Jinn’s AI Swamp

[Jinn]

Another cat tale from the swamp…

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Catwoman was jerked and jostled awake in the trunk of the Lincoln Town Car as it rolled down the washboard New England side road. Bound and gagged for her transport, the captured kitty could do little in way of bracing herself as she flung about turbulently in the cramped compartment. She cussed an incoherent series of colorful adjectives through the tattered cloth tied tightly around her head as she bumped and bounced off the sides of the trunk.

Her arms and wrists were hog tied behind her uncomfortably to her knees and ankles. Shoddily knotted, the restraints were barely doing what Catwoman’s captors had intended.

What they really hadn’t intended was for the dose of diethyl ether administered to their pussy cat prisoner to wear off during transit.

Taking full advantage of the moment, the confined cat extended the super sharp claws of her gloves and made quick work of the bullshit bondage job her adversaries had half-assed.

‘Amateur Hour,’ judged Catwoman Selina Kyle after throwing aside the cut ropes and cloth from her mouth. ‘Now to Jimmy this lid,’ she plotted, rubbing her wrists and surveying the large trunk in the dark stow space of the super-sized sedan.

A particularly jarring bump on the rural side road knocked over a tool box beside the cussing kitty, dumping out screw drivers, half a ratchet set and a small crow bar that twinkled in Catwoman’s eye. ‘Well, well,’ smiled Selina at the unexpected gift, ‘Looks like it’s my lucky day.’

Selina grabbed the pocket pry bar and went to work on the trunk latch. Another rough series of bumps caused Selina to bang her head on the trunk lid. ‘Assholes!’ she growled, wincing and feeling around for the lever that went flying out of her paw.

The car had accelerated noticeably, and the anxious voices of her kidnappers had raised in intensity from beyond the back seat. The frame of the Lincoln began to sway aggressively as if cornering quickly to ditch a tail. ‘What the hell, fellas?’ complained the floundering feline, rolling around the teetering trunk of the flailing Ford.

Selina figured this outfit of oafs was novice at best. She felt utterly embarrassed for letting herself get poached by the alleged newbies when she ran into them at the helipad near Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. She was hiding and waiting on a chopper that was transporting a loaned collection of ancient gold and jewelry for an exhibit when the gun-toting, calamitous crew intercepted a small briefcase from museum guards.

The locked aluminum case contained among other tantalizing trinkets, an emerald that was rumored to possess supernatural qualities. The oddly shaped gem apparently had the ability to attract water when properly encouraged with the correct conjuration. A folk legend told of ancient Persians using it to draw on ground water and atmospheric moisture to fill wells and irrigate crops. The curious cat burglar heard about the jewel’s supposed matter manipulating qualities and wanted to take a peek.

After witnessing their comedic crime unfold on the helipad, Catwoman confronted the goof troop to relieve them of their newly obtained acquisition. Foolishly, she miscounted the number of goofs on the roof and was blindsided by a fourth man sporting a soggy sock, soaked with sleepy-time serum who had snuck up behind the sassy Selina before a short struggle and a fade to ZZZzzz…

Fast forwarding a few hours into the future, our pretty kitty found herself ping-ponging around in the trunk of the goofball getaway car, when suddenly the driver hit the brakes… hard. Selina shared some more expletives as she was flung violently into front of the trunk.

The four men with thick foreign accents in the car were shouting at each other, and perhaps whoever or whatever was tailing them. The sound of car doors opening was followed by automatic gunfire as Selina hastily tried again to pick the trunk latch.

Something heavy landed on the trunk lid, pausing the pussycat’s picking. More yelling and a hail of gunfire erupted as bullets pierced the car from all directions, perforating the trunk and whizzing narrowly by the confined Catwoman. Selina tried to make herself as small as possible until the barrage of shells stopped.

The yelling outside seemed to be growing fainter and the gunfire more sporadic as if the men were scattering. A thin line of sunlight and fresh air poured into the trunk from where the lid was now ajar. ‘Wow. This really is my lucky day,’ breathed Selina with a sigh of relief, gawking agape at the quarter panel that had been reduced to Swiss cheese by malicious machine gun fire. ‘Time to get my ass out of this gas guzzling coffin,’ Selina proposed, lifting the tattered lid.

Sleek, high heeled boots on two long, scandalously sensual, nylon covered legs stepped out of the Town Car’s trunk onto a sandy trail in… Cape Cod? Catwoman’s titillating, tight black bodysuit and temptingly teasing tights looked contrastingly out of place; her alluring attire was designed for prowling around on dark, downtown Gotham nights rather than in the sun and sand of coastal Massachusetts.

Scanning her surroundings through techy, spectrum-enhancing eyewear and audio filtering cat-ear antennae, Catwoman’s kidnappers and whatever they had unleashed hell on with their assault rifles were nowhere to be seen, or heard.

Selina slinked around carefully to the side of the Lincoln to take a look inside. Perhaps she thought, they’d left behind the emerald’s case in their hasty departure. As the curious kitty peeked in the side window, the two wide and frightened eyes of a cowering crook returned a stare from the floor in the backseat. In one arm he had a death grip on the jewel case while his other hand brandished a black shiny revolver, that was pointed at Catwoman.

‘CLICK, CLICK, CLICK,’ went the hammer on the gun, repeatedly dead-heading an empty firing chamber. He was out of ammo. ‘For real honey, this is TRULY my lucky day,’ smiled Catwoman as she opened the door.

The crook leapt from his backseat abode and flew out the opposite open window as if he had been shot from a cannon, cartwheeling clumsily onto the dirt. A speedy Selina gave chase, as the goofy goon sprinted out into the coastal sand of the Dune Shacks Trail.

The flat-footed foe knew he was moments from being overtaken by a pouncing Catwoman. In a pathetic last ditch effort, he tossed the metal case with all his might out into the open sand. Selina shot him a confused “WTF?” glance as she strutted past him to retrieve her prize.

Unwavering, the nerdy looking thief raised his arms with his palms facing up, and closed his eyes. ‘'lieadat alma' 'iilaa alturba alma' yujadid al'ard!’ chanted the man resolutely, in a bold, booming Arabic voice that seemed mismatched with his tiny, wimpy appearance.

Catwoman stopped a few feet short of the case. The sandy soil beneath her had begun to quiver and quake. Spooky, spiraling spouts of dust and wind twirled down into the ground around the aluminum jewel case and a completely gobsmacked Selina. The sand heaved and lifted, before settling back down. As it did, the case and the cat began to sink.

The little Arabic-speaking man backed away slowly from the scene, making sure his plan worked before darting off toward the Lincoln. His incantation had activated the element-summoning emerald, which attracted massive amounts of water from above and underneath the surface… turning a swimming pool-sized area of the Cape Cod dunes into a thick, sucking quicksand.

The selfish, little thief decided that if he couldn’t have the emerald, then no one would. He knew the spell, and sacrificially cast it to send the jewel case and Catwoman into a gooey, gritty grave.

The swelling sand bubbled and boiled under Selina’s sinking legs as if it was being fed moisture from an underground spring. Her boots slipped into the silty soup that gripped them like concrete. The more she struggled, the deeper her fancy footwear planted themselves in the swampy silt. ‘Ugh! I’m going nowhere but down!’ cried Catwoman, twisting and tugging her sexy, sinking kicks to no avail.

Selina gasped as she glared at the belching, rippled rings of soggy sand where the case had just been. She realized that if she didn’t get the hell out of that quicksand, her vulnerable body would be swallowed next.

Growing desperate, Selina unzipped and pulled her calves from the her shiny boots that were now anchored fully and completely in the clutching quagmire.

Taking a step toward the safer, outer edge of the manifested muck trap, Selina dipped her pantyhose covered toes into the shifting sand. The unpleasant ooze engulfed her leg as she leaned forward, swallowing it up to her knee. She felt the sinister suction grabbing her foot and calf as she balanced herself and swung her other leg forward.

Gritty slurry slurped and slopped up her tights as she planted her other bootless foot into the mire. The wicked, wet sand was giving way beneath her and she whimpered at the feeling of her lovely, long legs sinking deeper. She tried to pull herself free, but the dangerous dune held her firmly. This time there would be no unzipping her way out.

All Selina could do was watch helplessly as the conjured quicksand slowly sucked her down. Liquid sand gurgled and gulped her stretchy silk wrapped thighs into its awful abyss. As long as water was gushing up from below, gravity would continue to send her to her doom at the bottom of the Cape dunes.

Panic forced the feline femme to involuntarily struggle in the sopping soil, causing her shimmying hips to sink quickly out of sight. ‘UHN! There’s no escape!’ the pretty kitty lamented, as sand swelled and seeped around her thin waist like a swallowing mouth.

Horror and disgust were expressed in Catwoman’s moans and cries of despair. She pushed on the sand futilely in an attempt to keep the dunes from devouring her. Soon, both her arms were trapped in the quicksand’s suction as if caught in giant Chinese finger traps.

Sand spilled in over her gasping breasts as the ceaselessly sinking Selina cried out and whimpered despondently. ‘No no no NO!!’ pleaded a corybantic Catwoman as sticky sand poured in over her shoulders.

Fighting desperately, Selina managed to free an arm and reached anxiously and pointlessly skyward with fleeting hope, as the terrible quicksand slurped up her neck and climbed over her chin. The gorging goop sucked down and swallowed her beautiful frantic face with a horrible ‘GBLUMP’ sound. Her reaching, clawing paw followed suit soon after; bubbles surfaced and popped from the depths of the morbid morass while catwoman’s grasping hand and hopes submerged completely under the sadistically suffocating, supernatural sinking trap…

Holding her last breath, Catwoman felt the terrifying inevitability of drowning loom under the squishy quicksand. Light headed and on the verge of total surrender, the peculiar feeling of something scooping her up from under her arms puzzled her. Suddenly, she was being hoisted up and out of the deadly dune soup, high into the air above Cape Cod. Selina humorously wondered for a moment if this was the afterlife and if her deliverer was going in the wrong direction, before she fully opened her eyes.

Cradling her and hovering many meters above the ground was an absolutely chiseled, dark haired tower of a man in a form-fitting, blue flight suit. A fiery red cape fluttered magnificently from his broad shoulders. A familiar, noble red “S” emblem beamed proudly from his solid chest. He held the smitten kitten safely in his arms along with an aluminum briefcase.

‘mMm… Hello, Boy Scout,’ purred the flirtatious feline, licking her lips and crossing her sexy, sandy legs seductively in her savior’s super strong arms. ‘Come to take pity on this kitty?’ pondered the provocative panther poutingly, as she wrapped her arms around her rescuer’s sturdy neck and ran her caressing hands admiringly through his hair.

The “Boy Scout” smiled and chuckled with amusement. Seemingly unfazed by Catwoman’s amorous advances, he assured the pretty purring pet,
‘It looks like this is your lucky day, Selina…’

[Jinn]

Here’s one with SG in an alternate suit that I overlooked and almost discarded months ago. I decided to give it a new life with some color adjustments and a story. The original image had her in a purple and red suit with a green ‘S’. She also needed some emergency dental work for her summer teeth.

I honestly didn’t know how this story was going to end until it ended, as goofy as that sounds. Most times the endings to these stories seem to fall out of the sky… right into my swamp.

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Her heart was beating like a drum. Her head was dizzy with panic and anxiety as the lovely blonde heroine stumbled through the tangled trees and mossy mire of Spectre Swamp. Without her powers, Supergirl was a sitting duck. She may have preferred being an actual duck; webbed feet would have made maneuvering through the miserable, mucky morass more manageable.

Her encounter with the trio of bog witches known as the Spectre Sisters had lead to the evil incantation that drained Supergirl of her powers; her strength was sapped; her speed was slowed to sluggish steps; her wings were clipped. Her superpowers had been sidelined by sinister sorcery.

Like kryptonite, magic could weaken Supergirl and affect her abilities. The Spectre Sisters were quite aware of this anomaly, and took full advantage of the loophole when the attractive young Kryptonian paid them a visit.

She had come searching for her missing heroine companion Zatanna, who herself had sought the sinful sisters. The three witches possessed profound knowledge of dark arts, including information about reversing specific illness-inducing spells that were being mysteriously and serially cast on the innocent family members of politicians and people of influence across the globe. Zatanna’s mission was to save these victims from their horrible hexes.

After being afflicted with the witches’ crippling curse, Kara fled the creepy coven before they could imprison her in their spooky swamp sanctuary. The Spectre Sisters did not give chase. They merely stood shoulder to shoulder, pointing eerily and cackling disturbingly as the fearful female floundered through the frightening forest.

Their pointing did not appear to be at the hopelessly hurrying heroine but rather ominously in the direction of Spectre Swamp itself. It was as if they were casting her out into the ghostly gloom to contend with the laborious lowland labyrinth; the treacherous trails were riddled with foreboding fog, wicked wildlife, confusing crossroads, demoralizing dead ends… and bottomless bogs.

The dark, dull dreariness of the deadwood and decay in Spectre Swamp was a contrast to the bold and bright colors of Supergirl’s smart and sexy ensemble. Her tight, shiny blue and red leotard, form fitting boots and fluttering cape were a beacon of beauty amid the grey and grime of her boggy backdrop.

Meanwhile Kara’s curse, like the swamp fog, was dense and looming. The oppressive effects of the jinx weighed her down with a sense of fatigue-fed heaviness. Each time her boots would plunge into the moss covered mud, she would strain harder and harder to free her long legs from the gripping goo.

‘I have to keep moving,’ vowed the hobbling heroine, afraid that if she stopped the swamp would swallow her whole.

Kara’s concern was justified; her fear began to manifest as she stepped onto a quivering patch of moss that disintegrated under her heels. A gasp escaped her lips. Gurgling goop gushed in around Supergirl’s sinking legs as the mossy ground beneath her turned to a liquid swamp slurry. The bottomless bog had been silently waiting, and had come to life with burping bubbles and sickly squelching sounds as the helpless heroine plopped down into its sucking snare.

‘Ugh! My legs!’ cried sweet Kara, struggling her calves in the putrid pudding that her boots had just disappeared into. The swamp’s suction slurped and swallowed her further as she fought to escape. ‘I’m sinking! UHN!’ whimpered the stuck superheroine, feeling the rising quicksand greedily gobbling up her fit, feminine thighs, ‘Oh! It’s pulling me in!’

Even powerless Kara’s legs were strong, but not strong enough to break the ghastly grip of the bog. She knew her twisting and turning was only causing her legs to sink faster and deeper, but her stubborn sense of survival involuntarily made her jerk and jostle carelessly in the consuming quagmire.

Gulping gunk oozed over Kara’s heaving hips and pooled in around her midsection. The bog belched and gurgled around her waist as it seeped into her spandex suit. Supergirl was quickly running out of time. ‘There’s no escape!’ she lamented, pushing down on the moss around her trying to stay above the menacing mud. However the appearance of solid ground was merely an illusion; the thin moss easily tore away and plunged into the swamp as she tried to put her weight on it.

‘Oh, I’m trapped!’ moaned Kara, looking around frantically for something or someone to help her. ‘Zatanna! Help! I’m in quicksand!’ pleaded the swamped Supergirl, desperately crying into the forest canopy, hoping her friend would appear and rescue her ceaselessly sinking body from the terrible trap in the nick of time.

Someone did appear… times three. The triumvirate of terror that had hexed the horrified heroine had followed their pretty prey into the swamp, to watch the destitute damsel being devoured by the gruesome quicksand pit.

‘Help me, please!’ begged Supergirl, as bubbling bog oozed over her breasts. Her pleas were met with sadistic laughter from the Spectre Sisters.

‘Why are you doing this?’ demanded the bog’s imperiled prisoner, trying to be still to hopefully avoid sinking deeper. No answer from the cackling coven. They were gleefully entertained at the sight of Kara’s imminent demise.

Did they come out here simply to watch? Were they going to pull poor Kara from the deadly muck? The witches were hard to read, but they had come to the site of Supergirl’s peril for a reason, and were so far reluctant to share their intentions. For the sinking superheroine, the suspense was as thick and deep as the quicksand itself.

There was no way out. Supergirl was at the mercy of the witches and their gooey trap. As Kara’s shoulders dipped under the swamp sludge, she submitted to whatever fate was about to take her.

The sisters raised their hands and chanted something incoherent, like a demonic sounding whisper. Kara immediately felt herself stop sinking and let out a sigh of relief and gratitude.

One of the nasty necromancers materialized a large, ancient looking hourglass that still had a small amount of blood-red sand trickling out of its upper bulb.

All three scary sisters began to speak in unison, ‘The enchantress Zatanna Zatara hath the Devil’s Grimoire, borrowed in trust from WE,’ they began in the creepiest tone, sounding like they were chanting in tongues or talking backwards, ‘If the sand sinks in the glass before the enchantress returneth from away with the Devil’s Grimoire, borrowed in trust from WE, then the unsupergirl sinks in the sand.’

Kara was aghast. Zatanna had borrowed a spell book from these satanic sorceresses and the spellbound Supergirl was chosen as collateral.

Almost chin deep in awful quicksand, Kara watched with terrified trepidation as gravity slowly but surely pulled down the sand in the hour glass. Kara figured she had mere minutes left. The wait was agonizing, and the company was creepy as fuck.

‘Hurry, Zatanna,’ prayed the nearly sunken Supergirl, fully aware that the late fees at this library would be lethal…

[cerberus]

Nice stories, love all the alliteration, so In keeping with the subject matter. Good pictures to go with them as well, only thing is that they'd probably be a bit messier if they'd been wandering through swamps and quicksand. I find tacking "muddy" and "mud spattered" at the end of the prompt achieves this if you are inclined to try it.

[Jinn]

…they'd probably be a bit messier if they'd been wandering through swamps and quicksand. I find tacking "muddy" and "mud spattered" at the end of the prompt achieves this if you are inclined to try it.

So true. I think I actually used ‘mud on legs’ and ‘muddy legs’ in the prompts for the series that pic came from. Misfired prompts are part of why it ended up on the cutting room floor for 4 months. That, and I wasn’t pleased with the minimal amount of quicksand in the foreground, and the fact that solid ground and roots are directly in the background for her to easily grab onto. I like it when they’re stranded out in the middle of a death pit just out of reach of safety.

I think I gave it a second chance because I liked her expression. Plus the color scheme of that suit looks phenomenal and the way her cape is draped over her shoulders is sexy.

[cerberus]

So true. I think I actually used ‘mud on legs’ and ‘muddy legs’ in the prompts for the series that pic came from. Misfired prompts are part of why it ended up on the cutting room floor for 4 months. That, and I wasn’t pleased with the minimal amount of quicksand in the foreground, and the fact that solid ground and roots are directly in the background for her to easily grab onto. I like it when they’re stranded out in the middle of a death pit just out of reach of safety.

I think I gave it a second chance because I liked her expression. Plus the color scheme of that suit looks phenomenal and the way her cape is draped over her shoulders is sexy.

I've never tried "mud on legs" or "muddy legs", I'll have to see how that goes, sometimes my "muddy" and "mud spattered" can be a bit overkill, which works for some images but not others. I've also found that part of a prompt can block another part, e.g. specifying particular footwear can prevent the subject from sinking however may parentheses you put around the sinking (they usually end up standing in a pit). I'm in agreement with you regarding the "not having anything to grab onto" scenario, that's why I quite like mudflats and settings like that. And, yes, some of the outfits these AIs generate are outstanding.

[Jinn]

Sometimes you just have to wonder.

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‘This isn’t going to end well for you,’ vowed Diana, unsheathing the Sword of Athena in preparation for combat in the oppressively humid and damp jungle ambience.

Her opponent, a sinister looking phantom-like figure in a dark, hooded cloak was standing in a battle-ready stance, clutching a curved scimitar and waiting for the inevitable duel. The phantom’s face was hidden by a mask that looked like some sort of steampunk-plague doctor mash-up. The shape shifter known as Jinn Zou had chosen this spooky, intimidating form for his confrontation with Wonder Woman.

The stunningly beautiful Amazon warrior was neither spooked nor intimidated as she stared down the shadowy wraith.

The wily shape shifter was a master of trickery; disappearing in a puff of black smoke, Jinn instantly reappeared behind the wondrous warrior to deliver the first strike. Diana was ready for him. She batted away his initial swipes and returned with a volley, thrusting her sword toward the spectre who contorted cunningly to avoid being perforated.

Back and forth the battlers traded sword strikes, ducking and diving, leaping and lunging in a deadly dance of smashing sabers throughout the rugged rainforest.

Jinn was growing tired, and bored. This kind of battle was for super endurance athletes like Wonder Woman. His preferred tactics involved deception and surprise attacks; quick in-and-out stealthy raids and cut-throat ambushes. Besides of which, the insanely skilled and unbelievably resilient Diana was tenfold the sword fighter.

The deceptive dueler made his move; spying a deep gully nearby, Jinn darted to the edge and leapt into the jungle canopy over it. Grabbing a vine, the agile antagonist swung himself over the boggy basin to the other side.

Diana pursued her adversary, unleashing her golden Lasso of Truth from across the expanse and coiling it around Jinn’s torso. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ queried Wonder Woman, pulling taut the brilliantly glowing rope.

‘To your six,’ answered Jinn, obligated to tell the truth under the righteous rope’s influence.

‘POOF…’ Black smoke rose from the spot where the vanished Jinn was standing as the lasso dropped to the jungle floor.

‘UGH!’ coughed Wonder Woman, taking a body blow to the back from the blindsiding bandit who had materialized directly behind her. The ambushed Amazon tumbled wildly down the gully’s steep slope, splash landing with a ‘GBLUMPWOP’ into the bubbling bog below.

The stunned superheroine gathered herself. Looking up to the ledge from where she had fallen, there was no sign of Jinn. ‘Coward,’ remarked Diana, scowling and yearning for a rematch. Looking down, the winded warrior found herself thigh deep in thick, saturated sand. As she tried to extract her fantastically fit legs, the gurgling ground swallowed them deeper with every struggle.

‘Quicksand!’ gasped Wonder Woman. Her super strong legs were no match for the powerful suction of the bog that was gripping her… and slowly sucking her down.

Hideous bubbling and belching sounds emitted from the gritty goop as Diana twisted and turned her sinking hips. It was no use. Struggling was only speeding up her descent into the gooey death trap.

A grotesque gulping sound spewed from the silty sludge as Diana’s body dropped dramatically down to her waist in the awfully “quick” sand. She had to act fast.

‘My lasso!’ cried Wonder Woman, noticing that her trusty length of golden braided rope that had been latched to her armor was gone. ‘Jinn!’ she spat, knowing that it was now more than likely in his conniving clutches.

Wonder Woman gasped; the quicksand pit exuded another despicable gurgle as it sucked the helpless heroine rapidly down to her firm, armored breasts.

‘UHN!’ whimpered Diana, as her chest disappeared in the bubbling quagmire. ‘This putrid pit is bottomless!’

Looking skyward, Wonder Woman regarded the vine that Jinn used to swing over the diabolical ditch. The lengthy line was hung up on a tree branch over on the adjacent slope. Diana surmised that a perfectly placed projectile would most certainly send the life saving vine down to the imperiled Amazon.

Carefully producing her sword, Diana took aim at the branch and launched her blade straight and true. The weapon severed the branch and sent the vine swinging down into the gully, swaying in circles around the trapped Wonder Woman. Grabbing the vine and tugging to test its strength, Diana began to pull herself from the deadly bog. The vine creaked and groaned as it stretched and buckled under her weight. The sucking ooze resisted as Wonder Woman fought desperately to escape its hungry hold on her body.

The struggling superheroine became aware of a sneaking shadow that was creeping around to face her on the slope; it was Jinn. Around his shoulder was the coiled up Lasso of Truth.

‘I took a chance on remaining here,’ admitted the hooded mask, as Diana continued to slowly climb up the vine, ‘If you hadn’t fallen into that goop then you’d have most definitely kicked my ass. You’re a far superior opponent than I.’

Jinn keenly surveyed the sexy, escaping Amazon, painstakingly inching her way up the lifeline; ghastly quicksand sucking at her alluring hips. ‘I stayed because I find the sight of you squirming in that muck to be incredibly arousing,’ he confessed, still under the influence of the lasso, ‘Watching superheroines sink in something sticky is the hottest, most irresistible thing in this world, for me.’

Diana moaned as she pulled and kicked her captured legs; the slurping pit stubbornly held her sensual thighs tightly as she strained to scale the vine. Her enemy ogled her plight with sadistic intent.

‘Alas, all good things…’ continued Jinn as he nimbly scaled the tall tree directly overhanging the treacherous bog. Shimmying out onto the large limb that was hanging Diana’s vine, the devious deception artist raised his scimitar.

‘No… please, NO!’ begged Wonder Woman, as the wicked wraith lined up his sword to slash the only thing preventing her from a quicksand death.

‘This isn’t going to end well for you,’ truthed the lasso-bearing Jinn, as his sinfully sharp blade came down hot and hectic on the vulnerable vine…

[65sinking]

Lovely image, and great tale!

[Jinn]

Lovely image, and great tale!

Thank you! And thanks for the star and comment on DeviantArt.

[65sinking]

Lovely image, and great tale!

Thank you! And thanks for the star and comment on DeviantArt.

You were one of several people, both here and on DeviantArt, who made me consider giving AI a try, and I have to say, the results can be quite breathtaking. Superheroines aren't really my thing, but the idea of a beautiful woman sinking in quicksand while wearing an often skintight outfit can be quite exciting.

The self-insert in your story as the villain made me smile. When I do a self-insert in my stories (nearly all of them are in my head, or take the form of short vignettes), it's usually from the perspective of a possible rescuer or some other positive interaction with the damsel in distress. But the fact remains is that I get a kick out of someone possibly sinking to their death in quicksand (or experiencing some of my other kinks with potentially fatal consequences). I'm sure most of us aren't this twisted in our real-life interactions; maybe it's a safe outlet for some of my darkest thoughts and desires.

Looking forward to more of your images and tales!

[Jinn]

You were one of several people, both here and on DeviantArt, who made me consider giving AI a try…

Wow! I’m delighted that I could inspire. I’m just have fun with it, trying not to take myself too seriously.

The self-insert in your story as the villain made me smile.

I guess It’s how I would picture myself as a comic book villain, sort of a low key Loki. Inserting my online persona as the bad guy in my story was fun, specifically because I get to trap a pretty heroine in quicksand.

I’m sure most of us aren't this twisted in our real-life interactions; maybe it's a safe outlet for some of my darkest thoughts and desires.

When I’m not subjecting sexy superheroines to tentacles and tar pits I’m a 70hr/week truck driver and a dad/husband. I barely have time to take care of myself and my family let alone indulge my crazy, secret fantasies and fetishes. I feel fortunate to have the minimal time I do to write stories, and very grateful to AI for making beautiful images I would never dream of making on my own. Being able to have a ‘safe outlet’ for those ‘darkest thoughts and desires’ is so important, in any format. We all have a kinky itch to scratch.