Jon Ureña's Blog, page 29
July 6, 2023
Life update (07/06/2023)
It’s eight in the evening and I’m stuck at work, thankfully alone because during the last two hours of the afternoon, I’m the only technician on duty. I have spent most of my spare time studying for an upcoming test on the 16th, but I have managed to pull off two full paragraphs of the next scene of my ongoing novel, which is quite a lot considering how much returning to work has disturbed me.
On the first day back, about twenty minutes from the end of the working day, I received a call. That late, we usually don’t pick up, and I seriously considered just pretending I had already left, but the call came from HQ. They told me that some technician from the electromedical service was in need of a computer technician because the monitors that handle the delivery rooms in the maternity ward weren’t “receiving data.” That’s too convoluted of an issue to start investigating so late in the evening. I considered just creating a ticket and leaving a note for my boss to decide next morning what to do; I certainly wasn’t going to interview the technician from the electromedical service so that he would rope me in past my schedule; they don’t pay me overtime. However, I ended up contacting the engineer on call.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
On the first day back, about twenty minutes from the end of the working day, I received a call. That late, we usually don’t pick up, and I seriously considered just pretending I had already left, but the call came from HQ. They told me that some technician from the electromedical service was in need of a computer technician because the monitors that handle the delivery rooms in the maternity ward weren’t “receiving data.” That’s too convoluted of an issue to start investigating so late in the evening. I considered just creating a ticket and leaving a note for my boss to decide next morning what to do; I certainly wasn’t going to interview the technician from the electromedical service so that he would rope me in past my schedule; they don’t pay me overtime. However, I ended up contacting the engineer on call.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
July 3, 2023
We're Fucked, Pt. 105 (Fiction)
Check out this chapter on my personal page, where it looks better
---
As I ease the door to Nairu's bedroom open, a broadening ribbon of hallway light pierces the darkness, creeping up the child-sized bed, reaching the slumbering form of the little girl we call our own. Glow-in-the-dark stars dot the ceiling, and under them, Nairu is lying prone, covered up to her neck in a lemonade-pink quilt featuring unicorns with turquoise-blue manes and self-satisfied smiles. The white light bathes our girl's tranquil face, as well as strands of her chestnut hair, in a milky glow. Her hands are tucked under her chin, her rosy lips parted. Her torso rises and falls with each gentle breath. Our antediluvian baby.
Nairu must have grown on me like a cluster of orchids blooming in a marsh; I want to kneel by the bed, cradle her face, and rub my thumbs along the ridges of her cheekbones. Deep in dreamland, what fantasies are dancing behind those closed eyes? Is she strolling among towering conifer trees? Is she splashing in a stream, catching prehistoric fish with her bare hands? Is she playing a game of tag with a wooly mammoth while her furry-footed, beastly father cheers her on from the sidelines? Is she riding on the back of her centaur mother, racing through a grassy plain, while sabertooths watch them in awe? Is she fleeing in panic from a stampede of ground sloths? In the frosty quiet, has she stumbled upon the lifeless forms of her mother and father, cold as the ground beneath them?
Even though Nairu has been abducted into a world irradiated with perversion, she dared to drift into dreams in the abode of two women who remain mostly strangers to her, one of whom is a dangerous lunatic. Outside our sanctuary, how many unspeakable horrors lurk in the shadows, eager to suck the marrow from this girl's bones? I must shield Nairu from enduring the same nightmares that haunt me, but for that I'd have to clean out society one doorstep at a time. Any potential threat to our pixie child? I'd hack them to pieces with a machete.
Jacqueline's warmth envelops me as she leans into my side, hugging my waist, squeezing her breasts against my left arm. She tilts her head to whisper in my ear.
"Isn't she lovely, our sweet little doll?"
Her sensual voice has rolled my spine into a tight spring.
"Mh-hm."
"I get to take care of this innocent child. We are a family." Her whisper becomes threadbare, as if she struggled to form each syllable. "Years ago, I was so miserable."
I want to turn my head and meet Jacqueline's eyes, but she buries her nose in my hair. Her fingers trace a path along the back of my scalp. She lets out a sultry sigh into my ear canal, which vibrates my eardrum with a whooshing noise like wind in a microphone. Goosebumps erupt on my skin.
"And then you appeared," she whispers, "you twisted thing."
Jacqueline wraps me tighter. My left earlobe becomes engulfed in a heated humidity as mommy savors the rounded, fleshy part of my ear with her tongue. A purry moan escapes her throat. She laps in slow motion at the outer rim of my ear, then the inner rim, then the hollow next to the ear canal, bathing them in warm saliva. I'm curling my toes and shrugging to keep from breaking in shivers as a tidal surge of desire rises up in my gut.
Before Nairu stirs from her sleep and sees one of her new mothers licking the other's left ear like a lollipop, I ease the door shut until the latch clicks.
I close my eyes. Jacqueline's tongue is sliding with a sensuous motion over the cartilaginous hollows, ridges and furrows of my ear, causing saliva to drip down to my earlobe. As she shifts her weight subtly from one foot to the other, and the pressure of her breasts squashing against my left arm intensifies or diminishes, I listen to her sounds: deep breaths, wet smacks when she withdraws her tongue to wet it, throaty noises when she swallows. My bodily heat is pooling in my crotch while an increasing moisture dampens my panties.
A hand lifts the front of my shirt, and those fingers caress my sunken abdomen. I shiver. A whimper slips out of my mouth. As Jacqueline's fingertips dally toward my pubic bone, leaving trails of warmth in their wake, my nipples stiffen.
"You want mommy to dote on her baby girl, don't you, sweetheart?" Jacqueline's breath kisses the inside of my ear. "Yes, you're in dire need of mommy attention."
A feverish desire pulses in my groin, and my pelvic muscles contract involuntarily, while Jacqueline's left hand unbuttons my trousers. I help her lower the waistband. Her right hand slides inside my trousers and along the curve of my ass, to knead my cheeks hungrily.
A tongue is coating the ridges of my left ear in saliva. A hand glides aside the seat of my panties, then cups and squeezes my bare ass. As a hand wanders down past my pubes, two of its fingers brush against my slit through the drenched panties, that cling to my quivering pussy. Those fingers rub my sex back and forth, sending a thrill through me.
My eyes roll back. Jacqueline's heat has sunk into my bones and is traveling through my body, setting every corner aglow. I'm feeling faint; my legs threaten to give out from under me. In the center of my mind, a chained, horned wolf bays for sex and blood.
Jacqueline removes her mouth from my ear, and pulls back. I turn my head to meet her cobalt-blues, now glassy. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted and wet. She's sticking her glistening tongue out. From its tip hangs a bead of saliva that gleams like a pearl. I stand on my tiptoes, envelop her coral-pink organ with my lips, and suck on her tongue as if to drain it of nectar.
I'm dizzy, and breathing in a floral fragrance. Jacqueline's firm hands are stroking my shoulders. The corners of her mouth have risen in a seductive smile.
"Sorry to leave you wet and ready, darling, but... c'est de mieux d'arrêter maintenant, before I fuck you in the hallway. Get that sexy body of yours to the bathroom and freshen up."
"I-is the rot heavy on my skin?"
"I can tell you have sweated quite a bit."
"More like crawled through shit."
Jacqueline chuckles.
"Go ahead and hop in the shower, sweetie. Wash the grime off and feel good again. Once you join me in our bedroom, as I told you on the phone, I'm going to show you something special."
---
Author's note: today's songs are "Forever" by Roy Harper (also this live version), "My Girls" by Animal Collective, and "Lysergic Bliss" by Of Montreal.
I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout the novel. A total of a hundred and sixty-eight videos so far. Check them out.
Are you also in dire need of mommy attention? Then check out the audiochapter I produced for this part.
---
As I ease the door to Nairu's bedroom open, a broadening ribbon of hallway light pierces the darkness, creeping up the child-sized bed, reaching the slumbering form of the little girl we call our own. Glow-in-the-dark stars dot the ceiling, and under them, Nairu is lying prone, covered up to her neck in a lemonade-pink quilt featuring unicorns with turquoise-blue manes and self-satisfied smiles. The white light bathes our girl's tranquil face, as well as strands of her chestnut hair, in a milky glow. Her hands are tucked under her chin, her rosy lips parted. Her torso rises and falls with each gentle breath. Our antediluvian baby.
Nairu must have grown on me like a cluster of orchids blooming in a marsh; I want to kneel by the bed, cradle her face, and rub my thumbs along the ridges of her cheekbones. Deep in dreamland, what fantasies are dancing behind those closed eyes? Is she strolling among towering conifer trees? Is she splashing in a stream, catching prehistoric fish with her bare hands? Is she playing a game of tag with a wooly mammoth while her furry-footed, beastly father cheers her on from the sidelines? Is she riding on the back of her centaur mother, racing through a grassy plain, while sabertooths watch them in awe? Is she fleeing in panic from a stampede of ground sloths? In the frosty quiet, has she stumbled upon the lifeless forms of her mother and father, cold as the ground beneath them?
Even though Nairu has been abducted into a world irradiated with perversion, she dared to drift into dreams in the abode of two women who remain mostly strangers to her, one of whom is a dangerous lunatic. Outside our sanctuary, how many unspeakable horrors lurk in the shadows, eager to suck the marrow from this girl's bones? I must shield Nairu from enduring the same nightmares that haunt me, but for that I'd have to clean out society one doorstep at a time. Any potential threat to our pixie child? I'd hack them to pieces with a machete.
Jacqueline's warmth envelops me as she leans into my side, hugging my waist, squeezing her breasts against my left arm. She tilts her head to whisper in my ear.
"Isn't she lovely, our sweet little doll?"
Her sensual voice has rolled my spine into a tight spring.
"Mh-hm."
"I get to take care of this innocent child. We are a family." Her whisper becomes threadbare, as if she struggled to form each syllable. "Years ago, I was so miserable."
I want to turn my head and meet Jacqueline's eyes, but she buries her nose in my hair. Her fingers trace a path along the back of my scalp. She lets out a sultry sigh into my ear canal, which vibrates my eardrum with a whooshing noise like wind in a microphone. Goosebumps erupt on my skin.
"And then you appeared," she whispers, "you twisted thing."
Jacqueline wraps me tighter. My left earlobe becomes engulfed in a heated humidity as mommy savors the rounded, fleshy part of my ear with her tongue. A purry moan escapes her throat. She laps in slow motion at the outer rim of my ear, then the inner rim, then the hollow next to the ear canal, bathing them in warm saliva. I'm curling my toes and shrugging to keep from breaking in shivers as a tidal surge of desire rises up in my gut.
Before Nairu stirs from her sleep and sees one of her new mothers licking the other's left ear like a lollipop, I ease the door shut until the latch clicks.
I close my eyes. Jacqueline's tongue is sliding with a sensuous motion over the cartilaginous hollows, ridges and furrows of my ear, causing saliva to drip down to my earlobe. As she shifts her weight subtly from one foot to the other, and the pressure of her breasts squashing against my left arm intensifies or diminishes, I listen to her sounds: deep breaths, wet smacks when she withdraws her tongue to wet it, throaty noises when she swallows. My bodily heat is pooling in my crotch while an increasing moisture dampens my panties.
A hand lifts the front of my shirt, and those fingers caress my sunken abdomen. I shiver. A whimper slips out of my mouth. As Jacqueline's fingertips dally toward my pubic bone, leaving trails of warmth in their wake, my nipples stiffen.
"You want mommy to dote on her baby girl, don't you, sweetheart?" Jacqueline's breath kisses the inside of my ear. "Yes, you're in dire need of mommy attention."
A feverish desire pulses in my groin, and my pelvic muscles contract involuntarily, while Jacqueline's left hand unbuttons my trousers. I help her lower the waistband. Her right hand slides inside my trousers and along the curve of my ass, to knead my cheeks hungrily.
A tongue is coating the ridges of my left ear in saliva. A hand glides aside the seat of my panties, then cups and squeezes my bare ass. As a hand wanders down past my pubes, two of its fingers brush against my slit through the drenched panties, that cling to my quivering pussy. Those fingers rub my sex back and forth, sending a thrill through me.
My eyes roll back. Jacqueline's heat has sunk into my bones and is traveling through my body, setting every corner aglow. I'm feeling faint; my legs threaten to give out from under me. In the center of my mind, a chained, horned wolf bays for sex and blood.
Jacqueline removes her mouth from my ear, and pulls back. I turn my head to meet her cobalt-blues, now glassy. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted and wet. She's sticking her glistening tongue out. From its tip hangs a bead of saliva that gleams like a pearl. I stand on my tiptoes, envelop her coral-pink organ with my lips, and suck on her tongue as if to drain it of nectar.
I'm dizzy, and breathing in a floral fragrance. Jacqueline's firm hands are stroking my shoulders. The corners of her mouth have risen in a seductive smile.
"Sorry to leave you wet and ready, darling, but... c'est de mieux d'arrêter maintenant, before I fuck you in the hallway. Get that sexy body of yours to the bathroom and freshen up."
"I-is the rot heavy on my skin?"
"I can tell you have sweated quite a bit."
"More like crawled through shit."
Jacqueline chuckles.
"Go ahead and hop in the shower, sweetie. Wash the grime off and feel good again. Once you join me in our bedroom, as I told you on the phone, I'm going to show you something special."
---
Author's note: today's songs are "Forever" by Roy Harper (also this live version), "My Girls" by Animal Collective, and "Lysergic Bliss" by Of Montreal.
I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout the novel. A total of a hundred and sixty-eight videos so far. Check them out.
Are you also in dire need of mommy attention? Then check out the audiochapter I produced for this part.
June 30, 2023
Life update (06/30/2023)
I felt like writing this post due to something I have done wrong today, that speaks volumes about my life and my general state of mind these past few days. The thirtieth of June is when my city celebrates that in the nineteenth century we frustrated an attempt by the Napoleonic army to invade us, or whatever. Can’t say I care much about the actual details. I don’t celebrate festivities in general, nor my own birthday, but I dread such days because I’m forced to keep the peace with my family by attending the reunions. This time I was tasked to do one single thing: grab a take-out order because my parents were busy. I was told when I was supposed to walk into that store and grab the order. I wrote it on Google Calendar. After a morning in which I barely managed to write anything, let alone study for my upcoming exam, I went out and appeared at the store, only to be told by the shopkeeper that the order was supposed to take an hour longer.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
June 26, 2023
We're Fucked, Pt. 104 (Fiction)
Check out this chapter on my personal page, where it looks better
---
I nudge the front door closed with the back of my sneaker, and it settles behind me with a solid thump. I release my pent-up breath. I'm home, in the private domain of Miss Jacqueline Rouxel. I'm welcomed by the sight of the corridor and the smears of light from the recessed ceiling fixtures reflected in the glossy parquet. To my left opens the ample living room, its walls painted baby blue. The balcony door looks out into a patch of darkness.
A wave of relief washes over me; for the first time since I left for work in the morning, I can loosen my muscles and my brow.
Water is dripping from the moldy, spare umbrella I grabbed at the office. I turn around to slide it into the stand. I take off my corduroy jacket and place it on the coat hanger. My keys hit the tray with a sharp clatter.
Jacqueline is ambling down the corridor to meet me. Her unbound raven-black hair cascades to her shoulder blades, swaying gracefully. She has donned an oyster-pink silk robe, tied up at the waist with a sash, that highlights the contours of her voluptuous figure. As she walks, the light swims within the fabric like sunlight playing on a rippling pond.
I want to proclaim with elation that I'm home, that although I was brought against my will to this strident, chaotic world, I have managed to survive, but my vocal cords refuse to comply. Jacqueline is near enough for her intoxicating fragrance to envelop me with a mixture of freshly-washed skin, soap, cream, roses and jasmine, that triggers an ache of longing deep within me.
My partner in crime, the woman I adore, stops two feet away. Her eyes, cobalt blue like the deep ocean and blue tangs and hyacinth macaws, are brimming with warmth as they gaze down into mine. Her plump lips curve into a radiant smile that lights up her ivory-white features, that weakens my knees. Whatever may exist in this universe beyond Jacqueline blurs as my focus remains locked on my beloved. She bolsters me despite the rot inside me, despite my crippling derangement. Yet, a pang of guilt gnaws at my heart; her tenderness is wasted on such a filthy bitch, whom the rest of the world has rightfully neglected.
In the periphery of my vision, I catch sight of Jacqueline's midnight-sky-black bra, whose satin fabric glistens subtly and is decorated with lace overlays, that supports the pair of massive breasts. I long to lose myself in eternity ensconced in her arms, burying my face in the ivory-white slopes of her tits so her warmth and softness and familiar scent soothe my frayed nerves. My heart pounds with the desperate need to be engulfed by her like a piece of paper succumbing to a flame.
However, a clammy, mucous-like sensation clings to my skin and clothes. Does Jacqueline's fine nostrils detect the blob's putrescent stench mingled with the acrid tang of my own sweat? The rot must have seeped even into the fabric of my panties, that are chafing against my private parts. I'm contaminated, marked with the brand of evil. I need to rip off my tainted clothes and scrub away the filth until my skin feels like it's been flayed.
"J-Jacqueline, I've gone through a disturbing, exceedingly long argument with a blob of sewage."
She steps closer, leans forward, and presses her plush lips against mine. Her tongue, that velvety organ, plunges in to probe mine warmly. I shudder. The hair on my nape stands up. Hot white noise tingles between my thighs. Her eyelashes flutter, tickling my eyelids, as her quickened pulse throbs through the skin of her lower lip.
While her soft tongue swirls around mine, Jacqueline slides her fingers behind my hips and clasps her palms together in the small of my back, pulling me closer. Her breasts heave against mine as she inhales and exhales, letting out low moans that resonate through me like a hum. My fingertips meander up and down her dorsal groove through the silky fabric of her robe, between the symmetrical ridges of muscle, until I touch the stiff clasp of her bra. As I fiddle with it, my mouth floods further at the prospect of unhooking the clasp and suffocating on those mounds of smooth flesh.
With a wet smacking sound, Jacqueline withdraws her lips from mine, breaking our embrace. I lean forward to resume the kiss, but I'm unable to connect our mouths. When I open my eyes, Jacqueline is gazing at me with the fondness of a mother regarding her child. Her cheeks are flushed pink.
"Bonsoir, ma belle," she says in a silky accent that washes over me like a bath of lily petals, and makes me picture a rural village in the south of France.
The hot-blooded pleasure that had swelled within me begins to evaporate from my abdomen. I had lost any grasp of what words may mean, but now I'm coming up from my daze in the bottom of a warm sea. Reality, familiar yet foreign, has come into view like a distant shore after a weeks-long maritime journey. I hear the ghostly echo of Jacqueline's voice asking, "Vous avez fait de votre vie, aujourd'hui, comme une araignée?"
The warmth of her saliva lingers on my tongue as I regain my breath. I struggle to push a single word out.
"B-bonsoir."
Jacqueline's lips stretch into a grin that brings out her dimples. The lace trim on her right sleeve slides down to the crook of her elbow as she raises that hand to stroke my cheek. Her tongue darts out and licks her lips.
"Gummy candy and... Mentos?"
"Yeah, I bought some on the way back. I wanted to mask the taste of vomit."
"You vomited, dear?" Jacqueline's brows knit together. "From an argument?"
"Ah... Doesn't matter."
"Indeed, what would anything that has happened out there matter now that you're home and we can enjoy ourselves?" Jacqueline steps back, and her cobalt-blues scan me from head to toe. "I must say, though, that I was sure you would have returned a watery ghost. Drenched from the storm, your shoes soiled with mud. But here you stand, almost pristine."
I let out a dry chuckle.
"I'm glad, because I feel like I spent hours knee-deep in shit. When I left the office, I was expecting to see Donostia in ruins, the buildings crashing down, the bridges falling into the river, the streets crawling with foul abominations... But instead, the storm had subsided to a drizzle."
"Lucky girl." Jacqueline grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. "Now come with me, darling."
As she guides me down the hallway, she casts a glance over her shoulder and raises a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Her eyes are twinkling.
A sketchbook page adorns the white wall. Our prehistoric prodigy has transformed that canvas of cream with strokes of colorful crayons. Her art depicts a trio bound by handclasp, and as the central figure stands a girl of about ten years old, with peach-orange skin and a swath of chestnut hair. The red smudge forming her mouth is curved into a smile.
---
Author's note: the songs for today are "Yours Truly, the Commuter" by Jason Lytle, "Sally Cinnamon" by The Stone Roses, and "Friday I'm In Love" by Yo La Tengo.
I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout this novel. A total of a hundred and sixty-four videos so far. Check them out.
You want to listen to Jacqueline speak in French, don't you? You know you do. Check out the audiochapter I produced for this scene.
Such a pleasant start for this demented new sequence titled "Miraculous Milk."
---
I nudge the front door closed with the back of my sneaker, and it settles behind me with a solid thump. I release my pent-up breath. I'm home, in the private domain of Miss Jacqueline Rouxel. I'm welcomed by the sight of the corridor and the smears of light from the recessed ceiling fixtures reflected in the glossy parquet. To my left opens the ample living room, its walls painted baby blue. The balcony door looks out into a patch of darkness.
A wave of relief washes over me; for the first time since I left for work in the morning, I can loosen my muscles and my brow.
Water is dripping from the moldy, spare umbrella I grabbed at the office. I turn around to slide it into the stand. I take off my corduroy jacket and place it on the coat hanger. My keys hit the tray with a sharp clatter.
Jacqueline is ambling down the corridor to meet me. Her unbound raven-black hair cascades to her shoulder blades, swaying gracefully. She has donned an oyster-pink silk robe, tied up at the waist with a sash, that highlights the contours of her voluptuous figure. As she walks, the light swims within the fabric like sunlight playing on a rippling pond.
I want to proclaim with elation that I'm home, that although I was brought against my will to this strident, chaotic world, I have managed to survive, but my vocal cords refuse to comply. Jacqueline is near enough for her intoxicating fragrance to envelop me with a mixture of freshly-washed skin, soap, cream, roses and jasmine, that triggers an ache of longing deep within me.
My partner in crime, the woman I adore, stops two feet away. Her eyes, cobalt blue like the deep ocean and blue tangs and hyacinth macaws, are brimming with warmth as they gaze down into mine. Her plump lips curve into a radiant smile that lights up her ivory-white features, that weakens my knees. Whatever may exist in this universe beyond Jacqueline blurs as my focus remains locked on my beloved. She bolsters me despite the rot inside me, despite my crippling derangement. Yet, a pang of guilt gnaws at my heart; her tenderness is wasted on such a filthy bitch, whom the rest of the world has rightfully neglected.
In the periphery of my vision, I catch sight of Jacqueline's midnight-sky-black bra, whose satin fabric glistens subtly and is decorated with lace overlays, that supports the pair of massive breasts. I long to lose myself in eternity ensconced in her arms, burying my face in the ivory-white slopes of her tits so her warmth and softness and familiar scent soothe my frayed nerves. My heart pounds with the desperate need to be engulfed by her like a piece of paper succumbing to a flame.
However, a clammy, mucous-like sensation clings to my skin and clothes. Does Jacqueline's fine nostrils detect the blob's putrescent stench mingled with the acrid tang of my own sweat? The rot must have seeped even into the fabric of my panties, that are chafing against my private parts. I'm contaminated, marked with the brand of evil. I need to rip off my tainted clothes and scrub away the filth until my skin feels like it's been flayed.
"J-Jacqueline, I've gone through a disturbing, exceedingly long argument with a blob of sewage."
She steps closer, leans forward, and presses her plush lips against mine. Her tongue, that velvety organ, plunges in to probe mine warmly. I shudder. The hair on my nape stands up. Hot white noise tingles between my thighs. Her eyelashes flutter, tickling my eyelids, as her quickened pulse throbs through the skin of her lower lip.
While her soft tongue swirls around mine, Jacqueline slides her fingers behind my hips and clasps her palms together in the small of my back, pulling me closer. Her breasts heave against mine as she inhales and exhales, letting out low moans that resonate through me like a hum. My fingertips meander up and down her dorsal groove through the silky fabric of her robe, between the symmetrical ridges of muscle, until I touch the stiff clasp of her bra. As I fiddle with it, my mouth floods further at the prospect of unhooking the clasp and suffocating on those mounds of smooth flesh.
With a wet smacking sound, Jacqueline withdraws her lips from mine, breaking our embrace. I lean forward to resume the kiss, but I'm unable to connect our mouths. When I open my eyes, Jacqueline is gazing at me with the fondness of a mother regarding her child. Her cheeks are flushed pink.
"Bonsoir, ma belle," she says in a silky accent that washes over me like a bath of lily petals, and makes me picture a rural village in the south of France.
The hot-blooded pleasure that had swelled within me begins to evaporate from my abdomen. I had lost any grasp of what words may mean, but now I'm coming up from my daze in the bottom of a warm sea. Reality, familiar yet foreign, has come into view like a distant shore after a weeks-long maritime journey. I hear the ghostly echo of Jacqueline's voice asking, "Vous avez fait de votre vie, aujourd'hui, comme une araignée?"
The warmth of her saliva lingers on my tongue as I regain my breath. I struggle to push a single word out.
"B-bonsoir."
Jacqueline's lips stretch into a grin that brings out her dimples. The lace trim on her right sleeve slides down to the crook of her elbow as she raises that hand to stroke my cheek. Her tongue darts out and licks her lips.
"Gummy candy and... Mentos?"
"Yeah, I bought some on the way back. I wanted to mask the taste of vomit."
"You vomited, dear?" Jacqueline's brows knit together. "From an argument?"
"Ah... Doesn't matter."
"Indeed, what would anything that has happened out there matter now that you're home and we can enjoy ourselves?" Jacqueline steps back, and her cobalt-blues scan me from head to toe. "I must say, though, that I was sure you would have returned a watery ghost. Drenched from the storm, your shoes soiled with mud. But here you stand, almost pristine."
I let out a dry chuckle.
"I'm glad, because I feel like I spent hours knee-deep in shit. When I left the office, I was expecting to see Donostia in ruins, the buildings crashing down, the bridges falling into the river, the streets crawling with foul abominations... But instead, the storm had subsided to a drizzle."
"Lucky girl." Jacqueline grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. "Now come with me, darling."
As she guides me down the hallway, she casts a glance over her shoulder and raises a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Her eyes are twinkling.
A sketchbook page adorns the white wall. Our prehistoric prodigy has transformed that canvas of cream with strokes of colorful crayons. Her art depicts a trio bound by handclasp, and as the central figure stands a girl of about ten years old, with peach-orange skin and a swath of chestnut hair. The red smudge forming her mouth is curved into a smile.
---
Author's note: the songs for today are "Yours Truly, the Commuter" by Jason Lytle, "Sally Cinnamon" by The Stone Roses, and "Friday I'm In Love" by Yo La Tengo.
I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout this novel. A total of a hundred and sixty-four videos so far. Check them out.
You want to listen to Jacqueline speak in French, don't you? You know you do. Check out the audiochapter I produced for this scene.
Such a pleasant start for this demented new sequence titled "Miraculous Milk."
June 24, 2023
Life update (06/24/2023)
To me, the world feels like it’s becoming increasingly horrifying. The Russia-Ukraine war has gotten more unstable, the US government and its media are utterly corrupt (which matters a lot even for us in Europe, because whatever idelogical bullshit they come up with they end up spreading it), AI is getting nuts but the powers-that-be are focusing on trying to censor it to fit their ideology, insiders knew that the virus was a lab leak and yet they deceived us all, the WEF and the 2030 Agenda motherfuckers keep working every day to turn the entire world into a worse version of communist China, people are waking up regarding UFOs but whatever groups have the remains became a more entrenched power than that of public servants, etc. We’re living through the shoddiest dystopia imaginable.
Regarding my personal life, I’ve been unemployed since January. I thought it would last a month at the most, but turns out that the rankings that determine if I get called to work as an IT technician for hospitals got updated due to some new laws, and because I can’t speak Basque, I got pushed down from first to eight or ninth. I have been glad that I can wake up at nine in the morning and write, and that the goverment is paying me unemployment benefits. However, this won’t last much longer: they updated the rankings, and a good bunch of people above me must have gotten hired, because now I’m second. I may get called next week to cover summer holidays.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
Regarding my personal life, I’ve been unemployed since January. I thought it would last a month at the most, but turns out that the rankings that determine if I get called to work as an IT technician for hospitals got updated due to some new laws, and because I can’t speak Basque, I got pushed down from first to eight or ninth. I have been glad that I can wake up at nine in the morning and write, and that the goverment is paying me unemployment benefits. However, this won’t last much longer: they updated the rankings, and a good bunch of people above me must have gotten hired, because now I’m second. I may get called next week to cover summer holidays.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
June 21, 2023
Ongoing manga: Vinland Saga, by Makoto Yukimura
Let me tell ya about the odd manga series that is Vinland Saga, with which I’ve had a peculiar relationship. This is mainly the story of one historical dude named Thorfinn Karlsefni, born in Iceland but destined to spend most of his days very much not in Iceland.
For me, since the tale went through its massive inflection point, Vinland Saga became two stories in one. In the first half, we meet Thorfinn as a kid when he was living with his family in their Icelandic village. Thorfinn’s father used to be a badass mass murderer for some famous Nordic group of killers, until he got sick of it and adopted the philosophy that the true warrior doesn’t fight. After Thorfinn witnesses the consequences of such a change in perspective when they meet a group of hardened killers, our protagonist becomes consumed by a thirst for vengeance that put other vengeance addicts to shame; the guy lives to get stronger, killing whoever stands in his way, in order to murder the man responsible for his rage. We follow him, and his group of mercenaries, as they invade, pillage, murder, and murder some more.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page]
June 20, 2023
We're Fucked, Pt. 103 (Fiction)
Check out this chapter on my personal page, where it looks better
---
"Don't look so defeated," Alberto the blob says. "Listen, I know that the news about an impending apocalypse is hard to wrap your tiny mind around. However, despite how unbearable and loathsome you are, the universe still tolerates the burden of your existence. Don't forget that."
I narrow my eyes at the wall-wide, gooey scrotum of fate.
"What I don't forget," I retort in a ragged voice, "is that the universe lacks sentience, and therefore can't give two shits about me or you for that matter. Otherwise it could choose not to implode in a fit of self-annihilation. But thank you, Blubberass, for your manipulative attempt to console me."
The blob lets out a wet chuckle. I shake my head.
"I'm so glad that I can make even an ectoplasmic wall of pus crack up," I grumble.
"Oh, quit your bellyaching. All it takes for greatness is the right kind of unhinged. Now that we're balls deep in the cosmic stew, that's exactly what we need: a freak among freaks."
I lower my head as my fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt.
"I don't even like human beings." I struggle to push more words past the knot in my throat. "I shouldn't be the one to save them."
The putrescent heap of slime gurgles a sloshing sigh.
"Tough titties, pal. You don't have to like 'em, you just have to save 'em."
I envision a fire-breathing serpent coiled around the throat of the universe. I force a breath deep into my lungs, then exhale slowly.
"Can we cut the bullshit and get to the point? How in Arachne's name, pray tell, am I supposed to fix a dying universe? These gaping wounds in the fabric of reality... How can they be stitched back up? What's your grand plan, Oh Mighty Overlord of the Dark?"
"I'm glad you finally asked!" Alberto proclaims with theatrical flourish. "It's not like we have been trying to explain the problem to you for weeks. But, you know, no rush. The universe is just on the brink of annihilation."
My eyelids twitch.
"Get on with it, Blubberball!"
"Alright, alright. No need to feel guilty for your cognitive deficiencies. As a humble servant of the greater good, I will lay out a plan for you: destroy the professor's machine. As in physically wreck it."
"If that machine is a nexus of energies, a conduit between dimensions, then once it's smashed to bits, the energies tapping into it would still exist and the tears in reality would continue to grow. Wouldn't they?"
Alberto's gooey form undulates irritably like a fleshy ocean current.
"Leire, you have the intellectual capacity of a walnut, and I'm merely a messenger. I don't know jack shit about how that machine works. The professor has assured us that his invention should be demolished, so that's what I'm conveying to you, the only one who can act on this information. Grow some humongous cojones and obliterate the magnum opus of a genius. Hopefully then the tears in space-time will shrink to a pinprick, preventing further entities from slipping through."
"How am I supposed to smash a bunny machine that taps into the multiverse?"
"Have you forgotten that you're insane? Have confidence in your mad skills."
I glance down at my chest, but my breasts aren't equipped to wield artillery cannons or nuclear missiles.
I shrug.
"Well, I'm a pro at ruining stuff, so I'll figure it out. Where is this doomsday device located?"
"You'll come across it, and once you do, you will recognize it immediately."
My eyebrows knit together in frustration as my temper flares.
"Could you be any vaguer, you mucus-clogged imbecile?!"
"Just shut your cakehole, keep your fucking eyes as well as that interdimensional fuckhole of a brain open, and learn to pay attention to your surroundings."
"Should a quest to get me interested in the world require universe-ending stakes?!"
"Apparently so, Leire. Apparently so. I mean, it always has to be something grandiose with you. Nevermind the little things, like good hygiene or treating your former co-workers with decency; universe-ending stakes or nothing. And to be honest, after however long I've been forced to listen to your babbling, which has turned my mind into a sewer, I feel that the universe ending may be a blessing."
I rub my hands down my face. My muscles have tensed up with adrenaline, and a headache is gnawing at my skull like a starved rat.
"Is that all you came to convey?" I ask in a weary voice. "I have a pressing appointment with my amatory goddess, so before I hurry to cram in mommy goo by the spoonful, do you intend to bother me with further pieces of invaluable advice?"
"Just remember that you're our emissary on this plane, all we've got, as sickening as the notion may be. We're cheering for you. One of us is, anyway. I'm realistically pessimistic about your chances."
I let out a bitter laugh. Sluggish, I shamble back to Jacqueline's chair and flop down on it. The chair creaks as if complaining.
"Alright, well... I better get going and save the universe or whatever. Let's keep this shitty world spinning, even though its sentient inhabitants have done little to deserve the ride. As for you, return to your home in the sewerage pipes of hell."
"Yeah, fuck off, Leire. Enjoy the rest of your depraved existence."
A smile creeps onto my face.
"You bet I will, Blubberboy."
The blob makes a rumbling noise like a tuba full of turds. His gelatinous bulk starts convulsing, wobbling and rippling. As dozens of eyeballs shake and bounce against each other, viscous ropes of goo flail out, undulating like inky anacondas. Alberto's volume is shrinking with a fleshy slurp as if a drain had opened in the wall and were sucking him down.
The puddles and splotches of black goo that have sullied the carpet are stretching dozens of tiny arms. Those wriggling strands, dark vines that grow in fast motion, are pulling themselves from the fabric as they reach out toward the wall. Blackened tissues, with which I had wiped my face after Alberto spat at me, roll up the inner wall of my wastebasket, then tumble across the carpet to meet the interdimensional drain that is pulling in every droplet of tarry putrescence.
A myriad of melon-sized eyeballs pop out from the dwindling mass of slime, dropping onto the carpeted floor with a series of thuds before rolling around like slick marbles. As they come to a halt, they blur, start hissing, and one by one they dissolve into effervescent mists of pollutants that carry a bitter, metallic scent.
With a glug, the last gob of ooze is sucked down into the void. Black and greasy smears remain, like spills of crude oil, but as the rain lashes against the office windowpanes, the stains begin to fade.
---
Author's note: the songs for today are "Fat Lip" by Sum 41, and "See You at Your Funeral" by PUP.
I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout this novel so far. A hundred and sixty-one videos. Check them out.
Enjoy some amateur theatre with AI-generated voices by listening to the audiochapter of this chapter. Check it out.
Thus concludes the saga of Alberto the blob, that started back in chapter 80, during November of last year. This last sequence has been the longest of the novel by a significant margin, with about 25,000 words. You can hear the entirety of this sequence as audiochapters through this link.
The next chapter will kick off a new sequence titled "Miraculous Milk," throughout which I'll proceed to lose what little remains of my audience.
---
"Don't look so defeated," Alberto the blob says. "Listen, I know that the news about an impending apocalypse is hard to wrap your tiny mind around. However, despite how unbearable and loathsome you are, the universe still tolerates the burden of your existence. Don't forget that."
I narrow my eyes at the wall-wide, gooey scrotum of fate.
"What I don't forget," I retort in a ragged voice, "is that the universe lacks sentience, and therefore can't give two shits about me or you for that matter. Otherwise it could choose not to implode in a fit of self-annihilation. But thank you, Blubberass, for your manipulative attempt to console me."
The blob lets out a wet chuckle. I shake my head.
"I'm so glad that I can make even an ectoplasmic wall of pus crack up," I grumble.
"Oh, quit your bellyaching. All it takes for greatness is the right kind of unhinged. Now that we're balls deep in the cosmic stew, that's exactly what we need: a freak among freaks."
I lower my head as my fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt.
"I don't even like human beings." I struggle to push more words past the knot in my throat. "I shouldn't be the one to save them."
The putrescent heap of slime gurgles a sloshing sigh.
"Tough titties, pal. You don't have to like 'em, you just have to save 'em."
I envision a fire-breathing serpent coiled around the throat of the universe. I force a breath deep into my lungs, then exhale slowly.
"Can we cut the bullshit and get to the point? How in Arachne's name, pray tell, am I supposed to fix a dying universe? These gaping wounds in the fabric of reality... How can they be stitched back up? What's your grand plan, Oh Mighty Overlord of the Dark?"
"I'm glad you finally asked!" Alberto proclaims with theatrical flourish. "It's not like we have been trying to explain the problem to you for weeks. But, you know, no rush. The universe is just on the brink of annihilation."
My eyelids twitch.
"Get on with it, Blubberball!"
"Alright, alright. No need to feel guilty for your cognitive deficiencies. As a humble servant of the greater good, I will lay out a plan for you: destroy the professor's machine. As in physically wreck it."
"If that machine is a nexus of energies, a conduit between dimensions, then once it's smashed to bits, the energies tapping into it would still exist and the tears in reality would continue to grow. Wouldn't they?"
Alberto's gooey form undulates irritably like a fleshy ocean current.
"Leire, you have the intellectual capacity of a walnut, and I'm merely a messenger. I don't know jack shit about how that machine works. The professor has assured us that his invention should be demolished, so that's what I'm conveying to you, the only one who can act on this information. Grow some humongous cojones and obliterate the magnum opus of a genius. Hopefully then the tears in space-time will shrink to a pinprick, preventing further entities from slipping through."
"How am I supposed to smash a bunny machine that taps into the multiverse?"
"Have you forgotten that you're insane? Have confidence in your mad skills."
I glance down at my chest, but my breasts aren't equipped to wield artillery cannons or nuclear missiles.
I shrug.
"Well, I'm a pro at ruining stuff, so I'll figure it out. Where is this doomsday device located?"
"You'll come across it, and once you do, you will recognize it immediately."
My eyebrows knit together in frustration as my temper flares.
"Could you be any vaguer, you mucus-clogged imbecile?!"
"Just shut your cakehole, keep your fucking eyes as well as that interdimensional fuckhole of a brain open, and learn to pay attention to your surroundings."
"Should a quest to get me interested in the world require universe-ending stakes?!"
"Apparently so, Leire. Apparently so. I mean, it always has to be something grandiose with you. Nevermind the little things, like good hygiene or treating your former co-workers with decency; universe-ending stakes or nothing. And to be honest, after however long I've been forced to listen to your babbling, which has turned my mind into a sewer, I feel that the universe ending may be a blessing."
I rub my hands down my face. My muscles have tensed up with adrenaline, and a headache is gnawing at my skull like a starved rat.
"Is that all you came to convey?" I ask in a weary voice. "I have a pressing appointment with my amatory goddess, so before I hurry to cram in mommy goo by the spoonful, do you intend to bother me with further pieces of invaluable advice?"
"Just remember that you're our emissary on this plane, all we've got, as sickening as the notion may be. We're cheering for you. One of us is, anyway. I'm realistically pessimistic about your chances."
I let out a bitter laugh. Sluggish, I shamble back to Jacqueline's chair and flop down on it. The chair creaks as if complaining.
"Alright, well... I better get going and save the universe or whatever. Let's keep this shitty world spinning, even though its sentient inhabitants have done little to deserve the ride. As for you, return to your home in the sewerage pipes of hell."
"Yeah, fuck off, Leire. Enjoy the rest of your depraved existence."
A smile creeps onto my face.
"You bet I will, Blubberboy."
The blob makes a rumbling noise like a tuba full of turds. His gelatinous bulk starts convulsing, wobbling and rippling. As dozens of eyeballs shake and bounce against each other, viscous ropes of goo flail out, undulating like inky anacondas. Alberto's volume is shrinking with a fleshy slurp as if a drain had opened in the wall and were sucking him down.
The puddles and splotches of black goo that have sullied the carpet are stretching dozens of tiny arms. Those wriggling strands, dark vines that grow in fast motion, are pulling themselves from the fabric as they reach out toward the wall. Blackened tissues, with which I had wiped my face after Alberto spat at me, roll up the inner wall of my wastebasket, then tumble across the carpet to meet the interdimensional drain that is pulling in every droplet of tarry putrescence.
A myriad of melon-sized eyeballs pop out from the dwindling mass of slime, dropping onto the carpeted floor with a series of thuds before rolling around like slick marbles. As they come to a halt, they blur, start hissing, and one by one they dissolve into effervescent mists of pollutants that carry a bitter, metallic scent.
With a glug, the last gob of ooze is sucked down into the void. Black and greasy smears remain, like spills of crude oil, but as the rain lashes against the office windowpanes, the stains begin to fade.
---
Author's note: the songs for today are "Fat Lip" by Sum 41, and "See You at Your Funeral" by PUP.
I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout this novel so far. A hundred and sixty-one videos. Check them out.
Enjoy some amateur theatre with AI-generated voices by listening to the audiochapter of this chapter. Check it out.
Thus concludes the saga of Alberto the blob, that started back in chapter 80, during November of last year. This last sequence has been the longest of the novel by a significant margin, with about 25,000 words. You can hear the entirety of this sequence as audiochapters through this link.
The next chapter will kick off a new sequence titled "Miraculous Milk," throughout which I'll proceed to lose what little remains of my audience.
June 18, 2023
Dialogue between three AI people with GPT-4
This post is a continuation of the following:
Dialogue between three people with GPT-4
As I was refactoring the complicated dialogue system, I figured that I hadn’t tested it by having three AI characters talk to each other. The following conversation was created by GPT-4 from the first word to the last; the system just provided the proper context, information about the speaker, his or her memories about the interlocutors, etc. The setting is the same as in the previous post: Leire, the protagonist from my current novel, gets isekai-d to a fantasy world, where she approaches a pair of gentle fantasy people.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
Dialogue between three people with GPT-4
As I was refactoring the complicated dialogue system, I figured that I hadn’t tested it by having three AI characters talk to each other. The following conversation was created by GPT-4 from the first word to the last; the system just provided the proper context, information about the speaker, his or her memories about the interlocutors, etc. The setting is the same as in the previous post: Leire, the protagonist from my current novel, gets isekai-d to a fantasy world, where she approaches a pair of gentle fantasy people.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page, where it looks better]
Dialogue between three people with GPT-4
This post is a continuation of the following:
Two characters of my novel speak to each other through GPT-4
In that post I mentioned that the following entry would feature four characters, but I have settled for the intermediary step. I asked regular ol’ ChatGPT to come up with the descriptions of a couple of fantasy characters. The third character involved in the upcoming conversation is Leire, the protagonist of my ongoing novel. After a sudden incident involving a truck, Leire found himself transported to a fantasy world.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page]
Two characters of my novel speak to each other through GPT-4
In that post I mentioned that the following entry would feature four characters, but I have settled for the intermediary step. I asked regular ol’ ChatGPT to come up with the descriptions of a couple of fantasy characters. The third character involved in the upcoming conversation is Leire, the protagonist of my ongoing novel. After a sudden incident involving a truck, Leire found himself transported to a fantasy world.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page]
Two characters of my novel speak to each other through GPT-4
This is a continuation of the following post:
Talking to a gooey blob through GPT-4
I have gutted the original class that coordinated dialogues (relying on GPT to produce responses) into several classes and modules. To test if the new system worked properly, I set Leire against Alberto the blob, and let the artificial intelligence produce their lines of dialogue according to the context and their character summaries.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page]
Talking to a gooey blob through GPT-4
I have gutted the original class that coordinated dialogues (relying on GPT to produce responses) into several classes and modules. To test if the new system worked properly, I set Leire against Alberto the blob, and let the artificial intelligence produce their lines of dialogue according to the context and their character summaries.
[Check out the rest of this post on my personal page]
