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I know what drew his eyes to me. It was the same thing that had drawn everybody else's eyes: a thickly-built human, sitting on his own at the bar in nice jeans and a polo. It was my complete lack of anything remarkable that made me stand out in The Prism's crowd. Everywhere I looked, the other patrons were dressed in bright coloured, tight, and revealing clothing. There was as much dyed fur as there was natural colour, on humans and anthros alike. Everybody out on the dance floor rocked and swayed with abandon; even those who clearly lacked any rhythm were losing themselves in the music. Those who were standing on the sides, or sitting in the few booths lining the walls, were animated and engaged.

Meanwhile, I was sitting at the bar, looking out at all of this without the slightest idea of how to join in. I'd come in with the best of intentions - the past few months had been draining, and I'd known that I needed a chance to let loose. I knew The Prism's reputation, and so I'd set out to have a good time. I'd been confident, head high and shoulders back, up until I'd finally stepped through the door. I guess I wasn't prepared for the wall of sound and light and colour. My intentions to just head out onto the dance floor dried up immediately.

Instead, I'd gone over to the bar to get something to drink. I'd even failed utterly to be anything other than conventional in that respect - when the bartender asked me what I wanted, my mouth had stumbled over the list of cocktails and exotic imports, and I'd lamely ordered the cheapest beer they had. The bartender, a porcupine with a band of blue dyed into her quills, had given me a blank look, then grabbed my drink. She hadn't looked at me since.

That was about par for the course for the next fifteen minutes as I nursed my drink. Every eye that passed over me showed that same look of surprise. I drew attention like a single yellow leaf on a tree. I was different, but nothing special. I was a point of the pedestrian world outside in the midst of a flood of colour and reckless abandon. I drew a look, a moment of surprise, and then the observer would turn away and forget I existed.

That was, at least, until he looked at me. I'd noticed him earlier - it was difficult not to. Poodles had a tendency to draw attention, and he was no exception. He was slim and tall, his white fur groomed into immaculate poofs across his body in an empire cut. All he wore was a tanktop, cut low to let the puff of fur on his chest show, and a purple skirt that barely reached halfway down his thighs.

He'd been out on the dance floor for a few minutes when he looked over at me. As soon as our eyes met, I froze, and a small spike of panic ran through me. I glanced down at my drink, focusing on it for the moment. I was sure that by the time I looked back up, he would have lost interest in the boring human and turned his attention elsewhere.

I looked back up, and he was still staring directly at me. What followed was a very long moment where we just stared at each other. At the end of it, he raised an eyebrow, then crooked a finger, beckoning me to join him. I didn't move.

With that, he started towards me. I panicked again, and my thoughts raced. Should I just look away and pretend I hadn't noticed him? Should I duck out and head for the bathroom? Should I down my drink and bolt for the door?

Then he was stepping up to me. He leaned in, and his long muzzle parted. His voice was like silk over the music. "Hey there. You a shy one?"

I just stared at him, my eyes flicking up and down over his slim, scantily clad form. I tried my best to keep from lingering on the slight bulge in the front of his skirt, and failed utterly. At last, I swallowed, summoned all of my eloquence, and said, "Um."

That muzzle grinned. He shifted his stance, sliding his hips ever so slightly forward. "Shy boy who likes what he sees, though?"

"Um."

His arm slipped around mine, hooking our elbows together. He gave a small tug. "Come with me, shy boy."

And I went with him. I slid off of the barstool, and he led me along. I was too enraptured with him to say no. He drew me through the dancefloor, and I was afraid that we would lose each other. For a few moments, I was surrounded by dancers. Colour, skin, fur, feathers, and scales all roiled around me, and a dozen arms and hands and hips and chests brushed against me. The heat might have been suffocating if it wasn't so intoxicating.

Then we were through, and he kept leading me, insistently tugging at my arm. We reached a staircase, and we went up. He was a few steps above me all the way, and his tail swayed slowly back and forth. It kept tugging at the back of his skirt, occasionally raising it just enough for me to get a view of his rumpcheeks, or the string of a purple thong sliding between them.

My jeans were feeling a tad tight in the front by the time we reached a door at the top of the stairs. He punched a password into the lock, then pulled the door open. He finally released my elbow, and glanced back at me. He raised his eyebrow, then gestured to the open door.

I swallowed, and stepped through. Inside, there was a living space with very modern, very high end furnishings. I had just enough time to take it in before I heard the door shut behind me, and the music of the club immediately cut out.

I turned around, and the poodle was standing right in front of me, his chest almost flush against mine. There was a grin on his face as he looked down at me. "So, shy boy. What brought you to my club tonight?"

I swallowed. "Uh, well, just felt like cutting loo..." The last part of his sentence suddenly clicked in, and I blurted out, "Wait, your club?"

"My club." His grin showed all of his teeth. "You think a normal patron would have access to an apartment just off the dance floor?" I was too flabbergasted to actually respond to that. Fortunately, he took the initiative. His arms came to rest on my shoulders, linking up draped down my back. That puff of fur sticking out of the top of his tanktop was brushing against my chest, making my breath hitch. "So. A big shy guy wanders into the club, hoping to cut loose for a bit, and then loses his nerve?"

My body was tense. He was so close to me, so very, very close. "Well... yeah, I guess so. Just wasn't feeling it."

"And what exactly were you hoping to 'feel?'" He punctuated the last word by rubbing his hips forward. I know that I winced when I felt the slight bulge in the front of his skirt brushing against the bulge in my pants. He kept his eyes fixed on mine, unblinking. "No need to be shy, big guy. It's just us."

"I dunno, to have a good time, to..." I trailed off, and he raised an eyebrow. His body was so warm against mine. His eyes were still staring into mine. "To not fade into the background. To be part of the energy."

I was still staring into his eyes, but from the corner of my eye I saw his muzzle crack into the hint of a grin. "Just part of the energy? Or more?"

"...the focus of it."

The grin widened. His hands slipped lower, and I felt his fingers pluck the hem of my shirt. He began lifting it wordlessly. I gave a start, but I raised my arms above my head, and let him pull my shirt free. My broad chest, and my slight hint of a soft stomach were bared. He tossed my shirt aside, and gave my bared torso an appraising look. "You want people's eyes on you. You want them to stare. You want them to be..." he searched for a word, one of his clawed fingers dragging down my chest, "...envious?"

It took effort to swallow, and then I spoke. "God yes."

The claw trailed past my belly, and I couldn't hold back a full body shudder as it touched against the clasp of my belt. He undid the clasp with ease, and I groaned as he popped the button on my jeans. He gave them a small shove downwards, making them bunch around my thighs. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I jumped to tug them the rest of the way down. I bent down, undoing my shoes and kicking them off at the same time. I tried to ignore the fact that my brief-clad ass was sticking up in the air, or how close this position put my face to his junk. My breathing was heavy as I finally stood back up straight in front of him. That appraising look wandered over all my thick form, including the obvious bulge in my briefs. I felt myself standing straighter. "Good boy. It's more than just that, though. You want so much more than just having them looking at you. There's something very particular that you want, boy."

I was fully enraptured by this point, so taken by his intensity and the strangeness of the situation that I was ignorant of anything happening around us. So it took me by surprise when I felt his hand grasp the bulging front of my briefs. My eyes shot wide open, and I was about to gasp when he growled directly into my face.

"You want to be pretty."

I kept staring into his eyes, but the confusion must have shown on my face. It was such an odd thing to say, such an odd word choice. I didn't want to be 'pretty'... or at least, I didn't think I did. As I looked deeper and deeper into those intense eyes, I realized that I'd never really considered that particular possibility. I had always thought that what I wanted was to have people's eyes on me, but in those scenarios, why were their eyes on me? What was drawing everybody's gaze?

The poodle's paw squeezed, and gave a long, slow stroke, making my legs quake and my voice moan. He growled out, voice almost soft, "Think about how _pretty_you could be."

I did. I thought of people's eyes turning to me on the street. I thought about that casual confidence that would come with complete confidence in my looks. I thought about being able to dominate an entire room just by walking into it. That hand stroked at me again, and I opened my mouth wide in a groan. The poodle pressed forward, and his lips met mine. The visible fuzz on his chest pressed flush against my skin, soft and pliant. I moaned into his muzzle, my eyes half open and staring into his. His eyes stared back at mine, and I knew exactly what he was trying to say to me.

Look how pretty I am. Don't you want that?

At length, he pulled back, and stood a good step away from me. My cock throbbed in my briefs, longing for his touch again. I felt overheated, my chest heaving.

"You don't want to be a shy boy, do you?"

"No."

"What do you want, boy?"

I licked dry lips. I whimpered. I spoke. "I want to be pretty."

That grin showed all of his teeth. "Damn right you do."

He stepped forward, he put his hands on my shoulders, and he shoved me down. My knees hit the ground. By the time I'd sucked in a breath and looked up, he had lifted his skirt and tugged the pouch of his thong down out of the way. His shaft, thick and throbbing with arousal, flopped down and bounced squarely off of my nose. His heady scent flooded my nostrils, and I felt a needy moan slip out of me. I'd never been so turned on in my life.

The pads on his fingers came to rest on my short-cropped hair. With a gentle touch, he pulled my head back the barest of inches. His cockhead dragged down my nose, before hanging freely, pointed at my face. Just as gently, his hand pulled my head back forward, and I opened my mouth obediently.

His shaft slid between my lips, and filled my mouth with firm, hot flesh. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment, and just let him slide in. I was careful to keep my lips sucked over my teeth, not wanting to disappoint him. Something told me that this poodle was going to have some high standards. I let out a soft grunt as soon as it started getting uncomfortable, and he stopped.

We held that position for a moment, both of us getting used to each other. At last, I opened my eyes, and glanced up to him. There's something about being on your knees and looking up at a guy who's dick is in your mouth. Don't get me wrong - I've had plenty of experience, even if most of it had nothing to do with clubs.

That feeling, though, was only exaggerated by what I saw. I was looking up at the hem of a tight purple skirt, and past that a trim, narrow stomach and chest. He'd pulled off his shirt while I was suckling on his dick, so I had a better view of him. His close-shaven fur laid his lean, toned core bare, before it vanished into the thick fuzz of his chest. One of his hands was resting on the back of my head, and the puff of fur around his wrist was brushing against my hair occasionally. His other hand was raised above his head, the dainty, claw-tipped fingers tense and pointed as he enjoyed the feeling of my lips around his dick. There was a contented look on his long muzzle - almost satisfaction, combined with the slight edge of sexual pleasure.

He tilted his long muzzle down towards me, and I'm sure he felt me gulp. He raised an eyebrow, and murmured, "Not bad, for a human. You got most of it in, and you don't even have a muzzle." That drew my attention back down and forward. I crossed my eyes to look at the bit of his shaft still visible, sticking out from my mouth. "We'll remedy that soon."

I was about to make a confused noise, but he cut me off by pulling back, then starting to thrust again. I was surprised at first, but I quickly settled into his rhythm. I let my eyes drift open and shut, mostly just focusing on the smell of his pleasure and the taste of his shaft as it slid in and out, dribbling his pre into me. His heavy breaths sounded above me, occasionally accompanied by a hint of a growl.

After a short time, I lifted my hands up, and wrapped them around the back of his legs. I felt the muscles in his thighs tensing with each buck forward, and I squeezed at them. I let my fingers wander upwards, and at an encouraging groan from him, I slipped them under his skirt. I grabbed two big handfuls of his asscheeks, and held onto them as he fucked my face.

His hand on my head kept rubbing encouragingly at me. At one point, he went down, and scratched just behind my ear. It felt... good. Really good. Especially as he scratched up past the base, then to the tip, and then kept rubbing past that. It took a few moments before I realized the strangeness of that. When I did, I tensed, and glanced up at him again, confused.

The poodle kept scritching at my ear, even after he noticed my look. If anything, he made the motions longer, more exaggerated, and damn if it didn't feel nice. When he at last spoke, his voice was teasing. "You're looking prettier already." With that, he gave my ear a small flick, and I felt it... flop. It was disorienting and bizarre, and I actually tried to turn to look towards my ear. His hand gripped my head firmly, though, and pulled me back forward onto his shaft. His heat flooded my mouth, and I was back on task, if not as fully enraptured as before.

He kept thrusting, and I did my best to keep up with his pace. I was almost fully back into the rhythm when something caught my eyes. My arms, wrapped around his lower hips, looked... off. I couldn't tell what it was at first, but something about them wasn't right. That was when the itching started. At first I didn't notice it; it started in my fingers and wrists, and I assumed that it was just his short fur rubbing against my skin.

But then it spread, further and further down my arms. It wasn't uncomfortable; more just slightly distracting. At length, while still trying to match his thrusts forward with the suction in my mouth, I gave my arms another quick look. I stopped moving very abruptly to stare, but he just kept up his thrusting.

Pink. There was a wave of gradual... pinkness running up my arms. That was what I thought at first, at least. As it swept past my elbows and up over the thickness of my upper arms, I got a better view of it, and I realized that it was a fine coat of short fur. The short length gave it an almost baby pink colour.

I kept staring at it until his voice drew me away again. That pleased look on his face was still there, and if anything he looked even more satisfied as he eyed the pink fur running up my arms. "My my my. Now you _are_going to be pretty."

I stared at him, stunned by that declaration. He kept up his thrusting all the while, and I became aware that my ears were actually beginning to sway down next to my head. Maybe it was my own still aching arousal, or the sheer alienness of the situation, but my brain was sluggish. I think it was when I saw him rock his head back, and I saw his hanging ears, coated in thick, plush fur, that I put the pieces together.

I let out a sound of protest, and started pulling back, off of him. His hand went from gentle to forceful on the back of my head in an instant, holding me in place. He stopped his thrusting, though. Our eyes met again, looking at each other over the heavy rise and fall of the fluff on his chest. My lips were still wrapped around the head of his shaft, but that was all.

"What's wrong, hmm?" I made a muted sound, and flicked my eyes down towards that pink fuzz. His eyebrow rose, and his voice came out soft and taunting. "Oh, really? _That's_what you're worried about? Why?" His hand moved, and he started scritching against the base of my ear again. I couldn't hold back the soft, satisfied groan that slipped out of my mouth, around his cock. I noticed that his fingers seemed to be rubbing through more hair than I recalled having, but I couldn't bring myself to focus on that. "It's exactly what you want, isn't it? People's eyes drawn to you, staring, thinking about how _pretty_you are."

He added the softest hint of a growl to his voice when he said 'pretty', and a powerful shudder ran down my spine. The head of his cock was hot in my mouth, and it was still dribbling the tiniest hint of pre. It was beginning to accumulate, and its overpowering taste was flooding my senses. Almost without realizing it, my head drifted forward, and that cock smeared its flavour deeper into me. I swallowed down more of his pre, and he gave my ear an appreciative rub.

"That's right. Look at what you came in here wearing. Jeans and a polo? To The Prism? How terribly drab." His voice was punctuated by heavy breaths, but he managed to keep it mostly even, and always with that bit of a growl. His other hand came down on top of my head, and his fingers dug into my now ample hair. The itchy feeling was spreading, faster now, sweeping from my broad shoulders across my chest. "It's all so boring. Now look at you. That big, masculine body getting all wrapped up in pretty pink. That's what everybody is going to see whenever you walk into a room."

His words slipped into my ears, and echoed around in my head. I could actually feel my ears drooping down, long and floppy, on either side of my head. Occasionally they brushed against my face, and I felt the thick layer of fuzz building up on them. Every time he said that word it sent another shuddering shock down my spine, almost like a jolt of energy. He was beginning to move his hips again, and I could feel the tensing of his body.

More than that, I was beginning to smell his mounting arousal. It was almost like a filter I'd never been aware of was slowly being peeled away in my nose, inviting his full musk in. I found myself sniffing audibly, getting drunk off of the intensity. That itching had moved down past my stomach, and I had to bite back a few giggles as it grew ticklish over my crotch and balls. Oddly, although my stomach and arms and shoulders all felt normal now, the itching remained in my chest, and around my wrists, too.

"All that people will notice when they see you is how pretty_you are." A shock down my spine. Further, this time. Harder. Making me want to flex my back. "They don't care about your muscles, or your professionalism, or your silly masculine pride. You don't care about that either, do you? You just want to be _pretty." He punctuated that one with a thrust, harder than before. My back writhed, almost feeling like it wanted to twist away from me. His cock slid into my mouth, and I tasted more of it than I had before. It wasn't scraping against the back of my throat, though. He tangled his fingers in my now ample and thick hair, and began properly fucking my face. I leaned into it, savouring the roughness. "So be pretty. Be pretty for me."

Every repetition sent a shock down my spine, making me want to writhe in place. He kept growling it to me with each thrust, and each time the sensation stretched further. Soon, I could feel a swaying weight behind me, and the bizarre sensation of something brushing against the waistband of my briefs. The itchiness had crept down to my toes by this point, but it kept on tingling away in my chest and wrists. It was joined by two points on my hips, just above my rump cheeks, and around my ankles. At last, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I released my firm grip on his ass.

I pulled my hands back around to where I could just see them, and again I froze. He kept fucking me this time, and I kept pressing my tongue against his shaft. I was too focused on my hands to do anything more. My fingers were coated in that same soft pink fur as the rest of my arms. My palms had been replaced with slightly thicker pads, though, and each of my fingers was tipped with a small, almost dainty claw. Ringing my wrist was a bright, hot pink cuff of thick, fuzzy fur.

One of his hands slipped away from my long, thick hair, and came down to cup under my chin. That drew my attention back up to him. He was beaming down at me, his fur sleek with sweat as he kept fucking me. His paw massaged my chin... or no. More than my chin. It was further forward, still rubbing at me. He growled down, "Oh, you're a good one... you're a very pretty boy." Another shock. I felt that alien weight hanging down from above my ass sway... no. Wag. It wagged. I groaned at that feeling, and brought my hands to my chest. My fingers found a thick, soft mass of fuzzy fur there to greet me. He thrust again and again, his grip running further out from my face along my chin, as I felt more and more of his cock slipping into me. "Almost there, my pretty boy, almost there..." I could feel my face stretching forward whenever he reached my limit now; I could feel my lips slipping further along his throbbing length. I clenched my eyes shut, I ran my fingers through the soft fur of my chest, I wagged, and I leaned forward.

My nose bumped firmly against his pubic fur, and the power of his scent increased a hundred fold. His grip tightened on my head. I pushed forward even harder, sucking for all I was worth, and lapping against the full length of his shaft with my tongue. He threw his head back, and cried out a sharp, "Fuck, yes!"

He came. A hot rope of seed splattered into my mouth, some going directly down my throat. He cried out again, and pulled back just a tad as a second, smaller rope painted my tongue. His taste sizzled across my tastebuds, and I sat there wagging my tail and savouring the taste of his cum.

He stood like that for a few moments, his cock still in my mouth. I lapped at it instinctively, and swallowed down the load he'd given me. Then, at length, he pulled out. I moved to look down, but his hand under my chin held me firm. I glanced up at him in confusion, and he gestured to a mirror hanging on the wall not too far away.

He pulled me up to my feet, and then led me over. I stepped in front of the mirror, and pink flooded my vision. A high-piled mass of fuzzy hot pink headfur, long fluffy ears, a pointed, gaping muzzle. My own broad shoulders, a mass of hot pink fur on my chest, and my still slightly round belly. It all lead down to my heavily tented briefs, which were shifting with the heavy wagging of my tail behind me. I twisted to get a better view, and saw two smaller puffs of the thick, hot pink fuzz perched on my hips just above either ass cheek. My eyes wandered over my round ass and thick thighs, down to a pair of dainty footpaws. My ankles had similar cuffs of hot pink around them, completing my look.

The white poodle stepped up beside me, and glanced over at me. He was clearly waiting for me to say something. I kept staring at my reflection, mouth agape. At last, he sighed, and then growled out, "Bark for me, poodleboy."

He smacked my ass, and I let out a startled, entirely canine yap. I blinked, and then glanced down at myself, and over at him again. "I, uh, I'm..."

He let out an exasperated groan, and muttered, "Honey. No more of that stammering crap. You're a poodleboy now. Spit it out."

I kept staring at him for a moment, then muttered, "I'm pretty."

He grinned. "Fuck yes you are." He turned and walked away, leaving me staring at my reflection. I was so turned on, so fucking horny after that, and seeing myself like this wasn't helping matters. I was considering how to deal with that when he called over. "You're going to have to get changed, because those briefs, though cute, don't really match with you anymore, do they?" I heard him opening a drawer. "What do you want? Oh, by the way, that's a one-way mirror."

It was such an off-handed comment that it took me a moment to process. When I did, though, I blinked, and leaned forward, tilting my long muzzle forward to press my eyes close to the mirror. On the other side, I could see the rest of the club. I had just enough time to see the mass of people on the dancefloor, and the many sets of eyes trained up on me, before I staggered back.

"Oi, pretty boy. I asked what you want."

I glanced over at him, aghast. He was standing next to a set of drawers, wearing just his skirt. He was holding up a few articles of clothing, all colourful and tight. I thought for a moment, then glanced at the mirror again.

I swallowed. He'd said it. I was a poodleboy now. I thought about poodles, and what I wanted, and about all of those eyes down on the dancefloor staring at me through the mirror.

"You have any thongs that would fit me?"

I could hear the grin in his voice when he said. "Good boy. Catch."

He tossed me a tiny piece of fabric. I held it up and gave it a once over. Gold. Bright, reflective gold. I shivered, and my tail wagged.

Very deliberately, I stepped closer to the mirror. Then, I turned away, bent over, and peeled down my briefs, baring my ass to the crowd down below. I imagined all of their eyes on me, staring at the thick, round pink globes lifted just for their eyes. I stepped into the thong, then lifted it, letting the material stretch around my hips and slide between my cheeks. I turned back around to face the mirror, making a big show of tucking my throbbing shaft into the pouch in the front.

"You need anything else, poodle boy?"

I cleared my throat. "Can I leave my stuff up here?"

"Sure."

"Then no. I don't need a thing."

I started walking towards the door. Those puffs of hot pink fuzz above my ass almost seemed to correct my gait, giving it a sway I'd never possessed before. I reached the door, and pushed through it.

I made my way down the stairs, my thick, pink body bared but for the thin golden thong cupping my bulge and spreading my asscheeks. I rounded the corner at the bottom, and stepped into the club.