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I nervously step back, knees bending against the steel bed frame, as he rises from his chair. He removes his underwear revealing a... well, it's not big. But I've had no action in months, and it's attached to my brother, so the sight of the cock that's rising, stiffening, revealing the pendulous, heavy balls beneath, makes me gasp. His body is soft, but mercifully light on hair, and his deceptively strong thighs flex under his weight. He looks at me and jerks himself, slowly, drawing a little more stiffness and a bead of fluid from his erection.

"Well," he says, expectantly. I look up at him confused for a moment. He gestures at my body. Oh.

I'm not wearing much. The gauzy heat of April is already becoming too much for the house's meagre cooling system. My sodden panties peel away reluctantly under one hand while my other lifts the loose t-shirt, and in a few seconds I'm as naked as he is. I glance nervously over at the doll, comparing myself to her involuntarily. She can't age, gain weight, or grow body hair; how do I look one month on? Of course I've not changed much if at all. Maybe I'm a fraction skinnier due to the stress of not sleeping. And she's a fucking mess anyway. But it's hard not to feel the pressure of having her nearby.

For now, at least, Evan is having no difficulty focusing on my - actually my - nakedness. He looks hungry, eager. Almost predatory. And then he makes his move. One fleshy knee bumps up against mine, parting them easily as I offer little resistance. I lie back, one hand on my stomach, the other stretched up and above my head, smoothing a futile stretch of the sordid bedsheet. My breath, challenged by the heat and laboured by the anticipation, makes my chest rise and fall jerkily, boobs jiggling slightly even as their shape collapses against my ribs in that disappointing way that they do when lying on my back.

How's he going to begin? I gaze up at him, wondering how this unlikely specimen is going to blow my mind. How my brother is going to dispel the weeks of horniness that have built up in response to his antics.

When he lurches forward and unceremoniously bumps himself against my slit, I'm a little taken aback. From the doll's sounds, there must have been loads of foreplay. I'm about to say something when his bulk shifts and suddenly he's fully in me. It's so blunt that my gasp of surprise kills anything I was about to say; my hand on my abdomen flexes up, fingers reaching for him to slow him down; and I squirm like a stuck pig around his cock. I was very wet, so his entrance was easy, but...

When he begins to thrust, it's a jerky, battering motion that sets him jiggling and pushes me relentlessly into the crumpled bed. He grinds away, churning inside, panting and grunting. His arms are both required to support the weight of his torso, so he doesn't even touch me, just places a massive doughy hand on either side of my shoulders, and looks down at me with a detached kind of half interest.

Bumping, thrusting, he continues. It feels... well, it feels fine I guess. Having something inside me after all this time is kind of nice. I definitely expected more, though. Like a prodigious skill with that unremarkable cock, or at least a brutal pace that would render me helpless and make me feel consumed. This is just... mechanical. Impersonal. Like he's basically using my body to masturbate. I certainly don't feel like wailing or screaming.

And it lasts, a... long time. I've no idea exactly how long but I'm thoroughly bored by the time he grunts and splatters a weak jet of cum as deep inside as he can manage. He's more than a little breathless from the effort, and shudders to a halt, bringing a silence to the room, and I look around me in confusion. This is absolutely not what I expected. Is this it? What about-

"Going to the bathroom," he gasps with that frothy voice of his. And he drags his bulk off me and stomps out of the room.

I'm speechless. Not, I think, that there's anybody to whom I would speak. My lips are moving but I can't form a sound. What on Earth-

"What. The fuck. Are you doing," hisses my voice, from elsewhere in the room. I tilt my head back, and see the open eyes of my robot twin, blazing with fury, staring at me.

"You're... awake? You're not shut down for charging?"

"Of course I'm not shut down you idiot. Telling him I need to be powered off while plugged in is the only way to get him to leave me alone."

I don't understand. "Get him to-?"

"I'll ask again, because I cannot figure out what in the everliving fuck has made you take leave of your senses. What are you doing?"

"I... was... am so horny, I thought..."

"Thought what?"

"Thought he... well, you always sound..." The awful, appalling realisation is beginning to dawn. "You always sound so, uh, thrilled. I thought... I needed some of... that."

"Ok. So I know we aren't this dumb. Thrilled? I. Am. A. Robot. He is my owner. He activated my 'enthusiastic compliance' subroutine the morning you unwrapped me. I have **** but to perform."

"You... you mean..." My halting words are interrupted by the flush of the toilet. The robot's eyes snap closed and it's as though she never moved. I stare at her, terrified at the growing awareness of what a mistake I've made, and I'm still transfixed with horror as I feel the bed shift and bow as it takes his weight once again.

I just have time to look up at him and begin to form the word when I feel him shove his way inside again.