First, I don't own FNAF. Second, this story is very gruesome and horrible. Third, Henry is Phone Guy and William is Purple Guy, and both co-founded Freddy's. Fourth, this is based on the 'Silver Eyes' storyline, sort of.
DAY ONE
It had been a regular day at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, the Toys were singing on stage as always, the children screaming happily as always, Henry was on the phone as always, William was doubled over in pain as always- Wait a minute.
"F-Fuck," you could hear William hiss as he hobbled over to the employees' restroom. "No not n-now, c'mon…" He went into the first stall and closing the door behind him, not fully able to stand up straight for the pain in his lower regions. Trying to ignore said pain, he hastily undid his pants and let them slide to the floor; he noted there was thankfully no stain on said pants. William sat on the toilet, roughly pulling off his once white boxers. "SHIT-!"
A deep red blotch of blood covered his poor underwear, fresher blood dripping into the toilet. William gripped tightly onto the sides of the toilet, eyes screwing shut at the tight flares of death resounding up the nerves of his vital regions. His jaw clenched, knuckles turning white, breaths coming out in short hisses as to not let himself scream. That specific bout of pain began to reside, the purple man gulping it down and taking a deep breath before cursing loudly. He was not prepared for this.
After cleaning himself up as best he could, William staggered over to Henry's office as quickly as he could, before any more of a mess could happen while he was still inside the establishment. He ran a hand through his violet hair in an attempt to look presentable, and then simply barged in. "Henry I've got to go home," William huffed, gripping the wall. Henry stared at him blankly.
"But-"
"It's an emergency," William stressed, nearly hissing at his partner. Henry arched an eyebrow, but let him go anyway, not wanting any sort of emergency going down in his restaurant.
"Fine, go home then." And William had never been so thankful.
DAY TWO
It was a Tuesday, and thank god William didn't have to perform on Tuesdays. He had to on Wednesday, which would be horrible, but not on Tuesday. Tuesday was safe, he reassured himself, no one would find out. Perhaps he had started acting a little strangely, already having devoured two of Chica's prized pepperoni pizzas and three glasses of soda, but he sometimes binged on regular days so it wasn't that suspicious. Maybe. "Chica!" William yelled for the chicken animatronic to come back; she quickly strutted over. "Get me another pizza," he ground out, voice nearly sounding as if he was in pain.
"Are you sure that's safe for your health-?" William glared at her and growled, earning himself a mechanical squeak from the chicken. "Right away sir!" She quickly disappeared into the kitchen, odd whirring sound coming from inside of her; William rolled his eyes and laid his arms on the table. He stared lazily at the checkered table pattern, discomfort in his lower regions making him groggy. Maybe he'd eaten too much… He lowered his head, gazing at his stomach. Was he getting fat? Perhaps he was, all this binging wasn't any good for him. But it would be a disaster if he tried to work out with his… Condition. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, startling him and causing him to snap up; a rush of blood leaked out of him. He bit his lip hard, clutching his stomach and waiting for the rush to pass before looking at who had tapped him. "Your pizza is ready," Chica 'said', still whirring with her head cocked to the side; she eventually shrugged it off. "Enjoy!" Without a second thought, she left to go help some other customer. William glared at the hot pizza and groaned, forcing himself to take a slice.
A few minutes later he found himself in the restroom, painfully lurching up the contents of his large stomach. Everything smelled and the intense nausea made his head swim; his hand almost slipped off the toilet as he heaved again, but he caught himself as best he could. When he thought he was done, William curled up into a ball on the floor and moaned.
Today was not going to be a good day.
DAY THREE
William was going to murder someone. The children were loud and the costume was hot and he was icky with sweat and the blood pooling in his underwear and he knew with chilling certainty that he was going to snap and murder someone. Nothing ever went right for him anyway, why shouldn't others suffer too? Huh? Why shouldn't they? It was only fair; at least, that was William's thought process as he glowered at the crowd of children through the eyes of his spring-lock suit. He'd already chosen out which of the children were the most obnoxious, yes, those would die first. He almost laughed to himself, though a sudden movement like that would be catastrophic for him, so he didn't. He just had to get those children off their guard, make sure their parents weren't watching… William circled the group of partygoers like a predator, waiting for the chance to pounce on their prey. When he approached the Prize Corner he gave the Puppet the middle finger, not caring if anyone saw. No one would care anyway; it was now time.
As happily as he could he led the five obnoxious children to an abandoned party room, then locked them inside. He'd already prepped this room earlier: it had a table to sit only a few with a large delicious-looking cake on top, the knife used to cut the cake the sharpest one in the kitchen. The children all sat at the table, eyeing the cake hungrily; William stepped carefully out of the suit and began to cut out slices of cake, smiling as happily as he could. It was when they were almost done eating that the purple man began to use the knife for terrible terrible things.
DAY FOUR
Despite it being rather empty at Freddy's that Thursday, Henry was as busy as ever. The Toys had malfunctioned yesterday and the Marionette was acting up, there was a huge party to prepare for tomorrow, and for some reason William absolutely refused to work on that 'missing children' case that popped up overnight. Overall not a good day; at least William had volunteered to deal with the darned Puppet but honestly he always did that so whatever. Though, William himself seemed to be acting strangely: he was literally talking to the puppet-thing with this sort of subdued giddiness and he'd been taking way too many bathroom breaks this past week. Henry didn't have much time to dwell on that though, so he let the purple man do what he wanted.
"You know already, don't you?" William's seemingly happy question had an edge of terror in it. He stared at the Marionette with a confused mix of glee and anger, said puppet-thing glaring back with that smile still on its face. William leaned in closer to the Puppet apprehensively, hints of guilt evident in his deep purple eyes. Yes, he was definitely a mess right now; the intensity of his mood swing yesterday had cost a few children their lives. William really didn't want to think about that, so he focused on the skinny animatronic that faced him. As long as he stared the Marionette wouldn't go around "acting up" as Henry had described it, though unfortunately, as long as he stared Mari wouldn't say a word either. "Huh? You don't wanna talk about it, you chicken?"
The Marionette's glare intensified, and it ever so slowly slunk back into its box. William scrutinized it every second, up until its black fingers disappeared under the lid; out of habit he shot the box another middle finger.
DAY FIVE
It was Friday and they were short on a certain Toy Bonnie, which Henry was trying vehemently to fix before the party started. Though it seemed no matter how hard he tried, the animatronic would keep repeating the word 'help' over and over and over; since the party was to be starting in five minutes or so, he told William to suit up.
Thankfully for William his, uh, condition was almost over, so he was thinking sort of rationally again. He made sure he didn't accidentally get anyone killed this time (especially himself, that Spring Bonnie suit was prone to having fits). It was 6:00 PM, the party had started, and after a few breathing exercises William was ready.
Not.
About half an hour into the party, the Mangle started glitching out, lashing at the children and letting out a loud static noise. William did his best to ignore it, assisting the children and letting their guard for the day handle the problem. Henry was still in the back room with Toy Bonnie, so he couldn't see what was going on. Hopefully Jeremy would be able to get the Mangle under control.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Seemingly everyone in the restaurant whipped their heads around to the scream, finding the Mangle's jaws latched onto Jeremy's head, teeth sinking in as blood squirted out. Henry hastily barged out of the back room to see what all the commotion was, gaping and running over to the Kid's Cove as fast as he could.
Now, when William heard the scream he'd flinched and snapped over so hard that the Spring Bonnie suit began to not agree with him. He'd honestly thought it was a really bad cramp at first, but after a few clicks and snaps two metal rods slammed into the back of his head and he began to think otherwise. Thankfully (?), no one payed much mind to him as he tried to stagger away, not being able to scream because a spring-lock had severed his vocal chords from his brain. Though when Henry looked around wildly for his stocky partner's help and he saw deep red staining the fabric of the Bonnie suit, he gaped more and let out a frustrated yell. At least an ambulance was on its way already because of the other accident that was happening right behind him.
Let's just say that Freddy's was going to be closed indefinitely now; first missing children, then the Bite of '87, then William getting nearly brutally killed by his golden death trap, gosh, it was just too much for poor Henry.
DAY SIX
So, William and Jeremy were hospitalized as quickly as they could have been. Jeremy had scrambled out of the clutches of death, with only a missing frontal lobe to tell the tale, and William well…
William had turned out to be in a coma, and paralyzed for a while, and very skinny, and scarred everywhere, but the important part is that he was alive. Barely. At least in the end no one had found out that he impossibly got periods even though he was a guy.
THE END.
Don't tell me I didn't warn you about how gruesome this story was. It was supposed to be really funny but then took a super dark turn... Also, yes, this is totally an accurate description of a period, and no, this is not an accurate description of male anatomy. The story is based off a comment on the remastered version of "I'm The Purple Guy", which was something along the lines of:
""My body is ready", "the bloodshed on the walls inside of me"... So, Purple Guy is on his period?"
This comment which was the one that had me cracking up for ages. So there.
~EpicFroggz