Quicky Sanders AI Collection
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Viridian
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
The soft whisper of the waves roused Tia Wellington, heiress to the grand Wellington hotel empire. Salt crusted her face, and her once elegant black dress was now tattered remnants clinging to her form. Her short brown hair, matted with sand, veiled her face as memories of the previous night's horrors came flooding back.
The whispered threats, the unsettling presence of strangers aboard the Wellspring Breeze, and the sudden, horrifying chaos – it all made sense now. Her family had been targeted. The ship was sabotaged. And she, the most prized target, had survived, but at what cost?
Tia tried to push herself up, to rise and face this new day with the courage that her lineage demanded of her, but something was terribly amiss. Her limbs felt heavy, and a chilling sensation began to creep up her skin. Her gaze, sharp and clear, darted downwards, and the horrifying reality set in: quicksand.
"No," she whispered, her voice hoarse, disbelief evident in her tone. The beach, with its seemingly pristine beauty, was treacherous, holding her captive in its suffocating grip.
Desperation set in. The wealth, the power, the empire – none of it mattered now. All that stood between Tia and an insidious death was her wit and willpower.
Her dress, once a symbol of opulence, now felt like a chain, weighing her down further into the sand's embrace. But Tia was a fighter, and she would not let this be her end.
She remembered snippets of conversations, survival techniques discussed in passing. Moving rapidly was a mistake. Slow, deliberate actions were key. With deliberate care, Tia began to sway, trying to redistribute her weight and free herself from the quicksand's grasp.
But with every small success, there was a pull, a counteraction by the sand, claiming her bit by bit. It crawled up her legs, reaching her waist, her expensive dress doing little to protect her from the creeping menace.
The sun, almost mocking in its brilliance, cast shadows that seemed to elongate with her sinking form. With her heart pounding loudly in her ears and memories of her family empire flashing before her, Tia's
determination burned brighter.
The island, with its secrets and dangers, waited in silent anticipation. Tia's fate hung in the balance, a young heiress pitted against the cruel hands of nature and fate, the outcome uncertain.
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sixgunzloaded
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Oh wow. Vicky looks amazing here. The torn blouse is so detailed! And the way Tia's dress (?) is draped over her hip and thigh is extremely sexy.
I wish I'd been aboard the Wellspring Breeze, standing close to a life raft!
I wish I'd been aboard the Wellspring Breeze, standing close to a life raft!
How long did Tarzan watch before deciding to save Jill..?
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Viridian
- Posts: 1590
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Point of View
Quyen Sanders, feeling the gentle breeze through her dark black hair, had ventured deep into the woods. Her eyes, hidden behind glasses, flicked over the dense vegetation as she searched for the clues that could lead her to the answers she sought. The red blouse clung to her chest, giving her an air of professionalism as a reporter, yet allowing her a sensual touch that made people open up to her. Her black mini skirt, though not the most practical choice, had become somewhat of a trademark outfit for her.
"Damn it!" she mumbled, poking around in the underbrush with a stick. "There's got to be something here. A shell casing, a footprint, anything!"
And then she saw it. A piece of torn cloth caught on a bramble, matching the description of the suspect's clothing. Her heart pounding with excitement, she reached for it, taking one step too far.
A soft, deceptive surface gave way beneath her feet, and she felt herself sinking into the cold, clinging mud. Quicksand. Her body plummeted into the viscous trap, and she found herself stuck up to her thighs, the black skirt riding higher and higher over her hips.
She cried out, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent woods, as she frantically tried to dig herself free. But her arms, too, began to get stuck in the thick, engulfing mire.
"Of all the times... all the times to wear this blasted skirt!" she spat, panic rising in her voice. "I knew I should've worn pants! Fashion over function, that's me. Quyen, you fool."
Her fingers clawed at the muck, seeking something solid to grab onto. Sweat beaded on her brow, mixing with the dirt on her face. Her blouse, once bright red, was now splattered with mud.
And then she heard it—a voice, cool and amused, from behind her. "I must say, Ms. Sanders, I'm quite enjoying the view."
Quyen's heart froze in her chest, and she turned her head slowly, terror creeping into her veins as the realization dawned.
She was not alone.
Quyen Sanders, feeling the gentle breeze through her dark black hair, had ventured deep into the woods. Her eyes, hidden behind glasses, flicked over the dense vegetation as she searched for the clues that could lead her to the answers she sought. The red blouse clung to her chest, giving her an air of professionalism as a reporter, yet allowing her a sensual touch that made people open up to her. Her black mini skirt, though not the most practical choice, had become somewhat of a trademark outfit for her.
"Damn it!" she mumbled, poking around in the underbrush with a stick. "There's got to be something here. A shell casing, a footprint, anything!"
And then she saw it. A piece of torn cloth caught on a bramble, matching the description of the suspect's clothing. Her heart pounding with excitement, she reached for it, taking one step too far.
A soft, deceptive surface gave way beneath her feet, and she felt herself sinking into the cold, clinging mud. Quicksand. Her body plummeted into the viscous trap, and she found herself stuck up to her thighs, the black skirt riding higher and higher over her hips.
She cried out, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent woods, as she frantically tried to dig herself free. But her arms, too, began to get stuck in the thick, engulfing mire.
"Of all the times... all the times to wear this blasted skirt!" she spat, panic rising in her voice. "I knew I should've worn pants! Fashion over function, that's me. Quyen, you fool."
Her fingers clawed at the muck, seeking something solid to grab onto. Sweat beaded on her brow, mixing with the dirt on her face. Her blouse, once bright red, was now splattered with mud.
And then she heard it—a voice, cool and amused, from behind her. "I must say, Ms. Sanders, I'm quite enjoying the view."
Quyen's heart froze in her chest, and she turned her head slowly, terror creeping into her veins as the realization dawned.
She was not alone.
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Viridian
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Hot Pursuit
Quyen "Quicky" Sanders charged through the dense underbrush, her lungs burning with effort, her mind alight with determination. She was an investigative reporter, and this was her moment, the chase that could expose the syndicate's dark secrets. The suspect's fleeting shadow danced mockingly ahead, taunting her to keep up, a dark blur that wove through the trees.
"Come on, Quicky, keep up!" The suspect's voice rang out, distant and sinister, echoing through the woods.
"Think you can lose me? Think again!" Quyen spat back, a fire in her eyes. Her red blouse clung to her body, soaked with sweat, as her large breasts heaved with every frantic breath. The path grew treacherous, rocks and branches threatening to trip her at every turn, but she pressed on, relentless.
"You'll regret this, Quyen!" The suspect's voice carried back to her, tinged with a note of amusement. "These woods are not kind to trespassers!"
"You'll regret running!" she yelled back, anger and excitement blending into a wild adrenaline rush.
The suspect's laughter was the last thing Quyen heard before her world tipped into chaos. She stepped forward, expecting solid ground, and found only emptiness. Her heart lurched in terror as she plunged into the cold, thick quicksand, the gritty sludge swallowing her legs up to her thighs.
"What's the matter, Quicky? Stuck?" The suspect's voice oozed mockery as he stood at the edge of the pit, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.
"You bastard!" Quyen's voice cracked with panic as she struggled to free her legs, her muscles straining in vain against the relentless pull of the quicksand. The sensation of the mire, clinging and engulfing, sent a chilling thrill through her body. "This won't stop me!"
"Oh, I think it will." The suspect's eyes roved over her body, lingering on her breasts, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Such a shame, Quyen. I really did enjoy our little game."
"You won't win," she hissed, terror and rage battling within her.
He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. "I already have." Then, with a contemptuous laugh, he turned and vanished into the woods, leaving Quyen to her fate.
"No!" Quyen screamed, the reality of her situation crashing down on her. The quicksand continued its slow, inexorable pull, her body sinking deeper with each passing moment. Panic bubbled up, a rising tide that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Help!" she cried, desperation edging her voice, knowing deep down that no one would hear her, that she was alone and trapped.
Quyen "Quicky" Sanders charged through the dense underbrush, her lungs burning with effort, her mind alight with determination. She was an investigative reporter, and this was her moment, the chase that could expose the syndicate's dark secrets. The suspect's fleeting shadow danced mockingly ahead, taunting her to keep up, a dark blur that wove through the trees.
"Come on, Quicky, keep up!" The suspect's voice rang out, distant and sinister, echoing through the woods.
"Think you can lose me? Think again!" Quyen spat back, a fire in her eyes. Her red blouse clung to her body, soaked with sweat, as her large breasts heaved with every frantic breath. The path grew treacherous, rocks and branches threatening to trip her at every turn, but she pressed on, relentless.
"You'll regret this, Quyen!" The suspect's voice carried back to her, tinged with a note of amusement. "These woods are not kind to trespassers!"
"You'll regret running!" she yelled back, anger and excitement blending into a wild adrenaline rush.
The suspect's laughter was the last thing Quyen heard before her world tipped into chaos. She stepped forward, expecting solid ground, and found only emptiness. Her heart lurched in terror as she plunged into the cold, thick quicksand, the gritty sludge swallowing her legs up to her thighs.
"What's the matter, Quicky? Stuck?" The suspect's voice oozed mockery as he stood at the edge of the pit, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.
"You bastard!" Quyen's voice cracked with panic as she struggled to free her legs, her muscles straining in vain against the relentless pull of the quicksand. The sensation of the mire, clinging and engulfing, sent a chilling thrill through her body. "This won't stop me!"
"Oh, I think it will." The suspect's eyes roved over her body, lingering on her breasts, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Such a shame, Quyen. I really did enjoy our little game."
"You won't win," she hissed, terror and rage battling within her.
He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. "I already have." Then, with a contemptuous laugh, he turned and vanished into the woods, leaving Quyen to her fate.
"No!" Quyen screamed, the reality of her situation crashing down on her. The quicksand continued its slow, inexorable pull, her body sinking deeper with each passing moment. Panic bubbled up, a rising tide that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Help!" she cried, desperation edging her voice, knowing deep down that no one would hear her, that she was alone and trapped.
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Viridian
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
An updated AI render of onesixthsinker's Quarry Quandary.
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Viridian
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Hostile Environment
Quyen "Quicky" Sanders, a distinguished investigative reporter known for her courageous pursuit of truth, found herself in the dense and steamy rainforest covering an environmental protest. The humidity clung to her skin, causing her black pleated skirt and red blouse to stick uncomfortably to her body. The rainforest was alive with the sounds of exotic birds and insects, but it was the angry voices of protesters that filled her ears.
"Save the jungle! Save our home!" they chanted, their voices mixing with the pattering of rain on lush leaves.
Standing amongst the protesters, Quyen felt a surge of adrenaline. The plight of the forest was real, and she was determined to tell their story. She adjusted her glasses and scribbled in her notepad, noticing how her black hair clung to her face in the moist air.
Suddenly, a deafening noise erupted, and the crowd scattered in panic. Armed military had arrived, and they were firing. Bullets whizzed past her ears as she stumbled through the mud, her high heels sinking into the soft ground.
Quyen's mind raced as she sprinted deeper into the jungle, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked over her shoulder, the red blouse clinging to her, as a bullet hit a tree right beside her. She felt the jungle's hostility closing in around her, the undergrowth tearing at her skirt, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.
Hot and out of breath, she unbuttoned her blouse as much as she dared to stay cool. Her consciousness of her braless state heightened her sense of vulnerability. Her eyes darted around, searching for a safe spot to take a moment's rest.
Suddenly, her foot caught something. The ground gave way beneath her, and she was falling.
"Ah!" she screamed, her legs trapped by thick, warm, sucking mud. It was quicksand. Panic set in as she realized how fast she was sinking. The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever felt before—sensual, yet terrifying. Her legs were enveloped in a slow, warm embrace, pulling her deeper into its clutches.
"Help!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "Someone, please!"
The jungle responded with only the sounds of distant gunfire and the ominous whispers of the leaves. The quicksand continued its relentless pull, each second feeling like an eternity.
Quyen's heart raced, and her breathing grew ragged as she clawed at the vines above her, seeking something—anything—to pull herself free. But the quicksand was faster, thicker, more insistent.
"No, no, no," she whispered, tears mixing with sweat on her face.
As the mud reached her waist, she realized that the more she struggled, the faster it pulled her in. She needed to be calm, she needed to think. But how? How could she escape this relentless trap?
Quyen "Quicky" Sanders, a distinguished investigative reporter known for her courageous pursuit of truth, found herself in the dense and steamy rainforest covering an environmental protest. The humidity clung to her skin, causing her black pleated skirt and red blouse to stick uncomfortably to her body. The rainforest was alive with the sounds of exotic birds and insects, but it was the angry voices of protesters that filled her ears.
"Save the jungle! Save our home!" they chanted, their voices mixing with the pattering of rain on lush leaves.
Standing amongst the protesters, Quyen felt a surge of adrenaline. The plight of the forest was real, and she was determined to tell their story. She adjusted her glasses and scribbled in her notepad, noticing how her black hair clung to her face in the moist air.
Suddenly, a deafening noise erupted, and the crowd scattered in panic. Armed military had arrived, and they were firing. Bullets whizzed past her ears as she stumbled through the mud, her high heels sinking into the soft ground.
Quyen's mind raced as she sprinted deeper into the jungle, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked over her shoulder, the red blouse clinging to her, as a bullet hit a tree right beside her. She felt the jungle's hostility closing in around her, the undergrowth tearing at her skirt, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.
Hot and out of breath, she unbuttoned her blouse as much as she dared to stay cool. Her consciousness of her braless state heightened her sense of vulnerability. Her eyes darted around, searching for a safe spot to take a moment's rest.
Suddenly, her foot caught something. The ground gave way beneath her, and she was falling.
"Ah!" she screamed, her legs trapped by thick, warm, sucking mud. It was quicksand. Panic set in as she realized how fast she was sinking. The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever felt before—sensual, yet terrifying. Her legs were enveloped in a slow, warm embrace, pulling her deeper into its clutches.
"Help!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "Someone, please!"
The jungle responded with only the sounds of distant gunfire and the ominous whispers of the leaves. The quicksand continued its relentless pull, each second feeling like an eternity.
Quyen's heart raced, and her breathing grew ragged as she clawed at the vines above her, seeking something—anything—to pull herself free. But the quicksand was faster, thicker, more insistent.
"No, no, no," she whispered, tears mixing with sweat on her face.
As the mud reached her waist, she realized that the more she struggled, the faster it pulled her in. She needed to be calm, she needed to think. But how? How could she escape this relentless trap?
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Viridian @ deviantART: http://viridianqs.deviantart.com/
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Viridian
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Remake of Under Construction
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Jinn
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Lucky for them, they’re buoyant a/f.
Visit my DeviantArt page to find my collection of sticky stories and perilous pictures: https://www.deviantart.com/jinnzou
**Remember to favorite and follow!**
**Remember to favorite and follow!**
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Viridian
- Posts: 1590
- Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 10:03 am
Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
Proof of concept: a digital story with AI voice acting in the style of a film noir. This is 100% AI generated: all images are created from scratch with AI, the voices and animations are AI. Only the sound effects are not purely AI; they sfx tracks. The link to the video is a large one, so I've put it onto Dropbox. The stills are attached. There is a neutral expression, as the AI animator works best with a neutral face.
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/px67sgajradsl4exfkreu/Deal.mp4?rlkey=3hzw3w3ur1nqtv2720anmxjtu&dl=0
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/px67sgajradsl4exfkreu/Deal.mp4?rlkey=3hzw3w3ur1nqtv2720anmxjtu&dl=0
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sixgunzloaded
- Posts: 918
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Re: Quicky Sanders AI Collection
I would say, concept proven successfully! This is a huge leap. Nicely, nicely done!
I've been wanting to find a good AI voice app like this for a little side project I'm working on.
It's cool to hear Quyen speak!
I've been wanting to find a good AI voice app like this for a little side project I'm working on.
It's cool to hear Quyen speak!
How long did Tarzan watch before deciding to save Jill..?
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