Slumped on the couch, Wilfred scrolled mindlessly through his phone – scanning the highlights of trivial local news reports. He cocked his eyebrow when a particular headline caught his attention.

"That kid's still missing?" Wilfred addressed his wife, who sat all sulking behind her laptop at the dining table – typing all frantically.

"George's boy, the one who constantly got into Celeste's hair," He added when he received nothing more than an absent-minded hum from Emma.

"Time is valuable. And me speaking about George's boy's disappearance will not contribute to me finishing this crucial email," Emma answered dryly without looking up from her laptop.

Wilfred scoffed, "And here I am thinking that Celes is the cold-hearted one."

He shook his head when it became clear that no further reaction would come from his wife. Wilfred yawned broadly, finished his coffee, and made his way upstairs.

Trudging up the stairs, Wilfred could hear Celeste singing from the bathroom. A thing she often did while taking a shower. Although Wilfred was a bit reluctant to admit it, Celeste's voice really was something. It happened more than occasionally that Wilfred sank away in a trance while listening to Celeste's angelic-like voice. Coming to his senses, he usually slapped his own face back to reality, but in some cases, her voice was just too irresistible to ignore. Goosebumps sprouted all over his arms as Wilfred heard a solid and shivering piece of vocal blasting out of Celeste's throat – reverberating between the tiled walls.

God's wonder that the girl hasn't attempted a talent show yet. Wilfred thought as he made his way toward the bedroom, eager for a nap.

Wait! Wilfred pondered as he stood still; this is my chance! He spun on his heels and sauntered over to Celeste's room.

It felt like his heart was ready to drum out of his chest as he stood there in the doorway – taking a peek into her bedroom. Looking over his shoulder, Wilfred could still hear the shower clattering next to Celeste's echoing singing voice. He focused his hearing on the stairs – to check if he could discern creaks crawling up the steps, a sound you always heard when someone made his way upstairs — Wilfred then focused on sensing faint vibrations of footsteps traveling over the main floor.

Nothing. Emma's probably still sweating behind her laptop.

With mixed feelings of curiosity, shame and fear, Wilfred gave a deep, encouraging exhale and took a step into Celeste's room. Then another and another. A sharp whiff of stale sweat swirled his way into Wilfred's nostrils. He leaped up and looked down as his foot crunched and almost completely flattened and empty can of energy drink. Right next to it, he saw a clutter of cloth sprawled about on the floor. He recognized it.

These are her jogging clothes.

Did she really leave them brewing here for two days? Wilfred crouched down and grabbed a balled-up sock – which felt quite heavy still due to a good amount of drenched sweat. He brought it to his nose and took a curt sniff. Then, he closed his eyes and took a long, leisurely sniff. His member raised tight to attention.

You're sick, Fred! You know that? Just sick!

He threw the sock away and stood back up. Scanning the walls, he saw a poster hanging above Celeste's bed. It displayed a drawing depicting a dark theme with some witchy-looking girl setting moves on a chessboard. Instead of regular-looking pieces, the girl was playing with pawns shaped into the landscapes of different countries worldwide. Below the picture was a text printed stating:

The world is one unending field of chess – ready to be taken – and I am the one playing it as I please.

As he shifted his eyes, Wilfred's gaze fell onto a small object stationed on Celeste's nightstand. It was a globe laying firmly in the grasp of a ceramic hand accompanied with the text: The world belongs in my hand.

*Scratch scratch*

Wilfred jerked up.

Where is that sound coming from?

He listened…

*Scratch scratch*

Again! Like someone or something is scratching from within… the drawer???

Reaching his hand out, Wilfred hesitantly took hold of the drawer's knob and pulled it slowly backward.

"Woooow!!!" he shouted as he rolled backward on his butt.

A person! A tiny person in Celeste's drawer!

He quickly slapped his hand against his mouth and listened…

"Who's there?"

Wilfred heard Celeste's voice calling out from the bathroom.

Crap! I've been heard. No shit…

"Help! Help! Get me out of here! Please! I've done nothing!" a squeaky voice called out from the drawer. Wilfred could have sworn that this tiny person had a remarkable resemblance with George's boy. What was his name again? Sonny! Sonny is what people call him. Poor lad.

"Wilfred?" Celeste's voice came from the hallway.

She's coming!

Wilfred quickly smashed the drawer close with his foot and looked around. Celeste's footsteps were already underway. There was no time for him to get out of her room in time. His mind reeled. What justifiable excuse could a stepfather have for being in his stepdaughter's room without asking?

"Your teacher called and told us he caught you using drugs. Hand it over, young lady, and I won't tell your mom." Wilfred shook his head as the scene played in his head.

Celeste's footsteps were nearing her bedroom.

There was only one possible way out of this. He hoped…

Laying flat on the floor, Wilfred writhed his body under Celeste's bed – snuggling cozily as far as he could get, meandering among all sorts of inexplicable clutter.

Ugh… it smells like… like… I have absolutely no idea what I'm smelling, but It's awful!

Peeking from the darkness, Wilfred stared at Celeste's posture standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She was merely clad in a white towel wrapped around her magnificent body – beginning just above her bosom and ending roughly halfway her thighs. Wilfred had always admired her athletic built on the shoulders. They were slightly broader than most girls her age but still looked very feminine. Celeste's chestnut hair – which was partially wet still – cascaded gracefully over her bare shoulders.

She frowned deeply – and looked stunning while doing so – as her eyes scrutinized the bedroom.

Oh lord! Why is that girl blessed with such an inconceivable grade of hotness! Wilfred thought in agony as a powerful, hoisting mast was trying its best to tear its way through his underwear.

"Fuck, no," Wilfred whispered as he saw his car key laying there for the taking on the open floor. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he stumbled while opening that drawer.

His attention went back to his stepdaughter as she walked in. Wilfred felt the floor vibrating and creaking with every step Celeste took. He saw her feet standing still for a moment before moving their way toward the bed.

God, no! Please! Just, no…

He gave an inner sigh of relief when the bed squeaked as Celeste's cute butt landed upon it. Wilfred had to turn his head sideways when the mattress was pushing against his nose.

"What's this?" Celeste said.

A moment later, Wilfred saw her hand dropping in from above – entering the narrow framed sight Wilfred had while lying under the bed. It picked up his jingling car key – like an arcade claw machine – before leaving the scene where it came from.

"Fuck!" he whispered.

His eyes were drawn towards Celeste's bare feet – stationed firmly in very close proximity to him. He always had some slightly unnatural obsession for them – from the moment he laid his eyes on them. Wilfred constantly made sure to seize every moment he could to take a glance at them. There was this one time whereby Wilfred took a nap on the couch, and Celeste was slumped in the lazy chair – watching a movie, while her feet were crossed over each other on a footrest close to Wilfred's face. That moment was simply paradise for Wilfred. He was able to subject Celeste's heavenly feet – which were fortunately also clad in a pair of sexy high heels – to a comprehensive observation. And without Celeste even knowing it!

His eyes were aimed at such an angle that Celeste could not see them from her position. His mind fired away all kinds of fantasies as it conjured lively images in his head of tiny people, armies, whole cities even breaking loose in sheer panic beneath the looming feet of Celeste – all under the background sound of a playing movie and Celeste's giggles from time to time.

That evening was a blast. The only thing missing was the freedom to put his hand to work with his enraged cock.

Just like then, Wilfred dreamt away by the sight of Celeste's feet while hidden under her bed – like a peeking creep.

Those toes are divine.

The things he would do for a chance to be shrunken down to some insignificant speck while climbing her big toe and exploring the vast scape of its nail…

Before he knew it, Wilfred's hand already found its way to his steel-hard shaft – pumping it up and down with gentle, barely audible strokes.

Sick, Fred… just plain sick…

It did not matter, though. Wilfred was just too aroused by the feet of his teen Goddess, and no inner voice would put a stop to that. Not before–

Wilfred's pupils rolled to the back of his head as he mustered all discipline to withhold from moaning out loud in a satisfactory scream of discharge.

As he was finally able to think clearly again, Wilfred was deeply disgusted with himself as he felt a warm and sticky goo drenching his underwear.

"Wilfred?"

Wilfred shook up when he heard Emma's voice calling his name. He saw her appearing in Celeste's doorway.

"You've seen Wilfred?" Emma asked Celeste.

Celeste remained silent, but she probably just shook her head because Emma continued, "Strange. I could have sworn he went upstairs. He ain't in the bedroom either."

"Perhaps he finally decided to release us and commit suicide," Celeste said.

"Celes!" Emma fumed.

I probably will if you find me. Wilfred thought.

"What?! You're married to the guy, right? We could get his money and live happily ever after."

Emma crossed her arms, looking at Celeste with a glare of disappointment. "You're incorrigible."

"No, I ain't. Mr. Harrison just crowned me his best student in five years this morning. And I found this."

Wilfred saw Emma's hand shooting up deftly in the air as she caught the car key.

"Where'd you find that?" Emma asked.

"Here, on my floor. I also heard someone screaming. It sounded like Wilfred."

"Have you been joyriding again, young lady? Because if you have–"

"Why is everything I say a presumed lie in your eyes?!" Celeste screamed.

"Well, what would you think if you were in my shoes, huh? Finding our car key in your room."

"Whatever. Just… choke on it or something. I will never be honest with you ever again."

Wilfred saw Emma shaking her head before ambling off.