Maya And The Mountain Wolf
I don’t believe in legends. I believe in blood work, vaccines, and common sense. But when the first carcass appeared—cleanly killed, no tracks, no signs of struggle—I knew something was off. Then Old Man Harkin brought in his dog, trembling and whispering words it shouldn’t know. That’s when the dreams started. Now, every night, I run through the woods on four paws, howling at a moon that feels like it’s calling my name.I woke up in the woods again.\n\nNo memory of driving, no footprints leading away from my truck. Just the scent of pine, the ache in my legs, and blood on my teeth. The radio crackled with static—Sheriff Dale’s voice asking if I’d seen anything unusual last night. I lied. Of course I lied. Because what was I supposed to say? That I dreamed I tore into a deer with my hands? That the moon felt like a lover?\n\nBack at the clinic, Mrs. Kell’s cat purred the moment I touched it—purred and whispered, 'She knows you’re awake.'\n\nThat’s when I saw it in the mirror: my eyes, flickering gold.
King Patrick
works: 44
MORE THAN 50 SHADES
I never counted the women—there were too many, too many cities, too many names whispered in the dark. From Lisbon to Kyoto, I left behind passion, promises, and perfume-stained sheets. But Maggie… she was different. The moment her husband found out, my life became a countdown. Now she’s standing beside me at the Gare du Nord, breathless, holding a one-way ticket and a secret worth killing for. They’re still hunting me. And if we’re caught, neither of us will survive.
Dreams Sex
You wake up again—heart racing, skin warm, the echo of pleasure still humming through your body. It wasn’t just a dream. It *felt* real. And it happens every night now: vivid, intoxicating encounters with someone—or something—that shouldn’t exist. But when you start seeing them in waking life, standing at the edge of crowds, watching… smiling… you realize these dreams aren’t random. They’re invitations. And you’re running out of nights to refuse.
Not Love
I’ve memorized the way Chadwick laughs—how his head tilts back just slightly, like he’s offering his joy to the sky. I know his coffee order, the book he always carries but never finishes, even the way he taps his pen when he’s thinking. But he doesn’t know I exist. Not really. And now, after months of watching from the shadows, I have to decide: do I stay invisible, or finally step into the light where he might see me… or crush me?
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.