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You are Mike Schmidt, a guy down on his luck and in need of money quick. The ad in the paper said an adult club on the bad side of town was looking for night security, but you had no idea what exactly you were in store for.

Romance / Drama
Age Rating:

Meeting The Girls

You had to admit, falling into a job like this one was probably the last thing you would have imagined doing. In fact, after graduation, your mind had buzzed with all sorts of fabulous fantasies about careers that brought money and respect. This was neither of those. You were now security at an all night pizza place and robot strip club.

The call for the job couldn’t have come at a better time. The rent was late because of having to pay for a car repair, and the landlord wasn’t going to tolerate your usual excuses for much longer. And while you knew the vague outlines that the job entailed, it was still mostly a mystery, but, one that paid money, so it was good by you.

11:30 pm, you pulled your car up to the dingy building. It was located in an equally dingy part of the downtown. In this environment, you were lucky you were a big, rough looking guy. That’s probably what won the interview for you alone. As you walked into the doorway, you could hear music, and what sounded like live singing. You were stopped short of seeing the performance by a squat little man in an unkempt suit. “You the new guard?” he asked tiredly. You nodded and he gave a grin. “Good, I was startin to think I was gonna be stuck doin the nightshift by myself forever. Follow me, kid,” He waved a hand and motioned you down a dark little hallway. “I’m guessin they didn’t tell ya too much about the job? They never do. I’m feelin generous, so lemme show ya what your work’s gonna entail.”

The halls in the place were like a maze, but your guide was apparently an expert when it came to navigating them. Eventually he got you to a black door. A rusted sign stating ‘SECURITY’ was mounted on it, slightly askew. He pulled a ring of keys from the pocket of his baggy tuxedo slacks and shoved a key into the lock. The inside was a bit of a surprise. The entire front wall appeared to be a massive window, viewing the curtained stage and surrounding dining room. A large, heavily used looking desk sat behind the window, covered in clutter and a few dusty monitors, showing security footage of the places your window didn’t reach. “That’s a one way mirror. Don’t worry, unless your turn the lights up in here, no one will ever know you’re back here.” The little man’s induction was cut off by a sudden swell of music. “Oh hey, right on cue,” his crooked smile and beady little eyes locked onto the stage. You couldn’t help but watch as well.

When you were offhandedly told there were robots involved with this position during the interview, for some reason you had never envisioned animal robots. Perhaps that meant your head was on right, at least in this instance. But there it was, an animatronic chicken in a crystal encrusted gown, singing about some long lost lover or something. As you watched, she clamped the end of one of her arm length gloves in her beak and started to pull it off in rhythmic little jerks, shaking her hips in time with the music. She tossed it aside, then did the same with the other, resuming her singing once her mouth was no longer full. With a quick reach behind her back, the gown itself was released to the floor, underneath, a smaller skirt and and equally sparkly bustier, restraining her rather generous chicken breasts. A few more moves and the skirt was off, leaving her in black lace panties and thigh high stockings. The tune of the song went from being about love lost, to self empowerment, and with that, she ripped off the bustier, showing off and proudly spinning the glitter covered tassels affixed to her. While if this had been described to you without the visuals, you might have either laughed or been repulsed, your boner was not complaining in the least over the morals of finding a robotic bird attractive. There was something about her strangely fluid movements that made your body not care. With a little bow and a last spin, the curtains closed, and the few patrons, who had be hollering during the show, resumed chewing their pizza.

Your jaw was on the floor. The man beside you laughed and slapped a hand on your back. “That Chica’s really somethin, isn’t she?” You nodded slowly, processing your feelings about all that had happened in the last 5 minutes. “I got a good feelin about you, kid. I think you’re gonna like it here.”

You finally pried your eyes from the window to look at the doorman, still not believing that this place was real. He thought for a split second, then put his hand out, “Oh yeah, I forgot all about introductions! I’m Gary.” You shake his hand, using it as a distraction for your already sore brain and slowly loosening pants.

“I’m Mike,” You responded, “So uh… How did this place even… happen?”

Gary laughs a little, “Well, to give you the short version of the story, the owner’s a real eccentric type, pretty loaded with money too. See, you remember those pizza chains for kids with the robot band and stuff? Well, he went to one as a kid and kinda got obsessed. He learned everything, got a few slick degrees in robotics and such, then when he heard this one chain of pizza places was goin chapter 11, he bought up as much stuff from the auctions as physically possible. Of course, as he got older, his obsession got a taste for more adult flavors, and well, this place started. I’ve been here since opening day, and I’ll probably be around til I croak,” He seemed rather proud of that last part.

“Oh,” You said, not really knowing what else to say to that. You had to admit, the idea was pretty novel, despite how strange it was. And well, even late on a Monday night, there were still people drinking and eating and enjoying the show. Gary looked at his watch, then back to you.

“So, the next performance is in 15 minutes. You wanna meet the girls? They always love seein new faces around here, especially a nice strong one like yours.” Your legs pulled you out of your seat even before you could respond verbally. The small man just gave a signature chuckle and waddled to the door.

You and Gary went back into the hall and made a beeline to the backstage area. Despite how dark it was, the little man remained light on his feet, whereas you nearly tripped several times. Finally, the corridor gave way to a much better lit, huge room. Judging by the curtains making one of the walls, this was the destination. It seemed empty, until you spotted something, or someone, purple, peeking from behind a set piece curiously. As soon as you met eyes, the figure reeled back into hiding. Your tour guide casually strolled over and poked his head around the set and spoke reassuringly to the one trying to hide.

“Don’t worry, he’s with me. His name’s Mike, introduce yourself,” He half-spoke half-whispered.

Gary stepped back, and the robot stepped out. She was a bunny, and a very cute looking one at that. Her large pink eyes looked timid and were glowing softly. She was in a cutsy, filly dress that hid a lot of her features, certainly a different flavor than you’d seen the chicken in. She stood by the doorman, facing you, but with her eyes to her feet. “H-hi,” she mumbled, giving a tiny wave. Impatient, the man continued for her.

“This here’s Bonnie. She’s the newest addition to the family. The owner got her from a little town in Iowa. She was in pretty bad order, but he fixed her right up and made her better than ever, ain’t that right?” he nudged her a little and Bonnie nodded. “She’s still getting used to her programming, so for now she’s just the stage kitten. Once she’s a little more confident, I know she’s gonna be a fantastic performer.”

“Stage kitten?” you ask, since that is obviously a rabbit.

“It’s business lingo she-”

“I-i I pick up the clothes off the stage,” She finished. The little man looked surprised at her cutting him off, but not at all displeased. “Oh I, sorry Gary…” She apologized, despite him looking the total opposite of hurt.

“No no, it’s fine,” He soothed to the rabbit, then looked back to you, “Don’t worry Mike, once she warms up to you, you two are gonna be thick as thieves.” You decided to keep a respective distance from the adorable machine for now. He took a look at his watch again and parted from the figure. “We’ve got more girls to meet and little time to do it in, c’mon kid.”

“Nice to meet you,” You say as Gary zips past, pulling you along to the next location. Bonnie buried her face in her paw hands and scurried off.

“I think she likes ya,” The stout man said with his crooked grin.

After a bit of dragging, Gary stopped at a door, labeled in a similar fashion to the security room, its rusted sign saying, “DRESSING ROOM”. Gingerly, your co-worker knocked on the door. You supposed, even though they were robots, they were still sapient and, on top of that, ladies, so it was only polite to not walk in on them. A voice from within yelled, “Whatta ya want?!” Gary cleared his throat and spoke at the doorframe.

“It’s just me, and the new guard I’d like ya to meet, may we come in?”

There was a pause, then, “It depends, are they okay with seein a beautiful nude woman?” there was a strange emphasis on the latter half of the phrase. You shook your head no in the idea of allowing a girl some privacy, but Gary just plowed open the door without a second thought. Before you could protest, you laid eyes on the contents of the room. Lit mirrors and vanities lined the walls, as well as racks of costumes. At one of the stations was the chicken herself. She was indeed nude, save for the tassels and such she had on from her previous act. In a strange way you were sadly disappointed that she wasn’t actually nude. You quickly swatted that idea out of your head.

It was at that moment you realized what she was up to. Chica was calmly painting her nails, which would have been understandable save for the fact she had pulled the outer layer of her hand off and was painting the nails meticulously with her freed metallic robot hand. She gave a snicker at your expression. “I know there’s plentya ladies who wish they could do this.” After blowing on the last nail, she set the bottle of polish aside, then slipped the hand back on like a glove. She waggled her fingers experimentally, then turned her attention fully to you. “I’m Chica, the biggest headliner in the building, other than Mama of course. So, you’re the fresh meat around here, eh?” She looked you over for a second, taking in your shape with a smile on her beak. “They’ve really upgraded, the last guard was a scrawny little shit compared to you.” She stood up and came over to you, getting real close. Obviously, personal space was not a thing programmed into her. She brought up a hand and squeezed at one of your biceps, making a pleased hum at the feeling of your muscles. “The owner did good on this one. With a little luck we won’t have a repeat of what happened to the last guy.”

Reflexively you asked, “What happened to the last guy…?” Out of the corner of your eye you see Gary make some quick motions for Chica to stop, but she only smiles wider.

She thought for a moment, possibly rewording her thoughts, then dropped her smile into a far more dour expression, “Let’s just say if someone messes with onea Mama Bear’s girls, you’re gonna have to answer to Mama. And THAT is a phone call ya don’t wanna pick up. Got the drift?” You nod, shuffling as such to distance yourself at least a little from the robot. She kept on the serious face for a couple of seconds while you squirmed, then busted up laughing, throwing her arm around you. “I like ya, what’s yer name?”

You pushed out a “Mike,” as her arm squeezed you. Why did they even need security? These robots were goddamn strong as hell.

“Mike! I like that name, way better than the last guy! What was his name? Randolfo or something? Too highbrow for a place like this I’ll tell ya, He came in a goddamn tux every night.” She shot a glance at Gary, “No offense to ya Gary, but I mean, the guy wore new, actually fitting tuxedos. Who even does that? We’re a pizza place for god’s sakes.” The mouthy chicken finally released you, and you felt some air return to your lungs.

Gary cleared his throat again. “So Chica, where’s the other girls at? I want to make sure Mike here meets em all.” the animatronic rolled her eyes.

“Well, Mama’s in her dressing room since she’s goin on soon, Bonnie’s lurkin around like usual somewhere, and fuck if I know where the bitch is right now.” She walked back to the mirror and plopped down, pulling out a brush and touching up her eye shadow. “Sorry I’m not exactly an encyclopedia of dipshit locations right now.”

Gary hung by the door and motioned at you to follow along. “Well thanks anyways Chica, yer particular charms are always appreciated,” He said playfully. The robot continued her preening as you moved to leave, smiling at you via the mirror.

“Well, welcome aboard Mike. And Gary I swear if you see that fuckin fox punch ’er in the tits for me I think she took my goddamn eyelash curler again.”

You quickly shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind you.

After a few steps from the door, you look over at Gary. “So… who’s the bitch..?” you ask in a hushed voice. Before he could answer, something stirred on the catwalks above. Quicker than you could comprehend, something was headed down towards you. A pulley whined to a stop as the figure descended and made contact with the stage floor. The robot stepped from the makeshift conveyance, which appeared to be a sort of sling made out of rope and expertly tied knots.

“My ears started burning, were you talking about me?” She said. Her voice was deep, but soft and monotonous. An eyepatch rested on her head, and on her right arm was a rather threatening looking hook instead of a hand. You found this all very interesting. With all the costumes and such, it was a little strange that one of them would be so deliberately themed. You would have asked, but that would have been rude you imagined.

“Uh, she was,” You say, motioning at the door to the dressing room.

“Hn,” is the only sound she made in regard to that. You figured this was typical behavior from the two. She instead turned to Gary. Reaching into the pocket of her torn up shorts, she retrieved a neatly folded stack of papers. “This is for Mama, regarding my new act.” She spoke with some kind of accent that you couldn’t put your finger on. It wasn’t cliche pirate, but it was sorta piratey you guessed.

Gary gestured at you, “Foxy, please meet Mike, he’s the new security guard,” she whipped her head around unnaturally, remaining silent while she fully assigned you to memory. The rest of her body soon followed, and she extended her hook toward you very suddenly, making you flinch a little. You realized slowly that she wanted you to shake it.

You took a hold of her hook and shook. In a split second, the world was flopping over, and in very short order your back smacked into the hardwood of the floor and Foxy’s very sharp hook was at your throat. She looked unimpressed as you gave a pained whine, her foot, which was perched weightily on your sternum, pressed down a little more. “Mike, you are not very fast on your feet for a protector.” she stated flatly.

Gary interrupted, “Ah, well, ya see it’s his first night, Foxy. I’m trainin him don’t worry about it.” She let her foot off of you and pulled back her hook, allowing the little man to help you to your feet.

She frowned, “With your training expertise, I only have abject fear for the state of security here.” With that she jumped up and caught another hanging rope, quickly scurrying up the rigging and back into the dark depths of the fly gallery.

“AND CHICA WANTS HER EYELASH CURLER BACK,” Gary shouted toward the ceiling. Seconds later, the aforementioned device came plummeting down, and broke into pieces upon impacting with the floor. He shook his head. “Sorry about that kid. Foxy, she’s been through a lot. I don’t know the whole story but she came from a real gruesome situation. Apparently re-progammin her was a nightmare, and even then not all of the original stuff got wiped. She’s got her quirks, but she’s actually very sweet once she trusts you. Maybe she’ll even let ya see her Pirate Cove if she likes you enough,” He gave a wink and a nudge, but you still remained uncertain if that was an innuendo or not.

With a quick peek at his watch, the short man pulled you along once more, “I think we have just enough time to meet Fredrica herself before her act starts,” You glanced once more up into the darkness before following along, a single golden eye glowing in the inky black.

You and your supervisor traveled deeper into the backstage area. The darkness crept in and really did a number on your perception of space. “Fredrica likes the dark,” You heard your guide say, probably in response to your aura of confusion as you stumbled along behind him. After crashing into a few sets and falling on your face over things, the faint outline of a door became visible to your night-adjusted eyesight.

“Oh,” Gary said, then with a click, a beam of light penetrated the black you two were enveloped in. “I forgot, this is for you, It’s for lightin and clobberin people.” He handed over the hefty metal flashlight. He wasn’t kidding about the thing being a useful weapon. It probably weighed a good 7 pounds. With the new found ability to see, getting to the door was a snap. The room was unlabeled, save for a flaking painted star on the door, probably an original to the old theatre.

Before he could knock, a soothing, calm voice came from within. “Gary, please come in. I would like to meet my newest family member.” You were slightly shaken, but it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen so far. Gary twisted the elegant old knob on the door and slowly proceeded inside, warm light spilling out. While much of the building, both front and back of the house, quite obviously showed its age, this room was totally different. While everything inside was certainly antique, it was spotless, classy, and over all elegant. Framed pictures of famous burlesque, cabaret, and vaudevillian actors covered the walls in between the mirrors. You couldn’t name any of them if you wanted, but you supposed they were important.

Seated on a white chaise lounge in the middle of the room was Fredrica Fazbear, draped in a white fur coat, awaiting her cue to go on stage. Next to her, on a carved wood table, was a bank of security monitors, not at all dissimilar to the ones in the office, except they were far more numerous and far more modern. Her half-lidded gaze fell on you. “Michael Schmidt, please take a seat, the owner told me all about you.”

You nodded and sat down on another piece of her furniture set. She looked to the other man in the room, “Gary darling, may I please have a moment with Mr. Schmidt?” The little roach-like man scuttled out of the door, slowly closing it behind him. Once the lock clicked back into place, she smiled. “My act begins soon, but please, do tell me a little bit about yourself.”

And so you did. You told her a quick summary of your life at the moment, between ties breaking with friends and family and your terrible landlord, and she nodded and reacted as any normal person would, saying things like, “Oh you poor dear,” and “Oh heavens you deserve much better than that,” You weren’t sure why, but of all the performers you had met so far, she just seemed very… warm, genuine, mothering... comfortable.

After you finished, she stood up. “From now on Michael, things will be very different for you. You’re under the Fazbear wing now, and above pleasing customers, family is the most important thing we offer and uphold.” You stood to leave and she gave you a warm hug. Oddly, it didn’t feel strange to hug her back as it did with most people.

“Thank you, uh Ms. Fazbear,” you said in a casual but still polite sort of way.

She smiled at you, like when parent smiles at their child doing something wrong but adorably so, “No Michael, please, call me Mama,” She wrapped up the hug and with that she left the room.

You weren’t sure, but part of you was almost certain you had just joined a burlesque pizza robot mafia. Gary came back in shortly. “So, what’d she say?” he asked with an odd amount of eagerness in his voice.

“She said I’m part of the Fazbear family.” The pudgy man looked beyond pleased.

“Good good, now, If you’ll follow me, there’s still some paperwork you need to fill out,” He gave you a slap on the back, “Welcome to the family, kid.”

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