Hogarth Hughes shuddered as he lay in the shallow pit in the slave den. Elsewhere in the palace, even through the thick walls and over the muffled music of the Max Rebo Band, he and the other scantily-clad boys could hear it. The bellow of the Rancor. And the screams. The screams of its victim. Or victims. Propping himself up on one elbow, Hogarth tried to listen, tried to discern who it was. Was it Tim Murphy, or the new boy? Perhaps both of them? The stick-thin, snaggle-toothed boy with the slightly oversized ears and the shortish, tousled brown hair, in a way, hoped it was Tim. At least then Tim's ordeals would be over.

Like the blonde Australian boy, Tim had gone quietly insane during his time in the palace. For whatever reason, Mighty Jabba had chosen him as his favorite after multiple "sessions" with each of the boys, both privately and in the main audience chamber with the room full of drunken ruffians looking on. Hogarth himself had been violated in ways he hadn't even conceived of before being brought to Tatooine. But he'd maintained his dignity and his sanity the longest of the boys. The last time he'd seen Tim Murphy, the boy had barely spoken and had a far away look in his eyes. That'd been two days ago. They hadn't seen him since. Apparently he hadn't left the Exalted One's side since then. Unless those were in fact his shrieks of pain and fear echoing through the palace as the Rancor ate him.

Another shudder ran through Hogarth. Whoever it was, they were definitely a meal for their master's pet. No one screamed like that unless they were in that pit, either in the Rancor's grip or about to be. Abruptly the screams ended. The music continued. The party was still going on. Hogarth swallowed. He heard, faintly, other screams, just as terrified but not as loud. Definitely coming from the main audience chamber and not the pit. The pit had a way of amplifying the sounds. Hogarth supposed it'd been designed that way on purpose. Jabba wanted everyone in the palace to hear when someone was fed to the beast.

"The feast," he called it. Hogarth lay back down as the fresh screams died down as well. Whatever that was about, it was over as well. There was no sense fretting, anyway. Soon their brutish Trandoshan keeper would return and would inform them of who had partaken in "the feast." As he lay there in nothing but a studded, silver and bronze lined collar and a thong that left his skinny body completely exposed to the warm, damp air of the den, Hogarth reflected on how he'd come to end up a prisoner in Jabba's domain.

A few weeks ago, he'd never even heard the name Jabba. He knew of nothing called the Rancor. The dread of voracious things in deep, dark pits didn't make him shiver every day, or haunt his dreams at night. And he certainly didn't dress the way he was forced to now... or know what an orgasm was or even felt like or what vilely pleasurable things could be done to a young boy's asshole to make him experience one. He'd been an ordinary boy living in the rural United States with his single mother, Annie, and his biggest concern besides schoolwork was convincing his mother to let him have a pet. He'd been on his way to investigate strange sounds and lights in the woods, "armed" with a BB gun with a flashlight strapped to it and an Army helmet awkwardly perched on his head when suddenly a swirling vortex had opened to his left and three enormous green pig men, Gamorreans, had appeared, and he'd been taken away from the woods to somewhere... somewhen else.

He curled himself into a ball, eying his two remaining fellow slaves. Cody was still off in his own little world. Sullen and withdrawn, the Australian didn't really move or do much. Consequently, he was of little interest to their master. Instead, it was the guards who occasionally dragged him away to some filthy, dark corner to have fun with him. Then there was Timmy. Timmy Turner was probably the youngest of them. He was certainly the shortest. He'd gone over relatively quickly after a few "adventures" with their master. Whatever the vile Hutt had done to him, it had broken Timmy. Hogarth figured Timmy had actually witnessed someone fed to the Rancor. Though it'd seem his mind had been unable to process his fate since the moment he was taken. Immediately upon arrival, despite what he'd endured, the bucktoothed boy with the maroon baseball cap, which he'd inexplicably been allowed to keep, and which was now in tatters, stained in cum and all manner of vile bodily fluids, had insisted that they didn't need to worry. His fairy godparents Cosmo and Wanda would rescue them!

Of course, that hadn't happened. If Cosmo and Wanda were real, and after what he'd experienced, Hogarth was willing to believe almost anything as possible, they were certainly unable to help Timmy and the others. And Hogarth thought as each day passed that it was less and less likely that they were real. If fairy godparents existed, he thought they could've certainly eventually found their godson, even on Tatooine, wherever - whenever - it was. And the longer he went without Cosmo and Wanda answering his repeated calls for deliverance, often uttered so much that their guards gagged him during their repeated violations of him, the more and more Timmy seemed to break, and in a different way than Tim and Cody. He had gone completely manic, and was prone to pacing, shivering like a war veteran suffering battle fatigue or shell shock or whatever it was called, and he spoke less and less frequently... but unlike Cody, this didn't mean he was quiet. No. Hogarth wished he would quieten. Silence would be better than the high, funny little laughs Timmy tended to do in-between frantic, rote repetitions of his assurances that his fairy godparents would save them. He was beginning to sound like Mighty Jabba's other pet, the cackling rodent-like Salacious Crumb.

Hogarth's thoughts were interrupted as he heard the key turning in the lock. Someone was coming in. He sighed, heart thudding in his thin, bird-like chest. The harem was rarely left alone for long. Timmy rocked on his heels and giggled obliviously, and Cody shifted slightly to glance up as the door opened and Bib Fortuna entered. He was a tall, pale-skinned humanoid alien with twin tentacles growing from either side of his head that Hogarth had learned was called a Twi'lek. He served as Mighty Jabba's "majordomo." Whatever that was. In function he seemed to be the Hutt's right-hand man. Perhaps that was what a majordomo was. But other things were on Hogarth's mind besides figuring out what Bib's title meant. Like steeling himself up for the inevitable; they didn't get a personal visit from Bib Fortuna himself rather than the Trandoshan harem keeper unless something was up.

"The Exalted One's newest slave pleased him... a little too much," Bib said in a mixture of Huttese and broken English to the three remaining boys, steepling his delicate-looking clawed fingers. "He proved more than an adequate replacement for the previous one, but, alas, his passion overcame him during the Rancor's feasting and he indulged himself a little too much."

This was his way of diplomatically informing them of the new kid's death as well as the demise of Tim. Occasionally, the vile Hutt got so excited he either fed a slave he liked to the Rancor for a quick thrill, or, worse, he ate them himself. Hogarth sat up cross-legged. He considered asking who had gone what way, but, in the first place, he supposed he knew already, given how Bib had phrased things, and, secondly, slaves who spoke out of turn had a tendency to get the business end of one of the heavy duty floggers carried by the Gamorreans currently accompanying the majordomo. It made sense that Tim had been dropped into the pit with the intent that he be replaced by the white-haired newcomer, Lincoln. But unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it - whatever Lincoln had done, it'd aroused the Exalted One's lust and his appetite, and he had gone into their master's belly instead of the Rancor's.

Bib Fortuna let that sink in, watching the boys, as though gauging their reactions. Hogarth held his head high from where he sat on the floor in the shallow slave pit, trying to look defiant and not quite succeeding, knowing his nervously bobbing Adam's apple gave away his fear that he'd be selected next, praying that the sweat trickling down his naked flesh was taken to be nothing but him being hot in spite of his near nakedness, knowing it probably wouldn't. The Twi'lek grinned his sharp-toothed grin and his eyes moved on to the next boy. Timmy Turner was just giggling stupidly, cackling, in fact. The Gamorreans snorted and shuffled in place and one of them grunted something unintelligible at Bib, who nodded.

"Yes, it seems he'll do nicely for that, indeed, my friend," said the majordomo. He gave a delicate hand gesture.

The guard strode forward. Hogarth backed up in reflex, but he needn't have worried. He wasn't the pig's target. The enormous green hog strode past him to Timmy Turner. He silenced the boy's laughter with a few judicious applications of his flogger, then seized him by one skinny arm and dragged him up. The flogging only silenced Timmy momentarily, and he had a dazed, confused look in his eyes as he was made to walk past where Hogarth sat, out of the pit, and to Bib Fortuna's side where a simple rope was attached to his collar. At another gesture from Bib, the Gamorrean pulled Timmy along by the rope. The boy had resumed giggling, and by the time the two were out of sight, Hogarth and Cody could hear the Turner boy's insane laughter echoing down the darkened hallway.

"Now then," said Bib Fortuna, "as I was saying, with both his previous favorite and his new favorite... no longer with us, the Mighty One requires a replacement. And I think he'll enjoy you."

At this, one clawed finger pointed past Hogarth to Cody. Hogarth twisted around on the floor and locked eyes with Cody. The Australian boy looked back at his only remaining cellmate.

"Perhaps hair of a lighter color will delight his High Exaltedness more," Bib continued.

Not so long ago, Hogarth Hughes realized he would've done anything, fought as hard as he could, to prevent one of his fellow slaves from being taken from this room to whatever hideous fate it was that their captors had in mind. Now, though, he just sighed in relief that it wasn't him. He swallowed. Watching as Bib himself came forward to collect Cody, Hogarth passively did nothing, just as he'd done when Timmy had been taken moments before. The Australian boy went unresisting with the majordomo.

Over his shoulder, Bib said, "Your fate will be decided later."

He left with Cody in tow. The Gamorreans followed, snorting, slamming and locking the door after themselves.

"Mighty Jabba requires your presence," Bib Fortuna was saying as the small procession moved through the dark halls of the palace.

Cody didn't respond, although Bib's hands caressed the boy's bare shoulders as the walked along, and he made a point of "accidentally" bumping up against the Aussie child's back so that Cody could feel the tent he was pitching in his robe poking into the middle of his back. He did his best to ignore it. As did Bib. Although the guards were occasionally allowed to have their fun with the slaves, they made sure that word of their dalliances never got back to the Exalted One. The slaves themselves never spoke of the frequent gangbangs they were subjected to. And guards who threatened to get a little loose-lipped or tried to blackmail the others tended to come to sticky ends. A vibro blade across the throat or a blaster bolt to the belly and the body was frequently left in some dark corner for the scavengers lest Jabba discover that his guards got up to shenanigans with his precious boys. As for the missing men, the evil Hutt almost never seemed to notice whether a few of his horny servants went missing. After all, people came and went from the desert palace all the time.

Although he was in charge of procuring the slaves for his employer, Bib Fortuna himself rarely imbibed in the tantalizing tenderness of boy flesh. Though after witnessing what had befallen these latest two slaves, he was going to with this one, he decided. He'd enjoyed examining the one named Lincoln back in the Mos Eisley slavers' den, and had also eyed Tim Murphy, but he'd never gotten the chance to fully appreciate either of them before his boss, as he saw it, so recklessly threw them away. Mighty Jabba may have been the Exalted One and greatest of all Hutts, but patient and forward thinking he was not. Quite the contrary, he tended to be childish and impulsive, disposing of even well-behaved slaves in fits of hedonistic fury and erotic mania, necessitating an endless new supply of supple young flesh for the bloated ruler of Tatooine, and ensuring that unless his men got to the boys in secret between trips to the audience chamber or while the boys were resting in the slaves' quarters, nobody else got a taste.

Not today, Bib thought. Timmy had been something of a viable candidate, but Bib had pegged him as too crazy. He didn't feel like holding a wild and laughing slave down. Besides, he was destined for a position where he might, in fact, talk, if he ever regained enough of his sanity to do more than cackle and endlessly mention tall tales of fairies. That left Hogarth and Cody. And since Cody was the one he'd selected to bring to Jabba to replace Lincoln, Cody was the one who would fall prey to the Twi'lek's lust. He'd chosen Cody because Jabba seemed to take a special liking to Lincoln Loud's white hair. Enough of a liking that he'd eaten him, Bib reminded himself, grumbling as he shuffled Cody along. Blonde hair wasn't quite the same as white hair, but it was light enough that the majordomo figured it would suffice. Mighty Jabba was in the mood for light-haired boys.

He was positive Cody was destined for the Rancor pit regardless, and he was determined to enjoy the boy from Earth himself before that happened. He glanced back at the oinking Gamorreans plodding along. The two of them had already agreed to this before heading down to retrieve a slave. They'd each get a turn. But Bib got to go first. The thought made the evil Twi'lek smirk evilly as he steered Cody down a dark, narrow side hallway where the torches weren't lit and no lights were turned on. The Australian knew something was wrong when they took this direction because he'd come and gone from his master's audience chamber enough times that he knew the way... and this wasn't the way. For most of his time in the palace, he'd avoided the gang rapes by the guards because of his sullen and withdrawn nature made him unappealing to them. But it had still happened once or twice, and it suddenly occurred to him that his captors had neglected to leas him. And so as Bib Fortuna steered him into a narrow dead end alcove dripping with slime and mold, something of the old fire that had served the blonde boy well during his frequent trips into the Outback started welling up inside him and he was determined suddenly that not only would Bib Fortuna not have him, but neither would his so-called "master."

He was flung forwards and smacked against the slime-encrusted wall, palms against the oozing, ancient bricks, blonde-haired head bowed in a gesture of mock submission. Behind him, he heard Bib breathlessly ordering the two guards to go and be on the lookout at the other end of the hall, lest anyone come along. He dared a glance over one bare shoulder and watched as Bib walked up. First, he draw a large, ornate dagger and used that to cut the waistband of Cody's thong. It fell to the filthy floor, leaving the athletic boy in naught but his slave collar. He shivered in the cool, damp air.

Bib disrobed. Despite his bloated goiter, he actually had a not entirely unattractive body. Toned without being muscular. He let his lekku dangle loosely, and kept his blue fingerless gloves on but his robe was set aside on an empty torch holder, using it for an impromptu coat hanger. Knife in hand, the majordomo came forward, his massive, veined erection bobbing as he eyed the bare form of his victim from behind. He was upon Cody instantly. The knife's blade was slid across the boy's tender throat as a non-verbal reminder of his fate should he dare resist the Twi'lek's advance, and despite himself Cody felt his little cock getting hard, stiffening and rising up as the sharp-toothed mouth of the evil Hutt's right-hand man opened and a slick tongue slid out to lick along the back of his net, grinding his thick cock against Cody, hot dogging his erection between the blonde boy's pert buttocks.

Cody wanted to act now, but the blade against his throat meant that he would have to endure Bib's lust first. One final violation. Still, it was preferable to Jabba. Gripping the boy's shoulder with the hand holding the knife, keeping the pointed tip sticking against the side of the child's neck, Bob knelt down and used one clawed thumb to pull one of Cody's butt cheeks apart, exposing an asshole that wasn't well-used but certainly wasn't virginal anymore. He spat a glob of saliva on it, then stood and moved up against Cody's back. The young Australian gasped as the thick Twi'lek member slid into his tight asshole. Bib muttered sweet-nothings in Huttese and hugged the naked boy to himself as he thrust his hips powerfully, pushing himself deep into the slave's spit-lubed asshole, and hot tears slid down Cody's face as he was raped. Bib used him harder than he used anyone before, and it ached even more because now Cody's will to live and be free had returned to him and he had something resembling an escape plan. Despite the pain and humiliation, he knew what Bib was doing to him was nothing compared to what it'd be like when the two snorting, sweaty Gamorreans returned and took their turn.

Soon, with a growl, the monstrous Twi'lek finished. He sighed happily. "Such a good boy..." he hissed, gently removing the knife from his victim's throat. "The Exalted One will enjoy your obedience. But before my companions have a turn and we take you to your rightful master, perhaps I can indulge in this lovely bare feet of yours."

Cody blinked through his tears as the collar 'round his neck was seized and he was yanked away from the wall and turned to face the other direction and pushed. He fell spread-eagled on the cold, slimy floor. Still holding the knife, Bib was on him in his flash, and grabbed one of his ankles. Cody had unusually large feet for a boy his age, rough but not unsightly so from a life of often running around barefoot in the Australian Outback. Bib licked gently along the calloused soles and sucked on the toes, his sharp teeth drawing a little bit blood. That was it. Whether this was his chance or not, Cody was making his move. He moaned loudly like he enjoyed Bib's ministrations to his bare foot, which caused the majordomo to pause. Whoosh! Standing on his hands, Cody lifted his other leg and struck out! He felt his bare sole connect with Bib's face. The naked Twi'lek stagged back onto his ass and hit his head on the wall he'd just gotten done raping Cody against a few moments ago, the dagger clattering to the floor. Cody grabbed it, slashed at Bib once, missed, and ran.

He ran naked and sweating with cum leaking from his asshole and down his inner thighs, his bare feet plip plopping on the stone floor. He could hear Bib Fortuna yelling angrily in Huttese behind him. Ahead, the two Gamorrean guards on lookout appeared, one at either corner. Even their dim minds quickly realized what had happened and tried to grab him, but the nimble and hard-bodied blonde boy ducked under one's arms and jabbed him in his fat belly with the blade once. He squealed in pain and backed up. So did the second Gamorrean. Their hesitation allowed Cody to run off naked down the more brightly lit hallway. He was free and clear... at least of Bib Fortuna and those two guards. For now. But now what? He tried to get his bearings. He realized he needed to go back to the slaves' quarters and get Hogarth. It'd be easier to escape if he had a friend. But what about Timmy?

As he struggled to come up with a plan that would involve recruiting Hogarth into his half-cocked escape plan, then rescuing Timmy and then hopefully escaping the palace, he saw Bib Fortuna and the Gamorreans coming. Bib had managed to get himself dressed. The Gamorrean Cody had stabbed was holding his stomach wound. Now what was he going to do? Then he turned and saw it. A chute down to the garbage dump deep in the bowels of the palace. Disgusting, but preferable to whatever punishment his pursuers had in store for him. Throwing the door open, he dove in and hoped for the best.

Battered and bruised, Cody slid through the rusty metal chute coated on all sides with God-knew-what until he was dumped with a splash into fetid, garbage-filled water. He surfaced, coughing, and groped around in total darkness. He'd managed to keep hold of the dagger and he held it out in an attempt to fend off the scavengers he knew infested the villains' garbage and which would be all over him soon enough, biting into his tender young flesh. Absently, he realized he was still erect, his little cock bobbing slightly with each cautious but desperate step he took through the smelly, thigh-deep water, feeling along the peeling, rust-pitted walls of the seemingly endless chamber for the retrieval hatch.

Suddenly, something cold and slimy and coated with suckers on the bottom erupted from the surface of the water and encircled his waist. He screamed reflexively. Another one of the things, a tentacle, he knew, belonging to one of the garbage monsters that inhabited filthy, rotten holes like this one, slithered up his bare back. It grabbed around his neck and tried to choke him, to crush his throat and squeeze the life out of him. With a desperate, hitching sob of joy he realized it couldn't because his collar prevented it. The thing that marked him as a slave of the Mighty Jabba was saving him from being strangled to death! He laughed again, then gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the handle of Bib Fortuna's purloined knife. Feeling his cock stiffen a little further in a mixture of desperation and excitement at all this death-defying action, he jabbed down in the darkness at the tentacle around his waist even as he felt a third threatening to entwine itself around one of his legs, and more prodding and exploring his bare feet under the surface of the water.

He felt the blade penetrate the tough but pliant flesh of the tentacle, heard something shriek in agony behind him. Something that must've been the thing's blood spilled out over his erection and dribbled down his smooth, bare legs to mix in with the water. The tentacle released him and withdrew, and the others loosened their grip enough for him to lunge forward out of their embrace. His cock smacking against his belly, he sloshed through the water until he literally ran into the retrieval hatch he sought. Bang! Darkness became bright whiteness for a moment and he staggered back, head ringing, and almost toppled over backwards, but managed to regain his balance. He saved himself by grabbing the hatch handle... which then turned of its own accord. Still stunned from smacking headfirst into the hard metal, he barely comprehended when the handle was wrenched from his grasp and pulled away as someone on the other side of the door yanked it open. Light flooded the garbage room.

Cody raised the knife with one hand, shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness with the other. It was Bib and the two Gamorreans. They'd very quickly figured out his desperate plan and moved to thwart it. But was this rescue, or would he face a far worse fate than being food for a garbage monster if recaptured? He never got to find out. Hearing movement behind him, he half turned and beheld something like an enormous, lumpy, tumorous octopus with a single blazing eyeball and many tentacles. It reared up, allowing him to see its underside, where the tentacles terminated not in an octopus' beak but in a vile, perverse, tooth-ringed suction cup of a maw... a maw that he was destined to go into, probably had been since he first fell in here. For in his reeling confusion and indecision, the monster chose for him.

Tentacles ensnared him. His arms, this time. He shrieked, high and shrill, his sweaty body struggling as more and more of the oozing appendages wrapped around his nude form and dragged him away from the door and his would-be captors' grasping hands. Bib and his accomplices stood in the open doorway and watched, wide-eyed, as the blonde youth was conveyed under the Dianoga's heaving bulk to the hideous maw. Cody's screams became muffled. His hips bucked as he experienced what all the boys in Jabba's palace experienced in situations like this, an involuntary death orgasm created by sheer terror; ropes of boy-jizz painted the suction cup lined tentacles. Even as he came, Cody tried to stab with the knife, but it was no use. The blade fell from his hand and landed in the scummy water, lost forever, as the naked, still cumming boy was simultaneously sucked up inside of the Dianoga's grasping mouth and pushed in by the tentacles, which withdrew after a moment without him. The last Bib saw of the boy was his achingly twisting feet and desperately flexing toes. Then, with a schlorp, they vanished.

The majordomo stood back. He'd lost his employer's prize! He'd be punished grievously for this. No one could know. Focusing on the Gamorrean guard who hand't been stabbed, he pushed him through the hatch. The pig gave a startled snort as he fell through and landed face-first in the water. Surfacing, he coughed, then squealed in horror as the tentacles descended upon him. It was time for dessert. Then Bib turned to the Gamorrean Cody had wounded, hit him in the stomach where the knife had gone in, earning a squeal of agony, and with all his might hurled the green hog in after his friend. Splash! He then pulled the door shut and turned and held the latch tightly. He didn't let go until the roaring, squealing and splashing signaled the end of both guards. He sighed with relief and stepped back, doing his best to compose himself, smoothing out his robes.

With Cody gone, he had but to present Hogarth as the Exalted One's replacement for Lincoln. He was another brown-haired boy like Tim Murphy had been, but, then, so was Timmy Turner, and the Hutt wasn't minding him one bit. Though, admittedly, Timmy was playing a much different role than Hogarth soon would be. As a thunderous belch echoed through the sealed off garbage chamber, Bib Fortuna hurried off back towards the slaves' quarters, pausing only long enough to order a few guards to go to Mos Eisley and use the dimens-porter device to go and get some more boys to refill their employer's drastically diminishing harem.

When Cody had been taken out, Hogarth Hughes had stood and stretched. He raised his arms above his head and leaned back, closing his eyes and parting his lips a bit as he grunted, feeling his back pop pleasantly. It felt good to stretch. It didn't feel good to be alone, though. As he remained in that pose with his arms raised over his head, back arched, the small bulge in his thong thrust forward, he wiggled his toes and rocked and forth on the balls of his feet before slowly exhaling, lowering his arms and leaning forward, opening his eyes. Now what? If all went well, Cody would be returned and they'd have another night of rest. He looked forward to it. Sleep filled with nightmares as still sleep. He couldn't sleep now. Not until he knew what happened to the others.

He circled the pit, idly kicking the embroidered pillows that were once extremely nice but now stained and encrusted with old cum, sweat and who knew what else. He frowned and adjusted his thong. Being alone in here was beginning to get on his nerves. Obviously, he and his fellow captives hadn't done much talking when they were together, but at least they'd been other people. He coughed and cleared his throat. Suddenly, he heard an echoing series of screams very close by from somewhere down below. It sounded like Cody. He froze, turning and looking at the door. The scream abruptly became muffled and then ended, sounding as if something were being stuffed into the screamer's mouth.

Or the screamer being stuffed into something else's mouth, Hogarth thought. He shivered.

Although he tried to steel himself up for what he figured would be the inevitable reappearance of his captors, he was unprepared for the ferocity with with Bib Fortuna kicked the door in as soon as it was unlocked. His foot left a dent in it. It swung violently in on its hinges and banged loudly against the wall, making the Trandoshan keeper and the Gamorrean guards, visible behind Bib in the antechamber, jump, while Hogarth himself felt like he flew ten feet off the floor he jumped so high at the suddenness of Bib's entrance. The pale Twi'lek, baring his fans, strode towards the thin boy purposefully, a gilded chain in his hands. His leash. Gulping, Hogarth fought against fear, lost, and backed up. His heel caught the edge of the pit and he fell flat on his ass, the stone floor cold against his bare ass cheeks.

"The blonde Earth boy is dead," Bib spat angrily in Huttese, which Hogarth understood. "You'll have to do! Come! Jabba can't be kept waiting or else I'll end up in the pit!"

As the Twi'lek bent and attached the leash to the slave's collar, Hogarth managed a smirk, smiling his crooked-toothed smile. "What a shame that'd be," he said, and received the back of Bib Fortuna's hand across his face for it, but his smirk didn't waver. He was enjoying seeing his chief tormentor besides Mighty Jabba nervous and upset, even though deep down he mourned Cody. He was glad that Fortuna didn't give him the details.

"You'll pay for your insolence, human!" hissed Bib, and Hogarth could only utter a sharp "Glurk!" as he was hauled to his feet by the chain, the collar digging into his thin throat. He grabbed at it, but Bib insistently hauled him forward and out of the room. Once they were outside in the antechamber, Bib snarled at the Trandoshan to flog the boy for his backtalk, which the reptile did gladly. A little too gladly. Hogarth was forced to kneel and was beaten savagely across the back with the rubber, almost dildo-like flogger that all the guards carried, managing to hold in his cries of pain. His attacker was more vocal, uttering for hisses and grunts of perverse pleasure with every strike. It hurt, but left almost no marks. It was a very useful tool, designed to inflict maximum pain with minimal damage, expressly made for disciplining pleasure slaves like Hogarth. When Bib Fortuna decided the boy had endured enough, he said, "All right, that's enough. Now, we take him to Jabba. Come!"

The sound of their footfalls echoed through the palace as they journeyed to the main audience chamber. The soft-soled shoes of Bib Fortuna making a pat-pat-pat sound, the sandals of the guards going flip-flip, and Hogarth's own bare feet doing an uneven plip-plop-plap as he was dragged along.

Soon enough they reached the Exalted One's audience chamber, which was crowded with the usual miscreants. All save one. There was no sign of Salacious Crumb. Rather, to Hogarth's shock, in his place sat Timmy Turner! The boy was still in nothing but thong and collar, but wasn't leashed. He squatted on his haunches and rocked back and forth, grinning his bucktoothed grin stupidly. Mighty Jabba's thick tail tip rubbed along his feet and bare buttocks and occasionally a flabby-fingered hand reached over to absently pat his head. His head, which, Hogarth saw, was no longer wearing the baseball cap Timmy had been brought in with, but Hogarth's own army helmet with the goggles perched on them! Spotting Hogarth being brought in, Timmy licked his lips and giggled. Jabba puffing on his hookah, partially turned to regard what was being brought to him with heavy-lidded eyes.

The Max Rebo Band was playing. Jabba seemed to be, despite his sleepiness, evidently an effect of whatever it was he was smoking, in an unusually jovial mood this afternoon, his thick, bulbous body swaying to the jazzy tune being played by the band. Timmy was also bobbing his head, grinning idiotically.

The various assembled criminals and mercenaries standing on the sidelines watched her with hungry eyes and quivering lips as Hogarth Hughes was marched over the viewing grate that looked down into the pit and made to stand before the dais, directly on the trapdoor. He swallowed. He'd been brought to Mighty Jabba like this before. But he'd never felt so alone. With Cody dead and Timmy having gone completely insane and apparently become the Hutt's new pet, the boy was, for the first time since being kidnapped, completely without a single ally. Unless Timmy Turner was faking. God, let him be faking, he prayed.

As an aside, Bib said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the music, "His Excellency got peckish and his frog bowl was empty. Salacious was all he had to hand." He shrugged. "Your friend's inane cackling gave me the idea that he'd make an excellent replacement for that annoying rodent, and Mighty Jabba agreed."

Hogarth swallowed an icy lump in his throat as he beheld the massive, doughy expanse of Hutt looming over him. Jabba's cold reptilian eyes had not left him since he'd been brought in. This made Hogarth nervous. Jabba was nasty enough when enraged, but he was far crueler when he was in a good mood. Nothing delighted him more than another sentient being's humiliation or destruction. This, coupled with his impulsiveness, was why he'd fed Tim Murphy to the Rancor and replaced him with Lincoln Loud... only to immediately devour Lincoln as an afterthought. And it was also why he'd consumed his loyal pet Salacious Crumb. He seemed to be enjoying Timmy as Salacious' replacement, though.

"Your Excellency," Bib said, signalling for the band to quieten, "here is your newest slave. You may remember him from before."

He handed the leash to Jabba, who chuckled. "Ho ho hoooo!"

Beside him, Timmy went, "Ha ha haaa!" in a high, whiny voice.

"I do indeed remember this one. A very lean and lovely form. But quite stubborn. Prone to disobedience. You were lucky when you didn't obey me last time, boy. If you displease me now it will be your final act."

On the way here, Hogarth had envisioned himself standing up to his master, choosing the pit, death, over slavery. But the thought of being crunched up and eaten by a monster chilled him to his very marrow. He cast his gaze down to the floor, bowing his head slightly, hoping to indicate defeat and submission. Shifting slightly on the dais, Mighty Jabba inhaled sharply through his mucus-coated nostrils and there was a wet, slithering noise as he licked his fat lips. Evidently he enjoyed this display of subservience. He pulled gently on the chain. Hogarth looked up.

"Tell me, boy," he said, "are you glad to have been chosen to be my companion?"

Hogarth struggled to answer in Huttese, failed, and instead replied in English, which Jabba fortunately understood. "No..." There was gasps, and he could feel the anger pouring off of Bib Fortuna beside him. But the Hutt's expression didn't change. He wanted to see where this went. Hogarth looked down, then up again, adding, "but I will do what is commanded of me, Master."

"Ho ho ho!" Jabba laughed, rocking, his belly shaking like gelatin. "An honest boy! I like that lad!"

Sensing that the mood had lightened, Bib sighed and signaled to the band to resume playing. As the Hutt continued laughing, some kind of vaguely-defined lump that wasn't quite a roll a fat, but something inside Jabba, became visible at intervals, and the wild-eyed Timmy pointed at it and said, "Lincoln! Loooooooooud!" then threw back his head, holding onto the helmet, and loosed a hyena's laugh of pure insaneity. "Awwwwah ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa!"

Jabba pulled on the chain. "Come to me, boy," he urged, as Timmy cackled crazily beside him.

Not wanting to disobey, Hogarth stepped forward, and Bib Fortuna gave him a helpful push, gently placing one hand against the small of the boy's back. As he was pushed towards where Mighty Jabba sat, he licked his lips. and soon he stood before the Jabba, whose pudgy little fingers twitched and flexed in anticipation of the pleasure to come. What Mighty Jabba wanted may have varied from time to time, and he was shockingly fickle, changing his mind on a dime. Today's favorite slave was tomorrow's meal for the Rancor. But without variation, what Mighty Jabba wanted, Mighty Jabba got, when Mighty Jabba wanted it. And if you didn't give it to him, well, he might just decide he wanted something else from you instead... like your dying screams to be his lullaby as he drifted off into a contented doze on his dais after the party wound down. What he seemed to want now was for bare flesh against his bulk, as Hogarth stepped up onto the dais with his master and promptly sprawled across his enormous stomach.

The Max Rebo band played a slow, smutty tune that fit the proceedings, as Hogarth felt himself sink into the flab slightly. It was warm and greasy and and he gagged as he felt herself pushed against the huge alien's fatty rolls, thick flesh squishing with wet squelching noises against his bare chest and belly as his face came within inches of Jabba's own, slime being smeared over his skin. He slid down to his knees so that his brown-haired head lay against Jabba's flabby chest. There was a slurp and he glanced up, then wished he hadn't. Jabba's greasy bulk heaved against his naked belly as that enormous maw gaped and the tongue poked free. The vile stench washed over Hogarth's upturned face and for one moment he was positive he would suffer Lincoln Loud's fate and be eaten as that thick tongue slatheredthose fat chops, and Hogarth flinched and turned away in revulsion with pitiful little cry of "Ohhhh...!"

A throaty chuckle rumbled up from the depths of the Hutt as he enjoyed Hogarth's discomfort, giving his chain a little bit of slack, but not too much. Hogarth squeezed his eyes shut, wishing it was all a bad dream and that he'd wake up safe and sound in bed back home. Hogarth tried to turn away with horror as Jabba's tongue again decided to explore his face, shifting uncomfortably against him as he squirmed in his doughy embrace. Jabba hugged one of his arms around the boy's slender waist and removed his thong, Hogarth's taut tummy rubbing and heaving against his slimy rolls of fat as he was held against his great belly. He started licking down along Hogarth's jaw, the boy's dexterous but dainty hands pushing against what could charitably be called his shoulders as that tongue roamed ever lower, leaving its glistening trail of saliva.

Shamefully, Hogarth felt his small penis hardening against the monstrous Hutt's belly, and he whimpered. His body was betraying him. As he made another pathetic attempt to pull himself away, Mighty Jabba proceeded to start licking the base of his scrawny neck, right over his collar, as meanwhile he slipped a hand over that pert backside, the kind of perfect little butt only a very young boy could have, groping it possessively. Hogarth gave a soft grunt as he felt his small rear end being grabbed. He instinctively bucked his slim hips. Once. Twice. He gasped and groaned. Beside them, Timmy laughed. He heard that hideous, high-pitched cackle drilling into his left ear while Jabba slipped a couple of fat digits along the bottom curve of Hogarth's backside. No, please, Hogarth begged silently. Squeezing a clammy handful of buttock, Jabba pulled Hogarth's hips closer, shoving the child's pelvis into his belly as he shoved his tongue smoothly down between the boy's lips. Slime squelched and squirted out of the corners of Hogarth's mouth and dribbled down his chin as the pustule-covered tongue slithered in deeper and deeper, his eyes watering as he felt it teasing at the back of his throat. He moaned and felt himself leaking pre from his still agonizingly hard cock, which mingled with the slime coating his master's stomach.

He moaned and felt himself leaking pre from his still agonizingly hard cock, which mingled with the slime coating his master's stomach. Slowly, the fat tongue was extracted, a loud sschlooorrppp audible over the music, thing strings of saliva connecting the rancid but powerful muscle to the trembling lips of the slave, who coughed and moaned again, grinding his hips deeper into that vast expanse of belly. A belly he prayed he didn't end up in.

Jabba couldn't help himself - he started laughing, thick wells of rank rank breath puffing over Hogarth's face. "HO Ho ho ho ho, HAH hah hah ha hyeaaiiiighghghhgh..."

Timmy was inclined to agree. "Awwwwaaa ha ha ha hah ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaa!" he shrieked.

Hogarth wiped his mouth free of the disgusting drool and grimaced at their taunting laughter. His face was flushing hotly, so ashamed was he that this vile treatment was arousing him. With a look of disdain on his face that indicated it was being done under protest, he lifted his arms up above his head, as he'd done when stretching earlier, and gradually Jabba's wheezing laughter tapered off, his tongue sliding in slowly passes over the boy's bare chest, rubbing its tip in small circles around Hogarth's sensitive nipples, forcing them to harden as the cool air touched the slime and saliva coating them. Hogarth moaned. "Ohhh..." Was it possible his dick was getting even harder?! It was almost painfully erect now. His brows knitted in annoyance. As much as he hated himself, it was arousing him immensely what his master was doing. His nipples stood firm as Jabba's tongue teased them.

Jabba released Hogarth's chain and caressed his thigh and hip. He kept licking his chest and groping his ass and then suddenly shoved his other hand between his belly and Hogarth's thigh, squirming between them. Finding what he sought, he used a couple of fat fingers to gently but firmly grip Hogarth's waiting boyhood, sliding the tips of his surprisingly nimble, sausage-like fingers along that undeveloped shaft. Hogarth hitched in a sudden gasp and arched his bare back, raising his arms further, stretching them harder, entwining his hands at the wrists, fingers interlaced, grinding himself against the Hutt, opening his thighs willingly to him now despite everything. If he was destined for the pit, then let it be after this pleasure, rancid and perverse though it was.

The Exalted One observed his slave carefully, still slathering the boy's front in saliva as he slowly jerked the tiny dick off. Hogarth slowly rolled his slim hips in time to the movements of the fingers, his loosely dangling chain clinking along softly, another moan coming forth from deep within him, high, breathy and almost feminine. He lowered his arms and touched himself, groping over his chest, fingering and squeezing his hardened little nipples excitedly, feeling his master's tongue slather over them and his hands. Jabba kept pumping along the boycock, using two fingers to push up and down the rock hard boyhood, enjoying the vocal reactions he got, taking delight in slowly corrupting the boy, who'd only moments ago denied that he was glad to have been chosen as the Exalted One's pleasure slave! The conflicting looks of pleasure and revulsion on Hogarth's face were amazing to him.

He narrowed his eyes, even now trying to decide if this one was going to sit by his side a little longer before his inevitable fate or not. The hunger of his body had been sated by the main course of human child and the dessert of Kowakian monkey-lizard, but the hunger of his lust hadn't, and he doubted this interesting and fun little bout of playtime with the brown-haired boy currently smushing himself obediently if reluctantly into his great boy-filled belly would be enough to satisfy him, and although he reserved all his attention for Hogarth and Hogarth alone, occasionally he would eye the button that activated the trapdoor in front of the dais. He realized he had but to shove Hogarth onto it and hit the button, and the next feast would begin. Perhaps then he'd be satisfied enough to doze off into a contented nap and not awaken horny again for a little while.

A thin sheen of sweat began to appear on Hogarth, mingling in the cool air with Jabba's slime and saliva as he ground his boyhood harder against the probing fingers. Mighty Jabba's big belly got dimpled and squashed around as Hogarth's hips slowly gyrated and ground up against it, his breath getting heavier, slimy tummy heaving, hard nipples bushing over the Hutt's flab, and his master kept it up, wanting to hear him.

"Moan..." he commanded.

Hogarth promptly obeyed, closing his eyes again and loosing a salacious moan from his parted lips as he leaned his brown-haired head back. "Uhhhhn..." he moaned.

Jabba released Hogarth's backside and now began to play with his toy's nipples. He thumbed one, continuing to masturbate the tiny penis with his fingers, pulling and stroking at the boy's erection to coax a climax from him, making him so fucking hard, pre oozing freely from the tip. So close now. And unlike Lincoln currently digesting inside of him, the Hutt had every intention of allowing this boy to cum. Provided he begged for it. Hogarth moaned, a high, whimpery little cry of need, not the moan of a little boy from 1950s America anymore, but the moan of a wanton slut, the property of a gangster as vile as the ruler of Tatooine. He was close. He felt it building within him. The dawning orgasm. His hips began to work faster, precum dribbling over Jabba's hand. He needed this more than he needed life itself.

And suddenly, Jabba's hand withdrew! Hogarth blinked, hips bucking reflexively for a moment before he slowly stopped, leaning forwards to look at his master his confusion and anger for this denial this treachery. Timmy Turner found it hilarious, and conveyed his amusement with more of his raucous, shrieking laughter as he he hopped up and down beside the two mismatched lovers, the gargantuan Hutt and the thin, twig-like human boy. Jabba had simply stopped! Leaving him, Hogarth, panting and moaning against him but doing nothing else to fulfill his desire. The Hutt licked his lips but did nothing else. After a moment, Hogarth collapsed panting against him, giving a disappointed little whimper. The Exalted One didn't volunteer to assist him. He just watched him with the detached scrutiny of a veteran sadist who knew exactly what he was doing, as Timmy's laughter finally, mercifully, tapered off and stopped altogether. Silence filled the audience chamber. Even the band had stopped playing.

Hesitantly, Hogarth bit his lower lip and slid his hand down, intending to please himself if his master wouldn't. Mighty Jabba had other ideas. With cobra-like quickness, he snatched up the chain and pulled it to one side, angling the collar to the back of Hogarth's neck and tugging it hard, enough to make the boy stop what he was doing and try to rescue his precious air. With a cry of "Ack!" his hands flew up to grab the collar.

"You touch yourself only if I tell you to," Mighty Jabba rumbled, then loosened his grip on the chain slightly, allowing him to breath, but keeping him in the chokehold. "You seem annoyed," Jabba observed after a moment of studying his face. "Permission to speak. Within reason."

"You... didn't let me finish," Hogarth said hoarsely.

"Finish what?" Jabba licked his lips, eying the naked, heaving form of the human, the slime already drying.

"My..." Hogarth trailed off and looked away, then turned back and eyed Jabba, blushing slightly. He didn't want to say it, but... "I didn't get to cum."

Mighty Jabba was enjoying this far more than Hogarth could possibly understand. "What do you wish to do about it, then?"

"I... I wish to finish." Hogarth frowned a little. Was the Hutt stupid? Or just toying with him?

Jabba grinned. It was a horrifying sight. "I might need some convincing. Ask me more properly."

Hogarth flushed and nibbled on his lower lip. It was obvious he was impatient. His demeanor and voice took on a more humble air. And for real this time. "Please, Mighty Jabba... let me cum, if such is your delight..."

He tugged Hogarth's chain. "Say it again."

"Uhh... please." Hogarth was close to tears now and Timmy was giggling again, threatening to explode into full-blown laughter. Hogarth knew that if the other boy laughed out loud again before he'd cum, he'd go as insane as him. Please, Master, he thought. For goodness' sake, Mighty Jabba, let me cum!

Jabba twisted the chain back to Hogarth's front and yanked him back to him as Timmy stopped laughing to watch eagerly and intently now, letting go of the chain and grabbing Hogarth by his slender waist in both hands, the chil crying out, Jabba moving his carefully positioned tail out from behind where Timmy squatted to over behind Hogarth and proceeding to ram it between those pert buttocks, thrusting it up... up... up! Hogarth felt the thick tip of the tail probing, gasping as he felt it curl up and begin to slide into his asshole. Again he groaned and arched his back. Jabba slipped his hands down onto Hogarth's hips and pulled, letting him get some leverage as the boy turned slave spread his thighs around the front of his bulbous belly, grinding up on it as he reamed his tail deeper and deeper until it bottomed out. He waited for Hogarth's initial frenzy of moans and bucks and squirms to finish, and once he placed her hands upon the upper slopes of his belly, getting into just the right position... he began to ride his master.

Ride him he did, grinding his heaving, naked form to him with a deep and wanton lust he'd never known before, the kind a boy his age shouldn't even know about, but then... he wasn't really a boy anymore. He'd become a man during his time in this palace of sin. His face was close to Jabba's, heedless of the fact he found him revolting earlier, breathing deeply of his fetid breath as it washed over him. His hips rolled slowly with his exertions as it ground and squeezed his tail deep within his depths, kissing him, ignoring the fact it was his nose he kissed, getting mucus and snot all over his lips anew. His body bounced and slapped against Jabba's flab, making the great belly jiggle, and he grunted and panted, riding him harder, really humping his big belly, squeezing a good hunk of doughy flesh up between his thighs, mashing it against his cock as he strove to get that tail deeper. Mighty Jabba started licking his face in quick slurps and slaps, making him buck, moan, and then... then!

"Cum for your Master..."

Hogarth loosed his final lusty cry as he hit his peak and screamed out in sheer delight as his form was rocked by a powerful orgasm, body shuddering as thick boy-cum splurted out onto the gangster's belly to dribbling down the thick, quivering doughy rolls. Jabba kept at him, not letting up in the slightest, grinding the tip of his invading tail against the boy's prostate to milk his slave for all he was worth. Hogarth continued bucking wildly for a few minutes longer as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm before it slowly tapered off, and he collapsed against his master's slimy, fat body, sated.

As the gasping, sweaty form slid down the boated belly to lay exhausted outstretched on the dais before his master, Mighty Jabba rumbled in delight and shut his eyes. Beneath him, Hogarth Hughes could only lie panting and weak. Jabba's eyes slid open, looking down at the nude, slimy form of his pet. His lips parted gently, and he salivated hungrily. Thick mucus also now poured from his flaring nostrils as he breathed deep. The disgusting mixture of drool and snot slowly slid down his heaving belly to pool on Hogarth's tummy. Jabba did a slow circuit of his fat chops with his tongue, lapping up his own snot and spit and belching happily.

"Rise!" the Hutt commanded.

Timmy sat up a little straighter, eyes widening, a stupid smile spreading across his face. Hogarth picked himself up as best as he could and stood, shaky, naked and dripping, before his bloated owner. What was going on? In his dazed, post-climax mind, all he could think of was that he was going to be sent to get cleaned up. All thought that he'd be sent into the pit had vanished from his mind. The drunken courtiers and henchmen hooted and hollered. They knew what was coming. The great Hutt lifted a hand for silence.

"I have no further use for this pitiful cum dumpster," he said in thick Huttese. "He has done well, but I have a greater use for him!"

Hogarth felt like crying.

"I sentence him to die for our amusement!" Mighty Jabba burbled forth.

"No, Master!" wailed Hogarth. Timmy laughed at him. "Anything but the Rancor! I don't want to die like that!"

"Ho ho ho ho hooooo!" Mighty Jabba laughed, and everyone joined in. Timmy was, of course, loudest of all.

Hogarth stepped back, away from the chortling Hutt, and as before he fell backwards. His heel suddenly found the edge of the dais and he fell flailing to hit the floor hard, right on the trapdoor. Jabba gently pressed the button on the armrest.

"Nooooo!" wailed Hogarth, struggling to rise.

He fell through the trapdoor that gaped beneath him and slid down into the pit.

His bare buttocks slid along the cool stone and he felt moist air rushing over his exposed, vulnerable genitals. He tried to grab the walls of the narrow chute he was sliding down, fingernails scraping, but couldn't get enough purchase to slow his descent. All at once, a metal gateway opened and he flew out, yelling as he turned in midair and landed hard on his side on a warm, sand-covered floor. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. A for a few moments, Hogarth lay there, stunned, then rolled over onto his back. Above him, he could see the grate installed in the cavern-like ceiling, all of the scum of the galaxy jostling, pushing and shoving, trying to get the best view. They all wanted to see the boy die, having waited and hoped for this moment as soon as Hogarth had been brought in. Nevermind that they'd just witnessed the same thing happen earlier in the day with Tim Murphy. The drunken, horny idiots didn't care. They wanted entertainment. Jabba chuckled and leered down at him. Timmy Turner continued his braying, hyena-like laughter as he hopped up and down excitedly.

Hogarth finally rolled back over and picked himself up, groaning in dismay as he realized that due to the combination of sweat, slime and other liquescent oozes he was covered in, the sand from the floor stuck to the side he'd landed on and to his back from when he'd rolled over. It made him feel extra grimy and he wished, if nothing else, he could at least get his collar and chain off. Insanely, he realized his cock was still erect and not getting any softer.

He did his best to brush himself off, and, quaking with barely contained terror, turned and look around. The room he'd been dropped into was enormous. It'd been impossible to tell how big it was looking down into it from above, but now that he was actually down inside of it, he was amazed to find it was actually three times the size of the audience chamber above his head, the better to contain the great beast that would be unleashed any minute now.

Bones littered the floor. Not a good sign...

He fixed his gaze on the giant, rusty door at the opposite end of the end, which slowly began to open with a great squealing sound as ancient metal gears protested their use. Hogarth involuntarily took a step back. Fear gripped his chest and he felt his heart thudding. The door seemed to take forever to slide up, slowly revealing the massive form of the ferocious beast everyone in the palace lived in fear of. The Rancor. Its hunched over, vaguely humanoid form and beady silvery eyes shining in the gloom could just be made out in the darkness of its den adjacent to the pit. Hogarth hitched in a pitiful sob and felt tears welling up in his eyes as the thing that had killed Tim and countless others loosed a mighty roar and stepped out into the pit, long arms terminating in huge, awkward-looking clawed hands spreading wide as the crowd above cheered. The fun was about to begin.

Hogarth felt his heart beating faster, his mouth open slightly in a look of disgust mixed with fear, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now. The beast was hideous and terrifying. He'd seen it once before but being this close to it, down in the pit...

He felt the scream rising in his throat. His Adam's apple rose and felt as he fought to choke it down, sobbing. No! He wouldn't give his killers that satisfaction. Not him. Hogarth Hughes swallowed that scream. He nevertheless felt his knees weaken and his legs turn to rubber. He awkwardly took another few steps back, again glancing up at the monsters who'd sent him down here to be eaten by another monster. Even from way down here inside the pit, Hogarth could make out their faces, every detail of their reactions and what they were doing. Jabba, the seemingly impassive bounty hunter Boba Fett beside him, gave a cry that was part triumphant cheer and part gassy belch, waving an arm in the air, the loose flab hanging off of it wobbling slightly.

The Gammorreans meanwhile were positively going wild. Snorting, fighting, pushing and shoving trying to see. Hee could easily make out the ones named Gartogg and Jubnuk. They were visibly aroused. Gartogg squealed with piggish delight and Jubnuk snorted with laughter as their enormous, fat pig-cocks became engorged to bulge out their furry loincloths obscenely. They fidgeted, rocking back and forth on their sandaled feet, their overweight forms positively shaking with barely suppressed desire. Jubnuk's cock slid free of the leg hole of his loincloth and slowly grew to its complete hardness down his bare green thigh where it hung thick and meaty and bulbous as he slapped Gartogg on the back. Hogarth could see a thick bead of pre-cum slowly emerging from his urethra and begin to slowly dangle down through the bars of the grate towards him. Others were equally aroused, touching and rubbing themselves, moaning and laughing. Their sadism and perversion, it seemed, knew no bounds.

A revolted Hogarth looked away and back at the Rancor, and saw the answering gaze of his devourer. He jerked back in reflex, whimpering, as the monster threw its arms back, clawed hands spread wide, and roared again. The entire cavern shook. At that, what little courage was left inside of Hogarth Hughes left him. For all that he'd endured, he was, after all, only a child. Hearing Mighty Jabba's booming laughter echoing down from above, a wailing Hogarth forgot all about his decision not to scream. With a piercing shriek of pure terror, he turned and fled, his hard little cock bobbing freely in the air. To where, he didn't know. The gate covering the chute he'd slid down was closed again. Try as he might, he couldn't force it open. It wouldn't have led to freedom even if he could've opened it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that. Even if he got it open, even if he managed to somehow crawl all the way back up the nearly vertical slide, they'd just kick him right back down. But he tried anyway, acting on blind, panicking instinct.

He heard a gurgling sound. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Rancor looming above him. It clenched and unclenched its fingers and inhaled deeply through its porcine nostrils, causing its forehead to pulsate hideously. Then it reached for him with one outstretched arm, massive hand slowly coming towards him. His chain clinking, Hogarth nimbly dodged the clumsy grab and then the naked, sweating boy with his painfully hard, fear-induced erection rushed between the monster's squatting legs and out the other side behind it, deftly avoiding the lashing tail, grunting in mild pain as he freely swinging balls smacked against bare, sweaty thighs and his cock occasionally smacked up against his belly. The Rancor was big and strong, but little boys were faster, especially when terrified out of their minds. Or so he thought. For it turned out that the seemingly lethargic beast could be moved to quick action if roused to anger. For it turned with surprising swiftness and its other arm shot out. Hogarth's goal was the den the creature had emerged from. He knew there must be a human-sized door for the keepers to come and go, but before he could get near it, he felt himself seized.

He threw back his head, snaggle teeth gritted, back arched, grimacing and groaning in pain as the thing's powerful fingers encircled him and squeezed him tight. With a cry of "Ugh!" he felt himself leaving the ground, being picked up, lifted high into the air. His stomach did flip-flops. He squeezed his eyes shut, his aching member beginning to ooze pre, smearing it on the rough skin of the Rancor's fingers as his cockhead rubbed against them. As he neared the grate, someone cried "WOOOOO-HOOO!" He opened his eyes and looked up. Those above watched eagerly, all except for Boba Fett in various states of undress, the females fingering themselves and the males jerking off. Gartogg was rubbing himself through his loincloth as he watched Hogarth being lifted while Jubnuk was gripping his meaty thick dick and furiously pumping it as he grunted rocked back and forth, closing his eyes. Even Timmy was pumping away at his little cock, panting feverishly, having removed his thong. Hogarth grimaced in horror and sobbed that his death was causing them so much pleasure. And yet the pre-cum continued to flow from his dick.

Then there was Jabba. Hogarth couldn't see it, but he knew his thick, bloated, horrifyingly deformed cock had slid free of his genital slit, and he was using his wiggling tail tip to rubbing and tease it, wrapping it around the cock to squeeze it, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, dripping tongue hanging out as his hands rubbed over his flabby, breast-like pectorals. He groaned out in pure hedonistic pleasure. Hogarth knew for a fact he was enjoying this more than anyone else.

He finally averted his gaze from the horror show above to the one he was living down below. The Rancor had lifted him to its face and its mouth opened, the tongue sliding out like a slimy welcome mat, the cavernous, black tunnel of the throat beckoning beyond, calling him to his fate. Strands of drool connected the tongue and upper palette. Slowly, savoring her horrified wriggling in its grip, the Rancor drew the slave nearer... nearer... then it opened its mouth slightly wider and gently bent its head forwards, sliding Hogarth inside of that waiting maw.

Now, at last, Hogarth screamed. Truly screamed. His shrieks from earlier were nothing compare to the raw, animal squeal of absolute horror and insanity that flew from the boy's mouth as his naked form was slid across the sloppy, wet tongue. Madness overcame him, and he was actually grinning as he was eaten, groping down over his slick, sweaty belly to grab at himself, and he had but to touch that aching, sensitive member and it exploded, splurting boy-cum all over the inside of the monstrous mouth. Groaning and laughing, he rolled over and humped the tongue, grinding his still spurting boyhood against the slimy tongue which curled over him. The powerful jaws slowly bent down with a wet, meaty crunch, the scream was instantly cut off as that first fatal bite ended the life of Hogarth Hughes mid-orgasm. Everyone cheered. Many of them came. The Rancor leisurely ate its latest meal, chomping Hogarth down slowly bit by bit.

A lanky, bucktoothed human guard named Crigg was kneeling and pleasuring Jubnuk, slathering sloppily over the thick cock where it jutted forth from the leg hole Gamorrean's loincloth, sucking it down even as the Rancor gobbled up the slave. Jubnuk growled and thrust his meaty hips as Crigg sucked harder, and was rewarded with a jet of stinking Gamorrean cum in his mouth. Jubnuk squealed in pleasure. Crigg pulled his mouth off of the splurting cock to let the rest of the watery cum splatter all over his face. Gartogg squealed and came inside his loincloth as he was embraced and carressed by two slaves. The sounds of the Rancor eating were music to their ears. They all watched Hogarth die and get eaten as they sloppily pleasured themselves and each other. Mighty Jabba threw back his head, tongue flopping around in the air wildly, as his enormous cock blew its load from the sight of Hogarth's death, his tail wrapping around the thick Hutt-cock, squeezing it tightly like a boa constrictor as watery, goopy cum flew, as though from a fire house, to spray into the excited crowd of his fawning sycophants who accepted the gift with glee. It rained down onto the bars of the viewing grate.

Slowly, the celebrating and the sex died down. Hogarth Hughes' legs slid from view into the Rancor's mouth out of sight and it swallowed. A bulge traveled down its fat throat to vanish behind its ribcage. Everyone stood there with their dripping dicks, cum dribbling slowly off of the bars down into the pit to patter soft and sticky over the body of the oblvious Rancor as it turned and trudged slowly back to its den to sleep its meal off. Jabba the Hutt loosed a great sight of satisfaction as he licked his lips with his horrifying tongue.

"Hooooo hoo hooo hooooooohhhhhh!"

The End.