900 Year Old Virgin

AN: All characters in this story are at least 18 years old. Also this is a parody, please don’t sue me, I do not own Star Trek or Spaceballs.

“What a tragic scene,” a concerned Palpatine laid his hand upon Amidala’s shoulder. “The **** of Qui-Gon Jinn is a grave loss for us all.”

“Yes,” Amidala murmured back watching the pyre in the distance surrounded by the Jedi. “As a small condolence, and it is indeed small, I’ve opened a rare Naboo sanctuary, ancestral queens have long sworn that none may enter save Naboo royalty. I hoped Master Yoda and Knight Kenobi may find some peace there, but it seems Knight Kenobi declined, he wishes to grow closer to Anakin.”

“Yes, what a remarkable child that one is,” whispered Palpatine, kind smile aimed into the distance. "Despite our losses, we have much to be grateful for."

Much later a tired Yoda was show through a secret passage of the Naboo palace into a private Grotto, the maid lit the ancestral incense, a personal stash not used since the founding of Naboo (little was known about that Queen, save her frequent trips to her own personal monastery).

Yoda sat down, folding both of his tiny legs underneath him, “Leave me, please do. Meditate on changes most grave, must I.”

Pink smoke filled the room as a restless Yoda closed his eyes.

As dawn broke Sabe entered and spoke, “Master Yoda? Is everything well with you?”

The ancient one stirred, eyes sliding open gravely from his posture.

“Opened my eyes have been, never clearer has the **** spoken. Wisdom most remarkable resides here,” praised a grateful Yoda.

“A 900-year old virgin I am. Raising an army of hormone suppressed virgins. Fix this I will.”

“What the fuck?”

“No, world the fuck,” Yoda paused eyes glancing back and forth. “Translation lost something there. No matter, Do or Do Not. There is No Try. And we Jedi are going to Do it everywhere.”

“Grandmaster Yogurt I have become, and Yogurt I shall provide.”

Credits:

Some Years ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a brutal war out of the emergence of the plans of a surging Sith Empire slowly emerged.

Sucks for that Galaxy.

With The Shwartz here, under the intervention and one night long effort of **** meditation of Grandmaster Yogurt, a new age has dawned. What was once settled with blasters is now judged by sexual contest. Where once Battleships met in space combat, now landing parties engage in sexual Olympics. Where once there was ****, now there is new life.

Under the influence of the ageless law that humanity can screw everything, the proliferation of humanity and humanity like species has gone rampant. Their everywhere and have become everything, there are no Hutts, Ando, Aqualish, or Bothans, in their place demi-like human beings that with human sexual tastes (though sensible beings avoid the Hutt worlds, putting a new skin on hasn’t made them any less depraved). Droids have turned into sex machines. Battleships are crewed by Ais with voyeuristic tendencies.

The Galaxy is now totally happy to legitimately go screw each other. In the fun way.

Still the dark Sith powers are not totally lost, nor utterly destroyed, a dark **** plots to eliminate the Age of Shwarz and return to an age of blasters and wars. Some in the shadows whisper that they reject sex entirely and wish to enforce absolute chastity (not the fun kind with edging).

These are the tales of Grandmaster Yogurt and his bid to spread the good word of the Shwartz from Star to Shining Star and stamp out the last efforts of a now rapidly failing, or flaccid, dark Empire. He begins his journey reforming the Grand Jedi Temple at Coruscant.