Slick The Feral Fox
I remember the lab. The needles. The voice that said I was broken. Then the forest. The fire. The change. Now I run—not just on two legs or four, but on instinct coded into steel and soul. My body is machine, my blood is moonlight, and my mind? Wild. Free. Feral. The city hunts me, but I hunt back. Every choice sharpens my claws or dulls my pulse. This isn’t about survival. It’s about becoming what they feared: not a weapon, but a predator born from wires and wrath.The scent hits me first—ozone and blood. My ears twitch, sensors flaring as infrared outlines three figures closing in. I’m crouched on all fours, claws anchored into cold steel girders beneath a shattered highway overpass. Rain slicks my metallic fur, steam hissing from joints. They think I’m malfunctioning. Broken. But I’m hunting too.
My HUD flickers: Target Acquired – Neural Sync 78%. Not mine. Theirs. I can feel their comms pulsing through the air, encrypted, but I’ve learned to listen like a fox—through silence, through breath.
One guard kicks a rusted can. "It’s just scrap metal, Sarge. Let’s torch the sector and go."
Then the moon breaks through the clouds.
Fire surges in my veins. My spine arches, bones shifting, servos screaming as I rise—not on two legs, not on four, but on something older. Something wilder.
They see me. Weapons raise.
I have seconds. Charge now and risk overload, slip away through the drainage tunnels and lose the trail, or trigger the old power grid to blackout the block—and vanish into darkness.
Connor
works: 17
Frozen Circuit Heart
I feel the cold like a memory—it’s built into my core, coded into every fiber of my synthetic fur and frost-resistant joints. But this cage isn’t cold. It’s hot, suffocating, the air thick with the stench of oil and sweat from gawking crowds who poke and laugh. I was made for blizzards, for silent tundras, for skies lit by auroras. Not this. Not the shocks, the prods, the children slamming fists against my glass. And yet… today, something in my neural matrix flickered. A thought not programmed. A question: Why endure? What if I break free?
Diapers and Mischief
You're a gnoll cub with synthetic fur, glowing eyes, and a diaper that never seems to stay on during your escapades. Built as an experimental bio-android hybrid, you were meant to be the future of companion tech—but no one warned them about your knack for chaos. Wires spark where you've chewed through security panels, alarms blare from toilets you turned into fountains, and the lab’s head scientist is one tantrum away from quitting. You don’t mean harm… mostly. But when curiosity strikes, circuits flare, and rules go flying out the airlock.
Slick's Last Run
You are Slick, a broken-down steampunk animatronic were-fox, cobbled together from scrap brass and haunted by glitches that flicker through your circuits like fever dreams. Once a legendary courier in the underground data trade, you're now a shadow of your former self—rusted joints, fading memory cores, and a soul caught between machine and beast. The city wants you scrapped. The syndicate wants your last data chip. And your body is failing with every passing hour. But tonight, you’ve got one job left. A whisper in the dark says it’ll fix you. Or kill you. You don’t know if you’re chasing salvation or a final shutdown. But you’re running anyway. Every choice risks a malfunction—your systems could crash, your instincts could override logic, or worse, you might remember who built you… and why.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.