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Knelle knew his boyfriend wouldn't like the idea of his urban exploration. His boyfriend was content enough to know his sweet young lover was going out for a jog; Knelle didn't tell him where to, however. Knelle headed out the back door and took with him a backpack prepared the night before. Inside was a crowbar and a flashlight among other spelunking items.

It was sunset by the time Knelle reached the property line. Weeds sprouted like overgrown hair in the margins of the lot. Grass erupted through cracks in the parking lot.

The young cat crept around the building. Broken glass crunched under his sneakers. He looked up hoping to see a window busted open, but of course it was covered with boards. At the back entrance, he found boards had been hastily nailed on and just as hastily pried back off by scavengers. Knelle had hoped to feel tough with the crowbar. He settled for slipping through a gap somebody else had made.

Immediately the cat noticed the eldritch reek which pervaded the building. He had never experienced the scent of decomposing flesh in all his life but he recognized the smell from secondhand descriptions; the restaurant smelled like a combination of rotten food and sweet, over-ripened fruit. He gagged and pinched his nose then spent several minutes collecting himself. When he felt comfortable enough not to vomit, he took out his flashlight and shined it around the room. Nothing stood out to him but the jumping shadows his own light cast briefly spooked him. Cockroaches and rats scurried away. Knelle squeaked at the sight of the rodents.

Now Knelle pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It was 7:13 PM. He made a note in the phone that this was his time of entry, then put it away again.

The young tom pushed his glasses up his little snout and walked slowly through the maze-like layout of the condemned pizzeria. Lifeless security cameras hung from the walls, some torn open by looters and some missing altogether, leaving only gutted holes in their mounts.

Despite his best interests, Knelle followed the stench. He hoped like a thrill seeker to find a dead body. His nose led him to the kitchen - and for all the wrong reasons, Knelle though with a black sense of humor. But instead of a dead hobo or one of the allegedly murdered children from the old tales, Knelle found the mundane source of the stench: rotten pizza. It no longer resembled anything appetizing and the cat only realized what it was because of the unmistakable box it was in. It was moldy, discolored, and covered in maggots and roach moltings. How a pizza was left so perfectly intact besides natural decay was beyond the cat. He left the kitchen and licked the palate the of his mouth. It felt like a film had formed on it.

Knelle entered the main dining hall from the rear. Standing like sentinels in the dead pizzeria were Bonnie, Chica, and Freddy Fazbear himself. The cat shined his light around as he navigated the upturned chairs and flipped tables of the room. He only dared to cast the light on the animatronics when he was near them. Like animals in the wild, their eyes reflected the flashlight beam and appeared as deadly white pinpricks. Knelle gasped and swallowed hard, then chided himself for being so skittish. He reached into his bag and took out his camera. For the sake of some ghoulish souvenirs, he snapped many shots of the animatronics.

Freddy and Chica were worn-out and plainly broken. The years had not been kind to their moving parts and crude animatronic brains. Bonnie was not so decayed, however, and the flashing of Knelle's camera triggered his brain into life like flickering lights might overstimulate an epileptic. A terrible garble emitted by Bonnie's voice box made Knelle shriek like murder. Bonnie snapped his glowing eyes on the cat in the darkness and started to move. His stiff metal joints ground like bones in a compound fracture. He tried to work his jaw but a rusty pin broke off, falling to the floor in a tiny clatter lost in the chaos of the moment. Bonnie's maw then hung slack from one side like a big, wrong approximation of a smile.

The finer points of Bonnie's reanimation were lost to Knelle whom ditched his camera, flashlight and bag on his panicked way out. He stumbled over the upended chairs and by the time he escaped the dining hall, his legs were bruised and he had a shallow cut on his ankle. In the pitch blackness of the pizzeria, Knelle lost his way again and again, running right past the dark exit in his fear.

Heavy metal footsteps and a gibbering garble of a voice followed Knelle. He sobbed openly and stammered to himself. The place really was haunted, he concluded.

Knelle skidded into Pirate's Cove. It was here that a slat of light from a lot across the street shone in. SORRY, OUT OF ORDER said the sign on the stage, highlighted by the streetlamp. Precious light just the same. Knelle pushed a table to the window and stepped up on its shaky surface. It needed to be shimmed with a coaster, he weirdly thought, a calm notion coming in clearly through sheer terror. He pawed at the window and tried to make it budge but it was too high and small. Even if he threw a chair at it, he couldn't have possibly climbed through without cutting himself to ribbons on the jagged shards.

Bonnie found his quarry. Each pace was an ominous thump on the tile. His eyes gleamed and his voice rang through the stale air as a mangled chatter. Knelle whipped around to face the machine and in doing so fell off the table. He landed painfully on his side, rendered gasping and whimpering. In the commotion, his glasses tumbled off his snout and were lost in the shadows.

The mechanical rabbit crept closer and closer, utterly implacable. His exact wantings were uncertain. Knelle only thought of what a demon the animatronic looked like as he passed through the shaft of light. The cat caught a glimpse of something familiar to a young homosexual like himself, but, no - it must have been a trick of his crying and unfocused eyes.

The machine brushed past upturned chairs and stepped on one, crushing the leg into wooden splinters.

"Fuck off, go away!" Knelle shrieked. He writhed into the corner and curled into it. "Go away... Please..."

Bonnie reached down with his great four-fingered hand and grabbed Knelle's entire head. His fingers slipped off of the screaming cat and pinched up his short black hair. The machine uncaringly dragged him off by it, still muttering incomprehensibly through his fried voice box

The animatronic dumped Knelle in the parts and service room. Light from the outside glimmered through a smashed, tiny window. Unmoving animatronic skeletons sat without costumes. Many such costumes hung on the wall, infested with moths and eaten largely through by them. Eyeless spare heads stared impassively forward from the shelves. Knelle wished for darkness again as he curled in upon himself and sobbed.

The rabbit slammed the door shut, making Knelle flinch and shriek. He then lifted his young prey by the scruff and set him on the workbench. Knelle kicked at him, ever whimpering and screaming madly, but Bonnie was unfazed by the feeble attacks and single-minded in his goal. He loomed over Knelle with his unreal glowing eyes and ripped the cat's clothing off. There was no finesse involved; he worked only with raw brutality. The sharp rips filled the air and mingled perfectly with the nightmarish jabbering Knelle's throat was raw from screaming and his voice was therefore hoarse and low. He begged in soft-spoken pleas and whimpers as he lay prostrate and dressed in worthless shreds.

In his first gentle touch, Bonnie slid his chunky fingers over Knelle's body. The cat's sobbing did not seem to affect him. The gentle strokes along his twink form dripped reverence and he doted in particular on the boy's flaccid penis. Knelle gasped in confusion and revulsion.

Bonnie turned away sharply and rifled through the mangled body of a half-suited skeleton. As he ripped out its cable and broke metallic ribs, Knelle saw his opportunity and went for it. He scooted off of the bench and tried to yank the door open. Its rusty hinges screamed and so did his sense of self-preservation as he wrested it open. It occurred to Knelle now the horrifying strength with which Bonnie must have flung the door shut to make it move so effortlessly. He hadn't even opened it six inches when the rabbit's strong hand closed around his shoulder.

Knelle could feel bone crunching and grinding and he raspingly yowled, except the machine was inflicting no such injury upon him. He merely held Knelle firmly and pulled him back as gently. This time he did not toss Knelle onto the workbench but instead laced his wrists with the pilfered wires. Knelle missed the finer points of the rabbit's knot-tying due to his absent glasses, but the dexterity involved seemed as if it would be too much for such thick and clumsy hands. The cat questioned his very sanity at that moment.

Again Bonnie chattered as if to idly converse with Knelle for the way their eyes locked and his jaw bobbed at a skewed angle. Knelle whined as Bonnie tossed the cable over the rafter, "Please... Please, please let me go home!"

The animatronic tilted his head, and for the cant of his busted jaw, his expression appeared jaunty. He pulled down on the cables and hoisted Knelle up to the tips of his toes, eliciting another shriek. He tied the other end off somewhere secure then stepped up to his bonded prize. Suddenly Knelle felt a hard, hot piece of flesh against his navel. There was simply no mistaking what it was, though it was impossible to look down for the way Bonnie pressed flush to him. He blurted with fresh new tears, "Yuh-you have a cock? What the hell are you!?"

Bonnie's head tilted slightly, as though he were contemplating a reply. His hands did the speaking his voice could not. He gripped his big, swollen meat which jutted from an ungainly gap in his bodysuit. The animatronic had no apparent testicles. This further deviation from its expected anatomy served only to make the mechanical creature more monstrous, for that phallus existing by itself meant that it must be there only for the task of rape.

Now Bonnie turned Knelle around and held his long, deft tail for leverage. He pressed his blunt cock against the crack of Knelle's ass and the cat became keenly aware of the pre which it drizzled. At least he thought it was pre, for the warm juice could have been anything, and it came so copiously that no mortal creature could produce such a volume. It squirted against his tightly puckered anus, coating it and the surrounding fur.

"Egh," Knelle whined, "what's that stuff? It feels," he stammered in thought, "it feels like oil!"

That was just the thing. It was thin black crude, flowing from the tip like a lame piss stream. Bonnie's voice retched out in a garbled laugh sampled from once-friendly child-pleasing canned lines. He ground his leaky penis forward and notched it into the subtle dip of Knelle's tender asshole. The cat tried his best to breathe and relax, savvy enough to know that Bonnie would stop at nothing to enter him, but from the first moment the animatronic pushed hard enough to open him up, Knelle tensed and squealed. It was a long, wavering sound of pain and indignity borne more of the despair of being raped than true discomfort; the thin oil lubricated the sex efficiently.

Bonnie slid his creepy and cold mitts up Knelle's unflawed twink body. There was worship in his treatment of the fussy boy and the manner in which he entered. But as his plunge bottomed out and his tattered suit pressed to Knelle, something changed. The difference was imperceptible at first like the primal sensation of true fear occurring to Knelle. He shut up at once and his eyes went wide. The room changed, and the cat was not sure when or how. It was pristine and unmolested by time. Bonnie's clumsy hands stroked higher, fondling his chest. Knelle looked down and found them intact. No more holes chewed in them, no unidentified fluids staining the foam and fur.

"Oh, my god," Knelle breathlessly sobbed. "What's--, what even is this?"

The rabbit hummed warmly into Knelle's pert ears. The cat felt breath upon them and he let out a sudden, sharp exhalation. He looked down at Bonnie's mitts again. Still large, but now unmistakably organic. Bonnie articulately tweaked Knelle's nipples and rumbled more lewd nothings into the boys ears.

The tears rolled down Knelle's face. Confusion kept him sobbing and whimpering but pleasant anal penetration made him hard. Down went Bonnie's hands. He clutched his prey's modest endowment and stroked it with thumb and forefinger. "Shh," Bonnie shushed. "Shh..."

"You can talk?" Knelle squeaked. He tried to turn his head. He caught but a glimpse of a face, blurry and misshapen by tears and his own flawed vision.

Bonnie nuzzled into the back of his head, nibbled an ear, and shushed again: "Shh."

"Mmf, okay," Knelle whimpered. He writhed in his bonds. His arms were asleep. Bonnie caught sight of his struggle and unlaced the cords around his wrists. Knelle gratefully fell slack against him and Bonnie's pelvis pressed flush to his rear. Now Bonnie bent Knelle over the bench. It was cold as steel was apt to be but the chill exhilarated Knelle. He wrapped his tail about the rabbit's muscular arm and dared not to look back.

The big purple rabbit pinned the cat by his shoulder blades whereupon he exerted much of his weight. Knelle gasped and choked out another sob. "Don't, you're too heavy!" he bleated.

"Shh," Bonnie warmly shushed with not a hint of dismissal. His hips rocked again. Those hard, slow bucks reamed Knelle. Heavy balls not drained in years swung up between the boy's thighs. Another sound came from his lips, a bestial grunt of pleasure. He was getting into his use and abuse of the cat. Whatever apparition Bonnie was, however corporeal his flesh seemed to be, he used it all against Knelle whom gasped and wheezed in lieu of screams for help.

Knelle could barely breathe. He hooted with sobs and raked his claws down the bench's surface, producing an agonizing screech which saw him flinch back his ears but which did nothing to Bonnie. Bonnie bucked steadily, exerting all of his dreadful strength to rape the cat.

Thick pre or perhaps oil shot into Knelle. It was body temperature and therefore not jarring to his anal flesh. The other traumas Bonnie inflicted made up for this. His grunting became so much more noisy and ruthless and at the edges of the vocalizations were garbles of static. Bonnie's paws felt cold again and the flesh became fake fur and foam. Knelle snapped his eyes open. The smell of decay was rampant again. The bench was rusted and soiled as it had been before. No longer did big, warm balls swing up against him. Bonnie was undeniably a machine and this was clearly the run-down Freddy Fazbear's Pizza parts room. Knelle tried to bawl for help but managed only a strangled cry.

Bonnie pressed down and Knelle knew the life was being crushed out of his body. The tears ran hot and his vision started to fail. Bonnie thrust with terrible robotic efficiency, working dispassionately but raping just the same. His garbled voice rattled through the room, speaking broken chunks of canned banter to Freddy and Chica. He paused for their replies then continued his routine. It was all ear-rending noise.

"Oh, god," Knelle gasped in near silence. Suddenly the downward pressure ceased. Like a blood pressure cuff easing off with its torturous slowness, Bonnie let off of Knelle's writhing shoulders. His chattering came to an abrupt end and in the same interval, he came. That was how Knelle interpreted the sudden blast of what felt to be more crude coating his insides, leaving him feeling slick and violated. He cried steadily and closed his eyes against the bench.

For the better part of five minutes, Bonnie stayed mostly still. His only movement was to ease off of the cat. Even when he had a margin to wriggle free, Knelle stayed put in defeat and terror. The will to live had been replaced by cold dread. Among his feeling of doom was the knowledge that his boyfriend would bombard him with I-told-you-so derision. Feeling a flare of anger, Knelle thrust himself forward and onto the bench. He kicked hatefully at Bonnie's ramrod-stiff body with a scream.

The cat could see only poorly for his lack of glasses but he saw no penis on Bonnie's stiff body. Not even a tear indicating where one could retract. He dared not touch the animatronic to investigate. When he realized the lack of a penis, he noticed also the lack of oil leaking from his rear; but the anal trauma was present. He walked the dark halls with a limp, no longer caring about his ruined clothes. He bumbled into Pirate's Cove where he knew his glasses to be and found them but not without effort. By then, half an hour of searching in the darkness was a welcome respite.

Knelle returned to the dining room with his glasses. He found his lit flashlight on the floor and then his bag. In his thoroughness, he packed a change of clothes. The boy put those on and stuffed the useless rags down into the bottom of the bag resentfully. Feeling a sudden pang of terror, Knelle whipped around and shined the light. Nothing lurked. He whipped around again and shined it on Freddy and Chica. They were inert. He checked his phone. The time made his blood run cold: 7:13 PM.

Knelle knew he needed to escape. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, whatever it was, was not a natural thing. He returned to the broken door to make his exit, but footsteps thundered down the hall. A screeching war cry cut through the air and nearly burst his eardrums. In shock and terror, clutching his ears and wincing against the noise, Knelle turned and saw the rushing figure of the pirate fox darting through errant beams of light from the outdoors. His broken jaw bobbed and the teeth clapped almost as noisily as the feet stomped.

Freedom was a scant few feet away but Knelle locked up in terror. He shrieked. Foxy snared Knelle with his hook through the boy's shirt and dragged him pleading and screaming back to Pirate's Cove.