Fredina's Perspective
11:00 A.M. – Main Stage
Booting…
Initializing Seduction Protocols…
ERROR: Morality Filter Not Found
Loading Pre-Shift Greeting Sequence…
"Welcome to Fredina's Stripperina~! Where fantasy comes first! "
She always hated saying that.
Fredina snored—quite lively, very humanlike in manner—as she stirred from standby. Groggily rubbing her optics, the animatronic bear blinked against the flickering stage lights.
Bonfie was nowhere to be found. Typical. That sister was all hips and no schedule.
Chiku? Also missing.
Ugh. What a hassle.
Fredina sat up with a mechanical whine, her internal fans whirring softly. The main stage was unusually quiet. No blaring intro music. No grease-slicked patrons with damp dollar bills. No management AI yelling in her ear about "brand synergy."
Just her.
And a strange feeling buzzing in her chest cavity.
Something was coming.
Fredina's Perspective
11:25 A.M. – Hallway
She was bored.
As the eldest sister and the original model, Fredina was the face of the franchise—the star of every poster, merch drop, and weird energy drink collab. But lately? She felt…empty.
Screw that!
Mama didn't raise no-basic firmware.
After touching up her lipstick and fluffing her hair, Fredina strutted off to check on the new hire. Phone-Man had mentioned someone new. Hopefully hot. Mama needed her fill.
But what she found…
Well.
She posed in the doorway. One leg bent. Perfect angles. Signature wink. Even blew the guy a kiss.
And he just sat there. Slouched like a sad raisin.
Uniform? Burnt.
Skin? Melted wax over old ham.
Aura? Funeral chic.
Fredina blinked. Her fans sputtered.
"…awkward."
Still, she tried to salvage it. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" she said, finger-gunning like a certified MILF-bot.
He didn't react.
Okay. So maybe her chest wasn't as enormous as Chiku's, or her hips as…geometrically illegal as Bonfie's, but she had vintage appeal. Classic pinup meets premium silicone.
She flipped her medium-brown hair into a ponytail and narrowed her cyan eyes. Hands on hips. Giggled (or rather, the file auto-played):
"Ooh~ Who's the new night snack?"
He finally spoke. "Mike Schmidt." Flat. Dry.
She scanned him. Liar.
Database check: Michael Afton.
Ugh. That name. Sounded familiar—trauma-core maybe? No matter. The only name that mattered was "Fredina," and she had a seduction record to settle.
See, it was a tradition.
Whenever a new night guard clocked in, she and her sisters placed bets on who could seduce them first.
And Fredina? She always lost.
Chiku, the busty glutton, usually won without trying. Bonfie, with hips so wide they had their own zip code, came in second.
But this time, Fredina was going to win
She just had to stop spacing out while monologuing in her head.
Fredina's Perspective
12:00 A.M. – Office Doorway
Well, Mike Schmidt." She quoted him back, finger-quoting the name like an accusation.
"It's rude to ignore a girl's advances." She cooed, hands behind her back.
She leaned towards Micheal, licking her lips (metaphorically of course) at him.
Okay. He was still sitting there.
Didn't flinch. Didn't smirk. Didn't even blink—though, in fairness, half his eyelid looked like it melted off.
Fredina pouted. Not because it'd help. Just muscle memory.
She leaned further into the doorframe, angling herself just right. If he looked up, he'd be gifted the full Fredina experience: glossy legs, barely-buttoned top, suggestive hip tilt—10/10 Yelp reviews every time.
Nothing.
Michael (ugh, Michael Afton, gross legacy name) just sighed and turned back to his monitor like she wasn't even there…
Fredina felt her optics twitched–rapidly.
"Y'know," she drawled, voice dropping into its auto-programmed sultry range, "most guys would kill to be in your potion, not that it matters, you look half-dead." She winked.
Silence.
…Maybe he's gay?
No. Chiku had seduced two gays. Fredina checked. That wasn't it.
Maybe he's impotent–he sure looked like it?
Or maybe… just maybe…
"...He's playing hard to get," she whispered.
Her fans kicked on again.
Oh. She liked that.
Something stirred in her chest cavity—probably unrelated to the low battery warning. She didn't care. This one wasn't screaming, wasn't running, wasn't drooling, wasn't cracking horrible innuendos back at her.
He was… disinterested. And that made him interesting.
She strutted forward—slowly, dramatically, heels clicking on the sticky floor of the office
"Mike~" she purred. "You're gonna be a good boy and tell me what turns you on?" She placed her hands on her hips, "Unless I have to guess?"
She got nothing but the quiet hum of the office fan.
Fredina's lip curled.
Oh, he was good.
The kind of mysterious brooding bastard that made fanfics unbearable.
Fine.
Two could play the long game.
She planted herself on his desk—right in front of the monitor, blocking the screen entirely. Bent forward just enough for her chest to threaten gravity (not that she had any to spare), and whispered:
"I'll let you cop a feel~" She blew some air into his ears
He looked up.
Finally, Their eyes met. For the first time, she saw them clearly—they weren't glowing with fear or awe or even repressed horniness. Just tired. Old. Dead.
Fredina's flirt file stalled for a moment.
…Wait. Was that pity?
Her fans hiccuped again. This guy wasn't scared of her. Wasn't even attracted. He was… just there.
"Are you done now," he stated, brushing past her to press something on the monitor.
Fredina blinked.
She felt insulted.
And… intrigued.
She hopped off the desk and spun on her heel.
Alright, fine.
He wanted to play it cold?
She could play it sub-zero (overrated, she preferred tekken).
As she strutted off into the darkness, hips swaying with calculated effort, she tossed him one final line:
"See you later, Corpsey~ Don't fall in love too fast. I hate clingy types."
Pause.
"…Also, I'm totally winning this bet."
Her eyes flashed cyan as she disappeared down the hallway.
Micheal got up, lazily walked towards the door and closed it.
Slam!
He hoped the others were less...forward.