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"In His Shoes"

by dolphinsanity

for FoxLightning on FurAffinity

~~~~~~~

Usually, everyday human life was normal. That was why "normal" was called normal!

Then there were days like this one.

It started with a red pair of low-top shoes that Ryan saw on his way home. They were lying there along the sidewalk, upright, as he ambled into his neighborhood. It looked like someone had gotten off the city bus ahead of him and left their shoes along the path. He assumed someone forgot them, maybe after changing to a different pair for some reason.

That explanation reigned in Ryan's mind for all of five more minutes, until he turned off the sidewalk and onto the lawn of his little house. On his front porch, he saw the same pair of shoes.

He did a double take. At first he thought it couldn't be, but it was! They even shared the same odd details, like a rectangular golden buckle on the outer side of each shoe, securing the white strap that covered each shoe's tongue from above and ensured it stayed sufficiently tight for... whoever normally wore it. The predominant red fabric was subtly cross-meshed and breathable, marking it as some sort of athletic shoe that would really suck to wear through puddles in the rain, not to mention anything deeper.

Red shoes, white stripe, gold buckle... wait, was this some cosplay thing?

And... was it really the same pair, or was someone for some unknown reason putting more than one set of them around the neighborhood?

Ignoring the shoes, he headed inside, where he intended to forget about them and not succumb to the lurking paranoia that he was being stalked by a pair of shoes.

Opening the door, he heard the rapid sound of footsteps behind him. The hairs on his neck rose as he spun around in fright.

The shoes were gone. He took one lunging step back out the door to look around, grasping the handle with one hand and somewhat supporting himself against it. He felt shaky. Hunted. Not really the greatest feeling when coming home. Worse when the reason he felt that way was either clearly supernatural or clearly a sign that he was finally losing it after one too many mind-numbing days at his job.

Exhaling anxiously, he looked around -- listened, but heard nothing else.

Eyes slightly downcast, he stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind him. Taking off his own shoes, he shook his head, wishing his pulse would calm down after that scare.

After heading further inside, he looked up and saw exactly what he didn't want to see.

It was the same pair of shoes, again, atop his kitchen counter. Upright and spread apart in a casual standing stance, they were pointing right at him, as though someone had stood there facing the entrance of his house, expecting him to come inside.

Waiting. Lurking.

This was surreal and creepy. What did these shoes want with him!? He half expected some sort of screaming jumpscare to assault him at any moment.

Instead, against all sanity, the shoes leaped from their place straight toward him -- and delivered a sideways dropkick to Ryan chest. He was so stunned by the speed and impact of it that he completely failed at keeping his balance, going down like a kicked stepladder. As he landed and tucked his spine, his white-socked feet came up -- and the shoes lunged onto them. He could feel the soft polystyrene fabric slip on loosely and easily before tightening with all the force and urgency of an enveloping roll of gauze: still soft, yet skin-smooshing, applied with a firmness that bordered on being rough. He felt the white portions being secured by the buckles, leaving his feet feeling claustrophobic and warm within this footwear with an apparent mind of its own.

He was about to react and explore this bizarre turn of events, when a seizure-inducing amount of electricity coursed into him through his feet. Grimacing and crying out at the stinging pain of it, Ryan struggled to resist whatever it was. As blue arcs of energy crackled over and through him, he had the unsettling, snaking feeling of something pushing inside his body through his feet -- whether a presence or a physical being he had no way of knowing for sure. Driven by the confusion of the moment, he pushed back against the feeling, as if to will it back out of his body and into the shoes.

Ryan wasn't sure whether or not that was working, but he felt on the verge of tears as a heat and fullness developed in his footsoles, like something was expanding: bigger, warmer, fuller...

And just like that he sat up, blinking, the attack over and the shoes gone. Just his usual socked feet -- all toes perfectly fine and able to be flexed and waved. No sensation of the aftereffects of electrical damage, no pain, nothing. All was well -- which, while a little unnerving, was still a good thing in Ryan's book.

He got up and tried to pay attention to some of his usual chores and amusements, but nothing was really clicking. The more he tried to engage himself, the foggier and more exhausted he felt. After a good twenty minutes of trying, he realized he wasn't getting anywhere and opted to drift into his bedroom instead, where he plopped onto his back and took a few deep breaths as he rested on his bed. He took off his socks and disrobed to just his boxers, before settling back with his head on his trusty pillow.

Just a little rest; that would help him refocus. Just a little rest.

* * *

Ryan awoke in bed unable to move. It was dark, save for his bathroom nightlight. He lacked much peripheral vision, sort of having a tunnel view of his own head as it rested on the pillow in his bed.

Wait... he was seeing his own head? What was he even seeing with?

He managed to pan his view down with some effort. He could just make out his ankles, sticking out from the end of the bedcovers, which he had apparently pulled up in his sleep to expose them.

A foot's-eye point of view? That wasn't... normal. Not even for his dreams, which could get pretty wild sometimes.

That wasn't even half of it, however. As he looked up at his face again, he noticed he wasn't inhaling like someone asleep. He was making small, lip-smacking motions and wiggling his nose, his eyelids fluttering. There was also a tent forming along a certain location on his anatomy.

"Mmmnn... body is... too slow..." he heard himself murmur.

Then his torso sat up. Not under his control. A weird grin on the face before the eyes opened. A faint green glow exuding from them.

"Someone's happy to see me." Again he mumbled, with only the muffled hint of a snarky or maybe patronizing tone. His right hand fished under the covers, tugging down his boxers and then pushing back the fabric. A stiff hardon extending upright, with Ryan getting a rare direct-on look at the underside of his own glans. He saw the hand... his hand, touching it and teasing, lightly thumping and gently pinching at it, like he was sizing up something unfamiliar. There was an inescapable feeling of rising pleasure as the hand kept fondling, followed by a casual and unusually rapid jerk-off session. The spine arching and hips rising as the act accelerated, his voice quietly groaning from the pleasure. One fist going out to the side, resting atop the covers for support, while the other kept jacking it quicker and quicker, like his hand was a milking machine guaranteed to draw out every last drop. Then the pleasure peaked -- his body angled aside, and he shot his load remorselessly at a diagonal, out onto the bedcovers.

The buzz of pleasure coursed through him, but whatever was in control of his body didn't seem content to let that slow things down. He sat up, shaft going flaccid as he caught his breath. Then he stood up, hurriedly donning the clothes at hand before slipping on some flip-flops and heading outside.

Down the sidewalk he went, like he was sleepwalking but not. His low viewpoint was not ideal, but he could see the streetlights, and catch easy looks up at his own smirking face. A minute into the walk he heard a mumble about normal people taking so long to do anything.

Soon enough, he heard the bell-tone associated with opening the door to the corner convenience store. He saw and felt himself tracing a path to the hot food bar, before saying to the one clerk manning the place, "Those look good. Gimme all of 'em."

The response was a bluster, followed by a quiet assent to do so.

He paid. He went back home, carrying a paper bag full of something. Not content to wait, there was a sound of pulling it out and the light foil of the wrapper being removed.

"Heck yeah, late night chili dogs~!" There was a series of nomfing, noshing noises and a loud swallow. "This'll help speed things up."

By the time he got home, two of the chili dogs were already devoured, their wrappings tossed away into the first streetside rubbish bin he encountered. Before he knew it, he was back in his home, the bag coming down on one end of the coffee table. Him realizing now that it was a rather big bag, stuffed with the items he had requested.

"Let's hope two dozen will do it~" he was murmuring.

Two-dozen chili dogs? What... what was this? This had to be a dream. There was no way even in some freak sleepwalking scenario he would ever want to eat two-dozen chili dogs in one night. It'd be a stretch for him to eat that many willingly in a month!

None of those opinions seemed to matter, however; the flip-flops came off, and his viewpoint rose as his feet were propped up on the coffee table. He could see up the runway of his bare legs, past his camo shorts and up the black T-shirt he had put on.

The light from his eyes returned, falling on the chomped, white-bread edge of the next half-eaten chili dog.

He saw and heard the uncaring chewing. The loud, exaggerated gulps as too-big bites went down. The aluminum crinkle of the next wrapper as yet another chili dog made its way into his hand. He didn't feel any discomfort from overeating, but he could swear his T-shirt looked fuller than usual already...

Then his free hand found its way lower, undid those shorts, and pulled his flaccid cock out again. Stroking at it, fingering and tapping and teasing, all while continuing to gorge. Chili beans and sauce falling onto his shirt at times. Not exactly slobby, but rude and lazy -- not caring at all, wanting only to consume this fatty, barely spicy foodstuff.

And he was getting hard. Again. The teasing hand took it further, stroking and massaging -- then starting to jerk it again, the pace accelerating and the subtle temptations of arousal setting in: rub it, pleasure it, make it feel good. Ryan wanted this even though he had no direct control over anything that was happening. It felt better and better, the jerking quickening even as he kept eating chili dog after chili dog. With a particularly large mouthful and his cheeks bulging, he reached another peak -- came a smaller squirt that landed on the carpet and drooled from his tip. Totally not even caring, the hard swallow of the huge bullous of food following thereafter -- ending with a satisfied "Haaaah~!" of pleasure and relief.

There were gurgling and glorping noises from his stomach now, along with the occasional belch. His fingers drummed playfully across his midriff, pulling up his shirt and petting over his full belly as he seemed to give it just a moment to settle in, his insides churning dutifully on that food.

At that point he flicked on the TV too, periodically interrupting his feasting or pawing to poke the channel for a change, at first never seeming to settle on any one thing that interested him. He would quickly change off from news or politics in search of fast-paced action sequences and crazy stunts. A documentary on paragliding held his attention for a good while, providing lots of awesome views.

While that documentary played, the hand went back to his cock again -- fingering around the base, encircling and squeezing, slowly encouraging the blood flow to stir again. Once again it swelled up, ballooning to rigid fullness with ease this time. He chomped another chili dog, murmuring between bites, "Still like a dozen to go... Urrp , hope you're as hungry as I am."

The quality of Ryan's consciousness worsened as this decadence continued, with the repetition of the eating and masturbation growing increasingly surreal. He started to believe it must only be a dream, some weird brain-loop of horny and hungry. He thought this even as he felt himself jerking it again, the pleasure building, the load releasing. The number of chili dogs diminishing, all being chewed and filed away into the steadily swelling confines of his digestive tract.

Just a dream... just a weird, kind of silly dream. Right?

* * *

Waking up several hours later to find his guts packed with chili dogs caused Ryan some unique flavors of discomfort. He had no idea he could even fit that much fatty food in him, let alone process it without some kind of horrible issue befalling him.

He could feel the grease gumming up his brain... or was that his lingering exhaustion? He felt like he hardly slept at all. Achy, and bloated beyond words. Bowels taut and gurgly, belly distended. A bit of oily drool on his cheek and down his neck.

One leg was elevated. Something hard. Coffee table...?

Right, the table! He remembered his feet propped up, while on the sofa like this. He looked and saw the empty bag, the chili dog wrappers scattered in careless wads all over the floor, one of them lightly soiled by his semen.

So it wasn't a dream after all... but, in that case, what was it?

Holding his stuffed tum as he sat up, Ryan felt a gurgle and quietly burped, a tiny bit of lingering gas escaping his stomach. However much he had gorged on, it had been long enough that it had passed into his intestines, which explained the pressure inside them.

Then, blinking and wiping the sleep from his eyes, he noticed those red shoes again. Upright and clean on the other end of the table. He could have sworn they weren't there a moment earlier, but he didn't fully trust his sleepy eyes to have caught them on the first glance.

Grrrgle... blorp...

Despite how uncomfortable Ryan felt, he could not take his eyes off the shoes. His feet felt warm and tingly at the sight of them. His perfect shoes...

He spaced out staring, only noticing his fixation when his swelling erection grew uncomfortably tight against his undies and tented his shorts. Reaching down without thought, he pulled his cock free of the clothing.

The heat of his shaft touched one of his oily hands. He pet it with a fingertip, leaned forward, and took one of the shoes from the table. Bringing it to his nose, he smelled inside of it. It had no overt odor but produced a strange sense of nostalgia, like there was a phantom smell there that should be familiar.

Then he turned the shoe around and rubbed the laces and tongue against his erection, grinding on it and breathing deeply as the urge to fuck the shoe came over him. It didn't seem strange at all, but it didn't "seem" any way in particular. There was only urge and execution. His cock slipping inside, his glans brushing under the tongue and working deeper -- hands squeezing the slender shoe and curling it erotically along his prick to add pleasure.

In his head, behind his half-lidded eyes, he could hear the intermittent pling! of ring collection. One-two-three, three-four-five, a thwoomp on a box to 15. He wasn't imagining playing so much as feeling the wind and the speed, the idea of it calling to him from the chili dog burdened weight of his human self. He kept using the shoe, 30 rings, 40, a long loop de loop feeling to take him to 68, 69, 70-1-2-3...

Gotta think blue thoughts (pling!) fast thoughts, (pling!) sneaker fabric making it warmer, closer, (pling-bwoom-pling!).

Hotter and closer, ring after ring, 94, 95, 96, gotta grind gotta fast gotta rise -- 97, 98, 99...!!

A certain familiar sound played in Ryan's mind, and his PC muscles did their thing as the pleasure expanded into orgasm. He blew his load into the shoe, feeling a humming sensation in his dick and his feet.

"I'm alive~" he mumbled to himself, not even quite realizing he had said it, the euphoria dizzying him as his cum dribbled into the shoe.

As the peak faded, reality set in: he had just fucked a shoe to orgasm. What was up with him!? He tucked his softening penis back into his shorts, embarrassed at the notion.

Looking nervously into the footwear to see what kind of mess he had made, he was confused to find it looked clean. Not merely absorbent, but bone dry, like all of his fluids had been cosmically devoured by the object.

He let the weirdly dry shoe drop to the floor, where it flopped onto its side.

At the end there... he had imagined he heard a one-up jingle. Imagined. ...Right?

Then, while he was looking right at the shoe, it stood itself upright again. Ryan's eyes got big. Reacting with fear, he tried to kick the thing... but instead his leg lifted calmly upward and stretched back out straight over the coffee table. And then his other leg did the same. He tried to lunge his arms forward and was resisted by his lower back betraying him, his hips and thighs joining the effort of forcing his upper body to press back tightly against the sofa.

Ryan felt a bead of nervous sweat drip down his brow, his orgasm souring as the pair of shoes levitated into position at his toes and reasserted themselves onto his feet.

"Stop it! Those are MY feet!!" Ryan snapped at the presence that was subjecting him to all of this.

As if in response to his complaint, something seized control of his neck and chest, which leaned back and laughed. It was the condescending "heh" of a haughty jock, a voice hardly able to believe someone was giving him pushback.

"Sorry, bro, but it's my turn!" said that same voice through him, the tone skating a thin line between lovable and douchey.

Then there was a crack and a spasm as energy coursed up through his body, rising from those shoes through his feet, legs, spine, and thundering into his brain. He felt like he was being blown away in a powerful gust of wind, but really his body was just lying there outstretched, arms spreading like he was lounging with his feet up, if not for the minor detail that his back looked to be having a seizure. His hands folded unwilling fists as his mouth said, "Ohhh, YEAH!!" and clapped both closed fists against his ribs.

Ryan felt an immediate changing, starting with the feet and burning up through him. The anatomy didn't seem to be changing so much at first, but he could feel his toes getting stuffed thicker and taller into the front end of the shoe. He could feel his toenails narrowing, pointing, prodding at the fabric before he reflexively scrunched his toes back a bit -- now feeling his toe-soles developing thicker padding along the bottom, circular areas spreading out like soft, living leather. He also felt a warming, prickling sensation all over the skin down there -- everywhere that wasn't precisely "the sole" of something -- as the skin turned hot and itchy with the growth of new... hair?

Fur. He could see it now, creeping up onto his ankles as his uninvited guest forced his head to look down and behold the sight. Ryan lost control of his feet too for a moment, the presence casually sweeping him aside to make the toes wiggle, but Ryan could still feel every sensation. The padless parts of the footsole were even getting some softer, fuzzier growth... a growth which seemed to be mimicked in the peach-toned shorter fur that was starting to replace his pubic hair, as well as creeping up his abdomen and onto his inner thighs.

"I'm turning into Sonic the Hedgehog!!" Ryan said, flabbergasted as he beheld the changes.

Then his visitor said through him, "Uh, no, I'm turning into me. Sorry bro, but you're not the main character of this story. I am -- cause I'm Sonic the Hedgehog!!"

Well, that settled it: somehow, some way, a hyper-speedy hedgehog was invoking protagonist privilege and trying to take over Ryan's body -- and doing a splendid job of it so far.

"I already said your name!" Ryan bickered back.

"Doesn't mean I can't say it!"

Ryan didn't know what to say to that, but he had no intention of rolling over and giving up. (But even that thought caused him to hear the classic spin-dash sound in his mind...)

The peachy belly fur snaked a path up Ryan's torso and touched his neckline, where the pelage turned bright blue again and coarser as it crossed to his right. Upon reaching the right shoulder, the path turned soft and peachy again. His arm swung to the right and tucked inward at the elbow, a fist forming as his possessor seemed to focus deliberately to help this change along. Ryan could feel and see the fur spreading faster, the muscle tone under the skin getting stringier yet more powerful. The mild bit of body fat in his arms burned off to produce a leaner, tightly athletic build. His fingers developed narrowing, darker nails.

Focusing, Ryan tried to force those fingers apart. When he failed, he grabbed them with his other arm and tried prying them open, but was dismayed when his mouth formed a grin and his changing arm pushed back -- stronger, though not all that much stronger. Realizing the arms were a no-go, Ryan tried wiping the grin off his face and was successful at that, reducing his face to a blank look of indifference and then to a glare of anger. "Get out of--"

"NOPE! My body!"

Ryan mentally felt as if someone had just shoved him aside. However, while Sonic was distracted seizing his mouth, he was able to take both arms and...

...and have them stop grappling each other, but not much else.

Crap. He had no idea how to reverse the changes! Desperate, he tried verbalizing in his head about it: Change less, change less, change LESS!!

The arm had already become anthro-Sonic to the elbow and beyond, but it was still largely human at the hand, save for those tweaks to the nails and a connecting path of fluff. With great mental exertion, Ryan was able to hold it there, pushing out all the memes and the sounds and the memories and avoiding having this revision to his body's reality proceed any further.

Unfortunately for Ryan, that was when he felt his left thigh erupting with more fur -- and his penis feeling warm and turning blue. For a moment he wasn't sure if it was a sheath or a foreskin, but it was more the latter as it thickened up and ensconced his meat in a flexible blue burrito, the bun for Mr. Little Chili Dog...

The changes in his arm flared at that point, and he heard Sonic laughing through him, realizing the hedgehog was messing with his head on more levels than one.

"Don't be a sourpuss," Sonic told him as the changes spread across his chest and toward his other arm. "I bet you'd love to have it all over you. My sources tell me it's quite tasty."

While Sonic resumed working on the chest -- running the changed fingers of the arm through it and raking back a fresh, firm swath of fluff and compact muscle -- Ryan seized the opportunity to stammer, "Just get out of my body, dude!"

Sonic flicked both of his index fingers toward his feet. "No, you!"

And with that quip, Ryan felt that gust-of-wind feeling again, except this time he was falling into darkness. For a moment he lost vision, smell, touch, everything... and then he was warm, tightly compact... and looking at Sonic's face as if looking out of one eye.

The other leg folded sassily over top of Ryan, ankles connecting and blocking his view. As the transformed leg waggled in front of him, Ryan realized something: he was Sonic's right foot. The still-human foot. It was like in the dream earlier... did that mean this was still a dream? It didn't feel like a dream, but this business of being stuffed into a shoe was surreal.

"Hope you like growing pains, buddy," said the hedgehog, whose voice sounded a little muffled through the shoes, despite the seemingly supernatural vision Ryan had looking out from the lace area or so.

The folded leg pulled aside, and Ryan saw the blue fur at Sonic's side slithering down -- then turning peachy on the inner thigh, and then blue again for the bulk of the right leg. Tracing out his color palette, his fur pattern. Approaching Ryan, each tuft like another soldier in the hedgehog's backwards freedom-fight.

No way was Ryan going out like this! He wasn't going to end his existence getting compressed into some uppity video game character's shoe!

Ryan screamed in his mind since he had no mouth, and rammed his consciousness up the nerves of his leg and back up the spine. He felt the bizarre sensation of pressing himself through "Sonicness" all the way there -- a cacophony of sensations, images of realistic and unrealistic hedgehogs, and more fuzzily remembered video game clips and sounds. But he broke through, and when he came out the other end, he had a profound statement to make:

"--AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! ...Oh. I got control back."

For just a second it seemed true... except the fluff was still spreading, slowly, down his leg -- the limb hot and achey, twitching as he watched it. Had Sonic traded places with him?

His head felt hot, too. Especially his ears. His ears were... upward. Growing. Words. Also his jaw -- tight, hot, and a feeling of moistness in his nostrils, something making the end of his nose try to press forward, an ache in his face as his human features tried to rearrange themselves into the visage of Sonic. He lifted his human left hand and touched his face but found the act painful, so instead he used all his force of will to hold back the transformation and try to push it into reverse. Gritting his teeth and growling through the resulting sting on his nerves, he tried to focus on being human and making himself go back to that. The effort had him breathing rapidly, eyes glossing as he felt like he might shed tears from the strain.

That was when Ryan noticed his right hand movin on its own, rising up near his head. The index finger extended straight upward while the rest made a fist -- and the whole thing began to wag side to side, confidently.

Then there was another dizzying rush of that "wind" feeling as Ryan was blown back down the spine and into the right foot once again.

"Woooh!! I like 'em spicy!" Sonic cheered as he regained control.

Ryan felt the fur speeding up, the changes seeping into the ankle -- something he could barely feel at the edges of his awareness. His insides (such as a foot had) were tensing -- Sonicness was flowing all around and through him, compelling him to be a hedgehog foot. He visualized Sonic running across flat, green ground in those shoes, these accursed shoes that had been the focus for this whole encounter.

Gotta... gooo... faa...

"NNNNRGH NOT SO FAST!!" Ryan cried out as he slammed back into control -- and discovered that his voice sounded lighter, and also that his nose and mouth had elongated into a short snout that ended with a pair of petite black nostrils, more like a realistic anthro-hedgehog than the extended boopable dot typical of Sonic's stylized game depictions. The thought distracted him -- the whole bit of anatomy was so new in his vision that it was hard not to look cross-eyed down it and keep seeing it as he spoke and glanced around. Lifting his hands to look at them, he saw more clearly that the right one was now covered in that soft, peachy fluff, with the slimmest of layers covering even the palm area. His dark little animal nails were like needles on his fingertips.

So he wasn't quite becoming "game Sonic," but something that would mesh with this world's physics better?

"GHHK!!"

Ryan managed to gasp as he felt the force of Sonic's mind smashing through his. Again the feeling of falling. Again the banishment back down into the...

...scrunching, hot, nails growing, fluff spreading...

...world of Sonic's right foot. No, HIS right foot, which Sonic was possessing!! Or, transforming and then pushing him into... Gaaaaah get out of my head!!

"You sure do like to stop and take in the sights and sensations when you're in the driver's seat," said Sonic idly, taking a moment to lift both knees and sag himself down even further on the sofa before letting both legs extend.

Sonic wiggled their feet, causing Ryan's view to wobble as the fork of the man-hedgehog's legs spread. From below the blue, fuzzy sack of the balls a tufty blue tail was growing out, like a short worm squeezing its way out from the area near his bum. The fuzzy hand took idle and domineering hold of their penis, which was half hard now from all the exertion and dominance play, to say nothing of the stimulation of feeling their body heat up and change. Slow, lazy-jack-off strokes followed, squeezing the thing lightly up and down to get it hard.

Ryan found that he was quite a bit more "stuck" this time: his attempt to push through Sonic felt more like rolling aimlessly against a hard wall. He was stuck in a foot while Sonic worked on preparing his "footlong chilli dog" or whatever it was he had called it earlier.

...Okay, probably not "foot long." Sonic was nicely hung but not on that level. A little slimmer on the girth but perhaps seven and a half inches long. With some flexibility training he could probably suck it himself. Then he remembered this was Sonic he was talking about.

"Maybe if you'd given some thought to actually removing me, you wouldn't be my foot now," Sonic teased him. "Then again, I bet you wouldn't know the first thing about how to get the world's fastest hedgehog out of your body, huh? I'm pretty slippery, even then~"

He was jacking it off without a care, letting his balls ride up and down with the exaggerated hand motions while the changes spread to claim that last remaining arm. Some underlying muscle sculpting was still in progress in a few spots, but for the most part the image of him was already there: a humanoid anthro-Sonic, having grand-theft-me'd Ryan's body.

"But hey, where are my manners," added Sonic. "I do have TWO feet, after all. Least I can do is show you well-balanced hospitality in my body."

Then, to Ryan's surprise, the hedgehog leaned forward and undid the shoes, taking them off and casting them to the floor. Ryan could still see out of the right foot, and he felt a strange tug toward the other as it drew near.

But Sonic didn't let them touch -- and least not yet.

Cock out and hard, the hedgehog meandered into the bedroom and hopped onto the bed, lining himself up with a nearby body mirror and crouching with his feet at the edge of the bed so that Ryan could see better. Turning their spine to the side, Sonic said, "See my lovely spines, babe? They came in real nicely, eh?"

That was when Ryan realized the hedgehog -- who had just stolen his body and repurposed it -- was actually flirting with him. As if none of that was even a thing to be worried about. The audacity made him uncertain whether to be even madder or just confused.

The ample "hedgehog spines" of hair were cute, along with the triangular animal ears. If he'd still been a human, Ryan might've wanted to run his fingers through the naturally spiked-back mass of that blueness and given that cute face a sniff. He was kind of handsome, even if his personality was living up to the too-cool-for-you stereotypes the hedgehog so often displayed in the games.

"Tails is gonna be super hype about me looking all sexied up like this... when and if I can find him. He's had plenty of feelings for me ever since he grew up. Kinda been hard for me to say no, seeing as I still don't really have anybody else." One hand dropped to stroke at his cock again. "What do you think, Mr. Foot? Maybe you can give me your opinion by how ya feel, huh?"

Then Sonic hunkered back a bit, resting his butt heavily on the bed and leaning back, while he pulled his feet up next to his shaft. Turning the soft soles sideways, he sandwiched his cock between them, working the foreskin back and forth through foot action alone and providing an occasional tease on the moist glans.

It was impossible for this not to feel like what it was: Ryan's "whole body" (all that he COULD feel) being rubbed against that hot, hard length. He was like a living sex toy; he could feel the hedgehog's heartbeat in that rigid thing.

And as both feet kneaded on that cock, Ryan felt himself blurring -- spreading -- slipping over into the other foot as well. It was a subtle shift at first, but he found himself feeling what both padded feet felt. He could tell just what his anatomy was like based on the sensations and the occasional glimpse in the mirror: soft peach fur across the humanoid sole, but with animal-like pads covering the balls of the feet and the undersides of the toes. He still had five digits on each, and on the hands too. He, as in... Sonic, had them. Because Ryan was feet.

Feet being warmly, snugly rubbed against the shaft of a very fast hedgehog. A hedgehog whose leg strength and dexterity were applying nicely to this self-footjob endeavor, allowing him to brush and sweep and mash gently in ways Ryan never would have imagined -- soft fur or pawpads touching him in arousing series of motions, the space between the toes taking hold and rubbing along him... the occasional derisive chuckle as Sonic seemed to share in his pleasured sensations and interpret from them.

"Oh boy, you aren't too hard to buy off, are you~?" Sonic wondered aloud.

A lot about this encounter thus far had hurt Ryan's ego, but that took the cake. He wasn't easy to buy off just because he had been forced to become Sonic's feet and experience this warm, hard shaft throbbing in between the two halves of him, not in control of motion for himself but forced to move and experience everything just as Sonic made him do. It wasn't like he was... enjoying...

Ryan felt the blood vessels inside him dilating, bloodflow increasing...

Okay, maybe he was enjoying it. Maybe a little. But what choice did he have? It wasn't like he could--

And then the pleasure stopped. Why did it stop!? Oh, Sonic was changing positions.

Now on his knees, the hedgehog's reflection was in profile, head to one side to watch himself as he chuckled. His feet -- soles to the ceiling, scooted close together, and he tucked his hips so that his cock and balls were angled back and down -- shaft going upside-down and meeting up against his feet.

Those soft pads. Those warm, flushed toes. Ryan somehow knew it would feel even better after a long day of running... maybe grabbing some rings, having some more chili dogs... with Sonic's extreme burn-off metabolism, it wasn't like he'd gain much from the things anyway. And at the end of whatever hot, tiring day, Ryan would be there, musky and moist, ready for Sonic's shaft to jut in between him -- his toes forced to curl and press, the soles and balls of the feet playing with the reversed, erect organ as it leaked pre onto his skin and fur.

And he was sooooo sensitive! It was like rubbing his face on that firm, hot shaft -- feeling it pulse and twitch in response to his affections. Each of his toes as sensitive as human lips! Every inch of motion, each slip and creasing of flesh, he could feel on the two feet that he was. He was Sonic's paws, no escape from the pleasure and kinky subservience of feeling that speedy jock making use of him.

Despite his usual claims to speed, it seemed to take Sonic forever to climax. Or maybe that was just Ryan inheriting his impatience, mixed with the teasing bliss of feeling the throbs get harder -- hearing Sonic moan and tease his own nipples while he murmured Tails' name. Ryan wasn't even a factor in this relationship, except as feet -- long, warm, padded feet that could make Sonic feel so good, cupping tightly around that shaft as Sonic rocked back and forth -- grinding and throbbing and...

...And just like that, with no loud groan or special fanfare, the fluids started to spurt. Whatever Sonic had said to his long-time buddy, it had been in his own head. His own, solely owned head.

Ryan's resistance was long gone before Sonic came, but the climax sealed the deal. With each spurt of ejaculation he felt the cream streaking over his pads, coating his toes, and gumming between them, not unlike if the hedgehog had given him a facial across two bodies. Ryan tried to wiggle himself to move the cum or let more ooze down onto the bedcovers, but he could could not: Sonic controlled even those nerves now, totally and fully. Ryan was practically an object, a passenger within the cum soaked paws of the blue hero.

"Mmmm, my partners in SPEED sure do like it, even more than usual." Despite resuming his usual cocky tone, Sonic was clearly more relaxed than before. "Kiiiinda sensitive though. Better not rub them up on Tails when I find him. Bet these feetsies would just hate that~"

The hedgehog paws could only continue to feel pleasure as he unfolded his legs and massaged and cleaned those toes and pads -- an act which he indeed undertook by curling his flexible body forward and managing to slurp the feet clean, albeit one at a time and with some effort to make the positioning work.

Ryan lingered through this treatment in bliss, feeling that warm tongue work over him. He was now a silent pair of hedgehog feet that needed to be stuffed into shoes and run over long stretches of ground, and occasionally taken out to please Sonic's cock or that of someone close to him.

His thoughts dissolved into a hum of bliss as the orgasmic feelings clouded his thoughts. Like Sonic himself, Ryan felt cozy and in need of a nap. A nap which he decided to... take.

No, he should stay awake, just in case he...

...But he didn't. He fell smoothly, warmly asleep. As did Sonic himself, not too long after.

* * *

The consciousness known as Ryan "awoke" again -- some hours later -- to a warm, moist feeling.

What a weird dream that had all been.

And he was so hot, stuffy... he'd better...

I can't move.

He tried very hard... to move his body. His... feet body.

The truth again dawned on him: Oh crap. Is this another part of that dream, or--

As he became more aware, he was able to focus through the shoes and... sort of scry his surroundings again. Sonic's anthro-hedgehog legs were jogging across a field at twilight... tracking a country backroad between towns, by the look of things. Probably cutting across the fields to save time.

Though, he definitely was not going as fast as Sonic COULD go... which seemed odd. Sonic seemed to be noticing this too -- first putting more effort into running for a moment, and then coming to an odd stop to look around.

Pulse...!

"Ehh...?" he heard Sonic say. By the way his stance shifted, Ryan surmised the hedgehog was pivoting and looking around -- an act which pivoted his "camera" as well.

That's when Ryan saw it. And, judging by the gasp of annoyance from the blue one, Sonic saw it too: the moon, full and brilliant white, rising over the trees in the distance. It was bathing the hedgehog in the rays of its reflected light.

"Nhh... really!?" Sonic gasped, sounding genuinely surprised and frustrated as he clenched his teeth and hunched forward, raising his now white-gloved hands in front of his eyes as if to ward away the intruding light, but it was no good.

Pulse...!!

Ryan felt heat and pressure push through him, like some kind of oozing weight within Sonic's blood was being pumped into him, the heat and heft of it accumulating with each beat of the heart. He felt cramped and hemmed in, like someone stuck in an elevator where people were packed in like sardines. He felt... grumpier, somehow. He heard Sonic grimacing and groaning, grabbing his temples -- squatting a bit as if to steady himself and keep some outside influence at bay.

Ryan could guess what was coming at this point. He had no way of commenting on the weird poetic justice of a body-snatching hedgehog getting his own agency corrupted by the werehog curse, but for a fleeting moment it was more comical than anything.

PULSE!!

That was when things got serious. Sonic's groans were turning to growls, and Ryan was feeling... BIG. Less funny... more SMASHY.

There wasn't much other way to put it or to think about it. Big, bigger... swelling tight against the shoes that had started all of this...

He would not remain TINY hedgehog feet. He would become huge, thundering, WEREHOG PAWS!!

He had no mouth and he must roar, but at least Sonic had that part covered for him. Ryan felt the shoes straining against his growing muscle and devolving bone structure, his mind focusing simpler and more bestial as Sonic throbbed, flexed, and strained him.

Scrunch...

Stretch...!!

Muscles growing, bones popping and stretching... he was getting MUCH bigger, fuzzier, the feet pads toughening up with brutish insensitivity...

"Nnhhh, freakin' CHAOS EMERALDS!" Sonic managed to growl out in a moment of lucidity before the changes deepened. "Can't believe it, again... even here!!"

SHRRRRR--

Meanwhile, Ryan was overcome by the brutifying influence of the change, not noticing in the slightest how much dumber he was getting as he reveled in the notion of becoming thick, hairy, musky...

ShRRrRrrRrrEddDdDddd!!!!

Werehog paws!!

His long, clawed toes shredded free of the shoes, the front and sides bursting away like a dilapidated old wall as the dark side of Gaia called to Sonic. Up above, the white gloves were shredding in like fashion, their seams popping away and the material falling to reveal thickening, beefier handpaws, with yeti-like white fluff adorning the wrists.

Ryan felt his toes wiggle, then dig against the dirt as the now-bestial Sonic dipped to all fours and looked around with an unfeeling frenzy. Sonic the Werehog's cock emerged from its newly minted sheath, revealing a red, dripping erection with prominent canine knot that Ryan could see twitching in the breeze above him.

It said something about the depth of Sonic's werebeast frenzy that he wasn't already playing with it or self-sucking it, but that was how things went: hard but unaddressed, his cock oozed pre as he sniffed around, arms flexing and lumbering about as Sonic adapted to the new sensations and embraced his fur.

It should have been shameful, being reduced to nothing but these heavy treads that Sonic's lumbering bigness stomped around with, but the rush of instincts, the sweating, and the excitement allured him. Every accelerating step upon his pads was a touch of pleasure, rhythmically mashing away at what was left of Ryan's personality. Each step was a reminder to be feet, think feet thoughts, big sweaty werehog paw thoughts, big stompy-smashy werebeast movements. Sonic might not be masturbating, not filling some tight hole, but at least Ryan could feel goodness in every step.

The aroused werehog howled into the night and veered off into the trees, following some scent or urge that Ryan didn't know anything about. After all, he was only paws. He felt the grass and twigs pound away beneath him, booming and tromping across the land while that package bobbed above him.

It was good to be werehog paws. Werehog paws were good.