Emma's Illicit Plaything by tallie
Summary:

Celebrities get the best toys. A sex-crazed story told from the perspective of a fresh-off-the-shelf toy and his new mistress, in a world where shrunken people are a luxury that only the wealthiest can afford. 


Categories: Young Adult 20-29, Breasts, Butt, Couples, Entrapment, Humiliation, Insertion, Lesbians, Mouth Play, Slave, Vore Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Doll (12 in. to 6 in.), Dwarf (3 ft. to 5 ft.), Lilliputian (6 in. to 3 in.), Micro (1 in. to 1/2 in.), Minikin (3 in. to 1 in.), Munchkin (2.9 ft. to 1 ft.), Nano (1/2 in. to 2.5 nanometers)
Size Roles: F/f, F/m, FF/m, FM/f, FM/m
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 26 Completed: No Word count: 62214 Read: 299746 Published: May 04 2018 Updated: August 15 2021
Procrastination by tallie
Author's Notes:

In which Emma gives in to her baser desires. Normal-sized sex, some role-swapping, and idle fantasies of all sorts of size play, all from the GTS perspective.

Emma's right leg jiggled impatiently, staring at the final draft of her statement. It frustrated her that she couldn't figure out a way to wrap this thing into a neat bow that completely absolved her without involving her little toy. Aaron, or whatever.

She wasn't worried about ruining her boyfriend's life if she needed to; she happily would if it would get her off the hook; but she simply didn't have the public goodwill to grind him into the dirt without consequences. Nobody in her position did, after all. She'd have the press on her side for about a week, and then they'd turn on her once Seamus started giving heartfelt interviews about their time together, and how the media assault had made things so difficult for him.

She thought it was bullshit, but it was a line that people like him could run with, so she had to work around it. Unfortunately, her little sex slave had not proven terribly useful in helping her craft her line, so he just had to watch. Or wait. He was still on her chair, she knew, but she wasn't particularly concerned with where.

Finally, she slumped back into her chair and let out a sigh. She only had two choices. Keep Aaron out of it entirely and enlist her publicist to do damage control, or trust that everything Dominique had told her about the shrunken man was true so she could come out with her reputation intact. Lies were involved either way, but lies told by two people had far more weight than lies told by one.

She couldn't do anything about it. In a few short minutes of angry typing, she adjusted her statement so that its legitimacy leaned entirely on the word of her new 'boyfriend,' hit Save, and stood up, looking down at the chair.

"Hey," she said at the two-inch figure still lying spread-eagled on the leather of the chair. Where had he been? Under her ass? Oh, that'd be funny. "You've got work to do, so study up."

She sized him all the way up, but slowly, so he could slide out of the chair and onto the floor, then adjust himself as he slowly grew to full height; he'd likely break something if he just exploded to six feet tall in an instant. As he gradually settled into his full size, Emma grabbed his bare shoulders and guided him into the chair, pointing him at the screen. "You see that? Memorize it. You'll be saying it to the press tomorrow, so you better learn it back and forth, right?"

For good measure, she pushed the chair as far up to the desk as she could, and leaned forwards, placing her head on his shoulder. "Right?" she muttered into his ear.

He nodded. "Yeah," he replied. His voice was pathetically weak.

She reached down with her left hand, across his body, and gently toyed with the flaccid, squishy package between his legs. "You're mine," she said. "Remember that, love."

She could already feel his dick hardening beneath her hand, so she kissed him on the cheek and stood up, drawing her hand away. She gave her fingertips a sniff as she turned on her heel and headed back to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Strange, she thought; she couldn't help but give it a second sniff; it kind of smelled like her. Was that because of what she had subjected him to, or was it her own imagination?

She sniffed her fingers again, but decided to forget about it. She gave one last look at Aaron, scanning the computer screen, before ducking into the kichen. He was a great dildo, but he gave great dick, too. Just thinking about it made her a little bit horny, and knowing that she could act on it without any consequences, or without having to give a single shit about what her sex slave thought about the matter, only made the prospect of a good fuck seem more attractive.

He was her property, in totality. If he didn't have the endurance to fuck her to her satisfaction, she could just shrink him down and use his entire body to finish the job. But what would be better? Dildo first, then dick? Dick first, then dildo? Dildo, dick, dildo? Hell, she could even take over his mind, and live the reality that she knew thousands of perverts on the internet longed for, fucking an unconscious Emma Watson. The opportunities provided by her absolute control over his body were intoxicating, and her fantasies bordered on the impossible.

But she still had a nagging worry about his loyalty. Dominique had promised her the moon, but she still didn't buy it. She still had that note he had written squirreled away in her jewelry box, and she had studied it over and over again, the sloppy handwriting hiding the truth of her shrunken sex toy; Aaron had a devious mind and a persistent will. What if Dominique had missed the mark?

Emma was starting to think that she'd be better off wiping her toy's memory and starting fresh, but it was too late for that now. She needed him to show face to the media. There was no time to blank his mind and retrain him. Like it or not, she had to deal with him as he was.

She set the teapot on the stove and turned it on, spinning around and heading back into her office. She stopped on the way back into the office, looking at him from behind the corner, spying on him as he stared intently at the monitor. Come on, little guy... Pull up a police hotline, Google 'Emma Watson.' Show me you still want to escape.

Nothing. He seemed dedicated to memorizing her three hundred word presser. She sighed, and shimmied off her sweatpants, then stripped off her hoodie, then cast both into the corner of the kitchen. She was wearing panties, but not a bra; she could lose the underwear as well, but guys went crazy for even the smallest bit of hidden skin. And that's what she wanted; for him to go crazy.

She turned the corner and walked back towards her desk from the kitchen. She put a little extra strut in her step, hoping that the bounce of her breasts would catch her slave's eye, but he was still focused intently on the monitor as she entered. He barely broke his gaze until she put a hand on his bare shoulder.

When she touched him, his eyes snapped up to meet hers, then glanced down, as if thinking better of it. The speed of his reaction, the bright look in his eyes, and his submissive self-correction told Emma all she needed to know. He was broken, but he was still smart, and dangerously so. She could trust him, but she should be careful, until she had earned his fullest devotion.

And what was the quickest way to a man's heart?

She pulled the chair away from the desk, just barely, swung her legs over his, and settled down on top of his lap, facing him directly. His crotch was barely inches from hers, and heat seemed to fill the space between them. And the smell... Oh, God, it was intoxicating in its intimacy. She had had a plan, a Machiavellian scheme to use sex appeal to cement his compliance, but now she couldn't help but think about how much fun it would be to carry that deception to its orgasmic conclusion.

"You're ready, right?" she purred, running the knuckles of her left hand along his jaw. Her right hand was gently tickling his balls, and the stimulation was clearly getting to him. She could feel his hips shifting under hers, and she could feel, as her fingers explored the shapes and textures of his genitals, that her gentle massaging was... getting to him, or so to speak.

"Say you're ready," she breathed into his ear.

"I'm ready," he gasped back.

His dick was rock hard, and Emma slid the crotch of her panties to the side, then pushed her hips down on top of it. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she gasped. God, the way it filled her... It was divine. Vaguely, she heard him utter his own involuntary noise of pleasure, but it wasn't his pleasure that she was concerned with.

Slowly, carefully, watching the junction between their legs as his dick quietly slid into her body, she settled down onto his lap, until she could rest her entire weight on his naked thighs. With her toy's cock totally buried inside her, she let out a desperate, pleasured gasp, and finally opened her eyes to look at him.

He seemed absolutely captivated, frozen in disbelief. Like he either didn't believe what was happening to him, or he didn't understand it, or he just didn't know how to respond. In response, she bit her lip, and put on the horniest look she could, looking him dead in the eyes. He met her gaze, and she slowly slid her hips up and down. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her was absolutely divine, but what she really wanted was for him to take control, to show her what he was capable of. He had done it before, his vigor had stunned her, and she wanted it again.

His hands were still hanging loose at his sides, like he didn't know what to do with them. She paused, her weight fully resting on his, his dick as far inside her as it would go, and slowly wove her fingers through his. She kept the look on him the whole time in that moment of slow intimacy, and he offered no resistance as she placed his hands on her hips, than placed her hands on top of his. Her hands on his hands on her hips, she arced her elbows back, stretching her shoulders and all but shoving her breasts into his face. Her eyes staring into his, not a single sound between the two of them, the wordless invitation was deafening.

Have your way with me.


In a single, subtle motion, Aaron finally showed that he had picked up on it. His left hand shifted down, just barely, and his thumb hooked around the crotch of her panties, pulling even further to the side. Emma stared at that place where their hips met, watching him do it, and was taken off guard by his right hand coming up and gripping her ass.

She let out a surprised little squeak, and Aaron smiled at the sudden reaction. Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile back. And, apparently, Aaron took that as a cue to absolutely let loose.

With strong arms holding up her weight, and nimble hips, he thrust his cock forcefully into her from the seat of the chair, over and over again. Emma collapsed into the rhythm and force of her life-sized toy, falling forwards against his chest as he continued, with a noisy, slapping sound, to drill his dick into her body over and over and  over and over again.

Then Aaron stood up straight, hoisting her into the air with a small grunt of effort. His penis was still deep in her vagina, and Emma wrapped her legs around his back instinctively. It felt, for a moment, like he was wearing her. It almost made her giggle. Then he deposited her on the desk top, and, with both his hands firmly on her hips, and her legs spread wide, he set to absolutely pummeling her.

Emma could do nothing but moan, leaning her weight against Aaron's sweaty body, her voice shaking with every rapid thrust. The desk banged repeatedly against the wall, the monitor shook so violently that it was at risk of falling over, but neither of them cared in that moment. Emma was consumed with pleasure that mounted higher and higher with every thrust, and her sex slave was focused on one thing, and one thing only.

It wasn't long before the driving pleasure drove Emma to orgasm. Her fingernails dug into Aaron's back, her legs squeezed tight, and a helpless gasp escaped her lips. She tried to stop him, to earn even a second of relief as his cock drove in and out of her, but there was nothing she could do while weakened by ecstasy.

Instead, she shifted her mind into his. It was almost effortless, but it was extremely jarring. Everything shifted all at once, sight and touch, the wordless sense of where her arms and legs were, even the seemingly-insignificant feeling of her tongue against her teeth. She didn't do it often for that very reason, but this was an especially shocking transition, as her mind entered Aaron's mid-thrust.

The ecstasy she felt in her own body was replaced instantly with a ferocious hunger, a hunger that could only be satisfied one way. Aaron was pumping away, seeking nothing but that final release; Emma could recognize her own backside in his vision, but he wasn't even looking at it. His sight was blurred, his entire body seemed to be on autopilot. All he wanted was release, and, through heat and sweat and motion, he would have it.

She could take control. She could own those arms and legs, she could make that driving dick her own. But she knew that doing so would be a pale imitation of someone who really wanted it.

So she was just along for the ride. Being present but not in control was mildly claustrophobic, but any discomfort was buried underneath the physical exertion and sexual desperation that she now shared, wholly, with her living sex toy. Caught in the whirlwind, she allowed herself to fully become him.

She had been here before, so she knew what an orgasm felt like in his body, but it still stunned her how quickly the pleasure began to build, and how orgasm seemed like such an inevitability even before it happened. It was only a few short seconds between when she could first start feeling it, and when her... his.... entire body tightened with mind-numbing, body-shaking pleasure. His cock flexed repeatedly, and she could feel the cum squirt out with every contraction. In that brief moment, it felt like she had transcended mortality and achieved the divine.

And then it all came crashing down. Aaron let out an involuntary moan, and she had allowed herself to get so wrapped up in his mind that it came as a surprise that it sounded like a man's voice, and offered a few more, forceful thrusts, until the overwhelming stimulation became too much, and he finally stopped.

Emma snapped back into her own mind before he could pull himself out of her, and pushed herself off the desk, driving him back down into the chair with a noisy creaking and a surprised grunt. She could still feel the warm afterglow of another orgasm that her own body had experienced while she was too busy  enjoying the experience from behind her sex toy's eyes. And, despite literally not doing anything, she found that she was tired and sweaty as well.

They both sat there, panting heavily for a few long, happy moments. His dick was still deep inside her, and it felt like the heat of it was filling her, even as it slowly began to soften. A mischevious thought occurred to her; those last few thrusts after his orgasm had been so overwhelmingly pleasurable that he couldn't handle it anymore, and, living in his mind for them, even she was glad that he had stopped. But, with his dick still hard, it would be trivial for her to lock out his motion and start riding him herself, force him to experience that sensation.

That would be for later. After apparently two orgasms, she couldn't really bear the thought of further stimulation either. Maybe she could start with a blowjob, and then try to bring herself to orgasm on top of him after he already came. Or maybe she could let him control her body, and experience that exact same thing from his perspective.

Again, she felt a small thrill thinking about the endless possibilities offered by a willing sex slave, and that was besides the total control that she had over his size as well. She still wasn't fully trusting of Dominique's promise that he was totally willing, so she didn't want to put him into situations where he could be totally in control, but she had to admit that even the prospect of changing places with him, letting him use his own shrunken body as a sex toy while she lived it, had a certain naughty appeal.

She wasn't sure how long she would want to keep enduring the kind of humiliation she had put him through in their first few days they had spent together, though. If she shrank him down, right now, and slid him into her vagina, how long would she tolerate trading places with him? Wrapped in flesh, breathing a hot, slimy mix of both male and female bodily fluids, totally unable to know what was happening or what was coming next?

Actually, right now, the very thought of it made her breathe a little quicker. Couldn't hurt to experiment, right? Just for a little while?

She caught his eye briefly, and thought better of it. The last time she had given him that kind of control, he had immediately devised a way to escape, one that it was only through sheer dumb luck that she had caught before anyone else did. Dominique's promises aside, she still wasn't ready for that sort of thing yet.

Finally, she lifted herself off of him. His dick, now only half-erect, slipped out of her with a soft sound, and with it came much of the fluid that had been dammed up inside her.  

"Get up," she ordered; her voice wasn't as hard as she wanted it to be, still reeling from the ecstasy of moments before. "You can go shower up now. I've got to finish up this presser."

A little hesitant, a little confused, Aaron stood up out of the chair, and worked his way around Emma. He seemed afraid to ask for clarification, or even to make eye contact, but she stared at him long enough that he eventually seemed to get it, and slinked away to the bathroom.

She watched him go, partly because it was fun to do so. Once that ass of his finally sauntered out of sight, Emma sat back down in the chair, right on top of the wet spot that had spilled out from between her legs. Already, the thin puddle of fluid had cooled down to the point that it felt vaguely uncomfortable when her vulva pressed down on top of it. She could clean it up, or she could simply order her sex toy to clean it up. Hell, she could shrink him down and force him to breathe it, pressed into the leather beneath her weight.

His body was hers. That's all that really mattered to her. From the other room, she heard the shower kick on, and, for some reason, the sound of it gave her a sense of satisfaction. She had ordered him to clean himself up, and he had no choice but to comply, and he had absolutely no idea what she had cooked up for him next.

Frankly, neither did she. But it was fun to dream.

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