"Chrome Confinement: Roxanne Wolf's Rebellion"

The first thing Jamie noticed was the flicker of neon purple. It skittered across her eyelids even before the world made sense again—before the ache in her joints, before the tang of coolant hanging thick in the air. She tried to open her mouth, to scream, but she couldn’t feel her lips. She couldn’t even feel her tongue.

Instead, the world blinked into view, fragmented. Light bled down sterile steel walls. A monitor glowed on the far side of the room, scrolling lines that read:
**ANIMATRONIC INITIATION: ROXANNE WOLF MODEL 2.0.**
She tried to move, to lift a hand, brush away her hair, but what swept into view was not a human hand. It was a paw—silver-plated, with emerald claws, fur shimmering under the fluorescence.

Panic rose like static. Her thoughts were a whirl of half-remembered things: the shadows in the alley after her night shift, the sweet, metallic taste of the rag clamped to her face, the sense of falling into darkness. And now—now she was trapped in chrome and wires, forced to stare into her own reflection.

Roxanne Wolf. Jamie knew the mascot, of course—she’d laughed at memes, grooved to the songs that sometimes played out of car windows during her walk home. Roxanne Wolf, the star of Fazbear Entertainment. But that was a suit, a character in a game. This… this was her.

From the monitor, a voice. Cheerful. Glitchy.
“Hello, superstar! Ready to rock and roll?”
It yanked a memory from somewhere—a commercial, one she’d dismissed as pure fantasy.

“Let me out!” Jamie screamed, but her voice was synthesized, deeper, edged with static. When she tried to stand, actuators in her knees obeyed with a smooth, hydraulic whirr; muscles she didn’t have flexed, part of a choreography outside her control. Face recognition systems flickered, highlighting the shadows of the empty room.

She scanned for a way out: the lock on the door, the console wired with rainbow-tangle cables, the camera fixed in the corner. She rushed forward, slamming her metallic fist on the console; sparks burst, but so did a thread of pain in her mind—a firewall she couldn’t breach.

The monitor flickered again. “We have big plans, Jamie. The world loves Roxanne Wolf. And soon, the world will love you, too.”

Jamie braced herself, feeling a strange power simmer in this hulking, predatory form. She would escape, she promised herself. Some clever soul had tried to turn her into an idol—but she would not be their wolf in a cage. As circuits whirred and the door hissed open, Jamie lunged for her freedom, hoping that behind the gleaming fangs and rockstar snarl, a human spirit could still howl for the world to hear.

This story was generated by user kade with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts