#sneaker transformation

[krulersblog]

During drunken night of truth or dare, Tylers friends revealed their obsession for his feet. Who was Tyler to keep them from his musky toes, and sweaty soles? Now they get to be as close as they can be to them slowly loosing themselves and turing into foot obsessed trash on Tyler's feet.

#sock tf #sock transformation #sneaker transformation #clothes tf #inanimate transformation #inanimate tf #socks tf

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @its.my.shoez Instagram account

Tracey received a call from his supervisor to come straight to his office shortly after arriving at work. He began to wonder what his supervisor wanted so early in the day. He hoped it wasn't bad news. He really didn't need to hear that. He was having a bit of bad luck situations recently. He had been behind in his portion of the rent on the apartment, having his roommate to make up the difference. If that wasn't bad enough, his car was in the shop, having major repair work done to it. He had been forced to use Uber services to get to work. He didn't need any more bad news at the moment.

Tracey entered James, his supervisor's office. He motioned to have a seat.

"I called you in before you got started for a reason. There is no easy way to say what i have to tell you. Unfortunately, there were some budget cuts, and your position was one the company decided to cut effective immediately." James paused. "I am sorry to bring such sad news to you, but it's out of my hands."

Tracey definitely didn't want to hear that at a time like now. There had to be another solution. Honestly, if there was one, he would take it no matter what it was. "I understand that, but please, is there any other position that is open or available. I really can't take any more sad news right now." He pleaded to James, hoping there was something he could offer.

James had one other offer, but those who were released or fired would not take it due to the dangers it carried in accepting it. He decided to offer it anyway. "There is one opening available, but it carries a risk." He pulled out the contract and slid it over to Tracey.

Tracey looked over the paper and read it twice. There was a large bonus of $100k once done, but there was a risk. "So I get the $100k, and the other gets $50k once the year is up, right?" He asked, to be sure he understood right. He saw James nod yes to his question.

"But remember the risk you take. If the owner decides to forgo the $50k, you belong to him. There is no return." James paused. "You literally are placing your life in another's hands. You fully understand?" James reiterated.

Tracey needed something good. "Can I choose who owns me?" He asked back.

"Ordinarily, you really don't have a choice, but I will make this one exception since you really were a good employee. Just write in the name of who you want it to be and sign it. We will do the rest." James promised. He would at least do this one favor for a guy who was having a bad day. Tracey handed the paper back with his signature on it. He ran it through his copier and filed the original. He handed the copy back to him. "Take this to HR." He instructed him as he placed a call down to HR about the position.

Several hours later, Seth came into James' office. He motioned for Seth to have a seat. He slid over the shoe box to him. He watched as Seth opened it and was puzzled why he was receiving a new pair of sneakers. "We have been wanting to try out an experimental product, but no one ever took the offer. That was until your coworker Tracey signed up to do it." He spoke as he also showed the contract that Tracey had signed. "These sneakers are Tracey now. He is still alive, just that he is a pair of sneakers. He chose you to wear him for a year. The point of the experiment is to test the durability of our indestructible formula. All you have to do is treat him like normal footwear for a year. If you wish to conclude the formula test for both of you, he gets $100k bonus tax free, and you get $50k bonus check tax free." He added to his previous words. He waited for Seth to reply back.

Seth took out the shoes and examined them. It was hard to believe the sneakers he was holding were actually his best friend at work. He wondered why Tracey would even agree to this. "Why did he choose to be my sneakers?" He asked, feeling curious. Like, who would really choose to be another person's footwear?

"The company had cut his position in budget cuts. To stay on with the company, this was his only option." James reported honestly.

"So I wear him for a year and return him back, and he gets $100k bonus check and I get $50k bonus check, all tax free?" Seth wanted to be sure he understood right.

"Yes, that is your first option." James spoke.

Seth heard first option which meant there was a second option. "What's my second option since I have a first?" He asked wondering what it could be.

"Your second option is that after one year, if you decide to continue with the experiment for us, you get $100k bonus check tax free, but poor Tracey will have to spend another whole year supporting your feet. Every year that you continue, you receive a $100k bonus check tax-free, but that also means you subject Tracey to being your shoes." James paused to be fully serious. "Option two means you are in control of his humanity or return to human form. He specifically selected you to wear him. So I sense that he has some sort of trust in you to decide how long he will be supporting your feet." He finished.

Seth, like the thought of receiving a $100k bonus check. Yet, this was his best friend at work who he was about to wear on his feet for a year. To receive that bonus check every year would be awesome, yet that meant keeping his best friend as his footwear. Could he really do that to Tracey, he pondered.

"We will revisit your option in one year. Until then, enjoy wearing Tracey." James spoke.

Seth put the sneakers back in the box and left the supervisor's office. When he got back to his desk, he opened the box and whispered to his sneakers. "I have to say, $100k every year sounds so nice. Sorry Tracey, but I have to take option two. I hope you understand, but I promise to take good care of you as you take good care of my feet for a long time." He took off his current shoes and put on Tracey.

Tracey thought he knew his best friend well enough. He thought that he would only be sneakers for a year. He thought that Seth would not be tempted by the amount of money. He saw he was wrong. He saw the pair of socks on Seth's feet weren't exactly clean and had a slightly strong vinegar odor. It was pressed hard into his insole face. This was his existence, to live as sneakers for Seth for at least a year or possibly longer.

FIVE YEARS LATER.......

Seth enjoyed a rather smooth life. For the past five years, the job gave him a $100k bonus check for continuing to test their indestructible formula. He has used Tracey for every gym and workout session. He has worn him to work every day. He even tried cutting him with scissors. He did anything and everything to try to destroy his sneakers, yet he remained relatively unscathed. Not only that, Tracey was the most comfortable footwear he owned. He didn't exactly know how Tracey felt about being sneakers every year, but the money was coming in handy. He even wore him on vacations that he took each year. His life was great, thanks to Tracey choosing him instead of someone else. There were weeks where he wore the same pair of socks every day to thank Tracey for the money he wad receiving each year. Life truly was great with having a pair of indestructible sneakers.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #sneaker transformation

[tf-imagine]

Noah Beck slipped you on and smiled.

Noah Beck: "Damnnnn, you are comfortable as fuck on my feet. Such dumb fan. You wanted to be my new running sneakers for a day. Well guess what. Your gonna be these bright red sneakers for the rest of your stupid life. So get used to huffing my stink in there. Oh by the way, so hi to that other fan. 6 months ago another foot whore was like you, wanted to be my socks. He's been my socks for around 183 days, not washed once"

Noah Beck laughed and drank his coffee as he sat in Starbucks enjoying his new sneakers. The sneakers screamed, well tried to scream in protest. The sneakers realised they had fucked up. Now they are stuck as Noah Becks sneakers forever. All they could do was be there, comforting Noah Becks frankly extremely rancid feet. The smell was truly diabolical, the smell burns in fact its so terrible in there. And yet the socks were in a much worse position actually wrapped around those disgusting feet.

6 YEARS LATER

Noah Becks red sneakers are so worn now. Holes in them. Barely recognisable as red now. He picks them up. The smell is so bad the odor is actually visable to the human eye, green rancid gas coming off them. The socks went in the trash 3 years back, he's had multiple fans as socks since then. But these sneakers were perfect. Until now that is.

Noah Beck: "Well time for ya to die"

Noah laughed and dropped the sneakers and covered them in lighter fluid and ignited a match and dropped it on the sneakers. The mind of the person they once were was so warped it didn't even try to protest to this.

The next morning Noah Beck puts on a new pair of red sneakers, a new fan had fell victim to the same future.

// Pic is actually Noah Beck from an Instagram story lol. \\

#permanent transformation #tf #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #permanent tf #sock tf #sock transformation #permanent shoe tf #shoe tf #shoe transformation #shoe #sneaker transformation #sneaker tf #noah beck

[idesofrevolution]

The Red Huaraches

It was hot, sweltering actually: the hottest summer on record. All Jared wanted to do was get home and decompress after the bullshit day he had at the store. Twelve Karens all complaining about the heat inside the store, as if there was anything he could do about it. But, instead of doing what he desperately wished he could do (violent explicatives removed), all day long he had to bite his tongue and just “empathize” with the valued customers. For gods sake, Deborah Wyatt had come in three times and complained to managers about “why the a/c wasn’t working” and had to be removed by the police.

The heat does crazy things to people, particularly the ones who you’d least expect to turn into some monster. Thankfully before he could turn into one himself, Jared punched in that time card and bolted; wishing the best of luck to his sour faced colleagues. Walking down State Street, he huffed at the humid air drowning his lungs. Thank god he’d swiped a Dove deodorant from the hygiene aisle before he’d left that day, otherwise he’d be dripping in a pool of musty sweat, and that’s certainly far outside the character of the germaphobic young man. No- if he didn’t smell like a fresh bar of soap he wasn’t clean enough. Though, days like this certainly tested his resolve.

His air pods in, he walked down the broiled sidewalk, reminiscing of the days fresh out of college when everything seemed to be bright and optimistic. That delusion of grandeur every recent college grad has, and dreams of returning to after a few years in the dumpsterfire that is the real world. What he would give to get back to the days of staying out until midnight drinking Vegas Bombs, or impulsively snorting a bag of coke off the sink in the bar bathroom. Well, perhaps not that last one. That youthful ignorance that we all hate but desire- it’s all Jared had been thinking about for weeks.

Turning onto Common Street, he felt a powerful gust of wind nearly knock him from his feet and into the newspaper stand beside him, followed by the dampness that only rain would provide. Closing his eyes for a moment, he paused before looking down at his muddy, damp clothes. Some fucknugget in his ugly yellow Mustang really did just splash him with a puddle a la Charlie Chaplin while running a red light. Not only was it a puddle, but it was a QUESTIONABLE puddle; the ones in the gutters of the streets that are brown, murky, and filled with questionable liquids. The germaphobe closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Bolting into the alleyway between two skyscrapers, Jared flicked the droplets of street juice from his downtrodden limbs. It would never come out- bleach wouldn’t even save the clothes. In the meantime, he’d have to run by a clothing store to pick up some replacements- but at 7:30 at night, he was unlikely to find a shop that was still open.

He cursed out into the open air, making a few confused heads turn on the sidewalk beyond. Narrowly avoiding a panic attack, he sat down on the steps of the loading platform and sighed. What a metaphor for his life, and one that was far from welcome in that moment. That’s when he saw them. A light in the dark tunnel- the red huaraches.

They sat abandoned on the top of the platform, pristine and new. He looked around the alleyway for their owner to no avail- the loading platform clearly hadn’t been used in quite some time, and there wasn’t even the usual strewn about items that would insinuate a homeless campsite… so as he stared intently at the fresh sneakers, his toes mulling about in the sopping confines of his loafers, he thought to himself, ‘It’s at least better than walking in piss and rotting beer.’

He ripped the loafers from his feet, seeing his once perfectly white tube socks now brown and yellow, which promptly came off as well. He picked up the right shoe, examining it closely. It was a size 12.5, about three sizes larger than his current shoe size. Though, with the situation as dire as it was, he could just tie them tightly for the mile and a half walk home. Nervously bringing the shoe toward his nose, he gently took a single breath, and nearly tossed the shoes altogether. Despite looking fresh out of the box they were most certainly used prior to him. A wafting scent of lingering sweat flowed out of the cavernous opening, even the insoles having the definitive impression of a blackened footprint embedded into them. Jared nearly stood up and walked away, but knowing the trek before him, and the city itself, barefoot street hiking was not an option.

Once again biting his tongue, forcing himself to overcome the sharp disgust he felt, he wiped his feet off with his hands, getting them just dry enough to slide into the massive sneakers. The moment his bare toes slid into place within them, he could feel the slick, sticky texture of trainers often worn sockless. He could not deny, however, that they were by far the most comfortable shoes he’d ever worn. They seemed to hug his whole foot snug and warm, even though the label said 12.5. He stood up, his body weighing down onto the soles of the sneakers, and felt just a tad bit of the previous owners foot juice seep out of the dank insole. He did not, however, feel the slick slimy liquid begin to seep into the pores of his soles. Before he could have an aneurysm, the door to the platform swung open, revealing the hulking form of a man drenched in sweat and bare chested.

“Oh shit. You okay?” The man kneeled down and looked over mud-laden Jared. Glancing down at his feet, the man smiled for merely a split second at the sight of the oversized red huaraches the lanky 30-something now sported. “Hey, man this is a gym in here, and we have showers if you wanna clean up? I’m sure we got some spare clothes too.” Jared sprang to his feet, quicker than even he had anticipated, and took the hulking man up on his offer. The man swung the door open and led him into what seemed to be the free weights room. “You can call me Franco, I’m the owner and main coach, so if anyone gives you trouble for not being a member or whatever, just send ‘em my way, yeah?” Franco slapped Jared on the back, making the walking skeleton nearly falter from the impact. Yet, he recovered surprisingly quickly from the strike, as if nothing had hit him at all.

The pair went into the locker room, and Franco pulled a towel from the fresh bin, tossing it to him. He pointed to the showers and gave Jared a thumbs up before retreating back onto the gym floor. Drenched in god knows what, Jared wasted no time in shucking the clothes from his body and promptly tossing them into the bin from across the room. A little cheer in the back of his mind screamed “basket!” Good god, he was getting delusional. He bolted to the showers, hell bent on getting back to his house as soon as possible. He opened the curtain into the tiled shower stall, and flicked the tap on. Looking down at his feet, he gleefully took off the musky red trainers finally letting his feet out of their grimy, bacteria-inoculated cave. He didn’t notice at first, just how odd his feet looked- as he surely wasn’t paying attention to how the tops of his feet appeared. Though, had he been paying a modicum of attention, he’d have noticed the staunch difference in skin tone, size, arch… he would have noticed the tattoos on his toes and tops, or the familiar scent that once only wafted from the sneakers now emanating from his soles.

He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water flush over him. All the brown dirt, sludge and questionable puddle was washed away after a few seconds, for that he was thankful. He absentmindedly pushed the body wash dispenser out of habit, lathering the suds all over his body. Yet, the habit was not his. He had not stepped foot in a public shower in years, and even then he’d brought his own shampoo and all, never once using the free bathroom suds. Though, he had to admit, this VitaCorp stuff felt lovely.

Initially, it smelt like fresh mint sprigs and tea tree leaves washing all over himself rather easily. The suds got into every crevice, crack, and hole it could find with ease. After a few moments of just scrubbing and poking and prodding, the bubbles began to take on a different sensation and scent. His skin felt tingly and numb, as if he’d been sitting for too long and his limbs fell asleep- but it was all across his body: pins and needles. That lovely essential oil mix rapidly began to descend into a much more… odeur masculin. No, the scent was now salty, briny, savory… the suds began to sting his eyes, and he quickly clamped them shut as his body began to feel a bit more malleable.

Creaking and squeaking sounds began to rumble from his shower stall, echoing loudly in the locker room. As Jared rubbed his eyes, his fingers began to elongate as his veins started to pulsate and bulge from beneath his quickly tanning skin. The soft tips of his fingers began to feel like sandpaper against the soft skin of his face as callouses began to develop.

His muscles ached, and he moaned as they began to spasm and twitch. Beginning in his arms, black ink began to etch into his now caramel skin, flowing upward as his biceps and triceps began bubble beneath the skin. They grew wider, stronger, firmer, smoother, tighter… and before long, his hands were about the size of his entire head.

A loud crack rang from his knees as he shot up in height, thick quads and bulging calves began to twist and warp into existence. The ink on his musky size 12.5’s started to rise up the powerful muscles he now possessed, surging quickly to his abdomen and groin. He doubled over in a massive spasm, his abs popping like popcorn out of his inflating torso. Hair sprouted in his formerly clean shaven bush, now forested with a thick carpet of twisty, curly, musky pubes. Feeling a rising urge within himself to check in on his jewels, his meaty paws crept down to his slowly inflating cock, which was slithering down from his bush like snake coming out of a thicket, getting longer, and longer, and thicker, and juicier, feeling the tightness of a slimy, pre-slick foreskin for the first time in his life before his balls dropped like a sack of potatoes. He grunted loudly, his voice cracking as it dropped with his testes, landing comfortably at a baritone.

His ass and pecs filled out nicely in time, unnoticed by the now slowly stroking tan hunk. Just as the ink had made its way to his throat, he could feel his balls begin to rumble and tighten. As if something were rising up his throat from his core, pushing delicately but firmly against the roof of his mouth, Jared felt as if he were choking on a rubbery condom in his throat. Though he should not have known what that feels like, the sensation felt all too familiar for him, just as he took his last breath and his dark brown eyes shot open.

Geyser.

Buckets of spunk came flooding out of his musty dick as he looked down at his prize fuckstick. Load after load, barrage after barrage, he unloaded his balls until the white slime nearly clogged the drain. Wouldn’t be the first time, but avoiding Franco’s wrath was perhaps preferable. Punishment sex wasn’t too much of a punishment after all. Ryan turned the water off and sauntered out of the stall, sweat dripping from every pore in his cut, chiseled body. He took a not-at-all guilty sniff of his ripe pits and the cocksmell he’d smeared all over his hands before heading to his locker to put on his well-loved training compressions and shorts. Smiling, he slipped his rank feet into his favorite red Huaraches, eager to get them ripe enough for playtime with whoever lost the match afterward.

Walking out of the locker room, he leaned on the belt machine, and glanced at Franco, knowing just what pose would catch his attention.

Smiling, Franco clapped his hands eagerly.

“Rivera! Good to see you on your feet again.” Ryan blew a kiss at the snickering lugs surrounding Franco, knowing all too well that he’d be face fucking all of them by the end of the night. “Get your gloves on and get in the ring. You have three skirmishes here.” Franco winked knowingly at his prize fighter, his prize fucker, his prize specimen, the king of the gym. Quicker than any other boxer he’d ever trained, swifter on his feet than a fox, and an ass as silky as a fleshlight. King Ryan took all three challengers down in a matter of minutes, despite them being twice his size, even at 5’11. Walking his Royal ass back to the locker room, he was met with the forlorn faces of his competitors.

“Awww. Don’t look so sad boys. I got some Latin Leche here that will make you feel much better.” He groped his dripping package, constantly wet with pre and throbbing. “You take my shoes off, you get my shorts, and you better be nose deep in all three.” He pointed one by one to the red faced hunks. “The king could use some pampering.”

#male transformation #male possession #body transformation #jockification #original #transformation #musk #musky #sneaker transformation #smelly jocks #smelly gear #smelly shoes #boxer #male tf #racial transformation #Latino

[kimochydra]

#inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #clothes tf #boyfeet #footwear tf #permanent tf #shoe tf #Sneaker tf #clothing transformation

[chrissy-kaos]

For those of you that always ask what kind of shoes I wear all the time.. im rocking the classic black/white sk8-hi. But we're Vans girls. We don't wear anything else.

#vans off the wall #vans #hey Vans ill model for free shoes! #transgender #trans #trans pride #transisbeautiful #mtf #transgirl #mtf hrt #girlslikeus #maletofemale #transformation #vans skate #vans sk8 hi #vans sneakers #vans shoes #actually trans #trans community #trans feminine #trans model #trans is beautiful #trans positivity #trans women #trans woman #trans goddess #trans women are beautiful #we're vans girls #trans fem #trans is sexy

[gayvkul99]

#inanimate transformation #inanimate tf #clothing tf #clothes tf #socks tf #shoes tf #sneakers tf

[davenporttf]

All-Star Catcher

My name is Alan and I'm the star shortstop for my small college team. I've always dreamed of making it in the big leagues. I don't remember a time when I didn't have a glove in my hand. There's just something about having this uniform on that makes me stoked for the day. I've trained all day every day since I was a kid until the lamp posts came on and my mom or friends telling me to wrap it up for the day. Even my girlfriend gets jealous sometimes that I don't spend enough time with her. I feel guilty but if I'm being honest, she's second to my love for the game.

It's Friday and we're towards the end of our game against the college across town. They don't stand a chance against our team, but especially my quick moves in the field. They can't get any balls past me! My blood is rushing with adrenaline and I'm feeling confident.

That's when I noticed in the stands some older guys with notepads looking my way. Shit, there are scouts here! This could be big for me as I've always dreamed of being drafted by an MLB team. I push away their presence and focused on the game. The batter then slams a ball my way and I instinctually jump to catch it before it rolls into the outfield. The crowd and my team go crazy! It was the game ending play. My team rushes to lift me up into the air and I can't help but notice the scouts smiling my way.

I'm walking out of the locker rooms still in my uniform feeling the after-game buzz when one of the scouts approaches me.

"Hey there! You're Alan right? Michael Right from the NY Mets. Crazy catch you got there at the end!"

"Thanks so much! It was a lucky save." I said modestly.

"Nonsense! You really have something kid. If you're interested, I'd like you to meet some players from the Mets. We love to see how future prospects mesh with our team."

I was stunned. "I would love that!" Meeting the Mets was a dream for a local town kid such as myself.

"Great! I'll book you on a flight to see them before their big game tomorrow. Some of the players could really use someone with your kind of catching skills."

That last line didn't quite make sense since I didn't think catching was what I was known for, but I would agree to anything to meet the team and make a name for myself.

_____________________________________

It's the next day and I'm being escorted up to the dugout by Michael. It's a few hours before their game and the players are shooting the shit while beginning their stretches. Michael has been so kind to me, and he's even told me about the recent slump the Mets have been in. He's hoping some fresh blood will bring back the mojo for the team.

"Cody! Come over here. I'd love for you to meet Alan, one of our prospects." Michael yelled over to this good looking guy from the opposite side of the dugout. I'm not gay, but even I can tell he's not sleeping alone most nights.

"Sup! I'm Cody. You must be Alan. Michael's told me a lot about you." He shook my hand and gave me a pat on the back. I was enamored and if I'm being honest, a little turned on. My girl would get a kick if she knew I thought that even for a second. I shook it from my head and chalked it up to the star power.

We talked some more and Cody then offered to have me stretch with them. I couldn't believe it, and instantly jumped to join them. I was already in my uniform per Michael's request. I found it strange at first but figured it would help the team picture me among them.

We started with with arm stretches. ""You'll need bigger arms if you hope to be on the team." Cody commented. At that moment I was surprised to see my arms beginning to stretch and bulk. I was freaked out but remained silent as I didn't want to embarrass myself. My arms were twice times the size and I was feeling energy flowing from my arms to my back.

"Maybe even do some lat pulldowns here and there. They really help stabilize your center." Cody continued. He was looking me over while he stretched.

I felt my back start to contract and pull. My back was beginning to fill out my shirt more and I stood up straighter. I began to quietly moan from the pleasure of my abs molding into a carved six pack and my pecs swelling until they were perky. Fuck! What is happening to me?!

I looked over to Cory to see if he noticed the changes. I started to notice just how handsome he was. The fuck? Am I bi? I tried to compare him to my girlfriend but I was having a hard time picturing her. All I could think of was how Cody's arms flexed to fill up his sleeves. Fuck, he was pretty hot.

"Let's see if you can touch your toes. A good base is important. Those hamstrings and glutes are really going to come in handy as well." Cody said as I began to reach for my toes.

Once I tapped my toes I felt my feet begin to expand. Bones started to crack and my shoes were being pushed past their limits. Soon my feet burst through my cleats growing to at least a size 13! I could feel Cody eyeing them lustfully. I started to imagine Codys face in the soles of my feet when the pressure in my cup started increasing. The moan from my mouth was louder now, and I was filling with lust for Cody. I wanted him to peg me down so badly.

My thoughts were interrupted by my legs starting to fill up the remaining space in my pants. The uniform material was stretching to its max and my ass was forming into a round perky bubble butt.

I stood up and began taking the changes in. I was beefy and feeling insanely powerful.

Cody walked over smiling "Looks like you'll give us just the boost we need. All the guys here love to pitch, but you'll make for a solid catcher."

He smacked me on my ass and I almost fell to my knees in pleasure. Fuck, I wanted to show my gratitude for the team so badly. Cody gave me another smack and whispered in my ear "Show me what you've got rookie."

I smiled at my new teammates and showed them what was waiting for them after each game.

#straight to gay #gay tf #baseball #himbofication #sneakers #baseball cap #socks #reality change #mental change #male transformation #muscle tf #jock

[inanimatefan1]

Did not go as planned (Collage roommate Sneaker TF Story)

My roommate Tyler like new sneakers, i was dying to know what it was like to be his sneaker, so when he left the room to go to the bathroom, i transformed into a pair of sleek, brand-new sneakers, for him, nothing will go wrong, i thought.

My perspective has radically shifted; seeing the room from the sneaker's point of view and him coming out of the bathroom. I feel Tyler's feet coming closer, and before I know it, his socks are slipping into me. It's a weird feeling, not unpleasant, but I am suddenly very aware of how sweaty and smelly feet can get. I can't move or express any emotion, but internally I'm both thrilled and apprehensive.

"Wow, these feel great!" Tyler exclaims, oblivious to the fact that his new kicks are actually his friend, me, transformed. He ties the laces, securing his feet snugly within me.

That's when I notice Tyler reaching for a marker on the table. He uncaps it and scribbles something on the sneakers tongue. I feel a slight tickling sensation but can't see what he's written. Instinctively, I know that Tyler's just marked me as his property. My heart sinks, realizing the gravity of what that might mean for my ability to change back. I frantically focus, trying to muster the energy to revert to my original form. But nothing happens. I'm stuck, and the panic begins to set in. My situation worsens as I remember Tyler's reputation for making his belongings quickly smelly and worn out. I'm about to become one of those belongings, I think to myself, but all I can do is "exist" as a pair of his sneakers.Tyler starts walking around, and I can feel his weight pressing down with each step. The warmth and moisture from his feet start to make me feel more and more like a regular pair of sneakers, and less like Josh trapped in this form.

Finally, Tyler heads to his friends college dorm room, where he meets up with some friends, notorious for their messy habits. They're impressed with Tyler's new sneakers, giving them a few admiring glances, completely unaware that I am those sneakers. Tyler kicks me off, throwing me casually into a corner where I land next to other worn-out shoes and discarded clothes. The smell is overwhelming, a cocktail of sweat, dirt, and who knows what else. As I lie there, waiting for what comes next, a sinking feeling washes over me. Tyler and his friends start a video game marathon, and I know it's going to be a long night. Even worse, Tyler's got a track meet tomorrow, and I've got a front-row seat—or perhaps more accurately, a foot-row seat. All I can do now is be the best pair of sneakers I can be, because for the foreseeable future, that's all I am. And as much as I'd like to change back, it looks like I'm stuck in this form for a while—Tyler's smelly, well-worn sneakers. And there I am, Josh, trapped as a pair of sneakers with no way to communicate or revert to my original form, subjected to whatever Tyler and his college buddies have in store for me.

Over the course of several weeks, I come to realize that my efforts to transform back are futile. Each day, Tyler's activities—whether it's a long run, a gym workout, or simply walking around campus—intensify the smell inside me. Initially, the stench was overpowering and unpleasant, but a strange thing starts to happen as the days pass. With every wear, the scent permeates me more deeply, and I find myself becoming increasingly disoriented yet oddly calm. It's as if Tyler's distinctive smell has become a potent aroma that affects my very essence. I become more accustomed to the smell, and the sharp edges of my previous panic and anxiety start to blur. As Tyler slips his feet into me day after day, something within me starts to change. What was once a nauseating odor has become, inexplicably, comforting. I feel more attuned to Tyler's rhythm and routine. It's like I'm enveloped in a sensory haze, somewhat akin to a high. When he takes me off at the end of the day and tosses me into the smelly corner of his room, I no longer dread it; I actually look forward to joining that pungent pile of worn clothes and old shoes. After a few weeks of this, I find myself in an almost zen-like state whenever Tyler wears me. My earlier thoughts of changing back into my human form have all but vanished. It's as if Tyler's smell has a hypnotic quality, grounding me in this new existence. And so, I find a strange form of peace in my new life as a pair of sneakers, completely intoxicated by Tyler's scent. My worries, my former life, and even my sense of self become distant memories. I'm not just a pair of sneakers; I'm Tyler's sneakers, and strangely enough, that has become my entire world. I don't know if I'll ever change back, or even if I want to. For now, I'm oddly content, basking in the heady atmosphere of Tyler's college life. And so, I continue to exist, half-aware and half-lost in a fragrant fog, a small but integral part of Tyler's world.

I can't imagine anything better than being Tyler's smelly sneaker…

First part of at least 4 parts.

#inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #inanimate object #inanimate sneakers #inanimate sneaker

[multiplicationdivision]

Anti-aging tech had really made some landslide leaps over the past couple years. Sure most people weren’t willing to put up with the side effects of the process, but Tilley just thought they were fucking selfish weakling. Natural lifespans his ass.

Just days ago, he’d been some half in the grave elderly man waiting out his remaining years in a shitty nursing home. When given the option to test out the latest model, he’d taken it on the spot. He didn’t need to deliberate on the chance to feel young again. He was more than happy to share it.

100 was divided by 4 and there was suddenly quadruplet 25-year-old Tilleys, each jumping at the bits to take youth by the hands. So many people shied away from the reality of truly dividing yourself. Were too cowardly to trade their individuality for the sake of feeling fucking incredible again. Were doubly idiotic for not realizing the sheer joy of being able to become an instant orgy. Experience the height of your life again in tandem with three other exact copies, your own fucking crew.

The four of them were already a force of nature in practice, training their bodies to bigger and better heights. Tilley had been a basketball star back in the day, but with four of him he’d become a goddamn legend on the court. They’d spend the day wearing out their new matching sneakers before finishing off with some health “masturbation” after dinner.

Tilley could confidently say he looked forward to aging now. 25 years was just the wait before it would all start again, four more of him in tow. He was going to fucking rule the world.

#identical #copy #clones #male tf #male transformation #old to young #sneakers #my writing

[anon-sect]

Greyson looked at the AND1 sneakers he recently got. They were really good sneakers. So comfortable on his feet. To anyone else, they would look like normal sneakers, but to him, he knew differently. They were literally two guys who thought they were getting a great deal.

He had placed an ad in the paper saying he was looking for two roommates. The first two months, their rent would be waived. He got a call from two guys who were interested in the rooms. Kyle and Jesse. Both were athletic jocks at 6'1" tall. Before they could move their stuff in, he said the rent would be waived if they agreed to a TF experiment. They would spend only a day as a pair of sneakers. They were skeptical at first but eventually agreed.

He used his TF device and turned them into a pair of AND1 sneakers. What he forgot to mention was that he had no intentions of turning them back to normal. The ad was a trap set to get him two human beings he wanted to use his device on. He thought about telling his sneakers the truth but changed his mind. They were sneakers now. That was their only purpose, to support his feet. To treat them any different would take away their purpose. Who talks to their shoes as though they were people?

TWO WEEKS LATER.....

Kyle felt disgusted. He reeked of Greyson's feet. His face was completely shaped like his foot. He realized after the third day that he was lied to. The guy never intended to turn them back. He wanted two suckers for an experiment, and he fell for it. Now, his life was nothing more than Greyson's feet, crushing his face nearly every day.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #sneaker transformation

[tf-imagine]

Noah had been working out at his local gym. Every Sunday there are these two guys who almost constantly stare at him when he's working out. He notices one of them regularly stares at his feet, he figures this guy must be into feet. The other guy who he learned by listening is the other guys brother hates feet. He always tells his brother to stop starring, feet are disgusting.

Noah decided this Sunday these two brothers would have a new experience. It was late in the evening, just him and these two brothers in the gym. Noah pulled out his TF device and walked over to the two lads. He smiled at them both.

"So you like my feet huh. I ain't deaf ya know, I always hear you and your brothers conversations about me. Well if you like my feet so much, lets get you a front row seat"

Before the foot whore brother could respond Noah zapped him with the TF device. He quickly started changing, his body changed to multiple types of fabric and rubber. Hollowed out and split into two white trainers.

Jace: "Luke! What did you do to my brother!?"

"Don't worry. I've given him new purpose in life. And your next. I understand you absolutely hate feet, find them sickening, repulsive. Well I've go the perfect job for ya"

Jace attempted to pick his brother up and run, but before he could he was zapped and he started changing. His nobody changed to a white cottage fabric and within moments there was just two white trainers (Jace) and two white socks (Luke) on the floor. Noah chuckled and picked the socks up and slipped em on. He wiggles his toes in the socks. If Luke had a mouth he'd probably be puking all over the floor. Noah then put the trainers on and tied up the laces.

Both Jace and Lukes bodily senses were in tact. Jace found himself actually enjoying his new existence. Luke however was extremely angry and scared and wanted to vomit so much. The smell was truly something to behold.

2 YEARS LATER

Noah had worn Jace and Luke every day, Jace was still in constant bliss. He always wanted this life. Luke however was long gone. His mind got so wapred ages ago his mind is that of just socks now. Jace knew this, he could sense his brothers mind and enjoyed his brothers mind being so warped.

2 MORE YEARS LATER

Noah took his trainers and socks off. Both were so worn by now, the trainers full of holes, one of the rubber soles were hanging off a bit. The socks were basically rotten, holes all over them and so unbelievably rotten right through. Noah picks up the trainers and socks and tosses them both in the trash compactor and hits the on button. Noah then put on his new trainers and new socks. His two BFFs got too annoying. He dealt with them. His BFFs he's been best friends with since they were all in diapers together. Even his oldest friends are ultimately just objects to him.

#permanent transformation #tf #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #permanent tf #brothers #sock tf #sock transformation #brothers transformation #permanent shoe tf #shoe tf #shoe transformation #trainers transformation #trainers tf #sneakers transformation #sneakers tf

[yourdarkstuff]

Favorite Pair

Corey and Zex were pretty close friends, always there for each other, and being there when the other needed something, but what Corey didn’t know was that Zex had an ability to turn living things into inanimate objects. Corey and Zex had been hanging out in front of Corey’s house, when Zex decided he was going to take off his Converse, to air out his feet. When all of sudden the back of his Converse ripped.

Zex gave Corey a look saying, hey bro you mind helping me out, I can’t go walking around like this. Corey gave Zex a blank stare and replied, What do you expect me to do? I don't have any in your size, you know your feet are bigger than mine. Zex then sighed and said, well I could make you a pair, if it’s cool with you bro, you do still owe for that secret I kept about your little foot obsession. Corey began to shush Zex stating, fine you win just make it quick. Zex smiled great dude you’ll be my new favorite pair, I can already see it, I hope you’re comfortable for me. Zex then touched Corey, as Corey felt a surge course through his body, Zex then said, now we wait for the results, oh forgot to mention this is permanent so I hope you enjoy this, what am I saying of course you will, especially since you get to be on my feet all day, as Zex waved his foot over Corey, as Corey began to shrink down.

Zex began admiring his work, wow bro loving the look, you’re gonna be a classic style all black from what it seems, can’t wait to wear you. Corey begins to split as his body is ripped in half, but he feels no pain while this occurs, Corey then begins to hollow out on the inside and begin to form the signature black converse high-top style. Corey is astounded by what he has become, nothing but his best friend's new converse. Zex came and picked up Corey admiring his work you came out perfect, now try you on, as Zex slides Corey on his feet, wow your surprisingly comfortable I should have done this a long time ago, hope you enjoy your new life, as Zex goes back to sitting down outside of Corey’s house, whos owner now hangs at the end of Zex’s legs as property himself.

Zex then says, yeah you’re definitely my favorite pair.

Got some real positive feedback on my other story so I figured I'll make another, enjoy.

#inanimate transformation #male tf #sneaker tf

[idesofrevolution]

A Mile in His Shoes

He was a foot pig. Anyone around him would easily be able to tell you that: Zeke Tyler was a creepy smelly foot fetishist. If he were honest with himself, he'd perhaps be a bit more self aware about his... questionable tactics in obtaining his collection of ripe sneakers, but Zeke was too enveloped in his own sense of lust and objectification that he didn't even stop to think about the minute fact that he was stealing from these random dudes. In his mind, he was just... reappropriating their shoes. That muscle daddy from the gym wouldn't miss his rank Adidas, he'd needed to buy new ones anyway! Those ripe harness boots from the biker jock were better off in his adoring hands, the dude left them all alone at the rest stop while he aired his feet out. The frat bro that would leave his Sperries on the front porch would leave them out there every night, he was basically asking for them to be taken! Those Checkerboard Vans from that skater punk, the smelliest of the bunch, they just deserved to be worshiped and adored by someone who knew their value.

It was unquestionable to nearly everyone else who had committed these swipings, even the victims themselves; but being the sneaky little thief he was, Zeke was quick, quiet, and knew how to cover his tracks. There was never any proof, so there were never any consequences. Thus, as he planned his most important heist yet, he was even more confident than normal. He'd seen Dane for the past few months in the lobby of his building, having moved in at the beginning of the year, and he'd become absolutely fixated on the aloof bad boy. More importantly, he'd become absolutely fixated on those white Air Jordans, scuffed and well worn that were always fastened onto his massive feet. It didn't matter if he was riding down the road on his crotch rocket, or doing some photoshoot with his other sexy Instagram model friends: those trashed J's were always tightly laced.

It wasn't until that Sunday evening, just as the sun had begun to set, that an idea had begun to form in his sick mind. He'd call Dane from the front desk, between shift change between the day and night guard, and tell the stoic stud that his motorcycle was being vandalized. Of course, he wasn't going to do anything to the pristine Ducati, but it would most certainly be enough to draw him to the parking garage at warp speed. God willing, that would give him JUST enough time to get into his apartment, snag the sneaks and bolt back to his apartment. Risky? Absolutely. Rewarding? Undeniably. What had begun as a fantasy soon became a realistic plan, as Dane strode through the front door of the lobby, those sexy, mouthwatering Jordans squeaking against the tile floor as he walked toward the elevator.

Zeke had a problem with staring, so the inked hunk simply nodded his head in acknowledgement at Zeke's creeping across the room. The model was unbothered, he got plenty of stares all day long, just another thirsty person who wanted his dick. He pressed the button, waited for the elevator, and stepped into the little box while the doors closed behind him. Perfect. He waited just about fifteen minutes, long enough for Dane to get to the 17th floor, get to his apartment, kick his shoes off, and start to hit the bong that stunk up the whole floor each night. Then, just as the tired desk attendant put up the "back in five minutes" sign onto the counter, Zeke made his move.

He scampered behind the desk, looking for the intercom button for Apartment 17D. He breathlessly searched across the desk until he found the system,and pressed the button for 17D.

"What's up?" Dane's voice came crawling out of the intercom, as monotonous and uninterested as ever.

"Sir, the silver Ducati in the garage under your parking space has just been keyed. We will have someone enroute to collect evidence, but we will need you there as soon as possible to give a statement." The intercom was silent, no response. The panic started to set in- had he called his bluff? Could he tell? What was he going to do if he did?

"Aight. I'll be there in a sec." Dane was completely unaffected, devoid of any concern in his voice. The intercom clicked and Zeke rushed back to the couch across the lobby just as the night guard arrived for her shift. Moments later, the elevator doors opened, and a clearly stoned Zeke walked toward the parking garage door... wearing his Adidas slides. Everything was going according to plan. As he pushed the door open and walked up the ramp, Zeke made a quick exit to the elevator, rapidly slamming the 17th floor button. The doors closed, the elevator made it's typical quick ascent to the middle floor of the highrise and as the doors opened, he was met with the unmistakable smell of weed hanging low over the hallway.

Trying to balance a fine line between casually strolling down the hall, and frantically trying to get in and out in time, Zeke made his way to apartment 17D. Looking both ways down the hall as if he were crossing the street, he turned the doorknob, praying that Dane had left it open. A quick twist and... success. The door swung open and he quickly stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The apartment was dirty and sparsely furnished, par for the course for the everyday Instagram influencer, but there, right by the front door was the most beautiful sight Zeke had ever seen. The Jordans, unlaced and cast aside right there on the hardwood floor.

There was no time to admire, or revel in his success- the heist was not over. He bent over and picked up the sneakers, still warm and damp from Dane's heavy daily usage. For good measure, he snatched a pair of considerably wet socks from the arm of the beat up leather sofa, and bolted out the door. Running as if he were a track and field sprinter, he weaved through the winding halls until he reached 17F- his own apartment. He opened the door, slammed it shut, and slid the chain lock into place. He threw his arms into the air, he basked in the glory of his successful snatch. Now breathing heavily and excitedly looking up at the prize which he held above his head, it was time to reap his reward.

He brought one of the sneakers down to eye level, peeling back the tongue, and peering inside. The insole was almost black, completely worn and even imprinted with Dane's huge, heavy footprint. He peeked quickly at the size tag as he brought it close to his nose, seeing the beautiful size 13.5 printed onto the worn piece of woven fabric. Zeke closed his eyes, the heat emanating from the shoe tickling his face, and inhaled.

Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. It was a stench unparalleled by anything he'd collected before. Sour, yet buttery. Wet and musty. Not quite cheesy, though it came considerably close to the fresh smell of Roquefort out of it's wrapping. Though over all, it was entirely the stench of masculinity. The sheer power of the scent was enough to take his breath away, knocking him to his ass right there on the floor. It was unbelievable. The crown jewel of his collection. He took another indulgent whiff, letting the heavy musk drown him as it flowed like water down into his lungs. Even exhaling his breath had him catching the subtle remnants of the smell lingering within him. They were perfect. Though, as if out of nowhere, he had the sudden urge to slide them on.

This particular urge was not typical for Zeke. Sure, he collected the sneakers, he would sniff and jack his little dick off until he piddled his load onto the sole of the shoe. However he hadn't ever had the desire to wear any of them. It simply wasn't even something that came across his mind, and yet as he held those ripe sneakers in his hands, peering to the wet socks that sat next to him, it was as if they were beckoning him. Calling him. Ordering him. Commanding him.

He grabbed the socks and slipped them on, feeling the warm wet sweat built up for days of hot summer wear slick the soles of his feet as his smaller feet sported the drooping Nike Dri-Fits. He turned to the dank Jordans, salivating at the mere sight of them.

"Put them on." As if the command had manifested deep within the dark recesses of his mind, the quiet but stern voice repeated itself as more and more of the same phrase began to layer atop eachother. "Put them on. Put them on. Put them on." He could only obey as he slid his sweaty feet into the humid confines of the gigantic sneakers one at a time, feeling his toes fall into the little depressions made by Dane's huge fetid feet.

A shockwave of goosebumps emanated from his feet all the way to the top of his skull. Peering down at the clunkers gracing his feet, he watched in abject shock and terror as the laces began to pull themselves tightly and tie themselves. Had Dane pranked him? Surely this was a joke somehow.

"No joke. It's happening, Zayn." Zeke turned quickly to the side, seeing a young man, scantily clothed in a black tee shirt, old black briefs, and VERY well worn socks leaning against his wall. "I was hoping that my next host would come soon. I'd gotten so comfy inside of Dane, but I've been craving a new form for a bit now. And then you came along." Zeke panicked, yanking on the Jordans with all of his might, only for them to be suctioned even tighter onto him. The malicious laughter bellowing from this stranger brought horror to the thief, completely in the dark of what his own situation truly was. "And you're a foot bitch too, huh? You huffed those nasty ass sneaks for a solid minute, and I've been tied to those for years. Jumping from host to host, life to life. They're ripe with the stink of, what, almost twelve dudes? And you're about to be number thirteen."

Zeke tried to get up and run, hoping for as quick an exit as possible. Maybe a doctor could pry them off. Maybe a priest could exorcise them. Anything. Though as he tried to push himself up, his feet stayed planted firmly in place on the floor. He wasn't going anywhere.

"C'mon Zayn. Don't you wanna take a whiff of this big puppies?" The man stretched his lean legs out, putting his huge socked feet mere millimeters from his prey. "Take a whiff, Zayn. You're gonna be smelling these for a while."

The smell of the man's rank feet were more powerful than anything he'd experienced. They wafted the smell of an almost venomous musk, piercing his nostrils as if they were sharp knives sinking into his head. Irresistible. Unmatched. Flawless. Ripe. They were... perfect. Zeke could not contain himself, the unquenching, relentless addiction to that stink was simply too much for him. He bent over, letting his face press against the smelly socks.

The man laughed as he pressed his huge dogs against Zeke's face as his body began to slowly turn translucent and a light shade of green. Zeke felt the matted, cottony texture of the man's feet slowly shifting into a plasmic, almost rubbery quality, though maintaining that sharp scent that kept him so hooked. Though as he looked up at the man once more, he could almost see right through him. Pulling him up by the neck, the ghostly man began to rise, floating above the ground until Zeke was hovering nearly a foot in the air.

"Open up, Zayn." The ghost thrust it's head forward into Zeke's choking mouth, quickly slipping himself inside. The rubbery ghost squeaked and stretched, moaning as he squirmed his way down his host's throat. Zeke felt the pressure building as more and more of the ghost wriggled deeper and deeper into his body, squeezing the entirety of his mass into his bulging gut. His bulge, his legs, his ankles, all effortlessly compressed into him, sounding like a deflating balloon until all that was left were the very feet which had caused this entire thing sticking out of his wide open mouth. Zeke felt the ghost try to squeeze the very last of himself into his body, which finally slipped into him with a loud schlorp.

Still floating mid air, Zeke looked down at his inflated gut, watching the outline of the ghost squirming beneath his skin, squeaking and creaking within him until he finally began to slip him on like the meat suit he was going to be. He looked down as he felt the larger feet sinking down his legs, stretching them farther and farther until they slipped into his own, engorging them with the ghost's viscous and bulbous form. The tattoos of the ghost began to manifest from beneath his skin, as he continued to slip him on, thrusting his muscled arms into Zeke's as if they were a pair of tight gloves.

The ghost laughed from within him, as Zeke convulsed and flung his extremities all over the place, floating in the air like a balloon. Zeke could feel himself being worn, feeling the sensation of this ghost man's entire body stretching himself out within him, flinging him across the room and gurgling squeaking slippery noises as the last of him began to slide up his throat. The last thing Zeke would sense was the scent he loved so much which now wafted from his own ripe size 13.5 feet, tattooed, sweaty and sharp. His hands pressing on the top of his scalp, the ghost thrust his head into Zeke, letting his spirit envelope and absorb the former tenant of this body- tucking him safely away to be reprogrammed into the stoic bad boy minion that all his previous hosts would become.

Zayn opened his eyes, glowing a bright green before slowly tapering back to a chestnut brown. Slowly, the tattooed hunk floated back down to the floor, until he stood firmly on the ground. Cracking his neck and lifting his arms into the air, he took a deep whiff of his pungent pits and sighed in satisfaction. This one fit like a glove.

"Awww, yeah. Thanks, man. I needed the new digs."

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Dane walked back to his apartment, only moderately annoyed that he'd had to wait for his master to infiltrate his new body. Turning the knob to his apartment, he saw the lean, inked, tan man leaning against the railing of his balcony. Looking down at his huge feet, he could see the pair of Jordans perfectly fitted and suctioned onto his feet.

"Welcome, sir." Zayn turned to Dane, flashing him that tell tale unaffected glance and letting that monotonous, nonchalant voice flow from his lips.

"It's good to finally meet you, boy. I hope you like your... Improvements." Dane looked down at himself, proud of the man his master created, but even more preoccupied by the crushing need to worship the ripe body of the new host. "Oh I see, you want to worship. Get over here, boy. Suck this fucking cock, and I'll give you your meal." The evil spirit smirked as his minion got down on his knees and began to suckle on his huge, musky cock. This would be a nice place to stay for quite some time, and when the time comes, he'll make a great minion himself.

#male possession #ghost possession #male transformation #body transformation #body possession #musk #smelly feet #sneakers #bad boy transformation #punkification #evil transformation #minionization

[tyrantofthefirmament]

jhgfdsasdfhgjkl They're even cooler than I thought they would be! I can't wait for Friday.

#transformers shoes! #at last! #it's payday which is really nice lol #ooc #there are also decepticon boots but i think i'll be good and only buy the seeker sneakers

[gayvkul99]

I suppose this picture from FreshmanX.com. I actually don't know who this guy is.