We’re Fucked, Pt. 85: AI-generated images

I hope you like slimy blobs; otherwise this whole sequence must have been damn near unbearable. I have become a fan of blobs myself. Maybe when I die I will get reincarnated as one. I despise goblins, though.

The following images are related to chapter 85 of my ongoing novel We’re Fucked.

I have posted many other entries with generated images. Check them out.

“Darkness had washed over me like a foggy, polluted river.”
“I had heard the keening cries of the naiads.”
“But the world returns in a torrent of sights and sounds and scents, dazzling me with white light.”
“My blood must be turning into a sludgy sap that will clog my veins and arteries, that will bloat my belly and mar my skin with scabby lesions.”
“I will gasp my last breath while black slime oozes out of my mouth.”
“I will succumb to septicemia and end up like a bag of filth and offal left to rot in an alley.”
“My hair is matted to my forehead.”
“I want to duck under a showerhead and let it spray my hair and face with ice-cold water.”
“The chill will make me shiver uncontrollably, as well as yearn for the merciful embrace of death.”
“But what if trying to wash myself only spreads the slime and makes it stickier?”
“No matter how hard I scrub, even if I scour my body with bleach, I’ll never clean this alien ooze off my hair, skin, and private parts.”
“I will remain forever contaminated by the blob’s nauseating exudate.”
“My consciousness is struggling to escape from its chrysalis of flesh and bone.”
“It hurts, but the pain drives out the demons of panic.”
“That forefinger, curled around the trigger, feels stiff like a dried piece of tree fungus.”
“Was that a hallucination, an illusion brought on by the blob’s vile ichor?”
“Jacqueline, my beloved queen, the most precious gemstone in my crown.”
“My vision is swimming with phantasmic eyeballs.”
“If this revolting blight had a mouth, it would suck the flesh off my bones.”
“The office has become a bubble sliced off from the universe, a bubble filled with static and a dense miasma, kept inflated by a steady supply of insanity, and that has trapped me with the other inhabitant of this space: an alien abomination.”
“He then threw at the gooey splatter, like sprinkles, several serial killers’ collections of gouged-out eyeballs.”
“That demon likely ended up in heaven for having fulfilled his purpose: unleashing a massive discharge of jizz.”
“This defilement of our white-walled office shan’t be forgiven.”
“This damn gun is an instrument of chaos!”
“I should have known better than to trust a horse’s offering, but this thing was too shiny and beguiling to pass up.”
“A blaze of adrenaline has been pouring into my clitoris.”
“Those four fingers flex and straighten out, obeying me like whipped hounds.” What the fuck.
“I love you, right hand!”
“I’m a slug writhing in the gutter where life has left me.”
“I’m a fiend, an outcast cursed with the stigmata of filth and failure, who must be sacrificed to avert an apocalypse.”
“A freakish dick freak.”
“Why would I conjure up empathy for this monstrous heap of goo sent forth from some galactic abyss?”
“My brain is being conquered by tentacles entwined around it like the vines of a strangler fig.”
“I should have donned an industrial-strength hazmat suit merely to gaze upon this menace.”
“Should I toss it into a boiling cauldron, to be boiled alive in its own foul juices?”
“Will I dine on its fricasseed eyeballs?”
“A faint hum, the pulse of millions of microscopic parasites swarming in the black blubber.”
“I’m assaulted by the din of the blob’s gurgling snores, like those of a hibernating beast snuffling and blowing mucus in its slumber, about to cough itself awake.”
“I fling myself towards the target with a single stride, as well as a frenzy-fueled fury, and hurl my ink-tipped missile.”
“The pen hits an eyeball sideways, a few centimeters over its cornea, and clings to some oily membrane as if glued.”
“A surge of laughter wells up within me and racks my body as I burst into a maniacal cackle.”

One thought on “We’re Fucked, Pt. 85: AI-generated images

  1. Pingback: We’re Fucked, Pt. 85 (Fiction) – The Domains of the Emperor Owl

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