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Zack never paid the rumors any mind. The unfortunate child murders; the Bite of '87; the sub-minimum wage; and the off-putting appearances of the animatronics. In fact, Zack found the robots rather cute and comforting. By day they entertained the children with song and dance and he could appreciate the craftsmanship that went into their construction - and more notably their AI.

Put simply, Freddy Fazbear and friends Bonnie and Chica had no right to be as clever as they were. Sometimes when he tightened their bolts and greased their joints, he could see dark intelligence in their vacant eyes. For an adult to leer at them was to inspire unexplained panic and a sense of unavoidable doom. Children seemed not to notice. But Zack himself, the college student moonlighting as a repairman, saw something else. He saw the evil intelligence for sure, but he felt that it wasn't aimed at him. Something about the robots when they stirred after his maintenance seemed benign. They looked past him.

Sometimes when he did contemplate the rumors, Zack was relieved that the robots didn't seem to mind him. He heard differently from the frazzled night watchman. Babbling fear, incoherent screeds delivered over the smell of pissed pants. Zack was directed by the management to tune him out and he did so, albeit with some concern.

The day was Saturday and a birthday party left an air of good cheer in Fazbear's Pizza. Presents were opened and pizza was eaten. Freddy Fazbear and his friends did their song and dance dutifully as always, delighting the children and aggravating the adults.

A unique challenge awaited Zack. Behind the indigo curtains of Pirate's Cove, he tinkered with and soldered the scattered body parts of Foxy the pirate. None of the robots were in the best of shape but it was Foxy who saw the worst of it. Scattered around the floor in his constituent parts, the state of his disrepair wasn't so obvious. One needed only to look at the bodysuit with its ragged holes to see the damage. Sitting on a folding chair, yellow eyes dead and one half-covered by a gag eye patch was Foxy's head itself.

Zack sometimes looked up at the robot's head to study its lifeless eyes. Most everybody thought Foxy was too frightful with his sharp teeth and hook, but Zack thought him goofy and cute, though being a fox himself, Zack wondered if he wasn't inclined to have a soft spot for a fox robot.

The hours ticked by as Zack reassembled Foxy from the feet up. As he worked on the legs, he pulled the foamy fur of the bodysuit around the limbs, clipping it down and pinching up the gaps. With heavy-duty needle and thread, he closed the wounds in the suit. The job wasn't perfect but Foxy soon didn't look quite so unloved. Zack had already weaseled the funding out of the owners to refurbish his suit and replace his missing teeth. In the meantime, it just seemed respectful to patch him up as best he could.

Young Zack with his pretty pink fur and purple eyes felt a sense of satisfaction as he reattached the seated robot's disembodied head. A few bolts here, reconnect the spine there, and Foxy looked... Certainly not good as new, but Zack was proud of his needlework just the same.

Zack pulled his cap off, smoothed his hair down and snugged the hat back down. "You look better, at least," he murmured with a smile as he made to gather up his tools.

Time had a way of getting the employees at Fazbear's Pizza. It didn't matter how vigilant you were or how much you screamed at the clock to please roll over to 6 AM. Time always got you in the end. Zack realized time had gotten him when he moseyed to the front doors and found that they refused to budge. His heart sank. His cheeks flushed. Under his breath, he mouthed the kind of word which employees didn't speak at a family establishment like Fazbear's Pizza.

But Zack didn't believe the rumors, no. Not when he personally had tinkered with every one of the robots at some point. Maybe they were a little eccentric, but not harmful. There were no dead children inside of them.

Zack glanced at the camera in the corner, panning lazily from side to side. No doubt the night guard was sitting at his desk and sweating, swearing, crying. The night guards were always such skittish folks. He looked over at the show stage. Bonnie the bunny, Chica the chicken and Freddy Fazbear himself stood impassively in the dim light.

The pink fox gave the doors one more hearty jostle, but they didn't budge. In the back of his mind, he wished for a fire so he could justify smashing the lock.

Dejected and feeling irrationally scared, Zack took a few deep breaths, padded his way across the restaurant and disappeared behind the velvet curtain of Pirate Cove. There was Foxy - standing up, his head canted as if in curiosity but eyes attuned to the floor. Zack slowly crept around the animatronic. Up behind Foxy he moved, reaching with a trembling black paw for the bottom of the robot's spine where the power switch was situated.

It was on. Zack couldn't say if it had been on when he had disassembled the robot, he hadn't checked. As if reaching into a beehive, Zack gingerly put his finger on the switch and made to twist it to the off position. It was stuck, but that was the least of Zack's concerns: Foxy screeched in the most horrific manner. Zack squealed and lunged back, winging the small of his back on the workbench table before tumbling over a wooden barrel prop.

There Zack lay in a sobbing heap as Foxy wheeled around and bore down on him with a clapping jaw and glowing eyes. In an instant, Zack knew everything was true. The children, the Bite, everything. He saw Hell itself in those eyes, the gaping and sporadically gold-toothed maw a terrifying entrance to the afterlife. "Oh my god," Zack openly sobbed, scuttling back and crying his eyes out. "Oh my fucking god...!"

Foxy approached with lumbering footsteps. His servos creaked, old hydraulic fluid shifting like water on a bad knee as his rusty joints were made to budge. No more did it make its hellacious cry but this mattered little to Zack whom couldn't hear for the moment. The young pink fox's eyes were drawn instinctively to Foxy's wicked pirate hook, its steel so rusty and raw.

The robot reached down for Zack with its single hand. This Zack had refitted with a plush paw but the machinery beneath was strong enough to pulverize bone. Foxy wrapped his fingers around Zack's bicep and the tod began to scream; but Foxy gently pulled him up to his feet, and there they shared a ponderous crossing of gazes.

Though a head taller than Zack, Foxy ceased to be threatening. There was a tense moment when he raised his hook to Zack's face, but he merely brushed a teary cheek with the back of the cool steel. Zack appreciated the gesture if nothing else, and he lay his paw upon the hook, still quivering.

"This has to be one of those hallucinations," Zack muttered, thinking back to the Fazbear's Pizza Employee Training Video.

Foxy tilted his head, flipped his eye patch up and peered at Zack with iridescent eyes. Zack quiversomely chuckled and hugged himself to which Foxy pulled him in, held him close, petted down his back. "I guess you're not going to kill me," said the pink fox, quickly and nervously but stiffly adding, "although nobody has ever been killed by the animatronics at any Fazbear's Pizza establishment."

The robot said nothing, seemingly incapable of words but showing unmistakable affection as he petted down Zack's body with a plush, cold mitt. A more ambiguous gesture came when Foxy closed his paw around Zack's rear which the twink didn't register at first. Simply a hug from a robot was a curious and humbling thing, but to have it touch his ass had to be a fluke. Foxy was persistent in his touch, though, squeezing and kneading in a way too eager to be anything but lust.

The situation was becoming a tricky one and Zack timidly wrapped his arms around Foxy. Beneath the bodysuit, he felt cold, hard rods and cables yet there was something impossible to place concerning how cuddly Foxy was. Zack decided it better not to question anything in that moment, and the ultimate acceptance came in the soft kiss he planted on Foxy's lower jaw.

Emitting a digitized chirp Zack found more cute than unsettling, Foxy eased back from Zack, kept his paw on the twink's ass and brushed his pink-accented locks from his eyes with the hook. The gesture seemed to suggest that Zack had such lovely eyes, the lids of which Zack batted with a smile.

A sudden lump against Zack's belly unsettled the twink. Foxy's expression was unchanged because it had no fine articulation but there was something sultry in those yellow eyes. Zack couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Another soft, digital chirp accompanied Foxy placing his paw on the back of Zack's head. He eased the fox twink to cant his head. When Zack did so, he saw in the low light of the staging area that something new had developed on Foxy's body. The sight of it made Zack blink a double take and open his eyes wide: Foxy had a cock and a plump set of balls. The shaft itself was one of muted pink flesh bearing a thick knot and a tapered tip. The balls were garbed in the fabric of the plush furry bodysuit, but unmistakable in their placement and shape.

Now Zack knew for sure he was hallucinating. He knew these robots better than anyone and they simply did not have genitalia. If they did, he would have found them by then. But just like the glimpses of bloodshot eyes, lumped into the same category as hushed whispers of it's me, pushed aside like the phantom of the yellow suit everybody saw but nobody spoke of, Zack decided to ignore the likelihood and focus on the reality. Foxy was a fully-functional male, he showed clear interest in Zack, and Zack couldn't say he wasn't interested.

Zack dropped to his knees, intending to do so with some grace but rather falling with a bump. He set his paws on the robot's bared thigh rods where the suit had been too sparse to mend and his lips met the pointed canine tip of that cock. Stranger and stranger, but Foxy's penis was scented like any other cockflesh. The putrid smell which normally hung on Foxy and the other robots was absent. Zack knew well the smell of cock and Foxy had that calling card. He kissed and nuzzled its warm length and from the tiny hole at the tip came a drizzle of pre - not oil or hydraulic fluid, but real pre. The taste was distinct, the scent obvious to a fox like Zack. Nothing made any sense, but as his lips closed around the flesh and so did Foxy's paw grasp the back of his head, Zack elected not to worry or wonder.

Unabashedly gay and oddly content with the robot before him, Zack suckled and bobbed to please Foxy in the best way he knew how. It seemed that with every twinge of pleasure the machine felt, it petted over Zack's head in a manner very gentle in light of how terribly strong the animatronics were.

Zack fondly swayed his tail and fanned the smell of vulpine musk which permeated the staging area. One paw stayed upon Foxy's mangled thigh but its twin cupped the robot's balls, palming them through the plush bodysuit. But where Zack had expected to feel something cold and stiff, he found Foxy's balls to be malleable, furred flesh. Zack slowly pulled back from Foxy's well-endowed penis and glanced up at the robot's face. His jaw hung open at what he saw.

Be it a hallucination or reality bending to the pizzeria's whims, Zack didn't know - but Foxy was no longer a machine. Instead he was a ruggedly handsome pirate, one-eyed and ears chewed up. On his long snout was a very tight smile through which yellowed teeth and gold caps showed. He wrapped his paw, by now more articulate and fine around Zack's armpit and pulled him up. Immediately their lips met in a hot, crushing kiss. Foul though Foxy's breath was as that of a pirate, his tongue was a skilled slab of meat as another piece of meat entirely rubbed against Zack through the pink tod's uniform. Zack hastily slipped his pants and panties down and off then broke the kiss to tug his shirt off rather than fumble with its buttons. And all throughout this tryst, Zack never once questioned his sanity, knowing it to be quite far-gone, and so he might as well enjoy the fever dream.

Foxy wheeled Zack around and pushed him against the workbench. He smiled wanly at his young friend's warm croon. Words and gentle noises were long lost to him. Rather than mince them, he communicated with physical affection. First he nudged up to Zack, notched his plump phallus between the twink's bare rump cheeks and softly ground in. A trail of pre smeared throughout the soft fluff of Zack's ass crack but what the twink appreciated most of all was the warm grind against his puckered entrance.

But where Zack had hoped to be swiftly mounted by his otherworldly admirer, Foxy schemed with other plans. His brisk grind concluded, he knelt slowly and nibbled and gnawed his way down Zack's spine. Where his needly teeth pinched, Zack tingled and often crooned. Zack's tail brushed playfully across Foxy's snout while Foxy's own tail, a ratty and matted thing, was much more reserved.

Having knelt and put his snout near Zack's taut rear, Foxy clutched an ass cheek in his single paw, nudged the other softly with the blunt back of his hook and buried his nose between the cheeks. Zack gasped; Foxy grinned and snaked his tongue across the pucker of the young fox's asshole. Beneath his firm laps it quivered and clenched and Foxy soon unhanded the twink's rear to reach around and palm his cock. It too was knotted but more average in endowment than Foxy, not to mention a vibrant bubblegum shade of color, but still a handsome cock which pulsed in Foxy's skilled touch. He played across the pointed tip with a thumb, squeezed the knot and altogether complimented his rimming well.

Zack draped himself fully over the workbench and whimpered with bliss. It occurred to him that he was likely meeting his end while the night watchman stared on in fidgeting terror. If this was his dying dream, so be it. "Uhn, Foxy," he whimpered and whispered, "come on, quit teasing me, I can't take it anymore."

The former robot's loving laps continued a moment longer and Zack squeaked to feel the tip of Foxy's tongue ever so gently penetrating his quivering pucker. Zack pressed more completely into the workbench, taking his feet off of the floor and curling their toes. From his lips came whimpered pleas for more.

Content to oblige, Foxy eased back with his tongue and snout but licked and lubed up a finger. Rough and craggy though it was as a finger that had helped tie a great many knots on deck, it was still like silken bliss as it entered Zack's tense behind. The young fox could only whimper and groan, having suddenly lost his words. Foxy pumped him slowly but surely, rubbing nowhere in particular yet purposefully skipping over the boy's prostate. This continued unabated for hardly a minute but to Zack, it was a wonderful interval. The pirate himself reached down and nudged his own shaft with the back of his hook, shivering at its cold steel. It was time, he thought, to put it somewhere warm.

Foxy slipped his finger free of Zack's accommodating rear, treated its entrance to one more fond kiss in which hard whiskers tickled the twink's cheeks before he stood up with some difficulty, his old joints sore. Any hints as to his age were hidden, however, when he gripped his swollen foxcock and maneuvered it between such fine pink and white ass cheeks. Against Zack's pucker, his tip quivered and oozed a sticky mess of pre and when he pressed forward, it was with a gentle grunt lost under Zack's sudden, hot cry.

The pirate unhanded his cock, reached around Zack and held the twink softly by the throat. It was a gentle touch and he stroked the cords in the boy's neck to enhance his slow entry. Soon his knot kissed against the stretched ring of Zack's pucker and he waited for the boy to spur him on.

Zack delivered. "Ooh, god," he gasped, "if I'd only known you were waiting for me to stay after dark..."

From Foxy's near-silent maw came a throaty, rough chuckle as he started to fuck the twink. Firm bucks pounded his knot against Zack's entrance and swung up his heavy, low-dangling balls for a playful spank against Zack's younger and tighter coinpurse. His strong mitt caressed Zack's slim form, tweaked his nipples and teased down into his navel while his teeth nipped and gnawed in a fond dance around the twink's ears.

Down below, Zack's cock throbbed and was soon encased in his own warm touch. He masturbated firmly and quickly but not so fast as to spoil the surprising tenderness of the fuck. Even as Foxy quickened and huffed, Zack was mild in his self-abuse. He pushed back against the pirate's knot and he coiled his tail around the former-machine's middle but he was ever a receptively submissive cocksleeve.

Soft growls and warm croons staggered past Foxy's lips but where his words were absent, noises stunted, technique rough and ready as one might expect from a pirate. Pure affection was less his goal, but in its place was raw, efficient lust which Zack appreciated just as much. Growling all the more, Foxy pinned the twink to the workbench with the back of his hook and clapped his paw down on the boy's flank. Through coarse coats of fur came the subtle smack of taut bodies colliding and more than that was the wet suckle and slap as Foxy's cock thoroughly reamed young Zack. Most important to Zack was the knot at the base of Foxy's shaft, of course, and the manner in which it ruthlessly pounded the very pucker it hoped to bury itself in.

Zack squealed in bliss and groaned in sweet pain as he pressed back into Foxy's efficient lovemaking. The knot was what he craved and he made it fully apparent to Foxy that he wouldn't rest until he had it buried inside of him, a goal Foxy shared and worked towards just as strongly. Though the pirate still refused to speak, he was openly grunting and gasping now and Zack found the noises enticing. He called out to Foxy, begging him for the knot while he jerked himself closer and closer to the brink.

Whether it was simply time to tie the knot or if it was in his heart to please Zack for fixing him up, Foxy clenched his teeth and bore down on his twinkish friend with everything he had in his newly flesh-and-bone body. Gruff panting and wicked growls rapidly gave over to desperate gasps and heated moans as his cock slapped in and popped out of Zack again and again. The wet smack of Zack's harried masturbation was like nothing against such a ruthless fucking but it was no less important, for Zack cried out in the most blissful way as he came and shot his sticky load against the workbench's unfinished wood.

Shuddering and working against Zack's then-clenching anal walls, Foxy gave the twink everything he had in his old swashbuckling bones. His meaty paw gripped the edge of the workbench and his hook sank into the wood like a nail driven crooked but his hips were like a blur, his abuse to Zack's ass incredible. And finally, with a resounding cry far-removed from metallic screeches of impending death, Foxy buried his bone, tied the sweetest of knots and poured his sticky semen into Zack in one rope after another. The pressure with which he climaxed was astonishing and the build-up to it was unlike anything Zack could fathom. But all that mattered was Foxy's hips pressed flush to Zack's soft, round behind, and the pirate fell slack over the boy with a deep, satisfied huff.

"Ah... What just happened?" Zack bleated, huffing against the bench.

But Foxy said nothing. He merely held Zack fast, kissed his ear and shushed him softly into rest. Wherever Zack awoke, if he ever did, he would always have his perfect night with Foxy.