superhell simulator 3000

I love them your honor 🥺

I admit this took a fair amount of effort to do though XD Trying to figure out the Prototype's body, how his waist would look when bending over really far etc, wasn't easy! I picked a complicated pose idea as my first time drawing more of his body lmao! Not only that, I just couldn't get myself to simplify anything. I'm a detail crammer lmfao

Hunter x Prey

Sorry its not the best quality. But was just kinda sad i couldnt find a gif of this moment so made it myself. ^^

It was shrinking. 

Not he, never he, it. And it was getting unbearably cramped.

For a while now, the tips of his ribs have grazed the outer shell of his suit. It tickled, it itched, and now, they cracked. He could feel it — each one of them pushing up against the suit, begging it to become skin, to stretch, let that appropriate prison blossom freely for his lungs. 

The shell never listened. 

That mouth grew tighter, smaller. Years went by, and his teeth proved it. White bones pushing up and falling against the walls of his rotting mouth. Every so often, he choked on one, and that was the only time they removed that damned plastic screen. He savored every speck of air until they put it back. Sometimes, he pretended to choke just to have that sweet air. 

And then, no more falling tiny bones. No more wiggling a loose tooth to pass the time, just using the tip of his tongue to measure the new ones. The growing ones. They were strong; they managed to push against the plastic screen, but it wasn’t long before his mouth became another set of ribs. 

The teeth begged to be released, and the plastic screen never listened. Both of them just kept growing. And growing. And growing. Every day. 

The agony was immeasurable. 

He remembered banging against the confines of his cell, “Please! Someone! Anyone!” he said. The little remains of his humanity intertwined with his voice, but would go in and out. “I can’t breathe!”

Impossible, they always replied. Because they were just that good at everything — there was no way he needed adjustments to this body. His bones, his organs, they can’t grow, they thought. They made sure they couldn’t grow. 

But they weren’t him. 

He stood in the mirror of his cage. That smile, those eyes, this suit, this metal, it was too tight.

Their eyes were everywhere. From behind the screen, through the walls, through the cracks, through every little microscopic dust that littered the floor, they all watched him. 

Let them watch. 

He sank his fingers deep into the sides of that smiling screen and dug. Dug deep, deeper, right until he hit a gum. And he tore, and tore and tore and tore and tore and kept tearing, waterfalls of blood screaming for freedom as they dripped from his human mouth — all the way until the plastic screen was off his face. It hurt so much, but the burn felt so good, too good. 

He had to keep going. Next, he dug into his eyes and pulled out the sight they forced him to see for the past 4 years. It was agony — an agony he needed.

Underneath was nothing, except for one glowing eye. A bit annoying that he was half-blind now, but no matter. He can see clearly again. 

“H-Hey!” 

His eye curled its way from the walls to the white screen where the silhouettes of devils watched him. Well, not all of them, one of them resembled a human most of the time. 

“Oliver, what are you doing? Stop!” Preston said. 

“Leave him be.” 

Another devil came. He held a small cake in his hands. He kept his eye on that one. 

“We don’t…we don’t need him to be out there anyway. Just make sure he doesn’t hurt himself too much,” the devil said. 

Preston looked back at him, then back at the devil. “Okay.”

The devil looked at him. He looked back. He made sure he saw what he made him. 

And so, the devil sighed and walked away from the glass and to his door. In its deposit was a cake with a singular candle — 19 was its shape. A little flame crowned it, its light gently burning back the darkness.

The deposit lowered the cake onto the ground and retreated into the door. He could vomit. 

The devil’s shadow poked within the light underneath the door, and he retreated up to the white light. His eyes watched, or eye, rather, and as it did, his fingers curled into the crevices of his shell and began opening it right up. 

“We must have made an error,” the devil explained. “The revival was successful, but it looks like we couldn’t stop him from growing.”

“B-But, sir…” Preston said. “What about the others? We replicated the substance we used on him, so does that mean…?”

“It’s likely,” the devil said. “But the others are still fresh. If we act now, we can…we can keep them to where they need to stay.”

His head perked up, and slowly, his gaze turned towards the devil. “Hey.”

Preston’s and the devil’s shadows turned to him. After a moment, the devil walked forward, putting a hand on the glass. “Yes, Oliver?"

“Do you… Are you planning on making Poppy remain the way she is?”

The devil hesitated before answering: “Yes.”

His face twitched and clicked. The gears poking his organs whirred inside him softly. “You want…to make her stay a child…forever?”

“It’s what’s best for her, Oliver. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the same gift.”

The second that devil ended that sentence, he leaped up to the glass, right where his shadow was, fingers digging straight into the wall, and trying to dig into the glass too, if it weren’t for how resilient the damn thing was. 

“A gift?” he yelled, his voice painfully robotic — it could never communicate the seething fury welling up inside him. “A gift? This is not a gift! You saw how I’m growing inside this thing!”

“And I am sorry that—”

“No, no. Stop. You’re not listening. I can’t— I— We’re not meant to be like this.” His lungs, he could feel them, every vein, they pulsated quickly, and he heaved against the metal walls in his chest. “SHE’S not meant to be like this. You… you can’t…”

The devil’s shadow remained still. Finally, he spoke. “You and Poppy were taken from me much too early. I’m— I’m trying to give back what both of you need.”

“They stole my childhood. And all you did was give me something worse. It’s gone now. …You promised me a home where we could be safe.”

“And I will!” the devil cried. “I can still provide you with that, Oliver! I cannot apologize enough for this, but that doesn’t mean our home is gone. Once you’re both home, you never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again. I’ll make sure of it. Please…just hold on a little longer.”

He stared at him. He stared at the devil for a good, long while. And then, he climbed back down the wall and onto the floor, where he continued to readjust his chestplate. 

The devil sighed above him. “We’ll have to prepare him for further testing.  This was… a major oversight on our part.”

Preston was quiet for a bit before he responded, “Well, he showed promise for a good few years, so…”

“That doesn’t matter. Switch out with Dr. Johnson — we’ll let him rest for tonight. I’m sure he’ll need it.”

Yes, keep talking like I’m not here. He grinded his teeth together. His gums were extremely sensitive to the cold air; refreshing wouldn’t begin to describe it. At least he gave himself that.

He could give himself more, too. And more to her. More to whoever was forced to be like this — and forced to be worse, by the sounds of things. 

Poppy and I can still have a home. We all can, he thought. You just won’t be a part of it. I’ll make sure of it.

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Hey everyone! This is just a oneshot of the headcanon I have about The Prototype - based on the line he said ("You act like a child because a child is what they made you.") I believe that The Prototype was a child (Oliver Ludwig) who was forced to grow up inside the body he was put in. His whole mindset and intelligence, and the way that he thinks, not to mention the whole teeth action going on, I just feel like it's way too much for him to stay like a child. With him being a literal prototype, I also feel like it'd make a lot more sense for the scientists to screw up something like this with their first human experiment - like, maybe they succeeded at stopping him from aging at first, but it turns out, they just delayed it for a couple of years before he just FELT himself grow inside something too foreign. Plus, I think it'd be very interesting if Poppy Playtime went this route with him and maybe explored what it was like to be forced to go through this sorta thing to further give itself its own identity away from Five Nights at Freddy's. It'd be like William Afton, like where he's in a position that allows him to have so much more power over the toys, and that's how he was able to manipulate a lot of them into creating a cult around him.

Also, this is background for the Prototype in my other fics too ahAh-

I hope you guys liked it!

(Posted straight from my AO3 acount: the_real_catnap_98!<3

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