You make up your mind, and finally decide to visit this nightclub you've been told about. It was a 'one-in-a-lifetime experience', according to your friend. And everyone else who went there seems to agree with that sentiment. But honestly, what can be so interesting about people dancing around a pole? It isn't even a strip club performance... No matter. You already cleared up your agenda for tonight, and your interest is mildly piqued. You might as well visit the place. Alone, of course – you don't need any nosy witnesses; and if it turns out to be as boring as expected, you can just leave, no strings attached.
After paying an entrance fee, you pass by the loud music of the main dance floor and head down a set of stairs to the basement, where the more intimate entertainment is. The musical beats here are much calmer, but the first thing that catches your eye is how open the space feels, and how sparse the crowd is, unlike the floor above. This is to be expected of a VIP section, if your lighter wallet wasn't enough indication. Most patrons sat in the darkness, enjoying the dancers, men and women alike, under the spotlights. The raised stage winds around their seats, which gather around well-lit performers.
You take a moment to look around, shopping for any dancers that tickle your fancy, while bewaring any acquaintances you might need to steer clear from. Eventually, your gaze is led to a loud gathering at the back, with a group of friends being quite chatty about this one dancer... It seems like he's a male vulpine or canine, bearing some kind of mask – the only performer down here wearing any piece of clothing. If he's really that amusing to watch, you might as well check it out.
The smell of booze in his guffawing audience is unmistakable and distracting. The group is sitting in an arc, at a distance from the edge of the stage, leaving a single empty chair closer to the dancer. Strange...but you take the free seat anyway. You can immediately tell that these strangers make snickering comments about you, but not letting these annoying drunks ruin your entertainment, you focus your attention on the performer.
The maned wolf is mostly lime green-furred, with white on his paws and belly, and some light teal underneath his chest, though when he spins on his pole, it all looks like a greenish blur. His long, fluffy tail swishes right behind his body, fanning air in your direction as it lags behind his limbs. He's not any bigger than you, but the elevated stage certainly helps with that illusion, adding to the cryptic air he has to himself.
But the biggest factor to his mystery is his mask. It's quite an unique one, fashioned after a briefcase – maybe he's shy about showing his face, and uses this as his signature...? The plain metal surface does give off a cold appearance, contrasted to the warmth of his fast-paced performance. And it doesn't seem to have visible eye holes, leading you to wonder if he might be blind. He's never turned his face in your direction, after all... But you can't help but feel that he's been staring at you this whole time.
"First time?" He calls out in a plain voice, bringing his body to the ground as he sticks out his tail's white tip towards you. You nod nervously, feeling his long fur brush your face and chin. He chuckles, then lifts himself back to the pole, continuing his dance without dropping a beat. For an eyeless dancer, he's certainly made you feel very seen.
His lean and gymnastic body soars effortlessly into the air, defying your sense of gravity as one arm and both legs extend outwards. His digitigrade feet rush right above your head like fan blades, until his paws return to the ground. White triangles fill the fur on the back of his head and torso, pointing towards the top of his large ears. Every inch of his body is exposed except for his face, and each hair seems to move deliberately with his choreography. The air conditioning in the basement must be broken, as it starts to feel hot and stuffy...
Then, he lifts himself off the ground, twisting into the air in a crescent moon shape perpendicular to you. The unwieldy matte mask manages to avoid bumping against the metallic pole, and you try to catch a glimpse of his face underneath. Your seat creaks from your shifting, and his fluffy ears twitch in kind, but you can't tell how the mask is attached to the maned wolf's head. The fur makes it hard to see, and you wonder if the crude imitation of a briefcase might actually be permanently glued to his face. However, you get the sense that there is no snout at all under the mask – it simply doesn't extend far enough to cover it. It could be that he doesn't have a face at all, and hides that fact from his audience. But...it was definitely his voice speaking with you earlier.
He slowly glides from the pole to land on the ground, and turns to you once more. "Come closer," he asks, crystal clear. Somehow, your chest is against the stage already – when did you even stand up...? He twists to approach you, grabbing your wrists with no restraint, guiding them to where he feels they should be. Your left hand encircles his big ear, touching his head's fluff; your right one grabs at the corner of the briefcase, touching the surprisingly warm intersection of flat surfaces. It almost feels like actual aluminum, if not for the temperature matching his fur's. It feels like he's wearing a grin under the mask.
Your left hand moves over his forehead, or lack thereof – it doesn't manage an inch before bumping against the back of the case. The whole thing occupies where his eyes should be. You feel around for the seam where his mask fits around his face, but the whole thing is shut too tightly around his head. There's no glue or straps keeping the briefcase attached... The texture simply switches from skin to metal.
"It's not a mask, if that's what you're wondering," the maned wolf whispers to you. "It's much more than that. Now, don't flinch, and you'll enjoy this as much as I will."
With those cryptic words, the briefcase on the dancer's head starts splitting with a crack in the middle. From the crooked rip, you first notice the teeth emerge. Dozens of long, pointy, pearly spires along the top and bottom, jutting out from the inside of the metal lips, spread out without rhyme or reason. Fangs befit a monster. As the surface twists and gapes even more, it also reveals his gigantic maw. The same color as his fur, and spanning the lower portion of the box.
The gap continues to part, like a snake unhinging its jaw...until an actual serpent inside lurches towards you! His prehensile tongue, long and slimy, sticks around your neck, and you half-expect it to constrict and suffocate you...but it only gently pulls you closer to his emerging maw, instead. With how big the opening on his briefcase face is, he easily fits your whole head inside without ever brushing it against his slick flesh or crooked teeth. Your gaze is guided towards the wide throat at the back, his uvula flapping with his breaths before your face is forced into the slick entrance. Then, with a shove of his tongue and a 'gulp!', you're pushed into the esophagus.
"Not struggling, huh...?" The maned wolf speaks normally, his voice unobstructed even by you bulging out his neck. "You're quite the eager one! Maybe you heard about the best seat in the house, and wanted to fill it yourself...?"
Another swallow ingests more of you, sending your shoulders into his throat as well. Then another, as his arms and tongue work over your body, dragging a mass as big as himself into his gullet. Of course, you know about vore; but it isn't what you'd expected for tonight! Your occasional, idle struggles push against the interior of his maw and his sharp teeth, but the performer is extremely careful not to bruise you with them. Devouring you quickly yet gently, not unlike his performance so far. The soft music from the outside world are muted by loud swallows, hardly audible to your flesh-enclosed ears before they squeeze through your predator's cardiac sphincter.
Ignorant of your size, the gastric sac simply distends around the intruder, letting your head slump at the bottom as your shoulders follow it inside shortly. The stomach already has to push out underneath the maned wolf's skin, no doubt revealing the bulge of your face. It's dark and damp in the organ, but much calmer and more malleable than you'd expect. Most of your body is still in his undulating gullet, with your legs sticking out from his monstrous lips. This performer with a mimicked briefcase for a face seems to be playing with you, giving slow, deliberate swallows. You have no doubt that he could entrap all of you in a moment's notice...but you realize why he commits to this deliberate display of power, once you notice his audience muffled and obnoxious cheering. You'd almost forgotten about the group of friends watching the maned wolf before you'd arrived. And you realize that this is what they've been waiting for all night: for someone like you to take the seat at the front, before forcefully joining him onstage like this...
As you're forced to curl in the fleshy balloon, his large tongue wraps around your ankles to bring them into his maw, and a swallow seals them away as well. Once your legs spill into his stomach, you give a few idle kicks, adjusting your position and feeling the walls. Then, from the outside, what feels like your predator's paws start rubbing back, savoring the feeling of such a large filled belly. He smooshes the extraordinary bulges against the pole he'd been dancing on, and your chamber scrunches tightly around you from the pressure.
"I hope that my eccentric stage Manners aren't too rough for your tastes," he whispers with a chuckle, pulling from the metal prop to let his belly bounce back, jostling your huddled form as the insides return to an egg-like shape. "...No? Then you might enjoy this next part. I know I certainly will~"
Ready to continue with the show, the maned wolf grabbed onto the pole, spinning around as he maneuvers his large belly and metal face... Or so you assume. Even stuck inside of his dark stomach, you still have an idea of when he spins and climbs around the pole; when he leans away; when gravity shifts completely. Your whole weight, being shoved around and changing his center of mass, does little to disrupt his balanced dance. It's clearly not the first time he's performed this act with someone in his gut.
Reduced to mere curves that stretch the maned wolf's figure, you relax and let the motions take you, pushing limbs and neck against the walls to keep your bearings for the duration of his pole dancing routine. Judging by the acclaims from the gathering of people outside, which are loud enough to be heard through layers of flesh, you imagine it to be quite a spectacle. Maybe, the next time that you come to this club, you'll be as amazed and enthralled by his solo act as them, watching him swallow and then make full use of an unwitting prey... But tonight, you're part of his show.