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- Ursprünglicher Prompt
- Tails has a crush and has an obsession on a random guy in the real world playing his videogame. Tails exits from the guy's TV and trasforms the guy(the guy is a male) into Sonic. The guy is still wearing his bleack hoodie(the guy's legs are the same as Sonic's small legs,same for the shoes). Tails trasformed the guy as a blue underwear with the guy's face(dizzy face,lot's of blushing and scared) stamped on the whole underwear. Tails started wearing the guy(underwear) but,suddendly,Tails's butt beacame enormous,making Tails blush a lot. The guy is getting streched out on Tails's butt. You shouldn't see the guy's legs,shoes. On the underwear you should see the hoodie stamped too(the guy was wearing the hoodie befoe becoming an underwear). Tails is blushing and smiling at The guy. You can see only one face(dizzy and blushing...),with the upper body and balck hoodie stamped and spreaded on the whole underwear. On the underwear you should see Sonic's face because Tails trasformed him into Sonic.
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pl
character: tails_(sonic), sonic.exe_(character), copyright: sonic_(series)
2girls? no, 2 subjects, one male human transformed into a yellow underwear garment, one hedgehog-like monster with blue spiked hair, black sclera and red irises, fangs, enormous oversized butt, heavy blush, wide smile, black hoodie printed on yellow underwear fabric, Tails-like printed face with dizzy swirl eyes, heavy blush and scared expression, upper body printed on underwear, one face only, no legs on the print, no shoes on the print, no tails anywhere, emerging from a television, from behind, looking back, close-up on lower body, dutch angle, indoors, dark room lit only by the TV, glossy yellow fabric, stretched fabric, comedic horror, obsessed infatuation
The camera sits low and behind, a dutch angle tilted about fifteen degrees, looking up at the back of the hedgehog-like creature as he twists his upper body around to glance back over his own shoulder; from this rear three-quarter view the television is the only light source, its cold blue-white rectangle throwing his long shadow forward across a carpeted living room floor, the rest of the room falling into absolute darkness beyond the glow. He stands with his weight shifted onto his left leg, right hip cocked out and pushed toward the lens so the enormous swollen curve of his rear fills the lower two-thirds of the frame, straining the yellow fabric taut; the fabric is glossy and thin, pulled to a shine across the widest point, and the seams bite into it in stretched creases that radiate from the overload. Both of his gloved hands are hooked at the waistband, knuckles pressing in, tugging the yellow garment up over the curve; his shoulders lift with the strain and his spiked blue hair sweeps forward past his ear with the twist of his neck, one red iris catching the TV light. His muzzle is turned back toward the print on his own rear and his grin is wide and open, fangs showing, black sclera crinkling at the corners, and a deep hot blush burns across both cheeks and up to the base of his ears because he can feel how much bigger he has become.
Across that whole taut yellow surface the single printed image is smeared and spread by the stretch: the cartoon fox boy's face sits high on the left cheek of the fabric, one blue iris spiralling into a dizzy swirl, the other squeezed shut, both cheeks flooded with a stamped hot blush, his mouth pulled open in a frightened grimace, his ears flattened; below and around the face the black hoodie is printed broad, its shoulders and chest and drawstrings and the front pocket all dragged wide and distorted into long horizontal streaks by the strain, black ink thinning to grey where the fabric pulls hardest, no legs and no shoes and no tails anywhere in the print, nothing but that one face and that one hoodie spread across the entire garment. A single physical tell: where his hip presses the fabric against the TV's light, the yellow goes almost white and the black hoodie print loses its edge into a soft halo, while the deep crease beneath the curve holds a dark hard-edged shadow that no light reaches. Cold blue-white key from the screen in front of him, warm red bleed from his own blush on the skin of his cheek, everything behind him swallowed in black. Palette held to the TV's cold blue, the underwear's acid yellow, the hoodie's flat black, and his own hot red. Comedic dread, gleeful obsession.
Peppina La gina
pl
character: tails_(sonic), sonic.exe_(character), copyright: sonic_(series)
2girls? no, 2 subjects, one male human transformed into a yellow underwear garment, one hedgehog-like monster with blue spiked hair, black sclera and red irises, fangs, enormous oversized butt, heavy blush, wide smile, black hoodie printed on yellow underwear fabric, Tails-like printed face with dizzy swirl eyes, heavy blush and scared expression, upper body printed on underwear, one face only, no legs on the print, no shoes on the print, no tails anywhere, emerging from a television, from behind, looking back, close-up on lower body, dutch angle, indoors, dark room lit only by the TV, glossy yellow fabric, stretched fabric, comedic horror, obsessed infatuation
The camera sits low and behind, a dutch angle tilted about fifteen degrees, looking up at the back of the hedgehog-like creature as he twists his upper body around to glance back over his own shoulder; from this rear three-quarter view the television is the only light source, its cold blue-white rectangle throwing his long shadow forward across a carpeted living room floor, the rest of the room falling into absolute darkness beyond the glow. He stands with his weight shifted onto his left leg, right hip cocked out and pushed toward the lens so the enormous swollen curve of his rear fills the lower two-thirds of the frame, straining the yellow fabric taut; the fabric is glossy and thin, pulled to a shine across the widest point, and the seams bite into it in stretched creases that radiate from the overload. Both of his gloved hands are hooked at the waistband, knuckles pressing in, tugging the yellow garment up over the curve; his shoulders lift with the strain and his spiked blue hair sweeps forward past his ear with the twist of his neck, one red iris catching the TV light. His muzzle is turned back toward the print on his own rear and his grin is wide and open, fangs showing, black sclera crinkling at the corners, and a deep hot blush burns across both cheeks and up to the base of his ears because he can feel how much bigger he has become.
Across that whole taut yellow surface the single printed image is smeared and spread by the stretch: the cartoon fox boy's face sits high on the left cheek of the fabric, one blue iris spiralling into a dizzy swirl, the other squeezed shut, both cheeks flooded with a stamped hot blush, his mouth pulled open in a frightened grimace, his ears flattened; below and around the face the black hoodie is printed broad, its shoulders and chest and drawstrings and the front pocket all dragged wide and distorted into long horizontal streaks by the strain, black ink thinning to grey where the fabric pulls hardest, no legs and no shoes and no tails anywhere in the print, nothing but that one face and that one hoodie spread across the entire garment. A single physical tell: where his hip presses the fabric against the TV's light, the yellow goes almost white and the black hoodie print loses its edge into a soft halo, while the deep crease beneath the curve holds a dark hard-edged shadow that no light reaches. Cold blue-white key from the screen in front of him, warm red bleed from his own blush on the skin of his cheek, everything behind him swallowed in black. Palette held to the TV's cold blue, the underwear's acid yellow, the hoodie's flat black, and his own hot red. Comedic dread, gleeful obsession.
Peppina La gina
pl
character: tails_(sonic), sonic.exe_(character), copyright: sonic_(series)
2girls? no, 2 subjects, one male human transformed into a yellow underwear garment, one hedgehog-like monster with blue spiked hair, black sclera and red irises, fangs, enormous oversized butt, heavy blush, wide smile, black hoodie printed on yellow underwear fabric, Tails-like printed face with dizzy swirl eyes, heavy blush and scared expression, upper body printed on underwear, one face only, no legs on the print, no shoes on the print, no tails anywhere, emerging from a television, from behind, looking back, close-up on lower body, dutch angle, indoors, dark room lit only by the TV, glossy yellow fabric, stretched fabric, comedic horror, obsessed infatuation
The camera sits low and behind, a dutch angle tilted about fifteen degrees, looking up at the back of the hedgehog-like creature as he twists his upper body around to glance back over his own shoulder; from this rear three-quarter view the television is the only light source, its cold blue-white rectangle throwing his long shadow forward across a carpeted living room floor, the rest of the room falling into absolute darkness beyond the glow. He stands with his weight shifted onto his left leg, right hip cocked out and pushed toward the lens so the enormous swollen curve of his rear fills the lower two-thirds of the frame, straining the yellow fabric taut; the fabric is glossy and thin, pulled to a shine across the widest point, and the seams bite into it in stretched creases that radiate from the overload. Both of his gloved hands are hooked at the waistband, knuckles pressing in, tugging the yellow garment up over the curve; his shoulders lift with the strain and his spiked blue hair sweeps forward past his ear with the twist of his neck, one red iris catching the TV light. His muzzle is turned back toward the print on his own rear and his grin is wide and open, fangs showing, black sclera crinkling at the corners, and a deep hot blush burns across both cheeks and up to the base of his ears because he can feel how much bigger he has become.
Across that whole taut yellow surface the single printed image is smeared and spread by the stretch: the cartoon fox boy's face sits high on the left cheek of the fabric, one blue iris spiralling into a dizzy swirl, the other squeezed shut, both cheeks flooded with a stamped hot blush, his mouth pulled open in a frightened grimace, his ears flattened; below and around the face the black hoodie is printed broad, its shoulders and chest and drawstrings and the front pocket all dragged wide and distorted into long horizontal streaks by the strain, black ink thinning to grey where the fabric pulls hardest, no legs and no shoes and no tails anywhere in the print, nothing but that one face and that one hoodie spread across the entire garment. A single physical tell: where his hip presses the fabric against the TV's light, the yellow goes almost white and the black hoodie print loses its edge into a soft halo, while the deep crease beneath the curve holds a dark hard-edged shadow that no light reaches. Cold blue-white key from the screen in front of him, warm red bleed from his own blush on the skin of his cheek, everything behind him swallowed in black. Palette held to the TV's cold blue, the underwear's acid yellow, the hoodie's flat black, and his own hot red. Comedic dread, gleeful obsession.
Peppina La gina
pl
character: tails_(sonic), sonic.exe_(character), copyright: sonic_(series)
2girls? no, 2 subjects, one male human transformed into a yellow underwear garment, one hedgehog-like monster with blue spiked hair, black sclera and red irises, fangs, enormous oversized butt, heavy blush, wide smile, black hoodie printed on yellow underwear fabric, Tails-like printed face with dizzy swirl eyes, heavy blush and scared expression, upper body printed on underwear, one face only, no legs on the print, no shoes on the print, no tails anywhere, emerging from a television, from behind, looking back, close-up on lower body, dutch angle, indoors, dark room lit only by the TV, glossy yellow fabric, stretched fabric, comedic horror, obsessed infatuation
The camera sits low and behind, a dutch angle tilted about fifteen degrees, looking up at the back of the hedgehog-like creature as he twists his upper body around to glance back over his own shoulder; from this rear three-quarter view the television is the only light source, its cold blue-white rectangle throwing his long shadow forward across a carpeted living room floor, the rest of the room falling into absolute darkness beyond the glow. He stands with his weight shifted onto his left leg, right hip cocked out and pushed toward the lens so the enormous swollen curve of his rear fills the lower two-thirds of the frame, straining the yellow fabric taut; the fabric is glossy and thin, pulled to a shine across the widest point, and the seams bite into it in stretched creases that radiate from the overload. Both of his gloved hands are hooked at the waistband, knuckles pressing in, tugging the yellow garment up over the curve; his shoulders lift with the strain and his spiked blue hair sweeps forward past his ear with the twist of his neck, one red iris catching the TV light. His muzzle is turned back toward the print on his own rear and his grin is wide and open, fangs showing, black sclera crinkling at the corners, and a deep hot blush burns across both cheeks and up to the base of his ears because he can feel how much bigger he has become.
Across that whole taut yellow surface the single printed image is smeared and spread by the stretch: the cartoon fox boy's face sits high on the left cheek of the fabric, one blue iris spiralling into a dizzy swirl, the other squeezed shut, both cheeks flooded with a stamped hot blush, his mouth pulled open in a frightened grimace, his ears flattened; below and around the face the black hoodie is printed broad, its shoulders and chest and drawstrings and the front pocket all dragged wide and distorted into long horizontal streaks by the strain, black ink thinning to grey where the fabric pulls hardest, no legs and no shoes and no tails anywhere in the print, nothing but that one face and that one hoodie spread across the entire garment. A single physical tell: where his hip presses the fabric against the TV's light, the yellow goes almost white and the black hoodie print loses its edge into a soft halo, while the deep crease beneath the curve holds a dark hard-edged shadow that no light reaches. Cold blue-white key from the screen in front of him, warm red bleed from his own blush on the skin of his cheek, everything behind him swallowed in black. Palette held to the TV's cold blue, the underwear's acid yellow, the hoodie's flat black, and his own hot red. Comedic dread, gleeful obsession.
Peppina La gina
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