Wilfred saw his hand reaching out to the doorknob of the shoe cabinet. It was like it had a will on its own. His hand was about to cross a moral line from which Wilfred knew there was no going back. It craved for something that stood stationed there in the closet's darkness, gathering dust. His hand wanted to touch it, to feel its smooth surface glide beneath the digits of his fingers as they stroked it gently.

A surge of coldness of the metallic doorknob jolted through Wilfred's hand before he turned his wrist. The cabinet opened.

The orange hue of the morning sun beamed through a small, striped window next to the front door, illuminating a small portion of the vast collection of shoes, boots, and high heels arranged disorganized in the cramped space of the shoe cabinet. Wilfred had to crouch down and creep closer to find what his hand was looking for.

There they stood, Celeste's splendidly looking black, Valentino Garavani's.

Even in the shade, were they the most eye-catching pair in the cabinet. A tide of blood pumped its way into his member – engorging it – when his hand grabbed one of the boots.

I can still go back. Wilfred thought as his nose hovered above the opening of the boot's shaft. He took a long sniff to smell the aroma of Celeste's foot sweat.

"Fuck it. To hell with decency," Wilfred said.

He took the other boot too, closed up the closet, and dashed upstairs to find his way to the guestroom – where he'd spent the night since his breakup with Emma. He placed the boots on a table, slumped down on his bed, and admired them.

Wilfred shook his head. "This is not the right angle." He concluded and grabbed them and placed them on the floor. His stomach touched the floor when he lay right in front of them in a prone position. Wilfred put his ear on the floor, which allowed him to have a worm's view of his surroundings. That's the only way Wilfred wanted to observe Celeste's boots – as two elevated black pillars displaying their majestic presence.

His imagination came loose as it projected vivid images of several microscopic cities blanketed by shadows created by the boot's toebox. Millions of imaginary dust mites were uttering words of reverence in honor of the teen Goddess towering above them like a celestial body conjured from the skies to shower her divine judgment upon them all. They all failed to meet her well-deserved needs.

So punishment is in place. Wilfred moaned and started rubbing his engorged member when Celeste's boot progressively sank lower, hovering it above one of the nano-cities.

Floor after floor of the highest skyscrapers in the city blasted apart like popping beer bottles shot by a jaded hillbilly armed with a .357 magnum in some forlorn mountain range when the bottom of Celeste's planetary boot descended down upon them.

Wilfred's hand fumbled his pants open and started to give his manhood a pretty hefty five-knuckle-shuffle. He heard Celeste laughing. And it was not an imaginary laughter his mind created. It was her actual laughter and he heard it quite clearly in his head like her voice had conjured its way to the inside of his skull.

"Are you having a good time there, Freddy?"

Wilfred's eyes peeled open. That voice! He was certain now. Celeste was speaking inside his head. But how? He felt an unexplainable urge to cease his moment of me-time and walk towards the hallway. Wilfred made his way towards the door – with a stiff pecker forming a shameless tent beneath his pants – and opened it. There he saw her, the teen Goddess Wilfred so desperately longed to serve. As he saw her sitting there regally on a chair in the hallway wearing nothing but a tight-fitting, velvety, blue dress accentuating the firm thighs of her crossed legs, Wilfred's knees buckled. He wanted to bow down to her, kiss her, and lick the pieces of floor her denuded feet had touched while walking her way into the house.

But the Goddess demanded something else from him. The same unexplainable urge that compelled Wilfred to walk to the hallway was coercing him now to grab the magnificent pair of Valentino Garavani's.

Wilfred grabbed them, walked up to Celeste – who kept smiling at him – and sank down in front of her. The sight of her bare foot dangling in the air was almost too much to bear for poor Wilfred. He wanted to be dwindled down to the size of a microbe and go astray on the vastness of her toenail. Perhaps if he pleased the Goddess properly, she would fulfill his wish. And to satisfy her at this moment meant to put on the boots on Celeste's feet Wilfred so brazenly took to use for his own carnal pleasure. With a curt nod, Celeste gave Wilfred permission to touch her feet. He felt like a Catholic monk in the medieval period who was allowed to kiss the pope's hand – a person who stood closest to God.

However, Wilfred was beginning to be convinced that Celeste was God. Especially when he saw the body of his young and beautiful stepdaughter levitate a few inches above the chair in a seemingly magical way. Celeste smiled down upon Wilfred when a surge of consternation churned his face into a look of astonishment.

"My powers made a quantum leap last night. It won't be long before I can do anything," Celeste said. And she hovered back on the chair again.

Wilfred's breathing gasped deeper as the part of his brain responsible for regulating his arousal was cranked up to a state of overdrive after witnessing Celeste's display of power.

Wilfred could only think of one thing more sexually exciting than his pretty stepdaughter, and that was his pretty stepdaughter possessing powers beyond measure. "You'll be unstoppable," Wilfred brought out more like a moan than a correctly articulated sentence.

Celeste shrugged. "Perhaps I already am. I don't know, actually."

"I aid you in anything, my Goddess," Wilfred placed his forehead on the floor in front of his stepdaughter's feet.

Celeste tousled his hair with her hand like she was petting a dog.

"You worship me since the first moment we met. I was only a little sprout then, but I understand that now," she said.

Wilfred dared to raise his head to look into Celeste's green eyes. "But what about Emma? Your mother? She will never approve this."

He received a sardonic smile from his comely stepdaughter that was worth a thousand painful deaths before she started speaking. "Look behind you and judge for yourself,"

Wilfred frowned and looked over his shoulder. "Emma?"

He saw her sitting on the floor in a praying stance. But unlike him, Emma was not doing it voluntarily. Her body seemed strained and Wilfred heard her sobbing. Emma was being compelled by Celeste's powers to worship her and she was trying to resist it – to the delight of Celeste.

"Come, I want to show you something," Celeste said to Wilfred. The latter noticed that his body was shrinking and before he knew it, Celeste's warm fingers were wrapped all around his tiny body to lift him up. Celeste placed his handheld size on the chair between her splayed thighs.

"Close your eyes," Celeste commanded. Wilfred complied.

"I see, I think I see buildings," Wilfred said, reacting to the images that were poured into his head by his stepdaughter's powers. "a city, a stadium, a vast transportation network. And people, a lot of them! And, oh wait, I think I recognize those high rises! It's the Petronas twin towers! I don't know the name of this city, but it's definitely in Malaysia."

Celeste applauded. "You're well informed, Freddyboy! I can give you that! It's Kuala Lumpur, and yes, that's a city in Malaysia."

"The capital city," Wilfred added, opening his eyes.

"And that's something I did not know. Up until now, thanks to you." Celeste gave him a complimentary nod.

Wilfred's head gave an appreciative bow. "Why are you showing me this?" Wilfred asked. "Are these conjured images?"

"Yes, I've put these images in your head. But do not mistake them for crafted images, even though a thing like that would be easy to pull off for someone like me. You see Kuala Lumpur in real-time from an aerial view."

"You're going to attack it," Wilfred uttered more like a fact than a question.

Celeste's luscious lips formed a sinister smile before she closed her eyes. Wilfred did the same, but not before taking a shamelessly long gander at his stepdaughter's juicy thighs stretched out in front of his pitiful existence like the Chinese wall.

The tentacles of Celeste's influence were already employed when Wilfred closed his eyes. Wilfred's gasped as he saw several stately buildings breaking loose from their foundation, hovering in the air. A stampede of thousands of citizens whipped into panic, elbowing each other, exiting cars and houses with the main aim of getting the hell away from the soaring skyscrapers that seemed to be dragged skywards by the powers of some extraterrestrial mothership above the clouds.

Then the influence was broken and all skyscrapers plunged down, obliterating many of their smaller counterparts as they crashed on city blocks below.

Wilfred heard Celeste moaning.

But the girl was not done yet. The ground ripped open, creating a deep fissure, cracking further like a zipper while creating a perfectly formed circle around Kuala Lumpur's perimeter. On its way, it tore apart bridges, roads and highways, fully packed with fleeing Malaysians in cars and busses. The whole city broke free, ascending higher and higher.

"You're going to drop it?" Wilfred asked.

Celeste shook her head. "That would be a waste now, wouldn't it? No, I'm going to shrink it. The whole city."

And that's precisely what happened. Wilfred could barely discern the pitiful disk that was Kuala Lumpur hovering above a majestically vast crater.

"And my mother will collect it," Celeste opened her eyes.

"Can't you just, I don't know, teleport it or something?" Wilfred asked.

Celeste shook her head. "Not yet, unfortunately. But do not worry, I will be able to, eventually." She smiled.