Here is part four featuring Patrick. The shoes have somehow come to life. Will be be able to resist them?

Part Three can be found here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/61486617/
Part One can be found here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/61214886/



Paws of the Subconscious – Part Four



Patrick’s heart pounded as he watched the shoes twitch on the floor. The laces quivered once more, like startled snakes testing the air, before falling still. His breath came in shallow bursts, and his ears twitched at every tiny creak in the room. He should have run. He should have shoved them back into the wardrobe, trapped them under textbooks, and locked them away where they couldn’t reach him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Patrick leaned forward. His curiosity quickly overwhelmed the fear in his gut. His hands hovered inches above the shoes, and his fur stood on end, pulsing with every heartbeat.

“How... how are you moving?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

For a moment, nothing happened—then the shoes launched at him.

Patrick let out a strained yelp as the laces shot out with terrifying speed, whipping around his ankles like living ropes. He was pulled backward onto the floor with a heavy thump, and he quickly tried to scramble away, but the shoes dragged themselves across the carpet, pulling his legs toward them with impossible force.

“No! Stop! Stop!” Patrick shouted.

He dug his claws into the floor and tried to crawl backward as the shoes advanced, their tongues flaring open like hungry mouths.

The shoes forced themselves onto his feet, swallowing them whole. Cold leather enveloped his paws, and the worn material pressed firmly against his ankles as the shoes locked into place with a final, dreadful movement. Patrick felt the heels tighten around him, and the insoles hugged the curve of his foot, sealing him in.

The laces whipped around like snakes climbing a tree and pulled tight, knotting themselves in harsh, intricate patterns that made Patrick whimper. He reached down and clawed at the laces, trying desperately to tear them away, but they snapped up with vicious precision and whipped at his knuckles with a sharp crack. Patrick hissed in pain and jerked his hands back as the laces flexed around in the air.

“Please! Let go! Get off!” he screamed, unsure if they were even aware of his voice—but they only tightened and squeezed harder around his ankles.

The shoes pulsed like they were breathing around his feet, and Patrick twitched his toes inside them. He flexed his feet, making sure they were still shifting under his command. His feet were his own, but the shoes were acting independently. His legs jerked and shifted beneath him like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. The shoes had an unnatural strength Patrick could not fight.

“No... please, not again...” he whimpered as tears formed in his eyes.

The shoes ignored him and pulled his feet flat against the floor, forcing him to stand with a jerky, unnatural movement that pulsed through his spine. Patrick’s arms flailed for balance and his hands reached out for something—anything—to grab, but the shoes stepped forward and dragged him with them.

Patrick tried to resist, but his legs betrayed him, bending and stepping as the shoes dictated. His knees knocked together with each forced step, and he tried to reach down and claw at the laces again, desperate to pry them off.

The laces snapped upward and wrapped around his wrists, pulling his arms away from his feet and pinning them against his sides. Patrick gasped and tried to pull against the laces, but they only tightened and wove more around his fur like living handcuffs.

“Stop! Please! Let me go!” he begged, his voice cracking with panic.

The shoes didn’t stop. They kept moving, pulling him forward in uneven, jerky steps. His feet trembled as they hovered in the air before slamming back down, the shoes controlling their motion with brutal precision. His breathing quickened—every inhale a ragged gasp, every exhale a sob—as tears streamed down his cheeks. He could feel the shoes pressing against every part of his feet, molding around him. They were truly alive, with a will of their own. He could feel it through his soles.

It was just like the dreams, but this time it was real. His body was moving without him. His feet were controlled by the shoes that now clung to him like they belonged there. Patrick’s mind raced with a mixture of disbelief and fear. Questions echoed in his ears.

“How is this happening?”
“Why me?”
“Am I losing my mind?”

His hands clenched into fists and trembled as he tried once more to wrench free, but the shoes and laces pulled him forward again in another forced step.

They moved him in a slow circle around the room, testing each step as if getting used to the weight of him. It was like a dance they intended to teach him—without his consent.

And deep inside, Patrick felt the horror grow as he realized the shoes were in control now, no matter what he did.

And he could only watch, powerless, as his own feet betrayed him—his body moving to a rhythm he could not hear, carrying him wherever the shoes decided he needed to go next.