Episode I: THE FUTA AWAKENS

Chapter 1

It’s not a lavish ship, but it was once. An ultralight Corellian Transport used to be a way for people to get around quickly in style, basically an oversized shuttle with lots of unnecessary amenities. Now this ship is a relic, but it still flies. The interior, once almost luxurious, has become worn and grimy, showing its age.

The captain’s cabin is roomy, although the ship doesn’t have a captain, exactly. It has an owner, but is that really a captain when there’s no crew? She’s also not technically the owner; she still has nine payments left on this ship, which is older than she is.

She’s splayed out on the bed, naked. The floor is covered in empty bottles and cast-aside garments and underwear. She lies groggily in the dark, trying to make sense of her fuzzy thoughts, but they’re even fuzzier than normal. She’s no stranger to hangovers, but this feels different.

Her name is Blu, and it’s obvious from the state of the cabin and the smell that she was not here alone last night. There’s nothing unusual about that; she looks for company whenever she’s in port, but they’re usually still there in the morning. If anyone is sneaking out of bed, it’s typically her.

She sits up, groaning.

In the bathroom, her reflection looks terrible. Her short, dark hair is a frizzy mess. Her slim, but athletic frame is covered in scars, tattoos, tan lines, and freckles. Between her legs is a soft penis that doesn’t look very impressive at times like this, but when it’s feeling perkier it’s as big as her blaster. It’s a big galaxy, and females with anatomy like this are not uncommon in the mainstream, but they were unheard of on Mandalore when she was young and training in warrior arts.

That was ten years ago. She rubs her face and takes a quick shower, which still doesn’t completely wake her up. She tucks her penis into a clean pair of underwear and dons a shirt, then lowers the ramp and stumbles blearily down it, half-dressed with a cup of tea in her hand.

She sits down at the bottom, yawning and taking in the view. This is not the nicest part of Coruscant, but she can still see the nice parts from here: towering buildings full of lights under a purple sky. Other ships occupy this landing site, but hardly anyone is out and about, and she doesn’t care if anyone sees her like this anyway. She sips her tea and tries to remember. She should at least be able to recall the face of whoever she brought back last night, but there’s nothing at all in her mind. It’s all blank.

That makes her suspicious, but luckily she doesn’t have to rely on her memory. She finishes her tea and climbs back aboard, raising the ramp and going to her cabin. On the shelf waits an enormous bottle from a bar on Alderaan, one of those things where if someone can drink the whole thing, the night’s tab is free. Blu drank the whole thing, then brought the bartender and the bartender’s twin sister that night. She smiles at the thought and moves the bottle, revealing the recorder behind it. She pops it open, only to find there is no recording cartridge inside. That’s odd. She always keeps this loaded.

Alarmed, she opens the drawer where she keeps all the recordings from this room, only to find it empty.

Suddenly her mouth is dry. She stands up, totally awake. Now that she’s paying attention, it’s clear that other things are missing.

She puts her face in her hand. It was bound to happen sometime. No wonder this hangover feels different. She must’ve been . That’s why she didn’t notice that she was being robbed.

Well, going by the amount of fluids that appear to have been spilled on the sheets, the thief earned it. But whoever she is, she’s still going to regret this. Blu can’t be offended that someone else is doing something bad; it’s not like she doesn’t know that secretly recording all her bedroom activities isn’t exactly a nice girl’s hobby. It’s still upsetting.

The only objects of any value that weren’t taken are the ship itself and Blu’s antique blaster, probably because the thief didn’t realize what it was. What was going to be a lazy morning doesn’t feel so lazy anymore.

Her money is gone, and she didn’t have much, but now she has none. She can’t even pay for this landing space today, so she can’t even go after this thief until she finds a way to cover that expense. She pulls on her tan jumpsuit and shoulder holster, tucking her blaster, then tugs on her red, knee-high boots.

Blu can’t even remember the girl’s face, but this thief picked the wrong person to steal from.

Meanwhile…

The hall of learning in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant is always quiet, but Enthea Ro hears the muted clashing of training sabers in the next hall, where the little boy, Anakin, is already able to complete a set of exercises without removing his blindfold.

It’s not a good feeling to see someone so young having such an easy time progressing in his mastery of the , but Enthea is careful not to think that way. Envy is a dangerous emotion, but she can’t always help herself, and she has to be extra careful. She is a Dathomirian, a race overwhelmingly associated with the Sith. That prejudice has been made even worse by the of Master Qui Gon, who was killed by another Dathomirian.

Enthea can hardly walk through the halls of the temple without receiving at least one suspicious look, always from pale-skinned humans. Her skin is as black as the void of space, with only a few red markings on her face and body. The humans particularly dislike the short horns on her smooth head, and she’s extremely petite. They all look down at her.

But she guards her feelings and just tries to study harder, like she’s doing now, pouring over droid blaster patterns and thinking of ways to deflect them most efficiently.

She senses Obi-Wan Kenobi approaching before she hears him. She shuts down the terminal and stands up as he arrives behind her.

“Master,” she says.

“You’re summoned by the Council,” he tells her without preamble, and she doesn’t need to read the worry on his face. She can feel it in the . He turns and starts away, and she hurries after him.

“Is something wrong, Master?”

“When we receive these calls, Enthea, it is never because we are about to receive good news,” he says, glancing down at her.

“Oh dear,” she murmurs, joining him in the elevator.

In minutes they’re walking into the Council Chamber near the top of the temple. All the masters are there except for Master Qui Gon.

Enthea takes her place in the center of the chamber, standing up straight and expectant.

The empty seat where Qui Gon once sat is meant for Obi-Wan, but he stands beside her. That’s comforting.

“Enthea Ro,” Master Windu says, wearing his stern expression and gazing straight at her. He’s a human with an unusually intense stare.

“Yes, Master?”

“Is this you?” He gestures, and a holographic recording begins to play.

Enthea’s eyes widen in recognition. The recording shows her in a confined space, just from the waist up. The recording is extremely shaky and of poor quality, but it’s still obvious what is going on. The licking and slurping and gulping noises fill the Council Chamber. The hologram of Enthea pants and moans, modest breasts bouncing and jiggling as someone just outside the frame sucks her off ruthlessly. It’s hard to make anything out clearly, but Dathomirians are rare on Coruscant, and the red marks on Enthea’s chest are unique to her. There is no question about who is in that video.

Although she’s mortified and full of embarrassment, Enthea’s penis tingles as she watches.

In the recording, Enthea cries out and white fluid splashes suddenly block the view. Some of her ejaculate must have gotten on the recording device being held by the person pleasuring her.

“Oh dear,” she murmurs again.

Master Windu mercifully ends the playback.

“Asked you a question, Master Windu did,” Master Yoda prompts.

“It is me, Masters.” Enthea is sweating all over her body.

“Enthea Ro, it is not lost on the Council that due to your bodily circumstances, you have powerful sexual urges that must be expressed in order for you to maintain the appropriate mental state of a Jedi,” Master Windu says. “You are allowed a certain degree of freedom to maintain your wellness in this regard, provided you keep that activity free of emotion.”

“It is free of emotion, Master Windu,” Enthea says, her mouth very dry.

“Also provided that you do not compromise the reputation of the Jedi Order. You were told that you could relieve yourself, not that you could record it and present it to the galaxy,” one of the other masters says angrily.

“Clearly, Enthea did not consent to the recording,” Obi-Wan says, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I might have,” Enthea replies quietly.

“Sorry, I am. Catch that, I did not,” Master Yoda says.

“I might have consented,” Enthea says quietly, struggling not to hide her face in her hands.

“Why would you do that?” Master Windu demands.

“I was under the influence of strong drink.”

Obi-Wan looks aghast. “Enthea! You know that’s not permitted.”

“I have ,” she protests. “I lack the… the courage to do these things without it. I have no memory of this.” She points at the hologram, which is frozen with half the image covered by dripping semen.

“No memory?” Obi-Wan says.

“None, Master.”

The Council is silent for a moment. Master Windu clears his throat.

“You have no memory of consenting to the recording?” he asks.

“I don’t. I can’t even remember who that was,” Enthea admits, ashamed. “I find it best not to remember. The memory would stir my needs and affect my concentration. As this recording has done now.”

Master Yoda looks disapproving. Obi-Wan and Master Windu look sympathetic.

“Remember, you cannot?” Master Yoda asks. “Then consent, you cannot.”

“Yes,” Master Windu agrees. “This was done without appropriate consent. To record another individual this way is against the law on Coruscant, and punishable by prison time. The video has already been removed from the pornographic database that it was sold to, but it has been seen. Enthea Ro, you will restore the honor of the Jedi by seeking out the perpetrator and arresting them. You will present that offender to the Council, and we will ensure that they serve the longest possible sentence for this crime, and never again behave so unethically. They will be an example to others who would try to compromise the reputation of our Order.”

Meanwhile…

The Sith Fortress on Moraband is always dark and loud. The huge factories and manufacturing plants are full of vast machines, building droids, and weapons.

Silvi Khan is used to the constant din as she makes her way up the black steps toward the inner chambers. Alone, she strides briskly through the throne room.

She stands out in this place, which is built of big, black blocks. Her skin is perfectly white like starlight, making her almost appear to glow except for the blue stripes on her head tails. She is one of only a few Togruta who has ever set foot on Moraband, but she fully intends to be the greatest of them. Her curvaceous, bountiful body strains against the tiny, black garments that contain her thick penis, wide hips, and heavy, swinging breasts.

Dim lights come on in the small room behind the throne as she enters, and the doors slide shut behind her.

She stands up, taking a deep breath.

“You summoned me, Master,” she says.

A blue hologram appears, showing the back of a triangular throne. All Silvi can see is a single slender hand resting on the armrest.

“Look at the recording, my young apprentice,” her master commands.

Silvi obediently turns to look as a holographic recording begins. The view is of a bedchamber aboard a cramped little scrapheap of a ship. A bright, white body is visible astride someone else, riding them sinuously in the messy bed.

It’s obviously Silvi, her breasts wobbling, and her hard cock doing the same as she bounces on a hard, sloppy erection.

“This is you?” the Master asks.

“It is, Master.”

“Where did this occur?”

“On Hoth, Master. I had completed the task that you asked of me. There were two hours before my flight left. A woman came into the bar. We had both been out in the cold and wanted to warm up. She was very drunk,” Silvi reports succinctly.

“My,” the Master begins but is interrupted by a slap from the recording. Silvi’s partner had just smacked Silvi’s round buttock, making the white flesh ripple. “My apprentice were you aware of…” She’s interrupted by another smack. Then another.

“Yes!” Silvi cries out in the recording. “More!”

The Master is silent as the smacks continue until there’s a grunt from the partner, and the hologram of Silvi arches her back and screams, semen erupting from her throbbing cock.

“Pause playback,” the Master says irritably. Silvi notices the fingers drumming on the arm of the throne. Then she eyes the frozen hologram, her chest in mid-jiggle, the drops of cum in the air, and the fingers of that woman digging into Silvi’s rear end.

Silvi bites her lip at the memory. Those fingers felt good. It all felt good. That was a nice time.

She hears the Master take a deep breath for patience.

“Were you aware of the recording?” the Master asks finally.

“No, Master. I was distracted. She came so much that it was still dripping out of me a day later…”

“Unnecessary detail,” the Master snaps, interrupting her. “Listen. Carnal desire is a powerful conduit for the Dark Side,” the Master says. “I encourage it. But we operate in the shadows. Having these moments shared in galaxy-wide pornographic databases to be viewed by millions of people is not discreet.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Was this the extent of your interaction with this woman?”

“No, Master,” Silvi replies honestly. “We showered after. She played with my breasts and jerked me off while she fucked my thighs. She is very good with that right hand of hers,” she adds.

“Then you will take that hand from her to punish her for trifling with the Sith,” the Master orders. “Then destroy her.”

“Yes, Master.”

“But first you will go to Naboo to complete your final task. You will seek out the Gungan Hidden Grass Clan and strike it down. None shall survive. Then deal with this woman. Only then will you return to me,” the Master commands.

“Yes, my Master. It will be done,” Silvi promises.