Ryan sauntered into the shoe store, his broad shoulders brushing the racks of sneakers and loafers as he made his way toward the display in the back. His gym bag swung lazily at his side, and his varsity jacket proudly proclaimed his school’s championship year. He had been eyeing a specific pair of red-and-white sneakers for weeks. Something about their bold colors and glossy finish spoke to him in a way he didn’t quite understand—and it wasn’t just about looking good on the court.
He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before picking up the shoes, running his fingers over the sleek material. A shiver ran down his spine as he inhaled the sharp, rubbery scent of the soles. His heart raced as he imagined slipping them on, feeling the tight grip of the laces over his feet.
As he turned the sneakers in his hands, he noticed a small tag dangling from one of the laces. In bold, curly font, it read: “Step Into a New You!” Beneath it, smaller text added: “For the perfect fit, try them on right here!”
Ryan smirked. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”
He dropped onto one of the fitting stools, tugging off his well-worn athletic shoes and slipping the new sneakers onto his feet. They fit perfectly—almost too perfectly. The moment his heels settled into place, a strange warmth spread through his body, starting at his toes and creeping upward.
“What the hell?” Ryan muttered, wriggling his toes in the snug shoes.
The warmth turned into a tingling sensation that shot through his legs and up his spine, leaving his skin buzzing. He gripped the edge of the stool, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Then he felt it—a sudden pressure in his jaw. His hands flew to his face as his teeth began to throb and ache.
With a sharp, wet crack, his two front teeth pushed forward, growing longer and thicker until they jutted out from his mouth like a rabbit’s. He stared in horror at his reflection in a nearby mirror.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, his voice muffled by the oversized teeth. He reached up to touch them, only to feel another surge of pressure in his nose. It swelled rapidly, the skin stretching and rounding until it was bulbous and bright red, as though someone had painted a perfect clown’s nose right onto his face.
Ryan stumbled to his feet, his breathing ragged. “What’s happening to me?”
The tingling spread to his hands, and he watched helplessly as his fingers thickened and rounded, the tips taking on a pale, almost rubbery texture. His palms itched fiercely as they began to swell, and before he could stop himself, he scratched at them furiously—only to feel smooth white gloves materialize over his hands.
“What the—” He yanked at the gloves, but they wouldn’t budge, as though they had fused with his skin.
His reflection in the mirror grew more distorted as his body continued to change. His ears stretched outward, becoming round and comically large. His hair turned a shocking shade of electric blue, curling upward in wild tufts. A faint giggle bubbled up in his throat, unbidden, and he clamped a gloved hand over his mouth.
The changes didn’t stop there. His muscles twitched and swelled, not with the athletic definition he was used to, but with an exaggerated, cartoonish bulk. His torso stretched, his shoulders broadened even further, and his feet—already snug in the sneakers—ballooned until the shoes themselves transformed, growing longer and wider into massive clown shoes.
Ryan doubled over, panting, as the transformation began to subside. But his ordeal wasn’t over yet. The tingling sensation returned, this time accompanied by an irresistible urge to dress the part. He looked around the store and saw a pile of clownish garments neatly folded on a nearby shelf.
“No way,” he said, shaking his head.
But his body moved on its own, his gloved hands reaching for the clothes. He slipped on the oversized yellow pants, securing them with bright red suspenders that stretched over his broad chest. Next came a billowy polka-dot shirt, its cheerful colors clashing with the panic in his eyes. He tugged on a pair of striped socks, then a bright blue bowtie that somehow tied itself.
Finally, he placed a floppy yellow hat atop his wild blue hair and turned to face the mirror. The sight that greeted him was unrecognizable—a fully transformed clown, complete with a painted-on smile and cheeks that seemed to glow with a rosy hue.
Ryan’s initial horror gave way to a strange, creeping thrill. As he lifted one oversized shoe and stomped it down, a comical honk echoed through the store, and he felt a rush of exhilaration. He picked up a second shoe from the rack, not to wear but to cradle in his hands, giggling uncontrollably as he admired its shiny surface.
The humiliation of his predicament lingered in the back of his mind, but it was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of giddy satisfaction. He couldn’t explain it, but this—this ridiculous, humiliating transformation—felt right.
As Ryan honked his nose and twirled in front of the mirror, he noticed the tag on the sneakers glowing faintly. The words had changed. Now they read: “Welcome to the new you! Honk if you love it!”
Ryan hesitated for a moment before pressing his finger to his nose.
Honk.
And just like that, he gave in.