Terrified blonde secretary, clad in a 1950s flowing open transparent chiffon blouse, her glasses askew, her satin skirt lifted, her legs spreaded wide open, knees bent, hands tied to headboard, glossy high heels a stark contrast to her distress, as a towering, human-like alien in a glossy black slime baroque robe looms over her, its long fingers grasping her nipples, its tongue extended, tasting the terror on her cheek. The alien's bioluminescent eyes gleam with an unholy intensity as it subjects her to a twisted examination on a weird, biomechanical bed with steel restraints under tentacle canopy, its black glossy foil pillow reflecting the faint glow of the whorish boudoir. The walls appear to be alive, covered in a pulsing, iridescent slime, while giant observation portholes gaze in like empty eyes, as if the very darkness of space itself is watching this horrific scene unfold. Inspired by the dark, industrial sci-fi of H.R. Giger, the eerie, atmospheric lighting of Zdzisław Beksiński, and the surreal, biomechanical nightmares of Francis Bacon.