The Weight of Blood
I can feel it inside me now—the pulse beneath my ribs that isn’t mine. The Change is coming, and I don’t know if I’ll be human when it’s done. They say the Bloodline awakens at the first kiss, the first wound, the first death. Mine surged the moment I touched her, and now we’re both marked. The Elders want me caged. The Outcasts want me weaponized. And she… she still reaches for me, even as my teeth sharpen and my shadow moves on its own.My hands won’t stop shaking. Not from fear—though there’s plenty of that—but from the heat crawling under my skin, like fire in the veins. One kiss. That’s all it took. One breath against my lips and now my reflection flickers, pupils slitting in the mirror. I hear her outside the door, whispering my name, but I don’t know if I’m afraid she’ll come in… or afraid she won’t.
The air smells like copper and jasmine. My gums ache. Something is peeling beneath my skin, reshaping me cell by cell. She doesn’t understand what she’s done. None of us did. This isn’t puberty. It’s inheritance.
A knock. Soft. Urgent. 'Let me help you,' she says. But the last person who tried to help me ended up with their throat torn out by hands that weren’t theirs.
I can feel the Change pressing against my ribs, demanding release. I have three choices: open the door and risk bonding her to this nightmare, jump from the window and vanish into the night, or smash the vial of gene-suppressant on the sink and numb the fire before it consumes me.
King Patrick
works: 44
Gunners
I never wanted this ring. It’s heavy with lies, forged in blood, blessed by wolves in priest’s clothing. They called it peace. I call it a prison. Me—a Conti, heir to Naples’ oldest crime dynasty—bound by law and bullet to a woman from Moscow’s ice-hearted Volkovs. She looks at me like I murdered her family. Maybe I will. But right now, someone else is coming for us both. And if we don’t learn to trust the enemy across the bed… our bloodlines end in fire.
Soul Play
I sold my soul for a Stratocaster and a spotlight. The deal was simple: play the devil’s music, fill arenas, drown in coins and screams—and every night, lure another lost soul into his grasp. I didn’t think I’d still feel their weight in my chest. Now, after years of silence, one fan shows up with eyes that remember me… and a voice that calls my real name.
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.
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.