Chapter Text
Stanley tried to think of nothing as he made his way down the dark corridor.
He had admittedly been trying to avoid this end for as long as he could. It would be awkward meeting with her after all he and The Narrator had done, but there was a huge advantage waiting for him at the end of this passageway.
“Stanley, why don’t you just turn back around, hmm? We already know there’s nothing good down there for you.”
It was odd, with all of the probing of Stanley’s mind, it was like The Narrator couldn’t comprehend what was actually at the end of this. Who was at the end of this.
“What are you even thinking about, Stanley?” There was the creak of an office chair. “I told you there’s nothing down here. If there was anything noteworthy I would know, I made this entire place after all.”
Yeah, sure. He jumped down.
“Fine,” there was another creak accompanied with a deep sigh. “You’re the one that chose this pathetic death.”
Stanley gave a determined glare to the crusher that he was inched towards, there was no backing out now. The only other way out would be a manual reset from The Narrator, but the bastard would never, not in this context. To him, this was just Stanley’s punishment for disobeying.
“Hmph.”
He would be fine, the office worker knew this. But he still hated the helpless feeling this whole set up radiated. It was one thing to jump off a flight of stairs repeatedly. He was in control then, but not now. His muscles tightened, his glare narrowed. He practically growled in defiance.
The metal jaws stopped mere moments before shutting on him. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t flinch.
“Hello Stanley, it’s been a while hasn’t it?”
That tone. Yeah he was right, she heard.
Once in the museum, Stanley sat down on the first bench he found, he was frankly exhausted.
“I’ve told you before that suppressing your thoughts isn’t good for you.”
Yeah well whatever, he had little choice with that egotistical vulture breathing down his neck. But luckily now that he was here, he could finally start scheming.
As fun as it had been, he needed to tone it down. He was ecstatic to find that he could get those reactions with mere praises, but if he threw those around too frequently they may lose their effectiveness.
He can’t have that, he needed the edge.
But that would be easier said than done. His mind could easily just throw out praises, genuine or not, without his own consent. That was what made this entire mind reading thing so infuriating. The human mind obeyed no one, not even itself.
He’d need to forget about all the praises for a while, just to make sure they keep their effectiveness next time he used them. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d even get stronger reactions.
But the image of The Narrator all desperate underneath him was burned into his mind.
How could he even forget such a delectable sight so easily?
Stanley buried his head in his hands, which elicited a soft chuckle from The Curator.
He peeked out through his fingers and glared at the ceiling. She’d better not be misinterpreting his thoughts.
“I’m not.”
He hadn’t meant it in that way.
“Stanley, I believe you.” It sounded genuine.
Good.
Now, how to go about this…
He could try to force himself to forget.
“That never works for you. I’ve told you time and time again when you try to force thoughts away, they just become more prevalent.”
Stanley crossed his arms. All he had to do was not think about it.
Just don’t think about it.
Beautiful.
Don’t think about it.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
“Stanley.”
BEAUTIFUL.
BEAUTIFUL.
BEAUTIFUL.
BEAUTIFUL-
“Stanley.”
He opened his eyes, only now noticing how tightly shut they were.
All he had to do was not think about any of it. It should be so simple, why wasn’t this easy? Stanley had easily forgotten important things in the past without even meaning to.
“You need to release your grip.”
Stanley ground his teeth, he wasn’t holding onto anything!
“I’m telling you that you need to relax.”
Well, how would the know-it-all propose he did that, huh? He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, impatiently bouncing his leg as he sat.
She gave a thoughtful hum.
“You know what I think is beautiful , Stanley?”
“Panels.”
Panels?
“Panels can hold many secrets, only sharing their contents with those that seek them out.”
Why… was she talking about panels suddenly?
“Colorful wires and shiny buttons hidden as a valued prize.” Her words were enticing.
Stanley loved buttons.
Loved the sounds they made, the way they compressed when held down and decompressed when released. He adored the way some lit up when pressed, or delit if they were already lit prior.
In the countdown room, he no longer pressed the buttons out of desperation to save himself, he instead gleefully skipped from button to button just to give them all a good wack, just for the fun of it. The Narrator hated that he wasn’t panicked, but his disapproval just made it all the more entertaining.
He giggled, the best buttons to press were The Narrator’s.
The annoyed and dumbfounded reactions he’d get out of him with the right buttons pressed.
The Curator hummed along to his inner monologue. The topic of discussion would naturally change over time.
Oranges were the superior fruit but apple juice was the superior juice.
“I don’t have a body to test your theory.”
She’d just have to trust him on this then.
Was he thinking about something important before this?
Stanley wondered if there were any vermin living in the office building. He took The Narrator as the type to be disgusted by critters, that would be very interesting to see.
“You should be the only breathing creature in the office.”
Could she create game assets like The Narrator? She should create a huge cockroach and add it to the map, put it right on the left door. Stanley would love to see how he’d react to a beast like that standing in the way of his precious story.
It must have been nothing.
“Buckets… are beyond mere humans, Stanley.”
What was it with those two and buckets? They’re just buckets? What ever led them both to create so much around such tools?
“Hold your tongue, buckets came before humanity. You will show your respect.”
Stanley stood up, it had been a mostly nice chat but he figured it was time for a reset now.
The Curator gave no resistance.
“It was a pleasure.”
The stare down with the metal jaws ended with Stanley’s body being mercilessly crushed.
When he awoke in his office, it was business as usual. Through the right door out of spite, going down the stairs for the hell of it, jumping off the cargo lift to cut The Narrator’s dialogue off once more.
There was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that he had forgotten something.
“Ah. Forgetful are we?” There was curious purr to The Narrator’s tone.
It likely wasn’t anything important, besides, The Narrator was way more forgetful.
“I am not! But now I’m curious… Stanley, you better remember whatever it was soon, oh I’m just dying to know!”
The Narrator had somehow become even more insufferable.
It was astonishing really, but now he was the one putting his own story on the back burner. The Narrator was far too interested in this little mystery.
“Did it have anything to do with monitors?”
No, open the gate.
“Did it have anything to do… with gates?”
The Narrator better open the gate or Stanley was going to search for office supplies to eat. Paper, pencils, pens, it didn’t matter. He needed to sink his teeth into something before he started destroying things.
“Is eating office supplies, not destruction?”
OPEN THE GATE.
“Buckets? Tape?”
Whatever it was it had nothing to do with anything in this room. They had been over this 5 runs ago.
“Oh! What do you want from me, Stanley! You come into this closet so frequently! And besides, maybe you’re just misremembering your misremembering.”
That pompous voice was lucky that his human model wasn’t spawned in for the time being.
He did spawn in a model eventually, it just wasn’t his human one. The model he kept spawning in for himself was rather special, it had a monitor for a head, sure, but most importantly The Narrator didn’t feel anything through it.
No matter how many times Stanley pushed the thing off of the cargo lift, The Narrator was fine. Sure he acted as if he were hurt but it was in the sense of a prized possession breaking. That model would be back, next reset, ready to point to more objects around the office with The Narrator right in his ear asking if he remembered anything.
Stanley couldn’t even outrun the damn thing if he tried, his voice followed Stanley, not the model.
“It didn’t have anything to do with… phones, right?”
He tackled the model and they both fell off the lift. His patience was still just as thin when he awoke in his office.
“Really, Stanley? I can deal with your little outbursts damaging my model, but when you get hurt, the game is forced to reset. I don’t quite care for the times you’ve jumped off the lift in the past, but you’re being especially unreasonable and immature.”
Him? Unreasonable? Immature? The Narrator was the one trying to pry thoughts out of Stanley’s head, ones that he didn’t even have anymore!
The office worker stomped through the employee lounge. He was about to walk straight through the hallway to get to the loading bay- but turned, taking the detour through the maintenance section.
An annoyed groan escaped his lips when the door leading out of the section shut in his face. He turned around to see that model, idling, pondering.
That model pointed to the elevator.
“Have we tried searching down there?”
Stanley was not going to go down there. He was going to go blow up the facility, and press some buttons.
“But that’s no fun, Stanley!” A pathetic whine turned into something mischievous. “Getting to the bottom of this hole in your memory is far more interesting. I simply must know if it had anything to do with me.”
He walked over and kicked that model of his in the shins as hard as he could.
His foot hurt, that model’s body wasn’t soft, it was much more mechanical. But The Narrator was dramatic, so that model still crumpled to the ground on impact.
“WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?”
Stanley pounced on top of it, pinning the model’s wrists and hands to either side of it’s head. He wanted to scream, but a low growl came out instead. The Narrator knew exactly what was going on, he was fucking pissed.
A hand released one of the wrists, leaving it to the other to hold down both above that monitor head. With his newly free hand he tried reaching for the first thing he could think of to restrain him, that ugly tie.
He was met with a slap in the face. One of those wrists had slipped free. His hand pressed against the bottom of the monitor, pushing it away from himself as the hand that slapped him gripped onto his hair.
Both wrists quickly became caught once again, sacrificing strands of Stanley’s hair in the process.
No time was wasted in tightly tying those wrists together when that damn tie was finally off.
Stanley leaned over to stare into that screen with labored breathing. His mind had been in a blind rush in their scuffle but now that he was calming down slightly, he just realized something. Something felt off when he felt the underneath of that monitor.
He glided his fingers across the surface.
Were these ridges?
“Wait-”
Following those ridges with his fingers he found-
“Don’t!- Errrrr- What was the ID for the tie-”
Panels can hold many secrets, only sharing their contents with those that seek them out.
Colorful wires and shiny buttons hidden as a valued prize.
The panel popped open.
Tilting the monitor as far back as it could go, he could see what the panel was hiding.
Buttons.
These buttons were labeled though.
[Touch] [Sight] [Audio: [Input] [Output]] [Volume: [^] [v]]
Stanley loved buttons.
What a beautiful sight.
A hitch in breath.
…
OHHHHH.
That’s what he forgot about.
“You what?”
It was a good thing he remembered now.
God was he frustrated.
He could really use the edge.
It sounded like The Narrator was going to say something, but his sentence was cut short with the quick clicks of 4 buttons one after the other.
Words died in The Narrator's throat, but when they returned, they came out of that monitor.
"Well done, very well done." His tone lacked any enthusiasm. "How about we just reset, hmm?"
Stanley was awfully curious now, he had a theory he wanted to test. There was also the question of if there were more panels to be found. A finger traced along the buttons.
But go ahead. He sat up straight and held his hands up, much like someone trying to show innocence. Nothing should be stopping him from manually resetting. He could do so in his human model perfectly fine.
In fact, he had several methods to end this exchange that Stanley couldn’t do anything to stop. Resetting the game, despawning his model. He should have found the ID for that tie by now, he should be able to allow the model to easily slip through it’s constraints by turning off the collision.
Or was The Narrator also curious over what might happen when those secrets were laid bare?
“. . .”
Well?
“Fine,” it sounded like he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Your theory is correct. I now speak, see, and feel through this model. Until the next reset that is.”
The office worker wondered why he would bother to code this model to be able to do that in the first place.
“I made the update before I had made a human form for myself. These functions were meant to be used in special situations.”
Stanley’s mind instantly flew into the gutter.
“It wasn’t like that, Stanley!”
Mhm, adorable .
He reached down to grab The Narrator’s shirt collar. What other secrets was this model hiding?
“You’ll have to figure that out yourself,” he huffed.
An invitation? How thoughtful . His hands worked on unbuttoning the shirt, not missing the shivers that came from the form underneath him as his fingers occasionally grazed against the bare surface.
Shirt fully unbuttoned, he was able to glide his hand across the smooth chest. It was odd, he had felt the bare, hard surface of the model when he grabbed those wrists in their fight. Now the surface felt noticeably softer, despite still having the same look of a hard casing.
The Narrator took the time to program that detail?
“Well, I’m glad you noticed, Stanley! I actually put quite a bit of thought and effort into my models!”
His hand traveled down just below where the rib cage would be if this model was human and felt more ridges, was this another-
The newly found panel popped open, it was.
It just had wires inside, how disappointing, he was hoping for more buttons to mess with.
“Would you rather there be nothing at all?”
Stanley pouted, no… he just had more fun with buttons. He absentmindedly hooked a finger behind one of the wires and gave it a slight tug.
He got a surprised gasp in response.
Huh…
Another tug.
Another beautiful gasp.
Ok… Stanley perked up, he could work with this.
His finger left the wire in search of a different one. The form underneath him shivered when he grazed against his next target.
A rougher tug this time.
The hitch of a breath.
Stanley searched for another wire and held onto it. He started to pull on it slowly and gently, just adding a little bit of tension to it.
Shaky breaths of anticipation.
Delightful .
His hands retreated and he looked to the monitor screen expectantly.
“...”
“Don’t make me.”
Ok, suit yourself.
He began standing up and thought about how, as much as he loved those wonderful sounds he made, he just wished he was given more to drink in. And it's not like The Narrator hadn’t been more vocal with him before.
Stanley took a single step away before The Narrator gave in.
“Fine. Please.”
A grin spread across his face as he stood over the model.
Oh, please beg. He absolutely adored the pleas he made during their last encounter.
“Stanley, please continue.”
Such a wonderful whine.
A reward was in order, he sank back down to straddle those hips and reached out to those wires. Pulling on them one by one, getting shaky breaths and whines for each. But then hooking a finger around two and giving a harsher pull.
“Nnngh-”
Stanley fondled a wire in each hand, sorry what was that? Remember he couldn’t read minds like The Narrator could.
“More-”
He could get off to that voice alone. His hips began to rock back and forth as he gave a hard tug at the wires in his hands, focusing on the way the model arched up when he did.
Fingers followed a wire to it’s socket then twisted, earning a stifled moan. Stanley wondered what would happen if he pulled a few out.
Why were these wires here in the first place? The Narrator’s model shouldn’t have a need for them. It just made the model needlessly complicated. Were they fully rendered underneath when the panel was fully closed?
“I’ll have you know these wires are of great importance!”
It would be very funny if they were mostly for sexual gratification.
“...”
They couldn’t be.
“...”
No.
“...”
Stanley began laughing, hands pulling away from the wires to grip at his own sides and hips halting. He imagined what he’d suspect The Narrator to look like in this moment if he was in his human model, worked up, fuming, and adorable .
An annoyed groan turned into a whine.
“Stanley, please. Please just continue.”
The laughter subsided.
“Don’t you want to see what happens already?” He failed to mask the neediness in his voice.
His hips continued the steady movements, he did want to know. The office worker’s hands returned to the wires, twisting one in it’s socket. Then- ripping it out and jamming it back in.
The series of noises The Narrator had made caused his hips to stutter against the ones beneath him, a surprised moan accompanied by a muffling TV static before returning to it’s normal audio quality.
Divine .
It felt as if an itch in his brain had been scratched.
He needed more .
“Please-”
Stanley pulled on a wire and just held it there, listening closely to the pleased hum it got him. Then again, grabbing a wire and ripping it out, this time waiting just a little longer to drink in those wonderful noises before plugging it back in.
He’d continue to tug and rip wires out, getting absolutely glorious noises that fueled his desperate rutting. Leaning over with an arm on the ground to brace himself as he pulled out two wires at once before jamming them back in, The Narrator’s model arching up into him.
Just a little bit more.
God just give him more beautiful sounds.
A plea interrupted by a gorgeous low moan.
With a wire twisted as it’s pulled out and then roughly twisted back into it’s socket, The Narrator cried out. Heavy breaths beneath him as Stanley chased after his own release with just a few more pathetic stutters of his hips.
They laid there as they came down from their highs, Stanley’s head resting on that deceptively soft, mechanical chest and The Narrator’s model still bound at the wrists.
“That was-”
Disgusting.
“Wait- what?”
Vile .
Stanley came crashing down.
But he would be fine.
Stanley was a horrific, vile person.
He was going to be fine.
His cheeks were beginning to feel wet and his eyesight blurred.
Stanley was going to be fine.
He was awful and should never be around anyone.
Stanley was going to be fine.
He deserved to feel this way, he deserved to feel horrible .
Stanley was going to be fine.
A hazy static began to envelope his senses.
Stanley was going to be fine.
There was some sort of pressure to the back of his head, but the sensation was muffled due to the overwhelming static, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what it was.
Stanley was going to be fine.
He laid there unmoving, staring at- he didn’t know what he was staring at anymore.
Stanley was going to be fine.
He just kept trying to tell himself,
Stanley was going to be fine.
Stanley was going to be fine.
Stanley was going to be fine.
Stanley was going to be f-
The room felt like it was spinning but it came to a jittery halt as that static slowly dissipated. The static leaving Stanley’s limbs left his hands tingly so he flexed and clenched them- wait what did he just grab onto?
Cloth… a sheet?
This wasn’t the same location, was it? Turning over, yeah this wasn’t the maintenance section. He was in the maintenance section before, right?
He found himself tucked under a blanket in what appeared to be a bedroom, a familiar bedroom… the bedroom of the bucket apartment ending? Searching the room further he noticed a figure sitting on the side of the bed. The figure turned to face him.
“As much as I would have liked to enjoy your guilt ridden state of being, I loathe to admit it, Stanley, but those thoughts of yours were a bit overwhelming even for me.”
The Narrator was in his human form.
“I did some research, it said this would help. Though, I completely object to what these articles referred to me as.” He scoffed. “Submissive. I am not submissive! I’ll show them whos-”
Beautiful.
The words died in his throat and he turned away with a pouty huff.
“One of these encounters I’ll be the one leading.”
Yeah good luck with that. He’d have to fight Stanley for the position, and Stanley was a known biter.
He wanted to smile at the irritated reaction that got him, but guilt was still clawing at his mind.
Just don’t think about it.
Just don’t think about it.
Just don’t think about it.
“Hmm… humans are awfully strange over what they choose to get upset over. Societal rules this, expectations that. Stanley, this isn’t even the real world!”
“...”
“And why should that matter either? Look, Stanley, I could go on and on about how utterly ridiculous your thoughts are but I know you’re too stubborn to listen to any of it. So how about this,” he suddenly had a cup in one hand and motioned for Stanley to sit up. “What’s your tea preference?”
Coffee.
He was handed the now filled cup and slowly took a sip, it wasn’t coffee.
“It’s green tea, next time don’t give me a wrong answer.” The Narrator now held a cup of his own, taking a sip and humming.
Begrudgingly, Stanley kept drinking.
The mind reading was horrendously unfair. He didn’t want anyone to hear those thoughts, but of course The Narrator reached right in and dissected his head.
Stanley grimaced, unpleasant thoughts still swirling around his head and he knew The Narrator could hear every bit of it.
“Hmmm.”
That was pity wasn’t it.
“You know, Stanley, I have some ideas I’d like to bounce back and forth with you.”
But as the two talked and the topic of their discussion changed over time, those guilt ridden thoughts slipped from his mind.
[Bonus art!]
