A prickly situation

Jon grunted as his skin crawled, as if he was being prickled all over. He fell onto all fours panting and then looked down at his hands with a gasp. All over spikes were forcing their way out of his body, covering him in iron hard quills. The ones on his front stopped at a few millimetres, the ones on his arms and legs at a couple of inches while those on his head and back reached over half a foot or even over a foot in places. Groaning, he stood up, hoping that it had stopped. "Cool," grinned Mikey, his brother, breaking the stunned silence.