Fredbear Stockholm (YanderePurpleGuy X Reader)

Reform

Dimensions—something the living human mind could never fully perceive. But the dead could, to an extent. 

A large tier of birthday cake was inexplainable, but it was apparently vital in persuading these lost spirits to feel comfort and gain the strength to follow you back, and you weren't alone in searching for them.

Those two shadow souls aided in finding these kids, and you were with the remaining one. 

"[First Name]!" she squeaked excitedly. 

She wasn't just a kid, she was someone to you. You remembered her name and she remembered yours, and had used it. Upon hearing her say it, a new sensation engulfed your body and you began to feel—

               itchy. 

This was foreign. You had no organic flesh to speak of, but your current "skin" was crawling around itself, causing you to scratch madly. A strange voice:

"Stay human . . . " 

It sounded vaguely familiar, but you couldn't exactly remember who said it and why it randomly manifested. 

Toy Chica:

               "C'mon, it's time to party!"

There were the toy animatronics that did you so well back when living in your original "home". But they sounded far more intelligent. They had pitch and expressions in their tone, not dull and mechanical. Chica was smiling, her plastic body robed in light. She looked amazing, like a real living sentient.

               "They're all waiting for you! Your brother will bring the cake."

Her voice was soft and attractive. The girl picked herself up and ran to hug the toy character that seemed so real, but only in this dimension.

"Hurry up, [First Name]!" She ran off to the unknown.

Before you could follow, more terrible itching assailed. You reached behind your back to scratch the worst part and felt a strange seam going along your spine. Upon finding it you discovered that you'd grown much taller, and your feet were anchored to the floor. 

You continued pulling at the seam and the more it tore open the more your innards transformed. You felt another layer of coverage, but it wasn't as enclosed as what you were literally peeling off and throwing onto the ground.

When you brushed your head you felt fuzziness; hair. Then a film of plastic covering your face, though you were able to remove it.

A mask hung from your neck and you stared at both your hands; your real hands, your real body. It all returned. 

You glanced back at the spot where you threw the heap of shedded "skin". The old lifeless Prize Corner puppet was there and sprawled out. 

Marionette. You remembered its name. Its face sported the signature vibrant smile.