This story was gifted to me by  NixieDFish featuring both my wolf and goat character. I cannot stress how much I absolutely love it! At their request, I've shared here. :)

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One after the other, the lights flickered on, rows of phosphorescent bulbs flooding the workshop with light. The buzzing bulbs illuminated the tables, shelves and trays containing the engineer’s various pet projects; little whizzy things and sparking things and things that go “ping”. The Engineer himself stands at the threshold, and sighs, shrugging his shoulders and having a little stretch before hanging up his coat. It’s been a long day for Jack, and now it’s time to relax by working on some inventions of his own instead of running around fixing the problems of other peoples’. His tail wagged sleepily in a bit of anticipation as he reached up to his head and, with a little rotation and a click, the top of his head lifted clean off. Everything between his ears can free, a singular, circular skullcap no longer protecting a gently pulsing, throbbing pink brain, glistening slightly like skin covered in a thin layer of fresh perspiration. Besides being exposed to the open air, it was a perfectly normal and healthy bain. Jack reached up and gave it a nice, long, indulgent scratch, and the gray wolf poked out his tongue with pleasure, his tail thumping against the coat rack. He tittered a little to himself, and hung up the skullcap next to his coat. If he had things his way, this would be how he spent all of his time: his brain exposed and allowed to jiggle free in the open air, and all of his creation laid before him, ready to be tinkered with and worked upon. Alas, one had to pay the rent somehow, which meant a job. He grimaced a little to himself as he thought back on his day, but perked up as he remembered that, yes, he was home and it was time to work on his own inventions again. That brain scratch might have gone on just a tad too long, as his mind already feels a little fuzzier than it had before, the wrinkles where he rubbed his fingers a little more smoothed out than they were before.


He selected a bench more or less and random, and sat at it, lifting his tail before planting himself gently upon a stool. It hardly mattered which bench he sat himself at. Jack was something of prodigy when it came to machinery. Anything with a number of moving parts and a current running through it he could come to know as well as the back of his hand, which is just as well since he designed his hands himself. He selects a doohickey at random, a collection of circuitry and gubbins stuffed into a somewhat-slapdash plastic hull, salvaged from an old alarm clock. Jack rolls up his sleeves, and then undoes a couple of hidden zippers in his wrists and rolls up his skin, too, revealing a robotic endoskeleton underneath, thin, precise fingers and metal arms no longer covered by a layer of padding and soft fluffy fur. Beneath that layer of hair, Jacks’ body was entirely mechanical, besides the obvious wet pink organ resting within his titanium skull. He had designed it himself, and how he ended up occupying it is a story that falls outside the purview of this particular essay on the wolf’s evening that night. His fingers now no longer encumbered and rendered into long, skeletal, and most importantly precise digits, he began to work, fiddling with with some wires. He layed out some of the loose pieces within the half-complete invention, organizing them by size, function, and usefulness, and took out a soldering iron from a drawer next to him, flicking it on and waiting for it to heat up. His eyes clicked and whirred, and the image of the device magnified. With a small screwdriver, he began to piece the machine together now, preparing the components for a proper soldering.


He got ready to touch the hot end of the iron to a blob of solder, when there was a little splash, and his whole body twitched. He shook his head, feeling somewhat woozy, and after clearing the sensation, tried again. Directing the iron to the solder, he suddenly twitched again and dropped the iron on the floor. He reached up and rubbed his brain,a nd felt a spot more slick and oily than the rest. His hand came away covered in black oil. He looked up at the roof, and a dollop of the fluid dropped onto his nose, and he yelped in surprise. Grumbling, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off the oil from the surface of his brain, doing his best to get it up before it sinks into the folds of his cerebrum. Too little too late, unfortunately enough him, as the oil began to block up some of his mental processes and make his mind fuxx, just a little, like a headache pill causing drowsiness. The edges of things began to soften. He scooted his stool away from the drop and placed an empty plastic tub under it, vowing to fix it up later when he was feeling a little more...up for it. He smiled to himself, feeling good without really knowing why, his thoughts clouded just slightly enough to take the harshe dges off. Despite his best efforts, some of the oil has sunk deeper into his head, flowing into the gap between skull and brain where a simple mop with a handkerchief wouldn’t be able to clean. Pooling underneath his brain, the little puddle of black oil was disrupting his thoughts. His tongue slowly poked out of his mouth as he went back to working on his little project, rather more haphazardly than he was before. He started making more mistakes, acting a little too rashly and damaging delicate parts. As his frustration started to mount, he reached his hand up to give his brain a rub, trying to massage out some of the annoyance, and squeezes down a little too hard. When he withdrew his fingers after a long, hard scratch, a dent was left behind that didn’t quite fill back out again. But it felt good. He definitely didn’t feel as angry any more. More fingers probed into his head, massaging, fondling, squeezing...his finger coated in brain fluid. His thoughts were growing pleasantly fuzzy and things were growing more and more simple, because he was quite literally rubbing away his intelligence, smoothing out the wrinkles in the surface of his brain and reducing the complexity of his mind. He looked down at his project, his eyes unfocused. He stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out just what it was, before getting bored. He picked up to pieces of metal, and clanged them together, and laughed at the noise they made.

“Lots of...pieces…” he mumbles to himself, snickering. What was he doing again? It was all becoming so difficult.


He pulls apart the whatever it is. Was it a toaster, a lamp, a computer? Whatever it was going to be, it was now just a small pile of parts. He smiled. Destroying things is fun! He pushed the pieces around for a bit, enjoying the pretty random patterns he can make. He rubbed his brain some more, which he was also starting to enjoy, rubbing it a little too hard. One of his eyes went wild, spinning around loosely in his skull like a broken toy as he pressed a long furrow into his grey matter, lowering his mental faculties even further. He tugged at his clothes, pulling off his coat, and then, straining with the buttons, ripped off his shirt, throwing it to the floor behind him.


“Guh. Wait. Shirt needs to stay on.”


Jack clambered off of his stool and sunk to the ground at once, his legs flopping under him as he forgets how to carry his own weight.


“Oops.” He flopped onto his back, and his brain began to partially spill out of his head, sinking and flowing a little like a half-set jelly rather than a firm collection of neurons, the result of all the abuse he’s put it through, and he wasn’t done yet. He lay on the floor, looking up at the roof and feeling blissful as he massages and softened his mind further, into a limp, barely sparking sludge.














The door to the warehouse opened, and a diminutive figure stomped in, a furious expression on her small, caprine face. Yerin put her hands around her mouth and shouts at the top of her lungs.


“Jack! You damn idiot, where the hell are you?~ I waited an hour for you to pick me up! I had to get an uber, which you are so paying for, mister!”


She heard a giggling from behind a bench, and prowls angrily around, her little nubby tail twitching with annoyance, and she found jack laying on his back, naked, staring up at the roof. His brain was a ruin, hanging out of his head like a piece of tenderized pork. His body’s automated software was doing most of the mental heavy lifting, and given how simple that package was, that was saying something for his ability to think. He looked up at Yerin with his tongue poking out. He tail started to thump underneath him, wagging with delight as eh recognises his favorite goat.


“Hi!” he says happily. Yerin grimaced.


“I wuv yoo.” Yerin’s grimace softened a little.


“Please hugs?” He opened his arms wide, and Yerin’s frown faded. Se laughed.


“You stupid wolf, always doing these things to yourself,” she grumbles, laying down on the ground besides him and climbing up onto him to lay on his chest. “Gah, why can I never stay mad at you?”


Jack shook his head as his damaged brain failed to find an answer for her, and grinned from ear to ear. He closed his arms around her, and she let out a bleat.


“Baaa! Jack, come on, let go of me, I need to put your brain in some regenerative solution!”


“Love me goat,” Jack replied, licking her nose. “So soft, so cute…”


“Aaah, oh god,” Yerin says, blushing and biting her lip. “Well, uh...this is pretty comfortable I guess...I mean, it can wait till morning, sure…”


She gave up on her struggles and sunk into Jack’s Embrace, bleating quietly as he stroked her back. “Jack, you big dummy,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “Every damn friday night…”