Chapter Text
You sit in the pilot seat of your ship, trying to stay calm, listening to the aftermath of the crash. You’re alright- the ship is probably salvageable- the moon shows signs of being a place commonly stopped at, though you’re not sure why.
In truth, this is one of the best-case scenario outcomes. You had been expecting much worse.
You were a stormtrooper, and a damned good one at that. You followed orders and you shot true. You were a handful of months out from being promoted to captain alongside Phasma.
A part of you wishes you wouldn’t have missed that one, single reconditioning session. You would be beloved amongst the First Order. But a much larger part of you knows that, despite the hell you’ve been through now that you see just how vile the Order is, it’s best that you left- best for you and best for the galaxy.
With a sigh, you stand and stagger out of the ship; it’s not entirely unlikely that it’s about to explode, after all. When you’ve left, you take a cursory glance to make sure the ship isn’t totaled before looking out at the desolate rock before you.
It seems like nothing lives here, but you know better than to assume. You ready your blaster and take a few steps forward; there’s a cavern just ahead, and from the looks of it, not a particularly big one. Between staying out in the open and waiting for a pirate or whatever might live here to find you, and taking on whatever small creature houses itself inside there one-on-one with a blaster, you walk toward the cavern’s entrance.
The rock is a dull, medium brown covered in craters and pock marks. Inside, the walls and ceilings are indistinguishable from the floor. You glance quickly around the small, tear-drop shaped cavern and find nothing alive.
There is, however, a statue standing in the middle of the room, seemingly made from a much more refined version of whatever rock the cavern was made of. It is masterfully crafted, you note, as you walk forward, examining it. However, it is remarkably vague, featureless. It’s eerie to look at.
Something in you stirs. You tell yourself it’s admiration for this work of art, and you’re almost correct. Tentatively, you reach up and touch its emotionless face.
You gasp as the tips of your fingers find the cool, smooth stone; a force of energy seems to billow out from it like a sudden, but not unbearable, wind, and you blink as you look upon the stone in wonder. You’re mesmerized by it as the rock seems to morph and shift beneath your gentle touch, and you stand there watching, gaping, as its face transforms. Not once does it occur to you to pull away, to leave.
In moments, the lifeless statue has been replaced with what seems to be a perfect sculpture of the Supreme Leader- a perfect sculpture of Kylo Ren. You gasp then, finally recoiling and gazing upon the statue with awe, wonderment, and confusion.
The statue is as tall as the man himself, his hair just as long and haphazard. His skin is the same grey beige as the statue had begun as, and though his eyes show no color, they are unmistakable in their appearance. His nose is long and hooked, his lips plush and faintly parted, his chiseled cheeks dotted with birthmarks and freckles barely raised from the skin. His bare shoulders are broad, his thick arms muscled, his abdomen thick and toned. You swallow as your eyes take in an immaculate, large penis, laying soft beneath a bed of curls and large testicles. His thighs are thick and strong, his calves as well. His feet are large and inoffensive. You glance at his large, veiny hands, then finally, let your eyes settle upon the unsettling and familiar face, trying to ignore the arousal now pulsating in your core.
You're afraid. You can feel your heartbeat everywhere. It isn’t worth taking note of.
Suddenly- terrifyingly- intoxicatingly- the statue’s eyes move, from looking off in the distance to looking at you. You gasp and take a step back, but the statue’s face turns more towards you. Its movements are at once human and inhuman, emotive and lifeless. He clenches his jaw in a way very reminiscent of the man he’s come to embody. “Hello,” it says in a voice that sounds like Kylo Ren’s, but lacks the anger, the animosity, the demanding demeanor. “Y/N.”
“How do you-?” you manage, feeling as if you’ve lost your mind. “What- who- how? How… Are you… How?”
The statue smiles at you, amused, but tempered. “I simply am.”
You stare at the statue for a long time, brow furrowed. You cannot find anything to say.
“You came to me in need of assistance. In need of help. I can offer you… Whatever you want.” The statue’s cold, lifeless eyes glitter at you, putting you on edge, making you- suspicious. But… There’s also something within you, settling you. You feel yourself relax.
“What?”
“Thirteen wishes I can grant you,” says the statue. “Thirteen beautiful, wonderful things that you crave in the deepest parts of yourself. Not merely illusions or memories- but the real, actual wishes.”
“Why?”
The statue smiles. “I simply do.”
You frown at it. You know you should be skeptical, you should be safe, you should refuse.
You’re in the middle of nowhere. You have no food, no water, no shelter. There’s no clue as to when or if another ship will arrive. You have nothing to lose.
That last thought echoes in your mind, tempting you. “Okay.”
“There’s one rule,” says the statue. “You don’t get to choose the wishes- not consciously, anyway. I will look within you and provide to you the thirteen things you most dearly wish for.”
You blink, then nod. “Okay.”
The statue smiles then and reaches out. Instinctively, you reach out as well, and your hands touch. An energy seems to pour itself out from the statue, cascading over you. You shiver and lean back, letting out a gentle whimper as it floods you with a bright, happy warmth.
When you recover, you compose yourself and look forward only to blink. The statue sits in place, looking debonair, nonchalant, and still exactly like Kylo Ren. His cock is hard and upright as if waiting for you.
“One,” whispers the voice, coming from inside of your head now. “Agalmatophilia.”
You take a step forward, then a second. Your brain knows it should be ashamed, knows you’ve been suppressing thoughts and urges like this for years… But it doesn’t seem capable of caring. With only a hint of shame- and a cascade of surrealness- you sit in the statue’s lap, suddenly naked. You gaze at it’s masterfully crafted features, so similar to the man you’ve yearned for since you’d first seen him. You run your tongue along his smooth stone face and moan at the sensation; your breasts, nipples, run faintly against the statue’s stone chest- a perfect image of Kylo Ren. Your hand wanders towards his hard, thick cock- now even larger and dotted with faint veins- and you stroke him eagerly as your tongue runs over the statue’s parted lips. You gaze into Kylo Ren’s eyes as you roll your hips, imagining the man watching you, eyeing you, both aroused and perturbed by your lurid fantasy.
After a moment you shift and sink happily onto the statue’s stiff cock, reveling in the gentle coarseness of the stone inside of your desperate walls. It’s so large and unforgiving inside of you; you moan and shudder and whimper as you roll your hips back and forth at an increasingly wild pace. Your hands find your own breasts and you knead them, rolling your nipples between your fingers as your mouth reverently worships his neck, his chin, his collarbone…
As you turn your head to the side, running your tongue against the stone, you gasp as you catch sight of him- the real Kylo Ren, flesh and blood, watching you as if you both are a holo to the other. And yet, you know that you are both entirely real.
He watches you, his face intense and impassive. His jaw clenches and his eyes twitch as he catches sight of you. You freeze, leaning into the statue’s immobile arms, and stare at Kylo Ren as if waiting for a punishment. Your cunt whimpers, begging for more stimulation. But Kylo Ren’s vindictive eyes upon you makes your skin crawl… And it feels delectable.
“Well,” Kylo Ren says finally. You look at him expectantly. “Fuck it, whore.”
The disgust in his voice makes you shutter; his command causes you to surge back into action, throwing in effort to really put on a show for him; you dance as you ride, still lavishing the stone with your eager tongue. You moan and whimper lewdly into the air, casting lust-stricken glances at Kylo Ren’s angry, incessant glower.
It doesn’t take you long to cum, exploding around the thick cock within you as your amour’s eyes scrape over you. You shudder and whine, head thrown back, as your needy hips thrust themselves forward and back like waves over rocks. You ride your orgasm to the end before shuddering and pulling back, studying the unchanged statue with a parted mouth.
The humiliation returns then, and you flush as you clamber to your feet. Kylo Ren remains, staring at you. You’re about to hug yourself against the chilly air when that energy finds you again, sending you reeling momentarily into yourself once more.