The pounding strains of the latest pop dance hit began to fade. Felis summed up his dance with a leap to the pole. His broad, furry hands gripped it high above the stage. Eight feet tall, his reach was farther than most. Add to that his huge leg muscles and his leaps could carry him far. The stage was ten feet below him as he swung his paws up. He flipped upside-down, held to the pole like a Chinese acrobat, and spread his muscled legs into a wide set of splits. Pressing his spandex bulge up against the pole, he emphasized its size for the screaming fans, below.
He held the inverted, upside-down Iron Cross for the last thirty seconds of the song and watched as bills -most of them fives and tens- fluttered to the stage beneath him.
More than just the blood rushing to his head made him woozy. The rush of the adoration was palpable.
He almost didn’t notice the palomino horse walk up to the stage’s edge from the dark shadows near the bar. The expression on his face was dark; furious. He wore a long, brown coat that swirled around his fetlocks and both T-shirt and shorts that were far too small for him. He still, though, wasn’t in Felis’ league.
His appearance, though, made the tiger dancer’s heart grow cold.
It was Paul. Paul was one of the few people ever ejected from Paradise Island. He’d not been Felis’ type but tried to force himself on the larger tiger as if he was some sort of paid-for whore. Felis easily pushed him off even though his own modifications into an equine had made him nearly as strong.
Nearly.
By the next day, Paul had been kicked off Paradise Island. Felis thought it had been for good. Apparently, not. That had been just over a year ago.
“You think you’re so big,” the horse shouted. The loud music had ended but the cheers of Felis’ fans was almost as loud. “I hope you enjoy it!”
With those words the palomino tossed his hand forward and, from a palmed vial, splashed a faintly glowing green liquid over Felis’ head.
His muscles operated automatically despite his precarious, upside-down position causing him to lose his grip on the railing. He tumbled down and hit the stage, rolling forward and bruising his shoulders and scalp. Stars swam before his vision and his breaths were hot and painful. His muscles ached and throbbed. He tried to get up, but his head was swimming. Through the tilt-and-pan of his vision, he saw the bar’s security -the only anthros in here bigger than him- tackle Paul and start dragging him away from the stage.
“You’ll regret fucking with me!” Paul shouted. “You’ll never fuck with anyone again!”
The rhinos and Clydesdales holding Paul back ushered him to the front door and the street. Felis moaned and rolled to the edge of the stage where he could swing his legs over the edge and sit up. Numerous small hands tried to help them, but he shook them off. His muscles ached and his heart was pounding. What had Paul thrown on him?
He was about to damn the torpedoes and lurch after his attacker when he realized something. His feet were touching the floor. The stage rose a good five feet off the ground so, sitting on the edge, he shouldn’t be able to feel the cool wood beneath his feet. A ripping sound hit his ears and he realized that his thong was biting into his thighs. He looked down and saw what all the patrons saw: he was getting bigger...