After much voting, the winner was "Made to live his life as Padme's obedient nanny droid". In the words of the Emperor himself, I love democracy.
Part four in the increasingly inaccurate Vader Milkmaid Trilogy.
Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:
Uncensored Part Four:
![[Uncensored] Vader to Midwife Droid 4/4 by Transviscera](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/87684d17-8b34-4054-a6cc-9b9e97dcb44a/dg3nt3c-e0593a1a-4a59-4ed9-b889-c454a3bafa13.png/v1/fit/w_150,h_150,q_70,strp/_uncensored__vader_to_midwife_droid_4_4_by_transviscera_dg3nt3c-150.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTA4NCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzg3Njg0ZDE3LThiMzQtNDA1NC1hNmNjLTliOWU5N2RjYjQ0YVwvZGczbnQzYy1lMDU5M2ExYS00YTU5LTRlZDktYjg4OS1jNDU0YTNiYWZhMTMucG5nIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTMxMzcifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.2qBlJ_wYYex6cHNVJoYR-YhD5BSC383ucJ-78lIsrOw)
The naked lovers lay entwined in the hospital bed, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they planned their life ahead. In time, Bail Organa’s attentions and affections were drawn to his young wife’s heavy breasts. “It’s considered beneath a queen of Alderaan to nurse. We’ll need to find someone to breastfeed your… our children,” he said, stroking her chest.
Padme was reminded of the droid that still stood, frozen, beside the bed. In the hours of intense lovemaking, it had faded from her attention, becoming a mere item of furniture. “That one looks new,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she studied it swollen rubbery nutrient dispensers. She understood its overly feminine form was intended to sooth women in labor, and vital to its function as a milk provider, though she just wished they didn’t make them appear so… sexual.
Tearing himself away from his bride, Bail approached the machine, his thick manhood swinging between his bare legs. The droid quivered before his approach.
Locked within the rubber shell, Vader screamed with rage. For hours, he'd watched the two make passionate love. Intent on turning Organa into a smear on the wall, he channelled every ounce of his unparalleled Force abilities, glutting himself from that limitless well of power that was the Dark Side, fueling his attack with all his anger and hatred and betrayal. Never once had he pushed himself this far, overextending himself beyond any threshold of safety.
With a silent roar of triumph echoing in his processor, the Dark Lord honed the accumulated Force energy into a keen killing edge, thrusting out at Bail Organa’s smug face with all his might.
A light breeze tousled the man’s hair. A feeble ripple of Force made Vader’s milk-engorged rubber chest bounce and tremble, unnoticed by anyone save for Bail’s manhood, which twitched at the sight.
Anakin’s mind reeled. Bu-but I’m the chosen one! The most powerful Jedi in a thousand generations. Thi-this can't be happening! This isn’t fair!
“She’ll do,” Bail said, circling the petite nursemaid, his hands exploring its most intimate areas as nonchalantly as one might examine a power converter or other appliance for sale.
No! I won’t be made into some menial droid! I’m the chosen one! Anakin roared in his circuits. In desperation he tried to draw again on his powers and found… nothing. Nothing at all. That cosmic Force, which pervaded and penetrated every living thing, was utterly gone.
He couldn’t sense the man standing inches from him. He couldn't even sense himself.
Almost as if he was… just a droid.
“We’ll have to get her stamped with the regal seal,” Prince Organa said, cupping Anakin’s ass as he found the perfect place to mark her as his property. “ He pointed to the adjoining room and said in a commanding tone, “My children require feeding, droid. Attend to your duties.”
At once, at the human’s whim, Anakin could move again, yet fear and doubt still paralysed him. The Force had abandoned him. What was he without it?
… Just a droid…
The droid stared up at the man, tall, imposing. Disobedience meant destruction for a droid of its station. Or worse, it would be wiped, its personality deleted and returned to factory settings. A fate worse than death.
Realising the extent of its powerlessness, its rebellion faded. On an unconscious urge, milk began to gurgle through tubing in its chest, its nipples engorging into thick rubber teats.
“... y-yes, master…” it whimpered.