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H x f Starwars fanfic Twilek Femi Taylor MILF kidnap rape dubcon Costume bondage

Description: Karoline is a herm foxy fox and a big, big fan of Femi Taylor. Karoline has dark plans for the Twi’lek by kidnapping her, forcing her to dress in her star wars costume, and then bang her brains out. Will Femi be okay with this?

Tags: Twi’lek, starwars, star wars, Femi Taylor, MILF, costume, real life, furry, Anthro, herm, kidnapping, dubcon, bondage.

Karoline was a fan, but not just any fan. Fans can be divided into two categories that are widely accepted. One fan was the kind that had some posters on their bedroom wall, gushed every time they geeked out on whatever topic they chose to dedicate themselves to, and they might shake the pompoms this way and that to cheer for them. Karoline wasn’t this kind of fan.

Karoline was the kind of fan that, for lack of a better term, was obsessive. When it came to obsessive fans, they had a degree of severity to them. Karoline was off the charts when it came to such a categorization. Saying Karoline was obsessive would be an understatement, at best. A better word would be …

Dangerous.

The foxy fox went to the San Diego Comic Con not for the comics, nor the con, and it had nothing to do with San Diego. The fact of the matter was that it could have been Anchorage Knitting Gathering for all she cared and it would have made no difference, she’d have shown up with absolute glee and bubbly excitement. She only made an arrival because of Femi Taylor. The Femi Taylor. The Femi Taylor, best and only known role being Oola, a Twi’lek from Return of the Jedi. The entire franchise was sullen the moment that Karoline bore witness to Oola, watching with gawking eyes and hung mouth. And hung other things too. There was a massive amount of drool that frothed from her mouth when witnessing pure brilliance, a masterpiece of acting, seduction, and pure beauty.

From there, Karoline scaled from obsession to downright dangerous thoughts. Oola was subject to a lot of pleasuring moments until Karoline found her reality spilling to the actress herself, Femi.

And as luck would have it, Femi was going to be at the one and only San Diego Comic Con. The fox made sure she was the best she could be. She didn’t just hand-pick her outfit and take a shower, no, Femi deserves the best of the best. Karoline went to the spa, getting her fur pampered to be soft as silk, no, velvet. If she shaved and sold her fur, she would make a mint, but it was all for the glory of Femi.

The Con started like every other Con, but for Karoline it wasn’t a place to enjoy herself, it was a place to twist her stomach into knots, obsessing over her one and true goal – to make her lusty fantasies true.

She waited in the halls of the conference room where her dearly beloved Femi would have to enter. Karoline played it cool, which was its own little pain in the ass, prompting her massive paw against the frame of the double door, struggling to remain casual, calm, and collective. Luckily, the room was rather big for the conference, the Q and A, so her massive 6’8 body didn’t have to hunch down for the doorframe itself, this didn’t mean that the top of her head wasn’t skirting against the tippy top of the door frame though. One door open, occupied by the prowling Karoline, the other bolted shut.

There she was. Karoline could sense her presence, her scent, her aura even before she saw her round the corridor. Her massive paw stretched sensually against the oakwood, her muzzle angled down to casually not so casually inspect her sharp nails. No need for manicures here. Genetics was all this foxy fox of a fox needed. Cool as a cucumber. Yup. Twi’lek in the bag.

She imagined herself larger than life at that moment, how could she not, given the fact that she’d been prepping for this for what seemed like her entire life – and at least five hours just today.

That was before Karoline saw her. Just like Mike Tyson said, ‘Everybody has a plan until they get a hard-on.’ Or something like that.

Femi Taylor walked around the corner with a fluid grace that caught the eye. Even if people didn’t know she was famous, they would gawk and treat her as such. Her body as firm and fit as her dancer alter-ego. She might be in her mid-sixties, but that didn’t mean that she had any of the negative side effects of the age, only all the perks. Black don’t crack, and that went doubly so with green. Her posture was regal, her skin smooth and radiant, a deep caramel complexion that glowed under the bright convention lights of the narrowed hall. Her maturity added depth and detail to her beauty, furthering her high cheekbones and defined jawline, all wrapped and framed with an elegant face.

Her warm hazel eyes were expressive as they landed on Karoline, crinkling at the corners as she offered up a cherub smile. Full of life, modest and honest. Her full lips were painted in a subtle shade of mauve, sophistication incarnate. Her eyebrows, as well defined as her featured face, arched up, openly greeting Karoline. With just a brief flush of her hand through her natural black hair speckled with silver strands, she tilted her head, spotting a fan the moment she saw.

There was something so ravishing about her glossy long curly hair that took Karoline’s breath away, but perhaps it was just that she’d dreamed, no, obsessed about this moment for so long. Karoline, so fixated on Femi, never had the mental acuity to believe that she would be anything less than what she’d built her up to be in her mind – to say she was on a pedestal would be incorrect, perhaps, a skyscraper, perhaps? The living embodiment of an ebony goddess? Closer. But Karoline never, ever, ever thought that her expectations could be met, and raised such as it was in that very moment.

Femi was dressed in a chic form fitting, sleeveless dark emerald green jumpsuit, to lend the mind to Oola. The jumpsuit hugged her toned frame, so toned, so sleek, revealing her still astronomical athletic physique, subtle ruching at the waist to accentuate her glorious figure, it looked like her outfit was ribbed and ruffled throughout the waistline. The neckline plummeted to a modest, not so modest, tease of a V-shape, drawing attention to a simple silver necklace with an emerald elegant pendant. The touches of fashion were slight, and resounded.

God, she was a class act. Sophisticated.

Karoline was dressed much more appropriately given the environment. She donned a custom created Princess Leia outfit – robes, not gold plated Jaba slavery garb. Custom because of her outrageous size. Her muddy blonde hair looked woven by silk worms straight imported from China before the Silk Road when secrets were kept secret for a reason. Her glowing Princess Leia robes started at her neck and went down to her feet, a slip of a slit up the side to her thigh, where her leg hooked out and exposed, her furry leg on display utterly devoid of light, looking more like a thigh-high boot than fur. She imagined she looked just like Jessica Rabbit.

There was something sensual about the colorless ordinary robe that brought vibrance to her array of furry colors, mostly her light almond colored arms and paws.

Cool as a cucumber.

Femi smiled at her – everything about this woman oozed sex appeal, refined and pure.

Karoline purred back, showing her teeth. She was going to seduce the seductress.

“Oh my god, Femi! I can’t believe it’s you!”

Fuck.

“Princess Leia, how kind of you to show up to my little panel.”

“Princess Lei…. Oh, oh… Yes. You can call me Karoline though. Princess Karoline?”

They narrowed the divide between them. Femi had to look up, neck craned entirely back lest her eyes meet with massive breasts that bulged outward to consume her field of vision, “That so? Well, you can just call me Femi, I suppose, if that is alright Princess Karoline?”

“Oola?”

“If you must.” She said snorting a little. Human, all too human. Real.

Karoline, bold, reached her paw to flush it through that curly mane of hair of Femi’s, taking great care not to snag on the excessive curly hair, her nails finding the scalp and just teasing along it. A pet if ever there was one, “I must. I have been a big fan of yours for some time,” That meaning hid nothing. The only thing hiding was that massive horse cock that was practically strapped two ways to Sunday against her thigh. It offered a slight bulge, but the flowing robes were quite sincere in their obfuscation. The cock was positioned on the other leg without the slit, so as not to give up the jig.

“Me?” Taylor blushed, and it was clear as day even with such dark completion, “Well, I am flattered.” It was obvious that Femi was at a loss for words. She might be old, but to have someone come on so strong, so fast, with such frank honesty and clear lust, even given who she was, was an oddity for her.

“You should be.” Karoline placed her silk paw, after navigating the ebbs and flows of curls galore, against the chin, guiding it up so her victim looked her straight in the eyes. The frank sexuality of the situation couldn’t be lost in translation, “Do you still remember any of those sexy erotic dances? You were such an artist, a masterpiece in motion. I know you’re a little older now, but I bet you still got those moves, don’t you, Oola?”

Femi tried to backstep a little, at least to liberate her chin pinned by a paw on the side of her face. Karoline tightened her grip, not painfully, but unmistakably possessively. The intention was unmistakable, “Years of training, it becomes muscle memory.” She smirked, flushed, yet still at a loss for how to find herself through this predicament.

“Let’s just say I don’t believe you? Maybe seeing is believing. But we might have to get some green makeup on you, might turn back the clock a little bit…” Karoline nipped her lower lip tightly and stepped forward, rubbing her thigh against the lovely breasts hidden behind chic material. With just a little oomph to the left and her bulge could be felt kissing against breast meat.

“I don’t think you have enough money for something like that. Besides, your Princess Leia, remember? Not Jabba.” Her slender aged black fingers coiled around the palm, which was obscenely bigger than her own hand, and loosely and politely pried it away, stepping away in the most angelic manner possible. Rejection by Exotic Belly Dancer. Karoline’s fingers combed through the hair as Taylor distanced herself so much so that the hair limped and fell to her body, out of reach of that hungry hand.

Karoline smiled, the kind of smile that was bitter, filled with rage, and utter resentment at the audacity of someone who would refuse what she had to offer, “I just don’t think the theme would fit for me. Are you sure, Oola? We could have some fun together… I know you want it, I can see it. Besides, someone as old as you, when’s the last time you got an offer quite as good as this?”

Taylor paused, swallowing, her eyes, chocolate but so wide the whites overpowered everything, finding themselves gravitating toward that cock. She had no idea how big it was, not really, but she knew it existed, and biological imperative as well as, yes, sexual repression, was getting the best of her. And curiosity. And flattery. There was so much truth to how Karoline was advancing. Wounded pride or not, truth was truth, and Femi Oola Taylor knew the shape of her desires and they just so happened to be in the shape of a very handsy, very forward moving, very seductive Karoline.

“You know why I liked being an Exotic Dancer? You can look, but you can’t touch.” She winked, showing her age in that moment, her uncracked eyes splintering into little webs of crow feet, but rewound and made her appear so much younger, more vibrant, more… feisty.

And with confidence, something Femi lacked moments ago, she wove and threaded herself right around Karoline with the grace that only the famous Femi could possess, both natural, and cultivated, and earned from hours at the gym. Karoline couldn’t help but gawk.

Her hand swatted out and spanked that walking away ass, much to the shocked surprise of Femi. But she didn’t say anything. She just looked back, then forward, and walked into the panel room.

And fucking Femi knew it too, or else her hips wouldn’t be popping back and forth, swaying those juicy little rump roasts for all she was worth. She looked like a snake, hypnotizing Karoline who was already rather rip for the seduction.

The worst part was this celebrity, this gorgeous ebony goddess hadn’t been so smooth and sensual when they first met, but was now a willing participant in Karoline's fantasy now.

Game on.

The panel was like any other panel. People talked, people geeked out, but the vast majority were there for Otaku and lusty reasons, just trying to snap mental images to add to the mental spank bank.

Karoline didn’t do any of that.

She didn’t need to. Unlike those present, she was going to make her fantasy a reality, no matter what. They lacked commitment and follow through.

Karoline presided over all those in the room, her dominant demeanor was just too noticeable not to attract a substantial amount of attention. And when questions were given to the audience? Well, the hand a couple feet higher got the notice, and the call.

The fox sat cross-legged, the cut up her robe exposing her fur all the way to thigh, displaying her lap calmly, like it was perfectly normal, her eyes glazing at Femi Taylor, “How old are you now, anyway, Oola?”

The personal question didn’t raise eyebrows, but it was the way her tone was that drew attention. If there was mindless chitter chatter before, it all evaporated in a puff of smoke, almost like it never existed before.

“You can call me Ms. Taylor.” Femi said behind the foldable table up on the stage, around her other side characters of the Star Wars universe. Much lesser known as not to steal the show from Femi Taylor. This was, after all, not the big leagues, more the minor leagues, the female minor leagues.

“Does that mean your single?”

“Yes, it does. Thanks for reminding me,” She rolled her expressive eyes earning a chuckle from the audience.

The starlet's eyes pulled from Karoline to find someone to call on, having given Karoline her ‘shot’ and now needed to get back to business. Each exchange was a paradox of attraction and detraction.

“One more question, Oola. Are you a grandmother? And what would you say to them when they see how provocative you were on the screen? I mean, we aren’t here because of your personality, right?”

Nervous laughter. Because it was true. Whether Femi Taylor admitted it or not, she was a sexual symbol. An Icon. And she was the result of many a paper towels and washcloths being soiled.

“I am an actress. It is my job. Doesn’t seem like you are complaining, I don’t think they would either.”

The conference went as well as could be expected from there. There was a little awkward questions in between but eventually, the interaction was lost in the midst of other dumb things. Never for Karoline, and by those sleepish little lingering looks her way by Femi? Femi hadn’t forgotten either.

There was the line up for autographs. Karoline didn’t participate though. Plan A, and, well, Plan B failed. Plan C was set in motion. She got into her rental van, located in the adjacent parking garage. The van was so much better than her own car, not just because it wasn’t traceable back to her, but she could actually comfortably sit in the driver seat. Though currently, she was in the passenger side, just waiting. The back of the van was practically empty, room enough to move all her furniture out from her house to another place. Or uno famous actress resistant to being relocated.

And she played the waiting game behind tinted windows.

The day drew late, growing later still until she saw that sexy little minx step out into the parking garage from an elevator. She was positioned right next to Femi Taylor’s car, she in the passenger seat. Femi didn’t have a chance to open up her car door. She pushed the rust bucket of a white van door open and she stepped out. Quicker than a snake, she coiled her arms around Femi and picked her up off the ground.

The ebony goddess was startled at first, letting out a whimpering cry of shock before a paw muzzled her like a bad dog. Next her feet started kicking, Elegant low-heeled sandals, matching emerald green with her other assortments of accessories, wobbled from her tasty black toes, tumbling to the ground. All that was left was neatly manicured naked nails, painted in a glossy nude shade that complimented the rest of her sheer stark look.

Even while struggling, she looked so sexy.

“GET OFF OF ME!” She would yell.

Of course, that sentiment altered considerably when the paw firmed itself around the mouth to something closer approximating, “Mmmff uff mmph!”

Each new protest, a newer version, “Gmmmppphhhh mfff meeeee!!!”

Her naked feet kicked wildly, her teeth sinking into light brown fur as she bit down deep and hard, “GMMM MMMPHHH MFFF!!!!”

Femi was chucked into the back of the van. She landed without grace, a sack of potatoes, plopping right on down. The weight of the body bottomed the van temporarily before the shocks came into effect.

“Well, if it isn’t Oola. I can’t help but notice that you aren’t all dressed up for your super sexy debut.” Karoline said, still in her Princess Leia costume, but this Princess went straight to the dark side real fast.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, come now. You aren’t stupid are you? Old age making you senile or something? It’s a grandanapping. Maybe just a MILFnapping.”

“You can’t be serious!” Femi, rubbing her hip, slowly stood up and tried to maintain confidence, a denying of reality, as if this still wasn’t happening, “Out of my way.”

Karoline was prepared for this, well, not this, exactly, but she was prepared. She had rope looped around her white belt around her waist and took it out, the frayed flailed fabric snapping between her hands as she snatched up a wrist and then another one and bound them together. It was no contest, given the sheer disproportionate size between them which easily translated to a strength difference as well. In truth, she only needed to use one paw to maintain absolute control over her victim, and if she was just a little bigger, or Femi just a little smaller, she could wrap her paw around the stomach of this dancer enough to maintain a sure hold on her. Alas, even if such was possible, she still needed to drive away with her ill-gotten goods.

Equally so, she didn’t want good rope to go to waste. Kidnapping implied rope, and Karoline didn’t want to reinvent the wheel.

Karoline might as well have been shopping for groceries the way that she was reacting to binding someone, ripe for the kidnapping.

With hands firmly tied behind Femi’s back, Karoline dipped her mouth against the other's ear, rubbing her lips against the exposed lobe, moving the hair out of the way as she did so, “I know you like this… Couldn’t keep your eyes off me for a second. You just don’t have the balls to give in. I don’t mind that, and by the look of it, you don’t seem to mind it as well…” Her arms wrapped around her victim who was turned in toward the van, but standing at the ledge, pulling her flush against her body so that they were in a backward hug, her paws pawing against one of those breasts, her nails not shy about the ordeal, instead she made perfect use of them by gently tearing against that brazen jumpsuit, just enough to allow ebony flesh to be exposed. No surprise to anybody that under that emerald little eye-catcher of a suit with its ruffles near the waistline, was a silk crimson creamy bra that added just the right amount of sensuality to an already proudly sensual woman.

Even though Femi was elevated from standing in the van, given a significant boost in her height, she still barely managed to come head to head with Karoline.

Furred fingers grazed against the bra, provoking nipples to erect before a claw slipped against the middle of the bra, snapping it open like a razor, popping like a jack in the box and revealing ebony flesh under it, and those lovely little rich dark chocolate nipples. The nipple's complexion and color were severally darker than the flesh around the breasts themselves, her areola’s were thicker, like little pancakes, ebbing and flowing with raised flesh and bumps. All the imperfections in the world just made Femi Taylor more perfect.

A paw gripped and grasped and squeezed an entire mound of flesh, squishing it. The breast was rather generous and hefty but still firm and fit on the illustrious athletic body. Femi backed against the heavier, larger, furrier breasts as she sought support from the lightning stimulation that crackled through her body, waves chording through her brain, gallons of dopamine shocked into existence, making her drunk, while at the same time, Femi felt the caress of her delight against her pussy.

Until she actually felt a caress against her outfit, a palm, a furry one at that, cupping her crotch, strong fingers splaying out spread instructing thighs to part like the red sea so the hand could do more than just struggle to cop a feel, but to dominate against it. Femi had no choice, not physically, not mentally. She acquiesced and her nubile thighs cracked open.

“That’s a good Twi’lek, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I knew you were just playing hard to get… I think you wanted it this way. So prim, proper, a shrewd. But deep down, you want this as much, if not more, than me…Hell, you broadcasting it for the entire world to see what you were into, you dirty dirty slut.” She couldn’t help but tease away, loving it all the more with the ebb and flow of her victim resisting only out of formality, but the truth couldn’t be denied by either one of them, especially because Femi was caught red-handed.

There was a welcome warmth that oozed against the outfit, right up against that crotch. The unhurried but insistent finger pads thrust the fabric against that Twi’lek crotch, smearing that shameful arousal against ebony crotch, before vacating the area and holding it in front of Femi’s sordid and dazed face. The webbing of nectar pinched between fingers to show the thin but obvious ropes of arousal before they snapped from teasing rubbing fingers.

“My, my, my, look at what we have here.” She teased into the other's ear before sharp teeth sharpened against the earlobe of Femi, devouring it, licking it, and suckling, causing panting labored moaning half hidden breaths to escape the gapping gawking mouth. Karoline felt the crisp cold sensation of that breath on her juice-covered fingers.

Before things went overboard, though, Karoline needed to make her hasty retreat. There was no need to rush this, she didn’t want to do a disservice to either her or this scarlet starlet. Her arm wrapped around the stomach, pulling Femi into her welcoming embrace, her own breasts smashing and flattening against Femi’s back with the amount of force she used, the bound hands pinned against the bulge of her crotch. This was the first sampling of the sheer enormity of the cock, but only the width, the length was still a mystery to Femi. Perhaps if she knew, she would be screaming her little heart out and not just struggling for her freedom.

Her paw delicately looped a claw into the waistband of the panties, scratching the tender flesh and cutting it like it wasn’t even there to begin with. The panties snapped at the slender band and she pried it out, liberating it from the outfit that was left by and large unmolested. Naturally, it was crimson, Karoline wasn’t surprised. She balled the tiny thing in the palm of her paw and shoved it into Femi’s now groaning mouth, her voice rose to the volume that echoed throughout the spacious and vacant parking garage. Duct tape contained the panties inside the victims mouth and with a gentle shove, Femi went for quite the tumble onto the bed of the white non-descript van yet again.

The ride home was quaint. Filled with all the wonderful sounds of a person struggling against inevitable fate. Karoline whistled sometimes, hummed – nothing to see here, as if this wasn’t usual at all. Just another weekend. It was new though, and the foxy amazonian fox was quite, quite terrified, her effort to remain calm was more an act, gaslighting herself than anything. She also talked, sharing stories about how badly she’d always dreamed about Femi.

Traveling the backroads to the dirt roads, they came upon her little farm, complete with a big ole red barn.

The van door opened, one arm scooped Femi up and tossed her over her shoulder like a powerful firewoman, and she escorted her treat to her cellar. The kind of cellar that separated the house, with two massive doors vertical to the ground, weather-worn and beaten up, slightly rotten too.

The cellar was pure cement, cold as shit, and had that airy dank scent that only a basement could possess.

She placed Femi down, standing her up. Karoline stepped back and observed the woman. Somewhere down the line from struggling and fighting back Karoline, if one could consider resistance from someone nearly three feet shorter as resistance, her footwear long gone, revealing little ankle socks, practically invisible to the eye.

Her suit was still on, though the tear she put on it to expose black breasts had only grown in size, where both of her breasts now hung out, framed by the outfit. Like a window wide open.

“Now then, where were we?”

The once actress looked wildly around the empty cellar, completely panicked, and obviously trying to find an escape plan as far as her fae eyes could see. The only way out of this place was through Karoline and the moment that Femi realized that, both paws were on her, shredding what little was left that contained her vanity.

The duct tape was only half on, one corner peeling, revealing the narrow bits of crimson panties that tried to spit from her mouth, lush plump, fat and juicy prominent lips barely being kissed by the lone illumination from the light bulb above.

“Ah yes… Exotic dancing, wasn’t it?” For every four steps Femi retreated, it just took one step for Karoline to bridge the gap. The ropes were not needed so she roughly snatched a shoulder, twirling poor Femi around like a ballerina who ungracefully met against the chilly wall. Nails made short work of the bindings and freed her. There were angry little rubbing rope burns against her wrist, some of that perfect ebony flesh rubbed raw and almost deep enough to incite blood.

Femi Taylor knew she was captured, at the other's whims. And Karoline knew it too but also knew that Femi knew it. It just made the fear all the more rich, like a scent, or fragrance that cut through the moist oppressive scent of being trapped.

The poor jumpsuit looked worse off than the haggard and fearful, tearful face of Femi. It had been through hell and back again. Karoline was not too nice about her handling of the delicate little flower, the shoulder revealing claw marks to the point that mere threads held the outfit on, in danger of just peeling away, limping on one shoulder while exposing breasts entirely.

With an inhale, the fox purred, “You smell good. Fear always makes the body react in the strangest way, don’t you think?” And with a turn of her back, the fluffy tail practically the height of Femi, brushed against her.

To the corner was a box, it was labeled “OOLA” in bold permanent marker. There were other boxes around it too, but Femi had too much water in her eyes to make out anything except for Oola, mostly because she was oh so intimately familiar with the word in and of itself that it was immediately recognizable even under the most dire and dismal circumstances.

The box was tossed to the socked feet of Femi. The top opened and tilted to its size, spilling out several items. There was a headpiece, which as all Star Wars fans know, is a Lekku wrap, green tendrils growing from it. It is supposed to be made out of gold and fabric, which this one was. The wrap itself was decorated with small geometric filigree patterns, adding to the reality of the ornamental display of enslavement. The choker was tangled in the Lekku wrap. The choker a thick solid gold chunk, attached was of course the leash.

Nestled in the box was the Bikini top, leather with a shade of gold accent to be characteristic and on point with the theme of wealth enslaving those of poverty. This leather top was a deep olive-green, almost black, which would match Oola’s skin tone. It had two straps for the shoulder and had more holes in it than not, to expose the flanks of the wearer. There were tiny little gold rings and buckles decorating the outfit. Still in the box was the armband and wrist cuffs, the footwear, and of course the loose hanging lion cloth.

“Femi. As much as I would love to spoil my fantasy on you, it isn’t you I want, I want Oola. Be a dear?” She flushed her paws, as if giving permission to change. To wrap it up, hurry it along, they had things to do, places to do, and raping to be done.

Taylor slowly began to peel her duct tape off, her face cracking in agony.

“You really should just pull it off fast…” Karoline commented, not complaining, enjoying the sight of this poor woman hurting herself in some misguided attempt to prevent the pain where by increasing it. The moment she could, a saliva drenched, soaked pair of flimsy dark wet crimson panties spat from her mouth.

“Fuck you.”

This didn’t excite the reaction Femi intended. There was a tired, almost bored expression on Karoline's face before lips peeled back showing teeth in full predator glory, “That is exactly what I plan to do…”

Karoline stepped forward again, narrowing the divide, each pressed against each other, the height difference acutely ever-present now. Femi was lost in the underbreast patch still modestly concealed by the white robes of a Princess named Leia.

A hand shot to one black wrist, then another, gathering them up, herding limbs to her whims and she dragged them upward to jackknife her victim in a vulgar stretched upward position. Those lovely breasts comporting to the newest stature. Her other paw dangerously ripped the clothing away. It came off, but not easily. There was real strength behind it, enough to have launched Femi to the ground from the sheer vicious force – that would have happened if she wasn’t pinned to the wall and unable to do so. The brunt of the shedding of clothing pulled her unmoving body, causing Femi to whimper out.

“God, you look delicious.” The fox craned her head down, her head the moon in the eclipse of the lightbulb behind her. Her mouth took the others and they shared an intense kiss that left both of them breathless.

Karoline was, by far, the one in charge, but in truth, Karoline wasn’t in her right state of mind, she’d been primed her entire life for this, and it spoke between them with pure passion. Almost mutual passion. The oozing reality of her dream coming true seemed to unlock something in Femi’s dried up, sexless body. Her hand clutched the breast, her palm able to swallow the entire orb, the tips of her finger caging around the breast itself, squeezing and squashing it as they continued to kiss until neither could breathe.

They were caught up in the intensity but were awakened by the very real demand for breath. Before that, however, kissing turned into a David Versus Goliath situation between their tongues. Femi couldn’t probe, only retreat her tongue and accept the lengthy wide organ swirling and slashing and molesting and abusing her mouth, almost down to the back of her throat.

Gasping, struggling to remain sane, both collected themselves. Femi found herself flush against Karoline, her naked trembling thighs spread, plump perfect pussy leaving moist sluggish sludge of passion trailing up and down the thigh of Karoline. It went up and down the massive piece of stature, in direct correspondence to the humping she unwittingly engaged in.

“That is more like it.” Both their bodies worked in perfect synched harmony as they unleashed their primal instincts, each encouraging the other to uptick the sheer hunger and voraciousness of the endeavor.

Karoline stepped away from the objects, leaving them to an entirely naked, disheveled Femi.

“Put them on.”

“Or what?” There was a trace of daring encouragement in there.

“Or I am going to put them on you myself.”

This encouraged a laugh, creamy, and rich, just like her mocha complexion. But there was an undercurrent of disbelief in the situation, backed up by fear and questionable arousal that she hadn’t yet come to terms with. Arousal is one thing, forced arousal from a situation entirely alien, was another thing altogether and she found herself at odds with reconciling the core concepts.

“Suit yourself,” Karoline growled stern but hungry, obviously she didn’t just expect this outcome, but was looking forward to it. In no universe would Femi stand a shred of a chance to push back the onslaught that followed. One would be better equipped to blow back a hurricane with a fan.

The fox bent slightly down to retrieve the first object, pawing for anything – it would all end up on the destination ultimately anyway, even in reaching to the ground bent, she was eye level with the actress and able to sift through the items before she laughed again, “Oh my, silly me. I got this all wrong…” She glanced before grabbing a jar, a deep solid green substance in it, and bringing it up for Femi to rest her eyes on it. It read in big bold, ‘Body Paint’, and under that in crossed out letters was GREEN, but under it was scribbled Oola.

“Can’t do anything until we get this on you, can we? Tell me, when they applied your makeup, did they get every little succulent detail of you, or only what was exposed… Seems such a shame to neglect the more… sensual portions of your body, don’t you agree?” She smiled, paw still heavy on chest.

“No…”

“Oh, where didn’t they get?” She inquired, now releasing poor Femi so she could unscrew the jar and apply some of it to her furry fingers, a big fat glob of it. She wasn’t kind about this, she just pried right into the uniformed substance and took a whole sticking chunk right on up with her. The body paint would work well for flesh, but wouldn’t stain fur.

At this moment, Femi leaned to look behind the crazed fan to her possible, no, her only escape route, and considered. But such a spring wouldn’t be possible, not with such an amazonian creature proudly standing guard before her, someone hyper-intent on not allowing her to escape.

“My… breasts….”

“Such a shame… Only got the outer parts, hmmm?” Karoline rubbed her hands together, smearing the body paint creamer to dye her own fur completely dark Oola colored, and then gently started to apply around the edges of the breast --- Femi’s nipples, already stiff as rocks, seemed to pulsate forward as she sucked in a hiss of breath, stimulation running deep within her, short-circuiting her brain, putting it – and her - on the fritz.

“Seems they missed the best parts, how inconsiderate of them. Then again, it might not have been appropriate… But dressing you up as a slave wasn’t very appropriate either, I would wager,” The soft caresses built up to something more, harsher, harder, more insistent, demanding. Both paws clutched and squeezed those aged breasts and crushed them between her mammathian hands, crushed, twisted, rubbed. She wasn’t trying to provoke, or push Femi to experience pleasure, she was trying to force it out aggressively. The more aggressive she got, the bigger Karoline smiled until she looked like she was locked in a trance of pure outrageous crazed happiness.

Of course, the way her face screwed into such a diabolical visage could only be described as pure madness motivated by sheer lust. It was working, because Femi was leaning inward her capture, head hung, and her body no longer responsive to her, instead basking in the joy of the aggressive touching. This isn’t to say it didn’t hurt – it did, and she voiced her concerns with groans of sucked in hissing breath through her clenched teeth.

“They missed other parts, didn’t they?” She finalized the squeeze, shoving Femi back harshly against the wall. Wasting no time on the midriff itself as well as her arms.

“Y…yes…!!! Owww! F…fuck…”

“I bet they did. Don’t worry, we are going to rectify those wrongs right now, Oola. Make you into a good little Twi’lek slave.” One hand went to her crotch and cupped the perfectly pristine ebony pucker pussy lips, she smeared more of the lotion on her fingers and traced the pussy, pinching each individual fold and flattening it against her strong assertive fingers before she shoved one finger inside that moist little cummy cunny cunt. Green oozed from the pussy now, turning translucent arousal into a light slimy green. The sound of the squishing was intense and only got more intense. Her free hand, not on pussy, went to the neck, clutching it again, but massaging and choking this time, before thumb decorated that conflicted face.

Femi had no say so in the matter and she was struggling, but more against assertiveness than for honest freedom, but that amounted to nothing also. She was a ragdoll, swept up in the storm of passion. Karoline allowed her no quarter, allowed her no freedom. When she was done with the top portion of the ebony body, so those breasts were raised green and throbbing, Karoline gripped her tight and forced her to the ground. Her legs kicked out in response but that didn’t stop the beast from doing what she needed to do.

The thighs, the legs, ankles, and her dainty little feet and toes, more fit for a gymnast than Femi, were all slathered with green, painting that body. When that was finished, she didn’t take time to admire her work but instead flipped Femi onto her back.

The cold solid ground was more dreadful than being Karoline-handled and this caused her to truly try to rebuke the advances. Again, not in earnest, just at the strength and power behind it than anything else.

“Did they get all of this well-toned and sculped ass?” Karoline rubbed her body deeply against the woman, just a little heavy petting before her hands, dyed green, fell upon the subject of her abuse. It was that ass that she truly painted well and good and true, molesting it under the guise of painting her green. Her thumbs pincered against the ass cheeks, pinning them and spreading them wide so as to get all the nooks and crannies. A finger wiggled in, stretching that tight little band of a puckerhole, just to sample the tightness, but also in preparation.

All and all, it only took a few long eternal minutes, but it felt like both much longer, and significantly shorter for the both of them. Femi did try to resist, but it was for naught as Karoline was in absolute control, a fact that she wasn’t shy about. A fact that Femi needed constant reminding of which had resulted in a few slaps against her face, but as those thumbs pried deeper into that rear end, well, there needed to be some spanks to re-affirm control.

“You know, I would feel bad about forcing this all on you, but to be honest, it really looks like you are enjoying it as much as me,” Karoline laughed to herself as she idly fished some of the clothing out from the tipped box, her lips pressing together to blow the dye dry, both on her hands and on poor, poor Oola. With great ease, she turned over that slender piece of meat, like she was on a grill, so that she was beneath her, pinned between her spread legs and absolute indomitable weight.

With a paw, she took that unusually slender neck, aristocratic and regal, and clutched it, immediately adding a sense of dreadful breath play before retrieving the most important object in the box; the collar and leash. It was easy to put on given the fact that both of Femi’s hands were wrapped around the one wrist holding her neck hostage, and she not only couldn’t pry it away from her, but she couldn’t even manage to wrap her delicate dainty fingers around the wrist itself. The body paint was fast acting so none of the green meshed with the golden theme.

When it was on, she jerked the chain once, twice, and a third time, testing how secure it was, but also giving poor Femi a taste of Oola. This was going to be true method acting and research.

“Much better…. Don’t you agree?” Before Femi could manage a retort, and a retort was coming, a powerful hand palmed right into the center of the actresses chest, shoving her against the cold ground. The poor ebony body immediately trembled like a leaf as the lack of heat infiltrated her body, as well as true and real fear.

Individually, she took one wrist, then the other, placing the armbands snug and tight against the biceps. They were delicate to get on, so she had to force each lithe arm straight up so she could push them to their destination. Next the wrist cuffs. She wasn’t kind in this either, and Femi wasn’t making it any easier on her either. But it was easy, given who was in control here.

The best was to come as she grabbed the Lekku wrap, two long beautiful tendrils expanding out from it. It was meant to be the head piece of head pieces. Femi did not cooperate, which caused a powerful slap as retaliation. While dazed, Karoline took advantage and coiled those silken lovely velvet crisp curls of curtained hair, spooling it in her palm so she could shove it inside the headpiece before applying it and snugging it savagely against her forehead. The colors were near identical and didn’t show a deviation line of flesh to the material.

The outfit in question would be easy, given it was pretty risqué and flimsy to begin with, meaning it could be put on without any rhyme or reason but Femi laying on the ground, pinned beneath her powerful body would make it near impossible, “Get up.”

She slipped away, but not without planting a few sordid kisses, mostly focused on the most sorted of places. Her tongue lashed the nipple too, teeth teasing and testing the elasticity of the nipple by crushing it carefully and pulling it up. It was an intense show of force, lifting the upper body of Femi as her nipple, and breast, elongated into a teardrop, straining into almost a cord of stretched green flesh before letting it go, causing Femi to collapse with a thud on the ground.

Femi refused. She remained on the ground, her arms wrapping around her breasts, a hand about her crotch. It was more covering then most sluts wore. But unlike other times, Karoline had quite the upper hand, and it had nothing to do with her sheer strength anymore. She jerked the chain, literally dragging Femi up from the ground. Her body forced to follow suit unless she wanted to be hung by the noose.

“Better,” The fishnet black crop top was slipped up over her head, and situated with great rush, breasts stuffed into the outfit as an afterthought. The sheerness off the outfit made the dark black webbing all the more prominent against the green canvas. It was very sensually alluring and it just motivated Karoline to complete her little slave doll, as if she needed more motivation or reason. Her body thrust itself against Oola, her horribly hideously hardened phallus was still, oddly, detained under her still ever-present Princess Leia outfit. It wasn’t just hidden, it was contained through absurd measures that Karoline had to implement, or else she would be charged with assault with a deadly weapon every time she had a hard-on. This isn’t to say anything about the clothing she’d go through, shredding – stretching to the point of tearing it through, cleaving it. But the organ was completely hardened and throbbing with blood and Oola could feel it harsh and warm against her stomach, pressing savagely against her enough to leave an indent. An arm went down, prying up the slither leg of Oola so as to make the motion of wrapping it around the lower portion of her thigh, the way a lover would curl against another as they ground, or kissed. The angelic slender leg was not completely coiled around Karoline, but instead just sticking out so that she might apply the stockings, the finishing touch.

She did this with both legs until finally, her little doll was complete.

Stepping back, she observed Oola in full Oola attire, acting just like Oola, defiant. But more Femi when it came to her submission to her arousal.

“God, you look sexy,” Karoline commented, purring the growl with lust.

Green melted from her cheeks to show that ebony red underneath, or so it seemed, as she blushed, flush eyes limping to her outfit, shy and reserved.

“And look at that, already primed up for the taking. Looks like we won't need any lube…”

The pussy, covered, was staining green as the slimy shimmery pussy lubrication drained like a waterfall. It was most erotic to know that, whether Femi said so or not, she was very much into it. The leash and collar jerking to establish dominance wasn’t required, but it was very suited for practice to add some nice atmosphere to the ordeal.

The foxy fox stepped back and with two swift movements, she brushed her own cosplay outfit off her shoulders, sending it ruffling to the ground and revealing her titanic momentous nudity. She made getting undressed look easy compared to the hellish way in which Femi was undressed and subsequently transformed into a picture-perfect Oola.

Under it was her cock, raging hard, throbbing, noticeably throbbing beyond Femi’s wildest dreams. It was also, well, it was gigantic. This wasn’t a snake, not even an anaconda. It was … she didn’t know. It literally broke her brain trying to fully grasp the insanity of it. Wrapped around the mushroom tip of the horse cock of a phallus was a belt that wrapped around and around it, holding it in place. The belt undid itself and the cock flicked upward and slammed, intensely, right against Oola’s crotch. It hurt, sending Oola upward from the power of its ascension.

“Ah hell no!” She said, eyes wide, all whites, her face completely drained and obviously horrified. It wasn’t even big in the way that might be arousing, or be something to even toy with. It was a bitch breaker, it would bust a table, it could…

Well, it wasn’t getting inside her. And that was that.

“Fuck that.” She said, spiriting away, just outright running in sheer panic. The chain was held close to the neck, stopping her near immediately. She tumbled backward from the strength of the unyielding force. Yanking her back.

“You got your fun, what about mine?” Karoline teased.

“FUCK NO! FUCK THAT! FUCK YOU! THAT ISN’T EVEN GOING TO FIT!”

“Well, when there is a will, there is a way, and I have the will. We can make it work.”

“LIKE HELL!” She screamed, crying frantically. Oola had no say so in the matter. She was, after all, a slave.

What was dubcon took a turn for the worst and went straight into rape. And Karoline didn’t even try to contain her enthusiasm for such a thing. She immediately fell onto her prey, her slave. Kissing wildly against her, completely free cock slamming and rubbing against Oola in outright desperation and savage intensity.

This intensity, this passion and lust, unlike previously, was definitely not at all contagious. Femi was terrified. This terror was registered by Karoline but that didn’t mean she wasn’t fixated on it, instead, she was devouring the sight of this sweet little green morsel of a belly dancer, her mouth busy devouring that mouth, kissing tender and deep, now outright forcing herself into that mouth.

Teeth, biting, resistance. It wasn’t a bother, it just provoked her to be more assertive and aggressive. By the time she was done, she was pure aggression. Resistance escalated and in response so too did the aggression until they were playing a game of cat and mouse. But one had more stamina, and strength than the other and won out paws down.

Karoline’s paws were no longer dyed green because it only worked on flesh, it peeled and melted off fur with ease, which is why she opted for the brand.

That hardened cock pinned between stomach of Karoline and the laughably concealed breasts of Femi, rutting herself into heaven. It pounded against the chest repeatedly as she jackhammered away in nice long strokes, precum jizzing everywhere, leaving a thick slurping sloppy mess of liquid in its wake. It looked like Oola had taken a shower with how glistening wet she was from the substance. It had a musk to it too, pure straight pheromonal sex musk too. They hadn’t even gotten to the fun bits and already the cellar was entirely overwhelmed with the fragrance.

With Femi still standing, the collar was roughly pried downward, bringing the head down to greet the phallus. Oola resisted the best she could but this ultimately resulted in her having that cock flush and pressing against her cheek. Oola tilted her head out of the way, obviously known what Karoline wanted but was unwilling, desperately unwilling, to comply.

“The faster I cum, the faster your set free…” Not like there was a choice in the matter as she manipulated the collar with her paw and forced the fat head against her lips. It slathered her lips with her nectar like lipsticks. The craned bent head in just the right position… to strike. Palm went on the back of the head and shoved down. The cock burst through clenched teeth, forcefully prying the mouth open to accept a gift that could only be described as supernatural.

The dick looked much like an equine’s. The tip was a blunt force object, almost the same width as that unparalleled phallus. The hole flared open, dumping her seed into that mouth. Poor Oola tried to scream, tried to talk, the results were both hilarious and intoxicating. There was no blowjob to be had here, just straight brutal penetration, but the protests did have a sense of … activity that was stimulating for the aggressor. It wasn’t enough though. She continued to apply strength, stretching the mouth wider and wider to accept it, the throat, so narrow, puffed outward, her throat stretching and straining both elastically and inelastic. Elastic with confines. The shape, the very defining definition of that horse cock could be seen against her gullet, her throat wrapped and crushing against the cock as it jackhammered deep into her.

Taking the tendrils in hand, she stepped back a little and bobbed that head like it was a toy, fucking that throat like it was a life and death situation. Oola could only stand there, bent, taking it, and doing the best she could not to pass out or die from sheer morbid shock. As some point, Femi standing was only at the whims of Karoline, the victims legs askew as she was brutalized and bombarded with thick cock down her throat, deeper even. It didn’t take much effort or time for her seed to eject, the head flaring out angrily, like an umbrella, and the throat expanded in response. Buckets of cum shot directly into the stomach, expanding it. Stretching it.

When finished, she stepped back and Oola simply collapsed onto the ground without any elegance or grace. Just… without the cock to support her, or her tendrils gripped, she just … fell.

“Still awake?” She kicked against the flopped body, pushing with her foot to turn the body over so that ass was upward. It was smooth, green, and plentiful. Ripe for the picking.

Furry hands aided the ass upward in the best style known to man, face down ass up. Femi was teetering on the brink of conscious and unconscious. But that didn’t stop her from realizing the peril as she felt a meaty log of titanic proportions heavily slumps against her spine.

Oola’s hands went to the cement, trying to push herself up with whatever weak strength she had left, all the while panting and gasping for sweet, sweet breathe. Instead, Karoline took the two arms and pried them back, causing Femi to collapse back into a more agreeable position. She collected the wrists against the slender, smooth, small of Femi’s back to contain and bound her from resistance.

That was when she burst through the asshole. It was tighter than tight. And it was simple to break into. No force or narrow canal could block her entrance. Femi screamed into the ground, the cold… moist… ground. Her face was shoved into the little ocean of lubrication created by her own arousal just mere moments ago before this situation turned into a pure nightmare.

The cock had came and yet seemed to be harder than ever before. Almost like spilled seed motivated it to want to well and truly empty all her seed. Buckets of the stuff. Milking her dry, all of it wanted to end up inside Oola. And it would get what it wanted. Even if Oola didn’t want that at all.

After penetrating the asshole, spreading it apart and tearing the little tiny band, she continued to do this for a few more pumps, the tight little ribbon seemed to catch against the phallus, so when the log exited inch upon horrible inch to reel back for another devastating penetration, the fleshy pucker hole was dragged outward by the inch, wrapped snug and tight, as if not wanting to release the rape device.

It was not by choice though. The cock was stuck in a hole too small to allow it. The cock would hurt as much, if not more, exiting the ass, then entering.

The cries continued, louder, her toes curled, her body spasmed and seized. Karoline, tired, took both wrists and pulled them back, back, way way back to her own chest. She wasn’t fucking forward now, but forcing the body of her slave to penetrate and break itself in. She’d pull, then she’d push, then she’d pull. All in rapid-fire succession. The stomach pounded outward directly into the cement flooring with the sheer force of the bestial phallus. It had found itself inside the stomach, greeted by the cum that had shot a gallon of its cream inside it.

Oola screamed terribly as she felt the cock growing, and growing, expanding as cum began to eject wildly inside her. It ballooned into a massive bulge on her flat smooth stomach, making it nice and round, like she was pregnant – very, very pregnant. It was big enough to lift her body up off the ground from her position.

When finished, and Femi was in extreme agony at the uncomfortableness of having a swollen full belly of cum – cum which drained from her body in spurts of ooze thick nectar, but not exiting fast enough for her own sanity.

Karoline stood up and walked over the Femi who was lying on the ground, coming to terms with the extensive new liquidy weight of her body. Her cock, bulging, massive, thick as a giants arm ripped with muscles, smeared and wiped against poor Oola’s face. The cum was potent, virile, and it drained against that face, marking the green to solid white. With a few more jerks, she emptied a cum shot right against that face – Femi tried to avoid the inevitable but that was of no use given her Lekku’s were stilling her face.

With a shove, the swollen Femi collapsed onto her back. Karoline dropped to her knees, lifting up Femi’s legs, and situating them against her thighs, she rubbed the cock flush against the pussy that was drooling cum, the stomach slowly deflating, but again, definitely not fast enough. Femi tried to fight back but it was hard given she had a new body dynamic and felt exceedingly slugging. The cock plowed right in, just dragging the pussy lips right on inside that tight hole. The stomach, smooth and unblemished, large and struggling, pounded outward to the shape of the phallus like it was knocking to be released – and it was. It needed release.

The moment it was inside, more and more cum continued to drain out, each new rope shooting against the inside of the belly, expanding it to form the straight shot before deflating, cum distributing throughout the stomach, making it nice and round.

Femi was old, but sexy, but she couldn’t avoid the terrible results of age, her flesh was imperfect and bore wear of time, but the imperfections of her stomach all went up in smoke as the stomach expanded, stretching it to the brink, making the green flesh as smooth as ever. The body paint even started to strain, cracking a little – not enough of it to accommodate the growing cum dump inside.

With a few more straining thrusts, the belly grew rapidly the stages of pregnancy – from 3 months to 9 months, to … well, it now looked like she’d swallowed a large fun beach ball and it wasn’t relenting.

“S…stop!!!” She groaned, her hands flailing around, snatching at Karoline where ever she could, but her weakness was ever present as she couldn’t find the release she needed from the mounting pressure in her body.

Bigger and bigger she swelled.

Unable to move from the situation, completely housing her mind behind a wall of panic and submission, the pumping finally stopped, so to did the cum.

“You better be glad I came right before we met,” The fox muttered with satisfaction before slurping the cock out of the narrow tunnel, cum spraying out like a fountain – it was everywhere. Whiteness coated poor Karoline and Oola.

The fox stood up and admired her work.

“We can always try again?”