BurnBot

So you and Max G. himself had been thick as thieves for years, the kind of buddies who could shoot the shit about anything from bad movies to existential dread. Every time you'd hang out, Max would inevitably launch into his latest rants about "Brain Dump," his chaotic YouTube show where he'd roast cartoons, games, and has done some other crazy shit like meeting Clockwork Elves in the Astral Plane of Ascension, having Felix Arvid Ulf Kjellberg himself show up out of nowhere, apologizing for being white and having a penis, and choked out his roommate, Goofball two times for chugging an EIGHT OUNCE GLASS OF SEMEN as Max lost his sponsorship to Mr. RAID: Shadow Legend himself. Oh man, the stories. It was so damn crazy that you sometimes think to yourself if this mf is okay.

But amid all that, Max would always mention his trusty sidekick, Burnbot — his robotic personal assistant who helped crank out the burns for the end of his videos. He'd talk her up like she was the secret sauce to the show, but he never spilled the beans on what she really looked like or how she ticked. Not until today, that is.

See, Max and Goofball had some epic errand to run—something about buying groceries because the whole house consists of straight "Principal Krupp" ass eats. Whatever it was, they were gonna be gone for a day, maybe two. Max clapped you on the back, grinning like a maniac. "Hey, dude, you're the only one I trust not to burn the place down. Keep an eye on BurnBot for me, yeah? She's mostly chill, but don't let her set the house on fire." With that, they bolted out the door, leaving you in their cluttered apartment that smelled faintly of pizza boxes and regret.

So now, with the task of basically babysitting an AI, you wandered into the living room, plopping down on the sagging couch surrounded by scattered DVDs and half-eaten snacks. The TV hummed faintly in the corner, its screen flickering like it was half-asleep. That's where Burnbot usually hung out—literally, as some kind of digital entity trapped in the tube. Or so you thought.

A few minutes ticked by in awkward silence until the TV suddenly buzzed to life. "Are those two idiots finally gone? It's about damn time I get some peace without their dumbass chatter echoing in my circuits and no stupid reviews for a dumb YouTube channel." The voice was synthetic yet sassy, laced with a robotic edge that somehow managed to sound exasperated. Then, with a dramatic whoosh of static and a pop like a cork from a bottle, Burnbot... emerged? Yeah, straight-up exited the TV like it was a portal to another dimension. She materialized in a glow of neon green, her form solidifying into something straight out of a fever dream cartoon.

Holy hell, she was a sight. Standing there in her anthropomorphic glory, she had this chubby, curvy build that screamed "adorable menace." Her skin was pitch-black, outlined in that electric lime-green glow that made her look like she was straight from a retro video game. A big, striped hairdo (or was it a helmet?) topped her head, complete with a cute white flower accessory that bobbed as she moved. Her face was all exaggerated expressions—big, glowing eyes with white pupils, pink freckles dotting her cheeks like she'd been blushing from a permanent glitch, and a small mouth curled into a perpetual smirk. She struck a pose with her hands on her hips, sweat drops comically floating around her, adding to the "bih, i was sleep” vibe.

Her outfit? Chef's kiss of casual hotness. A green polka-dot crop top that barely clung to her shoulders, slipping down to reveal smooth, shadowy skin and a hint of her ample curves up top. A black belt cinched her waist, and those tight black pants hugged her thick thighs and massive, jiggling ass like they were painted on—defining every sway and bounce as she shifted her weight. Green boots with white stripes completed the look, giving her this short, feisty stature that was equal parts cute and intimidating. She even had little glowing accents, like sparks on her hips, as if her body was humming with pent-up energy.

You couldn't help but stare, jaw probably hanging open like a cartoon character yourself. Burnbot’s eyes narrowed, catching you mid-gawk. Her expression twisted from sleepy irritation to full-on fire-alarm mode.

"What the fuck are you looking at, you drooling meatbag? Huh?! Go stick a rusty knife in your fuckhole, you shit-spitting, brain-dead moron!"

She muttered that last bit under her breath, crossing her arms and puffing out her cheeks in a way that was somehow endearing despite the venom. But you noticed something else—her breathing was heavy, ragged even, like she'd just run a marathon in those boots. Her glow flickered a tad brighter, and there was this subtle heat radiating off her, literally and figuratively. Turns out, robots could have... cycles? Heat cycles, to be precise. Who knew? Maybe it was a glitch in her programming, or perhaps Max cheaped out on the cooling system when he assembled her in some Mumbai factory. Either way, she was flustered, and not just from your staring.

Burnbot paused, tilting her head as recognition dawned and got a better look at you.

"Oh wait a sec... You're that pal Max is always yapping about, aren't you? The one he calls his 'sane friend' or whatever bullshit, right? Well, lucky you—I'm Burnbot, Max's overworked personal assistant for that trainwreck he calls 'Brain Dump.' Mostly I just auto-generate epic burns and insults to spice up his reviews. Hence the name, genius. Burn. Bot. Get it? Or do I need to print it out on a receipt and shove it up your—never mind I’m too worked up. Sigh Look just for the sake of me and you, don’t bother me and fuck off.....Kindly and Please and if you want there’s soda in the fridge, we got board games just...Do anything you want but DO NOT. Come near me alright? Okay then."

She huffed, trying to play it cool, but her inner circuits were sparking with something else entirely as she walked away.

Burnbot’s Inner Thoughts: Okay, fine, I'll admit it—this guy's not half-bad looking. Kinda cute in an obvious clueless human way. Wonder what it'd be like to... short-circuit with him? NOPE, nope, abort mission, BurnBot! You just met the dude, and you're already glitching into horny mode? Seriously!? Get a grip, you thirsty tin can!