Review Please! This fiction writtenis by Ki-Rah (Kira) of the roboclaw clan. :)
Chapter 1: Spider Veins
"If you had to float around in space for the rest of your life with one soft drink, one snack food, and one person what would you choose?" He leaned in searching the intense blue eyes across from him, and rubbing his socked feet together for warmth.
"I would choose Mountain Dew, rice crispy treats, and you…my master." He cut short his thoughts of Padme, and replaced her with the man by his side, as he allowed the questioner to fondle his golden locks.
"I could have said that." The old man breathed onto Anakin's ear. His rippling jowls fluctuating with each passionate breath.
"Because you were reading my mind?" Anakin challenged him, deepening his voice.
"Because I can sense the power in you… I used to buy food for you from the snack machines when you were a little padawan, don't you remember?" The old Sith lord pouted.
"Oh, yes master, I remember." Anakin reached down to Sidious' hard dick that resembled a vacuumed peep, and grabbed hold of it. He wormed his way across the crimson red bed to lick Sidious' steaming and waxed chest, rubbing harder the throbbing Sith saber.
Sidious squealed an ecstatic "yes, lets begin your training…" as he let his hands search the area of Anakin's saber, curling his pasty claws around it and flicking the tip with his sweaty thumb.
They're rhythms met and worked together, steaming up the windows, sweat dripped off of the bed like the waterfalls on Naboo, and an energy welled up in Sidious' rectum as boiling as Mustafar's lava.
Palpatine was about to roll over and instruct Anakin to enter his rear, when a lamp flew through the air and BANG!
Black.
"Oh my Gawd, I couldn't do it Palps!" Anakin paced, looking at the bloody mass he'd made of his master. His master lay on the bed with nothing on but his socks, and his grey eyes in their wrinkled sockets stared up at the ceiling under a clot of blood.
Anakin sat down in a chair, tears streaming down his cheeks, and tied up his pants. He stared at Palpatine on the bed, thinking about the overwhelming darkness of his path. What would he have to do next? How far did he have to go to save Padme? Next he'd be fucking him in a bantha outfit. I just want to call Padme! He thought to himself.
He walked to the bathroom and wiped the sweat off his feet with a towel, and pulled on his boots and robe.
He let out one last tear then straightened himself, relaxed his face, wiped his eyes and turned off the lights, opening the door, and sat down to play PS2 in the next room.
"AT-AT Off Road Fury! RAWR!" He yelled pounding his chest, and wiped away another tear.
As he maneuvered his AT-AT, doing sweet shooting techniques and "Supermans" over rolling dunes of Tatooine he lit a cigarette and thought about his predicament.
"So…you choose to overthrow your master, young Skywalker? You are completing your training." A abrasive voice said from the door way.
Anakin shot off the couch like a torpedo, as the cleaning droid imploded from his shock. "Palpatine?" Anakin screeched. There was the the fleshy spider himself, reaching his long pale old Sith lord-y arms to touch the tanned Tatooine boy. It was Anakin's turn to sweat, his pecks quivered as Palpatine approached…reached out his hand…Anakin couldn't handle it, he couldn't handle the blood dripping off of the keen man's head, couldn't handle the 7 by 7 inch spider veins nesting on his thighs. He just couldn't anymore… not even with a cigarette. The yellow and brown finger nail came closer to Anakin's skin from the bloody monster grin, Oh, you so need cuticle cream. Then, the little splayed nail touched, and the layers of nail scratched against Anakin, it echoed in Anakin's ears, scratch, scratch… Like the sound that one kid in Anakin's class used to make with his pencil. Anakin screamed, and every alarm was triggered, a shower falling from the ceiling, the blood dripped off Palpatine's bald head in a flood, dripping into his open cackle. Anakin ran to the laundry chute and jumped in head first. "Padme! I'm coming to you!" He yelled, as he tumbled down, down, and down through the metal tubing.
That image of Palps was imprinted in his head forevermore. He wondered if he'd ever be able to have a good orgasm again.
To be continued? TELL ME IF YOU WANT IT, if you NEED it.