Cat Burglar
This set took many twists and turns and as you can see, Nadia undertook quite a transformation. I finally decided to make this set based on a short story I co-wrote with Ai. Below is the short Story.
Nadia was driven by a cocktail of defiance, thrill, and a deep-seated need to reclaim control over a world that had once tried to break her. Born into a fractured family in a gritty corner of Budapest, she grew up in the shadow of neglect, her father a conman who vanished, her mother a painter who drowned her talent in vodka. Art was Nadia’s only constant, her mother’s half-finished canvases, smeared with raw emotion, were her childhood refuge. But when her mother died when Nadia was fourteen, the system swallowed her, spitting her into foster homes where she learned to trust no one. Art became her rebellion, her way to scream without a voice.
Nadia slipped through the shadows of the Musée d’Art Moderne, her black bodysuit blending with the night. At twenty-five, she was a phantom in the art world, her name whispered in fear by curators and collectors. Her target tonight: a rare Basquiat, vibrant and chaotic, worth millions. She disabled the alarms with a flick of her custom-built jammer, her gloved hands steady as she lifted the canvas from its frame.
Stealing wasn’t about money, though the millions she fenced funded her nomadic life. It was about power and ...revenge. Each heist was a middle finger to the elite who hoarded beauty behind locked doors, to the institutions that gate kept culture while ignoring people like her mother. Nadia targeted pieces that spoke to her, wild, untamed works like Basquiat’s, that felt like they belonged to the streets, not sterile galleries. Cracking their security was her art form, a puzzle only she could solve. The thrill of outsmarting laser grids and armed guards was a high no drug could match, proof she was untouchable.
Each heist was a performance, and Nadia was meticulous. She worked alone, trusted no one, and lived for the thrill of outsmarting the world’s best security. But it was her signature that made her infamous. Tucked into the empty frame, she left a Polaroid, her body, nude, posed like a classical statue, face never obscured. The photos were never about vanity; they were a taunt, a dare to catch her. The press called her “The Venus Thief”. The internet buzzed with possible sightings across the globe, and theories about where she would strike next. Nadia was a master of disguise when not “at work”.
The nude Polaroids were her manifesto. They weren’t sexual, they were raw, vulnerable, yet defiant, like the sculptures she admired in books as a kid. By leaving them, she forced the world to confront her humanity, not just her crimes. They were a paradox: intimate but confrontational, a challenge to see her without ever knowing her. Each photo whispered, I’m more than your thief. I’m your mirror. She knew the risks. Interpol, the tabloids, the obsession with her life but that only fuelled her. The chase was her canvas, and she painted it with mastery and chaos.
As she secured the Basquiat in her bag, and put her black body suit back on again, Nadia’s thoughts drifted to her first theft at nineteen, a small gallery in Prague, a whim born of boredom and a knack for locks. Now, six years later, she was a legend. But tonight felt different. The museum was too quiet, the guards’ patrols too predictable. Her instincts screamed trap.
She placed the Polaroid, her silhouette stark against the flash, and crept toward the exit. Then, a spotlight pinned her. “Nadia,” a voice boomed, calm and female. “We’ve been waiting.” Interpol’s finest, Agent Claire Moreau, stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with the chase. Nadia’s heart raced, but she smirked.
“You like my work?” she asked, nodding at the photo.
Claire’s lips twitched. “Bold ….and beautiful, but you know this ends now.”
Nadia didn’t flinch. She tossed a smoke pellet, the room clouding in seconds. As Claire coughed, Nadia vanished through a skylight, the Basquiat still hers. By morning, the Polaroid was viral, and Nadia was a ghost again, planning her next heist. The game wasn’t over, it was just getting good.
Nadia doesn't have a "models page", but she does have a members only gallery that you can view HERE
Just to be abundantly clear....none of these "women" exist in real life. They are 100% computer generated by Ai. All the Ai "models" are generated to represent "women" who are over 18 years of age.
Here are some things I am working on. Want to try to create sets that suit a short story and visa versa. Working on doing more video.
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