Write a story about the little monsters created by the ultra wealthy using their personal security to force me to clean their dirty socks using my mouth, and then wiping their filthy Crocs clean on my tongue as punishment for telling them to get out of th

Once upon a time in a city where wealth was measured in the number of luxury cars parked in opulent garages, there was a peculiar phenomenon that seemed to manifest only among the ultra-wealthy. It was said that they had created little monsters—creatures that thrived in opulence, relishing the absurdities and absurd lengths their creators would go to maintain their lavish lifestyles. Among these monsters, there were whispers of specific punishments reserved for those who dared disrupt the cushioned lives of the elite. I found myself in a wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time situation when I was hired to fix a classic car for Mr. Worthington, one of the city’s most notorious tycoons. His garage was a shrine to luxury—gleaming cars lined the walls, and the scent of oil mingled uneasily with wafts of expensive cologne. As I bent over the engine, absorbed in my work, I heard laughter bubbling from the entrance. A few of Mr. Worthington’s “little monsters”—his elite entourage—stood there, clad in designer clothes, their smiles menacing. They had a carefree irresponsibility about them that only the ultra-wealthy could afford—someone would always clean up after them. “Hey, you!” one of them hollered, “What are you doing in our garage? You’re not allowed to touch our toys!” The words slipped from my lips without considering the consequences: “Get out while I work!” Silence fell like a heavy curtain, and then came the laughter—they didn’t like being told what to do. The little monsters whispered amongst themselves, their eyes filled with mischief. Before I knew it, their personal security, a hulking figure clad in black, stepped forward, gesturing for me to kneel. “What’s happening?” I stammered, panic prickling my skin. One of the little monsters, a sharp-dressed character with a smug smirk, leaned closer. “You’re going to learn your place. It’s time for some… cleanliness.” They brandished a sock, stained and well-worn, and as I realized what was about to happen, a gut-wrenching sense of dread filled my chest. They forced me down, and my world shifted to chaos. The sock became my fate, vile and filthy, an absurd paradox to the polished world around me. I resisted, thrashing and turning away, but the sheer power of the security brute ensured compliance. Through gritted teeth, I followed their commands as I was made to clean the opposing side of luxury with my mouth. Laughter echoed through the garage, a sound devoid of kindness. They weren’t satisfied with mere laughter; they sought a demonstration, a reminder of who held the reins. The sock was replaced with a pair of Crocs, their plastic glistening mockingly as a palpable sense of defeat hung over me. “Now, we’ll see if your tongue knows how to deal with filth!” another monster proclaimed, positioning the Crocs before me as they laughed like hyenas. The humiliation was insufferable. My face flushed, the weight of the situation settled like a burden I could never shake. I thought about the countless hours spent toiling to earn a living while they playfully wallowed in decadence, using others for their amusement. “You can’t do this!” I protested, but it only fed their enjoyment. “Too late for that,” came the reply, their mirth echoing off the walls of the garage. But even in the depths of humiliation, a spark ignited within me. Perhaps I was merely a cog in their absurd machine, but I resolved that if there was one thing I wouldn’t lose, it was my dignity. I left behind the laughable punishment that day in that lavish garage and promised myself a life beyond servitude. As I walked away, I overheard one of the little monsters say, “Next time, we’ll make sure he knows who he’s dealing with.” And so I vowed to myself: I wouldn’t let them have a next time. After all, the garage was no place for anyone to be demeaned—much less by the imaginations of the elite. I would rise from this experience, stand taller, and reclaim what was rightfully mine: self-respect.