(M to Newfoundland, M to F Anthro Poodle Bimbo)

“Are you sure this is legit?” Mo looked around his small booth, crinkling his nose. “I mean, it kinda smells.”

Jake rolled his eyes hard enough to bob his curly brown hair, which honestly was somewhat impressive. “Absolutely. Come on, when have I ever given you cause to doubt me?”

“You want alphabetical or by date?”

“At least I’m not named after a Stooge.”

“For the last time, my mom was just weirdly into British myth and apparently had problems with my dad.”

+If you’re quite finished, we’re ready to begin.+ Whatever woman was on the intercom sounded absurdly pleased with herself for her wordplay. Then again, she’d sounded pleased with herself since the moment Mo and Jake had first stepped into this crazy room.

It was backstage, a curtain keeping them from what promised to be a captive audience. And why wouldn’t the audience be captivated? After all, they were about to hear the two’s greatest secret: unlike the average person, each of them fantasized about turning into a dog. Well, a dog-girl in Mo’s case, but apparently that was close enough for the host of… whatever show this was.

“Yeah, about that!” Mo crinkled his nose. “What kind of show promises a million bucks for debating our kinks? It seems contrived, like the setup for-”

“The setup for getting a million bucks! Come on, go with the vibe, you know boomers are stupid with their money!” Jake lightly punched his friend’s arm.

“And the booths are for?” Mo rolled his eyes, pulling an arm back to return the punch, then thinking better of it. He was, literally and probably figuratively, the bigger man.

+Anonymity, and excitement. We find the debates go better when you can’t see each other. It makes it easier to talk over each other, and removes any risk of horseplay. Or puppy play, as it were.+ Again, the voice sounded incredibly self-satisfied. Maybe she really liked her job. No, that couldn’t be right – even if they were in some seedy bar, this was still in America.

Little did Mo know, he was entirely incorrect. They were not in America, not since they stepped through the warehouse’s doorway. That moment was the one the two young men had stepped foot into a fae realm, and damned themselves entirely.

Ironically, had Mo listened to a little more of his mother’s ramblings of the Round Table, he’d have had a clue as to the danger they were in. But she’d rambled the most to him when he was a teenager, and as any good teenager would do, he ensured all her words went in one ear and out the other.

So it was that he and Jake stepped into their wooden booths, pulling the door shut and plunging themselves into relative darkness.

Relative, of course, because their woodland audience could quite clearly see through the wooden walls as easily as most animals could see through air.

+Without further ado, I welcome you to make your opening statements.+

“That’s it?” Mo wondered aloud, but no response came his way. He shrugged to himself, trying to ignore the creeping sense of doubt that chilled his spine. “Well… I guess I should start by saying I think it’s far hotter for a guy to turn into a poodle-girl.”

No reply from the host came, but Jake took Mo’s pause as a sign to butt in. “And clearly it’s far better if they turn into a Newfoundland! Your problem is that you’ve picked an animal that’s way too posh. They’re all skinny little legs with some fluff, it’s hardly embarrassing at all!”

Mo glowered, rolling his eyes. It was just like Jake to turn a debate into some attack on Mo’s beliefs. Really, sometimes he had to take a step back to collect himself before replying.

Jake took this as an opening to continue. “Not to mention that your dogs are totally unique and proper. A newf, a real dog for TF, that’s an animal with no impulse control. If he’s not been trained perfectly, you know that he’ll bark at something that sets him off.”

“Hey! Give me a chance to think here!” Mo shouted, thumping a fist on the wall beside himself. “You could do with acting more like a shy poodle-girl, you know!” It seemed to come out of nowhere, but that didn’t make it any less true. And much to Mo’s surprise, Jake hushed up with a quiet squeak.

There were a few faint claps from the audience, though not for either man’s choice of words. Instead, they watched the effect of their words. Mo’s body had grown a little, his shirt now strained against his chest. He didn’t seem to notice that his mouth was somewhat open either, a trickle of drool threatening to drip past his chin onto his slacks. Jake had changed too: he was a bit thinner than before, and his curls had taken a frosted pink hue at the tips. His curves weren’t quite feminine yet—though they were hardly masculine either.

“See, the thing about poodle-girls that makes them so much better than just plain dogs…” Mo closed his eyes, focusing. “Well, it’s obviously their enormous, jiggling boobs! They’re total bimbos, not just plain animals!”

Jake shifted in his seat uncomfortably, adjust his shirt a little. “You know I don’t like those…” He mumbled to himself, even as each warmer breath he took seemed to linger in his upper chest. It was like he had butterflies in his stomach, except the insects had chosen the moment to migrate north.

His skinny chest began to swell, two soft mounds of fat bulging out, out, out. They were heavy and he could swear he felt them slosh with some sort of cream—though they felt natural, for some reason. He’d always had them, right?

“Hey, it’s your turn to talk!” Mo growled.

Jake yelped, nibbling on a lip that was much fuller than it had been moments ago. “U-uhm. I mean, I really like how a Newfoundland’s bulk is just so massive,” he took a quivering breath as the word passed his lips, “you’d find any TFee just bursting through their clothing,”

Mo shuddered, leaning back in his seat as his clothes suddenly tightened around his body. He huffed and groaned, thumping an arm against the wall. Why did he even put these on this morning? He had ones that fit much better than this… Or… Maybe it was better not to even wear clothes at all?

Jake continued, blushing a bright pink that now matched his curly, growing hair. “And they’d absolutely launch drool onto you, not like they can control it with that big fat sexy,” did he mean to say that, “muzzle, one of the biggest! I mean imagine you know you’re going to turn into a dog, but that muzzle doesn’t stop where you think it will, it just keeps growing and growing until you’re a sputtering barking mess rubbing your fat fur against anything-”

“ROUWFF!”

Both men froze in their seats as Mo let out an involuntary bark. Jake was humiliated that he’d gotten so carried away, and had taken to absently fondling his fat pink tits to calm himself. He didn’t even notice that his ass had swollen to match, comfortably lifting him above what should have been a firm wooden seat. Now, thanks to his generous backside, Jake could bounce on it without feeling the slightest bit of discomfort.

Mo, on the other hand-to-be-paw, had changed exactly as Jake had described. Small tears had worked into the stitches of his clothing, exposing skin that was a little closer to hide. His mouth had suffered the most, stretching out into a dull, blunt muzzle with a pair of jowls that flapped just from the act of breathing alone.

“I, uh, I mean,” Mo tried to think but for some reason, reasoning itself had become an abstract concept. His jowls shivered a little as he caught his breath, then he spoke from the heart instead. “Have you seen how big poodles’ pom poms are? I mean, they’re so enormous that any deserving poodlegirl is going to have goofily big paws. I’m talking the kind of stupid clown paws that would totally thump around when they try to walk. And of course that makes them incapable of doing much more than feebly paw at themselves, desperate for a proper mate to take care of those urges!”

Jake’s fingers stiffened and ballooned out. It was like someone had stuck a balloon pump up to each hand, then cranked the tank to a full blow. His fat tits fell from his paws, dropping with enough weight to lower his head slightly, shaking his growing ears out from his thick curly hair, letting them thump against his cheeks.

He caught the second half of Mo’s point a bit too late for himself, and desperately tried to paw at his manhood before he lost the ability to. He didn’t realize that it was much too late for that, and each bat of his squishy paws only diminished himself more and more, until she was distinctly pawing at herself, trying to squish enormous paws into a void they were too great to fill.

But her new whine was loud enough to cut Mo off mid-thought, replacing rationale with an aching, curious need to hear more. For a moment, there was a silence between them.

“M-may I speak?” Jake asked for permission like a good girl, shifting her pillowy thighs against each other. She heard the faint slobbery thump of jowls against cheeks and took that as a nod from her friend. “Um… I mean, you’d totally rub your fat fur against anything you stumble into. And it’s just so thick that you’d mark everything with your strong scent, claiming things just by existing…”

Mo groaned as thick, dense fur pushed against his already strained clothes. For a moment, he looked like someone had tried to dress up a build-a-bear like a Barbie. Then the last seams burst, a dull fwump heralding the growth of a hundred times more hair than he’d ever had in his life. It was so heavy that he couldn’t help but pant to keep himself cool. It wasn’t like he was sweating anywhere, after all.

“And I mean, you’re totally stumped right now, right? It’s not like you can really work out speech with that thick, slobbery tongue bursting past your lips!” Jake pressed her cheek against the wall between the two of them, blissfully ignorant of how effective her words were. She didn’t even realize she’d gone from describing the perfect transformation to foretelling her friend’s changes. She just knew that there was something special happening on the other side of that wall, something that made her chest tingle way more than usual.

“MughhlLLUH!” Mo sputtered indignantly, mouth wide open. He couldn’t close it even if he wanted to. Some instinct drove him to keep his lips parted, feeling his wet, soft tongue grow massive, to the point that it seemed to hang down to his belly button. Drool outright dripped from it onto the ground between his legs, and he placed his hands against the walls to steady himself.

“And, and, and,” Jake’s mind raced. “Them having such big heavy paws is super duper fun too.” She giggled, her voice lifting several octaves. Her sultry, dulcet tones each carried with them a hushed plea. It was like just breathing was enough to tell a man that she was achingly empty, to the point of starvation.

Several men in their unseen audience stiffened, finding reasons to cover themselves as just her words alone filled them with a primal need. And of course, if it had that much of an effect on those across the room, then the poor changing man next to her would hardly be able to resist.

“Even though they can probably slobber over themselves with their muzzle, they’re just so ravishingly feral. There’s no way they could ever stand on two legs, or even sit. They’d pleasure themselves on the ground, like big, hairy beasts.”

Mo let out a whine of his own—though this was less of a whimper and more of a high-pitched growl. He fell heavily onto his furry backside, arms and legs splayed at uncomfortable angles. He moved his back against the door, hanging his legs across a seat he could no longer comprehend. His arms simply hung stupidly at his sides as his ribs compressed, spine stretching out to let him bend over himself.

He panted. He could feel his breath against himself. He could feel the velvety touch of his heavy, swollen jowls. The fuzz alone made him tense with excitement, and his heavy tongue spilled past his dark, rubbery lips. He felt it land a second before he heard it, but the pleasure was so great that his mind processed the noise before the sensation.

“A-and they’re absolutely studs, in every sense. Even if one of them wanted to, he’d never be able to pleasure himself when a needy girl was around,” Jake added that as more of a prayer than a fantasy, though her words still had as great an effect as ever.

Mo was jerked back by an invisible collar, a desperate bark filling his booth as he struggled to go further. But his damned nose told him that there was a bitch in heat somewhere nearby. He snuffled loudly, nose darkening on his face. It shoved back towards his muzzle when he drove it against the wooden wall where the paneling was the thinnest.

A similar change had gripped Jake. Her own nose wouldn’t be nearly as large, nor as humiliatingly mucusy. But it was still dark and sensitive, able to drink deep of the full-bodied male across from her.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the rustling of fur and clothes as they better positioned themselves to press against the wall between themselves. Both backs arched, letting new tails wag at the air, spreading their already potent scents.

Before the two could get too drunk on each other, the intercom chimed to life once more. +Any last words? What would the perfect name for your mate be?+

“Princess!” “Buddy!” The names were howled in unison, and had there been no magic in the air, the two surely wouldn’t have heard one another. They began to rant at each other, one rambling with fading humanity, the other babbling with fading intelligence.

“She’ll buuhhuhhee so stagguuhrrrringly stupid that she kuh-can’t even count and hhurrUFFF! GRRROWF!” Mody barked instead of trying to form words. That was easier, after all. His smoothing brain couldn’t keep up with what was expected of him—even though what was expected of him was the bare minimum from a human.

“He’ll be so virile that he’ll totes gimme one, no, two, no, uhh… five? Eleventy? Hehe, a whole, uh, bunch of puppies and all he’ll need to do is bark!” Jace squirmed, bouncing against the wall by her tits. Thick and heavy pink fur grew around her collar, dipping between her cleavage and tickling as it grew. Just a little more and Jacess would find herself to be a perfectly vapid poodlegirl bimbo.

“Nnnhuhhhh awwwrrlll fourrrrtthhuh…” Muddy’s drool spilled onto his chest as he pawed at the wall. His nails thickened into thick claws that carved small furrows into the wood—though these furrows healed faster than he could carve at them. His tail wagged frantically, shaking his hips with its vigor.

Pacess thumped onto all fours obediently, bumping her own growing snout against the wall in the process. She let out a cute whimper, but not much other protest. Her dimwitted brain was too busy focusing on one last, cute detail. “Oh and he’s gotsta waggy his tailie when he’s a big sexy horny boy!”

The booths around them vanished in that exact moment, thumping the two former friends muzzle-to-muzzle. Their tongues spilled into each other’s mouths, and time seemed to freeze. They each looked at one another’s fantasies, while feeling like their body wasn’t their own.

The crowd applauded raucously, sensing the brief flicker of confusion come from Mo and Jake’s fading minds. The applause only grew when canine tongues met one another, and a rush of heat overrode all human thought.

Princess clapped her fat paws against her mate’s heavy ears, pressing them against his head, pawing at his cheeks, desperately locking his muzzle to hers as she slurped his drool into her mouth and down her throat. Her knees were weak, so it was good that she was already so close to the floor. She spilled onto the stage in a pink puddle of pleasure, tits down and fat ass lifted.

Buddy whimpered in need, four paws padding at the ground anxiously as his mate licked at his tongue. Then she dropped into the pose. His brain was too simple to know it as anything but, but he knew what the pose meant. It meant heat, pleasure, puppies.

+Really, it’s just too easy to let boys get carried away,+ the announcer had to lift her voice to be heard over the Newfoundland and his poodlegirl bitch, +but that’s just how the game goes!+

The two of them didn’t give a single thought to her words. Nor did they spare a moment to the fact that they had an audience, nor did they react to the crowd. Their minds were consumed with each other, and had room for little else.