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The Betrayal of the Jedi Order
Author: Closet FetishistWritten: May 10, 2025
Darth Triess crept silently through the dense underbrush of the Kashyyyk forest, her crimson robes billowing slightly in the humid Wookiee breeze. The young Sith Lord's keen senses were on high alert, scanning the shadowy recesses between the towering trees. It was here, amidst the wilderness of the primitive Wookiee homeworld, that she had stumbled upon an unexpected prize - a lone Jedi Padawan.
Stalking closer, Darth Triess observed the boy from afar, noting his awkward attempts to navigate the wilderness with a lightsaber still strapped to his hip. Foolish youth, she mused, surely he was not out here unaccompanied...
An idea formed in her mind, dark and twisted. She could use this fortunate discovery to unearth the secrets she sought - intelligence on the Jedi Temple hidden somewhere on this savage planet. A cruel smile played upon her lips as she began to formulate the specifics of her sadistic plan.
Darth Triess summoned the Force, her hands crackling with dark energy, and with a sudden burst of speed, she lunged at the unsuspecting Padawan. Her fingers closed around his throat, squeezing just hard enough to render him helpless as she slammed his back against a gnarled tree trunk.
"Release your blade," she commanded coldly, her voice dripping with malice. "Now, before I snap your spine like a twig and leave you paralyzed and defenseless for the creatures of this forest to devour..."
Tears of fear and pain welled up in the Padawan's dark brown eyes as he fumbled to obey, his lightsaber clattering to the ground. Darth Triess snatched it up with a contemptuous sneer, tossing the weapon carelessly into the underbrush.
"P-please, I am but a humble Padawan..." the boy whimpered. "Spare my life, I beg you!"
"A Padawan, you say?" Darth Triess laughed harshly. "Lost and alone in this wilderness? I find that difficult to believe..." She stepped closer, her breath hot against his ear. "You are not here alone, are you Padawan? I suspect your Jedi masters are not far away..."
The padawan looks at her in terror, "No...I'm alone, I swear!"
Darth Triess tightened her grip on Jacen's throat, her sharp nails digging into his tender flesh as she leaned in closer, her hot breath ghosting over his ear. A sadistic grin spread across her face as she sensed the fear radiating off the young Padawan in waves. "Alone, you say?" she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "A pity. No one will hear your screams then..."
She released her hold on his neck, only to deliver a vicious backhand across his face, splitting his lip and sending him sprawling to the damp forest floor. Jacen tasted blood in his mouth as he struggled to rise, but Darth Triess was upon him in an instant, her booted foot slamming down on his chest, pinning him in place.
"I grow weary of your lies, Padawan," she snarled, grinding her heel into his sternum. "You WILL tell me what I want to know. The location of the hidden Jedi Temple on this wretched planet. Reveal its secrets to me, and perhaps I shall grant you a merciful death."
Her crimson lightsaber ignited with a sinister hiss, bathing Jacen's terrified face in an eerie red glow as she lowered the tip to hover mere inches from his left eye. "Defy me, and I shall take great pleasure in extracting the information from you, piece by agonizing piece. I will keep you alive and conscious as I slowly dismember you, starting with your limbs... Then your tongue, so I need not hear your pathetic whimpers..."
Darth Triess shifted her weight, driving her foot down harder and delighting in the choked cry of pain it elicited from her helpless captive. Leaning down, she grabbed a fistful of Jacen's hair, wrenching his head back to force him to meet her pitiless gaze as she breathed her next words against his bloodied lips.
"Choose wisely, little Padawan. Surrender the Temple's location to me now and embrace the sweet release of death... Or suffer untold agony."
"I promise, I know nothing," He stammers. Darth Triess is unconvinced and decides to use her Force Farting power, creating an airtight force field around the victims head that is filled with a Force powered Fart blast.
A twisted smile spread across Darth Triess's face as she listened to Jacen's desperate pleas, his protests of ignorance only fueling her sadistic desires. She could sense the truth in his words, but it mattered little to her. The Padawan's suffering was all she craved, and she would have it, one way or another.
With a flick of her wrist, Darth Triess summoned the dark side of the Force, creating an invisible, airtight field around Jacen's head. The young Jedi's eyes widened in terror as he realized what was about to happen, his struggles intensifying beneath the Sith Lord's boot. But it was too late.
Darth Triess unleashed a vile, Force-powered blast of flatulence directly into the sealed space around Jacen's face. The stench was overwhelming, a noxious mix of sulfur and decay that assaulted his senses and burned his lungs. Jacen gagged and choked, his body convulsing as he fought for air, but there was no escape from the foul miasma that engulfed him.
"Breathe it in, Padawan, Darth Triess cackled, her eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. "Let the stench of the dark side fill your pathetic lungs. This is but a taste of the suffering I will inflict upon you."
She maintained the Force field, watching with sadistic pleasure as Jacen's face turned a sickly shade of purple, his eyes bulging from their sockets. Just as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, she released her hold, allowing him a gasping, shuddering breath of fresh air.
"I can keep this up for hours, Jedi filth," Darth Triess sneered, grinding her heel into Jacen's chest for emphasis. "My control over the dark side is unparalleled. I will break you, body and mind, until you beg for the sweet release of death." She leaned in closer, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. "But death will not come for you. Not until I have wrung every last bit of your life from your pathetic form."
Darth Triess cackled with malicious glee as Jacen writhed beneath her boot, his desperate pleas for mercy only fueling her sadistic desires. With a cruel twist of her hand, she summoned the dark side of the Force, conjuring a grotesque, shadowy form above the helpless Padawan. The apparition took on the shape of an enormous, obese woman, her flabby flesh rippling and undulating with an unnatural, sickening vitality.
Jacen's eyes widened in horror as the Dark Force BBW descended upon him, her massive weight crushing down on his face and chest. He thrashed and struggled, his screams muffled by the oppressive mass of the spectral entity. The stench of decay and dark side corruption filled his nostrils, threatening to overwhelm his senses as the BBW ground her putrid, rotting ass against his mouth and nose.
"Yes, squirm, little Jedi," Darth Triess purred, her voice thick with sadistic pleasure. "Struggle and fight, but know that there is no escape from the power of the dark side. I will break you, mind, body, and spirit, until you are nothing more than a whimpering husk, begging for the sweet release of death."
She increased the pressure of the Dark Force BBW, delighting in the muffled cries of agony that emanated from beneath the grotesque apparition. Jacen's body convulsed, his limbs flailing weakly as the life was slowly crushed out of him. Just as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, Darth Triess released the conjuration, allowing the Padawan to draw a shuddering, gasping breath.
"Pathetic, she sneered, lifting and slamming her boot on Jacen's heaving chest. "To think that the Jedi would send such a weak, mewling whelp to challenge the might of the Sith. You are nothing, Padawan. A mere plaything for my amusement." She ground her heel into his sternum, eliciting a choked cry of pain. "And I will take my time breaking you, savoring every second."
Darth Triess's eyes gleamed with sadistic anticipation as she used the Force to lift Jacen's battered body into the air, dark tendrils of energy snaking around his limbs and throat to form a cruel, makeshift leash. The Padawan struggled weakly against his bonds, his efforts futile in the face of the Sith Lord's immense power. "Struggle all you want, little Jedi," Darth Triess purred, giving the leash a sharp tug that sent Jacen lurching forward. "Your pathetic attempts at resistance only serve to amuse me." With a flick of her wrist, she conjured another airtight Force field around his head, delighting in the look of pure terror that filled his eyes.
As she began to drag her captive through the dense underbrush of the Kashyyyk forest, Darth Triess leaned in close, her hot breath ghosting over Jacen's ear. "I have a special treat in store for you, Padawan," she whispered, her voice dripping with malevolent glee. "The BBW fart chamber... A delightful little invention of mine, designed to prolong the suffering of my victims. You will marinate in the noxious stench of the dark side, your lungs burning with every agonizing breath, until your mind shatters and your body fails."
A cruel laugh escaped her lips as she savored the thought. Jacen's heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling with the horrifying implication of Darth Triess's words. He had heard whispers of the Sith Lord's depravity, but nothing could have prepared him for the twisted depths of her sadism. As she yanked him forward, her pace quickening with eager anticipation, Jacen could only whimper behind the Force field, his fate sealed in the hands of his merciless captor.
"Please," he begged, his voice muffled and distorted by the invisible barrier. "I'll do anything... Just let me go..." But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Darth Triess's cruel laughter echoed through the Kashyyyk forest as she dragged Jacen behind her, the dark tendrils of Force energy biting into his flesh like icy shackles. She reveled in his muffled whimpers and pleas, each pathetic sound a symphony to her sadistic ears.
"You had your chance, little Padawan," she taunted, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "The location of the Jedi Temple... Such a simple thing to reveal, and yet you chose to defy me." She yanked hard on the Force leash, sending Jacen stumbling forward, his face nearly colliding with her boot. Darth Triess paused, a wicked gleam in her eye as she turned to face her captive. With a deep, guttural grunt, she unleashed a vile, Force-enhanced fart directly into the airtight field around Jacen's head.
The stench was overwhelming, a noxious mix of sulfur and decay that seeped through the invisible barrier and assaulted his senses. Jacen gagged and choked, his eyes watering as he fought to breathe through the putrid miasma. The Sith Lord cackled, drinking in the sight of Jacen's suffering. "Perhaps I'll go easier on you if you reveal the Temple's location now," she mused, tapping a finger against her chin in mock contemplation. "But I guarantee nothing, Padawan. Your fate is sealed, your suffering assured."
She punctuated her words with another foul blast of flatulence, delighting in the fresh wave of agony that washed over Jacen's face. With a sharp tug on the leash, Darth Triess resumed her march through the forest, dragging her whimpering captive behind her. "The BBW fart chamber awaits, little Jedi," she called over her shoulder, her voice tinged with sadistic glee. "And with each step, your chance for mercy slips further away. Soon, you will know the true power of the dark side, as your mind shatters and your body breaks under the unrelentling stench."
"OKAY! OKAY, JUST PLEASE RELEASE THIS GAS MASK!!" Jacen screams in agony and pleads as he digs his hands through his pockets to produce a map which marks the temple just a few hundred yards away.
Darth Triess's eyes narrowed as she snatched the map from Jacen's trembling hands, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face. She studied the parchment intently, her gaze tracing the path to the hidden Jedi Temple just a few hundred yards away.
A low, sinister chuckle escaped her lips as she crumpled the map in her fist, tossing it carelessly to the ground. "Well, well, well," she purred, her voice dripping with mock praise. "It seems the little Padawan has some sense after all. Pity it took the threat of the fart chamber to loosen your tongue." Darth Triess leaned in closer, her hot breath ghosting over Jacen's face through the force field, mingling with the lingering stench of her flatulence. "But do not think for a moment that your cooperation has earned you mercy, Jedi filth. Your suffering has only just begun."
With a cruel twist of her hand, Darth Triess tightened the force field around Jacen's head, the invisible barrier constricting until it pressed painfully against his skin. She delighted in his muffled screams and desperate gasps for air, savoring the sight of his bulging eyes and reddening face. "Beg for release, Padawan," she hissed, her voice thick with sadistic glee. "Beg for the mercy you know I will not grant. Let me hear your pathetic pleas, and perhaps I will allow you a small measure of relief before we reach the fart chamber."
Jacen writhed in agony, his lungs burning with each labored breath, his head pounding from the pressure of the force field. Tears streamed down his face as he choked out desperate, muffled words, his pride crumbling in the face of Darth Triess's unrelenting cruelty. "P-please," he sobbed, his voice barely audible through the barrier. "I can't...can't breathe... Have mercy, I beg you..."
Darth Triess's lips curled into a cruel smirk as she watched Jacen writhe and choke beneath the airtight force field, his pitiful whimpers and pleas for mercy like music to her sadistic ears. She could feel his life force draining away with each shallow, labored breath, his strength sapped by the noxious fumes of her dark side flatulence. "What's the matter, little Padawan?" she cooed, her voice dripping with mock concern. "Is the stench of the dark side too much for your delicate Jedi senses?" She punctuated her taunt with another deep, guttural fart, forcing the vile gases into the cramped space around Jacen's head.
The young Jedi convulsed, his eyes rolling back as he retched and gagged on the putrid miasma. Darth Triess drank in the sight of her captive's suffering, reveling in the power she held over him. With a flick of her wrist, she loosened the force field just enough to allow Jacen a small gasp of fresh air, his lungs burning as he sucked in the brief respite from the toxic fumes. "Pl...please..." he wheezed, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "I can't...can't take anymore..."
The Sith Lord's eyes glittered with malevolent glee, her lips twisting into a predatory grin. "Oh, but you can, and you will, Padawan," she purred, her hand drifting down to stroke the hilt of her lightsaber. "We've only just begun to explore the depths of your suffering. By the time I'm finished with you, you'll be begging for the sweet release of death." With a sharp tug on the force leash, Darth Triess yanked Jacen to his feet, delighting in his strangled yelp of pain. She pressed her body against his, her ample breasts crushing against his chest as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "The fart chamber awaits, little Jedi."
Later, at the prison, Jacen is left alone in a tiny cell when a small screen is pushed under his door. He walks over to the door and lifts the screen. Over the intercom he hears Darth Triess' voice, "I thought you'd enjoy seeing your treachery rewarded," she says.
Darth Triess cackled with sadistic glee as he watched Jacen stunned at the scene unfolding on the tiny screen, the flickering light casting an eerie glow on the walls of Jacen's cell. The young Padawan stared in horror, unable to tear his eyes away from the nightmarish display before him. The Jedi Temple, once a beacon of hope and light in the galaxy, was now besieged by a force of Sith Lords, their dark presence casting a pall over the sacred grounds.
"Behold, little Jedi," Darth Triess purred over the intercom, her voice dripping with malevolent satisfaction. "The fruits of your treachery, the price of your weakness. Watch as your precious Temple falls, as your fellow Padawans and Masters are slaughtered like the insignificant insects they are." On the screen, the elite Sith Lords, clad in their menacing armor and toxic air rebreathers, advanced on the Temple, their lightsabers blazing with crimson fury. Behind them, the BBW Sith Inquistors, often called The Sisters, their massive forms jiggling with each thunderous step, took up positions at the rear, their grotesque faces twisted with anticipation.
With a synchronized blast of their immense asses, the Sisters unleashed a torrent of noxious fart gas, the putrid green miasma billowing forth to engulf the Temple grounds. Jedi Knights and Padawans alike crumpled to the ground, their bodies convulsing as the toxic fumes seared their lungs and clouded their minds. Screams of agony mingled with the hum of lightsabers and the cruel laughter of the Sith as they cut down the helpless defenders, the once-pristine halls of the Temple now slick with blood and echoing with the cries of the dying.
Jacen watched, transfixed with horror, as a group of Padawans were cornered by a particularly massive BBW Sister, her flabby form rippling with dark side energy. With a sickening squelch, she lowered her immense ass onto their faces, the young Jedi's muffled screams fading as they were crushed under massive ass and as they squirmed and let out their muffled screams, the Sister blasted a grotesque sounding fart which made their bodies seize before falling completely still.
Jacen looks on, watching his betrayal play out on the screen. "How could you do this?" he asks in breathless disbelief of such cruel depravity.
Darth Triess's cruel laughter echoed through the tiny cell, her holographic image on the screen flickering with malevolent glee as she savored Jacen's anguished reaction. The young Padawan's eyes were wide with horror, his face a mask of disbelief and despair as he watched the massacre unfold before him. "How could I do this?" she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Oh, my dear, naive little Jedi... This is the true nature of the dark side. This is the power that you and your pathetic Order have sought to suppress for so long." She leaned closer to the camera, her eyes glittering with sadistic delight. "And now, thanks to your treachery, your weakness, the Jedi will be wiped from the face of the galaxy, their legacy reduced to ashes and dust."
On the screen, the carnage continued unabated. The BBW Sisters rampaged through the Temple halls, their massive asses quaking and rippling as they unleashed torrents of noxious fart gas upon the helpless Jedi. The stench was overwhelming, a miasma of sulfur and decay that seeped through the ancient stone walls and permeated every corner of the once-sacred grounds.
Padawans and Knights alike crumpled to the ground, their bodies convulsing as the toxic fumes seared their lungs and clouded their minds. Some tried to crawl away, their hands scrabbling desperately against the blood-slicked floors, only to be crushed beneath the immense weight of the Sisters' flabby forms, their screams cut short as the breath was squeezed from their bodies with a sickening crunch.
"Do you see now, Jacen?" Darth Triess hissed, her voice cutting through the chaos like a vibroblade. "Do you understand the depths of your failure, the magnitude of your betrayal? You have doomed your Order, your friends, your very way of life... And for what? A moment's respite from my farts?" She threw her head back and laughed, the sound harsh and grating against Jacen's ears.
"No...." he drops the screen in horror, "How...could I... what have I done?" He falls to my knees in disbelief. "The Jedi Order..."
Darth Triess's holographic image loomed over Jacen, her face twisted with cruel satisfaction as she watched him crumple to his knees, his body wracked with sobs of despair and self-loathing. "Yes, Padawan," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "The Jedi Order, your precious family, your very reason for being... All of it, gone. Destroyed by your own weakness, your own pathetic desire to escape a little discomfort." She leaned closer to the camera, her eyes glittering with malevolent glee. "And now, you will live with the knowledge that you betrayed everything you held dear, that you handed victory to the Sith on a silver platter. Your treachery will be remembered for generations, your name a byword for cowardice and failure."
On the screen behind her, the carnage at the Jedi Temple continued unabated. The BBW Sisters rampaged through the halls, their massive asses quaking and rippling as they unleashed torrents of noxious fart gas upon the few remaining survivors.
Jacen could hear their screams still playing from the screen on the ground. Through the shattered screen he could still see their bodies convulsing as the toxic fumes seared their lungs and clouded their minds. The stench was overwhelming, even through the tiny screen, a miasma of sulfur and decay that made his stomach churn and his eyes water.
"Take a good look, Jacen," Darth Triess purred, gesturing to the screen with a languid wave of her hand. "Burn this image into your memory, let it haunt your dreams and poison your every waking moment. This is the legacy you have wrought, the price of your betrayal."
She threw her head back and laughed, the sound harsh and grating against Jacen's ears. The young Padawan could only watch in horrified silence, his heart shattering with each passing second, as the last remnants of his former life were crushed beneath the weight of the Sith's dark victory. And through it all, Darth Triess's cruel laughter echoed in his mind, a promise of the endless torment that awaited him.
Jacen spoke weakly, his voice crackling with defeat, "I have betrayed everything I know and love, I have nothing left." Jacen sighs with the emptyness of his entire world. "Will you allow me to join the Sith?"
Darth Triess's cruel laughter echoed through the chamber, a mocking counterpoint to Jacen's anguished sobs. She savored the young Padawan's despair, drinking in the sight of his shattered spirit like the finest of wines. With a languid wave of her hand, she deactivated the holographic display, plunging the cell into eerie semi-darkness. "Oh, my poor, misguided little Jedi... You think you deserve solace after your treachery, after the destruction you've wrought?"
The door to his cell opens and immediately in walks Darth Triess. She steps closer, her imposing form looming over Jacen's hunched and broken figure. "You dare to ask for a place among the Sith, as if your weakness, your cowardice, could ever be worthy of our noble order?" Darth Triess threw her head back and laughed, the sound harsh and grating, devoid of any true mirth.
"No, Jacen," she hissed, her eyes glittering with malevolent glee. "You are the weakest of your pathetic Order, a mewling, spineless wretch who betrayed everything he held dear for a moment's respite from my farts. You are not worthy to lick the boots of the lowliest Sith acolyte, let alone join our ranks." She leaned in closer, her hot breath ghosting over Jacen's tear-stained face, the scent of her dark power overtaking him.
"But fear not, little Padawan," she whispered, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. "I do have one small mercy to offer you, one final gift which is far more than you deserve after what you've done." Darth Triess continues victoriously, "Today, on this glorious day of Sith triumph, you will face your execution in the BBW Fart Chamber." Darth Triess stepped back, her eyes glinting with sadistic anticipation. "You will suffer, Jacen," she promised, her voice low and menacing. "You will choke and gag on the noxious, unrelenting gas of the dark side."
Jacen looks down in resigned acceptance, "I am ready, Darth Triess."
Darth Triess's lips curled into a cruel smirk as she watched Jacen's pitiful attempt at stoicism, his shoulders squared and his jaw set in a facade of noble acceptance. She could see the fear in his eyes, the trembling of his hands as he faced the inevitable horror of his impending execution.
"How very brave of you, little Padawan," she purred, her voice dripping with mocking condescension. "Such courage, such nobility in the face of your own well-deserved demise. But we both know it's nothing more than a flimsy mask, a desperate attempt to cling to some shred of Jedi dignity."
Darth Triess circled around Jacen like a predator stalking its prey, her dark robes swirling around her ankles, the hilt of her lightsaber glinting menacingly at her hip. "I will take great pleasure in watching that mask crumble," she hissed, her hot breath ghosting over the back of his neck, making him shudder involuntarily. "When the gas seeps into your lungs, when it fills every pore of your body with its noxious stench, when your eyes water and your throat burns and your stomach churns with the vile miasma... Then, we shall see how long your noble composure lasts." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a malevolent whisper. "I challenge you, Jacen, to maintain that brave facade as the fumes of the BBW Fart Chamber consume you, as the stench of the dark side permeates your very being. But we both know you will fail, just as you failed your precious Jedi Order. You will scream, you will beg, you will plead for mercy that will never come. And I will savor every moment of your suffering, every desperate gasp and anguished cry, until the very end."
With a sharp snap, Darth Triess summoned a pair of burly Sith guards, their faces hidden behind grotesque masks that filtered out the toxic air. They hauled Jacen roughly to his feet, their iron grip digging into his arms as they dragged him to the Fart Chamber
The fart chamber is a transparent cube that's only about as big as 6 feet in every direction, and on each wall is several portholes at ass height for where the BBWs are to be positioned. Jacen is thrown into the cube and sealed inside. In her chamber control room, Darth Triess looks at the screen of Jacen in the Fart Chamber with his vital signs showing on one side of the screen.
Darth Triess lounged in her office chair, her eyes fixed on the screen before her. The live feed showed Jacen, the traitorous Padawan, trapped within the transparent walls of the fart chamber. The cube, a mere six feet in each direction, seemed to close in around him, its confines as suffocating as the toxic fumes that would soon fill his lungs. The Sith Lord's lips curled into a cruel smirk as she watched Jacen's vital signs flicker on the display, his heart rate elevated, his breathing shallow and rapid. She could practically taste his fear and it sent a thrill of sadistic pleasure coursing through her veins.
"Comfortable, little Jedi?" she purred, her voice dripping with mock concern as it echoed through the chamber's speakers. "I do hope you find the accommodations to your liking. After all, it's the least I could do for the man who single-handedly brought about the downfall of the Jedi Order." Jacen's eyes darted around the chamber, his gaze falling upon the portholes positioned at ass height on each wall. A shudder of dread rippled through his body as he realized the horrifying implications, the twisted fate that awaited him. "Are you ready, Jacen?" she hissed, her voice low and menacing. Ready to experience the full might of the dark side, to choke and gag on the noxious fumes of our victory?
Darth Triess watched with sadistic glee as the BBW Sisters filed into the room, their massive forms jiggling with each thunderous step. They took their positions around the fart chamber, their immense asses pressed against the portholes, flesh spilling over the edges in obscene displays of dark side power. Jacen's eyes widened in horror as the full extent of the nightmarish fate that awaited him began to sink in. His heart pounds against his ribs like a caged animal desperate for escape.
The Sith Lord's finger hovered over the control panel, her lips curled into a cruel smirk as she savored the delicious anticipation, the knowledge that with a single press of a button, she would unleash a torrent of noxious flatulence that would consume the traitorous Padawan, body and soul. She leaned forward, her voice dripping with mock concern as it echoed through the chamber's speakers. "Behold, Jacen, she purred, the instruments of your demise, the voluptuous vessels of the dark side's vengeance. Each porthole bears the ass of a Sister, primed and ready to unleash a miasma of toxic fumes that will sear your lungs and cloud your mind. And you, helpless and trapped, will have no choice but to breathe it in, to choke and gag on the stench of your own betrayal."
Jacen's gaze darted from one grotesque ass to another, his stomach churning with revulsion and dread. The BBW Sisters grinned at him through the transparent walls, their eyes glinting with malevolent hunger, their meaty hands groping and kneading their own flab in hedonistic displays of anticipation. As the Sisters prepared to unleash hell on him, he could hear their muffled cruel laughter through the thick, airtight walls of the fart chamber. Darth Triess's finger twitched over the control panel, her heart racing with sadistic glee. She locked eyes with Jacen through the screen, drinking in the terror etched across his face, the knowledge that his final moments would be spent drowning in a sea of noxious flatulence.
With a sadistic grin, Darth Triess pressed the button, the portholes hissing open in a chorus of mechanical menace. The BBW Sisters, their asses pressed obscenely against the transparent walls, took their cue, their faces contorting with malevolent glee as they unleashed a torrent of noxious flatulence into the fart chamber. The toxic fumes billowed forth, swirling and eddying in a sickly green miasma that filled the confined space with alarming speed. Jacen's eyes widened in horror as the stench assaulted his nostrils, a vile cocktail of sulfur, decay, and dark side corruption that seared his lungs and made his stomach heave. BRAAAAPPPPFFTTTTT!!! PPPBBBFFFFTTTTTT!!! The grotesque symphony of flatulence echoed through the chamber as the BBW Sisters cackled with cruel delight, their massive asses rippling and shuddering as they expelled wave after wave of noxious gas. "Breathe it in, Jedi filth!" Darth Triess's voice crackled through the speakers, barely audible over the deafening cacophony of farts. "This is the fate you have chosen, the price of your weakness and cowardice!"
Jacen staggered, his hands clawing at his throat as the fumes invaded his lungs, his eyes streaming with tears of agony and revulsion. He could feel the toxic gas seeping into his pores, his skin crawling with the vile taint of the dark side. His mind reeled, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer, inescapable horror of his predicament, trapped in a nightmare of his own making. And through it all, Darth Triess watched with rapturous glee, her eyes glinting with sadistic hunger as she savored his suffering.
Jacen's body shakes and seizes as he falls to his knees, desperately seeking anywhere there might be a bit of oxygen but his chamber is quickly filling with nothing but pure dark side methane. "Please!!!" He scrapes and squeals against the glass, "I don't want to die!" Darth Triess and the Sisters laugh as they ignore his pleading and continue to show him no mercy. His eyes practically bulging from his head as the unending gas continues to flap disgustingly into the airtight chamber. Jacen falls onto the ground, writhing and choking, trying to find relief as the gas overwhelms him completely and he falls completely still but for the gurgling foam leaking out from his lifeless mouth.
Darth Triess watched with sadistic rapture as Jacen's body convulsed and writhed on the floor of the fart chamber, his desperate pleas for mercy drowned out by the deafening chorus of flatulence that filled the confined space. The BBW Sisters cackled with cruel delight, their massive asses rippling and shuddering as they unleashed an unending torrent of noxious fumes, reveling in the young Padawan's anguish and despair.
BBBRRRAAAAAPPPPFFTTTTT!!! PPPBBBFFFFTTTTTT!!!
The unrelenting farts echoed through the chamber, each blast more putrid and overwhelming than the last. Jacen's eyes bulged from their sockets, his face contorted in a rictus of agony as he clawed at his throat, desperately seeking even a single breath of untainted air. But there was none to be found, only the thick, cloying miasma of the dark side's methane, seeping into his lungs, his pores, his very soul.
Darth Triess leaned forward, her eyes glinting with malevolent hunger as she drank in every moment of Jacen's suffering, savoring the sight of his once-proud Jedi spirit crumbling beneath the onslaught of the BBW Sisters' relentless assault. She pressed a button on her console, her voice crackling through the speakers, laced with mock sympathy. "Poor little Padawan," she cooed, "so desperate to cling to life, even as it slips away in a haze of farts and betrayal. Where is your vaunted Jedi courage now, hmm? Where is your noble sacrifice, your precious Light Side? All I see is a mewling, pathetic wretch, choking on the stench of his own failure!"
Jacen's body spasmed one final time, his hands scrabbling weakly against the transparent walls of his prison, leaving streaks of sweat and mucus in their wake. A gurgling, foamy rattle escaped his lips as his lungs filled with the toxic fumes, his eyes rolling back in his head as he weakly suffcates to death from toxic flatulence.