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Author's Chapter Notes:

In which Emma takes a brief break from the sexual torture in the previous chapters. Very low-impact urine, foot crush from the GTS perspective (which is awfully boring, to be honest), body control, and some vanilla, size-free sex. This chapter is mostly a bridge.

At first, Emma was careful to make things as torturous as possible for her little toy, resting her weight against her right foot as often as possible, feeling for his desperate, panicked twitching. There was some, but either he was too small or she had broken him entirely, because there was not enough for her tastes. Eventually, she got bored.

Having the little man in her panties had added an erotic thrill to her routine, so much so that she couldn't trust herself to do it again. But this was nothing like that. She knew that he was under her foot, but he didn't feel any different than a rock stuck in her shoe.

She had an interview at a studio downtown, and, while sitting in the back of the cab, she transferred her mind into his. Immediately, she was assaulted by an incredible heat, odor, and, above all, pressure. Pressure so great that she couldn't move, so great that she couldn't breathe, even as her lungs screamed for air. It was so horrible that she immediately retreated back to her own mind, gasping for air despite herself.

Well, that was one hell of a way to torture her toy, but what was the point of torture if she didn't get anything from it? Fine, she had found a way to punish the little man for crossing her, but it wasn't doing anything now. He hadn't really done anything wrong. Sure, she made him think that he had fucked up by staining her bedsheets, but this was way overkill. A punishment this cruel had to be saved for when he actually pissed her off.

She couldn't move him, not now, but she let him into her mind as a reprieve from the torture of being under her foot. At least now he wouldn't suffer under the endless, suffocating pressure.

"Feel that?" she muttered to herself, crossing her right leg over her left and wiggling her toes. "That's you. Almost can't tell you're there, really."

She was silent for the rest of the cab ride, texting her boyfriend on her phone and not caring that her tiny toy was reading the occasionally naughty messages. Eventually, the cab arrived, and she stepped out, taking care to slam her foot down as hard as she dared in heels. "Ooh, I bet that hurt," she whispered to herself.

After that, though, she scurried to the bathroom as fast as she could and sat down on the toilet, peeling off the shoe and sock that the tiny man was stuck in. He came off with the sock, and she had to dig into it to pull him out, then lifted his tiny, limp body in front of her face. Not a single sign of damage. Of course. That's what she paid for, but it was impressive nonetheless.

"You see how tiny you are?" she asked aloud. Her toy could see his own body through her eyes, and she wanted to take the opportunity to drive her point home before she carried on with her day. "You could be a pebble in my shoe for the rest of your life, and it would make no difference to me."

With that, she put him back into his own mind. She watched his glazed, unfocused eyes gain awareness, and his tiny face suddenly shift to shock and fear. "I own you," she told him softly, almost lovingly. "And the sooner you realize that, the more fun you'll have."

She dropped him into her other palm and closed her fist. Immediately, she felt him start to squirm, and she tightened her grip, "Ah, ah, ah. Stop squirming."

He stopped moving, though it took a second. When he did, she stood up, slid down her skirt and panties, and back sat down on the toilet to take a piss. She placed the tiny man tenderly on her left thigh and opened her fist. At barely an inch tall, he couldn't get very far if he tried to escape, but she wanted to see what he would do.



Emma Watson opened her fist, and the sudden flood of light and fresh air was overwhelming. Aaron stood on uncertain footing about midway up her left thigh, his tiny body barely even heavy enough to put a dent in the naked flesh.

He stared up at a giantess naked from the waist down, sitting on a toilet and looking down at him with an almost bored expression. He was paralyzed with both fear and confusion for a moment, then he heard the unmistakable sound of her peeing. 

He looked down in shock, as the acrid odor of urine wafted up and mixed with the heady, fishy stench of her pussy. When he looked back up, her expression hadn't changed and her gaze hadn't broken.

Somehow, this kind of intimacy was so much more shocking than anything he had seen so far. He had no idea what to do. The thought of running crossed his mind, but he was barely an inch tall and she had absolute control over his body. If he even made it as far as her knee, it would only be because she wanted it. 

Everything he thought about doing, every escape route he could dream of, came to the same final disappointing conclusion. She had full control over everything about him. If he tried anything that displeased her, she would shut it down immediately, and probably punish him on top of that. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and he collapsed backwards, falling on his naked ass onto the springy flesh of Emma's thigh.

He saw a grin start to cross her face, and he lowered his gaze, not wanting to watch her realization that she had broken him. After a minute, her pee slowly trickled to a stop, and she finally spoke. "I'm proud of you, little guy. I thought you were going to try and make a run for it. As a reward, you get to spend the rest of the day with me."

Then, instantly, he was behind her eyes, staring as she plucked him off her thigh with one hand. With the other, she grabbed a wad of toilet paper, wiped herself with a quick, mechanical motion, and then stuck his shrunken body knuckle-deep into her vagina. He felt the sudden tingle of pleasure at the act of insertion, but, when she pulled her finger away, he couldn't even feel the weight of his own body inside her. He knew without a doubt that it would have been an unending, awful experience if he had been inside his own mind, and the thought that Emma could have gone about her day without even thinking about the torture she was putting him through was crushing.

But now he was trapped behind the mind of another human being. Unable to move, even to breathe or blink at will, but a helpless passenger to another's experience. The unbelievable part was that it was still somehow better than the alternative.



Emma did her interview, and, with nothing else for the day, went home and fucked around on the Internet for a bit. She debated spending all her time sexually torturing her new toy, but building the kind of trust she wanted from him meant being honest. She wasn't fucking or masturbating in every free minute; she could go days without even thinking about sex, and being a part of that mundane routine, even if it was from the inside of her vagina, was something that her toy had to get used to. More importantly, it was a form of intimacy that she thought was more meaningful, if less shocking, than sex.

But, later that evening, she was already starting to get drunk off wine by the time her boyfriend came home. He rapidly caught up to her, and, after an hour of Netflix, she had his pants unbuckled and her mouth around his dick, and his fingers were already in her pants. 

Through the warm haze of the wine, she just barely had the presence of mind to shrink her little toy down to minimum size before she felt her boyfriend's middle two fingers slide down her crotch and into her vagina. He pushed his fingers inside her, and she gasped contentedly around his cock, her eyes rolling back into her her head.

He explored her insides for a few moments with his fingers, then drew out. His free hand grabbed her hair and yanked her, with a surprised gasp, off his dick. They shared a gaze for a moment, then he slid his still-wet fingers into her mouth.

Emma didn't break eye contact, just drunk enough to enjoy the thick, savory taste of her own fluids. She sucked his fingers clean, but didn't recognize until she swallowed that her shrunken toy had been clinging to her boyfriend's fingers as well. Her eyes widened, lips still wrapped around her man's fingers, as she came to the sobering realization that the faint presence of the little man was no longer safely tucked away in her vagina, but was now resting in the pit of her stomach.

Oh well, she thought. He'd survive, and she could get him in the morning. Then, as if he had somehow heard her resign the microscopic man to a tour of her intestines, her boyfriend picked her up and slammed her down on the couch, sliding up between her legs and pushing his dick effortlessly inside her.

After that, she really couldn't say what happened.

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