Buffy got home late from patrol, feeling grimy and sweaty from her fights, the heat lingering and burning like the few tastes of beer she'd had. She couldn't stop thinking about what she'd seen. Willow and Xander and Cordelia... it was a strange pairing. A strange pairing and a half. As if Xander and Cordelia weren't weird enough, throw Willow into the mix. Her and Cordelia, yeesh. What was it with her friends and that...
cheerleader?
She thought they'd all agreed she was horrible.
Well, I guess we didn't agree she didn't have awesome boobs.
Her mother was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, head down on her arms as she got a massage from Buffybot.
"Hey mom," Buffy said. "Ultron."
"Buffy," Joyce replied, eyes still closed in enjoyment of Buffybot's chopping hands. "I left some food for you in the crockpot. You're lucky, I was going to fridge it just as soon as Buffybot finished up."
"Massage theoretically has health benefits, but cannot be said to be scientifically valid due to the impossibility of placebo-based and double-blind clinical trials," Buffybot said.
"I still don't think I sound like that," Buffy said, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.
"How was patrol?" Joyce asked.
"Fine." Buffy helped herself to a small portion. Fighting always gave her an appetite, and she overcompensated by not going in on a full plate, not wanting to gorge herself halfway through and then have to finish the meal. Plus, it was her mother's cooking. "I saw Willow having a threesome with Xander and Cordy."
"Cordelia Chase?" Joyce asked, lifting her head. "Well, Xander I can understand, those two have always been, uhh, what's the Spanish—"
"Simpatico!" Buffy said with flair.
"Yes, that. But I thought Cordelia was something of a, you know—"
"Heinous bitch?" Buffybot offered. "Total ho? Stunning cunt?"
Joyce pushed her hands away. "Thank you, Buffybot, that's enough. Why don't you draw a bath for Buffy? She stinks."
"
Mooom!"
"I'm sorry, dear, but it's true. Heaven knows what smells you pick up walking through a graveyard, grappling with dead things—I don't know how the goths put up with it. If I have to do your laundry, the least you can do is have a good soak."
"I do my own laundry!" Buffy protested.
"You mean when it doesn't mysteriously disappear from your floor and reappear in your dresser?"
"I thought that was Buffybot."
"Please. I can't trust her to separate whites from colors. That's what happens when you let a man build a robot. Once he's got the boobs right, he's satisfied..."
Buffy paused a moment as she heard water rumbling from the bathtub's faucet, sloshing into the tub. She sucked on her spoon, then pulled it from her mouth. "Don't you think it's a little odd that Willow and Cordelia and Xander had a threesome?"
"How so, sweetie?"
"I don't know. Just strikes me as weird, somehow."
"Well, Buffybot may have had your friend Cordelia's number, but—teenage hormones. I got into all sorts of trouble when I was their age."
"Still..." Buffy tilted her head quizzically. "You don't think there's
anything
wrong with this picture?"
"Maybe you're just a teensy bit jealous?" Joyce theorized sing-songedly. "Just remember, they don't have a Buffy. Or a Buffybot, hint hint."
"
Mooom!"
"What? It's what she's there for. Enjoy it. I heard all you kids are supposed to practice self-love."
Buffy rolled her eyes as Joyce snickered at her own joke, undressing and heading for the bathtub.
"Baths aren't as hygienic as showers, but are more relaxing. Organics enjoy being filthy," Buffybot said, standing dutifully by the steaming tub. "We shouldn't let this water cool. It's just the right temperature. I'll take good care of you."
She helped Buffy as she stepped into the hot water, then Buffy sank down and felt the engulfing warmth soothe her flesh. Something about the threesome she'd witnessed still bothered her, but she was conscious of her tension draining away. Eyes shut, Buffy leaned back and savored the situation in all its aspects. Joyce was right. She should take advantage of having a Buffybot.
"Buffybot, I don't want your clothes to get wet too," Buffy said. "Why don't you take them off?"
A zipper hissed, and Buffy smiled at the noise. She opened her eyes to watch as Buffybot's maid's uniform slipped to the floor. A black bra and filmy black panties competed to be as erotic as her skimpy French maid outfit had been. True, the sight made Buffy think of her exclusively as a lover now, not just a maid or a cleaning lady, but something turned her on about sleeping with the help. Hot little tongues of excitement licked at her under the water. Her own long, lean figure looked so much better when it wasn't hers, when she didn't have to worry about it. No scars, no fat, no muscle, just a reflection.
"I enjoy taking my clothes off." Buffybot had her shoes off and was working on her stockings now, baring her legs. A moment later she reached behind her back to undo the bra. "I like being naked. Do you think I'll have to put my clothes back on?"
"Probably," Buffy said, knowing it would make her double pout.
Buffybot's breasts tumbled into view, hard-nippled and alluringly rounded. Buffy's clit tingled, watching as Buffybot proceeded with no inhibitions whatsoever. She skinned out of her panties, gathered up all her clothes into a neat pile on the hamper. Bending down and straightening up and putting her nakedness on display from every angle without any sign of shame.
"Now wash me," Buffy ordered.
"I thought you liked being dirty," Buffybot replied. "I like being dirty. Spike likes—"
"Just wash me."
Soap and washcloth in hand, Buffybot sat down on the edge of the tub. She leaned over to wet and lather the cloth thoroughly, then she started at the curve of Buffy's shoulder. She proceeded decorously, but boldly, clearly not intending to hold any of Buffy's flesh off-limits. Buffy felt her excitement flaring up again as a corner of the washcloth grazed her nipple. Buffybot was sitting close to her, so close that her perfume smelled stronger than the soap. Strong enough to fog her brain. She watched, fascinated, as Buffybot's breasts swayed with every movement of her arms, scant inches away, temptingly within reach.
The washcloth sank under the surface to rub back and forth across Buffy's stomach and then down her thighs. A sound gurgled in her throat, bubbling up out of that intimate touch. But Buffybot remained impassive as ever, just going on with her task. It rankled, being ignored like that.
Buffy reached out to fondled one of Buffybot's bare tits. Her flesh responded instantly, warming under Buffy's hand, and Buffy intensified the touch, concentrating on the nipple and putting on pressure, rolling the engorged pebble between her thumb and forefinger. Buffy allowed herself a smile as she watched the color rise and darken along Buffybot's neck, turning into a blush along her cheeks. Both of their eyes had narrowed to heavy-lidded slits, glimmering with their participation in the game.
Now Buffy's palm brushed an expanse of strong thigh, gliding up and around to test the firmness of Buffybot's ass. Some mad scientist had done a good job on her; all that solid power packed into such a lithe body, just like Buffy's own...
"You have to get clean, Buffy." Buffybot eased Buffy's roving hand back down into the bathtub. "The water will get cold. Cold water makes hard nipples."
Protest rose to Buffy's lips but got no further, emerging only as a moan of acquiescence. Buffybot's fingers had slipped low in the water to stroke her flesh and probe adroitly from behind the washcloth, making Buffy hot all over, limp all over.
"Your nipples are already hard," Buffybot said in that obtusely knowing way of hers.
Buffy just gave up and allowed herself to be washed and rinsed without uttering a sound, without making a move. She couldn't be bothered with wanting to dominate a machine; all she felt was desire, a need for sexual release, becoming more demanding with every attentive touch.
Then, after an interminable eternity of anticipation and stoppered fulfillment, Buffybot was pulling her out of the tub and wrapped her in a big fluffy towel. Buffy let her dry her off, patience running thin, but still Buffybot's hands kept patting and rubbing, stretching the simple chore into a production. Until she couldn't endure it any more.
"Don't tease me," Buffy muttered.
"Ceasing teasing protocol," Buffybot reported. "Would you like an orgasm or should I cease the sexual encounter?"
"Just fuck me."
"You have consented to continue the sexual encounter."
Buffy was guided into her bedroom, onto the bed. Breathless with anticipation, she sank into the softness while hardly conscious of the luxury. She could only think of the satisfaction she was finally going to receive.
"Just relax, Buffy. I'm used to doing all the work."
Relaxation was impossible, but Buffy did manage to lie obediently pliant as Buffybot got onto the bed, moving her this way and that, positioning her body according to some lesbian feng shui. It was an effort to remain still, though, and Buffy whimpered and tossed her head when Buffybot's mouth first touched her, open lips on her breast, hot and wet and almost painfully possessive, as if Buffybot recognized it was hers and wanted it back.
She felt Buffybot's soft lips close and tighten around the nipple, leaving just enough room for her tongue to come into play at the swollen tip, trying to provoke mother's milk from her model with maddeningly ingenious strokes. There was suction and pressure at the same time, all in the same long kiss, and Buffy could hear Buffybot's tongue lapping as she rolled her face around to strike and feast ravenously from every angle.
It was almost anticlimactic when she shifted to the other breast. Buffy's thighs opened and closed of their own volition, trying to give herself the delicious pressure that now gripped both nipples. She had waited too long, her desire had been stoked to too high a pitch for her to have any control over her body. The heat was simply too intense for her to stand.
As if that was just what she'd wanted, Buffybot began a moist trail of slowly descending kisses at Buffy's heaving breasts, continuing over her quivering belly and down to her straining thighs. Buffy jammed the heels of both feet into the mattress and thrust her hips upward, urging the robot to hurry, demanding, imploring, beseeching, clamoring silently for deliverance. And for once Buffybot understood completely, ending the slow softness to jam her tongue to the core of Buffy's need.
It was so direct, so potent, so ravishingly thorough. As if Buffy were being burned up in a furnace, and yet each stroke was so incomparably blissful that she prayed it would never stop. And then somehow even that was surpassed as Buffybot's powerful hands dug underneath Buffy to lift her ass high off the bed, to feed that much more of her cunt to Buffybot's insatiable mouth. Until the deepest recesses of her body vibrated to the tune set by Buffybot's rhythmic, rapturous tongue...
