Summary: Buffy arrives home from Xander’s to find a mysterious crate on her doorstep.
Fifth and final installment of the Summer Lovin’ Series
Buffy spent the time driving home from Xander’s thinking about her summer. She’d had so much fun. She felt like her entire personality had shifted, somehow allowing her to have more fun. Every summer she could remember, she’d spent preparing for the next school year. Writing her schedule on her daily planner, checking on her supplies, thinking about all the new children she’d meet. All she'd thought about was work, but that had all changed.
She had met some gorgeous men, all who looked vaguely familiar, and had expanded her horizons so to speak. She discovered she hadn’t thought about school starting for months, and it was scheduled to start soon. Better get started on my planning as soon as I get home, or at least after I call Spike…
Pulling into her driveway she noticed a large package, well, it was actually a huge wooden crate. Huh, I wonder what that is? I don’t remember ordering anything. I wonder if the school sent some materials for the new school year?
She had a tough time getting the crate into the house. Her doorway was very wide, but the crate was very heavy, making getting it in the house a difficult task. After pushing and wiggling it for what seemed like an eternity, she managed to get it over the threshold and into her foyer.
The box was stamped ‘THIS END UP’ and that was all she could find.
Buffy needed tools. There was no way she was getting into it without them.
Her toolbox was kept under her kitchen sink, and as she opened it, she thought of Spike again. Spike… mmmm and his tools… Although, I must say, he heated me up instead of cooling me off. She had herself giggling, his tool clearly visible in her mind.
Then she thought back to her trip to the park. Ranger Will … She had learned so much that day. Smiling, she selected a pry bar and a hammer. That’s weird. I don’t remember buying these tools. Oh, well. At least I have what I need.
Walking back to the foyer, she caught a glimpse of her pool shimmering in the sun, and she stopped in her tracks. Will… that gorgeous poolboy. He had a great tool too. He really did look a lot like Spike. And, that park ranger… wasn’t his name Spike too? Oh my God, are they all related? They were each so different. And Dave! I mean, the ice cream man… He told me his name was Spike too! How did I not see all this? There must be something wrong with my mind! No way were they all the same guy! I would have noticed that I think!
Buffy sat down on the couch, forgetting about the giant parcel in the foyer waiting for her. She was very concerned she was losing her mind. She spent a lot of time alone, especially during the summer. It seemed like that first encounter with Will the poolboy had somehow pushed her body into overdrive. She was hungry all the time, just for men, not food. Realizing she may need to talk to someone about her obvious addiction to men, Spike and Will shaped men, and soon. She worried her state of mind would effect her work.
Buffy stood up and decided she wouldn’t leave the house again until she was to report back to work. The house needed to be cleaned; she needed to write an apology letter to Xander, and get her lessons planned for the upcoming school year. There was plenty to keep her mind off of those men.
The crate proved to be harder to open than she had thought. She got the small stepladder from the pantry and used it to reach the top of the box. The top of the container was stamped Serling Manufacturing, Inc. Still, she didn’t have a clue what it was or why it was here.
Using the tools, she was able to get the top off the container. The wooden top was leaned up against the base of the crate as Buffy looked inside.
Styrofoam peanuts filled the container to the rim. Buffy stuck her hands in, hoping to find out what was inside. Weaving her hands through the peanuts, she touched something smooth and cool. Grabbing it, she pulled out a large white envelope.
Sitting down on top of the stepladder, she opened the envelope and slowly slipped its contents out onto her lap.
A catalog and an invoice were all that was inside. The lighting wasn’t great in the shadow of the crate, so back to the couch, paperwork in hand, she went.
The catalog was shiny and full color and caught her eye first.
Serling Manufacturing now offering new and improved models! graced the cover above a scene of a busy city. Buffy opened to the first page and her mind scrambled.
On page one was the new and improved android model #1880, The Spike.
The AC repair man, the ice cream man, and the park ranger too! Oh my God! They were all Spikebots!
Feeling confused, and still a little unsure of her sanity, she looked more closely at the catalog. The model, or sample, was nude. All of it’s amazingly familiar parts, proudly displayed on the high gloss page.
These machines are made to be completely lifelike! Use them for work! Use them for play! Add to your collection or upgrade your current model now! Guaranteed for life! We will happily replace at any time if not completely satisfied! That’s what the ad read.
Her heart was galloping in her chest, memories of her summer racing through her head. She’d been lusting after and humping robots. Oh My God, I’m a Bot Ho! She would have never known, except for this parcel’s arrival.
She quickly grabbed the invoice, looking for any information about who might have sent her… an android? God, I hope it's this new model #1880! Buffy wanna play with her new toy!
The item number was listed, but it wasn’t enough information to tell her what was in the box. The billing address showed that it had been ordered by the school district she worked for. Why would they send me a bot? Maybe it was supposed to be shipped to the school… Maybe it was sent to help me out this year at work. That would be great. My own personal assistant, and a hot one at that!
She picked up the catalog again and flipped through the pages, admiring all the other models. Dark haired, broody ones, that looked bulky enough to move furniture, but definitely not her type, short red-headed ones, nice compact models, and some that looked like older men. I don’t even want to know who orders those, or what for… Buffy shuddered at the thought.
Setting the paperwork on the coffee table, she picked up her tools and headed back to work. Eager to find out which model she had been sent, and enthusiastic to do more naughty things with him while she had him here in the privacy of her home.
Buffy worked quickly, loosening the nails on one side of the crate, as her mind explored all the sexual possibilities she could and would have with her new toy. She’d had the best sex this summer, so good in fact, she couldn’t remember sex before June. Is it possible that orgasms cause brain damage? Or that sex before the bots was so bad I blocked it out?
One side of the wooden panels of the crate was pried loose, but still not enough to get it open. The opposite side proved to be a bit more difficult. Buffy had bent the nails trying to force the wood panel off.
Wedging the pry bar in between the panels and whacking it with a hammer seemed to do the trick. The panel fell forward with a push, and slammed hard onto the wood floor. Styrofoam peanuts avalanched out onto the floor, surrounding and covering Buffy’s feet.
Slowly Buffy’s eyes moved from her peanut covered feet to the contents of the crate. Her mouth fell open. Staring back at her was not a Spike or a William model, but a different blond. The blond smiling at her was like a mirror image. The android in the crate was a Buffy model.
Buffy walked backwards, stumbling, as the robot opened it's eyes, stepped out of the box, and walked towards her.
“Hello, Buffy model number 2002. I am the Buffy model number 2009 and I am here as your replacement. I am programmed to shut you down, and place you inside the crate for pick up tomorrow. Your owner has deemed your programming faulty, and has filed a warranty claim. You are to be recycled under the manufacturer’s specifications. You were never supposed to have the sexual education chip installed as a teacher. Now, please allow me to assist you with your shut down.”
They made a fairly convincing pitch there. It doesn’t seem possible though, to find a woman ten times better than an average teacher in order to seem half as good – Except in the Summer Lovin’ Zone.
A fable? Most assuredly. But who is to say at some distant moment there might not be an assembly line producing a gentle product in the form of school teacher, or a sexy poolboy, or an air conditioning repair man. Fable, sure – but who’s to say?