Chapter 1 - Padmé and the Kouhuns

Billboard holos spun, shifted, and flashed candy colors from all directions.  Music throbbed, making it difficult for any observers to see or hear the two armored humanoids meeting on a ledge outside a nightclub in the Uscru Entertainment District of Coruscant.  The taller of the two wore blue and silver combat armor of an archaic-but effective-design.  A blast helmet concealed his face.  He was pacing; he had been waiting some time, with only Holonet News reporting of the day’s events.  In Coruscant, like everywhere else, the news never tells the whole story.

The shorter one stepped out of a small speeder, clearly agitated.  She appeared to be a young, darkly attractive human woman in violet armor, but appearances can deceive.

“I hit the ship, but she used a decoy,” said Zam Wesell.

Jango Fett frowned beneath his faceplate, but his voice remained even.  “We’ll have to try something more subtle this time; she has Jedi bodyguards now.”

Fett’s mood shifted, as did his posture, as a message appeared in his helmet display.  “My client is getting impatient.  We are to kill the Senator and both Jedi, and our pay has been raised accordingly.”  He pulled a clear cylinder from a compartment on his armor.  “Take these.  Be careful, they’re very poisonous, but this hunt might be fun.  For you.”

Wesell took the cylinder, and saw the silver creatures inside.  She became so excited that she failed to maintain her face, showing a wrinkled gray Clawdite form.  “Kouhuns, my favorite!  But what about the Jedi?”

Fett tapped a key on his wrist computer, sending his plan to Wesell’s data pad.  She looked over the plan and her human face returned with a lustful smile.  “Masterful, let’s get started.”

Senator Amidala was having trouble sleeping.  The bomb had missed her completely, but killed Cordé and several other members of the senatorial party.  Padmé rolled over, trying not to see the faces of the people who had died for her.  She turned her thoughts to Anakin.  He had grown into quite a handsome man, and the age difference was only five years…  But he was a Jedi, and forbidden human attachments.  Still, that made the fantasy safer.  A small smile played across Padmé’s features as she slipped off her nightclothes and drifted into an erotic dream.

Outside the bedroom, Obi-Wan Kenobi was annoyed.  “She covered the cameras?  What is she thinking?”

Anakin Skywalker met his master’s concerned expression.  “I don’t think she likes us watching her.  Besides, she has Artoo in there, and nothing will get past his sensors.  What about the perimeter?”

Kenobi’s expression softened slightly.  “The captain has plenty of men downstairs, and a pair of N-1s is on station above the skyways.  Only a very sophisticated assassin could get into the building, and they’d have us to deal with.”

As he said it, a red light flashed on the security console.

“That is a sensor on the roof!”  Kenobi turned and walked into the turbolift.  “Anakin, stay here, I will check and call you if I need help.”

Kenobi’s ride to the roof was mostly concerned with worry for his Padawan.  He was falling in love with the Senator, and that would inevitably lead to trouble.  Romantic feelings usually did, for every Padawan, at some point.  It was a problem, but it was a part of growing as a Jedi-and of just plain growing up.  Kenobi decided to wait and see.

The turbolift doors hissed open-back to the task at hand.  As Kenobi stepped onto the rooftop, he saw a small droid floating over the edge down the west side of the tower-the Senator’s penthouse!  As he reached for his lightsaber, he felt a sharp sting in his neck, followed by the indescribable sensation of a nerve toxin killing him.  He forced himself into a healing trance as he fell to the rooftop.  Just before passing out, he saw a woman in purple step over him into the lift.  It was up to Anakin and Artoo, now.

Padmé had slipped from her fantasy into a deep, dreamless sleep.  She did not hear Artoo beep and chirp as he scanned the room, or the pair of kouhuns rustling in her bedclothes.  She did, however, awaken with a gasp at the sudden, sharp pain in her inner thigh.  She sat bolt upright in bed, then fell back.  Her arms and legs did not answer her demands that they move.  She tried to cry out, but could not move her tongue or lips, so all that came out was a wordless, nasal whine, like a dog whimpering, but lower.

At that point, many things happened at once.  Artoo flipped on the room lights and spun his dome to look at her.  A shape in the window shot blue light at Artoo, and the little droid was wrapped in lightning.  Artoo let out an electronic wail and tipped over, unmoving.  The door slid open and Anakin charged in, saber drawn.  He dropped the saber, clapped a hand to the back of his neck, fell to the ground, and was still.

A sleek woman in violet armor stepped into the room.  She was short-even shorter than Padmé-and had a predatory smile on her face.  “I am Zam Wesell.  You know me.”

Padmé did indeed.  A bounty hunter, assassin, and mercenary, Wesell was a known associate of three names on the Republic Most Wanted list.  Padmé knew people wanted her dead, but had not thought that she was a player at this level.  This was bad: Wesell was known for sexual torture of her victims, male and female alike.  Padme could not turn to look at Anakin, but she could move her eyes.

Zam Wesell smirked, than dragged the young Jedi up, depositing him into an armchair facing the bed.  “Not to worry, Senator, he’s just paralyzed.  Like you.  Want to see what that stinging was?”

Wesell took a step forward and pulled the coverlet and sheet off of Padmé.  Two… creatures… were in the bed with her.  They looked like metallic, segmented, oversized millipedes.  One was coiled around her left thigh; the other was scuttling toward her right armpit.  “These are kouhuns, honey.  They bite larger prey, then lay their eggs in body cavities.  A month or two later, the hatchlings emerge and eat their way out.”

Padmé tried to scream, but could produce nothing more than a high-pitched whine.  Wesell laughed cruelly.  “But that’s not the best part!  Once they mate, kouhun pairs hold the fertilized eggs in their mouths to implant them, meaning they don’t eat until the eggs are laid.  These two were trapped with egg clutches nearly a week ago, so they are starving.  They’ll look for something to eat the second they finish implanting you, something like a big, wounded animal.”  Wesell patted Anakin on the cheek.  “Master Bait here should do nicely, don’t you think?”

Sorrow forced its way past Padmé’s horror.  She could not bear the thought of another person being hurt to protect her, and especially not Anakin.  She admitted it to herself-she felt more for him than she should.

The upper kouhun reached her armpit and walked out onto her right breast, the sharp feet pricking her skin.  It reached her nipple and she felt an involuntary thrill of pleasure.  Wesell grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up onto a pile of pillows, propping her in a semi-sitting position.  The kouhun on her chest dug its feet in to hold on, and Padme sucked in a breath at the combination of arousal and pain.  The second kouhun remained wrapped around her upper leg.  Wesell forced two gloved fingers into Padmé’s pussy, working them back and forth, thumbing Padmé’s tiny, sensitive clit.  Padmé gasped and Wesell withdrew her fingers, now dripping with Padmé’s juices.

The assassin used her index finger as a pen, drawing lines from Padmé’s front and rear openings to the two kouhuns’ heads.  They immediately perked up and scuttled across Padmé’s defenseless body, following the scent trail to her loins.  One drove into her vaginal folds easily, the other took some force to penetrate her ass.  Padme whimpered, anticipating pain.  She was pleasantly surprised.  Each tiny sting of implantation released a mild ripple of euphoria into her belly.

Wesell looked down into Padmé’s eyes. “Fun, isn’t it?  They implant the eggs with anesthetic venom.  In some parts of the Rim, people use sterilized kouhuns as the ultimate sex toy, and…” Wesell chuckled, “at least one serial rapist on Nar Shaddaa uses them on her victims.”

The young Senator was shocked again, when the creatures pulled out after implanting only a few eggs each, paused, then pushed back in again.

“I forgot to mention,” purred Wesell, “kouhuns breathe through holes on the side of their first few segments.  They will have to come up for air every few seconds.”  The hunter inclined her head toward the kouhuns working in and out.  “They have about five to ten thousand eggs to plant, each.  You will be here a while, and when they are done, you are coming with me.  Those eggs will need some quiet time to incubate.”

Now Padmé understood what she was in for: hours of repetitive thrusts from the creatures, a long, drawn-out violation, followed by captivity, and a slow, painful death.  It filled her with dread, but gave her hope.  If she could hold out, help might arrive before the creatures were finished.  The kouhuns continued to alternatively sting, retract, thrust, and sting.  Padmé’s breath came in shallow pants, as she found herself increasingly aroused despite her revulsion.

Wesell’s eyes were locked on the naked body in torment on the bed.  “How come you’re having all the fun, Senator?  I think it’s been a week since I had any.”  She reached into Anakin’s robes.  “Looks like I found some fun here!  I have always wanted to feel the Force.  I want to know what Aurra was so hot for all the time.”  She pulled Anakin’s tunic open, then lowered his trousers and shorts.  Padmé gasped: Anakin was erect.

“It’s a side effect of the toxin I used.”  Wesell smiled lustfully.  “Impressive, most impressive.”  She seemed to think a moment.  “The dose I hit him with should hold him another half hour, but,” she pulled an ampoule from a flap on her vest and injected the Padawan, “better safe than sorry.”

She removed her groin plate and lowered her leggings, revealing pale skin with light pink, almost white pussy folds and a small, untrimmed patch of light brown pubic hair.  She spat on her fingers, and on Anakin’s cock, then moistened her labia and lowered herself onto him, her feet on the arms of the chair, her hands on his shoulders, facing him.  She whimpered and began to pump herself up and down, riding Anakin while his head lolled back and forth with her rocking.

Padmé was nearing orgasm herself, and feeling was beginning to return to her face and jaw.  She began moaning in spite of herself.  Wesell turned, and looked over her shoulder at the Senator on the bed.  “Time to turn you, I think,” she said, “must make sure both sides get done.”

She hopped gracefully off of Anakin’s throbbing penis, landing next to the bed.  She grabbed Padmé’s arm and shoulder and flipped her onto her stomach, her head now at the foot of the bed close to Anakin in the chair, her ass pointing out the window at the scout droid.  Padmé had a sudden shock wondering if it were recording her torture.  The kouhuns righted themselves inside her and began implanting the other walls of her holes.  The Senator moaned deeply as the sensation redoubled in intensity.  She realized that the flesh being implanted had been anesthetized and she had not felt the full force of the stings in some time.

Wesell jeered at her distress.  “Now, where was I?  Ah, yes, I was having some fun of my own.”  She climbed back onto the chair, this time lowering herself with her back to Anakin, who was drooling with his head on his chest.  The purple-clad assassin rocked faster and faster, adding her moans and guttural grunting to Padmé’s higher-pitched cries.

Then Padmé felt something that filled her with fear: the stinging stopped.  The kouhun in her pussy was the first to pull out.  With a pop and squelch, it began skittering around between her legs.  The one in her ass seemed to have gotten stuck; it curled on itself, braced its tail against Padmé’s clit, and pushed itself free.  That was too much!  Padme screamed her orgasm to the sky, and her legs twitched-the toxin was wearing off.  Zam Wesell met her eyes, and Padme knew.  As soon as Wesell came, she would feed Anakin to the kouhuns.  Padmé still could not move, and her head was less than a meter from the chair; she would be forced to watch him die.  She began to weep, seeing the faces of soldiers and handmaidens, remembering the promise she had made to Shmi to protect her only son.  And there was no time left.  As the assassin cried out in ecstasy, her face flickered, briefly showing a grey, rhino-skinned alien before returning to the illusion form.  Padme looked into Anakin’s face, wanting to tell him she loved him, that she was sorry.  His head wobbled up to look at her, his eyelids fluttering.

No… he was winking.  Padmé was not sure at all she had seen it, but at the same time had never been surer of anything in her life.

Wesell finished shuddering, stood up and looked down at them.  “And now, Jedi…” she began.

“You die,” Anakin finished.

He pushed both arms forward, sending a wave of the Force into Wesell’s chest, knocking her off her feet, over Padmé on the bed and into the transparisteel window, cracking it.  Wesell slumped to the floor, and the kouhuns scuttled into the open groin plate in her armor.  The assassin let out a terrible, agonized scream as the creatures ate their way into her.  Blood began to seep out of the joints in her armor, and lumps in the material advertised the motion of the kouhuns as they scuttled up and down.  Anakin pulled his clothing together and strode over to the dying bounty hunter.

ENDING-DARK SIDE

“I can end it,” Anakin said calmly, “just tell me who hired you.”

Zam Wesell’s true face was showing, and she was clearly in terrible pain, but she was able to speak.  “I don’t know, Jedi, I was hired through another hunter.”

“LIAR!” Anakin shouted, “Tell me NOW!”

Wesell looked at Padmé.  “I swear it, Senator, I don’t know any more.”

Anakin stood, his face showing cold fury.  He stretched out a hand, lifted Wesell with the Force, and threw her through the window, with both kouhuns still inside her suit.  She screamed as she plummeted from the penthouse.  She would fall for ten or fifteen minutes of hellish torment before striking the duracrete foundations of the city.

“Anakin!” Padmé cried.  “Ani, why did you do that?”

“She deserved it,” the young Jedi replied, frowning, “and she didn’t know anything.”

Padmé said nothing, and thought for a moment-this was not the Anakin she was used to.  “How did you save me?  I saw you poisoned.”

“Jedi recover from poison fast,” Anakin replied, “and the second injection, I was ready for.  I was using a poison resistance technique.  Can you stand?”

Padmé found she could, although shakily.  She retrieved her nightgown and covered herself.  She noted that Anakin did not look away, and found herself wishing, with a stab of embarrassment, that he had.  Her loins were numb, and she could feel a mass of pinpricks in her womb.

“We need to get you to a surgeon fast,” Anakin continued.  “Master Kenobi, too.  I sense he is in a healing trance.  He’ll need paramedics.”

“And then what?” Padmé asked.”

“And then I get you off-planet,” Anakin said grimly.  “This is getting dangerous.  We will need to track down the other hunter after you.”  Anakin pulled the poison dart from his neck.  “And this will be a good place to start.”

ENDING-LIGHT SIDE

“I can help you,” Anakin said calmly, “just tell me who hired you.”

Zam Wesell’s true face was showing, and she was clearly in terrible pain, but she was able to speak.  “I don’t know, Jedi, I was hired through another hunter.”  Wesell looked at Padmé.  “I swear it, Senator, I don’t know any more.”

Padmé stood, unsteadily, and knelt down next to Wesell.  She pulled Wesell’s blaster from her hip holster and placed it against the assassin’s head.

“Thank you, Senator,” Wesell gasped, “Thank you.”  Padmé fired.  Wesell slumped over.  The kouhuns poked their heads out of the collar of Wesell’s armor, and Padmé dispatched them with two shots.

“Padmé,” Anakin said, “why did you do that?”

“She didn’t know anything more,” the young Senator replied, frowning, “and no one deserves to suffer like that.”

Anakin said nothing, and thought for a moment on how kind Padmé was.

“How did you save me?” she asked, “I saw you poisoned.”

“Jedi recover from poison fast,” Anakin replied, “and the second injection, I was ready for.  I was using a poison resistance technique.”

Padmé retrieved her nightgown and covered herself.  She noted that Anakin averted his eyes, and found herself wishing, with a stab of guilt, that he hadn’t.  Her loins were numb, and she could feel a mass of pinpricks in her womb.

“We need to get you to a surgeon fast,” Anakin continued, “Master Kenobi, too.  I sense he is in a healing trance.  He’ll need paramedics.”

“And then what?” Padmé asked.”

“And then I get you off-planet,” Anakin said grimly.  “This is getting dangerous.  We will need to track down the other hunter after you.”  Anakin pulled the poison dart from his neck.  “And this will be a good place to start.”