The tip of his nose darkened, turning leathery and wet. A thick brown fur began to blossom over the length of his body, but Paul didn't notice. All he noticed was the increasing heat from his female's sex, driving him to hump harder and harder.
The dancer's moans had now degraded into a series of howls as her changing mirrored his own; the major difference being that she knew exactly what was happening, she had done this dozens of times since she'd started her new life here on the island.
The other men were entranced, both by what they were seeing as well as the smells of the rutting pair, which was working its own magic on them as well. All of the men were similarly aroused now, though Paul paid them no mind. He was too absorbed in the rutting with the new bitch.
More and more of the men became conscious of their own needs, and cared less about their surroundings. Gradually, more and more pair of khaki pants found their way onto the floor as more and more men gave into the urge, stroking their pulsating shafts, beginning to change as Paul had.
But Paul didn't care; he was now a German shepherd, as was the dancer.