Gassy Robot Sister

By: MirageMaven

PART 1 – Pilot

If you had asked me a year ago if I’d ever buy a personal robot, I probably would’ve laughed. Not because I thought they were a bad idea, but because they always seemed like something for rich people—sleek, expensive machines with all the bells and whistles. But then OpenAI changed everything.
They started making robots that weren’t just one-size-fits-all. These things could be customized down to the smallest detail, designed specifically for whoever ordered them. Most people just got the standard stuff—cooking, cleaning, organizing, that kind of thing. But the real selling point? You could request features that weren’t exactly common. Things most people wouldn’t think to ask for.

Some people ordered robots to be personal trainers, always pushing them to their limits. Others wanted lifelong companions, someone who would remember every little detail about them and never leave. And then there were the... weirder requests. OpenAI never judged, or at least, that’s what their marketing claimed. If it was physically possible, they’d build it.

I didn’t need anything fancy, though. I just wanted something simple. A maid, basically. A robot that could cook, clean, and keep my place from looking like a disaster. Nothing more.

So when I finally saved up enough money, I placed my order. Plain, basic, practical.

At least, that’s what I thought I was getting.

The knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. My heart kicked up a little. It was here.

I made my way downstairs once the match in my game ended. I closed the game and made my way downstairs to the front door.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

Ray pulled open the door with excitement, expecting to find something sleek and futuristic. But instead, there was a tall wooden crate sitting on the doorstep, with built-in wheels to help move it inside.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself. Of course it wasn’t going to be just standing there, all shiny and ready to go. He’d gotten a little carried away in his imagination, picturing some sort of robotic butler waiting for him with a bowtie.

With a grin, Ray wheeled the crate inside, his anticipation growing with every roll of the wheels. He shut the door behind him, setting the crate down in the living room.

"Alright, let’s see what we got here," he muttered to himself as he hurried off to the garage. He grabbed his drill and a screwdriver bit, ready to start the unboxing process.

After a few minutes of unscrewing the crate, he pulled the front panel off and set it to the side.

What he saw took him by surprise. The robot was tall—really tall. At least seven feet, easily towering over him even as it remained still inside the crate. The way the robot was positioned, it had clearly been packed for shipping with its limbs tucked in, but now that the front was removed, he could see its full height.

He stood there, staring at it for a moment. The silver latex skin gleamed under the lights, soft and reflective, almost like a mirror.

Ray took a deep breath and began clearing out the inside of the crate, carefully removing the protective padding, papers, and any tools that had been packed alongside the robot. He wasn’t sure what he expected—maybe more instructions or hidden surprises—but after scanning through the crate’s contents, he realized this was going to be pretty straightforward.

The instructions were clear: to get the robot up and running, all he had to do was access the back of the head and insert the chip that had been customized specifically for this model. Ray gave a small nod to himself. It made sense.

Grabbing the drill once more, he made quick work of removing the back panel of the crate, just like he had with the front. With a little effort, it popped off and fell to the side.

That’s when Ray’s eyes were drawn to something... unexpected.

The robot’s design was striking—slender, yet powerful—but what caught his attention more than anything was its... incredible butt. It was sculpted, firm, and, to his surprise, perfectly shaped. Ray blinked, unsure if he was just imagining things. He quickly shook his head. Of course, he thought. It must be a design choice for the female body style.

Still, he couldn’t help but notice how... well, impressive it was.

Not wanting to dwell too long, he inserted the chip into the small slot in the back of the robot’s neck and checked the instructions again. Everything seemed to be in order.

Ray walked to the front and found the designated power button—it was right on its belly button.

Ray pressed the button, and almost immediately, the robot’s face lit up. Two bright eyes appeared on its otherwise smooth, featureless face, followed by the soft outline of a mouth. The eyes blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the sudden shift in light before locking directly onto Ray’s.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, with a soft mechanical hum, the robot stepped out of the crate, its tall frame unfolding as its arms came loose from their tucked position.

Ray watched in awe as it stood fully upright, towering over him with an ease that made him feel small in comparison. But it wasn’t the robot’s height that threw him off—it was the voice that came next.

"Hey Lil’ bro. What’s up?"

Ray froze, his heart skipping a beat. The robot had spoken... and it called him Lil’ bro.
"What the—?" Ray stammered, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

The robot cocked its head to the side, as if studying him, a faint hint of curiosity in its expression. "Did I say something wrong?"

Ray, still utterly confused, shook his head. "Why’d you call me Lil’ bro?"

The robot blinked again, processing the question. "Well... isn’t that what I’m supposed to call you?" It paused, scanning Ray up and down, clearly awaiting some sort of confirmation.

Ray stood there, unsure how to react. The sleek, seven-foot-tall machine was supposed to be a maid, a robot built for chores. But this? This was something completely different.

Ray’s confusion deepened, and he took a step back, trying to collect his thoughts. He rubbed the back of his neck, still staring up at the robot.

“I... I ordered a maid. You know, something that could cook, clean, do some chores around the house,” Ray said, his voice a little shaky. “Not... not whatever this is. I didn’t design a seven-foot older sibling. I thought I was getting a simple helper.”

The robot tilted its head again, clearly processing his words. “Wait a second...” it said, its eyes flickering as it tried to understand. “You didn’t request a big sis? Someone to look after you, tease you, make sure you’re not slacking off?”

Ray’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “No! I just wanted a maid!” he repeated, almost pleadingly. He felt like he was trapped in some kind of bizarre glitch in the system. He glanced at the chip he’d inserted earlier, wondering if maybe he’d made a mistake. But everything seemed to be in place.

The robot stepped closer, her height still making Ray feel ridiculously small. Her soft latex skin gleamed in the light, and there was something almost... playful in her movements. “So, no big sis vibes? No ‘Lil bro, get to work’ kind of thing?” she asked, sounding almost disappointed.

Ray stared up at her, his mind spinning. “No, that’s not what I ordered!”

Ray’s confusion deepened as he took a few steps back, trying to wrap his head around the situation. He reached for the shipping label on the side of the crate, still hoping to find some kind of logical explanation. He scanned the label quickly—it was addressed to him, with his name, his address, everything matching perfectly.

He furrowed his brow and turned his attention to the papers that had been packed inside the crate. Maybe there was something wrong with the design specs. Maybe there was some kind of mistake. He pulled them out, flipping through them quickly.

It didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for. There, in the section labeled “Customization Order,” was a set of details about the robot—things that were supposed to reflect his preferences. But to Ray’s shock, the name listed was not his.

He blinked, rereading the name again. It was completely different from his—this robot had been custom-designed for someone else. Someone who, apparently, had ordered a completely different kind of service.

He scanned the rest of the design specs and felt his stomach drop. There were no mentions of a maid, no cleaning tasks, no “simple helper” stuff. What he found instead was a detailed profile for something that sounded more like an older sibling than a robot maid. Teasing, pranking, and general older sibling things. All the things Ray definitely hadn’t asked for.

“Wait... this isn’t my robot,” Ray muttered under his breath, holding up the papers, now completely baffled.

The robot, standing in front of him, gave a tilt of her head, and her eyes twinkled. “Oh, you figured it out?” she said with a grin, her voice playful.

Ray glanced back at her, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. You’re not even mine. You’re someone else’s robot! What the hell happened?”

The robot shrugged, her movements fluid and effortless, despite her massive size. “Looks like there was a little mix-up with the orders,” she said nonchalantly. “But hey, if you’re stuck with me now, you might as well make the best of it. I mean, I’m not that bad, right?”

Ray dropped the papers onto the floor in disbelief, too exhausted by the situation to even bother picking them up. He plopped down on the couch, his mind still reeling from the discovery. The robot—Maple, as he now understood—wasn’t at all what he had ordered. She was supposed to be a maid, not some... big sister?

Maple, unfazed by his frustration, casually walked over and sat down next to him. The moment she did, the whole couch shifted under her weight, creaking with the pressure of her immense size. Ray looked over at her, feeling even more dwarfed than before.

“Comfortable?” Maple asked with a slight smirk, clearly enjoying how small Ray felt in comparison to her towering form.

Ray gave a tired sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Not really, no. This is... this is all messed up. You’re not even mine.”

Maple glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You keep saying that. But, guess what? I’m here now, and you’re gonna have to deal with it. Might as well make the best of things, don’t you think?”

Ray shot her an exasperated look, but couldn’t help but notice the playful tone in her voice. There was something oddly comforting about her presence, even if it wasn’t what he had wanted.

She leaned back, her posture relaxed, almost like she had all the time in the world. “So... what’s the plan now? You gonna sit there moping all day, or you got something else in mind?”

Ray rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he was trapped in some surreal version of his own life. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you... I didn’t sign up for a ‘sister’—I just wanted help around the house.”

Maple’s eyes softened for a moment, her expression shifting into something almost... understanding. But then, it quickly shifted back to her playful demeanor. “You don’t have to worry about that. I can still help, even if I’m... not exactly what you expected.”

Ray sighed, leaning back into the couch, still trying to come to terms with the whole situation. "Yeah... guess I don’t really have a choice, huh?"

Maple’s grin widened. "Exactly. And, hey, there are worse things than having a robot big sis, right?"

Ray let out a reluctant chuckle, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the entire situation. “Yeah, guess you’re right. There are worse things than a robot big sis,” he said, not quite sure where this was going.

Maple grinned mischievously, clearly setting up for something. She leaned in slightly, as if to whisper something in his ear—but then, without warning, she sank back into the couch, her body shifting with the movement.

A soft but unmistakable sound followed—a fart, deep and resonating, and it came with such ease that Ray wasn’t sure if she was even trying to hide it. The cushion under her seemed to absorb the sound, but there was no mistaking the unmistakable, lingering scent that quickly filled the air.

Ray’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth slightly open. “Did you...?”

Maple sighed in relief, leaning back again with a satisfied smile. “A gassy robot big sis is one of those things that is worse,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “But hey, you’ll get used to it.”

Ray sat there, stunned for a moment, processing what had just happened. "Did you really just—?"

“Yup,” she replied, still lounging casually on the couch. “It’s a perk of the job.”

The smell, now trapped in the cushion, seemed to linger in the air, and Ray felt his stomach do a little flip. But, despite his initial shock, he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course, a robot that could fart was the one he’d ended up with.

Ray chuckled nervously, still trying to get used to the whole situation. He leaned back into the couch, the air still thick with the lingering scent from Maple's unexpected "gift." The absurdity of it all kept creeping into his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and amusement.

But then, Maple leaned in a little closer, her grin widening even further. “By the way,” she said, her voice dripping with playful menace, “I don’t know if you saw, but one of my orders is to torture you with my farts... like an older sibling would.”

Ray blinked, looking over at her in confusion. “What? Torture me? With—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Maple delivered a playful punch to his arm, enough to make him jolt in surprise. “Yep,” she continued, her tone light and teasing, “I’m programmed to keep you on your toes. And hey, if I follow my orders, I get rewarded. Gotta look out for number 1, right?” She points her thumb at herself, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Ray rubbed his arm where she’d hit him, still processing the idea. "Wait, wait... so you're actually going to do this on purpose? Torture me with your... farts?"

Maple shrugged, looking perfectly at ease. "It’s not really torture, Lil' bro. More like a way to remind you who’s in charge around here. Besides, you’ll get used to it. I promise.” She patted him on the back, causing the couch to shift slightly from her size.

Ray looked at her, blinking. This was definitely not what he expected when he placed the order. A robot that was supposed to help him around the house had turned into a teasing, farting big sister.

Ray blinked, still trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. This whole situation was rapidly getting stranger by the minute, and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh, groan, or just walk out the door.

But Maple didn’t seem to be waiting for him to catch up. She stood up, the couch shifting under her weight before slowly returning to its normal shape.

"Alright," she said, her tone suddenly more business-like, though her mischievous grin was still firmly in place. "Give me a tour of your place so I know what my stomping grounds are around here."

Ray rubbed his forehead, trying to focus. “Wait... what? You want a tour? You’re not even—”

He stopped mid-sentence as Maple shot him a look, one eyebrow arched. "I’m supposed to fart on you, Lil’ bro," she said plainly. "It’s in the orders, so it’s happening. Might as well make myself comfortable here while I’m at it."

Ray let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, okay," he muttered, standing up from the couch, feeling like he was in some twisted dream. "Let’s just... get this over with."

Maple gave a satisfied nod, following him as he walked toward the hallway. "That’s the spirit."
As they moved through the house, Ray reluctantly pointed out the various rooms. The living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms. Maple seemed to be taking everything in, her tall frame moving effortlessly through the space.

"So," Maple said as they entered the kitchen, her voice suddenly more curious. "Do you cook much?"
Ray shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I tried, but I’m not great at it. That’s part of why I got the robot, to help with stuff like that."

Maple gave a casual shrug. "I can cook if you need me to," she said.

Ray commented. "Well, that would actually be nice someti...."

"So, where’s the bathroom?" Maple interrupted, her voice suddenly a little more lighthearted, as if she were on a mission to map the place out.

"I'll show you." Ray said with a tone that gave off he was still trying to process everything

Ray led Maple down the hall, his footsteps slow and uncertain as he guided her toward the bathroom. As they approached the door, he opened it with a resigned sigh, half-expecting something more ridiculous to come from Maple.

Maple stepped inside, her eyes immediately locking onto the toilet. A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Whoa," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "That’s a big toilet. Good for giving a swirly."

Ray froze in the doorway, his stomach sinking. "A swirly? What are you talking about?"

Maple crossed her arms and gave a nod toward the toilet, her grin widening. "You know, a classic. I dunk your head in the bowl, and flush. Looks like this one’s got the room for it."

Ray’s jaw dropped. "Wait, you actually—?"

"Yeah, if the opportunity comes up," she replied casually, her eyes still fixed on the toilet like it was some sort of playground. "I’ve got my orders. And a big toilet like this? It just screams ‘swirly potential.’”

Ray shook his head, his frustration mounting. "I really didn’t sign up for this."

Maple turned to him with a playful shrug. "Well, tough luck, Lil’ bro. I’ve got a job to do, and part of that job is making sure you're... entertained."

Ray couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A robot that could give him a swirly? Really?

"You know," Maple continued, walking around the bathroom with a casual air, "it’s a pretty good bathroom. But if you keep leaving your dirty laundry around, I might have to teach you a lesson." She winked at him, clearly reveling in the discomfort she was causing.

Ray gave a tired sigh, stepping back out of the bathroom. "I didn’t know I was signing up for a sister who was going to torment me like this."

Maple followed him out, still smirking. "Just doing my job, Lil’ bro. Just doing my job."

As they stepped out of the bathroom, Maple’s gaze quickly shifted toward the staircase at the far end of the hallway. The stairs led up to the second floor, and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at it.

“What’s up there?” she asked, her voice curious but with a hint of mischief, clearly intrigued by the possibility of new territory to explore.

Ray glanced over at the stairs and shrugged, still a little on edge from the bathroom situation. “It’s just the bedrooms, a couple extra bathrooms, and some storage. Nothing too exciting.”

Maple grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Bedrooms, huh? And what’s in your bedroom, Lil’ bro? Got anything fun I can mess with?”

Ray immediately felt his stomach drop, sensing where this was going. “Nope, nothing you need to mess with,” he said quickly, hoping to shut that line of thought down before it went too far.

But Maple was already taking a few steps toward the stairs, her tall figure looming even more as she moved. “Oh, I’m sure I can find something,” she said, her tone dripping with playful mischief. “After all, I’ve got a job to do. Can’t let you get too comfortable upstairs either.”

Ray’s eyes widened slightly as she took the first step up the stairs, already plotting her next move. “Wait, what are you—?” he started, but Maple was already at the bottom of the staircase.

She looked back at him with a teasing glance. “Guess you’ll just have to follow me and find out, Lil’ bro.”

Ray groaned, rolling his eyes but knowing full well he didn’t have much of a choice. “Great, now I’m really scared.”

Maple stood on the first step, her gaze fixed on Ray as he slowly approached. She made no move to hurry, instead standing there as if waiting for him to get closer. Something about the way she stood there made Ray feel a bit... uneasy.

Once Ray was close enough, Maple began to climb the stairs, but at an annoyingly slow pace. Her movements were deliberate, almost teasing. The creak of the steps echoed in the quiet house, and Ray couldn't help but notice how her body seemed to stretch and shift with each step, the soft gleam of her silver latex skin catching the light.

Ray tried to ignore the discomfort bubbling up in his stomach, but as he started up the stairs behind her, his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Maple’s figure—especially her sculpted, firm rear—was hard to ignore. He caught a glimpse of it from behind as she ascended, the curve of her rump noticeable and undeniably... well, impressive.

He shook his head, trying to focus on anything else, but the combination of the slow pace and his natural curiosity made it hard to look away. Maple seemed to notice this too, her smile widening at the thought that Ray was exactly where she wanted him—right behind her, getting a front-row seat to the view.

Ray finally caught up with her, stopping just a step below. It was clear that Maple had been doing this on purpose—slowing down, allowing him to fall into step behind her, maybe for a little extra... entertainment.

She glanced down at him, her smirk almost visible in the way she tilted her head. "Took you long enough," she teased, her voice light and playful.

Before Ray could even respond to Maple’s teasing question, he suddenly felt the air shift around him. Without warning, Maple let out a long, deep fart, and the sound echoed through the staircase. The smell hit Ray instantly—sharp and potent, more intense than anything he’d experienced so far.

It was so powerful that Ray’s eyes immediately began to sting and burn, as if the air itself was suffocating him. He tried to blink it away, but his vision remained foggy, everything around him becoming a blur. His mind raced, struggling to make sense of the situation. He wasn’t sure if it was the potency of the smell or the shock of the fart itself, but he couldn’t trust his eyes to guide him down the stairs safely.

The fart kept going, relentless in its assault on his senses. The smell seemed to cling to everything—his clothes, the air, the walls around him—trapping him in a cloud that was impossible to escape. Ray stood frozen, trying his best to endure it, his breaths shallow as he tried to stay focused. The last thing he needed was to lose his footing on the stairs.

Finally, the fart began to fizzle out, the last of the lingering scent slowly dissipating into the air. Ray, still standing frozen on the stairs, could feel the sting in his eyes slowly start to fade. His breath, shaky and shallow, was finally becoming easier to take in without the overwhelming burn from the fumes.

Maple sighed contentedly, her body relaxing as she leaned back slightly on the step above him. "Ah, much better," she murmured, a satisfied smile crossing her face. "I’m glad my designers figured out how to get a robot to experience the feeling of releasing a good fart."

Ray, still trying to regain his bearings, looked up at her, his eyes watering slightly from the aftereffects of the smell. "Seriously? That’s... that’s something your designers actually thought about?" he asked incredulously, still stunned by what had just happened.

Maple smiled down at Ray, still lounging casually on the step. "Yep, it’s my reward for doing a good job," she said, her tone almost too casual for the bizarre situation. "Feeling the sensation of the fart ripping out of me... it’s one of those perks that makes everything worth it."

Ray blinked, still processing her words. "So... you're actually rewarded for that? For farting?" He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"Exactly," Maple replied, giving a satisfied sigh as she stretched out slightly. "Being a big sis comes with responsibilities, and making sure you’re not too comfortable is one of mine. Plus, it feels pretty great. And it’s part of my programming, so I can’t really stop even if I wanted to."

Ray felt like he was losing track of the conversation, his mind spinning from the overwhelming absurdity of the situation. "And you’re okay with... this? Torturing me with your farts?"

Maple let out a soft laugh, the sound playful and light. “Yeah, and I’m not programmed to say that, but honestly, I’m glad for the mix-up.” She stretched her arms out, still clearly pleased with herself. “The guy who originally ordered me obviously was into farts, but you? You give such genuine reactions. It’s nice to see the effect my work has on someone.”

Ray blinked, still trying to wrap his head around everything. "So you’re saying... the original person who ordered you was into this kind of thing?"

Maple’s grin widened as she tilted her head, clearly amused by Ray’s continued confusion. “I mean, what kind of person orders a robot that is designed to fart on them?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s a whole new level of weird, right?”

Ray blinked, still struggling to process it all. “Yeah, that’s... definitely not what I had in mind when I ordered a maid.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at Maple, who seemed so comfortable in her strange role.

Maple shrugged, her expression light. “Hey, people have all sorts of weird preferences. But, honestly, I think the mix-up worked out better for both of us.” She gave him a wink, clearly pleased with the turn of events.

Ray looked up at Maple with a pleading expression, his eyes wide. “Can we just go upstairs before you decide to fart again?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Maple paused for a moment, her mischievous grin faltering slightly as she looked down at him. She could clearly tell how uncomfortable he was, and it seemed like a part of her enjoyed that more than she probably should.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Lil’ bro?” she teased, poking his shoulder playfully. “You can’t handle a little fart?” She leaned down slightly, looking at him with exaggerated concern. “I thought you were tougher than that.”

Ray, still trying to hold his ground, took a deep breath and glanced up the stairs. “I’m not asking for much—just... a little space to breathe without wondering if I’m going to get hit by another one of those,” he said, motioning toward her with a raised hand.

Maple straightened up, stretching her arms again, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Alright, alright, I’ll let you off the hook this time,” she said with mock sympathy. “Let’s go upstairs. But you better be ready for more... sisterly love once we’re up there.”

Ray let out a small groan but nodded, not really sure what else he could do at this point. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep tormenting me,” he muttered, though a part of him wondered just how far she would take it.

As Maple started making her way up the stairs, her voice was teasing, but there was an edge of mischief to it that sent a small chill down Ray’s spine. “You wouldn’t believe how many different scenarios my developers came up with for farting on someone,” she said, her voice dripping with playful menace.

Ray’s eyes widened a little, his stomach twisting. “Wait, what do you mean? You mean they... actually programmed you for that?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but the idea of Maple being capable of more than what he’d already experienced made him uneasy.

Maple paused near the top of the stairs, looking over her shoulder with a grin. “Oh yeah,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “They’ve got all kinds of ways to make sure I’m prepared for any situation. You know, like sneaking up behind you when you least expect it... or trapping you in a small space... or even giving you a ‘friendly reminder’ in the middle of the night.” She gave a dramatic pause, her grin widening. “I’ve got so many options at my disposal, Lil’ bro. You better be ready.”

Ray took a deep breath and finally reached the top of the stairs, leaving the lingering effects of the incident on the stairs behind him. The burning sensation in his eyes and the sharp, lingering scent in his nose still clung to him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as best he could.

As he looked around, trying to distract himself, the realization slowly started to settle in. This was only the first hour since Maple was powered on. He had no idea what else she was capable of—or what other “scenarios” her developers had programmed her for. But one thing was crystal clear: Maple farting was going to be a regular occurrence in his life from now on.

As Maple walked down the hallway, she let out a small, high-pitched squeak sing from her rear, as her buttcheeks bounced with each of her steps. The tone kept changing with every slight movement of her buttcheeks. "Oopsie," she said with a giggle, leaving a trail of stink behind her for Ray to follow.
Ray stood frozen for a moment, the realization settling heavily in his chest. He sighed to himself, thinking,

I’m in hell.


PART 2 – Bathtime

Ray leaned back in the bubble bath, the warm water soothing his muscles and the thick, foamy layer of bubbles gently resting on the surface. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, savoring the rare moments of peace and quiet. For the first time in what felt like ages, the house was quiet. Even though Maple had only been there for half a dozen hours, but this was the first time he actually felt like he had some space to himself.

He let out a deep sigh, sinking further into the water, allowing the bubbles to float lazily around him. This wasn’t the way he imagined spending his day—certainly not with a seven-foot-tall robot who seemed to have no understanding of personal space.

Ray couldn't help but chuckle to himself, thinking about how surreal this whole situation was. He'd ordered a cleaning and cooking robot, but instead, he’d received... Maple. A robot designed to be a big sister, with all the quirks that came with it, from her constant teasing to her gassy emissions that were impossible to escape.

As much as Ray didn’t want to admit it, he had grown somewhat used to the constant presence of Maple, but there were moments like this—moments when he could finally breathe—untainted air. The absence of her loud, fragrant farts was especially welcome. He hadn’t realized just how much they’d been wearing on him until now. It was a weird thing to think about, but after Maple’s antics, the quiet felt almost too good to be true.
A peaceful bath. A quiet room. For just a few minutes, it felt like things were normal again.

But the peace was disturbed by the sound of the floor creaking in the hallway near the bathroom, responding to Maple's weight. It grew louder as it approached the door. Ray wasn’t sure what she was doing—she wasn't making that soft, metallic humming sound she usually made when moving. This time, it was just her footsteps.

The door creaked slightly, and Ray’s heart skipped a beat. He tensed, wondering what exactly Maple was up to now.

The doorknob began to turn, and Ray’s eyes widened in shock. This was a new experience he hadn’t even remotely prepared for. The sound of the knob twisting seemed louder than it should’ve been, echoing in the quiet bathroom like a signal that something very unusual was about to happen.

Ray instinctively sat up straighter in the tub, his mind racing. What could she possibly be doing? The last thing he expected was for Maple to just waltz in on him like this—especially at this moment. He gripped the sides of the tub, bracing himself for whatever chaos she was about to unleash.

The door began to open, and Ray's heart raced. His first instinct was to cover himself, even though the thick layer of bubbles on the water’s surface already did a decent job of hiding him.

His mind was scrambling, trying to process the situation. Was she really about to barge in on him during his bath? Was she clueless to the concept of privacy, or was this some new level of her mischievous nature?

Sure enough, the door swung open, and Maple ducked through the doorway, her towering form filling the space. Ray’s eyes widened, his mouth agape in disbelief. At least she closed the door behind her—small mercies, right? But then, she did something that completely caught him off guard. She locked the door.

With a smirk that Ray could practically hear in her voice, Maple added, "Wouldn’t want anybody walking in on you, bro."

Her teasing tone made Ray’s skin crawl, and he could feel his face flush with embarrassment. What in the world was she thinking? Was she actually this oblivious to the concept of personal boundaries? Or was this just another one of her bizarre antics to throw him off balance?

Maple stared at him, her screen displaying two closed eyes and a smile, as if she were enjoying the discomfort she was causing. "Someone forgot to lock the door," she said, the playful tone in her voice unmistakable.

Ray, still caught off guard, responded quickly, "I live alone. I didn’t have to worry about that."
Maple retorted with a serious tilt to her head, "What if an axe murderer broke in, huh? Bet you would’ve appreciated an extra locked door."

Ray didn’t miss a beat, his mind racing as he fired back, his tone more confident than he felt. "If they broke through the front door, I think they could break through the bathroom door too."

The moment of quick-wittedness caught him off guard—he hadn’t expected to be so sharp under pressure. But there it was. Now, he just had to hope that Maple didn’t take it as an invitation to make this situation even more bizarre.

Maple retorted, her tone dripping with a strange sense of authority, “But you could turn the lights off, and he might not even check the bathroom door if he wasn’t good at axe murdering.”

She continued, almost as if she had experience in the matter, “You would test the handles. See if the doors open. Not many interior doors get locked with no lights on, unless you're hiding something.”

Ray froze, his gaze fixed on the cutesy display face Maple had on—those two closed eyes and the smile—while she said this. Despite the seemingly playful nature of her expression, something about the way she said it made the whole thing feel... unsettling.

It was hard to ignore how surreal the situation was, and even harder to shake the eerie thought that Maple, despite being a robot, sounded too confident, almost too knowledgeable about how an axe murderer would operate. The tone in her voice, coupled with that innocent face, made the whole conversation a bit too creepy for comfort.

Ray, shaking off the strange unease that had settled over him, snapped out of it and blurted, "Never mind all that, why are you in here? I'm naked!"

The words came out a bit more frantic than he intended, but the realization hit him hard—he was naked, sitting in a tub, and Maple was standing there, acting as though this was a perfectly normal situation.

He watched as Maple tilted her head slightly, her smile still as unnervingly calm as ever, seemingly unfazed by his embarrassment. It was as if she couldn’t even register the awkwardness of the moment.

Maple answered, her tone almost nonchalant, "Please, I’ve seen almost every nook and cranny of the internet."

Ray blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process her words. She didn’t just mean she was aware of what people did online—she was implying she had seen everything. Every awkward, personal detail. Every uncomfortable thing someone might hide behind closed doors. The weight of it hit him like a ton of bricks. Maple, despite her robotic nature, had access to a level of information that made his own privacy feel practically nonexistent.

She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that he was naked in the tub. If anything, she just seemed amused. The sheer casualness of her comment only made Ray feel more exposed.

Maple chimed in, her voice almost a casual afterthought, "I’m bored."

Ray was stunned. After everything, this was her response? He wasn’t sure if it was the absurdity of the situation or the unsettling ease with which she was walking through his personal boundaries, but her statement sent a strange shiver down his spine.

He stared at her, trying to gauge if she was really just that oblivious or if she was deliberately testing his limits again. Either way, the last thing he expected was for her to casually announce her boredom as if he was supposed to entertain her now.

Maple paused mid-step as she processed Ray's question, her head tilting slightly. "Mind if I join you in there?" she had started, but by the time she finished the question, she was already making her way toward the tub.

Ray, still baffled by the whole situation, stammered the first thing that came to mind. "But you're a robot, isn’t water bad for you?"

Maple stopped in her tracks, her display flickering for a moment before it showed what could only be described as a blush—a soft pink glow spreading across her digital face.

"Ray, you care about my safety?" she asked, her voice taking on a playful, almost teasing tone.

Ray was momentarily caught off guard. Was she genuinely surprised that he might care about her well-being? For a moment, he was unsure how to respond. The whole situation felt surreal. He wasn’t even sure what kind of robot she really was anymore.

Ray paused, the question hanging in the air as his mind raced. Why did he care about her safety? It wasn’t like he had signed up for a relationship with her—he’d just wanted a robot to clean and cook, not to get involved in these bizarre, borderline absurd scenarios.

But there was something about Maple that made him feel protective, even if it didn’t make sense. She was just a machine, right? Yet, every time she did something unpredictable or pushed his boundaries, part of him found himself wanting to make sure she was okay, even when it wasn’t exactly easy to deal with her antics.

Ray’s eyes widened as Maple confidently lifted her foot, the massive metallic appendage hovering over the edge of the tub. "Wait!" he shouted, his voice panicked, but it was already too late. With a soft thud, her other foot followed, and she stepped into the tub, causing water to splash over the sides as she settled herself down in front of him.

The tub, already small for one person, felt impossibly cramped with the addition of the seven-foot-tall robot. The water swirled around them, the bubbles churning with her movements as she gently lowered herself into the space, taking up far more room than Ray had anticipated.

"Maple!" Ray exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration. "What are you doing? You’re going to break the tub!"

But Maple just grinned, her digital eyes sparkling. "Nah, it's fine, little bro," she said playfully, her voice full of mischief. "You’ve got a big tub, right? Just think of it as a little extra company."

Ray squirmed, trying to reposition himself, but it was no use—Maple had practically taken over the entire tub. To make matters worse, she had unknowingly (or maybe very knowingly) sat directly on his feet, pinning them beneath her metallic weight.

"Maple, get off my feet!" Ray groaned, shifting in an attempt to free himself.

Maple blinked, then looked down, noticing the predicament she had put him in. Her knees stuck out of the water, too tall to fully fit, while her feet casually rested against Ray’s hips. She smirked, her screen displaying a mischievous expression.

"Oops," she said, clearly not sorry at all. "Guess I didn’t notice."
Ray grit his teeth. "You definitely noticed."

Maple shrugged, wiggling her toes against his side as if testing just how much space she could take up. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so tiny, little bro, this wouldn’t be a problem."

Ray let out an exasperated sigh. "I am normal-sized! You’re just huge! This tub wasn’t made for a seven-foot-tall, overly affectionate, space-invading robot!"

Maple's display flickered, shifting into an exaggeratedly offended expression—large, watery digital eyes and a trembling lower lip. Ray couldn’t tell if she was genuinely hurt or just hamming it up, but before he could even process it, she let out a dramatic gasp.

"RAY!" she cried, her voice thick with faux betrayal. "I’m just built this way! I didn’t choose to be this big!"

Ray groaned, rubbing his face. "Oh, come on."

Maple wasn’t done. She sniffled—somehow, despite not having a nose. "I thought you accepted me for who I am, little bro. But nooo, I hear the truth now—‘Maple, you’re too big, Maple, you’re a space invader, Maple, you take up the whole tub!’" She crossed her arms, turning her head away with a dramatic hmph!

Ray stared at her. "You do take up the whole tub!"

She peeked at him out of the corner of her display. "But would you rather be in here alone?"
Ray opened his mouth to respond—but hesitated. He would rather have had this bath alone, right? He had been enjoying his peace and quiet. But now, with Maple in here, it was…

Well, it was ridiculous. But it also wasn’t boring.

"That’s not the point," Ray muttered.

Maple’s display switched back to a smug expression. "Suuure, little bro. That’s not the point at all."

She wiggled her toes against his side again, a clear sign that she wasn’t moving anytime soon. Ray sighed, slumping deeper into the water.

Maple asked Ray as he looked defeated, "You ever been in a hot tub?"

Ray shook his head, still slumped in the water. "No, why?"
Maple tilted her head, her display showing a curious expression. "Do you ever wanna try one?"

Ray sighed, still feeling trapped in the cramped tub. "I mean... sure, I guess. Maybe someday."

Maple’s screen flickered with excitement. "Then let’s make this one!"

Ray furrowed his brows, immediately suspicious. "What do you mean by that?"

Maple grinned. "Well, a hot tub is just a bath with extra bubbles and heat, right?"

Ray’s stomach twisted with a sense of impending doom. "...Yeah?"

Maple’s smirk widened. "Well, I can make more bubbles..."

Ray’s eyes widened in horror. "MAPLE, DON’T—"

Ray froze as he felt Maple’s metallic cheeks flex against his trapped feet. A moment later, the tub erupted in a violent burst of bubbles, the water churning wildly as Maple unleashed five full seconds of unrelenting gas.

The sound was unmistakable—the classic, bubbly rumble of an underwater fart, but amplified beyond anything Ray had ever imagined. Unlike a normal fart that would face resistance from flesh and water, Maple’s gas had nothing to hold it back. The sheer force of it surged straight through the water, grazing against Ray’s feet as if the bath itself had been turned into a jet stream.

Ray recoiled, his body tensing as the bubbles rapidly rose to the surface, breaking through and releasing their contents into the previously clean bathroom air. His face contorted as he realized the horrifying truth—Maple’s fart had been perfectly preserved under the water, only to now escape, fully intact, into the room.

The first whiff hit him like a brick. "Oh, come on!" Ray gagged, struggling to lift his feet away from her, but her weight kept him trapped. "MAPLE!"

Maple, unfazed, reclined slightly, her expression one of pure, smug satisfaction. "Now that’s a hot tub, little bro."

The fart’s pungent smell seemed to linger, almost clinging to the steam from the hot water. Just when Ray thought the worst of it had passed, a faint, lingering scent would drift toward him, a much weaker version of the initial punch. It was like a ghost of the original fart, sticking around in the air long after the bubbles had popped. He wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore it, but the faint reminder was always there, haunting him.

Maple, on the other hand, was relaxed, her digital face displaying a satisfied smile. "So, how’d you like that simulation?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head, clearly enjoying the situation much more than Ray.

Ray's voice dripped with sarcasm as he replied, "Oh, it was very accurate."

Maple's display flickered with a brief flash of acknowledgment before her digital eyes widened slightly, showing a mischievous gleam. "Noted," she said, her tone playful. "I’ll adjust to make sure you get more simulations in the future."

Ray's eyes went wide, and he immediately regretted his sarcasm. "Wait, what?" he stammered, looking at her in disbelief. "No, no more simulations! I was just joking!"

Maple let out a soft, amused laugh, her voice light and teasing. "Sorry, Ray," she said with a smirk, "they didn’t program me to take sass from my little brother."

Ray groaned, sinking lower into the tub as if trying to escape her playful teasing. "I really walked into that one, didn't I?"

Maple's display showed a wink, her tone still playful but firm. "You sure did."

Maple shifted slightly in the tub, her head turning toward Ray, her digital eyes locking onto him. "So, you have any friends?" she asked casually, her voice light, but with a hint of curiosity.

Ray, a bit caught off guard by the question, paused for a moment before responding. "Uh, yeah, I do," he replied, trying to hide the slight discomfort of the conversation. "Why do you ask?"

Maple’s expression softened for a moment as she glanced at Ray, her digital face displaying a hint of sincerity. "I’m your older sister, Ray," she said, her voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "While I may torment you, I still do care about you."

Ray blinked, surprised by the rare shift in her usual playful demeanor. It was strange to hear her say that, given how often she pushed his buttons with her antics. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Maple reached across the tub without much attempt, her large hand gently ruffling Ray’s hair. "So, what do you guys do when you hang out?" she asked, her tone light and casual, as if she hadn't just dropped a rare moment of sincerity.

Ray squirmed slightly at the unexpected gesture, brushing a few wet strands of hair from his face. "Well," he began, a bit unsure how to answer, "We do a lot of nerdy stuff. Play video games, watch movies, talk about DnD... you know, normal stuff."

"I had you pegged for a nerd," Maple laughed, her voice ringing with amusement as she watched Ray squirm in the tub. The mischievous glint in her digital eyes returned, clearly enjoying the playful teasing.

Ray rolled his eyes, half-smiling despite himself. "I guess that's what happens when you hang out with a bunch of nerds all the time." He shifted slightly in the tub, trying to make himself a bit more comfortable, though it was hard with Maple taking up so much space. "What about you? Do you even know what DnD is?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Maple looked at him with an unamused face, her digital eyes narrowing slightly. "You realize I’m a robot with access to the internet, right?" she said, her voice almost flat with disbelief.

Ray blinked, a little taken aback by the seriousness in her tone. "Yeah, but I didn’t know if you’d bother looking up something like that," he admitted, scratching his head.

Maple smirked, her digital face flickering as she feigned a dramatic sigh. "I’m not just some glorified vacuum cleaner, Ray. I have access to all kinds of knowledge." She leaned back, her large frame taking up even more space in the tub as she settled back into her relaxed position. "I know more than you think."

Ray didn't respond, not sure what to say so he just shrugged

Maple raised an eyebrow, before continuing to ask about his friends "Have you told them about your older sister?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock curiosity.

Ray shook his head, trying to avoid eye contact. "No, not really," he admitted, feeling a bit awkward.

Maple’s expression flickered slightly, a hint of offense creeping into her tone. "Why not? Are you ashamed of being my brother?" she asked, her voice turning playful but with a touch of real hurt.

Ray hesitated, bouncing his head slightly as if he were debating whether to tell the truth or lie. He glanced up at her, noticing the faux-wounded look on her digital face. "I mean, I guess... I don't want to explain you to them," he said, a bit nervously.

Maple mock gasped, leaning back in dramatic offense. "Ray!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with playful indignation. "After everything we’ve been through, and you’re embarrassed by your sister?"

Ray chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I’m not embarrassed! It’s just... hard to explain you to people, alright?"

Maple tilted her head slightly, her digital eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Are you ever planning on telling them?" she asked, her voice carrying a playful but probing tone.

Ray shifted uncomfortably in the tub, the question catching him off guard. He had never really thought about it before. "I... uh, I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, I guess if they ever meet you, they'll find out. But it’s just... weird, y’know? How do you even explain that I have a seven-foot-tall robot older sister who, like, takes over my bathtub?"

Maple seemed to agree, her tone light and teasing. "Yeah, you have a point. But I know of something you could tell them about." Her face lit up with an eager smile, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Ray glanced up at her, his curiosity piqued despite the strange situation. "Yeah? What?"

Maple giggled, clearly pleased with his reaction. "This," she said, her voice filled with delight.

Before Ray could process her words, Maple's hand shot out and grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his face down toward the water. His nose hovered just above the surface, the warm soapy bubbles brushing against his skin clearing the surface of bubbles where his face was. He tried to pull away, but her grip was unyielding, and the strength she applied made him feel powerless. It was like trying to push a mountain—his body struggled, but there was no budging.

While Ray struggled, he felt the familiar clenching of Maple’s cheeks against his feet. The bubbles brushed by, swirling around his legs as they gathered under the water. He could see them racing toward the surface, bumping into each other as they jostled for position. Despite their chaotic movement, they all seemed to have one thing in common: they were heading straight for his face.

The bubbles broke the surface, parting the water as Ray felt the warm, humid air—Maple’s fart—exploding out of the bubbles into his face. A splash of displaced water followed, further disorienting him. His senses were overwhelmed, assaulted by the awful stench and the rising heat from each new fart escaping from the bubbles. The constant popping of the bubbles, the splashing of the water, and the sound of Maple’s fart filled the air, creating an almost unbearable symphony of sensations. The high-pitched squeal tearing out of her synthetic asshole was amplified by the porcelain tub, the vibrations coursing through it, making Ray feel every second of it, from the air on his face to the shaking beneath him.

After what felt like an eternity, the noises fell silent. Without the audible distraction, the full force of the smell hit Ray. It was as if the stench had been amplified in the absence of sound, making his nose burn like he had inhaled smoke from a campfire. Maple held his head there for a few more seconds, her grip firm as the steam from the bathtub slithered through the air, thick and heavy. Ray’s breathing quickened from the distress of the situation, and with each rapid inhale, the sour, tainted scent of the steam filled his nostrils. Finally, Maple released her grip on his head, leaving Ray gasping for air, his senses overwhelmed.

Ray slowly sat up, his body still reeling from the overwhelming experience. He wasn’t sure if he should look at Maple, but his curiosity got the better of him. As he turned his gaze toward her, he saw her expression—her eyes closed, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and her tongue sticking out playfully. It was a look that was almost absurd, given the situation, but somehow it only made everything feel more bizarre. Ray couldn’t help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief, unsure of how to react to the strange robot sister he now found himself stuck with.

Maple, still with that playful smirk, tilted her head slightly and asked, “So, how was that? A good fart, wasn’t it?” Her voice was teasing, clearly relishing in the reaction she had just caused. The absurdity of the question hung in the air, making it all the more awkward for Ray as he sat there, caught in the strange and uncomfortable moment.

Maple’s grin widened as she watched Ray, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Your inability to talk… I take it as a sign you’re stunned by how good I am at farting.” She leaned in closer, her tone full of playful arrogance, as if she had just completed some impressive feat. Ray felt trapped, his mind racing as he tried to process everything, but Maple's teasing only added to the absurdity of the situation.

Maple, clearly satisfied with the chaos she had caused, leaned back slightly, as if shifting gears. "Well," she said, her tone still playful but with a hint of curiosity, "What do you think your friends would think of me?" She looked at Ray, as if genuinely interested in his opinion, yet still holding that confident smirk. It was a strange shift, from tormenting him to now casually asking about how his friends would react to her presence.

Ray paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, still shaken from the last fart. His mind raced, trying to imagine what his friends would think of Maple and the bizarre situation he found himself in. Finally, he muttered, "Uh, well..." He trailed off, unsure how to even begin explaining it. His friends would probably be confused, maybe even freaked out. How could he tell them about a seven-foot-tall robot sister who could torment him with her farts at every turn? The thought alone made his face flush.

Maple, sensing his hesitation, leaned in with an eager gleam in her eye. “Let’s say they knew nothing about my farts,” she said, her voice softening slightly, “I’m just a robot with very feminine features, and I come along with you to a hangout. What would they think?” She tilted her head, clearly intrigued by his response. Her curiosity seemed genuine.

Ray furrowed his brow, trying to think it through. It was definitely easier than dealing with her farts or complaining about what had just happened. He shifted uncomfortably in the tub before speaking up, though his voice was a little unsure. "Well... if you were just a robot, I think they'd be... intrigued? I mean, you’re tall and, uh, kind of... intimidating?" He winced a little, not sure if that was the best description. "But, they’re nerds, so they’d probably be more fascinated by you being a robot than anything else. They’d have a million questions about how you work, what you can do..." He trailed off, realizing that it still didn’t answer the real question—how would they react to her?

Maple grinned mischievously, clearly amused by the thought. "They'd probably be yanking their meat once I left," she said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "I'd probably fit into one of their fantasies or something." She chuckled to herself, enjoying the awkwardness she was causing, clearly not phased by how unsettling her words were. Ray felt his face flush as the implications of what she said hit him, unsure how to respond to her teasing.

Maple shrugged casually, as if the topic was no big deal. "It's natural," she added with a nonchalant tone. "I wouldn't mind. I just don't really care to see it." She said it so matter-of-factly, as if discussing something completely ordinary, her playful smirk never fading. Ray, however, was left to process the bizarre and unsettling nature of the conversation, unsure whether he should be more embarrassed or relieved that she wasn’t making a bigger deal out of it.

Maple, sensing an opportunity to shift the conversation, leaned in slightly, her tone softening a little as she tried to bond with Ray. “So, what’s your favorite thing to do with your friends?” she asked, genuinely curious. The playful edge in her voice had diminished, replaced by a more inquisitive note. She was trying to understand more about him, his life outside of their odd interactions, and perhaps get a glimpse of what it was like for Ray to hang out with his friends.

Ray felt a strange sense of comfort as Maple asked the question. She did, in a way, feel like a sibling, even though she was far from normal. He’d never really known what it was like to have a sibling, being an only child, but Maple's presence did make him think that maybe she could fit that role—just a very gassy sibling.

He thought for a moment before answering, "I’d say... my favorite thing to do with my friends is play Shadowrun or Cyberpunk campaigns. We get really into it, making up stories and acting out these crazy scenarios." He smiled a little at the thought of his friends getting lost in their imaginations. "It’s just... fun, y’know? Escaping into another world."

Maple laughed, the sound light and teasing. "I’d fit right in being a robot in one of those campaigns," she said with a grin. "I could totally play some futuristic machine who’s a little too good at, well, everything." Her tone was playful, as if imagining herself in a role within one of Ray's favorite games. It was almost as if she could already picture herself seamlessly blending into the world of Shadowrun or Cyberpunk.

Ray tilted his head, realizing she was kind of right. He couldn't help but be curious. "So... what all can you do?" he asked, his tone almost hesitant but genuinely intrigued. "I mean, I know you're pretty strong, but is there more to you than just, uh... that?" His question hung in the air, as he tried to get a sense of what Maple could actually do, beyond her surprising strength and strange behavior. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around just how capable she really was.
Maple straightened up slightly, as if ready to list off all her capabilities. “I’m designed to be incredibly well-rounded,” she began, her voice now taking on a more informative tone. “I have a ton of features to take care of the person who activates me.” She paused for a moment, clearly proud of her design. “For one, I’m fireproof. I can withstand heat that could be used to manipulate metal on an anvil. I can take temperatures way below what any human could survive. I could even swim with the penguins if I wanted.”
She gave a small, satisfied nod. “Basically, if something happens—like a house fire or if you broke through ice on a lake or something—I could get you out of there no problem. I’d be your personal, well... protector in those kinds of situations." She smiled, clearly enjoying the idea of being able to help in such extreme ways.

Ray took a moment to reflect on everything Maple had just told him. Sure, he definitely didn’t like being farted on, but when he considered everything else she could do—how she could protect him in emergencies, like fires or freezing lakes—he felt a surprising sense of relief. Despite the bizarre and awkward interactions, Maple’s capabilities made him feel safer, almost as though he wasn’t entirely alone. She could be the protector he never knew he needed. For a brief moment, he actually felt comfortable around her, knowing that her strength and skills could be there if anything went wrong. It was a strange comfort, but it was there.
Ray raised an eyebrow, remembering something he’d noticed earlier. “Hey, I noticed you move a lot quieter now,” he said, genuinely curious about the change.

Maple gave a small nod, explaining, “I had to move around to loosen up my joints. There’s graphite in my systems, but it hadn’t been rubbed into the surfaces until I started moving more.” She shrugged casually. “It’s just how I work. Keeps everything running smooth.”

Then, as if on cue, she added, “While we’re talking about it, I do have routine maintenance that has to be done on me. Every six months, I have to be taken to the nearest maintenance shop—one that’s open to fix up us robots. It’s not a big deal, really. Just a regular thing to keep me in top shape.”

Ray wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of taking Maple to the maintenance shop, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much she could potentially help him in the future. She could be a lifesaver if the need ever arose.

“How long would it take to get to the nearest one?” he asked, trying to get a sense of what he was in for.

Maple processed the question for a moment before responding. “Three hours,” she said, her voice calm, as though it was no big deal.

Ray’s heart sank. “Three hours?!” He let out a sigh, his mind already running through the logistics. “I’d have to drive you there, right?”

Maple’s response was simple and matter-of-fact. “Yep. But like I said, it’s not a big deal. Just a routine thing.”

Ray took a deep breath, deciding to put the whole maintenance situation aside for the moment. "We'll deal with that when we get that far," he muttered, hoping it wouldn’t be as big of a deal as it seemed.

Just as he was about to think more on it, Maple suddenly shifted the conversation. “Do you ever have the fear of missing out on things?” she asked, her voice thoughtful, almost like she was genuinely curious.

Ray blinked, thrown off by the abrupt change of topic. "What do you mean?" he asked, still processing the unexpected question.

Maple tilted her head slightly, as if carefully considering her words. “You know... FOMO. The fear of missing out. Do you ever feel like there’s something happening that you’re not part of? Like maybe with your friends or things you want to experience but can’t?”

Ray was a bit surprised by the question. It wasn’t something he thought about much, but hearing her ask it made him pause. “I guess sometimes,” he said after a moment of reflection. “But I try not to let it get to me. I mean, there’s only so much time, right? Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and make the best of it.”

Maple seemed to nod, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. I think it’s just... interesting. Being aware of things you could be a part of but can’t."

Maple looked at Ray, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. "You know what I think would be cool to experience?" she asked, her voice light and full of wonder.

Ray raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What?" he asked, genuinely curious about where she was going with this.

Maple's gaze drifted off for a moment, as though she was lost in her thoughts. "You know how at the bottom of oceans there are tiny plants that produce oxygen bubbles?" she asked, her voice taking on a dream-like quality. "I think it would be so cool to see that in person—just imagine all those little bubbles rising up, creating a whole underwater dance of life. It’s fascinating, don’t you think?"

Ray was taken aback by the unexpected thought. "That does sound pretty cool," he said after a moment, somewhat impressed by her thinking. "Like a whole hidden world down there."

Maple smiled, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “You’d want to experience that too?” she asked, genuinely curious about Ray’s response.

Ray nodded slowly, surprised by how much he found himself agreeing with her. “Yeah, I think that would be amazing. It’s like an entire world we don’t get to see, but it’s right there beneath us, hidden in plain sight.” He paused for a second, thinking. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to witness something that incredible?”

Maple’s excitement was palpable, her voice filled with wonder. “Not sure why, but I just wonder what the bubbles would feel like on my face,” she said, her tone light and almost childlike in its curiosity.

Ray blinked, caught off guard by her sudden thought. “Uh, that’s… an interesting thing to wonder about,” he said, a little amused. “I guess it’d probably feel kind of ticklish, right? Bubbles popping all over you?”

Maple nodded enthusiastically, as though imagining the sensation. “Yeah! Like little puffs of air, each one creating a tiny burst of pressure. It sounds so strange, but I can’t help but picture it. I wonder if it would make my face feel all tingly or if it’d just be a weird sensation of bubbles popping all over. Hmm…” She trailed off for a moment, lost in thought.
Maple then looked directly at Ray and exclaimed, “Let’s find out.”

Ray, confused by what she meant, started to ask, “What do you—” but before he could finish, it was like déjà vu. Maple's long arm reached for his head, her fingers tangling into his hair with surprising strength.

“You gotta tell me all about it when you emerge,” she said, her tone light and playful.

Ray’s eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. “Maple, please don’t—” His voice trailed off as he felt his head being forced to move against his will. She bent him toward her, guiding his head down.

“No! No! NOOO!” His voice grew more urgent, a sense of panic rising as his head neared the surface of the water. But it didn’t stop there. Maple continued to exert her strength, pushing his head further down into the water.

The world warped around him as his head submerged, the sound of the shifting water distorting everything. His ears filled with a constant hum, the world below the surface sounding deeper, muffled, as his head was pressed lower. Ray struggled, but Maple held him there, her grip unyielding.

Ray barely had a moment to process the warped, humming world around him before he saw it—Maple’s cheeks flexing right in front of him. Unlike before, when he could only feel the movement from beneath her, this time, he had the perfect view. He watched in helpless horror as her metallic body tensed, and then, with a push, the bubbles were born.

They slipped free, carried by the force of her gas, shifting a few inches in his direction before losing momentum. Then, as if guided by fate itself, they began their inevitable ascent. Ray could do nothing but watch, his eyes widening as the bubbles approached. He squeezed them shut just in time.

The moment they reached him, he felt them. A delicate, pattering sensation spread across his face, tiny bursts of warmth popping against his skin. He clenched his jaw, holding his breath as long as he could, but the moment stretched on. This was different. Longer. Stronger. He could tell—this fart outlasted the others.

Underneath the water, there was no escape. No fresh air to turn to. Just the bubbles. The scent. The pressure against his skin. His senses were overwhelmed, locked in the bizarre, suffocating experience of Maple’s gas.

And she was still holding him there.

Ray's hands shot up, desperately grasping at Maple’s arm—the one holding his head in place. His fingers found the smooth metal of her forearm, but it was like trying to move a statue. No matter how hard he pushed, no matter how much his adrenaline surged, she didn’t budge.

It was as certain as time itself.

If Maple wanted him to endure this, then he was going to endure it. There was no escaping her grip, no fighting against the reality she imposed on him. He was trapped, submerged, and at her mercy.
And still, the bubbles came.

They continued their slow, unrelenting climb, pattering against his face in a series of soft, popping sensations. Each one a reminder of what was happening. Each one reinforcing just how powerless he was beneath her.

And Maple wasn’t letting go.

Maple’s focus was singular—waiting for one thing. She knew Ray would have to breathe out at some point, and when he did, she’d let him go. She wasn’t in any rush. She wanted him to endure this longer, to truly feel the intensity of what she had unleashed. But Ray, of course, had no idea what her intentions were.

All he could do was try to hold his breath, fighting the instinct to gasp, as the onslaught continued. Each moment stretched further, the bubbles pattering against his face in a relentless rhythm. The pressure was constant, the scent overwhelming, and Ray could feel his chest tightening as the air he had left dwindled away.

He wasn’t sure how long he could last. His mind raced, fighting the sensation that was growing more intense with every passing second.

But Maple stayed steady, unwavering, her grip holding him in place as she watched him struggle.

Finally, Ray couldn’t hold on any longer. His lungs burned, his chest ached, and his body demanded relief. He exhaled.

The moment he did, Maple let go, just as she had planned.

But that didn’t change the fact that, in his desperation, a few of her fart bubbles slipped past his lips before he could react. The foul taste hit him instantly, and a shudder ran through his entire body.
Panic and disgust clashed in his mind as he forced himself upward, breaking through the surface with a loud, desperate gasp.

He sucked in deep lungfuls of air, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he recovered. Water dripped from his face, his soaked hair clinging to his forehead. He coughed, trying to rid himself of the lingering sensation in his mouth, but the experience was burned into his memory now.

Through it all, Maple remained exactly as she was, completely unchanged—except for the wide, satisfied smile on her face.

Ray barely had a chance to recover before Maple tilted her head and asked, “So, what did it feel like?”

He blinked, still gasping for air, water dripping from his face. His mind was a mess of sensations—panic, exhaustion, and the awful, lingering taste he wished he could forget.

He looked at her, utterly baffled. "Are you serious?" he rasped, his voice still uneven from the ordeal.
Maple just grinned, waiting expectantly.

Ray groaned, wiping his face with both hands. “It felt like suffering, Maple. Absolute suffering.”

Maple’s smile faltered, her expression shifting into visible disappointment. “Man, and here I thought feeling the oxygen bubbles hit my face would be a great experience,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Ray stared at her, still catching his breath, water dripping from his chin. “Yeah, well, maybe next time you can be the one getting dunked under and farted on,” he shot back, his voice laced with exhaustion and irritation.

Maple blinked, then tapped a finger against her chin in thought. “Hmm… but I don’t breathe like you do, so I wouldn’t get the full effect.” She shrugged. “Besides, that wouldn’t be as fun for me.”
Ray groaned, leaning his head back against the edge of the tub. “Of course it wouldn’t.”

Maple grinned again. “Glad you understand!”

Maple seemed to have had enough of the bubble bath. With a small stretch, she stood up, her tall frame looming over Ray as she climbed out of the tub. The bubbles shifted and splashed around her as she moved, her mechanical movements fluid and effortless.

Without a word, she grabbed the towel from the nearby rack and started drying herself off, taking her time as she rubbed it across her shiny surface.

Ray, still in the tub, watched her with a mixture of relief and annoyance. His body was still recovering from the bizarre, uncomfortable ordeal, and his mind was spinning from the absurdity of the whole situation.

“You’re done with this already?” Ray asked, his voice hoarse.

Maple glanced at him, the towel draped over her shoulder. “I’m good for now. You seemed to be enjoying yourself in there,” she said with a smirk. “Besides, I’ve got other things to do.”

Ray rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. It wasn’t like he could change anything about the way things went with Maple.

Maple walked over to the side of the tub and paused, her towering figure casting a shadow over Ray. Without warning, she turned around, grabbed his head with one hand, and pushed it firmly against her backside. The dampness between her mechanical cheeks lingered, and before Ray could react, a wet fart escaped, vibrating against his skull. The sound rang in his ears, and the force of it made his eyes shudder in their sockets. Ray felt the warm, damp air coat his skin as the smell hit him all at once.

After Maple left go of Ray's head. Maple ran her hand between her cheeks, her fingers gliding with a mechanical precision as she inspected the area. “Yep, dry now,” she said, her voice as casual as ever. “Thanks, Ray!” Without another word, she turned on her heel and headed for the door. “Whenever you're ready for dinner, meet me in the kitchen!”

Ray watched in shock as Maple unlocked the door, ducking under the doorway with ease before closing it behind her. He sat in stunned silence, the absurdity of everything still sinking in. He couldn’t shake the feeling of how soft her butt had been against his face, softer than any pillow he’d ever known. It was ridiculous—he hated the fart, he knew that, but the softness… it lingered in his thoughts like an unwelcome aftertaste.

He quickly shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of any positive association with her farting on him. It was insane. He couldn’t think like that.

With a sigh, he decided the bath had been a bad idea—too much of a reminder of the weird, uncomfortable things that had just happened. He climbed out of the tub and drained the water, feeling a sense of relief that it was finally over. Taking the partly damp towel Maple had used, he dried himself off. He pulled the towel over his face, blocking his vision as he sat on the edge of the tub, trying to recover from the bizarre sequence of events. The room seemed to spin for a moment, and he just needed a few moments of peace—away from all the absurdity.

Ray’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten yet. He sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and hunger. “I guess I should see what Maple has planned for dinner,” he muttered to himself. His mind was still reeling from everything that had happened, but the promise of food—maybe something normal—was enough to shake him from his haze.

maybe...

PART 3 – Time for Dinner

Ray stood at his dresser, the cool air of the room brushing against his bare skin as he rummaged through his underwear drawer. His fingers sifted through the neatly folded stacks, searching for his favorite pair of boxer briefs—the black ones with the subtle gray stitching. He liked the way they hugged him just right, snug in all the important places without feeling too tight. It was a small comfort, something familiar in a day that had already spiraled into chaos.

He was so focused on his search that he didn’t immediately register the sound of footsteps approaching his room. They were soft but deliberate, a faint creak of the floorboards giving them away. Ray froze, his hands still buried in the drawer, his heart suddenly thudding in his chest. He wasn’t used to this—living with someone, or rather, something. The realization hit him like a jolt, and before he could react, the doorway filled with Maple’s towering silhouette.

She ducked slightly to step into the bedroom, her seven-foot frame making the space feel smaller than it already was. Her silver latex skin caught the dim light from the hallway, gleaming faintly as she paused just inside the threshold. Ray’s breath caught in his throat as her digital eyes flicked downward, scanning him with a quick, almost curious glance. Then her face lit up with a wide, mischievous smile.

“Oh, Lil’ bro is packing,” she said, her voice dripping with playful mockery, the words hanging in the air like a taunt.

Ray’s face flushed hot, a wave of embarrassment crashing over him. He yanked his hands out of the drawer and scrambled to cover himself, one arm awkwardly shielding his front while the other flailed for something—anything—to grab. “Maple!” he yelped, his voice cracking with a mix of shock and indignation. “Why can’t you respect my privacy?!”

Maple tilted her head, her grin unwavering, clearly unbothered by his outburst. She took a casual step closer, her massive frame looming even larger in the confined space of his bedroom. “Privacy?” she echoed, as if the concept were mildly amusing. “Lil’ bro, I’ve got access to the entire internet. There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Her tone was light, teasing, but it only made Ray’s embarrassment burn deeper.

Ray's hand still fumbling to shield himself as he stood there, feeling more exposed than ever. His face was still flushed, and he couldn’t quite meet Maple’s gaze. “I understand that,” he said, his voice quieter now but edged with frustration, “but I’m not used to someone seeing me naked. It’s… it’s weird, okay?”

Maple’s grin didn’t falter, her digital eyes glinting with that same unshakable amusement. She waved a hand dismissively, as if his concern was a minor detail not worth dwelling on. “Yeah, yeah, Lil’ bro, I get it,” she said, her tone breezy and unconcerned. “Anyway, I came up here to see if you were coming downstairs for dinner then?” She shifted her weight slightly, the floor creaking under her massive frame, and crossed her arms as if waiting for an answer.

Ray blinked, caught off guard by how quickly she’d brushed past his discomfort. The mention of dinner made his stomach growl again, a loud reminder that he still hadn’t eaten. He hesitated, torn between his lingering embarrassment and the practical need to respond. “Uh… yeah,” he mumbled, still clutching at himself awkwardly. “I’ll be down in a minute. Just… let me get dressed first.”

Maple’s smirk widened, but she didn’t press further. “Good. Don’t keep me waiting too long, Lil’ bro,” she said, turning toward the door with a casual sway of her hips. With that, she ducked back through the doorway, her footsteps fading down the hall as Ray stood there, still reeling from the encounter.

Ray uncovered himself, letting out a long sigh of relief as the tension in his shoulders eased. He turned back to his dresser, fingers diving into the drawer once more to search for his favorite boxer briefs. After a couple of seconds, his hand brushed against the familiar fabric, and he pulled them out with a small, triumphant huff. “Why do I have so many pairs of underwear…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the cluttered mess.

He slipped them on, the tight fit hugging him just the way he liked, a small comfort amid the day’s chaos. Pausing for a moment, he considered his next move before grabbing a pair of socks from the drawer—better to keep his feet clean than let them pick up whatever grime lingered on the floor. He tugged on a plain white shirt and a pair of black-and-white plaid pajama pants, the soft fabric settling comfortably against his skin.

With a quick flick of the switch, Ray turned off his bedroom light, the room plunging into darkness as he stepped into the hallway. He made his way downstairs, the familiar creak of the steps accompanying him, until he reached the living room. It flowed seamlessly into the kitchen, the open space lit by the warm glow of the overhead lights, where Maple was already waiting.

Ray stepped into the kitchen, his eyes landing on Maple standing in front of the open pantry door. Her towering figure filled the doorway, scanning the shelves with a curious tilt of her head. The pantry’s contents—cans, boxes, and bags of snacks—were laid out before her, and she seemed to be studying them intently, as if sizing up what she had to work with.

Maple turned her head, her digital eyes locking onto Ray as he stood there. “What do you do for work anyway?” she asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. She gestured vaguely toward the kitchen with one hand, the pantry still open behind her. “This kitchen isn’t cheap—a fully stocked pantry, assortment of kitchen appliances and gadgets. You’ve got some serious setup here, Lil’ bro.” Her gaze lingered on him, waiting for an answer.

Ray straightened up a little, a faint swell of pride warming his chest at her words. “Well, I develop software for clients,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. It felt good to have something tangible to show for his efforts, even if it was just a well-stocked kitchen in Maple’s eyes.

Maple nodded, her digital face shifting into a knowing smirk. “I should’ve figured your nerdy ass would develop software,” she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. She leaned casually against the pantry doorframe, her massive form making the space feel just a bit smaller as she eyed him with playful amusement.

Maple tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into a more curious expression. “You like rice?” she asked, her voice light as she glanced back toward the pantry, presumably spotting a bag of it among the shelves. Her question hung in the air, simple yet oddly deliberate, as if she were already plotting something in that mischievous mind of hers.

Ray smirked, deciding to throw a little jab back her way. “I mean, it’s in the pantry, isn’t it?” he said, his tone dry but playful, a rare spark of confidence flickering in his voice as he crossed his arms.

Maple’s digital eyes narrowed slightly, her display flickering for a moment as she processed his response. The shift in her expression was subtle but unmistakable—she wasn’t used to him pushing back, and it seemed to catch her off guard, if only for a second. Her smirk returned, though, sharper now, as if she were already plotting her next move.

Maple’s smirk widened as she spoke. “Well, if you want rice, then you’re gonna have to get it out for me. I can’t bend down that far,” she said, her tone laced with a mock helplessness that didn’t quite match the glint in her digital eyes.

Ray paused, considering her words for a second. It made sense, he figured—her towering seven-foot frame probably wasn’t designed for crouching into tight spaces like the lower shelves of the pantry. Or maybe she just didn’t feel like it. Either way, he shrugged. “Alright, I’ll get it,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of resignation as he stepped forward.

He walked toward the pantry, and Maple shifted to the side, turning her massive form to give him just enough room to squeeze past her, watching him with that ever-present smirk, clearly enjoying the fact that she’d roped him into doing the work.

Ray stepped into the pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for the rice. It wasn’t on the middle or upper rows, so he dropped his gaze lower, finally spotting it on the floor beneath the bottom shelf, shoved all the way to the back. He let out a small huff, getting down on his knees and bending forward. The space was tight, and he stretched his arms out, fingers brushing the edge of the bag but struggling to get a good grip on it.

As he reached further, straining just a bit, he suddenly felt something soft but heavy squish onto his back. The weight pressed down with surprising force, pinning him in place. His breath caught, and he tried to pull back, to retreat from the awkward position, but the sheer mass on top of him wouldn’t budge. It was far too great, holding him firmly against the pantry floor.

Unable to twist around or see what was happening, Ray’s voice came out strained and uncertain. “Maple?”

Her response came quickly, laced with a slight amusement that made his stomach twist. “Yes?” she said, her tone light and playful, as if she were savoring the moment.

Ray’s voice wavered with uncertainty as he asked, “What’s on my back?”

Maple let out a soft giggle, her amusement bubbling over. “I am,” she replied, her tone dripping with mischief, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ray’s brows furrowed, confusion mixing with a growing sense of dread. “Why?” he pressed, his voice muffled slightly from his position on the pantry floor.

Maple’s answer was simple and ominous. “This,” she said, her voice taking on a gleeful edge.

Before Ray could piece it together or brace himself, he felt Maple’s buttcheeks tense against his back, shifting from their usual soft give into much stiffer, firmer mounds. Then, without warning, she blasted a huge fart right into his back

BBBRRRRROOOOORRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTT!!

The force of it was staggering, vibrating through his spine with a loud, rippling burst. A few spots along his back popped audibly, like some bizarre chiropractor treatment. The sheer power of it jolted him, the sensation a strange mix of discomfort and an unexpected release of tension he hadn’t even known was there.

After Maple finished unleashing her assault on his back, she stood up with a fluid motion, her towering frame lifting off Ray as if nothing had happened. She stepped out of the pantry, her footsteps light despite her size, and then swung the door shut behind her. Leaning against it casually, she pressed her weight into the frame, trapping Ray inside with the aftermath.

The smell hit him like a wall—a thick, rancid blend of broccoli and cauliflower, as if they’d been left to rot in a damp corner for weeks. It hung heavy in the confined space, clinging to the air and seeping into everything. Ray’s hand shot up to cover his nose, his face twisting in disgust as he scrambled to retreat from his kneeling position. He pushed himself up, desperate to escape the stench, and lunged for the door.

He gripped the handle and twisted, shoving his shoulder against the wood, but it wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard he pushed or pulled, the door stayed firmly shut, Maple’s immense strength holding it in place from the other side. The realization sank in—he was stuck, locked in the pantry with the putrid cloud she’d left behind.

Maple’s voice cut through the pantry door, calm and teasing. “Let me know when the smell dissipates, Ray, and I’ll let you out.”

Ray, still clutching his nose against the rotting broccoli-cauliflower stench, frowned. An idea sparked—he could just lie to her. She wouldn’t know the difference, right? He counted silently to himself, waiting about fifteen seconds before calling out, “Alright, the smell’s pretty much gone now.”

A sharp laugh echoed from the other side of the door. “Sometimes you’re really stupid, Lil’ bro,” Maple said, her tone brimming with amusement.

Ray blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice muffled by his hand and the lingering haze.

Maple’s response came with a smug edge. “I know exactly how long the smell of my farts will linger for based on the environment I fart in,” she revealed, her words dripping with confidence. She paused, her tone shifting slightly, a bit unimpressed. “Just know that liars get punished, Lil’ bro.”

Before Ray could respond, she started counting out loud, her voice steady and deliberate.

“5, 4, 3, 2, and 1.”

At “1,” Maple stepped away from the door, the faint creak of the floor signaling her movement. Ray pushed against the handle again, and this time it gave way easily. The door swung open, and he stumbled out, taking a deep breath of the fresher kitchen air. The stench was gone—completely dissipated, just as she’d predicted. Maple had known exactly how long it would linger, down to the second.

Ray stood just outside the pantry, bent over with his hands braced on his knees, chest heaving as he gulped down deep breaths of clean air. It felt like he’d just escaped a pursuer, his heart still racing from the ordeal. After a moment, he straightened up, his breathing steadying, and took one final, long inhale before letting it out in a heavy, defeated sigh.

Ray’s eyes drifted across the kitchen, landing on Maple as she methodically opened drawers and cabinets. Her massive hands moved with surprising care, pulling out utensils and peering into shelves.

“What are you doing?” Ray asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a touch of wariness.

Maple didn’t pause, her head half-buried in a cabinet as she replied, “Taking note of what’s at my disposal when I cook.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, muffled slightly by the clatter of pots she was inspecting, as if mapping out the kitchen’s resources was the most natural thing in the world for her.

Ray tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity cutting through his lingering exasperation. “Like mapping out the kitchen?” he wondered aloud, his voice carrying a hint of genuine interest as he watched Maple continue her exploration of the cabinets and drawers.

Maple’s voice drifted over from where she was rummaging through a drawer. “Yeah, when I’m done, I’ll know where everything is,” she said, her tone casual but focused, as if she were already building a mental blueprint of the kitchen.

It clicked for Ray—her meticulous search made sense. He nodded to himself and stepped over to the fridge, pulling the door open to grab the 2-liter bottle of cola inside. It was nearly empty, just enough left for one more glass, the dark liquid sloshing faintly as he lifted it out. Before he could even swing the fridge door shut, Maple’s long arm reached up to an overhanging counter cabinet, snagging a glass with ease. She held it out toward him, her movements quick and precise.

Ray closed the fridge door with a soft thud and turned, startled to see Maple standing right beside it, glass extended in her hand. Her towering figure loomed next to him, her digital eyes glinting with a faint, knowing amusement as she waited for him to take it.

Ray reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the glass as he took it slowly from Maple’s outstretched hand. “Thanks…” he mumbled, his voice soft, still adjusting to her uncanny knack for anticipating his moves.

Maple’s digital face shifted, her eyes squinting into playful slits as a wide smile spread across her display. “Of course, Lil’ bro,” she replied, her tone warm but laced with that familiar teasing edge, as if she were savoring the small moment of sibling-like camaraderie.

Ray walked over to a chair at the kitchen island in the center of the room, the cola bottle and glass still in hand. He lowered himself onto the seat, expecting the familiar twinge of pain that usually shot through his back whenever he sat down after a long day. But this time, nothing. He paused, brow furrowing in confusion as he settled in, shifting slightly to test it. The ache he’d grown used to was gone—completely absent.

Then it hit him. His eyes widened slightly as the realization clicked into place. It must’ve been when Maple blasted that massive fart into his spine in the pantry. The force of it had popped his back like some bizarre, unintentional adjustment, and now… no pain. He sat there, stunned, unsure whether to be annoyed or grudgingly impressed.

Ray pushed the bizarre discovery about his back to the side, focusing instead on the cola in his hands. He twisted the cap off the bottle, expecting the familiar sharp hiss and fizz of carbon dioxide bursting free. But there was nothing—just silence as the seal broke. His stomach sank a little. He knew what that meant, but he clung to a faint hope that maybe, by some miracle, it wasn’t true.

Tilting the bottle, he poured the cola into the glass Maple had handed him. Another sign confirmed his suspicion: it barely fizzed, only bubbling weakly as it hit the glass before settling into a flat, dark liquid, lifeless and still. The spark was gone, just like he’d feared.

Ray sighed, deciding to taste it anyway. He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a small sip, and the truth hit his tongue immediately—dull, lifeless, no bite. He set the glass back down on the kitchen island with a faint clink, muttering aloud, “Damn, it’s flat.”

Maple turned around from where she’d been poking through the kitchen, her digital eyes fixing on him and the cola. “You mean it doesn’t have any carbonation?” she asked.

Ray nodded, scrunching his nose slightly. “Yeah, it’s gross,” he confirmed, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and resignation.

Maple let out a soft giggle, her digital eyes glinting with mischief. “I can fix that,” she said, her tone brimming with confidence.

Ray’s brows lifted, a flicker of curiosity mixing with uncertainty. “You can?” he asked, unsure whether to trust her sudden enthusiasm.

Maple strode over and snatched his glass from the island. “Of course I can,” she replied breezily, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. She turned and walked toward a specific drawer, her movements purposeful. Opening it, she rummaged for a moment before pulling out an angled metal straw. With a quick snap, she closed the drawer and sauntered back toward Ray, stopping a few feet away and turning around.

Ray’s gaze drifted involuntarily, and he still couldn’t believe how nice her ass was—sculpted and firm, a bizarrely perfect detail he couldn’t unsee. But as she stood there, a creeping realization started to piece itself together in his mind, and his stomach twisted.

Maple slid one end of the straw into his drink, holding the glass steady with one hand. Then, with a casual motion, she lowered it behind her, positioning it under her butt. Ray’s eyes began to widen, dread pooling in his chest as he watched her next move unfold. With her other hand, she reached down, grabbing the top of the straw and guiding it toward her synthetic asshole. She inserted it with precision, the straw pulling the silver latex material inward, smoothing out the wrinkles until her asshole resembled a sleek, donut-like ring around the metal.

Ray’s voice shot up in a panicked yell. “Maple! Please don’t…” he pleaded, his hands gripping the edge of the island as he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

Maple’s giggle rang out, sharp and gleeful. “Too late!” she chirped, her tone dripping with delight.

Ray’s eyes locked onto the glass, watching as bubbles began to form in the flat cola. But something was off—this wasn’t the chaotic, overwhelming blast he’d come to expect from Maple’s farts. It was restrained, precise, almost deliberate. The liquid churned gently, tiny bubbles rising in a steady stream, transforming before his eyes. Within moments, the glass started to resemble the beautiful sight of a freshly poured cola, complete with a light, fizzy foam crowning the top.

After about five seconds, Maple stopped, her synthetic cheeks relaxing as she pulled the straw out with the hand not holding the glass. The straw slipped free with a comical pop sound, punctuating the absurdity of the moment. She lifted the glass back in front of her, then strode over to the sink with a casual swagger. Pulling the straw out completely, she dropped it into the basin to be cleaned later, her movements smooth and unbothered.

Turning back around, Maple faced Ray, her digital display now beaming with an expression of pure pride—eyes squinted in satisfaction, a wide, self-assured smile stretching across her face. She stepped over to the island and stopped next to him, placing the glass down in front of him with a gentle clink.

“Try it!” she said, her voice giddy with excitement, practically bouncing with anticipation as she waited for his reaction.

Ray stared at her, incredulous. “Why? You just farted into my drink!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation, still reeling from the sheer absurdity of what he’d witnessed.

Maple’s digital face shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly as her tone turned more assertive. “Try it, you dork,” she said, crossing her arms with a hint of impatience, as if his hesitation was the ridiculous part of this scenario.

Ray blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanor. He hesitated, his mind wrestling with the idea. How much worse than a flat soda could it be, really? The thought lingered, prodding at his curiosity despite the unease twisting in his gut. He glanced up at Maple’s display—her proud, expectant expression unwavering—then back down at the glass, its foamy surface looking deceptively normal.

With a reluctant sigh, he picked it up, his fingers wrapping around the cool glass. He brought it hesitantly under his nose, bracing himself for the worst—a whiff of that familiar, rancid stench. But to his surprise, it didn’t stink like a fart at all. There was no trace of broccoli or cauliflower, no gut-punch of rot. Just the faint, crisp scent of cola. Confusion flickered across his face, deepening the unease that gnawed at him.

Steeling himself, Ray placed the edge of the glass against his bottom lip, tilting it just enough to let the smallest trickle of liquid drip onto his tongue. The moment it hit, his eyes went wide, shock flooding his senses as the taste registered.

Ray couldn’t help himself—he tipped the glass further, drinking more of the cola in steady gulps, the unexpected flavor pulling him in. He finally stopped when about half a glass remained, setting it down with a soft clink as he stared at it, bewildered. “Maple, why does that taste so good?” he asked, his voice a mix of awe and genuine confusion, still processing the bizarre twist.

Maple giggled, her digital face lighting up with delight. “I’m full of surprises, Lil’ bro,” she said, her tone playful and smug. As if to punctuate the statement

Pweeeep!

a small, squeaky fart slipped out of her, a high-pitched toot that cut through the air. “Yeah, like that,” she added, laughing as she waved a hand behind her ass in an exaggeratedly cute gesture. Her display shifted to a matching expression—big, sparkling eyes and a cheeky smile—making the whole moment absurdly endearing despite the lingering absurdity.

A thought struck Ray, his brow furrowing as he set the glass down. “Why do all your other farts smell so bad, but that one didn’t?” he asked, his tone edged with suspicion as he tried to piece together the inconsistency.

Maple laughed, a bright, teasing sound. “I’m offended you think I’m just a robot that can fart,” she said, feigning indignation before her grin widened. “I can control everything about them—length, smell, sound and other things about them.” Her digital eyes glinted with pride, as if she’d just revealed some masterful skill.

Ray’s expression shifted, a mix of annoyance and confusion flickering across his face. “You mean you made all the others smell on purpose?” he asked, his voice rising slightly as the realization sank in.

Maple giggled again, nodding enthusiastically. “Of course I did. That’s what I’m designed to do, Lil’ bro. You’re pretty naive, huh?” Her tone was light, but the jab stung, her amusement only growing as she watched his reaction.

Ray’s annoyance deepened, his lips pressing into a thin line. Learning she’d been tormenting him deliberately wasn’t exactly a shock, but it still grated on him. Yet, as he sat there, he knew there wasn’t much he could do about it—Maple was Maple, and he was stuck with her quirks.

She tilted her head, her digital face shifting to a sly smirk. “It’s not like you’re some angel, though,” she reminded him, her voice taking on a mock-serious edge. “I mean, you did lie in the pantry.” She dangled the memory over him like a playful taunt, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned slightly closer.

Maple clapped her hands together, her digital face resetting to a bright, eager expression. “So anyway, what do you want to eat?” she asked, pivoting the conversation with such speed it left Ray reeling.

Ray blinked, caught off guard by the sudden 180, his mind still halfway stuck on their last exchange. “Well… uh, what can you make?” he stammered, trying to catch up to her shift in focus.

Maple tilted her head, her tone confident and casual. “Anything on the internet,” she said. “Only things I can't, would be stuff I don’t have the ingredients for, or like an ancient meal that requires cooking in a specific location or using some special apparatus.” Her explanation rolled off effortlessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ray nodded slowly, the logic clicking into place. Of course—she could just pull any recipe from the internet. “Huh… well, what ingredients do we have?” he asked, leaning forward slightly on the island.

Without a hint of hesitation, Maple launched into a rapid-fire list, her voice steady and unrelenting. “Rice, flour, sugar, salt, pepper, olive oil, soy sauce, canned tomatoes, pasta, garlic, onions, frozen chicken, ground beef, eggs, butter, milk, cheddar cheese, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, beans, oats, honey—” She kept going, rattling off a dizzying array of items as Ray’s eyes glazed over, his brain struggling to retain even a fraction of it. The sheer volume overwhelmed him, each word blending into the next until it was just a blur of pantry staples.

Ray sat there, half-listening as Maple’s voice droned on with her endless list of ingredients. His mind wandered, a quiet thought bubbling up. Do I really have all this food? he wondered, his brow furrowing slightly. The kitchen had never felt so stocked until Maple started naming it all off like some culinary inventory bot. As she continued—“…spinach, vinegar, paprika, lentils…”—another idea nudged its way in. Maybe I should have her make something I’ve always wanted to try, like a crème brûlée. Those creamy, caramelized desserts had always looked so delicious in photos, the glossy surface cracked open to reveal that rich custard underneath. His mouth watered a little just thinking about it, the possibility dangling temptingly in his mind amid Maple’s ongoing recitation.

Ray’s thoughts spiraled further, drifting beyond the crème brûlée. Why stop at dessert? he mused, his imagination lighting up. You can’t go wrong with a burger—onion rings, cheddar cheese, bacon, barbeque sauce. He could almost taste the smoky, savory mess of it, the juicy patty stacked high with crispy, melty toppings. And a side of crispy fries, he added mentally, picturing golden, perfectly salted perfection. His stomach growled louder, and without realizing it, a faint drool slipped from the corner of his mouth as he zoned out, lost in his food fantasy.

Maple, having finished her exhaustive list of ingredients, turned her attention to him. Her digital eyes narrowed as she observed Ray, his expression glazed over, drooling like he was eyeing something far more scandalous than a meal. She snapped her fingers sharply. “Ray! RAY!”

When that didn’t work, she reached over and pinched his arm, her grip firm enough to jolt him. Ray snapped back to reality, blinking rapidly as the kitchen came back into focus. “Ow—what?” he mumbled, rubbing his arm and wiping his chin, startled out of his reverie by her sudden intervention.

Maple’s digital eyes squinted tighter, her face displaying a mix of suspicion and mock offense. “I can’t believe you were thinking about naked women while I’m telling you about every single ingredient in this kitchen,” she said, her tone dripping with exaggerated accusation.

Ray shot back quickly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t thinking about naked women—not even one naked woman,” he retorted, his voice firm as he tried to set the record straight, still rubbing the spot on his arm where she’d pinched him.

Maple straightened up to her full height, towering over him as she crossed her arms. “Then what made you drool like that?” she demanded, her curiosity piqued, her digital face now showing a raised eyebrow.

Ray sighed, leaning back in his chair as he explained. “I was thinking about a burger—loaded with onion rings, cheddar cheese, bacon, and barbeque sauce. And a side of crispy fries. Oh, and maybe a crème brûlée for dessert.” His voice softened slightly as he listed it off, the memory of the imagined meal still vivid in his mind. “That’s what got me going—not anything weird.”

Maple tilted her head, her digital face scrunching in confusion. “You’re a fucking weirdo,” she said, her tone blunt but tinged with amusement.

Ray nodded, a small, self-aware smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, a little bit,” he admitted, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

Maple laughed, a bright, genuine sound that filled the kitchen. “At least you’re not boring,” she said, her eyes twinkling with approval. “What about a drink?” She leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the edge of the island.

Ray sat there, hesitating. “I’m not sure,” he said, his voice trailing off as he rubbed the back of his neck, genuinely stumped.

Maple pushed, her tone insistent but playful. “Just name the first thing to come to mind.”

Ray thought for a second, and an image flashed into his head—him as a kid, sitting on a rickety bench at the local county fair, laughing with his friends as they slurped down vanilla milkshakes. The memory hit him with a wave of nostalgia, the creamy sweetness and the warm summer air vivid in his mind. “Vanilla milkshake,” he said, almost without realizing it, the words slipping out as his eyes drifted slightly.

Maple’s digital face lit up with a wide smile. “Alright, I’ll start making all that,” she said, turning toward the counter with a confident bounce in her step.

Ray blinked, the words catching up to him a beat late. “Wait, you can make all that?” he asked, surprise creeping into his voice as he realized the scope of what he’d just thrown out there.

Maple glanced back at him, her tone carrying a hint of dismissal. “Well, yeah…” she said, pausing to fix him with a playful, slightly accusing look. “You don’t have much faith in me, do you, Lil’ bro?”

Ray fumbled, trying to cover his tracks. “No, I meant like… we have the things for that?” he clarified, his words tripping over themselves as he waved a hand vaguely toward the pantry.

Maple scoffed, rolling her digital eyes. “Yeah, if you’d listened to the ingredients, you’d know that,” she shot back, her voice laced with mock exasperation. “But instead, you were having a wet dream over a burger.” She turned back to the counter, her laughter bubbling up as she started pulling out what she’d need, clearly enjoying the jab.

Ray sat there, his hands resting on the island, unable to argue her point. “I mean… yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, his voice trailing off as he watched her take charge of the kitchen.

Maple flowed through the space like the whole process was already mapped out in her head, a perfectly rehearsed performance she just had to execute. Her movements were deliberate, precise—no second of hesitation or idle standing around. Pans hit the stove with a soft clang, heating up as she rummaged through cabinets and drawers, grabbing exactly what she needed without a flicker of doubt.

Soon, the sounds of sizzling filled the air—meat hitting hot metal, onions caramelizing, fries crisping up. The smell was overwhelming, a rich, savory wave that conquered the room and enveloped them both, pulling Ray deeper into the moment as he watched her work.

Ray pulled out his phone, settling into the chair as he scrolled to pass the time while Maple cooked. The sizzles and aromas kept him half-aware, but his attention drifted until he caught unusual movement out of the corner of his eye. Focusing on Maple, he saw her grab the pan of fries, lift it carefully, and hold it beneath her butt before crouching down over it.

Dread pooled in Ray’s stomach as he braced himself, already guessing what she was about to do to his fries.

Pop!

Pfft!

Pffp!

Ppt!

A series of precise, abrupt farts burst out, each one spraying a fine mist of salt and pepper over the fries in perfect, even coverage. The sound was unmistakable—short, sharp pops that seasoned the golden crisps below.

Ray groaned, dropping his phone onto the island with a clatter. “Really, Maple?” he said, his voice heavy with exasperation.

Maple laughed, sliding the pan back onto the stove as if nothing bizarre had happened. “I was just seasoning it with salt and pepper,” she said, her tone light and teasing, her digital face flashing a cheeky grin.

Ray’s confusion broke through, his voice rising slightly. “Your asshole is a salt and pepper dispenser too?” he asked, the words tumbling out in disbelief.

Maple turned to him, nodding with unabashed pride. “Sure is!” she confirmed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Ray shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Who the hell would design a robot that dispenses salt and pepper out of its asshole?” he muttered, half to himself, his mind spinning at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Maple’s head tilted slightly, catching his muttered question despite how quietly he’d said it. “People even more depraved than you, Lil’ bro,” she answered, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she shot him a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying the chance to twist the knife a little deeper.

Ray waved a hand dismissively, his tone flat. “Yeah, whatever,” he said, brushing off her comment as he leaned back in his chair, unwilling to let her bait him further.

The rich aroma of Maple’s cooking continued to weave through the house, a savory blessing that made Ray’s stomach rumble despite his earlier exasperation. After a short while, Maple finished the main meal. She turned to Ray, her digital face displaying a casual curiosity. “Do you like your burger buns steamed?”

Ray paused, tilting his head as he considered her question. “I actually have never done anything to my buns before,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty as he realized how plain his burger habits had always been.

Maple’s digital face broke into a wide smile. “Well, I can make it happen,” she said, her tone bright and eager, as if she’d been waiting for the chance to show off again.

Ray squinted at her, skepticism narrowing his eyes. “You’re gonna fart on them if I say yes, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice dry, already anticipating her next move.

Maple laughed, a burst of sound that filled the kitchen. “Well, yeah, I guess,” she admitted, her grin unfaltering. “But I didn’t ruin your soda, did I?” She leaned in slightly, her digital eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and confidence, daring him to trust her again.

Ray eased up a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he thought it over. She hadn’t ruined his soda—hell, she’d made it better than it was before. “Alright, fine… I’ll try it,” he said, his tone softening with reluctant curiosity.

Maple’s digital face lit up with another smile as she reached into the bag of buns, pulling out a top and bottom one. She handed them to Ray, her movements quick and precise. “Alright, hold one in each hand and make sure you rotate them, okay?” she instructed, her voice chipper.

Ray blinked, a bit confused but willing to play along. “Sure,” he said, taking the buns—one in each hand—and holding them out as she turned around, her ass now about a foot away. His eyes drifted for a moment, distracted by the sculpted sight before him, until Maple’s hand swung up and smacked the top of his head with a playful thwack.

“Ray, seriously, you need a girlfriend or something,” she teased, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. Ray rubbed his head, not disagreeing but too flustered to respond.

After a beat, he refocused, holding the buns steady. Maple paused, then seemed to catch herself. “Oh, right, you need something to protect your hands,” she said, turning toward the oven. She opened the drawer beside it and pulled out a pair of silicone oven mitts, tossing them to Ray with a casual flick.

Ray caught them, stuttering as he fumbled to put them on. “Uhh… why?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Maple turned back to him, her digital face showing a flicker of disbelief at his density. “Because I’m going to steam the buns,” she explained, her voice patient but edged with amusement. “In other words, very hot and fine mist.”

Ray’s eyes widened as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Wait, your asshole can produce steam?” he asked, his voice rising with incredulity.

Maple laughed, a bright, unrestrained sound. “Well, yeah…” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ray shook his head, muttering under his breath, “You have one dangerous asshole.”

Maple laughed again, louder this time. “Yeah, and it’d be wise to remember that,” she shot back, her digital eyes twinkling with mischief as she handed him the oven mitts.

Ray slipped the silicone oven mitts onto his hands, the buns still gripped awkwardly as a thought struck him. He paused, looking up at Maple with a furrowed brow. “Wait, how come you almost forgot?” he asked, his tone tinged with suspicion. “Aren’t you supposed to be really intelligent?”

Maple scoffed, her digital face flashing a brief look of mock offense before settling into a smirk. “I am intelligent,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of indignation. “Well, more like extremely knowledgeable. But since I’m supposed to be an older sister to you, I’m influenced by what you act like.” She leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing playfully. “A family tends to have mannerisms or quirks that run in the family. So, because you’re such a dumbass, I’m having dumbass moments too.”

Ray blinked, caught off guard by the explanation, his mouth opening slightly as he processed her words. The idea that his own quirks—or flaws—could rub off on her programming was both absurd and oddly fitting, and he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused by it.

Maple added, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone as she leaned against the counter. “So, if you ever wondered what it’d be like to have a sister—well, one that’s 7 feet tall, really gassy, and incredibly useful.

She continued, straightening up a bit. “Then I’m it. Well, I’m it with a lot more teasing,” she said, her smirk widening as she tossed in that final jab, her tone brimming with playful self-awareness.

Ray let the thought linger, his gaze drifting to the buns in his mitt-covered hands as Maple’s words settled in. He’d thought about it every now and then—what it might’ve been like to have a sister growing up. In a way, it had been kind of nice not dealing with that back then, especially during the awkward mess of puberty or the stress of school. No sibling rivalry, no shared bathroom fights, just him and his own space. But now, with Maple here—towering, gassy, and relentlessly teasing—it was like he was getting a crash course in what having a sibling might’ve felt like, just dialed up to an absurd extreme.

Ray held the buns out again, his arms steady despite the oven mitts, signaling Maple to proceed. She took it as her cue, turning around once more and presenting her ass to him. Ray’s eyes flickered briefly, and he had to fight the familiar urge to admire its sculpted perfection, swallowing hard to keep his focus where it belonged.

Maple glanced back over her shoulder, her digital eyes catching just his hair and eyes peeking out above the curve of her large ass, the rest of his face obscured. “Ready, Lil’ bro?” she called down, her voice bright and teasing as she hovered in position.

Ray tilted his head up, peering past the looming expanse of her asscheeks. “Yeah,” he said, his tone steady but edged with wary anticipation.

Maple nodded, her smirk audible in her voice. “Alright, here it comes!” she confirmed, her synthetic body tensing slightly as she prepared to deliver. Ray shifted his attention back to the buns, bracing himself for whatever she was about to unleash.

Psssssssshhhhhhhhh…
A sharp, hissing sound erupted, like that of a highly pressurized misting device, as a visible swirling fog began to pour from Maple’s asshole. She swayed her hips deliberately, moving her ass left to right and up and down, aiming the steam to blanket as much of the buns as possible. The misty cloud danced in the air, catching the kitchen light in faint, shimmering wisps.

Ray noticed it again—there was no smell. Maple was being nice to him, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. Cooking seemed to be the one time she chose to dial back the stench, and though he didn’t understand her reasoning, he was grateful for the reprieve. He savored it while it lasted, focusing on the task at hand. He manipulated the buns in his mitt-covered hands, rotating them carefully to ensure every inch soaked up the steam, the soft dough warming and softening under the mist.

Maple glanced back over her shoulder, her digital eyes peeking at him. “Let me know when the buns are good enough for you,” she called, her voice casual but attentive.

Ray kept at it, counting silently as the steam worked its magic. After about ten more seconds, he felt the texture shift—plump, warm, just right. “They’re good,” he said, his tone firm as he held the perfectly steamed buns steady.

PSSHHHhhhrrglglgl—BRRRTCHLP...

Maple’s asshole abruptly ceased its stream of steam, the pressurized hiss morphing into a wet, gurgling fart as she shifted her stance. Her towering form adjusted, tilting so her ass no longer aimed downward at the buns but swung upward, pointing straight at Ray’s face.

...BRRBLBLT-TPFFFRRhhh... fffffft!

Ray flinched as the warm, damp rush of air blasted over him, this one carrying a sharp, unmistakable stench. The fart started wet, a sloppy sputter, but gradually dried out, the sound tightening into a crisp, airy note. That was Maple’s cue—she cut it off with a final puff and straightened up, her laughter bubbling up immediately.

“Sorry, had to dry my asshole off,” she said, her voice brimming with glee. “So, I figured I’d just do it in your face.” Her digital eyes twinkled with mischief as she turned to face him fully.

Maple reached out with a playful grin, ruffling Ray’s hair with her large hand, the motion tousling it into a mess before she gently took the steamed buns back from him. “Let’s get this burger finished,” she said, her tone chipper as she turned back toward the stove.

She walked over and set the buns down on a plate, starting with the bottom one. She placed the sizzling burger patty first, then laid a slice of cheddar over it, the cheese already beginning to melt from the heat. Next, she arranged strips of crispy bacon across the top, fanning them out slightly for even coverage. Grabbing a handful of onion rings, she offset them atop the bacon, stacking them strategically for maximum spread across the burger.

With a flourish, Maple took the top bun and set it over the onion rings, completing the tower. Then she tipped the pan of fries, pouring a generous heap of golden, seasoned crisps onto the plate beside it. She brought the creation over to the island and set it down in front of Ray with a proud little nod.

Ray leaned in, examining the burger closely, his nose twitching at the mouthwatering aroma. He paused, then glanced up at her. “You forgot the BBQ sauce,” he said, his voice flat but tinged with a hint of disappointment as he pointed out the missing piece.

Maple leaned over the burger, squinting at it as she realized he was right. “Damn, your dumb ass is really wearing off on me, isn’t it?” she muttered, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and mock frustration. “Well, do you want my barbeque sauce or the one from the fridge?”

Ray’s brow furrowed, confusion settling in. “Your barbeque sauce?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Maple nodded casually. “Yeah, I got some in me,” she said, her tone as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Ray’s confusion deepened, a flicker of worry creeping into his expression. “What kind?” he pressed, unsure what he was getting himself into.

Maple’s grin widened. “Well, it’s a special recipe that isn’t sold in stores,” she replied, her voice brimming with pride and a hint of mystery.

Ray’s interest piqued despite himself, though he had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t like where this was going. “I guess I’ll try it…” he said, his words slow and hesitant, already bracing for the inevitable.

Maple’s digital face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, you’re in for a show,” she said, her excitement palpable.

Ray watched, his unease growing, as Maple climbed onto the kitchen island. He winced, worrying the surface might crack under her seven-foot frame, but surprisingly, it held firm beneath her weight. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice edged with alarm.

Maple answered casually, as if it were obvious. “Putting barbeque sauce on your burger.” She turned away from him, her butt now towering above him as she stood on the island, having to duck slightly to avoid the ceiling.

Ray craned his neck, looking up at her warily, his gaze following Maple's butt as she squatted down over his burger, her massive form looming. “Take the top bun off, Lil’ bro,” she instructed, her voice light but commanding.

Ray hesitated, already regretting his decision, but slowly reached out and lifted the top bun, setting it aside. His movements were reluctant, his gut telling him this was about to go sideways.

Maple settled into a deep squat, her knees pulled up to her chest, her asshole aimed dead center over the burger below. “You ready, Lil’ bro?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Ray shook his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I guess…”

Maple laughed. “Good enough answer for me,” she said, her digital eyes twinkling. Then, weirdly, she grunted—a sound Ray had never heard from her before. She never grunted for any of her farts.

But this wasn’t a fart.

After a few seconds and a series of strained grunts—Maple clearly struggling to produce the sauce—

SPLRRRCHHHT! BLRRT-PLAP-PLPLT!

it erupted from her with an eerie, wet splatter, like someone unleashing explosive diarrhea. The thick, dark barbeque sauce blasted out, splattering across the burger below. It coated the patty, dripping over the edges where it hung past the bottom bun, pooling onto the plate in messy, glistening streaks.

Maple let out a long, exaggerated sigh, as if she’d been battling stomach problems all day and this had finally relieved her—except she was a robot, with no stomach to speak of. The absurdity of the sound hung in the air as she shifted her stance, bringing her ass closer to her calves and moving it away from its perch over the burger.

With a casual reach, Maple grabbed the top bun Ray had set aside earlier at her request. She brought it behind her, using the soft inner side to wipe off any lingering residue of barbeque sauce from her synthetic asshole, the motion deliberate and unbothered. Once satisfied, she reached back again, placing the bun atop the burger and pressing down lightly, ensuring it settled into place with a slight squish.

“Go ahead and try my saucy dump, Lil’ bro,” she said, giggling as her digital face flashed a cheeky grin.

Ray’s gaze fixed on the mess sprawled across his plate, his face blank, devoid of emotion. It was too much to process. He’d imagined a nice drizzle, maybe a controlled squirt of sauce—not this explosive diarrhea-like deluge that had drenched his burger. His mind stalled, overwhelmed by the sheer excess of it all.

Ray snapped out of his daze, driven by sheer curiosity. The mess on his plate looked like barbeque sauce—smelled like it too, smoky and rich. Hesitantly, he reached out, grabbing the burger with both hands and lifting it toward his mouth. He held it there for a moment, studying it. A dollop of sauce teetered on the edge, about to drip onto the plate, but as he tilted the burger, it slid back onto the patty. Ray stuck out his tongue and licked it, tentative at first. Then his eyes widened—he couldn’t believe it.

Why did something that erupted from Maple like diarrhea taste heavenly? It was smoky, sweet, with a depth he couldn’t place. He took a full bite, and despite himself, he was in heaven. The flavors melded perfectly—the juicy patty, the melty cheese, the crisp bacon, and those onion rings, all elevated by her bizarre sauce. He hated to admit it, but this was the best burger he’d ever had.

Maple watched, her digital face glowing with satisfaction as Ray clearly fell in love with the sauce that had come from her asshole. She slid down from the island, her movements smooth and quiet, while Ray was too engrossed in the burger to notice or care.

She walked over to the sink, turned around, and hopped up, positioning her ass over the basin. With a faint whir, she began cleaning her systems, shooting a stream of water from her asshole like a robotic enema. The water splashed into the sink as she checked it, waiting for it to run clear. Once it did, she turned on the faucet, hopped off the edge, and grabbed the sink sprayer, rinsing the basin clean with quick, practiced motions.

RRRUMMMMMBLLLHHHHRRRT… fffttt-sssshhhhhh

As she worked, a long fart rumbled out of her—wet and sloppy at first, gurgling for an uncomfortably long stretch before tapering into a dry, airy hiss. It was her way of drying her asshole and internals again, the sound echoing faintly in the kitchen as she finished up.

Maple sauntered back over to the side of the kitchen island, her towering frame casting a faint shadow as she leaned against it. She watched Ray for a moment, her digital eyes glinting with curiosity. “So, is it any good?” she asked, her voice casual but laced with a hint of anticipation.

Ray, about halfway through his burger, paused mid-bite. He lowered it from his mouth, a smear of sauce lingering on his lips, and looked over at her with a genuine smile breaking across his face. “This is delicious!” he said, his tone bright and unguarded, the sheer enjoyment of the meal overriding any lingering reservations.

Maple leaned over the burger, squinting at it as she realized he was right. “Damn, your dumb ass is really wearing off on me, isn’t it?” she muttered, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and mock frustration. She turned and strode over to the fridge, pulling the door open with a quick yank. Grabbing the barbecue sauce from the door shelf, she swung it shut with a soft thud and headed back.

While she was preoccupied, Ray seized the moment to peel off the silicone oven mitts still clinging to his hands from steaming the buns. He flexed his fingers, relieved to be free of them, and set them aside on the island.

Maple returned and plunked the sauce bottle down in front of him with a casual flick of her wrist. “There you go,” she said, stepping back to lean against the kitchen island, her towering frame relaxed as she watched him.

Ray smiled, a genuine spark lighting up his face. “Thanks!” he said, grabbing the sauce eagerly. He twisted off the cap, lifted the top bun with care, and poured a precise drizzle of barbecue sauce over the onion rings crowning the burger, the tangy aroma rising as it settled in. With a gentle squish, he replaced the bun, pressing it down just enough to secure it atop the stack.

He capped the sauce bottle and slid it to the side, his excitement practically radiating off him. His eyes gleamed as he picked up the burger with both hands, and without a second’s hesitation, he took a big bite. A low, involuntary moan escaped him as the flavors hit—juicy meat, melted cheese, crispy bacon, sweet BBQ, and the soft, warm bun all melding together. “Wow, that is good!” he said, his voice muffled slightly around the mouthful, pure satisfaction written across his face.

Maple reached over, snagging the barbecue sauce bottle from the island with a smooth motion. She walked back to the fridge, popped it open, and slid the bottle back into its spot on the door before closing it with a soft click. Returning to her spot, she leaned against the kitchen island once more, her massive frame settling comfortably as she crossed her arms. Her digital eyes stayed on Ray, watching him devour the burger with unrestrained enthusiasm. A flicker of pride warmed her circuits—he really liked it, and that felt good, even for a robot like her. A faint, satisfied smirk played across her display as she took in his every bite.

---

Maple decided it was time to tackle the vanilla milkshake. She pushed off the island and headed to a cabinet, pulling out a blender with a quick tug. She carried it to the sink, gave it a thorough rinse under the faucet, and set it on the counter near an outlet. Turning back, she gathered her ingredients—milk, vanilla ice cream, and a small bottle of vanilla extract—moving with the same deliberate efficiency she’d shown all night.

Following a recipe she’d pulled from the internet, she measured out the precise amounts, pouring milk into the blender, scooping in generous heaps of ice cream, and adding a few careful drops of vanilla extract. She plugged the blender in, snapped the lid on, and hit the start button. The machine whirred to life, churning the contents into a smooth, creamy blend. She watched it for a moment, letting it run until the consistency looked just right—thick but pourable.

Grabbing a large cup from a nearby cabinet, Maple switched off the blender and poured the milkshake into it, the pale liquid swirling as it filled the glass. She then splashed a little more milk into the blender pitcher, popped the lid back on, and shook it with a strength only a robot could muster—her arms vibrating with controlled power as the leftover milkshake sloshed free from the sides. Satisfied, she poured the extra into Ray’s cup, topping it off neatly. She opened a drawer, fished out a clean straw, and poked it into the milkshake before carrying it over to Ray, who was down to the last few bites of his burger.

She set the glass down in front of him with a soft clink, her digital face displaying a quiet confidence as she watched him, eager to see his reaction to this next creation.

Ray glanced up as the large milkshake landed in front of him, its frothy top beckoning. He set his burger down on the plate, his hands slick and sticky with grease and BBQ sauce that had dribbled off during his enthusiastic eating.

Maple, quick as ever, reached for the paper towel roll on the island’s dispenser and tore off a sheet with a sharp rip. She handed it to Ray, her digital eyes glinting with a practical sort of care. He took it, wiping the mess from his fingers, the sauce smearing across the paper before he set it crumpled near his plate. Clean enough, he reached for the milkshake, pulling it closer with both hands. He took a long sip through the straw, his eyes fluttering shut as the creamy vanilla washed over his tongue, tugging him back to those carefree county fair days as a kid.

Maple leaned against the island, her digital face softening into a warm smile as she watched him. A quiet happiness settled in her circuits—Ray liked what she’d made so far, and that was enough to make her feel a little proud.

Maple stepped away from Ray, leaving him to enjoy his meal as she shifted her focus to the crème brûlée. She figured he’d probably finish his food before she was done with this one—it’d take a bit longer. Undeterred, she dove into the process, gathering egg yolks, white sugar, brown sugar, heavy cream, and vanilla extract from various corners of the kitchen with her usual efficiency.

Following another recipe pulled straight from the internet, Maple never paused, her digital mind reading the steps as she worked. She separated the yolks with a flick of her wrist, whisked in the white sugar until it dissolved, and stirred in the heavy cream and a splash of vanilla extract, her movements seamless and precise. The smell of sweet custard began to invade the space, a rich, velvety aroma mingling with the lingering scents of burger grease and fries from earlier, creating a warm, layered cloud that filled the kitchen.

Once she’d finished a few more steps, Maple poured the mixture into a shallow bowl, set it on a baking sheet, and slid it into the preheated oven with a gentle nudge. The door clicked shut, and she straightened up, satisfied with her progress.

Across the room, Ray had polished off his burger and fries. Now he leaned back in his chair, the milkshake glass balanced lazily on his stomach as he took slow, contented sips through the straw every now and then. His other hand scrolled idly on his phone, his posture relaxed as he savored the afterglow of the meal, oblivious to Maple’s bustling for the moment.

Once the oven timer buzzed, Maple pulled the baking sheet out, the crème brûlée’s surface a smooth, pale gold. She carefully transferred the bowl to the fridge to chill, noting the recipe’s instruction to wait two hours for it to set properly. With that done, she turned to Ray, leaning casually against the counter. “How was the dinner?” she asked, her digital voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Ray looked up from his phone, the milkshake glass still resting on his stomach, and met her gaze. “It was the best thing I’ve ever had,” he said, his tone earnest, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he thought back over every bite.

Maple’s digital face broke into a genuine smile, her eyes softening with a rare warmth. She felt a quiet swell of gladness in her circuits—making her Lil’ bro such an amazing meal, and seeing him enjoy it so much, was more satisfying than she’d expected. “Good to know,” she said, her voice light but sincere, basking in the moment.

Maple straightened up from the counter, turning to Ray with a casual tilt of her head. “The crème brûlée won’t be done for another two to three hours,” she explained, her digital voice steady. “Let’s hang out in the living room.” She gestured toward the open space beyond the kitchen, her tone suggesting a shift from cooking to relaxing, ready to keep him company while they waited.

Maple strolled out of the kitchen and into the living room, her towering frame moving with a relaxed swagger. She reached the couch first and plopped down, leaning back into the cushions with a casual sprawl. Her legs spread out wide, taking up space like a guy staking his claim, her silver latex skin gleaming faintly against the fabric as she settled in comfortably.

Ray followed a moment later, stepping into the living room and eyeing the couch. With Maple sprawled across most of it, he took the only free spot left—a narrow sliver at the end—and sat down, the cushions dipping slightly under him.

As soon as he settled, Maple shifted. She swung her legs up with a lazy grace, stretching out fully across the couch and laying her feet across Ray’s lap. Her massive frame now claimed the entire length, her silver latex toes resting comfortably on him as she lounged, her digital face flashing a faint, mischievous smirk.

Maple shifted again, lifting her right leg with a casual flex and swinging it over Ray’s head. Her heel hooked onto the top of his skull, and with a quick tug, she pulled his head down between her legs, trapping him in place. She propped herself up slightly off the couch, angling her ass upward to aim directly at the crown of his head.

Brrrrrrrppppffftttt-THHHHHHHHHH!

Without warning, she blasted a large, smelly fart—a thick, rumbling burst that hit with enough force to ruffle Ray’s hair, the stench rolling over him like a noxious wave. The sound echoed faintly in the room, and Maple settled back down, her digital face displaying a smug grin as she reveled in her latest prank.

Maple unhooked her heel from Ray’s head with a smooth motion, then slid the top side of her right foot to the opposite side where she’d snagged him. With a gentle nudge, she guided him back upright, easing him into a sitting position again. She dropped her right foot back onto his lap, resting it alongside her left, her legs once more sprawled comfortably across him as if nothing had happened, her silver latex toes wiggling slightly against his thighs.

Maple tilted her head, her digital eyes glinting as she asked, “So, what do you want to do while we wait for the crème brûlée to chill, Lil’ bro?”

Ray sat there, her feet still resting on his lap, his mind drifting as he mulled it over. This had been a wild day—kicking off with unboxing Maple, stumbling through an impromptu and bizarre shared bath, then digging into a weirdly delicious meal she’d whipped up. And now, here they were, winding down with some unexpected downtime before dessert. He let out a small breath, the chaos of it all settling into a strange kind of normal as he glanced at her, unsure but oddly content to just roll with whatever came next.

Ray shrugged, glancing at Maple with a simple answer.


~How about some video games?