A private collector

When the silver-haired man and the big Jablogian turned her way, Fennec breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't end up in a brothel or the hands of enemies. With only a pat on the head he was gone, leaving her to his datapad obsessed companion. Asking the round, red alien what they planned for her just got Fennec labeled "Difficult" and "Insolent". All she got out of him was her buyer's name, Riz Koren. It wasn't one she recognized, but the galaxy was large and she doubted they traveled in the same circles. However, the bare-skinned bounty-hunter didn't get long to ponder Mr. Koren before she was ushered to a speeder that whisked them further into Red Light Sector's labyrinth of black market shops and shady walkways.

Nar Shaddaa's Red Light Sector is synonymous with spice, smuggling, slavers, and sex but only a few know that it harbors a custom bio-enhancement industry. All manner of beings come to its clinics for bionics, designer organs, neural modifications, and more. Unfettered from legal oversight, credits were the only limit to what they would do, as Fennec discovered the hard way.

The woman they pulled from the bacta tank in that black-market bio-shop weeks later may have been mistaken for the old Fennec Shand at a glance but better examination showed the quality of their work - hair thicker and shinier, eyes brighter, lips fuller. Gone were the lines and scars acquired through hard years of mercenary work. Wiry muscles had melted away after floating in a tank for so long, leaving behind a delicate, pliable body covered in perennially hairless flesh, so sensitive a single caress made it tingle. She looked like a soft, pampered version of the woman she'd been twenty years ago, but what her looks lost in decades, Fennec's chest gained doubly in cup sizes. Her once modest breasts had ballooned into big, voluptuous tits whose soft tit-flesh spilled out around her fingers when she hefted the weight of her new breasts, the touch sending shivers through her body. Breasts hardly felt appropriate anymore. Terms she'd heard around the spaceport ran threw her head. Fun bags, flesh melons, chest stars, milk jugs, party pillows, or simply knockers were more accurate now.

She'd never been the girl with the 'big knockers' before, and the absurdity of the idea made a giggle bubble up.

Fennec jumped when the Jablogian appeared to deliver her **** uniform, but her elation at finally getting clothes quickly died when she discovered that the pair long gloves and thigh boots were all there was to it. She was covered in black leather gloves accented with orange metal bands up to her slender biceps while black leather boots with ballet heels and matching orange accents caressed her supple thighs. But her torso was still completely bare. She was left to wait leaving the shop in dread anticipation with one gloved hand clamped over hairless loins and another trying in vain to cover her upsized melons, leather boots rubbing as she pressed her thighs together. Even after everything, Fennec still hung on to the hope of preserving what reputation she had left by not being caught in this lack of an outfit.

Luckily, she was given a reprieve from humiliation in the form of a hood to hide her identity. A stiff leather cap was pulled over her head and a black panel over her face, but, to the woman's surprise, the large orange ball affixed to the inside of that panel was unceremoniously shoved between her lips to fill her mouth before the panel was buckled tightly into place. Lastly, master himself added a high, black leather collar and leash. Before they stepped out of the clinic door she got one final surprise. The metallic orange accents on her gloves and boots were miniature magnacuffs. With a wink, master turned her two long separate gloves into one long mono-glove, trapping her hands behind her and denying her even that little bit of coverage her fingers would provide. Deeming his pet ready to travel, he took the leash and tugged her out the door.

Unused to heels higher than a few centimeters, Fennec teetered precariously on her toes. Not used to those massive chest-stars, her weaker muscles left her wobbling like a newborn loth-kitten. And all that wavering only added waves to the big, new milkshakes on her chest. A fact that was not lost on leering passerby on the busy street. She was **** to walk in tiny steps to stay upright, a dozen quick little motions for every step that master took, which her new body refused to do with anything other than an exaggerated hip swish, which only added more jiggle to her jugs. That only brought more attention to her body. With all the new motions and sensation running through her, Fennec felt like she'd turned into a collection of wobbles and wiggles for the entertainment of the masses. She may look like some fat-titted thot but at least the identity of that thot was her secret alone.

"Wait, is that Fennec Shand?!" cried an old hunter from across the way. Soon others joined in. She recognized many, enemies and allies alike, in the group pointing, whistling, and ogling at the fallen mercenary. She tried to deny it, but with a ball in her mouth, all she could manage was 'mmmph' and 'errfff'. Her reflection in a shop window she immediately showed how they recognized her. The orange cap with the black panel, the orange and black gloves and boots were all a slutty mockery of her infamous, long lost armor. Master stepped between them. Her one hope was he would deny it and claim she was some random bimbo.

"Yes," he cried as he grabbed a handful of heavy tit-flesh and turned her to face them, eliciting a pleasured whine from his **** girl. "The rumors are true. I bought the real Fennec Shand at a **** auction a few weeks back and had her remade into a pleasure pet at the finest bio-clinic in Nar Shadda... the galaxy, really." He squeezed her naughty pillow to make his point and the wave of sensations made her whimper again, to the amusement of the crowd. She wanted to turn away from the leering faces but held in place by her fat titty, she only managed to swing her ass too and fro. "Afraid Shand shant be joining any more bounty hunts, lads."

"It'll be booty hunts now, by the look of her," cried another merc, which set off a wave of laughs and catcalls.

Her world was spinning. A reputation built over thirty years of missions and combats irrecoverably destroyed in one moment. No one would ever hire her again. No one would ever take the big-boobed bimbo whimpering into her gag seriously again. The old Fennec was gone! She couldn't think. She had to get away. She tried to run and immediately tripped over her heels, wobbled for a second trying to regain her balance, sending her fun bags sloshing. That sensation ripped another pleasured groan from her before she collapsed to her knees. Her worst nightmare had come to life and what was she doing? She was right in the middle of it wiggling, jiggling, and moaning like a submissive, pleasure **** kneeling at her master's feet.

She looked up at master from where she knelt helpless before him. Oh!

This new Fennec Shand - soft, sensual, and jiggling - was easily lead away to master's private pleasure station to join the rest of his collection. The bare bounty-hunter turned pleasure-**** would join an equally exposed Imperial Officer, Mandalorean, Alliance pilot, and rimworld princess complete with elaborate hair buns. Like her, all had turned pleasure-**** with the same remade body and sensualized temperament. Sealed away on a station in deep space, with every function automated by an army of droids, there was little for a pampered pet to do. Fennec could lounge by the pool or frolic in the station's garden or play dress-up in a wardrobe of slutty lingerie and bondage gear, but it didn't take long for the relentless boredom to dull her once keen mind as it had the others. Her only entertainment was the vast collection of submissive, holo-vid erotica that filled the station library. With no other outlet, it would come to consume and direct Fennec's thoughts as thoroughly as master directed her body.

Fennec had lost track of how long she'd served master. That didn't matter. What mattered was that the ding at the lifts meant he was back from his most recent trip to do some business thing. Those details didn't interest the new Fennec - no, she corrected herself. The time in the clinic changed her body but Fennec felt that it hadn't changed her mind. She was so certain of it that she could almost hear a phantom voice in the back of her head assuring her that she wouldn't noticed any changes at all. No, the only change was a new insight a … clarity. Yes, clarity was the word. For the first time in her life she could clearly see her proper place in the galaxy and it was right here in master's collection, and she was thankful for that. She knelt on the floor, wearing nothing but her leather bindings, determined to show master just how grateful she was the moment he walked in the door.