The Lars Homestead, Jundland Wastes
On a scorching afternoon, such a monument to shade was welcome upon the farm, even for as short a while as the Sandcrawler had made its stay before finally following its namesake, and crawling off and away from the Lars Homestead, its gargantuan tracks rattling and rumbling the whole region as it thundered off into the distance, carrying its cargo of beady little Jawa's and Starports worth of scrap with it.
Luke stood topside, next to his Uncle, who began counting through his change. A brief but lecherous smirk caught Luke's eye, he already knew his Uncle had plans for such, and here Luke now found himself, his trip to Tosche station spontaneously cancelled while his Uncle was about to hit the big city chasing whores. Meanwhile, Luke was stuck downstairs, cleaning the new work hands, a surprisingly gleaming, well-made Protocol Droid and an Astromech with a full arsenal of tools. The Jawa's must have either gotten lucky or bold in a 'repo' job, more likely simple desert theft to find a droid as shiny as the Protocol unit 'C-3PO'. How they managed such a good deal had something to do with its attitude, always something to complain about, boast about or belittle. The Astromech's cost was nothing short of a twist of fate, the Jawa's scam failing spectacularly in the premature detonation of another Astromech unit.
Fate was a strange mistress.
As Owen zoomed off into the featureless horizon, Luke guided their new droids down into the subterranean house, through their alcove and past his T-16 into his bedroom. Like any good farmer, Owen made sure his tools were in good condition, or at least made sure his Nephew made sure. He had to give both droids a full workover, ensure they were in working order and clean them up where needed.
With a clang, clatter, and a few dramatic slams of several tools upon Luke's workbench, he finally brought the screwdriver to '3PO' to begin unfastening his chassis plating to start his inspection.
"Master Luke, I am programmed in over six million forms of communication, as I have informed your Uncle." Spoke the Droid, remaining perfectly still for the inspection
"Yeah, I heard." The Farmhand grumbled, tracing several circuit cables through 3PO's internals, ensuring each connection was soldered down and there was no lodged sand as often was the case with anything electronic in the Dunes.
"That includes Human body language, and I hope I'm not overstepping by saying you seem annoyed."
"Yeah..." He huffed, clasping up his chest plate again, bolting it down and helping the Droid to his feet. "...yeah, no, I'm sorry, 3PO, it's not your fault."
Luke led him to a pit within the workshop, beginning to strap him into the cage and program the oil heaters. "I had plans today. Instead, I'm stuck here cleaning you two."
"That sounds like it is indeed our fault Master Luke." The Protocol unit sounded hurt by his words. They're designed to feel and think just like anyone else. Luke wasn't used to dealing with a Protocol droid.
"It isn't, 3PO, it's my uncle, keeping me here while he's out... uh." His words fell short, trying to find the appropriate descriptor.
"Galavanting?" 3PO inquired as the oil beneath the cage he stood upon began to bubble and boil.
"That sounds better, yeah." He sighed, flicking a switch next to 3PO, the crane steadily lowering him into the oil bath. Much to the Protocol's joy, he didn't seem to have much of a fondness for sand, odd for a Droid on Tatooine. Luke then turned his attention to the silent Astromech and sat in the corner of his room, approaching and kneeling next to the R2 unit, beginning a preliminary examination of his external ports, clearing them from sand and debris. "Not a very talkative one, are you?"
"Oh, on the contrary, Master Luke, that one never seems to know when to be quiet, though he's huffing just now, not a fan of those little pests who sold us." He called over from his bath, turning both bright, glowing eyes upon the pair. "I can't quite blame him as I found them rather brutish myself. Could they have fried his binary module when they captured him?"
The Astromech at that let out a single, stark "BEDOOP" as if in response. It briefly startled Luke before he raised a brow, turning to look at 3PO.
"What did he say?" He inquired.
"I'm fine," 3PO answered. "As I say, huffing."
"Heh, I don't blame you, little guy. Those Jawa's can be a mean bunch, rough too if you get between them and a profit." Luke offered the R2 unit a pat on the side of his dome before returning to his cleaning. "I do see some Ion damage on a few of your surfaces, might have shorted a few internals, but we'll get them fixed in no time... hrm."
Luke spotted a strange port near the Droids 'neck' prodding a finger against the thin slot, he noticed an obstruction, a strange glistening yellow-white 'thing'. Droids weren't his speciality. He couldn't even understand binary. He much preferred ships. "There seems to be something wedged in here. It might be a bit of sand or something, let's see..." He grunted as he tried to slot the flathead of a multitool into the gap, hearing a flick and feeling a sudden hum from the Astromech as the room was flooded in a blue light.
"Help me, Ahsoka Tano. You're my only hope." A sudden, buzzing voice called out in the room.
Look peeked around the Droid. Before him, radiated in a faint blue light, stood a small Holofigure cast by a projector attached to the Astromech, seemingly repeating a single message repeatedly.
"Help me, Ahsoka Tano. You're my only hope." She repeated again in the same buzzing tone.
"Wha- who... is that?" Luke asked, blinking bewildered as he silently crept around R2, approaching the Holofigure upon his hands and knees, before seating himself next to 'her'. "She's beautiful."
It was hard for him to gauge much of the woman he saw in the Holoprojector. She was around his age, give or take a few years. It wasn't the best Holoprojector, and the elements had degraded the message, perhaps. She was clad in clean, featureless silken robes that cradled her body loosely, her nose a cute little button beneath dark, deep eyes, within which sat the fire of passion, the aura of a woman with great aspiration, and magnificent intentions, all conveyed in a smooth, regal and powerful voice, her hair a deep chestnut brown compared to his sandblasted blonde, much better kept and styled into a hair-do he'd only ever seen in Holomovies in Mos Espa. He was finding himself falling for a Hologram.
He only realised he was lost in her and noticed 3PO out of his bath, slapping R2 on the head with a clang that wrenched him back to the world.
"He asked you who she is. What do you mean you don't know?!" the kissass Protocol ridiculed the Astromech.
"Beep boop, bewwoo!" The Astromech seemed to chide back, remaining entirely motionless, the image only flickering at 3PO's strike.
"He says the restraining bolt is interfering with his systems. He cannot access his memory banks." 3PO translated. "Though I can tell you from my own that who you see there is Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan."
Luke, almost on his feet to leap across the room to grab the tool needed to remove the restraining bolt, stopped short as a figure appeared in his doorway.
"Luke!" Beru shouted, startled by the boy almost running into her in the doorway. "Where are you going?"
Luke's mouth hung open, the words failing to rise. He knew he couldn't tell her he was about to remove the restraining bolt of their brand-new droids. Only now did he just realise how stupid of an idea it was, led by his heart and not his head. "Uh... I-"
"It can wait. I need you to head into Mos Espa and get your Uncle." She sighed, looking somewhat frustrated by the request. "He's taken the Speeder and called over the Comm that he's out of fuel and has no money for a refill... is your ship working?"
Luke couldn't help but let a smile creep onto his face, quickly playing it off with a forced chuckle at Owen's expense. "It's good, don't worry, Beru, I'll get him back." He smiled, accepting a hug from her, feeling her chin drag against his shoulder. She was inspecting his room again. He didn't care. His mind was already focused on his evening ahead.
An excuse to go to Mos Espa? In the evening? Unaccompanied? And the cherry on top, Luke knew precisely where Owen would be.
"What are you watching in there?" Beru asked, peering into his room.
"No idea, it seems to be some software stuck in the R2 unit. I'm gonna get rid of it." Luke broke the hug, stepping around her to head for his T-16. "I'll do it when I'm back!" He grinned, hopping up through the door into his craft.
Who wouldn't be happy going to a strip club?
Mos Espa, The Dune Sea
The second sun had finally settled beneath the distant Horizon as Luke's ship touched down in the spaceport, the powerful thrusters kicking up a gentle storm of sand contained within the circular walls of the scrap hangar, and a plethora of PITT Droids and Jawas came bustling out with pipes and crates, tools and refurbishing ware. Luke quickly waved them off, giving them a simple handful of coins. "Parking service and a refuelling service on standby for an X-34 Landspeeder. I won't be long."
The Jawa's continued yammering and gesturing up at the Farmboy, trying to peddle wares or scam him into a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Luke was wise to their game and left them behind as he left the port, stepping into the now chilling cool air of the city. With the suns gone, the cold came, the only sources of heat flooding from windows and doors that he passed, he was warm in his Banthaskin cloak he dragged along with him, down several main roads and two side streets, passing the non-existent nightlife. Most markets closed, restaurants closed, and the only people on the streets were local workers returning from or heading to their shifts, or others like him, there for a night in the city or to haul back others who dared to try.
This wasn't his first time recovering his Uncle. He was only seventeen the first time he went to the city. Beru was worried, even more so that Luke had run off to rescue his Uncle. He never forgot when he returned. He was confined to his room for a whole month.
To him however, it was worth it. The sights he saw were worth a year of grounding if he was honest with himself, and now several years on, when Owen needed recovering, Luke was always on hand, the hero for the job... who gets to visit his favourite place in the city.
'The Lekku Licku' Dance bar. The best booze, the most incredible music, and the most pants-provoking women he had ever seen. It looked unassuming from the outside, with only a painted sign above the door illuminated by a few nightlights. It was a stylised silhouette of a Twi'lek, with a Human and Togrutan profile on either side, running their tongues up her Lekku. Luke smirked at the sign. He usually pictured Dashlaa when he saw the Togrutan Silhouette. He squinted slightly, looking at the Human. Suddenly he saw the mental image of the Princess from the Hologram. He swallowed, and almost immediately, he felt a flexing stiffness in his pants. He was glad of the cloak as he pulled it tighter, breaking his gaze and approaching the burly Besalisk bouncer out front, watching the line of Patrons all seeking entry.
Luke approached the towering, four-armed monstrosity of a man, a cocky grin plastered on his face.
"Uncles at it again, eh?" His voice poured out in a thundering chuckle high above the young man.
"When is he never." Luke responded dryly, maintaining his smile.
"You know it's bad for business if I just let you in to remove a customer?" Two of his four arms folded over his chest, the other two resting upon his hips.
"Damn, guess I have no choice but to stay a while then?" Luke chuckled, stepping towards the closed door.
"It would seem so. Good seeing you, Luke." His arms unfolded, one moving to open the door, while his hand on his hip raised to offer Luke a bump which was quickly met by Luke's own, minuscule hand by comparison, to the dismay of voices of patrons lining up by the door, quickly silenced by a snarl from the towering alien.
"You too Lez." Luke nodded, stepping through the hissing door, pulling his cloak with him so it wouldn't be caught when it slammed shut behind him.
Immediately he was overwhelmed, his senses all flooding with every vice the Club had to offer. His ears heard the latest, wildest and most lust-inducing tunes this side of the galaxy as they flowed into his mind, already causing the Farmhand to lightly nod his head to the beat.
His mouth was flooded by the taste of booze on the air, Cactus Brew, Hutt Honso's, Corewine, Netra'gal and more running along the bars in various glasses, different shapes and sizes of bottles, everyone with something in hand.
His nose flared as he sniffed the air. The heat of flesh, sweat and lust poured through the dimly lit dance hall, almost as deafening as the music that preceded it.
His eyes saw the main attractions, several platforms, women upon them, aliens from all over the galaxy, some tall, some short, some plump, some skinny, all with smooth, round curvaceous bodies, some rather loose and soft, some muscle-bound and toned. Their clothes, or rather lack thereof left very little to his imagination, panties riding up high in the puffy labia sandwiched between their swaying, gyrating thighs, kissing around the cool metal of poles that rose to the ceiling as they swung and swayed, sliding along the poles with the beat of the music. Some of the dancers showed bright, various coloured handprints upon their skin, usually around their ass and thighs, the occasional crack of another being made heard elsewhere in the Club, and just in the far corner, he saw, bleary-eyed and blind drunk, his Uncle with a short, plump Mirilian kneeling upon his lap, she was fully nude perhaps, it was hard to tell from here, her back was laden with various ritualistic tattoos that all Mirilians seemed to carry, but Luke was more than sure, with so much ass on display, she wasn't wearing panties.
And finally, his sensation of touch was met. He felt it before he saw it, however, two heavy, warm weights resting upon his shoulders from behind, warming his ears as they were sandwiched between them, feeling two hands grasp upon his waist, pulling him back into an embrace against a set of firm, chiselled abs, hiding beneath two heavy-set breasts almost twice the size of his head.
"Mr Skywalker, you seem to get 'lost' here almost far too often." A warm, cock-stirring, salivating purr melted into his ears, and the approach shot him immediately to full mast. Once again, he thanked fate for bringing his cloak with him as he shifted to try and face an all-too-familiar voice.
"Lady Tano." He responded, her palms remaining upon his waist as he turned to face her, not letting him pull away from their closeness as he looked up. She stood almost two heads above him and another head higher for the tip of her horns. His cheeks were nuzzled between her breasts, covered by a thin, metallic, jingling bra on either side of his ears, twinkling every time she shifted, her body to the music as she gently ground her well-honed, magnificent body against Luke, Luke's own hands slowly raising up to rest upon the bare, child-baring hips of Dashlaa's mother.
"Please, Luke, we've known each other long enough... you can call me Ahsoka." She continued in her smooth, honeyed purr.
He saw her the first time he came here. He had met Dashlaa's mother a few times before but never really knew what she did for a living. Dashlaa told him she worked for Czerka Corp out in Mos Espa, and her job required a lot of travelling. The day Luke found out was much to the shock of Ahsoka. She dragged him to a back room as barely dressed as she stood before him now. She tried to explain it, albeit poorly, only imploring that he wouldn't tell Dashlaa. Luke had no intention to do so, he would never do something like that to such a beautiful woman like Ahsoka, but before he could tell her of his senses, she had him back against a sofa. Slowly she crawled atop him, adopting a deep, lewd purr as she kissed him, grinding herself against him as she promised to make it all worth his while if he kept quiet.
Luke knew he had her in the palm of his hand if he wanted, she was ready to do anything and everything for him if he kept her secret from Dashlaa. Luke, however, wasn't about to let it just happen. He wasn't going to anyway. He stopped her and explained that her secret was safe, cockblocking himself from every young man's dream.
Every time he came back however, she was all over him.
"Ahsoka, I came to recover my uncle." He lifted his head slowly, grinding his hot, reddening cheeks against the inside of her breasts, resting his chin upon them as he smiled up at her, lightly squishing her meat between his fingers, grasping down upon his ass.
"Just your Uncle?" She pouted. One of her long, near waist length Lekku curling up and around the back of his head, cradling it within the appendage as she leaned down slightly closer, bringing her face more into the light, like Daughter like mother, stunning to behold with dazzling, sapphire blue irises surrounded by smooth, white curved markings, highlighting her brow, her cheeks, her exotic alien physique. He almost found himself lost for a second time that day, his gaze only broke by the graze of her thigh against his outstretched cock, tucked within his pants, immediately curling her pout into a grin. "You sure know how to keep a woman wanting Skywalker, just like your father."
"My fath-?"
"LUKE!" A voice across the Club called out, his Uncle shoving aside the Mirilian on his lap as he drunkenly stumbled onto his feet, slurping from a bottle. "Here to ruin my fun again?"
Ahsoka sighed, cursing her slip, ignoring Luke's question as she released him, moving across the bar to the commotion.
Luke's hands fell away as they soon grasped nothing but air. He frowned slightly, already missing her touch before steeling himself, remembering he had a job, following after her to close on his Uncle.
"Ah you bitch, whatsh the plan, fuck one up and now y'r after the nexsht?!" Owen slurred as the music continued at full volume. A scuffle and a scream weren't gonna harsh the vibes of the Club. Half the dancers were letting out a cry of their own in the private booths, after all.
"You've had enough Lars." Ahsoka chided him, resting a hand upon her scantily clad hip, only a long thin drape of silk dangling between her legs, held up by a light golden link of chains, every step she took hugged around the sheet of fabric as she stepped barefoot through the bar, the occasional gust of wind blowing it just high enough to glimpse at her bare, pristine orange lips beneath.
"You'f had enuff y'fuckin whore... keep your claws off him sl-" He lurched towards her as he slurred, lifting his bottle, ready to try and smash it against her head while she approached. She ducked it with perfect precision, curling her leg up behind her, over her head and straight into his face, giving Luke and every patron behind her a full flash of her pantieless cunt and crack before it slowly vanished behind the settling skirt and her lowering leg.
Despite his Uncle collapsing to the ground unconscious before her, Luke could have sworn he saw her peek back at him with a wink, as if she knew what she did, and not only that, but she knew he was staring.
His gaze quickly averted as he stepped around her, kneeling down to try and drag his Uncle to his feet, soon assisted by the Togruta, helping him towards the door.
"You knew my father?" Luke grunted over to her beneath the weight of his unconscious Uncle.
"Another time Luke." She dismissed the topic, trapesing the Farmer to the main door, sliding it open and finally dumping him onto Lez outside. "Help Luke, take Owen back to his vessel."
"That was a short visit?" He Besalisk seemed a tad confused, looking between them.
"I know" both Ahsoka and Luke spoke simultaneously, seemingly equally disappointed by the fact.
"Well, a shame, hope the next one is less unfortunate, Luke." He hoisted Owen up and over his shoulder on two arms. He didn't grunt nor huff, it seemed like child's play to him, throwing around a Human up and over his shoulder, carrying him down the sandy trail as simply as one held a rucksack.
"Port Seluun Delta." Luke called behind him, intending to set off alongside him, held back by a firm grasp upon his wrist from the Togrutan dancer.
"One of these days, you're going to have to let me let you leave here on a good note Skyboy." She sighed quietly, offering him a soft, apologetic smile.
"Well, I have no duties tomorrow, and I need to talk to you about a Droid now that I remember." He curled his own fingers up slowly, clasping upon her own wrist, fighting the urge of his other hungry hand to reach up and grasp a meaty fistful of her bulging tit-flesh, bouncing with every shift, step and breath of the woman holding him.
"A Droid, eh? Come to Anchorage tomorrow at Noon. I'll be busy in the morning..." She flicked a wordless nod towards the door of the Cathouse "...but I'll be back later in the day, you can catch up with Dashlaa, you haven't seen each other for so long!"
Luke tensed slightly, quickly melting into relief.
'Then she doesn't know it was me last night.'
The memory flooded back to him, the busty, tall Togrutan Milf before his eyes morphed into her short, plump and provocative Daughter, laying bare before him, face glistening with his own dripping cum, purring his name up to him.
"Luke." Dashlaa's voice whispered, slowly licking the salty glaze from her lips. "Luke." It grew louder as she lathered a finger in his virile seed, slowly stuffing it into her drooling yellow cunt.
"Luke!" The image faded as Ahsoka's voice took hold, the image fading as she gazed down upon him, raising a brow. "I didn't think you were so eager."
"Huh?" Luke asked in a slight daze, returning to the world before him, only met with a silent point of her finger, down between them, whereupon he felt a tingling sensation, glancing down he saw his full, fabric-tensing erection prodding out from his Robe, digging between Ahsoka's bare thighs, staining them with a seeping leak of arousal oozing through the fabric.
He recoiled a bit, breaking their contact, concealing himself within his Robe as he turned to make pace and catch up with his Uncle's escort to the cackle of a Togrutan whore behind him, teasing him as he left.
"Think of me tonight, Farmer!" Called Ahsoka until finally, he was out of earshot.
The Lars Homestead, Jundland Wastes
The stars had flooded the night sky by the time the groaning thunder of Luke's T-16 rumbled above the Homestead, its wings slowly folding up as, with a descending whine it lowered into the Utility Pit, kicking up a short-lived sandstorm, blasting the walls and rockfaces with Repulsorlift gusts before finally settling, and a concerned Beru running out in front of the Ships viewport, opening the door to see Luke carrying a slurring, delirious Owen over his shoulders.
Behind her stood C-3PO as she stepped under Owen's other arm to help Luke carry him out of the ship.
"3PO, take him off Luke and help me get him to bed, then find me a pan to beat him with, in the morning." She huffed, growled and sighed all at once before glancing up at Luke with a soft smile. "Thank you for getting him back."
"It's no problem Beru. Happy to do it." Luke stepped aside, helping 3PO get a hold of the unconscious Farmer. "I'll be in Anchorage most of tomorrow, I uh, need to get some parts for the Astromech, so I'll take him with."
"I'll be sure your Uncle understands it's your day off." She assured him, throwing a brief but telling glare at the snow-snoring weight on her shoulder before slowly dragging him off to the Living Pit, and their quarters.
Alone, Luke sighed, finally relaxing his shoulders as his Robe flopped to the sides, glancing down as he felt the painful pressure of his pants still squeezing his raging rod back against him. Without delay, he was inside his room, closing the door behind him, stripping down and planting himself onto his bed, one hand grasped firmly upon his shaft, pleasuring himself in a desperate bid to rid himself of the frustration.
He imagined himself back at the Club. Owen didn't make a scene. Ahsoka slowly pushed him backwards, further and further, deeper into the Club to a sofa of his own before she fell to her knees, breasts resting heavily upon his lap, engulfing his already bare, rigid cock between their generous proportions, hugging her arms tight around them as she squished and pinched her dark brown nipples, tugging and squeezing the hard diamond duds so firm and brutish that they began gushing milk over his belly.
He slowly fell back upon his bed, drooling a hot, musky scent of a ready-to-rock cock into his room. He let out a deep, relaxing sigh as he kept pumping, seeing his imaginary Togruta clamber up atop him, feeling the warm, imaginary grind of her soft, malleable labia slither around him and quickly drop upon him. He glanced up and pictured not Ahsoka, but her young, hot Daughter, bouncing atop his fuck-pole, slamming his breeding-rod deep into her tight, hungry baby-hole, begging Luke to breed her, over and over, calling herself a worthless alien whore, begging him to enslave her and use her as a Cum-dump while he fucks other women before her, make her feel worthl-
"Fuck, she's rubbing off on me." He grumbled, half amused by and half disturbed by the effect Dashlaa's degredation in the bedroom and what it might have awoken in him, but tonight wasn't the night for her rubbing of on him, but him rubbing off on her, and continue he did, cheering along the storyline in his head, thrusting his own hips up against the vice-grip of his hand as he saw himself slamming up into a nude, collared and chained Dashlaa, the chain in his hand and a gag in her mouth, muffling a series of screaming cries of ecstacy as he used his new, beautiful slave.
His head rolled back as he groaned into the air of his room, quickly approaching his limit before he opened his eyes once again, and against his will, the scene changed before him. The sand-ridden walls of the Homestead were replaced by clean, white panels and lighting, and there was a quiet hum beneath the rhythm of heavy, meaty slaps of thick, buttery asscheeks smacking into his thighs. The tight obscured by large, silken robes, concealing a modest pair of breasts beneath as above him bounced a human, with two just as modest buns of hair on either side of her head, howling down to him, a hand resting upon his chest, the other squishing one of her concealed breasts.
"Mmmh, ever fucked a princess farm boy?! Ever filled her hungry little womb up?" Moaned Princess Leia of Alderaan, her creamy white skin hinting a tint of blue as he only pictured the Hologram of her riding his throbbing, drooling cock. As her milky thighs pounded her unseen folds down over his thick, pulsing dick, but it was at these words his back arched, his teeth clenched. His cock flexed in his hand as it fired stream after stream of thick, white baby-batter high into the air, staining the ceiling from the sheer force it left him, leaving him sweating, panting, laying in a shallow puddle of his own fluids as they stained him and his sheets, whispering into the air through gentle gasps.
"F-fuck... Leia."