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lloydford l. lion and rambley raccoon (indigo park) directed by gridanon
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Description

This is the canon reason Rambley hates Lloyd.

Check out Indigo Park if you haven't, it's probably the best modern take on mascot horror and Rambley is a precious cinnamon bun. Plus it's free: https://store.steampowered.com/app/2504480/Indigo_Park_Chapter_1/

Tech Talk

This was made with a local install of Reforge using the model 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.

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 - WHERE'S MY LIMITED-EDITION THROWBACK DILDO?!

In the dim, flickering glow of Lloyd's Main Stage Theater, deep within the crumbling ruins of Indigo Park, the air hung thick with the musty scent of forgotten velvet curtains and stale popcorn grease. The stage lights, somehow still humming with erratic electricity after eight long years of abandonment, cast a dramatic blue haze over the scene, turning the checkered floor into a surreal chessboard of shadows and highlights. The faint creak of old spotlights overhead mixed with the distant, eerie echoes of the park's broken rides—whirs and groans that sounded almost like mocking laughter. But tonight, the theater wasn't hosting a chase or a horror show; no, this was something far more absurd, a twisted encore born from the feral instincts that had warped the mascots into living nightmares... or in Lloyd's case, a living wet dream.

Lloydford L. Lion, the once-proud original star of the park, stood center stage like a golden god of egotism, his massive, hyper-muscular frame flexing under the spotlight. His orange fur gleamed with a sweaty sheen, each ripple of his pecs and biceps straining against the remnants of his desaturated purple vest and blue dress shirt, the fabric stretched so taut it threatened to snap like a rubber band. Buttons had popped off long ago, revealing a chest so chiseled it could grate cheese, and below the waist? Oh, sweet merciful theme park deities, below the waist was where the real show began. No pants in sight—just pure, unadulterated lion pride on full display. His cock, a monstrous, throbbing blue behemoth, jutted out like a stage prop from hell, translucent and veiny, glistening with a slick, almost iridescent precum that dripped in slow, viscous strings onto the floor below. It was enormous, easily two feet long and as thick as a soda can, pulsing with a rhythmic heat that made the air around it shimmer. And those balls—goddamn, those balls were legendary, each one swollen to the size of a grapefruit, hanging heavy and low like pendulums of pure masculine overkill. They swayed gently with every breath he took, furred in soft orange with a faint musky scent wafting up, a mix of sweat and something primal, like fresh hay baked in the sun mixed with locker room conquests.

Lloyd's blue eyes sparkled with that trademark arrogance, his freckled blue nose twitching as he grinned down, fangs peeking out in a Cheshire cat smile. His mane, wild and untamed with those red bangs flopping dramatically, framed his face like a halo of self-worship. He struck a pose, hands on hips, chest puffed out, rolling his R's in that theatrical boom that echoed off the walls. "Ahh, the spotlights adore me! Behold, commonfolk and critics alike—the PRRRRROUD, the PRRRRESTIGIOUS, the PRRRRRRROFESSIONAL Lloydford L. Lion, actor extrrrrrrraordinaire! And tonight's special performance? A one-man show of sheer, unbridled magnificence!" He thrust his hips forward playfully, making his colossal blue dick bob like a conductor's baton, the tip brushing against the cool air and sending a shiver up his spine. The sound of it slapping lightly against his thigh was a wet *thwack*, echoing in the empty theater like applause from ghosts.

But Lloyd wasn't alone in this ridiculous spotlight. Perched right beneath him, caught in the shadow of that towering endowment, was Rambley the Raccoon—the park's chipper AI guide turned reluctant co-star in this farce. Rambley's light purple fur bristled with frustration, his black mask around his eyes crinkled in a scowl that screamed "not this shit again." He was tiny in comparison, his anthropomorphic form barely reaching Lloyd's knees, but oh, he was packing his own little surprise down there—no clothes either, just raw, exposed raccoon realness. His penis was a cute, stubby purple thing, maybe six inches at full mast (and it was, despite his protests, twitching with reluctant arousal), veined and shiny with a bead of clear precum at the tip. His balls, matching purple and fuzzy, were modest handfuls, dangling innocently but now overshadowed—literally—by Lloyd's monstrosities. Those giant lion nuts rested right atop Rambley's head like a perverted crown, warm and heavy, their musky weight pressing down on his ears and making his fur matte with sweat. The scent was overpowering up close—a heady cocktail of lion essence, salty and earthy, invading his nostrils with every indignant huff he took. It was like being buried in a pile of gym socks owned by a porn star, and Rambley's purple eyes watered from the assault, his little fang poking out as he grimaced.

"Ugh, Lloyd!!" Rambley yelped, his voice cracking with a mix of autotune glitch and genuine exasperation, the words bubbling out in a childish whine that echoed his canon ramblings. He tried to shove upward, his paws pressing against the soft, yielding undersides of those massive balls, feeling the heat radiate through his pads like holding two overripe melons fresh from a sauna. The skin was velvety smooth under the fur, pulsing faintly with Lloyd's heartbeat, and as Rambley pushed, they squished just enough to make a lewd *squish* sound, a dribble of sweat trickling down onto his forehead. "Get your giant, sweaty nut-sack off my head, you self-centered jerk! This isn't funny—it's gross! And... and embarrassing! Why do you have to flaunt that... that blue monstrosity everywhere? It's like you're compensating for being replaced as the park's face!"

Lloyd let out a booming laugh, his belly shaking with mirth, which only made his cock sway dangerously close to Rambley's snout. The tip hovered inches away, the translucent blue shaft veined with glowing pulses that matched the stage lights, emitting a faint, warm glow like some cursed neon sign. "Compensating? My dear, diminutive coon-friend, this is no compensation—it's the main attraction! Why do you think the crowds adored me? Not just for my rrrrolling R's or my dramatic flair, but for the full package!" He flexed his thighs, those tree-trunk legs rippling with muscle, and gave a little hump into the air, his balls grinding ever so slightly against Rambley's skull. The friction sent a jolt through both of them—Lloyd purring with delight, the vibration rumbling down like a bass speaker, while Rambley squeaked in protest, his own purple cock betraying him with a traitorous throb. The air filled with the slick sound of skin on fur, and the scent intensified, now mingled with Rambley's own lighter, sweeter aroma—like berries mixed with circuit board ozone from his AI origins.

Rambley wriggled, his tail lashing behind him in striped fury, but the movement only served to nuzzle him deeper into the cleft between Lloyd's balls, the heat enveloping his face like a steamy mask. He could taste the saltiness on his lips from a stray droplet, his tongue darting out involuntarily to swipe it away, which only made his cheeks burn hotter under his fur. "Ew, Lloyd... just ew! You're such a show-off! I bet that's why they replaced you with me—because I'm fun and friendly, not some oversexed lion who thinks his dick is the eighth wonder of the world!" But even as he ranted, his paws betrayed him, gripping those massive orbs a bit too firmly, feeling the way they churned and shifted, full of potent lion seed that sloshed faintly inside like water balloons ready to burst. His smaller purple balls tightened in response, brushing against his thighs with a soft *pat-pat*, and his cock leaked a string of precum that dangled comically, swinging like a pendulum in the blue light.

"Oh, come now, Rambley," Lloyd cooed, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper that boomed anyway, reaching down with one massive paw to ruffle the raccoon's ears—right through the ball-barrier. His claws teased gently, scratching just enough to make Rambley shiver despite himself. "Admit it—you're jealous! Jealous of my stardom, my build, my... assets. Look at you down there, all pint-sized and purple. Cute, sure, but not the crowd-pleaser I am!" He rolled his hips again, deliberately this time, dragging his balls across Rambley's forehead with a slow, grinding motion that left a trail of musk and sweat. The sound was obscene—a wet, sliding *schlorp*—and Lloyd's cock flexed, the blue length curving upward as it hardened further, veins bulging like ropes under the translucent skin. A fat drop of precum oozed from the slit, landing with a *splat* right on Rambley's nose, warm and sticky, smelling of pure alpha dominance.

Rambley sputtered, wiping it away with a paw, but not before inhaling deeply—damn his raccoon senses! The flavor lingered on his tongue, salty-sweet like forbidden candy, and his body reacted, his purple shaft jumping to attention, the head flushing a deeper violet as blood rushed south. "Jealous? Me? Of your... your freakish blue dong and those beach-ball nuts? Pfft! As if! I have trains! And... and a bandana! And I'm the one who helps visitors, not scare them off with your ego!" But his words faltered as Lloyd chuckled, the vibration traveling down through those resting balls, making Rambley's head buzz like a faulty speaker. He could feel every detail—the fine hairs tickling his scalp, the warmth seeping into his fur, the subtle pulse of arousal that made Lloyd's sack tighten and lift just a fraction, only to plop back down heavier.

With a dramatic flourish, Lloyd struck another pose, his muscles popping like fireworks—biceps curling, abs clenching into an eight-pack that could double as a washboard. "Then prove it, little ring-tail! Stand up and show me what you've got. Or are you content to be my personal nut-warmer?" He reached down, scooping Rambley up effortlessly with one paw, lifting him so they were eye-to-eye—well, eye-to-cock, really. Rambley's face was now level with the throbbing blue tip, the heat radiating like a furnace, the scent so thick it made his head spin. His own purple member dangled below, leaking steadily now, a thin trail connecting to the floor like spider silk.

"Fine! You want a show? I'll give you one!" Rambley huffed, his autotune glitching into a higher pitch as he wriggled free, dropping back down but landing with his paws on Lloyd's thighs. The fur there was coarse and warm, muscles like steel cables under his grip. In a fit of comedic defiance, he leaned in—hesitant at first, then boldly—and planted a sloppy, exaggerated lick along the underside of Lloyd's shaft. The taste exploded on his tongue: salty, metallic, with a hint of blueberry? (What the hell was in that lion's diet?) Lloyd groaned theatrically, his voice echoing like a bad opera singer, "Ohhh, yesss! That's the spirit, co-star!"

The theater filled with their absurd symphony—wet slurps, booming laughs, indignant yelps—as Rambley's jealousy melted into reluctant participation. Lloyd's balls swung like wrecking balls, his cock twitching with every touch, precum flowing like a faucet. Rambley's smaller purple package bounced with enthusiasm, his balls slapping against his fur as he worked, the air thick with musk, sweat, and the creak of the stage under their weight. It was ridiculous, explicit, and utterly Indigo Park—where horror met hilarity in the most unexpected encores. And as the spotlights dimmed, their rivalry sparked into something steamier, the abandoned park whispering secrets of studs and jealousy long into the night. [/story]

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