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Description
Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in a dark, musty corner of the Mos Eisley cantina, sipping a drink that was much too strong to be permitted by the Jedi order.
“What do I care?” he thought to himself bitterly, “It’s not like they’re around to stop me.” Indeed, the Jedi Order, and the Republic it swore to protect, was gone, disintegrated in one swift swoop by Chancellor Palpetine and his Order 66. As much as he loathed that sith in disguise, Obi-Wan had to admit, he played the game well. All that was left now was to wait for the boy and his sister to grow up on the same desert planet that their father had hated, biding their time until he became powerful enough in the force to challenge his father and his father’s master. The odds were slim, but just possible enough for Obi-Wan to go into hiding, watching the boy from afar, making sure he didn’t get himself killed or somesuch.

Suddenly, there was a commotion by the door. Clone Troopers stormed in, though they were wearing different armor than what they had worn in the Clone Wars. They accosted locals with a flier, on it a picture of a man carrying a baby. With a start, Obi-Wan realized it was him and the child. He thought he would be safe here on Tatooine, the furthest thing from a civilized system in the galaxy, as far as he was concerned, but no; Anakin’s new empire reached even here. The troopers began patrolling the room, searching for someone matching their posters, though they were taking a thankfully long time. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and began to think. There was a trick he remembered, but the Jedi order outlawed it decades ago: using the force to alter one’s appearance, specifically to resemble another force user. But he couldn’t! The council outlawed it years ago! He opened his eyes and saw the troopers again. Their blasters were set on ‘kill.’ He made up his mind. The Jedi Council was no more. Survival of its teachings through him were more important than its principals. He closed his eyes again and began to meditate.

Within moments, the blackness of the interior of his eyes was replaced with the blue-purple void of space, speckled with pinpricks of light. Each light was a force user, whether they knew it or not. Most shone dimly: people with a connection with the force, strong enough to use, though not only consciously. Most simply thought of themselves as abnormally lucky, or as having good intuition. That, in all likelihood, is what Anakin’s son will become, though much more powerful. There used to be beacons that lit up this mind’s eye map of the solar system. Those were the Jedi. Most are now dead. In the distance, one still radiated light, seemingly from the swamp planet Dagobah. So that’s where Yoda had run off to. Then, something odd caught Obi-Wan’s attention. While most untrained force users are gray, neither dark side nor light, he spied one that was faintly red. Someone on a planet called Jakku, it would seem, was faintly tied to the dark side of the force, despite having no training. In fact, this being was—there’s no good way to describe it—forward in time. As a Jedi, Obi-Wan has devolved an accuse awarness of the fourth dimension, and as such could sense that this force user did not yet exist; their presence was so strong that it was cutting through time itself. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s meditation was disturbed by a blaster shot and a scream. The stormtroopers had apparently found some resistance. He would have to hurry. Figuring that the faint dark-sided nature of the dot would mask his own light-sided nature, he selected it and began the process of taking on its appearance. For this, he would need to open his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the troopers had progressed much farther than he thought they would, nearly a third of the way through the cantina. As he observed: the force did its work. Waves of cool energy rushed down his body, as if breaking on the beach, washing him in cleansing energy as his shoulders slimmed, height disappearing from his spine. Meanwhile, just as the wave washed over his skin, hair fell out, leaving him as smooth and soft as a shaved peach. Amazed, he touched it and found it thankfully still mammalian. He hadn’t even considered transforming into another species, but supposed it was still definitely possible.

The more energy streamed into him, the more it seemed to congregate in his lower half, almost as if it was pooling. It even seemed to gain physical form, materializing in the form of soft, plump fat all across his legs, adding distinct curvature to his hairless legs. Even his feet began to shrink, if the loosening of the wraps around them was anything to go by. And another thing: the wraps around his feet, they felt softer than before. But the force couldn’t change non-living, non-organic things… The only explanation was that his feet were growing smoother.

He gripped his thighs under the table, mostly out of sight of the patrons of the bar, and felt in wonder as waves of fat and ropes of muscle braided themselves around his scrawny legs, adding a surprising amount of girth as they ballooned outwards, straining against his fingers. Any extra room in the rear was quickly put to use, filled with his rapidly expanding ass until it left an impression against the booth. His pants, once loose and baggy, now clung tightly to his skin,and with each new surge of fat, seams ripped along the sides. Out of curiosity, he flexed them and found much of the same strength as his old legs, a happy surprise. A slightly less happy surprise was that, with a single flex, he managed to bust out of his old pants completely, revealing long, smooth, slender legs with enough muscle and fat to make them jiggle like Mustafar during an earthquake. And, though Obi-Wan had studied most of his life to control his emotions, he still felt the ever-resilient spirit of lust creeping into his mind. There was no denying it: he was hot.

The troopers were nearly halfway across the room now, and Obi-Wan doubted that thick thighs and a plump ass would convince them that he wasn’t the man in the wanted poster. Luckily, more changes were being made. Yet more energy, this time searing hot, pumped invisibly into his body, pooling in his ribcage. His already slimmed frame shifted to the feminine side, arms shrinking, fingers slenderizing, long, manicured nails extending from them. With each wave-like pulse of the force, his waist grew narrower and narrower, his hips flaring farther and farther out until he looked more like a Twi'lek hooker than a Jedi. All the while, fat, as well as some muscle burned away from the immense heat. All that was left was the faint memory of muscle, toned lines in his abs and chest left by a toned yet soft physique. It wasn’t all fun, though. The heat had become unbearable, causing Obi-Wan to sweat and then that sweat to turn to steam. His shirt was even smoldering, smoke billowing around him as the fabric quickly and quietly went up in flames until nothing was left; only his smooth, bare chest rubbing against his outer cloak.

Speaking of his chest, it felt oddly sensitive, like millions of pins and needles were pushing in the inside of his pectorals. Hesitantly, he raised a slender hand up to one and felt a slight swelling underneath his rough cloak. He knew what was happening; he had known it from the very beginning and had only been denying it. But this sensation—the coarse fabric against his rapidly expanding nipples, his firm yet jiggling thighs in the booth below him, and the cool cantina air teasing most every part of his slender frame—it was too much. A moan in a voice that was not his own echoed out of his throat, drawing unwanted looks from some of the cantina’s patrons. Luckily, the troopers were otherwise occupied with some poor soul that dared question their authority, and most of the rest of the bar was busy watching the ensuing scuffle. All the while surges of fat forced their way onto his chest making two distinct lumps of tender flesh. Soon, those lumps became a pair of budding breasts expanding outwards, filling up more and more until they pressed tightly against each other and the straps of his Jedi robes.

His beard soon became stubble, and then smooth skin as the hair receded into his chin, leaving behind a smooth, supple face, totally unlike the sharp jawline he’d had even before he grew the beard. Simultaneously, his skin lost and gained pigment, losing much of its natural hues but gaining tan everywhere his robes weren’t, leaving tan lines like he’d worn just an outer cloak his whole life in the Tatooine suns. He could actually watch through his rapidly growing eyes as his nose shrank, becoming upturned and cute. The now doe-like eyes became brown as his lips softened, losing the crusty chapedness that came with Tatoonies harsh climate and plumping and swelling as the became covered in some sort of lip balm. In the reflection of his drink, Obi-Wan could clearly see the face of a woman. The face of the woman who had the potential to be the most powerful Sith in aeons. His face.

His contemplation was cut short by the sensation of energy flowing into his scalp, diverting into each strand of hair on his head. Soon, his hair was growing longer, silkier, and browner than it had ever before, even when he grew it out as a padawan. Messy bangs fell in front of his face as it cascaded down his nearly bare back until, all at once, it was pulled back, tied into a series of buns that made a crest around his skull. Against his reflexes, Obi-Wan was glad to see the woman’s face in his glass again.

After all that had happened, the last change should have been the least significant. It should have meant nothing at all. But it meant everything. His dick, tenting slightly underneath the table, began to recede. Inch by inch, it disappeared into Oni Wan’s pelvis until, after what must have been twenty seconds at most, all that was left was a tight slit. And with that, Obi-Wan ceased to exist. She was some new entity, a woman, free from the Jedi, free from the empire, free from all responsibility. She was overcome with joy.

A surge of pleasure reverberated throughout his body, as though the force itself approved of her decision.
“And you, have you seen this man?” The troopers asked, holding a picture of Obi-Wan up to the new young woman.
“Why, no, Mr. Trooper, sir,” the woman said, seductively, “I haven’t ‘seen’ any men today at all. You two can be the first, if you want…”

Description
Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in a dark, musty corner of the Mos Eisley cantina, sipping a drink that was much too strong to be permitted by the Jedi order.
“What do I care?” he thought to himself bitterly, “It’s not like they’re around to stop me.” Indeed, the Jedi Order, and the Republic it swore to protect, was gone, disintegrated in one swift swoop by Chancellor Palpetine and his Order 66. As much as he loathed that sith in disguise, Obi-Wan had to admit, he played the game well. All that was left now was to wait for the boy and his sister to grow up on the same desert planet that their father had hated, biding their time until he became powerful enough in the force to challenge his father and his father’s master. The odds were slim, but just possible enough for Obi-Wan to go into hiding, watching the boy from afar, making sure he didn’t get himself killed or somesuch.

Suddenly, there was a commotion by the door. Clone Troopers stormed in, though they were wearing different armor than what they had worn in the Clone Wars. They accosted locals with a flier, on it a picture of a man carrying a baby. With a start, Obi-Wan realized it was him and the child. He thought he would be safe here on Tatooine, the furthest thing from a civilized system in the galaxy, as far as he was concerned, but no; Anakin’s new empire reached even here. The troopers began patrolling the room, searching for someone matching their posters, though they were taking a thankfully long time. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and began to think. There was a trick he remembered, but the Jedi order outlawed it decades ago: using the force to alter one’s appearance, specifically to resemble another force user. But he couldn’t! The council outlawed it years ago! He opened his eyes and saw the troopers again. Their blasters were set on ‘kill.’ He made up his mind. The Jedi Council was no more. Survival of its teachings through him were more important than its principals. He closed his eyes again and began to meditate.

Within moments, the blackness of the interior of his eyes was replaced with the blue-purple void of space, speckled with pinpricks of light. Each light was a force user, whether they knew it or not. Most shone dimly: people with a connection with the force, strong enough to use, though not only consciously. Most simply thought of themselves as abnormally lucky, or as having good intuition. That, in all likelihood, is what Anakin’s son will become, though much more powerful. There used to be beacons that lit up this mind’s eye map of the solar system. Those were the Jedi. Most are now dead. In the distance, one still radiated light, seemingly from the swamp planet Dagobah. So that’s where Yoda had run off to. Then, something odd caught Obi-Wan’s attention. While most untrained force users are gray, neither dark side nor light, he spied one that was faintly red. Someone on a planet called Jakku, it would seem, was faintly tied to the dark side of the force, despite having no training. In fact, this being was—there’s no good way to describe it—forward in time. As a Jedi, Obi-Wan has devolved an accuse awarness of the fourth dimension, and as such could sense that this force user did not yet exist; their presence was so strong that it was cutting through time itself. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s meditation was disturbed by a blaster shot and a scream. The stormtroopers had apparently found some resistance. He would have to hurry. Figuring that the faint dark-sided nature of the dot would mask his own light-sided nature, he selected it and began the process of taking on its appearance. For this, he would need to open his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the troopers had progressed much farther than he thought they would, nearly a third of the way through the cantina. As he observed: the force did its work. Waves of cool energy rushed down his body, as if breaking on the beach, washing him in cleansing energy as his shoulders slimmed, height disappearing from his spine. Meanwhile, just as the wave washed over his skin, hair fell out, leaving him as smooth and soft as a shaved peach. Amazed, he touched it and found it thankfully still mammalian. He hadn’t even considered transforming into another species, but supposed it was still definitely possible.

The more energy streamed into him, the more it seemed to congregate in his lower half, almost as if it was pooling. It even seemed to gain physical form, materializing in the form of soft, plump fat all across his legs, adding distinct curvature to his hairless legs. Even his feet began to shrink, if the loosening of the wraps around them was anything to go by. And another thing: the wraps around his feet, they felt softer than before. But the force couldn’t change non-living, non-organic things… The only explanation was that his feet were growing smoother.

He gripped his thighs under the table, mostly out of sight of the patrons of the bar, and felt in wonder as waves of fat and ropes of muscle braided themselves around his scrawny legs, adding a surprising amount of girth as they ballooned outwards, straining against his fingers. Any extra room in the rear was quickly put to use, filled with his rapidly expanding ass until it left an impression against the booth. His pants, once loose and baggy, now clung tightly to his skin,and with each new surge of fat, seams ripped along the sides. Out of curiosity, he flexed them and found much of the same strength as his old legs, a happy surprise. A slightly less happy surprise was that, with a single flex, he managed to bust out of his old pants completely, revealing long, smooth, slender legs with enough muscle and fat to make them jiggle like Mustafar during an earthquake. And, though Obi-Wan had studied most of his life to control his emotions, he still felt the ever-resilient spirit of lust creeping into his mind. There was no denying it: he was hot.

The troopers were nearly halfway across the room now, and Obi-Wan doubted that thick thighs and a plump ass would convince them that he wasn’t the man in the wanted poster. Luckily, more changes were being made. Yet more energy, this time searing hot, pumped invisibly into his body, pooling in his ribcage. His already slimmed frame shifted to the feminine side, arms shrinking, fingers slenderizing, long, manicured nails extending from them. With each wave-like pulse of the force, his waist grew narrower and narrower, his hips flaring farther and farther out until he looked more like a Twi'lek hooker than a Jedi. All the while, fat, as well as some muscle burned away from the immense heat. All that was left was the faint memory of muscle, toned lines in his abs and chest left by a toned yet soft physique. It wasn’t all fun, though. The heat had become unbearable, causing Obi-Wan to sweat and then that sweat to turn to steam. His shirt was even smoldering, smoke billowing around him as the fabric quickly and quietly went up in flames until nothing was left; only his smooth, bare chest rubbing against his outer cloak.

Speaking of his chest, it felt oddly sensitive, like millions of pins and needles were pushing in the inside of his pectorals. Hesitantly, he raised a slender hand up to one and felt a slight swelling underneath his rough cloak. He knew what was happening; he had known it from the very beginning and had only been denying it. But this sensation—the coarse fabric against his rapidly expanding nipples, his firm yet jiggling thighs in the booth below him, and the cool cantina air teasing most every part of his slender frame—it was too much. A moan in a voice that was not his own echoed out of his throat, drawing unwanted looks from some of the cantina’s patrons. Luckily, the troopers were otherwise occupied with some poor soul that dared question their authority, and most of the rest of the bar was busy watching the ensuing scuffle. All the while surges of fat forced their way onto his chest making two distinct lumps of tender flesh. Soon, those lumps became a pair of budding breasts expanding outwards, filling up more and more until they pressed tightly against each other and the straps of his Jedi robes.

His beard soon became stubble, and then smooth skin as the hair receded into his chin, leaving behind a smooth, supple face, totally unlike the sharp jawline he’d had even before he grew the beard. Simultaneously, his skin lost and gained pigment, losing much of its natural hues but gaining tan everywhere his robes weren’t, leaving tan lines like he’d worn just an outer cloak his whole life in the Tatooine suns. He could actually watch through his rapidly growing eyes as his nose shrank, becoming upturned and cute. The now doe-like eyes became brown as his lips softened, losing the crusty chapedness that came with Tatoonies harsh climate and plumping and swelling as the became covered in some sort of lip balm. In the reflection of his drink, Obi-Wan could clearly see the face of a woman. The face of the woman who had the potential to be the most powerful Sith in aeons. His face.

His contemplation was cut short by the sensation of energy flowing into his scalp, diverting into each strand of hair on his head. Soon, his hair was growing longer, silkier, and browner than it had ever before, even when he grew it out as a padawan. Messy bangs fell in front of his face as it cascaded down his nearly bare back until, all at once, it was pulled back, tied into a series of buns that made a crest around his skull. Against his reflexes, Obi-Wan was glad to see the woman’s face in his glass again.

After all that had happened, the last change should have been the least significant. It should have meant nothing at all. But it meant everything. His dick, tenting slightly underneath the table, began to recede. Inch by inch, it disappeared into Oni Wan’s pelvis until, after what must have been twenty seconds at most, all that was left was a tight slit. And with that, Obi-Wan ceased to exist. She was some new entity, a woman, free from the Jedi, free from the empire, free from all responsibility. She was overcome with joy.

A surge of pleasure reverberated throughout his body, as though the force itself approved of her decision.
“And you, have you seen this man?” The troopers asked, holding a picture of Obi-Wan up to the new young woman.
“Why, no, Mr. Trooper, sir,” the woman said, seductively, “I haven’t ‘seen’ any men today at all. You two can be the first, if you want…”