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Of Thumbs and Bath houses (Phoebus and torridsoul)

"You weren't just ~oooh~ a shampoo girl... where you?" He said as he moves into your touch, almost melting. He was starting to relax, his eyes closed again, his breathing calmed. He winces gently as you work over one scare, drawing in a shuddering breath, before it ends in a soft moan.

Suddenly, on the wall, a timer shone through, displaying 10:00. It started ticking down, the last 10 minutes of bath time. He sighed, looking up at the timer, almost heartbroken.

"Too soon... never enough time."
 
"Nope, I wasn't.. I took classes on massage therapy. I've had a lot of jobs, and I've learned quite a few useful tricks" She smiled as you moved into her touch, she was beginning to think that you liked her touch just as much as she liked touching you. Though, she was sure that she was about as likely to hear those words as he was.

She pat his shoulder gently "You've still got some time, just relax"

She continued to run her hands over you body, alternating between rubbing and stroking until the cloak read 5:00 and they had only 5 minutes left. She slipped out from behind and absorbed the water for as long as she could. Before climbing out..

"it's a shame, but.. all good things must come to an end." she spoke the words even as she wrapped a towel around herself and began to dry herself off.
 
He nodded, as he pulled himself out of the tub, grabbing his own towel. He was standing a bit closer to you than before, still not looking at you. His face had remolded itself back to his typical grumpy look.

He finished drying quickly, moving back to the cubby room, and dressing quickly. He sat on his bench, looking to the ground, as he waited for you.

"It wasn't... so bad talking to you... maybe I did misjudge you... a little." He grunted, rubbing his hands together gently. "That doesn't mean you're off your chores, though."
 
Belle sighed softly when your face went back to being cold and unhappy. Well, you win some you lose some she thought as she finished toweling herself off. She moved back into the cubby room and saw that you were already dressed.. always efficient.

She picked up her panties and frowned a little.. instead of slipping them on, she pulled her pants on and stuffed the panties into one of the pockets. When she finished dressing and nodded to you, "I wouldn't dare to assume otherwise. And it wasn't so bad talking to you either Baxter"
 
He led you back out to the main hall. He thanked Amy on his way out, once again holding the door open for you. He moved ahead of you, pulling out the stool, and moving to the back. There, he pulled up a roof, of sorts, with Plexiglas panels surrounding it. He helped you in, and secured the case/

"I figure you wouldn't want to get messy right after getting clean... we'll be taking it slower, too... only 2 engines."

The ride was much more pleasurable this time around, with nothing of particular interest happening. He approached the edge of the woods, and took to the zig-zag pattern of the path.

Upon reaching the homestead, he unlatched the roof, and grabbed the stool, and, as expected, helped you out. He pulled the trike around back. Upon his return, he grabbed an armful of wood, and prepared a small fire, lighting the box, and pulling up an old, uprooted stump as a chair, watching the blaze.
 
The whole ride back to the homestead she wondered about the difference in your attitude when you were bathing and when you weren't. Was it just that you took no joy in anything but the bath?

She seemed a bit different than she had before the trip to the bath house. She didn't tear her hand away from yours when you helped her, she let it linger just slightly, letting you feel her touch without the water coating either of their bodies. She was more, open. Even if you had closed yourself off to her again.

She noticed how you took up most of the room on the stump you had pulled close to the fire, so sitting on it next to you was next to impossible. She also doubted you would be open to letting her sit on your lap, so she curled up on the ground next to the stump and leaned against the side of it and watched the fire herself.
 
He looked down at you, and instantly scooted over, taking up the side with the roots. He nudged you gently, patting the side of the stump.

"If you didn't want to sit next to me, there's an old chair somewhere back there..."

His eyes lingered on you for a moment, before going back to the fire. He had lifted a metal pipe, with a rubber handle at the end. He poked at the fire, watching the tower collapse, exposing more of the wood. Ashes danced in the air, as smoke bellowed upward against a black sky.

His hand went back to his jacket's pocket, fishing out his pipe. He struck a match against the stump, igniting it, and lighting the tobacco within.
 
She looked up at you and then stood, dusting her bottom off and then sitting on the stump with you. "Sorry it just didn't look like enough room for both of us at first."

Belle jumped a bit as the tower of wood collapsed a into the fire and watched as the ashes danced on the wind, and entwined with the smoke until they eventually floated out of site or settled to the ground.

When you lit your pipe, the scent of the tobacco mixed with the scent of the smoke from the fire and created an interesting scent that moved around them. "so is that all then, for the night? No more chores?"
 
"When one works hard, there are certain rewards..." his words were slow, almost as if quoting someone else. "Three of the largest meals they can ever have, and knowledge of when the day ends. Our days end as soon as the sun touches the trees."

His hand touched his pipe, holding it by the bowl, as he watched the fire. His face had melted a bit again, not quite a smile. He seemed...content, with the moment. His attention we set simply on the fire, poking gently at it every now and again. He seemed to take some sort of comfort in the ashes, his eyes following them as they waltzed against the night sky.
 
"I see.." she said as you spoke. She watched you for a bit, she liked when your face switched from that cold, disapproving look to the one of content.

Without even really realizing it her head rested against your shoulder and her eyes drifted closed. It must of been the mixture of the meal, bath and fire that relaxed her. Or maybe it was pure exhaustion, but it was the first time in weeks she let herself relax enough to fall into even a superficial sleep.
 
He looked at you, eyebrow raised. He scooped you up, walking inside. The house was a mess, a ton of scrap metals, tools, and munitions on the various shelves and counters inside. He turned, moving up the stairs.

The interior upstairs was much cleaner. There was a wall, that separated a room from, what could only be assumed, as a bathroom. His bed was large, lavish, and soft. It sat on a four posted frame, with a plethora of pillows on the bed. He laid you down on it, before turning around, leaving the room for you to rest.
 
Belle seemed to curl against you when you scooped her up. She didn't wake but she sought comfort in your arms as you carried her through the house.

When you laid her in the bed, her small frame snuggled into the mattress with soft sigh and her arms slid under the pillow.

The morning light streaming in through the window, had her eyes fluttering open. She stretched slowly and took in her surroundings.. she was in a bed? She didn't expect to be in a bed, she figured to find herself sleeping on a stump next to a died out fire. She rolled over, no Baxter and she was fully dressed, not that she'd expected you to take advantage of her or anything.

She tossed her feet over the edge of the bed and slid down onto them.. She found the bathroom, thank god for that. And then she'd worked her way down the stairs, looking to find you and give you a piece of her mind for putting her in what was so clearly your bed.
 
He was already hard at work, as he watched you come from the house. His face was grumpy once again, a full 10 feet of wall now framed, and being bricked.

"About time you get up, girl. There are about 15 chests of drawers inside. Go ahead and start organizing in there"

He went immediately back to his work, not paying another mind to you. Sweat was forming at his brow already, as a fire had already been started, the tripod over it. Breakfast would be started soon. He seemed mildly frustrated, not with you, but with life.

Things seemed to be back to square one.
 
It was a good thing that you weren't paying any attention to her because a huge pout had formed on her face. She'd been all ready to read you the riot act about putting her in your bed, she wanted to know where you'd slept. But she supposed she'd have to wait until tonight to tell him not to put her in his bed again.

She moved back inside and pulled open the drawers and examined a few before getting a feel for what was inside of them. After a bit she just dumped all the drawers out on the ground in front of her and began to sort since there had been no rhyme or reason to them before. She separated items that were the same, and then when putting items back into drawers she paired them with like items.

How much junk did one man have? she wondered as she sorted. This was taking even longer than mixing the concrete and putting it on the wall had.
 
There were thousands of pounds of metal, tools, and bolts around. Some things were actually interesting; antique clocks, old video gaming devices, flint lock guns... various gadgets and gizmos that you didn't even know what they could be.

He was outside, finishing a quarter of the wall, before becoming bored, going back to his sentry guns. This one was almost compete; motion sensing, 120 rounds per minute, with hostility checking AI. All that needed to be done was final calibration, and to install the AI into the main frame inside. He hoisted it, walking over to the wall. This pillar about 20 feet away from the path, one of the secondary guns.

He quickly rigged a pulley system, hoisting it to the wall, before threading the bolts into the post. He took to securing the device, the bolts each taking 10 minutes to set.
 
When it came to the gizmo's that she couldn't sort into a like pairing she tossed them all in one drawer and dubbed the drawer gizmo galore. When she finally had the fifteen drawers sorted and organized, she smiled and put all the drawers back into place.

She stood and dusted herself off. She'd better get out there and ask you for her next chore she thought, before you came in and started bitching abut how long it was taking her to sort your crap,

Walking outside and stood there watching you work the device and hoist the gun to it's post. She didn't want to interrupt and somehow distract you and cause you to muss things up so she waited patiently while you worked.
 
He pulled in the wrench one final time, and exhaled softly. He hopped down, looking up and admiring his work. After a few seconds, he cracked his knuckles, seemingly much more motivated. He walked back over to his table, pulling out more materials to start his next sentry.

In the distance, a deep groan could be heard. It started as a mere chortle against the wind, but soon it over swept the area. A small platoon of the undead was shambling in, their eyes locked on the farm house. Their speed picked up, seeming to be urged on by the scent of humans in the area.

Baxter sighed, as he watched the oncoming onslaught for a few moments. He sauntered to his table, picking up Samson. He knew he wouldn't need it.

The first blast made the earth shutter, easily taking out half of the platoon. The corn field was now a mine field; a maze of deadly bombs marked by stakes in the ground, with reflectors on them. The landmines were on the side opposite of the reflector; an easy system for any human to understand. Luckily, the undead were ignorant of such things, and would attempt to simply walk though any obstructions.

One zombie was lucky enough to get near Baxter, but instead received a mouthful of Samson.

"Next chore!" he called out to you, "Let's go get our harvest."
 
Belle reached down to her ankle, and when her hand brushed the bare skin she groaned. "Hey.. uhm Baxter.. my knife?" But when she looked up, she noticed you already heading out of ear shot. She cursed and wandered over to an area littered with junk, and cast off.. what were those? She'd just call them parts.

She shifted through the parts with a curious arch to her brow until she found a pair of scissors. Well, they weren't her trusty thumb-cutters as she'd started to call her knife, but they would do.

As she made her way out into the corn field, noting the reflectors she avoided the areas opposite them she began slicing the thumbs off the dead rothead, being extra careful with her steps. She looked up to notice Baxter planting new landmines while she collected the thumbs. She counted each as she slid them into her pocket with the other thumbs, it made no sense for her to keep the ones she had already to herself anymore, there was no getting out of here now.

She wasn't even sure she wanted to anymore.. the thought had her stopping mid-slice and looking down at the zombie. No, she didn't want to leave. She finished the slice and moved carefully back to the farmstead.

"I got 33 thumbs" she called to you.
 
"Bah." He said, as the last mine was covered. "We'll have to go out hunting later... unless I finish T3."

His eyes caught your quizzical look, and he held up a hand. "T3 is a hunter AI I made in reaction to the event. It was something a division of the UN wanted us to work on, but was a low class priority. It was deemed.... irresponsible for us to work on an AI that sought out the dead at that time."

He led you inside, and turned down the hall, heading the opposite way of the junk room. He strode through the kitchen, and into a back room, presumably another workshop. He fished out a small chip, as well as a small robot. It was in the shape of a box, a plethora of sensors and gauges on the machine. His hands were clawed, presumably meant for harvesting thumbs. His front had a door, that opened into a storage unit. The head of the small bot was a smaller, flatter box, with a large eye, presumably for Baxter to have vision while it was on patrol. Baxter hoisted the machine, deciding this to be his next project.
 
"You know, if we add the 35 that I had before I got here.. It makes no sense for me not to toss them in with the rest..that makes 68, that's not too bad right?" She didn't know why but the idea of going out to hunt the rothead's gave her a little thrill. Your landmines and pet gun had taken away all her fun earlier when the tiny army had tried to invade.

She wasn't shocked by the things you made anymore, and they'd only been together a day. The pet gun, the wall, the.. monster trike all the gizmo's in the drawer earlier today. A genius is what she figured you for, a hermit genius with a permanent scowl. "An AI hunter... well there goes all of my fun"

Belle followed you as you hefted the little robot. "Hey Baxter, even if you finish that thing.. could I maybe still go hunting?"
 
He shrugs gently "I don't see why not. We can go to the culling fields for a hunt... or back into the city. T3 here is just for defense, really. He'd run out of power too quickly to hunt. I'm really just sick of planting mines..."

He set up the bot on the table, reconfiguring some components within, cursing under his breath every now and again. "Did you finish the sorting already? If you're done, there's more wood to chop."
 
"I'll get on that now.. But uhm, I was wondering if I'd be getting my weapons back anytime soon." She'd hoped she'd proved herself worthy enough since you trusted her not to come at you with the axe she used to chop wood.

Without waiting for an answer she moved over to the axe and hefted it, grabbing a piece of the wood.. It would probably sound crazy to most people, but there was something almost calming about chopping wood. The repetition perhaps? or that satisfying thunk when you hit the wood and slid through it. She was a rather small thing, and it pleased her that she had enough power in her frame to chop the wood easily.

So far, chopping wood had been her favorite chore. But even as she had the thought.. she realized it wasn't true.. washing you hair and back had been her favorite chore. And as she chopped her mind wandered to the bath the previous night, and the way you'd relaxed under her hands. Yes "cleaning" had definitely been her favorite chore.
 
She's daft... Was his thought as you walked away. He shrugged it off, tending to his work immediately. His hands worked quickly over the circuitry, the pistons and the pneumatics. This was second nature to him. Tending to his machines was his greatest passion; each new creation like a child to him. He tended to them, making sure they were well calibrated, and even felt a little tugging at his heart string when one broke.

Broke...

There's no point in this program, Baxter...
What use would we have for this?
...
...
That's absurd.
Continue on with the MX-418, please. And don't waste any more time with these frivolous fantasies.
We hired you to create OUR ideas, Baxter... not yours.

He sighed, shaking his head softly, bringing his mind to his work. Lost in his thoughts, that's when projects seemed to get done. His hands would work on auto pilot, fixing just what needed to be done...

All that was left was the chip...
 
Even though Belle figured she wouldn't get her weapons back while they were here, she hoped when it came time to hunt you'd hand her weapons over to her and let her go to town on some rotheads. Because going to town on some rotheads with an axe really didn't appeal to her.

Though she supposed if she simply pretended they were wood.. she'd could get through hundreds of them in no time. She looked over as the pile of recently chopped wood grew, her arms were getting tired and she hoped that Baxter would snap out of it soon and order her to a new chore.

A smile slid across Belle's lips as she chopped, what if one of these recently chopped pieces of wood just happened to whiz past your head? That wouldn't do she thought, then you'd just think her a danger with anything in her hands. She sighed and put the axe through another piece of wood.
 
The chip slid easily into place. It connected to the wireless main frame of the property. It whirled to life to life, a few mounted guns flipping around his shoulders, and into a readied position. The lower side panels flip out, treads on the bottom of wheels, 3 tires on each side. The lights on the front panel glow for a second, as it drives off the edge, landing on the ground. He switches it off quickly.

He walks to the middle of the field, and flips a switch. Every 3 seconds, a violent explosion sounds, as the mine-field becomes disarmed. After a half hour, the explosion subsides. He turns to you.

"Last chore... Fill in the holes."
 
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