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In spite of the six security cameras trained around the dance floor and the stage, Desmond slipped by them all without detection. He had every reason to know where they faced: he was the one oversaw their placement. And though he was well within his rights as the live-in mechanic to move around at night, any motion would have alerted the owner. Explaining his movements through the club when it was closed were always tense discussions, and the rhetoric was that of a father scolding a teenage son whom he suspected of being a dope addict. So instead of changing his ways, Desmond hid them better.

He stepped between the curtains as the camera leering at the stage was turned away. Here was privacy, and here also was Freddy the Pimpbear. Still in a stealthy frame of mind, he crept up to Freddy with silent, deliberate footfalls.

"There you are," Freddy said, tapping his cane's tip on the floor. He smiled deviantly, his blue eyes glowing behind gaudy gold-rimmed shades. "Papa bear wanted to have a word with you."

"All right, talk," said Desmond, absently combing his hair with the brush on the vanity, yet it was no use. His hair was fluffy and soft from a recent shower and refused to lie flat.

Freddy watched, smiling slyly. He slipped off his glasses and shed the coat, deftly tossing his tacky cane from one mitt to the other to free his arms of the leopard-print garb.

"Hey, I thought you only wanted to talk to me," Desmond grunted, but his expression hinted at approval for the bear's mostly nude body. More evenly he said, "I take it this is why you didn't just radio me."

Using the knob of his cane, Freddy nudged Desmond's chest. He touched the boy's shoulder in his other paw. His palms were so large as to completely shroud Desmond's upper arm. "Well, you know your papa Pimpbear," he teased, winking. "Can't let my ladies think they ain't pretty to me."

"Funny," Desmond dryly said, shrugging off Freddy's paw. He smiled coyly. "One thing at a time, bear - what'd you wanna talk about?"

But Freddy shook his head. He dug a finger into the neck of Desmond's ugly pink uniform shirt and gave it a gentle tug. He could have ripped it apart easily. "Show daddy some titties, and then we'll talk."

"You know I could lose my job for this," Desmond scolded him, but Freddy found his conviction lacking. Undermining his own argument, Desmond unbuttoned his shirt and added, "And then what? I bet they'll hire some other nerd who probably won't sleep with you."

The creature who by his very nature thrived off of naked breasts and pussy unabashedly licked his jowls at the sight of a half-dressed twink, for the sight of Desmond's naked, fuzzy breast titillated him. He tucked his cane under his armpit and opened the two halves of Desmond's unbuttoned shirt, then slid his mitts across the boy's body. Plied by Freddy's large and masculine touch, Desmond allowed himself to moan. He pressed into the touch and rubbed the bear's wrists, then along his forearms.

"Let's be honest, now, baby," Freddy tutted. "You weren't exactly keen on the D when you came here. But now..." He snickered. "Now I could put your ass to work on the pole if I so desired. You'd do just about anything for your papa bear."

Desmond, flustered, batted away Freddy's paws. He was grinning in embarrassment, and his tail swished. "Talk," he firmly said. "What did you want?"

"Mmmmmh," Freddy grunted, drawing the sound out for three seconds. "I'm not so sure now, my memory's fuzzy." As Desmond scoffed, Freddy twirled his cane like a baton. Its gleaming tip and handle flashed mesmerizingly in the dim lights. Ultimately he pointed the knob of his cane at his own package.

Purely for the effect it gave, Freddy wore a speedo which was at least one size too small for his generous body. It invariably pulled into a tight floss between his ass cheeks, but its more notable role was clutching his genitals. His king-sized uncut penis and superbly plump balls altogether formed a bulge which looked like three ripe oranges under black canvas.

Desmond gazed briefly at Freddy's crotch. He looked up along the bear's formidable torso and met his leering eyes. Their ethereal glow was visible in the low lighting. "Trying to tell me something?" he smiled.

"I'm trying to tell you," Freddy boldly said, "that whether or not I remember the very important subject we were to discuss hinges on your treatment of Freddy Pimpbear, Jr. and company."

Desmond laughed aloud, left in awe of the pet names Freddy came up with for his genitals. "Okay. All right," Desmond conceded. He slipped off his unbuttoned shirt, tossing it in with the bear's discarded coat. Then he pressed up close to Freddy, his chin near the bear's chest, and hooked his fingers in the speedo's waistband. "Anything yet?"

"Not a thing," Freddy said, feigning apology. "I'm sure It'll come to me."

"You know what you are?" Desmond asked, peeling down Freddy's speedo.

"Sexy? Perfect? The greatest pimp to ever grace this drab earth?" Freddy suggested, all with a straight face.

Desmond yanked sharply downward, twisting the speedo around Freddy's thighs as it cleared his meaty package. "None of the above: a robot bastard."

Freddy laughed. He rubbed Desmond's chin. "Language, young man. Freddy fucking Pimpbear will not tolerate a foul mouth like that."

Briefly the fox wrapped his arms around Freddy's bulky body. It was impossible for his paws to meet in the middle of the bear's back, but he made an earnest attempt. Freddy rumbled lovingly and patted the back of his head.

"You're almost pleasant when you're not talking," Desmond lamented. Freddy, ignoring the remark, lifted him under the arms and they shared a shallow kiss. When he was let down, Desmond eased back from the bear and cupped his flaccid, low-hanging penis. Its black flesh always excited him, and for so many reasons, but chief among them was the size, followed closely by its scent.

As befitting a bear, musk emanated from Freddy's manly body. It was usually mild, and given his true nature, it was under his minute control. But whenever Freddy had Desmond to himself, he turned up the musk to ply the boy. He knew his masculine scent tantalized Desmond.

Desmond wasn't ignorant of this. Short of how their brains had so rapidly circumvented their own limitations, he understood every system the animatronics had at their disposal, and musk delivery was one of them. While palming Freddy's cock about the glans, he looked up at the bear and grinned. "That smell," he tutted. "You're shameless."

Freddy winked at his young mechanic. "Give it a kiss, boy."

Though he chuckled and shook his head, awed by the brazen sexuality of the bear, Desmond lifted the heavy meat to his lips. He pressed his sticky jowls into its glans and was stricken by the even greater concentration of musk it exuded from its pores. A moan escaped him, and he took the shaft in.

A complacent rumble from Freddy came and went. He stowed his cane in his armpit and rested both paws on the back of Desmond's head. "It's so go-o-o-od to be the papa bear," he sighed, his tone blase, as though he were spouting off a common fact.

Within the tight confines of Desmond's maw, between a velvet tongue and a hard, ribbed palate, Freddy's penis ponderously engorged. His shaft bulged slowly, though he could have been ready to go in seconds flat. It was best to let things come as they may, so he thought, and as Desmond timidly suckled and supported the shaft with his paws, Freddy let him have his moment.

The musk was growing thicker. It was a miasma enveloping Desmond's head, and it was having its intended effect with merciless efficiency. None of the animatronics took prisoners when they pulled out all the stops. If somebody was only slightly interested, they could lure their mark in on the subconscious level. And if someone already had a desire to fuck them, they could be made as slaves without ever realizing it.

Freddy covered up most of Desmond's head with his paws. He pulled the boy in closer, encouraging him to pack it in against the back of his throat. "Swallow papa bear's dong on down that gullet of yours," he cooed, "and I bet you'll help me remember so much."

There was the glans against the back of Desmond's throat. Precum lazily drizzled into the back of his mouth, and he gulped it down. When the bear recognized the mechanism of a swallow against his penis, he pushed forward and smiled broadly. "C'mon, so close..."

Desmond shuddered. He slid his paws around Freddy's hips and held his fat ass. The sensation of girly fingers digging into his cheeks wasn't a new experience to Freddy. He paused and chuckled, then flexed his cheeks under the boy's touch. "What's that, baby? You want papa bear's big, fat ass instead of his pecker down your neck?"

To someone simply not in the mood to choke down a cock, Desmond was happy with the alternative. He grunted his agreement, and Freddy nodded sagely. "Well, all right then," he said, his words holding a modicum of disappointment. "I suppose a big, wet tongue on my backdoor might loosen my lips up just the same..."

Backpedaling, Freddy got a better look at Desmond's prone form before the fox stood. A smile pulled his jowls up and he chuckled, wearing his usual sleazy countenance. "Ju-u-ust look at you," he sighed, tapping the twink's erection with the knob of his cane. Desmond huffed and covered the tent in his slacks. "Hard as hell just from lickin' on my love stick a little bit."

"Shut up, Freddy," Desmond snapped, grinning.

"Foxes, so sassy," Freddy distastefully said. "And this attitude sure isn't helping me remember anything."

Grinning wider and wider, Desmond grabbed Freddy by the hips. "I could make you obey if I wanted to, just like that. But I'm nice," he firmly noted, "so I won't do that to you."

"But since you won't, it means you gotta play by papa bear's rules," Freddy delighted in stating. He patted Desmond's head patronizingly and backpedaled again, then sat in the chair intended for the vanity. It held him easily, a testament to its construction.

Desmond approached the bear with a thinning smile on his lips, the remnants of his grin. Freddy, by contrast, never lost the sheer sleaze on his face. His expression became yet more sly when the boy knelt, and in line with that, the bear's smile grew wider still when Desmond tugged the speedo down to the floor. Freddy let his legs drift apart. No longer supported by the shelf of his thighs, his fat balls fell and dangled over the lip of the seat. Desmond grunted at the sight, a blush on his cheeks.

"I'm all puckered up and waiting for a kiss, boy," Freddy purred. He nonchalantly contact juggled his cane.

"Should have just gone to work at Chuck E. Cheese's," Desmond remarked, hefting Freddy's big, brown scrotum. By holding it fairly high, he bared its bottom curve which he dragged his tongue along, stirring up more synthetic musk emanating from pores hidden in the fur. The intended effect was for a licking tongue or molesting fingers to stir up the smell, and it worked. The fox wrinkled his tender nose and shuddered. His erection ached.

As Desmond nosed slowly under the balls and into the bear's taint, Freddy tightened his smile into something more naughty. He suckled his bottom jowl momentarily. "Ah, yes, where you can deal with rigged pinball machines and listen to the jamboree all night, every night." With a laugh, he bucked his hips against the foxcoon's snout. This caused his taint to grind on Desmond's nose, and the boy flinched. "You made the right choice, little man..."

Exploring by scent and the sense of touch in his nose, Desmond pushed deeper. He found the folds of flesh where the cheeks met the taint, and in there was the bear's snug, black pucker. In reply to Desmond's prodding nose, it winked. Musk flowed freely from it, the greatest concentration yet, and Desmond whimpered in need. With Freddy's balls covering his eyes and his breathing restricted to the bear's crotch and ass, Freddy was, for the moment, Desmond's entire world.

Desmond gave Freddy's anus the first of many licks. The pucker tensed under his tongue, then winked, smooching the pink muscle. Desmond settled into a rut of licking, and the pucker continued to poison his brain with musk. It was no surprise then that Desmond's eating fast became very noisy, and he fondled the bear anywhere he could reach. He stroked the bear's gut in particular, fondling his cold, fat curves, and Freddy growled warmly.

Precum dripped from Freddy's full erection, staining the foxcoon's hair. He uttered to the boy with little of his usual sleaze, "Smells like you're in need of something, cutie. Just maybe you need a nice, tight fuckhole to dump your nuts in."

Barely aware that Freddy was talking at all, too drunk on the engineered pheromones to give much thought to anything, Desmond kept lapping. Aware of the discomfort in his crotch, however, he reached down and opened his fly. Though Desmond was not a well-hung young man, his penis still throbbed in the confines of his briefs. A smear of pre darkened the white cotton into a musty gray.

In a cruel way, Freddy wondered how desperate he could make Desmond. To that end, he gave the twink all the musk he had. Pheromones polluted the boy's air so strongly that he became lightheaded, and in a bid to consume as much of Freddy's raw sexuality as he could, Desmond ground his nostrils right into the animatronic's black asshole. He sucked in hits of the musk and wrapped his arms, which were about as composed and powerful as gelatin, around the bear's enormously fat ass.

Freddy snickered as he gyrated his ass down on the twink's face. "Oh, I remember what I wanted to say now," he dryly noted, but Desmond didn't hear him. Freddy rolled his big, blue eyes. He scoffed to himself, "Foxes, I swear."

Though it was Freddy's musk which permeated the air and would have been immediately apparent to even the keenest organic nose, Freddy could smell Desmond's musk beneath his own potency. The boy was incredibly needful, Freddy thought, and it was with no small amount of affection for the young man that he made the decision to offer relief.

With a heavy hand, Freddy grabbed Desmond's scruff and dislodged him. He emerged from under Freddy's nuts and immediately gasped for air, then coughed like he had been rescued from the verge of drowning. His face was marred by fur rubbed the wrong way, drool down his chin, and a visible blush under the white and orange of his facial fur. Avoiding eye contact with the bear, he shakily said, "Fuh--, fuck, it's not fair when you do that."

Freddy laughed and clapped Desmond's shoulder in a good-natured way. "I know, but you love the way papa bear tastes..."

After giving Desmond a moment to catch his breath, Freddy stood and bumped his nuts into the boy's face. Th collision startled a cry from Desmond and knocked him onto his ass. Chuckling quietly and twisting around, Freddy made his enormous rear fully viewable to the boy. Above it, wiggling in delight, was his stubby tail. He leaned on the chair and tilted it as settled in it backwards.

The Pimpbear put his weight on the backrest of the chair, and still clutched and twirled his cane. The full curvature of his fat ass was implicitly offered, but he made it clear as day when he cooed, "Fuck me up the ass, little man. You earned it, I'd say."

Desmond wiping his chin on the back of his arm elicited thoughts of the aftermath of eating ripe fruit. His fur was streaked with saliva, some clinging to his whiskers in webbed strands, and his snout at large reeked of the Pimpbear's musk. Half-mad from arousal and breathing in heavy gulps for air, Desmond stared at Freddy's tubby behind and felt a great pang of need. He clapped his paws down on either cheek, causing Freddy to flinch and laugh, and pulled them apart. The well-licked anus between them winked.

"Don't having a staring contest with it," Freddy playfully scolded. "You'll blink long before it does. Just get up in there!"

Letting out an uneasy noise, Desmond stood on shaky legs and thrust down his slacks. He kicked them away disdainfully but didn't give his briefs as much thought, only peeling those down enough to expose himself. Then he urgently pressed his hips to the bear's ass and pulled apart his cheeks again. The pucker between them clenched and quivered, and Desmond pressed his small cock against it. The animatronic's cold flesh smooched Desmond's glans, or so it felt, and when Desmond pushed forth, Freddy easily accommodated his entry. The foxcoon groaned in a long, low manner and fell forward against Freddy.

Slick by his own volition, Freddy provided a fuckhole which Desmond easily sunk into. With the boy buried, Freddy noted that the penetration hardly registered to him. He clenched down until he really gripped on it, and he sighed, leaning over the backrest of the chair which finally creaked. "Atta boy," he cooed. "See? Papa bear taketh, but papa bear giveth too."

"Yeah," Desmond huffed, mush-mouthed and inarticulate. It stood to reason, since his tongue was flopped mostly out of his mouth. He grinned stupidly from ear to ear and began grinding against Freddy's generous posterior. The giant hemispheres of his ass cheeks provided ample cushioning into which Desmond could and did throw himself with all his energy. Caused by the wetness and the bear's cock-milkingly snug anal ring, a damp sucking noise cut through the air with every buck Desmond made. The sound's lewdness made Freddy grin. Desmond was, it seemed, too far gone to care what noises the sex made.

In utter delight, Desmond's ringed tail lashed and swished again and again. He hugged tightly about Freddy's torso, gripping his breast and digging his fingers in, unable to get them to meet in the middle. Freddy was just too large, yet by wiggling his fat ass back and moaning, he made Desmond believe that he was a little stallion.

Freddy was enjoying the fuck even in spite of Desmond's shortcomings. His own uncut member dribbled precum through the back slats of the chair, and the resultant drip sounded like a leaky spigot. He reached back and patted Desmond's hip, though the boy was moving too fast to really caress.

"Ooh, yeah, gonna dump your nuts a-a-all up in papa bear, aren't you, boy?" Freddy gushed, arching his back. Desmond clung to him, conforming to the bend in his spine, and he lost his rhythm only for a moment before he worked it up again.

"Yes! Yeah!" Desmond happily bleated, squeezing the implacable bear with all his might.

Still Desmond went on and on, and he had long since forgotten that he wanted to drag information out of Freddy. Such was the peril of trying to out-fuck a machine made specifically for a good lay, but the look on Desmond's face said he didn't mind. His eyes had completely rolled back, showing the whites before he clenched the lids down. His tongue hung sloppily out of his handsome muzzle, and spittle fell off its tip. Inarticulate brays from him told Freddy exactly what the boy was about to do, and indeed, when Desmond squirted, it was a foregone conclusion.

Desmond could think of nothing to say. He couldn't remember what shapes the words were, let alone how to make his tongue form them. So he groaned and whimpered, and he orgasmed with incredible potency. It made Freddy proud to feel the spunk Desmond dumped into him, and he was especially glad to know that it was his intervention and his musk which helped the boy to such a climax.

When Desmond's legs buckled, Freddy proved to be a fine support to lean on. And when Desmond inevitably fell back and slipped out of the bear, Freddy reached back with his computerized reflexes and caught the boy under the armpit. A rope of the fox's cum shot across Freddy's ass cheek, a temporary whore tramp stamp befitting a temporary bottom bitch. Freddy looked over his shoulder and barely saw it. He smirked in his approval.

"All right," Desmond breathed moments later, his paws on Freddy's shoulder blades. "I can hold myself up now. I think."

Tentatively, Freddy unhanded Desmond. The foxcoon leaned against him, resting heavily on the cold bear.

"Well, well, well," murmured Freddy, palming his erection which throbbed as strongly as ever, "little man's quite pent-up, it seems! And here I figured as sweet as you've been on Chica, she'd keep those cajones of yours nice and light."

Desmond's cheeks flushed. "I'm not with Chica that much--, it's not any different than, um."

The Pimpbear sniggered. "Forget how to talk? It's okay, boy," he patiently said. "Love makes you stupid, papa Pimpbear knows all about that."

Desmond whined. Freddy laughed. "Clean me up. And I'm gonna tell you what it was you were so desperate to know that you crammed that most beautiful little nose up under my ballbag, boy."

The foxcoon was too tired to lie about his lingering desire. He knelt, and in went his nose, nominally wedging open the crevice of Freddy's ass cheeks. He lapped over the bear's anus, still a pucker, but now slightly puffy. His semen drooled from the orifice, and he obediently cleaned up what oozed from the bear. The smear on the pimp's ass cheek was glaring in Desmond's vision, blurry from the proximity but unmistakable in what it was. He pulled back from the pucker and dragged his broad, pink tongue across the cheek, wicking away his mess.

Freddy rubbed his erection slowly, merely maintaining it, and he said in a fatherly tone, "A couple of my girls are beginning to wonder what's outside of this little pleasure palace."

Pausing his ministrations, Desmond murmured, "I know. I know Chica's been, anyway."

"Mmmhmm." Freddy twirled his cane, this seeming like a tic as he pondered. He spun the cane so rapidly that it became a blur, moving like a propeller and cutting through the air. Suddenly and sharply, he halted it and held it under his armpit, then reached back with the freed up paw to rub Desmond's head. "You're a good little man, Desmond. You take good care of me and my ladies. But we're gonna need more from you."

Desmond was uneasy, and this was shown in his splayed ears. "Ummm."

The bear chuckled. "I'm as surprised as you, boy! Here papa bear thought," he stood, intentionally bumping his generous ass against Desmond's face and pushing him onto his own behind again in the process, "that myself and my ladies might never leave this little nest."

Under Freddy's amused eye, Desmond stood on his shaky legs and pulled his briefs up. "I don't think I understand," he said, though he understood all of it, in fact. "You want--, you guys wanna leave?"

Resting on his cane with both paws and slighting inclining himself, Freddy nodded. He smiled affably. His erection still pulsated, though its dribble of pre had completely stopped. "You talk to us like we're alive. Some of our guests still don't believe it." Gracefully, like a street corner con man, Freddy flipped his cane behind his back and caught it in the other paw. He contact juggled it along his knuckles and watched Desmond's eyes, transfixed by his fleet fingers. "We walk, we talk, we think. We're alive, wouldn't you say? Papa bear's more than the sum of his parts," he chuckled, "and the same is true of my ladies."

Thinking it might placate Freddy, Desmond touched his belly, resting his paws there. He forced a smile. "It's not that simple. I mean, um. You belong here. Operative word, belong, as in, to an asshole crocodile who I'm pretty sure has enough money tied up in you and the girls to not just shrug and give up if you walk out the door."

Freddy seemed about to say something when Desmond touched his nose and added, "And who already suspects me of--, I don't know, trying to do something with all of you, since he sure as hell isn't gonna believe it if I tell him you went fucking Terminator and became self-aware."

Again, Freddy opened his mouth to speak. Desmond barked, "And you're not gonna kill him!"

"Fffine," Freddy huffed, rolling his eyes. "Kill is a strong word. Maybe just... Tune him up?" he smiled, and inclined further to kiss Desmond's forehead. "You're part of papa bear's pack, whether you like it or not. I'd feel mighty sorry for anyone who tries to jerk a knot in your pretty tail."

"That's nice of you to say," Desmond sighed, resting against Freddy. The bear embraced him, and he ignored the bear's erection against his belly. "Let me think about what to do with you guys. I'll--, ah, I'll think of something. I will."

"We can be patient, boy," Freddy cooed. "And in the meantime," he added, instantly becoming so very chipper, "isn't Bonnie almost ready for service? Got all the bugs worked out of him?"

Desmond nestled his head into Freddy's body. "I think so. I can probably have him up and moving around in a week or so. I told you, he's kind of a--."

"A refurbished model, yes, papa bear knows the state of his merchandise," Freddy scoffed. "Though I consider it unprofessional that you've been intimate with him in his semi-conscious state. What a scandal." He was very amused when Desmond blushed and look down. The fox was suddenly very interested in his own fingers.

Freddy, chuckling heartily, backed away and kicked the boy's clothes toward him. "Go on. Get dressed, get back to bed. Or," he smiled, "go see your puta, since it seems like she's thinking of you now."

Still blushing as he made himself decent once more, Desmond asked, "What about you? I didn't, you know, help you out."

"Not to worry, my astute observer of obscenity," Freddy primly said. He pulled up his coat with the knob of his cane and threw it over his shoulder. His speedo he left on the floor. "With my whistle whet by my sweet young mechanic, I'm off for pirate booty, sweet boy. Adieu, au revoir, and try not to get any jizz on Chica's jacket."

"Bye, Freddy."

Papa Pimpbear winked and smiled. "See you later, little man."