You had never really believed the rumours, all the old headlines and gossip about something happening here. You knew people loved a good story - even if it wasn’t necessarily true. So, when you say what the job was offering per hour - of course you took the gig. And, since everyone was so damned superstitious, you were the only applicant. Easiest interview of your life, and the pay wasn’t half bad for wandering around doing nothing all night.

But, you were a lot more confident when it was bright and sunny outside. Now - it was dark, and a little too quiet, and you were totally alone. Well - that wasn’t completely true - you had some company, after all - the creepy animatronics that you had to work on. Honestly, in the dark of the night, with just a flashlight - everything seemed a little more unsettling. Probably better to get the maintenance over with and go back to watching videos on your phone, you decided, and grabbed your toolbox - heading towards the eerily still form of the unit - A small plaque near the base where it rested.

“Circus Baby, huh? What kind of baby is seven feet tall?” You say to yourself, laughing a little to yourself in the quiet of the stage. You stop, however - because you were certain you heard a second laugh, higher-pitched and ethereal, laughing along with you. It sends a little shiver down your spine - it must have just been your imagination, right? You set your toolbox down on the boards of the wooden stage, trying to clear your mind of the strange hallucination.

“I better get this over with before I start seeing things…” You say to yourself under your breath. “Can’t be out of this place soon enough.”

“Don’t go so soon - it’s been so long since I’ve had someone to play with!” A voice seems to come from nowhere, nearly making you jump out of your skin. You spin around, clutching your hand to your chest in fright, dropping the wrench you were using to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Who’s there? That’s not funny!” You say, trying to sound braver than you were. You don’t see anyone - it was just you and the animatronic. You sweep your flashlight around, warily - only to snap it back to the animatronic as you hear the grating sounds of metal on metal, rusty gears and music-box keys clicking. You sigh in relief. You must have activated it by mistake - that explained everything.

But it didn’t look like it was doing anything normal - in fact, its head turned one hundred and eighty degrees around, fixing a pair of lifeless,glassy green eyes right onto you. It moved with an unnaturally fast jerk, and slammed the ball-joint of its- her? Elbow - right into your stomach, sending you down onto the floor.

“And you even brought your own toys!” The voice exclaimed, soft and strangely gentle for a seven-foot-tall rousted animatronic. “I’ve been so, so, lonely all alone here. I’m glad you came ready to play with me.” The voice was coming from the robot - there was no doubting it, even though the lips didn’t move, and those eyes stared unblinkingly down at you as you caught your breath, heaving beneath her shadow as her eyes glowed in the light.

She rummages around in the knocked-over toolbox for a moment, and you can hear the distinct RIIIP of duct tape. “Whoah, whoa- hold on now - You hit me, that’s not playing, right?” You say, trying to play along with - whatever the hell this thing was before it hurt you any more. It was moving slow - its joints must be rusted up. You could probably make a dash for the door, if it wasn’t looking.

“Sometimes, I play a little too rough.” The voice says, her voice sounding very guilty and sad. “That’s why nobody comes to play with me any more. But now you’re here. And I promise not to play too rough with you. That way, we can play a long, long time together.” The huge animatronic lurches forward far faster than you thought it could move, and a five-toed robotic sole slams into your chest, knocking you to the ground. You wince in pain, and Circus baby quickly wraps the tape around your legs, back and forth until you can hardly move a muscle. Your arms follow next, the cold metal fingers easily manhandling your limbs to your sides and swaddling them in tape until the roll is empty.

“There. Last time, I accidentally broke them when they tried to run away from playing with me. But now, we can play without any accidents.” The eyes flickered in the dark. “And we can play my favorite game.” The soft, gentle voice was dripping with excitement.

You feel her weight shift- and the animatronic leans down, taking off her huge, goofy-looking clown shoes and tossing them aside. You cringe at what slides out of them - a robotic facsimile of a humanoid foot, ball-joints slick with lubricating oil that had collected unholy amounts of dirt, dust, and grime. The ball of the sculpted foot was caked with all manner of filth - after all - who would bother to ever clean inside of the shoes of some old clown animatronic?

You don’t have time to express your distaste at the situation as Circus Baby lowers the grimy sole of plastic, metal and padding foam down onto your face. It was strangely hot to the touch, the servos inside working overtime - the heat turning the gummy lubricating grease to a runny consistency. You struggle on the boards of the stage as the animatronic clown wiiiipes the sole of her left foot down your face, leaving a streak of oily-grey grime on your skin as she giggles innocently. This one is somehow even worse - you can taste the bitter oil and who knew how many months of gritty, greasy build-up of dirt and dust and funk as it slides over your lips and nose, the heavy weight of the animatronic pinning your head to the boards.

You gag on the toxic concoction, spitting it out. Circus baby frowns. “That’s not how you play the game. It’s against the rules. You have to swallow it all, Dummy. Don’t you think that’s funny?” She giggles once more.

You start to scream. “HELP! HELP, ANYONE! SOMEONE!” You cry out, looking frantically around. But of course, the place was deserted.

“Nobody is around in the night time. But you knew that, right? I know you’re smart!” The voice says, condescendingly. “That’s why you also know that you have to play by the rules, or else you get punished.” Circus Baby cocks her head to one side, looking down as she presses her big toe against your lips, the metal cooling against your skin. You look up, silently begging her.

“Did you know that to play my most favourite game, you don’t need much? You need a tongue, because part of the game is licking! And you need a nose, because part of the game is smelling!” The voice says matter-of-factly as her toes spread with a mechanical whirring, wrapping around your nose and smothering it in the greasy filth between her robotic digits. You make a desperate scream for help, muffled by the broad, heavy ball of her foot as it smothered your lips.

“But there are things you don’t need to play the game!” The voice continues, ignoring your screams. “Like eyes!” She says, leaning down with her painted-on smile wide. “You don’t need any eyes at all to play my favourite game.” She says, letting her implication sink in. You can feel tears beading in the corners of your eyes as she looms above you, half from the putrid taste and scent of her grimy soles, and half from fear of being trapped here with this insane animatronic and her disgusting soles.

“Open your mouth!” The voice says, in a sing-song carnival tune. Seeing you hesitate beneath her, the animatronic’s head cocks violently and jerkily to one side. “Did you know you don’t need teeth to play my favourite game, either? And you can make a second game instead, where you take them out one by one! And it’s almost as fun to play.” The metallic big toe presses harder against your lip. “Isn’t that a fun fact?” She says, emotionless, softly.

“Open your mouth.” she repeats, and you obey, shakily letting your lips part.

As excited to see this as a kid on Christmas morning, Circus Baby doesn’t wait a single second, the servos in her leg creaking with the speed at which she violently jams the entire sole into your open mouth, her greasy toes wiggling at the back of your throat. And then, with machine-like repetition, she starts to jackhammer her dirty sole up and down against your tongue and throat, scrubbing every inch of blackened grease off onto your tongue and teeth. You can only sit there, trying not to suffocate on it as she plays a jaunty circus tune. By the time her foot retracts, dripping with greyish saliva - you can’t help dry-heaving into a hole in the boards.

“Dummy! That was only one foot!” She says. “And I didn’t hear you swallow! Once you swallow it all, we can do the next foot. And after that, you can play my second favourite game!”

You shudder in horror as you gulp down the bitter, gritty concoction of filth that you had been forced to scrape off Circus Baby’s feet. You can’t imagine a game worse than this.

“Don’t worry! The second game is much simpler! “ She says, as if to reassure your fears. “The rules are easy! During the day, I have to stay really still, in case people see me!” Circus baby explains, lifting up her second foot over your face.

So we can’t play my favourite game. So instead, you get to play hide and seek! I’ll put you in a really good hiding place, and then when it’s night again - I’ll come find you!” She cocks her head to the side, eyes flickering.

“Then we can play my favourite game again.” She says quietly, pleased. “And soon, it will be your favourite game, too.”