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The following was partly composed by GPT-2 Large, the AI behind AIdungeon2 and Talk to Transformer. It was about a 50/50 split between manual writing and the AI's creation.

Someone who just recently underwent a sudden and unexpected hyper growth spurt goes shopping for new clothes and furniture, initially unaware that they’re experiencing smaller, almost imperceptible “aftershock” growth spurts the whole time.

I really enjoyed “Workplace Accident”. My vote goes towards writing a continuation, or maybe fleshing it out into a proper story. That is, if you don't mind.

you've managed to get into a confrontation with a hyper, dummy; now what?

“So there I was, walking down West Main street, carrying this BIG darn stack of soda boxes,” the old fox recounted. “back when I was helpin’ at Ray’s Pub, before the place closed down. All together, they had to weigh 50-, 60lbs. Big damn boxes, could hardly see over the top of them. So there I am lugging these boxes down from the supply store, and I walk in to something. Lost the top few boxes. BAM, ten bucks of soda on the ground. That was a lot of soda back then! First thought was ‘Ray’s gonna have my ass’, but then I get to thinking what I hit. Thought I’d hit a lamp post for how sturdy it was, but I’d a’ seen it if it were that tall.

Mary carefully closed the door behind her. She was so tired. Stock girl at Danny’s Furniture Emporium wasn’t her choice of profession, but she didn’t have to wear a uniform, only a vest. That was her only requirement in a job: no uniforms. Her clothes, only. Most would call her picky, but her reasons for the restriction were more… practical. Her shoes came off first. The 5’5” girl let her long, dark hair down from the bun, and relaxed for a moment. In the refrigerator was a few dozen steaks she’d prepared earlier in the week, a few gallons of milk, two full roasts, and a handful of odds and ends. She grabbed a few steaks and the least-full gallon jug of milk. Oh, and a bottle of steak sauce. Snack’s Spicy Southern Flavor tonight; it’s nice to mix it up every now and again. 2-0-0-Start. The microwave whirred to life with the steaks inside. In the meantime, she started heating her two kettles of water.

you've gone out hunting with your hyper friend, and they excel at it as only a hyper can

Part 1

“I can’t BELIEVE we got a spot at Arten Farms!” Gene exclaimed. “You know how many people try to get on that place’s waiting list in a year? C’mon, guess!” Jerry groaned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Two thousand reservations a year, only one hundred slots granted.

Prompts/Requests:

Part I: Demo Day

Randy’s desk phone rang. An unusual, but not alarming occurrence. “Personal Training desk,” the tiger answered. ”It’s May up front. Grab Darren and get up here.” “Why? What’s the big rush?” “We’ve got a demo today.” “We do? Since when?” “Since now. Sarah just got the email from WeightList half an hour ago.” ”Fuuuck...” Randy cursed under his breath. “You said it,” May replied. “When?” Randy asked. “4:30. Don’t bother checking the clock, it’s a bit over two hours out.” “I thought we got a 5 hour lead time on demos!?” “Not today, I guess.”

Part 1: Mira sat by the campfire. This was the third night she’d failed to bring any food (or a partner, as her packmates were so keen to point out) home. For Mira, tonight was her last on the plains. The hyena had grown up on the Savannah, and there expected to remain. Mira and her aspirations had never been well-suited for life among the grass, but family and tradition had insisted. Tonight was the final straw.