Pantsing and Stripping Forums

Taleen dropped from the shuttle ramp, boots hitting the polished stone path. Steam hissed under her feet. Her lekku bounced with each step as she pulled down her hood.

“Xul’s garden,” she whispered, grinning. “Cute.”

The garden sprawled out, wild and impossible. Red trees with crystal leaves. Green vines spiraled up into floating pods. Flowers bloomed in the air. Color poured from every corner—too much for one eye to take in.

In front of her, five droids trimmed branches with long shears that sparked at the ends. They turned.

Click. Whirr. Eyes lit red.

“Unauthorized,” one said.

“Interruption,” said another.

“Possible threat,” a third added.

“You’re ruining the aesthetic,” Taleen replied. She lit her saber with a Snap-Hum. Yellow bloomed in her hand. “I’ll make it quick.”

One droid opened fire.

ZAT—ZAT—

She pivoted left. Blade angled up—ZHRANG—deflect. Next bolt—ZAT—over her shoulder. Spin. Parry. ZHRANG.

Her boots hit the stone—fast. Her saber swung. ZHRUNK—one droid's lance arm fell.

Another droid rushed—lance sparking. ZAT ZAT ZAT

Ting—Ting—ZHRANG—deflected.

She ducked under the last bolt. Drove the saber into its torso. ZHHRAK.

“Two down.” Her smile widened. A bolt skimmed her legging. Sizzle. She twisted—used the Force—one droid stumbled forward. Its partner fired. ZHRAMM!

Missed her. Nailed its friend in the head. Sparks. Collapse. “Thanks for the assist.”

Taleen leapt—over a blast—air caught in her cloak. She landed behind a droid and swept the saber low. Legs gone. ZHHRAK.

One left. It charged. “Don’t blink,” she whispered. The lance came down. She sidestepped, caught the shaft with her free hand, yanked it wide. The saber slid up into the chest cavity. ZHHHK.

Done.

Steam hissed. Sabers hum faded. She stood in the center. Breathing hard. Lekku twitching.
White tunic stained at the hem. Boots smoking slightly.

She pulled her hood back up. “I love being a Jedi.”

The garden faded into stone.

Taleen stepped through a marble archway—clean, perfect. The palace was silent. Glass walls curved high above her, reflecting her cloak and saber and the tight, expectant set of her mouth. The air smelled like lightning and orchids.

A maintenance droid rolled into view. Small. Fast. She didn’t slow down. Snap—ZHRUK.

It clattered into two pieces. She moved through polished halls. Her boots struck clean tile. Left. Right. Another droid. “Still cleaning?” she said.

The saber hummed up—ZHRANG—and the droid dropped.

Nothing else came. The halls grew wider. The silence louder. Her lekku twitched behind her shoulders. A wide staircase led down to a round corridor lined in red stone. She followed it until the walls opened into a towering hexagonal chamber. The door was open. No code. No scan. No resistance.She stopped.

Too easy.

She stepped inside. Power down. The saber hissed into silence. She held the hilt at her side, fingers twitching. The chamber was empty. No guards. No tech. Just the sound of her breath. Then—voice.

Weak. Hoarse. “Taleen.”

Her heart stuttered.

Kael.

He hung from a suspension column in the center of the chamber. Arms above his head, wrists bound in light restraints. Shirtless. Bruised across the ribs. Blood dried at the corner of his mouth.

His head lifted. One eye swollen. His voice cracked. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Taleen stepped forward. Her knees locked. Her fingers clenched around her saber hilt. “You look like hell,” she said. He tried to smile.

Didn’t land.

“She’s—” The doors hissed behind her.

Clap.
Clap.
Clap.



The sound echoed off the stone. Slow. Sharp. Inevitable.

Taleen turned fast, saber lit in a flash of yellow—SNAP-HUM—but froze just past the swing.

Xul stood in the open arch. Her skin glowed white-lime under the ambient lights, smooth and scaleless, but something cold shimmered beneath it. Her limbs were long, lean. No armor. No cloak. Just a low-cut loin wrap and a net of golden chains crisscrossing her chest. Jewels dangled between her collarbones. Anklets shimmered as she moved. Her feet were silent against the floor.

She smiled. She stepped forward.

“Brave,” Xul hissed. Her voice was smoke wrapped in silk. “Or maybe just naive.”

Kael stirred in his bonds, pulled weakly. His breath caught. His eyes dropped—to her hips, her stomach, the hollow of her waist. The way the gold shifted as she moved. He didn’t mean to.

Taleen’s grip tightened. Her lekku twitched back over her shoulders. The yellow light cast off the wall behind her, but her saber dropped a few inches lower.

“Stop looking at her,” she snapped, eyes still locked on Xul. Xul’s smile grew. “Oh, let him look,” she said. “He’s earned it.”

She circled. No rush. “You made it farther than most. I’m almost impressed.” She stopped in front of Taleen. “But you do realize—this room has only one exit. And you just locked it behind you.”

Taleen’s shoulders lifted. “I’m not afraid.”

Xul tilted her head, “But you will be.”

Taleen moved before she knew it—saber high, breath tight, everything she had lit in gold.

She struck.

Xul was already ready. Her arms lifted—VRRRM!—two deep purple blades exploded from the right gauntlet, one from the left. Short, raw, spitting light with a low-frequency growl. Cortosis. Not saber-light. Saber-breakers.

Her yellow blade came down. Xul barely twisted her wrist. One purple blade slid under and deflected the cut, sending a shower of sparks off the side. Strike.

Turn. Low slash. Xul stepped aside. Casual. Smiling. Taleen flipped, brought her saber in an arc across Xul’s flank. Two blades caught it. ZHRANG! The sound cracked the chamber.

Taleen grunted, landing low, sweeping across Xul’s ankles. The left blade dropped—clanged against hers—SKRANG!—and the attack stopped cold.

“Good,” Xul said softly. “Keep trying.”

Taleen growled. She feinted high, then low again. One-two-three. Xul didn’t move her feet. She pivoted in place, blades catching each strike with perfect rhythm. Left. Right. Double tap. Nothing missed. Nothing rushed.

Kael flinched behind them, pulling at his restraints. Taleen was sweating now. Her lekku twitching erratic, breath too fast. She reset her stance. Came in again. Same cuts. Same angles. Desperate now.

Xul raised her gauntlet, tilted it—CLANK!—and knocked the yellow saber from Taleen’s hand like it was a toy. The blade skittered across the polished stone—bounced twice—and went silent near the wall.

Taleen gasped. Wide-eyed. She didn’t move. Just stared at the gauntlets, waiting for the end.

Xul exhaled. Her blades flickered—click—and vanished. The silence hit hard.

Xul turned her back.

Taleen blinked. Confused.

Then lunged. She sprinted after her saber—boots sliding on the glassy floor. She dropped to one knee. Her fingers found the saber—cold, familiar, hers.

A breath of relief escaped her. She gripped it tight. Stood. Raised it across her body in a clean guard. She pressed the ignition.

Xul lifted one hand.

No strain. No wind-up. Just a flick of her fingers. The Force slammed forward—wide and precise. Not violent.

Taleen stumbled back three steps, knees locking, arms jerking up to hold the saber—

—and her cloak ripped free. The hood snapped back. The clasps tore loose. The green fabric spun once, then fell behind her like a dropped flag. Taleen froze.

Her tunic clung tighter now. The white fabric stained with sweat and ash. Her lekku twitched once—then fell still.

Xul walked forward, bare feet soundless. “So you thought this would end differently.”

Taleen didn’t speak.

Xul tilted her head.

Taleen held her saber tight. Arms tense. Breath shallow. Xul stepped closer. Slow. Calm. Her hands lifted, floating in the air like a conversation just beginning. “You walk into my chamber,”

Taleen felt it. A tug—soft, wrong—at her right shoulder.

The fabric jerked. Taleen gasped as the sleeve tore open from the seam. Clean. Precise. The cloth ripped all the way down her arm, fluttering loose and exposing bare pink skin from shoulder to wrist.

“Into my sanctuary,” Xul said, still walking. Her left hand twitched. The other sleeve split. Another sharp pull. Taleen’s arm bared. Her saber hand shook slightly now, skin tight with cold air.

Xul smiled. “You pass my guardians. Soil my garden. And think I’ll reward you with a fair fight?”

Taleen’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. She flinched.

“I’ve read your file,” Xul said. She circled now, just out of reach, blades still off. Her voice turned analytical. Flat. Cutting. “Taleen of Goss. Initiated late. Promising. Spirited. Unformed.”

Taleen turned to follow her. She raised the saber higher, but her elbows drew in close, arms trying to cover more than defend. Behind her, Kael pulled weakly at his restraints, eyes locked to the back of her neck.

Xul stopped just behind Taleen’s left shoulder. "You came here to prove something,”

Taleen raised her saber again. Hands tight. Jaw tighter. “Do you know who I am?” Xul asked.

“You’re a traitor,” Taleen said. Xul smiled. Cold.

“I am the Queen of the Haunted Stars.” Her voice lowered. “You’re a child with a glowstick.”

Taleen didn’t move. Her arms were trembling. She could feel Kael behind her. Watching.

Taleen's knuckles tightened around the hilt. Her heart slammed against her chest. Xul’s back was turned from her. She moved. Boots scuffing polished floor. Saber clutched in both hands. The blade igniting in a flash of yellow as she charged. The swing came fast—downward, diagonal, trained.

Xul didn’t flinch. Didn’t pivot. She stepped forward, slow. The saber missed entirely, slicing dead air, and Taleen stumbled past her—off-balance, gasping. Her boots slid. She caught herself with one hand on the floor. Behind her, Xul spoke.

Calm. Measured. “Only a coward strikes when her opponent isn’t looking.” Taleen spun, flushed, breathing fast. “Is this what the Jedi Temple teaches now?”

The saber trembled in her hand. “You talk of light, but you bring shadows. You cloak yourself in Jedi righteousness. Then lunge the second someone turns their back.”

Taleen stood. Didn’t answer. “You’re scared,” Xul continued. “You should be. You’re no Jedi. You’re not even trained. You’re a little girl playing dress-up with a power she doesn’t understand.”

Kael’s voice broke the silence—soft, but full of warning. “Taleen. Don’t listen to her.”

Taleen lunged again, blade catching the light—until her belt popped.

She froze mid-stride. “No—”Her tunic flared. Cold air sliced across her thighs. She looked down in horror as her boots twisted beneath her, straps wrapping like snakes. She stumbled, fell hard, legs flipping overhead in a clumsy arc. She struggled upright, one boot half-on, one dangling. Her leggings clung stubbornly to her knees. A heroic image this was not.

Kael’s laugh echoed off the walls, low and amused. “Who knew the little pipsqueak had great legs?”

“Kael!” she snapped, breathless. “I’m trying to rescue you!”

He leaned casually against his restraints. “Well, I whole-heartedly approve of your strategy.”

Taleen’s lekku twitched hard. She yanked at her leggings again, but the Force—damn it—pulled them straight back down. Her boots wobbled on her ankles like drunk droids. “Would it kill you to show me some respect?” she shouted, cheeks burning. “I’m a Jedi!”

“I know you’re a Jedi, sweetheart,” Kael said, grinning. “But I can’t help noticing—you’re also a woman. And a fine woman.”

She groaned. Loudly. Then kicked—hard—one boot flying off with a clunk. The other followed. Her leggings bunched around her ankles like a joke the galaxy kept telling. She stepped out of them with a growl, barefoot now, tunic clinging, lekku flared.

Her saber hissed to life—SNAP-HUM. She pointed it straight at him. “Keep talking and I’ll rescue you last.”

Kael’s grin widened, enjoying the view. “Worth it.”

From the far side of the chamber, Xul’s laugh rang out—silken and sharp. “What a cutie you are,” she purred, stepping into the light. Her smile gleamed like a blade. “You could’ve done your family proud, you know. Gone into the family business...”

Taleen blinked. Her mouth opened. “You—”

Xul’s brow arched, mock-innocent. “What? I’m sure they’re lovely. Flexible. Generous.”

Heat exploded across Taleen’s face. Her fingers tightened on the saber. Her knees locked. “My mother was a Senator,” she hissed.

“Oh?” Xul’s eyes sparkled. “I stand corrected. She was an expensive whore.”

Kael coughed to stifle a laugh. Taleen whipped around, her lekku flaring like whips. “Not. A. Word.”

He raised his hands—still bound, still grinning. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

She turned back, heart pounding, skin boiling. The tunic clung to her back with sweat. She could feel the air on her thighs, feel the sides of her breasts slipping past the fold of the fabric. Her hands kept trying to tug the hem lower between swings.

Xul circled again. “You move well for someone with so much... extra weight.” Her gaze slid deliberately down Taleen’s hips, then lingered just long enough. “I mean emotion, of course.”

Taleen’s saber snapped upward—but Xul was already moving. Blades whirred to life—VRRM, VRRM—and met hers with another spine-jolting ZHRANG!

She pressed the attack. High cut, spin, feint—nothing landed. Every move answered. Every angle read. Taleen, top duelist at the temple, couldn’t lay a finger on her.

Xul moved like a dancer, no wasted motion—just a blur of steel and smirk. Taleen swung high.

Wrong angle. VRRRM—KSSSHK.

A flash of purple. A burn of air. Then—RIIIP.

The right shoulder of Taleen’s tunic split open, clean as parchment. The fabric slithered down the curve of her body, soft against sweat-slicked skin, then caught at her waist.

“Eep!” The sound escaped her unbidden. A high, startled squeak. She flushed crimson. One breast was exposed—small, firm, the nipple tight in the cold air. High and vulnerable. A pink mark on an honor-bound body.

Across the chamber, Kael’s jaw dropped. “By the Force,” he whispered, not even trying to look away. Taleen’s arm instinctively jerked to cover herself—then froze.

Xul was still in motion, circling again. Half the tunic hung loose, clinging by the waist. It swayed with every breath. Every twitch of her hips. Her saber-hand trembled—but didn’t drop.

Taleen froze. Her saber still hummed faintly in her hand, but her will to use it flickered. She glanced at Kael—his eyes wide, desperate. He didn’t care about her robes. He cared that she might not survive.



Her breath hitched. Her cheeks were burning. The shredded tunic clung loosely around her hips. Her arm crossed her chest. “I…” her voice trembled, breaking like glass. “I yield.”

Xul laughed—low and cruel. “I don’t accept your surrender, little Padawan.” Her blade hovered. “Drop your hands.”

Taleen didn’t move. Kael tensed in his bindings. “Don’t—she’s had enough!”

“Quiet, pet,” Xul snapped, never taking her eyes off Taleen. Taleen’s gaze flicked between them. Then, slowly, she lowered her arm. The ruined fabric gave way, falling in tattered silence.

Xul raised her blade again—just once—and swept it through the air. Not at Taleen’s skin, but the air around her. A gust. A flicker. The scraps of cloth fluttered away, severed completely—falling like feathers to the stone. Taleen stood still. For the briefest moment, exposed. Her lekku hung low. Her breath shallow. Her dignity dangling by a thread.



Kael exhaled a stunned “Wow,” before biting it back. Taleen shivered, arms crossed tightly—one pressed across her chest, the other held low. The chill of the stone chamber bit into her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat burning under her cheeks. Kael was still staring. Of course he was.

She didn’t dare look at him. Xul, meanwhile, paced the floor with the calm confidence of someone who’d won a game no one else understood. “You may not think so,” she said, voice echoing like a sermon, “but you’ve impressed me, little Padawan. You fight poorly today... but you feel everything. And that? That shows promise.”

Taleen lifted her eyes. For the first time, she met Xul’s directly. No flinching. No shame. Just breath. Steady. “You’re too emotional to be a soldier for the Republic,” Xul continued. “But for something greater? You could be magnificent.”

Taleen didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her voice. “You may go.” Xul turned on her heel, flicking her gauntlet closed. “And you may take your man with you.”

Taleen blinked. “He’s not my—”

“If he isn’t,” Xul said, pausing just long enough to smile, “you want him to be. Why else would you come alone? Why else throw away your robes, your pride?”

She stepped close. Too close. Then leaned in—whispering past Taleen’s lekku like the Force itself. “Lies do not become us, little Twi’lek. The Force tells me how your pulse races for him. How it always has.”

Taleen froze. Xul pulled back, satisfied. Her smile sharpened. “And once you’ve brought him to safety… and the two of you have come to terms,” she said, deliberately, “you’ll return. You’ll come to me.”

Taleen raised her chin. “Why would I?”

Xul stepped beside Kael now, fingers tracing casually along the edge of his collarbone. “Because I will teach you to stop burying your fire. With me, you’ll learn how to use it. How to make it yours. The Force isn’t discipline, Taleen. It’s intensity—”

She glanced down at Kael’s chest, then back at Taleen. “And passion,” she added. “Passion is the truest kind of power.”

Then, without waiting for permission or response, Xul turned and walked out of the chamber, bare feet silent against the stone.

Taleen stood in the middle of the chamber, still flushed, still catching her breath. Bits of fabric clung where they could—around her hips, across one shoulder—but she was mostly bare, a silhouette carved from heat and willpower. And Kael couldn’t look away.

He had spent weeks beside her, aching in silence. Arguing just to hear her fire back. Living for those moments when she leaned too close, when her scent caught the air, when his fingers itched to find her waist and pull her back as she stormed off.

There were nights he almost kissed her. Now?

She was there. Raw. Glorious. Every muscle in his arms pulled tight against the restraints—not from pain, but from restraint of a different kind. “Gotta say,” he murmured, voice low and uneven, “I like the wardrobe upgrade.”

She snorted. Softly. But didn’t turn away. “Seriously,” he added, smile crooked, hunger unmasked. “If you untie me right now, I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Taleen finally looked at him. Just looked. Her lekku shifted with the weight of it—like she wasn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or melt. She sighed. “Say it.”

He hesitated. “You’re still the bravest person I’ve ever seen.”

Taleen didn’t look at him. But she smiled. Just barely.

“Shut up,” she muttered. “I’m still rescuing you.”

Positively incredible. Was not expecting something like this here.