Another three days had passed – Luke was growing emaciated and frail as little food was brought to his cell, the only light that filled the room being the dull cyan reflecting from the bacta container above. He scowled as his eyes looked up and stared at his floating flesh. Perfectly preserved and boldly firm, it was in a much better condition than Skywalker. While his wound was instantly cauterized and cleared of infection, the protective layer of burnt tissue was slowly peeling off. Pain was setting in and forcing the wounded Jedi to struggle in movement.
He sat up as best he could from the cold floor, though he was numb to the chill at this point, and squinted up at his floating cock. Maybe it could be reattached, he thought to himself. Luke winced as the stump burned suddenly as he moved, forcing him to clamp down on it with his left hand. “I just want it back,” he begged against weary eyes, his right hand lifted in the air as he tried to concentrate on the container above. There was a small rattle – the delicate sound of hinges squeaking – then nothing.
“I’m too weak.”
Fresh air and blinding light rushed into the chamber as the door behind Luke opened. The young man held his right hand over his brow and tried to look through the white flash. As his vision began to recollect itself, Skywalker saw a figure dressed in just as equally blinding white step forward. The clunk of his boots told Luke all he needed to know – this was an Imperial stormtrooper. The door behind him closed, and the figure turned to a dull chrome. The stormtrooper looked down at the wounded Jedi, tilting his head sideways. “Commander Skywalker?” Luke closed his eyes and remained quiet; was this the end? They hired some grunt to kill him?
“Do it quickly,” pleaded the Jedi, nodding downward and resigning himself to his fate. He shivered naked against the cold metal of his cell, waiting for the final seconds of his life to end. But instead of the sound of gunfire, Luke heard the sound of a helmet being removed. The youth opened his eyes and stared dimly at the man that stood before him.
“I’m afraid you're going to live to die another day, kid.” The man smiled back at Luke, stepping closely toward him before kneeling down to his eye level. He cupped the wounded rebel’s face with his hands and looked to him with sympathy. “This is a rescue mission.”
“Han,” Luke whimpered, staring dumbly at his friend as he raced behind him and slid himself underneath Luke’s armpit. The Jedi wrapped his arms around his friend tightly and clung to him for dear life. The dead weight of his body slowly lifted up against the cold metal and pressed against the warmth of the man that rescued him. Lucid teardrops danced off his cheeks as his muscles ached and strained to stand.
“You really came for me,” he choked out. Han reached for something stashed underneath the collar of his disguise, click-clacking it twice before a small light danced across his face and onto the wall. Luke beamed in response and his eyes followed the light, entranced by its escape from the darkness. “I don't know how it has been since I've seen someone not Imperial.”
“Where we’re going, there is gonna be a whole lot more.” The smuggler brushed Luke’s sweaty hair back out of his face and shone the light on him. His eyelids flickered in response but hope and energy relished within the blue hues of his eyes. “We will take care of you, Leia has everything set up to get you in a private facility, where you can recover. Free from practically anyone. All you have to do,” he said, inching himself backward toward the entrance, “is put on this stormtrooper gear. It won't be long until they notice that one of their guards is missing."
Leia. The name swirled into his head and poured down into his heart. Luke noted his breathing coming back to a normal rhythm, breaking away from the abnormal and shallow breaths that had plagued him so. When he closed his eyes, he could see her standing before him. The gentle skin of her hands against his own, soothing, as they always did.
The Jedi nodded to his savior and friend, who reached downward and pulled up a pair of the lower half of a stormtrooper uniform. Solo placed it on his knees – Luke instantly squirmed against the cold. He gripped the shoulder of his new friend and buried his head downward. He wanted so desperately to flee the cold. The cold burned.
Han grimaced. “Don’t worry, kid. I'll help,” he said, taking the pair of fatigues from Luke’s knees and hoisting his legs into the air.
Luke pushed himself away from his friend and cupped his sex, afraid of his reaction and anxious at the pain of pressed material against his gaping wound... He turned around and shivered as bitter tears dressed down his face, his chest heaving with what little energy still remained. “I-I can do it,” whispered the youth as he scowled in pain.
“You’re hiding something from me, kid,” Han replied as he brought his arms on Luke’s shoulders, twisting him back to face him. The Jedi resisted and stood the best he could, before tumbling down to the ground. In that short period of time that Luke stood, however, Han noticed the faint glimmer of blue that radiated above them both.
Luke broke out in sobs as he noticed Han’s realization. The scoundrel knelt down to his friend and pried away his hand from his genitals, staring with wide-eyes at his friend’s mutilation. He reached for a bandana cuffed underneath his collar and placed it firmly on Luke’s stump of a penis. “Hold that there,” Han replied distantly, trying his best to not react emotionally. “I’m gonna get that back for you.”
The smuggler drew his rifle from it’s holster and angled it at the container of bacta above. With a heavy sigh, he shot blaster fire at the container, breaking it and sending Luke’s severed penis flying to the floor. Han held out his hand and caught the sex, still warm to the touch, as it twitched softly in his grasp. The four-inch dick fit snugly inside the holster of his rifle, though Han shivered at the thought. He turned his attention back to Luke and placed his left hand on his shoulder, as the right grabbed the bandana that barely protected Luke’s modesty. The young man grimaced as he pulled his head back, his eyes closing tight as he felt Han's hand around the remains of his cock.
“This – this might hurt a little bit, kid.”
Luke moaned as Han wrapped the bandana around his naked waist, fastening it over his cauterized wound. Though the pain was there, there was another, more erotic sensation as he felt that coarse hand run free over his body. He trembled as Han let go of his waist. “Thanks,” whispered Luke as he sighed. He reached down for the bottom of the Stormtrooper gear and hoisted it up. The suit slipped easily enough up his feet and legs but he had to bite down into his lip as he filled them in and rubbed against his wound, stinging tears faintly glistening out of his eyes.
The top half of the uniform was easy enough to dress. “Now, all we need is the helmet and we can slide on out of this hell hole,” the man said, reaching down for the last piece. He gently brought down the stormtrooper helmet over Luke’s head, carefully waiting for that final click. Han looked down into his holster and saw Luke’s cock lie in stillness, twitching restlessly. “We’re gonna get you all fixed up.”
Han looked to his friend and smiled as best he could – though it was a half-hearted smile at best.
“Can you walk?”
Luke shook his head sadly, to which Han swung underneath his right arm and brought the youth upwards against him. He tried to keep his head up but he knew his energy was quickly fading away into shock. “Don’t worry, Luke. I got you. I promise.”
The heavy darkness was soon eclipsed by a grand and triumphant light that blurred his vision. Hope, and empathy, still existed despite the web of pain and torture that he had endured. For the final time since his capture, Luke Skywalker embraced the light. The two men stalked hallway from hallway, carefully doing their best to avoid the sight of any Imperial. The younger man was delirious but clung to his friend, heaving and moaning quietly. Suddenly, images began to appear. The light that had swallowed him whole was slowly fading and the colors and images it eclipsed began to refocus. The two men were on a ship, evidently lost deep into the chasms of space, waiting for someone or something to meet them. However, this particular ship wasn't one familiar to Luke Skywalker. The cockpit was tight and crowded, cluttered with machinery and spare parts. Papers and logs decorated every surface, covering any spare space.
“We are headed home, kid.”
Home. The closest thing he had left to call home, that is. Luke felt the Hot and sticky armor slowly get pried off his skin as he lay still, naked, the world around him hazy and blurred. He saw the familiar face of Han look over him carefully before rushing back to the cockpit – likely to start an autopilot sequence – and leaving him alone to flashing lights and buzzing colors.
“I am going to take care of you, Luke, just lay still.” His eyes could barely focus anymore as the lids began to close but he felt a warm blanket suddenly drape over his raw skin, protecting his modesty.
“I got you, kid,” Han nursed as he sat at the front of the bed, holding Luke over his lap and wrestling his hair out of his face. Luke shivered at the cold but nestled himself against the heat of the man, taking in his sunshine, as his eyes closed to the world of dreams.
The smuggler frowned as he stared at his sleeping friend, his hand absentmindedly clinging and scratching for his penis. Luke’s brow furrowed as sweat drenched down his face, his lips parting in silent pain. Han wasn’t sure just who it was that caused his friend such pain, but he was sure that they would be lucky to never miss with his wrath. No one messed with the friends of Han Solo – no one.
“Father,” whimpered the man absentmindedly as he squeezed down on his groin, tossing and turning against the seat. Han reached out and grabbed his friend by the wrist, pulling Luke away from his open wound. For the first time since he’d rescued the kid, he was able to take a good look at the cut. It gave him chills to think about – crossing his legs reflexively as he winced at the thought. It was a blackened stub that barely resembled flesh, jutting out a little of half an inch, more like the burned ash of a festival pyre than a cock.
“You don’t deserve this, kid,” grimaced Han as he stood up from his tight spot as best he could and reached over to the water spigot, dabbing a piece of cloth in hot water. After squeezing out the rag, he hunched back into the cockpit and lowered the blanket to his friend’s feet, readying the cloth as he pressed it against the stump. Skywalker moaned loudly as Solo cleaned his stub, blackened and dead skin crumbling off into the rag and revealing oozing blood.
“Oh, Han,” Luke groggily responded, semi-delirious and pale from his torture. The sparkle that once filled his eye were now vacant, soulless abysses that took in the world with one glance and then out with the next. The smuggler grabbed his friends hand and had him clamp down the piece of cloth against his groin. He kept his hand firm and still before a choking sob pushed out of his throat, collapsing the youth of any energy he had sustained.
This wasn’t right.
Han’s attention turned to the severed member – he looked at the holster that slung over his belt and stared at the piece of meat that belonged to his friend. Curious, Solo slipped his hand into the blaster holster and gripped the hard cock, pulling it out so he could stare at it.
“It’s still living,” he muttered as the penis twitched in his hand. Solo continued speaking to the sex, though he couldn’t believe how ridiculous he looked. “It has to be able to be reattached. Please, you gotta stay like this just for a little while longer. I know Luke; he’s never been able to have sex, not once has he even considered losing his virginity. This’ll scar him for good.”
Han’s finger unconsciously slid into the tight foreskin that protected Luke’s cock, tugging it down nervously as he prayed for the recovery of his friend. To his side, Luke moaned in his sleep, his hips bucking up into the air, thrusting above as his once clenched hand wrapped around empty air. He looked at Luke and then back to the cock, sliding the skin up and down once more. The kid moaned again.
“Please, Han. More.”
Wide-eyed in shock, he inched closer to his friend and wondered whether he had meant to say that. The youth’s eyes trembled as all eyes do in the midst of sleep, drifted away far from the cruel reality fate had bestowed him.
“It has to be the Force.”
He moved his hand quickly and without thought – in no circumstances, would Han Solo be giving another man a handjob but Luke was a special case – there was always the possibility that he’d never be able to orgasm again and Han wasn’t going to deny a fellow man that. Luke’s left hand moved in tandem with his own as he stroked the dick, pumping up and down on a penis that no longer was attached.
Up and down, up and down, up and down; swifter, faster. It only took a few more pulls and tugs before Luke bellowed next to him, semen shooting out of the widening hole of his stump with extreme intensity, his nectar spilling all over his belly and drenching him in his own semen.
The cock in Han’s hand did not soften but it was clear that Luke was spent. He tucked the manhood back into the holster and resumed his course, trying his best to forget the whole ordeal and what he had just done for his friend. No one could ever know that he helped his friend climax – just like no one could ever know that, secretly, Han Solo enjoyed watching his friend writhe in ecstasy.
Leia Organa stood in the hanger, moving restlessly from side to side and never looking down from the main door. He was coming back. It had been a little over a month now since Luke Skywalker had been captured by Imperial forces. Officially, he had been assigned to a secret mission; infiltrating the Imperial army and working as a double agent. A whole romantic tale of espionage that would brighten the day of any crushed rebel. He was still whole and one – not the mangled flesh that Han reported.
“They have arrived.”
The door to the shuttle opened. Han Solo had Luke hooked under his left arm as a paramedic followed behind diligently, dragging the wounded and disoriented youth to safety. Leia looked on. She didn't know how to react. There was relief, for sure, in knowing that Luke was finally back into rebel care. Leia frowned as the medics lifted her friend onto a gurney. She knew they were being as careful as they could be but their actions felt so jolted, so sudden, reckless. The princess looked to Han for assurance, let down by his vacant stare at the floor.
Time had grown to become sick and twisted. Every prior accomplishment was met with a blade directly to the heart, twisting and stabbing until all prior satisfaction eclipsed to dust. She missed her friends. She missed normalcy. She knew that, after this, Luke would never be the same. He would never be that sweet boy that bashed his eyelashes obliviously, the unwitting hero star pilot of the Rebellion. And with that, she, too, would never be the same.
She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed a senior medic head her way. “Commander Skywalker, he wishes to speak with you before we take him into the medical center. Please make it quick.”
Han inched his way toward Leia and cautiously placed his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back slightly. She resisted and pushed against his hand, walking toward her wounded friend.
“Leia,” Luke struggled. He was outfitted in a white gown that stretched all the way down his thighs. His breaths were shallow, his blue eyes bloodshot with pain. Leia choked back an inner shiver and reached out her hand, wiping his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
“You're safe, Luke.”
“Leia,” he whispered, reaching for her hand. His grip was firm. He didn't want to let go – and she, herself, was afraid to let go too.
“They took,” Luke choked as he closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more erratic.
Luke started choking back sobs as he clenched her hand, clinging to her for dear life.
Leia kissed his hand, fighting back her own tears. Everything had become such a painful ordeal. She lost her home. She lost millions. Thousands of friends. Her family. Her love. She wanted to cry for Luke but she knew that if she did now, she would never stop. Strength. Calm. That is what got her through everything in the past; it'd be what would get her through this. It would be what would help get Luke through this.
“They will be taking you to the medical facility in the back. 2-1B will be overseeing everything. You'll be in capable hands. I'll be there in the waiting room for you. I'm there for you.”
She let go of his clawed hand, his eyes opening up to give her one last look before the doctors lifted him and headed him out to prep for his recovery. She could hear his shallow breathing and his faint cries for her all the way to the entryway of the building. Goddamnit. Leia took a moment to breathe herself, letting the initial shock die down, before heading into the medical unit. She wanted to know what had happened to her friend. She wanted to know what they did to Luke – what it was they took.
Leia walked into the medical unit and saw the stretcher that carried her friend laying down on a table, assistants monitoring his vitals as they readied the bacta tank. She didn't think he was still conscious at this point. The young man looked so helpless, weak. It stung to see him in such a state.
He is safe, the princess told herself, stepping closer to him and standing behind the medical team. That's all she could tell herself, nothing else matter right now, no matter how grievous his injuries may prove, he was alive. And only a few inches away.
The two workers lifted up the white gown the youth wore and fully disrobed him. Looking away in shame, Leia bit her lip as she stared to the ground, wanting to protect him of his modesty at the very least, blushing a little bit.
There was a time where she did accidentally sneak a peak of the young man, almost a year prior, where she had walked into Skywalker’s room to have some company. The time between the destruction of the Death Star to the relocation on Hoth was restless, jumping from ship to ship, stopping on planets for weeks at a time, searching for a place to temporarily call home. There never really was going to be another home, Leia thought, frowning. She enjoyed meeting with her friend late in the evening, Han occasionally joining in, just having a chance to talk and recuperate; remembering what it felt like to be human.
Lost in thought, Leia shook as a hand tapped on her shoulder from behind. She quickly turned to face one of the medics, who had a very solemn and pained face. “Princess Leia, it's about Commander Skywalker. Something has happened to him and I think you should know.”
The man moved to the side and ushered for her move forward, tilting his head downward as she approached. Luke was laying still on his back, save for the rising and falling of his chest, with a tube pumping chemicals into the veins of his arm. She knelt down and laid her hand in his, weakly feeing a slight squeeze.
As Leia gazed at the swelling and bruises that decorated his chest and torso, she noticed something horrifying as she continued to eye him down. “No,” she whispered, peering down to his groin. Where his manhood had once been adorned by golden curls, was a blackened stub of less than an inch surrounded by a mixture of burnt and living hair.
Tears filled her eyes as she held his hand tighter than she ever had before, kissing it repeatedly, laying her head against his breast. The Empire would pay for this: This beautiful man had been broken, destroyed. He could hardly even call himself a man still. The world that she had called him had been blasted into a void of rock and debris. Everything that she had ever loved had been taken from her, stolen, abused. How much more would she have to endure? How much more would those she loved endure such suffering?
Heavy eyes weighed down her burden, making her unable to turn. “Is the tank ready?”
The medic nodded and got behind the stretcher, forcing Luke's hand out from her own. Out from the corner of her eye, Han Solo appeared with a heavy frown on his face. Leia threw herself to the man, her arms wrapped around his neck as tears began to fill in her eyes. “Luke,” she hissed as the tears fell down her cheeks. “They mutilated him.”
“I know, Leia.”
Han pried her off of him and slung the seemingly empty holster of his blaster over his shoulder, putting it out in front of Leia. “I didn’t want you to see this but I don’t have the proper clearance to get in. Remember, Leia, I did everything I could for the kid. He was like this when I found him but – but maybe there is still a chance to fix him.”
The princess looked into the holster and saw a severed penis poking out from the shadows. She wanted to vomit as she looked closer at the flesh, her hand reaching in and gripping the stiff manhood. As she held the appendage, the prominent vein on his dick began to pulsate in her hand. “It’s his,” she wept, studying his four inches with disgust and horror. “I’m going to take it to the droid.”
Luke floated serenely in the bacta tank, naked, hoisted against the liquid by a harness that wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes were closed and his breathing had finally stabilized. The ranting and thrashing man finally seemed to find comfort and solace; his mind racing in a dream land. 2-1B had just finished his first examination of Skywalker’s wounds, examining the superficial and preparing for the deeper injuries.
2-1B took his attention off of the injured man and turned to the Princess. “Senator Organa,” the droid replied, “the best thing we can do is let it be for now. Commander Skywalker is still in quite a bit of traumatic stress and the wound has finally begun to heal. Further amputation for prosthesis would cause significant risk at this stage.”
“What do you mean, prosthesis?!”
“I’m afraid that there wasn’t much tissue left to attach. Command Skywalker has less than half of an inch of his penis remaining and further surgery would put him at significant risk of losing the entire organ,” the droid explained patiently as he watched the princess scrunch up her nose. “There is not much left we can do other than let him cope and heal.”
Leia fumed as she wrenched her fists against the seat of her chair. “But there’s no need for a prosthesis. I brought you his penis, it is in perfect condition, all you need to do is just reattach it to him. He’ll be good as new and it’ll be just like he was before.”
“You are correct, Princess Organa,” the droid said quietly as he turned away from her, pulling out a canister of bacta that protected his cock. “The severed organ is unlike anything we have ever seen. It lives – no, thrives, and believes it is still fully attached to our Commander. But it is of little use. The base of the penis has been effectively cauterized, destroying and sealing nerves and veins that are essential for the surgical process. In simple terms, it’s useless.”
The Princess fell back in her seat at the realization. She eyed her friend as he sloshed along the cyan bacta, his body completely bare and exposed to the world. Luke just looked so innocent – he was so young too, to lose something that precious and valuable. Leia never asked but she always assumed he was still a virgin. Hands pulling at her hair in a futile attempt to wrap her mind around the situation, she turned her attention back to the droid, pondering and curious.
“What happened to him?”
The droid turned to her and back to the man, embracing a long period of silence. “We can't say for sure,” he inquired, walking toward to Luke. “The cut was clean enough that he should be fine, physically, after he has rested for a week or so. The psychological damage is another tale. Commander Skywalker will probably be in need of your assistance.”
That was true. As someone who had been tortured and witnessed the destruction of her own planet, Leia understood the complete loss of self. It would take Luke time; just as it took her time for the numbness and deadness to be resurrected by thought and feeling.
"I promise you, Senator. Commander Skywalker will be fine, in time. He will survive the night and will endure. He is strong, much like yourself. Give him time and space. Go back to your chambers and try to sleep, you look as if you've been awake for days.”
“I will – can you please give me a moment alone with Commander Skywalker?”
The droid bowed and turned away out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Leia’s eye was focused on the smaller canister of bacta that sat on the desk, marveling at the severed yet living flesh that floated before her. It made her furious the more she looked, realizing just what her friend had been deprived of. He would likely never have sex again; the possibility of children completely stripped from him. Leia’s brother stood before her, castrated and broken, leaving her as the sole survivor of the Skywalker line.
“You’ll be avenged, my brother.”