After that little bit of encouragement, and not having the self-esteem at this size to think for yourself, you quickly get used to the taste of your dad's work shoes and you're excited every time he looks up from his work to tell you you're doing a good job.
You concentrate on cleaning every speck of dirt from the businessman's giant sole. You lick and lick and lick, digging your tongue into the corner under the shoe's sharp heal, even wrapping your mouth around the pointy edge of the heal to suck off a tiny piece of encrusted dirt.
At the end, your dad looks up and removes his reading glasses. The few wrinkles on his forehead vanish as he smiles, genuinely pleased. "Hey! Good work, boy." He inspects his spotless soles. "A fine job. It's gonna be easier than I thought to whip you into shape."
You bow your head, feeling humbled and obedient. "Thank you, Sir.. Err.. If you don't mind me asking, when will you help me turn back to normal?"
Looking serious, your dad places his glasses back on..
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