For the gender change, Moxxie takes off Loona's clothes, revealing her feminine features underneath, and turns Loona into a woman named Moxxi. Moxxi has short, light brown hair with a streak of whi

In the lively and mischievous world of Helluva Boss, clashes between personalities were as common as the revolving contracts that kept demons busy. One such clash was the constant ribbing Loona, the formidable hellhound receptionist, gave Moxxie, the by-the-book imp sharpshooter. Moxxie, tired of being the perpetual target of Loona’s sharp tongue and disarming attitude, decided that it was time for a change—a rather literal one. It all began one sunless day in Hell, when Moxxie stumbled upon a peculiar invention while trudging back from a particularly vexing contract. This curious contraption, nestled inconspicuously in an alleyway, caught his eye with its promise of transformation. A cranky IMP demon had seemingly abandoned it in a fit of irritation. Always the analytical thinker and keen to tinker, Moxxie was struck by an audacious idea. Perhaps this device could provide a lesson Loona wouldn't soon forget. Taking the device back to I.M.P headquarters, Moxxie bided his time. He patiently endured another of Loona’s jests about his height and temperament, though this time with a secretive smile on his face. Later that day, when the office was quiet and the infernal crickets began their haunting symphony, Moxxie seized his chance. “Hey, Loona,” he called, feigning casualness, “Could you help me with something in the back?” Loona, intrigued by Moxxie's unusual confidence, followed him into the dimly lit room where the device lay in wait. “What ridiculous nonsense are you up to this time, short stack?” she teased, glancing skeptically at the setup. “Just a little demonstration,” Moxxie replied smoothly, flipping the final switch and securing the restraints with a swift, determined motion, catching Loona by surprise. Her protests and snarls echoed through the room but it was too late. The device hummed to life with a kaleidoscope of lights, bathing the room in an eerie glow. As the machine whirred and clanked, Loona felt a strange sensation wash over her, like a foreign breeze ruffling her fur from the inside out. Her world began to twist, her body shifting, compressing, realigning. Her majestic white fur receded to the smooth red skin of an imp, while her wolf-like muzzle transformed into a smaller, expressive face. The cascade of her voluminous silver hair receded into the white, pointy coif typical of Moxxie's own. Her eyes, once fired with red sclera, now mirrored Moxxie's yellow stare. Loona's fierce hellhound form was entirely replaced by the smaller, and somehow disconcerting, figure of Moxxie. Stunned, Loona—or rather the new Moxxie—stared back at the real Moxxie, her usual dominance replaced with an incredulity she had never experienced before. Moxxie, savoring his handiwork, couldn't suppress a chuckle at seeing the once daunting Loona standing no taller than himself, red skin and hooves included. “What have you done?” Loona’s voice, now identical to Moxxie’s, rang out, tinged with a disoriented fury. “I thought you might learn how it feels to be in someone else’s shoes—or hooves, in this case,” Moxxie replied with a smile, his hands on his hips. “Maybe now you’ll have a little... understanding.” The lesson, while drastic, was ingenious in its simplicity. Loona's new perspective as Moxxie forced her to navigate the day with the very vulnerability she had often mocked. The ensuing hours were a blend of awkwardness and unexpected camaraderie as Loona grappled with walking in his intricate hoof-steps. Throughout the day, the office had never seen such sudden cooperation. The real Moxxie, knowing the transformation was temporary, enjoyed a rare moment of reciprocated respect from Loona, who learned firsthand the trials of being underestimated. As the effect of the machine began to fade and the witching hour drew near, Loona felt the familiar pull of her original form returning. Her fur bristled back into existence, her stature regained its formidable height, and her features settled back to the fierce hellhound visage. Though restored to her fearsome glory, something intangible had altered within her. “Moxxie,” she said, her usual sarcastic tone softened with a hint of respect, “if you ever do that again, I’ll kick your ass. But... maybe you’re not as helpless as you look.” With that semi-acknowledgment, the odd duo reached a truce of sorts. Moxxie’s daring plan, though impulsive, had imparted a lesson more effective than any rebuke—a lesson in humility, empathy, and the odd fellowship formed among the infernal residents of Hell.

One day, Moxxie was at the end of his rope. The ridicule and laughter had become too much, especially when they came from Loona, a hellhound with her wolf-like appearance and sassy demeanor. He decided enough was enough; he was going to teach Loona a lesson she'd never forget. While walking through the underbelly of Hell one day, Moxxie had come across a peculiar device. It was rough and made from scraps, but it carried the disturbing label: Identity Infuser. The thing was said to transform one's entire physical form into that of another's, changing gender, age, height, and species whenever required. He didn't know who had abandoned this fantasy device, but it was just the thing Moxxie had been looking for. Using his impish charm, Moxxie tricked Loona into a sparring match. When she was exhausted and sweaty, he then convinced her to let him strap her onto what he said was a "new training machine." However, once she was securely hitched to the Identity Infuser, Moxxie activated it. Lights flashed, gears whirred, and a dizzying display of colors swirled around her. The from the machine was intense, but Loona did not pass out. Instead, she was fully aware as her fur began to recede. Soon her piercing, and long voluminous hair fell out. The changes continued until she was bald, followed by the emergence of new white hair, which formed in a pointy manner. Then, her sharp teeth rounded out into normal ones. Blinking, she realized, her eye color had also changed. The red sclera and white irises were now contrastingly yellow with black slit pupils. Loona could feel her height decreasing, and her stature reducing. She was no longer the tall, imposing hellhound, but instead, she was short, fitting the description of an imp. Her muscular density retreated, and her limbs soon became thinner and lankier. Worse yet, her large, bushy tail, a quintessential part of a hellhound - was replaced by a thin, red tail with a quadrilateral barb. Her werewolf-like form was dissolving quickly and was replaced with Moxxie's distinctive red skin. The intimate elements of her gender were transforming drastically as well, and she gasped in disbelief when she looked down upon herself. Moxxie smirked when he saw her realizing what was happening. Loona's clothing morphed as her transformation became complete. Her tattered off-the-shoulder crop-top shrunk to fit around her now lanky body. It changed color into a navy-black coat with red buttons and white cuffs. Her black shorts turned into toe-less pants that perfectly fit her now similar to cloven-hooves legs. With an ostentatious flourish, Moxxie then drew out a mirror and held it up for Loona. She gasped, her voice had even taken on Moxxie's refined timbre. Looking at her reflection, all the sass left her; she was staring at Moxxie's exact clone. She was no longer an Alpha hellhound but an imp, short, weak, and... respectable. The days that followed were of chaos, backlash, and laugh riots. Loona, now in the form of Moxxie, was treated to constant pranks, jokes, and ridicule. There was also a new respect for Moxxie amidst the crowd, as they saw his treatment of the one who had mercilessly picked on him. As for Loona, the lesson was hard-learned. She was left to endure the austere lifestyle, the pressure of responsibilities, and the constant ridicule that Moxxie faced in the office daily.