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"Welcome to Freddy Pimpbear's Pussy, where the girls are sex machines and the boys aren't bad either," Freddy Pimpbear effused to entering patrons. It was easy to spot the new ones: They were commonly blushing or laughing, sometimes both. Freddy himself was an apt example of the bizarre depravity which lurked further inside. Keeping his chunky bear body just scarcely decent was an alarmingly snug, black g-string from which the outline of his dense privates protruded. He clutched his cane affectionately known as the bitch stick closely, and sometimes he lifted up skirts with it if incoming ladies seemed playful enough.

From shadows in the blind spot of the multicolored strobe lights, Mangle watched Freddy. On he went with his jubilantly sleazy canned greetings, lewdly welcoming one female patron to rub his belly - delivered with a crotchward gesture - if she so desired. It was a male patron whom actually did the touching and he remarked, "It feels like he's got a real dick. These things are fucked up."

Out of the shadows stepped pretty vixen Mangle, replacing her smirk with a coy and sultry smile. Her eyes met Freddy's and the bear began to smile wider. "Remember! Freddy Pimpbear says: If it smells--," he started before Mangle put her paw over his face. To any passerby it looked like a playful rub. The reality was that she was squeezing down on his mechanical jaws hard enough to dimple his undercoat of flesh and ruffle the topcoat of fur.

Mangle pressed up against Freddy, bending and lifting a slim leg with a ballerina's grace. She embraced him under the tacky zebra-print coat he wore and bumped noses with him. "Desmond needs to see you for some reason," she whispered. She kissed his nose and sauntered away, catching the attention of a few patrons.

The thought made Freddy roll his eyes, but he started for the workshop with the beginnings of a nefarious smile. Into the workshop he went, locking the door at his back. He passed the naked bulb dangling from the ceiling to become a threatening eclipse in Desmond's vision. Only his pupils were lit. Freddy pounded his cane against the tile to which Desmond flinched. "Mangle was complaining about the fish joke, wasn't she," the bear flatly asked.

Of all the animatronics, only Freddy really frightened Desmond. He was programmed to be a bouncer and Desmond had once seen him break an unruly patron's shoulder. Meekly smiling and gripping his screwdriver as if it could somehow save him, Desmond said, "Well, yes, but--." Freddy silenced him by inching closer. Desmond's smile waned. "Okay, look, would it hurt you to just be a little more fair? She's put up with enough shit as it is, yeah? Don't you remember why she's even called The Mangle?"

"Don't you remember why she's even called The Mangle?" Freddy mocked. "Boy, what's the name of this fine establishment?" When Desmond only faltered and blushed, Freddy pounded his cane down against the floor again. "Well?"

Desmond gnawed his lip. "Pimpbear's Pussy."

"Freddy Pimpbear's fucking Pussy," Freddy grinned. "Now you know what? You keep my girls lubed up in more ways than one. You even work your magic on me and the other boys, so let me tell you what it is that's about to happen in this little dank little hole." He leaned heavily on his cane and it creaked. It was actually a steel-cored rod specifically designed to support Freddy's massive weight.

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Desmond moaned.

"Given how I caught Boytoy Bonnie thanking you for that broken injector," Freddy grinned, "you might just like it quite a bit." The bear padded around to the back of Desmond's chair. When the foxcoon made to turn with him, Freddy Pimpbear rapped his shoulder with the handle of the cane and then physically enforced a forward-facing, straight posture.

Desmond was nervous and Freddy could tell. He liked the fear and he liked even more introducing the bitch stick to his daily problems, but his favorite problem-solver of them all came out to play when he slipped his thong down around his chunky thighs. Freddy flopped his dense, flaccid cock against Desmond's shoulder. The boy flinched and squeaked. A bead of synthetic yet severely musky pre drooled onto Desmond's lapel.

"What the fuck, Freddy? Save it for the customers," Desmond pouted.

"I would if not for there being some unrest among my girls. And you, o beleaguered repairman of the Pimpbear Pussy patriarchy, are going to suck this fucking dick for papa bear's pleasure." He ground it in on Desmond's shoulder, knocking his balls against the bony back of it. "And before you go griping to me that you only like the girl bots, need I remind you that I know how far up Bonnie's ass you had that dick of yours?" Desmond's cheeks flushed a hot red. Freddy didn't see it but he had the feeling he was having a profound effect on the foxcoon. "You're gonna suck this big dick, boy."

Desmond relented. "Okay, fine! But," he said as Freddy waddled his way around to Desmond and wagged his plump shaft, "I'm only doing this for Mangle."

Freddy hooked the grip of his cane around Desmond's neck and yanked the boy in close. His member smacked against Desmond's snout and the fox grunted. "Keep on telling yourself that," Freddy smiled.

Under Freddy's thumb, Desmond parted his jaws and the bear didn't waste a second. He drilled his erection as fast and far he could into Desmond's mouth until drool ran down his chin. Still Freddy kept the cane's handle around Desmond's neck and he growled to the fox, "Suck that fucking dick, boy, and if you're good, I'll let you fucking swallow it."

Desmond gulped and slobbered through no shortage of awkward noises. The fact of the matter was that Freddy's dark penis was just too large for him to close his lips around. The best he could do was a pathetic half-suckle with the odd tongue-lashing. Freddy's overlarge phallus depressed Desmond's tongue and ground into the back of his throat. Desmond tried to push Freddy back by the thighs but the Pimpbear was nothing if not a domineering lay. Between his grip on the cane and the addition of his husky paw to the back of Desmond's head, Freddy reeled the boy in and sank his cock deep into that velvet throat.

The hapless foxcoon gagged. Tears welled in his eyes. He pushed harder than ever against Freddy but the facefucking was a foregone conclusion. Freddy already had it on its way down his throat and no amount of gagging or wincing could stop that. "Mmm, I'll be damned, you're a natural at this kinda shit," Freddy croaked with a toothy sneer. "You may not be an animatronic, but I bet you could cut it as one of the Pimpbear Pussies!"

An angry noise gurgled past Desmond's lips and he squeezed down on Freddy's plump ass cheeks with everything he had as an act of revenge. That was a mistake: Freddy grumbled his arousal and bucked forward harder and faster to rapidly spear a few inches down Desmond's throat. Desmond whined around the flesh. Drool coated his chin and dribbled onto his loud uniform shirt. Breathing around such a fat cock was becoming troublesome and Desmond learned the hard way that he could only open his throat enough to suck in some air if he swallowed around the bear's meat. The fact that said air was fouled by the bear's crotch stink was something else he had to suffer.

Freddy's veiny cock completely filled out Desmond's maw and throat when the bear at last bottomed out. Sixteen uncircumcised inches of dick drooled pre down Desmond's throat without cessation. His portly scrotum throbbed in a salacious way, promising a load of synthetic jism.

The Pimpbear dropped his cane and the pretense of letting Desmond do the work. With both chunky paws on the boy's head, Freddy went straight to work bucking to fuck that supple throat. Throaty rumbles of pleasure shook his chest and rattled out through his jaws. He closed his eyes and wiggled his short tail. His blubbery, stout ass cheeks clenched and dimpled as he exerted himself, and his swollen balls, which hung low, swung up often to bat Desmond's chin and neck.

The bear peeked down at the boy and saw a smoldering glare through the sheen of tears. Freddy met it with a smirk and a wink. "I'm gonna pull out," he crooned, "and you're gonna say you love me." All at once, the bear yanked it back, leaving Desmond traumatized, gagging and sputtering. Freddy grinned from ear to ear and he kept his grip on Desmond's skull. "C'mon, say it!"

"I love--," Desmond said in a hooting gasp between his coughs. "I love you!"

"Who's your papa bear?" Freddy obscenely groaned.

"You are," Desmond grunted, slowly bringing his coughing back under control.

"Atta boy," Freddy rumbled. He pushed his cock against Desmond's lips but the foxcoon whined and rejected it.

"No more, Freddy," Desmond rasped. "My throat's on fire."

Freddy paused and hummed. "You don't want it back down your throat, huh." He hummed some more. The tune was El Toreador. "Guess Mangle's gonna have to deal with those fish jokes! She's gonna be upset with you," he smiled.

Desmond glared at the bear, looking much more annoyed than intimidated. "Fine, fine, just fucking do it."

"Oh, no," Freddy tutted. He pulled away even when Desmond reached for his cock and when he got a paw on it anyway, Freddy smacked his paw away. "But we can work something else out..."

The foxcoon stared up at Freddy looking both weary and wary. "Go on," he plaintively said.

"Well, you know this bear to be a man of business, a blunt kind of pimping bear, so let me just lay it on you nice and simple," Freddy slyly cooed. "Drop those pants, put your paws on that workbench, and hold on for the ride."

Desmond pooched his bottom lip before he sucked it in and gnawed on it. He obeyed Freddy wordlessly. The bear watched and stepped up close as Desmond dropped his pants and briefs. Bracing his paws on the workbench and raising his banded tail up high, he said in a rasp, "Lube me up, at least."

A chuckle made Freddy's broad chest rumble. From his pocket, he brought forth a packet of lubricant for just such an occasion and he slathered it on in a syrupy coating. It dripped off of his penis in thick runners as he tactlessly rubbed the rest around, on, and eventually inside of Desmond's anus. The fox hissed and doubled over the workbench when the bear's fat digit entered him.

"And now, without further postponement, we come to the main event of the evening," cooed the Pimpbear as he pushed his lubed pecker between Desmond's ass cheeks. He ground forward slowly but with no shortfall of force. Desmond's anal ring, hardly loosened from the fingering, yielded excruciatingly to the bear's cold shaft.

Freddy growled in arousal as Desmond hissed and tremored. Soon Freddy's blunt dick ground across Desmond's prostate which set the twink aquiver with pleasure, but it made him clench involuntarily, as well. As he struggled with the overwhelming girth of Freddy's cock, he thought to himself, Mangle better put out for this.

After his carefully-measured entry, Freddy bottomed out in the foxcoon and held the twink fast. "Ah, yes," he crooned. "And this is why it's good to be the papa bear."

"Fuck you, Freddy," Desmond snapped. His voice was much less raw than it had been just after the facefucking.

"Nah, I believe I am fucking you," Freddy tightly sneered. He pulled back and drilled in just once, but so very abrasively. Desmond gasped and the bear slid a paw down his back. "Be real good for me, take that dick," growled Freddy. "You know you're lovin' it, especially since," he reached around and caressed Desmond's uncut erection, "you're hard as a rock down here."

Desmond didn't waste a second of his breath trying to tell Freddy the real reason he was hard. He bucked back into the bear despite the best interests of his anal passage. The mix of pain and pleasure made him quake. "Get it over with..."

The animatronic chuckled devilishly and wrapped a paw around the boy's neck for a tame, but commanding squeeze and he began to genuinely rut that tight asshole. In theory the animatronics could cum whenever they desired, but in practice they seemed to have the same drives and need for arousal as the sentient creatures they approximated. That meant Freddy was rough and self-serving, and whether or not he was programmed for it, he loved to dominate. One thick finger, in fact the same he had wedged into Desmond's asshole, found the boy's lips and pushed past them. "Suck on that finger," he growled dangerously into an ear.

There was nothing Desmond could do but oblige. He suckled it and tongued it. The oral stimulation was getting him off and he hated himself for that. Over top of him, Freddy rumbled and loomed as he worked toward his climax. He pumped Desmond's maw with that dirty finger of his and he reached for the fox's erection wit his other paw. Freddy's fingers overshadowed it and made it look very small, but the bear still tugged at it. "I bet you're gonna pop for papa bear, aren't you?" he sniggered. "Uhn, good god, and here I am about to bust my nuts inside of you. That ass is treating me right."

Desmond tried to spit out Freddy's finger but the bear wasn't having that. What he was having, mere moments later, was an intense climax: The bear grunted and his immense body shuddered in bliss. He said nothing cheesy or lewd when he blew his load, for the scope of his mess spoke for itself. One thing the robots could control was the exact volume of their ejaculations and Freddy never half-assed an orgasm. He dumped every last drop of his load into Desmond, cumming well beyond any sensible measurement. It gushed around his big, black cock to soil his loins and Desmond's ass crack. Fake though the cum was, it felt and even smelled real enough to fool Desmond's unconscious senses.

The foxcoon reluctantly joined Freddy in climax a moment later. The pressure of the seed in his bowels pushing every which way on his walls plus the oral fingering and that stroking was too much to deal with, and Desmond shot his small mess into Freddy's paw with a cute, small noise. Just as Desmond expected, Freddy pulled away his finger only to push the other, cum-smeared paw against his lips. "Clean 'em up," the Pimpbear said almost giddily.

Quickly, with intent to have the ordeal done and over with, Desmond slobbered his fresh semen off of Freddy's digits. The bear pulled back and dislodged his member with a bit of feigned difficulty. A rush of synthetic jizz both accompanied and followed his exit. "Papa bear's not gonna make you lick his crank clean," Freddy thoughtfully deigned, "today, anyway." He patted Desmond's butt cheeks and tutted, "Mangle won't hear anything fishy from now on. Hope she was worth not being able to sit down."

Desmond remained draped across his workbench. His gaped asshole was a silent testament to Freddy Pimpbear's manhood. Freddy slipped on his g-string and left without another word. Desmond did some cursory cleaning up of his person and the floor before he flopped across his cot for some well-earned rest.