Chapter Text
Henry woke up in near-overwhelming pain. An ache in his body, a dull sting on his face, and a raw cock between his thighs.
Pain that meant he was alive. So, horribly alive. A worse pain ripped through his gut, something more emotional than everything else put together. A pang of longing and grief for what could have been.
He rolled over onto his back, with a groan and a few shuffles. This was his room, his sheets, smelling of two brands of body soap. He didn't remember driving home, only sharp nails gripping his legs, sharper teeth on his cock. He remembered crying into a well-worn shirt. He remembered the smell, an unhomely cologne, antiseptic, and pine.
He did not drive himself home.
He shot up and, slowly, silently, glanced to the side. A familiar lump lay next to him, wrapped up in their blankets. Legs pulled tight to her chest and hair spread on over her pillow. There was no moonlight to light her face.
With a shaky hand, he touched her shoulder.
"Mmh? Wha…" a familiar, sweet voice.
Henry let out a shaky breath. His breath hitched when he inhaled, as if he had just recovered from sobbing.
'Nothing,' Henry tried, but his throat only rasped with the effort. "Nothing," a bit louder, enough to get past his tightened throat.
"...Mm… 's Saturday?"
"Yeah,"
She pulled the covers a bit tighter, "Sleeepp …"
Henry nodded, though she couldn't see that– a quick pang of panic- Oh god- what did his face look like?
He patted her shoulder, and then carefully broke contact. As he reached over to his nightstand to steady himself, he, instead, blindly slapped something lightweight and plastic. It fell with a loud rattling clatter, and then a softer 'pat' as it hit the carpeted floor.
"Agh- What– what–" Her voice grew increasingly less mumbled.
"Don't worry-" Henry hurried. He winced as he bent over to scoop up the bottle. His hand wrapped around it to try to muffle the sound of pills rattling inside. Painkillers. Name-brand. Not the bottle from his cupboard.
"'S okay?" She asked, worried, but so comfy in bed, and still half asleep.
"Yeah. It's good. Don't worry." He hushed, keeping his voice as steady as he could. He kept it wrapped in his palm as he swung his legs off the bed.
He tiptoed to their shared drawer and set the bottle onto it as gently as possible, then pulled open his clothing drawer. He looked down at himself, nearly expecting his usual sleep not-wear. He already was dressed. At least partially. The clothes were unfamiliar at a glance.
He ran his hand along the unbuttoned seam of the shirt he was wearing. It didn't fit him well, it wasn't a pattern he'd wear, nor the material. It was soft. He bundled the front up and brought it above his chin. It smelled of oil and metal, not unfamiliar. But there was another smell, a sharp cologne, a musky sweat. Another sickly sweet rotting smell that reminded Henry of roadkill. On the next inhale, Henry could hardly get any air through his nostrils.
He looked down over the golden shirt, slightly sucking in his stomach. He was dressed in purple boxers. Thicker fabric compared to his own frayed, thin, grey boxers. He rubbed it between his fingers. He snapped the elastic. They didn't fit well either. The high-quality polymer mix felt like silk on his chubbing dick.
He pulled a fresh pair of loose fitting sweatpants and a slightly-too-long-without-a-wash jacket over the ill-fitting clothes. He scooped back up the pills and stuffed them in his jacket pocket, next to a crumpled receipt.
He fit himself through their barely cracked door. He slipped on his shoes, which where a foot away from their usual place. He left without a goodbye.
The world was gray, dusted with the first hints of the sun. The low clouds blocked any rays from shining through.
Was it too early to go to work? He didn't check the clock before he left. He was swerving right before he realized he'd changed his mind, bumping his tires on the curb(Though he was going fast enough to roll over it,) and into the surprisingly populated parking lot of Sparky's. Right– It was Saturday, but it was only just breaking 6.
He crookedly parked his truck, far away from any potential people to irritate. He swung out with his car door with the physics and attitude of a soddened towel. His spine and legs had suddenly given out on him. He managed to drag his legs out of the car, and plant his boots on the asphalt. He stared down at the floor in front of his shoes until he was stepping on checkered tile.
The waiter greeted him with a sharp inhale through their teeth, abandoning the familiar chime of a 'Welcome to Sparky's, what can I get you?' Instead, he was greeted with a mumbled, "Oh, Darling," And then a slightly louder, concerned, "Are you alright?"
"The Dog's— Yes." Henry stumbled over his thoughts. 'Yes– Why?' He wanted to add. He stole a glance at the waiter's face, their eyes just above his own, flicking to his cheek, then back above— Oh.
"Yes, I-I'm fine. Just took a little tumble." Henry forced out a little chuckle. Holy shit. All the blood seemed to drain from his head, and his legs, rushing to Somewhere Else. He hoped his face was ugly enough to keep all of the attention above-neck. His stomach gurgled with nausea more than hunger.
The employee nodded, giving a little smile, "Oh, yeah, must've been fun."
"... Yeah." Henry wheezed.
"So, The Dog's Bowl?"
"Yeah– Yeah. Uh— Over-hard eggs. And an orange juice. Please." He nodded curtly.
The waiter scribbled something short onto their notepad, with a drawn-out, "Got yaa… Take any seat you'd like, we'll bring your food shortly."
Henry's eyes shot to the floor again. He stumbled his way into a booth and hunched his head between his shoulders, avoiding any curious eyes. He hadn't seen his own face. How horribly disfigured he must be. He conjured up Painful images in his mind's eye (or maybe that was just the nasty pain between his furrowed brows). He reached for the napkin holder to attempt to blow his clogged nose. His entire face lit up with pain.
He slowly brought his hand to his face, pressing an inch above his nose. He brushed his middle finger against the twine of a suture. He rubbed his finger along it, his raw, bruised skin tugging easily with his twitchy motions. His skin was nearly loose on his face, the flesh that held him together ripped apart. He trailed the path of rough scar, across a smooth patch of flesh, then on raised, injured skin again down his left cheek. His other fingers followed, stretching out to follow each little path as they began to split off. He could twist his wrist and follow the path of the blades. Shredded.
The mark of the beast– No, of his own selfish, immoral desires. A failed attempt. A denial. A bright red X on his rotting trunk. Injury and sickness made apparent, and he'd be suffocated in the middle of the pack, despite his wishes. He was the perfect prey, and his entire being knew what he should become. He imagined William's hands, and his hard knuckles.
"One Dog's Bowl-
Henry jumped, his hands slapping down onto the edge of the table as if he was caught doing something Wrong. The waiter paused, Henry could not tear his eyes from the unvarnished wood. He did not lift his hands.
The plate- Not a bowl, not even a deep plate, nor dog-themed in any way besides the title- was slowly and gently slid in front of him, a nice ceramic sound on the rough surface.
"... And an orange juice," The waiter continued in a hushed voice, the glass was set down with an equally quiet clink.
"Need anything else, Mister?"
"No– I'm good, thank you." Henry shook his head.
"Have a nice meal."
He reached for his drink. His hand smeared red against the glass.
A layer of dried blood crackled and tore as he pressed his palms into his squeezed-shut eyes. His truck was quickly losing heat. The hiss of the engine, even after it had been shut off, had long since gone quiet. Any noise from the outside was muffled by his car doors and padded interior. He slid his hands down his face, pressing deeply against scabbing skin and tough stitches. He nearly wished they'd tear open, leak something more than a reddish clear fluid. Claw out his fat and skin until those metallic-tasting hands would slip into his mouth through his cheeks.
He finally opened his eyes. That friendly bear stared at him. The shining sign, polished, glowing unearthly in the morning fog.
Henry found himself sympathizing with the anglerfish's prey. Surely, that little lure would be a tantalizing treat, when they've experienced nothing but darkness and tasteless, unappetizing food. Surely, with their nearly-unused eyes, they could see the rows of piercing teeth behind it. Surely, they longed for it. Surely, they knew, or at least dreamed. Surely, they'd take any opportunity to fulfill their purpose.
That was where they belonged, after all. Deep in the gullet of a stronger, smarter, more well-adapted animal.
KNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK
Henry's heartrate skyrocketed. His hand went to his wheel, then his parking break, and then he finally had enough sense to turn his head towards his driver-side window.
Teeth. A wide grin, sharp canines, beautifully framed by deep dimples and a scraggly beard, and a cute little nose. Henry's mind was swirling. It hadn't stopped since last night. His head was going to burst.
His face squeezed itself shut, into a dramatic little pout. He pointed down– Henry's eyes followed his finger, nearly directly above his door lock, unlocked and red. William tilted his head, and bent his knees a bit to drop down. He continued to jab his finger at the unlocked door. Teasing him. He could just rip the door open, crawl inside, press Henry against the cramped interior of his car, and Take him any way he wanted. His purple tie hanging from his neck, unclipped, perfect to wrap around Henry's wrists. He wouldn't escape. No one else would be in this parking lot for at least an hour.
Oh– No– Wait. A dim lightbulb sparked in Henry's brain. He fumbled blindly at the door, until his fingers found the window button. William finally ceased his motions as it began to slide down.
"Finally! Took you long enough!" His hands were slipping inside as soon as they could fit, slightly leaning onto the window as if it would make it move faster.
Henry failed to find his voice. William didn't mind. He rested his arms on Henry's open window and stared at him. At his injuries.
"You're here early… Any particular reason?" He drawled.
Henry smacked his lips together a few times. William seemed happy to stare in silence at his embarrassing display of dumbness.
"Just– I would like to get started early. Didn't have anything else to do this morning."
"Is that so? Well, welcome aboard," He stood back with a little bounce, his arms spreading wide. His keychain, filled to the brim with unlabeled golden keys, tiny plastic toys of each of the main band, and a fur-and-flesh rabbit foot, spun on his finger.
Henry's gut twisted itself in knots. His legs were jello as he found himself floating out of his car, shutting the door and sticking his key inside to lock it, his eyes never leaving William.
"Awh, don't leave your window open, Henry, your car will get all wet and–Eugh," William teased, his voice wobbly with excitement. He let out a little laugh.
Henry turned around. "Oh. Yea—ah,"
Eyes on the back of his neck.
His joints locked up. Goosebumps cascaded down his arms and back. A horrible, terrifying feeling dripped down his legs like morphine. What a beautiful opportunity he'd presented.
His arms felt faint as he opened his car door, and reached in to shut the window. His usually loud door now muffled to near silence. He could hear William breathe. Sharp, wet. The faintest bit of wind slipped down the collar of his jacket.
The door shut, the key slid in, shifting it to lock it. Kill me. Kill me. Henry squeezed his eyes tight until he felt his scabs ripping apart. Kill me. Fuck me. Do something. Anything.
He craned his neck around, slowly. William's face twisted back into a friendly smile.
"There you go! Alriighht," William cheered, he tossed his keys up with a little flick and smoothly caught them.
Henry could hear the blood in his ears. He rubbed his nose into his jacket sleeve. He tried to make it obvious. Sniffling. His face hurt on the thick fabric.
William just stared. A second later, he was twirling on the ball of his foot, towards Freddy's.
"I don't have much I'd like to work on today– Well I do, Hah hah, but it's mostly general procedures and check-ups. Nothing new," William was striding towards the entrance as he talked, steps in a bit of a skipping pattern, long, short short, long, like a little dance. Fast enough that Henry felt the need to quickly shuffle up to him.
He continued without pause, "I'd like a progress check-up on everything you're up to. Budgets, especially. Keep everything up to date…"
The key slid into the lock without any teasing. William swung the door open, and his arm to welcome Henry inside. Henry shuffled into the dark building.
William let the door fall behind him, and continued striding towards the back of the building, "But uhhh, Not much else! I assume you'd like to stay, uhh, mostly behind closed curtains, For a few days at least, yeah?"
Henry's toe kicked into the carpet, sending him stumbling. William did not look over at him, instead, he slowly browsed his keys, facing toward the Employee Only door.
Henry could not find his words. The other man happily filled up the silence, "Oh, and Chica has a twitch in her right wrist. I need you to help her out at some point, between now and closing." The key slid into the hole, Henry watched his hands for any- Teasing.
William strode inside, letting the door shut heavily behind him. Henry stared at the space where he once stood. His ears were ringing, ruined anticipation.
Henry took half-a-step. Then he swung around and looked at the curtained stage. Surely it would be a quick fix– Another step forward. He needed to get his tools anyway. He shoved the door open just enough to squeeze through, turn right, and trail against the wall, heading towards the mechanic's office.
He was slammed into the brick wall.
The air squeezed out of his lungs in a silent gasp. He should have been expecting it, maybe his body was, tingling with adrenaline in his legs.
His forehead thudded against the wall. He tried to push back with his palms on the wall, before a chest pressed him back into place. The full force of an adult man, Henry's body was still aching and weak from last night. Henry needed to get away. He tried to side-step away, or bend his arms back to grab at the attacker. Arms wrapped around him, squeezing tight. Fabric shuffled against fabric— His keys fell from his pocket with a jangle, and then his other pocket was searched, and bloodied napkins were tugged out, and finally the pill bottles clattered to the floor. It rolled away with the same rattling sound.
"Did you tell her?" A hushed, hurried, voice demanded. Wirey hairs brushed against his ear. Layers of presentable behavior pulled back in an instant. A real monster was human in everything but his behavior. Henry had never wanted anything else more than this.
Henry's breath hitched.
"Did she even see you? No, of course not. Fuck, how long have you just been walking around looking like that? Did you go anywhere else?" His boss nearly sounded concerned. Mostly, he sounded irritated, that huffing, hissy, breathy voice he used in the back rooms, when a necessary mechanism completely broke, or when his dozenth prototype failed.
"--Sparky's-" Henry managed to gasp, despite the tightening grip on his hips, and the blockage of his nose.
"Shit. Do you know how much you could've messed– All of this up? You look like a bear mauled you– Fuck, Henry." Another level of shakiness, uncertainness in his voice. A violent, irrational man. A possessive man, Henry would love to believe, a hungry predator, and his perfect, favorite meal. Alone in this big building, early morning, a perfect time to make Henry pay for whatever transgression he had committed. Wasn't it?
Blunt enamel pressed into Henry's neck, William's lips pulled back in a snarl. He found himself tilting, exposing more of his skin for those teeth to scrape against. The arms tight around his waist were shaking. William was furious. More than Henry had ever seen him.
He roughly slid his fingers up his body, once, then dragged themselves across his torso. underneath his jacket, under his shirt, to touch bare skin. He slid his shaking fists up to Henry's ribs, and then clawed from his chest, across his stomach, down to his hips, fingers pressing as deep as his skin allowed. Henry moaned with fear and pain.
"I should have never pushed my luck with you. God– Henry, You–" Halfway through another sharp clawing, His hands paused.
He lifted his touch from his stomach, and instead to the shirt covering it. He pinched Henry's shirt underneath his thumb. then rubbed the fabric, with a much gentler motion than Henry was gifted.
The mustache left his neck, the pressure lessened, and instead William rested his chin on his shoulder. He pulled them both back, far enough away from the wall so that his hands could slip out from underneath his shirt, and make their way to the jacket's zipper. So close to his neck. He noted the faint shadow of blood underneath his nails. Henry's palms stayed flat against rocky brick.
zzziiip,
That golden, ill-fitting shirt was exposed.
His darker jacket was pushed away, out of view, enough so that William was free to rub his hands down his shirt. Nearly shining in the dim room. He prodded against Henry's shape underneath, feeling the meat on his bones and the pounding heart in his chest. He rubbed his palm against the fresh wounds until blood seeped through. Henry whimpered.
"Afton, h—"
His hands shot down, so fast, Henry jumped away from them (and into William's chest.) He hardly had time to even proccess the action, as his boss slipped into this pant's waistband and pushed them down to reveal those bright purple briefs.
Once his boss had enough of staring at his own clothes on his employee, he was squished up against the wall again. Their bodies were further sealed together, an added vigor flavoring William's actions. He let his weak arms hold himself up as William groped at his bulge, only one layer of fabric to hold them apart. So smooth, compared to his worn boxers from last night. William's hips pressed against his half-pantsed ass, a grinding motion to push them the rest of the way down. His work pants rubbed a rash on the exposed inch of his bare thighs.
"Oohh, I can't stay mad at you, can I?" William spoke with such a big smile, his strained lips kissed Henry's neck.
There was enough space left for Henry to respond. He didn't. He couldn't even think. He kept his neck open wide- He wondered if William could rip into him with just the strength of his jaw and sharpness of his teeth. Pressure against his ass– Henry's gut flooded with a previously untouched want. To be completely ripped into, totally owned, before he was destroyed. Every possible aspect of himself used to completion, until he was hardly worth being considered a person anymore. Without even really realizing it, Henry was pushing back against his boss's crotch.
"Oh," A near moan, "You were hardly recognizable beforehand… Oh, you don't have any friends, do you? Besides your lovely famil y… It'll be just fine. Maybe it'll be a bit hard to –… I'm going to have to spend some time scrubbing your records clean." He rolled his hips against Henry's for emphasis.
"Mmm… People wander off all the time… But, goodness, your body showing up in some– Dingy alleyway and you'll be all over the news. You've really made a mark on yourself," A hand slid up Henry's face, cupping his jaw and chin. His thumb jabbed into his scar. Henry let out a little whine, and the nail pressed down to scrape, nearly tearing apart the sutures he'd carefully put in place the night before.
"--God-"
"... They'll look into anyone who even dared to brush shoulders with you." William spat, the nail of his thumb pressing even deeper, scraping away the already ruined scabs. Then, he yanked Henry's head into a tilt. He stared at him from above.
"Natural causes… Hah," William mused to himself. He let Henry's head go, and dropped his grip to his hip.
His cock twitched within those silky fabric underwear. He blankly stared at the brick wall in front of him. Was this truly happening? Henry being welcomed into the plans of his own death, the coverup, the general process behind that monster's eyes. Had he killed before? He could nearly get off from just the thought. He shrunk underneath the other man's gaze, smaller and smaller.
"Oh you disgusting…" He trailed off, squeezing Henry's hardening cock even tighter. Another hard thrust.
"Ah– ah–" Henry's legs were shaking. His mind drifted to the pressure of William's arms on his clawed gut. His shirt rubbed into his wounds.
"Is this what you wanted? Fuck up my simple instructions, then make your ugly mug known to half the town– Sparky's, Really? You're not playing fair, Henry," William sighed, dramatic and whiny. "Maybe I was foolish to assumed you even wanted this– Maybe you just like the thrill, is that it? No care for what I want, for my safety," A rough squeeze, "No real danger… Oh, but look at you… What is happening in that beautiful brain of yours? Is this a game to you? Do you even understand me?"
Henry simply gaped his mouth opened like a true dumbass. A lot, a lot was going on in his brain. A lot. Swirling in his mind, completely to the brim, the drain blocked shut. He wanted the man to stomp his skull out. Let everything spill out through the cracks. He couldn't process his words, his sweet voice merging into nice noises, flavored with anger.
"Fucking–" William bit the inside of his cheek.
His dick was yanked up towards his stomach, Henry let out a horrible little noise. William snapped the boxer's waistband over the head of his dick, then tugged his pants up.
"No jeans…" William mildly scolded, instead tugging the strings of his sweatpants tighter, knotting them in a little bow. A bit too tight around his leaking cock.
William swung him around, Henry's back resting against the wall. He lifted his arms to rest on William's shoulders, appreciating how much of an angle his arms had to bend in. His boss's hands wandered around his waist- It was nearly romantic. He hardly noticed William tugging the golden shirt down. Then he began to zip up Henry's jacket. Henry's brain finally managed to peak through the fog of horniness. He was being redressed.
"Wait-"
"We have a job to do, Henry boy."
"But– Aren't we– Are we not–" Henry didn't have the words for this. His wife wasn't much for dirty talk, and their conversations barely breached the innuendo of 'want to have some fun later?' What was Henry supposed to say now? Aren't we supposed to have some fun? This wasn't fun, this wasn't play, this was the real deal. Training for the inevitable.
He decided he'd rather just make his intentions obvious, he didn't have the experience to do anything else. With a stranger, a boss, a man. They were already this far, wading up to their necks.
His hand shot down to his employer's crotch, and squeezed his bulge. It was soft, nearly squeezing through his his fingers. Henry only had a second to even think about why, before his forearm was squeezed tight.
"Oh, you nasty fucker." William said. Simply. An obvious fact. Nothing to react to. He pushed Henry's arm away.
"Sir. I can make it quick. Just–"
"Is this what you really want?"
Henry blinked. His brain helpfully reminded him of quick clean-ups of a younger version of himself. Strong, salty. William's nails dug into his arm. His brain reminded him the iron taste of nosebleeds, dizzy feelings, and near-crashes. His brain conjured up the adrenaline high, the faintness of blood loss, the closeness of a hairy, strong body.
"Hmm? We don't have all morning. We better get started soon, if you can make it quick."
"... No– It's not. Not exactly."
William's grin widened at that.
"Well, I guess we'll have to put it off… You can be patient, can't you? Maybe long enough for these-" His hand dropped his arm, and instead pinched Henry's scarring cheek, "Ugly things to heal over, hm?"
Henry squeezed his legs together. Impatience.
"If you think that would be… Optimal."
William chuckled.
He patted Henry's shoulder. He then reached a little further to the side. Click. The dim lights of the hallway nearly blinded him.
"See you later!" He was already strolling away when Henry opened his squinted eyes.
Art Based on the Previous chapter, as a treat for getting through this meandering chapter.