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AI artwork featuring #Shirakami Fubuki, #Hololive Production and #zetaCollab

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Shirakami Fubuki, Hololive Production

Contest Entry

PixAI × zeta Original Character Creation Contest 2026

#Shirakami Fubuki #Hololive Production

Pubblicato il Nov 1, 2026

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character: shirakami_fubuki_(loungewear) low angle, from below, 2girls, 1boy, size difference, giantess, femdom, shirakami_fubuki_(loungewear), white hair, long hair, ahoge, hair between eyes, black hairband, sidelocks, single braid, aqua eyes, gigantic breasts, huge breasts overwhelming the frame, enlarged body, tall, wearing loungewear, oversized white loungewear shirt, baggy lounge shorts, bare feet, mid-jump, leaping toward viewer, arms spread wide, breasts first, breasts slamming into the man, breast squash, motion lines, impact burst, male much smaller than her breasts, tiny man, miniature man, knocked upward, flying upward, legs flailing, surprised open mouth, wide-eyed, foreshortening, dramatic perspective, dutch angle, dynamic pose, grin, :d, looking down at another, room interior, wooden floor, warm lamp light, casting shadow, high contrast The camera sits almost at floor level, tilted slightly off horizontal, looking steeply up: the girl in loungewear fills the upper two-thirds of the frame and the whole floor plane recedes beneath her, so the room's wooden boards run as long converging lines toward the far wall and her soles are the closest thing to the lens. She is caught in the middle of a forward leap, body launched off the boards toward the viewer, both knees bent and both bare feet just clear of the floor with toes pointed down; her shoulders are thrown back, both arms flung wide and slightly behind her for momentum, fingers splayed. Her enormous chest leads the entire motion, forward and downward, so the fabric of her loose white loungewear shirt stretches taut across it and rides up, the baggy lounge shorts low on her hips and the hem flaring from the jump; the shirt's collar has slipped, cloth pulling into deep folds at the shoulders and dragging loose at her waist. Her long white hair lifts and streams backward from the leap, the ahoge whipping, loose strands crossing the braid that swings out behind her shoulder; the black hairband holds the crown of it. Her head is tipped forward, aqua eyes fixed down on the man, and her mouth is open in a wide delighted grin with the corners of her eyes creased up -- she is enjoying this. Directly beneath her chest, no bigger than that chest is, the tiny man is caught at the exact instant of contact: her breasts jam into him and compress against his whole upper body, the fabric of the shirt flattening against his shape, and the blow has already launched him off his feet. He is airborne, body folded around the impact point, arms thrown up and legs kicking out behind-downward, head snapped back with his mouth wide open and eyes wide in shock; his small silhouette is fully foreshortened, closest to the lens at the contact and shrinking as he goes upward, and the tips of his shoes and the trailing edges of his cuffs are the last things to leave the boards. He has not touched the floor since the hit -- his shadow is a small dark smear on the wood beneath him, separated from his soles by a gap of air, while hers is a huge soft shape spreading out and to one side. The impact reads physically: a burst of radial impact lines and a burst of speed lines fan out at the point where her chest meets him, and a spray of motion streaks follows his upward trajectory, all in flat graphic white and black inking that kicks out from the contact rather than floating over the background. His body sinks into hers by a finger's width at the point of contact and her chest bulges around the dent -- the surface tension of the squash, not a merge of two silhouettes. The impact also lifts the hem of her shirt and pops the loose strands of her hair outward. The room is a plain domestic interior: wooden floorboards, a low table and a rug blurred out of focus in the near-left foreground, a wall with a doorway and a warm-lit lamp in the background. The lamp is the primary light, warm and low from screen-left, throwing her huge shadow up the wall and lighting the undersides of her chin, chest and thighs while the far corners of the room fall into soft brown darkness; a cooler window glow barely qualifies as a second source. Palette: warm cream and brown wood, white hair with cool blue-grey shadow, aqua eyes as the one bright accent, and flat black-and-white inking reserved for the impact burst and motion lines. Expressive exaggeration, comic momentum.

Shirakami Fubuki, Hololive Production

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