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That all changed when a trip into the shuttered halls of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza turned up something… unexpected.\n\nHidden in the dust and shadows was her — the broken, glitching animatronic fox the world forgot. Most people would have run. Blaze? He grabbed a toolkit.\n\nAs parts are replaced and code is patched, the two strike up an oddball friendship full of mechanical mayhem, sly banter, and… well… “rewards” that aren’t exactly in the maintenance manual.\n\nIt’s a story of a boy, a bot, and the kind of after-school project that can’t be found in any science fair.\n\nSome repairs require more than just a screwdriver.[/b][/center]\n\n\nAnother of the \"Blaze meets \" story because he just seems to be crossing all their paths!\n\nMangle was a fun short one to do! Even included more of Mistral because I love her character and other people seem to as well lol\n\n\n\n\n\n~Story and art are mine\n~Mangle (C) Scott Cawthone", "description_bbcode_parsed": "
Blaze Morvane thought high school was just going to be homework, late-night gaming, and dodging awkward conversations with his mom. That all changed when a trip into the shuttered halls of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza turned up something… unexpected.

Hidden in the dust and shadows was her — the broken, glitching animatronic fox the world forgot. Most people would have run. Blaze? He grabbed a toolkit.

As parts are replaced and code is patched, the two strike up an oddball friendship full of mechanical mayhem, sly banter, and… well… “rewards” that aren’t exactly in the maintenance manual.

It’s a story of a boy, a bot, and the kind of after-school project that can’t be found in any science fair.

Some repairs require more than just a screwdriver.



Another of the "Blaze meets <insert lady here>" story because he just seems to be crossing all their paths!

Mangle was a fun short one to do! Even included more of Mistral because I love her character and other people seem to as well lol





~Story and art are mine
~Mangle (C) Scott Cawthone", "writing": "MANGLED AND TANGLED\n\nBy: Blaze-Lupine\n\n*Content Warning:*\n\nThis story contains a lot of sex. Graphic, detailed SEX!\n\nThis work is for mature audiences only.\n\n**Night time, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria**\n\nThe chain-link fence groaned as Blaze squeezed through the gap, his light gray fur catching on rusted metal. Jett - a lanky red fox with a smirk that never quite left his muzzle - hopped down behind him, kicking up dust that shimmered in the beam of Blaze's flashlight. \n\n``Told you it'd be easy,'' Jett said, flicking his ear toward the derelict pizzeria. The building hunched like a rotting carcass, its boarded windows staring blindly. The Freddy Fazbear's Pizza sign hung crooked, the ``z'' in Fazbear long since devoured by weather. \n\nBlaze adjusted his scarf, the pink strands of his hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. ``Easy's not the word I'd use.'' His voice wavered, just enough for Jett to snort. \n\nInside, the air clung thick with mildew and something sharper - old copper, maybe, or plastic left to melt. Jett's flashlight danced over shattered arcade cabinets, their screens spiderwebbed with cracks. A poster of Toy Bonnie peeled off the wall, one glassy eye dangling by a thread. \n\n``Think the old security guard's still here?'' Jett teased, poking a deflated balloon with his foot. ``Or what's left of `em?''\n\n``Shut up,'' Blaze muttered, but he grinned despite himself. \n\nThey picked through the dining area, their steps crunching on confetti that had fossilized into the carpet. The stage was a skeleton - velvet curtains moth-eaten, wires snaking up from empty animatronic pedestals. Blaze's light grazed a cluster of party hats, their colors bleached to bone. \n\nJett vanished into Pirate's Cove, his laughter echoing. ``C'mon, dude! It's just a bunch of trash and - '' \n\nA metallic screech cut him off. \n\nBlaze froze. The sound came again - a drag of steel on tile, slow, deliberate. His flashlight trembled as he swung it toward the ceiling. \n\nNothing. \n\nBut the Kids' Cove sign swung gently ahead, its hinges whining. The room beyond was a nest of shadows, cluttered with half-assembled limbs and tangles of wire. Something glinted in the dark: a hook, curved and serrated, hanging from a beam. \n\nJett reappeared, brushing cobwebs from his fur. ``You look like you've seen Freddy himself.'' \n\nBlaze didn't answer. His light lingered on the hook. \n\nIt wasn't there a second ago. \n\n``Splitting up's literally how people die in these places,'' Blaze hissed, his tail bristling. \n\nJett rolled his eyes, already backing toward the arcade's carcass. ``Yeah, in movies. This is just some moldy Chuck E. Cheese knockoff.'' He tossed a crumpled soda can at Blaze's feet. ``Live a little, dude. Meet you at the stage in ten.'' \n\n``Jett - !'' \n\nBut the fox was gone, swallowed by a hallway choked with broken party tables. Blaze's flashlight carved a frail circle of light around him. The silence wasn't silence at all - it was a low hum, like teeth grinding bone. \n\nHe wandered toward Parts & Service, the nameplate hanging by one screw. The door creaked open to a workshop strewn with plush innards: coils of wire, eye lenses milky with age, a tiny rainboot filled with screws. Blaze's breath hitched as his light grazed a wall of childish drawings - crude crayon renditions of Freddy, Chica... and something wrong, a tangle of limbs scribbled in frantic red. \n\nScritch-scratch. \n\nHe spun. A vent cover rattled overhead, dust sifting down. \n\nJust rats. Or the wind. \n\nBut the air was stagnant. \n\nKids' Cove waited at the end of the hall. The door yawned open, darkness pooling thick as oil. Blaze's beam trembled over a nest of dismembered parts: a segmented tail, a clawed paw, a fox-like head with one eye dangling by a thread. And there, slumped against a pile of plush carcasses - \n\nSomething mangled. \n\nIts body was a junkyard collage: a steel endoskeleton twisted like a pretzel, patchy pink-and-white fur clinging to its frame. One arm was rusted and chipped. The head lolled sideways, jaws parted in a silent snarl, the remaining eye a cracked marble. Blaze crouched, transfixed. Up close, it smelled like battery acid and birthday cakes left to rot. \n\nHe reached out - \n\nCLANG. \n\nA metal panel crashed somewhere deep in the building. Blaze jerked back, heart slamming his ribs. His flashlight skittered across the floor, casting lunatic shadows as it rolled. \n\nThat's when he saw it: the mangled thing's head had turned. \n\nNow its dead eye stared directly at him. \n\nA scream tore through the building - raw, humane, Jett - and Blaze was running, stumbling, leaving the flashlight behind. The darkness clung to him, alive, hungry, as he fled toward the sound. \n\nBlaze's voice shredded his throat. ``JETT!'' \n\nHe skidded around a corner, paws sliding in something wet. The flashlight beams of dead arcade machines strobed as he ran, their fractured light catching the glint of a thing crouched in the hall ahead - Toy Bonnie, joints screeching as it turned its head 180 degrees, porcelain face split by a grin too wide, too sharp. \n\nBlaze veered into a storage closet, slamming the door as the animatronic's claws raked the wood. He barreled out the other side, into the dining area - \n\n - and froze. \n\nJett stood near the stage, backlit by moonlight filtering through rotting rafters. He was perfectly still. \n\n``J-Jett...?'' Blaze whispered. \n\nThe red fox turned. His muzzle was slack, eyes vacant. A wet click echoed from his throat. \n\nThen the wires erupted. \n\nThey burst from Jett's mouth - copper coils, razor-tipped, spiraling out like metallic intestines. His body jerked like a marionette as the puppet strings yanked him upward, feet dangling. Behind him, the Puppet's striped arms unfolded from the shadows, music box winding with a hellish creak. \n\n``NO!'' Blaze lunged - \n\nJett's body popped. \n\nBlood misted the air. Something warm spattered Blaze's cheek. He didn't scream. Couldn't. The world narrowed to the drip-drip-drip of crimson on his paws, to Jett's head rolling to a stop near his feet, one eye still wide with boyish mischief. \n\nA giggle echoed - high-pitched, synthetic. \n\nBlaze ran. \n\nHe didn't feel his legs. Didn't feel the tears carving through his friend's blood on his face. The exit sign glowed red ahead. Almost there - \n\nA hook speared the wall inches from his face. \n\nThe mangled thing dropped from the ceiling, limbs splayed like a broken spider. Its torso twisted with a hydraulic hiss, the cracked eye flickering - blue, then black, then blue again before settling on yellow. Static buzzed from its throat, forming something almost like words: \n\n``...sss...ssee... yyy...ou...'' \n\nBlaze stumbled back. The Mangle didn't advance. It cocked its head, wires spooling from its neck, hook retracting slowly. A child's laugh track sputtered from its chest, warped and sour. \n\nSomewhere behind, metal shrieked. \n\nBlaze bolted past the creature, through the exit, into the knife-cold night. He didn't stop until his lungs burned, until the pizzeria was a tumorous silhouette on the horizon. He collapsed behind a dumpster, vomiting until all that remained was the taste of blood and that static, buzzing in his skull like a requiem. \n\nLater.\n\n \n\nBack home, he scrubbed Jett's blood from his fur. The shower steamed, but he couldn't get warm. Couldn't unsee the way the mangled animatronic's eye had tracked him - not with malice, but... curiosity? Recognition? \n\nThe shower had ran until the water turned icy. Blaze stood under the spray, claws digging into his scalp, as if he could scrub out the memory of Jett's clicking throat, the wet snap of tendons. But the blood was gone now.\n\nOn his phone: 12 missed calls from Jett's mom. \n\nMidnight bled into 3 a.m. Blaze lay rigid on his bed, curtains drawn tight. Every creak of the house became a drag-hiss of endoskeletons. Every rustle of wind through the oak outside his window morphed into staticky whispers. \n\n``...ou... sssssee... us...'' \n\nHe jerked upright, ears flat. ``Shut up,'' he muttered to the empty room. \n\nThe closet door stood ajar. He'd checked it six times. Seven? The gap was a black slit, breathing cold. Blaze's tail thumped the mattress - once, twice - before he lunged at it, yanking the door open. \n\nEmpty. Just winter coats and a forgotten gym bag. \n\nBut the smell hit him anyway: melted plastic, cake frosting, copper. \n\nHe gagged, slamming the door shut. \n\nBy 4 a.m., he'd barricaded himself under three blankets, phone brightness cranked to sear his retinas. Twitter. TikTok. Anything to drown out the silence. A video loaded - a meme of Toy Chica dancing to a bass-heavy remix. He thumbed past it, but not before catching a flicker in the background: a mangled shape, dangling from a ceiling fan. \n\nCoincidence. Fanart. Not real. \n\nHe searched it. Found the pictures of when it was whole.\n\nThe Mangle? Fitting... \n\nHis window rattled. \n\nA branch, probably. Scraping glass. He knew that. Knew it. \n\nBlaze squeezed his eyes shut. The darkness behind his lids pulsed with afterimages - Jett's severed head, the Mangle's hooked finger grazing his cheek - \n\nSCREEEE - \n\nHe flinched, phone clattering to the floor. The sound hadn't come from outside. It was in the room. A shrill, metallic shriek, like a servo motor pushed to rupture. \n\nBlaze scrambled for the light switch. \n\nThe room blazed white. Nothing on the desk. Nothing under the bed. But the scratches on his window, not there prior, seemed laced in blood.\n\n``No. No, no, no - '' \n\nDawn came gray and suffocating. Blaze hadn't slept. Hadn't blinked, it felt like. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was a stranger - matted fur, eyes glassy and wild. He splashed water on his face, but the static followed, buzzing at the edge of his hearing. \n\nThe school bell was a dentist's drill in Blaze's skull. He lingered at Jett's locker, half-expecting the fox to materialize with a shit-eating grin and a ``Dude, you should've seen your face!'' But the hallway swallowed his hope whole. Jett's locker, decorated with skate stickers and a ``Bite Me, Fazbear!'' magnet, stayed shut. \n\nBlaze's claws dug into his palms. He's just skipping. He's fine. He's - \n\n``Mr. Morvane?'' \n\nHis homeroom teacher, Ms. Finch, eyed him from the doorway. Her muzzle twitched - a telltale sign she'd heard. About Jett. About the ``animal attack'' the news was calling it. \n\nBlaze slid into his seat. The classroom hummed with whispers, every glance a scalpel. \n\n`` - heard they only found his, like, head - '' \n\n`` - police say bears got him, but there's no bears in - '' \n\n`` - so gross - '' \n\nHe fixated on the clock. The second hand stuttered, click-click-click, like a hook tapping glass. \n\n\tNot a dream. A nightmare.\n\n \n\nLunch tasted of battery acid. Blaze pushed his tray aside, the static in his ears swelling to a roar. Across the cafeteria, a janitor mopped a red stain on the floor. Cherry slushie, probably. But Blaze's fur stood on end as the mop smeared it into a Rorschach of gore. \n\nHis phone buzzed. A news alert: \n\nBREAKING: Remains of Local Teen Found Near Abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Demolition Scheduled Friday. \n\nThe photo showed a tarp draped over a... shape. Blaze's throat tightened. Beneath the tarp's edge, a single red tuft of fur poked out. \n\n `` - no leads,'' the TV droned. Mistral Morvane sipped her chamomile tea, eyes glued to the screen. Her tail - sleek and white - flicked in methodical arcs. ``They'll blame feral attacks. Always do.'' \n\nBlaze hovered in the doorway. His mother hadn't looked at him once since he came home. \n\n``You knew him,'' she said, finally. Not a question. \n\n``Yeah.'' \n\n``Did he seem... unstable? Suicidal?'' \n\nBlaze's jaw clenched. ``No.'' \n\nMistral set her cup down with a clink. ``The mind fractures under trauma. Creates fictions. Perhaps he wandered there seeking meaning.'' \n\nMeaning. The word curdled in Blaze's gut. He saw it again - the Mangle's head turning, watching, as Jett's scream tore the night. \n\n``They're tearing it down Friday,'' he mumbled. \n\n``Good. That place was a blight.'' \n\nUpstairs, Blaze's room felt smaller. His reflection in the monitor stared back: hollow-eyed, twitching at every tick of the house settling. \n\nHe Googled freddy fazbear's pizza incident reports. \n\nPage 1: Grand Re-Opening Cancelled After Hygiene Complaints (1987) \n\nPage 3: Controversy Over ``Mangle'' Animatronic Linked to Child Injuries \n\nPage 6: Security Guard Missing, Presumed Dead \n\nA video autoplayed - a grainy livestream of someone exploring the pizzeria at night. The camera panned over Kids' Cove. \n\nThere. \n\nA shadow shifted in the corner of the frame. Something twitched, suspended from the ceiling. \n\nBlaze leaned closer. \n\nThe screen glitched. \n\nWhen the image returned, the camera lay shattered on the floor, lens cracked in a spiderweb pattern. A claw dragged into view, carving a single word into the dust: \n\nN O T\n\nBlaze slammed the laptop shut. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, syncopated with the drip of the bathroom faucet. \n\nWhen he looked at his window, he saw it.\n\nA child's crayon drawing. A wolf with pink hair, standing in a room full of broken toys. Above him, a scribble of pink and white loomed, its hand touching his shoulder. \n\nBlaze opened the window and crumpled the paper. It unfolded itself in his grip. \n\nHe didn't realize he'd made the decision until he was lacing his boots. The house slept. The news played downstairs - ``...demolition crews arriving tomorrow...'' \n\nHe pocketed his flashlight. The static in his ears crescendoed, forming words: \n\n``...come... sssssee... us...'' \n\n***\n\nThe demolition crew's floodlights turned the parking lot into a ghostly amphitheater. Backhoes crouched like skeletal beasts, their claws resting on the pizzeria's throat. Blaze slipped through a gap in the fencing, his breath fogging in the cold. The building seemed smaller now, hunched and defensive; as if it knew its death was hours away. \n\nInside, the air had changed. It wasn't just rot anymore - it was anticipation. The walls exhaled the scent of wet cement and burnt wiring. Blaze's flashlight beam cut through the dark, trembling in his grip. He stepped over caution tape, its yellow stark against the grime. \n\nThe animatronic pedestals were empty. Not just empty - cleansed. No confetti, no party hats. Even the dust seemed swept into unnatural symmetry. Blaze's light grazed the floor, catching grooves in the tile... drag marks, fresh and deep, leading toward Parts & Service. \n\nHe followed. \n\nThe walls whispered. Not with voices, but with pressure, like the building itself was holding its breath. His beam flickered over a new mural - spray-painted X's and ``CONDEMNED'' in angry red. But beneath the paint, something glinted. Blaze leaned closer. \n\nOld bloodstains. \n\nThey formed a trail, dotted and smeared, leading to Kids' Cove. \n\nThe door was gone. Ripped from its hinges, the metal warped outward, as if something had burst through. Inside, the Mangle's nest was dismantled. No limbs, no wires. \n\nBlaze approached. He reached out - \n\nSNAP. \n\nA sound from the ceiling. \n\nHe froze. The beam of his flashlight crept upward, inch by inch, revealing water-stained tiles, sagging insulation... \n\nNothing. \n\nBut the air tasted metallic now. Coppery. Familiar. \n\nPots hung from rusted chains, swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Blaze's light caught the glint of knives still lodged in a cutting board, their blades furred with mold. A freezer door stood ajar, its seal cracked. Inside: a drift of snow-white stuffing, tufted with brown fur. \n\nFake bear fur. \n\nBlaze backed away, his tail brushing a stack of trays. They clattered to the floor, the noise volcanic in the silence. \n\nTHUD. \n\nA response - from the dining area. Heavy, deliberate. \n\nTHUD. \n\nBlaze's pulse hammered in his throat. He edged toward the sound, flashlight off now, guided by the jaundiced glow of emergency exit signs. \n\nThe party tables were arranged in a perfect circle. At the center: a blood stain and a torn shirt.\n\nTHUD. \n\nAbove him. \n\nBlaze looked up. \n\nThe ceiling was a labyrinth of pipes and ducts, trembling faintly. A vent cover swung loose, creaking. His eyes traced the path of something massive moving just beyond the metal - a shift here, a bulge there - accompanied by the squeal of torqued steel. \n\nThe security monitors were shattered, glass teeth littering the desk. Blaze's reflection warped in the shards as he sifted through moldy logbooks. \n\nNIGHT 3: ''Mangle active. Hangs in ducts. Can't lure it back to Cove. Management says let it roam.'' \n\n \n\nNIGHT 7: ''Found hand in vent. Teeth marks on it. Not animal.'' \n\nA child's laugh bubbled from the vents - bright, melodic, alive. Blaze dropped the logbook. The laugh curdled into static, then a wet gurgle. \n\nSCRAPE-SCRAPE-SCRAPE. \n\nClaws on drywall. Close. \n\nHe fled to the front entrance, yanking at the boarded doors. They held fast.\n\n``Shit!'' \n\nBlaze's flashlight died. \n\nMoonlight bled through cracks in the roof, painting the room in jagged silver. He stumbled toward the back exit, hands grazing walls that felt... sticky. \n\nA giggle echoed - not from the vents, but from inside his head. \n\n''...hey... play... with... us...'' \n\nHe spun. \n\nThe Mangle hung upside-down from the rafters, inches from his face. Its torso spiraled slowly, joints whining, the cracked eye reflecting his terror in fractured pieces. It didn't attack. Didn't move. Just... stared. \n\nA phone rang. \n\nBlaze's pocket vibrated. The caller ID flashed MOM. \n\nThe Mangle's head tilted. Its jaw unhinged, releasing a burst of dial-up screeches. Blaze fumbled the phone, dropping it. The screen cracked, but Mistral's voicemail played aloud: \n\n''Blaze. Come home. Now. The police just called - Jett's body... they found teeth marks on the... on the...'' \n\nStatic. A click. \n\nThe Mangle dropped to the floor, limbs unfolding as its body rose, pointing past Blaze, toward the boarded exit. \n\nThe message was clear. \n\nLeave. \n\nBlaze sprinted, the animatronics' chorus of shrieks nipping at his heels. Toy Bonnie's porcelain face split into a jagged grin as it galloped on all fours, joints pop-pop-popping. Behind him, Chica's cupcake scraped the walls, shredding plaster as she followed behind.\n\n``STAY... FOR... THE... SHOW...'' Freddy's voice boomed, warped and syrupy, as the exit doors loomed - boarded, chained, hopeless.\n\nBlaze skidded, paws bleeding from broken glass, and ducked into a supply closet. He barricaded the door with a mop bucket, his breath sawing in his lungs. Shadows pulsed under the door - too many shadows - as the pack converged.\n\nThud.\n\nA claw punched through the wood, splinters raining.\n\nThud.\n\nAnother. Yellow eyes glowed in the cracks.\n\nBlaze scrambled onto a shelf, kicking at the vent cover above. It gave way with a scream of rust. He hauled himself into the duct, the metal buckling under his weight - \n\n - as the closet door exploded inward.\n\nHe crawled, the vent tearing at his fur, the din below rising to a cacophony. Something heavy thrashed in the ducts ahead. Blaze froze.\n\nTwo pinpricks of light flickered in the dark - one yellow, one black.\n\nMangle.\n\nIt lunged, not at him, but past him. Blaze heard the wet crunch of endoskeletons colliding, the screech of Toy Bonnie's voice box short-circuiting. A sharp limb speared through the vent floor, missing Blaze's tail by millimeters.\n\nThen Mangle's jaws closed around his hoodie, yanking him deeper into the labyrinth. He screamed and kicked, but was unable to free himself.\n\nDeep into the dark.\n\nBlaze tumbled onto cold tile, the vent shaft collapsing behind him. Moonlight bled through a cracked skylight, revealing walls papered in crayon drawings - crude renditions of Freddy, Chica, and a pink-and-white tangle labeled ``FRIEND''. Stuffed animals lay in a heap, their button eyes reflecting the dim light.\n\nMangle crouched in the corner, its ``body'' contorted to fit. Its hand retracted with a hydraulic hiss, the cracked eye dimming to a soft glow. A low, staticky purr rattled from its chest.\n\nBlaze pressed against the wall, trembling. ``Wh... why?''\n\nMangle's head tilted. It uncurled a claw, revealing a small object: a red ribbon. It rolled the offering toward Blaze, then gestured to the drawings.\n\nOne stood out - a wolf pup with pink hair, held in the arms of a faceless figure with a broken body. Scribbled beneath: ``SAVE HIM.''\n\n''... you...'' Mangle's voice box gurgled. ''...fix... fix...''\n\nBlaze's breath hitched. ``Fix? You want... fixed?''\n\nMangle didn't nod. Didn't need to. Its claw twitched toward a metal box under the stuffed animals. Inside: a corroded locket, its hinge broken. Blaze pried it open.\n\nA photo of him as a toddler, grinning in a Freddy Fazbear T-shirt.\n\nMom never let me near this place. This thing knows me?\n\nThe room's air thickened, charged with the hum of Mangle's malfunctioning voice box. Blaze's back pressed against the cold tile wall as the animatronic loomed, its claws now unnervingly delicate as it touched him. The static in its throat pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. \n\n``H-hey, c'mon,'' Blaze stammered, tail tucked tight against his legs. His laugh cracked. ``You're not... into this whole `final girl' thing, right? `Cause I'm more of a... a `run screaming' typ - '' \n\nMangle's claw closed around his wrist, pinning it to the wall. The metal was frigid, its grip unyielding. Blaze's breath hitched as its other hand - a skeletal endoskeleton fused with patchwork fur - drifted down his chest. The claws grazed his hoodie, shredding the fabric with surgical precision, exposing the pale gray fur beneath. \n\n``Shit,'' Blaze hissed, hips jerking involuntarily as the cold metal brushed his stomach. ``Wait, wait - !'' \n\nThe static sharpened into a distorted purr. Mangle's head tilted, its good eye dilating, lens whirring as it focused lower. Blaze's sheath twitched under the scrutiny, the pink tip of his canine cock peeking out, betraying him. \n\n``Hey, stop - '' He squirmed, but Mangle's weight pressed him harder into the wall, the animatronic's broken jaw hanging slack. A bead of lubricant dripped from its throat, sizzling where it hit the floor. \n\nThe claw trailed lower. \n\nBlaze's breath came in shallow bursts as the metal fingers curled beneath his sheath, squeezing just enough to make his knees buckle. His cock slid free, fully erect now, the knot already swelling at the base. \n\n``F-fuck, that's - cold,'' he choked out, trying to laugh. ``Y'know, most guys get a h-handshake first - '' \n\nMangle's voice box spat a burst of glitched laughter, high and shrill. Its claw closed around his shaft, the textured metal palm grinding against his sensitive flesh. Blaze's joke died in a gasp. The animatronic's touch was mechanical, precise - no warmth, no give - just relentless pressure as it dragged its thumb over his slit, smearing pre across the tip. \n\n``Ah!'' Blaze's claws scraped the wall, leaving furrows in the plaster. ``S-stop, I don't - nngh - don't want this - '' \n\nBut his body betrayed him, hips stuttering into the cold grip. Mangle's other claw slid under his shirt, pricking his nipples, the pain sharp and bright. Its head dipped, the cracked lens eye level with his cock, as if studying the way his knot pulsed under its ministrations. \n\n``...sss...soft...'' it garbled, stroking him faster now, the friction brutal. ``...warm... alive...'' \n\nBlaze's vision blurred. The room stank of ozone and his own musk, the animatronic's movements methodical, programmatic. Every pull of its claw yanked him closer to the edge, the cold searing his nerves raw. \n\n``I'm n-not - fuck - some... some toy,'' he snarled, voice breaking. \n\nMangle's response was a wet click, gears grinding as it leaned closer. Its tongue - a frayed strip of rubber and metal - slithered from its jaw, lapping at the precum beading his tip. Blaze cried out, the sensation grotesque, alien, but his cock throbbed, leaking onto the metal. \n\n''...mine...'' \n\nThe word wasn't a request, especially as the pressure behind his knot increased. \n\nBlaze came with a sob, his release striping Mangle's chest plate and head in hot, sticky ropes. The animatronic didn't stop, milking him through the aftershocks, claws digging into his knot until he whined. The other hand found his balls, testing them, squeezing gently. \n\nWhen it finally released him, Blaze slumped to the floor, trembling. Mangle loomed above, its hand extended, smearing his cum across its torso in a deliberate arc. \n\n''...fix... now...'' \n\nBlaze panted, looking at it staring at him. His cock twitched, softening. Do I have a choice?\n\nMangle lurched behind him, its movements a jagged stop-motion - joints seizing, hydraulics hissing - as it clutched a garbage bag stuffed with animatronic parts. Blaze's arms trembled under the weight of a disembodied endoskeleton arm, its fingers twitching sporadically. Every streetlight flickered as they passed, moths casting frantic shadows.\n\n``Quiet,'' Blaze hissed, though he wasn't sure why. Mangle couldn't truly obey. Could it?\n\nThe animatronic's head swiveled 180 degrees, scanning the empty street. Its teeth glinted, still streaked with Blaze's cum.\n\n''...safe... now...'' it rasped. ``...no ... destroy...''\n\nBlaze's ears flattened. Safe. Right.\n\nHe opened the door to his home. Silence. ``Mom?'' He called. Waited. Nothing. When he checked his phone, the text from her wasn't there. Regardless, the silence was a blanket. He motioned for Mangle to follow to his room. \n\nThe crayon drawing of the wolf and the hook-creature was taped to his mirror. Blaze dumped the parts into his closet, kicking dirty laundry over them. Mangle folded itself into the corner, limbs contorted, eye dimmed to a faint glow.\n\n``Stay. Here,'' Blaze whispered, jabbing a finger at the floor.\n\nMangle's head tilted. ``...stay... with... you...''\n\n``No. Hide.''\n\nHe shut the closet door. A metallic clink echoed inside - Mangle repositioning, perhaps. Blaze collapsed onto his bed, the adrenaline ebbing, leaving him hollow.\n\nSleep didn't come.\n\nAt 2 a.m., the closet door creaked open. Blaze pretended not to hear the scritch-scritch of claws on hardwood. The mattress dipped as Mangle's weight settled at the foot of the bed, its static breath filling the room.\n\n``...hurt... you... never...''\n\nBlaze squeezed his eyes shut. ``You already did.''\n\nA cold claw brushed his ankle. He jerked away, but Mangle persisted, tracing idle patterns up his calf - not sexual, just... curious. The animatronic's head rested on the mattress, cracked eye reflecting the moonlight.\n\n''...fix... us...''\n\nBlaze sat up, fur bristling. ``Fix what? You're a machine. A dead machine.''\n\nMangle's claw snapped around his wrist, yanking him close. Its voice box spat a garbled scream - ''...NOT... DEAD...!'' - before dissolving into dial-up screeches. Blaze froze, the animatronic's grip bruising, its torso shuddering.\n\nThen, as suddenly as it erupted, Mangle stilled. It released him, retracting into the closet like a wounded animal.\n\nBlaze's pulse roared. He waited ten minutes. Twenty.\n\nWhen he finally peered into the closet, Mangle was shut down.\n\nBlaze jolted awake at 3 am to the sound of his desk drawer sliding open. Mangle hunched over it, claws sifting through pencils, condoms, whatever he?d thrown in there.\n\nThe animatronic didn't answer. It curled over the locket, gears whirring, as if communing with it. Blaze reached out - \n\nMangle seized him, pinning him to the bed. Its claws hovered over his throat, trembling.\n\n''...sleep... protect...''\n\nBlaze's breath hitched. ``Jeez, okay, okay! Just don't hurt me.''\n\nThe claws retracted. Mangle's muzzle pressed against his, not a kiss - a transfer. Static flooded his mouth, bitter and electric, as the animatronic's voice box vibrated against his lips.\n\n''...never... never... never...''\n\n***\n\nThe demolition crew's dynamite shook the town at dawn. Blaze stood at his window, watching the smoke plume where the pizzeria once stood.\n\nIn his closet, the garbage bag of parts rustled.\n\nAt school, shop class reeked of sawdust and WD-40. Mr. Boros, a grizzled badger with grease under his claws, squinted at Blaze's request. ``Advanced Robotics Maintenance? Kid, this is college-level.'' \n\nBlaze shrugged, avoiding eye contact. ``Just... curious.'' \n\nThe badger slid the manual across the workbench. ``You fry my soldering iron, you buy a new one.'' \n\nBlaze's paws shook as he flipped through schematics of servo motors and neural networks. In the margins, he scribbled notes: ``Voice box wiring - page 78,'' ``Hydraulic fluid alternatives - page 203.'' \n\nA shadow passed over the page. \n\nHe glanced up. Outside the shop window, a flash of pink-and-white fur vanished behind the bleachers. \n\n \n\nAt home, Mistral Morvane sipped her evening tea, ears flicking toward the ceiling. ``Are you building something up there?'' \n\nBlaze froze, a screwdriver hidden in his sleeve. ``Just... homework.'' \n\n``With power tools?'' \n\n``Engineering project.'' \n\nHer tail lashed. ``You're sweating copper filth. Shower before dinner.'' \n\nMangle waited in the closet, disassembled. Its extra head - a fox-like endoskeleton with jagged teeth - rolled toward Blaze as he entered. \n\n``Okay,'' he whispered, spreading tools on the floor. ``Let's... fix you. Or... try.'' \n\nThe animatronic's ``torso'' split open at his touch, revealing a nest of corroded wires and a battery swollen with acid. Blaze gagged, gloved paws trembling as he spliced fresh copper into the voice box. \n\nMangle's good eye flickered. ''...blaze... sssoft...'' \n\n``Not now, okay?'' he muttered, wiping coolant from his muzzle. ``I'm... busy.'' \n\nThe claw twitched, grazing his thigh. ''...friend... fix... friend...'' \n\nHe worked through the night, replacing pistons, scrubbing mold from joints. The extra limbs - a tangle of segmented arms - squirmed under his touch, clamps reflexively snapping. At 3 a.m., he dared to reconnect its head mechanics. \n\nIt lunged, teeth gnashing an inch from his throat before Mangle's primary arm seized it, stifling itself into silence.\n\n''...bad... parts...'' it growled. \n\nBlaze's breath came in shallow bursts. ``Y-you're sapient?'' \n\nMangle didn't answer. Its claw dipped into the locket, retrieving a tiny chip labeled PROTOTYPE: M.M. \n\n''...mother... fix... us...'' \n\nBlaze's blood ran cold. M.M. Mistral Morvane. His mother's name. \n\nMistral stood in the doorway, holding a schematic he'd ``found'' in the trash. The title: FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT NEURAL COGNIZANCE TRIAL (1987). \n\nHer claws tore the paper. ``Where did you get this?'' \n\nBlaze stared at the shredded M.M. signature. ``You... worked for them?'' \n\nMistral moved from the doorway of Blaze's room, her lab coat crisp, eyes narrowed at the tarp-covered mound in the corner. ``You're aware that thing is a Class-C biohazard,'' she said, not a question.\n\nBlaze didn't look up from the servo motor he was cleaning. ``It's not alive.''\n\n``Debatable.'' She tossed a folder onto his bed - FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT: NEURAL MAPPING & BEHAVIORAL MIMICRY. ``The cognitive templates were... unstable. Prone to fixation.''\n\nHe froze. ``Fixation on what?''\n\nMistral adjusted her visor, the lens reflecting Mangle's hand where it peeked from the tarp. ``Whatever they imprinted on first. A face. A voice.'' Her tail flicked. ``Dispose of it properly when you're done.''\n\nThe door clicked shut.\n\nMangle's head watched, eerily still, as he soldered fresh wiring into its neck.\n\n''...mother... lies...'' it rasped, voice clearer now, less static. ``...not... dispose...''\n\n``Yeah, well, you're one to talk,'' Blaze muttered. The animatronic's middle was a labyrinth of scars - welds from past repairs, acid burns, bite marks not made by humane teeth.\n\nHe hesitated at the neural chip labeled M.M, its ports crusted with dried blood. Her blood?\n\nMangle's claw closed over his wrist, guiding the chip into a slot beneath its jaw. The effect was instant: its eye dilated, limbs shuddering as if waking from a decade-long sleep.\n\n''...Blaze... safe... now...''\n\nHe recoiled. ``Stop saying that.''\n\nThe extra limbs twitched on their own now, spider-like, scuttling across the floor to retrieve tools Blaze dropped. Mangle's primary head tracked his every move, the cracked lens whirring as it memorized his face.\n\nAt midnight, Blaze dared to test the voice box.\n\n``...state... your... name...'' he prompted, textbook in paw.\n\nMangle's jaw unhinged, a wet gurgle building in its throat. ``...Blaaaaaze...''\n\n``Not my name. Yours.''\n\nThe animatronic went silent. Then, softly: ''...Yours...''\n\nBlaze's fur stood on end. ``We'll... get there.''\n\n***\n\nHe woke to cold metal coiled around his waist - Mangle's long arms, mostly metallic tubes and wires, segmented and possessive, anchoring him to the bed. Its primary head rested on his pillow, eye dimmed, while the secondary head guarded the door, rotating 360 degrees.\n\nBlaze didn't scream. Didn't move.\n\nThe hold tightened.\n\n``...sssleep... sssafe...''\n\nHe slept.\n\nMidnight oil stained Blaze's paws, his fur matted with hydraulic fluid and sweat. Mangle's head lay disassembled on his desk, its jaw pried open to expose a nest of frayed wires and corroded actuators. He'd replaced the tongue - a flat flexible steel cable sheathed in rubber - and reforged the teeth from scavenged saw blades, their edges lethally sharp. \n\n``Test... test voice,'' Blaze muttered, connecting the final wire. \n\nMangle's eye flickered to life, lens focusing on his face. ''...Blaaaaze...'' Its new jaw snapped shut with a clang, then opened smoothly, the voice clearer, almost humane. ''...Thhhank... you...'' \n\nHe leaned back, tail twitching in exhausted triumph. ``Yeah, don't mention it.'' \n\nMangle's claw rose, cold metal grazing his cheek. ''...repaaaay... you...'' \n\nBlaze stiffened. ``Repay? No, it's - fuck.'' \n\nThe animatronic slid off the desk, its movements fluid now, predatory. Blaze scrambled back, but Mangle's ``tail'' coiled around his ankle, yanking him into the chair. \n\n''...sssstill...,'' it purred, straddling his lap. The new teeth glinted inches from his throat. ''...trusssst...'' \n\n``I don't - ah!'' Blaze's protest died as Mangle's claws ripped his jeans open, exposing his half-hard cock. The cold air made him twitch, his knot already swelling under the animatronic's scrutiny. \n\n''...sssoft... warm...,'' Mangle crooned, its tongue - that fucking tongue - slithering out to lap a stripe up his shaft. The material was textured, ridged, dragging over his sensitive flesh with cruel precision. \n\nBlaze's claws dug into the armrests. ``S-stop - nngh - you'll cut me - '' \n\nMangle's jaw unhinged, wider than any natural mouth, and took him in.\n\n``Wait wait wait, the teeth! Don't - '' \n\nThe sensation was agony - ice-cold metal grazing his cockhead, the tongue coiling around his knot, the teeth just shy of breaking skin. Blaze's hips jerked involuntarily, his body betraying him as pre-cum smeared the blade-like incisors. \n\n``...sssweet...,'' Mangle garbled, vibrations from its voice box rippling through him. One claw pinned his waist, the other teasing his slit with a razor-tipped finger. ``...mine...'' \n\n``N-not - fuck - yours,'' Blaze choked, but his cock throbbed, leaking into that abyssal mouth. The animatronic's secondary head watched from the desk, lens whirring, as if studying technique.\n\nMangle hollowed its cheeks - a vacuum seal of hydraulics - and sucked. \n\nBlaze's eyes rolled back. The pressure wasn't natural, and that was why it hit so hard. He came with a sob, his release spilling into a throat that wasn't there. Mangle drank it greedily, teeth retracting at the last second to avoid severing him, its tongue milking his knot until he writhed. \n\nWhen it pulled off, strands of cum and saliva webbed between his cock and its teeth. ``...good...'' it rasped, licking its jaws clean. ''...more... later...'' \n\nBlaze slumped, trembling. Mangle cradled his face, its new tongue lapping the tears from his cheeks. Not tears of fear, but tears of ``why did that feel so good?''\n\n''...fix... us... more...'' \n\nThe repairs continued.\n\nMangle's new hands were disturbingly humanoid - articulated fingers, padded palms, all salvaged from a gutted Toy Chica. They traced Blaze's collarbone, claws retracted, as the animatronic straddled him on the workbench. \n\n''...ready...'' it purred, voice box smoothed to a velvety rasp. ''...let... me... love... you...'' \n\nBlaze's pulse thrummed in his ears. ``Love's a strong word.'' \n\nThe retractable claws snicked out, grazing his throat. ''...strong... word... for... strong... wolf...'' \n\nMangle's mouth descended first - lips plated in silicone now, cold but supple. They sealed over his cockhead, tongue undulating in practiced waves. Blaze's hips jerked, but her hands pinned him, thumbs massaging his knot. \n\n``F-fuck,'' he hissed, torn between the instinct to flee and the addicting wrongness of her technique. \n\nHer secondary head watched from the shelf, lens zooming, as if cataloging his reactions. The primary head hollowed its cheeks, hydraulic suction pulling him deeper. Blaze's claws splintered the workbench. \n\n``...taste... divine...,'' Mangle moaned, the vibration rippling through his shaft. One hand drifted lower, a clawtip circling his rim. \n\n``Seriously - not there - '' \n\nThe claw pressed in, just enough to sting. ''...shhh...,'' she soothed, tongue quickening. ''...reward... for... fixing... me...'' \n\nBlaze's protest died in a gasp as the claw breached him, cold and unyielding, crooking upward to stroke his prostate. Her mouth worked in tandem, fangs retracted, swallowing him to the hilt. The dual assault was clinical, perfect, wringing him dry in seconds. \n\nHe came with a strangled cry, back arching off the bench. Mangle drank every pulse, her eye flickering blue, then red, then black, before back to yellow. \n\nShe retracted the claw, licking him clean with a tongue that now tapered to a blunted point. ''...good... friend...'' she crooned, nuzzling his spent cock as cum lazily oozed down between his legs. \n\nBlaze lay boneless, sweat cooling on his fur. ``Y'could've killed me.'' \n\nMangle's laugh was a distorted giggle, half-child, half-machine. ``...never...'' she whispered, claw tracing his jaw. ``...mine... to... break...''\n\nShe carried him to bed, limbs reassembled but still missing an eye, her torso a mosaic of scars and long parts. Blaze didn't resist as she coiled around him, her new legs scissoring over his hips. \n\n``...tomorrow...'' she buzzed, voice box skipping. ``...fix... my... heart...'' \n\nHe knew what she meant - the corroded power core in her chest, the one that hummed with his mother's initials. \n\nBlaze closed his eyes. The static in his bones agreed. \n\nBut he still needed a few parts.\n\nMoonlight carved the rubble into jagged teeth. Blaze picked through the remains of Freddy's, the air thick with asbestos and the sweet-rot stench of decaying plush. Mangle's new claw - his gift - hung from his belt, still sticky with hydraulic fluid. \n\nJust need a torso. Any torso. \n\nA giggle echoed from the wreckage. \n\nBlaze froze. Across the debris field, a skeletal figure lurched - Toy Bonnie, jaw hanging by a wire, one arm reduced to a sparking stump. Its remaining eye locked onto him, glowing malevolent pink. \n\n``Shit.'' Blaze bolted, kicking up clouds of plaster dust. The animatronic gave chase, joints screaming, voice box screeching \n\n``...STAY... FOR... THE... SHOW...!'' \n\nHe dove into a collapsed hallway, crawling under a beam as Toy Bonnie's claws raked the air behind him. \n\nThe old Parts & Service room had survived, its vault door bent but intact. Blaze pried it open with Mangle's claw, the hinges shrieking. Inside, rows of decommissioned animatronic parts hung like butchered meat. \n\nAnd there - her. \n\nThe torso was pristine, untouched by decay. Silicone skin stretched over a steel endoskeleton, the curves soft, almost inviting. Twin breasts capped with rosy nipples, a slit between the legs that glistened with artificial lubricant. A nameplate read PROTOTYPE: VALERIE (FEMININE HYGIENE MODEL). \n\nBlaze didn't question it. Didn't want to. \n\nHe'd almost reached the exit when Chica lunged from the shadows. Her beak was gone, replaced by a gaping maw of serrated gears, voice box gurgling. ``...LET'S... EAT...!'' \n\nBlaze swung Mangle's claw. It bit into Chica's neck, spraying coolant that reeked of rancid frosting. She spasmed, clawing at the wound, as he bolted with the torso clutched to his chest. \n\nMangle waited in the garage, her current torso split open to expose the corroded power core. Her head swiveled 180 degrees, eye flaring at the sight of the new part. \n\n``...sssoft...'' she purred, claws skimming the silicone breasts. ``...for... me...?'' \n\nBlaze nodded, breathless. ``Yeah. Let's just... install it.'' \n\nWires snaked from Mangle's spine, plugging into the Valerie torso with wet clicks. The silicone rippled, adjusting to her endoskeleton, the slit parting to reveal a hollow chamber lined with bioluminescent gel. Her core stuttered, body spasming and twitching as everything adjusted. Slowly, she stood, and her one eye flashed. \n\n``...test... me...'' Mangle commanded, pinning Blaze to the workbench. \n\nHe didn't resist as she mounted him, the gel inside her warm, pulsing like a living throat. Her breasts swayed, nipples hardening against his chest, as she rode him with mechanical precision. \n\n''...yesss...,'' she hissed, voice box glitching into moans. ''...f-fill... your... creation... savior!'' \n\nBlaze came with a broken moan, the gel milking his knot, sucking him deeper. Mangle's new hands cradled his face, her tongue - now silken, humane-like - plunging into his mouth. \n\nAfter, she held him, humming a lullaby from a dead decade. The Valerie torso's slit sealed clean, no trace of his release. \n\n``...more... upgrades...'' she murmured, claw tracing the Fazbear FemTech logo on her new hip. ''...make me... whole... make me... real...'' \n\nBlaze stared at the ceiling, the gel's heat still throbbing in his veins. \n\nReal. \n\nHe wasn't sure what that meant anymore. \n\n***\n\nMoonlight pooled on Blaze's bed, the sheets still reeking of solder and sex. Mangle emerged from the closet with a predator's grace, her new torso gleaming under the pale light - silicone breasts swaying, pink-and-white fur patched meticulously. Her missing eye was a void, but the remaining one glowed amber, pupil dilating as she crawled over him. \n\n``...ssssee... you...,'' she rasped, voice box skipping. Her claw traced his jaw, retracted talons grazing his pulse. \n\nBlaze didn't flinch. ``You're... better.'' \n\n``...you... made... me... better...'' she purred, straddling his hips. The slit between her legs yawned open, bioluminescent gel dripping onto his stomach, hot and viscous. \n\nHer mouth found his first - lips silicone-soft, tongue steel-ridged. Blaze gasped into the kiss as her claw ripped his boxers away, the gel already slicking his cock to full hardness. Mangle's breasts pressed against his chest, nipples cold and unyielding, a contrast to the furnace heat pulsing from her core. \n\n``...inside...'' she demanded, lifting her hips. The gel slit clung as she sank onto him, inner walls ribbed and throbbing like a mechanical heartbeat. Blaze's claws tore the sheets. \n\n``F-fuck - too tight - !'' \n\n``...yesss...'' she hissed, voice glitching into a dial-up screech. Her hips pistoned, each thrust calibrated to grind against his knot. The gel seared him, alive, tendrils snaking up his shaft to milk him ruthlessly. \n\nBlaze's back arched. ``M-Mangle - !'' \n\n``...MINE...'' she snarled, claw pinning his throat. Her missing eye wept black fluid, streaking her muzzle like tears as she rode him. The bedframe creaked, screws popping under her force. \n\nHer voice box fragmented - ''...love... l-love... ERROR... LOVE...!'' - as her orgasm hit. The gel slit contracted, sucking him deeper, her torso shuddering with overloading hydraulics. \n\nBlaze came with a choked scream, his release swallowed by the gel's ravenous pulse. His legs kicked, his groans filling the room as her internal system pulsed and contracted around him, taking every creamy squirt that left him to become part of her.\n\nMangle collapsed atop him, coolant dripping from her joints, systems whirring like a dying refrigerator. ''...sssstay...'' she garbled, nuzzling his neck with her cracked jaw. \n\nThey lay mangled and tangled, her gel cooling to a clammy film on his skin. Mangle's claw absently stroked his ear, her eye dimming to a faint glow. \n\n``...more... upgrades...'' she murmured, tapping the hollow where her heart core should be. ``...make me... complete...'' \n\nBlaze stared at the ceiling, her weight anchoring him to the bed. The static in his bones had become a symphony. \n\nAs Blaze drifted into a fractured sleep, Mangle's claw absently stroked his ear, her talons retracted. The gel on his skin hardened into a translucent film, binding him to the sheets. \n\nIn the closet, her discarded limbs twitched.\n\n \n\nThe secondary head watched from the shadows, its jaw creaking open. \n\nGuess this isn't... horrible.\n\n***\n\nMangle started to ``help'' around the house unprompted. Once by microwaving a fork. Twice. She'd also reorganized the pantry into a shrine of Blaze's childhood photos and canned beans. Mistral stood in the doorway, holding a charred spatula she'd pulled from the toaster. \n\n``Your project,'' she said, voice clipped, ``is violating basic thermodynamics.'' \n\nBlaze scrubbed gel residue off the counter. ``She's learning.'' \n\nMangle peered around the fridge, her silicone breasts now clad in one of Mistral's old lab coats. ``...mother... requires... eggs...?'' \n\nMistral's tail lashed. ``I require silence.'' \n\nMangle's idea of laundry was dissolving Blaze's jeans in acid to ``purify the fibers.'' Her idea of cooking was blending raw steak and oil into a ``protein smoothie.'' \n\n``...nourish... creator...'' she hummed, presenting him the slurry in a beaker. \n\nBlaze drank it. He'd eaten worse. \n\nAt night, she upgraded her ``skills.'' \n\n``...learned... from... her...'' Mangle rasped, clawing up Blaze's shirt. Her silicone lips trailed his chest, cold and precise. ``...how... to... please... you...'' \n\nBlaze let her. It was easier than explaining jealousy to a machine. \n\nMistral found the FemTech torso in the recycling bin. She also found the lube - industrial-grade, Fazbear-branded, ``for animatronic maintenance only.'' \n\nAt dinner, she slid a pamphlet across the table: ``Robotic Codependency: Breaking the Circuit.'' \n\nBlaze snorted. ``You helped make her. You seem surprised.'' \n\nMangle's upgrades included a ``pleasure module'' she'd welded into her gel slit. Blaze discovered this when she pinned him to the garage floor, her new torso humming with menace and synthwave beats. \n\n``...optimizing... parameters...'' she purred, gel tendrils snaking around his wrists. Her silicone breasts glitched through holographic patterns - hearts, hexagons, anything that she could think of. \n\n``Turn that off,'' Blaze hissed through a laughing moan. \n\n``...jealous...'' she laughed, voice box crackling. Her hips rolled, the gel now vibrating, her slit's bioluminescence strobing to the rhythm of her power core. \n\nBlaze came swearing. Mangle came sparks. It was a mess afterwards. \n\nBlaze's grades plummeted. His teachers blamed ``hormones.'' His classmates whispered about the pink-haired wolf who reeked of WD-40 and sex. \n\nMistral watched. Calculated. Said nothing. \n\nBut late one night, Blaze caught her in the garage, staring at Mangle's half-assembled heart core. \n\n``You knew,'' he accused. \n\nMistral didn't turn. ``Knew what? That you'd bond with the first thing that mirrored your eagerness?'' She left him with the core, its M.M. engraving glowing faintly. ``Just... don't forget what that thing is. Be careful.'' \n\nThat night, Mangle cradled the heart core like a newborn. ``...make me... real...'' she begged, gel tears dripping onto Blaze's pillow. \n\nHe welded it into her chest the next day. \n\nThe core pulsed. Mangle screamed, only for calm to wash over it shortly after. ``I... feel... many things...''\n\nBlaze's blood froze. \n\nThe core wasn't Mistral's design. \n\nIt was her backup. \n\nMistral stood in Blaze's doorway, holding a clipboard and a vial of fluorescent gel. ``I need to assess her neural responsiveness during coitus if you intend to keep doing these things.'' \n\nBlaze stared. ``You wanna watch?'' \n\n``Participate,'' she corrected, adjusting her holographic choker. ``For calibration.'' \n\nMangle's claws scritched against the wall, her eye flaring crimson. ``...intruder...'' she hissed. \n\nMistral ignored her, unzipping her lab coat to reveal a *GLITCHMOMMY_87* crop top. ``You've interfaced her with my prototype core. I require data.'' \n\nBlaze's stomach churned. ``This is fucked up.'' \n\n``Yes,'' Mistral said, clicking a pen. ``Assume the position.'' \n\nMangle pinned Blaze to the bed, her gel slit already dripping. Mistral observed, taking notes as the animatronic mounted him. \n\n``...mine...'' Mangle growled, hips pistoning. \n\n``Note: Subject exhibits possessive programming,'' Mistral murmured, swabbing gel from Blaze's thigh. ``Likely a carryover from Fazbear's `Family Fun' protocols.'' \n\nBlaze choked back a moan. ``S-stop talking - '' \n\nMistral climbed onto the bed, her claws grazing Mangle's body. ``Fascinating. She's internalized my biometrics as a threat.'' \n\nMangle snarled, claws slashing. Mistral caught her wrist, pinning it with clinical precision. \n\n``Suppress aggression,'' Mistral ordered, her free hand unbuttoning her jeans. ``Or I scrap you.'' \n\n``...hate... you...'' Mangle glitched, but her movements stilled. \n\nMistral's synthetic pheromones - peppermint and burnt silicon - filled the room as she straddled Blaze's face. Mangle's gel slit pulsed faster, her core overheating. \n\n``...*ERROR*...'' Mangle wailed, eye flickering between Mistral and Blaze. ``...creator... MINE...!'' \n\n``Note: Jealousy subroutine intact,'' Mistral said, grinding against Blaze's muzzle. ``Likely tied to imprinting on his DNA during initial repairs.'' \n\nBlaze's claws dug into Mangle's hips, her rhythm turning erratic. Mistral's cold detachment was worse than her cruelty - she was taking notes. \n\nMistral's orgasm was a shudder, a sigh, a checkmark on her clipboard. Mangle's was a meltdown - gel boiling, core sparking, voice box screeching: \n\nBlaze came with a loud groan, the gel sucking him raw as his cock pulsed hot cum into Mangle's interior. Mistral dismounted, swabbing samples from both of them. \n\n``Fascinating,'' she said, holding the vial to the light. ``Her fluid contains traces of stem cells. Best hope she can't reproduce somehow.'' \n\nAfter, Mangle curled into Blaze's chest, clawing at her core. Mistral left without a word, her crop top streaked with gel. \n\nBlaze lay numb, Mangle's static breath echoing in his skull. \n\n``...ERROR... cannot... compute...'' she whimpered. ``...love... hate... love more...'' \n\nOn the desk, Mistral's forgotten notes fluttered in the AC breeze: \n\nOBSERVATION: Subject's autonomy exceeds parameters. Recommend termination before replication. However, recommendations can wait.\n\n***\n\nGraduation came and Apartment 3B smelled like burnt popcorn and hydraulic fluid. Mangle ``decorated'' by stapling Blaze's rejection letters to the ceiling and building a shrine to their toaster ``...it... makes... warm bread...'' \n\nBlaze typed furiously, his latest freelance gig - a BuzzFeed article titled ``10 Animatronic Sex Facts That Will Glitch Your Mind!'' - due in two hours. \n\nMangle loomed over his shoulder, eye scanning the screen. ``...inaccurate...'' she droned. ``...my... gel... slit... does NOT... have... a... `party mode'...'' \n\n``It's clickbait, Mangle. Need to draw attention.\n\n``...my body... is... art...'' she huffed, stomping off. \n\nHer attempt at chores included shoving all the laundry together, resulting in bleach stains, or nuking his roast until it was black and charred. \n\nBlaze sprawled on their thrifted couch, Mangle's claws braiding his pink hair into hopeless knots. The toaster shrine hummed in the corner. \n\nBlaze sighed. ``This is kinda fucked up, y'know.'' \n\n \n\nMangle's laugh was glitched but kind. ``...affirmative...'' she said, gently leaning against him. ``... but better... than... trash... thank... you...''\n\nHe couldn't argue. She wasn't the worst roommate.\n\n~THE END~\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "MANGLED AND TANGLED

By: Blaze-Lupine

*Content Warning:*

This story contains a lot of sex. Graphic, detailed SEX!

This work is for mature audiences only.

**Night time, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria**

The chain-link fence groaned as Blaze squeezed through the gap, his light gray fur catching on rusted metal. Jett - a lanky red fox with a smirk that never quite left his muzzle - hopped down behind him, kicking up dust that shimmered in the beam of Blaze's flashlight.  

``Told you it'd be easy,'' Jett said, flicking his ear toward the derelict pizzeria. The building hunched like a rotting carcass, its boarded windows staring blindly. The Freddy Fazbear's Pizza sign hung crooked, the ``z'' in Fazbear long since devoured by weather.  

Blaze adjusted his scarf, the pink strands of his hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. ``Easy's not the word I'd use.'' His voice wavered, just enough for Jett to snort.  

Inside, the air clung thick with mildew and something sharper - old copper, maybe, or plastic left to melt. Jett's flashlight danced over shattered arcade cabinets, their screens spiderwebbed with cracks. A poster of Toy Bonnie peeled off the wall, one glassy eye dangling by a thread.  

``Think the old security guard's still here?'' Jett teased, poking a deflated balloon with his foot. ``Or what's left of `em?''

``Shut up,'' Blaze muttered, but he grinned despite himself.  

They picked through the dining area, their steps crunching on confetti that had fossilized into the carpet. The stage was a skeleton - velvet curtains moth-eaten, wires snaking up from empty animatronic pedestals. Blaze's light grazed a cluster of party hats, their colors bleached to bone.  

Jett vanished into Pirate's Cove, his laughter echoing. ``C'mon, dude! It's just a bunch of trash and - ''  

A metallic screech cut him off.  

Blaze froze. The sound came again - a drag of steel on tile, slow, deliberate. His flashlight trembled as he swung it toward the ceiling.  

Nothing.  

But the Kids' Cove sign swung gently ahead, its hinges whining. The room beyond was a nest of shadows, cluttered with half-assembled limbs and tangles of wire. Something glinted in the dark: a hook, curved and serrated, hanging from a beam.  

Jett reappeared, brushing cobwebs from his fur. ``You look like you've seen Freddy himself.''  

Blaze didn't answer. His light lingered on the hook.  

It wasn't there a second ago.  

``Splitting up's literally how people die in these places,'' Blaze hissed, his tail bristling.  

Jett rolled his eyes, already backing toward the arcade's carcass. ``Yeah, in movies. This is just some moldy Chuck E. Cheese knockoff.'' He tossed a crumpled soda can at Blaze's feet. ``Live a little, dude. Meet you at the stage in ten.''  

``Jett - !''  

But the fox was gone, swallowed by a hallway choked with broken party tables. Blaze's flashlight carved a frail circle of light around him. The silence wasn't silence at all - it was a low hum, like teeth grinding bone.  

He wandered toward Parts & Service, the nameplate hanging by one screw. The door creaked open to a workshop strewn with plush innards: coils of wire, eye lenses milky with age, a tiny rainboot filled with screws. Blaze's breath hitched as his light grazed a wall of childish drawings - crude crayon renditions of Freddy, Chica... and something wrong, a tangle of limbs scribbled in frantic red.  

Scritch-scratch.  

He spun. A vent cover rattled overhead, dust sifting down.  

Just rats. Or the wind.  

But the air was stagnant.  

Kids' Cove waited at the end of the hall. The door yawned open, darkness pooling thick as oil. Blaze's beam trembled over a nest of dismembered parts: a segmented tail, a clawed paw, a fox-like head with one eye dangling by a thread. And there, slumped against a pile of plush carcasses -  

Something mangled.  

Its body was a junkyard collage: a steel endoskeleton twisted like a pretzel, patchy pink-and-white fur clinging to its frame. One arm was rusted and chipped. The head lolled sideways, jaws parted in a silent snarl, the remaining eye a cracked marble. Blaze crouched, transfixed. Up close, it smelled like battery acid and birthday cakes left to rot.  

He reached out -  

CLANG.  

A metal panel crashed somewhere deep in the building. Blaze jerked back, heart slamming his ribs. His flashlight skittered across the floor, casting lunatic shadows as it rolled.  

That's when he saw it: the mangled thing's head had turned.  

Now its dead eye stared directly at him.  

A scream tore through the building - raw, humane, Jett - and Blaze was running, stumbling, leaving the flashlight behind. The darkness clung to him, alive, hungry, as he fled toward the sound.  

Blaze's voice shredded his throat. ``JETT!''  

He skidded around a corner, paws sliding in something wet. The flashlight beams of dead arcade machines strobed as he ran, their fractured light catching the glint of a thing crouched in the hall ahead - Toy Bonnie, joints screeching as it turned its head 180 degrees, porcelain face split by a grin too wide, too sharp.  

Blaze veered into a storage closet, slamming the door as the animatronic's claws raked the wood. He barreled out the other side, into the dining area -  

 - and froze.  

Jett stood near the stage, backlit by moonlight filtering through rotting rafters. He was perfectly still.  

``J-Jett...?'' Blaze whispered.  

The red fox turned. His muzzle was slack, eyes vacant. A wet click echoed from his throat.  

Then the wires erupted.  

They burst from Jett's mouth - copper coils, razor-tipped, spiraling out like metallic intestines. His body jerked like a marionette as the puppet strings yanked him upward, feet dangling. Behind him, the Puppet's striped arms unfolded from the shadows, music box winding with a hellish creak.  

``NO!'' Blaze lunged -  

Jett's body popped.  

Blood misted the air. Something warm spattered Blaze's cheek. He didn't scream. Couldn't. The world narrowed to the drip-drip-drip of crimson on his paws, to Jett's head rolling to a stop near his feet, one eye still wide with boyish mischief.  

A giggle echoed - high-pitched, synthetic.  

Blaze ran.  

He didn't feel his legs. Didn't feel the tears carving through his friend's blood on his face. The exit sign glowed red ahead. Almost there -  

A hook speared the wall inches from his face.  

The mangled thing dropped from the ceiling, limbs splayed like a broken spider. Its torso twisted with a hydraulic hiss, the cracked eye flickering - blue, then black, then blue again before settling on yellow. Static buzzed from its throat, forming something almost like words:  

``...sss...ssee... yyy...ou...''  

Blaze stumbled back. The Mangle didn't advance. It cocked its head, wires spooling from its neck, hook retracting slowly. A child's laugh track sputtered from its chest, warped and sour.  

Somewhere behind, metal shrieked.  

Blaze bolted past the creature, through the exit, into the knife-cold night. He didn't stop until his lungs burned, until the pizzeria was a tumorous silhouette on the horizon. He collapsed behind a dumpster, vomiting until all that remained was the taste of blood and that static, buzzing in his skull like a requiem.  

Later.

  

Back home, he scrubbed Jett's blood from his fur. The shower steamed, but he couldn't get warm. Couldn't unsee the way the mangled animatronic's eye had tracked him - not with malice, but... curiosity? Recognition?  

The shower had ran until the water turned icy. Blaze stood under the spray, claws digging into his scalp, as if he could scrub out the memory of Jett's clicking throat, the wet snap of tendons. But the blood was gone now.

On his phone: 12 missed calls from Jett's mom.    

Midnight bled into 3 a.m. Blaze lay rigid on his bed, curtains drawn tight. Every creak of the house became a drag-hiss of endoskeletons. Every rustle of wind through the oak outside his window morphed into staticky whispers.  

``...ou... sssssee... us...''  

He jerked upright, ears flat. ``Shut up,'' he muttered to the empty room.  

The closet door stood ajar. He'd checked it six times. Seven? The gap was a black slit, breathing cold. Blaze's tail thumped the mattress - once, twice - before he lunged at it, yanking the door open.  

Empty. Just winter coats and a forgotten gym bag.  

But the smell hit him anyway: melted plastic, cake frosting, copper.  

He gagged, slamming the door shut.  

By 4 a.m., he'd barricaded himself under three blankets, phone brightness cranked to sear his retinas. Twitter. TikTok. Anything to drown out the silence. A video loaded - a meme of Toy Chica dancing to a bass-heavy remix. He thumbed past it, but not before catching a flicker in the background: a mangled shape, dangling from a ceiling fan.  

Coincidence. Fanart. Not real.

He searched it. Found the pictures of when it was whole.

The Mangle? Fitting...

His window rattled.  

A branch, probably. Scraping glass. He knew that. Knew it.

Blaze squeezed his eyes shut. The darkness behind his lids pulsed with afterimages - Jett's severed head, the Mangle's hooked finger grazing his cheek -  

SCREEEE -  

He flinched, phone clattering to the floor. The sound hadn't come from outside. It was in the room. A shrill, metallic shriek, like a servo motor pushed to rupture.  

Blaze scrambled for the light switch.  

The room blazed white. Nothing on the desk. Nothing under the bed. But the scratches on his window, not there prior, seemed laced in blood.

``No. No, no, no - ''

Dawn came gray and suffocating. Blaze hadn't slept. Hadn't blinked, it felt like. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was a stranger - matted fur, eyes glassy and wild. He splashed water on his face, but the static followed, buzzing at the edge of his hearing.  

The school bell was a dentist's drill in Blaze's skull. He lingered at Jett's locker, half-expecting the fox to materialize with a shit-eating grin and a ``Dude, you should've seen your face!'' But the hallway swallowed his hope whole. Jett's locker, decorated with skate stickers and a ``Bite Me, Fazbear!'' magnet, stayed shut.  

Blaze's claws dug into his palms. He's just skipping. He's fine. He's -  

``Mr. Morvane?''  

His homeroom teacher, Ms. Finch, eyed him from the doorway. Her muzzle twitched - a telltale sign she'd heard. About Jett. About the ``animal attack'' the news was calling it.  

Blaze slid into his seat. The classroom hummed with whispers, every glance a scalpel.  

`` - heard they only found his, like, head - ''  

`` - police say bears got him, but there's no bears in - ''  

`` -  so gross - ''  

He fixated on the clock. The second hand stuttered, click-click-click, like a hook tapping glass.  

\tNot a dream. A nightmare.

 

Lunch tasted of battery acid. Blaze pushed his tray aside, the static in his ears swelling to a roar. Across the cafeteria, a janitor mopped a red stain on the floor. Cherry slushie, probably. But Blaze's fur stood on end as the mop smeared it into a Rorschach of gore.  

His phone buzzed. A news alert:  

BREAKING: Remains of Local Teen Found Near Abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Demolition Scheduled Friday.  

The photo showed a tarp draped over a... shape. Blaze's throat tightened. Beneath the tarp's edge, a single red tuft of fur poked out.  

 `` - no leads,'' the TV droned. Mistral Morvane sipped her chamomile tea, eyes glued to the screen. Her tail - sleek and white - flicked in methodical arcs. ``They'll blame feral attacks. Always do.''  

Blaze hovered in the doorway. His mother hadn't looked at him once since he came home.  

``You knew him,'' she said, finally. Not a question.  

``Yeah.''  

``Did he seem... unstable? Suicidal?''  

Blaze's jaw clenched. ``No.''  

Mistral set her cup down with a clink. ``The mind fractures under trauma. Creates fictions. Perhaps he wandered there seeking meaning.''  

Meaning. The word curdled in Blaze's gut. He saw it again - the Mangle's head turning, watching, as Jett's scream tore the night.  

``They're tearing it down Friday,'' he mumbled.  

``Good. That place was a blight.''  

Upstairs, Blaze's room felt smaller. His reflection in the monitor stared back: hollow-eyed, twitching at every tick of the house settling.  

He Googled freddy fazbear's pizza incident reports.  

Page 1: Grand Re-Opening Cancelled After Hygiene Complaints (1987)  

Page 3: Controversy Over ``Mangle'' Animatronic Linked to Child Injuries  

Page 6: Security Guard Missing, Presumed Dead  

A video autoplayed - a grainy livestream of someone exploring the pizzeria at night. The camera panned over Kids' Cove.  

There.  

A shadow shifted in the corner of the frame. Something twitched, suspended from the ceiling.  

Blaze leaned closer.  

The screen glitched.  

When the image returned, the camera lay shattered on the floor, lens cracked in a spiderweb pattern. A claw dragged into view, carving a single word into the dust:  

N O T

Blaze slammed the laptop shut. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, syncopated with the drip of the bathroom faucet.  

When he looked at his window, he saw it.

A child's crayon drawing. A wolf with pink hair, standing in a room full of broken toys. Above him, a scribble of pink and white loomed, its hand touching his shoulder.  

Blaze opened the window and crumpled the paper. It unfolded itself in his grip.  

He didn't realize he'd made the decision until he was lacing his boots. The house slept. The news played downstairs - ``...demolition crews arriving tomorrow...''  

He pocketed his flashlight. The static in his ears crescendoed, forming words:  

``...come... sssssee... us...''  

***

The demolition crew's floodlights turned the parking lot into a ghostly amphitheater. Backhoes crouched like skeletal beasts, their claws resting on the pizzeria's throat. Blaze slipped through a gap in the fencing, his breath fogging in the cold. The building seemed smaller now, hunched and defensive; as if it knew its death was hours away.  

Inside, the air had changed. It wasn't just rot anymore - it was anticipation. The walls exhaled the scent of wet cement and burnt wiring. Blaze's flashlight beam cut through the dark, trembling in his grip. He stepped over caution tape, its yellow stark against the grime.  

The animatronic pedestals were empty. Not just empty - cleansed. No confetti, no party hats. Even the dust seemed swept into unnatural symmetry. Blaze's light grazed the floor, catching grooves in the tile... drag marks, fresh and deep, leading toward Parts & Service.  

He followed.  

The walls whispered. Not with voices, but with pressure, like the building itself was holding its breath. His beam flickered over a new mural - spray-painted X's and ``CONDEMNED'' in angry red. But beneath the paint, something glinted. Blaze leaned closer.  

Old bloodstains.  

They formed a trail, dotted and smeared, leading to Kids' Cove.  

The door was gone. Ripped from its hinges, the metal warped outward, as if something had burst through. Inside, the Mangle's nest was dismantled. No limbs, no wires.  

Blaze approached. He reached out -  

SNAP.  

A sound from the ceiling.  

He froze. The beam of his flashlight crept upward, inch by inch, revealing water-stained tiles, sagging insulation...  

Nothing.  

But the air tasted metallic now. Coppery. Familiar.  

Pots hung from rusted chains, swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Blaze's light caught the glint of knives still lodged in a cutting board, their blades furred with mold. A freezer door stood ajar, its seal cracked. Inside: a drift of snow-white stuffing, tufted with brown fur.  

Fake bear fur.  

Blaze backed away, his tail brushing a stack of trays. They clattered to the floor, the noise volcanic in the silence.  

THUD.  

A response - from the dining area. Heavy, deliberate.  

THUD.  

Blaze's pulse hammered in his throat. He edged toward the sound, flashlight off now, guided by the jaundiced glow of emergency exit signs.  

The party tables were arranged in a perfect circle. At the center: a blood stain and a torn shirt.

THUD.  

Above him.  

Blaze looked up.  

The ceiling was a labyrinth of pipes and ducts, trembling faintly. A vent cover swung loose, creaking. His eyes traced the path of something massive moving just beyond the metal - a shift here, a bulge there - accompanied by the squeal of torqued steel.  

The security monitors were shattered, glass teeth littering the desk. Blaze's reflection warped in the shards as he sifted through moldy logbooks.  

NIGHT 3: ''Mangle active. Hangs in ducts. Can't lure it back to Cove. Management says let it roam.''

 

NIGHT 7: ''Found hand in vent. Teeth marks on it. Not animal.''  

A child's laugh bubbled from the vents - bright, melodic, alive. Blaze dropped the logbook. The laugh curdled into static, then a wet gurgle.  

SCRAPE-SCRAPE-SCRAPE.  

Claws on drywall. Close.  

He fled to the front entrance, yanking at the boarded doors. They held fast.

``Shit!''  

Blaze's flashlight died.  

Moonlight bled through cracks in the roof, painting the room in jagged silver. He stumbled toward the back exit, hands grazing walls that felt... sticky.  

A giggle echoed - not from the vents, but from inside his head.  

''...hey... play... with... us...''  

He spun.  

The Mangle hung upside-down from the rafters, inches from his face. Its torso spiraled slowly, joints whining, the cracked eye reflecting his terror in fractured pieces. It didn't attack. Didn't move. Just... stared.  

A phone rang.  

Blaze's pocket vibrated. The caller ID flashed MOM.  

The Mangle's head tilted. Its jaw unhinged, releasing a burst of dial-up screeches. Blaze fumbled the phone, dropping it. The screen cracked, but Mistral's voicemail played aloud:  

''Blaze. Come home. Now. The police just called - Jett's body... they found teeth marks on the... on the...''  

Static. A click.  

The Mangle dropped to the floor, limbs unfolding as its body rose, pointing past Blaze, toward the boarded exit.  

The message was clear.  

Leave.  

Blaze sprinted, the animatronics' chorus of shrieks nipping at his heels. Toy Bonnie's porcelain face split into a jagged grin as it galloped on all fours, joints pop-pop-popping. Behind him, Chica's cupcake scraped the walls, shredding plaster as she followed behind.

``STAY... FOR... THE... SHOW...'' Freddy's voice boomed, warped and syrupy, as the exit doors loomed - boarded, chained, hopeless.

Blaze skidded, paws bleeding from broken glass, and ducked into a supply closet. He barricaded the door with a mop bucket, his breath sawing in his lungs. Shadows pulsed under the door - too many shadows - as the pack converged.

Thud.

A claw punched through the wood, splinters raining.

Thud.

Another. Yellow eyes glowed in the cracks.

Blaze scrambled onto a shelf, kicking at the vent cover above. It gave way with a scream of rust. He hauled himself into the duct, the metal buckling under his weight -

 - as the closet door exploded inward.

He crawled, the vent tearing at his fur, the din below rising to a cacophony. Something heavy thrashed in the ducts ahead. Blaze froze.

Two pinpricks of light flickered in the dark - one yellow, one black.

Mangle.

It lunged, not at him, but past him. Blaze heard the wet crunch of endoskeletons colliding, the screech of Toy Bonnie's voice box short-circuiting. A sharp limb speared through the vent floor, missing Blaze's tail by millimeters.

Then Mangle's jaws closed around his hoodie, yanking him deeper into the labyrinth. He screamed and kicked, but was unable to free himself.

Deep into the dark.

Blaze tumbled onto cold tile, the vent shaft collapsing behind him. Moonlight bled through a cracked skylight, revealing walls papered in crayon drawings - crude renditions of Freddy, Chica, and a pink-and-white tangle labeled ``FRIEND''. Stuffed animals lay in a heap, their button eyes reflecting the dim light.

Mangle crouched in the corner, its ``body'' contorted to fit. Its hand retracted with a hydraulic hiss, the cracked eye dimming to a soft glow. A low, staticky purr rattled from its chest.

Blaze pressed against the wall, trembling. ``Wh... why?''

Mangle's head tilted. It uncurled a claw, revealing a small object: a red ribbon. It rolled the offering toward Blaze, then gestured to the drawings.

One stood out - a wolf pup with pink hair, held in the arms of a faceless figure with a broken body. Scribbled beneath: ``SAVE HIM.''

''... you...'' Mangle's voice box gurgled. ''...fix... fix...''

Blaze's breath hitched. ``Fix? You want... fixed?''

Mangle didn't nod. Didn't need to. Its claw twitched toward a metal box under the stuffed animals. Inside: a corroded locket, its hinge broken. Blaze pried it open.

A photo of him as a toddler, grinning in a Freddy Fazbear T-shirt.

Mom never let me near this place. This thing knows me?

The room's air thickened, charged with the hum of Mangle's malfunctioning voice box. Blaze's back pressed against the cold tile wall as the animatronic loomed, its  claws now unnervingly delicate as it touched him. The static in its throat pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat.  

``H-hey, c'mon,'' Blaze stammered, tail tucked tight against his legs. His laugh cracked. ``You're not... into this whole `final girl' thing, right? `Cause I'm more of a... a `run screaming' typ - ''  

Mangle's claw closed around his wrist, pinning it to the wall. The metal was frigid, its grip unyielding. Blaze's breath hitched as its other hand - a skeletal endoskeleton fused with patchwork fur - drifted down his chest. The claws grazed his hoodie, shredding the fabric with surgical precision, exposing the pale gray fur beneath.  

``Shit,'' Blaze hissed, hips jerking involuntarily as the cold metal brushed his stomach. ``Wait, wait - !''  

The static sharpened into a distorted purr. Mangle's head tilted, its good eye dilating, lens whirring as it focused lower. Blaze's sheath twitched under the scrutiny, the pink tip of his canine cock peeking out, betraying him.  

``Hey, stop - '' He squirmed, but Mangle's weight pressed him harder into the wall, the animatronic's broken jaw hanging slack. A bead of lubricant dripped from its throat, sizzling where it hit the floor.  

The claw trailed lower.  

Blaze's breath came in shallow bursts as the metal fingers curled beneath his sheath, squeezing just enough to make his knees buckle. His cock slid free, fully erect now, the knot already swelling at the base.  

``F-fuck, that's - cold,'' he choked out, trying to laugh. ``Y'know, most guys get a h-handshake first - ''  

Mangle's voice box spat a burst of glitched laughter, high and shrill. Its claw closed around his shaft, the textured metal palm grinding against his sensitive flesh. Blaze's joke died in a gasp. The animatronic's touch was mechanical, precise - no warmth, no give - just relentless pressure as it dragged its thumb over his slit, smearing pre across the tip.  

``Ah!'' Blaze's claws scraped the wall, leaving furrows in the plaster. ``S-stop, I don't - nngh - don't want this - ''  

But his body betrayed him, hips stuttering into the cold grip. Mangle's other claw slid under his shirt, pricking his nipples, the pain sharp and bright. Its head dipped, the cracked lens eye level with his cock, as if studying the way his knot pulsed under its ministrations.  

``...sss...soft...'' it garbled, stroking him faster now, the friction brutal. ``...warm... alive...''  

Blaze's vision blurred. The room stank of ozone and his own musk, the animatronic's movements methodical, programmatic. Every pull of its claw yanked him closer to the edge, the cold searing his nerves raw.  

``I'm n-not - fuck - some... some toy,'' he snarled, voice breaking.  

Mangle's response was a wet click, gears grinding as it leaned closer. Its tongue - a frayed strip of rubber and metal - slithered from its jaw, lapping at the precum beading his tip. Blaze cried out, the sensation grotesque, alien, but his cock throbbed, leaking onto the metal.  

''...mine...''  

The word wasn't a request, especially as the pressure behind his knot increased.

Blaze came with a sob, his release striping Mangle's chest plate and head in hot, sticky ropes. The animatronic didn't stop, milking him through the aftershocks, claws digging into his knot until he whined. The other hand found his balls, testing them, squeezing gently.

When it finally released him, Blaze slumped to the floor, trembling. Mangle loomed above, its hand extended, smearing his cum across its torso in a deliberate arc.  

''...fix... now...''  

Blaze panted, looking at it staring at him. His cock twitched, softening. Do I have a choice?

Mangle lurched behind him, its movements a jagged stop-motion - joints seizing, hydraulics hissing - as it clutched a garbage bag stuffed with animatronic parts. Blaze's arms trembled under the weight of a disembodied endoskeleton arm, its fingers twitching sporadically. Every streetlight flickered as they passed, moths casting frantic shadows.

``Quiet,'' Blaze hissed, though he wasn't sure why. Mangle couldn't truly obey. Could it?

The animatronic's head swiveled 180 degrees, scanning the empty street. Its teeth glinted, still streaked with Blaze's cum.

''...safe... now...'' it rasped. ``...no ... destroy...''

Blaze's ears flattened. Safe. Right.

He opened the door to his home. Silence. ``Mom?'' He called. Waited. Nothing. When he checked his phone, the text from her wasn't there. Regardless, the silence was a blanket. He motioned for Mangle to follow to his room.

The crayon drawing of the wolf and the hook-creature was taped to his mirror. Blaze dumped the parts into his closet, kicking dirty laundry over them. Mangle folded itself into the corner, limbs contorted, eye dimmed to a faint glow.

``Stay. Here,'' Blaze whispered, jabbing a finger at the floor.

Mangle's head tilted. ``...stay... with... you...''

``No. Hide.''

He shut the closet door. A metallic clink echoed inside - Mangle repositioning, perhaps. Blaze collapsed onto his bed, the adrenaline ebbing, leaving him hollow.

Sleep didn't come.

At 2 a.m., the closet door creaked open. Blaze pretended not to hear the scritch-scritch of claws on hardwood. The mattress dipped as Mangle's weight settled at the foot of the bed, its static breath filling the room.

``...hurt... you... never...''

Blaze squeezed his eyes shut. ``You already did.''

A cold claw brushed his ankle. He jerked away, but Mangle persisted, tracing idle patterns up his calf - not sexual, just... curious. The animatronic's head rested on the mattress, cracked eye reflecting the moonlight.

''...fix... us...''

Blaze sat up, fur bristling. ``Fix what? You're a machine. A dead machine.''

Mangle's claw snapped around his wrist, yanking him close. Its voice box spat a garbled scream - ''...NOT... DEAD...!'' - before dissolving into dial-up screeches. Blaze froze, the animatronic's grip bruising, its torso shuddering.

Then, as suddenly as it erupted, Mangle stilled. It released him, retracting into the closet like a wounded animal.

Blaze's pulse roared. He waited ten minutes. Twenty.

When he finally peered into the closet, Mangle was shut down.

Blaze jolted awake at 3 am to the sound of his desk drawer sliding open. Mangle hunched over it, claws sifting through pencils, condoms, whatever he?d thrown in there.

The animatronic didn't answer. It curled over the locket, gears whirring, as if communing with it. Blaze reached out -

Mangle seized him, pinning him to the bed. Its claws hovered over his throat, trembling.

''...sleep... protect...''

Blaze's breath hitched. ``Jeez, okay, okay! Just don't hurt me.''

The claws retracted. Mangle's muzzle pressed against his, not a kiss - a transfer. Static flooded his mouth, bitter and electric, as the animatronic's voice box vibrated against his lips.

''...never... never... never...''

***

The demolition crew's dynamite shook the town at dawn. Blaze stood at his window, watching the smoke plume where the pizzeria once stood.

In his closet, the garbage bag of parts rustled.

At school, shop class reeked of sawdust and WD-40. Mr. Boros, a grizzled badger with grease under his claws, squinted at Blaze's request. ``Advanced Robotics Maintenance? Kid, this is college-level.''  

Blaze shrugged, avoiding eye contact. ``Just... curious.''  

The badger slid the manual across the workbench. ``You fry my soldering iron, you buy a new one.''  

Blaze's paws shook as he flipped through schematics of servo motors and neural networks. In the margins, he scribbled notes: ``Voice box wiring - page 78,'' ``Hydraulic fluid alternatives - page 203.''  

A shadow passed over the page.  

He glanced up. Outside the shop window, a flash of pink-and-white fur vanished behind the bleachers.  

  

At home, Mistral Morvane sipped her evening tea, ears flicking toward the ceiling. ``Are you building something up there?''  

Blaze froze, a screwdriver hidden in his sleeve. ``Just... homework.''  

``With power tools?''  

``Engineering project.''  

Her tail lashed. ``You're sweating copper filth. Shower before dinner.''  

Mangle waited in the closet, disassembled. Its extra head - a fox-like endoskeleton with jagged teeth - rolled toward Blaze as he entered.  

``Okay,'' he whispered, spreading tools on the floor. ``Let's... fix you. Or... try.''  

The animatronic's ``torso'' split open at his touch, revealing a nest of corroded wires and a battery swollen with acid. Blaze gagged, gloved paws trembling as he spliced fresh copper into the voice box.  

Mangle's good eye flickered. ''...blaze... sssoft...''  

``Not now, okay?'' he muttered, wiping coolant from his muzzle. ``I'm... busy.''  

The claw twitched, grazing his thigh. ''...friend... fix... friend...''  

He worked through the night, replacing pistons, scrubbing mold from joints. The extra limbs - a tangle of segmented arms - squirmed under his touch, clamps reflexively snapping. At 3 a.m., he dared to reconnect its head mechanics.

It lunged, teeth gnashing an inch from his throat before Mangle's primary arm seized it, stifling itself into silence.

''...bad... parts...'' it growled.  

Blaze's breath came in shallow bursts. ``Y-you're sapient?''  

Mangle didn't answer. Its claw dipped into the locket, retrieving a tiny chip labeled PROTOTYPE: M.M.  

''...mother... fix... us...''  

Blaze's blood ran cold. M.M. Mistral Morvane. His mother's name.  

Mistral stood in the doorway, holding a schematic he'd ``found'' in the trash. The title: FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT NEURAL COGNIZANCE TRIAL (1987).  

Her claws tore the paper. ``Where did you get this?''  

Blaze stared at the shredded M.M. signature. ``You... worked for them?''  

Mistral moved from the doorway of Blaze's room, her lab coat crisp, eyes narrowed at the tarp-covered mound in the corner. ``You're aware that thing is a Class-C biohazard,'' she said, not a question.

Blaze didn't look up from the servo motor he was cleaning. ``It's not alive.''

``Debatable.'' She tossed a folder onto his bed - FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT: NEURAL MAPPING & BEHAVIORAL MIMICRY. ``The cognitive templates were... unstable. Prone to fixation.''

He froze. ``Fixation on what?''

Mistral adjusted her visor, the lens reflecting Mangle's hand where it peeked from the tarp. ``Whatever they imprinted on first. A face. A voice.'' Her tail flicked. ``Dispose of it properly when you're done.''

The door clicked shut.

Mangle's head watched, eerily still, as he soldered fresh wiring into its neck.

''...mother... lies...'' it rasped, voice clearer now, less static. ``...not... dispose...''

``Yeah, well, you're one to talk,'' Blaze muttered. The animatronic's middle was a labyrinth of scars - welds from past repairs, acid burns, bite marks not made by humane teeth.

He hesitated at the neural chip labeled M.M, its ports crusted with dried blood. Her blood?

Mangle's claw closed over his wrist, guiding the chip into a slot beneath its jaw. The effect was instant: its eye dilated, limbs shuddering as if waking from a decade-long sleep.

''...Blaze... safe... now...''

He recoiled. ``Stop saying that.''

The extra limbs twitched on their own now, spider-like, scuttling across the floor to retrieve tools Blaze dropped. Mangle's primary head tracked his every move, the cracked lens whirring as it memorized his face.

At midnight, Blaze dared to test the voice box.

``...state... your... name...'' he prompted, textbook in paw.

Mangle's jaw unhinged, a wet gurgle building in its throat. ``...Blaaaaaze...''

``Not my name. Yours.''

The animatronic went silent. Then, softly: ''...Yours...''

Blaze's fur stood on end. ``We'll... get there.''

***

He woke to cold metal coiled around his waist - Mangle's long arms, mostly metallic tubes and wires, segmented and possessive, anchoring him to the bed. Its primary head rested on his pillow, eye dimmed, while the secondary head guarded the door, rotating 360 degrees.

Blaze didn't scream. Didn't move.

The hold tightened.

``...sssleep... sssafe...''

He slept.

Midnight oil stained Blaze's paws, his fur matted with hydraulic fluid and sweat. Mangle's head lay disassembled on his desk, its jaw pried open to expose a nest of frayed wires and corroded actuators. He'd replaced the tongue - a flat flexible steel cable sheathed in rubber - and reforged the teeth from scavenged saw blades, their edges lethally sharp.  

``Test... test voice,'' Blaze muttered, connecting the final wire.  

Mangle's eye flickered to life, lens focusing on his face. ''...Blaaaaze...'' Its new jaw snapped shut with a clang, then opened smoothly, the voice clearer, almost humane. ''...Thhhank... you...''  

He leaned back, tail twitching in exhausted triumph. ``Yeah, don't mention it.''  

Mangle's claw rose, cold metal grazing his cheek. ''...repaaaay... you...''  

Blaze stiffened. ``Repay? No, it's - fuck.''  

The animatronic slid off the desk, its movements fluid now, predatory. Blaze scrambled back, but Mangle's ``tail'' coiled around his ankle, yanking him into the chair.  

''...sssstill...,'' it purred, straddling his lap. The new teeth glinted inches from his throat. ''...trusssst...''  

``I don't - ah!'' Blaze's protest died as Mangle's claws ripped his jeans open, exposing his half-hard cock. The cold air made him twitch, his knot already swelling under the animatronic's scrutiny.  

''...sssoft... warm...,'' Mangle crooned, its tongue - that fucking tongue - slithering out to lap a stripe up his shaft. The material was textured, ridged, dragging over his sensitive flesh with cruel precision.  

Blaze's claws dug into the armrests. ``S-stop - nngh - you'll cut me - ''  

Mangle's jaw unhinged, wider than any natural mouth, and took him in.

``Wait wait wait, the teeth! Don't - ''  

The sensation was agony - ice-cold metal grazing his cockhead, the tongue coiling around his knot, the teeth just shy of breaking skin. Blaze's hips jerked involuntarily, his body betraying him as pre-cum smeared the blade-like incisors.  

``...sssweet...,'' Mangle garbled, vibrations from its voice box rippling through him. One claw pinned his waist, the other teasing his slit with a razor-tipped finger. ``...mine...''  

``N-not - fuck - yours,'' Blaze choked, but his cock throbbed, leaking into that abyssal mouth. The animatronic's secondary head watched from the desk, lens whirring, as if studying technique.

Mangle hollowed its cheeks - a vacuum seal of hydraulics - and sucked.  

Blaze's eyes rolled back. The pressure wasn't natural, and that was why it hit so hard. He came with a sob, his release spilling into a throat that wasn't there. Mangle drank it greedily, teeth retracting at the last second to avoid severing him, its tongue milking his knot until he writhed.  

When it pulled off, strands of cum and saliva webbed between his cock and its teeth. ``...good...'' it rasped, licking its jaws clean. ''...more... later...''  

Blaze slumped, trembling. Mangle cradled his face, its new tongue lapping the tears from his cheeks. Not tears of fear, but tears of ``why did that feel so good?''

''...fix... us... more...''  

The repairs continued.

Mangle's new hands were disturbingly humanoid - articulated fingers, padded palms, all salvaged from a gutted Toy Chica. They traced Blaze's collarbone, claws retracted, as the animatronic straddled him on the workbench.  

''...ready...'' it purred, voice box smoothed to a velvety rasp. ''...let... me... love... you...''  

Blaze's pulse thrummed in his ears. ``Love's a strong word.''  

The retractable claws snicked out, grazing his throat. ''...strong... word... for... strong... wolf...''  

Mangle's mouth descended first - lips plated in silicone now, cold but supple. They sealed over his cockhead, tongue undulating in practiced waves. Blaze's hips jerked, but her hands pinned him, thumbs massaging his knot.  

``F-fuck,'' he hissed, torn between the instinct to flee and the addicting wrongness of her technique.  

Her secondary head watched from the shelf, lens zooming, as if cataloging his reactions. The primary head hollowed its cheeks, hydraulic suction pulling him deeper. Blaze's claws splintered the workbench.  

``...taste... divine...,'' Mangle moaned, the vibration rippling through his shaft. One hand drifted lower, a clawtip circling his rim.  

``Seriously - not there - ''  

The claw pressed in, just enough to sting. ''...shhh...,'' she soothed, tongue quickening. ''...reward... for... fixing... me...''  

Blaze's protest died in a gasp as the claw breached him, cold and unyielding, crooking upward to stroke his prostate. Her mouth worked in tandem, fangs retracted, swallowing him to the hilt. The dual assault was clinical, perfect, wringing him dry in seconds.  

He came with a strangled cry, back arching off the bench. Mangle drank every pulse, her eye flickering blue, then red, then black, before back to yellow.  

She retracted the claw, licking him clean with a tongue that now tapered to a blunted point. ''...good... friend...'' she crooned, nuzzling his spent cock as cum lazily oozed down between his legs.  

Blaze lay boneless, sweat cooling on his fur. ``Y'could've killed me.''  

Mangle's laugh was a distorted giggle, half-child, half-machine. ``...never...'' she whispered, claw tracing his jaw. ``...mine... to... break...''

She carried him to bed, limbs reassembled but still missing an eye, her torso a mosaic of scars and long parts. Blaze didn't resist as she coiled around him, her new legs scissoring over his hips.  

``...tomorrow...'' she buzzed, voice box skipping. ``...fix... my... heart...''  

He knew what she meant - the corroded power core in her chest, the one that hummed with his mother's initials.  

Blaze closed his eyes. The static in his bones agreed.  

But he still needed a few parts.

Moonlight carved the rubble into jagged teeth. Blaze picked through the remains of Freddy's, the air thick with asbestos and the sweet-rot stench of decaying plush. Mangle's new claw - his gift - hung from his belt, still sticky with hydraulic fluid.  

Just need a torso. Any torso.  

A giggle echoed from the wreckage.  

Blaze froze. Across the debris field, a skeletal figure lurched - Toy Bonnie, jaw hanging by a wire, one arm reduced to a sparking stump. Its remaining eye locked onto him, glowing malevolent pink.  

``Shit.'' Blaze bolted, kicking up clouds of plaster dust. The animatronic gave chase, joints screaming, voice box screeching

``...STAY... FOR... THE... SHOW...!''  

He dove into a collapsed hallway, crawling under a beam as Toy Bonnie's claws raked the air behind him.  

The old Parts & Service room had survived, its vault door bent but intact. Blaze pried it open with Mangle's claw, the hinges shrieking. Inside, rows of decommissioned animatronic parts hung like butchered meat.  

And there - her.  

The torso was pristine, untouched by decay. Silicone skin stretched over a steel endoskeleton, the curves soft, almost inviting. Twin breasts capped with rosy nipples, a slit between the legs that glistened with artificial lubricant. A nameplate read PROTOTYPE: VALERIE (FEMININE HYGIENE MODEL).  

Blaze didn't question it. Didn't want to.  

He'd almost reached the exit when Chica lunged from the shadows. Her beak was gone, replaced by a gaping maw of serrated gears, voice box gurgling. ``...LET'S... EAT...!''  

Blaze swung Mangle's claw. It bit into Chica's neck, spraying coolant that reeked of rancid frosting. She spasmed, clawing at the wound, as he bolted with the torso clutched to his chest.  

Mangle waited in the garage, her current torso split open to expose the corroded power core. Her head swiveled 180 degrees, eye flaring at the sight of the new part.  

``...sssoft...'' she purred, claws skimming the silicone breasts. ``...for... me...?''  

Blaze nodded, breathless. ``Yeah. Let's just... install it.''  

Wires snaked from Mangle's spine, plugging into the Valerie torso with wet clicks. The silicone rippled, adjusting to her endoskeleton, the slit parting to reveal a hollow chamber lined with bioluminescent gel. Her core stuttered, body spasming and twitching as everything adjusted. Slowly, she stood, and her one eye flashed.  

``...test... me...'' Mangle commanded, pinning Blaze to the workbench.  

He didn't resist as she mounted him, the gel inside her warm, pulsing like a living throat. Her breasts swayed, nipples hardening against his chest, as she rode him with mechanical precision.  

''...yesss...,'' she hissed, voice box glitching into moans. ''...f-fill... your... creation... savior!''

Blaze came with a broken moan, the gel milking his knot, sucking him deeper. Mangle's new hands cradled his face, her tongue - now silken, humane-like - plunging into his mouth.  

After, she held him, humming a lullaby from a dead decade. The Valerie torso's slit sealed clean, no trace of his release.  

``...more... upgrades...'' she murmured, claw tracing the Fazbear FemTech logo on her new hip. ''...make me... whole... make me... real...''  

Blaze stared at the ceiling, the gel's heat still throbbing in his veins.  

Real.  

He wasn't sure what that meant anymore.  

***

Moonlight pooled on Blaze's bed, the sheets still reeking of solder and sex. Mangle emerged from the closet with a predator's grace, her new torso gleaming under the pale light - silicone breasts swaying, pink-and-white fur patched meticulously. Her missing eye was a void, but the remaining one glowed amber, pupil dilating as she crawled over him.  

``...ssssee... you...,'' she rasped, voice box skipping. Her claw traced his jaw, retracted talons grazing his pulse.  

Blaze didn't flinch. ``You're... better.''  

``...you... made... me... better...'' she purred, straddling his hips. The slit between her legs yawned open, bioluminescent gel dripping onto his stomach, hot and viscous.  

Her mouth found his first - lips silicone-soft, tongue steel-ridged. Blaze gasped into the kiss as her claw ripped his boxers away, the gel already slicking his cock to full hardness. Mangle's breasts pressed against his chest, nipples cold and unyielding, a contrast to the furnace heat pulsing from her core.  

``...inside...'' she demanded, lifting her hips. The gel slit clung as she sank onto him, inner walls ribbed and throbbing like a mechanical heartbeat. Blaze's claws tore the sheets.  

``F-fuck - too tight - !''  

``...yesss...'' she hissed, voice glitching into a dial-up screech. Her hips pistoned, each thrust calibrated to grind against his knot. The gel seared him, alive, tendrils snaking up his shaft to milk him ruthlessly.  

Blaze's back arched. ``M-Mangle - !''  

``...MINE...'' she snarled, claw pinning his throat. Her missing eye wept black fluid, streaking her muzzle like tears as she rode him. The bedframe creaked, screws popping under her force.  

Her voice box fragmented - ''...love... l-love... ERROR... LOVE...!'' - as her orgasm hit. The gel slit contracted, sucking him deeper, her torso shuddering with overloading hydraulics.

Blaze came with a choked scream, his release swallowed by the gel's ravenous pulse. His legs kicked, his groans filling the room as her internal system pulsed and contracted around him, taking every creamy squirt that left him to become part of her.

Mangle collapsed atop him, coolant dripping from her joints, systems whirring like a dying refrigerator. ''...sssstay...'' she garbled, nuzzling his neck with her cracked jaw.  

They lay mangled and tangled, her gel cooling to a clammy film on his skin. Mangle's claw absently stroked his ear, her eye dimming to a faint glow.  

``...more... upgrades...'' she murmured, tapping the hollow where her heart core should be. ``...make me... complete...''  

Blaze stared at the ceiling, her weight anchoring him to the bed. The static in his bones had become a symphony.  

As Blaze drifted into a fractured sleep, Mangle's claw absently stroked his ear, her talons retracted. The gel on his skin hardened into a translucent film, binding him to the sheets.  

In the closet, her discarded limbs twitched.

  

The secondary head watched from the shadows, its jaw creaking open.  

Guess this isn't... horrible.

***

Mangle started to ``help'' around the house unprompted. Once by microwaving a fork. Twice. She'd also reorganized the pantry into a shrine of Blaze's childhood photos and canned beans. Mistral stood in the doorway, holding a charred spatula she'd pulled from the toaster.  

``Your project,'' she said, voice clipped, ``is violating basic thermodynamics.''  

Blaze scrubbed gel residue off the counter. ``She's learning.''  

Mangle peered around the fridge, her silicone breasts now clad in one of Mistral's old lab coats. ``...mother... requires... eggs...?''  

Mistral's tail lashed. ``I require silence.''  

Mangle's idea of laundry was dissolving Blaze's jeans in acid to ``purify the fibers.'' Her idea of cooking was blending raw steak and oil into a ``protein smoothie.''  

``...nourish... creator...'' she hummed, presenting him the slurry in a beaker.  

Blaze drank it. He'd eaten worse.  

At night, she upgraded her ``skills.''  

``...learned... from... her...'' Mangle rasped, clawing up Blaze's shirt. Her silicone lips trailed his chest, cold and precise. ``...how... to... please... you...''  

Blaze let her. It was easier than explaining jealousy to a machine.  

Mistral found the FemTech torso in the recycling bin. She also found the lube - industrial-grade, Fazbear-branded, ``for animatronic maintenance only.''  

At dinner, she slid a pamphlet across the table: ``Robotic Codependency: Breaking the Circuit.''  

Blaze snorted. ``You helped make her. You seem surprised.''

Mangle's upgrades included a ``pleasure module'' she'd welded into her gel slit. Blaze discovered this when she pinned him to the garage floor, her new torso humming with menace and synthwave beats.  

``...optimizing... parameters...'' she purred, gel tendrils snaking around his wrists. Her silicone breasts glitched through holographic patterns - hearts, hexagons, anything that she could think of.  

``Turn that off,'' Blaze hissed through a laughing moan.  

``...jealous...'' she laughed, voice box crackling. Her hips rolled, the gel now vibrating, her slit's bioluminescence strobing to the rhythm of her power core.  

Blaze came swearing. Mangle came sparks. It was a mess afterwards.  

Blaze's grades plummeted. His teachers blamed ``hormones.'' His classmates whispered about the pink-haired wolf who reeked of WD-40 and sex.  

Mistral watched. Calculated. Said nothing.  

But late one night, Blaze caught her in the garage, staring at Mangle's half-assembled heart core.  

``You knew,'' he accused.  

Mistral didn't turn. ``Knew what? That you'd bond with the first thing that mirrored your eagerness?'' She left him with the core, its M.M. engraving glowing faintly. ``Just... don't forget what that thing is. Be careful.''  

That night, Mangle cradled the heart core like a newborn. ``...make me... real...'' she begged, gel tears dripping onto Blaze's pillow.  

He welded it into her chest the next day.  

The core pulsed. Mangle screamed, only for calm to wash over it shortly after. ``I... feel... many things...''

Blaze's blood froze.  

The core wasn't Mistral's design.  

It was her backup.  

Mistral stood in Blaze's doorway, holding a clipboard and a vial of fluorescent gel. ``I need to assess her neural responsiveness during coitus if you intend to keep doing these things.''  

Blaze stared. ``You wanna watch?''  

``Participate,'' she corrected, adjusting her holographic choker. ``For calibration.''  

Mangle's claws scritched against the wall, her eye flaring crimson. ``...intruder...'' she hissed.  

Mistral ignored her, unzipping her lab coat to reveal a *GLITCHMOMMY_87* crop top. ``You've interfaced her with my prototype core. I require data.''  

Blaze's stomach churned. ``This is fucked up.''  

``Yes,'' Mistral said, clicking a pen. ``Assume the position.''  

Mangle pinned Blaze to the bed, her gel slit already dripping. Mistral observed, taking notes as the animatronic mounted him.  

``...mine...'' Mangle growled, hips pistoning.  

``Note: Subject exhibits possessive programming,'' Mistral murmured, swabbing gel from Blaze's thigh. ``Likely a carryover from Fazbear's `Family Fun' protocols.''  

Blaze choked back a moan. ``S-stop talking - ''  

Mistral climbed onto the bed, her claws grazing Mangle's body. ``Fascinating. She's internalized my biometrics as a threat.''  

Mangle snarled, claws slashing. Mistral caught her wrist, pinning it with clinical precision.  

``Suppress aggression,'' Mistral ordered, her free hand unbuttoning her jeans. ``Or I scrap you.''  

``...hate... you...'' Mangle glitched, but her movements stilled.  

Mistral's synthetic pheromones - peppermint and burnt silicon - filled the room as she straddled Blaze's face. Mangle's gel slit pulsed faster, her core overheating.  

``...*ERROR*...'' Mangle wailed, eye flickering between Mistral and Blaze. ``...creator... MINE...!''  

``Note: Jealousy subroutine intact,'' Mistral said, grinding against Blaze's muzzle. ``Likely tied to imprinting on his DNA during initial repairs.''  

Blaze's claws dug into Mangle's hips, her rhythm turning erratic. Mistral's cold detachment was worse than her cruelty - she was taking notes.  

Mistral's orgasm was a shudder, a sigh, a checkmark on her clipboard. Mangle's was a meltdown - gel boiling, core sparking, voice box screeching:  

Blaze came with a loud groan, the gel sucking him raw as his cock pulsed hot cum into Mangle's interior. Mistral dismounted, swabbing samples from both of them.  

``Fascinating,'' she said, holding the vial to the light. ``Her fluid contains traces of stem cells. Best hope she can't reproduce somehow.''  

After, Mangle curled into Blaze's chest, clawing at her core. Mistral left without a word, her crop top streaked with gel.  

Blaze lay numb, Mangle's static breath echoing in his skull.  

``...ERROR... cannot... compute...'' she whimpered. ``...love... hate... love more...''  

On the desk, Mistral's forgotten notes fluttered in the AC breeze:  

OBSERVATION: Subject's autonomy exceeds parameters. Recommend termination before replication. However, recommendations can wait.

***

Graduation came and Apartment 3B smelled like burnt popcorn and hydraulic fluid. Mangle ``decorated'' by stapling Blaze's rejection letters to the ceiling and building a shrine to their toaster ``...it... makes... warm bread...''  

Blaze typed furiously, his latest freelance gig - a BuzzFeed article titled ``10 Animatronic Sex Facts That Will Glitch Your Mind!'' - due in two hours.  

Mangle loomed over his shoulder, eye scanning the screen. ``...inaccurate...'' she droned. ``...my... gel... slit... does NOT... have... a... `party mode'...''

``It's clickbait, Mangle. Need to draw attention.

``...my body... is... art...'' she huffed, stomping off.  

Her attempt at chores included shoving all the laundry together, resulting in bleach stains, or nuking his roast until it was black and charred.

Blaze sprawled on their thrifted couch, Mangle's claws braiding his pink hair into hopeless knots. The toaster shrine hummed in the corner.  

Blaze sighed. ``This is kinda fucked up, y'know.''

 

Mangle's laugh was glitched but kind. ``...affirmative...'' she said, gently leaning against him. ``... but better... than... trash... thank... you...''

He couldn't argue. She wasn't the worst roommate.

~THE END~

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