Author Notes: In this chapter, Buffybot makes her comeback. Next up: the funny begins.

August 14, 2003

New York wasn't all that much different from Sunnydale - just in every tangible way imaginable... Bigger, polluted, full of crime and people scurrying about as fast as their legs could carry them. More fatalities but a whole lot less mysterious ones. Somehow, though, John didn't notice the change. He was an obsessed man, rarely leaving his home, a bungalow in the suburbs, except for the necessities of life (i.e. pork rinds and beer) and repair parts for the object of his obsession.

The mechatronics course recommended by the now late Warren Mears had been useful but, with four months shy of only a two year community college program under his belt before the earthquake buried the town, John's progress with the robot had been slow, not to mention the difficulties with the purely aesthetic aspect. Radio Shack could get him all the parts he needed to repair her, but Fabricland or GE Polymershapes just couldn't do the same for her torn skin. Even his best effort after almost a year of experimentation still looked like she had suffered severe third degree burns around her shoulders and thighs, and across her chest where he had found a deep gash. Indeed, it was that deep gash that had caused his electrocution and subsequent lack of hair last year. The high voltage wiring needed to be replaced, but at least the capacitor was still okay.

Things were coming together, though. Soon he would see the results of all his hard work. Last week he had began testing the reconnected limbs one at a time, powered and controlled from an external power source. All but the left arm had functioned perfectly... well, exactly as he guessed they were supposed to. The damage to her left arm was a bit worse that he could repair without a full mechanical rebuild, and he wasn't sure that he could do it. And it still worked fairly well, though it didn't have the full range of motion or the speed of her right.

Today he sat hunched over his laptop, peering at the mindless mass of assembly code scrolling down his LCD monitor. John knew the code well by now, and had used it to deduce the models of some of melted chips he'd needed to replace. Now he was looking at it for a different reason. Today he was going to try to fire her up for the first time.

She was plugged into the laptop through a thick parallel cable protruding from her belly. It was like she was a child, a newborn connected through an umbilical cord to her mother. Over the months John had begun to think of her as a person rather than a machine. How would his feelings change when she came to life? It was obvious now that, if the code did what it looked like it could do, she would do more than just fuck; she would be a startling approximation of a human being! What would she be like? What personality was she capable of? It was exciting yet scary at the same time.

John took a deep breath. The software was booted up and synchronized with the robot's on-board PIC. It was ready. He clicked 'run' and crossed his fingers and toes.

A second whisper of a humming sound joined the fan in his computer. A few moments later he saw her breathe, moving on her own for the first time. It was a beautiful sight. She was stirring, her pretty face turning to face his at the end of her delicate neck. Her lips parted and she spoke!

"ZZZZZzzzzhhhhhhrrrrrNNNNN... Tlick! Tlick! Tlick!"

John sighed. He had been so optimistic - too optimistic - that she would be perfect. The robot blinked up at him, sweetly. John met her gaze and smiled back at her. All was not lost. It was still a resounding success, even without speech. She was trying to sit up but fell onto her plump ass with an awkward thump. He searched the code. Her gyroscopes were returning garbage values, balance and attitude were in turn misguided. Speech functions were locked up at line 15024 and he had no idea why. That would be a bigger problem to fix.

"Well, Babe," he said to the struggling robot, "I guess I have more work to do. Hang tight." He grabbed a little screwdriver and was about to stop the program when her deceptively strong little hand grabbed his wrist. It was a good thing he'd gone to the bathroom earlier. A really good thing.

When the robot started reaching for his groin and stroked him delicately, he nearly fainted. It was almost too good to be true. When her hand started unzipping his pants, the tiny screwdriver fell from his fingers and disappeared under the counter, never to be found again.

He had kept her nude, since it was easier for him to access all her maintenance ports, but the more important reason was that he just liked to look at her. It would not be the first time he had indulged, but it would be hers. He booted up the program again, disabling the faulty speech module, and uploaded it to the robot. John unplugged the parallel cable and closed her belly port.

As she slid her hand into his boxers, he carried her to his bed. She was heavy, much heavier than she looked. A girl that size would only weight a hundred pounds or so; the robot, filled with metal and a large capacitor power source, must have weighed half again that much. Which still put her at twenty pounds less than his ex-wife (shudder). As soon as her naked back hit his sheets, her legs spread invitingly, and her arms reached out to bring him toward her. John let her take him down, and he continued to disrobe. He kissed her lips, full, warm, and wet - not at all like a machine. Her tongue forced it's way into his mouth, and his eyes shot open in surprise. The vixen machine writhed under his body, wrapped her legs around his thighs and her arms around his torso. She must have been programmed for pain because her fingernails tore into his back. He detected no problem at all with her left arm.

This was better than any real woman he had ever been with. She nipped lightly on his ear. The programmer was a genius! John's hand reached down for her breast. It was round, firm, small, but filled with the same warmth as her lips. With the robot running her nipple perked up under his fingers and, lord, she quivered beneath him. She had never reacted to his touch before, now she was perfect, his very own porn star.

After he finished, he would have liked to fall asleep within her embrace, but he had work to do. Painfully, he got up and went to find his clothes. The robot hurried to follow him but toppled off the bed and went crashing to the floor. He switched her off, and carried her back to his workshop. With a little luck, he'd have her fixed before she broke something. Else.