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directed by gridanon
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CALL APOGEE SAY AARDWOLF

Tech Talk

This was made using a local install of Reforge for Stable Diffusion using 3WolfMond: https://huggingface.co/Xeno443 . I'd recommend any or all of the 'Mond models, they're all some of the best furry SDXL models.

For the upload Tail Tagger was used to assist in tagging: https://github.com/renfald/tail-tagger . Along with the JPT-3 for AI assisted tags: https://huggingface.co/RedRocket/JTP-3/tree/main/models?not-for-all-audiences=true

AI Story - She's got a crush on B.J. Blazkowicz

In the bustling heart of a neon-lit arcade hidden in the underbelly of a sprawling metropolis, where the air hummed with the electric buzz of vintage machines and the faint scent of popcorn mingled with the ozone tang of overheating circuits, there lived a legend among gamers. Her name was Aria, an anthropomorphic aardwolf whose very presence turned heads and sparked whispers. Aria was the epitome of cool confidence, a sleek vision of feminine allure wrapped in soft, striped fur that gleamed under the flickering lights. Her body was a masterpiece of curves—wide hips swaying with effortless grace in her tight blue jeans that hugged every contour like a second skin, accentuating the powerful yet feminine lines of her legs and the gentle swell of her thighs. Up top, her red crop top shirt, tied in a casual knot just below her ample bosom, revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her toned midriff, the fabric straining slightly against her generous, perfectly rounded breasts that moved with a hypnotic rhythm as she breathed or laughed. Her fur, a mesmerizing blend of light gray with bold black stripes, felt like velvet to the touch, inviting yet untouchable, and her bushy tail swished behind her with a playful flick that could disarm anyone in its path. Bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief and intelligence, framed by short, tousled white hair tipped in black, giving her an edgy, rockstar vibe that made her seem both approachable and utterly unattainable.

Aria wasn't just beautiful; she was magnetic, her attractiveness radiating from a personality that blended sharp wit, unyielding passion, and a kindness that made you feel like the center of her world. She moved through the arcade like she owned it, her gloved paws gripping joysticks with expert precision, her sharp teeth flashing in a grin that promised adventure. The scent of her was intoxicating—a subtle mix of wild earthiness from her aardwolf heritage, laced with the vanilla warmth of her favorite shampoo and a hint of the cherry soda she sipped between levels. When she spoke, her voice was a smooth, velvety purr, low and confident, carrying the faint growl of her animal side that sent shivers down spines without ever raising in volume.

Tonight, the arcade was alive with the symphony of beeps, booms, and pixelated explosions. Aria stood before her favorite machine, an ancient relic housing Wolfenstein 3D, the game that had ignited her love for retro shooters back when she was just a pup sneaking into her older brother's den. The screen glowed with the familiar corridors of Castle Wolfenstein, Nazis lurking in every shadow, and Aria's fingers danced across the controls like a pianist on a grand stage. "Come on, B.J., let's show these pixelated punks what real firepower looks like," she muttered to herself, her tail curling in excitement. Her curvy form leaned forward slightly, the motion causing her shirt to shift just enough to highlight the elegant curve of her cleavage, drawing admiring glances from fellow gamers who pretended to focus on their own screens.

That's when you wandered in—a newcomer to the scene, drawn by the rumors of this unbeatable aardwolf goddess who could speedrun classics blindfolded. You hesitated at the entrance, the cool air conditioning brushing against your skin, carrying the arcade's medley of sounds: the triumphant fanfare of high scores, the clatter of coins, and Aria's soft chuckle as she blasted through another level. She noticed you immediately, her keen senses picking up your scent of fresh coffee and nervous anticipation. Turning her head, her blue eyes locked onto yours, and she flashed that dazzling smile, her fangs glinting like polished ivory. "Hey there, stranger. You look like you've got the makings of a retro warrior. Ever tangled with the mecha-Hitler in Wolfenstein? Pull up a stool; I'll show you the ropes."

Her invitation was impossible to refuse. As you sat beside her, the warmth of her body radiated like a cozy fire, her fur brushing lightly against your arm in accidental touches that felt electric. Up close, her attractiveness was overwhelming— the way her breasts rose and fell with each excited breath, the supple firmness of her hips as she shifted in her seat, all wrapped in that confident aura that made her seem like a character straight out of a dream. She handed you a spare controller, her gloved paw lingering for a moment, the leather soft and warm. "Name's Aria. I live for this stuff—the raw, unpolished glory of old-school games. None of that hand-holding modern crap. Wolfenstein? It's pure adrenaline, baby. Sneaking through those mazes, dodging bullets, feeling the weight of every shot. Makes you feel alive, doesn't it?"

You nodded, mesmerized, as she launched into a co-op mode she'd modded herself—because Aria wasn't just a player; she was a creator, hacking old code to breathe new life into forgotten gems. The game unfolded on the screen, but your senses were tuned to her: the rhythmic click of her claws on the buttons, the faint rustle of her jeans as her legs crossed and uncrossed, the way her tail occasionally wrapped around the base of your stool in a casual, possessive gesture. She smelled divine, that earthy vanilla mingling with the salty tang of the pretzels she munched on, offering you a bite with a wink. "Try this—pairs perfectly with Nazi-busting. Crunchy on the outside, soft inside, kinda like me," she teased, her voice dipping into that playful growl.

As the levels progressed, Aria's personality shone through like a beacon. She was idealized perfection: fiercely intelligent, quoting game lore with the precision of a scholar while cracking jokes that had you laughing mid-firefight. "See that secret wall? Push it—bam, health pack heaven. Back in the day, id Software hid all sorts of easter eggs. Like that 'Call Apogee say Aardwolf' sign? Total meta, especially for me. Aardwolf pride!" She flexed her striped arm, the muscles rippling under her fur in a display of strength that only enhanced her curvaceous allure, her breasts bouncing slightly with the motion, drawing your eye before you quickly averted it, cheeks warming.

But Aria wasn't all games; she had depth, layers that made her even more irresistible. Between respawns, she shared stories—how she'd grown up in a den full of siblings, teaching herself coding on a clunky old PC, turning her passion into a side gig restoring vintage arcades. "It's not just about the pixels," she said, her blue eyes softening as she paused the game, turning to face you fully. Her body language was open, inviting, the curve of her waist accentuated as she leaned in, her ample chest rising with a deep breath. "It's about the escape, the challenge. Life's a boss fight, right? But with the right power-ups—like good company—you can conquer anything." Her paw rested on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, the touch sending a wave of warmth through you, her fur so soft it was like stroking silk.

The night wore on, the arcade's lights dimming as other patrons filtered out, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of glowing screens and shared secrets. Aria dominated the high score board, her curvy silhouette backlit by the monitor, every movement a dance of grace and power. She celebrated victories with a triumphant whoop, her tail thrashing in joy, brushing against your leg with a ticklish fluffiness that made you grin. The taste of victory was sweet, shared in sips of her cherry soda, the fizzy bubbles mirroring the effervescent energy she exuded. "You're not half bad, newbie," she purred, her voice a melodic rumble that vibrated through the air. "Stick with me, and we'll tackle Doom next. Or maybe Commander Keen—gotta love those pogo sticks."

As the final boss fell in a hail of digital gunfire, Aria stretched, arching her back in a way that highlighted the elegant lines of her body—her striped fur catching the light, her jeans clinging to her shapely hips, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal the smooth expanse of her belly. She was sexy without trying, attractive in a way that went beyond the physical: it was her passion, her laughter, her unapologetic love for the games that made hearts race. "What do you say? Rematch tomorrow? I could show you my personal collection—got a mint-condition Wolfenstein cart that'd blow your mind." Her eyes twinkled, promising more than just games, her scent wrapping around you like an embrace.

In that moment, Aria wasn't just a character in an arcade; she was the ultimate fantasy—a cool, video game-loving aardwolf whose curves and charisma could conquer worlds, both virtual and real. And as you agreed, eager for more, you knew you'd follow her through any level, any maze, drawn inexorably by her idealized allure. The night ended with her waving goodbye, tail swishing, leaving behind the echo of her voice and the lingering warmth of her presence, a promise of endless adventures in the pixelated realms she ruled. But deep down, you suspected the real game was just beginning, with Aria as the unbeatable high score you'd chase forever.

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