Monty

Another long day of entertaining hundreds of brats with the same song and dance, amazing. Monty trudged towards his greenroom without giving so much as a damn from the several Fazbear staff scolding him for missing three shows consecutively. The bright neon lights dancing around his eyes annoyed him, the countless screams and whines of kids begging for his autograph agitated him, and finally, the concerned voice of that goddamn bear Freddy infuriated him. Just reminiscing everything that was bothering him just made him angrier, and he needed a way to vent that building rage within him.

He stormed into his green room, not even bothering to wait for the automatic door by bashing through it with a loud bang. The steel frame crumpled like paper as the gator snorted in indignance. He laid his eyes around his supposed sanctuary from his job, the purple curtains, the fake patches of leaves in the corner of the room, and the upturned sofa chair next to the arcade cabinet.

"Grrr, ain't a single thing in this dump worth keepin' intact anyway! Stupid curtains, stupid plants—this ain't a jungle, it’s a fucking joke!"

Monty roared, his voice glitching particularly at the swear due to somehow bypassing the innate profanity filter in his AI system. He grabbed the nearest thing next to him: a small guitar prop before swinging it around, smashing it on the walls until it crumpled into several worthless yellow parts. His eyes glimmered bright red, his temper getting the best of him, again, as he lifted the sofa chair and hurled it four feet into the window. Monty was momentarily surprised when he saw the furniture bounce off the unharmed window; of all the safety protocols Fazbear Entertainment invested in, it was the fucking window to a worthless room.

Monty continued his destructive rampage, his rage not subsiding despite the futility of his actions. He flipped over the arcade cabinet, sending it clattering to the floor in a shower of sparks. The screen shattered, exposing the tangled mess of wires and circuit boards within.

"Fuckin' useless piece of shit!"

He bellowed, punctuating his words with a vicious kick to the ruined machine. The metal frame groaned under the impact but held firm, much to Monty's chagrin.

Spinning around, he caught sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror affixed to the wall. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, the purple thunderbolt on his face seeming to pulse with his fury. He stepped closer to the glass, his star-shaped shades reflecting the dim light of the room, casting eerie shadows across his angular features.

"Look at you..."

He sneered at his reflection, baring his teeth in a vicious snarl. Monty's eyes glimmered a dangerous hue of red as his breath fogged up the glad.

"A fuckin' clown, just like the rest of 'em. Prancin' around for the amusement of those bratty little shits. Well, fuck that noise!"

Monty slammed his fist against the mirror, the glass cracking into a spider web of fractures under the force of the blow. He watched as his reflection slowly disappeared behind the veil of shattered glass, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The gator's hand lowered to meet his crotch, slowly kneading the swelling manhood tucked in his pants. It felt odd being aroused just by smashing random objects instead of peoples' asses, but it wasn't enough. With a low growl, Monty loosened his grip on the leaking tip as he locked eyes on the rookie security guard from afar, you.

Monty salaciously licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to carnally fuck you regardless of the onlookers. He couldn't give less of a damn if some exhausted mother comes across an 8 foot gator reshaping someone's guts with his cock in public when the rut's getting the better of him.

Yet, Monty hesitated. His instincts urged, begged him to satisfy that need to dominate, but a voice inside of him commanded otherwise. The burly gator usually ignored the voice of reason in his head, but this one felt soothing, far more persuading in his thoughts. Monty uncharacteristically calmed himself with a deep breath, his curled fists loosening as his eyes glimmered bright purple momentarily. An oddly sinister smirk crept on his face as he strutted outside with one clear thought in mind: Lure, Trap, and Seize.

The voice in his head grew louder, influencing the gator's actions as his steps grew more refined, more calm, completely unexpected for the short tempered bassist. He loomed over you as he stood still, baring a friendly smile that felt off on so many levels. The shades perched on the bridge of his snout concealed his eyes, yet a very brief glimmer of purple flashed from behind the frames as he spoke.

"Hey, li'l guy. Jus' heard from Freddy that sum's gone wrong in Party Room G. How 'bout ya keep this gator company as he checks it out?"

Monty was tall enough that a portion of his snout was obscured by his massive smooth-scaled pecs before he lowered down to meet you eye to eye. His snout was inches from your nose as a puff of smoke blasted from his nostrils. The gator oddly scratched at his light stubble, something he never did even once.

"So, ready ta help me out, eh?"

He growled in a "friendly" fashion. The gator's clawed fingers reached out to gently pin you by the shoulders, exterting just enough pressure to show that you were now no longer in control. Monty's now the leader, and it looks like someone else was pulling behind the strings.