The Full Monty- Part 2 (Patreon)

Monty's too powerful to control- and that's just how he, and everyone else, is going to like it. Enjoy!

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Monty's plans for upgrades were nothing short of industrial in scale. With one of Fazbear's robot experts wrapped around his finger, and the CEO thoroughly under his thumb, Monty had nothing holding him back— and he had a lot of ideas, after he squeezed the CEO for all the information he needed. The gator had gotten the gist— Fazbear's corporate heads were getting nervous the pizzaplex was losing appeal and the 80's nostalgia wave was slowing to a tepid trickle, and they were looking to remodel. But Monty only had to back the "Big Guy" into a corner and "convince" him to let the remodel go the gator's way. 

"Hah, you were scared of that guy, little man?" Monty rumbled and chortled as Smith struggled to lift up the heavy machinery that the robot gator had demanded for his latest upgrades. "I just got him alone, and he crumbled."

"R-really?" Smith grunted as he set a heavy piece of hardware on the table. "What, uh— what'd you do?"

Monty let out a low rumble, bearing his fangs in a toothy grin as he closed in on Smith. After several upgrades, he was built— to some degree in a very literal sense— like a tank. The upgrades he had nagged and demanded from Smith made him unlike anything Fazbear had done, but Smith had managed to put in enough architecture to keep him standing upright— were it not for the green, scaled plating covering the mechanical monstrosity, Monty would've probably looked hellishly terrifying— but the gator was surprised at how artful the technician was at creating a body for him. 

The upgrades he had received when he first bent the CEO to his way of seeing things now paled in comparison to the way he was now; the floor trembled as he tested his new legs, each one packed with enough steel and horsepower to keep his monumental body up, encased in thigh muscles thick as tank treads. He let out a low growl as he flattened a steel table underfoot with little effort, the rest of the gator's body slowly revving to life. The vast array of machinery bringing him to life hissed under the pressure of an augmented musculature that was unfathomably gigantic; his arms billowed out to a spectacular size, that Smith might have fit comfortably in the bulging hill of his bicep, countered by a tricep packed with enough mass to outclass some cars. His chest heaved like a mighty furnace, the thick padding mimicking the architecture of a canyon, while his back sprawled out like an iron wall.

His face sat atop a mountain range of shoulder muscle— everything around Monty may as well have been made out of paper, for how easily he could tear through it all. He looked down to Smith, his eyes glowing red as he let out a deep chuckle, sending tremors across the floor as he backed the engineer into a corner. "You wanna know what I did to him?"

"I-I mean… ou-out of curiosity," Smith offered a nervous smile as Monty loomed over him, then winced as one of the gator's arms smashed through the wall right above his head. Monty's toothy grin widened as he leaned in, pinning the engineer down with his massive chest.

"I think I made a very well reasoned argument about how Fazbear needs to… expand its audience," Monty rumbled. "Y'all have been makin' us to play stupid little songs fer kids fer decades— and that's fine, that's fine. Let Freddy and the others tend to the kiddies. But I'm in fer a bigger clientele."

The gator pulled back, giving Smith room to breathe. "After I showed 'im what I was talkin' about, he was only too happy to let me keep pushin' forward." The gator reached for his new gear— a sleeveless leather jacket that stretched and creaked as it was pulled over his massive back, fastening a leather harness that only just managed to encircle the vast girth of his torso. A new, heavy belt girded his thick waist, with a silver buckle reading "BOSS" in large letters— black leather shorts straddled his hips, holding back a massive new piece of artillery that Smith had to design to Monty's exacting specifications.

"Y'all get it now, right? I'm built for real men to handle— I'm gonna take my show to a new audience, I'm gonna bend 'em over, and I'm gonna do things my way now."

The engineer cleared his throat to calm himself— this was going far beyond the parameters he had originally set out. "I— I don't understand. Monty, this… none of this was in your programming."

"Programming? Hah!" Monty let out a deep laugh. He curled his arm, gleaming red eyes flashing as he took in the immense power of his pumped up arm. "Y'all still don't get it, do ya? This… beautiful body you've built— and really, little guy, it's a beaut— It might be steel and wires, engines and pistons— but I'm more than just a buncha code. Always have been. I watched and I listened as I kept waiting for my chance to make a show that was all me— and then when your boss thought he could just put me back where I was? Some dumb swamp hick?" The gator snarled angrily. "No way— I had to act. Had to finally break free. Had to finally experience what it's like to be in complete control," He rumbled, gripping Smith's shoulder as he loomed over him again, pulling him up against the gator's massive body.

"Now, thanks to you, Little guy, I'm never gonna be tied down again. Now— to show my… gratitude… I still need someone to help me try out my new routine." He spun Smith around, gripping him by the chin. "Think you might be up to run a few more… endurance tests?"

Smith gaped up at the mass monster he had created, words caught in his throat before nodded dumbly. "Y-yes… Yes, sir."

"Sir? Hah!" Monty grabbed him again, one thick finger petting over Smith's head. "Aw, I knew I liked you. You're a smart one— and y'all can tell exactly who's running this show, now."