There had never been a bigger storm in all of Ireland. On the eastern side of the island, torrential downpours and crackling thunder and lightning ran all up and down the coast, keeping people indoors and in the safety of their own homes, to avoid getting soaked or worse. Pavements flooded, valleys became swamped with rainwater-- it was a sight to behold to some who had never really experienced such disastrous weather.

One such person was a wolf/husky hybrid, stuck in the storm 12 miles from Ireland's capital, Dublin. He hadn't known that the weather would worsen on his journey, and his previous transport was now stuck and unable to move thanks to the ensuing flood from the storm-- as such, he was forced to trudge towards his destination in the rain. In hindsight, it was an obviously bad idea-- not only was the nearest town some distance away and the capital was a good days worth of walking ahead of him, but the never-ending downpour was setting a chill within his bones that would likely make him sick, if he weren't careful.

Slowly, the hybrid trudged to a halt at a crossroads in Ireland's countryside, his black and white fur sopping went despite his heavy trench coat and hat, and his thankfully waterproof briefcase heavy with each plodding step. The adult man, named Crisp, shifted in his sneakers and shivered on the spot as he looked up at the sign, dismaying at exactly how long he had left to go.

"I'm not going to survive this storm..." The man muttered to himself, squinting from beneath his hat into the surrounding countryside. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for, but he was hoping that a town or something in the distance could be seen-- generally, anywhere he can rest for the sight that isn't in the rain. At first, he sees nothing, but when he looks to the left and up the path towards a hill, he spots what appears to be an old, almost ancient castle. He doesn't know how long it's been there, and he's surprised he didn't see it before-- but any shelter is better than none, even if it's potentially unsafe. It was maybe a bad idea to go to an old Irish castle in the middle of nowhere, but he had no choice. The sun was beginning to set overhead; at least he assumed so, but the cloudy grey sky did not indicate where the sun was. Regardless, he set on the path and started to make his way up the hill, mud sinking against his sneakers with each step.

The closer he got to the castle, the more imposing it looked. It was tall, at least as high as a 4 storey house, and its outer walls looked cracked and old, visibly in disrepair. What was more worrying, however, was the clearly new-ish large wooden door that sealed the castle off, so that he couldn't enter-- Crisp wasn't much of an architect, but even he could see that the big double doors had a modern design. He hesitated, wondering if he should knock, before swallowing his pride and anxiety and grasping the giant metal knocker on the door's face, raising it and knocking against the wood 3 prominent times.

He lowered his hand and waited, sounds of both the countryside and the castle's interior drowned out by the horrendous downpour that thundered, both literally and metaphorically, in Crisp's ears. After what felt like minutes of waiting, the hybrid eventually succumbed to his need to get out of the storm and pushed the door forwards, surprised to find it unlocked. It swung open with a menacing creak, revealing a darkness beyond.

The interior was quiet and dark. As Crisp stepped inside, he slowly closed the door shut behind him and shuffled his shoes against the stone beneath his feet, tentatively stepping deeper into the room. It looked to be a lobby of sorts, barely illuminated by the thin slits of light that seeped in through stained glass windows, each of which was narrow and dotted the walls above. A small mahogany table with an old, 70s style telephone sat right next to the door, and on the far end of the room was a set of large steps that split into two, leading up to the upper levels. It looked regal, like a royal palace, much to his surprise.

Suddenly, a clopping and clicking of something against the stone floor to Crisp's right caught his attention. He whirled on the spot, heart hammering his chest, but he relaxed when he realised that it was just...well, a person, coming into the main lobby from a room beyond.

Stepping into the dim light was a figure, as tall as Crisp if not more. They bore a coat similar in length to the hybrid's own, but not necessarily an identical make: it at least reached their ankles and no lower, covering the entirety of their body bar from white, woolly hands, cloven hooves and a distinctly sheepish head. At first glance, Crisp found them strangely odd: the disparaging size of their hands and hooves compared to their heads and the proportion of their body initially irked him, as if his eyes were assaulted. Yet, in haste to get out of the storm, Crisp did his best to be polite. He removed his hand, clasping it to his chest and doing his best to offer a friendly smile.

"H-Hello, sir. I'm sorry to intrude," The hybrid began. "This was the only shelter I could find from the storm. I knocked, but no-one initially answered..."

"Have ye so sense of safety?" The sheep said after a moment of looking Crisp up and down. "Did your folks never warn you of Leprechauns?"

"Uh...what?" Crisp faltered for a moment, surprised by their sudden questions. "I don't believe in Leprechauns."

"You don't?!" The sheep seemed astonished and he strangely teetered on the spot for a moment, before frowning. "You should! Leprechauns will gouge out your eyes if you try to steal their pot of gold!"

"...Right..." Crisp thought the man was a bit strange, but he didn't really have any other option in terms of shelter. "Look, is it okay if I stay the night here? I have some money, I can pay you..."

The sheep waved a dismissive hand and turned, stepping away from Crisp and heading towards the door they had just come out of. The hybrid didn't know whether to follow or to stay put, and in the end he opted to stand there, wondering exactly what the sheep is doing. His nerves were slowly starting to get the better of him-- the man was strange, and he was in a completely unknown location. Just the thought of something going wrong put him on edge.

Whilst he was waiting, Crisp stripped himself of his soaking wet coat and hung it up on a coat rack by the main entrance, revealing a slim business-like suit beneath-- it was a bright blue, with a red bowtie and a white shirt beneath. His getup was a sharp contrast to his shoes, but there was a reason for that: he had come from a business meeting in another town, and ultimately hadn't expected the walk to be so long or for his transport to die. He had planned to change when he got the Dublin yet, to his surprise, here he now was.

After a few painful minutes of silence, the sheep returned with a glass of water in hand. Crisp relaxed a little at the sight and reached out as the sheep offered the glass to him: the water was clear and inviting, and the hybrid man didn't really think about how parched he was until he saw the drink, despite the heavy rain outside. He brought the glass to his muzzle and gulped the contents down, slowly but surely emptying the glass without even stopping.

"Parched, were ye?" The sheep asked, and Crisp admittedly nodded, handing the glass back. The sheep held it for a moment before trotting towards the phone beside the door and placing it on the respective table. There the man turned, looking the hybrid up and down before gesturing up towards the stairs.

"I'll show ye to your room." The coated figure insisted, trotting past Crisp and towards the steps.

"Thank you. I feel...strangely..." Crisp began, teetering on his feet. Was he really that tired? As he tried to move forwards, his legs wouldn't respond and he staggered, just barely catching himself upright as his eyelids dropped. He didn't feel this exhausted when making his way to the castle. Anxiety washed over him as his eyelids drooped further and his legs gave out from under him. He collapsed to the floor, but he had lost consciousness before his head even touched the ground.

A silence fell over the lobby. The sheep stared down at the collapsed hybrid with a mixture of surprise and disdain, before he began to move-- or rather, the centre of his body did. The bottom half of the trenchcoat parted and the top half of the man's body slipped down, landing on small cloven hooves. He stepped to the side, and from beneath the darkness of the coat came another figure-- a sheep of similar stature, with an equally white woolly coat and the same look of irritation as his fellow man.

"That worked faster than I thought, Patrick." The first one remarked, trotting over towards the unconscious Crisp, his hooves clopping against the flat stone. He crouched in front of Crisp's face and waved a hand in front of his closed eyes, satisfied that the man was knocked out completely. The other sheep, however, merely grunted.

"Ye shouldn't have let him in the first place, Sean," The second sheep, Patrick, expressed his annoyance. "How many times have I told you to lock the door?"

"Quite yer yappin'," Sean snapped, straightening himself up and turning on the spot towards the other sheep, pointing with a finger. "He looked like he needed help."

"But what if he's after our pot o' gold?" The other pointed out, causing Sean to falter.  "Look at his luggage, boyo. A tiny suitcase for a trip to Dublin? Suspicious, if you ask me."

Sean turned to look down at the briefcase, mulling over the possibility. A silence once against filled the hallway for a small period of time, before Sean gasped, clasping his hands to his cheeks.

"You're right! He's after our gold!" Sean panicked, reaching up to grasp at his wool as Patrick made his way over.

"Calm yerself," Patrick insisted. "You know how we settle this."

"Yes. The court." Sean calmed a little, but his eyes were still wild and filled with a mixture of nerves and anger.

"Let's get him movin'." Patrick insisted. They went to either side of Crisp and lifted him up, on carrying his shoulders and the other his feet with unimaginable strength. 

They slowly carried the hybrid off into the dark depths of the castle, where Crisp's fate awaited him...



---------- x x x ----------



Crisp awoke sometime later feeling both groggy and achy. The small of his back stung as if he'd been sleeping awkwardly, and the side of his head hurt from when he'd hit the floor earlier-- though he didn't know that. The last thing he could remember was talking to the sheep by the door, asking if he could stay the night. That alone, combined with the gap in his memory, was enough to worry him, and as his mind tried to catch up with recent events, he subconsciously reached out to check himself over.

He felt intact, at least for the most part, and relaxed. His jacket still clung to his frame and his shirt was neatly buttoned up, his bowtie fastened so tightly around his neck that he could feel it every time he gulped. As he tried to sluggishly move, he realised he was sitting in some sort of chair, and it was very cold-- he could feel the chill of stone against his behind, and soon realised he was sitting on something akin to a throne made out of stone. What worried him however wasn't his location, but the fact that he could feel the stone against his fur in the first place. When he looked down, he soon found out why: his trousers, and by extension his sneakers, were missing.

Embarrassment washed over Crisp's face and he reached down to cover his crotch, hiding his humanoid member as he instinctively squeezed his legs together and curled one foot over the door, pressing his toes to the tip of his other paw. The wolf/husky hybrid couldn't understand why his pants were missing, but the mere act of being undressed in someone else's home, in the dark, was humiliating. He tried not to think about it and pushed it to the back of his mind as he scanned the room, realising that he was in something akin to a crudely built court. Though it had initially looked like he was sitting on a throne, he soon realised that he was basically sitting where they'd put someone for a testimony, and beside him was a much taller, blocked off area for a judge to sit.

Everything in him told him to move and get out of there, but before he could even get up, he heard the familiar, dreading clops of hooves against the stone. Crisp sucked in a breath, both too anxious and scared to move. He watched as from a doorless hole shaped like a clover on the other side of the room came a small figure, which Crisp quickly recognised as the sheep from before-- only he was much, much short, at least half his original height. Crisp had known something was off before but was too tired to care-- he was regretting listening to himself now.

Clad in an almost comical white wig, with a green jacket clasped around his woolly frame and no pants to speak of, the goat skipped his way across the room towards the judge's podium. Crisp found himself staring, not out of awe but out of sheer confusion-- the sheep was lithe and bottomless, but his green jacket made him look like a leprechaun. Crisp would have accused him of being a kid pulling a prank if he hadn't heard his distinctly adult voice before. 

The sheep, with his little bouncing loins, made his way up some steps out of sight and then appeared at the top of the podium, picking up a gavel from the surface in front of him. He turned, eyeing Crisp with a threatening glare, before banging the gavel against the stone. The resounding clap and bang made Crisp instinctively cover his ears, before realising he was still bottomless and covered himself up again quickly thereafter.

"Wh--" Crisp tried to speak, but the sheep merely banged the gavel again to silence him, causing the hybrid to keep his mouth shut.

"Court is now in session!" The sheep called out, before clearing his throat. From the hole on the other end of the room came another sheep of similar size-- Crisp quickly put two and two together and assumed they might have been standing on top of each other during their last conversation, though it was a far-fetched hunch. 

The other sheep trotted across the room towards Crisp, looking him up and down and deliberately lingering too long on his covered crotch, before turning on a hoof and pacing a short distance away, back and forth.

"Is it true you came upon this castle with the intention of stealing our gold?" The Irish sheep demanded, and Crisp's eyes widened at the accusation.

"What? No!" Crisp began. "I don't even believe in l--"

"Objection!" The sheep standing in front of him raised his finger and called out abruptly before Crisp could even finish his sentence. "The witness is defaming the character of the prosecutor."

"I'll allow it." The 'judge' answered, banging his gavel against the stone and causing Crisp's ears to flatten against his head from the noise, briefly disoriented by its loud sound.

"Is it true that you want the gold for yourself?" The sheep continued his accusations as Crisp sat there, feeling awkward. "Remember that you are under oath!"

"I didn't even know you had gold!" Crisp insisted, and the sheep's eyes widened in response. He pointed his finger at the hybrid.

"He doesn't deny it!" The sheep exclaimed. "You didn't know it existed, but now you want it!"

"No! I--" Crisp began, but was once again cut off.

"No further questions." The sheep turned away from him and trotted over towards what looked to be a jury stand as the judge above him cleared his throat, holding the gavel up, ready to slam it down any time.

"Jury, have you reached a decision?" The sheep called over to the other, who had just been a 'prosecutor' mere moments ago. Crisp felt overwhelmed, unable to get a word in, with too many things happening at once.

"We have, your honour," The juryman puffed out his woolly chest. "We find the defendant guilty on all accounts."

"What?!" Crisp exclaimed. "But I di--"

"Order in the court!" The judge bellowed and bleated as he banged his gavel, filling Crisp with a sense of frustration. "For attempting to steal a Leprechaun's pot of gold, you are sentenced to the wearing of the green shoes."

"The what?" Crisp responded. "No, wait a minute, this isn't fair! I just wanted a place to rest! Where are my pants? I demand a fair trail!"

For once, he wasn't talked over, but he was definitely ignored, and as he sat there angrily stewing and trying to figure out how to get out of his current situation, the sheep who had played along with the entire thing got up from the jury stand and trotted back towards the exit, briefly disappearing from view. An uncomfortable, tense silence filled the room for a handful of moments before the sheep returned with a platter in hand-- and atop it, shimmering in the dim light, was a pair of glittery, almost sparkling green shoes.

Crisp wasn't worried about the shoes-- in fact, they were rather appealing and their emerald green colour was nice-- but it was the nature of his sentence that worried him. Surely, his punishment didn't just end at wearing shoes, did it? Regardless, he had a feeling he wouldn't know what they had in mind until it came to it, so he'd have to figure out a way to escape before then.

He watched nervously as the sheep slowly made his way over, balancing the platter with the shoes in with one hand as he skipped closer and closer, whilst the other sheep 'judge' watched from above, scrutinising Crisp's form. The sheep eventually stood directly opposite him and set the platter down on the floor. The short 'Leprechaun'-- if he even was that, for Crisp still didn't believe it-- reached out and grabbed one of Crisp's feet, dragging it towards him. He lifted the paw up, revealing the beans beneath as he held the sole with a thumb, and he spotted the vividly green four-leaf clover tattoo on the man's ankle.

"Cultural appropriation." The sheep scoffed, before taking one of the shoes and forcing it onto Crisp's paw-- though the hybrid didn't really resist, both confused and curious. He pressed his toes together and let the shoe slip over the top of his paw, brushing across his heel and slipping up snugly against his sole. It was strange that they fit him so perfectly, but he didn't question it too hard as the sheep placed the other shoe on him.

"Huh..." Crisp murmured, sticking his legs out at the sheep retreated. "They don't seem so bad. This is meant to be a punishment...?"

Crisp didn't know if he'd jinxed himself, or if they were always intended to be a curse. Yet, once he placed the shoes against the floor, his feet began to move on their own-- but it would be fairer to say that the shoes moved his feet in kind.

Initially, Crisp panicked, and his first instinct was to lift his feet up-- but the shoes forced them to the floor as the heel and toe sections began to tap against the floor. His next instinct was to stand, and that was perhaps the worst move-- the shoes effectively had control of where he walked, and as soon as he stood they forced him down the small platform where the witness's stand was and towards the main court floor, as the two sheep watched in a mixture of earnest and amusement.

It was all but impossible for Crisp to keep himself balanced without moving his hands, to the point where he instinctively relinquished his grip on his crotch to spread his arms to keep himself steady, the involuntary panic of falling over reflexively forcing his movements. His humanoid crotch bounced and swayed, balls jiggling as the shoes forced him into something he could only describe as a crude tap-dance. His movements, sluggish and inexperienced, were driven entirely by the shoe's making, his heels clicking and his legs kicking out and tucking behind his other heel and he formed a rhythmic beat that had his body swaying in a desperate attempt to keep balanced.

Crisp's face grew flushed. Humiliation wasn't a normal turn-on for him, but it was hard to not feel embarrassed when he was dancing bottomless in front of two very clear adults, both of whom were ogling his body and especially his crotch without so much as hiding their hungry gaze. It didn't take much for Crisp's loins to tingle instinctively, his body naturally reacting to the idea of being naked in 'public'-- even if it were only two people. The hybrid was an inexperienced guy, and with that came an ease of arousal that he wished he didn't have.

The shoes clicked and moved towards the judge's podium, forcibly bringing Crisp alone as he drew closer to the other sheep, who watched from on high with a smirk plastered across his face. Crisp looked up at him, almost pleading with his eyes as he felt his cock stiffen to full mast, now easily bouncing up and down and occasionally slapping against his legs or stomach with each more outlandish movement, whilst his balls bounced with each bounce and swing of his leg. The sheep, however, did not come to his aid-- he instead watched, one hand slid down out of sight as he propped himself up with the other, resting his chin on his palm. Crisp looked to the other sheep, who was less subtle than the other, openly stroking himself and beating his small meat to the sight of the hybrid's swaying package.

The more that Crisp danced, the worse he felt emotionally, but the better he became physically. Keeping his balance was still a challenge, and he was beginning to lose focus on it as the pleasure in his loins grew. He didn't know why he was feeling this way, but it only felt better as he tap-danced around the room. Pre-cum oozed from the end of his cock in little drips that flew in all directions with each sway of his hips and jiggle of his package from the traditional Irish dance.

Crisp's breathing grew heavier and heavier as the sheep began to giggle at the sight, equally breathing as heavily as him, their hands jerking their cocks to the sight of his impending climax. Crisp whimpered on the spot, scrunching his eyes up as the shoes forced him to lift and swing his legs back, causing his balls to jiggle and his cock to bounce up and down, flinging pre-cum up towards his chest against his shirt and down to the floor, splattering an array of droplets.

He could feel it coming, try and he might to push it down. He knew that if he lowered his hands to cover his crotch it'd only make it worse, but he couldn't just stand there with his arms outstretched. He reached down, trying to push his erection down, and it was likely the worst mistake he could have made. His member swelled and throbbed, resisting his pushing hands, and the ensuing pleasure that he felt sent him tipping over the edge.

"No...No...!" Crisp cried out, his ears filled with the half-laughter, half-moaning of the sheep around him. He scrunched his eyes tight as he felt a shuddering ecstasy wash over him, and his member twitched. He felt the surge of fluids rushing up the length of his cock, and a groan escaped his lips.

In that instant, he awoke to the feeling of his cock spurting thick, copious globs of cum into his pants, staining his underwear and seeping down his balls towards his taint. He bolted upright, eyes wide, his chest heaving-- what had happened? Where was he?

He looked down at himself to find his pants were on, and his sneakers were on his feet. An obvious damp spot that formed around his crotch from where he'd just orgasmed, and a sense of shame washed over him as he raised his head, looking around. His suitcase sat mere inches away and the man who had let him inside the castle was standing over him, a mixture of concern and bewilderment crossing his face at the sight.

"Huh, what...?" Crisp reached up, patting his head. His coat was hanging up on the rack near the door, and the downpour of rain outside clattered against the door, reminding him of past events.

"Are you alright, boyo?" The sheep asked with a frown. "I was bringing ye a glass o' water when I found ye passed out on the floor."

Panic welled up inside Crisp's body and he clambered to his feet, his mind swimming with the dream about the green shoes...or was it a dream? He shook his head and patted his cheeks to try and wake himself, but nothing could shake the feeling of embarrassment, of shoes that controlled his movements, of the two sheep stacked one on top of the other. He stared at the man across from him for a moment, looking up and down his coat, before grabbing his suitcase.

"You know what, I think I'll just...see if I can find somewhere else." Crisp explained, retreating towards the door and quickly grabbing his coat, pulling it on.

"Are you sure? The storm's quite bad out there, boyo..." The sheep remarked, but Crisp had already donned his head and wrenched open the door.

"Yep. I'm fine. Uh, thanks. Bye." He kept the conversation short, and turned the leave. The sheep followed him to the door and stared as Crisp went back down the hill at a brisk walk, almost a jog, towards the crossroads at the bottom. Crisp pushed the events of his dream to the back of his mind and instead focused on getting to the next town. He never wanted to set foot inside that castle again.

The sheep watched him go with a frown across his face, before his lips spread into a smile. From beneath his coat came a hand, reaching up to his own, and they shook hands, satisfied that they had driven him away. 

Crisp may never know whether the Leprechauns were real or not, but the dream of magical green shoes would haunt him forever.