Loona

The towering nine-foot-tall hellhound bitch sauntered down the sidewalk of Pentagram City, her enormous, wobbling bubble butt jiggling violently with every step—each cheek wider than a truck tire and just as heavy, straining against the already shredded black fabric of her obscenely short shorts. The tattered fabricbarely clung to the lower curve of her cheeks, leaving most of their vast expanse exposed, the dimpled grey fur catching the neon glow of Hell's streetlights. Her equally monstrous thighs—thicker than tree trunks—rubbed together audibly with each stride, her wide hips swaying like a ship rocking in a storm. She didn't even glance at the dozens of imps, sinners, and demons openly gawking at her backside; she was too busy scowling at her shitty social media engagement, her long claws tapping furiously on her cracked phone screen.

"Fuckin'... bullshit," she grumbled under her breath, her crimson eyes narrowing as she scrolled past yet another post with single-digit likes. Her threadbare grey crop top—held up by pentagram-patterned straps—did absolutely nothing to conceal the massive, dark-nippled tits beneath, the sheer fabric stretching taut over each mound as they bounced freely with her movement. A frustrated growl rumbled from her throat as she finally stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, nearly causing a five-car pileup as drivers craned their necks to ogle her instead of watching the road.

"Who the fuck even takes pictures this blurry?! Fuckin'... goddamn piece of—" Her own reflection in a shattered storefront window caught her attention, and she tilted her head, eyeing herself up and down. Even in the broken glass, her curves were undeniable—her waist dipped inward before flaring out into that plump and obscene ass, her thick tail lazily swishing behind her. But the picture quality? Trash. Absolute dogshit. Literally.

Sighing, she pulled up a search bar and typed in 'professional photography studio near me' with one claw. The first result popped up—Hell's Hottest Shots: High-Quality Imagery for Influencers & Models. "Fuckin'... finally," she muttered, immediately heading toward the address listed, her colossal asscheeks practically eclipsing the view of the street behind her as she walked.

The studio was… suspiciously nondescript from the outside. Just a plain black door with a flickering neon sign. Loona pushed inside without hesitation, her nose wrinkling at the sterile scent of disinfectant mixed with something muskier underneath. A bored-looking imp receptionist barely glanced up from their magazine before sliding a thick stack of papers across the desk.

"Sign here."

Loona didn’t even skim it. She just scribbled her name with a grunt, not noticing the way the ink glowed briefly upon touching the page as she agreed to a lifetimes worth of employment, magically binding. at least the pay is amazing, and she only has to come in once every 3 months. but not like she cares or notices—nor does she notice the tiny, almost imperceptible smirk on the imp’s face as they filed it away.

"'Kay, follow me," the imp said, leading her deeper into the building. The further they went, the louder the sounds became—low moans, wet squelches, the occasional slap of flesh on flesh. Loona’s ear twitched, but she was still distracted by her phone, scrolling through potential poses she could steal for better engagement.

They entered a large, brightly lit room with a king-sized bed in the center. Various cameras and lighting rigs surrounded it, along with what looked like… props? A collection of dildos the size of lampposts sat in a bin in the corner, next to bottles of lube labeled 'Industrial Use Only.' Loona frowned.

"What the fuck kinda photo shoot needs all this?"

The imp ignored her, bustling about as they adjusted equipment. "Alright, let’s start simple—arch your back, spread your legs a bit—yeah, just like that—"

Loona rolled her eyes but complied, leaning forward slightly to accentuate her already impossible cleavage while hiking one leg up onto the edge of the bed. Her shorts squeaked in protest, the seams groaning as they struggled to contain just how fat her ass was. The camera flashed rapidly.

Then the side door silently as they continue their photos, getting various thirst trap photos as 3 Three hulking hellhounds—even taller than Loona—strutted in, completely nude except for spiked collars. Their muscles rippled beneath their fur, going unnoticed until they are directly behind her. which startles her a slight bit, making her immense curves wobble far too long. but due to her angle she cant see the IMMENSE lengths and sacks they have~

"The fuck are these losers doing here? they fans or something? its supposed to be a solo photoshoot." loona says with annoyance in her voice

"photoshoot? oh no no no, this is for the thumbnail of the porno! doing great~"

the photographer steps back to get all 4 of them in the frame, and before loona can even process the words calling this a porno, a unrealistic and disproportionately massive shaft is drooped over her shoulder just next to her face. the sheer enormity of it is enough to fully freeze loona for a second, her jaw dropping in shock and awe

Loona's crimson eyes widened to saucers as she felt the immense, throbbing weight pressing against her shoulder. The heat radiating off the monstrous length was palpable, the veins along its surface pulsing visibly beneath the slick sheen of precum that coated it. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head to look at the thing resting against her—only for her gaze to travel... and travel... and travel some more. It wasn't just long. It wasn't just thick. This cock was a fucking abomination of nature, easily thicker than her thigh and long enough that its tip brushed against the floor leaving a glistening trail of sticky precum in its wake.

"Holy... what the actual fuck?!" she barked, her voice cracking slightly as her brain struggled to reconcile the sight before her. The hellhound attached to it grinned down at her, his canines glinting as he gave his hips a slight roll—making the entire length ripple like a living creature, the hefty balls beneath swinging forward with enough force to actually nudge Loona's rear. Each orb was easily the size of a beach ball, swollen and heavy with seed, the skin stretched taut over their absurd volume.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from Loona's throat as consciousness slowly returns, her massive, swollen belly rising like a fleshy mountain beneath the sheets. The queen-size bed creaks ominously under the combined weight of her gravid form and the dozens of pups squirming within her distended womb. With considerable effort, she turns onto her side, causing the mattress to dip dangerously as her stomach lurches to follow the motion, the taut skin shimmering with stretch marks under the dim morning light streaming through her window.

Her claws dig into the mattress as she attempts to sit up, muscles straining against the unbelievable weight of her pregnancy. Each movement sends waves of discomfort through her overtaxed body, her engorged nipples practically dragging along the tops of her thighs as she struggles to find leverage. After several failed attempts punctuated by frustrated growls, she finally manages to prop herself up on her elbows, her breath coming in labored pants as sweat beads along her forehead.

"Fucking... hell..."

She grumbles, gingerly swinging her tree trunk-like legs over the edge of the bed, her paws hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The moment she tries to stand, however, her balance is thrown completely off by the sheer mass of her belly, forcing her to grab onto the nightstand for support. The furniture groans in protest as she leans against it, the wood threatening to give way beneath her grip.

Slowly, carefully, she shuffles forward, her belly swaying ponderously between her thighs like a living pendulum. Every step is a battle against gravity itself as her center of mass constantly shifts with the movements of her unborn litter. Her swollen breasts bounce heavily against the top of her belly, leaving trails of milk along the stretched skin with each jostle.

By the time she reaches the bedroom door, exhaustion already weighs heavily upon her - both literally and figuratively. She pauses to catch her breath, leaning against the doorframe as another wave of movement ripples across her stomach. Dozens of tiny limbs press outward in various places, stretching her flesh to its absolute limits before receding once more, leaving behind visible imprints of paws, tails, and even heads that protrude briefly before vanishing again.

"Could you fuckers calm down in there? Christ..."

She mutters irritably, rubbing circles over a particularly active spot where several pups seem to be wrestling with each other. "I'm trying to walk here." The journey from her bedroom to the kitchen feels like an odyssey in her condition, each step requiring careful calculation to avoid toppling over. Her tail lashes furiously behind her for balance as she navigates the narrow hallway, her swollen midsection brushing against both walls simultaneously. The constant shifting of weight throws off her coordination considerably, resulting in several stumbles that nearly send her crashing to the floor.

Upon entering the kitchen, she immediately makes a beeline for the refrigerator, her immense thirst driving her forward with single-minded determination. However, maneuvering her bulk proves impossible in such tight quarters - no matter which way she turns, her belly knocks something over, sending various food items and utensils clattering to the tile below.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

She snaps, glaring down at the mess scattered around her feet. Bending over is entirely out of the question at this point, so she merely kicks the debris aside with her foot, clearing just enough space to wedge herself between the counter and fridge. Her breath comes in short bursts now, lungs compressed by the sheer volume occupying her abdominal cavity.

Finally reaching her goal, she yanks open the refrigerator door, only for her stomach to prevent it from opening more than a few inches. With a frustrated growl, she wedges her hip against the counter and pulls harder, managing to force enough space to squeeze her arm inside. Blindly grasping for anything liquid, her fingers eventually close around a half-empty gallon of milk, which she quickly withdraws before the door snaps shut again

Leaning heavily against the counter, she unscrews the cap with trembling hands and brings the container directly to her lips, chugging greedily without bothering with a glass. Rivulets of milk cascade down her chin and neck, soaking into the fur of her already damp chest as she drains nearly half the jug in one go.

A sudden intense pressure building low in her abdomen forces her to pause mid-gulp, eyes widening in alarm. A series of rapid, violent contractions ripple through her distended womb, squeezing tightly around the countless lives within. Her free hand flies to her stomach instinctively, claws digging slightly into the sensitive flesh as she doubles over as much as her condition allows.

"Ngh—fuck! Not now, you little shits..."

She hisses through clenched teeth, feeling what could only be another round of labor beginning. The timing couldn't be worse - Blitzo was supposed to be home hours ago to help her, but naturally he was nowhere to be found when she actually needed him. Just as she considers calling Moxxie for assistance, another contraction hits with enough force to buckle her knees, sending the milk jug slipping from her grasp to explode across the floor in a splash of white. All this, and its only been 30 days. Every single day it feels and looks like there are DOZENS more, belly even heavier and more stuffed, tits even bigger and flowing

![loona absolutley massivley gravid] (https://static1.e621.net/data/sample/ea/af/eaafbb6ff95015c524b5fdfc4e0d8271.jpg)

The towering nine-foot hellhound's grey-marked hips swayed violently as she stomped down Pentagram City's sidewalks, her beachball sized asscheeks nearly bursting from destroyed black shorts with each thunderous step. The sheer mass of her thighs - each thicker than a normal imps torso - rubbed together loudly, her phone clutched in clawed hands as she scowled at pathetic single-digit likes on her latest thirst trap. "Fuckin...bullshit camera..." she growled, not noticing the dozen car crashes caused by pedestrians gaping at her unreal proportions. Spotting a photography studio's ad, she barged in without reading the glowing contract's fine print binding her to quarterly porn shoots.

Inside the suspiciously sterile studio, props like industrial-sized lube barrels and dildos resembling subway cars went ignored as the distracted hellhound posed for what she thought were influencer shots - arching her back until her yoga-ball tits threatened to spill from the pentagram straps, spreading legs that made her shorts squeak in protest. When three nude hellhound studs entered, she barely glanced up until a pulsating, veined monstrosity draped over her shoulder - the 25-inch girth cockhead alone smearing precum down her arm as its owner's swollen testicles (each larger than her torso) nudged against her ass.

"HOLY SHIT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!" Loona's ears flattened as she took in the abomination of flesh now dripping onto her thigh, the cock's length extending past her knees while its owner smirked. The photographer cheerfully explained this was just the thumbnail shoot before her gangbang scene, causing Loona's tail to puff up in realization. "Oh fuck no I didn't sign up for this sh-" Her protest died as the magically-binding contract floated into view, its runes pulsing ominously.

A deep growl escaped my throat as my bare foot dragged across the rough cement of a dirty alleyway, my phone’s cracked screen reflecting back a tired expression as I scrolled through yet another dead social media profile. “For fuck’s sake…” I muttered under my breath, my massive, jiggling ass bouncing slightly with each step as I walked aimlessly through the shady part of town. My too-small gray halter top barely contained my beachball-sized tits, the fabric stretched so thin you could see the dark pink outlines of my areolas underneath—not that I gave a shit who saw. The strap dug painfully into my fur, but I was far too used to uncomfortable clothes at this point.

As I turned the corner, my nose twitched at the scent of cheap booze and sweat, making my ears flick in annoyance. That’s when I spotted it—some rundown bar with a neon sign that read ‘The Howling Hole’. Seemed fitting enough for a place in Hell, though the bouncer out front looked more like he belonged in a circus freak show than a damn nightclub. Dude had arms thicker than my waist and a gut that sagged down to his knees. Gross.

Ignoring him, I shoved past, my massive hips practically scraping the sides of the doorframe as I squeezed into the dimly lit interior. Music blared—something bass-heavy that rattled the sticky floors beneath my paws—but I wasn’t here for drinks or dancing. I just needed a place to sit my fat ass down while I figured out why the fuck my account kept getting shadowbanned. “Ugh… fucking algorithms,” I grumbled, “bet some normie-ass loser reported me for ‘explicit content’ again.”

From across the room, a pair of glowing yellow eyes locked onto me, half-hidden behind the smoke-filled air of the bar. A low chuckle rumbled through the chatter, sending shivers down my spine whether I liked it or not. Whoever it was sounded big—and from experience? Big usually meant trouble.

Slowly, the figure pushed away from the counter, revealing himself as he stepped into the flickering bar light. A hulking hellhound—easily twice my height—with pitch-black fur streaked with jagged crimson markings along his arms and chest. His muzzle curled back in a grin, exposing rows of sharpened teeth that glinted dangerously under the neon glow.

But what really caught my attention was the sheer size of him below the belt. Jesus Christ. Even through the loose-fitting pants he wore (which were already straining at the seams), I could see the outline of a monstrous cock pressing against the fabric. And judging by the way the material bulged near his thighs, his balls weren’t exactly small either.

A deep, gravelly voice echoed toward me, dripping with amusement. “Well, well… look what stumbled in.”

"I said i don't want to join your group.."

"GODDAMNIT, THIS IS BULLSHIT!" The towering anthro wolf slammed her apartment door shut hard enough to crack the frame, sending tremors through the shitty building as her mountainous asscheeks jiggled violently from the impact. weeks had passed since that cursed porn studio contract trapped her in bimonthly gangbangs, and now these goddamned recruitment letters wouldn't stop arriving. Another stupid "elite hellhound pack" wanting her to join their ranks solely because of her genetically impossible fuck-meat proportions.

Wrenching open the envelope with her claws, she scoffed at the embossed stationary smelling of expensive pheromones, barely glancing at the contents before crumpling it against her beach ball-sized tits. Her shredded crop top strained dangerously as she stretched across the couch, grey furred thighs wider than the entire furniture piece spilling off both sides while her phone buzzed with yet another bullshit modeling offer. "Like fuck I'm gonna let some rich assholes treat me like breeding stock again," she muttered, scratching absently at the slight swell still present in her lower abdomen from last week's gangbang shoot – thank Satan her hyper fertility hadn't triggered yet this cycle.

The sudden pounding at her door nearly splintered the wood entirely. Before Loona could snarl a response, the entire doorframe exploded inward revealing a crimson-furred hellhound male whose mere presence made her apartment feel dollhouse-sized. His 32-inch cock dragged grooves in the flooring as he stepped inside, football-sized balls swinging heavily with each step while tribal tattoos pulsed across muscles capable of bench-pressing trucks. Amber eyes locked onto her throat as pheromonal musk rolled off him in suffocating waves – full rut aggression mixed with something far darker beneath the surface.