Jeremy took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The other kids had talked him into staying after hours at the local Freddy Fazbear’s, and he had agreed as long as they would do it with him. Their plan was about as complex as you’d expect from a group of trouble seeking kids - steal a piece off of one of the animatronics to prove that they had been there after hours, brag to all of their friends - that sort of thing. But when Jeremy crept out from his hiding place to meet up with the rest of his friends, he discovered that they had chickened out - and left him utterly alone. The dark and empty room of the pizzeria suddenly seemed a lot more foreboding.
His nervous excitement slowly melted away into an anxious terror as he called out in a low whisper. “Liam? Sam?” He said - but he knew in the pit of his gut that they had gotten wise and left before closing. He was the only one here - except for, of course, the animatronics. But they were all surely in storage. He fought back the urge to panic and tried to think of a plan. Obviously, he just had to find a way out - but what if he managed to snag a souvenir on the way out? Then he could really stick it to his friends for being a bunch of wusses, he thought - and the thought of showing them that he was braver than they were managed to give him some small measure of courage, allowing him to stand up straighter and walk without his knees shaking in the dark room.
He takes out a flashlight, and shines the beam around the empty tables - not a movement to be seen, motes of dust flickering around the beam. This should be easy, he thinks. But then something causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up - a heavy, slow sound. Footsteps. But that couldn’t possibly be true, could it? There was nobody here except for him.
He took a step forwards, towards the hallway - the source of the noise. He felt his legs beginning to shake a little bit, the beam of the flashlight sweeping to the left, and then the right - nothing. He tried to force himself to relax a bit - this was all in his head, he told himself - there was nobody here.
He dropped his flashlight to the ground when the hand came to rest on his shoulder. The sound of whirring servos and clicking on tile reached his ears at the same time the hand curled around his flesh. It was hard, and gripped like a vise around his upper arm as a disturbingly calm voice rang in his ears. “Are you lost? Don’t you know the pizzeria is closed?” The imposing figure of Toy Chica had managed to step up right behind him without warning, and now it was too late. He whirled around - expecting to see a security guard or staff member - but instead, it was the bright yellow animatronic face of Toy Chica.
Her animatronic head twitched erratically, and her voice box sounded distorted. It looked like she had been damaged or neglected for some time - there were spots of rust on her metallic parts, and dust littered her seams. Jeremey found himself frozen in place, unable to find the words to reply - the scream frozen in his throat before it could come out. He eventually managed to stammer out a half-sentence. “N-no, I … - just leaving!” He felt his knees knocking.
“Leaving? But then we won’t get to p-p-p-p-” The robot swung one arm stiffly around and smacked itself on the head with a metallic thunk. “Play!” It finished with a wide, toothy grin. The hand around Jeremy’s shoulder clamped down almost painfully hard as the animatronic legs turned down the hall - and he felt himself being pulled along with Chica, down the hall. “W-wait - where are you taking me?” He said, frantically squirming against the strong grip.
“I know a p- p - p” - THUNK. The same crude impact. “Perfect place to play my favorite game!” The animatronic replied in an unnatural, yet still feminine, voice. Jeremy found himself dragged into a small room labeled “Party Room 4” - a quiet corner room littered with crushed party hats and streamers - clearly it hadn’t been used in some time. Chica threw him roughly onto the floor near a bench, and he rubbed his sore arm. “Wait - I don’t want to play this game! I want to go home!” Jeremy said, trying not to sound like a wimp - maybe his friends were still pranking him?
“Oh, that’s even better!” Toy chica replies, her glassy eyes rolling loosely around in her head. “That’s actually my favorite p-p-p-p-” The arm swings around again, crudely whacking against the animatronic’s chassis. “Part of this game - when you don’t want to play it!”
The yellow plastic and metal gleamed in the dim light of the abandoned party room, and Jeremy was pressed back down to the floor next to the table and bench combo. With a jerky, spastic series of movements, Toy Chica wrestles him to the tile - taking a dozen streamers and crudely lashing the boy’s limbs to the dusty bench, the cold metal touching his skin - the streamers cinching down tightly around him.
“W-what are you doing? H-Help! HELP!” He cries out, and the twitching animatronic brings a single finger up to its beakless lips, in a gesture demanding silence.
“We’re playing! And the rules of this game mean you have to be quiet… or else.” An eerie giggle fills the room after that threat- and the animatronic steps over him, a foot landing on the tile on either side of his torso. “Are you ready to play?” It asks, voice crackling oddly - and before Jeremy can even begin to answer, the animatronic lifts one leg, showing the bottom of a dusty orange sole. It was some blend of hard and soft plastics, metal hinges, and rubberized pads - and it was filthy from trodding the pizzeria floor for god knew how long. And it wasted no time at all in being crammed into his terrified mouth, five metallic and rubber digits shoving their way down to the back of his throat with violent glee.
Jeremy made a shocked noise of surprise that was quite muffled by Chica’s animatronic toes curling around his tongue, swelling his cheeks out with the taste of dirty rubber smeared with the entire layout of the pizzeria’s dingy floors. “M-Mmpmg-!!” Is all that comes out. Toy Chica twitches in a way that one might mistake for a rush of pleasure - but of course, that couldn’t be possible, even with a severe glitch in the programming - right?
“Oh, you’re good at this game!” The crackling voice exclaims, as Chica scrapes the sole of her foot against the bottom row of the boy’s teeth. He gags and splutters, trying to spit out the unpleasant taste, which causes the inky black eyes of the animatronic to narrow in what could only be anger.
“ _W~$Rr0;/Or3; Nr3;-G}!”
Chica speaks, and it sounds - different. Hollow, colder, broken somehow, with a sharp edge that made his blood run cold. The machine leans down and cups his cheeks in both hands. “You didn’t know the rules, so I will forgive you, just this once, okay? But if you do it again, I have to break you. Understand?” The head of the animatronic twitches erratically, beakless mouth twisted in an uncanny grin.
“D-do what? I don’t understand, wh-what did I do?” Jeremy says, his eyes starting to tear up from fear.
“Spit, Of course!” The crackling voice replies as if it were obvious. “Don’t worry, we can try again, silly!” The other foot, still uncleaned, is rapidly brought up and shoved unceremoniously into the panicked mouth below - and this time the treatment is more unkind. Two toes clamp around his tongue and roughly use it as a sort of painful floss between the digits, bitter machine grease and dirt rubbed onto the squirming captive’s tongue in an uncaring, mechanical fashion.
The servo motors twitch and whirr at inhuman speeds, scrubbing Toy Chica’s toes clean on the pinned tongue, and the whole chassis of the animatronic shudders violently in a way that makes Jeremy viscerally uncomfortable - and then they slip out of his mouth with a wet pop, like the uncorking of a wine bottle, the sole of her orange foot coming to rest on his chest.
Jeremy shudders in disgust, but manages to collect himself enough to remember the warning - he was a smart lad, luckily - and promptly swallows the remnants of the grime he had been force-fed down with a resigned gulp. The shudder that followed ran down his head to his toes in a full-body spasm. He felt the uncanny aftertaste of feet on his tongue - even though there was Chica flesh with which to sweat.
“ _Good boy.”
That same uncanny, echoing voice as before. “You’re a quick learner, huh? I think I’ll keep you!” The black eyes stared down at him, unblinking. “And we have so much time to teach you how to play!”
Jeremy opened his mouth to protest - but it was quickly muffled by a pair of huge soles, the length of which stretched past the base of his chin and over his forehead, and then some, pressing down firmly and shoving his head against the tile. The animatronic took a seat on the bench above him in an almost relaxed posture, pressing her soles down and completely covering the boy’s face underneath them. Their scent reeked of metal, plastic, grease and oil- but somehow seemed t o carry sweat and funk into his captive sinuses as well. Jeremy faintly wondered if his friends would ever know just what happened to him - or if he would become another whispered urban legend, a cautionary tale - but the overwhelming presence of Chica’s feet soon chased any other thoughts from his mind.
The night was still young.