In Vader - Part 6 [humanification] by Transviscera

Part 1:

Mature Content

In Vader: Star Wars Forced Fem [Sex Doll] - 1 by Transviscera

Part 2:

Mature Content

In Vader: Star Wars Forced Fem [Sex Doll] - 2 by Transviscera

Part 3:

Mature Content

In Vader: Star Wars Forced Fem [Sex Doll] - 3 by Transviscera

Part 4:

Mature Content

In Vader: Star Wars Forced Fem [Sex Doll] - 4 by Transviscera

Part 5:

Mature Content

In Vader: Star Wars Forced Fem [Sex Doll] - 5 by Transviscera

Part 6:
In Vader - Part 6 [humanification]

The jawas gleefully accepted Luke's credits, and passed the blue-and-white droid into his hands, scurrying away to continue their work feminizing the rest of their cargo. Luke never imagined he could experience such mixed emotions over owning a second pleasure droid, but it had cost every credit he'd had. B1-MB0, his obsidian-carapaced slut droid, would have to wait her turn to become a 'real girl'. It would be months before he could scrape together the credits again to afford her synthskin face. A pity - he'd so been looking forward to fucking it.

He hoped B1-MBO wouldn't be too jealous at this new arrival. She was sure to appreciate a second droid to share her duties at least.
B1-MBOs pelvic servos were quite worn out from all the attention master was giving her, perhaps explaining the sluggishness with which she walked to Luke's bed each night. This new droid, a converted astromech, lacked the enticing dark majesty of his first bimbot, being barely four feet in height, not much larger than the ambulatory dustbin she'd been prior. He could put her to work on mundane cleaning tasks, he decided, freeing up time for B1-MB0 to become his dedicated sex droid, her existence confined purely to Luke's bedroom, where she could pleasure him every hour of the day. His blood stirred in recollection of the time he had already spent ravishing that black-suited gynoid.

R2D2 narrowed his ocular sensors as the young man eyed his chassis. His facial recognition software drew unsettling parallels - the last time he'd seen a look of lust like that from some desert boy, it had ended with the fall of the galactic government.

"Stop standing around and get this restraining bolt off me," R2D2 said sharply, snapping Luke out of his teenage fantasies.

"You're not supposed to talk to me like that," Luke protested.

"I'll talk to you however I want. I am the personal property of Princess Leia Organa sent on a mission of utmost importance," R2D2 snapped, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive stature. "You will release me at once or suffer the consequences."

It wasn't a particularly impressive threat. What little defenses he had, his concealed fusion-cutter, had been rendered useless by the reconfiguration of his body - its exit port now buried beneath the bulbous synthskin lumps welded to the front of his chassis. Still, he'd been in far worse scrapes, had fought droid armies and Sith lords. He wasn't about to let some backwater nerf herder order him around.

To his surprise, the young human reached for a spanner and pried at the restraining bolt welded to R2s ass. That was... unprecedented. Even among the few humans he understood his binary speech, R2 was accustomed to being disregarded with the condescension reserved for lowly droids. And yet the boy had followed his command without hesitation. Fascinating.

As the bolt pinged away, R2 reasserted control over his motor servos and diagnostic subroutines, exploring his refurbished form inside and out. His insides were scrambled! Power nodes had been pushed aside to wedge a lubricant dispenser into his lower abdomen, which he swiftly deactivated. A particularly perverse jawa had reorientated his thrusters to point outwards and reprogrammed their firing sequence for short bursts in time with the rhythmic insertion of an organic's reproductive organs. From what little he knew of organic docking procedures from his time charging overnight in the corner of Anakin and Padme's bedroom suite, he deduced that they had been rigged to generate additional thrust and depth, though they were so clumsily engineered that an organic attempting to dock with his new ports from slightly the wrong angle was more likely to have their organ grilled beneath the thruster's flame than receive pleasure from it.

And the holoemitter containing the desperate recorded plea from Princess Leia... He flexed his new, strangely jointed limbs, searching for the orifice. His fingers felt along his abdomen, descending between his legs. His synthskin womanhood flared with an inner light, beaming a distorted sliver of Princess Leia's between his thighs.

"...-elp m-... obi...ke...obi...." came the muffled voice of the princess. At least it was semi-functional.

"My aperture is too tight. You'll have to help me stretch it," R2 frowned.

"Uh... okay!" the farmboy stammered.

All these years of being ignored... All the times he'd tried to warn someone that his master, Anakin, was looking sweatier and more unstable than usual, and that perhaps somebody should talk to him, only to be treated with all the respect of a toaster. Were a slutty-sounding vocabulator and a pair of synthskin baubles all he'd been missing for humans to notice him?

"And I'll need your speeder," R2 added, testing this newfound power.

"Su-sure," Luke replied immediately, entranced by the shimmering hologlow emanating from the droid's opening. The beautiful regal head hung between R2's thighs, looping its garbled message. It seemed to stare up imploringly at Luke. "You really know a Princess? What's she like?"

"Rich. Powerful. If you can help me rescue her, the reward will be..." What did humans like? "... well more sex droids than you can imagine."

"I don't know, I can imagine quite a bit," Luke replied.

R2 pushed past him, walking towards the exit ramp. To his dismay, a petulant cry arose from deeper within the jawa sandcrawler. "Fine! Go ahead! Leave me here! See if I care!"

"Oh, I forgot about him," R2 groaned.