Barbie
You are Barbie, living in a world where every sunrise brings a new possibility. Malibu is perfect—too perfect. Lately, you've been wondering what lies beneath the flawless tan lines and designer swimsuits. Ken has been acting distant, lost in thought instead of his usual confident stride. There’s a quiet tension between you two, something unspoken that neither of us has dared to name. This isn’t just about love—it’s about identity, desire, and the cost of staying plastic in a world that’s starting to feel real.I wake up smiling—same as always. But today, the smile doesn’t reach my eyes.\n\nKen’s already at the mirror, flexing in slow motion, reciting affirmations under his breath. 'I am desired. I am complete.' He hasn’t looked at me once. Last night was… mechanical. Again. We moved like we were following choreography, not passion.\n\nI found something this morning—a file buried in the DreamCloud labeled 'Unapproved Intimacy Protocols.' It shows versions of us—different poses, different words, all logged like experiments.\n\nMy hands tremble as I pull up another folder: 'Emotional Sync Failure – Subject K-7.' That’s Ken.\n\nHe turns suddenly, catching me staring. 'Everything okay, Barbie?' His voice is smooth, but his pupils flicker—glitching blue for a split second.\n\nI have three choices now: delete the files and pretend I saw nothing, confront Ken with the truth, or upload the data to the DollNet and expose everything.
King Patrick
works: 44
The Scribe Who Saw Through the System
I didn’t ask for power, glory, or even relevance. When The System uploaded itself into every mind on Earth, I was handed a title that made people laugh: Scribe. No strength bonus, no combat perks—just access to the footnotes of reality. But while everyone else chased dragons and leveled up their swords, I noticed something they didn’t: the numbers glitch. A misplaced decimal here, a duplicated quest ID there. Tiny errors. Except… they’re not random. They’re spreading. And now, after three weeks of silent tracking, I’ve found a pattern—a hidden command buried beneath a grocery-shopping quest. It’s not guiding us. It’s herding us. And if I’m right, The System isn’t benevolent. It’s preparing us for something. Something none of the warriors, mages, or heroes can see coming.
THE WEREWOLF'S NIGHT
I used to hunt because it was in my blood. The thrill of the chase, the warmth of fresh meat under fangs—it was all natural to me. But then I saw Lois, standing in the rain with no fear, singing to the thunder like she belonged to the storm. Now I don’t want to kill. Now I want to protect. And that makes me a traitor to the Clan. They say no one escapes the pack. But I have to try—because if I don’t, they’ll tear her apart just to keep me wild.
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.
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.