Brian's Smoke Down

I never should have called my cousin Bill up that day. About seven months ago I called Bill and wanted to know what he was doing. It was just another boring Saturday morning and I knew that my cousin would be up and about as he usually is full of energy on the weekends.
Bill answered with his deep manly voice. “Hello?”
“Hey Bill, it’s me, Brian. I was just wondering what you were up to man. If it’s cool I’d like to stop by.”
“Sure thing Bri. I’ve just got to take a shower and I’ll be ready. Just let yourself in if I’m not done yet.”
I got into my car and drove to Bill’s house. It had been a while since we last talked. It must have been a few months, yes, I last saw him at the family reunion. Bill is actually a distant cousin of mine. That’s how I rationalized feeling a little attracted to him and his feet. I would never tell this man how I felt. He would certainly be pissed off if he knew that I once stole a pair of his old socks to sniff. His feet really were sweaty and he wore his sneakers to death.
It wasn’t too long of a drive. Bill lived just about five miles from my house, out near the park. I parked my car and walked up the stairs to his kitchen door with two coffees in my hands from Dunkin Donuts. I knocked and there was no answer. He’s still in the shower. I opened the unlocked door and let myself in.
After putting the coffees on the table I walked down the hall. I could still hear the shower running. A devilish idea came to my mind. I wanted to find his old sneakers and take a long, deep sniff. I quickly and quietly made my way past the bathroom and to his bedroom at the end of the hallway. I had taken my sneakers off at the door so as not to be heard walking down the hallway. Jackpot!
There they were. His very old, very worn pair of Nike basketball hightop sneakers. Formerly white leather with dark blue trim. This was the first time that I had ever had the opportunity to see these sneakers while not on Bill’s feet. I didn’t even know what size they were. I quickly grabbed the right sneaker and lifted it up to my nose. I took a deep breath, Damn! These fuckers stink! I started to study these old sneakers that would have normally been thrown away by anybody else. A quick check revealed that these babies were size 10 and a half. Not too big, but they made up for it in the smell. The insoles were very dingy, dark red with a worn white printed Nike swoosh in the heel of each shoe. There was so much dirt and grime that had been pounded into these sneakers by his very manly feet. So much sweat and weight slamming into these sneakers day after day. The soles of the sneakers were abused to the point that they were nearly totally smooth, having the treads worn away after a few years of wear. The sole of the right sneaker actually had worn through to the cushioning under the insole. The edges were fringed with thin, worn, cracked rubber that was destined to be worn away.
The water stopped and I knew that I had only moments to put the sneaker back just as I had found it and to get out of this man’s bedroom. I gently put the sneakers back on the floor and crept my way down to the kitchen where two coffees in styrofoam cups waited. Hearing the door open I called out my cousin’s name and he responded. “Bill, how’s it going?”
“Hey bud! Everything’s cool. Not much going on today. Hold on a second I’ve got to throw some clothes on.”
I was excited at the idea that Bill was passing through the hallway naked to his bedroom. I didn’t want him to know that I was interested in spying his ass so I made my attempt quick and stealthy. A nearly perfect ass met my eyes as I stole a glance, then the door closed. Damn, not even in the same room as this guy and I was already trying not to get hard.
Bill knew that I was gay. He was okay with that. He would joke from time to time that he may ask for his dick to be sucked some day, but I doubted the sincerity of the statement. I questioned the man’s sexuality myself. Something just spoke out to me that this man may not be as straight as an arrow. Regardless, this guy was my second cousin. Even if he were gay it could never happen.
My eyes met Bill’s as he entered the kitchen. I took in an optical breath as I reached over and grabbed a coffee to hand it to the freshly showered alpha male before me. He thanked me as I checked out his body. About 6 feet tall, dark curly hair on a thin, but muscular frame. Clean shaven face with deep blue eyes. Chiseled jaw and a great smile. He was wearing a short sleeved black T-shirt, worn old jeans, and his very worn Nikes. Bill sat down and we just bullshitted about work and the family. There wasn’t much else to chat about after that initially until I made a quick comment that the next time I had to see some of our relatives I would have to be high.
“Really?”, was Bill’s response. A look of curiosity and excitement came across his face. If I didn’t know better it looked as if he was hoping to hear that I really wanted a joint.
“Hell yeah Bill, but weed is all that I smoke. I would never touch anything else, ever.”
“Oh yeah. I couldn’t respect you if you came to my house with drugs, but weed is weed.”, with a sly smile on his face.
I was glad to find some commonality with Bill. We were working on getting to know each other as I had just moved back to my hometown after going away to school. I had lost contact with many of the people that I used to hang out with. It would be good to have a friend to chill out with from time to time.
“Hey Bri, if you’re serious I could go roll a joint right now and we could go down into the basement to enjoy it.”
I didn’t say a word. Just got up and walked over to a door that I thought was the basement, putting my hand on the doorknob.
“Ok then!”, and with a smile he stood up and went to his bedroom and returned moments later with an old wooden box. I opened the door and we proceeded down the dark stairway.
At the bottom I stepped aside and took the box from Bill so that he could unlock the door to the right. The old padlock opened and he placed it in his pocket. We entered his locked work room.
Inside I saw old tools, woodworking equipment with a barrel of scrap wood next to the bench, and then another door that also had a padlock securing it. The windows were covered with cardboard so that nobody could look in. This was strange to me. It also made the lighting a little weird in here.
Bill used his sneakered foot to slide over one of two stools that were down in his private workshop. I plopped my ass down and handed him the box. He had a lot of weed in his box, maybe three ounces. Bill quickly wrapped a joint together and asked for a lighter.
“Sorry Bill, haven’t got one.”
“That’s ok, be right back down”, and with that he ran up the stairs to find a lighter.
I took the time to peer into the stash box. There was a glass vile with a single joint in it. I wondered what the importance of that joint was. Why was it separate? It didn’t matter, potheads sometimes have rituals, maybe it was something silly that I didn’t even want to know about.
Bill returned and lit the joint. We smoked the whole thing, coughing and laughing. It was the shit. I kept feeling as if the stool that I was sitting on was moving, or I was losing my balance or something. Bill and I continued to chat and laugh about the dumbest things, honestly I can’t remember what it was all about. What I do remember next was a mistake that I wish I had never made.
Bill noticed that my eyes were fixed on his sneakers. They were resting heavily on the rung of the metal stool he was sitting on. I don’t know why I was still staring. I can’t believe that I had gotten so high that I had forgotten to avert my eyes as I checked his feet out. Bill didn’t say anything for a minute or two….I was babbling on about something dumb and he just stared at me.
“I really need a new pair of kicks man.”, His words should have snapped me back into the reality of the situation. But I just kept on gazing and opened my mouth.
“I think that they are great.”
“Shit, Bri. These things are a few years old. My favorite sneakers that I couldn’t bring myself to toss into the trash. And besides they fucking stink.”
“I know.”, That moment I was shaken back into my normal state of mind. I knew that he would figure it out now. Dumbass pothead stamped on my forehead.
Bill’s face changed to a blank canvas. “What did you sniff my sneakers dude?”
“Yeah, sorry Bill. I just wanted to smell them and see what they were like. I’m sorry for making this weird. I shouldn’t have gotten so stoned here.”
I was expecting something like, “get out” or “fuck you”, but no. Bill said, “To each his own. If sniffing my sneakers works for you then fine. I want you to take my right sneaker off and put your nose between my big and second toe.”
I was very shocked. My cock started to grow in my pants as I got off of the stool and proceeded to lower myself to his feet. I pulled off his sneaker and looked up. “Bill, you’re not wearing socks? No wonder your Nikes stink.”
“Hey I know, if you breath from between my toes for thirty seconds I’ll give you a joint to smoke to your head Brian.”
This was a dream come true. He was daring me to do what I had dreamed of here, and he was going to give me a joint too. I looked back at his foot and stuck my nose right up the sole and worked my way to his toes. Bill actually looked at the second hand on the clock by the door. After half a minute he said that I win. I was surprised that Bill wasn’t pissed off at me. He was actually going to reward me for doing this stunt. He had just showered and I thought it a shame that I couldn’t have stopped by before he cleaned up.
As per his word, Bill opened the stash box and grabbed the vile with the single joint in it. He opened it and slid the damn thing right onto my open palm. “Smoke up dude!”. Even though I was really stoned I couldn’t help but obey. This was a weird scene and he was in control, I now know that I had no idea how much control. I put the joint to my lips and snatched the lighter right away.
Nearly as soon as I had sparked the joint Bill’s phone rang upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”, barking back to me as he closed the door and locked it with the padlock in his pocket.
Weird, he must be fucking with my head or he’s so stoned that he forgot that I was in here and locked it out of habit. I continued to smoke the joint and noticed how much smokier it was in here now. A small room with no windows open, it was getting hazy in here. I put out the tiny bit that was left and put it back into the glass vile. I waited for Bill’s return, but he was taking a while.
I didn’t feel too good right now. I was slightly dizzy and getting worse. My vision started to blur and my stomach felt as if it were going to jump out of my mouth. I stood up off of the stool and felt like I needed to get out of this room. My clothes felt like they didn’t fit anymore and my skin was getting really itchy. What was happening to me?
I took a seat on the floor by my stool. It felt more stable and I felt anything but all right. I woke up under a heavy red tent or something. Naked and very confused as to how I got where I was. Light seeped through the coarse fabric and I struggled to crawl out from under this strange tent thing.
My bare skin finally hit cement. Very dirty cement too. Rocks and sand everywhere. Large curled pieces of wood were all over the place. Then I started to take in my surroundings a little more clearly. I looked up and across a vast distance. A giant door was before me. I frantically looked right and higher, a clock larger than any other clock ever; then down and to the right, four huge pillars that reached up into the sky and to a platform very high above; behind me there were what I was now understanding to be my clothes. I was fucking small and in the middle of my cousin’s workshop floor. I attempted to compare myself to the objects around me to figure out how small I was. I knew that I was less than an inch tall. Nearly everything was over my head now.
I started to walk towards the closed white door before me. The only exit to this room and the only way that Bill would be coming back in. As I walked I couldn’t help but feel that I wasn’t covering enough ground. I then broke into a jog. A few minutes later I was at the door. I easily walked under this monolithic structure. The lock was no match to the bugsized man who could just walk under.

To be continued...