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e29141817e1f8874c84c3902ea1b041b
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mirage directed by gridanon
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Description

Demonstrating how to properly worship a furry goddess!

Mirage was the best part of the Aladdin TV series. If you haven't seen her, you can find the series online in the usual places and she's in these episodes:

In the Heat of the Fright (Debut)
Shadow of a Doubt
When Chaos Comes Calling
The Lost Ones
Eye of the Beholder
While the City Snoozes

This one used NovelAI, which can create a lot of variations between seeds. Here's an alt: https://files.catbox.moe/ce09n8.png

Tech Talk

I used NovelAI's unlimited gen membership for $25 a month. Note that "unlimited" is kind of a lie, it's only unlimited if you're under a certain resolution and only if you're not using any of the advanced features. Upscaling and other features cost the on-site currency, which the membership gets you 10000 a month. That should be more than enough for a month, but you can burn through it quickly since NAI gens so quickly.

AI Story - Purr-fect Dominion

In the shadowed heart of Morbia, now expanded to encompass the entirety of the world, Mirage reclined upon her colossal throne of obsidian and emerald flames. The once-vibrant skies of Agrabah and beyond had twisted into eternal twilight, streaked with auroras of virulent green and crimson—her colors, her dominion. Goodness had crumbled; love, hope, and heroism lay shattered like fragile glass beneath her clawed heels. Aladdin, Jasmine, Genie—all had fallen or fled into oblivion, their legacies erased. She was Evil Incarnate, undisputed Queen of the World, and every soul that remained bent to her will.

The grand hall of her sphinx-shaped palace stretched infinitely, pillars carved with writhing shadows that whispered praises in forgotten tongues. The air hung heavy with the intoxicating scent of incense—myrrh and sandalwood laced with something darker, more primal, like the musk of heated flesh and forbidden desire. Torches of eternal green fire flickered, casting elongated shadows that danced like loyal serpents across the marble floors, polished to a mirror sheen by the tongues and bodies of her devotees.
Countless servants filled the chamber—hundreds, thousands perhaps—drawn from every corner of the conquered realms. Men and women alike, stripped of clothing and dignity, their bodies adorned only with golden collars etched with her feline emblem and chains that tinkled softly with every movement. They were beautiful in their submission: lithe dancers from distant lands, sturdy warriors broken to gentleness, scholars with eyes glazed in adoration, all transformed into vessels of pleasure. Their skin glistened with oils scented of jasmine and night-blooming lotus, slick and inviting under the flickering lights.
Mirage lounged languidly, her anthropomorphic cat form radiating power. Her brown furred head tilted back, long black hair cascading like a river of midnight over her dark-skinned shoulders. Those piercing light-green eyes half-lidded in satisfaction as she surveyed her worshippers. She wore a diaphanous gown of shadow-silk that clung to her curves, translucent enough to reveal the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the subtle twitch of her tail. Her claws, sharp as obsidian daggers, tapped rhythmically on the armrest, producing a sound like distant thunder.

"Come closer, my pets," she purred, her voice a velvet rasp laced with menace and seduction, echoing through the hall like a siren's call. It sent shivers down spines, hardening nipples and stirring loins instantly. The servants obeyed without hesitation, crawling forward on hands and knees, their breaths coming in eager pants.

A dozen approached first—her inner circle, chosen for their exquisite beauty and unwavering devotion. Leading them was a former princess, her golden hair now braided with Mirage's own shed fur, her full breasts heaving as she knelt at the foot of the throne. Beside her, a muscular guard with bronzed skin and a cock already straining in anticipation. Others followed: twin dancers with lithe, oiled bodies; a scholar whose tongue was legendarily skilled; and more, a sea of flesh ready to serve.

The princess lifted her head, eyes wide with fanatic worship. "My Queen," she whispered breathlessly, her voice trembling with need. "Allow us to prove our worthiness. Let us bathe you in ecstasy, as you deserve."

Mirage's lips curled into a predatory smile, revealing sharp fangs that glinted. "Yes, my little broken doll. Begin with my feet. Show your Queen how deeply you adore her."

The servants surged forward. Soft hands cradled her ankles, lips pressing reverent kisses along the arches of her feet. The sensation was electric—warm, wet tongues laving over her furred paws, tracing each claw with delicate precision. One servant sucked gently on a toe, the suction pulling a low, throaty moan from Mirage's throat. The taste of her skin—salty-sweet with a hint of smoky shadow—drove them wild; they whimpered and moaned in response, their own arousal dripping onto the floor.

The air filled with the wet sounds of devotion: slurps and sucks, gasps and murmurs of "Goddess... Mistress... Eternal Queen..." The scent intensified—sweat mingling with arousal, the sharp tang of excitement, the earthy musk of bodies pressing close.

Mirage spread her legs wider, the shadow-silk parting to reveal her glistening sex, framed by soft fur and radiating heat. "Higher," she commanded, voice husky. "Worship what makes me divine."

They obeyed eagerly. The princess buried her face between Mirage's thighs first, her tongue delving deep with fervent strokes. The taste exploded on her palate—rich, dark, like forbidden honey laced with spice and sin. Mirage arched slightly, claws digging into the throne as waves of pleasure rippled through her. "Mmm, yes... deeper, pet. Lick away the remnants of that pathetic world's resistance."

Others joined: hands massaging her thighs, fingers teasing her entrance alongside the princess's tongue. A male servant knelt behind, his strong hands kneading her ass, spreading her cheeks to lap at her from behind, his tongue circling her tight rear entrance with bold, probing flicks. The dual assault made Mirage growl low, a sound that vibrated through the hall and elicited cries of delight from the masses.
"More," she demanded, snapping her fingers. Dozens more swarmed. Breasts were offered to her mouth—she leaned forward, sucking a hardened nipple into her fangs, biting just enough to draw a sharp cry of pained pleasure. The servant shuddered, grinding against Mirage's leg, leaving slick trails of wetness.
The scholar positioned himself before her, his cock thick and veined, offered like a sacrament. Mirage wrapped a clawed hand around it, stroking slowly, feeling it throb hot and alive in her grip. "You exist only for my pleasure now," she murmured, guiding him closer. He thrust into her waiting mouth as she engulfed him, her tongue—rough like a cat's—rasping along his length. He groaned deeply, hips bucking involuntarily, the salty precum beading on her lips.

All around, the orgy unfolded in her honor. Servants paired off in the shadows, fucking with desperate intensity while keeping eyes on their Queen—men plunging into women, women straddling faces, groups entwining in chains of flesh. Moans and slaps of skin echoed, bodies slick with sweat and cum, the air thick with the heady perfume of sex. Some serviced each other only to heighten their offerings, cumming with cries of "For Mirage! All for our Queen!"

Mirage pulled back from the scholar, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening shaft. "Inside me," she ordered the princess, who scrambled up, straddling her lap. The woman lowered herself onto Mirage's fingers—three at once, curling deep—while grinding her clit against the Queen's thigh. Mirage's tail whipped around, the tip—surprisingly dexterous—sliding into the princess's ass, filling her completely.

The princess screamed in rapture, riding hard, her juices soaking Mirage's fur. "You're everything! Evil... power... bliss! I live only to cum for you!"

Mirage laughed, a dark, throaty sound that sent orgasms rippling through nearby servants untouched. She came first then—hard, claws raking flesh as her body convulsed, hot floods of pleasure pulsing from her core. The scent of her release—intoxicating, addictive—drove the hall into frenzy.

One by one, they brought her to peak after peak: tongues in every orifice, cocks thrusting into her mouth, her sex, her ass; breasts smothered against faces; hands everywhere, stroking, pinching, worshipping. Cum painted her body—hot spurts across her chest, her face, dripping down her thighs. She reveled in it, licking it from her claws with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on her adoring masses.

Hours blurred into eternity. Mirage orchestrated them like a symphony of depravity—commanding positions, pairings, acts of utter debasement. A line formed for those privileged to fuck her directly; she took them all, bodies piling in heaps of exhausted bliss around the throne.

Finally, sated for the moment, she rose, cum-slicked and radiant, addressing the hall. "This is your world now—mine. Worship eternally, my pets. For I am your Queen, and your pleasure is my dominion."

They chanted in unison, voices hoarse from screams of ecstasy: "Hail Mirage! Queen Eternal! Evil Forever!"

And in the endless night of her reign, the worship continued—intense, unending, a testament to victory absolute.

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