"Shifting Shadows: The Genetic Legacy Project"
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Let me start by saying I used to be normal, at least as normal as any nineteen-year-old college dropout can be. Before the facility, before the chase—the scales, the hunger—the nightmares. My name’s Ethan. Now, I’m a Spinosaurus. Yes, really. You want the beginning? I’ll try, but no guarantee it won’t sound insane.
***
It started on a thunderstorm night. Lightning forked the sky as I trudged home from the library, rain beating against my hoodie. The white van passed slowly, chilling my chest. When I woke, there were voices and cold steel pressing against my wrist. My eyes flickered open in a sterile cell.
"You’re Dreamer-17," someone intoned through a speaker as static buzzed overhead. "Subject for the Genetic Legacy Project."
I wasn’t alone for long. My cell door slid away and two guys were tossed in. Jason—beard, math nerd, wry smile. And Lila—despite the name, Lila’s as genderfluid as floodwater, keen eyes already scanning the walls for escape routes.
"Guessing you guys failed to pay library fines too?" Jason cracked.
They drugged us, and the dreams started. Some days I'd wake hungry. Other days, I remembered nothing but gnashing teeth, ripple of muscle under scaly skin, and the scent of ancient swamps. Over days—or weeks?—it got worse.
One night, I woke—except I wasn’t Ethan anymore. My arms had stretched into powerful forelimbs. My tail pressed against cold metal. I was enormous—a monster. Somewhere across the corridor, Jason shrieked, but the voice was pitched and guttural. Through observation glass, I could barely make out a feathery raptor shape bouncing against the wall—him, I realized.
That was the night I crashed through my wall. Fury rose in the animal part of my mind—the spinosaurus. I roared, throaty and ancient, and the world trembled.
Blood adrenaline. Memories smudged between dinosaur and man.
***
We escaped together. The facility—wardens, scientists, all scrambling—stood no chance against a half-raptor, a triceratops (Lila, who’d changed while I was smashing down corridors), and a two-ton nightmare with a sail down its back.
Hiding came after. Shrinking back to human was difficult, like squeezing an ocean through a straw, but eventually, after much trial and error—and a few accidental tail lashes—I managed it, panting on the forest floor in a shredded hospital gown.
"We’re alive," Jason whispered. He stared at his claws, now fingers. "Alive, but…what the hell did they do to us?"
"Think of it as an upgrade," Lila muttered, running a palm over a length of new-grown horn at their brow. "Or a curse."
***
We foraged, careful, at first in the woods, then in abandoned cabins. It wasn’t long before we realized the changes weren’t stopping. Triggered by adrenaline or desperation, the shifts came easier. Sometimes I wanted it—the strength, the power. To be the apex. Sometimes I just wanted my old life back.
The facility sent people after us, but try capturing a twelve-meter, four-ton apex predator in Michigan backwoods. Good luck.
I learned fast: don’t shift inside a building unless you like fixing walls. Fish tastes better as a spinosaurus. Lila, in their triceratops form, made a mean living battering through obstacles with horns. Jason’s raptor—fast, clever, almost comically energetic—handled all the sneaker work.
It felt reckless, running wild at midnight in monstrous skin, but we kept ahead of the facility. Each of us addicted, in our own way, to what we’d become.
But with each transformation, the animal mind called stronger.
***
Now I sit at the edge of a river, dawn painting the sky, water steaming off my scaled muzzle. I’m neither fully Ethan nor Spinosaurus, half-dreaming between two worlds.
Jason’s watching from behind a tree, fingers drumming restlessly. Lila sits cross-legged on a boulder, serene, their eyes reflecting sunlight—prey and predator flickering behind their human glint.
"We won’t be safe forever," Lila says softly, as if reading my mind. "But we’re freer than ever before."
There’s a shriek overhead—an eagle, not a pterosaur, though sometimes I wish. I close my eyes, feel the cold, sweet rush of ancient power in my blood. I remember the cage, still, but I try to remember freedom more.
We are not monsters—not just monsters. We’re survivors. Friends. Family.
We are what we are—neither wholly human, nor wholly dinosaur—but maybe, just maybe, something better.
And as my reflection ripples in the water, with the sail of my other life rising behind me, I allow myself, just for an instant, to smile.
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
Prompt: Write me a moderately long story about a person and his friends who can turn into dinosaurs at will after being kidnapped by a facility with him being a spinosaurus from first person
Response: Let me start by saying I used to be normal, at least as normal as any nineteen-year-old college dropout can be. Before the facility, before the chase—the scales, the hunger—the nightmares. My name’s Ethan. Now, I’m a Spinosaurus. Yes, really. You want the beginning? I’ll try, but no guarantee it won’t sound insane. *** It started on a thunderstorm night. Lightning forked the sky as I trudged home from the library, rain beating against my hoodie. The white van passed slowly, chilling my chest. When I woke, there were voices and cold steel pressing against my wrist. My eyes flickered open in a sterile cell. "You’re Dreamer-17," someone intoned through a speaker as static buzzed overhead. "Subject for the Genetic Legacy Project." I wasn’t alone for long. My cell door slid away and two guys were tossed in. Jason—beard, math nerd, wry smile. And Lila—despite the name, Lila’s as genderfluid as floodwater, keen eyes already scanning the walls for escape routes. "Guessing you guys failed to pay library fines too?" Jason cracked. They drugged us, and the dreams started. Some days I'd wake hungry. Other days, I remembered nothing but gnashing teeth, ripple of muscle under scaly skin, and the scent of ancient swamps. Over days—or weeks?—it got worse. One night, I woke—except I wasn’t Ethan anymore. My arms had stretched into powerful forelimbs. My tail pressed against cold metal. I was enormous—a monster. Somewhere across the corridor, Jason shrieked, but the voice was pitched and guttural. Through observation glass, I could barely make out a feathery raptor shape bouncing against the wall—him, I realized. That was the night I crashed through my wall. Fury rose in the animal part of my mind—the spinosaurus. I roared, throaty and ancient, and the world trembled. Blood adrenaline. Memories smudged between dinosaur and man. *** We escaped together. The facility—wardens, scientists, all scrambling—stood no chance against a half-raptor, a triceratops (Lila, who’d changed while I was smashing down corridors), and a two-ton nightmare with a sail down its back. Hiding came after. Shrinking back to human was difficult, like squeezing an ocean through a straw, but eventually, after much trial and error—and a few accidental tail lashes—I managed it, panting on the forest floor in a shredded hospital gown. "We’re alive," Jason whispered. He stared at his claws, now fingers. "Alive, but…what the hell did they do to us?" "Think of it as an upgrade," Lila muttered, running a palm over a length of new-grown horn at their brow. "Or a curse." *** We foraged, careful, at first in the woods, then in abandoned cabins. It wasn’t long before we realized the changes weren’t stopping. Triggered by adrenaline or desperation, the shifts came easier. Sometimes I wanted it—the strength, the power. To be the apex. Sometimes I just wanted my old life back. The facility sent people after us, but try capturing a twelve-meter, four-ton apex predator in Michigan backwoods. Good luck. I learned fast: don’t shift inside a building unless you like fixing walls. Fish tastes better as a spinosaurus. Lila, in their triceratops form, made a mean living battering through obstacles with horns. Jason’s raptor—fast, clever, almost comically energetic—handled all the sneaker work. It felt reckless, running wild at midnight in monstrous skin, but we kept ahead of the facility. Each of us addicted, in our own way, to what we’d become. But with each transformation, the animal mind called stronger. *** Now I sit at the edge of a river, dawn painting the sky, water steaming off my scaled muzzle. I’m neither fully Ethan nor Spinosaurus, half-dreaming between two worlds. Jason’s watching from behind a tree, fingers drumming restlessly. Lila sits cross-legged on a boulder, serene, their eyes reflecting sunlight—prey and predator flickering behind their human glint. "We won’t be safe forever," Lila says softly, as if reading my mind. "But we’re freer than ever before." There’s a shriek overhead—an eagle, not a pterosaur, though sometimes I wish. I close my eyes, feel the cold, sweet rush of ancient power in my blood. I remember the cage, still, but I try to remember freedom more. We are not monsters—not just monsters. We’re survivors. Friends. Family. We are what we are—neither wholly human, nor wholly dinosaur—but maybe, just maybe, something better. And as my reflection ripples in the water, with the sail of my other life rising behind me, I allow myself, just for an instant, to smile.
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