Quicky Sanders AI Collection

[Viridian]

Crossfire

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Quyen Sanders shifted uncomfortably, her taut, red tank top pulling at her sides. It was a day of sticky humidity in the jungle country, and her normally lustrous black hair hung limp, a stark contrast to her clear spectacles perched precariously on her nose. As an investigative journalist, she was used to being in the thick of the action, but she had not anticipated losing most of her clothing and equipment in a terrifying mortar bombardment earlier that day.

She had survived unscathed, but it left her in an impromptu outfit that attracted unwanted attention, especially from the patrol she had been following. But Quyen's focus wasn't on their leering gazes, it was on her task – documenting the brewing conflict, its heartache, and horrors.

When the patrol was suddenly hit by an ambush, she turned and ran... straight into quicksand.

Each breath she took was laborious, the heavy sludge making it impossible to move freely. The wet sand clung to her, its coldness seeping through her thin tank top, soaking the fabric until it clung to her skin, highlighting her large breasts. Her hair was a tangled mess, falling into her face as she struggled.

The quicksand was like a relentless predator, slowly, inexorably claiming her as its prey. It slithered and slid around her form with an intimacy that would have been provocative under different circumstances. The granules of sand, cold and unyielding, soaked through her thin tank top, the dampness spreading across the fabric, darkening the fiery red to a sanguinary hue.

Each inch it advanced up her torso was a chilling caress, a grim testament of the danger she was in. Yet, there was a sensual grotesqueness to the way it moved, to the way it felt against her skin, as if it was claiming every curve and dip of her body for itself.

Her breasts, full and now highly visible beneath the soaked fabric, were slowly disappearing into the sandy maw of the quicksand. The sandy mixture found its way into her cleavage, the cool sensation a stark contrast to the fear-induced heat flooding her body. Once a source of unwelcome stares and whistles, they were now slowly being swallowed by the predatory quicksand, the soaked fabric clinging onto them like a second skin, amplifying rather than concealing her anatomy.

Her breath hitched, not just from fear, but from the strange, surreal sensation of her body succumbing to the quicksand's advance. Each breath she took made her more acutely aware of the sand seeping, enveloping, consuming, inch by tantalizing inch.

She looked up towards the canopy, her view obscured by the falling hair across her face. Her mind raced, trying to form a plan, a way to survive.

[Viridian]

Deep Down

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Quyen Sanders had embarked on a mission to uncover a buried secret that led her deep into the underground tunnel system. She pressed on, her determination driving her forward, despite the fact that her red blouse and black skirt were ill-suited for such an exploration. The tunnel was a foreboding and ancient place, with its stone bricks looming ominously around her. The only light came from a small grate above her head, casting dim rays that barely illuminated the way.

As Quyen ventured further into the tunnel, she heard an unsettling sound, a slow trickle of water that gradually grew louder. It was then that she realized with mounting horror that the tunnel was filling up with thick, viscous mud. Panic gripped her as the mud slowly rose, first covering her ankles, then creeping up to her calves, and eventually reaching her thighs. The mud was like a suffocating weight, rendering her immobile and making it increasingly difficult to move.

Quyen's heart pounded in her chest as she desperately searched for a way out. She knew she had to act fast if she was going to make it out alive. She tried to retrace her steps, but the thick mud held her in place, and its viscosity was like a tar that clung to her skin, slowing her movements and draining her energy.

As the mud continued to rise, Quyen felt as if she were trapped in a quagmire, slowly being swallowed by the earth. Fear overtook her, and she realized that the mud had become a lethal trap. Would she ever make it out alive?

[Viridian]

Unprepared

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Vicky Marsh, her blonde hair fastened tightly into a ponytail that bobbed with each hurried step, pushed further into the uncharted thicket. Her vibrant blue eyes, flecked with the courage of a neophyte, scanned the dense forest with a flicker of trepidation. Beneath her blue buttoned shirt, her heart pounded, a relentless reminder of the danger she had willingly thrown herself into. Her notable, unbridled assets straining against the fabric seemed to match the rhythm of her racing heart, evidence of the anxiety coursing through her veins.

The criminal, who had recently been terrorizing the city with explicit images of women captured in dire predicaments, remained elusive. He had a twisted penchant for quicksand and nudity, and that gruesome combination was sending shockwaves of fear throughout the community. With her boss, Quyen Sanders, out on another assignment, Vicky took it upon herself to pursue the leads.

Unfortunately, Vicky's inexperience showed when she chose not to thoroughly investigate the predator's modus operandi or the location. In her rash decision to follow a questionable lead, she found herself ensnared in the very quicksand she'd sought to understand. The sand began to consume her, wrapping its cold, inescapable grasp around her legs and climbing up her torso. Fear-stricken, she was sinking fast, up to her generous breasts.

A cruel laugh echoed through the dense undergrowth as she met the criminal face to face. His sinister eyes glowed with a perverse satisfaction as he extended a long, gnarled branch towards her. "I'll help you out, doll," he sneered. "But there's a price. Take off that shirt and give me a pose."

Vicky hesitated, her mind racing. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the first button of her shirt. Fear, like a bitter wind, blew across her skin as the quicksand oozed into her cleavage. It was a horrifying choice, yet the predicament left her little room for negotiation. She began to unbutton her shirt slowly, her gaze never leaving the monstrous man standing before her. Her heart was screaming for salvation, even if it meant playing into the hands of her tormentor.

[Viridian]

Under Construction

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Underneath the shimmering silver moonlight, Quyen Sanders and Tia Wellington slipped from the glitz and glamour of the gala dinner. The two women, bound by a web of fear and speculation, silently navigated through the maze of Tia's extravagant hotel to a desolate construction site.

In the dim glow, Quyen's glasses caught fragments of the starlight, her intelligent eyes watching every step with alertness. Her raven hair fell in loose waves over the shoulders of her figure-hugging, halter-neck red evening gown. Tia, the hotel heiress, stood next to her, the construction dust playing a stark contrast to her impeccably cut short brown hair and black gown.

"I fear it's the Galliano Syndicate," Tia confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They've been making moves on the family business."

Quyen looked at Tia, her expression serious behind her spectacles. "We have to expose them, Tia. We can't let them ruin your family legacy."

As they delved deeper into the intricacies of the supposed threat, a chilling undercurrent of danger lurked beneath them. Unbeknownst to them, a sabotaged pipe had turned the construction site into a sinkhole of quicksand.

Suddenly, their eyes widened in shock as the solid ground beneath them gave way. Their bodies sank rapidly, the encroaching quicksand locking them in place up to their waists. Their stunning gowns, though ideal for a glamorous night out, proved to be impractical for this hazard.

"Quyen!" Tia shrieked, her voice echoing off the incomplete concrete structures. Her gown hugged her body tighter as the quicksand crept upward, their panicked movements only aiding its relentless assault.

"We need to stay calm, Tia!" Quyen ordered, struggling to keep her own fear at bay. The cold sensation began to envelop their waists, creeping upwards, a chilling reminder of the peril they found themselves in.

As the quicksand advanced, it threatened to overcome their voluptuous forms. Both women, now almost shoulder deep, glanced down in horror. "My God," Quyen breathed, realizing the predicament they were in.

An electric thrill of fear and arousal charged the air as their curves began succumbing to the relentless advance of the quicksand. Their gowns clung tightly to their ample breasts, outlining every enticing detail even as they disappeared beneath the surface of the sinking sand. The tactile sensation was a shiver-inducing mixture of cold, wet grit and the strangely titillating sensation of engulfment.

The eerie silence of their precarious predicament was a stark counterpoint to the lascivious whisper of the quicksand, a murmur that promised both danger and an illicit thrill. The sound of the sand slipping and shifting, growing ever closer, punctuated the stillness, a teasing caress over the smoothness of their breasts. It was an intimate, haunting symphony of nature in its relentless pursuit, leaving nothing to the imagination as their forms vanished under the surface.

"How...how are we going to get out of this?" Tia stammered, terror etched across her face.

"I don't know," Quyen admitted, her eyes darting around their barren surroundings. "But we have to find a way."

As they struggled against the merciless trap, their gazes met, a mutual understanding passing between them. Their only hope was to remain calm and find a way out of the gripping predicament. Their very survival depended on it. Will they escape, or will they fall victim to the deadly quicksand trap?

[MadMax359]

LOL i'll eternally hope they need to take off their dresses to snag something....

[sixgunzloaded]

I like "Deep Down" and "Unprepared" the best in this group. I've got a soft spot deep down for Victoria Marsh. ...ahem... so to speak...

[MDLambert]

I tinker around with Midjourney to make some cool fantasy characters, but they have such a strict rule on prompts as well as discord. What do you use to make these? i'm sure you've answered this many times.

[Viridian]

I tinker around with Midjourney to make some cool fantasy characters, but they have such a strict rule on prompts as well as discord. What do you use to make these? i'm sure you've answered this many times.

I use Stable Diffusion using the models on Mage.Space.

[Viridian]

Wet Witness

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The clouds overhead brooded menacingly, casting a slate-grey pallor over the verdant forest, their loaded bellies ready to burst. Quyen Sanders, her black hair slicked against her forehead from the onslaught of rain, squinted through the sheets of water, pushing her rain-speckled glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her red sleeveless blouse, saturated by the deluge, clung to her like a second skin, the fabric taut over her braless breasts, a revealing testament to the biting cold rain.

Next to her, Vicky Marsh wrestled with her unruly blonde hair, yanking it into a severe ponytail, a vain attempt to keep the rain-slick strands from sticking to her face. Her once crisp, blue buttoned shirt was now a soaked, translucent shroud, clinging to her chest and revealing the outline of her nipples in stark contrast against the cold.

"Vicky," Quyen's words cut through the rhythmic drumming of the rain on leaves, "we need to strategize, and quickly." Her voice was a tremor against the downpour's symphony, reflecting the precariousness of their situation.

Vicky shot Quyen a look, wide-eyed and ashen, "I know," she managed, "Our phones are dead." Her statement hung in the air, a ghostly echo among the rain-drenched trees, amplifying their sense of isolation.

Each word added weight to the gravity of their situation. The forest, once a silent ally, now stood as a clandestine adversary, shrouded in uncertainties and veiled dangers.

Both reporters stole a nervous glance at one another, their concerns mirrored in their eyes. The cold rain had molded their shirts against their skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. The chilling dampness had marked their nipples clearly, betraying their lack of bras and adding another layer of vulnerability to their already perilous situation.

The silent acknowledgement passed between them, adding to the tension. "We are utterly exposed, Vicky," Quyen murmured, her gaze lingering on their tightly clothed chests. "If those criminals come across us…”

[MadMax359]

come on, cannibals!