He's more machine than man now, submissive and breedable.

The Dark Lord, Darth Vader, was alone in his chamber aboard the Executor. The Emperor had demanded an audience. The light of the hologram emitter began to play across his black figure and he sank into a deep bow as a hologram of the Emperor materialized before him.

"We have tracked the rebels to the ice world of Hoth, my master," Vader intoned. "The fleet is on route and we are preparing the assault."

"Excellent. You have done well, Lord Vader.," the Emperor murmured. "Do not drop out of lightspeed within range of their sensor array. Ensure they are not alerted to your presence. There is another matter we must attend to."

Vader lowered his helm in supplication. "What is thy bidding, my master?"

"There is a great disturbance in the Force. You have felt it. We have a new enemy - the young rebel who destroyed the Death Star... Luke Skywalker." The Emperor waited, studying his apprentice for any reaction. "He could destroy us."

"He's just a boy. Obi-Wan can no longer help him."

"The Force is strong with him. The son of Skywalker must not become a Jedi."

"If he could be turned, he would become a powerful ally."

"Yes. Yes. He would be a great asset," mused the Emperor, a tone of sadistic glee in his sepulchral voice. "You are to learn all you can about this Luke Skywalker, Lord Vader. Only then may you begin the assault."

"But how..."

By the way the Emperor's delighted sneer grew, Vader sensed the conversation had always been leading up to this point. "I am transmitting schematics now. You will give them to the engineering droids. They will oversee the reconfiguring of your armor according to my design."

A hologram of a schematic flickered into view. Vader stared at the blueprint rotating before him, his mask impassive. He could feel the Emperor's eyes drilling into him, studying him for any sign of disobedience or disgust at this command. He knew he was being tested. This was no ordinary reconaissance mission. It was both punishment and evaluation. After the destruction of the Death Star under his watch, the Emperor was making sure his asset was still loyal. Any hint of hesitation and the Emperor would activate the command to terminate the life support in Vader's suit.

"You are no stranger to serving a master, are you not?" came the Emperor's taunting remark.

"It will be done," Vader replied.

"Good. Gooood. I look forward to your report," the Emperor crooned, passing a hand over the crouched Lord and fading away.

Secluded within his meditation chamber, Vader lay back. Programmed with the new schematic, the army of engineering droids that normally maintained Vader's intimidating power armor were gathering around. Their implements whirred into life and they started by drilling into into the weak points in his armor, as they started the task of deconstructing him piece-by-piece.

His elbow and knee joints went slack as servos were uncoupled before his limbs were detached completely, mouse droids carrying them away for storage. The armored plates were being systematically pried off, exposing what little flesh remained, burned and scarred long ago.

He was more machine than man now, and soon he'd be even less of the latter. A 2-1B surgical droid busied itself between his legs, its implements working at the desiccated remnants of his manhood with quiet snipping sounds. That too was carried away on the back of a mouse droid to some garbage compactor.

A droid uncoupled the clasp hermetically sealing his face plate before lifting the helm away with a hiss of escaping air. Vader blinked his human eyes against the light. He was almost blind without his sensors to aid him, unable even to sense the droids around him through the Force, though he could hear the supposedly comforting 'ooba obaa's of the surgical droid as it approached his head. Most of the nerves there were already dead and, combined with the numbing spray, he felt no pain, just the pressure as it began making long incisions around his face.

His weak vision turned to the curvaceous blur of a luxury attendant droid stepping into the meditation chamber. It moved gracefully on lithe limbs to stand among the engineering droids. It was a BD-3000 pleasure droid, the type of appliance mockingly named a Bettiebot, a sort of 'service droid' not dissimilar to a protocol droid, though somehow afforded even less respect than those lowly machines. They were cheap sex tools, used and discarded often. It wasn't standard issue to carry such things on Imperial ships, but Admiral Ozzel had ordered a search, and they'd found one, barely used, in the Stormtrooper barracks.

The engineering droids gathered round it, disassembling it and carrying its parts to the operating table, where they began to attach them to him, remaking him in the image of a pleasure gynoid. The surgical droid completed its task of severing the skin of his face from the underlying structures, lifting it away as easily as they had his faceplate, as the pleasure droid's synthskin sex mask was lowered into place around his skin.

Further below, the synthskin vagina and bulbous skynthskin breasts were being sutured into place and wired into his nervous system.