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Mall Mommy Makeover

In a these days mostly abandoned mall, in a town that not many visited these days – this one mall had been the crown jewel of the entire state, once upon a time! – one business still thrived. Oh, it wasn’t the only one that survived; there were the usual ones. Fast food, cheap clothes, and a dying storefront dealing in video games. It was, however, the most successful one, bearing a perfect spread of reviews and, as the raccoon proprietor liked pointing out, one hundred percent satisfied customers, and equally satisfied partners and friends of customers.

She ran a little makeover parlor, as she liked calling it. Many years ago, she had discovered a certain talent with alchemy that enabled her to remake quite a bit more than merely the hairstyles of her customers. Her latest project had been a group of three rather preppy friends – the raccoon had never liked that style, having been more of a goth or emo type in high school, and she held onto that preference well into adulthood – into rather curvy, chubby, and far more stylish versions of themselves.

Now, she hadn’t intended for word to spread. There was a certain risk to her operations if any authorities figured out exactly what she was doing. It wasn’t always entirely consensual. But then again, she had done it to three young women, and if any demographic tended to be prone to gossiping, it was that one. So really, the raccoon sighed internally, it was her own fault that she was getting bookings for that kind of special service all the time, now.

Still, her reasoning in continuing to do it was that she might as well go with the flow. Worse come to worst, she’d close up shop and then transform herself and start a whole new life as someone different. That was as good a plan as any, and she’d have plenty of money saved up by the time it happened. Right now, she was Ophelia. It wasn’t the name she’d been born with, but given its meaning – help, or benefit, which was what she did, even if her customers didn’t always know it beforehand – and the slight association with a more gothic style, she found herself enjoying it.

In the early morning hours of yet another day, she looked at her schedule and raised her eyebrow. Apparently, she was about to get a visit from a silver fox and a hellhound. Hellhounds were interesting to work with; usually, they had rather sour and cynical attitudes to begin with. The unusual part was that the fox – who had booked their visit – was perfectly aware of what she did, and he had certain requests.

One, he wanted the hellhound to be transformed into a rather maternal type. Still curvy, still chubby, as was Ophelia’s specialty, but with a particular attitude, namely, wanting to get bred as often as possible and to be pregnant just about all the time. Well, that wouldn’t be much of a problem. Ophelia could do that rather easily, and then add her personal touches with a little bit of emo-styled fashion. The really unusual part was that the fox himself also wanted to be transformed. Into a femboy. He didn’t want much in the way of mental changes – which made sense, as surely anyone who wanted to be a femboy already had the right attitude – but in this case, he did want a bigger ass, wider hips, the whole lot for a feminine build that nonetheless wouldn’t change his gender. And he wanted a massive cock. Fair enough, and also easily done, even if she felt like it didn’t perfectly rhyme with wanting to look feminine.

Ah, well, who was Ophelia to judge? She hadn’t even always been a raccoon. She had simply taken a liking to their “natural makeup” as she liked to call it, and gone from there. Sometimes she had a cock, other times she didn’t. It was all about what she happened to feel like for any given month or two. And so, transforming the handsome silver fox into a femboy would be no problem at all, even if she had a slight preference for adding tits to the mix. She did, after all, run a business, and that business was at least half-professional, hence the perfect rate of customer satisfaction!

Besides, it was 2026. A woman or femboy could walk around with a massive bulge under their skirt and really, it was nobody’s business to judge them, Ophelia thought to herself. It was, she felt, a healthy approach to things. Well, as healthy as sometimes transforming unaware customers could be, anyway. But it was for their own good, and she held onto that belief rather firmly. Sometimes, people – like those three self-obsessed brats she’d transformed – simply needed a nudge. If you asked an alcoholic, he’d never have admitted that he needed an intervention, but in the end, it was for the best. Just like her own interventions.

She prepared a few potions; a few for drinking to make it easier for the fox, and a few more for mixing into hair dye and lotion for the hellhound, who most likely had no idea what she was getting into, and thus might not willingly drink any sort of potion. The hellhound was to have a wolf cut, about as long as her natural waist-length hair, with rainbow bangs over the eyes. Easy enough.

Oh, her eyes fell upon the booking again. There was one final request; the vulpine – his name was Ansgar, which struck Ophelia as a very old-timey German name – wanted to breed the hellhound, whose name was Loona, right there in her little parlor once the transformation was done. Not a problem; the mall had so little traffic these days that all it took was lowering the curtains, and she wasn’t expecting any other visitors or customers until much later in the evening.

Alchemy wasn’t really that difficult. It did require one to believe in what one worked with, and to make the kind of connections that others usually didn’t. What induced femininity? Well, certain strongly scented flowers. What induced curves? Apples were curvy, and so they were one of the ingredients. For weight gain, almost anything would do. For cock growth… well, that one was her personal secret, Ophelia mused as she prepared everything in the back room of her parlor.

Soon enough, a pair of people walked in. A rather jovial-looking silver fox in a kilt – tartan-patterned, of course – a trenchcoat, and a hat. The trenchcoat had band patches on it, ones that Ophelia didn’t quite recognize, but she presumed they were most likely German.

With him there was a scowling hellhound. Black, white, and grey, with red eyes. She didn’t seem to enjoy being there very much but was evidently willing to oblige for Ansgar’s sake.

“Talk about early 2000s,” she scoffed, looking at the various photographs that Ophelia had taken of her various makeover subjects. “Surprised there isn’t a Hot Topic next door.”

“Mhm. The style might’ve have left the… mm, zeitgeist, but that does not make it any less appealing, does it?” Ansgar grinned, taking off his hat and hanging it by the door.

“This style?” Loona replied. “It’s like we walked into a My Chemical Romance music video, except in a dying mall. Though I guess nobody really goes to malls except the people who want that look.”

“Now, now, don’t be so cynical,” Ansgar said, and continued as if he hadn’t planned exactly what he wanted. “We don’t need to do anything too drastisch, just a little styling session, ja?“

“I guess, but you’re paying for the booze afterwards,” the hellhound sighed. Her tail did a little swishing motion that Ophelia read as annoyance. “Wait, what are we even doing?”

“Bit of a makeover for me, and for you I think we’ll just have your hair styled,” Ansgar smiled broadly, before turning to Ophelia with a wink. Unlike his companion, he actually did know exactly what they were getting into, as did Ophelia.

“Welcome to my little shop of makeovers,” the raccoon smiled warmly. “If you’d just both have a seat- yes, right there, next to the mirrors.”

Ansgar took off his trenchcoat first and then walked over. He did, indeed, already have a somewhat feminine and bottom-heavy build for a male, but not one that Ophelia couldn’t improve and soften up a little bit. This Loona would be a little more challenging, being quite slender and entirely lacking the maternal proportions that Ansgar wished for her to have. She’d need wider hips, at least twice the breast size, and maybe she could do with being a little taller as well. Anything to make it easier to get bred as often as possible.

That, and her attitude would need fixing. Mothers who planned to have a lot of litters shouldn’t drink at all, after all, and a less cynical approach to life would be good for her pups. Just the stuff Ophelia had prepared, in other words.

She’d start with the hellhound, of course, for much the same reasons. Without some conditioning, she’d probably be running out of the shop like her ass was on fire once she saw the fox get transformed into a big-dicked femboy.

“I’ll just apply some dry conditioner first. Should get that hair all nice and smooth,” Ophelia half-lied. It was dry conditioner, but it was also spiked with her favorite transformative blend, kept in an unmarked spray bottle.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get it over with,” Loona groaned. “I really don’t even need to have my hair styled.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ophelia replied. “But you might as well, since you’re here. I think you’d look stunning with some highlights or ribbons of color.”

“She’s right, you know,” Ansgar pointed out. “Maybe a solid red, like your eyes. Or maybe that rainbow bangs look you see in those posters.”

The hellhound scoffed again, crossing her arms, protesting the very idea of rainbows. Yet, without any further words, Ophelia sprayed the concoction into her hair and began to rub it into her scalp, making sure not to get any on herself. She wasn’t quite ready to be a mother yet, even if she had the build for it, and so she wore gloves. Not that anyone in this line of work wouldn’t.

“That’s… weirdly tingly,” she noted. “What did you… what did… what…”

She trailed off, staring into the mirror with an unfocused look in her eyes, as if she forgot what she had been about to say as the mysterious compounds in the conditioner soaked directly into her mind. The first part affected was her lips, especially her lower lip; tingling, they grew rather plump, perfect for kissing either her many future pups or the partners about to put them into her. Of course, it only added to her confusion; why was she suddenly so aware of her lips? Had they always been so prominent?

“Why-” she stuttered, having a hard time forming the words while getting used to her new look.

Ophelia kept rubbing with one hand, bringing out the hair dye and the tools to apply it with, as well as a pair of scissors to style her unruly mane properly with. She turned to look at Ansgar.

“So, she’s pretty much out of it. How do you want her to look?” she asked, with a mean, lopsided smile.

“Ah, like I said in the booking. Maternal, chubby, with a little bit of that emo style,” the fox chuckled. “Not much more than that, but I think she’ll enjoy life much more as a productive mother. And… well, with that particular haircut I mentioned, bitte.”

“As you wish. You, meanwhile, can drink the pink potion in front of you. Should give you much more immediate effects than this method,” Ophelia replied, gesturing towards the bottles in front of the fox – Loona had assumed they were haircare products – and then she really got to work, uncorking a different bottle that was far less concealed.

Her gloved hands slipped easily under the hellhound’s crop top and rubbed the stuff over her rather shapely breasts, which immediately responded by swelling and growing into her palms. Ophelia kept rubbing until they were something like double-Ds, sufficient for nursing once they were full of milk after her breeding. Loona moaned quietly, trying to figure out what exactly was happening, why it felt so good, and why her stylist and why her stylist was pulling her top off entirely to leave her staring at her own massive tits in the mirror. She wanted to touch them, squeeze them, and then a weird thought; she wanted someone to nurse on them.

She shook her head. That didn’t feel like her at all, and yet the thought made her feel all warm and fuzzy. A little aroused, a little needy, despite never having even considered becoming a mother before today. But wouldn’t it be wonderfully wholesome if she – after a good, heavy rutting – had some babies to nurse on her?

Ophelia didn’t stop, of course, and as Ansgar watched with rapt attention, she began rubbing that lotion down over the hellhound’s belly, and then her hips. Her shorts came off easily with a pair of scissors, and she wouldn’t miss them; they wouldn’t fit her reshaped body anyway.

The sensations quickly grew absolutely mesmerizing. The hellhound groaned softly as she began to change. The flat, taut belly she was so proud of began to swell out; only a little at first, but quickly more so. She glanced down, her eyes still unfocused, seeing herself grow fatter with a strange, heady mixture of anxiety and total comfort.

“W-what’s happening-“ she slurred, unable to get the words out. But she was growing softer, chubbier, rounder, her belly growing to the point where it’d never fit inside her regular clothing, with love handles that could grab onto as they fucked her pregnant.

There was that thought again. Pregnancy. She was still present enough to remember that she didn’t want it, and the confusion at the new feelings of desperately needing it was enough to make her squirm. The fantasies came unbidden; of herself on her back, spreading her legs and needy pussy wide for some faceless male to breed her. In fantasy, she begged for it, watching those heavy balls intently as he approached with his cock bobbing up and down, rock-hard and fateful, fully capable and willing to grant her that sweet, warm blessing of motherhood that she yearned for.

He'd fuck her. Suddenly, that phantasmic male was Ansgar, thrusting into her unprotected. She had never once fantasized about any of that before, but her pussy clenched as she imagined the fox’s bare, knotted cock sliding into her receptive body, deep enough that his balls would nestle against her ass, heavy with seed and promises. She’d wrap her legs around him in desperation on his first thrust, as if afraid that he’d pull out and leave her so woefully empty.

But he wouldn’t do that. He’d fuck her until he came, and he’d bury himself to the hilt inside her as he unleashed that potent, virile sperm deep into her womb. It’d feel like the best thing ever, and then her already chubby belly would slowly begin to grow until she was obviously, heavily pregnant.

Oh, she’d look like such a proud mother with Ansgar’s pups growing inside her, and she’d show off her belly to everyone.

A tiny twinge of pain snapped her out of that alchemy-induced reverie and back to her makeover session, where she was greeted with an ache she hadn’t felt since her teenage years; her hips were growing out, flaring into a much more womanly shape than she had managed to attain naturally. At first, it felt alien and wrong; the hellhound liked being slender as she was, and she had never liked the idea of being overly feminine, much less having a motherly build, but the longer she sat in that chair – with Ophelia now working on styling her hair – the more that feeling of discomfort faded. Why shouldn’t she look like a fertility goddess?

While watching his friend change, Ansgar was getting more and more aroused. He rather enjoyed heavier women, and she wasn't becoming just a little heavy, but so beautifully curvy and plentiful that he had a hard time tearing his attention away from her at all.

But the potion beckoned him. After all, he wanted to change too; not that he wasn’t comfortable with his current body, but simply because it’d be fun. Well, that and he had, once upon a time, been bullied for being shorter and smaller than any of his siblings, standing at just a little over five feet. So why not embrace it and make himself more feminine?

There was one not-so-little exception to all that, of course: his cock. While he hadn’t gotten much in the way of height or strength, the silver fox had a rather large sheath already. A gift from his genetics, he supposed, but he was certainly proud of it. That part of him was plenty masculine, and he wanted to emphasize it just a little further, finding that it contrasted beautifully with his otherwise pear-shaped and short body.

Hence the potion, tailor-made by the raccoon to do both, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Thus, Ansgar uncorked the bottle and smelled the pink liquid inside. He couldn’t quite figure out what it smelled like, but bubblegum wasn’t far off. Bubblegum and something floral that he wasn’t familiar with.

He put the bottle to his lips, poured the concoction into his mouth, and was greeted with a predictably pleasant taste. It was a little like fruit juice; absolutely nothing that seemed unusual enough to make an unsuspecting victim think something was off. Ansgar was, of course, anything but unsuspecting, and quickly swallowed everything.

The liquid settled into his belly and immediately made him feel warm, as if he’d had a very strong drink despite it containing no alcohol whatsoever. As he watched Ophelia start to dye his friend’s hair with wild, neon stripes, he leaned back, easing his pants off because of the effects he was expecting. Maybe they wouldn’t fit him anymore, but it’d still be a shame to let them get ruined. That, and he wanted to give his hips and ass plenty of space to grow as big as they were going to get. He barely had time to get them off before he could feel his shoulders shrinking, which he hadn’t predicted, but it made sense if he was going to be bottom-heavy.

Rather than his hips immediately growing wide and curvy, though, it was his sheath that was the first to change. Ansgar looked downwards to see his balls visibly grow, and that sight sent a wave of rather perverted-feeling pleasure through him. A trickle of precum leaked from the tip of his cock where it peeked from his sheath.

Meanwhile, Ophelia had just finished up with the hellhound. Her hair was nicely adorned with those rainbow bangs that she had loathed before, and at that point there was nothing that could really stop what was happening to her, bar for her own willpower, which seemed to have been entirely sublimated by that growing, deeply feminine urge to get pregnant. She kept rubbing her legs together, as if trying to either get off or to control herself. The latter would inevitably fail.

Ophelia turned her attention to Ansgar.

“Now, what would be a good hair color for a femboy? I think we’ll go with something girly, no? What might watch that yellow mane of yours?” Ophelia asked, already preparing another round of dye. “Maybe we’ll dye it black with pink highlights.”

“M-mh,” Ansgar groaned. He couldn’t believe how intense having his sheath grow like that was, and by now, his hips were affected too, all the mass taken from his shoulders seemingly spent there to leave them widening, little by little, until they were rather feminine and flared. “M-maybe black and pink raccoon tails b-but, mein Gott, this feels good.”

The last words came out a little slurred, as, just like with Loona after her transformation, his lips were growing too. Again, mostly the bottom lip, growing plump and feminine, further detracting from his somewhat masculine look before. He welcomed it, though, running a clumsy finger along them before examining the results in the mirror. The sight sent another quiver of arousal through him.

“I can tell. Black and pink raccoon tails it is,” Ophelia smiled, swishing her own striped tail demonstratively while brushing a hand over Ansgar’s fattening thighs and nearly sending him into paroxysms at how sensitive he felt. “Just relax and enjoy, you’ll have a bitch to breed once those balls are nice and heavy.”

She began to dye Ansgar’s hair, and just like his friend, he could feel the colors soak into his head. For him, it did little but arouse him further, but his sheath kept swelling until it was monstrously big, with his balls almost as big as melons, and he could almost imagine them full of cum, eager to be let out into the needy hellhound’s pussy, to finally knock her up like he’d always wanted to.

Loona, in turn, was still struggling, though her resistance was weakening even before she made the fatal mistake of turning her head and looking at the fox. The sight of his package – especially with his gargantuan shaft beginning to slide out and grow harder as the aphrodisiac dye coated his thoughts – suddenly made something snap inside her.

She found herself drooling. Watching that much pure, virile masculinity swell out, knowing that all of that desire was for her and only her in the heat of the moment, made her womb twitch. Oh, she needed it. She needed to be a mother. Screw everything else. I need pups, she thought, and even her thoughts felt shaky and unstable.

By the time his “makeover” was finished, Ansgar was not only fully pear-shaped, but his oversized sheath and balls emphasized that bottom-heavy look further, and arousal had soaked his thoughts to the point that he could wait no longer.

He stood up to look at himself fully in the mirror, and as he turned around, his ass knocked over the chair he had been sitting on. Ansgar hadn’t realized it had gotten that big, and as he turned around again, his erect cock swept several bottles off the table.

He blushed, letting out a somewhat awkward giggle. This would take time to get used to; not that he regretted any of it.

“Now, I think you wanted to breed her. Hellhound, how about you show him what you want?” Ophelia suggested, ignoring the mess that the rather oversexualized, hyper-grown femboy had just made.

Ansgar smiled as the hellhound eagerly, subserviently got into position, leaning over the counter with her chubby belly hanging down and her wide hips raised up, presenting herself for mating almost exactly like she had fantasized. She glanced backwards to see the vulpine position himself and his new, massive cock behind her.

“Breed me,” she moaned. “Please make me a mother. Please. I… I need it.”

“Well, you heard her. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, I get the feeling my services are no longer needed,” Ophelia chuckled, before turning around and leaving the two to their mating. While certainly an arousing sight, she still had more customers to take care of later today, and she didn’t want to be so wet that they could smell it on her. Instead, she moved to prepare more concoctions for those future customers.

“I will certainly breed you, yes,” Ansgar murmured, his voice now carrying a rather feminine flair, though still with that distinct German accent. He grabbed onto the hellhound’s fat rump, squeezing it with his fingers, and then placed his tapered cockhead at her slippery folds.

Then, without hesitating, he thrust. That massive cock struggled to sink into Loona’s quivering pussy at first, and so, Ansgar pushed harder, and harder, until he was grunting from the exertion, slowly spreading her open. It was hard work, at first; despite her widened hips, the hellhound was still tight, and despite her wetness, he didn’t quite manage to push in.

Not at first, anyway. But eventually, with enough force, it finally happened; a few inches suddenly slipped into her steaming hot sex. She was tight like a vice and stretched to the absolute limit around his throbbing thickness, but despite the slight ache, her body welcomed it. After all, how else would she get pregnant? She wanted to be pregnant already, and right now, Ansgar’s beautiful cock was the only way she could get there!

And so, when Ansgar began to fuck her properly – after a few seconds of letting her adjust, no matter how urgent her need – she moaned out loud. He did, too, and how could he not? She was clenching around him_,_ almost impossibly tight, and the way her plentiful ass jiggled with each thrust only egged the fox on further. Oh, she looked amazing with her new figure, and there was only one thing missing; a proud, gravid belly to really leave her waddling around in clothes that barely fit anymore.

He redoubled his efforts to get her there, thrusting harder, rutting away with passionate abandon into the desperate hellhound’s pussy. Right now, she was begging for his seed, and to think, only earlier today, she had never have wanted to be pregnant. But now, her mind was different. Gone was that cynical, jaded, lazy hellhound, replaced with a needy and maternal, if somewhat melodramatic personality more suited for being bred, and one who engaged in her needs with full vigor, even thrusting back to meet Ansgar’s thrusts.

Her newly dyed hair swayed with each rocking buck of Ansgar’s hips, and the need in her lower belly only seemed to grow more intense, as if his cock itself inflamed her body further. In a way, it did; Loona was in full heat, and her body worked harder as it recognized that it had the means to end that condition buried inside her.

“I’m gonna make your belly swell,” Ansgar moaned.

“Please! I need it! Make me complete,” the hellhound begged breathlessly in response.

The fox grabbed onto the love handles of Loona’s fat belly, hunching over her without missing a single thrust. His tongue teased at her ear and he began that final, frantic race towards his climax, with his knot slowly swelling to a size that – with his already massive girth – would ensure that there’d be no room for even a drop of his seed to spill out.

Femboy or not, no matter how wide and meaty his hips and ass were, Ansgar’s cock and seed were both still plenty masculine, easily virile enough to get the job done a hundred times over. Once he filled the hellhound, it was all but assured, but with no desire to even ask him to pull out, her fate was already sealed. In fact, she was clenching already, cresting toward the peak of a wet and messy orgasm of her own to the point that Ansgar, wanting her to cum first, had to grit his teeth to not fill her already.

“You’re so tight,” Ansgar growled.

“A-and you’re so big,” Loona moaned in response.

“I’m getting close,” he continued, panting heavily. Fucking took quite a bit more energy with his new body shape, though it certainly was no less pleasant, feeling the hellhound’s pussy tugging and milking him.

“Y-yeah,” she replied. Another sweet, intimate clench. “D-do it, do it, knock me up and keep me knocked up, oh god, please.”

Ansgar dipped his hand below her swollen belly, feeling around until he found her clit. “Go on, then,” he murmured. “Cum for me, yes? Show me how much you want to be a mother.”

The hellhound let out a gasp as the fox thumbed on her stiff little clit. She let the pleasure overwhelm her, wanting to show Ansgar just how badly she wanted his pups. Her back arched, and her body stiffened – if only for a few seconds – as the pleasure grew almost unfathomably intense, soon sweeping over her like a tidal wave. A gush of her nectar soaked Ansgar’s crotch as her climax began, with Loona gasping for air and her entire chubby body shaking as it began.

Her pussy clenched hard around the vulpine cock. Then it did so again, in a very feminine, orgasmic rhythm that was almost impossible for him not to surrender to. He managed to last only a few seconds after that before pushing hard, pressing his massive knot at her entrance. If his cock hard been hard to fit, his knot seemed entirely impossible. But slowly, slowly, her body yielded, aided by those widened, capacious hips. Those hips ached now, but once she was pregnant, they’d have to widen further yet to deliver her new babies. The babies that Ansgar was only seconds away from putting into her.

There was one final moment of what might be called self-reflection for the hellhound as she felt it. If she let him continue, this would be her life now; but then, looking at the mirror in front of her, she looked so beautiful getting fucked like this. And her body was already “ruined” in the most delicious way; having her fat belly swell further would only make it more beautiful. The only figment of a question that remained was if she really wanted it, because on some deep level she knew that this wasn’t really her. Or it hadn’t been her, at least.

But then, Ansgar’s knot somehow managed to pop into her, and in that brief moment of being utterly beyond stretched, her old self was completely gone. She wanted this more than anything.

She came again with a squeal of joy as she felt the fox throb inside her, another clenching orgasm finally pulling him over the brink as well. He grunted, and then she felt a shot of liquid heat inside her, quickly followed by a series of them that almost matched each of her clenches, her body milking the motherhood it wanted out of him. It felt heavenly, even divine. She willed her body to suck the cum deeper, directly into her womb where it could take root and give her the blessing she so badly needed.

Ansgar moaned too, that grunt followed by a high-pitched whimper, and his orgasm was just as massive as his heavy, oversized balls would’ve suggested. The world went white, and nothing much existed except the heated pussy massaging his cock and the surges of pleasure it provoked from him as he emptied his balls, what felt like gallons of seed spilling forth from his balls and erupting inside the hellhound, the ecstasy overwhelming to the point that it left him slumped over her soft body, drooling against her neck as he panted.

Her corpulent body was stuffed full, and it felt amazing feeling that cum slosh around inside her. Nothing leaked out, stretched beyond capacity as she was, and that was exactly what the changed hellhound wanted. She wanted to be not just a mother, but a brood-bitch, a submissive matriarch, a puppy mill, and she also couldn’t help but admire herself in the mirror, tear-filled as her vision was. She looked perfect for the role, and she felt proud of what she had become.

One final glance into the mirror. Those rainbow bangs in her hair curtained over her eyes, just like in the pictures that adorned the raccoon’s parlor. Her swollen tits and fat belly and hips. She barely recognized herself, but she liked what she saw.

“W-well, that’s that,” Ansgar groaned. He was wobbling now, struggling to keep himself up. “I hope you’ll take to being a mother. Wirklich.”

Loona didn’t say anything. She simply enjoyed the feeling, imagining the fox’s sperm claiming her eggs for the longest time, and certainly, by the time his knot had even begun to soften, it’d inevitably already have happened. She’d be leaving here as a proud new mother, with a whole new look.

Slowly, Ansgar pulled his hips back. It was just as tight a fit to pull out as it had been to push in, even with his knot shrinking, and he had to grab hard onto the hellhound’s meaty ass to give himself the leverage needed. Then, in fractions of inches, he began to slip free, as much as her lips clung to his swollen breeding bulb.

And then his knot popped out, much to the relief of them both, who let out a mutual gasp.

With her pussy stuffed full of cum, the moment that Ansgar pulled out of her – his cock was, naturally, followed by a deluge of cum that Ophelia had already factored in the cleaning costs of – the chubby hellhound slumped down, barely managing to break her fall as she crumbled onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. She managed to turn around to gaze adoringly up at the fox, who smiled his sly smile back at her, a little droplet of cum still hanging from his spent shaft.

“Let’s see if that other thing I wanted worked,” he chuckled, raising a bare paw and wiggling his toes. Immediately, Loona grasped the offered paw and pressed her snout against it in worship. Thankfully, Ophelia always kept the floor of her parlor spotless to avoid any possible chain reactions from spilled concoctions, and so the hellhound was free to indulge.

“How long did it take you to figure out how give someone this kink?” Ansgar wondered, turning his head halfway towards the raccoon. He did have to hold onto his chair to keep himself upright, with his knees still rather wobbly after that immense orgasm.

“Trade secret. Just enjoy it, but not for too long. You were fucking for almost an entire hour and I gotta go get lunch soon,” she replied.

The hellhound nuzzled and then licked Ansgar’s paw lovingly, reduced – at least temporarily – to little more than an adoring pet, wanting to thank her stud for breeding her in any way he wanted.

He didn’t want to keep her there for long, out of respect for their gracious hostess and her tricks with alchemy, but she looked adorable on her knees; wide-eyed, fat and curvy, and with that emo-style haircut to really pull together the look of a mother from the mid 2000s. Yes, perhaps Ansgar had a type, and he was just about as voluptuous as her below the waist and with matching hair, but it was a good type, and he admired the result for a little longer, letting the new hellhound nuzzle, lick, and even suck his toes a little, one by one, while kneading his pawpads with her soft fingers.

Unfortunately, it was eventually time to leave. While Ansgar mostly put on his old clothing, the kilt simply wouldn’t fit around his hips any longer. Thankfully, Ophelia had a parting gift for them both; a pair of black and red plaid skirts, wide enough to fit, but too short to really conceal either his massive sheath – really, nothing could fully conceal that anymore – or the cum slowly drooling down the hellhound’s legs.

By then, his swimmers had already found her eggs, accomplished their mission of fertilizing her, and so, a litter of pups was already growing slowly in her tummy,. It wouldn’t be obvious right away, or even for a few months – though the size of her belly would certainly make others think so regardless – but soon enough she’d be the mother that she had “always” wanted to be, waddling around happily pregnant.

“Just one more thing, please. A photo of the both of you to hang on the wall? You’re not feeling shy about how beautiful you look, are you?” Ophelia chimed in, already holding her phone out with the camera ready.

They didn’t. Granted, Loona blushed fiercely, but it was nothing but a residual reflex, some memory of a former life that no longer felt important. They finished getting dressed, and for the hellhound, that included the clothes that Ansar had brought for her. A black crop top – with the logo of one of Ansgar’s favorite bands, SDP – that left her heavy belly naked while just barely managing to cover her breasts, along with tall black boots that she struggled to bend over enough to get on, and that was it; she didn’t get panties, but then again, why would she need them from now on? A good mother should always keep her pussy easy to access, after all.

Ansgar had brought one more thing; matching thigh-high socks with pink and white stripes for them both. He was briefly worried about them tearing as he pulled them over his meaty legs, but they held fast, and soon he and Loona looked like a perfectly matching couple. They posed rather happily for the raccoon.

Ophelia took a photo of her newest successfully transformed clients. Soon it’d hang on the wall next to all the others, perhaps enticing more men who wanted to either look voluptuously feminine or wanting their partners to be a little softer and more receptive to breeding.

And with that, they left, both supporting each other as they gave the rest of the thankfully not very full mall a full view of their, well, everything from the waist down: their fat asses and, for Ansgar, his enormous sheath that he found himself rather enjoying, having to resist the urge to let himself get hard again before they got back to their hotel. Another pair of satisfied customers.

Ophelia gave a happy sigh as she watched them walk away. One of these days she’d indulge in a makeover for herself. Being as chubby as the hellhound might make working her trade hard, but there were so many other ways she could go. Maybe she’d grow a cock. Maybe she’d give being hyperfeminine a proper try. Ah, one day. Until then, she had a cum-splattered floor to clean up and only a few minutes to do it before the next round of customers.

She got to work, preparing her parlor to look entirely inconspicuous, as if it was merely a hair salon for those who wanted to emulate that 2000s emo look.