The guard knocks on the bars of your cell. “Today’s the day.”
You sit up from your cot. “Today’s the day,” you repeat.
You get up as the guard uses the keys to unlock your cell. Putting handcuffs on you, the guard guides you to your freedom.
“One carton of cigarettes, nine cigarettes left. One cheap dollar store lighter, empty. One bottle of Frizzy Friday hairspray. And, finally, one condom, Trojan brand.”
Taking your items back, you lament the lone condom. It’s been way long since it probably expired, you can only see it stretched on a banana now as the guard guides you to the metal separating you and outside.
You take a deep breath and step outside the doors.
You’ve had years to plan this moment, to think about all the things you’d want to do when you were free again. Sleep in a real bed. Eat some real food. Have a shower that isn’t a communal experience. Maybe even fuck a bear; you know, for old-time’s sake.
Being accosted by some greasy-haired punk-ass kid was not at the top of your list of things to do.
But you should know by now that things never go as you plan so it should really come as no surprise when the first person to greet you on your first day of freedom is a greasy twenty-something white kid with blonde dreadlocks so greasy they almost look green.
“Hey! You’re the one who burned down Freddy Fazbear’s, right?”
“I burned down a Freddy Fazbear’s, yes. What about it?”
“Aw, dude, I can’t believe it’s really you. This is, like, such a fuckin’ honor.” He grabs your hand and shakes it vigorously. He smells like pot smoke and stale pizza.
You just stare at him dumbly, not too sure what to think.
After a couple more unnecessary seconds of awkwardly long handshaking, the kid finally seems to realize his social faux pas. He pulls his hand away from yours sheepishly. “Sorry! I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve taken a lot of interest in the mysterious incidents that have revolved around the Freddy Fazbear franchise.”
“Hate to break it to you, kid, but it’s not all that big a mystery. The restaurants are haunted by murderous yiff-bots. Boom. Mystery-solved.”
“But how did they become haunted in the first place?”
You shrug your shoulders.
“See? There’s still so much we don’t know!”
You reach in your pocket for your pack of cigarettes. You pull one out of the box, placing the filter between your lips as you reach back in your pockets for a lighter. You attempt to light your cigarette three times before you realize there’s no lighter fluid left.
Before you can ask, the kid is already pulling a lighter out of his pocket and lighting your cigarette for you. You take a deep breath and let the nicotine fill your lungs.
Okay, maybe this guy isn’t so bad after all.
“Look, kid, I’m flattered by the whole sweaty fan boy act and all but I have to let you know up front that I don’t do signatures unless I’m signing a rockin’ pair of tits.” You pause to stare him straight in his eyes. “Do you have a rockin’ pair of tits, son?”
“No, I don’t.” You make to turn away but he grabs your wrist. You’re about to smack him in the mouth but the intense look in his eyes stills your hand. “What I do have is a business proposition for you.”
You raise an eyebrow at that. You pull your hand from his grasp, folding your arms over your chest. “What kind of business proposition?”
His eyes light up. “Being a young entrepreneur, I have acquired the property of one of the old Fazbear locations with the intent to turn the location into a local horror attraction. So, seeing as you have a history with—”
“Nope,” you interrupt him.
“But I haven’t even—”
“At least let me explain—“
“Not gonna happen.”
“I’ve already dealt with more than my fair share of asshole animatronics. I committed a felony and did hard time in a federal prison to deal with some of ‘em. What the hell makes you think I would want anything more to do with them?”
He blinks. “Uh…”
“Get someone else, kid.”
“But having you work at my horror attraction would be so fucking gnarly!”
“Now, I know I’ve been locked up away from civilization for a while but even I know that nobody says gnarly anymore.” You take a deep breath and sigh. “Listen, kid, you don’t want to hire an ex con. Prison changes people. Hardens them.”
“You’re still the same person you were. You’re still the same person who dealt with all those animatronics.”
“You didn’t know me then and you don’t know me now.”
You interrupt him with an iron grip on his shoulders and pull him so close your noses touch as you look him dead in the eye. “Have you ever eaten out another person’s asshole for a half-smoked cigarette? Because I have. On more than one occasion.”
“Hey, dude,” he raises his hands in the air defensively. “This is a judge-free zone. So what if you licked a couple buttholes for a smoke? I’ve done it for free.”
You blink. That’s not the reaction you were expecting.
He continues. “All that matters to me is making the most authentic horror attraction I can and hiring on a former employee to play the role of the security guard would be rad as fuck.”
“Look, kid, did you ever consider that maybe I don’t want to work at a place that will remind me of why I was sentenced to prison in the first place?”
“I’ll pay you twelve dollars an hour to literally just sit on your ass.”
“Hot diggedy damn, when do I start?”
You tapped your shoe onto the ground, dragging your cig while he jangled his keys, trying to find the right one and the right way to open the door. He smiled sheepishly before a click and a squeal came from the door, the smell of mildew and buttholes hitting you in wafts as you walk inside.
“This place smells like mildew and buttholes.”
“Yeah it does,” he answers with a nostalgic smile. “There’s something I want to show you.”
With the giddy grin on his face you thought he was going to show you some kind of high-tech equipment setup. Or a shit-ton of drugs. Drugs would’ve been a much more welcome sight than the grungy worn-down rabbit animatronic he reveals to you instead.
“Holy shit, that thing is a hot fuckin’ mess.” No exaggeration, it literally looks like it was pushed out of Satan’s asshole after a trip to Chipotle.
“Yeah, Springtrap is a little worn for the wear, but he’s in pretty good condition considering how old he is.” The kid places his hands on his hips, looking proud. “A real collector’s item,” he declares.
A real piece of shit, you want to say, but hold your tongue. For whatever reason, this kid is really into shitty children’s pizzeria lore but he’s been nothing but kind to you and given you a job straight out of jail so the least you can do is limit the amount that you shit on his dreams.
“And here’s your office! Here’s your seat and desk and some old animatronic parts, you’re most likely familiar with”
Looking down, you see the charred remains of the horny furries who haunted your dreams...
You grumble and sit back in your chair. At least you only need to deal with one animatronic. The clock dings 12 and he bids you goodbye. Time to do nothing.
You’re checking through the cameras when a familiar face shows up.
“Holy fuck, bitch boob? Was that your name? Is that you?”
The tiny shit, that looked like someone cried their mascara all over it, attacks you and disappears. You blink as your vision dulls and the alarms start blaring.
“What the fucking fuck?”
You pull out the screen only to see a bunch of warning signs and buttons and shit. You just start mashing it, not knowing what the fuck to do.
“Fucking technology bullshit. How the hell does this work?”
Finally, you start breathing again when the vent system is functioning again. You put the screen away.
And there it is, breath fogging up the window.
It’s just staring at you.
“Press your tits against the glass and shimmy around.”
It doesn’t seem to hear you and you return to fucking up with the technology. You hear footsteps and by the time you slide it away, it slinks into your office like a drunkard.
It puts its hands on your shoulders and roars at you.
You blink. “Is that…? Is that it?”
“What? No. I’m going to kill you now.”
“Uh-huh. With what?”
“Um, with my hands.” The shitty trash rabbit flexes it’s fingers for emphasis. “Have you seen how huge I am?”
“So, what? I’m supposed to be afraid of you because you’re big? I’ve made bigger people than you my bitch, cottontail.”
“You know, there’s not much to do in prison other than work out and have a lot of violent gay sex. Guess which one of those things I spent most of my free time doing.”
You flex your arms and the sleeves of your uniform rip with the sheer force of your muscles bursting the seams. The garbage rabbit takes a step back.
“That was a trick question, by the way. I did a lot of both.”
The excrement hare takes another step back, almost out of the office. A second more staring at you before he slank away.
“I’ll be back. I always come back.”
“Keep telling yourself that, I’m the alpha here.”
You fall back into your chair after he completely leaves, this job just got way more easier after scaring the fur off that crummy bunny.
Now to figure out why baby balls or whatever his name looked like the world’s worst school project with pumpkins and where he went to.
You search the desk and find a bunch of tapes, taking time to put them in and listen in for clues about, well, anything.
By 3 am, it’s getting pretty fucking hot in this tin can you’re sitting in. You strip off the ripped uniform you’re probably gonna have to pay for but honestly it’s the kid’s fault for not considering your burly physique when choosing a size for this dainty uniform.
You even start clipping your toenails. They’ve grown out since clippers were considered a weapon after you almost killed someone with them.
You look up from your toe maintaining to see a huge watermelon statue... no wait, that’s Chicken!
“Oh fuck it’s you, nevermind-“
With that, it fades away.
Seems like your rocking abs are so powerful, it dispels ghost robot furries apparently. Why are there ghost robot furries?
Alarms start blaring and you pull out the screen again, trying to reset the vent system. You turn to the cameras and see it.
Shittrap’s thicc broken ass is in the vent.
You sigh and put the tablet down, get up and walk to the vent in front of the office. You use the chair and climb up near it, hearing the sounds of him crawling through.
The vent opens and his head pops out, only to get a whole four eyes full of your rock hard abs.
“Sup, Spring bitch.”
It looks you up and down, getting a nice view of everything from your chest to the beginning of your crotch.
It then twitches uncontrollably, making weird noises before retreating backwards.
Climbing down from the vents, you’re alerted by the fucking alarms again. You forgot how much you hated having to do something every 5 seconds lest you die or are about to get fucked.
You shimmy over back into your office and start to restart the systems. Only now do you recognize that weird buzzing in the background. There better be one of those new and cool electric fly traps because that’d be fucking amazing. Plus, you can give piss rabbit a controlled shock.
What seems like another hour passes by and you don’t even bother to check your cameras that much. When you do it’s more to actually stare at the rest of the horror show. Damn, they even have a replica of the puppet..... wait...
Flipping down the tablet, there it is.
In its burnt and rotten form, the puppet is right at your face. Your pants suddenly feel lose and it disappears. Did it not want revenge for your sick burns from last time?
Checking your pants, it seems fine. You stand up and your belt is somehow on the ground behind you. Your pants fall down and you sigh. Revenge is best served cold.
Turning around and grabbing your belt, you didn’t even hear the footsteps of a certain springtrash. You were so focused, you didn’t see it staring at your thick, meaty, toned ass.
However you sensed it and slowly stood up, turning around to look it in the eye... and cracked your belt so hard, the resounding sound echoed through the whole exhibit.
It ran as fast as it can, stumbling and almost falling. You heh’d and laid back into your chair, practically naked now. Almost.
It was 5ish, oneish more hour and you’ll get those precious 12 dollars. Other than the puppet, you’ve pretty much became alpha of this fucking shithole. You’ve dominated Spitsack the rabbitch. You might even stay for longer than a week.
You’re not even phased by the Freddy right in front of you.
“Oh, damn fazbear, you look like shit.”
You dig into your pocket and pull out the frizzy friday spray and spritz a bit at him.
“I’m a phantom, idiot. Fizzy Friday Hairspray doesn’t work on me you horny bastard.”
“I’m not as horny anymore bearfaz, in fact, I’m totally NOT gonna shove this entire bottle up my-“
He fades away. At least your old charm still works on the old animatronics.
Once more you reset systems and plan out your morning. Sleep in a real bed. Eat some real food. Have a shower that isn’t a communal experience. Maybe even fuck a bear; you know, for old-time’s sake.
It’s nearly the end of your shift. You pat yourself on a job well done and pull out your phone, right before Sploogeass the piss lupine saunters into your office.
You turn to it, almost naked and raising an eyebrow as it crumples to a pile to your feet, weird almost breathing coming out of it.
“You may speak.”
“I don’t need your permission-“
The way you tense makes it tense up and mutter a raspy apology. You lean down and pull its chin up to you.
“What did you want, little bunny foo foo?”
It does that weird shaking and twitching thing once more, yet this time it seems like it’s trembling. It’s silver eyes dart from your face, to your rocking abs, to your crotch right in front of it’s snout.
The alarms go off and you lean back and reset the systems before coming back to it.
Enragement child booby bong suddenly attacks you, getting your vision fucked up and you need to lean back and restart the systems once more.
“Okay furball, hurry it up.”
“I’m trying! I want-“
The ending alarm goes off and the automatic locking doors unlock. The baby barf green shit between your legs however is about to go apeshit, you sigh and grip him again.
“Look, I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and guess: you finally come to submit to me. You’re both intimated and aroused by this burly, fresh out the gates nightguard and you haven’t gotten laid in more than 30 years so you’re about a second away from begging your metal ass to be pounded into the tiles permanently. Am I right?”
It nods it’s head lamely.
“Alright. On one condition.”
“What is it?”
It blinks at you.
“Oh don’t play dumb with me, I can fucking see you’re not all metal in there. Open up so I can see what the fuck is going on in there. Then you can open up your other latches.”
It grumbles and pulls backwards from you before doing... something, loosening it’s jaws and just fucking.... wrenching it’s head up, revealing a fucking corpse. You grin and lean down with your elbows on your thighs.
“Well hello. Who might you be? I mean I knew furries could be freaky but-“
“Shut up. You’ve seen what I am, now-“
“No, I still have some questions for you. Let’s see, uhhhhhh, who are you? When did you get in here? And why were you trying to kill me?”
It stayed quiet. For a while. But years of prison gave you patience so you kept being there, hoping you’ll get payed for overtime.
“William. My name was William.”
He refused to say anything else. You shrugged and pushed his head back on.
“I’m still gonna call you spring bitch. Now, we can start.”
He slumps a little, finally relieved that sexy hot corpse fucking is about to happen.
You slip your pants down once more, about to slip down your underwear when a certain fanboy walks through the door.
“Hey! How was your first ni-“
That’s how you became jobless again and fortunately couldn’t legally go to any fazbear entertainment establishment again.
Who knew Fizzy Friday Spray was so flammable?