A private collector

When the silver-haired man and the big Jablogian turned her way, Fennec actually breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't end up working in a brothel or, worse, in the hands of old enemies.

But with only a pat on the head, he was gone, leaving her to his datapad obsessed Jablogian. Trying to ask the round, red alien what they had planned for her just got Fennec labeled "Difficult" and "Insolent". But she did spy her buyer's name, Riz Koren, on that datapad. 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 galactic-class 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 were willing to do, as Fennec discovered the hard way.

The woman they pulled from the bacta tank in that black-market bio-shop weeks later could only be mistaken for the old Fennec Shand at a glance, but any sort of examination showed the quality of their work - hair thicker and shinier, eyes brighter, lips fuller, waist smaller, hips wider. Gone were the lines and scars acquired through hard years of mercenary work. Wiry muscles had melted 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 chest had ballooned into something big and voluptuous. Soft tit-flesh spilled out around her fingers when she hefted the weight of her new breasts. The touch sent shivers through her body.

Breasts hardly felt appropriate anymore. All the terms she'd heard around the spaceport ran threw her head. Fun bags, flesh melons, **** stars, milk jugs, hutt twins, shoulder boulders, naughty pillows, or even the simple 'big knockers' were more accurate now.

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

Fennec jumped when the Jablogian appeared to deliver her uniform, but her elation at finally getting clothes died when she discovered that how little there was to it. It had black leather gloves accented with orange metal bands up to her slender biceps and black leather thigh boots with ballet heels and matching orange accents and nothing more. Her torso would stay completely bare.

She was left to wait leaving the shop dressed like this in dread anticipation with one gloved hand clamped over hairless loins and another trying in vain to cover her upsized melons. Leather boots rubbed as she pressed her supple 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 when she was handed 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 her massive twins on her chest, her weaker muscles left her wobbling like a newborn loth-kitten. And all that wavering only added sways and jiggles to the big, new jugs on her chest. A fact that was not lost on the many 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 emphasized the shake in her new milk shakes. 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 salacious wiggles and wobbles for the entertainment of the masses.

Fennec took solace that she may have been reduced to a 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. She recognized many, enemies and allies alike, in the group and they were all pointing, whistling, and ogling the fallen mercenary. Soon others joined in.

"Look at that bouncing binary"
"Where's she been hiding those turbolasers?"
"Turbolasers? More like **** stars!"
"I think you mean chest-stars."

There were so many innuendos and jeers. Her skin burn with embarrassment. But how did they know?

Catching her reflection in a shop window 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 Fenec Shand's infamous, lost armor. She tried to deny who she truly was, but with a ball in her mouth, all Fennec could manage was 'mmmph' and 'errfff'.

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 from now on, by the look of her," cried another merc, which set off a wave of laughter.

Her world was spinning. A reputation built over 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.