This was made with a local install of Reforge using the model NovaFurry: https://civitai.com/user/Crody/models . The Nova model creator is the #1 ranked model creator on CivitAI because his models are high quality out of the box and very easy to use for a wide audience, however they are more limited in style flexibility and concepts than other SDXL models.

Inpainting was done using the same model.

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

In the grand, echoing halls of the ancient mansion, nestled amidst fog-shrouded mountains, the air carried a faint, intoxicating blend of polished wood, blooming night jasmine, and the subtle, spicy warmth of dragonfire embers smoldering in distant hearths. The nameless master of the estate— you—had just awakened to the soft, golden light filtering through heavy velvet curtains, the silk sheets whispering against skin like a lover's breath. But it was the chorus of gentle footsteps and hushed giggles that truly stirred the senses, drawing attention to the devoted dragonmaids who had already begun their morning rituals of service.

Parlor Dragonmaid entered first, her mini-skirt uniform swaying with each graceful step, the fabric hugging her curves in a way that accentuated the lithe, wind-kissed elegance of her form. Her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she carried a silver tray laden with steaming tea, the aroma of fresh herbs and honey wafting up like a seductive invitation. "Good morning, Master," she purred, her voice a melodic breeze that danced through the room, light and teasing. "I've prepared your favorite blend—something to awaken all your senses. Wouldn't want you starting the day without a little... stimulation." She leaned in just a touch closer than necessary as she set the tray down, her fingers brushing the edge of the bed with deliberate slowness, her cheeks flushing a soft pink as if imagining unspoken compliments. The steam from the cup curled upward, carrying notes of lavender and spice that mingled with her own faint, floral scent, clean and alluring like a secret garden in bloom.

Not far behind, Laundry Dragonmaid stumbled in with an armful of freshly laundered linens, her Japanese-styled French maid outfit slightly askew, revealing a glimpse of smooth, pale skin where the fabric had shifted during her hurried efforts. The bundle smelled of sun-dried cotton and a hint of soap—crisp, clean, and oddly invigorating, like the promise of renewal. "Roger that! I mean, good morning, Master!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbly and energetic, though laced with that forgetful charm as she nearly tripped over the rug, the sheets tumbling softly onto the foot of the bed. "I washed these just for you—extra soft, see? Feel how warm they are from the dryer... or maybe from my hands?" She giggled, her cheeks reddening as she smoothed the fabric out with clumsy but eager pats, her touch lingering a fraction too long, the warmth seeping through like a playful caress. Her immaturity shone through in the way she bit her lip, eyes wide and innocent yet twinkling with unintended tease, as if every fumble was an accidental invitation to correct her.

Kitchen Dragonmaid followed, her long-skirt uniform flowing like liquid flame around her taller frame, carrying a platter of delicate pastries that filled the air with the rich, buttery scent of fresh-baked goods—croissants dusted with powdered sugar, fruits glistening with syrup, and something chocolatey that melted on the tongue just from the aroma alone. "I've outdone myself this time, Master," she said thoughtfully, her voice warm and creative, like a hearth's gentle crackle. "These are infused with a touch of my fire—sweet and spicy, just enough to tingle your lips. Wouldn't you like to savor them slowly? I could feed you one, if it pleases you... watch how the flavors unfold." She placed the platter nearby, her fingers tracing the edge of a berry tart with deliberate care, the sticky sweetness leaving a faint gloss on her skin. Her diligent nature made the act feel intimate, her eyes meeting yours with a subtle, knowing smile, the room growing warmer from the residual heat of her baking, a teasing heat that promised more layers to uncover.

Nurse Dragonmaid glided in next, her nurse-like outfit with its soft pink accents evoking a maternal warmth that wrapped around the senses like a comforting embrace. She carried a small vial of soothing oil, its scent earthy and herbal, grounding yet arousing, like the deep soil after rain mixed with hints of vanilla. "You look a bit tense from sleep, Master," she cooed, her voice nurturing and inclusive, a gentle rumble that soothed while stirring deeper urges. "Let me tend to you— this oil will ease any aches, warm your skin right up. I know just where to apply it... softly, thoroughly." She uncorked the vial, the liquid's subtle glisten catching the light as she dabbed a bit on her fingers, rubbing them together with a slow, rhythmic motion that filled the air with its calming fragrance. Her caring demeanor turned teasing in the way she hovered close, her presence a soft pressure, like a blanket of affection that hinted at hidden depths of devotion.

Chamber Dragonmaid entered shyly, her black dress-like uniform modest yet clinging in ways that highlighted her diligent form, the feather duster in her hand made from her own vibrant plumes, which she twirled nervously. The room already carried her subtle influence—the faint, starry scent of polished surfaces and fresh linens, clean and ethereal, like moonlight on dew-kissed petals. "I-I've cleaned everything just for you, Master," she murmured, her voice soft and hesitant, barely above a whisper, her large horns casting playful shadows as she averted her gaze, cheeks burning with self-consciousness. "The feathers... they're from me. Soft, aren't they? If you'd like, I could... dust you off personally. Make sure every inch is perfect." She stepped closer, her shyness making the offer all the more enticing, the feathers brushing the air with a whispery touch that promised gentle, lingering strokes. Her pride in her tools mixed with vulnerability, creating a teasing tension, the air around her shimmering faintly with her restrained power.

Finally, House Dragonmaid oversaw it all, her glasses perched on her nose as she stood at the threshold, her authoritative presence commanding the room like a subtle storm. Her uniform was impeccable, hugging her strong yet reserved form, and she carried nothing but her commanding gaze, the air around her thick with the husky undertone of dominance— a faint, smoky aroma like aged whiskey and leather-bound ledgers. "Everything is in order, Master," she stated, her voice reliable and managerial, yet laced with that subtle pressure, a low growl beneath the surface. "Your maids are here to serve—every whim, every desire. Tell us how we can please you today... or perhaps we'll anticipate it. I do enjoy ensuring satisfaction." She adjusted her glasses with a deliberate flick, her eyes scanning the scene with a knowing glint, the other maids falling into a teasing harmony under her watch. The collective scents and sounds blended now: the clink of trays, the rustle of fabrics, the soft breaths and giggles, all weaving a tapestry of sensory delight.

As the morning progressed, the dragonmaids moved about the chamber in a choreographed dance of service, their teasing interactions building like a slow-burning fire. Parlor flitted between tasks, her laughter light as she refilled the tea, leaning in to whisper, "Does it taste as good as it smells, Master? Or should I add a personal touch?" Her shrewd eyes sparkled, calculating just how to draw out the moment, her floral scent intensifying with proximity.

Laundry, ever the clumsy one, bent to adjust the sheets, her outfit riding up slightly as she exclaimed, "Oops! There, all smooth now. Feel it— so inviting, isn't it? I could tuck you in later... make sure you're all wrapped up tight." Her energetic voice carried a forgetful lilt, but the warmth of her hands on the fabric lingered, a tactile promise of her novice eagerness.

Kitchen arranged the pastries artfully, her creative mind at work as she described each one: "This one's got a creamy center—melts right away. Imagine biting in... the way it yields." Her diligent fingers lingered on the platter, the buttery aroma mixing with her own fiery warmth, teasing the palate and more.
Nurse approached with the oil, her nurturing touch gentle as she demonstrated on her own arm, the slick sound of skin on skin audible. "See how it glides? So relaxing... or exciting, depending on where it's used. I'm here for whatever you need, Master—body and soul."

Chamber dusted nearby surfaces, her shy whispers growing bolder: "My feathers are the softest... they tickle just right. If I got too close, would you mind? I-I want everything spotless for you." The ethereal scent of her efforts filled the space, her self-conscious flushes adding to the intimate atmosphere.
House coordinated from afar, her voice a commanding thread: "Girls, remember—our Master deserves the utmost devotion. Show him how we excel in every way." Her subtle dominance wove through their actions, the smoky undertone of her presence heightening the tease, as if she held the reins to deeper indulgences.
Throughout the day, in the sun-dappled drawing room where velvet cushions invited repose, or the steamy kitchen where aromas built to a crescendo, the dragonmaids continued their service. Parlor served lunch with flirtatious bends, her "little devil" vibe in full play: "A sip of wine? It's bold, like me—leaves you wanting more." Laundry folded garments nearby, her fumbles leading to accidental brushes: "Sorry! But doesn't the fabric feel nice against you?" Kitchen's desserts tempted with sticky sweetness: "Lick the spoon? It's my secret recipe—decadent and warm." Nurse offered massages in the lounge, her oils scenting the air: "Let me work out those knots... feel the tension release." Chamber polished ornaments, her feathers whispering: "I could brush away any... distractions." And House ensured harmony, her husky commands: "Serve with passion, ladies. Make it unforgettable."

The evening drew in with candlelight flickering, shadows playing across their forms, the mansion alive with their teasing symphony—scents intertwining, voices murmuring promises, touches lingering just on the edge of invitation, all devoted to the nameless master's pleasure.