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He watches you closely as you enter the room. As the guards march you towards the throne, your trepidation grows, wary of what terrible fate the king has planned for you this time. Shoved to your knees on the floor in front of him, you keep your head down for a moment, fearful to raise your gaze out of turn after the stern punishment he wrought on you during your last meeting. Daring to look up, you cautiously lift your eyes to meet his. He glares leeringly back down at you, his lips sweeping into a menacing grin.

"I'm glad you're back," says King Koopa, looming over your trembling form. "I've been looking forward to seeing if you've learned your lesson. I trust you will obey your king this time... won't you?"

You dare not speak, cowering under the weight of his presence. The most you can bring yourself to do is nod, hoping such a response will be to his approval.

He narrows his eyes, taking a deep breath. Pausing for a moment, he lifts his leg up, resting his left ankle onto his right knee. "Then perhaps," he says thoughtfully, "we should put your loyalty to the test..."

Flexing his fingers, he draws his hand towards his foot and takes hold of the edge of his sandal. The sight alarms you. Koopa's feet are known to be filthy. He would often leave them unwashed for weeks on end, walking barefoot on the dirty ground or keeping them sweating in his old sandals, waiting for an opportunity to use them as a tool for bringing his subjects into line. Now, it seems, this is the same fate that awaits you.

With a little force, he begins to pull the shoe away from his foot. You shiver as you hear the peeling sound of the sticky skin lifting from the insole. Slowly sliding it off, he draws away the sandal to reveal his hot, sweaty green sole.

"Ahhh..." he sighs, clearly enjoying the feeling of the cool air greeting the warm, sticky flesh for the first time. "Now, my little slave... Time for you to worship your king's cheesy feet!"

You freeze. A gulp. Almost instantly, your nostrils are greeted with the rich scent of Koopa's feet. He grins, placing his sandal on the footstool beside you, the open insole now free to release its thick, strong odour into the air.

"First," he announces, "we shall start you off licking the fresh, cheesy grease from the insoles of my sandals. Plenty of flavour in there!"

You glance down at the freshly removed shoe in front of you. It is a striking indicator of just how foul Koopa's feet truly are. The insole is visibly filthy, stained with age and wear, smothered in a coating of dirt and grime. Catching the light from the corner of the room, the surface shimmers with a greasy glaze of old, soaked-in foot sweat, surrounded by patches of new moisture freshly released from the king's stinking soles. He has clearly allowed them to become this dirty without any concern.

"Yes..." he sneers, observing your gaze. "Foul, aren't they? Years of absorbing the filth and sweat from my feet. Only a truly pathetic creature would lay its tongue on that insole... as you will, my slave. You will have a long, thorough lick of my insoles, and taste all the flavour left by my feet."

You sit there, stunned. He chuckles, slumping back into his throne, his face a picture of sinister contentment. "Next," he says, "you will sniff my cheesy feet. I shall press your snout deep into my toes and keep it there so your nostrils can take in lots of my thick, rich foot odour."

He grins, gently spreading and bending his toes as he speaks, releasing some of the warm, rich-smelling air from between them. Closing his eyes, he takes a sniff of the hot air rising from his feet. His smile widens greatly. Immediately, he takes another sniff, this time much deeper, seemingly savouring the aroma.

"Mmmm.... wonderful," he purrs. "My feet are very cheesy tonight, my little slave! I shall make sure you get a good, long sniff of my toes so you can really take it all in."

You stay frozen, taken aback. One would expect an individual to be disturbed, even ashamed of having such strong, pungent foot odour. But not King Koopa. Quite the opposite, he appears greatly proud of it, seemingly revelling in subjecting you to the foulness. Indeed, he would often subject others to it in the same way, pleased by the manner in which the smell of his feet would command attention in the room, as if an extension of his royal control over everyone around him. He would enjoy the sense of discomfort the stink could provoke among others, knowing of their fear of being subjected to it. He would even purposefully let his feet grow stale in preparation for unleashing them upon someone, like a weapon ever ready at his disposal.

"And finally," Koopa declares, "you shall proceed to lick the soles of my feet clean. You will press your tongue into every crease, every wrinkle of my cheesy soles and toes, and coat your tongue with the sweat and grime. And with every lick, you are going to swallow, and take the filth of my feet into your body... A perfect way to humiliate you, my pathetic little slave."

Your heart races. Hearing in such detail the full degrading extent of what awaits you leaves you shocked to the core. But warned by experience of the fearful wrath that could be unleashed upon you if you disobey, you can do nothing but bow your head and accept Koopa's total control over you. He knows it, and now so do you. He is your king, you are his slave. And by submitting yourself to the inevitability of surrounding your senses in the foulness of his stinking, unwashed feet, you know that the coming hours are to serve as an unforgettable demonstration of just how inferior you truly are.

With that, Koopa leans forward again, looming over you once more. Picking up his stinking sandal, he brings it up towards your lips ready for your tongue, the lush stench of the stale, greasy insole tingling wildly inside your nostrils.

"Now..." he growls. "Shall we begin?"