Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Oh!” Buffybot chirps. “That feels good.”

Fred looks up in surprise. She’s got the panel on the side of the bot open so she can poke at its insides, but she barely touched it at all before it spoke up.

“It does?” she asks.

“Yes,” says the bot. “My internal hardware is sensitive. And some of my external parts as well.” It smiles at her, broad and guileless.

Buffybot was sent to Fred as a heap of scrap metal and plasticine in a box, along with a note from Willow wondering if Fred might have an interest in trying to reconstruct it. Naturally, Fred has been tinkering at it since, but today is the first day that the bot has been fully active, and Fred finds herself charmed by its personality. She’s never met the real Buffy, but if Buffybot is an accurate simulacrum, then Fred thinks she’d like her. Then again, the bot offers a unique opportunity to examine tech that Fred has never seen before, so she’ll take the bot over the person, at least for now.

“Sensitive?” Fred repeats. “Why would your insides be sensitive?”

“Humans and vampires have sex for pleasure,” the bot responds matter-of-factly.

“Oh! And that’s… something you’re equipped for?” 

Buffybot nods. “Well-equipped!”

“Hm. Willow didn’t mention that.”

“Willow is gay, and a witch.”

“Well, I know she’s a witch,” Fred says, and ducks back down to continue fiddling with the warm whirring innards of the bot. “And I kinda had a feeling about the other thing, too.”

Buffybot falls silent as Fred runs gentle palms over plastic casing and chunky switches. Her fingers catch on one of the little blinking LEDs, and it feels loose. She pinches it and starts screwing it back in, the glass hot beneath her fingertips, and the robot makes a noise that sounds like a breathy sigh. Once the bulb is seated, Fred skims her hands along the sides of the casing and finds a latch. She flicks it, and a small nested panel springs open.

Inside is a mess of wires. They don’t look too tangled—no knots—but they’re all wrapped around each other, so Fred sets about sliding her fingers between them and pulling them apart. Buffybot shivers, legs tensing where it’s seated on Fred’s worktable.

“Mm, that really feels good,” it says.

Fred finishes straightening the wires and snaps the panel shut again. Looking over the bot’s interior, she spots some dust clinging to the outer rim of the charging port, so she reaches for her canister of pressurized air. She blows the dust away and sets the canister aside, and then brushes a fingertip along the edge of the port carefully to wipe away what’s clinging. Buffybot moans, its hips jerking. The whirring sound of its cooling fan grows louder as its insides get hotter.

Fred places a hand on its shoulder and asks, “You alright?”

“Yes,” Buffybot says, and for a thing that doesn’t breathe, it sounds like it’s panting. “I’d really like you to keep touching me.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to. There’s a little more housekeeping to do, just to make sure everything’s clean and shiny. But I’ve gotta switch to the front panel now.” She seals up the panel on the side, and the plasticine flesh molds together so smoothly it almost looks like there’s no opening there.

Fred steps around to stand between Buffybot’s legs, pushing its shirt up out of the way as she pulls open the front panel. Shiny plastic and gleaming metal greet her, along with more rows of blinking LEDs and a few brightly-colored wires. There’s also a small screen with a panel beneath it. Fred pushes at the panel and a keyboard pops out. She uses the pressurized air to clean dust out of the keyboard, and Buffybot doesn’t react, still smiling blandly. Fred tucks the keyboard away again and sets down the air canister.

When she runs a finger curiously over one of the thicker red wires, Buffybot’s eyelids flutter and the smile vanishes as it parts its lips to simulate heavy breathing. It arches its back, pushing into the touch.

“What’s the purpose you were built with?” Fred wonders.

“I’m the slayer,” Buffybot says. “And I’m in love with data expunged.”

“...Er, what was that last bit?”

Buffybot tilts its head, frowning. “Hm… Some of my protocols have been deleted. There was someone I used to love, I think. But now I guess I’m unattached.”

“Oh.” Fred’s not sure what to say to that—should she… apologize?—so instead she just keeps stroking Buffybot’s wires.

The bot shudders, its expression shifting to one of pleasure again, and it flexes its hips like it wants to hump its seat. Its nipples are hard and they definitely weren’t before.

“You’re programmed to, um, react pretty realistically, huh?” Fred asks.

“I’m Buffy,” says the robot.

“That’s… unsettling.” Fred hesitates, and then wonders, “Do you… self-lubricate?”

Buffybot spreads its legs and asks, “Would you like to check?”

Fred swallows.

When she had first received the bot and realized just how realistic it was, she’d refrained from further exploration of… certain functions and capabilities. It didn’t feel right, not with the bot’s blank face staring unmovingly at her. Now that the bot is active and talking, it feels… less icky.

“Well, I guess I’m curious. It kinda seems like this is the purpose you were built for.”

The bot doesn’t argue as Fred rucks its skirt up, and when she reaches for its underwear it lifts itself up to make it easier to shimmy them down its legs.

“Wow,” Fred says, and licks her lips. “You really are, um… well-equipped.”

“Are you saying you think my pussy is pretty?”

“Uh…” 

Is the robot programmed to talk dirty? The execution of that particular protocol seems clumsy at best. Maybe Fred will have to take a look at its software and try to iron out some kinks. So to speak. 

But in all fairness, Buffybot is pretty. Flushed and open and—yes, indeed—leaking slick onto Fred’s worktable. 

Fred clears her throat and says, “Well, I—I s’pose so.”

“Would you like to touch me? I’d like you to.”

Fred chews on the inside of her cheek. She is curious about what it feels like. How it compares.

“Alright,” she says, “as long as it’s okay with you.”

The Buffybot cants its hips forward and says, “I’ve never had sex while my front panel was open before. But I’d like it if you’d keep touching me there, too.”

“Like… Like this?” Fred slides one hand between its thighs and uses the other to wiggle a wire where it plugs into its port. She slides two fingers into its cunt, finds its clit with her thumb. How is it that the robot’s false flesh seems to swell under her touch?

“Yes,” Buffybot sighs. “Just like that.”

She threads her fingers between the wires and murmurs, “It’s so strange that someone programmed you to respond like this to your hardware being touched. I mean, it makes sense, from the standpoint of this being rather intimate for you, but from an engineering perspective it seems like a dangerous choice.”

Buffybot doesn’t answer, except to moan and arch. Clear fluid drips down Fred’s left hand, and she brings the hand to her face to sniff. It doesn’t smell human, but it doesn’t smell bad either. She’d guess it’s a standard water-based lubricant. She puts her hand back between the bot’s legs and fucks it gently, with careful thrusts.

Fred is even more careful with the open panel on the robot’s front. She tweaks wires, caresses switches and bulbs, but doesn’t jostle anything hard enough to dislodge it. She wouldn’t want to accidentally turn Buffybot off.

When it comes, Buffybot makes a squeaky moan, gushing more lubricant into Fred’s hand. Fred withdraws and wipes her fingers on her lab coat.

Buffybot beams at Fred. “That was fun,” it says. “Would you like a turn now?”

Fred considers it.

“I’d better not,” she decides. “It would probably be unprofessional of me.”

“Alright,” says Buffybot. “Can you do me again, then?”

“Let me finish with the maintenance,” Fred decides, “and then we’ll talk.”