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I’ve seen the way you stare. Every time you’re over, your eyes drop to my feet like you’ve got no self control. And guess what? I love it. I love knowing my own step-nephew is that weak for me. So today, I finally call you out. I stretch and wiggle my toes slowly, teasing you, smirking as I talk about how pathetic it is, the way you drool, the way you can’t think straight. And once I’ve got you locked in that gooned out, blank stare state? That’s when the real fun begins. I make you bark for me. Twerk like a little idiot. Embarrassing tasks that you don’t even question because you’re too far gone, too obsessed with me and my perfect, perfect feet. You’ve become nothing but a toy. A drone. A slave to your own urges. And when I’m done playing? I don’t even give you a release. I just smile, humiliate you one last time, and send you on your way, aching, humiliated, and desperate for the next time your step-aunt decides to use you like the good little gooner you are.