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Author's Chapter Notes:

In which Emma tries to establish her dominance over her toy once and for all. Minor insertion, from the GTS and tiny POV, a bit of a tantalizing vore precursor, and the terrible trappings of plot development.

Emma ignored the quiet tickle between her legs, or at least tried to; her clitoris was especially sensitive. Some women could open up with clitoral play, but it was overwhelming to her. She had to work up to it, to get horny enough that it was all she wanted, and, even then, it didn't take long for it to finish her off. She'd had guys that had rushed for the clit like horses out of the gate, and it had been far too much raw sensation for her to handle. She had always squirmed out of their grip, not trusting her passion-filled voice to be convincing enough to get them to stop.

And she had placed her shrunken toy right up against that sensitive button of flesh. She literally could not make him smaller than he was right now, but she could still feel him. The sensation wasn't strong, but it would be enough to bring her to orgasm if she closed her eyes and focused on it.

But it was still subtle enough to suppress, as long as she didn't spend too much time focusing on it. And that's what she did. She was still naked save for the bath towel, but she had put a pause on her morning routine to find the paperwork that had come with her shrunken man.

She had hidden it as best she could, and with good reason; it spoke far too explicitly about her shrunken toy, describing her contract, the cost, and the capabilities of her new purchase. For a company that prided itself in its discretion, a five page, double-sided contract on legal paper seemed far from discreet. 

So now she was digging through a forgotten box of charity clothes, trying to find the pocket that held the paperwork, and cursing herself, her toy, her boyfriend, and the company that had charged her so much for this miserable situation.

There. Her fingers gripped the corner of a wad of paper, and she slowly pulled it out, drawing the contract from the pile of clothes as if from quicksand. The paper emerged with deep folds and wrinkles, looking like something that had been fished from the garbage. There was not a more incriminating document in the world; Emma would have to find a safer storage spot for it after this. Maybe some kind of Swiss Bank safety deposit box?

But it had the information she needed now. She skipped past the sections about her financial obligations, about her powers over her new toy, and about the legal traps she should avoid. There was a bit in there about teaching her toy how to enjoy its new job, and that's what she was looking for.

She had ignored it at first, certain that she knew what she needed to know about people. But being famous, giving people an image of you that they could love was a completely different beast from teaching a slave how to really love you. She had to teach someone who, for now, wanted nothing more than freedom that he should want nothing more than to make her happy.

A little tickle of pleasure, and she let out a soft noise, shifting her hips a bit. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to notice. "Calm down," she breathed, both to her toy and to herself. She was tempted to force the little man to remain still, but she didn't want to give away that he was hitting all the right buttons; she had put him there to ignore him, she couldn't afford for it to be a place that he could control her from.

Or so she thought. This paperwork from the company was valuable information that she should have paid attention to from the very start. 

Love your toy, it said. Reward it early and often with whatever reward is appropriate for your relationship. The more dominating your relationship, the longer you should spend rewarding your toy for worthy behavior. Eventually, it will accept certain behavior as normal and reject rewards, and you can adjust the standard, make ever more servile behavior worth reward each time. Expect each cycle to take one to four weeks.

That was vague, but it was already enough to let Emma know she had fucked up. Positive reinforcement, goddammit. She had punished her toy for fucking up, and hoped that the promise of future punishment would keep it in check. She had done the opposite of what she was supposed to do. 

She flipped through the handbook, looking for a remedy to her problem, and tossed it down angrily when she realized that there was nothing. She was on her own. If obedience came through positive reinforcement, then what she had done up to this point had done nothing but foster rebellion, and she had to find out a way to turn that around.

Just wipe his memory, right? Start over again. That desire was strong, to be sure, but the desire to prove herself, to demonstrate that she could reprogram the most rebellious of toys, was stronger. 

Another tickle; not strong, but persistent. Emma managed to fight the instinct to bring her hand between her legs, but it took effort. And her toy was nothing more than a mite against her clit. She sure wouldn't be able to go out in public like this, even though she had thought at first that she could handle it. 

Maybe it was the same pathway, she realized. Obedience through reward was still possible, she just had more ground to cover. But what rewards could she offer at this point that he wouldn't abuse? 

Autonomy, in any fashion, was out of the question. Given what she had just told him, he would doubtless come up with the most insane plan possible to ensure his freedom, and she would not catch it until it was too late. 

So she had to find a way to control him that was more pleasant, or at least that seemed like a reward. She had stuck him in her ass, in her pussy, and even under her foot. But maybe he'd enjoy being in her bra, or even in her pocket? Or, shit, just left alone in a case for a day. It might be boring, but so was where she had put him now.

Oh, that was something. The cage with a bit of entertainment. Give him a book or Netflix, a way to pass the time. She could give him a day to himself while she was out, and still use him as a sex toy at home. It'd be something for him to look forward to, something for him to work for. 

A sudden wave of pleasure drew from her a sharp gasp. Her face tensed for a moment, trying to resist the temptation to bring her hand between her legs and finish the job. When it finally passed, she thought it might be a good reward for not doing that. 

But... oh, fuck. Another pang of pleasure made her eyes cross a little. He wasn't supposed to know he was that effective down there. Another few minutes, though, and it might become very obvious to him that he was treating her body in all the right ways, even at his miniscule scale. 

Emma took a deep breath and rubbed her legs together, hoping to shift the little man from his position. She wasn't sure if she succeeded, but the subtle and insistent sense of pleasure faded when she did it, and, for the next few minutes, she didn't feel any overwhelming sense of ecstasy.

Okay, that was good. So she had to buy a cage for the little man and turn it into a reward. And, if she was going to keep him somewhere separate from her body, she'd have to have her flat to herself. And that meant, unfortunately, that she'd have to break up with her boyfriend. 

That was a shame. He was a good man, and he gave good dick. It was a big gamble to assume that she could somehow groom her new toy to the point that it could replace him, but she had already spent the money; it would be irresponsible of her not to make the fullest effort to turn her shrunken man into the perfect toy.


Aaron, trapped inside the folds that surrounded Emma's pussy, was busy hating his life, and periodically lashing out at the wet flesh that surrounded him. Gravity shifted in unpredictable ways, the giantes walking about, sitting down, bending over, or any one of a thousand routine movements. He was no longer privy to exactly what she was doing, but he had a front-row seat to the worst part of it.

His world was nothing but pink, an undying pressure pushing at him from all sides, and fluid so plentiful that he couldn't help but breathe it in. When he was able to gasp down a lungful of fresh air, the thick, fishy smell was so strong that it made him gag, and he inevitably wound up sucking down another mouthful of lubricant. 

He punched, he kicked, he screamed. He would not let himself just be an audience to this woman's life, a speck of dust entirely ignored but forced to observe her morning routine. He fought until his body, demanding oxygen despite its invincibility, was left sucking down breath after exhausted breath of hot fluid.

Nothing. He took a break for a few minutes to catch his breath; it was infuriating that he 'caught his breath' by filling his lungs over and over again with slimy vaginal fluids. If he could literally drown with every breath, and live through the experience painlessly, then he should be able to struggle endlessly without his body demanding a 'breather.'

He thought he heard something, or maybe he felt something. A sudden gasp, a quick shift in the giantess' balance. He paused, breathing deep the seemingly endless ocean of vaginal discharge that surrounded him, as if it were fresh air and not the slimy secretions of a woman's most intimate organ. Something that told him that his microscopic efforts were at least having some effect. But, as he lay there, chest heaving, nothing followed. For one minute, maybe two. Gravity shifted repeatedly, the flesh around him sliming up and down his body, but that happened with every step she took. Was he actually having an effect, or had he just imagined it? 

Fuck it. He started kicking and squirming again, weaker this time thanks to the protests of his tired muscles, but he wouldn't give up. He took a gamble and targeted the area that he thought was closer to her clitoris, doing everything he could at his insignificant scale to move the infinite flesh that surrounded him.

The shift that followed was violent, sudden, and unexpected. Gravity shifted ninety degrees, and he was suddenly upside-down. He barely had a minute to wonder what was happening before Emma spread her legs, and the sudden breath of fresh air on his back told him that she had removed her pants and panties as well. Fear settled into his stomach before he felt the incredible pressure of her finger at his back.

In a deafening, blinding cacophony of flesh against flesh, she dragged him out of her crotch and lifted him high, high, high into the air. The motion felt like being shot out of a cannon straight to the moon. He had a split-second view of her body, wrapped from breasts to thighs in a sky-blue bath towel, before he was face-to-face with her piercing brown eyes. Her cheeks flushed, her nostrils flared and her sharp jaw set in anger, she eyed his rice-grain body with absolute fury in her eyes for a moment before she finally spoke.

"You've fucked up, love."


"So here's the thing," Emma said, "I've given you loads of chances to be the toy I want you to be, and you still fight back. What? Do you think you're going to get away from this?"

She shook her head, staring angrily at the flyspeck on her finger. He was so tiny that she could barely make out the fact that he was shaped like a human. And he had been able to bring her to the brink of orgasm at that size? Fuck.

"I own you. How many times do I have to say this? I own you. You either be the toy I want you to be, or I flush you down the toilet and get a new one," she said sternly. "Do you want to live as fish food forever, or with someone who actually cares about you?"

Emma, her finger still wet with fluids that held her tiny toy fast, made her way to the kitchen. With her off hand, she put an empty bowl, a box of cereal, and a quart of milk on the island. She produced a spoon and held it up for the tiny man to see. "Right, I've arranged for someone else to teach you the lesson that you refuse to learn from me. They'll be by shortly, but, in the meantime, I want you to learn that I am in charge here. Nothing happens to you unless I want it."

With that, she flicked the tiny man into the bowl. She could just barely see his tiny dark figure against the white ceramic. But, satisfied, she grabbed the box of cereal. "You want to fight, love? Fight this."


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