The New Guy (Patreon Commission for HyphyHusky)

TAGS: Transformation/TF, Furrification, Growth/Expansion, Hyper/Hyper Growth, "Dance" Club

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It was, in all respects, not exactly the most friendly way of introducing him to the job, but presumably the best one to help him get over stage fright; it wasn’t as if the club could afford to spend a small fortune in training lessons just so their newest hire could walk out without shaking from head to toe, so the best they managed was to book him for a Monday night and hope for the best. Thankfully for Rioku, the house wasn’t nearly as full as it was during the weekends, giving him some measure of inner peace; at least, if he fucked up, it wouldn’t be in front of hundreds of people. With a final pat on the head and a free drink courtesy of one of the backstage managers, the young man was… not necessarily ready, but close enough to it that he felt like he couldn’t turn back; granted, it would’ve been somewhat easier on him if whatever was in that glass didn’t leave his throat feeling like he’d just swallowed paint thinner mixed with a healthy dose of kerosene, but at least it woke him up properly! Hard to be concerned about making a fool of himself when his focus was split between wanting to choke whoever gave him that concoction and trying to process the agony that came from swallowing a shot of absinthe’s older, grumpier estranged brother. With that in mind, Rioku crossed the threshold, doing his best to keep his sputtering to a minimum as the announcer called out his name to everyone in the club, pulling several pairs of eyes towards the scantily clad, svelte young thing on the stage. Beyond that, Rioku was happy to find that things became somewhat automatic; all he had to do was let muscle memory take the wheel and his body turned out to be surprisingly well-adapted to performing his routine without a lot of conscious input, giving him precious time to come up with new and improved coping strategies for actually being on stage in front of actual people for the first time since his employment began. All the practice runs in the world could do little for stage fright, even if the ingrained motions did provide an adequate layer of defence against the dreadful realization that he was actually dancing for a bunch of horned-up patrons who really wanted to see him shake his goods in front of them in a variety of increasingly lewd and scandalous ways… provided they paid for it, of course; the club wasn’t running a charity. All that said, Rioku was finding it incredibly easy to just dance, to let go of all his thoughts and worries and allow his body to do what it had trained itself to do. To live in the moment and ignore everything else; the crowd seemed rowdy enough that they were probably enjoying it, so why bother with anything else? Why think about anything other than the continuing motions, the flow, the air currents bristling against his hairs, which for some odd reason were standing on end? Why worry himself with anything beyond the odd sensation of warmth spreading through his entire body, starting off in his stomach and taking over an increasing amount of his physical form? Well, he couldn’t just stop in the middle of his routine; or rather, he could, and his rational side was more than aware of this, but there was something else keeping him from doing so, a sense of duty that insisted he carry on his performance. Even when he looked down and saw what was happening to him, Rioku still failed to force himself to stop, since by then, it had become part of the show; it wasn’t every day that one of the dancers suddenly and inexplicably transformed while on stage (indeed, it wasn’t any day), and while plenty of Rioku’s conscious self was screaming in abject terror, this yelling could barely be heard over the cacophony that were his pleasure centers shouting at him to keep going, muffling everything other than his base, almost animalistic desire to have the show carry on regardless of how dangerous it might be. The hooting and hollering of the crowd, the crude comments, the bellowed encouragement, all of it worked together to keep his feet (metaphorically) glued to where he stood (would’ve been hard to dance had it been literal); he would not leave, that much Rioku knew, even when his skimpy outfit began to feel tighter as a result of his body turning into something… different. The hairs standing on end should’ve been his first red flag, because he didn’t have hair on his body; he’d gone out of his way to shave himself in order to play the part properly, so him having anything there to signify goosebumps was step one in the escalating change into another form entirely. Step two was his entire body swelling outwards as he gained additional height… and additional weight as well. Rioku initially panicked at the prospect of his carefully maintained form suddenly being “ruined” by having a bunch of pudge added onto it, but with so many of the patrons around him openly calling out for the “chunky” whatever or such, he figured he was relatively fine. Either that, or the horny part of his brain had taken over completely and stopped him from properly processing what was happening; regardless of the truth, Rioku saw himself widen almost as much as he lengthened, gaining enough height to break the seven-foot line, but enough fat on him to leave him in the very high triple digits. Yet, seeing as it came packaged with an oddly familiar coat of fur, as well as a distribution that just made it look good, it wasn’t nearly as harsh of a transformation as the young man (?) first thought it would be; indeed, if it weren’t for the fact that he was on stage to begin with, he might just have succumbed to that sudden urge to plunge one of his hands into that pudgy belly of his, just to see how far down he could sink them. This was almost immediately replaced by a near-insurmountable desire to bring those greedy fingers down to his dick instead, because of course the transformation would extend to it eventually, and of course it had to happen after Rioku decided he was going to use the smallest piece of lingerie he could get away with. It already barely covered anything, so as soon as his cock and nuts began to swell, the small piece of cloth didn’t last for more than a few seconds. At least his audience seemed to enjoy it about as much as he did; either that, or by some twist of fate, something else entirely happened outside his field of view that caused several dozen people to start openly shouting like they were particularly fanatical football fans whose favourite team had just done something that would be remembered for years to come under some ridiculously pompous name like “The Golden Moment”. Hard to tell; the flood of serotonin that came with having his new package break out of containment was so powerful that it very nearly knocked Rioku out for several seconds, it being nothing short of a miracle that he managed to hold onto the metal pole he’d been using for support. Even breathing in deeply didn’t work; for whatever reason, his olfactory sense had been supercharged to the point where he could smell himself, and not in the bad way either. He’d never thought he’d say it, but he could practically taste the musk coming off of him, the animalistic scent that made it clear just what he was turning into; not that he wasn’t aware, but… somehow, when it filled his nostrils, it became more “real”, as if by imposing itself upon his newest and most well-developed new sense, the change asserted itself as actually happening. Granted, it was hard to ignore the way his very skeletal structure was being rearranged along with the more obvious bits; the heightened sense of smell didn’t just come from internal changes, but was helped along by his skull elongating into a much more canine shape, giving Rioku a muzzle that was distinctly dog-like in appearance. If here were more into the intricacies of dog breeds, and if he had the ability to fully appreciate himself in a mirror, the young “man” would’ve been able to pinpoint just what he turning into: a bipedal, human-like version of a malamute, complete with a thick (and still thickening) coat of fur and enough fat on him to help get through those cold arctic winters. Yet, he was still “stuck” inside a club, and most certainly stuck on stage given that he didn’t have the luxury of just stepping off of it; his employer would kill him if he abandoned his routine when the crowd was so worked up, not to mention the sheer market value in a sudden transformation like his; rather, his mind turned to other, far more carnal outlets for the surprising amount of horny energy he had built up inside him. Rioku didn’t even realize just how aroused he was until he took the time to look down at himself and truly appreciate what his body had become, from the chubby belly down to the plump rump and fat thighs, the soft fur coat and the frankly enormous package between his legs (which, by that point, was dragging along the ground). It at least allowed him to understand why everyone in the club was being so much louder than even usual; it simply didn’t occur to Rioku that the patrons might genuinely have enjoyed his transformation so much that they didn’t want it to end, hence why so many of them were loudly decrying that “it’s over already?!” as if the dancer on stage could just keep going after swapping species entirely. Not that said dancer could blame them; if it felt that good to him, he could only begin to imagine what it was like for those watching… and especially one person in particular, a face in the crowd that Rioku recognized. Oh, that smile on his face, the licking of his lips with his brand new tongue; he didn’t know Ken was going to be there, nor could he imagine that the cheetah would show up then of all nights. Perhaps it was fate, that the two were destined to meet one another precisely when the former human was so far gone from his usual self that he didn’t think twice of bending over suggestively as he faced his long-time friend, doing his best to shake what nature gave him (assuming it was indeed nature and not some volatile chemical concoction he happened to imbibe), much to the delight of both the cheetah and everyone else in the room. With the temperature in there rising from sheer contact high and the rustling of the crowd, the air filled with the delighted helloring of a group of customers being given exactly what they wanted, it really didn’t take long before the first suggestions began flying; while it was entirely against policy for the dancers to get involved with the crowd, neither Rioku nor Ken were in any particular rush to listen to the rulebook, especially not with dozens of others egging them on. If the now-malamute had looked behind him, he would’ve noticed a familiar face peeking out from behind the curtains covering the entrance to the backstage area, someone who was, as well, smiling very widely, along with a handful of others who wanted to see where things went. With the atmosphere thus perfect for the breaking of rules, and motivations spiked in just the right manner to get Rioku to do something they would never do under any other circumstances, the transformed human turned towards Ken… and took a step. Between the jiggling of his immense self and the dragging of his nuts and cock against the soft, carpeted floor, it was a wonder he even managed to reach the cheetah with his mind in one piece; perhaps it was the knowledge of what he was going to do to his friend that kept Rioku going, hence the beaming (and oddly predatory) grin adorning his new muzzle. Once at Ken’s table, all he had to do was lift his dick and slam it onto the flat surface between them, very nearly cracking the varnished wood in half from impact alone, the weight of the malamute’s cock enough to start widening the cracks created by its descent. And from there, it was but a few seconds before Ken had shot up to his feet only to then almost immediately drape himself over that beast of a shaft, slobbering all over its slick surface before turning around, throwing himself onto the ground… and presenting. There was no other word for it, not when the musk ran so powerfully and the air was as hot as the one in the club was; this was no lovemaking, no sex, this was rutting, and Ken was begging for it with how quickly they were breathing and how much they were puckering down there. It gave Rioku all the excuses he could possibly ask for, especially now that he had invested fully and couldn’t exactly turn back around without a very good reason for why he’d broken so many rules; as far as the malamute cared, if he was in for a penny, he might as well be in for a pounding, since at least then the customers would get the show they were looking for. Surely, if he gave them something to remember for years to come, then his boss would at least think of being merciful once the pleasure high came down and he returned to normal (assuming such a thing ever happened). At least, that’s what Rioku thought when he unceremoniously hilted himself within Ken, not even bothering with foreplay as he slammed himself down fully and caused the cheetah to practically yelp with how quickly that moan left their throat. With the crowd erupting into cheers, and plenty of bills being thrown his way, it was just so easy to let muscle memory take over; it was just like back on stage, where all he needed to do was let his body take the wheel so his conscious mind could focus on the experience itself. Did it matter that he was probably getting fired the moment this was all over? Hardly. He had his pleasure high to carry him all the way home, and a brand new body to explore once he had some time for himself. For now, however, he had Ken; sweet, pliable, tight Ken, begging him to go harder, along with dozens of unfamiliar faces egging him on to do what the cheetah was demanding of him.

Really, what else could he ask for? That was the best first day he’d ever had at a new job.