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Author's Chapter Notes:
In which I try another role-swap between Emma and Aaron and absolutely mutilate the pronouns. Normal (gender-bending) sex and a tiny amount of shrinking.

Aaron had to keep his hands clenched in fists to keep them from shaking. No matter how deep he inhaled, it felt like he could never get the air all the way to the bottom of his lungs. He was about to have a panic attack, but he also had to seem like everything was normal, so every breath was a concentrated effort to suck in as much air as he could as quietly as he could manage.

Emma didn't seem to notice, or, if she did, she didn't seem to care, quietly studying the back of a book she had pulled seemingly at random from the shelves of the political science section. He loomed over her, he knew, his eyes fixed on the back of her neck. Her slender, fragile neck, bare underneath hair pulled up into a frizzy bun. If he was quick enough... Could he do it?

She made a quiet noise of disapproval and put the book back on the shelf, tracing her fingers across the spines as she looked for a new one. The temptation to try to take her life to gain his freedom disappeared in a wave of guilt and futility, and he took a quiet step back so she would be less likely to notice his labored breathing.

Emma had dragged him out shopping to serve as combination valet and pack mule. In any other circumstance, with any other woman, it would have just been a boring trip, the kind of thing he would just endure for the sake of their relationship. He might even try to break up the tedium by trying to be mildly annoying. But right now, alone with her in a bookstore, gripping a bag full of new clothes in his left hand white-knuckle tight, it was something very different, something sinister and terrifying.

It was the first time he was outside with her, in public, full-sized. The first time he was able to make a break for it, or to call for help, but trusted not to. It was the kind of thing that Dominique promised she wanted out of him, but that he couldn't believe she would ever do.

So he had been in the throes of a slow-burning panic attack the entire time. Maybe he could swerve the car into incoming traffic? Maybe he could go for the neck? Could he knock her out in a single swing?  Maybe he could just start screaming and force her to shut him up? Anything to get out of this.

But something held him back. He knew she had extraordinary power over him, and for everything he thought of, he feared that she had thought of it as well, and was ready to put a stop to it before it would do anything. And, one she knew that he wasn't really as loyal as she assumed he was...

It was the punishment that would follow that he really feared.

Emma selected a book on the history of feminism in Ireland and started leafing through the pages. Just then, Aaron heard a voice, high and excited, from behind him. "Are you Emma Watson?"

Both he and Emma turned to look at the newcomer in unison, Aaron struggling to keep his face level, and Emma transitioning effortlessly into 'celebrity-meeting-fan' mode. The voice beloned to a tall, raven-haired woman with angular features and Crossfit limbs, who was in the middle of producing a phone from her handbag. Emma smiled at the thirty-something stranger like she had known her all her life. "Hey there!" she said.

"Oh my God, I loved you in Harry Potter," the woman said, "Do you mind if I get a selfie?"

"No problem," Emma replied, all cheer and smiles. "Aaron, do you mind?"

The woman took the cue and handed Aaron the phone. Help me, she's using me as a shrunken sex slave, he thought. He felt there was an opportunity here, but he was helpless to imagine how he could use it.

The two posed together, bending forwards and heads together, with mechanical camera smiles, Aaron took two pictures, and handed the woman back her phone wordlessly as Emma and her new best friend separated to study the photo's quality.

Apparently satisfied, the woman put her phone back in her bag and looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, looking back and forth between Emma and Aaron, "My name's Kathy."

"So great to meet you, Kathy," Emma gushed, as if she was the fan and this stranger was the movie star.

"Aaron," Aaron croaked. She can control my size. I've been stuck with her for months. Please, call the police.

Emma's face hardened almost imperceptibly when he spoke. Kathy didn't notice, but Aaron did, and his heart sank as he realized that telling another human being his name had bought him a world of hurt.

A few more niceties, another selfie, to his surprise, and Kathy was quickly on her way. Aaron wasn't really present for all of it, he was running on autopilot because his mind was spinning with fear and regret for having inadvertantly crossed Emma. Once Kathy left, and they were in the relative privacy of the bookshelves, Aaron dreaded what would come next, but Emma just kept perusing the shelves for new books. Every move of her arm that he thought would send him plunging down into a new microscopic size, lost in a sea of clothes that used to fit him, was just her reaching for another book.

God, he felt like a battered housewife, cringing at every move. He hated it. He hated the fact that he knew it, he hated the fact that was afraid to do anything about it. But he still did nothing about it. Because, no matter how much he hated it, he was more afraid of what would happen if he tried to do something about it.

But, to his relief, nothing really happened. Emma walked out of the store with two books on feminism and a cookbook, and Aaron was feeling just spiteful enough to think that that was ironic. He was tasked with carrying them as well, of course. They piled into her car, and he set to driving them back, down narrow London streets, to her spacious flat. He worried all the while that she would eventually express her displeasure, scared that every move that she made was her finally deciding what she was going to do with him, and taking action.

He wouldn't have any warning about shrinking, of course. It would just happen. And then she would just do whatever the hell she wanted with him. Could he already smell the overbearing, humid stench that wafted out from between her legs, or was he just imagining things?

But nothing happened. Nothing happened for the whole drive home, nothing happened after he parked the car and pulled the keys. Nothing happened when he closed the door behind them on the apartment. And nothing happened when Emma retreated to her room with her books, leaving him to take care of putting away all the rest of the bullshit that she had bought.

He would shove it all down the garbage disposal, if she had one. But something about his odd new task was strangely encouraging. If even his misdeeds didn't mean that he would be stuck with his face up against her asshole for a week, then maybe he could stomach this new reality. Maybe he could endure whatever she wanted to do with him when she got horny, so long as it meant that he could spend the rest of his time full-sized and more or less autonomous.

He was still a slave, though. He couldn't forget that, and he wouldn't. But Dominique was going to solve that problem for him... eventually. In the meantime, maybe... maybe he could actually live like this?

As he was busy packing Emma's new clothes away into a closet, his limbs suddenly froze up. He stood there for a moment, panicking at the fact that none of his limbs were answering to his commands, before his body started moving without his consent, moving with purpose but with awkward form away from Emma's closet and towards the closed door of her bedroom.

He realized relatively quickly that Emma had decided that she was horny, but was too lazy to even bother commanding him to come to her. She could just hop directly into his body, take control, and bring her to him without him being able to do a damn thing about it. The feeling of his limbs, his entire body, acting completely without his control was frightening and claustrophobic, but he couldn't fail to realize that she was also sending a message about what she could do.

It was a message about the futility of any attempt to escape.

As soon as he had that realization, his reality span in a horrifyingly disconcerting way, and he found himself on a bed, sprawled out on soft sheets, with cool air on his bare skin below his waist. No... Not his waist. Her waist. Emma had put him in her body, and, when he propped himself up on his elbows to take stock of what just happened, he realized that she had left him in control of it, while she was living in his body. He had done this before, but it was still bizarre; Emma was him, and Aaron was her.

But before she had the chance to think too long about what she could do while inside her new body, the door swung open, and she was left facing her original body, naked but for a pair of socks, filling the doorway.

The feeling of vulnerability she suddenly felt, the weird pang of fear, was nothing she had ever really experienced before. She felt a keen sense of how thin and naked this new body was, and how strong Emma's new body was while looming over it, with a cocked smile of intent on his face. She had never felt that discomfort before, in all this time with Emma, or even in the brief times she had spent inside this body.

That person looming overhead... He was going to have his way with this weaker body that she was living in now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She knew, in some way, that the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach at that realization was stupid. She was literally his sex slave; in an instant, Emma could swap back into her own body, shrink his body down, use him as a dildo, and throw him in the trash. But there was something about the sight of it...

She took a shaky breath and tried to smother that instinct. Trying her best to keep eye contact with Emma, she lifted her knees and spread her legs, inviting the cold air to wash between the sensitive, naked flesh. Every nerve in her new body screamed to close her legs, to tighten up, or even to try to run away, but she knew, even as his chest shook with anticipation, that it was totally futile. Any act of protest, any act of resistance, and Emma would take control in an instant, and exact brutal and humiliating revenge.

His dick swung at half-mast between his legs as he stepped slowly up to the bed; Emma was wearing his new body with the absolute confidence of the partner who knew they were dominant. Meanwhile, she was just trying desperately not to shake visibly; she must have looked like a pathetic creature by comparison.

His body leaned down and wrapped a hand around each of her thighs. At the sudden, rough touch, she draw a sharp breath, shaky and uncertain with fear and anticipation. Her gaze was locked to Emma's as he lowered his head between her legs, and she felt a sudden, body-wide tingle when a tongue gently slid between the lips of her pussy.

The gasp that escaped her mouth at that sudden sensation was one more of pleasure than fear. God, even that little hint of head felt good. She was holding onto a fistful of bedsheets in both hands with all her strength, desperately trying not to move and to just let Emma do whatever it is he wanted to do down there.

But what she wanted to do was to make it very hard to keep still. He could feel every movement of the tongue between her legs with electric clarity, as it probed the sensitive flesh, parting her labia and massaging the delicate, intimate parts beneath. But somewhere down there, his tongue applied insistent pleasure to something that felt very, very good, and he heard herself let out involuntary moan, sounding almost as if it had come from somewhere else.

Was that the clitoris? Whatever it was, Emma sucked briefly at it, until Aaron couldn't take the intense pleasure anymore, and her hand moved, seemingly on its own, up to his head, trying to push it away.

In response, Emma grabbed her her wrist and forced it down to the bed, and she lifted her hips voluntarily when he guided her hand underneath her ass. She sat down on it, and the licking and sucking got even more intense. It was all she could do not to squirm away, but the message was clear; don't move, just sit back and enjoy it... Or else.

Fuck, though it was hard. Her legs lifted off the bed, hugging her thighs to her chest, presenting him with everything, and he took advantage. With his tongue insistently focused on her clitoris, he took his hand off her thighs and slowly, deliberately, slid his middle two fingers into her vagina. Aaron couldn't see what was happening between her legs, and she didn't expect it to happen, and she let out a surprised, squeaky gasp at the sudden penetration.

Of course Emma knew exactly what buttons to push, and he pushed them good and hard. Aaron fell wholly into his touch, losing all trepidation with the insistent stimulation, and also losing the ability to hold still amidst pleasure that tried to snatch away control of her limbs. Feeling pressed for breath, she stopped hugging her thighs to her chest, and they found their way around Emma's head, her knees hooked over his shoulders, seeking to draw him in like a spider pulling in its prey. In a gentle rebuke, Emma's free hand, the one that wasn't doing absolutely incredible things inside her, pushed back against the back of her left thigh, so Aaron let it hang it in the air.

The first orgasm came after what felt like a lifetime of buildup, and her mind went totally blank. Her body tightened up until she could barely even draw breath. Whatever her limbs were doing was totally out of her control. And, still, there was an unyielding, electric pleasure that felt like it was striking at the the depths of her soul. She loved it, but she had to escape it, she just had to breathe...

And then it all came crashing down. She drew a ragged breath, half a moan, and looked down to see that her thighs were spread wide, one of Emma's hands planted firmly on the back of each one, leaving her pussy totally exposed. But his mouth was finally, blissfully removed. Instead, Emma was standing upright, smiling a grin smeared with glistening fluids, and noticeably erect.

Just a minute, please, Aaron begged silently, too breathless to speak. But in spite of her desperation, or maybe because of it, Emma decided that it was time for more. In a quick, almost predatory motion, the hands snapped down to her hips and dragged her forwards across the bedsheets, until her ass slammed up against his pelvis with a wet thwack, leaving her legs propped up like fenceposts against the front of his chest.

Aaron watched with fascination as Emma took full advantage of her vulnerability. Both their gazes were locked at that junction between their legs, and Emma slapped his cock against the bright pink, glistening-wet peach of Aaron's vulva. It was a barely pleasurable sensation, even while still coming down from that absolutely incredible orgasm, but the moan that escaped Aaron's mouth, totally involuntary, was one of raw hunger.

How on earth could Emma be that good? He hadn't had the body of a man for more than, what, five minutes? But, as if he had been doing it all his life, he only needed his thumb to guide his cock down as he tilted his hips back, and slid himself all the way inside her.

Aaron gasped, and her head fell back like a doll with its strings cut. The feeling of it going in... It was more than pleasure, it was being made whole. Her body moved without reason, seemingly without input, tilting her legs and hips to allow him to go even deeper, and he took the invitation by firming his grip on her hips, pulling almost all the way out, and slamming himself all the way back in. Emma quickly found a rhythm of pulling and pushing, of in and out, of Aaron's bare flesh jiggling as it bounced up and down on the mattress, and skin slapped noisily against skin, over and over and over again.

Aaron's moan shook with the thrusting in a way that sounded amusing even to her own ears. When the moan ended and she inhaled, she couldn't help but giggle at it, and that giggle was strangled into a breathy squeak by a sudden wave of pleasure that made her entire body convulse.

Then Emma groaned, and pushed in deep with one last thrust when he came. Aaron felt the heat of his cum shoot into her with stunning clarity, so little, and yet it felt like it filled her entire body. Buried as deep into her as he could get, their hips flat against each other, she felt his cock flex once, twice, three times, and then, breathing heavy, he finally pulled out.

Aaron moaned like he was taking a part of her soul with him as he did so. Breathing heavy, skin slick with sweat, Emma staggered a few steps to the side, and crashed down on his back on the bed, right beside Aaron. And then they both just lay there, gasping desperately for breath, as the pleasure receded and the world slowly came back into focus around them.

No words, barely any motion. Just breathing. Sweat drying in the cool air, their naked skin so close together that Aaron could feel the heat of it, a warm and human smell so strong that it had body all its own filling the room.

Then, without warning, everything changed. The change wasn't too particularly large, but it was huge because everything changed. Aaron's perspective shifted just slightly to the left, but her body became heavier, larger, the body radiating heat beside her was suddenly on her opposite side, the pleasant soreness between her legs was replaced with a deeper, broader exhaustion, even her teeth felt different against her tongue...

No, not her... Aaron was him again. It seemed like she... he... had acclimated to the new, temporary body almost too quickly.

A brief, rogue thought crossed his mind; did that mean he was getting used to being Emma's living sex toy?

Beside him, Emma stretched like a kitten, letting out a soft moan through her nose. Aaron expected to be shrunk down and cast aside, or put inside, but, to his shock, Emma snuggled up beside him, and threw a single arm carelessly over his chest. "Hmmm," she breathed. "Did I come twice?"

Aaron's breath caught in his throat. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Maybe not a sex toy after at all. Maybe this was a real relationship...? Was that even any better? "Uh, yeah..." he croaked. He hardly even realized that he had lied.

Emma gave a deep, satisfied sigh, and, as he lay there, her breath started to fall into a soft, steady pace, as if she was about to fall asleep. And then he started to shrink. It was slow, and the shock of how open and intimate she was being at that moment prevented him from recognizing it until he found that his head was at a level with her clavicle.

Suddenly, whatever sense of comfort had evaporated, replaced with raw panic. Instinctively, he tried to squirm away, but Emma's other arm wormed underneath him, her elbows folded in, and he found himself squeezed up against her naked chest in a bone-crunching hug. He kept shrinking, and the arms that grabbed him grew larger and larger, until he finally stopped.

One hand unwrapped from his body, and he didn't see where it went until it brought the blankets down like a curtain on both of them. Aaron was barely two feet tall now, his head no higher than Emma's sternum, so he was washed in darkness as she shouldered the blanket up to her neck and wrapped her arm back around him.

She let out a satisfied sigh, and he could feel it at his back. The firm embrace of her arms pinning him against her soft, delicate chest. The gentle rhythm of her breathing, in and out, in and out. The steady thump-thump of her gradually slowing heartbeat. The oppressive heat and heady stench that seemed to come from everywhere all at once, and quickly growing now that it was all trapped under the blanket with him.

Like so many times before, his claustrophobic panic quickly gave way to a more manageable boredom once he realized that there wasn't any chance of escape, and that there wasn't really any harm in where he was either. If anything, it would be worse for him if he tried to escape. So all he could do was lie here and wait, cuddled up in her arms, for her to wake up and let him free.

It was better than the worst thing, he supposed. But it was also surprising in how it combined her casual disdain for him as a shrunken person, and unprecedented tender intimacy. He wasn't a sex toy, he was, what? A teddy bear? After she had let him accompany her in the real world, at full size. After she had let him enjoy what sex felt like for her body, he wasn't sure anymore what he was to her. Was this relationship starting to become something more normal, like Dominique had promised?

Or was he starting to see it as normal?

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