"He's more machine than man now, submissive and breedable."
Sequel to:
What amounted to the sun was setting over the frozen Hoth landscape. On guard duty for the south entrance to Echo base, wrapped up against the biting winds, Micha Evon was on the verge of calling it a night. He was stepping inside to close the blast doors when a figure emerged out of the snow. He reached for his pistol. As the figure grew clearer, he wondered if he was imagining things. There weren’t an abundance of women on Hoth and the loneliness could play tricks on a man’s mind out here. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn it was a Bettie-Bot, a pleasure droid, sashaying towards the base.
He levelled his pistol at it. The Imperials were scouring the galaxy for the base, and weren’t above disguising scouts as some other model. “Hold it right there, droid. How did you get out here?”
The droid froze. Ice was accumulating on its joints, limiting its movement, but even still he approached it cautiously. It was a Bettie-Bott alright, and not a bad one - an enticing blend of Protocol Droid chassis and rubbery synthflesh where it mattered. A feminine synthskin mask displayed lips perfect for pleasuring a man, while retractable metal plates between the flared hips provided a scrap of modesty while also granting its user ready access to the synthskin pussy.
It turned to him slowly. Its voice was melodic and sweet. “I was misplaced out here by Luke Skywalker.”
“That’s funny, I don’t remember Luke ever owning something like you,” he said in suspicion. “Kinda something I’d take note of, tits like those. I’d be inclined to borrow you if he did.” Still keeping his distance and pistol ready, he walked a slow circle around the droid. The rear was just as appealing as the front.
It turned to face him, moving its arm slowly before his eyes, and a curious reverberation entered its electronic voice.
“I am property of Luke Skywalker. You will return me to him at once.”
“Like hell I will,” the man barked. “I’ve half a mind to send you for dissassembly for giving me an order like that.”
Darth Vader faltered. After twenty years locked within his armor, he’d forgotten the need to conceal expressions, and the synthskin doll face showed his shocked with its O-shaped mouth. The Mind Trick had failed. He, the second most powerful force user in the galaxy, had been bested by this lowly nightwatchman.
It was to do with the surgery, he knew. The plasteel encasing his body interfered with his powers and worse, with every ounce of his flesh removed, his connection to the Force was diminished. It was exactly how it had been after Mustafar, only worse. They had cut away so much to fit him within this slender, feminine frame. Barely a brain, heart and lungs remained, his midichlorians clinging to the few scraps of tissue. Piece by piece, Palpatine was stripping his apprentice’s body and power, reducing him to a mere machine.
Vader tried again, commanding the Force to subdue the man’s will. He disabled the voice modulator. Like a switch being flicked, his cutesy voice dropped three octaves abruptly to a deep, domineering, James Earl Jones-esque masculine bass.
“I am property of Luke Skywalker. You will return me to him at once.”
The guard blinked, rubbed at his eyes. He nodded slowly. “You’re property of Luke Skywalker. I’ll return you to him at once,” he said, leading the droid inside and down the winding ice walls of Echo Base. Vader followed silently, observing everything, assessing defences, weak points, weaponry…
Luke was in his bunk, dreaming of Leia, when Micha opened the door and pushed the droid inside. “Keep a leash on your toys, would you? The stupid thing nearly froze solid outside,” he snapped.
Luke sat up. “Huh? But it’s not mine,” he protested.
“Whatever. Just don’t have it wandering the base, alright.”
And the guard was gone. The gynoid came to kneel at Luke's feet, poised on its haunches, its sexdoll mask close to his lap as if just waiting for a command.
“There’s been a mistake,” Luke said in disbelief. “Did Han send you? Is this a trick?”
“No mistake, master. I am yours to do with as you please.”
“Well… keep out of sight of Leia. If she sees me with you, she’ll be mad.”
It stuck with him all that evening, following like a lost puppy as he ventured down to help Chewie with the Falcon repairs. It was cute and sweet but ditzy, requiring constantly vigilance to stop it wandering off and getting lost. A few times he found it with its head stuck in some vital subsystem or other, staring at tactical displays or dumbly trying to access the cockpit.
He was gentle but firm with her. From his experience with the other two droids, he knew the machines became a nuisance if not occupied, so he set her to errands bringing the men food and drinks while they worked.
But it was after the shift had entered, deep into the evening when the cold air poured off the exposed ice walls, that he discovered her true function. He’d retired to his bunk, shivering as he pulled the insulted blanket round himself in expectation of another cold night. The pleasure droid perched on the end of the bed, seemingly suddenly timid. He sensed the heat radiating from her synthflesh. He wrapped the blanket around her, pulling her warm body next to him on the bed.
“Maybe I’ll find a use for you after all,” Luke yawned, cupping his numb hands around the heated, fleshy handwarmers that were Vader’s breasts. “Good droid.”
Within his shell, Vader stifled a shudder. He didn't need the Force to sense the young man’s arousal - he could feel it digging into his thigh.
“You must be tired,” the droid said softly.
“Hm? Not right now,” Luke said amorously, cuddling closer to his new toy.
“You must be tired,” the droid repeated forcefully. Luke’s eyes snapped shut. He was snoring before his head hit the pillow.
That had been close. Vader lay wrapped in Luke's arms. He’d almost been… used. He tried to wriggle free from the young man’s embrace, but Luke stirred and Vader chose not to risk waking him.
Staring into his sleeping face - indeed unable to do little else as the hours ticked past - Vader knew he could Force Choke the boy right now. But, alas, he was stuck as a spy for as long as Palpatine commanded it. Luke's dutiful slave.
Well he was no stranger to serving a master. And this master was gentler than the cruel Emperor. Waiting on Luke was humiliating for the Dark Lord of the Sith, true, but such an indignity paled compared to the tortures Palpatine had inflicted over the decades.
And the Emperor had never once called him a ‘good droid’.
Deep inside his shell, in the remnants of his flesh, was a warm feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with his synthskin heating elements.
He was a... ‘good droid’.
When he finally fell to sleep hours later, he was still turning that thought over in his mind.