FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Uh, hello? Well, hi there! Welcome to Fazbear's Pizza. If you're hearing this, you must be the new night watchman." As he listened to the answering machine he sat back, propped up his feet and lit up a cigarette. As if on cue the calm and too-nice voice recited a list of rules in his meandering way. "Now uh, here at Fazbear's Pizza we do expect some professionalism. That means no screaming, some basic hygiene and no smoking." Michael grunted and stubbed out his cigarette on the metal desk.

"Now, on the desk there, you should see a little tablet. That's for your cameras, and you'll need them to keep an eye on the place. There are blind spots in your cameras just outside your doors. You'll need to use the light switches on either side of the office. As for the door buttons themselves, well, we're not sure why, but the animatronics have a tendency to move around after-hours."

Piqued and perked, Michael sat up straight. This was a rare posture for the lazy Akita dog. Sure enough, he saw the tablet face-down on the desk and he picked it up. At that particular moment the grainy camera feed was that of the the main stage where the allegedly beloved mascot Freddy Fazbear stood with friends Bonnie the bunny and Chica the chicken.

"Fucking creepy-looking things," Michael nervously sniggered. It was then that the camera feed grew especially grainy and the contrast bottomed out entirely. "What, come on, you're gonna be like that?" the dog moaned. He tapped on the screen and hit an icon for another camera - the western hallway. Lurking in silhouette was some figure, still as stone and almost invisible to Michael's colorblind eyes. It wasn't until he turned back to the show stage and saw that the rabbit was missing that he realized he wasn't simply seeing things.

"What in the fuck," the dog hissed. The situation worsened when he realized that the other two abominable creatures, the bear in the hat and the chick with the bib, had twisted their heads ever so slightly to leer at the camera. Again the camera flickered and died. NO SIGNAL, the tablet ominously reported.

"Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this," Michael groaned. "Why are you so fucking creepy looking?" He switched to the western hall again. Bonnie stood still like a sentinel, seemingly unmoved.

The recording went on: "...and they might try to cram you into one of those suits in the back." Michael snapped his eyes up from the tablet and stared accusingly at the phone. "It wouldn't be so bad but they're full of crossbeams and metal... Yeah. You wouldn't want that to happen to you."

"I'm fucking out of here," Michael said aloud. He stood and started for the door. Not the left one, not with Bonnie just down the hall. But when he neared the right door he heard the most awful gasping and wheezing, a strangled noise. In this moment the dog's muscles tensed and he put his padded finger on the light switch. By no means did he want to know what was hiding there in the darkness and as soon as hit the switch and he saw that leering, dead-eyed beaked face outside the door, he shrieked in a girly way no grown male should. He smashed the door button with his knuckles and slammed it in the wheezing robot's face.

With paranoia renewed and his ears nearly flush to his skull, Michael lunged for the other door and slammed it shut without bothering to look. He hit the light a second later while his heart beat like a drum somewhere up in his neck. The awful, soulless face of the purple rabbit greeted him from the window. Michael shrieked again and he flung himself back across the office.

"...so just keep an eye on those cameras and don't run out of power, if you do, well, the doors are designed to release in the event of a power outage. It's supposed to keep you from getting locked in if there's a catastrophe, but, um... Just don't let it run out, yeah? Good luck!"

When he heard the heavy click of the phone, Michael whined heavily. "Don't you fucking leave me here alone," he bleated, wanting even that simple contact to last. He had the distinct feeling deep in his gut that that was the last voice he'd ever hear.

Timid and quaking, Michael checked the lights again. The rabbit had gone and he tentatively opened the door, turned on the lights again and peered into the empty hall. Next he checked the right hall but the chick still leered when he spied her in the window. "Aw, fuck you then," the dog whined. "You can stay right the fuck out there." He snatched up the tablet and found himself barely able to operate it with his shaking paws. Like a mantra he repeated, "You can stay the fuck out there, right the fuck out there, right the fuck out there."

The bear still lingered at the stage, passive and inert. He found the rabbit among tables and chairs in the dining hall. That much was calming to his nerves. He could only guess at how much power he had left, and so many hours remained in the night.

Some time later, Michael had gotten his panting and his heart under control with a few chain-smoked cigarettes. Fuck it, he thought, checking the lights again, I'm out of here when the sun comes up anyway.

The Akita brought up the tablet and thumbed through the screens. Bonnie yet lurked in the dining hall and Chica, whatever exactly she was doing, was in the kitchen where the camera offered sound only. Freddy, leering at the camera though he was, stood passive on the stage. Everything was fine and Michael began to wonder if perhaps he had just let his fear get the better of him. Though they were absurdly disturbing to view, they couldn't possibly be all that dangerous. Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Michael thought, longing all the while for his lazy bachelor life.

Huffing heavily on his cigarette, Michael looked through the rooms again and realized, with mounting horror, that something new was going on in what was called the Pirate Cove. Formerly pursed curtains had parted to reveal a leering gaze and the glimmer of something shiny and Michael suddenly, clearly wished he had taken a different position.

Over the course of the coming hour Michael watched this entirely new horror emerge as if in steps and only when he wasn't watching. Twice he found the chick back at his door, wheezing and leering in, and twice he shut her out. The rabbit lingered in the hallway again, as if taunting him, while the Pirate Cove robot, whatever it was, steadily emerged. In his colorblindness, the grayscale of the video feeds was especially troublesome for Michael but he saw all sorts of things he didn't like on this robot. Sharp teeth, leering eyes and a shiny hook for a hand.

Again at the door wheezed Chica. Michael grunted heavily and slammed the door in her face. "Go away, go the fuck away!" he moaned. He snatched up the tablet and peered frantically around the restaurant. Bonnie, where could Bonnie be? He found the rabbit, after some panicking and mumbling under his breath. He was hiding in the back room with the endoskeletons and the empty costumes, peering into the camera knowingly.

"Yeah, you fuck right off," Michael grumbled. And so he looked at the Pirate's Cove again. He saw the curtains wide open and in his colorblindness, he thought the pirate was still there. Suddenly he heard footsteps thundering down the west hall towards the office. Michael found his ass clenching when he lunged for the door and pressed the button. Mere seconds after it came down he heard the most horrific scraping and pounding against it - and then the footsteps sprinted away.

Michael waited a good five minutes before he dared to open the doors again. He chain smoked the rest of his pack and appraised his situation with shaking mitts. Freddy at the stage; Chica near the restrooms; Bonnie in the dining hall and the pirate, that awful thing merely leered from its curtains. Michael looked up at his clock and saw it to be 3 AM. Still three hours to go before sunup, and even then, what was to keep him alive? Did the robots really care what time it was?

But Michael wouldn't have to find out what they'd think of the sunrise. The lights in the office began to flicker as the power ran low. Michael's first thought was to shut the doors but then he recalled the phone call. "Fuck, stay the fuck out there," he winced, giving the blind spots a few more cursory checks. He looked at the tablet again and didn't bother with anything but Pirate's Cove. Once more, the curtains were flung wide open. This time Michael dared to look at the western hall and he saw the pirate, the fox, whatever the hell it was bolting. Its jaws clapped open and shut madly and the hook gleamed even in the tiny light of the camera.

The dog froze up. Death was near and he could taste it, the flavor a coppery one in the back of his throat. With a nightmarish screed the fox burst into the light of the room and Michael flung the tablet at it to no avail. He shrieked like a bitch and pressed himself into the corner, gibbering and sobbing in terror. His ears stung from the mechanical beast's war cry and he held his paws out to fend off the lunging, jerking robotic terror.

One detail Michael hadn't noticed became apparent and the dog wasn't quite sure if it made things more or less terrifying, but this robot had a dick. It was unmistakable and inexplicable. Hard, steel, knotted and affixed at the ragged pirate's groin, it glistened in the flickering light of the office and from its chrome tip came a bead of some oily lubricant.

The robot fox lunged on Michael and lifted him by the scruff with its intact paw. With the hook it lashed at the Akita's chest, shearing off his shirt before doing the very same to his pants. In the process he put a gash in the dog's side which oozed blood but harmlessly, having missed the arteries. Michael howled in fear first, pain second as the robotic beast heaved him onto the desk, nearly upending it. And so there Michael was bent over the desk and the fox sliced down the back of his pants, shredding them and the briefs below off completely.

It came to light that the dog was not entirely a male. Between his vulnerable pucker and his balls lay a plush, triangular pussy more at home on a feral bitch but the fox was not inclined to use it. Like he raped so many night watchmen before Michael, he notched his metallic cock between the dog's ass cheeks and he drove it home with a grinding chortle that stung the dog's ears.

Michael brayed in horrific pain as the robot fox speared into his asshole and wrenched the pucker wide open. Anybody with a knot knew it needed to be worked in carefully but the fox was just a machine, after all, and he popped its unyielding bulk into Michael's rear with only the greatest callousness.

"Ooh, god, no," Michael sobbed out, his cigarette falling off of his sticky lip. Whatever its end goal was, if the damned thing could even squirt a fake orgasm or it was just programmed to sodomize until the victim expired, the fox rutted Michael with the expected machine-like efficiency. Ruthless, uncaring but ever grunting and laughing in that digitized and hellish way, it made Michael scream and sob. Hot blood oozed from the ripped anal ring of his pucker and smeared along the cold hardness of the robot's cock. Gelling and sticky, it was no useful lubricant and what oily stuff the fox squirted was too little and too late to ease such a violent penetration.

Minutes went by in agony as Michael bellowed and screamed. The dog tried to escape by vaulting himself over the desk but the fox gripped his shoulder and squeezed down with nightmarish force. As Michael's scream broke off into a howl, he realized just how harmless these robots weren't. As if to keep the dog especially in place, the fox brought his hook around the victim's throat and held it taught. There was no edge inside of the curve, only at the tip, but Michael had no doubt in his mind that the robot could break his neck if it so desired.

Anal penetration being what it was even for a male hermaphrodite like Michael, the dog's own knotted cock hung and bumped the desk. There was no hope of or desire for a climax for Michael as the fox-robot pounded and bucked with that big, steel dildo, of course. There was in fact nothing the dog could do but weep and scream helplessly, knowing worst of all that nobody could or would save him.

Suddenly the lights cut out but the fucking never relented. In pitch darkness Michael clenched his eyes shut and listened to the screeching, scraping laugh of the fox and to the sucking slapping of his own asshole as it was ruined. The blood ran freely down his own taint now, staining the supple edges of his pussy and the back of his balls. No longer could the dog cry, his cheeks growing crusty with tears, his breathing caught in snatches both for sobbing and the hook around his neck.

Whatever it was up to, the fox was grunting in its robotic way, snarling through its mangled voice box as its hard, metal skeleton crashed again and again into Michael's body through the admittedly thin padding of his furry bodysuit. What pressure he put on Michael's shoulder worsened and the dog grit his teeth as tightly as he possibly could. The fox pulled back with the hook, subtly garroting Michael as he rammed his metal cock home harder and harder, faster and faster, the chrome finish by then dull with blood.

Again came that agonizing screech as the robot came, at least to whatever extent that it could. Michael felt cold, sticky oil jet into his asshole and he shuddered and wheezed against the bite of the hook. That robotic fox continued to buck but his grinds had taken on a slower quality as if ramping down from the bliss of the climax. If the robot had actually just had an orgasm, Michael wouldn't have been surprised. Nothing surprised him about Fazbear's Pizza anymore.

The robot released Michael and eased its metal cock out of his ass in silence. Michael winced at this exit. His asshole sagged agape, ripped and raw as it drooled with a lewd mixture of lubrication and blood. The broken dog wept into his arms.

Suddenly came the wheezing and groaning of the other evil machines. Michael heard the tinkling music box notes of Carmen. It was soothing, gentle music but the dog kept his eyes shut in anything but rest as padded robot hands carried him and dragged his feet. Only when they came to a stop did he open his eyes and then he saw the empty Freddy suit. Its unzipped back hung open like a fly and bare cables and crossbeams gleamed in the glow of the emergency lights. Michael, with a shuddering cry, wished for the last time in his life that he had just blown work off again.