Stanley Parable one-shots

Insane Narrator x Stanley 2/3

Stanley felt terrible, and that was putting it lightly, his head felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer and his ears were ringing as if someone had sounded an airhorn for 5 minutes. Not to mention the stroking on his forehead.

Wait, stroking?

Stanley flung his eyes open but couldn't see anything or get up, was he blindfolded? And why couldn't he move? Was he being strapped down by something?

"Finally awake Stanley?"

The man flinched at the murmur that spoke directly in his ear, what happened?

"I'm sorry about the scare sweetheart, but you needed to be taught a lesson"

SWEETHEART?! Stanley flinched when he felt a hand patting his head as if he was some kind of pet, mainly a dog.

"There, there Stanley, I know you must be worried about where you are, after all, you have never been anywhere besides your office have you?" the voice leaned closer to his ear and whispered in a soothing tone "well the answer is simple, your still in the building, I've just 'renovated' the inside, added a few extra decorations and it looks nothing like the old office building"

Stanley got even greener when the voice said 'decorations' and hoped it didn't have anything to do with dead bodies.

Weirdly enough, the voice seemed to understand "oh don't worry about that, they were just for show, these ones are more proper and somewhat boring decorations you would find in anyone's home"

The voice mumbled under his breath "honestly though they are just bodies, every good story has a few corpses in them"

Even if he had a voice, Stanley would not comment.

"Oh, and I'll set you free from the table soon, I've been given another job on a new game" there was a hint of excitement in the man's voice "wait no, I think I have some time before they need me, all right then"

Next thing Stanley knew he was removed from his bindings and lifted up bridal style as if he weighed nothing.

"I would also like to apologize for my rude comments about you being fat, ugly and really, really stupid" the voice murmured "I had to stick to the script otherwise they would kill me" he rubbed his nose in Stanley's hair "your perfect just the way you are, and you never have to worry about those other beings, I got rid of them, now nothing is keeping me away from you now, though you still need to be punished for disobeying me the last....500 plus times"

The only thing Stanley could hear was footsteps, so that didn't help his fear at all, the words made things even worse. And seriously? Had he really disobeyed the voice 500 plus times? Why did he not remember any of it?

"Not yet though Stanley, you are still recovering from your last punishment, besides, I have a job to do, so your punishments are happening afterward"

The sound of a metal door could be heard then Stanley was placed on something soft, and something soft was placed on top of him, was he in a bed?

"Now you stay in this room and rest Stanley, I have a job to go to, I'll be back soon"

He patted Stanley's head gently before turning around and exiting and closing Stanley's cell- I mean 'bedroom' door, locked it and then left.

Stanley lay there for an unknown amount of time, curling himself into a tight ball under the cold covers, even though the blankets were thick and could easily block out the cold.

My room? My backside he thought to himself, he was in a cell, a prison, that voice had trapped him here.

Stanley then decided to get out of bed as well as choose that moment to take off his, yep, it was a blind fold, then he looked around, he was slightly surprised to see a lamp turned on, on the otherside of the room, as he looked around some more his suspicions were confirmed, he was in a prison cell that looked like it could hold up to ten people, there was also some drawers (which had the lamp on top), and a toilet room with real walls, but with no door, at least Stanley would have some dignity and privacy if he ever needed to go.

It took a few seconds for everything and the realization to finally sink into Stanley's weak mind, he was trapped, his friends and co-workers were dead and he couldn't escape this place.

He was trapped.

Stanley began to freak out and ran to one of the sides of the cell and began to hit it with his palms, trying his best to be as loud as possible in the hope that someone would hear him.

He easily got tired since he wasn't used to exercising and promptly collapsed a minute later, sweating slightly as he tried to get his breath back before he limply thumped his head back against the cold bars in sadness and acceptance over the fact that he wasn't going to be escaping any time soon.

That immediately vanished when he feel face forward and slammed his face into the hard and cold tiles when said prison bars mysteriously disappeared.

Stanley laid there for a few seconds as he tried to process what had just happened, he checked his face and realised he had a small nose bleed and there was nothing he could use to clean it up, so he decided to leave it and cautiously stood up as if afraid to make a sound in case it set off a trap that only the voice would hear.

The only problem though, was that everything was still pitch black, he couldn't see anything other than the little lamplight from his cell, how could he escape if he couldn't see?

Maybe he should stay in the cell, at least then he would have some light, he certainly couldn't take it with him since there was a chance that if he was running away from something he would have to drop it and run blindly and possibly walk into something.

BAM!

Stanley let out a silent cry as he was blinded by a bright light, was he dead? No that couldn't be right, once he got adjusted to the new lighting and had blinked a few times, his mouth dropped like a cartoon character in shock and surprise.

There were walls all around him, they looked like they belonged in an old fashioned hospital (one from the victorion times), from what Stanley could see, considering they were so high he had to look up and possibly hurt his neck in the process, was that there were so many entrances that he simply stood there trying to process the whole thing as well as figure which entrance to try first, it wasn't until he started hearing some type of guitar (at least he thought it was a guitar), that he then decided to start moving, and by moving I mean escaping.

As if the music was filling him with dread and determination/confidence all at once, Stanley ran for the nearest opening, determined to get as far away from the voice as possible when he came back.