It was a small, dark tent hidden behind the midway of the carnival. The fabric was covered with copper medieval moons and stars on a field of dark blue. A small sign in front boasted unonstentatiously, "Tyson: the man of a million... admission: $5."

I was curious, so I pushed back the flap of the tent and entered. I handed a five dollar bill to an attractive, young looking man who stood just inside the entrance, bare-chested and barefoot.

"Welcome," he said. "I am Tyson."

His clear, sparkling eye caught mine. "Do you like my feet?" he asked.

I was taken aback. Of course I did. They were the first thing I noticed about him. I had wondered why he was barefoot, but celebrated the beauty of his feet immediately in my mind. I had tried not to make it obvious that I noticed them. But here he was, asking me this, in front of everybody.

But there was nobody.

I was alone in the tent with him. Odd.

"Yes," I stammered, knowing he knew, knowing it pointless to lie.

"I like yours, too, he said.

How could he know about mine? (I did like mine, actually; nice feet run in my family, to coin a phrase.)

I looked down. I was barefoot!

"Shine, sir?" he said, polishing my shoes with one hand, holding them in his other. Where had he gotten them? Woo-hoo, this boy was good!

He was cute, too! I felt my dick jump in my jeans; we seemed to be clicking.

My feet felt different, somehow. I looked at them again. They were different! Nice, but differently shaped, a handsome shape, but not mine. Not mine!

"You can't really know a man unless you walk a mile in his shoes," he said. I loved the twinkle in his eye, but—!

"So I want to be sure I fit them before I walk in yours," he said, wiggling his toes. I did a double take. He had my feet! There they were, on him—so I must have his!

"Well, you said you liked them!" he smiled. I was speechless with surprise, and also very aroused! He jumped right in.

"You probably have your mother's eyes, your father's nose, and now you have your friend's feet. We are friends, right?" The intelligent eyes looked at me, quizzical, yet assured.

"I would like to be," I managed to say, wiggling my, or rather his, toes. They felt strong, fine, different. How odd to be wearing someone else's feet! I liked it in a way, him being part of me, or me having part of him. It was sexy. He wiggled his toes (my toes; he is wearing my feet, I had to remind myself. It was so odd.)

"This is so strange," I said, not realizing I said it, wishing I hadn't. I didn't know what to say.

"You want yours back? Here, you can have them back, and I'll have mine back. Better still, let's keep each other's as well, shall we? Done."

Huh? I said in my mind, lost in the beauty of his eyes, his face. I felt my face flush. I liked his familiarity. It was too much, but he knew I liked it. I wiggled my toes. It felt like I had someone standing in back of me when I wiggled them. I looked down and laughed, but the way I felt was really aroused. I had my feet back, but they were in back of his feet, which I still had. I had four feet. There was a draft. I was naked. There were my clothes on a small greek column on the stage, shoes on top of them.

"Wow," I said, feeling so stupid. How could he do this stuff. I felt the draft on my penis, which was bone-hard now.

Something was bumping it, I realized. I looked down. His penis was bumping mine. It was bone-hard, too. He had four feet, too. My penis got really hard. He had my feet in front still, and his feet in back. Of course. Four legs. The feet had to have legs attached. He looked nice with four legs, and he had a nice second ass nicely blended into his original ass, like an extension ass or an ass extension, I guess. It looked natural. I was enjoying looking at his ass muscles, how nicely they looked, and what a nice package of four legs. The front feet didn't quite match the back feet, because his feet were in front, and mine in back.

"Gotcha," he said, reading my mine. His voice was a little dusky; he was turned on, too. I felt another friendly push from his penis head on mine. My front feet felt like they shifted on the ground. I looked down. They were mine again, and his feet were on him again. Four of them.

"Fuck," I said, not meaning to say fuck. I didn't want to be rude. It was just so awesome. I could feel my four feet and legs. There was so much of me down there, and it was cool to feel my legs being touched by another pair of my legs in back of them. I could also feel the back of my front legs with the front of my back legs. I knew I had a second boner back there, too. It was bumping my front legs, and leaving a tiny cold spot whenever it stopped touching my front legs. Precum. Cool.

"This is way cool, no?" he said. He looked so excellent naked, such a handsome animal with four of his good looking legs. His trousers were folded under mine on the short greek column on the stage, I noticed.

"Yeah," I said. My legs were so cool feeling, it felt like two guys under me wanted to have sex, like I was riding this human legged horse that had two hardons. God I loved having four legs, and he was loving it, too. He kept looking at my legs, and I could see his second boner, too. It was poking through underneath the balls of his front penis. God he was hot! I loved his four feet!

"Race you to the stage, double or nothing," he said. I knew I had to win. But he was fast, and my new legs felt so good as they ran together and bumped each other, and my two boners were so big and in the way, that I felt my four legs stumbling as I tried to beat him to the stage. His four legs were beautiful in motion, very fast, and fleet on his four handsome feet. I was laughing helplessly, about to fall, feeling four feet stumbling beneath me, feeling as clumsy as eight feet, stepping all over each other, and I was soooo fucking turned on!!!

"Don't fall; take my hand," he said, reaching it to me. I gladly grabbed it—it was so alive and friendly—what was it about this guy!! He was strong, and gave me a good pull to help me and my clumsy, stumbling feet up the stage. I was laughing, and I really had to laugh when I realized what he had done—I did have eight feet, a whole parade of legs, a long flexible spine joining my several pairs of legs, my asses and my boners—they felt so warm and wonderful! This was too much! No wonder I'd been stumbling.

"You'll get the hang of it—watch me," he said, smiling, still holding my hand. We walked together back and forth on the stage. His eight legs moved with an athlete's grace. My heart was pounding. God they were beautiful! Suddenly we were kissing!

"I want more of you!" he said, holding me and kissing me. Four arms around me, six arms around me. I was feeling his handsome torso, back and shoulders with six hands, too. So much beautiful maleness! We must have fallen or floated down, because we were kind of touching the floor and kind of not, like being in water, although we weren't. I was aware of a friendly feeling of many of my long legs entwined and interlaced with his, punctuated by boners.

"Oh, man, I want to come with you," he said.

"Hey, I think I love you," I said. I kissed him and held him really tightly to me. He loved it, and so did I!