I used NovelAI's unlimited gen membership for $25 a month. Note that "unlimited" is kind of a lie, it's only unlimited if you're under a certain resolution and only if you're not using any of the advanced features. Upscaling and other features cost the on-site currency, which the membership gets you 10000 a month. That should be more than enough for a month, but you can burn through it quickly since NAI gens so quickly.

The dim, sulfur-tinged air of the Wrath Ring's abandoned barn hung heavy with the scent of hay, sweat, and raw demonic lust. Dust motes danced in the faint red glow filtering through cracked wooden slats, casting long shadows over the four figures gathered in the center. Moxxie fidgeted nervously on his knees, his small red hands trembling as he glanced up at his wife, Millie, who stood beside him with a mischievous grin splitting her face. Across from them loomed Striker, the tall, pale imp hybrid leaning casually against a hay bale, his rattlesnake tail flicking lazily, a smug smirk curling his lips. And towering over everyone was Loona, the hellhound's arms crossed under her ample chest, her grey fur bristling with anticipation, yellow eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Millie clapped her hands excitedly, her tail swishing behind her like an eager whip. "Oh, this is gonna be so much fun! Y'all ready for a little... comparison?" Her Southern drawl dripped with playful venom, her yellow eyes sparkling as she eyed both imps. Moxxie swallowed hard, his freckled cheeks flushing a deeper crimson. He'd been coerced into this—some stupid bet gone wrong during a botched job—but now there was no backing out.

Striker chuckled low and throaty, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. "Heh, darlin', I reckon the little fella here's already regrettin' it. But go on, let's give the ladies a show." He hooked his thumbs into his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet barn.
Loona snorted, her sharp teeth flashing in a predatory grin. "Yeah, Moxxie. Strip, shortstack. Let's see what that prissy little bow tie's been hiding all this time." Her voice was laced with sarcasm, deep and mocking, as she pulled out her phone, already thumbing open the camera app.

Moxxie's hands shook as he fumbled with his pants, sliding them down his thin legs. His tiny penis flopped out pathetically—barely two inches soft, a shriveled pink nub nestled above a pair of equally minuscule balls, like tiny marbles in a loose, freckled sack. The cool air hit it, making it twitch and shrink even further, if that was possible. A faint, musky scent wafted up, weak and unassuming, nothing like the overpowering masculinity about to be unleashed.

Millie tilted her head, her grin fading into a sympathetic pout for just a second before bursting into giggles. "Aww, Moxxie, honey... it's just so... cute! Like a little button mushroom!" She reached down, pinching the tip gently between her thumb and forefinger, lifting it for better view. It barely filled the space between her digits, soft and limp, the skin velvety but utterly lacking in girth or length.
Loona leaned in closer, her hot breath washing over Moxxie's exposed groin, carrying the faint scent of cigarettes and cherry gum. She burst out laughing—a harsh, barking cackle that echoed off the barn walls, making Moxxie wince and cover his face in humiliation. "Holy fuck, is that it? That's your dick? It looks like a goddamn clit! No wonder you're always so uptight—how do you even piss with that thing without sittin' down?" Her laughter rolled on, deep and unrelenting, as she snapped photo after photo with her phone. The camera clicks were loud and deliberate, flash popping to capture every embarrassing angle: close-ups of the tiny shaft, the undersized balls dangling like deflated grapes, even one with Millie's fingers for scale, dwarfing it completely.

"Loona, please—" Moxxie whimpered, his voice cracking, high-pitched and desperate. His tail curled between his legs in a futile attempt to hide, but Millie swatted it away playfully.

"Nah, nah, let her get the good shots, sugar," Millie cooed, though her eyes were already drifting to Striker. "It's only fair."

Striker, ever the showman, finally dropped his pants with a dramatic flourish. What sprang free was a monster—a colossal, veiny cock that slapped heavily against his thigh, easily over a foot long even semi-hard, thick as a wrist with a bulbous, flared head glistening with precum. Below it swung gargantuan balls, each the size of a grapefruit, heavy and churning in a low-hanging sack covered in faint scales, radiating heat and a potent, musky aroma that filled the barn like a wave of pure virility. The scent was overpowering: salty, earthy, intoxicating, making the air thick and heady. His tail rattled softly in satisfaction as the massive organ throbbed, veins pulsing visibly, already swelling further under the attention.

Millie's jaw dropped, her eyes widening to saucers as she stared, transfixed. A soft, awestruck gasp escaped her lips, her tail freezing mid-swish. "Oh... my... Satan. Striker, that's... that's the biggest damn cock I've ever seen! It's huge! Colossal! Look at them balls—gargantuan, just churnin' full of potent seed!" She dropped to her knees without hesitation, her small hands reaching out reverently, barely able to wrap around the base. The heat radiating from it was intense, like holding a branding iron, the skin smooth yet ridged with throbbing veins. Precum oozed from the slit in thick, sticky strands, dripping onto the hay with wet plops, the scent hitting her like a drug—raw, masculine dominance.

She stroked it slowly, reverently, feeling it harden and lengthen even more in her grasp, the weight immense, pulling her arms down. "You're so manly... so virile. This thing could breed an entire ring! Moxxie, honey, feel how heavy it is compared to yours..." She glanced back at her husband, who was still kneeling in shame, his tiny nub twitching uselessly.

Loona, still chuckling between snaps of her camera, zoomed in on Moxxie's pathetic display before panning to Striker's behemoth. "Fuck, look at the difference! Moxxie's got a baby dick—hell, it's not even a dick, it's a micro-peen! And Striker? That's a real man's cock. Bet it feels like a tree trunk in your hands, huh, Millie?" She leaned down, shoving her phone right in Moxxie's face to show him the photos: high-res shots of his tiny penis next to Millie's fingers, captioned already in her mind for posting. "These are goin' straight online, shrimp dick. Hashtag #TinyImpProblems. The whole Hell's gonna roast your ass—literally."

Moxxie whimpered louder, tears pricking his eyes as the humiliation burned through him, hot and unrelenting. The sounds of Millie's worship filled his ears: wet, slurping strokes as she pumped Striker's shaft, her tongue darting out to lap at the precum, moaning deeply at the salty, bitter taste exploding on her tongue. "Mmm, so thick... so powerful. You're a real stud, Striker. Virile as fuck—bet you could fill me up ten times over and still have more."

Striker growled approvingly, his hand tangling in Millie's hair, guiding her closer. "That's right, sweetheart. This cock's made for ruinin' tight little holes like yours. Unlike that pitiful worm over there." He nodded at Moxxie, who shrank further, his tiny balls drawing up in shame.

Loona howled with laughter again, posting the first batch of photos right then and there—anonymous account, of course, but tagged with enough hints for the I.M.P. crew to know. "Done! Already gettin' likes. 'Lmao is that a penis or a pimple?' Classic." She ruffled Moxxie's hair mockingly. "Don't worry, tiny. Maybe someone out there likes 'em small. Like, really small."

Millie, lost in awe, buried her face against Striker's massive balls, inhaling deeply, the musky heat making her dizzy with lust. She nuzzled them, feeling their immense weight, the skin taut and warm, churning audibly with promise. "These balls... they're enormous! So full, so potent. You're a king, Striker. A real man."

The comparison dragged on for hours—endless teasing, stroking, mocking laughter, and worshipful praise. Moxxie's tiny penis never hardened fully, staying a pathetic stub amid the ridicule, while Striker's colossal beast dominated the scene, throbbing and leaking, a symbol of extreme superiority. The barn reeked of sweat, precum, and humiliation, the sounds of Loona's cackles and Millie's moans etching the night into something intensely, brutally unforgettable.