The tiger, rippling with muscle and a lean, slender body, gyrated on the stage, his paw-like hands gripping the stripper's pole with a none-too-subtle allusion to stroking it as if it were a giant phallus. He'd stripped down to only his G-string, now, though and few, if any, of the cheering, gay and bisexual men, were looking at his hands. His eternal fantasy -being a sexually exaggerated anthropomorphic man, worshipped by other gay and bi-guys- had finally come true. While his real name was Anthony Wayne his stage name, in lights by the bar, was Felis Rex, a name he loved to drive home to everyone watching.
Since coming to Pleasure Island on a cruise seven years before, he'd applied for work in one of Circopolis' outlying gay bars and gradually grown in size with the ever-present energies of the strange, mystical resort until he was now a sexual, Priapic God!
While many men -and a few women- came to The Burrow to live out their fantasies of being a mixed-shape, morphic animal, the place had been packed for two days, now, as FurCruise, the floating Furry Fandom convention, had come to the island for a week.
The sea of faces staring up at his massive endowment -easily bigger than any porn star in the outside world- barely fit inside his red, tight-fitting spandex and looked as if he was cramming two grapefruits and a summer sausage in there.
...And he wasn't even semi-hard.
His black stripes were almost like dark lightning bolts across his red, orange, and yellow fur and his occasional snarls of feral lust only made the crowd even more agitated and willing to shill out the big bucks for him to saunter over and wave his massive crotch in their faces. He loved it. He felt big. He felt proud. He looked down on the assorted rabbits, foxes, raccoons, cougars, weasels, wolves, lizards, and generic canines and felines with the secure knowledge that they worshipped him.
He was biggest and best, and the weekend -the island convention- was only just beginning...