a mere speck, a simple insect compared to
them. He was challenged by a single body part, and could not even
budge
it. Screams of rage and despair tore through his throat, only to be
caught within the fleshy cushions.
As
he continued to thrash, his exposed privates rubbed up and down
against the imposing mammaries. Pleasure coursed through his body,
invading his mind, blinding his eyes, and wetting his mouth. The more
he struggled, the more he felt his buried passions overtake him.
Desire had filled up his chest, ready to burst.
The
more he thrashed, the more arousal that built up. He gnashed and
howled, surrounded on all sides by his enemy. There was nothing of
his that she had not imposed upon. If he were to surrender his last
resource, his pride, her victory would be complete.
Faster
and faster, he worked himself into a frenzy. His hips gyrated in
pleasure, while his arms swung in anger. Closer drew his defeat, his
own stiff member aching and about to erupt.
At
the apex of pleasure once more, but now, with no way to disengage, he
could only let out a primal, carnal cry of despair towards Gald’ira.
“I
HATE YOU!”
A
moan, shameful, spiteful and full of sorrow, flowed out of his mouth.
His aggravated manhood twitched and pulsed as he ejaculated, spewing
out loads upon loads of white seed that splashed and seeped into the
vast cleavage of the Jedi. It was never ending, as more and more of
his virility was exhausted. The pressure from the flesh surrounding
him appeared to relent, as the output from his climax receded.
Soon,
the Jedi’s mounds separated. Limply, the sith rolled and tumbled
down the gentle slope of one of her breasts. He caught the sight of
his shameful stain, a mere splash against a great tapestry. He
finally collapsed upon his back, resting upon her sternum once more.
Tears
began streaming down his eyes. He opened his mouth, but only coughs
and sobs exited from it. Even at his most hopeless, he couldn’t
face his inevitable death with dignity, instead crying like some lost
child. Hints
of despair still swept through his mind, causing him to sob even
harder. Did I even stand a chance? I am a mere ant, but
without a venomous bite or sturdy exoskeleton.
I’m
just an insignificant speck, waiting to be extinguished.
He
gazed up at the Jedi’s face, calm and stoic as ever. She was no
longer smiling, even appearing just a tad somber. Through tear-stung
eyes, he could not read what was occurring within her own mind. She
probably cannot believe something so pathetic even exists in the
galaxy.
“Kill
me.”
With
no hint of deception, the request had flowed from him. Even the sound
of his own voice, now soft and sorrowful, was nearly unknown to him.
“End
it now Jedi. Something as puny as I is destined to perish. My master
has forsaken me, and you have robbed me of all my power. All you need
is my life.”
Nothing
was said in response. However, he caught sight of something new. A
single finger of the Jedi cast a shadow over him. It moved with the
grace of a Nubian starfighter, but with the power and weight of a
bantha or rhonto.
He could already feel its heft as the digit descended. Crushed
by a single finger, how appropriate for an insect such as me.
His
eyes widened as the tip of her finger closed in. Every ridge and
wrinkle was rendered in clear, explicit detail to him. It was nearly
as large, if not larger than
his own body. Like taking a breath, she won’t even have
to think, or exert any effort. The most troublesome aspect of
extinguishing my life would be the mess that it makes, if even.
Soon,
the tip, was set upon him. Great pressure was oppressed
upon the Sith’s puny form, for even her finger possessed far more
power than he. Yet, his body remained whole. Not even a bone of his
was broken.
Slowly,
the finger began to caress him. A painful pang erupted within his own
heart. Blood rushed to his face, as the silky skin had begun to
aggravate his manhood once more.
“Even
now, y-you show m-merc-”
A
powerful gush of wind, originating from Gald’ira’s mouth passed
over him. Even her shushing could unleash forces comparable to that
of a typhoon.
“To
your own master, you are considered nothing, less than nothing, a
resource to be spent … but
not to me.”
The
sith let out a whine, for the second time, his pleasure had
erupted. The Jedi’s finger was stained by another squirting of
seed, which splattered
against the
digit. He heard her giggle, as she drew the finger away, inspecting
the taint left by the defeated apprentice.
“What
will you have done to me?”
He
attempted to stand, but even now, he had been overwhelmed by his
sense of helplessness. This, he resigned to lie within the valley of
the Jedi Master’s cleavage.
Gald’ira
pursed her lips, “Even though I am sparing you, you must
understand, I will not restore your previous stature. You have killed
more than Jedi in your lifetime, and darkness has tainted your mind.
I would be dooming many innocents if I were to just let you go. From
now on, you are mine.”
The
sith’s breathing hastened as he took in the Jedi’s words. Some of
his previous anger returned, “Your slave?”
The
Jedi’s head shook, “My servant. The tasks I require of you should
not be much, but they will keep you occupied.”
“Maybe,
maybe I cannot accept this servile existence. What will you do if I
try to escape?”
Gald’ira
merely tilted her response, and betrayed another smile, “Escape
will prove very difficult, young one. But even then, the creatures of
this forest will not be as accommodating. However,
if you wish to try, I cannot dissuade you. Your size cannot be
restored by anyone
other than myself.”
His
breath began to slow, along with the beating of his heart. Clarity
had struck him, and brought along a sense of calm. He gazed up at the
Jedi again, but could only muster a blush. She’s so
beautiful, and all that … wasted on her foolish teachings.
“What
is it that you require of me … master?”
The
Jedi brought her finger and thumb down her chest. Both digits
completely consumed his form, as they took hold. Completely
submerged, he felt himself moving, as the hand that had now trapped
him took him a great distance.
Her
fingers then parted, and he fell upon the threaded material of the
cot. He looked around, before his eyes scanned up a wall of rigid
flesh, some of it concealed by filthy cloth wraps. Finally, he craned
his neck to behold the top of this imposing appendage, catching
sight of five digits, all
wriggling and scrunching in an enticing way.
Gald’ira
had sat up. Her youthful face peered over the incline
formed by her knees. “I have little use for footwear, and have
learned to navigate the galaxy barefoot. Of course, sometimes, I am
left sore by this. I could use your help for some relief.”
The
sith folded his arms and turned his head to the side. “Of course
you would subject me to such a demeaning, degrading, embarrassing
little…”
“Really?”
the Jedi mused, “You appeared quite taken when you first crawled
up here.”
Resignation
filled him, as his shoulders slumped. With his head down, he began
walking towards the towering foot, the accursed thing that appeared
to have unlocked his strange desires. But, before he could perform
his first task, the voice of the Jedi stopped him.
“What
is your name? I’d much rather call you by it.”
“Severus,”
he snarled, letting his hand rest upon the ball of her foot, the
familiar sensation sending regrettable shivers upon his limbs.
“Excellent,
Severus. I believe you and I shall get along nicely.”
We’ll
see Jedi. You may have bested me now, and made me your whipping boy.
But one day, I will escape, I will reverse this, and I will kill you!
Severus
pressed his face against the fragrant skin, feeling his tongue lap up
some of the salty adjuncts that had accumulated upon Gald’ira’s
heel. But revenge … isn’t something that can be rushed.