The Outer Rim. Just the very name of that forbidden area of the galaxy called up nightmare images of mercenaries, criminals, thugs, and other riffraff infesting it like worms in a rotten apple. Among the more infamous planets within this den of corruption was Tatooine, a harsh desert planet circling a duo of suns, populated with all manner of undesirables, or the small number of innocent moisture farmers native to the planet being drowned out by the growing expansion of the former. Unsurprisingly, it was the first place one would think of to go to for illicit activities or services; dangerous – and dangerously addictive – podracing gambling, smuggling and assassination recruitment, slave ownership and sale. All this and more were right at the fingertips of anyone rich and depraved enough to to afford it...

	Doronga grimaced as he glanced through the holorecorder of slaves being auctioned off at the stables near Mos Eisley. Most of them were the same old lot that were being sold year after year – Twi'lek females, Gamorrean guards, the odd Human... None of them interested the Dug. He wanted something more exotic, something more exciting, something that would tickle his un-Duglike xenophilia. Growling to himself in frustration with the selection, he tossed the holorecorder aside and turned to the slaveowner – a surly Toydarian that seemed to have trouble flying due to a scorched and mangled wing – with a bitter frown on his lips. “{Is this the only selection you have, old man? I'm not interested in these trifles...}”

	The Toydarian snuffled in disdained insult, but turned to his computer and scanned it in compliance. “*Hmm, well, I'm afraid the slave trade hasn't been going as well as it used to thanks to that blasted embargo out in Naboo tying up the other lines... let's see... ah, here's something you might be interested in. Came in the other day. They call it a 'gungan', apparently it managed to escape from Naboo and through the trade embargo. Hmm... aquatic species, needs special care, lots of water to keep it hydrated for any great length of time.*” He chuckled to himself, as if humored by something devious. “That could be a problem for me; I don't have the money for the moisture vaporating needed to take care of it for very long, but I heard you have the funds for a swimming pool on this rock. How about this: I haven't set a price for him, yet, but I'll set one down for you on this 'gungan' to 5,000 Peggats, and you can have him without questions. Deal?*”

	“{3000 Peggats, old man,}” Doronga droned, his annoyance starting to show. “{I'm not made of money, and if this 'gungan' is as high-maintenance as you say, I'll need all the Peggats I can get for its upkeep.}”

	“*Why you..!*” The Toydarian flustered, fluttering close enough to the Dug to shove his face into his personal space. “*...4500 Peggats, not a wupiupi less!*”

	“{4000, and that's only after I check out the merchandise and confirm it's what I'm interested in...}”

	The harsh tone of Doronga's voice forced the Toydarian to back away, sheepishly. He knew better to make the Dug angry; rumors stated he made a fortune swindling money out of most of the criminals in the city through rigged games of Sabacc; the only reason these were rumors and not confirmed fact was because more rumors claimed him to be friends with several mercenaries, and no one wanted to dare claim foul play with the prospect of being gunned down for the accusation hanging over their heads. Instead, he wisely nodded in agreement and waved his hand toward the stockades, urging the Dug to follow him. As Doronga complied, the Toydarian nervously glanced back at him and cleared his throat. “*So, uh... what exactly did you want in a slave, again?*”

	Doronga shot the slaver a glance. “{I thought you said no questions, old man...?}”

	“*Ah, heh heh heh, yes, well... Payment hasn't been levied, yet, and I am not in the business of selling bad merchandise; I'm just wanting to make sure that this 'gungan' is up to the tasks you want him for...*”

	Doronga contemplated this for a moment, then nodded, agreeing with the slaver. “{Mostly labor jobs, household care, that sort of thing. I need someone who can follow orders, isn't clumsy, and is capable of physical activity and heavy lifting.}”

	The Toydarian looked back in mild confusion. “*Is that all? Then why the desire for something so exotic as a gungan? I'm sure I can find you a nice Gamorrean that can fit your needs, much better...*”

	“{Listen, old man, I don't need to explain my preferences for slave species with you. I answered your question about what I planned to do with this 'gungan', and that's all you need to know, savvy?}”

	The slaver humphed in amusement and mumbled under his breath, “*And here I thought you Dug were xenophobic...*”, but didn't outright say anything more as he continued to lead his client through the stockades to his promised prize. As they passed by, Doronga took the time to glance over the other prospective slaves available to him: Twi'lek females bowed and writhed in seductive kowtowing, Gamorrean males puffed up and flaunted their strength, humans of both genders either banged against their cell doors screaming to be let out or knelt down, staring down at the ground, in quiet subservience. As he promised, though, the Dug ignored them after a cursory inspection.

	Soon, the Toydarian stopped near the back of the stockade, digging out a set of keys from his pocket. Fluttering down to mid-level, he inserted one of the keys into a slot in a door to a covered cell, keying in the password that undid the lock on it. With a beep, the door shifted open and the slaver hovered to the side, waving the Dug in. Doronga nodded his compliance and entered the cell, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell within. The cell was small and ill-equipped for keeping livestock, let alone sentient beings; a small waste disposal unit was tucked into the corner, while on the opposite end of the cell, sitting on a very uncomfortable-looking bench, was his intended slave, a brownish-green lizard-like creature with big ears, bigger feet, and a lanky but toned form. It was naked, save for a strip of fabric covering its groin, but the fairly large bulge underneath it clearly indicated the creature was male. It sat there, unmoving, barely looking up to see who had entered its cell, the only sign that it was still alive being the muted but heavy sound of its breathing.

	The Dug smiled a little to himself as he studied the gungan, carefully; truly an exotic creature, this one, its skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, but it was clear to him the poor thing was suffering in this harsh, arid atmosphere. The muscles tensing underneath were much like a swimmer's, taut but lithe, not quite built for heavy work, but strong enough that he should do fine for what he had planned for him. {Yes, this one should do just fine...}

	“{Stand up, slave.}”

	The gungan didn't respond, only giving the most fleeting of glances toward Doronga to indicate he had even acknowledged his presence. Growling in slight irritation, the Dug gently but firmly grabbed the gungan's arm around the bicep and squeezed it slightly, repeating his order with a more demanding voice, ignoring the offended grumble of the Toydarian behind him. The slave didn't acknowledge, at first, and Doronga, for his part, was hesitant to try any further tactics to get him to obey, knowing he was pushing things already by touching the slave without paying for him. However, after a few minutes, the slave finally complied, standing up and turning to the Dug, head down and arms at his side. As he did so, Doronga released the gungan, backing up slightly to get a better look at his purchase and as a symbol of respect to the slave. This behavior from the Dug impressed the slaver; he had only dealt with him only once before, when he asked for a Gamorrean male to act as a guard for him, and both times he showed great restraint and control over the merchandise, staying his hand during non-compliance when most of his clients would rough them up to show dominance. To be fair, the Toydarian didn't have much issue with rough behavior with his slaves, slave trading being an illegal and dangerous business anyway, but he always tried to ensure his property wasn't significantly damaged before the deal is done, so it was refreshing to do business with someone who had some grasp of how to properly treat a slave, and where the limits are with such treatment.

	“{What is your name, slave?}”

	The gungan pursed his lips and shook his head, sadly. “Mesa... haven no name, sir...”

	That caused Doronga to shoot a glance back at the Toydarian, confused, who only shrugged in response. “*I was not told of his name before I got him. Apparently, he's been keeping that a secret from everyone...*”

	Doronga frowned and nodded in understanding, turning back to the gungan. “{In that case, slave, there will be no problems if I rename you?}”

	Again, the gungan shook his head. “Nosa, sir. Mesa yous humbule servant. Mesa... slave...”

	The Dug hummed at that, feeling something stirring, in both his heart and his loins; the voice was strangely arousing, matching the lanky form of the gungan perfectly. The sad, somber tone to it as he acknowledged his servitude tugged a bit at his heartstrings, but that didn't detract that this was a fine specimen, definitely someone he'd be proud to own. “{I see. Well, then, slave, turn around. I want to see all of you...}”

	This time, the gungan complied without hesitation, pivoting on his big feet to face the other way, turning his back to the Dug for his inspection. Instantly, the Dug's outfit grew taut around the groin; the gungan, despite the loincloth, clearly had no modesty, as this back shot gave Doronga a perfect look at his backside and genitals. Large, plum-sized orbs bulged from just between the the gungan's legs, complimenting perfectly the long, thick slab of male sausage dangling in front of them. His buttocks were firm and bubbly, near-perfect spheres of flesh concealing a nice, large ring of darker flesh where his anus was. Glancing upward, Doronga could see the lithe, sinewy back muscles of the gungan twitch under his sweaty skin, chiseled and toned. Clearly, this creature was more than meets the eye, stronger than he looked and much more comfortable with his nudity than most. Doronga chuckled to himself as he placed a hand along one of the gungan's buttcheeks, fondling it and his thigh gently, eliciting a silent moan from the slave. {Yes, this couldn't have been better...}

	“*So, uh... I assume this one is to your liking?*” the Toydarian asked, clearing his throat to get the attention of the Dug.

	The Dug nodded, removing his hand from his new slave's buttocks with a pat. “{You say it'll cost a fortune to keep this one as a slave? So be it, then. I like a challenge.}”

	The Toydarian smiled and rubbed his hands together, happy to have another satisfied customer. “*4000 Peggats, then. I believe that was the price we set...*” He placed a hand on the Dug's shoulder and led him out of the cell, being sure to lock it down, behind him. “*Let's make the final arrangements in my office. A few signatures, a few forms to fill out, and he'll be all yours to do with as you please...”

	Doronga shot a glance back at the gungan's cell as he followed, stroking his chin in thought. “{Yes, I'm sure he will...}”

	As they left, neither Dug nor Toydarian noticed the gungan watching them from the window of his cell, staring longingly at his new owner as he pressed himself – and his growing erection – against the door, his hand idly rubbing the place on his rump where he was touched. “...Masta...”