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.