Oil Bath Therapy Rating: PG-13
Diana

This story was inspired after a rousing arguement with Thrawn McEwok. We were apologizing after the duel, and an offer of an oil bath from one side incited a plot bunny in the other. Should we thank him? Or damn him??


Luke Skywalker rolled over in his bunk, trying to cover his ears with the bedclothes.

For the short time since he'd left home, a lot had happened to the young man. His uncle and aunt — the only family he'd ever known — had been killed and his home left in smoking ruins. His mentor, Obi-wan Kenobi, had been killed by Darth Vader as he watched. He'd met a princess, a pirate, and a Wookiee. He'd been made a member of Red Squadron, one of the X-wing groups that had attacked the Death Star. He'd been declared the "hero of Yavin."

Who were they kidding? He was a back-planet yokel, totally out of his element. Oh, it wasn't that the others were unfriendly. Far from it! Here, no one knew he was "Wormie" and everyone treated him with the utmost awe and respect.

It was quite uncomfortable for the former farmboy.

He simply didn't know what to do or say around the others. Some were younger than him, but they seemed more ... worldly. He felt like a total ignoramus around them and had a lot of trouble keeping up with their jokes and antics. Finally, he confessed to needing some rest and was assigned a bunk amidst many others in one of the vast halls in this converted temple building. Others were still high from the victory, even though they understood the Empire would come after them again — and soon.

Some played games of sabaac. Others joked and bragged. One of them, a guy named Wes Janson, seemed to be overcompensating for many things. It was said that he lost his best friend in the battle; Wes had been ill, and Jek Porkins had taken his place in the squad and was one of the first to be shot down.

Luke didn't mind the noise or chatter. Muffled through the thin pillow as he pretended to sleep, the din was kind of soothing. That he didn't have to participate or show a brave front made it more enjoyable.

A late arrival, who'd introduced himself to the others as "Hobbie," was trying to get the details of the battle from the others. He'd been shipped in only that morning, and so had missed the battle roster assignments. He was obviously a seasoned pilot and hated having been left out.

Wes, recovered from the fever that had disqualified him from flight, was bragging about what HE would have done. But the medics came by and cautioned him that he should not do anything to exhaust himself or he'd suffer a relapse ... and then they'd have to drop him into the "bath." Wes calmed down immediately.

"Bacta? That's not so bad, I've had plenty of dips in bacta," sneered Hobbie. Luke had never been in a bacta bath, but didn't like the stories he'd heard about full immersion therapies for grievous injuries. He wondered what kind of injuries Hobbie had suffered to have been dipped so much?

"Ha!" Wes scoffed at his new friend. "Bacta IS nothing. Oil, on the other hand, is something completely different. You have NOT suffered until you've been in an oil bath."

I thought oil baths were for 'droids, wondered Luke, remembering C3PO's cleaning bath, back on Tatooine. Gosh, was that only a few weeks ago?? Days? He groaned, remembering how tired he really was.

When asked by the others what was so terrible about a therapeutic oil bath, Wes chose to be dramatic, "This oil bath ... it felt so good at the time! All the soothing warmth, getting into every nook and cranny ..."

The others laughed, "What's so bad about that?? Can't take some pampering, Janson?"

"At the very least, now we know why 'droids like those baths so much," teased Hobbie. "Hey, we should hook you up to one of those power 'droids, that'll juice you right up!" Even Luke had to smirk at the dirty innuendo, his smile hidden under his pillow.

"Hey, I'll admit, when you're down to your lifeday suit, floating in that slick, hot fluid, you feel like ... well like your whole body is a genital!" Wes admitted that fact, knowing he'd draw laughter and gasps from his audience. "But when you get out," he cautioned, waiting for the crowd to quiet down before continuing, "you have to be ... ah ... careful not to close up ..."

"What'd you mean, 'close up'?" Hobbie wanted to know.

"Well you're floating in there, and you just relax ... and all the muscles just droop ... including sphincters, you know?" The others groaned and started to giggle. "So when it's time to get out, you have to ... ah ... well, close up ..."

Hobbie was laughing hard, "You mean to say you get a back passage full of lube??"

Wes must've grimaced, because Luke thought the man was sounding strained. "Yeah ... and it don't scrub out easy, either! And the leaking and seeping ... for hours!"

As the laughter rose to a roar, Luke forgot about dozing. He rather liked this comraderie, and the fact that Wes could confess something so personal and still not be ostracized. If Luke had admitted to such a thing at home, he'd be branded as something unnatural, he was sure of it.

When the others finally left the area — probably to get something to eat — Luke decided to get up and see the medics about a therapeutic hot oil bath ...


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