"Don't know what you plan on doing with your dad's old workshop, no one's looking for work on old cars anymore. Guess that's why you already sold all his old tools. But whatever you plan on doing, I hope it works out for you. And I hope this helps you out some. Good luck."

Your uncle was straight to the point in his letter. It was a refreshing change from how things had been lately. You and your father weren't very close, but everyone still seemed to want to heap condolences on you. You couldn't really blame them, though, it was the polite thing to do, even if it wasn't really necessary. You held the paper check included with the letter. Your uncle still used those. Nobody used those anymore, it was all electronic transfers now. But apparently someone at the banks decided they had to keep offering them for like the three people who refused to just get a card. Oh well, it still spent the same once it was in your account. And right now, you were going to need it. Even with the money you got from selling all those old auto-mechanic tools, things were tight. Looks like it's going to be dehydrated ramen and powdered orange juice for the foreseeable future. 

This new equipment wasn't cheap. Even scrounging for used items and junkyard specials, you were still scraping by. But that wasn't the worst of it. The business license and tax forms practically ate you alive. Oh well, with a little luck and enough customers you could make it back. Maybe then you could afford some actual food. 

It was honestly a bit silly, to think you could really make a go of this. You'd never actually owned one yourself. They were far too expensive. When you had inherited your father's old shop, you had thought about just buying one for yourself with the money. But no, you had to be a bit smarter than that. The money wouldn't last forever, and then where would you be? No, this was hopefully the smarter move. You had always liked them, and you had followed the technology since the day they entered the market. But now, you might actually get to put that knowledge to use. After all, surely there were lots of people needing work done on their Furbots, right?

Furbot. It was an odd name. Not the official one, of course. Anthropomorphic Autonomous Robotic Home Assistant, or whatever the translation from Japaneses came out to be. It was a mouth-full, that was for sure. The name 'Furbot' was what the internet eventually settled on calling them, and it just stuck. It was descriptive enough, at the very least. The first models were kind of crude, without any real expression to them aside from over-sized LED eyes and slowly moving cat ears. Thankfully, those never really went to the wider market, really just over-priced novelties for billionaires obsessed with owning the latest technologies. But they caught on, and people wanted them. When the Gen 1s finally came about, they actually looked like something more alive. A mechanical cat girl to clean your house, take care of the shopping. She was even there if you needed someone to cry with. That's probably what did it. What people were looking for, the companionship. It was easy and cheap to make some little four-wheeled robot to vacuum your carpets. But it was entirely something else when that robot could look sad for you, and offer you a shoulder to cry on. 

Or threaten to kick your ass if you didn't stop moping about. Some people wanted that too, and it was easy enough to reprogram a Furbot to assertive when the situation called for it. It wasn't long before more types were available. Rabbits, foxes, horses. They even tried a more human looking model, but it just never caught on like the others. Perhaps people felt just a bit too weird about owning something that looked too human. Whatever the case, eventually the Gen 2s came out and they were a major step up from the previous ones. Hell, they were already onto Gen 3 now, and it was getting harder and harder to find a home that didn't have one, maybe even two. They were just too useful to not have one if you could afford it. 

But like every piece of consumer equipment, they didn't last forever. It could be years before a Furbot completely broke down, but parts would often wear out long before that. Servos would loose strength, sensors would short out. Even the programing would sometimes come up with a glitch that would have a Furbot spazing out like a seizure. Certainly something you wouldn't want to have happening at inopportune moments. Especially considering some of the more, well, intimate chores people would task their Furbots with. 

Yes, it was probably inevitable. With something that could look and act so real, someone was bound to get a little too friendly with one. And, surprisingly, everyone seemed fine with it. It wasn't long after they were first available that the Gen 1s were made more 'anatomical'. Of course, they were still marketed with clips of Furbots sweeping floors and cooking dinner. But everyone knew they'd 'tuck you in' at night if you just asked them to. 

Alright, so maybe repairing Furbots might be a bit more nasty than you had first imagined. But it's not like they're not waterproof, and a garden hose was cheap enough. You had everything else you needed here. And adjustable docking table that would come in handy when a bot needed more extensive repairs, a diagnostics chair with probe halo for more software based issues. And extra charging station that might be handy. Your father even had a paint room you manage to convert into finishing chamber. You knew some people would buy whatever Furbot they could afford, and later want their 'bot to look more 'flashy', paying for exotic fur colors and patterns. And you were ready to give them just that, if they payed, of course. 

All you had to do now was wait for your first job. 

Just wait...

Wait...

...

..

.

"Test!"

Wait, you weren't in school anymore. That annoying chirping wasn't your teacher berating you for daydreaming in the middle of a test. It was your phone. You had dozed off while waiting around for your first job. Not very professional of you. The number flashed across the little screen as the digital ring tone sounded out again, demanding attention. This was it. Your first job. That is, so long as this wasn't a wrong number, or some bill collector. You certainly had a number of outstanding debts yet to pay off. Another ring brought you back to the issue at hand, swiping a finger across the screen, the flashing number faded in a wipe to bring up the image of a middle-aged woman, who just looked blankly out from the screen at you. 

Oh right! Greeting! Got to sound professional. 

"H-hello, Fur Services and Repair. H-how can I help you?"

That had sounded far more professional in your mind the several dozen times you had rehearsed it earlier. Oh well, you suppose it'll start to feel more natural over time. Thankfully she didn't seem to notice, at least too much.

"Um, yeah.. You do Furbot repairs, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." That sounded a little better, you hope. 

"Good. I, um, I've been having some problems with my Furbot. She's been dropping things a lot, and today she's not able to move her fingers."

You nodded along as you listened to the woman's problem. That could be a number of things gone wrong, though it didn't sound too uncommon. Especially when a Furbot does a lot of house work, they can end up wearing out a number of components in their arms, leading to problems like that. Shouldn't be too hard for a first job. 

"Mmhmm.. And what model is your Furbot?" 

"Oh, she's a Gen 2. You do work on those right?"

"Oh yeah, certainly. Can you bring her in, and I'll take a look?"

The woman seemed quite happy to hear that. One short exchange of information later, and you sat back in your chair, feeling a bit of Cloud 9 caressing your toes. Your first job! And hopefully an easy one to boot! This was it, you were finally making it on your own! So elated, you almost threw yourself into a panic when you realized this job would actually require you to do something!

Double check that the probe halo was actually turned on. Docking table clear of tools and ready for use. Ok, the halo was on, but the diagnostic computer wasn't, that would have been a problem. Wiring kit ready just in case. Heatgun. Heatgun! You need a heatgun for the wire-wrap! Ah, there it is. Oooo! Dolly, you've got to move the 'bot too. 

You were almost worn out from all the running around and triple-checking things by the time you made your way over to the garage door. This had, after all, been an auto shop before. The large rolling doors were needed for moving cars in and out. They weren't strictly needed now, most Furbots were no bigger than your average human. Of course, the extra room they afforded wasn't a bad thing. There was something oddly exciting about the rumbling the door made as you pushed it upwards, letting the springs take over to heft it's weight upwards. And just in time, a few minutes later a sedan pulled up, a familiar middle-aged woman in the driver's seat, and someone in the back. 

You doubt you've ever been so nervous in your entire life. Not that there was anything particularly intimidating about the situation you now found yourself in. The woman was pleasant enough to talk with, and she didn't ask any hard questions. But there was just so much pressure to not mess up. This was your first job, you had to make a good impression. She spent some time going over the problems again, giving you a bit more detail. In truth, it wasn't all that more helpful than what you already knew, but it would have looked bad to say so. Got to appear considerate to the customer, after all. The question of cost as a bit harder to handle. You had no idea what it would cost, and wouldn't really know till the work was done, but you couldn't just come out and say that. And estimate would have to do for now, though she didn't much seem to like that. Well, a free diagnostic then. She seemed to like the sound of that. At least then you'd have some time to figure out just what was wrong and how much it would cost to fix. 

At last, it was time to see your 'patient'. And there she was, in the back seat of the sedan. A rabbit too, slumped over in the seat, her long ears drooped back against the head rest, eyes closed and small mouth slightly open. It took you a moment to get over the sight. You hadn't expected her to be deactivated. You had seen pictures and videos of deactivated Furbots before. But for some reason, seeing one in person just felt more visceral to you. She could have been sleeping. Or she could have been dead. It was, honestly, all the same in this case. One moment she had been turned on, alive. And in the next she was off, nothing but an inanimate piece of equipment. You shook the errant philosophical thoughts from your head for now, looking her over slowly. Her eyes were closed, but still it was clear she was a 'bot. Her short grey fur was broken up by lines of currently inactive illuminated circuits, running over her shoulders and arms, as well as down along her chest, over her modest bust before disappearing under the french maid outfit she was dressed in. Not actually being alive, it wasn't considered indecent to let a Furbot walk around in the nude. After all, technically speaking they were just equipment. Of course, if people were willing to fork out cash for overpriced dog clothes, they'd certainly be more than willing to dress up their Furbots however they wanted. And as outfits went, the modest but attractive uniform this rabbit wore was certainly not the most provocative you've seen. Well, enough visual examination, it was time to get to work. 

The dolly was something between a hand-cart and a wheelchair, sturdy enough to handle the weight of even some of the larger Gen 3s. You just had to get her into the damned thing first! It was pretty awkward to get her out of the back seat, but that wasn't the worst of it. She was heavy! Despite being such a small thing, she weighed a ton! Not literally, but still! You knew she was full of metal and wiring and all sorts of heavier than flesh things, but even then you didn't expect her to weigh so much! It would have been bad enough if she was just some piece of equipment, a fridge or something. But you just couldn't help but being extremely aware of where your hands were going. Even deactivated, there was plenty of 'movement' to her. Every time you heaved to lift her weight, you watched as her uniform shifted with the motion of her bust. Every time you braced to catch your breath her soft side was pressed against you. It was quite the ordeal, made even worse by the watchful gaze of the little 'bot's owner. Don't panic, just act professional. You're not some pervert looking to cop a feel on some deactivated bot... 

Finally she was out of the car and onto the dolly, slumped to one side with her head hanging limp against a shoulder. It... Just didn't feel right. A moment spared to wipe your brow, you gingerly took a hold of one side of the rabbit's head, pushing gently at first, but soon with more effort to shift her weight a bit. There, sitting upright. She looked less dead, more relaxed and peaceful now. It helped calm your nerves for the moment at least. Another short talk with the 'bot's owner followed. She was your only client so far, so you had plenty of time to work on things. Assuming it wasn't something too serious, you could probably have the rabbit up and running by tomorrow. Thankfully most part suppliers had same day delivery, so you wouldn't be sitting around long waiting for parts to arrive. With a reassurance that you'll do everything you can to get her little rabbit good as new, you watched as she drove off. A deep sigh helped you expel the stress you'd been accumulating over the past fifteen minutes or so. Now it was just you, the limp rabbit, and your tools. The hard part was behind you now, right?

Damn. Have to get her into the diagnostics chair now...

At least you didn't have to worry about someone silently judging you now. Not that that would make the task any easier. The dolly's wheels squeaked along as they rolled across the cold concrete floor towards the diagnostics chair. It was a simple setup, nothing fancy, but it still seemed slightly out of place compared to the dark corrugated metal and pegboards lining the walls of the old garage. It was like some sort of dentist chair, adjustable arm and leg rests, dense rubber padding to help hold a patient securely in place. But rather than a little tray for dental tools, the chair was lined with wires and plugs, a veritable spaghetti tangle of cables leading back to a boxy computer resting on an adjacent table. What really made this setup worth it was the probe halo. Looking more like art than diagnostic equipment, where one might expect a headrest, there was instead a circular arch of circuits and metal, lined with small rods and lights. Wirelessly connective, at least between a Furbot and itself, it provided access to a 'bot's OS, letting the user really get into the settings proper. You could even install a completely new personality program with it. Not that you needed to now, but it was something nice to have for the future. 

But first thing first, you actually had to get the rabbit into he chair. With another sigh and a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the task. At least it would be easier than trying to get ahold of her from the back seat of a car. A moment or two to consider your options, you squatted down and leaned over, best to put what little muscles you had to work. As you reached to slip your arms around her limp form, you ran face first, quite literally, into your old adversary. Those soft mounds. From the feel alone, you'd be hard pressed to tell she was just a machine, the way they squished and molded against you as you tried to get a tight grip around her midsection. You could feel your cheeks starting to heat up at the contact. She's just a 'bot. Just a machine. You had to keep reminding yourself as you laced your fingers together against the small of her back. Despite how heavy you knew she was, she still felt so small in your arms, almost delicate if it wasn't for the strong metal you knew was hidden just under her synth-skin. And boy, you could really feel it now, grunting as you flexes your legs and straightened your back, heaving her up and over your shoulder. 

FLOP!

Her head fell down as you shifted her weight to rest directly down on you, ears falling limply as well. She could have been a person, passed out drunk, and you were lugging her to a taxi for a ride home. But thankfully it was a short trip, her 'home' being the diagnostics chair just to your right. Another grunt as you spread your legs, trying to brace her as you slowly started to lower her down. She may be just metal and circuits, but you didn't want to risk damaging anything else by just dumping her into the chair. Said expensive diagnostics chair being chief among the things you didn't want to break. Her weight shifted as you brought her closer to upright, he weight starting to slip through your arms and... Oh! This was awkward. Now you were face to face with the little rabbit, her blank, unconscious expression tilted back and sideways as she ended up straddling your leg, her crotch having landed right on your knee. That couldn't have felt good. At lease in her deactivated state, she wouldn't have felt anything. It was still an uncomfortable position for you, both physically and psychologically. A little lean, a little push, and finally you heard the chair groan under her weight as she settled in at last. There, second hard part over with...

Now the actual work could start. You reached back, pulling the desk chair closer to take a moment to breath. Oh, this had been an ordeal. Those online forums never talked about this part of the job. It was all just numbers on a screen or nuts and bolts on a table. They never talked about lugging the 'bots about, or feeling like you were some perv just trying to grope on them. Was this something every repair man had to go through? Or were you just too self-conscious about everything? Well, either way, you were in it now, and there was no going back now that you've taken the job. With another deep breath you reached for the rabbit's prone form and. Oh, just one second. It going to take a while before you get used to seeing them like that, deactivated and all slumped over. There, back to sitting straight. Now to get to work. 

Her fur felt so soft, so real as you brushed it aside, exposing those circuits a bit more. A small magnetic force pulled the diagnostic cables in with a soft little click, making contact. First one arm, then the other, a couple around her shoulders, and one on each of her bare feet. Thankfully that was all you needed for this. Naturally, there were many more you could have connected, but the thought of undressing the poor rabbit was a bit much for you handle right now. The sound of cooling fans spinning up as the computer started to run the diagnostic felt almost reassuring. It was a sign that now you were into the technical issues, no more heavy lifting. A progress bar slowly crawled it's way across the screen, the rather pathetic main actor in the show while far more interesting elements came into shot behind it. A slowly expanding simple schematic of the rabbit's construction, giving just the barest cliff-notes of what goes into making this little bunny hop. Several little boxes of scrolling text and numbers, all meaning something you had filed away in the back of your mind for the time they'd be needed. Eventually that progress bar finished it's bland performance and got out of the way, and there was the meat of the issue. A fault somewhere in her right arm. 

That was obvious even before you had run the diagnostic. The lady said she had been dropping things recently, and now her fingers just refused to move. It could have been faulty wiring, or a bad actuator, or even a programing fault. You tapped on the screen, pressing the area over the schematic's arm to bring up a more detailed readout. Shoulder looked fine, everything returning a green indicator. Superstructure seemed intact, some minor wear from use but nothing that would be causing a problem like this. But her circuit readout was more telling. The little lines running along the arm, each one a major circuit pathway, showing the flow of data and instructions from her central processors to her mechanical components, there was an interrupt in the flow of data. The diagnostic was sending false signals through her system, meaningless instructions her systems would ignore, but still pass on all the same. It was like if you could tell your hand to wiggle your toes, and your toes toes to sing opera. Ridiculous instructions your body parts could never fulfill, but ones your nerves could send all the same. Except for this poor rabbit, those instructions weren't even getting to where they needed to be. There, some where near her elbow, that was where the instructions were stopping before getting to the rest of her arm. It could be bad wiring, or something a bit more serious. Either way, you'll have to take a closer look to find out. And that means opening her up. 

Ugh.. And that meant having to pick up the heavy little rabbit and carrying her over to the docking table. This just got worse and worse. Too bad she couldn't..

Actually, why couldn't she? Another tap of the screen and you brought up the overview again. There didn't seem to be anything else wrong. Certainly nothing that would affect her legs, or her sense of balance. Aside from the fault in her arm, she seemed to be in perfect working order, and well maintained to boot. Actually, it was strange that her owner had deactivated her before bringing her in. You could just turn her back on and have her walk herself over to the table. But should you? Was it rude to ask someone else's Furbot to do that? After all, you were being payed to do the work yourself, you suppose that includes moving her around too. But there wasn't anything saying you couldn't let the 'bot help out in her own repairs, right?

It would save you from getting so flustered from having to carry around a limp, shapely rabbit, though...

It would be simple enough to reactivate a Furbot, they usually all had a main power switch somewhere behind an ear. Best to leave her connected to the diagnostic machine, just in case something else went wrong. Again you felt how soft her fur was under your fingers as you gently felt around behind first one ear, then the other. It was hard to believe it wasn't real fur, the way it almost tickled against your skin. Ah, there it was, just behind and a little below her left, floppy ear. A little bare patch with a raised bump. Now, to just press and hold for a second or two...

You almost jerked your hand away as there was a whirring sound, the faint sound of a mass-storage drive spinning up. It was quickly followed by a slight gurgle, the 'bot's cooling system pumping fluid through her body like a circulatory system, carrying heat from her electronics to just under her synth-skin. It prevented her from overheating, but also gave her an almost life-like warmth. And then a sound you almost didn't expect. A soft, almost delicate groan as her vocal systems started up and she shifted in the chair, her formerly floppy ears perking up. 

It was almost like watching anyone waking up from a long sleep. You almost expected her to ask for breakfast as her eyes started to open. They glowed with a vibrancy you weren't entirely prepared for. You knew they were just a collection of micro-LEDs, her pupils nothing more than tiny cameras. But they just looked so alive. She wasn't just a dead, lifeless machine anymore. Her eyes were large, almost unnaturally so, but that just exaggerated how expressive they were. The way she slowly blinked a couple times, as if she was trying to work sleep from them. Her gaze seemed to dart around the garage for a moment, her head still reclined back in the cradle of the probe halo. But then the figurative magic of the moment was banished as she opened her mouth, giving a glimpse of adorable buck teeth. 

"A.A.R.H.A G-2.3. Model Number 84367902."

It was an unfortunately very cold, very clinical 'good morning'. But in all honesty, it was to be expected. Every Furbot did this when they booted up from shutdown. It was their designation. Their factory setting. Despite all the 'magic' they seemed to have, they were still machines, and machines do as machines are programed to do. 

"System Error. Unknown Fault in right forelimb."

Again, she gave the standard non-descript error message. Just a default error code, little more than a prompt to get her owner to pay to have her repaired by the factory.

"System... Sy..." The rabbit's voice cracked for a moment, it's pitch shifting slightly from the clearly mechanical, factory standard into something lighter, smaller. Almost frightened. Her personality had initialized. She was no longer just the cold, robotic piece of equipment that rolled off the assembly line. She was something more now. Something almost real. 

You had to shake yourself for a moment to pull yourself out of the daze that had come over you. Seeing videos of Furbots prancing about like clothing models or standing bolt still in rows was one thing. But seeing one come to life in person was all together something else. She shifted in the chair, though she didn't seem to be uncomfortable with it, nor the cables that still trailed from her limbs. She seemed... Confused. Trying to make sense of where she found herself now. One moment she had been at her owner's home, and the next she was in some musty, unfamiliar garage. 

"Woah woah, now. Easy, it's alright." You said despite yourself. Looking back, it felt a little silly to try and comfort a machine, but in the moment, it just felt right. Like she wasn't just some 'bot, but a real person who needed the reassurance that everything was going to be alright. She certainly seemed to react as such. For a moment, you wonder if your father ever talked to the cars he worked on. 

"Where... Am I.... Broken?" her voice was soft and delicate, very different from the digital sound she had made before. It trembled slightly, almost like a scared child as she spoke the word 'broken'. Was she actually scared? Or was it just her personality programing telling her that word was something bad, something she should react to in a certain way. It was hard to tell, even with all those years pouring over forums and technical manuals, you couldn't help but feel something tug at you inside. Maybe that was why Furbots were so popular. They didn't feel like machines, like disposable robots. They felt real. 

"Um.. Well, kind of.." Smooth. Your first chance to talk with a real Furbot, a client's Furbot no less, and you've developed a terminal case of foot-in-mouth syndrome. Even worse, the poor rabbit just looked down, her sparkling green eyes falling while her ears returned to drooping. 

"H-hey, don't be like that. I'm here to fix you." You say, trying to sound as reassuring as you can to what could honestly be considered a household appliance. But that didn't seem to make said appliance's reaction any less dramatic. Those LED eyes of hers perked up, ears lifting as she turned to you, and her little mouth started to pull into a genuine, hopeful smile.

"You.. You can? Really?" It was so odd. She sounded so hopeful, so genuine. You knew it was just her programing, but the way she reacted, the rise in her voice, even the way her chest seemed to expand to simulate a breath, the gave off every signal that said this was a real, living being. You nodded to her in the affirmative. Suddenly this felt less like working on a computer, and more like handling a medical patient. 

Well, that seemed to stick with you a moment. She was awake, talking, reacting. it might have been easier, at least mentally, to just have left her deactivated, just some cold equipment to repair. But now, she had feelings. At least the acted like she did. You just felt wrong ordering her to hop up on a table and let you open her up without at least giving her some consideration. You could, of course, and no doubt she'd follow instructions to the letter. But that thought of her being a patient, and not just a repair job, it kept sticking in your mind. 

"Could you.." You started to say, voice still unsure. Especially as her head tilted slightly, those glowing green eyes looking at you, long grey ears flopping slightly to one side as she sat in the diagnostics chair. Damn. You knew they were so life-like. That was one of the things you loved about them. But now it was just making things so much more difficult. 

"Er, could you try to move your hand for me? Your right hand?" You finally managed to get out. It was so awkward to even ask her that. But she didn't seem to notice, or at least react badly. Turning to look at her right arm, still dotted with cables, she lifted it slightly before trying to move her fingers. It wasn't pain. At least not real pain. She was just a machine, programed to react to stimuli according to her manufactured personality. But that just didn't make it any easier to watch as she tried to curl her fingers, only for them to spasm and shake. Her face twisted up, eyes shutting tightly as a tremble ran through her artificial body. It might not have been real pain, but the way she acted, the difficulty she was having. Real or not, she was hurting.

"I... I can't.." Her voice trembled and squeaked, as if at any moment she was about to start crying. Before you knew what you were doing, you had reached out with both hands, taking ahold of hers. That was probably a bad idea. Normally, a Furbot's touch could be as gentle as any human's, the tiny pressure sensors in their fingers preventing them from applying too much force. But in a malfunctioning hand? If those sensors weren't operating properly, she could have broken every bone in your fingers without realizing it. Thankfully, they seemed to be working, the rabbit giving a small, cute gasp as she stopped trying to move her fingers, eyes opening to stare at you as you held her hand still. It was warm to the tough, almost hot. A Furbot's cooling system ran through their entire body, pumping fluid to carry heat away from their more energy-hungry components to their synth-skin. It was ingenious really, giving them not only a way to keep themselves cool and functioning, but making them feel almost alive to the tough. But clearly the attempt at moving had caused an overheat, her cooling system working overtime to flush heat away from some malfunctioning part to the surface in an attempt to prevent something else from failing. If it's not repaired soon, she might even risk damaging her cooling system. It would basically be a heart attack waiting to happen for the poor rabbit. 

"It's fine." You said, like soothing a frightened child. "Let's get you on the table, and I'll see what's wrong, hmm?" 

Her face just seemed to light up at that. That little mouth pulling into a wide smile, little whiskered nose twitching as she shut her eyes. The happy, eager nod she gave bounced her ears about, sending the long, soft things flopping. You weren't diabetic, but after seeing that you made a mental note to get your blood checked later. She was absolutely adorable. A moment or two to disconnect all the diagnostic cables, and the little rabbit pushed herself up from the chair, finding her balance easily. At least whatever was disabling her hand didn't seem to have any more systemic issues. That's a good sign. You watched as her bare feet met the floor, her large, lapine toes spreading slightly as they supported easily the weight of two full grown men. Hard to believe that something so cute and delicate could be so strong. And yet here she was, little puff of a tail sticking out the back of her uniform's skirt as she made her way over to the docking table. 

You followed behind her, pulling your office chair along with you. It was easy to imagine the furry little thing bouncing from one dusting job to the other, light on her toes despite her body's weight. That french maid outfit surely did fit her perfectly. No wonder so many people kept Furbots as maids. Of course, it was also easy to see why so many also kept them for other purposes as well. 

You had to give yourself a moment to clear those thoughts from your head. At least try to stay professional for now. She is still a client. And she still needs your help too! You reach for a small case as you approach the table, a zippered nylon pouch holding some of your more delicate tools. The little rabbit took a moment to look at the docking table. Chances are she had never seen one before. This might be her first time ever needing repairs, and her personality wasn't quire sure what to make of the prospect, head tilting as she examined the small locking clamps and cut outs to allow access to different parts of a Furbot's body for maintenance. Another tilt of her head as she looked back at you, as if awaiting permission. 

"It's alright. I'm just going to have to open your arm up and see what's wrong. You're fine with that.. 84...3..." You struggled to remember the number she had given on boot-up, before accepting that trying to remember that long string was a lost cause. 

"Um, what's your name?" You ask with a small sigh. Inwardly you felt a bit embarrassed at not having asked sooner. This had all gone way past your expectations. From looking forwards to a very technical job, to somehow having to deal with people. Well, not actual people, but they might as well be. She certainly acted like one, her expression getting brighter at your question.

"Amber."  She said in her small, cute voice, the little rabbit turning around, up onto the tips of her toes to lift her rear to sit upon the table. With a swing of her legs she settled in, the docking table's servos giving a slight whine against the new resistance as the entire structure lowered and rose slightly, making the rabbit give out a cute little squeak as she was bounced slightly. You just couldn't believe this. She was quite the sight to watch, as the table settled down, she actually tried to bounce again on purpose, shifting her weight some to send the rig up and down with a giggle. Was she actually having fun?

You place a hand to the side of your head. If this keeps up, you'll die of overload before the day's out. Better get to it before you expire then. Moving the chair around to her right side, you take your seat, laying out your tool case on a small side tray, you pull open the zipper and unfold the case. Synth-skin was quite tough and waterproof, more than enough to handle even excessive wear in any daily task a Furbot was asked to do. But even then, it wasn't indestructible. It could be torn, ripped, burnt, damaged in any number of ways. But if you knew what you were doing, it was easy to repair. Not as simple as placing a band-aid on it and waiting, but with the right tools and a bit of skill, it could be made as good as new. Good thing too, you'd hate to leave this cute little rabbit with a bald patch for the rest of her artificial life. 

"Now, I don't think this is going to hurt.." You say, more to reassure yourself than your eager little patient. She just nodded along as you adjusted the height of the docking table, the soft whine of motors as the clamps slowly started to close in around her right arm. She gave them a quick glance, perhaps a bit or worry in her eyes? You chided yourself again, how can a machine be worried? But here she was, like a nervous little kid visiting the dentist for the first time. She seemed to relax a bit as the clamps stopped, gripping her firmly. You suspect it would have been uncomfortably tight for a human, but this little rabbit was made of sterner stuff than that. Finally it was time to get into the meat of things. Or rather, the circuits and gears, so to speak. 

Whatever was preventing signals from reaching her hand properly, the diagnostic had shown it was somewhere in her elbow, so that's where you'll have to look first. There was still a chance it could be something else, but this was your best lead right now. First step was to open her up. You couldn't help but feel a bit grizzly at the thought now. Just an hour ago, she was any other machine. But now it felt more like you were about to cut open another person. At least there wouldn't be any blood. The look of your first tool didn't help matters though. Like some sort of overly delicate meat tenderizer, it was a handle with one end covered in a plate of needles. As shocking as it's appearance was, it's function was simple, to probe along synth-skin, looking for the circuits and cooling channels hidden just below. It was really just a guide, so you wouldn't nick anything you're not supposed to before getting in to see what was below. 

"Ok, now hold still.." You told the rabbit as she laid there, probe in one hand and a short, rounded blade in the other. A soft, light little press of one and a short cut of the other. You almost dropped your tools as the rabbit let out a short little squeak, but one look to her face told you everything was alright. One eye closed while the other peeked open to watch, her expression more out of nervousness rather than pain. Not that she felt real pain, but right now you didn't want to even consider that again. She was far too cute to even consider hurting, and right now it was more important to fix her little problem than to worry about making a machine uncomfortable. And so you continued on, little quarter inch long cuts as the soft synth-skin started to part, each time slowly giving you more and more of a glimpse of what was hidden underneath. 

Finally you had cut enough, holding her fur back you brought up some forceps, basically the same that a doctor would use. Rather fitting, as this felt more and more like an operation rather than a repair job. The rabbit's synth-skin stretched as you forced it open a bit wider, bringing a gasp from the rabbit. That didn't sound painful. Actually, if you weren't so intent on your job at the moment, you'd almost think it sounded more sexual than anything else. But now at last you could see to what her problem was. 

This was strange. At one moment familiar, yet rather disconcerting. You've seen plenty of pictures of a Furbot's internals before. But looking between the mass of wires, servos, and cables, and the cute little rabbit watching you intently, something just didn't seem to connect. Somehow these cold, mechanical parts belonged to this adorable creature you were taking care of. The two just seemed so at odds with one another. 

"Can.. Can you fix it?" She asked, the rabbit not seeming as disturbed from having her arm cut open and her mechanical nature on full display. That helped push your anxiety down. The sight of her internals reminded you that she wasn't real, that she was just a machine. But that expression, sweet and slightly worried. You pushed a smile to your face, offering her what you hoped was a comforting look.

"That's what we're going to find out." You replied as you reached for another tool. It looked like a small pen almost, one end a rounded metal tip, the other a short cord running to a little hand display. Basically an overly complicated circuit tester. Now that you had access to the rabbit's components, you could test each one on it's own, no need to guess what a diagnostic return meant. Carefully you pressed the contact in between the open synth-skin, up against one of the little contacts that bridged the connection between a wire and a logic chip. 

And the result was a small blinking green light, and giggling. The poor little rabbit was having a small fit. Her face all scrunched up, ears flopped into her face as she laughed, trying to hold it all in. The moment you pulled the tester back, it all stopped and she gave a small little panting gasp. Of course, she didn't need to breath, but she was programmed to act like she did. Even so, the effect was remarkable. The next contact and the laughing started all over again.

"T... T... Tickles!" She squeaked, doing her best not to move, but it was no use. While her arm may have been held firm in the docking table's clamps, her legs weren't. Those over-sized bunny paws kicked about and squirmed, toes curling up as their owner tried to muffle her giggles. You didn't have to test that next connection, but you did it anyway. And she laughed all the same. A ticklish machine? Sure seemed to be so. As entertaining as it was, you really did need to finish these tests, else the poor thing would have to deal with a broken hand. The next one was good, properly giggly. Same with the one after that, the display's green light the go ahead for more giggle fits. The next contact brought a stern red glow from the display, and a pained yelp from the poor rabbit. 

Your hand jerked back quickly at the sound, eyes shooting up to her face. 

"Are you alright?" You asked, more worried than you really should be for a household appliance. She held her simulated breath and nodded slowly. 

"Mmhmm.." was her soft reply, brushing an ear out of her face with her left hand as she shifted to sit up more properly on the table, her previous giggle fits had sent her squirming all over. 

"Ok.. I'm going to have to test more. You ready?" You knew you didn't need to ask her permission. But the little rabbit had become more than just a collection of mechanical and electronic parts now. Real or not, she just seemed to have that spark to her. Another nod as she held her jaw tightly in place, closing her eyes as she braced herself for what was about to come. Another little touch of the probe to the next connection and a little high-pitched squeak. Sure enough, you had found the problem. 

It was her elbow servo that was the source of her ills. The little electric motor was receiving signals itself, and operating fine, but it just wasn't passing signals down to the rest of her arm properly, leaving the poor thing's hand unable to function. The wiring didn't seem to be burnt out or damaged though, so it much be the contacts themselves. You sat back in your chair, setting the tester down as you pondered this for a moment, your rabbit patient giving you a worried look. This was both a good thing, and a bad thing. Good in that it was a simple fix, and not a sign of a more major issue. But bad in that there was no way to simply just replace the contacts. For as durable as a Furbot was, there were just some things about their construction that the internet forums always found ways to complain about. In this case, it was how many components were completely self-contained units. Great for making them easy to replace or build from scratch. Not so when one part of such a unit failed. There was no real way to fix such a problem besides replacing the entire servo unit. And that meant cost. Granted, it wouldn't be anything over the estimate you had given the woman earlier, but you had hoped to maybe find a cheaper solution and pocket the rest. Looks like real meat won't be on your dinner menu for a while longer still. A little expectant whimper brought your attention back to issues involving cash and translating the price of a Furbot servo into burgers, and back to the poor little rabbit who's well-being rested squarely on your shoulders. 

"Don't worry. I can fix it." You tell her, trying to sound confident. Thankfully, you were quite sure in your ability to replace one little servo. Paying for it, on the other hand... "We'll just have to order a new part."

That brought back the rabbits bright expression, her green LEDs looking down at her splayed open arm for a moment, as if accusing her mechanical bits of being such a nuisance before looking back to you. You offered another little smile to the mechanical cutie before scooting your chair back from the docking table with your feet, turning to pick up your phone. Thankfully you knew a supply store that wouldn't over-inflate their prices. Some suppliers got real scummy when it came to their mark-ups. Not to mention there were plenty of 'designer' part stores, flashy show-rooms designed to push the same parts with sparkly decals and chrome casing, just to milk money out of customers for things most people would never even see. A few taps on your phone's screen, and the number for a more reasonable supplier flashed before you. Another tap and you heard the soft ring of an audio only call. 

"Yeah... Yeah, I need to get a replacement servo for a Furbot." You said into the phone. A glance back to the docking table and you could see your little patient with a perked ear. Was she trying to listen in? She had a curious, concerned expression. Probably just anxious to put all this behind her and get back home as soon as possible. Couldn't say that you blamed her, really. "Mmhmm.. Yeah, Gen 2... Elbow. Yeah, contacts went out, no movement in the hand. Mmhmm.. Alright. Yeah. Wait... I thought you had same day delivery?"

A quick glance up to the clock confirmed it. Shit. Did you really sleep that long waiting for a job? Same day delivery didn't really mean much when the day was almost over. You could see that one bunny ear droop as it listened in. It wasn't really all that bad. But then again, you weren't the one with an arm that refused to work right. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Alright, morning will be fine. Just.. Could you get it here as soon as you can. What? No! I... It's for a client, geeze.. Yeah. Yeah, first one. Thanks... Well, thanks man. I will." That could have gone better. Of course, it could have gone a lot worse too. At least if you kept getting work, parts might start getting cheaper. But now there was that dejected face to deal with. She didn't even look up as you approached, not till your hand came down atop her head, rubbing gently between those long ears to the sound of the rabbit letting out a startled squeak.

"Hey, it'll be fine. You'll be fixed up good as new in the morning." That brought her back, her eyes sparkling again with those electric lights. You could hear her give a long gasp, like she was pulling in a breath of excitement before nodding, a happy squeak escaping her synth-skin lips. Erf, you could feel your blood-sugar rising at the sight. Then the little rabbit looked down at her arm, still cut open and exposed. You knew it wasn't actually a problem. She wouldn't bleed or be in any real danger. But it just didn't look right. Not after everything you've been through with the little rabbit. 

"Er.. Here, just... Wait a moment.." You said, trying to think of what to do. You could leave her like that, of course. But it just felt so improper. Despite everything, you just couldn't think of her as just a machine anymore. A few minutes of rummaging through cabinets and you found something that would work. Returning to the docking table, you carefully removed the forceps. You couldn't fully close her synth-skin, not yet anyway. Unlocking the clamps, you asked the rabbit to hold her arm up, using her other hand to help keep herself still, you started to wrap some old shop towels around her. They weren't exactly sterile, but they didn't need to be. It was just something to cover up her incision, to make her feel better. Or rather, to make yourself feel better. 

"Thank you.." She said, her soft little voice tender as she scooted herself off of the table and back onto her over-sized paws, holding her bandaged arm up as if she really was injured. Yeah, you really do feel diabetic now after all this. Another look over to the clock, and you're reminded how late it was getting. The time combined with everything else was really starting to press down upon you. Physical and emotional exhaustion was starting to creep up your spine by the minute. And the job wasn't even done yet. With a sigh you started to pack up your tools, interrupted by a little furred hand to your arm.

"It's time for me to go home for the night." You say to the little rabbit maid. Her expression suddenly turning worried, her eyes looking around the garage. This was probably her first time spending the night away from home since she was first activated. Even if she was just a machine, you guess it must be a rather intimidating experience for her. Another hand to her head seemed to help calm her down, bringing her ears flopping side to side

"You'll be fine. I'll be back first thing in the morning and we'll get you all fixed up, alright?" That brought back the rabbit's bright smile, a pleasant little squeak as she nods her head. 

"A-alright!"

She really was adorable. For a moment, you almost regret not getting a Furbot of your own instead of opening this repair shop. But then again, if you had, you might not have gotten the chance to meet this adorable little thing. The feel of her soft fur, the way her ears wobbled as your hand rubbed her head. Even the cute little squeaks she made at being given attention. She really was a precious little thing. The fact that she was made to be so didn't even seem important right now. 

"Here, you probably need to charge after all this.." You started, only for it to dawn on you. You did have a charging station, it seemed like a good idea in case a client's Furbot needed to recharge. But she was a Gen 2. All the different models of Furbots had the same charging cord, of course. It was just a matter of convenience. The Gen 1's kept their cords at the small of their backs, a reasonable enough spot. But for some reason, Gen 2 and 3, their cords were more... Well, intimate. Under their tails to be more specific. In truth, it wasn't that big of a change from the Gen 1's, not mechanically speaking. But in practice, it made the whole idea of 'plugging in' a Furbot a whole new ordeal. At least for you at this moment. 

"Over here?" The rabbit asked, pointing with her good arm towards the charging station. It was an official one, you had managed to get it on the cheap second hand. In good condition too. There were plenty of after-market adapters to let a Furbot plug in right to any electrical outlet, but you felt it best to stick with an approved station, just to be on the safe side. Some of the cheaper third party adapters had issues, anything from a slow charge to even causing damage to a 'bot's power cells when they overcharged. The whole device let the Furbot recline upright, cradled as they charged. But as the bunny maid made her way over to the charging station, her position wasn't what you were worried about. 

No, far more detrimental to your blood pressure was that she started to bend over, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her bandaged arm hung at her side as her good hand reached under the frilly skirt of her uniform, with her back to you, you could see her hips giving a wiggle, reminding you just how accentuated even her slim figure was. That fluffy little tail lifted and wiggled as her hand grabbed under her skirt, pulling down a pair of delicate, frilly cotton panties. 

Ok, that was just too much. Red-blooded male you might be, but it was just too much for one day. An abrupt about-face gave you some reprieve, at least from the lewd sight you were subjected to. It didn't do much for the sound, the little rabbit giving a soft grunt of effort as she went about her task. She might just be a household appliance, but right now the sounds she was making sounded like anything but a common refrigerator. 

"Are.. Are you alright?" Her meek little voice brought you back to reality, glancing over your shoulder you were thankful to see her leaning back in the charging station already. Less thankful at the sight of her panties still pulled down around her knees, but at least her skirt was keeping her modest. From behind, the thin little charging cord ran out from under that maid uniform and into the small port in the side of the station, a little display showing the proper flow of power from the station into her cute little body. Crisis over, at least for now. 

"Yeah... Just tired, I guess." You tell her. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it did let you keep a bit of your dignity. That brought a smile back to her face, the little maid seeming to relax back into the cradle of the station. It was a far cry from how limp and lifeless she had looked to you when you first saw her. She looked peaceful and relaxed, serene almost. You almost forgot how tired you were, your own bed waiting for you to do much the same back home. With a little sigh you gathered up your phone, taking a few moments to turn off the diagnostic machine and docking table. It had been quite the first day so far, and there was still tomorrow to deal with. But for now, you'd made it through, only slightly more insane than when the day had started. 

She watched you as you went about shutting things down and putting away tools, that little smile never leaving the rabbits face as her bright LED eyes followed you about. Even as you heard the oddly comforting rumble as you listed the garage door up to leave.

"Goodnight, Mr. Repairman!" She called after you. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the sound. She sounded so excited. 

"Goodnight, Amber." You said back to her before you brought the garage door down slowly. It had been quite the day. At least the drive back home wasn't long, a good night's rest was just what you needed right now after this. It surely was an ordeal. But, in all honesty, you're kinda glad you went through it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's unfortunate that coffee doesn't do anything for the way sunlight likes to sting the eyes early in the morning. Well, at least it wasn't that cold out today. The grungy metal and bare cinder block of your repair shop seemed to stare sternly at you through your car's windshield, as if judging you for not rushing to work already. Well, no sense in prolonging the inevitable. Just what sort of lewd horrors would await you today? Not that anything that happened yesterday were horrific in any way. But man, did they do a number on you. Your vision obscured for a moment by the steam rising from your coffee as you took one last drink, the distance between yourself and that garage door closing quickly. There was a small box awaiting you just outside. A quick look as you reached down to pick it up confirming it was indeed the part you had ordered for Amber. 

Amber. That sweet little rabbit. For a moment you felt a pang of worry for her. Surely she was alright spending the night alone in your workshop. You didn't think there was any danger for her here, but still, you couldn't help but be at least a little worried for the poor thing as you reached down to grasp the garage door's handle. 

That familiar rumble sounded out as you lifted the rolling door, accompanied by an unexpected startled yelp. 

And there she was, that poor little bandaged bunny. No longer in the charging station, she was thankfully fully clothed again. Of course, that wasn't her source of her surprise. The little thing was holding one of your parts catalogs in her furry hands, a look of shock and embarrassment written across her synth-skin face. Was she browsing the catalog? Wait... Why would that make her embarrassed?

"M-Mr. Repairman!" Said, her voice squeaking as she rushed to place the catalog back onto the workbench. Questions about if such material counted as pornography for a Furbot aside, the little bunny maid quickly made her way over, bandaged arm held against her chest. 

"Look what I've got." You said, your tone a bit light and playful for so early in the morning "It's your new part."

That just seemed to shift the little Furbot's cuteness motor into overdrive. Her green LED eyes going wide, mouth hanging open for a moment. And then she just started bouncing. And bouncing. Her over-sized foot paws flexing as she send her considerable weight up and down. Of course, this burst of excitement sent her less heavy parts bouncing as well, that maid uniform doing it's best to keep up with the ever increasing pace. Something gave you the feeling today might not be much easier than yesterday was. 

First challenge was trying to calm an over-excited rabbit maid. It took quite some time, but eventually you managed, through a combination of soft words and generous application of hear-rubs, to get the little thing to stop bouncing so much. After that, she was all to eager to hop up onto the docking table, her little fluff of a tail wiggling about. It was just too adorable. Once you got her into the clamps and her arm unwrapped, you could finally get to work. Everything seemed to be as you had left it, gently prying the synth-skin of her arm back. This seemed to curb her enthusiasm just a bit, the little rabbit returning to her a more meek mood once things got started. Removing the faulty servo was simple enough, even with the cute Furbot giving out little squeaks and squirms throughout. 

In truth it was little more than removing a couple screws and pulling loose a hand full of contacts. Nothing you couldn't handle, even if you had those big green LED eyes watching you the entire time. But the temptation was just too much to resist. You were, after all, only human. 

"H-hey!" The mechanical rabbit squeaked, her good hand coming up to hold her nose that was just subject to the press of a finger. Her whiskers wiggled about for a moment while you chuckled. Alright, enough fun. Time to finish your work. In short order you had the new servo screwed into place, and slipped the last contacts on. 

"Now, can you try to move your fingers for me?" You asked her. Best to make sure everything was working before you closed her up. For a moment, an unsure look passed over the rabbit's face. Whoever programmed her personality must have been damned good. With eyes squeezed shut, she lifted her arm, holding her hand out as slowly, as if she was afraid something else might break, one of her fingers slowly curled, then another. A moment later you watched as those furry little digits wiggled about. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth came open, turning towards you as if about to let out an excited cry..

"Wait wait! Let me close you up first, ok?" That put her breaks on, at least for the moment, ears flattening back before she say back on the table, a little artificial sigh escaping her mouth as she nodded her head, ears bounding as she laid her arm back down. Alright, you were almost done. Just one last step. You opened your little too case again, this time taking out what looked at first to be some sort of soldering iron. You held it up to your own finger for a moment, only to feel rather than the hot burn of heat, a pinching sensation, and the feeling of pins and needles for a moment. Good, it was working as it should. Using the fingers of your other hand to help pinch the rabbit's synth-skin together, you slowly, carefully started to run the end of the stitching tool along the cut you had made. Synth-skin was really an amazing thing. They were even starting to use it in some reconstructive surgeries now, though slightly altered from it's application for Furbots. As you ran the tool along, little electric currents would pull the cut synth-skin together, mashing and slightly melting it to close the gap, leaving a smooth new surface behind. It was slow going, but no way to rush it. Not without leaving the cute little thing with an ugly synthetic scar. For one, that wouldn't make a good impression of your work on her owner. But really, she didn't deserve that. The poor rabbit had been such a sweet thing this whole time, even if she could be a bit difficult sometimes. You just wanted to make sure she was happy with your work. 

There, finally finished. A small brush of her soft fur with your hand to make sure you didn't leave any gaps and it was as if the little thing never had any problems.

"Alright, all done." You said, only to suddenly find it difficult to breath, considering those two grey furred arms were wrapped tightly around you.

"Thank you, Mr. Repairman!" that cute voice squeaked in a high pitch as she pressed her cheek against you, her arms squeezing tighter than the excited little Furbot likely intended.

"T-tight.." You gasped. That brought the current situation to her attention quickly enough. Another startled squeak and she let go, hands going to her chest with a panicked look to her face. 

"S-Sorry! I... I didn't mean too.." She whimpered, lip quivering. A hand to the top of her head calmed her down, and gave you a moment to stead yourself and catch your breath. If she had completely lost control, she likely could have crushed your ribs. But thankfully it was just excitement, her personality getting a bit too carried away in the moment. 

"It's alright... I'm just glad you're happy." You said, giving her a little smile as you regained your own composure. That bright a happy squeak to her lips. She really was just an easily excitable bunny girl, when it was all said and done. 

"Well, let's call your owner and let her know you're ready to go home.." You said. Those words brought another happy little squeak from the rabbit, though you couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness as you said it. You hadn't known her long, but she had definitely made an impression on you. You almost didn't want to see her go, but you knew she had a home to go back to. And owner who was waiting for her. But still, you were glad you had managed to help her. The same limp, lifeless machine that you had to lug into your shop was now leaving a happy, bouncing, adorable rabbit. 

It didn't take long after your call for that same sedan to pull up outside your workshop. Of course, the woman wasn't too happy about the bill you handed her, but it couldn't be helped. You did have to eat, bills of your own to pay. It did help that the little rabbit maid seemed so bouncy and excited now, as if she were brand new. A swipe of the car and the tap of a few buttons was all it took to bring your job with the adorable little rabbit to a close. It was perhaps bitter sweat in your mouth. As the rabbit followed her owner out to the car, slipping into the back seat, you couldn't help but stand just inside the doorway to watch. You probably wouldn't ever see that cute little rabbit again, at least not unless something else went wrong, and you honestly hoped she wouldn't have to go through anything like that again. As the car's engine started and it's wheels started to turn, you could see those long ears tilt and that cute little face turn to the window, a small grey hand pressing to the glass as she said goodbye. 

Well, there was always the next job. Maybe you'll get to meet another adorable little Furbot then as well...