Lorne lustfully watched the haunches of the two famous slavers before him. He followed them to their personal lounge room. "Slots, what is it you've lost, again? You keep going on and on about it." "Walk, dammit!" Lorne's boot found the crotch of the red dug that kept falling behind his master, nearly passing out from her handle about his leash.

The dug's smaller lower body wilted to the agonizing pain to his gonads and he gagged, all the more, struggling to shorten his leash so he could stay out of the way of the male slaver. He knew the man disliked him all too well for a reason he couldn't place. He learnedly walked on all fours. His forearms were surging with power and developed muscle, despite his race's very petite stature. His dwarfish hind legs, which also doubled as natural hands, pushed him along.

Lorne detested the creature. He couldn't comprehend why Mookie would enslave such a…whatever he was. All though, she was a female slaver and she handled the opposite sex quite cruelly, as did he. Regardless, this pest was just a waste of space. She adored the creature, however, constantly holding him and comforting him when he was spooked or afraid. Just as much, she was disciplining him by smacking, kicking, or just being careless . The creature was too unsure to figure out how to keep up with her when she would move so he wouldn't be choked.

The worst of all, she dressed him according to her liking or occasion. He was dressed quite handsome, tonight in red robes just his size. A diaper-like bottom to his costume enclosed his lower body. Notwithstanding his tiny lower body, he had been conditioned with one of Slot's "enlarging" concoctions, no doubt. There was no hiding it. A hood draped down the dug's back that the slaver would cover his head with for weird reasons, Lorne didn't care to know.

"A pirate loaned me a payment so he could pass. He was…so beautiful, I could have cried. Very powerful and surging with a high-spirit. He was exceptionally reactive in the chambers." Slots glanced over her shoulder and smirked.

Lorne rolled his eyes. "You and your slaves, Slots."

"What? You're no better, mister slaver."

Mookie, a rare red-skinned twi'lek, glanced down to check on the scurrying dug she held so dear. Her attire was a vibrant turquoise dress with billowing drapery that raked the floor at times. "Lutech, baby, keep up, what's wrong with you?"

The dug managed to get next to her and she reached down, scooping him up. He was quite large for being carried. He weighed nothing to the slaver, because she fed him sparingly. She couldn't risk him getting too healthy. He was built, naturally, and he had the potential to fight back. He was quite strong when healthy, despite his size.

"My girls should join us, shortly. The general is on his way as well," Lorne said, relieved the dug had been removed from his presence. "Mookie, isn't he a little bit big to be carried?"

"He weighs practically nothing. Still, he's very strong. Why do you care? Don't think I didn't hear you complaining back there."

Lorne scoffed. "Well, he doesn't know how to pick up his feet…hands…anyways, I think you should invest in another 'pet'."

"Lorne, I don't try to steer your life with your bodyguards, do I?" Mookie's long lekku flickered in slight annoyance.

"No, you don't Moo-Moo."

"He's sucking up to you," Slots said in a soft voice.

Mookie looked at her partner in crime. "I know. That's a good boy Lutech! Hey, stop squirming, we're almost there."

The largish ears of the dug drew back and a raspy growl left his great chest cavity. Mookie merely cooed at him and kissed his cheek. Lutech glanced over the woman's arm, curiously. Lorne scowled at the creature and the being quickly turned back around, the whites of his gold eyes flashing.

"He's rather testy all of a sudden, isn't he?" Slots commented. She entered their private lounge room first and stood off by herself to adjust her draping earrings and her flowing red dress.

"All right! Here!" Mookie dropped the dug and undid his leash. " Go do something!"

Lutech immediately got to work, checking the perimeter and inhaling the scents of the other occupants in the room. He had to make sure his master was safe, as much as he didn't like her at times, she was nice to him. More than anyone else had been. He drew up on his muscular forearms and paced about, using his dwarfish hind hand-paws to pick up used drinking glasses and discarded under garments from unknown peoples.

"Lutech!" Mookie cried. She rushed over and smacked the creature, who rasped in surprise when she swept him up in her haste. "That's disgusting! Don't smell those things! Don't do that! Behave!"

Lutech was tossed to the floor again and he looked about in confusion. He watched mookie settle herself in among the male slaver's underarm. Slots paced by the dug and joined on the other side of the slaver doing the same thing. A hackle of displeasure raised and the sharp canines of the dug flashed in the light. The man was a jerk. He didn't like him at all. Why was he so mean to him? For no reason!

"When does the show start, love?" Slots kissed Lorne's check with a smug smirk.

"30 minutes. That leaves us plenty of time to get reacquainted, ladies." Lorne returned the kiss to slots and then mookie. "Where did you get the little red devil from, again?"

"I'm shocked you're asking, Lorne." Mookie glared up at him.

Lorne merely shrugged. The ladies liked to talk about their lives. He knew that and he wanted them to be happy to some extent with him.


Lorne glanced up. "Elon, you made it. Make yourself at home. Where's the cat?"

"She's resting."

"At this hour? She's crazy active at night. Always wants attention."

The black beauty sighed to herself, getting comfortable on the right side of the couch. Impressed murmuring drew her attention to the female slavers that were practically groping the man.

"She's grown quite a bit! You've done well! She's very shapely," Slots hissed.

Mookie pursed her lips and looked away. "I've seen better."

"Mookie!" Lorne scolded the woman with a teasing of lips against her ear. "Are you jealous? My God, I didn't think either one of you could be such a thing. You have everything! It's all right, Moo. You're far more established than she is, anyways."

Elon tuned them out and assessed the room. Everything was quiet and any other peoples had their own clicks in the corners of the room. Good. Nobody would be bothering her or her master, except the two monsters sandwiching him with their enhanced cleavage. How could the red twi'lek be jealous?! Of what? She had nothing compare to the woman, except her pride, self-respect and dignity. She knew who she was, despite the ill and perverted nature of her captor. She retained her true self. It was all she had these days.

"I'm fine, Lorne," Mookie disclosed. "Lutech was a slave." The woman shifted.

Elon laid eyes on the curious dug. He was currently on a vacant table, sampling the left over alcoholic beverages that had been left behind. He had a familiar strategy she could relate too. He wasn't necessarily being curious. He was looking for scraps of food. The woman wasn't feeding him enough. Elon's bosom rose and fell with an angry sigh.

"He was raised as a slave with his last establishment. He grew up in a mine. He was one of their best workers. I thought he was precious. I was passing through, trading, marketing, and looking for new toys, if you know what I mean. I bought him and here he is."

"Why does he act like an animal?" Lorne asked, watching the dug greedily disembowel some type of solid food before he dashed away to avoid detection from Mookie.

"I don't know. He was raised to think he was as such, I suppose."

Elon couldn't just stand and watch the creature wonder. If he got too curious or desperate, a not so forgiving VIP guest would most likely punish him. No one had known she left. She was stealthy about her tail. The red dug wondered into a cackling circle of trandoshans. Most likely here for the race of a lifetime, they all feasted on drumsticks from some exotic creature.

"No, you fool!" Elon hissed to herself. She picked up her pace.

Nostrils flaring at the wonderful smell of cooked meat, Lutech made his way to the epicenter. Offended growls deafened the red dug and he shied in fear.

"Hey! Look there! Ain't you pwetty, sweetheart? Give us a show!"

Elon frowned at the trandoshans, her weight on one foot. She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, I'm not even your type. C'mere."

Elon stooped and lead the dug out by a forearm. She heard him rasp rather noisily in desperation, in the direction they had come from. She released the dug and he turned to watch the trandoshan party, steady on all four limbs. His small being quivered with a miserable groan. The twi'lek felt for the creature.

"Can you talk? Why don't you say something?" Elon stooped and the dug shied away from her.

"Because he can't! Leave him alone!"

"What's wrong with him, then?" Elon glanced up and to her dread, Mookie glared down at her, both hands on her wide hips.

"He got too animated with his shock collar. Damaged his vocal chords enough; he can't utter speech or any kind of noise for that matter. He makes a nice guinea pig in the labs, though. He can't scream in pain during experiments. Maybe, you should avoid becoming like him. Stop asking questions and leave my things alone!"

Elon arose, lithely and Mookie took her leave, in a rather intimidated manner. Elon replaced herself where she was, concocting ideas of how to off all three of the bastards she had to protect.

The dug groaned in despair when Mookie huddled against Lorne with him in her lap. He clawed at her to be free.

"Lutech! Calm down! Now!" Her red hand struck the dug on his cheek and he calmed himself, chest heaving and nostrils flaring.

"Mookie, can you put him on the floor, please?"

"Lorne, grow a pair, all right? He's fine. You're pissing me off!"

Lorne drew up his hands. "All right. Fine. My mistake."

"You're all alone."

The narglatch king glanced to his left. His mane bristled and he sat forward. "What do you want, zeltron?!"

"Easy, love." The red-skinned bounty hunter casually strolled up to him. "You're very exciting up close."

"Leave me, now. I wish to be alone."

The zeltron ignored his request and sat a few feet away from him. "You have kind eyes. Hard to believe you're the talk of the event, right now. Most of the men here are cheaters. Sons of a bitches to their core. Not you, though. What are you really here for?"

"Are you still talking, harridan?!" The narglatch humanoid glared over at the woman. "If you don't leave, when my servant does get back, I'll not restrain her from her impulses."

"I'm…sure you won't."

The narglatch reached over his shoulder that faced away from the woman. She leaned forward to see what he was handling. A white fuzzy mass roughly enclosed with a handpaw was pulled into his lap.

"Hard to believe someone so sharply tempered would have a pet."

"I'm assuming all women would say that. If you don't leave me alone, I won't hesitate to make you."

The white animal puffed up, growling at the zeltron. The bounty hunter made a mock face of fear and took her leave. She swaggered away with a chuckle, disappearing into the drunken masses by the time Rachel re-appeared with drinks.

Rache nearly dropped them in a hissing fit. The narglatch caught the drinks and sat them properly on the table.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He inquired.

"She was here! I told her not to bother you! Where is she? I can smell her fruity stench!" Rache yelled. Her fur toned to a dark grey in the low light.

"Rachel!" The narglatch shot up and grabbed the anthro's arm. "Relax, please. Don't cause any trouble. There's just three of us and…well…more of them. Actually, it's just us, Suil is tending to Dozer. Sit, now. I don't want trouble. I feel like I'm going to be sick." He sat, then and rubbed his brow with a hand-paw.

"What?! Why?! Feral?" Rache dropped next to him and twisted his head to face hers. She studied his glowing green eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You haven't drank anything from anyone you don't know, have you?"

The narglatch twisted his great head away. "No," he sighed. "I think I'll just rest for the race tomorrow."

"Let's get you back to the room."

"No," the narglatch King commanded. "I need…I need the lavatory."

"You're going to have to hold it down. You'll vomit in your bedding chambers." Rachel cleared the way for the clone, growling and hissing at anyone who didn't skitter aside fast enough.

Feral mustered enough endurance to maintain a healthy gate until he was out of sight of the drinking garden. He wilted to the sandy soil, averted by a slew of dumpsters against the backend of a restaurant.

"I feel weak," he rasped. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"I don't know. Get up, now! You don't have time to feel this way. If you vomit in my mask, I will personally flog you!"

Her words were enough for motivation. Feral staggered erect and inelegantly made his way to his assigned room. Rache halted him and removed his head, quickly. Feral fell into the wardrobe and slid to the floor. Rache growled in frustration at the clone. She huffed afterward. She couldn't be upset with him, he wasn't doing this on purpose!

"Feral! Look at me!" She snapped her fingers at the clone. "You're as wet as an otta under a waterfall! Are you still sick?"

Feral wearily looked at Rache. "I don't know. No…I don't know. I just want to lie down." Feral sank to the floor and Rache caught him.

"Dammit, work with me! Pull yourself up and help me get you to the bed!"

Feral obeyed. The journey was awkward, but Rache managed to get the man on his back in the bed. She disrobed the entirety of the costume he was wearing. He lay in dark blue pants, moaning and shifting about on the bed.

"Keep it down!" Rache snarled. She examined his eyes, his pulse, and anything else she could use to diagnose this strange illness that had returned. "There's no existing cause for this!" she cried. "You won't die, but you won't be able to rest for a time, either. I'll have to induce sleep."

Feral's eyes widened. He watched her pace away to the foot of the pink bed in a sea of after images.

i "I'll have to induce sleep."/i Slots' warped voice echoed in his mind.

Feral sat up, pawing for proper balance, despite the fact he was on a flat surface, for the most part. "No! Leave me alone!"

Rache turned to face the clone. She had never seen such a mad fear in his eyes. She hurried back over to him when he was about to fall off the bed in his confusion. "Feral! It's me! It's all right!"

Feral jumped when Rache made contact with his bare-skin.

i "It's all right, sweetie! Be still! Yes!"/i Her fingers slithered across his chest, coaxing him back down.

"No!" Feral shoved Rache into the opposing wall.

Watching the crazed man from the floor now, in a terrible daze, she realized how much strength he did posses with his augmented being. Her whole being ached from the impact. "Feral!"

The clone staggered along the bed, heading for the door. The moment his hand touched it, Bull was restricting him from his backside. Feral fought, stumbling into the dresser to his right and into the wardrobe to his left. He felt the painful prick of the needle in his neck.

Rache wrestled Feral to the floor, using the force to calm his mind and body. The man wafted into a comatose state and Rache laid back into the wardrobe, panting in exhaustion with the sweat-saturated man in her lap.

"I swear to the stars…that woman….needs to die!" Rache gathered her strength and drug the man back into the bed. Here she sat beside him and warmed him with the force to discontinue any symptoms he was having, as well as flash backs.