Idea by Amandalefey. Thanks for the idea 😊

"Continue the obi wan going undercover as padme"

Obi-Wan's consciousness fought its way through the fog of anaesthetic. Everything was out of joint, always literally. His limbs felt loose, moving with a strange fluidity as he stirred on the surgical bed. The sheets slid smoothly over the skin of his legs. Hairless. Things were missing. Rearranged.

Was he in a hospital? The quiet hum of medical devices filled the room. The air smelled of antiseptic, while still possessing the well oxygenated, almost perfumed richness he associated with the lush world of Naboo, not the sterile recycled air of Coruscant. As a veteran of the Clone Wars, the taste of stale lum that gummed his mouth was familiar - bacta. Had he been in a battle then? He recalled the heat of an explosion... Padmé's... shuttle... Padmé's shuttle!

He startled up, recollection flooding back. There had been a bomb on Padme's shuttle. He felt relief as he recalled it had been only one of her decoys that had died in the explosion. Relief? How callous the Clone Wars were making him, he reflected, to dismiss their life so easily.

There had been multiple attempts on the Senator's life in recent days. Each time, it was merely the flip of a coin that the real Padme had been the one to survive. They were burning through decoys faster than they could be replaced. Concerned, the Jedi council had assigned him to take the role of the next decoy. A decoy decoy. He was to subdue the next would-be assassin for interrogation. All under absolute secrecy, since there were suspicions of a mole within their ranks. Not even Anakin knew.

Obi-Wan stared groggily at the surgical droids ringing the bed. Then he looked down. Padme's cleavage filled his vision. A surprise, to be sure, and not a welcome one. After reconstructing him, the droids had dressed him in her clothes, elegant white attire that left so much of him exposed and clung in all the wrong places. His heart quickened as he looked lower. The pants were tight and flat over his female crotch.

Her crotch. He wasn't simply an imitation of her, he was wearing her. There had been no time to clone a replacement skinsuit, and so they'd simply grafted her skin to him. The realization made him squirm. This went against many of the Jedi taboos against women. More than that, he had known her since she was a young Queen. To see and feel every inch of her laid out for him so intimately felt like a terrible violation of her dignity.

"Where is Padme?" Obi-Wan asked. The voice from his lips was hoarse and high. "Is she safe? Is she alright?"

"Skinned and sedated," replied a medical droid. "Stored in bacta while we prepare her synthskin."

"Good." The droid stood calmly as Obi-Wan opened its control panel and pried out its memory chip. His fingers were delicate with manicured nails - the hands of a queen, not the calloused hands of a warrior. He reset the memory chip. The droid's eyes dimmed and relit, wiped to its original programming. He would have to do the same to all of them, even the human surgeon, erase every trace of the deception. "Help me stand," he commanded.

The unfamiliar weight of long hair brushed against his neck. They'd even braided and coiled his hair into her bun. The droids supported him on his trembling legs to a pair of long mirrors. Between them, he could examine himself fully. His fingertips touched his feminine jawline and the full lips painted a regal shade of red. His tongue tasted the waxy lipstick.

"Remember your training," he told. Even with Qui Gon's lectures on the female form in mind, he still blushed as he gently cupped his supply breasts.

The door to the operating theatre hissed open. Padmé entered, adding to the confusion of reflections around him. She winked at him with a most un-Padmé lecherousness. "Getting to know yourself, are you? Don't worry, we've all been there," she sniggered. "You must be the fresh meat. Welcome to the decoys."