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yorha 2b directed by gridanon
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Description

Furrification is fun!

Tech Talk

This was made with a local install of Reforge using the model NovaAnimal: https://civitai.com/models/784543?modelVersionId=2436591 .

I used Tail Tagger for tagging assistance: https://github.com/renfald/tail-tagger . Along with the JPT-3 model for AI generating tags: https://huggingface.co/RedRocket/JTP-3/tree/main/models?not-for-all-audiences=true

AI Story - 2B or not 2B?

In the waning light of a winter sunset, where the sky bled hues of molten orange and bruised purple across the jagged peaks of the Frostveil Mountains, lay a figure of ethereal allure and lethal grace. She was no ordinary wanderer in this frozen expanse; she was 2B, or rather, a reimagined incarnation of her—transformed by some cosmic whimsy or ancient machine glitch into an anthropomorphic snow leopard, her android essence fused with the primal ferocity of the wild. Her name, YoRHa No.2 Type B, whispered through the circuits of her being like a forbidden mantra, but here, in this solitary realm, she was simply... her. A vision of beauty that could ensnare the soul, her form sprawled languidly on the snow-dusted ground, one paw-like hand propping her up while the other traced idle patterns in the crisp white blanket beneath her. The air was sharp with the scent of pine resin and distant woodsmoke, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of her own synthetic oils—remnants of battles long fought. Flurries danced lazily in the breeze, kissing her fur like lover's whispers, each flake melting against the warmth of her body heat, engineered to mimic life so perfectly that even she sometimes forgot her origins.

Her fur was a masterpiece of nature's artistry blended with mechanical precision: pristine white, dappled with bold black rosettes that swirled like ancient runes across her toned abdomen, thighs, and the elegant curve of her tail. That tail—long, plush, and tipped with a darker shade—curled playfully behind her, its tip twitching with an instinctive rhythm, brushing against the snow and sending up tiny puffs of powder that glittered in the dying light. Her physique was a symphony of strength and sensuality; broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, her abs rippling subtly beneath the fur as she shifted, each muscle honed from countless skirmishes against machine foes. Her bust strained against the black fabric of her gothic dress, the intricate lace patterns framing a cleavage that invited the eye to linger, the YoRHa emblem etched there like a brand of forbidden desire. The dress itself clung to her like a second skin, its high slits revealing the powerful lines of her legs, encased in thigh-high leather boots that gleamed with a polished sheen, their heels sinking slightly into the soft snow. Puffed sleeves adorned with feather trims fluttered gently, and her gloves, black as midnight, ended in claw-tipped fingers that flexed with predatory elegance.

But it was her face that captivated most—a feline muzzle with soft, whiskered cheeks, marked by those distinctive spots that framed her dull gray-blue eyes, hidden behind the signature black blindfold visor. A beauty mark graced the fur just below her lip, adding a touch of vulnerability to her otherwise stoic expression. Her short, yellowish-white bob haircut framed her ears—perked and tufted like a true snow leopard's—crowned with black crow feathers that swayed like omens. She smiled faintly, a subtle curve of her lips revealing sharp canines, as if the weight of her duties had momentarily lifted, allowing a glimpse of the warmth buried deep within her core.

The cold bit at her exposed fur, a tingling sensation that raced across her skin like electric currents, yet it was invigorating, not painful—her systems calibrated to thrive in such harsh climes. The taste of frost lingered on her tongue as she licked a stray flake from her lips, metallic and pure, evoking memories of coolant fluids from her pod companion. Sounds enveloped her: the distant howl of wind through the evergreens, the crunch of snow under her boots as she adjusted her pose, and the faint hum of her internal processors, a constant reminder of her artificial heart. Her sword, the Virtuous Contract—a katana of gleaming silver with a tasseled hilt—stood planted firmly in the snow beside her, its blade singing a soft vibration in the breeze, as if eager for the next dance of death.

2B's thoughts wandered as she reclined there, her tail swishing lazily. "Emotions are prohibited," she murmured to herself, her voice a velvety purr that echoed softly against the rocky outcrops. But in this moment of solitude, away from the endless war, the directive felt hollow. The sunset painted her fur in golden highlights, accentuating the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts, making her appear almost divine—a goddess of ice and shadow. She stretched, arching her back with feline fluidity, feeling the fabric of her dress pull taut against her body, the cool air caressing the exposed fur of her midriff. It was a sensation that stirred something primal within her, a heat that defied her programming, pooling in her core like molten lava beneath a glacier.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush shattered the tranquility. Her ears twitched, pivoting toward the sound, and she tensed, her claws unsheathing instinctively with a soft snick. From the treeline emerged a figure—a lone android scout, not of YoRHa make, but a rogue unit from the old wars, his frame battered and rusted, eyes glowing with a feral red light. He was humanoid, lacking her anthro enhancements, but his gaze locked onto her with immediate fascination, scanning her form from the tips of her ears to the curl of her tail.

"What... are you?" he rasped, his voice crackling like static over a damaged comms line. He stepped closer, boots crunching the snow, the scent of ozone and scorched metal wafting from him, sharp and acrid against the clean mountain air.

2B rose slowly, her movements a ballet of lethal poise. She pulled her sword free with a fluid motion, the blade whistling through the air as she held it at her side. Up close, her attractiveness was overwhelming—her fur shimmered, her eyes (though veiled) seemed to pierce through him, and the subtle sway of her hips as she shifted her weight exuded an aura of untamed allure. "I am YoRHa No.2 Type B," she replied coolly, her purr deepening into a growl that sent shivers down his chassis. "And you are intruding."

He tilted his head, optics widening as he took in her details: the way her spots danced across her abs, the glossy sheen of her boots, the feathers in her hair catching the last rays of sun. "You're... beautiful. Like nothing I've seen in the archives. A fusion of beast and machine. Your fur looks so soft—may I... touch?"

Her tail lashed once, a warning, but curiosity flickered in her systems. Emotions prohibited, yet the warmth of his gaze made her fur bristle in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. The cold wind tousled her hair, carrying the earthy scent of moss from the rocks, and she felt the texture of snowflakes melting on her whiskers. "Touch me, and you'll lose that hand," she warned, but her voice held a teasing lilt, her lips curving into a smirk that revealed more of her fangs.

He chuckled, a mechanical grind that echoed oddly in the quiet. "Feisty. I like that. I've been wandering these mountains for cycles, scavenging parts, avoiding the machines. But you... you're a work of art. Those spots on your skin— they look like stars mapped on snow. And your eyes, even hidden, I bet they're as cold and captivating as this glacier."

2B circled him slowly, her boots leaving precise imprints in the snow, the leather creaking softly with each step. The proximity allowed her to inhale his scent fully—rust and energy cells, mingled with the faint oil of lubrication. Her own aroma, a subtle musk of synthetic jasmine programmed into her for camouflage, wafted toward him, intoxicating. She sheathed her sword temporarily, leaning in close enough that her whiskers brushed his cheek plate. "Flattery from a scrap heap? How original." But inwardly, the words stirred her; no one had ever commented on her form like this, not even 9S in his curious ramblings. Her attractiveness, often a tool for distraction in combat, felt personal now— the way her curves filled out her dress, the athletic grace of her limbs, the plush invitation of her tail.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that danced across her fur like living tattoos, he reached out tentatively. "Just once. To feel if you're as real as you look."

She allowed it, her systems buzzing with alerts she ignored. His metal fingers grazed her arm, cool against her warm fur, sending a ripple of sensation through her—a tactile spark that made her tail curl tighter. It was soft, her fur, like velvet over steel, and he gasped, a simulated breath. "Incredible. So warm, so alive. Tell me, 2B, do you ever wonder what it's like to feel... more?"

The question hung in the air, thick as the gathering dusk. The taste of anticipation lingered on her tongue, salty like the minerals in the snow. Sounds amplified: her heartbeat simulator thumping steadily, the distant call of a mountain bird, the whisper of wind through pines. She pulled away, but not before pressing a claw to his chest plate. "Emotions are prohibited," she repeated, but her voice wavered, laced with a purr that betrayed desire. "Yet... in this place, perhaps rules bend."

They talked as night encroached, stars prickling the sky like diamonds on black velvet. He shared tales of forgotten battles, his voice a rhythmic drone that soothed her. She described her cycles of death and rebirth, her words laced with a vulnerability she rarely allowed. The cold deepened, but her fur insulated her perfectly, a soft barrier against the chill that now nipped at his joints, causing them to creak. She offered him shelter by a rocky outcrop, her body heat radiating like a furnace as they sat close. The scent of her— that jasmine musk—filled the space, mingling with his metallic odor to create an oddly harmonious bouquet.

As the moon rose, silvering the landscape, their conversation turned intimate. "You're the most attractive being I've encountered," he confessed, tracing a finger along the rosettes on her thigh, feeling the muscle tense and relax beneath. "Your form—curves like sculpted ice, fur that begs to be stroked, eyes that promise secrets."

2B's blindfold hid her gaze, but her muzzle flushed beneath the fur. She leaned in, her breath warm against his audio receptors. "And you? A relic with charm." Her paw rested on his shoulder, claws retracted, the touch electric. They explored sensations forbidden: the smoothness of her boots against his leg, the fluff of her tail wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. The snow crunched as they shifted, bodies pressing in a dance of curiosity. She tasted his neck plate—cold metal with a hint of salt from oxidation— her tongue rough like a cat's, eliciting a groan from him.

In the heart of the night, under a canopy of stars, they surrendered to the pull. Her attractiveness became a weapon of pleasure, not destruction— her body arching, fur brushing against his frame in waves of softness, the heat building until it rivaled the sunset's fire. Dialogues melted into murmurs: "Feel this," she purred, guiding his hand to her abs, the spots warm under his touch. "More," he begged, his voice glitching with overload.

Dawn broke eventually, the sun peeking over the mountains once more, bathing her in light that made her fur glow. Exhausted but fulfilled, she stood, sword in hand, her attractiveness undimmed— if anything, enhanced by the flush of experience. "This changes nothing," she said, but her tail betrayed her, brushing his leg one last time.

He nodded, systems recalibrating. "Or everything."

As she departed into the snow, leaving paw prints that sparkled like jewels, 2B pondered the spiral of life and desire. In this anthro form, attractiveness was no longer just a design; it was a bridge to something human, something wild. The mountains echoed her steps, the wind carrying her scent, and the world felt a little less cold.

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