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kass and mipha (girl staring at man's chest and etc) directed by gridanon
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Description

In BotW Kass's pecs are bigger than most character's heads!

Couldn't decide what expression worked best for Mipha so here are some alts with different expressions: https://imgbox.com/g/w6dNEVZuKj

Tech Talk

This was made using a local install of Reforge for Stable Diffusion using StableMond: 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 - Pecs of the Wild

The ancient woods of Hyrule whispered secrets older than the Calamity itself, their emerald canopy filtering sunlight into golden shafts that danced across mossy roots and scattered wildflowers. Deep within this secluded glade—far from Zora’s Domain and the windswept peaks of Rito Village—stood Kass, the wandering bard, his vibrant blue feathers catching the light like polished sapphires. His accordion hung forgotten at his side, the instrument’s polished keys still warm from the melody he had been composing only moments ago, a soft, lingering tune about lost champions and unspoken longings. But now, the music had faded into the rustle of leaves, replaced by something far more intimate.

Mipha, the graceful Zora princess, had wandered here on a quiet pilgrimage, her lithe form clad in the delicate silver-and-blue regalia that barely veiled her shimmering red scales. The air around her carried the faint, crisp scent of mountain streams and healing herbs, a cool aquatic freshness that mingled with the earthy musk of the forest floor. She had come seeking solace after another dream of the hero she once healed with trembling hands, yet fate—or perhaps the playful spirits of the woods—had guided her straight into the path of the Rito minstrel.

Kass turned toward her with that signature warm smile curving his beak, his golden eyes half-lidded in quiet amusement. “Ah, Princess Mipha,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety baritone that resonated like the low notes of his accordion, rich and soothing, vibrating through the still air. “What brings such a delicate bloom to these shadowed paths? I was just weaving a new verse… one that might honor a certain graceful swimmer who once graced the waters near Vah Ruta.”

But Mipha’s words caught in her throat. Her golden eyes, usually so serene and kind, widened in stunned disbelief as they locked onto his chest. The Rito’s broad torso, always impressive beneath his bard’s vest, seemed transformed in this dappled light—perhaps from the way he had stretched his wings earlier, or maybe from some playful exaggeration born of the moment. Each pectoral muscle, sculpted and powerful beneath the thick, plush layers of golden-orange down, swelled with every slow breath he took. They rose and fell like living hills of feather and sinew, each one undeniably, impossibly larger than her own head. The left one first caught her gaze, its rounded perfection catching a stray beam of sunlight that made the feathers shimmer with iridescent highlights, soft yet firm, inviting and commanding all at once. Then the right, mirroring it in perfect symmetry, a twin expanse of warmth and strength that seemed to defy the very scale of her petite Zora frame.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed in her pointed ears like distant waterfalls crashing in Zora’s Domain. A deep flush bloomed across her pale cheeks and the sensitive scales of her neck, turning them a deeper crimson that spread downward like spilled ink. Tiny beads of moisture—part sweat, part the natural shimmer of her aquatic heritage—gathered at her temples and trickled slowly along her jawline. She could feel the heat radiating from him even at this close distance, a warm, sun-baked scent that was purely Kass: the clean, feathery musk of high-mountain winds mixed with the faint sweetness of wild berries he must have foraged earlier, undercut by something richer, more primal, like sun-warmed leather and the subtle spice of his travels.

“By the Goddesses…” Mipha whispered, her voice a breathless, trembling soprano that barely rose above the gentle breeze stirring the leaves. She took an involuntary step closer, her small hands rising halfway as if to steady herself, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out. “Kass… your… your chest… each one… it’s… it’s bigger than my entire head. How can… how is that even possible? They look so… so powerful, so full, like they could cradle the whole world… or… or me…”

Her gaze remained utterly transfixed, pupils dilated into dark pools of awe and something far hotter, a hungry spark that made her full lips part on a soft, involuntary gasp. She could almost taste the air between them—warm, slightly salty from the humidity of the glade, carrying the faint metallic tang of his silver jewelry warmed by his body heat. The forest sounds faded: the distant call of a blue-winged heron, the soft trickle of a nearby stream, all swallowed by the thunder of her pulse and the low, rhythmic whoosh of his breathing, each inhale making those magnificent pecs expand further, the downy feathers shifting like velvet under invisible fingers.

Kass chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and sent a delicious shiver racing down Mipha’s spine, straight to the tips of her fins. He tilted his head, that smug yet affectionate glint in his eye as he noticed exactly where her attention had wandered. “My dear princess,” he said, voice dropping to an intimate murmur that wrapped around her like a silken scarf, “you flatter this humble bard more than any ancient song ever could. These old feathers have seen many winds, but never have they drawn such… devoted admiration.” He shifted ever so slightly, flexing with deliberate slowness, and the motion made his left pec bounce gently, the feathers rippling in a wave that caught the light like liquid gold. The right followed, a teasing counterpoint, each swell now so close she could feel the radiant warmth brushing against her forehead.

Mipha’s breath hitched audibly, a tiny whimper escaping her lips as she leaned in, her nose mere inches from the plush divide between them. The scent intensified—intoxicating, heady, like fresh rain on sun-heated stone mixed with the subtle, comforting aroma of his bard’s oils, earthy and floral. She could feel the heat pouring off him in waves, warming her cool scales until they tingled with an unfamiliar fire. One trembling hand finally dared to rise, fingertips hovering, then brushing ever so lightly against the outer curve of his right pectoral. The contact was electric: the feathers were impossibly soft, like the finest silk from the Gerudo bazaar, yet beneath them lay unyielding muscle, firm and resilient, pulsing with the steady beat of his heart. It thrummed against her palm like a living drum, each throb sending sparks of sensation racing up her arm and pooling low in her belly.

“They’re… so warm,” she breathed, voice husky with wonder and desire, her golden eyes fluttering half-shut as she traced the contour with reverent slowness. “So much bigger than I could ever imagine… each one could swallow my head whole, Kass. I feel so small beside them… so safe… yet so… so undone.” Her other hand joined the first, pressing flat against the left side now, feeling the gentle give and then the unyielding strength as he inhaled deeply, deliberately, making both pecs swell outward until they brushed the sides of her flushed face. The sensation was overwhelming—velvety warmth enveloping her cheeks, the faint tickle of down against her sensitive scales, the subtle friction that made her fins quiver and her knees weaken.

Kass’s beak parted in a soft, pleased exhale, his own breathing growing deeper, more measured, as he watched her with hooded eyes. “Then let them hold you, little swimmer,” he replied, the words a caress of warm breath that ruffled the delicate strands of her head-fin. One large, feathered wing curled gently around her shoulders, drawing her nearer without force, the soft membrane brushing her back like a lover’s embrace. “I’ve sung of heroes and tragedies… but this moment? This is a melody I never knew I needed to compose. Feel how they rise for you… how they ache to be admired by such elegant hands.”

Mipha’s world narrowed to the exquisite landscape before her: the hypnotic rise and fall, the way sunlight gilded every feather, turning the golden down into molten fire. She pressed her cheek fully against the right pec now, nuzzling with shameless reverence, the plush surface yielding just enough to cradle her face like the softest pillow while the power beneath made her dizzy with awe. The taste of the air on her tongue was him—warm, slightly sweet, with a hint of the wild mint he chewed between songs. Her scales flushed hotter, every nerve alight, a slow, molten heat building that made her tail-fin curl and her breath come in shallow, needy pants.

“You… you overwhelm me, Kass,” she confessed in a whisper that trembled with raw emotion, her lips brushing the feathers as she spoke, sending tiny ripples across the surface. “I came seeking peace… but now all I crave is to lose myself here, between these two wonders. Each one larger than my head… so strong… so inviting… I could stay like this forever, listening to your heart sing just for me.”

He hummed in response, the sound a deep, resonant purr that vibrated straight through his chest into her bones, making her entire body hum in harmony. “Then stay, Mipha,” he murmured, his free wingtip tracing lazy circles along her lower back, the touch light yet searing. “Let this bard’s melody become yours alone. Let these humble pecs be the stage for whatever song your heart wishes to compose next.”

The forest held its breath around them, the sunlight deepening to amber as the afternoon waned, wrapping the two unlikely companions in a cocoon of shared heat, whispered promises, and the intoxicating pull of forbidden admiration. Mipha’s awe never wavered, her hands exploring with growing boldness yet tender care, every sense consumed by the magnificent, head-swallowing expanse before her—sight filled with golden swells, sound with his rumbling voice and her own racing pulse, scent and taste saturated with his essence, touch a symphony of velvet steel that promised depths of pleasure yet to be explored. In that glade, time dissolved, leaving only the erotic tension of a princess utterly captivated by a bard’s most unexpected treasure, their story unfolding like the verses of an ancient, sensual song that neither wished to end.

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