Brandon sat on Anthony’s new sofa, scrolling through images on his iPad. “What’s going on up there?” he called up the stairs. He had let himself in nearly ten minutes ago, having arrived at the house at the agreed upon time. Two weeks had passed since what they had had what Brandon referred to as the “Come to Jesus” talk, and they had been together nearly every day since.

“It’s our first video of the season,” Anthony’s voice drifted down the stairs. “I want to be sure to look pretty.” Brandon rolled his eyes at this, knowing full well that the only thing that ever showed in his YouTube videos were legs and boots, but it was nevertheless stirring to think about. The early spring sun was flooding in the windows and reflecting off the new plank flooring. Add an area rug to the list of things to look at, Brandon thought as he finally heard Anthony bound down the stairs. “What are you spending my money on now?” he asked coming to lean against the door frame to the living room.

“Tartan wallpaper.” Brandon looked up. Anthony had on a slightly different version of what he had worn the day Brandon’s fetish had reemerged and taken a hold on him nearly six months ago. Of course, Anthony nearly always wore a long-sleeve T, but it was the ink blue cargo pants and the gray Vans slip-ons that gave Brandon pause.

“Wallpaper?” Anthony looked pained. “I’m not really a wallpaper kind of guy.” Brandon held his iPad screen up to him and Anthony stepped forward, bringing the Vans a few feet closer. “Oh, plaid. Interesting, but I don’t hate it. Not that I’m the designer here, but won’t that be too much with the chair?” Anthony nodded at the direction of the green tartan chair that stood by the fireplace. Anthony had quickly come to know it as the most coveted seat in the house because it was a recliner. Brandon enjoyed that its proportions discreetly concealed the fact that it was recliner.

“It’s for the hallway. It serves as a nice tie-in. And will contrast with the boring white tile you refuse to tear up out there.”

Anthony was already heading through to the kitchen. “The tile is practical. Especially during our busy season,” he called over his shoulder. Brandon tossed the iPad onto the velvet sofa and followed after his voice. Amen to the busy season, he thought.

They passed through the kitchen, where Brandon had just finished rehanging the last of the cabinet doors the day before. Anthony had allowed him to talk him into a soft gray enamel, rather than stark white, which was far overdone anyway. The transformation had even started spilling out onto the glassed-in porch, where the piles of delivery boxes had been reduced to the far end, and the vast quantities of cat litter had been extracted from the astroturf, although the job had finally ended Anthony’s battered vacuum. Now the tidied end of the porch that stretched between the kitchen and back door was devoted to a neat row of Anthony’s boots, a collection that was starting to grow.

Anthony stopped before the line up. “What are you feeling today?” he asked casually. It was not the first time that Brandon had noticed his light effort to address the elephant in the room. It felt a little forced, but Brandon much preferred this to Anthony attempting to ignore it. It was like he was trying to reassure Brandon that he accepted him. Appreciated him, even.

“Well let me start by saying that I’m feeling those Vans on you. Literally.” Why not lean in, Brandon thought. It gave him a buzz just to say it out loud, to let Anthony know what he felt as he was feeling it for once.

Anthony looked down at his shoes and lifted the right one, examining it. “Really?” He grinned at Brandon. “Well okay, then. And they pair well with…?”

Brandon looked at the five pairs. This could grow into a huge collection, housed on custom-designed shelves… “The Lacrosse,” he decided. “The rust color will like great with your blue pants.”

“Lacrosse it is,” Anthony picked them up. “As for blue pants…there’s no knowing how long they will stay that color.” He winked at Brandon before heading out the back door. Brandon was already hard.

---

“Maybe we should find some sort of crate or case to hold all of this stuff,” Brandon suggested, not uncomplainingly, as they loaded the boots, two tripods, two cameras, and a light into the back of the Jeep. Anthony nodded.

“Not a bad idea. Maybe if I’m limited to a certain capacity it will keep me from spending any more money on this crap,” he said smiling.

“Good point,” Brandon agreed as he stepped up into passenger side. Anthony slammed the tailgate.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, coming around to the driver door and leaning in. Brandon stared back, blankly. “Your boots?”

Brandon’s stomach twisted. It was a reaction of both excitement and apprehension. “My boots? I don’t know if I even have them…”

“You do,” Anthony interrupted, nodding quickly with absolute certainty. “I saw them in the back of your car when we unloaded the cabinet paint. I’ll bet they’re always in there.” Anthony had him. Ever since Brandon had scavenged his belongings from the wrecked Escape and moved them into the RAV, the boots had been with him. But he had never actually worn them. Anthony studied him. “What’s the hesitation?” Brandon shrugged.

“I’m not sure. What if…what if it’s not what I thought it would be?” In spite of the new honesty between them, Brandon couldn’t bring himself to use language with him as specific as “what if I don’t find it as arousing as when you do it?” Anthony understood his meaning anyway.

“I guess you’ll have to find that out. But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he said with a knowing look. Brandon retrieved the boots and placed them next to Anthony’s.

---

Brandon sat sideways on the Jeep seat, anxiously fingering the rims of his virgin Hunter rain boots. This was always one of the most sexy parts of an outing—the sliding on of the boots. Well, at least when Anthony did it. Even now, he was standing by the Jeep and slipping the Vans off his feet, pointing his gold-toed black socks into the tall waiting shafts of the Lacrosses. God, it was so hot when he did it. But Brandon feared that doing it himself would take the mystery out of it—dampen the electric thrill. Because—truthfully—for as long as Brandon had fantasized about rubber boots sinking into mud, he had never actually done it himself.

Anthony approached him, setting the Vans on the floor behind his seat. He rested a cream-banded boot on the Jeep’s running board. “What’s doing?”

“Lost in thought, I guess,” Brandon mumbled, finally pointing his own foot into the boot as he had seen Anthony do dozens of times. Anthony watched in satisfaction as the foot slid home and the limp boot came to life. “How does that feel?”

Brandon didn’t quite know what to say. The inside of the boot was cool, but he could tell it would warm up in no time since there was no breathability. He flexed his foot and felt with satisfaction the rim of the boot wobble against his calf. He tried to image what it would feel like to have heavy mud pressing in on top of it. “It’s a little stiffer than I thought it would be,” he observed.

“Just to clarify, we are talking about the boot, right?” Anthony said with a lopsided grin.

Brandon chuckled. “Sorry to be vague. Yes, the boot.”

Anthony nodded. “They will stretch some on their own as you wear them. But they can also be stretched. Rubber is very elastic.” Without warning, he wrapped his hand around the heel of Brandon’s boot and brought the sole against his thigh. With his other hand, he reached inside front of the boot along Brandon’s shin, pulling his hand outward on the rubber shaft, working his way downward in intervals until Brandon felt his hand brush hit foot. Brandon was mesmerized. It was the kind of thing he could have only dreamed of doing to Anthony, and now the shoe was literally on the other foot. Anthony removed his hand and released the boot, stepping back. “Is that any different?”

It was more different than Anthony could know. But Brandon was pretty sure he was asking specifically about the fit of the boot. He flexed his foot again. “Yeah. It’s a tad roomier now.” Brandon expected Anthony to pick up the other boot and stretch it over his arm, or perhaps tell Brandon he could try stretching the second one himself now that he had seen it done, but to his surprise, indicated the other boot with his head.

“Let’s take care of the other one. Put it on.”

A little surprised, and with a shiver of excitement running down his spine and terminating at his groin, he thrust his foot into the other boot. Anthony grasped the boot around the heel and pressed it to his leg, again running his hand down the front, tugging at the rubber which protested in soft squeals.

“How’s that?” He stepped back and released the foot. Brandon realized he had been holding his breath. He flexed the boot and decided to push his luck.

“It’s not as loose as the other one. Maybe this boot was made smaller.” Anthony arched an eyebrow.

“Or maybe your left foot is just bigger,” he replied, again grabbing the boot. This time, Brandon didn’t just focus on the hand by his foot. He savored the feel of his boot on Anthony’s leg, the way the sole rolled over his thigh muscle through the cargo pants as he tugged on the shaft. For the first time ever, Brandon started to think about what else Anthony had in those pants.

Fortunately, Brandon had came prepared, having outfitted himself with compression shorts. Nothing was getting through today, come what may.

---

Brandon and Anthony began a short hike from the Jeep. For their inaugural video of the season, Anthony had selected a clean fill dump that was located near a highway extension project. A flat expanse of compressed gravel and mud, it was criss-crossed with deep tire tracks and ended in an abrupt drop-off of great mounts of loose earth.

Brandon spend the flat part of the walk noticing all of the sensations his short rain boots had to offer. He was surprised at their weight, and had expected them to flex more around his ankles. He was also a bit disappointed that he could not feel as many stones underfoot as he expected, fearing they might insulate his feet from feeling the mud he hoped to encounter.

“How are we doing back there?” Anthony called over to him.

“Great. Hey, it occurred to me that I’m wearing my Christmas gift from you and I never got you one.” Anthony smiled.

“I’m sure we’ll figure out some way you can return the favor. If only you could be helping me out in some way. Like cleaning up my house or picking out my furniture for me.”

Brandon shook his head. “That doesn’t count. I would be doing those things for you anyway. A gift is something extra. Something that means something to both—“ his thought was interrupted when his right boot suddenly met little resistance from the ground. Not paying attention, he had come to a gravely mixture of wet sand and clay, which had gladly accepted his unsuspecting boot as prey.

Anthony looked over to see why Brandon had stopped mid-sentence and paused in his trek across the gravely expanse. He smiled.

“Well, well, well, bro. What have we here?” He approached, his own Lacrosse boots, which were much higher than Brandon’s Hunters, remaining pristine and on firm ground. Brandon struggled, pleasantly shocked at the strong pull of the slurry that was engulfing his right boot up to the ankle. He strained his foot against the top of the boot, but there was no resounding slurp of air rushing into a void. His foot grew hot as the rubber was pressed against him. Anthony regarded the boot with mild interest. “How does that feel?” he asked, using the same tone a shoe salesman might.

Brandon looked up, flushed and confused by the question. “Feels like I’m stuck,” he offered flatly. Anthony shook his head.

“Come on now. You can do better than that. Have you ever been in this situation before?”

Brandon paused in his struggle. What was Anthony doing? Was he teasing? He searched Anthony’s face and saw no sign of menace. It was the same Anthony who on all those outings last year used to turn in concern and ask if everything was alright, if they had taken things too far for his comfort level. So…he was helping? But to do what?

“No,” he said falteringly. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he admitted. Anthony nodded and probed further.

“You were afraid this would be…what? Anticlimactic for you. Is it?”

Brandon looked down and realized for the first time that it was not. The way his soft brown boot disappeared into the soft ooze, the way he knew he could easily his foot out with the weight of it holding the boot down…. “It’s not bad,” he admitted, a grin playing at his lips. Anthony returned the smile.

“Funny how we seemed to have reversed course here, huh? But this is nothing. Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?” Anthony set his tripod down and placed a Lacrosse on either side of Brandon’s mired foot. Brandon watched mesmerized as the same sandy slop that had swallowed his hunter rolled up over the tops of Anthony’s feet. Anthony crouched, a move which drove his boots further into the ground, and grasped the rim of Brandon’s boot. Brandon applied pressure with the top of his foot, and together the were rewarded with a sucking sound. Brandon shook the weighty mess from his foot and looked on as Anthony expertly swiveled his own boots loose.

Anthony bent to gather the tripod. Maybe I should have gone with taller boots,” he said with a wink. That could be remedied, Brandon thought as they plodded on.