The sun had long since peaked over the horizon, informing New York it was time to wake up and begin its business.  Some say that New York never sleeps, but Becca was one such exception to the popular expression.  The hustle and bustle on the street outside her upstairs bedroom window is what brought her reluctantly to consciousness.  She was already securely surrounded by her polka-dotted blanket, the top tucked under the back of her head and the bottom tucked under her feet just the way she liked it.  It was her last-ditch effort to extend her slumber, and she realized the battle was over.  

The blanket came down over her face, pulling a few strands of messy brown brown hair along, and Becca felt cool air flood in.  The sensation would not last though, as the temperature was actually quite warm...uncharacteristic but not uncommon for the last week of September. Her eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the room, brightened by the sun sneaking in through the drawn curtains. She sighed as she swung her bare legs out from under the cozy blanket.  The cool sensation felt nice and Becca deliberately avoided the carpet, instead opting for her bare soles to contact the cold hardwood. 

Her hands met behind her back and her chest puffed out as her arms stretched back.  The sleepy teenager looked at her unicorn clock.  

September 29th

11:17AM

She let out a yawn, accenting the end of it with a feminine yip and began to stand.  The strong muscles in her legs tensed and the sleepy girl rose, her toes wiggling as they once again became familiar with supporting and balancing her weight.  This was not the first time she had slept so late.  In fact, it had unfortunately become commonplace.  

Becca had left her parents' house in Colorado a year ago for Pratt Institute in New York City.  Starry eyed and wonderfully naive, she convinced her parents that she was meant to be an artist, and they agreed to send her.  Becca’s parents were science-minded and skeptical at best about a career in the arts, but they decided they would foot the bill. Still, her parents were calculated and logical…they were the kind of parents that maintained a financial separation between themselves and their children.  This meant that Becca's parents would pay for each semester, for books, and any supplies she may have needed.  She could still hear their voices practically in unison: 

“We mean it, Becca.  Not a single drop of alcohol. We WILL be checking the transaction histories!”. 

The only catch: all that money they had sent her off with and were gradually funneling into a joint bank account..she would be expected to pay it back once she graduated and started working.  All of it.

No interest of course; God, they weren't monsters!  

But they made sure there was no confusion:  this was NOT a gift..it was an investment in their little girl's future.  

School started off okay.  The freshly 18 year old art major attended classes with optimism and excitement.  Becca wasn’t sure if it was her long, thick chestnut brown hair or her long-thick thighs and wide hips, but she attracted a fair amount of attention from boys.  The teen liked to think it was the former, as her long hair was something in which she took much pride in, actually dedicating time and effort into its upkeep and appearance.  There wasn’t much upkeep in having wide hips and a big, round butt…although her first friend at University, Krystal Matthews, would correct her on that.  

“Yeah sure, we’ve both got junk in the trunk..” Krystal would say, “..but at least you actually go to the gym and try to get it all firm and stuff.”  

Becca would respond with a giggle, “Keyword there is TRY!”

Becca and Krystal had been paired together as lab partners on the first day of classes and they’d basically become BFF’s by the end of the period.  The girls had several classes together and for each class, they would always sit next to one another. Becca enjoyed Krystal’s outgoing personality and boy, was she a flirt!  She was very attractive and accented her pretty face with vibrant eyeshadow.  She often played into the attention she received from boys and was even discretely reprimanded on occasion by the professors for passing notes and talking.

All that attention from boys might have been difficult to balance with studying, but Becca was used to it from back in Colorado so it wasn’t all that distracting.  She studied history, completed her assignments, purchased supplies, and made a few friends here and there.  She even happened upon an INCREDIBLE deal on an apartment on Skillman St. which was within walking distance of campus.  However, things started to turn sour toward the end of her first year.  She fell behind on her assignments and was beginning to feel like she'd made a mistake.  The true mistake–not one particular instant, but rather an accruing count of bad choices–started innocently enough but accumulated over the course of several months.  She just...stopped going.  

She remembered the first day she didn’t go.  Becca had a final exam for art history that she just wasn’t at all ready for.  She could see Mrs. Jensen’s disapproving scorn in her mind’s eye.  She could feel the panic she’d already grown familiar with…of turning that page in the packet to the first question of the exam, knowing that time has started and it all may as well be another language.  The older, heavy-set woman had a permanent frown tattooed to her sour face and Becca strongly disliked her. Mrs. Jensen would surely wear that frown as she corrected the papers, the unsightly fat on her exposed pale triceps jiggling angrily as she ran the tip of her red marker over so much whitespace.  She would surely wear that frown as she turned the exam back to her, practically painted red with corrections and mistake pointouts.  Krystal would probably get an A like she always did, and then she’d lean over and see Becca’s score and say something like “Whoa! What happened, dude?” and Becca would be thoroughly embarrassed.

She was seeing it all…painted on the insides of her eyelids as her alarm clock annoyingly told her to get up.  

Or….she could just avoid all of that.  She could just tuck her sock clad feet up under the warm, thick covers and turn off her irksome alarm.  She could just fall back asleep and allow her comfy twin bed to swallow her. 

That’s exactly what she did…and it felt so, so good.  

The first time was the hardest on her conscience, but each progressive class ditch became easier and easier until she just stopped setting her alarm.

She was done.  Was it the material?  Had she chosen the wrong major?  

Was she not smart enough? 

Was she not driven enough?  

Was she not good enough?  

She didn’t know the answers..but she knew she was done.  

Done with school.  

Done with art.  

Done with New York.  

The biggest problem was that she could not bring herself to go back to Colorado.  What would her friends think?  What would her parents think?  Better yet, what would they do?  She had already charged several thousand dollars for the semesters back when she was actually still trying, and several more on those that she didn't bother to attend.  She would have canceled the classes but Becca feared her vigilant parents would see..so she figured staying registered would be best for them, and not going would be best for her.  It's not as if her parents could see the attendance sheets. She considered getting a job as a cashier or waitress to make some extra money, but she feared the blazing embarrassment of encountering a former fellow-student or worse..one of her former professors.

While staying enrolled seemed like a good idea at the time, Becca was just putting herself in more trouble. It was like shoveling dirt…seeing the movement of earth and thinking that it indicates some sort of progress, but you don't realize the hole you're standing in is very slowly getting deeper.  

Becca yawned again and stepped forward toward the bathroom, groggily tugging at the back of her yellow nylon shorts which had gotten bunched up in her sleep.  She didn't like the sound or the feeling of her bare soles gently sticking to the hardwood.  She would have been wearing socks to bed and to rise as was her preference had it not been such a hot day for September.  She crossed the hardwood to the area rug, and then the tiled floor of her bathroom, and then onto a thick fuzzy rug where her feet had changed their minds and wanted to be warm. She brushed her teeth and was completing her morning evolution when she heard her phone chirp.  

Her heart jumped a little as she approached it, fearing it might be one of her parents.  She wasn't in the mood to lie to them today.  Or worse..what if it was a bill collector?  She had grown nervous spending her parents' money on luxury items, so she opened her own credit card.  Time would tell..no...scream how big a mistake that had been.  Her nervous fingers reached out and lifted the bright screen to her chocolate brown eyes.  Her parents had bought her the Motorola Razr V3 for Christmas last year in 2004.  It hadn’t even been a full year yet and Becca had already clumsily cracked the screen.  

Becca squinted and scrolled around the spider cracks on the screen to make out what the notification was.  Luckily, it wasn’t her parents or the dean or her landlord.  It was just a message from her friend Krystal.  Not one, not too, but several messages blinked on her screen and Becca scrolled through them one by one:

""Hey, my last class lets out at 3pm.  Meet me at the pub; the one with that hot server guy from last week."

30 seconds later...

"Also, remind me to tell you about the number i found"

3 minutes later...

"hey"

10 minutes later...

"Dude, wake up!"

...and Becca smirked as she read the most recent, most dramatic message. 

"Friendship over

Becca’s fingers performed a quick, elegant T9 dance over the phone’s number pad and when the dance was over, she abruptly tossed the phone into her purse and finished getting ready to head out.

It took a second for Becca’s eyes to adjust as she walked through the front door of the pub.  It was always hard walking into one of these places during the day, but once your eyes adjusted it felt totally normal.  When they finally did adjust, Becca spotted who she was there to meet.  She raised a waving hand to Krystal, who was seated in one of the booths with a drink.  Krystal seemed to be embracing the persisting but fading grip of warm weather, dressed in flip-flops, a pair of short rose-pink athletic shorts, and a white spaghetti strap shirt showing off enough cleavage to make Becca just a little bit jealous. 

Becca loved flip-flop season, but she also liked the cold.  Her anticipation was evident in the attire she’d chosen: a tight pair of trendy faded denim blue jeans, white sneakers, and a small dark green sweatshirt.  The material of the sweater was too thin to hold much warmth, but perhaps the appearance of winter attire would be enough to trick Mother Nature into bringing in that cold weather.

“Dude. You’re not just waking up are you?” Krystal questioned, sipping some of her beverage.  Becca sat down and slid in…soft, worn denim gliding against the plush cushion of the bench. 

“Yes, Mom.” Becca rolled her eyes as she removed and replaced her ponytail to correct the disorder caused by the wind.  The teenager pulled her ridden-up green sweatshirt back down over her back and got comfortable.

Kystal's eyes lifted from the menu and a cute smile crept upon her face as the waiter approached.  He was a young man, about their age.  Handsome.  Probably a student.  He was the one they’d seen last week and despite Krystal’s borderline obnoxious flirting after a few drinks, it didn't seem like he remembered them.  

"Good afternoon! I'll be your server today." He said with a smile.  He brought Krystal another diet coke and took their orders, promising a short wait time.  

Once the boy walked away, Krystal began chatting with Becca.  Not anything in particular, mind you.  She herself was also a student and despite poking fun at Becca for dropping out and deceiving her parents, Krystal was supportive and quick to give advice and stand up for her.  The conversation went on for a bit, circling around the classes Krystal was taking, which brought on a bit of envy from Becca.  They talked about Becca's parents and how many excuses she had come up with to keep them from visiting.  Favorite TV shows, boys, mature-yet-handsome professors.  Money problems..mostly Becca's but what college girl didn't have money problems?  The conversations were dying down when Becca suddenly remembered to remind Krystal about the number she’d found. 

"Oh! Oh!" Krystal's light brown eyes lit up as she remembered.  

"Okay..so..like all great stories..." she says with a smile, lifting her hands as if to command silence and attention from everyone.  

At this time, “everyone” would have been Becca, the woman behind the bar at the other end of the bar, and an older couple seated at the restaurant far on the other side.  All were well out of ear’s reach. 

"...the story of ‘The Number I Found’ begins in the ladies room."

Becca groaned and rolled her eyes, and both girls began giggling at the silliness of the premise.  

"I know I know...it sounds terrible but hear me out!  So I see this phone number written on the wall of one of the stalls and snap a picture of it...and then I forget about it. Like...completely.  And then fast-forward to the next day…I'm posting pics to MySpace and I see it.  I get curious about who it is…and I make a bet to myself that some girl got cheated on by some douche and she wrote his number on the stall, cause there was a huge paragraph above it. Probably trashing him, telling girls to send pizzas to his house, bla bla bla.  Anyway, I was late for class so when I took the picture, I figured I could read it all later but…” Krystal reached into her cleavage and pulled out her cell phone. Becca noticed her friend’s rose-pink shorts were too small for even that tiny LG phone.  

Krystal continued as she slid up the screen, “...when I got home later and tried to read what the paragraph said…I realized the picture was too blurry.  I couldn’t make out the words."  

"It's probably just your crappy phone" Becca jeered and Krystal grumbled, navigating several menus. 

A few moments later, Becca's phone vibrated from her pocket  with the picture that Krystal just texted her.  Becca squinted at the image, trying to discern the text in the paragraph.  It was true; the text was just way too small to read.

"All done, smartypants?" Krystal sings and continues.  

Becca was done. Krystal continued.

"...So I called the number and it was some research lab down in North Carolina.”

“A research lab?” Becca inquired.  “That’s weird.  So they told you what the paragraph said?”

Krystal continued, “No, but apparently the number was for people that might be interested in volunteering for some experiment.  And when I tell you what they're doing, you're gonna ‘WTF’ all up and down this pub…”

The waiter approached the girls about a half hour later; he must have noticed that the girls’ plates were half-empty and their drinks contained nothing but ice

“How is everything?  Do you need a refill?” The waiter asked Becca, motioning to her cup containing only ice.  

Becca wiped the “WTF” look off of her face and told the waiter she was fine, and when he walked away, she put the face right back on.

"Okay...so let me get this straight.." Becca said, trying to keep a straight face and speaking just a little louder than Krystal would have wanted her to.  

"...so you're saying this research lab down in North Carolina is shrinking boys…and then they’re putting them in girls' butts?" 

Becca liked using the word "boy" instead of "man".  Sure, man was a better word to describe her peers, but referring to them as boys just felt more cute. Still, that was a sentence that Becca had never thought she'd say, and surely Krystal had never thought she'd hear it.   A hand rushed to cover the budding grin on Krystal's face, 

"Well I didn't put it quite as elegantly as you just did, but…yeah!” Krystal giggled.  “...and that's not the craziest part.  Apparently, the head-doctor-lady who is in charge of the whole experiment thing… she is like....dead serious about this.  Like...I think that she thinks that it should just...be that way."

Becca tilted her head.  "Be that way?  What do you mean?"  Becca read the expression on her face and cautiously said "You mean...like...all boys should just--"  

"--live there!"  Krystal proclaimed with a giggle, “Can you believe that?  I mean…it's insane.  How could someone live in someone else's butt?  And more importantly...why?  Like...why the frig?  Haha. I mean...it just makes zero sense.”

“Yeah…” Becca agreed, nervously sipping at the ice ever-so-slowly melting in her cup.  “...like…I know boys like butts and all, but wouldn’t that be really gross for them?  And wouldn’t it get uncomfortable for the girl?”

Krystal shrugged her shoulders.  “Anyway, I had so many questions about the process…and I also wasn't even fully convinced it wasn't some kind of joke...in fact, I’m still not totally convinced…to be honest.  Though the girl on the phone was convincing and more than happy to answer my questions...until…well I'll get to that...but even though she was just an intern she knew a lot about what was going on."

"So what was some of the stuff you asked her?" Becca asked, leaning onto her elbows in interest.

"Well...I asked what kind of people they were looking for, and she said women of ages 18 to 65 and of almost all body types...I guess for a wide variety.  They said--"

"--ALMOST all body types?” Becca interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

Becca was, as her first boyfriend put it, ‘thick where it counted and thin everywhere else’.  She had always been in good shape, and only someone crazy or out of insults would resort to calling her fat, but it deeply bothered her when boys at her college would tease and exclude the overweight girls from parties and get-togethers. 

"No no, its not like what you’re thinking.” Krystal said. “Not at all.  In fact, she even said that a full range of volunteers would include really heavy girls too.”

“So even Mrs. Jensen?” Becca said like a giggling school girl as she pictured the art history teacher.  

“Oh god, Mrs. Jensen.  Can you imagine the poor boy that would end up in her butt? I bet if he had a choice between her butt or her lectures, he’d pick her butt every time!!” Krystal giggled. “Yeah, funnily enough I think she’d actually meet all their criteria.”

Krystal tried stifling her laughter.  “In fact, pretty much one of the only disqualifiers...is not having a big enough butt."  

Becca tried to empty her laughter into her cupped hands but it overflows and spills, filling the pub and disturbing the one or two people that had sat on the other side of the restaurant since their bizarre conversation began.  She regained most of her composure.  

"They specifically want girls with big butts? I guess that makes sense if a boy is going to be inside of it.  How..teehee..big does it have to be?" She asked, lifting her hands up and separating them, palms facing themselves in the way someone might show how big a fish they caught, and then began moving her palms apart by several feet.  

"It doesn’t HAVE to be that big, weirdo...but they don’t seem to think any butt is too big so don’t worry, I’m sure you’re okay." Krystal teased as Becca squinted her nose in mild discord and stuck out her tongue.  Krystal was very attractive and well endowed, but in the same way Becca envied her large breasts, Becca suspected and even hoped that Krystal was jealous of her ample derriere.

Krystal stopped giggling and gained her composure. "No..its not like the minimum is some crazy size like Mrs. Jensen’s although I really did get the impression that they’re okay with that too”, Krystal continued, “it just needs to be...oh god how did she word it...it was hilarious..." 

Krystal thought for a few more moments in silence and then she remembered.  She quoted the intern, her eyes looking up at the script inside her mind, 

"The buttocks must be at a size and softness such that the subject is entirely encased and not visible when wedged between them, particularly when the woman is standing and ideally, even when her lower half is nude."

The cute waiter had to actually ask the girls to keep it down that time, and they did their best to comply, giggling a whole different song...eyes on the boy as he walked away.

“Okay, so they want to wedge the boys between their butt cheeks I guess?  Not like…all the way up there?” Becca sipped at the water produced by the ice in her drink.  

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Krystal said with a giggle.

"So did you sign up then?" Becca asked with amusement on her face.  

"I couldn't.” Krystal said with regret but still with a smile, “She started asking me questions like...are you between 18 and 65.  Umm…yes.  Are you morally troubled by the uninformed or lack of consent? Umm…no.”

‘What?’ Becca thought, ‘who’s not informed?’

Krystal continued. “Do you have a big butt?” She leaned over and slapped her own lifted left ass cheek. 

“Umm...it's no ‘Becca Booty’ but…yes?!" Krystal sang, turning Becca’s briefly troubled and inquisitive frown right on upside down. 

"So it sounds like you meet their goofy requirements.  Why couldn't you do it?"  Becca questioned.

"Remember how I'm going to Japan for that sculpting class next week?”

“Yeah, October 3rd..and you’re getting to go back regularly…..jealous..” Becca grumbled.  

“Well yeah, but that’s apparently a deal breaker for them.  They want all their people to stay in the country…in fact I don't think the girls who participate are even allowed to fly.  I mean...imagine the look on the TSA agent's face when he looks at an xray of a skeleton girl and sees a tiny little skeleton boy down at her hips.”

“Maybe they’d just think he’s your baby.” Becca joked and Krystal nearly shot diet coke out of her nose.  

“Maybe…” Krystal said, dabbing her nose with a napkin, “...or imagine if the screener started patting me down and asked ‘Are you bringing any fruits or vegetables into the country?’ and they’d find him in my crack and I’d have to be all like ‘No sir.  No fruits or vegetables but I am bringing a shrunken guy; don’t worry though cause he’s staying between my butt cheeks the whole time.’"

"Oh, well thats too bad."  Becca says, half sincere. 

It was a funny story but there was still just way too much that, even if it was believable, which was a big ‘if’, there just didn't seem like any good reason to shrink someone and put them between a girl's butt cheeks: logically and maybe even morally as well.  That's why she laughed and reflexively got up from her seat, jeans once again sliding against the cushion in the opposite direction, when Krystal suggested that Becca give them a call.  Becca had only made it a few steps before the words coming out of Krystal's mouth floated to her ears. 

"They pay, Becca...they pay A LOT."  Becca stopped dead in her tracks.  As she stood there, absorbing what she'd just heard, she was very interested in something she had only just now noticed.  

Had she ever noticed this before?  

She thought not.  

Her mind had tuned in to the bouncing sensation that was currently halfway finished its resonation through her tightly-packed denim-clad cheeks.  She monitored it until the bouncing subsided, and the flesh of her sizable rump became completely stationary.  It took a few seconds. 

Becca slowly turned back to face her friend and looked around self-consciously to see if anyone else was listening. Becca sat back down with Krystal, suddenly much more aware of the way her ample rear compressed into the cushion.

Becca struggled to take this seriously, not wanting to put herself too far out there.  If this wasn’t just a weird, tasteless joke coming from her BFF, it could still be a mean-spirited joke from someone on campus.  Still…what if it wasn’t?  What if it was real?  What if they really did pay alot?

“So…you’re suggesting I keep a boy in my butt?” Becca said with a playful but self-conscious smirk.

“Well…” Krystal raised an eyebrow and sighed, grabbing Becca’s phone. She started programming a new phone number into Becca’s contact list.  It was the phone number scribbled on the woman’s stall from the picture that Krystal had sent earlier. She named the new contact ‘RR’.  

Krystal set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her palms.  With a playful giggle, she smiled and said “I’m just suggesting you give them a call and see what’s up.”

  ~ 

"...and above all else, please make note of the dates and deadlines outlined on the syllabus. It was provided to you on the first day and nothing has changed!!" Professor Jensen carefully annunciated.

The frowning teacher’s tone suggested that she anticipated several questions at the end of class about due dates, and she would later be proven correct.  The 48-year old professor looked down at her thin, feminine wrist watch, ignoring the clock on the wall. The band was stretched tight, the metallic pin snug into a hand-carved notch since the prefabricated notches were too small for the full-figured woman’s large wrist. 

"Alright, people.  You should have all read pages 117 through 155 of the text.  Please open to page 156.” Professor Jensen said loudly. The large lecture hall echoed with the brief symphony of fluttering page turns and then nothing but the sound of Professor Jensen’s voice.

“In the assigned reading, we began by looking at Islamic sacred art and its usage of geometric patterns. However, it should be noted that geometric patterns--"  

The silent students turned their heads in unison from the lecturing professor to the sound coming from the top of the steps of the lecture hall.   It was the sound of a big, heavy door opening.  

The poor, tardy girl felt the giant door’s weight push firmly against her butt, as if deliberately trapping her in this uncomfortable moment.  She almost ran away after seeing all those heads turn in unison, and the most important one at the bottom of the steps was fixed on her. If she had better reflexes...her ‘fight or flight’ instincts might have kicked in.  Flying would have been throwing the door open and running away.  Fighting would have been owning the tardiness and walking in confidently. She did neither of these things. She neither flew or fought. She stood red-faced with her back against the door.

"Oh, thank heavens.  Students! She has finally arrived!" The professor said of the confused girl up the steps.  The time was 10 minutes after the class started, and the students saw a smile sprout amongst the landscape of frown wrinkles. It was as if the scornful professor’s efforts to grin pulled comfort right out of the air, replacing it with uneasiness and tension. 

"We can finally begin!” Her speech up to this point had been dripping with sarcasm, but it melted away along with the smile.

“Miss.." She said sternly. The aggravated teacher lifted a chubby, well-manicured finger and curled it just once.  "Come down here."  

You could hear a pin drop as the girl began her long walk down the steps.  Professor Jensen eyed the girl up.  Her hair was a long chocolate brown, gorgeously thick and voluminous, but it was messily harnessed into a barely contained bun.  She wore a light zip-up hoodie along with orange and blue plaid pajama pants. The material was visibly loose and thin, and the judgment in the older woman’s eyes spoke of her generation’s disdain for the lack of respect. At her feet were a pair of orange and white polka dotted flip flops.  The lecture hall had a single, uncontested heartbeat: those flip-flops slapping the red-faced girl’s bare soles as she made her way hesitantly down the steps.  Finally, what felt like years later, the girl had passed the few remaining empty seats in the lecture hall and the sole-slapping stopped. It was quiet again.  So very quiet.  

The embarrassed, red-faced girl stood next to her professor and was invited to turn to face the class.

Professor Jensen watched the girl's left hand rush to her mouth..a nervous tick no doubt..and 5 bright orange tipped fingers shielded her quivering, nervous lips.  The professor’s eyes wandered down the car wreck that was this young girl’s attire.  The pajamas were slightly too long as the bottoms were actually covering the girl’s heels and even the back half of the flip flop.  Only the front halves of her feet were visible, five toes on each foot painted bright orange to match her fingers.  The pant legs were too long or she was wearing them too low like some kind of harlet.  

"What is your name, Miss?" the professor asked, sounding progressively more aggravated.

The timid girl paused for a moment, as if she had forgotten her own name...she seemed nervous enough; perhaps she really had.  This wasn’t Professor Jensen’s first unpleasant encounter with her, but with so many students it was difficult to remember their faces, let alone their names. Finally, something leaked out of the tardy girl’s lips and from between her fingers.. 

"Becca Young".  

"Its so wonderful to formally meet you, Miss Young." She said, the sarcasm had returned and it was practically dripping off the walls now.  The professor placed a chubby hand against her large, matronly chest and as she did so, her bare tricep jiggled more than it should have.  "I'm Professor Jensen. We're all so happy you finally decided to come."

"I'm really sorry, professor.  I overslept and then I went to the wrong class by accident and I didn't--" Becca’s nervous fingers had slowly begun to lower from her face as she explained herself, but a harsh, brief 'shh!' from Professor Jensen slingshotted those fingers back over her lips and widened her eyes.  

Professor Jensen continued.  "Before you interrupted all these responsible and time-conscious students, we were discussing the three nonfigural types of decoration in Islamic art.  The first nonfigural type of course being…”

Professor Jensen’s double chin accentuated as she looked down at Becca over her horn-rimmed glasses, waiting for a response.

“...Geomet…” said, painstakingly stretching out the final syllables in a tone that suggested she wanted Becca to answer...Becca chewed on her fingers nervously in silence.

“...tric patterns....right, Ms. Young?" Professor Jensen finished.

Nothing from Becca.

".......The second is....." Professor Jensen said, her ellipsis audible and Becca's silence deafening.  The professor sighed heavily and dramatically. 

"Miss Young…please tell me you reviewed the required reading for the first day of class that was CLEARLY outlined in the syllabus."  

Becca's eyes were tearing up and it was getting difficult to see.  The thin sleeve of her forearm came up to clear the tears before they had a chance to wet her already puffy red cheeks.  ‘This is not where I belong..I can't do this..I"m not cut out for this…’ she thought, unable to even repeat the question, let alone the answer. 

As if reading her mind, the professor said, "Perhaps you thought you could just come to this university and practice finger painting, hmm?  You’ve done a wonderful job painting those fingernails and toenails but I doubt those efforts will translate academically.  And your choice of attire this morning is quite alluring.  What do we call this getup?  ‘Hangover by Becca’? I suppose you thought that you could just flirt with boys, go to parties, and pass these ridiculous, unproductive, unchallenging classes while only completing a third of the assignments, hmm?

Tears were now streaming down Becca’s face as the crowd of students watched on.  The shaking girl could feel her heartbeat in her face and she slammed her dampening eyes shut.

"Miss Young!" Professor Jensen shouted, removing her horn-rimmed glasses incredulously, "Are you even--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

--listening to me, dude?" Krystal said, her dark eyebrows wrinkled up in confusion as she sipped her twice refilled drink. Krystal waited for a moment and then spoke again.  "Did you hear what I said?"

Becca appeared startled, her mind having drifted off elsewhere; for how long, she didn’t know.  She went to speak, but her voice was froggy from listening and thinking...she tilted her glass back and shook it, feeling the last melted ice cube slide out and hit her warm tongue.  She definitely needed more water.  

Becca cleared her throat, "...Yeah…I heard you.." she said in a contemplative tone “$200 for a week…”.

Krystal nodded, "$200 for a week."

Becca's heart was still recovering from the last time Krystal said it only 30 seconds ago, and the statement still hadn't lost any of its power.  $500...to keep a shrunken boy between her butt cheeks for a week?  Could this really be real? Why in the heck was this a thing?  Why did anyone care enough to even organize this, let alone pay someone to do it?  Another humdinger…probably the biggest of them all…why would someone let themselves actually be shrunken down and put in a girl's butt? The world was a strange place, sure…and pretty girls could make boys do all sorts of silly things…but come on…living in a butt?

When the mild sense of dizziness left her cloudy head, Becca managed to say, "I just...oh I just don't know, Krystal.  I mean...how long would I have to keep him…ya know…down there?  And what do I have to do while he's there?  And how does he eat?  And what if he gets hurt...and what if--"

Krystal cut her off "--whoa whoa...Becca...I don't have the answers to all these questions.  Like I said earlier, as soon as I told that intern about going to Japan, she practically hung up on me after thanking me for my interest; she wouldn't answer any more of my questions."  Krystal tapped her index finger on Becca's phone, the picture of the bathroom stall wall still on her screen. "If you wanna know…you're gonna have to call."

Her friend was right.  Becca was just going to have to call..but just the thought of all this brought so many strange feelings;  feelings to her head and her heart...and as strange as it sounded...to her butt.  She shifted uncomfortably on the seat, scooting her wide hips left and right. The teenager felt her cheeks lightly part, and then mash back together as she rebalanced her weight on her hips.  What girl paid attention to that kind of thing?  And if there was a tiny boy in there...what would it feel like for him?  Would her ass cheeks squeeze the tiny life out of him? Would he survive it? Would he..oh god..enjoy it?  Would...she..enjoy it?  Someone would…but surely most girls out there would hate the feeling of a tiny little thing moving around down there...what if she was one of them?  

What embarrassed her the most was the thought of it all being a joke.  What if she nervously dialed the number and said "Hey...I wanna keep one of your boys in my booty for money" and the other end of the phone erupted in absurd laughter?  Thank god she didn’t go to classes anymore because she’d be the laughing stock of the school.  Could anyone ever live something like that down?  

But she needed the money…good lord, did she ever need the money…

$500 would go incredibly well toward some things.  Sure, she wouldn’t be paying off her sizable debt...and certainly not the family debt she incurred from the failed semesters or the 2 months of late rent that was stacking...but some groceries?  Maybe she could eat something other than Ramen and canned vegetables.  Maybe she wouldn’t have to sheepishly ask if Krystal could cover her bill when they went out to eat like she was going to have to in a few minutes.  Maybe she could buy a nice dress for some fun out on the town before the weather got too cold...or a nice skirt because god knows her wardrobe hadn't done her any favors at her last several job interviews.  And honestly...if she really thought about it...would having a tiny something...down there...really be that bad for her?

"Well....I mean...I..I guess I could try calling.." Becca said timidly and Krystal practically cheered, gripping the girl’s hands and squeezing them.  

"That's great! Alright alright, do it!" Krystal said, opening Becca’s Razr phone.  Becca quickly snatched her phone back and stuffed it down into the pocket of her tight jeans. The teenager laughed nervously, "Oh no no no..I'm doing that by myself, thank you very much.  No one is going to be around for that phone call."

"Pshhhh" Krystal scoffed, "'cept for the CIA listening in…probably the Russians too!  Hell, maybe that's how we ladies will avoid war: just stick 'em all up our butts!" Krystal and Becca exploded in more girly giggling and despite Becca's nervousness, she couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of their time at the pub.  By the time they grew tired of the scene, it had begun to start attracting some of its more conventional dusk/evening visitors, so they discretely excused themselves.  On the way out the door, the two girls passed the handsome waiter who smiled warmly, "You two have a great night!" 

He flashed a princely smile and when they weren't looking, according to a very giggly Krystal, the handsome waiter snuck a quick glance at Becca's ass.  Krystal was certain because his eyes quickly darted away when he was caught.  

"Oh god...the waiter guy was totally, insanely checking out your butt...if he ooooooooonly knew…" Krystal teased as they walked out the door.

“Shut up!” Becca said with wide eyes, a smile on her lips, and a healthy red rose on each cheek.  

Becca and Krystal hugged out front of Becca’s apartment. 

“Thanks for paying again.” Becca said, her chin resting on Krystal’s shoulder.  

“No problem, girl.” Krystal assured her as the hug concluded. “You’ll get the next one right?  With all that butt money?” 

Krystal giggled and Becca rolled her eyes. 

“You’re still gonna call, right? Krystal asked. 

"Ughh...yes, nosey.  I'm gonna call later tonight."  Becca replied.

Krystal smiled, "Good!  Cause seriously. If you end up doing this..." she looked around jokingly but seriously to ensure no one was around to hear her, "...I'm curious as fuck how that would go."  It was a good laugh to end the hang-out session on, and with that the girls went their separate way for the evening.  Krystal had plenty of studying to do and Becca....well...

Becca deadbolted the door behind her and slid in the chain.  The brunette teen unbuttoned her jeans while walking toward her bedroom. She kicked off her sneakers, replacing the clop of rubber soles with the swishing of sock-clad feet.  She breathed in deep the pleasant aroma of white linen and vanilla. Sure, it was a candle, but she was in college (or…well…you know). Becca made a quick pitstop in the kitchen to set out a tiny pot of water to boil for some Ramen. Would she have chicken?  Or perhaps beef?  The possibilities were endless!  Too distracted by the events of the day, she forgot to even turn the burner on, walking away from a cold pot of water on the stove.  She slid the tight jeans down her hips and over her ass, which required a bit of rhythmic shimmying.  

She slid them down each of her thighs, the task becoming easier the further down she got until she left the finishing touches to her feet, kicking the bundled-up denim expertly into her half-full dirty clothes hamper.  At this point, Becca could have changed into her nylon shorts, put on sneakers, and made her way to the gym. Taking care of her body was basically the only thing she did that was responsible these days, but Becca was feeling particularly lazy today.  

She removed her socks and they joined her jeans in the hamper.  Her bare feet quickly found their home in a fuzzy, orange pair of slippers.  Initially cold, their temperature conformed quickly to her warm toes.  This would do just fine until she put on some clean socks for bed. Becca turned and looked over her shoulder into the closet door mirror and looked at her ass. Like...really looked at it.  Under those jeans she had been wearing a thin pair of baby blue cotton panties.  The undergarment had done a bit of drifting up throughout the day so it was difficult to read, but across the back of the panties were the words "Fries before Guys".  Below the text was a picture of a small serving of french fries and an emoji girl with hearts in her eyes.  

"Hmm.." She said in a strangely proud, almost approving tone...the noise one makes when their lips kind of curl down in a frown, but they are really saying something along the lines of "That'll do just fine".  Her bare soles briefly broke contact with the orange fuzz in her slippers as she lifted her heels several inches off the floor. She allowed gravity to take them back down...and as a result, her partially exposed ass cheeks bounced tremendously.  

She did it again, studying the way her large cheeks rippled and gradually returned to rest.  

She did it again, deep in thought. 

She did it again. 

Becca wondered what that experience would be like for a tiny boy.  To her, it was just her butt bouncing a bit…but to him…geez…it would be like earthquakes reverberating through two soft planets.  She didn’t know how small he would need to be, but if he was small enough to fit between her butt cheeks, it must be really really small. 

It was all just so silly.

The teenager returned to the kitchen, actually turned the stove burner on this time, and prepared her Ramen for the evening.  She retrieved her single bowl and single fork from the dish rack next to her empty sink and filled the bowl.  Becca then carried the warm treasure to the living room and set it down on the coffee table. 

The teenager felt goosebumps on her thick, pale, exposed thighs and luckily she’d left her folded laundry on the couch from last night.  She pulled up a pair of pajama bottoms...orange and blue plaid…to keep her warm.  They fit snugly on her hips and butt however they were loose and long down below her knees.  They hugged her legs well enough, but she thought an extra blanket might be needed as she curled up on the couch.  

The temperature had dropped off significantly once the sun set, and Becca was excited. She would have much rather slept in the cold.  To celebrate, she unpaired a clean pair of wool socks from the folded laundry.  The red hearts and kisses all over the cloud-white socks stretched and warped with the necessary widening of the mouth as it accepted the teenager’s bare foot.  The sock swallowed 5 chubby toes and the rest of her curvy foot followed until she tugged the back up over her tendon…what a nice, warm sock.  

Becca yawned as the movie credits began to roll; she was ready to head off to bed when it finally dawned on her.  "I was supposed to call and talk to that intern!"  She felt her heart skip a beat as the thought of all that money and...well... (oh, its fine...no one's around!) scary excitement of the new experience flooded back into her consciousness.  

She folded up the blanket, placing it in her closet and went to brush her teeth.  The whole time she was telling herself it was too late to call…trying to convince herself to just abandon the idea entirely. However, a part of her...the part that seemed to advocate for this…a part of her that she really didn't quite understand...reminded her that Krystal apparently had called at 11pm.  The unicorn clock on her nightstand that she'd had since she was a little girl said 9:03pm.  

"Oh...,” she said deep in thought, absent-mindedly twirling a lock of her thick brown hair in her fingers, “… what the heck..." she abruptly said to no one as she marched back to the couch.  She took a seat, shifting her weight off her left side and bringing her right foot up underneath her butt to sit on as she dialed the numbers...and then before she knew it...she heard a ringtone.  

One tone.  

Two tones.  

Three tones.  

No one was going to answer; it was probably going to go to voicema--

"R&R Lab Studies; Participant contact line", the feminine but robotic voice on the other line said.  

Becca was almost certain it was one of those automated machine things, so she felt silly talking to it.  

"Yes...Hi...umm....my friend gave me this number to call.   She said she spoke to someone about an experiment going on there? I think she said it was an intern?"  She sighed in relief, having gotten the words out, and quickly added, "Is there any way I can speak with her?" 

The voice responded, "The interns have all gone home for the evening; I was about to head out the door myself when I heard the phone ringing.”

“Oh, its okay. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Becca replied quickly, but the voice resumed without missing a beat. It was professional and robotic, but there was a certain charm and warmth to it.  

“...but as the lead scientist of R&R Laboratories, I'm sure I can answer any question you might have about participating.  My name is Dr. Katie Walker. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" 

~

Becca:  My name's Becca.

Dr. Walker:  It's nice to make your acquaintance, Becca.  I would love to answer your questions...but first, why don't you tell me how you heard about the R&R study?

Becca:  ..R&R?

Dr. Walker: Reduction and Relocation Laboratories.  

Becca:  Oh, right; well...I know this may sound strange...cause it was definitely strange to me...but my friend Krystal told me about it; she found this number written down on the wall of one of the ladies room stalls at my--well…I mean her school.

Dr. Walker: Oh, interesting.  Give me just a moment....

Becca: ....

Dr. Walker: ...Okay then…so I see that....hmm...you must be.....oh yes here it is; I assume you’re calling either from Connecticut or New York?

Becca:  Yeah, it’s New York.  How did you know that?

Dr. Walker: It’s what our awareness initiative paperwork tells me.  I tasked several of my interns with spreading the word about the experiments and gave each of them regions of the country that I believed to be an appropriate demographic for these types of experiments.  We've had some of the girls circulate special puzzle-type flyers, flyer tear-offs, and some other very creative reaches.  It looks like Amanda oversaw your region.Her notes here say that she chose several progressive universities who had higher female attendance and more focus in the arts and she arranged for notes to be left in select restrooms. 

Becca: Oh, I see.  …so, what is it exactly that you're trying to accomplish? It's too embarrassing for me to say but my friend told me a little bit about what you’re trying to do.

Dr. Walker: You’re looking for a succinct answer and I will do my best to deliver. Although fair warning…I often get carried away! it sounds like you already have an idea of what we do here so I will cut to the chase. 

I am of the strengthening belief that, for a growing number of reasons, the female rear end has remarkable candidacy as a suitable housing environment for a size-reduced male. To be perfectly honest, it may be THE suitable environment.  I have formed this belief over the past several years and have managed to confirm many of my suspicions and hypotheses with empirical data.  I suspect that, if encouraged, a majority of size-reduced males would eventually come to accept and perhaps even embrace the environment of the female rear if only given enough time and exposure.  Once effective biological conditioning methods and dependencies could be verified and established, the next phase would be…you know, I’m getting a little ahead of myself here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.

Becca: ....

Dr. Walker: Becca, are you still there?

Becca: …Wow…Krystal was right.  You...seriously want to shrink people and put them...in girls' butts?

Dr. Walker: Well, it would seem like that is a much more succinct way of putting it, Becca...but yes; your friend was correct.

Becca: ....How does that even work though?  Like...why someone's butt?

Dr. Walker: Due to some genetic constraints I won’t bore you with, it was determined early on that designating women as the keepers of size-reduced males was the most pragmatic arrangement. This decision was somewhat obvious, but we deliberated for some time on the method and conditions of care.  Ultimately, the rear end won out over some other really great ideas. Not without its downsides, some obvious and some subtle, the female rear end possessed all the desirable attributes for housing:  the buttocks are sufficiently soft, large, and cushioned so as to keep the size-reduced males safe even in high-movement and impact conditions. Additionally, the cleavage formed by the buttocks forcing in on one-another is such that the size-reduced male is not capable of becoming dislodged, either by accident or otherwise.  This remains true for static stance, dynamic movement cases, and its obviously exceedingly true for "sitting" and “laying” cases as when the buttocks are under high compression.  The temperature between the buttocks is not so elevated as to permanently damage the size-reduced male, but adequate to regulate the size-reduced male’s body temperature…a natural ability lost as a consequence of the size reduction.

Becca: I just...I don't understand...how do you get people to even--

Dr. Walker: --volunteer to be shrunken?  That’s a common question, and it's a good one!  Our method of acquiring males, whom we call “subjects”, is comparable in ways to how we get females, whom we call Participants: we attract them through very generous compensation.

Becca: Yes, my friend told me that you guys pay...but how can you afford that?

Dr. Walker: Much of this study is confidential. Some aspects even interns and fellow scientists are not permitted to know, let alone potential Participants....no disrespect intended. Let’s just say that the study is...independently funded.  I apologize but I must leave it at that.

Becca:  Ok…

Dr. Walker: So, I take it the compensation is what persuaded you to contact us?

Becca: Umm...yes, mostly.

Dr. Walker: May I ask what you were told?

Becca: My friend told me it was $200 for the week.

Dr. Walker: She is right! That is our going compensation rate for a 1-Week CTL.

Becca: 1-Week CTL?

Dr. Walker: Oh, apologies. 1-Week Commitment Term Length. $200 flat rate for one week of participation where the subject spends a pre-established amount of time wedged between your buttocks. Is that something you would be interested in?

Becca: Well, um…I'm curious about a few other things first...do you pay the shrunken person too?

Dr. Walker: Of course.  The subjects are compensated 45% of the Participant's 1-Week rate.

Becca: Well, I suppose I feel a little better about it if they are getting paid too…but wait a minute…the shrunken person has to spend that time in the girl’s butt...and you pay the girl more?  That seems kinda strange.

Dr. Walker: That's a good observation, Becca.  The reason we compensate the Participants more handsomely is because the success or failure of the experiment, and therefore the brunt of the responsibility, falls on their shoulders.  The accrual of admissible results of the experiment are contingent upon the participant's adherence to the standards and requirements.  Conversely, the subject does not have to do…well…anything.  Nothing is explicitly expected of him aside from sustaining a relatively healthy life, which again is almost entirely the responsibility of the participant.  Does that answer your question?

Becca:  Well...yeah...but it just creates so many more.  What are some of the responsibilities I would have if I became a participant?

Dr. Walker: That depends largely on what Commitment Term Length you select, and I believe you expressed interest in the week-long commitment?

Becca: Yeah, that's the one that I heard about from Krystal...but…it sounds like there are others?

Dr. Walker: Oh yes, many.  There’s actually a full Participant Roadmap of sorts, and it's broken up into three colored tiers.  It's a bit too much to get into over the phone, but I can give you an abridged version now and share the document at a later time if we ever meet. 

So, the Commitment Term Lengths, which I’ll go back to calling “CTL” for short…they start out at just one day. We pair up a subject, usually an experienced one, with a Participant for 24-hours and we ask that the Participant house the subject in accordance with R&R Lab requirements for a minimum of 3 hours.  There is no compensation for this CTL as it is meant more just for the Participant to get an understanding of and feel for the experiment. They essentially “rent” the subject for a short amount of time and return him.  Now, do you have any questions about the 24-hour CTL?

Becca:  You said “experienced”. Like they’d have done this before?

Dr. Walker: The subjects? That’s right.  There are subjects in our roster that we deem more suitable than others for assignment to a revolving queue of potential Participants. Our staff prides themselves on their ability to make these assessments about our subjects’ aptitudes.  Some subjects are meant for one Participant and one Participant alone while others are best suited for a new Participant every day.  It's not unlike the spectrum of male preferences in romantic relationships, but I digress. Anyway, these subjects are mostly paired with new Participants looking just to try things out.  Does that answer your question?

Becca:  Yeah, I get it.

Dr. Walker: Ok, great.  The first compensated CTL would be the 1-Week commitment, which it sounds like you are already familiar with.  As your friend stated, the Participant would receive $200 when she returns her subject at the end of the week.  

Becca:  And the subject too?

Dr. Walker: The subject is entitled to their compensation as well, yes. At that point, the arrangement is over, but the Participant is encouraged to extend to the next CTL.

Becca:  Whoa, a Participant can commit to keeping a tiny person in their butt for longer than a week?

Dr. Walker: If she so desires, yes! The next CTL is for 1-Month. The compensation increases from $200 to $350 a week for the full month.  With this option, the subject is in the Participant’s custody for 4x as long but they receive 7x the compensation!

Becca:  You…would pay me more, the longer I would...keep him there???

Dr. Walker: Oh yes, Becca. While any data we can acquire goes to great use here, we are extremely interested in longer CTL’s; we treasure long-term Participants as there is so much more to learn from them.

Becca: So…what?  We’re talking…like multiple months?

Dr. Walker: Multiple months…even multiple years.

Becca: Years?!?!?!  What…I mean…how...how much does that pay?

Dr. Walker:  Well, once you cross over into a 6-month CTL, the compensation increases to…let me check my printout…we may have changed our figure recently…ahh…$500 a week.  The highest CTL a new Participant can select would be our 1-Year CTL and that pays out at $800 per week.  

Becca: Oh my goodness!  $800 a week for a whole year? Just for keeping a boy in your butt?! Do you have anyone doing that?

Dr. Walker: For the sake of their privacy, we try not to divulge too much on the details of our Participants…certainly not prior to our formal meeting.  What I can tell you is that we do have at least one woman who has been with us for years and she continues to renew her commitment annually. She and her subject have been with us for a very long time…but we can never get enough Participants and subjects; we’re always looking to enlist more!  To be completely honest with you, Becca...our ideal participant would commit to lifelong participation.

Becca: Wow...and the boy?

Dr. Walker: Naturally, he would be linked to the Participant, spending a lifetime in her rear…and we would study the changes he undergoes or does not undergo as time goes by. There's no telling what kinds of secrets about the human body and psyche that their partnership could unlock for the future of humanity.  

Becca: I seriously just cannot believe this is real...it sounds too good to be true…the money, I mean.

Dr. Walker: Well, there is some fine print.  But honestly, I've probably answered more questions than I should have before we’ve even begun the preliminary screening process! I’m not quite as experienced at this anymore; we usually leave it up to the interns.  Would you be willing to answer a few questions for me?

Becca: Sure, doctor.

Dr. Walker: Ok great.  First question: do you intend on traveling internationally or anywhere within the continental United States by air during your participation?

Becca: No, not at all.

Dr. Walker: Alright, wonderful.  Age?

Becca: 19. I’ll be turning 20 on January 8th.

Dr. Walker: Oh, is that right?  Interesting!  It seems we share a birthday.

Becca: Oh really? How about that? What a crazy coincidence.

Dr. Walker: Yes, although mine came a few years before yours! How fun…two 1/8’s.  Anyway, let’s begin.  Do you have any allergies?

Becca: Just carrots.

Dr. Walker: Alright, no problems there.  Would you be opposed to taking medicine recommended or prescribed by the study?

Becca: Ummm...I suppose I’d be okay with it as long as I know what it is and what’s in it...

Dr. Walker: Oh, if that situation arises, please do not worry; all of that would be explained to you beforehand. Are you currently taking any medications or supplements?

Becca: Sometimes I drink protein shakes when I go to the gym; do those count?

Dr. Walker: We aren’t too concerned about those, but I appreciate you giving me all the information you can.  Do you smoke?

Becca: Yuck, no. 

Dr. Walker: Good!  Drink alcohol?

Becca: Sometimes on the weekends.

Dr. Walker: Are you sexually active?

Becca: Umm…its been awhile..maybe a few..umm–

Dr. Walker: –“Been awhile” is a perfectly acceptable answer.

Becca: Haha, okay thanks.

Dr. Walker: Are you diabetic or suffering from heart, lung, or kidney disease?

Becca: Not that I’m aware of, no. My mom has diabetes.  I know there are types but I’m not sure what kind she has. She’s always struggled with her weight.

Dr. Walker: Okay, I’ll make note of that; thanks, Becca. Are you now or have you ever suffered from any digestive, bladder, or bowel problems such as IBS, UTI’s, or Crohn’s Disease?

Becca: I don’t know what any of those are but no, I’ve never had any problems with that stuff.

Dr. Walker: Great; nice and simple.  Do you know your height and weight?

Becca: I’m 5’6” and I think around 135 lbs last time I checked.

Dr. Walker: And what do you do for a living?

Becca: I’m an art student at Pratt Institute..umm..was…well…still kind of am; just trying to figure out what I’m doing…but right now, I’m unemployed.

Dr. Walker: Okay Becca, I’ve saved the most uncomfortable part for last, but to proceed with this preliminary screening, protocol requires that I perform a pre-assessment on where the subject would be residing.  

Becca: …Are you saying you need to see my butt?

Dr. Walker: Yes.  I need to gauge its size and its softness, among other things.  As I said, it's preliminary.  The more in-depth screening would take place at a later time...this is just to ensure that I do not waste any more of your time.

Becca:  Ummm...ok…how do I show you?

Dr. Walker: Is this a cell phone you are calling me from?

Becca: Yes.

Dr. Walker: Okay, perfect. I am texting a 16-digit number to your phone.  If you can snap a picture of your rear, you can text it to that 16-digit number

Becca: ..oh...kay.....do I have to be...yaknow…

Dr. Walker: Yes...for this image, we ask that your rear end be fully exposed and unclothed.  This includes the removal of any nylon/stockings and even thong-style undergarments.  Please take three pictures: one where you are standing normally, feet shoulder width apart...the second with your buttocks flexed and/or standing on "tip-toe", and the final picture, I will need you to gently cup either your right or left buttock underneath and lift it 2-4 inches. I know it might be awkward to position, but try your best to ensure that both your buttocks are fully in the frame of the photographs. We need to get an idea of how large your buttocks are, how soft they are, and how deep the cleft between them is. Lastly, I will need you to acknowledge the agreement I have sent you via text message

Becca: Is this..absolutely necessary, doctor?  I mean, I can assure you that my butt is…well…big enough for this.  A boy in my highschool wrote a song on his guitar called “Badonkadonk Becca”.  I really didn’t like it, but I’d gladly sing it for you if you don’t believe me!

Dr. Walker: Becca, I’m sure you’re not lying. It's just a formality. I assure you, everything is encrypted and nothing is saved…Not another soul will see the images you send except for me, and they will be deleted immediately after viewing.  I will tell you, however, that during the formal screening, images will be taken and retained in the participant file log…but lets just worry about that when we get to it, hmm?

Becca: …Do I really have to?

Dr. Walker: Of course you don’t, dear. You don’t have to do ANYTHING that makes you uncomfortable…This is entirely your choice.  Everything is your choice.  However, I’m sorry to say but this is necessary to continue. I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything so please feel free to decline if that is your preference, and there will be no ill will, I promise. 

Becca: Alright...I just have to lower the phone for a second to get undressed and take the pictures.

Dr. Walker: Please take your time.

Becca: ...

Becca: ....whoops....

Becca: .....

Becca: .....ok, sorry about that; I just sent them...and I'm looking at the paragraphs you sent me now.....an NDA? What’s that?

Dr. Walker: It’s what we call a Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Becca:  Oh, I think I’ve heard of those before.

Dr. Walker: After responding to this text message, you’ll be prompted to record a statement of your name and explicit agreement.  Essentially, you’ll agree to refrain from sharing any of the details mentioned in Paragraph 6, which include any conversation from here on out that you may have with R&R personnel, including me obviously.  Please understand that by completing this, you are not committing to any participation. You are now and always will be completely free to walk away if you change your mind about participating.  I don’t care if we’ve just installed the subject in your rear…we’ll remove him right then and there and you will be free to go on your way.  Just know that you will still be bound by the terms of the NDA should you decide to withdraw.  Understood?

Becca: Yes, I understand.

Dr. Walker:  Alright.  I am at the receiving terminal now, waiting to receive your photogra--oh, there they are. Let me just open them and take a look...oh...mhmm….mhmm…alright Becca, after viewing these pictures and evaluating the size of your rear, there is no doubt in my mind that you are an eligible candidate for this study. Definitely no doubt whatsoever.

Becca: …umm…thanks?

Dr. Walker: That’s a great sense of humor you have, Becca.  That is also a desirable attribute in a participant!  Alright, that is everything I need for the preliminary screening, and you have passed with flying colors.  Now, I believe we left off on....the fine print.

Becca:  Yes, I had a feeling this was too good to be true.

Dr. Walker: In my opinion, it’s really not anything too unreasonable; they are just conditions and standards to which a Participant must adhere to ensure optimum data collection and subject well-being.

Becca: That reminds me...if I were to sign up for...say a week...how long would I have to keep the boy in my butt? Like…day to day?

Dr. Walker: That is actually #1 of the fine print, Becca.  When you begin the experiment, the subject with whom you are paired might have had little to no exposure to the female rear end at his new size, much less with residing in one.  Newly installed subjects who receive little or no break from the constant pressures of confinement, both figuratively and literally, often respond very poorly.

Becca: That makes sense; I couldn’t imagine what it would be like having to get used to that.

Dr. Walker: We accept that both Participants and subjects will have to tolerate some uncomfortable situations throughout their confinement, but most will endure the occasional hardships gracefully. However, we’ve noticed that not taking the time to acclimate the subject gradually to the rear end oftentimes results in a cascade of problems with his adaptation and acceptance down the road.  We learned this the hard way a few times, but none more so than with our very first subject.  We learned so much from his installation and housing. Anyway, for this reason, we think it best to make the transition smooth, gradually acclimating the subject to the unique environment of your rear end.

Becca: Yeah, that makes sense. So there’s a time limit on how long per day he would have to stay in..there?

Dr. Walker: Yes; we recommend our Participants adhere to what we call the Dynamic Daily Minimum, or “DDM”.  The DDM is essentially the minimum amount of time we prefer our Participants to confine their assigned subjects between their buttocks.  That being said, we also prefer to leave a lot of control in the hands of the Participant.  We would recommend no less than 3-hours in rear containment on the first day, and that is the absolute bare minimum. I wouldn't be comfortable with the subject being away from your rear for any longer than that.

Becca: Oh my goodness..3-hours on the first day? That’s a long time! We would really hit the ground running, huh?

Dr. Walker: Indeed!  And we call it “Dynamic” because the average number of hours that the Participant houses the subject is always going up, or at least it should be!  But we can get more into that later .For now, 3-hours…that is the minimum for the first day. Regarding maximums, we recommend not exceeding 14 hours of rear exposure…at least not in the very beginning for the reasons I mentioned above.

Becca: Oh, well that’s pretty thoughtful for the subjects.

Dr. Walker: That maximum limit of 14 hours would apply for the first few days, after which we would permanently remove the ceiling on the maximum limit.  At that time, you would be free to confine him between your buttocks for as long as you wanted; no limits whatsoever.  You are free to keep him contained within your rear entirely at your own discretion and convenience, anything from just meeting the DDM all the way up to the maximum 24 hours in the day.

Becca: 24 hours a day in my butt?  I couldn't imagine myself doing that…and the poor boy..

Dr. Walker: You don't have to feel sorry for the subjects, Becca.  They signed the contracts and the contract establishes generous compensation in their name.

Becca: I...hmm….yeah...I guess you're right.

Dr. Walker: I am right, Becca.  Now, to continue...while housing the subject in your rear, you will not be permitted to travel via airplane.  This is due to the FAA scanning technology administered to all travelers.  While I assure you that we are operating within the confines of the law, we cannot risk the subject being confiscated and possibly separated from you...especially such that he would be deprived of his exposure to your rear for the DDM.

Becca: I understand, that makes sense. Does that mean I would have to keep him a secret?

Dr. Walker: I would ask that you refrain from posting videos or photos online with him, but please feel free to tell your friends about him and even show them as long as it is discrete and it is during his authorized time away from your rear.  Something else worth mentioning..and I only mention it because it happens all the time… if you show him to your girlfriends, they may request to "try him out".  Understand that the foundation of this experiment is the biological and psychological conditioning of the subject to accept and embrace YOUR rear and yours alone.  We mustn't confuse or traumatize him by needlessly subjecting him to the rears of multiple women. Not to mention that not every woman possesses a rear end suitable in size and softness for rear-housing.  If they are interested in housing or otherwise interacting with your subject, I’d ask that you refer them to us for a screening.

That being said, we do understand that sometimes things come up and housing your subject is not always practical…at least not yet.  That is why we will allow you to appoint a temporary alternate.  She will act as a "babysitter", so to speak, when you are unable to house the subject.  It can be anyone that you trust, and while we retain their information and photographs on file, you will be solely responsible for the subject while he is in their care.  As I said, we understand that housing your subject will not always be practical, but we expect situations that require the subject to be housed in the alternate's rear to be rare.

Becca: Okay, that’s a lot to take in…but I think it all makes sense.

Dr. Walker: Every once in a while, someone here at R&R Labs will contact you regarding the study and ask you a few questions and maybe ask you to perform a few tasks...usually related to ascertaining the subject's strength and degree of acceptance.  These may be somewhat frequent in the beginning as the subject goes through some pronounced psychological changes within the first few days, but they will become less frequent as time goes on.  Sometimes, depending on the data and occasionally random selection, we will ask you to travel to our labs in North Carolina.  Unfortunately, as I've said earlier, our Participants are not permitted to fly, so the trip must be made using rails or road.  The entire trip, of course, will be covered by R&R labs.  We are usually able to cover the trips up front but in the rare case you have to pay, just maintain all receipts to get full reimbursement.  

Becca: That seems fair.

Dr. Walker:  And that's about it.

Becca: ...how can that be it?

Dr. Walker: Pardon?

Becca: Well…you said he'd be in my butt for AT LEAST 3 hours each day, but probably way more. If I'm not driving to NC or talking on the phone with you, what am I supposed to be doing?

Dr. Walker: ...Can you elaborate on what you mean?

Becca: What do I do with him when he’s not in my butt?  And later on when the Dynamic Daily Minimum thingy rises to a lot of hours, and I have to keep him in my butt for like at least half the day…I mean…what do I do while he’s in my butt?

Dr. Walker: ...Becca...you're supposed to just live your life.

Becca: ???

Dr. Walker: The whole point of this study is to find a way to optimally reduce male impact on society while also retaining them for the purposes of reproduction, which is an entirely different experiment set.  They experience heightened resilience and durability after Reduction Therapy but Becca, they are still so very fragile and weak.  We must take care of them...but, of paramount importance, we must find a way to do it such that our lives as women are not compromised.

Becca: You mean...like....not inconvenienced?

Dr. Walker: Precisely!  That's one of the other reasons the rear end was chosen.  Sure, the male could be cared for in the way one might care for a child or a traditional pet, but it would require much more attention and care.  Women should not be burdened with the life-long care of men...and evolution has already secretly and stealthily gifted us women the tools to do so.  It's as if Mother Nature herself has been guiding us toward this finality. So, it makes sense for the success of the experiment to have subjects...how should I put it...live around the lives of women.

Becca: So...let me just make sure I understand...you would have me put the boy in my butt, and then just go on with my life as if he's not there?

Dr. Walker: That is EXACTLY right.  Live your life as you always would.  If you go to the gym 5 days a week, keep on going.  If you sleep on your back, don't feel obligated to sleep on your stomach.  Don't take time off work to accommodate him, don't concern yourself with long periods of sitting while at work or school.  Don’t modify your diet for his benefit. Don’t put your love-life on pause. Take chances, take risks.  Sweat. Laugh. Learn. Experience!  This is your life and the subject is fully capable and ready to learn how to exist within it.  

Becca: ......Wow..that does sound…really cool. I didn’t realize how little this would affect me.

Dr. Walker: That being said, we will ask that you make some very minor modifications in the very beginning, but we can discuss that at a later time in a more formal setting.

Becca: Oh…well, I’m sure I can handle that.

Dr. Walker: Did I hear the word “can”?  Does that mean what I think it means, Becca?  

Becca: ...

Dr. Walker: Will you participate?

Becca: .....

Becca: ....yes.

Dr. Walker: That's wonderful to hear!

Becca: Yeah, my heart is kinda racing right now. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m excited but also super nervous. 

Dr. Walker: That's completely normal!  You’ve made a great choice, Becca.  

Becca: I’m actually shaking a little! Do I have to pick how long of a commitment I wanna make?

Dr. Walker: Not right now, no.  Just take some time to think about it. As you think, please keep in mind that we heavily incentivise longer commitments, and this is evident in our CTL pricing.  Essentially, the maximum time an initial Participant can commit is 1-year.  We would be thrilled if you selected that length, but as I said…think about it.  Do what works best for you.   In the meantime, I will begin making the preparations for your travel plan.

Becca: Travel plan?

Dr. Walker: Why, yes.  We must fly you down to the lab so that we can run a few more tests and ask a few more questions in person.  We can also review the road map and tier system I discussed earlier.  We will need you to sign the contract in person, and then lastly, of course, the matter of installation.

Becca: Installation of what?

Dr. Walker:  ...of the subject, of course.  It's somewhat a point of professional pride.  Starting with our very first subject back in the year 2000, we have personally introduced every one of our long-term subjects to where they will be living…with only a few exceptions.  

Becca: In the year 2000?  Jeez!  I was only 14 back then…and is he still…

Dr. Walker:  …in her rear?  I’m happy to report that he is indeed!

Becca: Wait, that’s the one you mentioned earlier, right? The one that couldn’t adapt and acc–

Dr. Walker:  –We’re very proud of that subject’s continued contribution to this experiment and we’re especially proud of his Participant! I’m sure we’ll all be just as proud of you soon too, Becca…and your subject…that’s assuming a lot about how long you commit…but like I said, there’s no rush on that decision!

Becca: Oh my god..I can't believe this is real.

Dr. Walker: Well, it certainly is, Becca.  We will get you a quick flight down here, but you will have to take a train or bus home since the subject will be in your rear.  There is also the matter of providing a saliva sample.  We will send you a container with clear instructions. May I have your mailing address, please?

Becca: Sure, its 147 Skillman St; Brooklyn, NY 11205

Dr. Walker: Okay great, I’ll leave a note here and one of the interns will begin the paperwork first thing tomorrow morning.  Things move slow here at R&R Laboratories…but the movement is always steady and focused! The saliva sample kit should arrive in about a week.

Becca: Ok I understand.

Dr. Walker: Becca, it was very nice to speak with you and I look forward to meeting you in person soon.

Becca: You as well Dr. Walker.  Thanks so much for taking my call.

Dr. Walker: It was truly my pleasure, Becca.  Have a good night.

Becca: You too, Doctor. 

[Call ended]

~

The alternating sounds of shuffling papers and clacking keys on the computer keyboard were consistent in the office as they had been since 8 am. A new instrument joined the symphony at about 10:50 am:

A squeaky brass doorknob. 

Squeaking as it turned, the door angled away from the wall and into the small office walked Melanie Carlson.  She was expected. 

"Come right in, Melanie...please have a seat. I’m just finishing something up here." The woman behind the desk said, not lifting her brown eyes from her computer monitor. 

The two women sat facing one another, separated by the small desk upon which the woman typed. One woman, the one named Melanie, was in her late teens. Her pretty blonde hair was intricately braided and ran neatly over her shoulder, resting against her slender chest.  She wore a simple small t-shirt and gray yoga pants. The other woman, the one at the keyboard, had a thick mane of gorgeous brown hair with subtle hints of red highlight throughout. The hair fell naturally against the shoulders of her pristine white lab coat. 

The keyboard continued to clack, short but nimble fingers dancing over the keys quickly.  When her jet black fingernails finally stopped, the brunette woman in the lab coat smiled politely.  She pushed her black thick-framed glasses up her short nose and brushed a strand of long brown hair off her face.  Her eyes inevitably darted down to the seat Melanie occupied.  

Melanie’s hips centered nicely in the cushion, and on either side of her narrow waist were several inches of air separating the edge of her thighs from the arm rests.  Further down her long, petite legs, the yoga pants terminated about two inches above her ankles.  White socks disappeared into bright pink Nike sneakers. They bounced rhythmically, perhaps to the beat of a nervous heart.

"All finished."  The woman in the lab coat said, gently pushing her keyboard out from in front of her. 

Melanie asked politely, "I was s'posed to come see you for my follow-up appointment; is today the day that I get to take the little cutie home with me?" 

The smile on the face of the woman behind the desk slowly morphed into a frown and she readjusted her black thick-framed glasses on her face. 

Right to business…

She was good at this sort of thing, and Melanie deserved a straight shooter. The interns were a great help but they often sympathized too strongly with women in Melanie’s position.  Sympathy was important, of course, but sometimes it was better to rip the bandaid off than to try and sugarcoat things.  Even some of the other doctors on staff had this problem to varying degrees. That was precisely why Melanie was even here today: a sympathetic doctor must have recommended Melanie’s followup despite her preliminary screening results. It probably seemed like a nice thing to do, but this poor girl’s hopes had now been raised, and it was time for a dose of reality. She would have a talk with that sympathetic doctor about this later. To the sympathetic doctor’s credit, this issue of sympathy really only showed through toward the women; for the most part, they all seemed rather indifferent toward the subjects. 

 "Yes, that's correct." The brunette woman with black thick-framed glasses replied to Melanie carefully, "I'm afraid it's bad news." 

She took no pleasure in seeing Melanie's hopeful young face stretch and turn sour, but what else could be done?

 "Unfortunately, the tests revealed that your rear does not meet the minimum requirements for the experiment.  I'm sorry, Melanie."  

The band-aid had been ripped and judging from Melanie’s face, it looked like it hurt. Most girls didn't take this news very well…and really who could blame them?  However, Melanie's face was intriguing to say the least.  Emotional displays of disappointment, despair, but also confusion scrolled across the petite teenager’s face.

As if she were a screwdriver that had been given nails, Melanie might have just been given something she had never gotten before and had no idea how to handle.  The look on her face seemed to suggest she'd never had a brick wall placed in front of her like the one towering over her now.  It was probably a safe assumption…she was young...beautiful, and adorably petite.  She’d surely been admired by countless men and coveted by countless women…but within these walls, the rules were different. This girl was certainly not used to hearing no...and she was just short of tilting her head like some woodland creature watching a human try to talk to it.  

"But....why?"  Melanie said quietly, her face red with embarrassment and her eyes a bit teary. The teenager picked at her bright pink fingernails as her hands fidgeted in her slender lap. 

The woman behind the desk reached into the pocket of her white lab coat, stretched tight by her full breasts, and pulled out a clean handkerchief.  Handing it to Melanie, she said, "It's just a matter of size and softness, Melanie.  There’s nothing wrong with you, it's just that a subject would not be safe residing in your rear.  There is not enough cushion in your buttocks to protect him.  Please don't take it personally."  

Melanie began shaking and the cherubic cheeks of the 18-year old drifted into alarming shades of red. 

"Don't take it personally?" She asked, not quite raising her voice but clearly upset as she stood up.  "You're telling me I'm not good enough to keep a stupid shrunken guy in my asscrack!  How is that not personal???" 

The woman behind the desk stood up as well, "Melanie…please understand...it's just a concern of logistics.  You failed the first test…did you think that was not going to be an issue?"

Melanie’s eyes widened and her expression wrinkled sourly.  Her eyes slammed shut for a moment, and she abruptly turned on her heel and marched out of the tiny office.

The woman in the white lab coat was now following Melanie toward the waiting room. She thought back to that test she had conducted.  She remembered hearing the sound of the bright orange peg hitting the cold floor between Melanie's bare feet.  She saw the frown grow on her assisting intern’s face; the intern was very new but even she knew well enough that dropping the orange peg was bad. Melanie didn’t seem to realize though…

The woman in the white lab coat recalled the way her aqua-gloved hand cupped and squeezed Melanie’s left buttock.  Even in her remarkably small hand, the tiny, cute buttock nearly fit perfectly.  There was barely any jiggle within Melanie’s glutes, and any existing jiggle dissipated within less than a second after the gloved hand lifted and bounced it.  

The woman in the lab coat knew then that she would be the bearer of this bad news.  It was a sad thing to realize...that in this utopic future world..not every woman was fit to care for a subject...to shoulder the responsibility, no matter how trivial and effortless, of caring for a size-reduced man.  To think of how easily it came to others...simply because their rear ends were larger. Some women naturally graced into the qualification with puberty and lucky genetics…others might have met the softness and size requirements only due to how many extra calories they consumed per day. Some might qualify to how much they exercise their backsides, and some might qualify due to how little they exercise at all.  It didn’t seem fair, but then again life is rarely fair.  She did feel sympathy for women in Melanie's position, but that was just the way things were…most women could do it…but not everyone has a rear end suited for housing size-reduced men.  

The 22 year old’s eyes were getting mistier as she marched down the hall.  She disturbed the quietness of the waiting room, alarming the receptionist and the one woman sitting there reading a People magazine. The woman in the white lab coat was prepared to give more answers and condolences to Melanie, but she watched the bratty girl lock eyes with the woman who was waiting.  

The seated woman was older…not quite so attractive as the young and nubile Melanie. Her hips were substantially wider and her thighs remarkably thicker.  

“Who are you?” Melanie asked, her voice aggressive and quivering.

The seated woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I’m Lori Warren.  I have an appointment.”

Melanie's face contorted into something that resembled jealousy and then immediate confusion of that jealousy as she eyed those wide, bare thighs, subtle hints of age-earned cellulite sparingly dispersed throughout the fleshy landscape. The skin terminated at the hem of a jean skirt that Melanie probably wouldn't have been caught dead wearing.  

“And I guess you’re gonna give one to this old lady, huh?” Melanie said, motioning toward the now very self-conscious woman.  Melanie looked in some strange combination of disgust and envy at Lori’s large, bare thighs…subtle dimples of cellulite where her bare skin met the cushion of the seat. Lori self-consciously tugged down the hem of her skirt, trying to cover the expansive pale flesh best she could to avoid prying eyes.

“…gave…”

Melanie whipped her head around, pulling her attention from the massive pale thighs compressing into the tiny seat below.

“What did you say?”  Melanie asked the receptionist with fire in her sparkling blue eyes.

“You asked if we were going to give her one.” the pretty, young receptionist said, a plain look on her pretty, young face.  “We already gave her one.”  

The tears were actually streaming now, staining Melanie’s cheeks. 

“So that means she’s getting all that money for fucking nothing except having a fat disgusting ass!”

  Melanie ran out of the room sobbing, exploding out the front door.  The door shut firmly behind her and Melanie was gone, but the three women left in the waiting room could still hear the stomping of feet like a child who didn’t get her way.  Lori and the brunette woman in the white lab coat stared at the door, as if to pay their last respects to Melanie's dreams of participating. Lori broke the silence, nervously uncrossing her legs and recrossing with her bare left thigh atop her right. 

“I’m….only 37.” Lori said, clearly insecure about the ‘old lady’ comment. 

The woman in the white lab coat smiled with her lips but frowned with her eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, ma’am.  Do you know who you are waiting for?"

"I have an appointment with Dr. Walker at 11am.  Do you know when she will be ready?" 

The brunette woman in the white lab coat pushed her black thick-framed glasses up her cute button nose and smiled, "Yes, that's me.  I'm terribly sorry for the wait…I hate to ask you to wait longer, but I will have someone send you in shortly."  Dr. Walker turned away from Lori and took a deep breath to clear herself of the unpleasant encounter with Melanie Carlson, smoothing her white lab coat over her breasts and stomach before exiting the waiting room. Lori returned to her magazine, shifting in her seat.

Dr. Walker’s heels made scuffing noises with each step as she made her way back to her office.  Mere moments after the busy young doctor’s weight had settled into her chair, there was a knock on the door and another woman wearing a lab coat entered.  Her hair was a thick and beautiful red hair and her cheeks were decorated densely with attractive, eye-catching freckles.

"Good morning Dr. Walker.” The redhead said from the door frame, the face of her cell phone pressed firmly against her chest.

“Good morning Dr. Stanhope; what can I do for you?”

Dr. Stanhope gestured toward the phone at her chest, “I have Maria Hernandez's daughter Jenn on hold.  Her mother is traveling for business and has asked Jenn to stand in as an alternate while she’s gone. Jenn wants to know if the subject can remain in her rear while she goes swimming."  

Dr. Walker's eyes drifted up to the left corner as she searched her mind's directory.  

"Hernandez.......” Dr. Walker pondered for a moment, searching her memory.  “How big is her subject?" 

Dr. Stanhope responded quickly, "quarter-incher". 

Dr. Walker took no time in responding, "Oh okay. That shouldn't be a problem at all.  I assume she is trying to avoid removing him from her rear?”

Dr. Stanhope replied, “That’s right. Apparently the subject has already maxed out his allotted time off from rear confinement for the day .” 

“Already?” Dr. Walker asked inquisitively, checking her wrist watch.  It was only 11:12 AM.  

The red-headed scientist nodded, “It seems that Jenn used that time for…other activities.”

Dr. Walker chuckled lightly, “Experiments of her own? Busy girl.”

Dr. Stanhope mirrored the amusement, her heavily freckled cheeks spreading as she grinned cutely, “Indeed.  She would appreciate it if we kept that bit off the record.”

“Of course.” Dr. Walker said sincerely.

“Anyway, Jenn understands how important it is that he remains confined in her rear and accepts responsibility for, as she put it, ‘using up his break time’.  She is fully prepared to cancel those swimming plans if it would affect the subject’s safety.”

Dr. Walker replied, “Oh, no need at all.  She will just need to fully insert him into her rectum. During initial contact with the cold water, her body will reflexively create a reasonably water-tight environment for the subject inside of her body, even while her rear is completely submerged.”

Dr. Stanhope nodded in concurrence. “That’s a great idea, Dr. Walker.  And at such a diminutive size, I expect Jenn will barely even be able to feel him.

Dr. Walker nodded and removed her black thick-framed glasses and lightly mouthed at the frame, deep in thought. Her lips were moving but she wasn’t speaking and her eyes were up at the ceiling.  Dr. Walker’s eyes returned to Dr. Stanhope’s.

“For a subject of his size, there should be enough rectal volume to allow for around 3 hours of uninterrupted respiration, give or take an hour depending on what she had for breakfast this morning and dinner last night.  I doubt she’d be submerging her rear for that long with no breaks so there should be no problems. At some point later when she is finished with her swimming and ready to remove him, it would be a good idea for her to review the protocols for safe removal and cleaning of rectally-installed subjects.  I believe that is covered in either Section 4 or Section 9 of the R&R Installation and Housing Guide, but I could be mistaken. Most importantly, please tell her to enjoy her swim!”

Dr. Stanhope smiled, “I’ll give her the good news! By the way, the receptionist wanted me to remind you that you have your appointment with Lori Warren; she's a recently enrolled participant here for her follow up." 

"Yes, I spoke with her briefly as I was...escorting Ms. Carlson out."  

Dr. Stanhope winced, “Goodness…I could hear her from my office. Poor girl.”

Dr. Walker took a long sip of her Starbucks cream+sugar coffee and said, "Which followup is Lori here for?"

Still clutching the phone to her chest, Dr. Stanhope removed a tiny spiral notebook from her pocket and flipped it open with one hand, scanning the page she’d flipped the notebook open to.  "First one.  Subject #119b was mailed to Ms. Warren on September 19th. She reported that the rear installation of the subject took place in her home on September 22nd." 

"Oh yes, I remember now. Anything else I’m forgetting?"

Dr. Stanhope flipped the page with the same hand that held the notebook.  "One of us needs to do the bi-weekly tour of the Subject Storage Facilities today.....oh...and several saliva samples came in the mail today...I'm assuming for Assignment Shots?" 

Dr. Walker smiled, "Precisely.  You can have one of the interns put them in the Controlled Temperature Unit with the others for now if they haven't already...I will tour the SSF-1 and SSF-2 after I've met with Ms. Warren.  Can you have one of the interns escort her to my office?  I believe Quinn might be free.”

“Sure thing.” the red-headed doctor smiled and started to leave the office.

“Oh, Carla?” Dr. Walker said abruptly before the door fully closed.  

Dr. Stanhope re-opened the door, “Hmm?” 

“Please inform Ms. Hernandez that the 3-hour breathing estimate only applies if the cavity is empty.”

Dr. Stanhope’s eyes widened and she smiled, “Oh, good thinking!  I’ll recommend that she use the restroom before she inserts him.  Thanks, Katie! Happy Friday!”

With that, Dr. Stanhope left, closing the door behind her.

Dr. Walker used the next few minutes to review some quarterly pricing estimates on lab materials.  She had just gotten off the phone with a rep at Thermo Scientific regarding some benchtop centrifuges when the squeaky door knob turned again, and in walked Lori Warren.  

"Hello Ms. Warren." Dr. Walker said, rising to her feet.  With her uncomfortable heels removed, the 5’-4” doctor stood about 2 inches shorter than the 37-year old whose hand she was now shaking.  

“Lori, once again I cannot apologize enough for what happened in the waiting room. That was not fair to you and you shouldn’t have had to experience that.” Dr. Walker apologized profusely. 

"Oh, it's no problem.” Lori said sympathetically. “As a mother of three teenage girls, I know better than anyone how callous and vicious they can be.  She seemed very angry…and hurt.  I suppose it's about not being accepted?” 

Not eager to discuss the business of other Participants, be them accepted or rejected, Dr. Walker soberly nodded.

"Well, that's a shame…” Lori said.  Dr. Walker noticed the woman’s eyes dancing over her own thighs. 

Both women sat down, and Dr. Walker paid close attention as Lori's substantial rear came into contact with the cushion. There was a swishing sound of friction. It was the denim against her hips rubbing against either arm rest as her wide bottom sank into the seat. Each of the mature woman’s wide-set hips lightly pressing against the arm rests and shallow but prevalent shadows appeared along her plush, pillowy thighs as the arm rests dug in subtly, struggling to contain the woman’s buxom figure. Had those rigid armrests not been there restricting her waist and thighs, Lori’s expansive bottom might have overflowed off the edges of the seat.  

Dr. Walker smiled.

"Alright, let's get started." Amongst a sea of paperwork atop the young scientist’s desk, Dr. Walker surgically extracted a single blank form and uncapped a pen from her breast pocket. 

 "So…the Week-1 follow-up is not usually required but since we haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting, I’m pleased to be sitting across from you today.”

Lori smiled warmly as Dr. Walker continued.

“Today will not be incredibly in-depth.  We've already gotten your measurements, we've provided you with the training underwear, the vitamin regimen…and provided you with instructions. These all should have arrived in the packaging with the subject.  I don't expect that we would get a lot of information from doing a....excuse the pun…a ‘hands-on’ analysis at this time, so I just need to ask a few questions.”

Lori smiled and nodded, crossing her left leg over her right, shifting a majority of her weight to her right side as she did.  Dr. Walker could see up the underside of Lori’s thick thigh where it met the inside of her skirt and the observant young doctor saw a flash of maroon.  ‘Good’, she thought. ‘Lori was wearing the training underwear’. 

"Alright...first question here, of course:  Subject's current location?" Dr. Walker asked, looking up from the paper smiling at the obviousness of the question. 

Lori answered with her eyes as she looked down over her left shoulder and at her hefty rump. 

"Perfect!" Dr. Walker said with a smile, checking the ‘Participant's rear’ box on the form.  “Are you housing him between your buttocks or are you housing him rectally?”

Lori hesitated, “….the first one.” 

Dr. Walker smiled; she couldn’t tell if Lori was embarrassed to specify or if she had to focus on the feeling of the subject to determine where he was.  She made a note next to the check mark she’d just made.     

"Next question…how long has he been in your rear?"  Lori looked up at the ceiling much like Dr. Walker did when trying to remember which subject Maria Hernandez had, and she said, "Umm....he got delivered to my house a week ago, and I opened his box the next day, so that would have been September 22nd." 

"I see...and when was the installation?" 

Lori quickly answered, "Oh, the very same day.." 

Dr. Walker smiled and checked another box.  

"........Okay...and how was the first day?  How long was the subject in your rear?"  When Lori didn't answer immediately, Dr. Walker added, "We're only looking for rough estimates here." 

Lori seemed to relax a little hearing this, "Hmmmm...well I put him in my...well...my behind on Thursday afternoon only a few minutes after opening him.  He was there until lunch about 2 hours later...then I put him inside the little cardboard box that came in the packaging you sent him in. He rested there for a few hours while I ran some errands.  And then…….”

Lori rubbed her chin trying her best to be accurate.

“….then when I came home, I took him out of the box and put him back in my backside. I kept him there while I cleaned the house, ate dinner, and made the girls’ lunches for the next day.  When I went to bed, I took him out and set him to sleep in the little box on my nightstand."  Lori concluded her recall, half speaking out loud and half muttering to herself.  "So, I think he spent about 4 hours in my rear on the first day”

"That's a great first day! You actually exceeded the Day-1 DDM!” Dr. Walker remarked excitedly.  She did some quick mental math.   “The subject spent a smidge over 16% of his first day completely surrounded by your buttocks”. 

Lori smiled proudly. 

Dr. Walker continued, "Fantastic, Lori. Truly fantastic. I knew you would do well and I’m not at all surprised. Next question, arguably the most important of all of them: how have you handled this?" 

Lori smiled, "Well, the girls are getting older.  Gina is a senior now and I am pretty much the lamest person she knows.  Isabella is in her junior year and Victoria is taking a second attempt at her Freshman year.  They’re all so busy nowadays, it's kind of nice to take care of something…to have something so little and fragile…so dependent on me for everything...even if I don't get to see him all that often", she said, caressing her left ass cheek. 

"And it's done wonders for my confidence” Lori continued, “It's so difficult to explain…but knowing he's there is something of a mental stimulation. I know it may sound selfish, but in a strange way it feels nice to know that his world revolves around me." 

Lori spoke humbly and happily, and yet she was leaning even more over onto her right side.  Dr. Walker had noticed this gradual leaning from the start, and finally decided to speak up, asking directly about the reasoning behind it. 

"Oh…" Lori replied, looking down at her body, her right hip digging deep into the right arm rest, her left glute barely in contact with the seat.  "Well........I've noticed that when I...do this...” Lori drew attention to her right side and how it was supporting her weight entirely.  “…he doesn't kick and struggle as much." 

“I see…” Dr. Walker said, setting her pen down.  “And how does that make you feel?”

“Well, it's not terribly comfortable..” Lori said, looking down at her feet.

Dr. Walker nodded her head, "I see...well Lori..what do you believe that kicking to represent?" 

Lori responded, "I'm not sure...”

Dr. Walker judged that Lori was getting uncomfortable, evident by her palms pressing into the armrests and applying pressure, giving her single glute a break from supporting her weight, and then she returned the weight to it. 

Lori continued, filling the uncomfortable silence, “I assumed it was...dissatisfaction...I would feel him struggling whenever I sat down...intense struggling...and I noticed that when I shifted my weight over to one side like this, the struggling was less intense and would sometimes go away entirely.  I think it's because when I sit centered, my buns are squeezing in on each other so tightly, making things very tight and difficult for him.”

Dr. Walker, "Lori..do you know what that sounds an awful lot like?" 

Dr. Walker barely finished her question before Lori was answering, "Yes…yes...I know, Doctor,” she said defensively.  “I know you said not to inconvenience myself for his sake...but it seems like such a small gesture...so little effort on my part…and it probably means so much to him. And I’m not what anyone would call ‘slight’.”

Lori ran her hands down her wide hips and gently grabbed one of several available handfuls of flesh on each of her large bare thighs.  “He’s just so small…and to think of him having to accept this much weight…” 

Dr. Walker reached her hand out over the desk and held it upright.  Lori released one of her thighs and extended her hand out to the young, wise doctor.  

"Lori...you are not doing him any favors by babying him.  This is what he signed up for, and he needs the full experience…don’t you agree? We have Participants that weigh more than you, housing subjects much smaller than yours.  I’ve watched them take a seat in that very chair you’re sitting in now, and they do so with little to no regard for the subject…but it's not because they don’t care.  It's because they know he can handle it.  They know he can handle anything she throws his way. That’s his job.  It's his only job.  The Participant’s job…your job…is so much more involved and complicated.  You're the one taking care of him, and what does he do for you? He should be grateful that you’re this considerate and concerned with his feelings.."  

Lori didn't seem entirely convinced, but just enough to slowly start adjusting her weight over her center of mass.  Her hanging left ass cheek contacted the seat and began to slowly compress into the cushion…the massive glute began to change shape as more pressure was applied. Inevitably, Lori’s left ass cheek was now pressing into her right ass cheek, undoubtedly creating heavy, knee-bending compression for the tiny little subject nestled so deeply between those heavy, fleshy spheres.. 

"Oh...he's started again..." Lori said, rolling her eyes.  She appeared  flustered and aggravated, speaking of the shrunken man trapped deep between her cheeks. 

"…and this time, wait for him tol stop."  Dr. Walker squeezed Lori’s hand, her cute and young lips curling in a comforting smile, the smile also seen in her young yet paradoxically wise eyes.  

And he did stop…about 30 seconds after Lori had allowed the seat to accept all of her weight evenly.  He must have given up, or that was Dr. Walker’s best guess anyway. From Lori’s reaction, Dr. Walker assumed there was nothing but the slightest hint of a tickle deep in her crack, if anything at all. 

 "You were right!" Lori said wide eyed.  

In a celebratory gesture, Lori even lifted her bare feet up to demonstrate the full burden of her weight on the chair and, by extension, the subject in her rump. 

Dr. Walker smiled even bigger now…not just as a doctor...but as a woman that was right.  Had he found a comfortable position deep between Lori’s buttocks?  Had he decided to give up? Had he exhausted himself?  Had he passed out?  It didn’t matter because the end result was always the same. 

"Of course, I was.  You know, you have to be careful with these subjects...you give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.  Today they're pestering you to sit angled in your seat...tomorrow they're expecting to be carried around on a velvet pillow and waited on hand-and-foot.” 

Lori blushed, but also laughed in agreement.  Dr. Walker asked a few more questions…mostly about Lori's day-to-day activities…what the subject had experienced...what kinds of temperatures he was exposed to, sexual activity, so on and so forth.  It had been a busy week for Lori and she was very responsible in adhering to the hourly housing requirements set forth. Dr. Walker reminded Lori that they were now at the end of the 1-Week CTL and now Lori had the decision to either return the subject and conclude her participation or extend it to 1-Month.

Dr. Walker was delighted to hear Lori decide to extend.

Finally, the meeting was over.  Dr. Walker eyed the clock out of the corner of her eye as she shook hands with Lori...it was 1145am. 

"Alright, well everything seems to be in order here.  4 hours of confinement in your rear was a great start for the first day.  Not every Participant achieves that so congratulations. After the first day, you complied with the 1-Week DDM requirement and housed him in your rear for at least 6-hours per day, and I was thrilled to hear that you kept him in your rear overnight last night.  It's a great idea to sprinkle in some extended housing sessions just to keep him on his toes.  Keep on taking care of the subject and keep on reviewing the literature. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I think that’s everything but I’m sure I’ll think of something the moment I get back home.” Lori joked.

“Not a problem at all.  You can always call with any questions or concerns.  Now remember, going forward you are now in the 1-Month CTL of the PURPLE TIER.  That means you’ll now receive $350 per week! The subject’s compensation remains unchanged. Lastly, the DDM has now increased from 6 to 12 hours of rear confinement per day.

Lori smiled and said, “Oh my…that would mean he would spend half of his day in my behind..”

Dr. Walker quickly responded, “Exactly right!  Keep in mind though that the 12-hour figure is merely a minimum.  Please do not feel obligated to remove him from your rear if it would be easier to keep him confined.

“I think we can handle it, doctor.  He’s a lot stronger than I have given him credit for; you certainly taught me that today.  Thank you!” Lori smiled and happily walked out of the office, an extra proud and victorious swing in her wide hips.  

~

Dr. Walker’s fingers glided over the sheer nylon encasing her tired feet.  What a busy morning it had been!  Even as she was kneading her soles after spending all morning on her feet, she was reviewing the purchasing contract for a brand new mass spectrometer.  There had been a surge in subject enrollment in the past few weeks and every scientist and intern in R&R Labs was busy.  Dr. Walker was grateful that she had secured at least a few minutes of time seated comfortably at her desk in front of her computer screen.  The young doctor clicked to acknowledge the terms of the purchasing contract and although her throbbing feet would have loved more attention, there was so much more to be done.  Dr. Walker slid each of her stocking-clad feet back into her warm flats, cleansed her hands with some hand sanitizer, and left her office.  

Dr. Walker rarely took longer than 15 minutes to eat her afternoon lunch but there was time not even for that today. The busy young doctor hurriedly snacked on some fruit she’d brought from home as she made her way to the Controlled Temperature Unit.  A rogue blueberry escaped the doctor’s hand-to-mouth transfer and it tumbled rebelliously down and away from the doctor’s lips, rolling off her chin, ‘field-goaling’ through the lapelles of her unbuttoned lab coat, and snugly depositing itself into her exposed cleavage.  She rolled her eyes, plunging two fingers into the cleft. After a diligent effort, the busty doctor managed to dig the fresh berry out. The tiny blue ball wet on her fingers but thanks to her delicate grip, the berry’s skin had not ruptured. It traveled unceremoniously from her jet-black fingertips and into her open mouth, where it popped under the pressure of her molars before sliding down her narrow throat. Now masticated and digesting in the doctor’s stomach, all that remained of the blueberry’s legacy was a subtle hint of moisture on and between Dr. Walker’s breasts, but it did not require her attention. It was already beginning to evaporate.

Dr. Walker marched purposefully toward the testing facility containing the Controlled Temperature Unit, expecting pitch-black darkness but the lights were on.  She was not the only person in the room.  

“Oh, hi Dr. Walker.” 

Dr. Walker smiled. “Good afternoon Brandi.  How are you today?”

Brandi grinned, exposing a set of pristine white but endearingly crooked teeth.  She turned her attention back to the countertop upon which her attention was focused prior to the doctor’s entrance but not before eagerly replying, “Busy, just the way I like it!”

Brandi was one of the newest interns at R&R Labs. Screened and accepted by Dr. Walker herself, the 17-year old’s hiring couldn’t have been more essential considering the recent influx of subject enrollment. The cheerful, bright-eyed intern was pursuing a degree in biopsychology and she couldn’t have been more excited to accept the internship position under Dr. Walker.  Brandi was intelligent, driven, and detail-oriented. Perhaps most importantly, and something that Dr. Walker had identified during Brandi’s interview as one of her most obvious strengths: Brandi very obviously had a natural gift for ‘Acclimation Therapy’. 

The 17-year old intern was standing at one of the counters, reviewing some paperwork. Unlike Dr. Walker, Brandi was not wearing a lab coat.  Instead she wore a moderately conservative, long-sleeved blouse, its upper half mostly covered by her straight, dirty-blonde hair. Further south, the blouse very deliberately arched up and over the curve of her waist so as to show off her pants in their entirety..at least from behind. 

It would be easy to mistake Brandi’s very form-fitting bottoms for yoga pants or tights.  Like yoga pants or tights, they hugged so snugly around her voluptuous curves, accentuating and clearly defining the impressive, deep cleft between her well-formed and round buttocks.  

About 18 inches to the left of her expansive rear, Brandi absent-mindedly played with an object in her dangling left hand. It looked to be about the size of a pen cap but its color more closely resembled the fleshy tone of the hand playing with it. In the air was an indistinct sound that Dr. Walker recognized immediately. It was very faint…like a chirping or squeaking, and anyone else not as experienced with the goings-on of R&R Labs might have dismissed it as background noise in an ambient room or even missed it entirely. 

The faint chirping or squeaking became predictably louder as Dr. Walker moved closer to Brandi.  She was close enough to see more clearly now the frenetic, frenzy of movement in the 17-year old’s left hand.  Tiny extremities flailed wildly, periodically becoming blurry from the intensity of their movement. The intern, however, remained largely unfazed by the movement. She occasionally rolled the tiny object around within her fingers, her arm remaining motionless and hanging naturally at her side. Her focus remained fixed on the paperwork before her until she’d decided she was done, and then her left hand began to move.  Brandi brought the flailing, desperate subject from her side and out around her expansive, protruding rear. Her fingers barely cleared the curvy hemisphere of her left cheek, the tiny subject’s body briefly touched the material covering Brandi’s bottom. Then the cushion of the teen’s left glute deformed slightly as she plunged the subject against the fleshy, pitch-black sphere and ran his body slowly in toward the center where the two spheres met. 

Dr. Walker smiled.  Brandi was ‘tracing the cheek’ just as she was taught.  

After touring the full circumference of the teen’s impressive gluteal curvature, the subject was now properly centered directly between each of those hefty buttocks.  The 17-year old intern gently yet firmly wedged the rebellious little subject deep into the valley between her clothed cheeks, nestling him in until their natural cleavage was enough to hold him firmly in place.  Dr. Walker admired how the tiny flesh-colored lump scrambling in Brandi's fingers just seconds ago had now completely disappeared between the soft, jet-black globes.  

"Which one is this?" Dr. Walker's eyes wandered from Brandi’s large protective and possessive rump over to the clipboard next to the intern on the countertop. 

Brandi responded, biting her lip a bit in focus.

"Dennis." The intern recited from memory. 

Dr. Walker raised her eyes from the clipboard and an eyebrow at the intern. After 1-2 seconds of silence, Brandi's eyes briefly squinted shut, as if she were trying to pull the words back behind her lips.

"Oh, shoot…I mean...sorry...I meant”, Brandi had to glance at the clipboard, “…subject #117d." 

“Great.  Which session is this?” Dr. Walker asked.

Brandi smiled, wiggling her hips left and right which created a rhythmic bounce in her big glutes. “Well, it’s OUR first session together…but looking at his record, he’s had A LOOOOOOOT of Acclimation Therapy sessions already…dating way back to before I even started here.  More sessions than I’ve seen any subject have.”

Dr. Walker accepted the answer, her eyes returning to the clipboard.  "Oh yes, I remember this one.  He is a Tier-0 subject.  Do you remember what that means?"

Brandi nodded enthusiastically, “Uh-huh!  It means he’s been paired with a Participant and is awaiting installation, right?”

Dr. Walker nodded, turning from Brandi and approaching the Controlled Temperature Unit along the wall.

“It’s true that MOST Tier-0 subjects have been paired with a Participant and are awaiting installation, yes…but there is one specific milestone in particular that is necessary for a Post-RT subject’s graduation to Tier-0 status.  Do you remember what it is?”

Brandi thought for a moment, crossing her arms over her slender chest. The intern’s pale blue eyes transfixed on the ceiling as a cloud of cold air seeped out and around, creating a small silhouette of Dr. Walker in front of the open doors of the Controlled Temperature Unit.  Dr. Katie Walker was only 6 years older than Brandi, but the young doctor had accomplished so much:  a masters in genetic engineering along with a bachelor's in chemistry with a minor in both mechanical and electrical engineering.  Subordinates and peers alike sometimes felt nervous and inadequate in her presence…and Brandi was getting visibly nervous trying to pass the doctor’s pop-quiz. 

“A Tier-0 subject has received his Assignment Shot.” Dr. Walker said, breaking the silence as she walked back to Brandi, holding a tray containing lab glassware and a variety of chemicals..

Brandi scrunched up her eyes and lightly tapped her forehead. 

“I knew that.  I actually just heard some of the doctors talking about those in the breakroom, but I couldn’t really follow everything they were saying.  How do they work? The Assignment Shots?” Brandi asked, not quite paying attention to the subject encased deep between her cheeks. 

"I'm actually preparing an Assignment Shot right now, if you’d like to observe."  Dr. Walker said with her hands full, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. 

The 17-year old nodded excitedly and stood at Dr. Walker’s side, the subject still fully encased and nestled deep in her prominent backside as the tray came to rest in front of the two women..

Brandi was following Acclimation Therapy protocol, placing each of her hands on each of her massive glutes and slowly yet rhythmically pressing them together on the subject and paying attention to his struggles.  Dr. Walker could gauge as much from Brandi's shiver that the struggling between her buttocks must have intensified in response to the added pressure.  She marveled at how the height and depth of Brandi’s crack increased dramatically when the 17-year old intern mashed her big, soft glutes together. The intern was so well suited for this.

Dr. Walker distractedly set down the kit of supplies she’d retrieved from the Controlled Temperature Unit and put on some aqua-blue gloves.  She encouraged Brandi to do the same as she began mixing several chemicals together in a mixing flask and transferred containers so that she could apply heat and catch the vapors.  

"Since the subject is going to be spending so much time encased in the rear of the Participant, it’s important that the two bodies are in sync with each other…and it only makes sense to mold the subject's body to match the Participant’s.  With me so far?" 

Brandi slightly nodded, "You mean...literally molding them?"  

Dr. Walker chuckled a little, seeing the vapors start to collect on the lining of the tube that followed through a filter.  "No, no.  Chemically and genetically alter.  You see, the Assignment Shot is custom-created with the Participant's genetic makeup as the active ingredient. We mail out sample containers and have the Participants provide a sample of saliva." 

Dr. Walker collected the condensation into a smaller vial and pulled what looked like a contact lens solution squeeze bottle.  It appeared to be about a quarter of the way full and the liquid inside the clear container was a bright, attractive red. The label contained symbols written in a language that she did no understand and that a non-speaker would have no hope of translating.  The only English on the label was what looked like an acronym

BxGi

“What does that stand for?” Brandi asked, gesturing toward the squeeze bottle with the foreign label. “I’ve seen it before on other equipment.”

The doctor uncapped the small squeeze bottle with the foreign label and then looked down at its label for a few moments, “Oh, that stands for BeX Genetics Initiative.  They’re the partnered manufacturer of our epistatic DNA polymerase solute.”  There were no followup questions from Brandi as Dr. Walker squeezed about 6 bright red droplets from the bottle’s small supply of bright red liquid into the collected condensation.

“Can you double check the label on that saliva sample there?” Dr. Walker asked, her hands preoccupied with mixing the bright-red liquid into the condensation.  As Brandi lifted the small sealed sample that Dr. Walker had just pulled from the Controlled Temperature Unit.

Brandi read aloud::

___________

BECCA YOUNG

20

NEW YORK, NY

FIRST-TIME PARTICIPANT

SAMPLE RECEIPT DATE: 2005-10-27

___________

“Perfect.” Dr. Walker smiled.

Brandi looked up from the label with a confused look on her face as if she’d had a question to ask, but the confusion turned to intrigue beholding the spectacle before the two of them. Dr. Walker’s mixture, containing a clear condensation and a bright-red liquid, was now paradoxically transforming before their eyes to a pretty and cloudy light blue.  

"Once the Assignment Shot is administered, the subject’s genetic makeup will begin to alter...the Participant's genetic data appending to the subject's.  The process takes a few days and it is quite painful for the subject but once completed, the subject’s body will have undergone a visually undetectable, semi-permanent transformation.  The participant's body will go on to recognize the subject as something that belongs in direct contact with it...belongs in it…belongs to it...on a chemical and genetic level.  This is very important, particularly for our long-term participants not to mention our more…involved experiments running concurrently.  Now…It's not as if the body is capable of rejecting a subject in the same way it might reject a heart or kidney transplant, but in very subtle ways too complicated to explain outside of a lecture hall, adding the Assignment Shot to the subject’s arsenal will just make things much more....chemically and biologically harmonious once the participant's DNA is applied to the subject's."  

“So…does that mean that the subject becomes…well..for lack of a better word…related to the Participant?”

Dr. Walker stopped what she was doing and looked up at the ceiling for a moment.  “What an interesting question.  I suppose…that would be somewhat true.  On a technical level…hmm…if I were pressed to make an assessment, I would say that after administration of the Assignment Shot, the Participant and subject would share a genetic commonality similar to that of 6th or 7th cousins. Honestly,  that’s just off the cuff; it could be more distant.”

A few more solvents were added…a few more interesting reactions occurred.

 “Okay, now all that's left is the most important part: the Participant’s sample.” Dr. Walker gestured toward the kit of supplies,  “Why don’t you grab a clean metal stirring rod from the Assignment Shot Kit and transfer about 2 CC’s of Becca Young’s sample…” Dr. Walker gestured toward the container of cloudy blue solution in her hand, “... in here.”

Brandi leaned in and squinted at the label one more time before gently scooping some of the thick, viscous liquid into the complicated solution.  “This sample is from 2005? That’s really old for a saliva sample, isn’t it?”

“Nearly a year old…” Dr. Walker agreed. The solution transformed before the womens’ eyes into a pale green, and then a dull amber...and the 17-year old intern gasped as it began to fizz like soda. Brandi must have thought it was going to overflow onto Dr. Walker's hand, but the young wise doctor didn’t seem worried.  The fizzing died down just before reaching her fingers and the level sunk below Dr. Walker's gripping fingertips. “And just enough left from the looks of it.” Dr. Walker said with a smile.

Brandi tilted her head, “I’ve seen a few of these saliva samples but they usually have a lot more than that.”

“As the label says, this sample belongs to a potential Participant named Becca Young.  The reason why the sample is so old is because she was scheduled to begin rear-housing back around December of last year.”

“Golly…what’s taking so long?” Brandi asked.

“Well…” Dr. Walker said, manipulating the solution with the metal stirring rod. Brandi’s pretty blue eyes widened as the solution changed quickly from pale amber to a brilliant bright pink.  “...remember #117d?”

Brandi replied cautiously, “Umm…he’s the one in my butt right now, right?”

Dr. Walker chuckled, “Yes, dear…that one.  Coincidentally enough, #117d here was assigned to you for continued THOROUGH rounds of Acclimation Therapy because he was originally assigned to Miss Young last November.”

Brandi replied, “Oh that makes sense!  I was confused because I saw how long he’s been here with us…and the fact that he’d had Acclimation Therapy last year…but yeah that all makes sense now.”

Dr. Walker nodded, “About two weeks after receiving Miss Young’s sample last year, subject #117d completed Reduction Therapy. We promptly generated an Assignment Shot using Becca’s sample just as you and I did moments ago…”, the doctor then gestured toward the teenager’s huge rear, “...and I personally administered the shot on subject #117d.”    

“Then what happened?” Brandi asked.

Dr. Walker lowered an empty syringe into the bright pink solution.  “Well, we had informed Becca of subject #117d’s selection for her rear and not even a week later, she informed us that she had changed her mind.”

“Oh no!” Brandi said, her hand rushing to cover her open mouth as she lightly gasped. 

Dr. Walker nodded and continued, “Subject #117d hadn’t even fully completed his Assignment Shot recovery when the news of Becca’s withdrawal had come in…and at that moment his future became quite unclear.”

Dr. Walker poured the remaining pink solution down the drain of the sink, rinsed the container, and racked it.  She capped the syringe filled with bright pink liquid and set it down on the counter by itself.

“Awww…poor subject.” Brandi said with a pout, peeking over her shoulder at her curvy, protruding cheeks. “He’s like an orphan.”

Dr. Walker nodded. “Indeed…that’s actually the informal term we apply to subjects in his situation.  It's been a difficult, challenging road for him so far…and there are still plenty of challenges ahead…but he’s got some of the best talent in the world within these walls helping him along.” Dr. Walker said, playfully nudging Brandi’s shoulder.  The 17-year old blushed and smiled, looking down at her feet, embarrassed but extremely proud.

“You see…from the very moment that he received the assignment shot last year, two things happened.  Firstly, he became Tier-0 eligible….and secondly, he developed a non-zero risk of experiencing symptoms of Dante’s Syndrome.”

“Ohhhh…I read about that…” Brandi said somberly, “...I think I saw it in the ‘subject Tier System’.” 

“Yes, its something we are actively trying to prevent as best we can but there is still so much that we don’t know.  Its somewhat of a mystery the conditions under which it develops in experienced subjects–”

“You mean subjects that are already assigned and have already been installed in their Participant’s rears, right?” Brandi interjected with a question.

“Yes, that’s right.  We noticed a direct correlation between likelihood of developing Dante’s Syndrome and progression through the sTS”. Dr. Walker said.

“So the longer they live in a Participant’s butt, the more likely they’ll get Dante’s Syndrome?” Brandi inquired in confusion.

“Well…yes and no.  The first few days of rear-housing are crucial and a lot can go wrong.  Its important to gently guide subjects into rear-housing. Failing to do so is what provokes Dante’s Syndrome.  So long as the subject clears the first week of rear-housing without spontaneously developing Dante’s Syndrome, they likely will not develop symptoms during their stay with their Participant.  Conversely, should they become permanently separated from their Participant.” Dr. Walker said, looking down at Brandi’s large ass. “Well, that could be just as traumatic for them depending on how long they’ve been housed by the Participant’s rear.  The longer they’re housed, the more likely they’ll develop Dante’s Syndrome if they ever become permanently separated from their Participant.  This would include subjects that are surrendered by their Participants, of course…but to bring it back to what I said earlier, subjects yet to be installed become susceptible immediately after receiving their Assignment Shot. 

Brandi looked over her shoulder at her expansive backside and gasped, “Like Denn–I mean…like subject #117d?!”

Dr. Walker nodded.  “That’s right.  Since he did receive the Assignment Shot, the chances of developing Dante’s Syndrome are around 2%.  Luck, however, seems to be on his side. Subject #117d was not accepted by Miss Young and then surrendered.  He was never actually housed between Becca’s buttocks so his chances of developing Dante’s Syndrome are much smaller than they could be.  In fact, if he’d even come into direct contact with Miss Young’s bare buttocks, its likely that his chances of developing Dante’s Syndrome would instantaneously double.”

“Oh wow, it sounds like he’s a lucky ducky then, huh?”  Brandi remarked, cupping and then patting her big, soft cheeks.

“You could say that!” Dr. Walker said with a smile.

Brandi continued, “So that's why his records say that he’s had literally hundreds of Acclimation Therapy sessions for a full year now???  When most subjects only have like half a dozen sessions over the course of a week or two??” Brandi asked in disbelief.

“Exactly right.  What he’s gone through with the previous Acclimation Therapist and what he will now be going through with you is what we call ‘Bond-Breaking’. Its very similar to our conventional Acclimation Therapy sessions but with some stricter and more thorough protocols.  The chances are already quite small, but ‘Bond-Breaking’ will hopefully nip in the bud any likelihood of the orphaned subject developing Dante’s Syndrome. Also, its our best attempt at canceling out the effects of the Assignment Shot so that we can administer a new one and reinstall him with a new Participant.”

“That makes sense…how much longer is he going to be in Acclimation Therapy?” Brandi said.

Dr. Walker smiled, “That will be up to the Acclimation Therapist.”

The 17-year old intern’s light blue eyes widened and she touched her fingers to her chest, “...me?”

The brunette doctor with the black thick-framed glasses nodded her head with a big smile.

“Oh, doctor.  I don’t know.  He’s not like the normal subjects.  I get them a few days after they finish Reduction Therapy, we do a few sessions, and then…it's a kiss for luck and they’re on their way.  Subject #117d is just so…different!  You really think…I’ll know when he’s ready?”

“Of course you will, Brandi.  You have all the R&R test data and resources at your fingertips, not to mention myself, Dr. Bexley, Dr. Becotte, Dr. Stanhope, and any of the other R&R staff for consultation…” Dr. Walker put both hands on Brandi’s shoulders and gently squeezed, “...and Brandi, don’t feel rushed to clear him for reassignment. There is no rush to get him into another Participant’s rear.  I’d rather his bond-breaking be done slowly and correctly instead of quickly and wrong. Even if that means he’s going through Acclimation for ANOTHER year…take your time with him.  Be sure.  It's what YOU think is best…what YOU think he can handle.  Okay?”

Brandi smiled and nodded, “Okay, Dr. Walker.  I can do this.”

Dr. Walker continued, “The ultimate goal is to set subject #117d up with a Participant so that he can be housed long-term successfully, and we’re taking every precaution in the book.  It may seem excessive and overly precautious but to be perfectly honest…even with all this work we’re doing…when the day finally comes that he is to be installed into the bare backside of his new Participant..it may have all been destined to be for nothing.”

“...I hope that doesn’t happen, Dr. Walker. I want him to be able to be assigned one day.”  Brandi said with a frown.  “But what happens if, after all we’ve done for him…he still ends up getting Dante’s Syndrome?.”

“If that happens…” Dr. Walker said, a deep frown growing on her young face as her cherubic cheeks puffed and pointed down, and the room seemed to darken with her pretty brown eyes. 

“...if the subject is exceedingly rebellious, resilient, and problematic, it's likely that the Participant will exchange him for a new, clean subject.  She will surrender subject #117d back to R&R Labs and at that point, subject #117d will have undergone not one but two Assignment Shots.  It will be painfully clear that bond-breaking the first Assignment Shot was not successful so bond-breaking the second one may as well be impossible.  He will be marked as permanently unassignable at his current state.”  

A few moments passed, and the deep frown wiped from her young face…the brightness returned to her eyes and then the room.

“...but we'll wait to see if that happens first…before we jump to what would come next. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves" 

She capped the sentence with a sharp period matching the snap of her gloves as she removed them and tossed them into the trash.

Dr. Walker set the clipboard down and lowered her eyes to the intern's ass.  In her experiences, the struggling of subjects rarely translated to buttock movement, but Brandi's glutes were subtly dancing despite being packed tightly into the housing pants. Even Dr. Walker had forgotten during this entire conversation that a small, naked subject was buried between the 17-year old intern’s prodigious buns.

"Do you know why you have to wear the Housing Pants for Acclimation Therapy?" 

Brandi nodded her head, “Cause being wedged between my bare cheeks would be too much for him, right?” 

"Well, that’s part of it...it’s common procedure to wear the Housing Pants for all subjects...even for the non-resistant because you never know when a subject could display ‘Tier-1’ characteristics.”

“You mean like struggling and being really bad?” Brandi asked.

Dr. Walker nodded. “In addition to providing safety for you, our Acclimation Therapist, the Housing Pants have an ancillary function which you mentioned earlier. We want our subjects to understand what awaits them so they can mentally prepare…again, all in an effort to prevent Dante’s Syndrome.  We try not to overwhelm the subjects with the shock of the female rear too quickly, at least not everything that comes with it...so it’s a good idea to wear at least some sort of partitioning garment during the Acclimation Therapy sessions.  That way, the subjects under your care get to experience the unique and very restrictive pressure of two very large buttocks conforming around their entire body…but without the other added…sensory overloads. 

Any fabric could serve as a barrier, be it denim…be it cotton or polyester..even undergarments..but they lack the technology of Housing Pants. Despite their resemblance, the clothing hugging your lower body is far more sophisticated and purposeful than any old conventional pair of yoga pants or leggings.  The material engineers did an exceptionally good job of developing a garment capable of insulating odor as well as keeping internal moisture segregated from the external environment. Even from his position sandwiched deep between your buttocks, he is experiencing nothing of the environment but the plush softness and cushion, albeit under periodic bouts of extreme compression and pressure.

Brandi was no longer paying any attention to the boy trapped between her cheeks; her full attention was on Dr. Walker.

..but anyway, let’s talk more about Acclimation Therapy subjects exhibiting ‘Tier-1’ characteristics…our last Acclimation Therapist confirmed that subject #117d was not a biter, but that was a long time ago…” Dr. Walker said, frowning at the subject’s thick record.  

“Due to his unique situation and extended Acclimation Therapy sessions, you never can know what might happen.  If you think about it, being introduced to the environment between a large, soft, restrictive set of buttocks would be a challenging new experience for most anyone, but remember..subject #117d is not only dealing with that inherent challenge, but he is also potentially dealing with the added stress of being confined to a rear other than Becca Young’s.  Remember, he’s got her DNA in him now, and his body yearns for genetic harmony…something that it must realize it's lacking.  And when he’s housed between your buttocks or anyone else’s but Becca’s for that matter, it's very troublesome for him.”

“Why should that be so much worse for him though?” Brandi asked.

Dr. Walker thought of an analogy. “Do you play any instruments?”

“Yeah, I started piano lessons when I was 8 and have been playing ever since.”

“Okay great.  Imagine it this way.  You’re playing piano: imagine two notes played together at the same time…two G-notes separated by an octave.  They would match perfectly and resonate pleasantly.  Now imagine two different musical notes, a D-note and G-note. They’re not matching notes but they sound relatively pleasant when played together.  Now, if we increase the D by a single half step to a D#, it will sound less pleasant when played with that same G.  

Increase that D# by another half step to an E..it doesn’t sound great but not terrible. 

F and a G? Not a great sound at all. An interesting pattern is starting to emerge as we get closer and closer to those two harmonious G notes. We’re bringing that first note closer to a G, right?  Since we’re getting closer to a G, the two notes should be getting closer to sounding better together, right?  I know that you know that this assumption is incorrect.

Then comes F# and G…its as close as that first note can get to the G without actually becoming a G itself…and the two notes sound so unappealing that they will actually inspire discomfort and uneasiness in the listener.”

“I understand all that, doctor…but what does this mean, doctor?” Brandi asked.

“It means that right up until the very moment that the two notes match, there is strong dissonance and discomfort.  Disorder.  Dystopia.  Equate this to the subject.  He is expecting Becca’s rear…his body has been genetically altered to harmonize with her buttocks…the G-note. Now imagine he’s being given something else other than Becca..perhaps one of the women from the mother/daughter pair that came in last week.  Both of their rears were probably just about the same size and softness as Becca Young’s.  They’re so very close to matching her..so incredibly close…but they’re not her. No one is.  If the subject develops Dante’s Syndrome, he will AGONIZE over that difference.”

“And the smaller the difference..the more uncomfortable it will be for him.” Brandi finished.

“Exactly right!” Dr. Walker said proudly.  “ It’s in our interest—and honestly his interest--to try and condition him out of that mentality.  We need to break him, Brandi.  YOU need to break him.”

Brandi nodded solemnly, noticeably squeezing her cheeks in with her fingers and even flexing her glutes to get that much more pressure on the subject buried in the intern’s crack.

Dr. Walker set the clipboard down and raised her hand to Brandi’s elbow, gently urging her to turn around.  Dr. Walker squatted down, eye level with Brandi’s large protruding ass.  From a distance, Brandi’s large rump seemed to only move ever-so-slightly due to the subject’s struggles, but with Dr. Walker’s face mere inches from the 17-year old’s rear, waves of rippling flesh indicative of the subject’s dissatisfaction between Brandi’s cheeks. Still, even this close to her rear, Dr. Walker could barely notice the gluteal movement, and this was partially due to how tightly Brandi’s glutes were packed into the pants.  After a few moments of looking, Dr. Walker stood back up, her own hips now level with Brandi’s rear and the subject. 

“Its unlikely, but he may have already tried biting your buttocks, but you wouldn't know it due to the thickness of the garment." Dr. Walker remarked.  

“And I guess that's why after the Acclimation Therapy session, I have to take off the Housing Pants and do a color-check, right?”

Dr. Walker smiled, “Correct!  As you know, the garment will actually color-shift under different pressure gradients. If you see a whole lot of lighter pink somewhat spread out throughout the area that comes to wedge between your buttocks, that means the subject was particularly rebellious and struggle-focused.  High-pressure/low surface area impact would be indicative of a very, very small bite.  You’ll check the area of the Housing Pants that comes to wedge between your buttocks and if you see any little spots of hot pink amongst the black of the Housing Pants, that means we’re dealing with a biter.  That’s why you spread the Housing Pants out and photograph the color distributions after each Acclimation Therapy session; it's so that we can study the color distributions later and better understand each subject’s unique response to Acclimation Therapy.”

“Gee, Dr. Walker.  You really have thought of everything.” Brandi said, impressed.

"Well, I don’t know about all that…rest assured that I have made plenty of mistakes over the years.  Some of those mistakes, I’ve paid dearly for.  Other mistakes…well…others have had to pay even more.” Dr. Walker’s eyes wandered for a moment; she appeared to be reminiscing…and then she snapped back.  “..however, I will happily take credit for identifying talent when I see it.”

Brandi blushed, “Oh, thanks Dr. Walker.”

Dr. Walker continued, “I have full confidence that you can bond-break subject #117d and ready him for re-assignment…now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go administer this Assignment Shot to Becca’s new subject .” 

“You can count on me, Dr. Walker!” Brandi cupped her full, round cheeks and firmly pressed them together even harder, undoubtedly feeling the struggling reach a maximum peak, “and you can count on me too, subject #117d!”

The door had almost shut when Dr. Walker heard Brandi’s voice.  “Oh but wait…sorry..just one more question..”

“It's no problem, Brandi.  What is it?” Dr. Walker said.

Brandi proceeded with her question. “...so Becca Young is back in the experiment now.  She needs a subject to house so you’re going to go give her Assignment Shot to another subject so he can be installed into her rear, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Dr. Walker replied.

“Why not just give her subject #117d instead? I mean…we have this unique opportunity to give him…well…what he wants.  We figure that he probably wants to go into Becca’s rear, right? I mean…subconsciously or genetically at least, so everyone would win.”

Dr. Walker smiled, releasing the door before going through it, and allowing it to shut.  She reapproached Brandi, stopping only a a foot or so away from her.

 “You’re right, Brandi.  We could assign subject #117d for rear-housing with Miss Young as we had originally planned last year. The effects of last year’s Assignment Shot may have atrophied through our plentiful bond-breaking attempts during Acclimation Therapy, so we would give him the new Assignment Shot just to be safe. Of all possible rears for housing, confinement in Miss Young’s rear would have the highest chance of leading to this subject’s successful long-term pairing.”

“That sounds like the way to go then, doesn’t it? We have a chance to put subject #117d in the rear that he belongs to…or should belong to, anyway. Isn’t this consistent with the goal to house all of our subjects for the long-term?”

“Yes, it is..and that's a great point, Brandi.  I really do appreciate that you’re trying to do what is best for the experiment. That being said, we’ve invested a significant amount of time, energy, and research into bond-breaking subject #117d.  To pair him with Becca Young is to essentially erase any progress we may or may not have made in bond-breaking…and we’ll never know if it would have been successful. I admit we are taking a risk by not pairing subject #117d with Miss Young and allowing any of that bond-breaking to revert…fate may show us that this was the subject’s one and only opportunity for a harmonious Participant-subject pairing…but consider what we stand to gain if we don’t pair him with Miss Young.  We’ll be able to continue with our bond-breaking protocols…we’ll continue learning from them…learning what works and learning what doesn’t. We stand to gain a wealth of data and information from studying the subject’s response to our bond-breaking attempts..whether those attempts result in success or failure.”

“That makes perfect sense, Dr. Walker; I didn’t think about it that way.” Brandi said thoughtfully. “I completely agree with you.”

Dr. Walker smiled and patted Brandi’s shoulder, “I’m glad!”

It was quiet for a few moments, except for the continuous humming of the Controlled Temperature Unit, the gentle scuffing of Dr. Walker’s flats against the linoleum floor as she walked toward the door to leave, and the barely noticeable sound of a squeaking subject periodically permeating the air during the moments when the 17-year old’s hands were slightly parting her cheeks only to squeeze them in again.

Subject #117d had spent this entire exchange between Brandi and Dr. Walker nestled deep between Brandi's thick glutes, and it wasn’t until Dr. Walker was leaving the room did Brandi decide to finally remove him.   Dr. Walker turned once more from the opened door to see Brandi raising the subject to her ear.  He wasn’t squirming quite as strongly but he was still moving quite a bit in her fingers.

From her distance, a few yards away, Dr.Walker heard the faintest hint of squeaking…its cuteness resonated on a biological level with her femininity in a way that she couldn't deny, but evidently it wasn't what Brandi wanted to hear.  The 17-year old intern lowered the squeaking and scrambling nude subject from her ear...with her right hand she jotted down some notes on the clipboard, and without even looking up from the notes, wedged the subject back into her rear using her left hand. She didn’t ‘trace the cheek’ this time.  She didn’t even try to part her solidly heavy cheeks, her fingers just plunged in and disappeared into her crack.  Those fingers emerged empty a moment later.  Brandi took a seat on a high-top, hard metal stool, allowing her feet to dangle. Brandi began playing Snake on her mobile phone and Dr. Walker smiled in approval as she left the room, heading for the SSF.  

~

The SSF, or Subject Storage Facility, at R&R Laboratories was broken up into two separate areas with different security levels: SSF-1 and SSF-2.  

The SSF that Dr. Walker had just entered, commonly called SSF-1, was dedicated to storing subjects who had completed or at least started Reduction Therapy but had not yet been assigned to a Participant for rear-housing.  All post-RT subjects held on-site would initially be stored in SSF-1 and monitored by CCTV security cameras, but they would be moved to the much stricter and more secure SSF-2 once they were assigned to a Participant and awaiting rear installation.  

SSF-2 was not just home to new subjects who had been paired to a Participant and were awaiting rear installation.  SSF-2 was also home to returned subjects who were surrendered by their Participants and needed to be scheduled for bond-breaking and reassignment. These were orphans like subject #117d, except they’d actually spent some time confined in their Participant’s rears before being surrendered back to the lab.  Orphans were not exactly rare, but also not incredibly common and depending on how far along the subject had progressed in the subject Tier System, he could have anywhere from a 8% to 98% probability of developing Dante’s Syndrome if reassigned to a new Participant.  Depending on the results of the assessment and bond-breaking results, the orphaned subject would either be recycled or repurposed for adjacent R&R Laboratories experiments. Failing to be of functional use for R&R Laboratories could also result in a subject being deemed “non-viable”, which would open them up for purchase by a third party for independent purposes. Despite all the methods available to utilize non-viable subjects, sometimes the most practical solution was simply to destroy them.

SSF-2 had much stricter security than SSF-1.  In addition to requiring a security badge to enter, a staff member was required to be present in SSF-2 at all times.  Any visitors to SSF-2 had to sign in and out with the posted staff member, usually an intern. SSF-1 didn’t have that level of security…just a security checkpoint at the door and the CCTV surveillance cameras.

Whether it was SSF-1 or SSF-2, only a select few R&R staff members could enter unsupervised and one of those staff members was Dr. Walker.  She waived her ID badge over the panel directly below the “SSF-1” placard and the red light turned green.  With a welcoming beep, the reinforced titanium bolts made a heavy, chunky thud sound as the doors unlatched and she pulled them open. 

There was a single illuminated fluorescent light fixture in the back corner for emergency purposes, but all the other lights were out.  When the young doctor stepped in through the door frame, the occupancy sensor tripped and the automatic lights turned on. Immediately, her ears picked up a very faint flurry of barely audible squeaks.  

SSF-1 was the smaller of the two Subject Storage Facilities, but the space was utilized quite efficiently.  Dr. Walker approached the cages on the far left..the ones that came up to her knees.  She squatted down and peered inside.  These cages were not normal cages with bars that you might see lab animals inside.  Instead of bars, these cages were outlined with special glass.  

By default, it was one-way visible…meaning the subjects could not see out but any lab worker could see in.  The lab tech could also swipe the top left corner of the interactive glass screen and the clouding effect would disappear...revealing to the subjects inside the massive woman staring in at them.  Dr. Walker was about to swipe the screen so that the 2-footers she was observing could see her but before her black-painted fingertip could contact the glass, she felt a sharp pain.  The young doctor winced. It was her feet again.  She looked around for an open chair but there was a fair amount of clutter in this space; any chairs in SSF-1 were filled with stacks of paperwork, empty cages both clean and dirty, and even unopened boxes of lab glassware.

Although she’d need to have an intern clean the space up later, this was no problem for right now.  The cages were large enough, sturdy enough, and of the perfect height.  

Dr. Walker felt comfortable taking a seat on the cage she’d just been observing and slipped her feet out of her flats.  She set the syringe she’d been carrying filled with Becca Young’s assignment shot next to her left thigh. 

Some of these larger subjects had responded poorly to reduction therapy or were waiting for follow-up sessions to reach target size.  The 2-footers were a small demographic group, and not the only group that illustrated a prevalent, albeit diminishing uncertainty in the accuracy and precision of Reduction Therapy.  As the young doctor massaged her tired feet with her hands, she peered down between her thighs into the cage she was sitting upon and watched the contained 2-footer.  He couldn’t see her obviously but he must have known she was there because he was trembling, having scrambled so frantically that he knocked over his water and food dish.  After kneading her soles, her heels, and gently pulling each of her short, chubby toes until they cracked pleasantly, the rejuvenated doctor slid her cooled off stocking-clad feet back into her flats, stood up off the cage that served as her seat, and retrieved the Assignment Shot. 

Dr. Walker continued down the line on her right.  Next to the 2-footers were the 1-footers.  Self-explanatory..they were smaller than the 2-footers such that they could be stored in shared cages.  

The cages grew smaller and smaller as she progressed until they were no longer on the floor…but instead on counters.  Instead of a box the size of a large dog crate that she herself probably could have fit inside, albeit uncomfortably, she was peering into a container the size of a punch bowl.  There were several subjects ranging from 8 inches to as small as 4 inches.  Continuing further, the containers only got smaller. There were a lot of 2-inchers.  It was a popular size amongst the Participants and it was easy enough to target with the reduction tech. 

A 2-incher would be perfect for a lot of Participants…but Dr. Walker decided that Becca, already proving to be a bit skittish, might have an easier time housing a smaller subject.

She leaned in and peaked at a few of the 1-inch subjects.  Some of the interns had endearingly nicknamed them “Paperclips” due to their resemblance in size.  

The young doctor’s large mammaries were nearly as large as the container she was peering into, and they pressed against the cold metal surface of the counter, the tops of her breasts gently swiping against the bottom portion of the glass.  Her nose grazed against the glass as she deactivated the fogging effect on the glass, revealing herself in all her tremendous glory to the 1-inch tall subjects.  Several of the subjects nearly had heart attacks. Immediately, Dr. Walker heard heavy chatter and panic amongst them as they stared up at her huge form.

Subjects in SSF-1 could be grouped together in a single container if they were small enough and they weren't prohibited from making noise.  This was not the case for SSF-2, where subjects were all segregated regardless of size and absolutely no communication was permitted. 

Under the weight of her inquisitive gaze, some of the subjects fainted…some of them cried...one of them just stared up in awe and shook.  Dr. Walker's eyes fixed on the one shaking and her smile grew.  The doctor broke eye contact to retrieve from a neighboring countertop what looked like a small barcode scanner.  Below a 3.5-inch screen was a tiny keyboard. The device was a uniform flat gray, as were most of the buttons. The only parts of the device that were not gray were the enter button on the keyboard, the trigger along the back, and the power button along the top-right side of the device.  Both buttons were a vivid pink. The trigger was also pink. When squeezed, two lasers were emitted from the device.  One laser projected out from the back of the device, painting a red hatch on the doctor’s small hand.  The other laser was located on the side, and it projected within a small, clear rectangular box mounted on the side of it.  Larger objects could be scanned easily enough with the back-facing laser but smaller objects, they’d need to be deposited inside the side-mounted plastic box.  

The soft, rubber button deformed as the doctor pressed it. The 3.5-inch screen flashed and then lit up with the device’s manufacturer information along with a login prompt.

‘I think a Paperclip will do just fine.’ Dr. Walker thought with a smirk.

"Good afternoon. Are we ready to commence with the next phase of the experiment?" Dr. Walker did not wait for an answer to her question before she reached into the container of 1-inch tall subjects and scooped out the one who had trembled to behold her.  He cowered before her as she expected he would, but to his credit he didn’t try running away. He accepted that she was going to lift him.

His naked skin felt slightly cold through the aqua blue gloves...he seemed so small and fragile in her hands, although she knew that the reduction in size strengthened them well enough to be handled roughly.  Dr. Walker gently twisted him around in her dexterous fingers, gently tugging on his extremities and checking his overall health.  Everything seemed to be in order.

He was larger than the quarter-inch subjects, nicknamed “The Sprinkles”. They were the most susceptible to becoming lost during rear-housing.  He was also much smaller than “The Crayons” who were relatively difficult to ignore during extended housing sessions. 

He was also quite timid despite his bravery.  He didn’t struggle within the doctor’s hands except to stabilize himself when he felt like he might fall.  He was very well behaved.

He was the perfect size and temperament for Becca.

Dr. Walker gently lowered the subject into the transparent container at the top of the scanning device.  This was the first time that he mildly began to struggle.  

“Shhhhhh” Dr. Walker soothed him, and whether or not it came off as a suggestion or a command was not clear…but his struggling calmed.  Once inside the transparent chamber, a series of thin red lasers danced over his skin with his movement and then there was a quiet beep to indicate that he had been scanned. The sound startled him and he was now trying to climb out of the transparent container.  The scan was complete so Dr. Walker assisted him, gently shushed him as she did. With the subject back in the relative safety of her gloved hand, Dr. Walker looked down at the handheld device’s 3.5-inch screen. It had  flashed immediately after the scan and now was displaying text:.

'Oh, that’s right’, she thought. ‘This is the one that hadn’t had any Acclimation Therapy sessions yet. He has no idea what’s coming.  No wonder he’s so calm…’  

Dr. Walker set the barcode scanner down next to the subject container and reached into her back pocket for a small tape recorder.  Without breaking eye contact, she pressed the record button and after the chirp, she said, 

"Subject #298a has been selected for pairing with Participant Becca Young".  

He was trembling before…but now he was shaking like a leaf.  She knew that he didn't know exactly what that meant.  He probably didn't know what any of it meant.

She thought about choosing someone else with at least some acclimation experience, but all things considered, Subject #298A had the bravest reaction to her overwhelming size. He stood out.

Perhaps she should arrange for at least one Acclimation Therapy session before installing him, she thought.  If Brandi was not so busy, it might be possible but the new intern was booked solid for weeks.  It wouldn’t normally be a problem to store the subject until Brandi was available, but this was a unique circumstance.

Becca Young had demonstrated her ambivalence over the past year regarding the experiment. Traces of that ambivalence and uncertainty remained even during their recent calls to re-initiate her.  Then, unexpectedly, Becca called R&R Labs requesting that an appointment be made for her to come in and receive her subject.  Dr. Walker was excited by the request but feared the spontaneity of the interest could easily toggle to another withdrawal.  For all Dr. Walker knew, Becca could still be on the razor's edge…and an unexpected delay in the schedule could be all the excuse she’d need to once again exit from the experiment.  It was important that Becca Young receive her subject as soon as possible..

Would a session or two of Acclimation Therapy help subject #298a in the long-term? Quite likely.  

Was there time?  No. 

He would need several days to recover from the effects of the Assignment Shot as well as allotted time for a few final pre-installation protocols.  Brandi wasn’t the only one that would be busy..

Would his acclimation to Becca Young’s rear be successful without Acclimation Therapy? 

..probably.  

Dr. Walker was willing to accept the risk. 

The reward, Becca Young’s participation, was much more important.

With her freed left hand, she removed from her lab coat pocket the bright, vivid pink syringe and set it down on the counter.  The determined doctor tore open a small sanitary square and began rubbing the cold, wet wipe all over the subject’s lower half as he squeaked pathetically. 

Dr. Walker tossed the square into the waste bin and lifted the syringe back up, expertly uncapping it with one hand.  

The formerly well behaved subject was now struggling with a much higher intensity now. With her vision corrected to beyond 20-20 by her thick black-framed glasses, Dr. Walker could make out the tiny little goosebumps that decorated the subject’s nude body.

The doctor held the sharp, shimmering point of the needle vertical and a few droplets of the vivid pink solution dribbled out the tip as the doctor vacated any stray air bubbles from the Assignment Shot. 

"I'm very sorry, dear.." Dr. Walker said but only slightly meant as she flipped the subject over onto his stomach and began kneading one of his buttocks with just one finger.  His naked skin had goosebumps all over and he was squeaking rather loudly now.  

"This will only hurt for...well…a few days.."

It was a true statement...although it was the low-end of the recovery window...not to mention it pertained only to the main assignment shot. There would still be several others that were to remain surprises. 

It was a small syringe from the doctor’s perspective, but the needle was about the same diameter as subject #298A's thumb. As it penetrated his buttock, he screamed in disbelief at the pain...and it wasn't going away.  Dr. Walker, eyes fixed through the lenses of her glasses, her bottom lip dented by her front teeth. In deep concentration, the young doctor VERY slowly began pressing the plunger, forcing the few droplets of liquid into subject #298a.

As the liquid left the tip of Dr. Walker’s needle, she could see luminescence of the Assignment Shot pool up in the subject’s buttock. He howled and yelped as the doctor’s single finger began kneading and massaging the glute, urging the pooled fluid to dissipate. 

And it did.

The Assignment Shot traveled up his lower back and down his legs.  It spidered out in all directions like a million-year time-lapse of a river birthing tributaries. The vivid pink color visibly crept through his veins and spread to cover the full volume of its new home in the subject’s body, finally fading to match the subject’s tanned skin tone.

Dr. Walker removed the needle and checked the entry wound of the needle to confirm there was no excessive rupturing. It would certainly scar; he’d carry it for the rest of his life but getting the Assignment Shot was for his own good.  Life in a woman's rear without it would be even more shocking and initially unpleasant, not to mention the risk of Dante’s Syndrome, which was already a non-zero risk due to his lack of Acclimation Therapy sessions.  

She was setting him up for a successful Acclimation with Becca Young; perhaps one day he might even be grateful.  If he ever ascended to the higher subject tiers, he would have her to thank for administering this painful shot.  Dr. Walker shushed the subject, briefly bringing him close to her face.  A gust of blueberry-scented wind blue over the subject’s naked lower half as he hovered over her large breasts. 

For a moment, she watched him drift out of his pain and admire in awe the captivating view below him.  She followed his gaze down to her protruding breasts...her cleavage quite deep.  If it was deep enough for that blueberry to become lost, it was certainly deep enough for him to get lost in.  It was far less safe, however, than the female rear end, she reminded herself.  Dr. Walker rolled her eyes and returned him to his cage.

She again picked up the scanning device and began entering information on its tiny keyboard.  Dr. Walker took a moment to review the information she’d updated.

She didn't have to get far before the gentle squeaking coming from subject 298a's cage was inaudible.  She didn't even turn around to look when she turned the lights out and pulled the door shut, ensuring the lock to SSF-1 was secured behind her. 

~

Chapter 7 - Second Chances [September 29th, 2006]

"So you're seriously going?" Krystal asked, the question muffled through the french fries in her mouth.  She sat Indian-style on the couch cushion farthest from Becca, but they were facing each other.  Becca nodded her head, lifting a nearly empty hard apple cider to her lips and taking a short sip. The teenager nervously curled her sock clad feet under her pajama clad butt.  "I just...I mean...I'd be a fool not to...ya know?" Becca said, the light of several candle flames dancing on the young girls' faces. 

“I just remember you almost going before and then…” Krystal didn’t need to finish the sentence, as Becca finished it for her.

“..chickening out?  Yeah, I did.”

“Well, what changed?” Krystal asked.

Becca looked up at the ceiling and then over exaggerated the gesture of rubbing her chin, pretending she was in deep thought.  

“Hmmm…what ever could have changed?  Oh, I know!  How about my ‘Plan B’ to put my life back together?  You know, the plan I came up with as an alternative to keeping a boy in my butt?  Remember that?”

Krystal giggled politely at Becca’s sarcastic tone but struck the balance of also taking her seriously. “Yes, Becca; I remember.  You got the waitressing job back in December of last year.”

“Right.” Becca said, “...and I was miserable.  The tips were terrible, the other waitresses were crazy cut-throaty, the hours sucked…and I swear to god there was a new creepy old man every week who for whatever reason thought it was appropriate to pinch my butt.”

Krystal quipped, “It’s kinda ironic, isn’t it?  You chicken out of the butt experiment because you don’t want all that focus on your badonkadonk…and then–”

“--Yes, thank you Miss Obvious..I can appreciate the irony.” Becca said, rolling her eyes.  “I just…I thought that I could make enough money to…I dunno…fix this royal screw-up my life has become.”

Krystal frowned, gently patting Becca’s knee. “Hey, your life isn’t screwed up.  You had a few setbacks and some silly choices, but guess what..we all make silly choices from time to time.”

“Well, I tried saving to fix the screw-up but I could barely even keep up on rent.  I came clean to my parents about dropping out of school…and even without telling them the FULL story, they were still furious.  I promised them that I would pay them back…but…”

Becca started to tear up, raising the sleeve of her thin hoodie to her brown eyes.  “...but I don’t think they believed me…or they didn’t think I was capable.”

Krystal continued to rub Becca’s knee.  

“So…I really tried my best…but the waitressing just didn’t work.  I tried to get better paying jobs, even looking several miles from the city but surprise surprise: I don’t have any marketable skills.  I couldn’t get a creative job, even though I really really wanted one.”

Krystal didn’t seem to know what to say, and after a few moments Becca filled the silence after sighing deeply.

“...so that’s why I reached back out to Dr. Walker.  I figured…hey…maybe it really is all fake.  I got so worried that it was some mean prank…that there would be a bunch of mean boys there waiting to laugh at me for agreeing to keep something in my butt for money. Who knows?  I’ll tell you who wouldn’t know:  me…if I don’t try and find out.  If it really is as simple as they’re saying…if I really do just have to keep a little boy…” Becca leaned over and lightly patted her left butt cheek, “...in here….”

She recentered her wide rear over the cushion and continued.  “Honestly, at this point, I don’t really have the option of being worried about this being some silly prank.”not if they’ll give me all that money…”

“...you feel like you have to.” Krystal said somberly.

Becca nodded. “And if this Dr. Walker lady is real, then she is a real saint for putting up with me pulling out of the experiment at the last minute…and then reapplying and going through this whole process again.

“When’s the big day?” Krystal asked.

Becca replied quickly from memory, “My flight to North Carolina is on September 29th.”

“Wow…” Krystal replied, “That's like a week away.”

“Nine days…” Becca replied nervously.

“Becca..” Krystal said solemnly, “I feel kinda bad because I’m the one that told you about this butt experiment thingy.  I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to.  It makes it seem like you’re being exploited, don’t you think?  Why don’t you just try going back to school.  Just get on your knees and beg your parents to resume paying your tuition.  They love you, Becca…They’ll probably have some ‘holier-than-thou’ lecture to give you but I’m sure all you’ll have to do is try not to roll your eyes until they’re done and then they’ll give it to you.”

 I gave myself a chance when I first backed out of Dr. Walker’s experiment.  I tried to go back to school again but that clearly didn’t work. And…I just couldn’t swallow that much pride.  I promised…no…SWORE to myself that I would only take their help if I could pay back what they’d spent on me.”

Becca’s eyes were getting misty again.  

“...and I’m such a loser, I can barely even take care of myself…let alone pay them back.” 

“Come on…” Krystal said.

Becca continued, "Look around.  I owe $400 to the electric company and they're not turning the power back on until I pay at least half of it…I'm behind on rent, I owe something like a bajillion dollars to my parents, and I'm not even smart enough to pass college." 

Krystal got serious for a moment, reaching out a hand to cup Becca's knee. "Hey...some of that mean stuff you said is so not true.  Don't talk shit like that about my best friend." 

Becca smiled, a few tears streaming down her puffy, red cheeks as she replied, "Well, I'm at a dead end..I don't think anyone can argue that.  It just seems like this is meant to be.  This is the chance I need to make it, ya know?" 

Krystal cracked a smile, "Yeah sure; You know what I think?  I think you just want to have the little guy in your big ol’ booty." 

Becca blushed and giggled, "Oh god Krystal..it is not even close to being like that.  This is just some weird thing I have to do that's going to get me the money I need to have a chance.  Whatever I have to do is just that: whatever I have to do." Krystal nodded somberly.  

"But..." Becca said, taking a long sip of her drink, "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't....practiced a little bit." 

Krystal grinned, "You're kidding." 

Becca laughed, "Unfortunately no...I was a little tipsy the other night and was thinking of what it'd be like.  And in my defense, that doctor lady kinda recommended I do this.  Anyway, I was taking a tylenol to make sure I didn't wake up with a hangover.  You know, the red and white capsule ones that are bigger than the tablet disc things but still pretty small.  I held it in my fingertips, almost dropping it because it was so tiny..." 

Krystal slowly realized where Becca was going and ultimately where the Tylenol went.  Becca’s best friend had to cover her mouth to keep from spitting her drink out.  She struggled to get the alcohol down and finally spouted, 

"Holy shit! How long did you keep it there?” Kyrstal asked in a giggling fit.

Becca was laughing just as hard, “I was going to take it out the next morning but I forgot.  I saw it in my panties later on that night when I was getting in the shower.”

“Beck…please, please, PLEASE..for the love of God…don't ever let me pop a Tylenol when I'm over here!"  

The girls laughed into the glow of Becca’s candle-lit apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~

9 Days Later

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Welcome to United Airlines, how may I help you?"

Becca reached into her purse to retrieve her license.  "Umm...hi.  I have a flight for today?" she replied with a bit of a quiver in her voice.

The woman behind the counter accepted Becca's license and gracefully swiped it through her machine, and after some negotiating with her computer, a white slip slid out of a neighboring machine.  With a smile, the woman tore the slip on its perforation and held it out to Becca along with her license. 

"Enjoy your flight, Miss Young." she said and promptly began helping the next customer. 

Becca was a bit afraid of flying, and her heart was racing over more than just the flight.  It felt like just yesterday that Krystal had told her about R&R Labs, and now here she was stepping into the long, temporary tunnel that led to the door of the airplane that would take her to North Carolina.  

"Hello.....hello......welcome.....enjoy your flight...hello.....enjoy your flight....enjoy your flight...welcome..." The cheerful flight attendant's voice became less distant as the line into the airplane grew shorter and shorter.  Becca took another step forward as the line shifted once more, and then the cheerful flight attendant was finally greeting her.  It didn't seem quite so sincere up close.  Becca peered down at her ticket, moving her thumb to see the seat number.  It was a first-class ticket.  Funny, she had never even thought to look until now but there it was.  R&R Labs seemed to not spare any expense in getting her there and comfortably at that.  Becca stowed her luggage in the overhead compartment and took a seat in the window seat.  

Flying always made her nervous so she tried to avoid it whenever possible, and when the plane started to take off, she practically grabbed the hand of the woman sitting next to her.  Once the turbulence subsided and the plane was at its maximum height, her fear turned to hunger.  She had run out of money the week before and food shortly after, but luckily her flight came with dinner.  And not just a dinner, but a first-class dinner!  It was a strange thought, but she had to marvel for a moment at the full stomach she now had as a result of this preemptive agreement with R&R Labs...and it was only going to get better. 

The landing was a bit bumpy and Becca would have been lying if she said she wasn’t nervous, but the rumbling and shaking plane finally began to slow down on the tarmac and parked at one of the terminals. Becca made her way off the plane and followed the signs to baggage claim. As Becca descended slowly down the escalator, she scanned a cluster of well-dressed men holding cards bearing different names.  She saw her name on none of these cards until her eyes fixed upon a diamond in the rough.  In the sea of men was an attractive young blonde woman holding a pale pink card, with bubbly handwritten lettering.  The card read:

<3 Becca Young <3 

Once it appeared clear to the sign-holding woman that it was Becca walking toward her, the woman smiled and lowered the sign to her side.  

“Becca?” The woman said, brushing her loose blonde curls out of her face and over her shoulder.  She looked to be about 5’-4 or 5’-5” and had a similar body type to Becca’s in that she was slim above the waist but her hips and legs were wide.  This was made quite evident by the skin tight black pants hugging her hips, thighs, calves, and even her ankles…as if every part of the pants couldn’t get enough of her.  She wore a plain white ruched button-up dress shirt but she must have decided that most of the buttons were only suggestions to be ignored.

‘Was this Dr. Walker?’ Becca thought hesitantly.  She wouldn’t have expected the doctor to dress so…provocative.  She also  looked even younger than Becca; far too young to be a doctor.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Becca said with a polite smile.

“I’m Brandi.  It’s nice to meet you!” Brandi said enthusiastically.  

Becca accepted Brandi’s handshake, noticing that the blonde woman’s blue-painted fingernails matched her crystal-blue eyes.

“I hope your flight was okay.” Brandi said, folding the pale pink card and sticking it into the front pocket of her tight black pants.  Becca was close enough now to see that the dress shirt was entirely plain except for the letters “RR” embroidered in purple above the left breast.  

Becca replied, “It was okay.  I’d never flown before so…”

“Oh, how exciting. Another new experience under the belt! Certainly not the last of today, right?” Brandi said with light in her eyes.  

Becca blushed and hugged her left shoulder with her right arm.  “Yeah, we’ll see what happens.”

Brandi’s attention seemed to shift away from Becca, her crystal blue eyes going somewhere else for only a fraction of a second…as if she was focusing strongly on something else.  But then just as quickly, she returned her full attention to Becca.  “Shall we get going?”

Becca still had some very serious doubts about how real this whole experiment could actually be.  The fact that her flight was completely paid for lended to its credibility, sure.  But nothing made it all seem more real than when she followed Brandi out of the airport.  She didn’t know if Brandi was a doctor, an intern, or whoever else…but it made sense that an employee of Dr. Walker would have a  huge butt…and Brandi’s but was definitely huge.  

Despite a single isolated incident in front of a crowd of cheering boys during her Freshman year at a keg party, Becca was not attracted to or interested in women.  Even so, Becca found herself somewhat mesmerized by Brandi’s ass as they walked out. Her ass was noticeably bigger than Becca’s, and Brandi had mastered the sultry, captivating, and suggestive sway of those wide hips.  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Becca that just as Brandi’s tight, black pants had hugged her hips, thighs, calves, and ankles, they were also SUUUPER tight on Brandi’s butt.  Becca actually double-taked the first time she saw it.  The black material was so terribly tight that the material actually dipped in between the blonde’s ass cheeks, creating a deep wedgie.  

‘That’s gotta be uncomfortable…’ Becca thought to herself, watching the huge ass cheeks swaying, unable to jiggle due to the strong confining pressure imparted by the taut black fabric that dug significantly into the cleft between her ass cheeks.  The cleft was quite deep, creating a clear divide between the two jet-black globes but it didn’t seem to bother Brandi.

As the two left the comfort of the airport’s air conditioning, Becca immediately felt the heat and humidity of the North Carolina summer fighting its way through September. The humidity surrounded her and she was grateful to see that Brandi’s car was left running, hopefully with the air conditioning on.  She was even more grateful to not live here.  

Brandi opened the door of the 2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse and began to get in.  Becca walked around the front of the car toward the passenger seat, peering in to see that Brandi hadn’t gotten into the car the typical way people do. Instead, she turned away from the door and lowered her butt much like someone would do when sitting on a bench.  She then swung her legs in and pivoted atop her butt.  Becca actually had to hide a smile when she saw Brandi lean over onto her left side.  Her right hand snuck discreetly in under her butt and appeared to address an itch…or maybe she was picking her crazy, crazy wedgie.  Either way, Becca got into the car and decided to pretend like she didn’t see it to spare the girl’s feelings

It was about an hour drive from the airport to the lab, but it felt much longer as Becca swam in her own head of wild thoughts.

“Would you like a bottle of water?” Brandi said, motioning to the cup holder where there was a tiny 4oz bottle of water.

“Oh, that would be great.” Becca lifted the bottle and uncapped it. “Thank you. So, are you a doctor too?

Brandi chuckled, “Oh no, not yet. I’m only 17!”

“Oh, goodness; I never would have guessed.” Becca said surprised.

“Yeah, I get that a fair amount. I graduated early and started my degree in Microbiology in June but they let me test out on a bunch of classes so I’m technically a Sophomore.”

‘This girl’s a friggin genius AND she’s got a butt like that??’ Becca thought in disbelief.

“I think that’s why Dr. Walker hired me for the internship.  Well…ONE of the reasons.” Brandi giggled, shifting her hips again.  Becca didn’t understand the joke but Brandi continued. 

“Did you know that she also graduated early?” Becca took a sip of her water.

“Oh, really? Dr. Walker did?” Becca asked curiously.

“Yeah.  Way earlier than me though…I think she finished high school at 13-years old.”

“Holy cow! That means she would have had to start high school when she was like 9?”  Becca exclaimed.

“I know, right?  I heard one of the doctors say that she had to stand on a soapbox to give her valedictorian speech! Can you imagine how cute that must have looked.” 

Both girls giggled at the image. “Wow, that is crazy.

“Seriously.  She is super smart too. I think she finished with a 4.0 GPA, too and went on to get like half a dozen degrees, not even including her PhD.”

“How old is she?” Becca said, taking another sip of her water.

“Hmmm..well, I’m pretty sure she was born in 1982.”

Becca proceeded to choke on her water, a few droplets hitting her lap.  

“1982?” Becca said, her mouth still half full of water she was trying to swallow.  “She’s only 24 years old?”

“Exactly.  She’s a prodigy…seriously.  She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.  I think you’ll really like her.” Brandi said, offering Becca a napkin from the center console.

Becca mopped up the water from her chin and from her lap, “I think I will too.”

“But anyway..yeah, I’m not a doctor yet.  I’m just interning but I have a pretty special job at R&R Labs.”

“Oh, what is it?” Becca asked.

“Acclimation Therapist.” Brandi stated.

“Oh, that sounds important.  What do you do?” Becca asked with genuine interest.

Again, Brandi shifted in her seat..seemingly grinding her hips into the seat beneath her.  Was it a nervous tick or something?

“Well, I kinda misspoke…I’m actually the ‘Assistant Acclimation Therapist’ but the real Acclimation Therapist had to take a leave of absence so I’ve basically taken her place.  It's all very exciting but kinda scary sometimes.”

“New things can definitely be scary.” Becca nodded.

“Yeah, but we’re all learning together!” Brandi said cheerfully, shifting her hips once more. Becca looked closer at Brandi’s pants.  From this closeness, she could see that they were not just any cheap pair of tights or leggings.  The stitching looked incredibly fancy and elaborate.  They looked quite expensive.

“I really like your pants.” Becca said.

“Oh, these?” Brandi replied, rubbing her upper thigh without taking her eyes off the road. “Thanks, they’re actually work-issued. Part of the Acclimation Therapist uniform, as a matter of fact. They’re super comfy, too.” 

Brandi shifted her wide hips left and right a few more times again, and just like with each time before, there was no frictional sounds of her packed glutes rubbing up against the seat, which suggested to Becca that her cheeks remained firmly planted in the seat and instead they were just spreading and closing as the wide hips above rocked left and right.  

‘I’m kinda uncomfortable with how much I’m thinking about butts now all of the sudden..’ Becca joked to herself.

"Here we are." Brandi stated clearly, pulling into the parking lot.  "Dr. Walker instructed me to drop you off here at the entrance.  You’ll just have to go in the main entrance there and speak with our receptionist.  Her name is Laura and she’s super nice." 

Brandi took out her phone, pressed a single button, and held it to her ear.  

"Hi Laura.  This is Brandi.  Please inform Dr. Walker that I have returned from the airport with Miss Young".  Brandi listened for another moment and then nodded to herself, hanging up the phone without saying anything.

Becca said goodbye to Brandi and got out of the car.  Seconds after she slammed the passenger door shut, she caught out of the corner of her eye Brandi leaning again as she did over an hour ago when they first got into the car.  And even though the windows were up, Becca could hear Brandi’s voice.  Who was she talking to?  Had she made another phone call as soon as Becca got out?  

It was muffled, but Becca could clearly hear what Brandi had said as she pulled away.  

She said, “And you said you couldn’t do an hour and a half; looks like you were wrong, you silly little under-achiever!  I know it was pushing the envelope a bit but you did so good in there; I knew you could do it and I’m so proud of you!”  

Brandi’s high pitched, excited voice continued but became too quiet to hear as she drove away. 

Becca walked up the concrete steps to the front door, her small overnight bag in hand.  It was a very inconspicuous building.  It could have passed for several things: a large boring law firm perhaps, or maybe some sort of warehouse.  The white text centered on the door at about eye level read:

R&R Laboratories

She pressed a security button positioned next to the tinted glass door and there was a sharp, loud buzz.  

“Name?”

Becca spoke clearly, leaning in toward the speaker.  “Umm…Becca?  Becca Young?”

After some mechanical whirring she couldn’t locate, she heard a latch unsecure.  She opened the door and entered into a long corridor.  The sound of her flip flops slapping her heels echoed off the linoleum floor and bare cream walls.  The lights flickered and there were no windows.  Becca was starting to feel like this was all a huge mistake when she approached the second door.  She slowly opened it and she let out a sigh.  

Behind the door was a completely normal looking waiting room, like one you would see in any doctor’s office in the country. There were big, comfy looking chairs in the waiting area.  There were two big screen TV’s mounted high on the wall with muted television playing.  In fact, everything about this waiting area seemed pretty normal except for the walls.  They were plain and void of any decorative art, but there was barely any wallspace not taken up by signage.  Most of the signs were just copies of 3-4 different signs. One of which was a sign that said 

Cell Phone Use is Prohibited. 

That one seemed pretty normal, but there were at least half a dozen of them littering the walls.  Another redundant sign read:

No Electronics!

The most interesting and unclear sign of all was the one that there were at least a dozen copies of, some copies separated by less than 3 feet on the wallspace.  The sign read:

ABSOLUTELY NO TALKING in Waiting Room Area when PINK LED is illuminated, except when responding to R&R Personnel.

Becca spotted a few of these LED’s throughout the waiting room.  She guessed they must have been the pink ones but she couldn’t tell for sure since they were all off.

There were only two people in the room: a receptionist up at the front behind a counter and an older woman sitting in the otherwise empty waiting area and reading a magazine.  She looked up at Becca as the door opened and Becca could feel the older woman’s eyes on her. She felt a bit self-conscious as she walked up to the receptionist, feeling eyes on her back and probably her butt. The counter top of the receptionists corner was very clean and void of clutter.  One of the few things on the counter was a silver name tag with the name “Laura”.

"Hi, I'm Becca." 

Laura smiled, "Yes, I know…Dr. Walker is expecting you. I hope your trip was pleasant." Laura said as she checked a few boxes on the sign-in sheet where Becca's name was already penciled in. Becca waited patiently while Laura completed the paperwork.

"Please have a seat and she will be with you shortly." 

Becca smiled and nodded, turning on her heels and approaching the waiting area.  She took a seat in the waiting room next to the woman who looked old enough to be her mother. The older woman set down her magazine. It must have failed to hold her attention in comparison to Becca.  Becca made nervous eye contact with her once or twice, one of those times Becca caught the woman looking at her thighs, hugged in tight denim jeans. 

"Do you have one?"  The woman asked Becca, to which Becca blushed profusely.  The 20-year old girl practically whispered, "one what?"  

The older woman laughed quietly, her laugh lines showing prominently on her cheeks and in the corners of her eyes.  The laugh lines were a good look on her.

"Where do you think you are, sweety?" The chuckling woman did not wait for an answer from the young, cute, clearly nervous girl. Instead she held out a hand.

"I'm Lori." 

Becca, still blushing, shook Lori’s hand and responded, "I'm Becca...and no, I don't have…one.  Not yet anyway." 

Lori smiled, "Oh, that's so cute.  I remember being in your shoes...it was such a new concept to me, and I had no idea what to expect."  She gently patted Becca's left knee, "Of course I don't claim to be any kind of expert!  I'm learning every day...and so is he!"  She said with a smile.  

Becca leaned in toward Lori.  She curiously asked, "So you have one…like right now?"  

Lori looked almost puzzled…as if the idea of NOT having a little shrunken boy would have been the weird question.  She said, "Well of course, dear.  And if you have to ask me where he is, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you once again where you think you are!"  

Becca did not ask where he was, but her eyes darted to the woman's very wide hips clad in super tight jeans, planted so firmly into the seat beneath her. The outer edges of her bulbous cheeks easily overflowed the restricted surface area of the seat beneath her and it was crazy to think that somewhere under all that flesh was a tiny little boy.  

"How long have you had him?" Becca asked. 

"Well, this is our annual checkup so it's been.." Lori squinted and pursed her lips, doing some quick math in her head, "...I believe today marks a year and a week." 

If Becca had a drink, she might have spit it out. Sure, Dr. Walker had blown her mind so many times over the phone, and she was aware Dr. Walker was looking for some super long-term participants, but to see one of them here in front of her was just insane.  

"Can I see him?" Becca asked, and Lori immediately responded without pause.

"Oh I'm sorry dear, no can do.  Although I’m sure he’d love the opportunity to see and talk to a pretty girl like you, he has already been out for far too long this week." 

Becca tilted her head a little confused at the phrasing, so Lori explained,

"As of late, I have been removing him only to use the restroom, and then he goes right back in…essentially the moment I’ve finished with my business.”

“My goodness…do you…like…have to do that?” Becca asked in fascination. 

“No, it's not required.  The reasoning for it connects to the reason why I’ve increased the DDM to such a high number.”

“DDM?” Becca asked.

“Yes, the Dynamic Daily Minimum.  Has Dr. Walker not told you about that yet?”

Becca squinted in embarrassment, “Ahh, the Dynamic Daily Minimum.  Yes, she did.  The minimum amount of time that the little boy has to be between your butt cheeks each day.”

Lori chuckled, “Well put and 100% correct!  Don’t feel bad, dear.  It's a lot to remember!  I still consult the handbook and paperwork I received last year so don’t worry.  But anyway, the increase in his DDM is somewhat of a long story.  Let’s just call it…hmmm…a trust-building exercise. Just recently, R&R Labs released a new website that helps me keep better track of how often he's out." She took out her phone and opened a web-page that showed what looked like a counter, which read:

38:48:008.  

"My goodness…" Becca said, her hand touching to her intensely beating heart.  "He's only been out of your butt for 38 hours and 48 minutes...in the whole week?" 

Becca remembered Dr. Walker talking about how the subjects needed to be in a butt for at least 3 hours a day, and that it was entirely up to the girl what she did after the DDM time was finished, whether it was letting them rest, playing with them, or just keeping them in their crack for longer. Becca was pretty sure that since Lori had her subject for such a long time that her DDM was probably higher than Becca’s would be but even so, Lori was certainly taking things to the next level.

38 hours…

That was just a little bit over a day.  That meant that the little boy tucked away in her butt RIGHT NOW….RIGHT NEXT TO BECCA…had basically done 6 days on, 1 day off in this older woman’s big butt. 

Something that confused Becca though…Lori seemed exceptionally amused by Becca's inquiry and shock, to such an extent the naive 20-year old wondered if she was missing something. 

“Does 38 hours away from my rear sound like a long time to you?  Oh, you are so precious.” Lori said, patting Becca’s knee again. “Dr. Walker said I’m on track for the ‘99% club’...although who knows how I’ll feel about all this down the road.”

Becca didn’t know what the ‘99% club was’.  Becca didn’t know what Lori meant about how she would feel down the road.  Becca had so many questions, all fighting to be the first to escape her lips.  

"How does he feel in there?" 

Lori responded with a coy smile and slightly shut eyes...and she shifted widely in her seat, kinda like how Brandi did so many times on the drive back from the airport.  

"It is definitely something...to get used to.  It's interesting how quickly a person can grow accustomed to things though, because honestly It's hard to imagine him not being there now though, if you can believe that.”

Becca nodded silently.  She thought about the tiny Tylenol pill she had tucked between her bare cheeks.  She thought about how strange it felt to put it there, and how strange it physically felt in her crack…but it didn’t take long for her to get used to it and forget it was there. 

“In fact, I'm here now to extend my commitment.  I had originally opted in for a 3-month, and I've been doing gradual on-the-spot extensions for awhile now…but I’ve already decided...for the both of us.." Lori looked down at her waist and stroked the outside edge of the splayed butt cheek closest to Becca, , "...that this is for the best.  I'm going to extend it to another year…for now."  

“What about you?” Lori asked, changing the subject. “Are you here for a screening?”

Becca nervously fidgeted, playing with the thong of her flip-flops with her toes.  “No, I’m actually…ummm…getting my subject today.”

“Oh, they’re doing the install?  That’s wonderful, good for you!” Lori said with a smile and another pat on Becca’s knee. 

“Are you nervous?” Lori asked with a grin.

Becca smiled back and nodded, “Sure…I hope everything goes okay. I don’t really know how they’re going to do it or what they’re going to do.”

“Don’t worry, dear.” Lori assured Becca.  “They are INCREDIBLY professional here.  They will take great care of you, I’m sure of it.

Becca was getting ready to ask another question when she heard the polite, pleasant voice of the receptionist Laura. 

"Miss Young?". 

Becca ripped her eyes away from the insanely wide ass cheeks of Lori splaying out on the seat and looked up at Laura, who was smiling warmly. She had just hung up her phone.  

"Dr. Walker will see you now." 

Becca extended a hand to Lori and told her it was nice to meet her.  Lori responded, 

"You as well, dear.  You'll do just fine. Good luck!"  

Becca looked down once more at Lori's phone screen before it went dark and back into Lori's purse.  It was still showing the timer, the one that indicated how long Lori’s subject had been out from between Lori’s butt cheeks that week.

38:48:008.  

There was an extra ‘0’ before the ‘08 seconds’.  

‘What a strange way to show seconds: 008 seconds’, she thought, a little puzzled...  

Then it hit her.

Becca realized that it wasn't 8 seconds at the end of the timer, it was 8 milliseconds.  Lori's timer didn't read 38 hours and 48 minutes...it read 38 minutes and 48 seconds.  Her boy was only out of her butt for just shy of 40 minutes…over a whole week.

‘Geez!’ Becca thought in disbelief, ‘I spend longer than that on one shower!’

She didn't know how to feel about that, and she didn't have much more time to contemplate it, because as she walked toward the receptionist, the door on Becca’s right unlatched and opened.  Standing there was a girl probably Brandi’s age, but much shorter and much more petite.  She wore a cheap, nearly transparent lab coat and above the left breast where a name tag might have once been before, there were only several strands of loose yarn.  Becca thought she looked very similar to Lindsey Lohan’s black-haired bandmate in the movie Freaky Friday. 

“Hi, Becca.  I’m Jane.  I’m going to take you to Dr. Walker’s office but first, I just need you to take a look at this form and sign.”

Becca accepted the clipboard from Jane, noticing chipped black nail polish.  

“What is it?” Becca asked curiously, scanning the document. 

“It’s basically just saying that you agree not to talk about any of the things you see here within the walls of the lab or any of the specific conversations you have with R&R personnel.”

“Oh..that sounds okay I guess.” Becca said hesitantly, scribbling her signature on the form.

Unlike Brandy, Jane wasn’t much of a talker but she seemed to know where she was going.  Jane walked briskly down the short corridor. They passed two doors on the right and two doors on the left, all four doors had windows with privacy clouding. The placards read:

Pre-RT Exam Room A

Pre-RT Exam Room B

Pre-RT Exam Room C

Pre-RT Exam Room D

As if reading Becca’s mind, Jane spoke up without turning around, “The Pre-RT Exam Rooms are one of the areas where our prospective subjects are screened. Sometimes we’ll see prospective Participants in there too, but it's rare.”

It was a short walk to the end of the corridor.  Becca and Jane stood before two doors.  One was directly ahead of the girls and it had a “#1” sign above it.  The sign read:

RESTRICTED AREA: STAFF, PARTICIPANTS, AND POST-RT SUBJECTS ONLY!

Becca started to read the other door, the one to their left. It was a little more wordy, but before she could even start, Jane had swiped her security card and allowed the Door #1 Access Reader to scan her retina. The door made a loud, chunky unlatching noise.

“It can get a little confusing in the restricted area so just stick with me.  We’ll be at Dr. Walker’s office in no time.” Jane said.  

The door was much thicker and much heavier than the other two doors she’d encountered so far.  When she passed through to see what was on the other side, her eyes widened.

~

The wireless calling system device atop Dr. Walker’s desk began chirping and one of the white numbers began blinking pink.  Dr. Walker pressed the blinking button.

"Yes, Laura?" 

“Good morning Dr. Walker.  Becca Young's flight is scheduled to touch down in a little over an hour.”

“Oh, great. Are you available to pick her up from the airport?”

Laura replied quickly, “There’s no one to cover for me at reception, unfortunately.”

“What about Jane?” Dr. Walker asked.

“She’s assisting Dr. Bexley with an installation.” Laura said.

“I see.  Is Quinn here today?” Dr. Walker followed up.

“Quinn and all the other interns are currently in a meeting with Dr. Becotte for a training session on ‘SSF Protocols’. I think it might be wrapping up in the next twenty minutes or so.  I can see if Dr. Becotte would be okay with me asking–”

“--no, no.  ‘SSF Protocols’ is one of the important ones….hmmm…how about Brandi?”

“She’s solidly booked all day conducting Acclimation Therapy sessions.”

“Hmmm…I’m sure she wouldn’t mind multi-tasking.”

“I’m sure you’re right.  I’ll ask her.”

"Alright.  When Miss Young arrives, please let me know.  I just have a few more emails to get through and I would like to have them completed before she gets here."  

"Sure thing, Doctor." Laura said before hanging up the phone.

Dr. Walker cracked her knuckles, setting the phone receiver down and returning her right hand to the computer mouse.  It was important to the experiment that she always be available to her Participants when they had questions and concerns.  It was particularly important that she be available to those that had their doubts about the validity and even the morality of the experiment.  It was not at all difficult to help everyone that called with whichever concern they had. Nipping in the bud the occasional troubling thought a Participant might have needed to be done quickly, lest the Participant get cold feet just like Becca Young had a year ago.  Dr. Walker double clicked the next email, absent-mindedly gripping the empty ballet flats that lay beneath her desk with her pantyhose-clad toes. This email came from Donna, a 47-year old woman from Nebraska.  

Dear Dr. Walker,

Hello.  I've been involved in the experiment for about a month now, and everything has been going quite well with the little person.  I have been keeping him in my behind consistently, and I have even been able to get over my struggles with concentrating while at my desk at work.  It's as if I don’t even think about him when I'm working.  I do have a bit of a problem though.  I still have not worked up the...for lack of a better word...courage...to wear him with me to the gym.  It just seems...overly mean and I don't think it really inconveniences me to take him out.  Well, I did what I normally do:  I removed him from my backside and left him in a shoebox in my living room.  The walls are high enough and I live alone so it’s not as if anything would happen to him while I’m gone.  

The first thing I did when I walked in the door after getting back from the gym was go right to the box to reinsert him back between my cheeks as I always do, but he wasn't there.  My heart leapt into my throat wondering where he could be!  I searched high and low, checking my dirty laundry, my slippers, the trash…anywhere that he might have thought to hide in…and then I heard a strange sound coming from upstairs in my daughter’s room.  I should mention that my daughter left for college last year, but she was home for her birthday last week and she was staying with me in her old room.  I marched upstairs, having some suspicions as to what was going on and knocked on her door.  Silence, except for the sound of her bed creaking briefly.  I knocked again, saying "Zoey, you'd better open this door right now."  The bed creaked longer this time, then footsteps, and the door opened.  Zoey ran past me to the bathroom in her underwear and a shirt, clutching something to her chest...and darted into the bathroom.  

I heard some rustling and sharp whispers and then a few moments later, I heard the bathroom sink come on.  I waited there, arms crossed, until the water cut off and the door opened; my bright-red cheeked daughter was holding him to her chest. She set him down in my open palm without even making eye contact with me.  His eyes were wide like he'd seen a ghost!  I promptly returned him to my behind right then and there, as deep between my cheeks as I could get him; I tried to talk to my daughter about what had happened, but she was too embarrassed to go into detail;  she's a rather...shy young lady when it comes to sex.  Being caught doing what I think she was doing by her mother no less, must have been very humiliating for her.  I apologize for the long story, but I am just not entirely sure what my daughter did with him (but I think we both have a good idea).  I didn't want to keep this from you, as I fear it may affect the experiment. Please let me know if there is anything I should do. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Donna

 ______________________________________

Dear Donna,

Thank you very much for reaching out to me regarding this issue with Subject #137r.  Let me be honest with you: things like this happen.  They do not happen all the time, and we would prefer that they didn't, but they do.  We once had a Participant who liked to let her subject sleep in her underwear drawer.  Well…one night, the Participant’s little sister snuck in and stole him from the drawer.  After a few hours of playing with the subject, the sister grew bored and thought it would be funny to sneak the subject into their mother’s rear…so that’s exactly what she did.  The mother had apparently drank too much wine that night, and did not wake to the feeling of her underwear being lowered, her cheeks being gently parted, and the tiny subject being inserted. The mother also did not wake to the sound of the sister stifling her laughter as she ran out.  You might think the mother would have noticed when she woke up, but she didn’t…of course this subject was one of our smallest traditional subjects at around 1/16th of an inch, so its not at all surprising that the woman couldn’t feel the subject in her crack. 

The subject spent weeks trapped in the unknowing mother’s rear…How he managed to survive the over several dozen of the unaware mother’s restroom visits and avoid being flushed into the sewage system is completely beyond myself and anyone here at R&R Labs, but I digress.  We had filed paperwork on the Participant’s missing subject and had documented a strike in her record. It was very traumatic for her.  What made things worse was that the Participant had been housing the subject in her rear for over three years. He had reached uncommon levels of acceptance and bonding to the Participant.

By the time the mischievous sister finally said something and the subject was recovered from the mother's rear end, the psychological damage had already been done and the experiment was compromised.  The Participant had to surrender the subject over to the lab in order to receive a new one, and after extensive therapy with our Acclimation Therapist, it was determined that he had symptoms of something we call ‘Dante’s Syndrome’, which essentially means that he had to be marked as permanently unassignable. There was some interest into researching how he managed to survive so many restroom visits but at 1/16th of an inch, he was far too small to extract any valuable data from his experiences.  This happened about 2 years ago and to this day, he is rotated through our line of 24-hour participants, constantly shuffled from posterior to posterior.

I understand that you are not used to having others in your home when you are not there, but I am sure you will be more aware of this or similar possibilities going forward. I might take this opportunity to bring to your attention that this situation would not have happened at all had the subject been tucked away safely in your rear during your gym visit.  Same with the Participant in the story.  Had she just cradled her subject overnight safe and sound between her buttocks, he would still be there today instead of between a new set of buttocks each day.  Just a thought!  

Checking your records, I see that Zoey is not listed as an alternate, so I imagine that exposure to her rear (or whatever part of her body he may have been exposed to) is what you are concerned with.  It sounds like you were only away from home for an hour or two, and I don't think that any long-lasting damage to the integrity of the experiment could occur in such a short time, so long as this doesn't continue to happen.  I trust that you've made it clear to your daughter that the subject is off-limits to her and meant only to be housed in your rear.  

One other thing, I believe that this might be a good opportunity for discipline of the subject.  Yes, it was likely your daughter who lifted him out of the box, but he could have made it known that what she was doing was not permissible under the guidelines of the experiment.  I understand it might have been difficult for her to hear him considering his incredibly diminutive stature, but he should have found a way.  He could have prevented all of this so honestly, I believe he is just as much to blame as anyone else is. Perhaps he is even more to blame for this than your daughter, who it sounds like was just innocently exploring her own sexuality, which I would be quite apprehensive about scolding. Thank you once again for bringing this to my attention.  I will make a positive note regarding this communication in your file and I will add a disciplinary mark to the subject's record.  Please let me know if there are any future issues.  

Thank you.

Dr. Walker

 _______________________________________

Dr. Walker hit the send button and responded to several more emails.  She received a call from Amanda informing her that Becca Young had arrived.  "Wonderful.  I am just finishing up in here.  Send her to my office in 15 minutes."  She hung up and returned her gaze to her computer.  The last email came from a woman named Nicole.

Dr. Walker,

Hi. I'm not sure if you remember me, but my mom and I came in to get one of your little guys for me for my 18th birthday last month.  I just wanted to tell you I've been doing everything we talked about at the first meeting and at the follow-up meeting, including wearing the special compression underwear you guys gave me.  So the reason I'm emailing you is to ask a question about...relationships.  I don’t really feel right talking to my mom about this, because I’m not quite ready to tell her that I’m gay, but I've been on a few dates and I wanted to know if you think I should tell the girl I’m seeing about the little guy that I’m housing. 

I mean...I don't wanna hide it from her and then have her…I don’t know…come across him one day while we're fooling around and completely wig out!  At the same time though, I don't wanna freak her out and scare her away...cause she is really special to me. I guess I'm just confused.  Oh...and also...am I allowed to involve him in mine and her playtime...assuming she's cool with him?  I've had some fun ideas that I think she would like, and I sure would be interested in.  I mean...the guy lives in my butt...he might like the idea of a threesome as a little reward/break! 

Nicole

________________________________________

"Dear Nicole,

I think I will start at the end of your email:  if there is one thing regarding this experiment that you should NEVER do, it’s making decisions based on what you think the subject might want.  The only time that the subject should ever benefit from a decision you make is if you made it with your own interest in mind and he benefited indirectly.  Whether or not subject #419t would enjoy a sexual experience with you and your girlfriend is not important to me or anyone here at R&R Labs and it should carry absolutely no weight in your decision-making.  

Having said that, I strongly encourage you to do whatever you think is right and whatever would bring the most pleasure/enjoyment to your life!  You are a young woman and relationships are very important.  Compromise is important, and so is honesty.  I sympathize with how clumsy it can feel telling your partner that you are housing a size-reduced male between your buttocks, but I remain cautiously optimistic that one day, that conversation will be much more commonplace and far more socially accepted.

If your prospective partner does not see eye-to-eye with you on this, then perhaps you can persuade her to see the benefits of the relationship you and the subject share.  However, let us not disregard the possibility that she could be entirely indifferent, or even supportive of your participation in this experiment.  Please feel free to share with her whatever you like regarding the experiment, your participation, our mission statement, and anything else you like (except for the NDA contents of course).  

Regarding the physical logistics of this proposed encounter, assuming that your partner is okay with the experiment, I would not presume to put any restrictions on your activities.  Subject #419t, like all subjects, benefits from increased durability due to the reduction, and short of being stomped on, I don't believe there is anything you or your partner could do to him that would result in serious injury or death regardless of how smitten you are with one another in the heat of the moment!

To protect privacy, I will refrain from going into specific detail, but we have received journal entries from some participants that go into some extremely graphic and explicit descriptions regarding use of the subject in their sex lives.  If you heard some of the things I’ve heard…some of the responsibilities delegated to some of these subjects, I think you would not be so worried.  I do not think there is anything you should be ashamed of or embarrassed about if you are considering incorporating him into your sex life. 

If you are asking if the subject can explore your partner's body in these sexual activities, I would say yes, absolutely.  However, please ensure that this exploratory play time is limited to bedroom activity...and that at all other times, the subject is housed in your rear, especially as time goes on and the DDM continues to increase.  If things get serious, you can consider adding your partner to the alternate list.  If you have any more questions, please feel free to ask. Good luck!

Katie Walker

Dr. Walker watched the email disappear from her outbox and it show up in her delivered/sent messages section.  That was it; that was the last one.  As if on cue, she heard a soft, gentle knocking on her door.  She slid her feet into her ballet flats and rose. She walked around her desk and approached the door.

~

Becca’s chocolate brown eyes were wide and bright.  She’d only just crossed through the heavy security door leading into the restricted area and already she noticed a stark difference from the unrestricted side of the lab, which was only made up of the waiting room, restrooms, and a few exam rooms.  On this side of the door, there was so much more going on!

Immediately upon walking through the heavy security door into the restricted area, Becca saw a door on the west side of the corridor open and out walked a familiar blonde girl wearing fancy, skin-tight yoga pants. 

“Oh hey, Becca.” Brandi said with a smile.  Becca smiled and waved shyly, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the new environment that these girls seemed to feel so comfortable in.  At the end of the hallway beyond the blonde teenager, where it joined another hallway running perpendicular, Becca could see the occasional flash of a busy woman in a lab coat walking by.

Brandi was wearing the same stylish yoga pants she’d worn on the drive earlier, but she’d changed her shirt from the button-up to a standard t-shirt and her pretty, dirty blonde hair was now up in an endearingly sloppy bun.  

“Hey Brandi.” Jane said, her face a bit more red than it was when she originally picked Becca up.

“Whatsup Jane?” Brandi asked.

“Not too much, just uh….I’m just taking Becca to Dr. Walker’s office for her screening appointment.”

“Oh, coolness!” Brandi said with enthusiasm.

Becca curiously peeked over Brandi’s shoulder to see the room that the blonde had just come out of.  The placard read:

Acclimation Therapy: Activities and Procedures

“Yea..” Jane said, clearing her throat.  “I’m going to be helping Dr. Becotte with some metric monitoring and then I’m going to get some lunch.  Wanna join me?”

“Oh, no can do.” Brandi said with a frown, “I’m about to head over to the fitness center for an hour or so.” 

“Ohhh” Jane said. Her shoulders slumped and she looked a little disappointed.  “Acclimating, I’m guessing?”

“Always!” Brandi responded in a friendly, chipper tone, holding up in her left hand what looked like one of those biodegradable cup-holders, but instead of cups, the container was securing what looked like several little containers with push-top lids, almost like those black cylindrical tubes that held camera film but smaller.  

“How many do you have there?” Jane asked.

Brandi looked at the container in her hand.  “I’ve got 6 with me right now…and figuring an hour and a half or so on the exercise bike, I think they all might get their fifteen minutes…we’ll see!”

“Wow..that’s a lot!  It’s gotta be hard doing this all on your own.  When is Dr. Kleinhardt coming back?” Jane asked.

“Hopefully soon!  I think she’s traveling for some seminars or something but it feels like it's been forever, huh?  Anyway, I didn’t get a lot of time to talk with her but she schooled me on the basics…stuff like ABA…and of course, Acclimation Therapy!”

“What’s ABA?” Jane asked.

“Oh, Applied Behavior Analysis.” Brandi said from memory.

“Good to know it's not just us chemists and microbiologists that have to memorize all these acronyms.” Jane said dryly, and then the black-haired girl’s eyes widened as Brandi let out a loud laugh, her messy blonde bun bouncing.  A hand rushed to cover her mouth followed by a cute, quiet snort.  

Jane was looking a little flush. She cleared her throat nervously.

Brandi gathered her composure and continued, looking not only at Jane but also at Becca, “It’s basically the science that modifies behavior, and in the case of R&R Labs, we’re dealing with the behavior of the subjects during rear-housing.  Sometimes it’s really easy to encourage them into the behavior we want..ermm…I mean…I don’t remember exactly how Dr. Kleinhartd worded it but she put it way better than that…but anyway…sometimes all they need is a little boost…and other times, they need…well…a slightly harder nudge.”

“Well, if Dr. Kleinhartd doesn’t ever come back, I bet a million dollars that Dr. Walker and Dr. Bexley make you the main AT.  They love you here.” Jane said, fidgeting with the ID badge hanging around her neck.

“You think so?  Oh, you’re too sweet.” Brandi said, eyes pinched shut from smiling as she wrapped her arms around Jane in a big hug.

Becca noticed Jane become even more flustered and the black-haired girl's hands came to rest awkwardly on Brandi’s narrow waist.  Had those hands drifted down any further, that grip would have had to widen considerably.  Jane’s pale face turned even more red.

“Don’t they have an exercise bike in the AT room?” Jane asked when the hug broke, peering around Brandi and into the room she’d just come out of. 

“Yeah, but it's not as good.” Brandi said, her hand momentarily disappearing behind her back; Becca guessed she was addressing a wedgie or something. “And plus, I think Quinn is in there on one of the bikes now so I’ll have someone to talk to while I’m working.”

“Oh okay…” Jane started to walk away and Becca was about to follow her, but then Jane stopped and said, “You know, if you ever need a workout buddy, just let me know.” 

“Sure thing, Jane; that sounds fun!” Brandi said with a big smile.  “Well, I should probably go.  Gotta get some bike time in for this one.” the blonde said, looking over her shoulder.  

Jane giggled but Becca tilted her head in confusion. As Brandi walked away, Becca couldn’t help but watch the rhythmic sway of her hips again.  Her ass was quite large, and it had a way of sucking any available eyes and attention out of the room.  

Jane cleared her throat awkwardly, “Anyway…sorry about that…let’s keep moving.”

Becca and Jane walked down the Post-RT corridor.  Immediately, she noticed signs plastered all over the walls, mostly ones that said:

RESTRICTED AREA: STAFF, PARTICIPANTS, AND POST-RT SUBJECTS ONLY!

The two made a right onto the same corridor that Brandi had just turned onto.  This must have been the main corridor of the R&R Lab restricted portion because there were so many women!  Most of them all wore lab coats and they were all so very busy, but not a single one was too busy to give a huge, friendly smile to Becca.  One woman had a few of those cylindrical containers that she’d seen in Brandi’s hand earlier.  Another woman literally had a shrunken boy, probably about 2 to 3 inches tall, standing atop what looked like a surgical tray balanced in her hand like a waitress carrying a serving tray.  He looked so cute getting carried by her! While the woman was polite like all the others, she seemed in a hurry so Becca decided not to bog her down with questions about the tiny boy she was carrying.

Some women waved and some even said hello to her as they walked by.  Even women who were walking in groups, discussing things that Becca would never in a bajillion years understand herself, would literally pause their conversations to smile warmly and say hello.  It made Becca feel incredibly safe and welcome. 

Becca saw another heavy security door.  

“What’s this?” Becca asked, looking back toward Jane who was staring down the corridor.  When Becca followed her gaze, Becca saw that Brandi was all the way down the other end of the hallway making another right, and then once Brandi and her big, shaking butt were out of sight, Becca had Jane’s full and undivided attention.

“Sorry, what?” Jane asked.

“I was just asking what this is?  What’s SSF-2?”

“Oh, we pronounce it like “SEF”.  It’s the Subject Storage Facility…one of them, anyway.”  Jane pointed further down the corridor, “that next room is the other Subject Storage Facility.”

“That’s where you…store them?” Becca asked.

“That’s where they wait until their Participants are ready for them. Let’s take a left here.” Jane said. 

Becca followed Jane like a lost puppy, taking as many quick glances left and right as she could.  She passed the R&R Break Room on the left, where she saw several women at one of the tables and they were watching television.  On the right side was a room called:

R&D LABORATORY #2: COMPUTATIONAL GENOMICS

Next was another room she could barely pronounce:

R&D LABORATORY #1: MASS SPECTROMETRY

“We’re almost there.” Jane said.

On Becca’s left side was a room with a woman sitting behind a big, oak desk writing notes into a notebook.  The room was called:

SUBJECT PSYCH EVALUATION

Next to that room was a very similar room, only there was no one in there at the time.  Its placard read:

PARTICIPANT PSYCH EVALUATION

And then Becca came to what must have been the most important room in the entire building. Becca stopped at the window and peered in.  There was a lot of equipment in the room, nearly all of it she didn’t recognize.  The few items she did recognize were shelves upon shelves of cylindrical containers filled with various powders and liquids.  There was also a fair amount of electrical equipment such as big gray panels and big gray boxes sitting right next to them.  She saw white PVC piping that ran from these boxes over to the largest object in the lab.  It was a behemoth of blinking lights and spinning motors.  It was fascinating and eye-catching.  Was that really what she thought it was?

“Is that…ummm…” Becca started to say.

Jane backtracked to join Becca at the door and peered alongside her through the small window.  Jane politely but with very little interest simply replied, “Yup..it's a pre-RT subject.”

Becca couldn’t help but blush as her chocolate brown eyes fell on him.  He was in pretty good shape, something she could easily deduce since he was undressing.  He was standing directly in the center of the clinical, sterile room, removing his shirt, pants, boxers, and finally his shoes and socks.  

Naked as the day he was born, the cutie.  

“What’s he doing?” Becca asked curiously.  She looked over at Jane, who was not nearly as interested in what was happening.

“If he’s undressing, he’s probably getting ready to complete Reduction Therapy.” Jane said matter-of-factly.

He was blonde, handsome, athletic, and he looked a little nervous…too nervous to notice two girls peeking in on him, from the looks of it.

There were stainless steel tables and small, short stainless steel stools tucked up under them.  Atop the table was a stack of neatly folded clothing, presumably his.  

But why was he just standing there naked?

As if she’d heard the question, a woman appeared from behind the shelving.  She was carrying a 3 or 4 gallon container.  

“Is that Dr. Walker?” Becca asked.

“No no, that’s Dr. Bexley.” Jane replied.

It looked like something that the handsome man could have easily carried himself so it was kind of amusing and kind of cute to see this short woman in a lab coat try and carry it herself.  Dr. Bexley took it over to the giant contraption in the corner and opened the cylindrical tube.  She brushed her raven-black hair off her forehead with her sleeve and then removed a scooper from the cylindrical tube.  Dr. Bexley then added several liberal scoops of the strange pale-pink powder to one of the containers attached to the behemoth contraption and then shut the lid.  

“What’s she doing?” 

“Just getting everything ready.” Jane said vaguely.  

Dr. Bexley took her position directly in front of the handsome naked man.  He towered over the short doctor, but she looked so much more confident in this moment than he did. Becca supposed being naked in front of a pretty, fully clothed girl in such a setting could be a bit off-balancing..and it probably didn’t matter how short she was.

Becca’s eyes widened as the raven-haired doctor began touching the naked man.  First on his shoulders and then over his pecs, pressing and massaging.  His expression had changed from discomfort to a mixture of confusion and pleasure.  Her gloved fingers went lower, over his nipples and continued down to his flat, rock hard stomach, where she spent some time pressing with her palms and leaning in for a closer look.  And then…her right hand looked so incredibly small…comparatively speaking.  Becca couldn’t believe what she was seeing…the raven-haired doctor’s hand had drifted down his waist and now she was slowly wrapping her short little fingers around his big, fat, rock hard–

“We should probably keep moving.” Jane said, startling Becca out of her trance.  

Becca was blushing as she turned to focus on Jane, who was standing only a few feet away in front of a closed wooden door. 

“This is Dr. Walker’s office here.”

Becca was tempted to steal one more look through the window, but she resisted the urge and approached Jane.  

“Umm…is he…..mine?” Becca asked, gesturing toward the Reduction Therapy room where the naked man was being seen by Dr. Bexley.

Jane followed Becca’s gaze with a look of confusion.  Becca suddenly realized that she’d used the word ‘mine’ when referring to the boy that was to be tucked into her butt; maybe that rubbed Jane the wrong way?  Before Becca could rephrase her statement, the black-haired girl’s expression softened and she chuckled.  

“Oh, no, no…not him.  I don’t think he’s been paired yet so he’ll probably just be paired with the next Participant that signs up.”

What an interesting thought.  Becca hadn’t realized that the subjects didn’t get to choose or sign off on their Participant.  The 20-year old was in good shape and reasonably attractive by her own standards; her boy could have done a lot worse.  However, it must royally suck for the boy that has to stay in a really undesirable butt.  What a weird thought…but then again, it's not like she got to pick which boy would go in her butt.  If she had her choice, she definitely would have picked the naked cutie in a heartbeat…but life isn't always far and you can’t always get what you want.

“Yours was selected a while ago and he’s been waiting for you. Are you ready to meet Dr. Walker?  I know she’s excited to meet you.” Jane said with a smile.

“Did she say that?” Becca asked.

“Not to me specifically…but Dr. Walker is always excited to meet every Participant.” Jane replied.  She held out a hand.  “It was really nice meeting you, Becca.”  

“You too, Jane.  Thank you.” Becca said a little nervously.  

The two stared at each other for a few moments in awkward silence before Jane chuckled again, taking the liberty of knocking on Dr. Walker’s door for her.  

Her heart was racing like crazy as she heard soft footsteps on the other side of the wooden door. She took one last look up at the placard on the wall next to the door she was about to enter.  The placard read:

RRO-1

Dr. Katherine Walker

Becca turned around one last time to see Jane walking away.  She didn’t even turn her head to look into the Reduction Therapy room…she supposed that working here, one might get used to seeing that kind of thing although she could never picture herself getting used to it…or getting used to any of it.  And yet, she was entertaining the idea of keeping a shrunken boy in her butt…a boy just like the one she was ogling a second ago.  

And no..not just entertaining it…doing it.  

Becca had just flown from New York to North Carolina

Becca was here.  

She took a deep breath as she watched the doorknob twist, brass squeaking against the door’s bracket framing.

“Becca Young, I presume?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Becca said, nervously tugging at her shirt.  She broke eye contact just for a moment but then looked back up.  

“We finally meet. I’m so glad you could come.”

Becca accepted Dr. Walker’s handshake.  The doctor’s hand was a little smaller than hers. The doctor herself was a few inches shorter than Becca, who was not all that tall to begin with at 5’-6”.  Although Becca was certain that she, Dr. Walker, and even that very short black haired doctor with the naked cutie would tower over any one of the boys here.  

“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you.  Thanks for giving me another chance.” Becca said.

Dr. Walker’s eyes softened and a smile spread on her face, “We were more than happy to, Becca.”  The doctor took a step to the right, clearing the door frame into her office, “Please, why don’t you come in.”

Just as Becca cleared the doorframe and Dr. Walker shut the door, the black telephone on her desk began ringing.

Dr. Walker rolled her eyes, “I’m sorry, Becca…the staff knows that I am busy speaking with you so this must be important.  Just one moment, please.”

Dr. Walker returned to her side of her desk and Becca heard two loud clunks that sounded like shoes thudding and rolling against the ground.  The young doctor scooted in upon her chair and answered the phone.

“Dr. Walker.”

“...”

“It’s okay; tell me what happened?”

“...”

“...oh, dear.”

Becca took this moment to take a closer look at the office.  She wasn’t sure what she was expecting the office of R&R Laboratory’s lead scientist to look like, but she didn’t suppose it would look like this.

There wasn’t much to it. It looked like just a typical, every-day office.  

On the walls were various degrees and awards all with Dr. Walker’s name on them.  There were quite a lot of them. Amongst the various degrees conferred to the young doctor, Becca also spotted what appeared to be some kind of paperwork documenting the establishment of R&R Laboratories.  She quickly scanned for the date, which was 2001.  

‘Wow, they’ve been doing this for over 5 years?’, Becca thought in disbelief.

There was a plain gray filing cabinet tucked up into the corner on the east side of the door and a long wooden table that ran along the east wall.  As brilliant as this young doctor was, she appeared a bit messy.  Atop the table were scattered papers, manilla envelopes, and a few strange devices.  Everything seemed to be chaotically and randomly placed.  The tiny contraptions looked very futuristic…even alien-like, all in varying degrees of disassembly. Most of them looked like handguns with thin green slabs of plastic emerging from a spaghetti of green, white, black, and pink wires.  Becca also noticed a glass chess board with pretty pink and pretty blue pieces.  There was another decent-sized desk with a dark wooden top in the center of the room.  Atop the desk was a large CRT monitor and gray keyboard.  The desk was littered with papers and on the other side of the desk was a chair that looked similar to the ones in the breakroom. 

Becca didn’t want to make herself too comfortable in the doctor’s office, but she noticed something on the far end of the table that she wanted to see closer.  Aside from the degrees and the chess set, it looked like a piece of art.  It was made up of two glossy black spheres that had been pressed together and overlapped.  This dual sphere object she spotted looked like the only other personal item in the entire office.  It rested upon what looked like an old, tattered Dearforms shoebox and upon closer inspection, Becca noticed there was an inscription positioned dead center on one of the spheres. In gold lettering, the inscription read:

All sorts of things can happen when you’re open to new ideas and playing around with things.

-Stephanie Kwolek

At first, Becca thought that was the only text on the plaque, but upon closer inspection, she saw there was just one other thing further inboard, inscribed nearly right on the point where the large spheres met.  Becca had to squint to see it due to how small the golden text was and its position between the overlap points of the two spheres. Becca could read the inscription, but she didn’t understand what it meant.  

SR+ds

Was it some chemical formula? Initials? An inside joke?  

“...Alright then. Well, I do appreciate you letting me know but we can address this later.  Thank you.”

Dr. Walker hung up the phone.

“I’m so sorry for the disturbance, Becca.” Dr. Walker said, going as far as to unplug the data cable from the phone to make sure there were no more interruptions.  The brunette woman held up a hand, gesturing toward the seat across from her desk.

“Please have a seat.”

Becca slowly lowered herself onto the seat cushion, appreciating how comfortable the seat was as she neatly set her fidgeting folded hands down in her lap.  

“I hope everything is okay.” Becca said.

“Oh, everything is fine.  No need to worry.” Dr. Walker assured Becca.

It was such a surreal moment for Becca.  She was here in Dr. Walker’s office, just casually chatting…as if she wasn’t here for the craziest, silliest reason in the whole world.

This was the woman responsible for the boy inside that lady Lori's butt.  For all the girls out there with boys in their butts.  For the boy that would…

Becca gulped

...soon be in her butt. 

What a silly thought, but not quite so silly as it should be...because it, in fact, was reality.  Becca fixed her eyes on Dr. Walker and marveled at how relatively normal she looked, all things considered.  Plainly pretty, but not exceptionally beautiful.  She wore thick framed glasses that magnified kind and wise eyes beyond her years and the doctor wore a disarming smile.  Despite the wisdom in her face, she appeared young.  Older than Becca was, for sure, but no more than 6 or so years by her estimate.  

Becca's eyes drifted down Dr. Walker's cherubic cheeks, her oval-shaped jaw and chin, down her thin neck and paused on her chest.  The brunette doctor wore a white, unbuttoned lab coat.  Underneath the coat was a tight black shirt that showed ample cleavage.  While the doctor’s intriguing brown eyes were distracted retrieving Becca’s file, Becca glanced curiously and a bit jealously at the doctor's generous bust.  Becca noticed the reflection on Dr. Walker's large glasses change as the monitor screen changed, and now Dr. Walker's attention was back to Becca. 

Dr. Walker smiled, sliding the keyboard out from in front of her, shifting a messy stack of papers, and folded her hands on one of the only dark-wooden spots of the otherwise cluttered desk.  "Becca Young, I must just say again that It's wonderful to finally meet you." 

Becca smiled nervously.  "It's nice to meet you too.  I didn't expect you to be so--"

"--young?" Dr. Walker said, cutting off Becca's question to which Becca nodded her head silently.  

"I heard that a lot more when I was a teenager, I still hear it from time to time." Dr. Walker’s gaze lifted for a moment as she appeared to reminisce, and then her gaze returned to Becca. 

"I assure you, Becca.  I have all the experience, competence, and passion to ensure completion of these experiments.  Trust me, you are in good hands with us." 

Becca sheepishly asked, "…and the boys?" 

Dr. Walker smiled, "Yes, Becca.  The subjects are safe as well.  In fact, this is all for their wellbeing, I'm sure you'll recall.  I believe you met Lori out in the waiting room?" 

“I did. She seemed really nice…but jeez…” Becca trailed off.

“Something wrong?” Dr. Walker asked quizzically.

“Oh no, nothing wrong…she just seemed so…good at this. And so confident.” Becca said, her eyes down on her feet.

"Well, not everyone starts out that way!” Dr. Walker said with a smile.

“Believe it or not, Lori was a bit apprehensive about housing a subject in her rear when this all started.  She had actually almost withdrawn herself from the experiment.  And then, even after initiating her participation, there were still some…growing pains.  You see, Lori would come in and admit to us that she had been taking things easy on the subject...giving him extended breaks from her rear...modifying her sitting behavior to lessen the load of weight on him...things of that nature.  Her concern centered around the fact that her rear end is exceptionally large as I’m sure you noticed.”

Becca nodded enthusiastically and couldn’t help but giggle nervously at her instinct.

“Well, I assured her that the large size of her rear was not something to worry about.  In fact, it was and still is actually beneficial to the subject’s wellbeing.  She came around a bit to my insistence that she live her life for herself and not the subject, but old habits die hard…and she briefly fell back into her ways.  One day she woke up sick and spent all day in bed under the covers, the subject nestled deep between her buttocks as he usually was.  Due to her fever, her body temperature was higher than normal and she thought the heat accumulating in her rear from being on her back under the covers was probably much more considerable than normal.  Against her better judgment, she decided to extract him from the safety of her gluteal cleft.  She removed him and set him down on her nightstand...planning to put him back between her glutes in just a few moments, but the cough medicine she drank was taking its effect and she drifted off to sleep before she could return him to the safety of her rear."  

Dr. Walker took a sip of her coffee and licked her lips. 

"Not much later, she was awoken to the sharp snap of a mouse trap in a normally inaccessible corner of her bedroom." 

Becca's hand rushed to her mouth as she gasped.  "Oh no...was her boy okay?" 

Dr. Walker solemnly moved her head.  

"Lori leaped out of bed and ran to the mouse trap and saw…”

Becca held her breath.

“...nothing.”

Becca sighed.

“Immediately next to the triggered trap was the subject, shaking like a leaf.  He must have activated it by mistake and the sharp, hostile sound must have paralyzed him with fear.  It's a good thing that he did not find himself in the trap’s path because, as resilient as these subjects are, there is no doubt in my mind that the strength of that trap would have instantly killed him.  Lori informed me that it was the worst she'd felt since starting the experiment.  She informed me that she felt like she had let me down...and that she had let the subject down.”

Becca wondered what the boy could have been doing?  The world was surely a scary place for such a little thing…maybe he was off exploring?  Becca suspected she would be upset with her boy if he went off exploring without her.

'Here I was with the job of caring for the little guy...and he almost died because of me...because of my bad decision.' 

“That's what she said to me, Becca.  Do you know what she said to me next?" 

Becca’s brow was wrinkled as she shook her head no.  The 20-year old had 100% of her focus on Dr. Walker and the captivating story.

"She told me that letting the subject out of her rear end was a mistake.  Letting him have a break was a mistake.  All those trivial things that she thought were important to him…things like breathing air not filtered by her underwear and glutes, feeling light and ambient air on his skin, smelling the pleasant aroma of her bedroom air freshener…but above all else: treating him like something that could take care of itself.”

Becca nodded her head solemnly.

“None of that mattered.” 

Dr. Walker paused for just long enough to make Becca a bit uncomfortable, and then she began speaking again.

“...and not only did it not matter, but adjusting his confinement schedule for the subject’s perceived benefit was a huge, dangerous mistake.”

Dr. Walker tied the story up neatly with a bow.  "She picked him up right then and there, not a single word to him...lowered her pajama bottoms and forced his trembling body back into her rear.  From that day forth, Lori promised us that the subject would only be removed from between her buttocks when necessary."

“Wow, I hadn’t really thought about how dangerous the world is for a tiny person.” Becca said in shock.

Dr. Walker nodded her head. “It certainly can be.  But that’s precisely why we have such dedicated Participants!  Rest assured that Lori’s subject will scarcely find himself in dangerous scenarios going forward.”

‘Cause Lori is gonna keep him in her butt all the time now probably…’ Becca thought.

“Alright, Becca.  Now that you're here, let's continue with the process.  We were able to address a lot of things over the phone, but there are still a few more items we must check off the list." She said, standing from her desk and approaching the door, holding it open for Becca.  

“Nothing too demanding, but they will be…physical activities.  Let’s make our way over to the Participant Screening and Activity Room.” The brunette doctor said with a smile.  

~

“We try to conduct the physical portion of these pre-install screenings before Installation Day just in case there are any issues..” Dr. Walker said as the two walked down the hallway. “...but as I’d said back in our pre-screening call, I strongly doubt there will be any problems with your candidacy.”

Becca’s passage through the twisting hallways with Dr. Walker was a little different than with Jane.  Every woman stopped what they were doing to give her a friendly and respectful greeting, regardless of how busy they appeared.  It didn’t matter what they were carrying, how focused they were, or who they were walk-talking with.  It was clear to Becca that Dr. Walker commanded a lot of respect within the walls of this lab.

Becca read the placards as they made their way down the hallway.  Next to the Reduction Therapy room was a room called ‘Mass Spectrometry’ and next to that was ‘Computational Genomics’.

They made a left onto what appeared to be the main corridor that her and Jane had walked on earlier, but now Becca was exploring new areas of the lab with Dr. Walker as they briskly walked. Becca’s eyes crossed as she read the placards on the wall across from the SSF room that she had noticed earlier with Jane.

Reproductive Bio & Dev

Nutritional Synthesis

Crystallography R & D

‘Jeez, I wish I knew what some of these things meant.’ Becca thought.

Dr. Walker turned right and Becca followed.  They were passing what looked like personal offices each with a desk and a computer.  They appeared similar to Dr. Walker’s office, although these offices–at least the ones she could see into– appeared much more decorated and personable.  

They passed a conference room on the left and on the right was a giant, steel door.  It appeared even more re-enforced and hardcore than the door that Jane had earlier used her retina to open.  There was even pink tape on the floor, boxing off a clear area in front of the heavy, riveted door.  Becca assumed this was the door they were entering, but Dr. Walker continued on to the door right next to it.  

“Here we are.” Dr. Walker said. The wall placard read:

Participant Screening and Activity Room

Staged in the back corner of the room was what looked like a pretty expensive camera mounted on a tripod. The tripod was extended so that the camera was about waist-high.

"Okay Becca…if you don’t mind, we’ll need you to remove your jeans and undergarments." Dr. Walker requested, squatting down behind the camera and turning the power on.  The brunette 20-year old kicked off her white sneakers and took a deep, nervous breath as she unbuttoned her jeans, sliding the denim down her thighs. The jeans weren’t SUPER tight, but they were tight enough that the denim turned inside out as it gripped her thighs on the way down.    

“You said underwear too?” Becca asked. 

“That’s right.” Dr. Walker said.

She listened as the capacitor in the camera whirred, charging the flash.  The cool air kissed her thick, bare thighs all over as goosebumps sprouted up here, there, and everywhere. 

"Ok, wonderful.  I just need to take some photographs of your rear in a few different poses.  Please turn and face the wall." 

Becca did what Dr. Walker instructed.  She rotated on her heels, and she could feel her butt jiggle as she rotated.  She had always felt a bit self-conscious about the size of her butt.  It was a bit bigger than the other girls...and she often was not a fan of the attention it called to her.  To say that this was one of those moments would have been the understatement of the century.  

“Alright, now just let your arms hang naturally at your sides and stand with your feet shoulder-width apart.”

Becca heard a snap and the room filled with light for a fraction of a second. 

"Okay great. Now I need you to stand up on your tippy toes."  

Becca obliged, her sock clad toes now supporting her weight entirely as her calves and ass cheeks consequently tightened up.  

Another flash.  

She wondered if Dr. Walker might be jealous of her big butt as she herself was a little jealous of Dr. Walker's big boobs.  She kind of hoped that was the case, to be honest.  It was silly to think, but it felt like that might put them on slightly more even ground.

A small tape recorder emerged from the doctor’s lab coat pocket.

"Visual inspection of Miss Becca Young's rear complete." Dr. Walker stated into her tape recorder. "Initial assessment....adequate for housing." 

She clicked the tape recorder off and said, "Now we have to perform a tactile inspection."  

Becca would have asked what that was, but instead she breathed in sharply when she felt Dr. Walker's gloved hands cup her butt.  It was interesting...she’d had her butt grabbed more than once.  Sometimes she really liked it and sometimes she didn’t.  This time, however, it was hard to decide how she felt about it.  Dr. Walker's hands felt so small against the supple flesh.  It took two of her small hands, in fact, to properly knead and jostle just one of Becca's large butt cheeks. Becca looked over her shoulder as the squatting doctor played with her cheeks.

Dr. Walker tucked the index and middle finger of her left hand in under Becca’s left cheek and then did the same thing on the right side.  She then began bouncing Becca’s big, spherical butt cheeks up and down, watching them ripple, wave, and crash.  

"Softness of the buttocks is more than adequate. Buttock size more than meets requirements…same for shape..." Dr. Walker continued to massage Becca's bare ass, kneading the meaty cheeks…lightly pulling them apart and allowing them to gently yet purposefully bounce back into position.  Becca shivered a few times, her palms pressing firmly into the wall to counteract the force that the squatting doctor was applying to her cheeks.  

"Depth of the buttock cleft appears to be well over the required minimum." Dr. Walker stated scientifically as she continued jiggling the big butt cheeks of the 20-year old.  

She placed one hand on each cheek and started bringing her hands together as tightly as she could, squeezing Becca’s glutes together tightly.  

"Confirmed. Depth of the gluteal cleft more than doubles under compression and buttocks seem to maintain at least 85% of its unflexed softness factor attributes." 

Becca finally spoke.  "What does all that mean, doctor?"  Becca felt her right butt cheek jiggle as a gloved hand gently patted it twice. 

"It means that your rear is perfect for this experiment, Becca." 

Becca felt strangely flattered...and relieved to know that she could participate, but she eyed her half-folded jeans and baby blue panties longingly.  She would have been happy to cover her lower half once again.

"So, what's next?"  Becca asked, not sure if she was ready for the answer, but it came all the same. 

"Next we have to conduct a few more small exercises...before we move onto installation." Dr. Walker said.

 "Can I get dressed?" Becca asked, looking at her clothes folded on the counter. 

"I'm sorry, but no.  We have to test worst case scenarios...and almost every worst case scenario involves the participant’s rear being bare.  In fact, I'm going to have to ask that you remove all of your clothing now."  

Becca began to blush as Dr. Walker reached into one of the drawers, pulling out a pale pink hospital gown.  "Don't worry, I'll step outside and give you some privacy.”

Becca watched Dr. Walker shut the door behind her and then she looked down at the hospital gown in her hand.  At first touch, it felt like a typical, cheaply made, disposable hospital gown. Becca removed her shirt and her bra, setting them down atop her semi-folded jeans.  Becca didn’t know if she needed to be barefoot but she removed her socks as well just in case, stuffing them into her white sneakers.  

That was all her clothing...and now she was entirely naked…

…in North Carolina…

‘Weird', she thought.  

She pulled the gown over top of her head and pulled her flowing brown hair out of the collar.  She tied the string so as to cover her exposed rear with the paper-thin material of the gown.

A few moments later, Becca heard a quiet knock on the door and then Dr. Walker re-entered.

"Okay Becca.  I know this is going to seem strange, but we need to run some tests to see how the subject would hold up in your rear. The reason you are without bottoms at the moment is because we like to run these tests in worst-case conditions when there are no fabrics to assist in confining the subject within your rear. Does that make sense?”

“Mm-hmm.” Becca nodded. “But why the gown?”

“Oh, we’ll get to that.” 

Dr. Walker reached into a drawer and pulled out a tiny little peg.  It was about half the width of a finger and barely longer than a fingernail.  The soft, squishy looking peg was bright orange and it was compressing between Dr. Walker’s fingers. 

"For the purposes of these tests, we are going to pretend that this is the subject.  So go ahead and untie your gown..." 

Dr. Walker says as Becca reluctantly complies.  

"...and please insert this between your buttocks." 

Becca blushed a bit as she accepted the orange peg.  It was spongey, kind of like the earplugs that would go into people’s ears at shooting ranges.  

This little peg was going somewhere very different.  

Why was she shaking?  Why was she embarrassed? As if it wasn't going to be a living, breathing boy soon enough! She bit her lip as she lowered the orange peg to her waist, and then to her ass.  She brought the head of the peg to the area where her large cheeks met and she felt it brush up against her skin.  

“How…ummm…how far do I put it in?” Becca asked.

“Just to the maximum depth of your gluteal cleft.”

“Umm…. just in my crack?” Becca followed up bluntly, blushing.

“Oh, yes.  You’re not inserting it into your rectum.”

She didn't bother parting her cheeks with one hand...instead opting to just plunge her index finger and thumb into her deep crack.  Once sufficiently deep, she released the peg, her cheeks eagerly accepting it, and her empty fingers came out.  The peg remained right where she left it.

“Next we just have to do a few scans” Dr. Walker said, motioning toward what looked like a giant phone booth, only round, and there was a strange spiral of metal encased in the glass that circled the enclosure’s circumference. Inside the phone booth was a single wooden stool.  

Dr. Walker approached a unistrut-mounted control panel that was positioned right near the enclosure.  She pressed a few buttons. 

“Okay, just hold still for a moment.” Dr. Walker said, pressing a few more buttons and then the enclosure came to life.  

Becca gasped a bit in shock but remained still as what looked like a camera down at floor level abruptly came to life, initially lighting up with a pink LED and quickly started zooming around the circular enclosure, ascending the spiral track toward the top.  Once it reached the top, the LED turned green and then returned backwards down the spiral track to the floor; its return to the floor was much slower than its ascent.  

“Okay, now I’d like you to press your buttocks in and together on themselves as tightly as you possibly can.  Feel free also to flex your buttocks too.” Dr. Walker said. 

Again, the camera followed its spiral trajectory, and Becca was closing her eyes tightly as she pressed as hard as she could. 

“Keep holding, Becca; you’re doing great.”  

Becca’s small biceps were shaking from the force she applied to her cheeks, and the moment that the camera’s LED switched from pink to green, Dr. Walker said, “Okay, you can relax Becca.  Great job.”

“Last scan we’ll need to do will just have you seated on the bar stool.” Dr. Walker said, preparing the final round of scans.  The platform of the bar stool was small…that or Becca’s butt was just that big.  Either way, the outer edges of her wide rear hung slightly off the hard seat of the stool.

“All weight off your feet, dear.” Dr. Walker instructed.  Becca crossed her ankles and moved them out from the footrests, allowing the full weight of her body to come down on the hard wooden seat of the bar stool.  The camera made its final spiral trip up and down the cylindrical enclosure.  

“Perfect!” Dr. Walker said.  “Now I need you to do a little bit of running.  In order to accommodate some of the older, less in-shape women who participate, we ask that they run at their own pace for at least 1/8th of a mile.  You’re much younger and appear to be in great shape so I’m hoping you can go a little longer.  Do you think you could do half a mile?.”

“Oh sure, Dr. Walker.  I ran track 3 years ago in high school.” Becca replied.

“Oh, good!  Well, if you feel like you can or would like to go longer, I certainly won’t stop you!”

Dr. Walker’s eyes wandered down to Becca’s feet.  

“Are you okay to run barefoot or would you like to put your shoes and socks back on?"

“Yeah, I can run barefoot.” Becca said, stepping up onto the treadmill.  The texture of it felt interesting on her bare soles. She increased the treadmill to a walking speed and kept increasing until she had to start running.  Becca felt a little embarrassed...just as much halfway through the lap as she had on her first step.  Without the support of her bra, Becca quickly realized that her hands would need to hold her rebellious bouncing breasts in place as she jogged.  Becca was grateful that her breasts weren’t very large; she couldn’t imagine how much harder this would be if her boobs were as big as Dr. Walker’s.  She felt the peg deep between her cheeks…it was shifting a little bit as her cheeks rubbed up and down with her movements. Despite the movement, it still felt as if it was far too deep to even be seen, let alone fall out.

Becca finally mashed the stop button and slowed her run to a walk, her big butt cheeks taking turns rising up and falling down with each step as her chest expanded to take deep breaths of fresh air.  Dr. Walker allowed Becca to step off the treadmill and the doctor squatted down behind Becca once more, taking a closer look at the 20-year old’s bare butt.  "Can you still feel it in there, Becca?" 

Becca looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus and answered in an uncertain tone.  She had to hold her breath for a moment to properly align all her focus to her crack, “Ummm…kinda.” 

“Can you part your buttocks, please?” Dr. Walker asked.

Becca placed her fingers on either of her large glutes.  They were loose from all the free jiggling and they were slightly damp from the perspiration as well.  She parted her cheeks just enough to feel the orange peg tumble out of her crack and land down on the floor between her bare feet.  Becca accepted a towel from Dr. Walker and gently dabbed her forehead and cheeks while the doctor picked up the peg from the floor.

"Experimental peg remained encased in Miss Young's rear end during Part A of final prep phase. Miss Young ran 1.09 miles.  Preparing Final Part B."  

Dr. Walker ended the recording, and then provided a more detailed explanation to Becca.  

"Okay Becca...time for the last test.  Go ahead and reinsert the peg between your buttocks. Do you see this circular piece of glass embedded in the floor over there?  I need you to stand tall, your feet about shoulder width apart…your toes centered over your hips and centered on either side of the glass.”

Becca centered herself over the slab of glass. She saw underneath the glass another camera, which was staring up at her womanhood and her protruding naked rear.  A rubber cord snaked up out of the false floor where the camera lived and ran into a neighboring computer system.  Becca adjusted her stance so that the soles of her feet were covering the pink cartoony footprint stickers that were adhered to the glass.

Dr. Walker said, turning her attention from Becca to the monitor. "Perfect.  Alright, Becca.  I know this is probably a little uncomfortable for you, but I need you to squat for me…please try to go low enough so that your upper thighs are almost parallel to the floor.  As you do so, the natural parting of your glutes will create a lessening of pressure on the peg, causing it to fall out.  What I need you to do is try your best to flex your glute muscles as you squat in an attempt to keep the peg secured in your rear throughout the duration of the squat.  Do you understand?"

Becca nodded her head, taking in a deep breath and slowly squatted down.  

"Just a little further...there you go."  

Dr. Walker reached for her tape recorder as she asked Becca to hold that pose.  Becca’s quads were tingling from all the running she’d just done as she watched Dr. Walker squint at and scan the face of the monitor, which Becca assumed was the feed from the camera pointing up.  "Experimental peg visible during the final phase." 

Despite her attempts to flex her muscles, the natural parting of Becca's butt cheeks when she squatted must have allowed for Dr. Walker to see the bright orange peg.  Becca wondered how bad that was.  

"In full squat, the experimental peg appears to be...about 25% visible, which is still quite good…" Dr. Walker pauses for just a moment. "Actually...unless.......Becca, was the peg inserted all the way between your buttocks when you reinserted it after the treadmill?"

“I did put it back in my butt, yeah.” Becca replied.

“But could it have gone deeper?”

“Umm….yeah..” Becca said, “it could go deeper…”

Dr. Walker asked Becca to once more insert the peg as deep between her full butt cheeks as it could go.  A lone index finger gently forced its way into the tight cleavage of her ass, searching for the peg.  Once located, Becca forced it deeper. 

Becca squatted again, this time trying even harder to clench her cheeks.

"Disregard my last assessment." Dr. Walker said cheerfully, looking at the video feed with a smile that could be heard on the tape.  

"Experimental peg 0% visible in full squat."  Dr. Walker powered down the camera and plastic slid in to cover the lens. 

"Great job, Becca.  You can remove the experimental peg now."  Becca reached her index finger and thumb between her ass cheeks and pulled it out.  Becca cringed slightly, feeling that some of her perspiration had soaked into the damp, slightly darker orange peg.  Becca placed the peg in Dr. Walker's open palm. Becca looked carefully to see if Dr. Walker would be grossed out by holding something that was just deep in her butt crack, but to the doctor’s credit, she maintained a stone focus expression as she deposited it into a ziplock bag that had Becca's name on it along with some other information. The ziplock bag was then set down neatly alongside her file. 

"Alright, Becca…this news shouldn’t come as a surprise to you nor does it come as a surprise to me, but it's great news nonetheless: you’ve passed all of our requirements for rear-housing with flying colors.”

“Oh, good.” Becca said, relieved. 

“Indeed!” Dr. Walker said, pressing a button on the wall.  Becca heard a faint buzz out in the corridor somewhere and Dr. Walker continued. 

“We’ll be installing your subject shortly but there is just one last thing we have to do first.  This next part may be uncomfortable, but it is important that the subject's first exposure to your rear is not too overwhelming."  

The door opened and a petite young redhead entered the room.  

Becca reflexively clutched at the paper gown to modestly conceal as much skin as she could.  The young woman wore a cheap lab coat just like Jane and she was carrying a sponge and a small hospital-grade bucket.  She also had a towel draped over her shoulder.  

"Becca, this is Laura and she will assist you in getting you ready for installation."  

Laura said hello to Becca and walked over to the corner of the room that was slightly angled down, centering on a drain and began filling up the bucket with water. 

Becca looked back and forth at Laura and Dr. Walker, her cute face turning red. Becca’s small hands made a fruitless effort to cover her large rear

“Oh,ummm….I...took a shower before I left and made sure—”

Dr. Walker raised her hand, urging Becca to stop. 

"—Oh Becca, please don't be offended.  Nobody here questions your hygiene, I assure you. It’s simply protocol.  Understand that usually when we clean and groom ourselves down there, it isn't with the intention of storing a size reduced person!  It's important for the success of the experiment that the subjects are gradually introduced to the environment of the rear end, otherwise there can be undesirable consequences.  One of the ways we reduce the risk of those undesirable consequences is to ensure that the Participant’s rear is immaculate on the first few hours of rear-housing.”

Becca made her way over to Laura, untying the gown and setting it down on an adjacent counter.  She now stood before the petite redhead naked as the day she was born.  

Becca’s shoulders hunched forward

“It's okay, Becca.” Laura said quietly, soaking the sponge in the soapy water.  “We're all girls here.  Let's just get this finished so we can get you and the subject home, okay?"  

Becca smiled and nodded, thinking about the boy and all that money she was going to get.  

She turned away from Laura, her large bare butt facing the intern.  Laura raised the soapy, sudsy sponge and pressed it firmly against Becca's right butt cheek. "Is the water okay?"  Laura asked as she began to scrub Becca's cheek, extra water racing down her cheek to the connecting thigh and feet. 

"Yes, it feels nice." Becca said. The water was the perfect temperature and it cascaded down her glistening butt cheeks, painting her thighs, knees, calves, and toes before circling down the drain.

Laura continued, the sponge gliding over the surface of her orbs that were Becca’s round ass cheek.  She then applied the same scrubbing pattern to the other cheek.  When that was complete, she asked Becca to part her cheeks.  

Becca did.  

She lowered her hands to each of her cheeks and gently pulled them open.  She felt very vulnerable, feeling the cold air against one of her most sensitive, hidden, private areas.  On top of that, it felt very strange to have someone paying so much attention to her butt, although it felt nice in a guilty, taboo kind of way as well.  

Her toes wiggled a bit at the sensation of the warm sponge entering her crack and moving rhythmically up and down.  Laura had started gentle but was increasing the pressure of her scrubbing, the sponge warm soapy sponge constantly moving up and down Becca’s crack.  Up and down, up and down, up and down.  It was almost therapeutic, and Becca kind of wished she was laying down because her knees were feeling kind of weak.  It was difficult to let go of her inhibitions and enjoy it though; aside from her mind not allowing her to sink into the pleasant, warm feeling, she was worrying that there might be an aroma emanating from her crack...as she was only human.  

Dr. Walker must have sensed Becca’s discomfort because she began speaking again, perhaps to distract the poor girl.

“I should mention that your subject is unique, Becca.  Almost all of our subjects are briefly introduced to the female rear end through something we call ‘Acclimation Therapy’. During these therapy sessions, subjects are given what you might call a small preview into what rear housing entails and what they can expect during the experiment. Your subject is different. This will be your subject's very first exposure to the female rear end at his size in any capacity whatsoever.  It’s going to be confusing for him, and strange, new…but above all else: exciting.  We just want to do everything we can to ensure that this big step for the subject is an easy transition.”

The scent of the cleaning product was very pleasant…like lavender and something else.  She smiled, confident that the boy assigned to her would probably like it. 

"Okay Becca.  You barely needed it, but I'm all finished here." Laura said as she placed a white towel over Becca’s butt and roughly dried her, forcefully rubbing and jiggling those cheeks.  Becca enjoyed the soft abrasive sensation of the towel against her plush skin and the way her wide hips were forced to follow Laura's movements. 

"Am I going to have to do this every day? With the deep scrubbing and the lavender stuff?" Becca asked as she began to put the hospital gown back on her now pristine, aromatic, practically glowing booty.  Laura and Dr. Walker looked at each other for a moment and began to gently laugh.

"Oh, Heavens no." Dr. Walker said, the already faint laughter dying down.  "This is just for the installation.  Like I said, the moments following the initial installation are the most crucial when it comes to hygiene.  After this, it is actually part of the experiment for the subject to become intimately acquainted with your own personal scent and learn how to accept it."  

Becca was relieved.

"Ok Becca. We’re going to take one more short walk to one of the Installation Rooms on the other side of the building.  Laura, can you go and gather the installation supplies?”

Laura replied. “I get to observe?”

“Observe? No.  You get to assist.” Dr. Walker said with a smile. 

Laura’s eyebrows raised and she nodded excitedly, “Thanks, Dr. Walker!  Okay, I’ll head to the SSF now!”

Becca was incredibly disoriented now, and it didn’t help that she was still wearing the hospital gown.  She thought that some of the women in the hallways might stare, but none of the ones wearing lab coats did.  The only ones who looked were the ones who looked like every day women like her.  Becca deduced they were also Participants, being escorted by R&R Personnel for follow ups or maybe their very own installations soon enough.  The amount of walking she’d done today was much more than she thought she’d be doing.  She doubted that she could find her way out of this confusing labyrinth on her own.  

‘Maybe that’s the point…’

Install and Exam Room C

“Why don’t you just lie down here…on your stomach” Dr. Walker said. The thin sheet of paper covering the cushion wrinkled up slightly as she patted the doctor’s bench.

“I’ll be right back, dear.” Dr. Walker left the room and for the first time in a while, Becca was alone with her thoughts.

Her heart was racing as she reflected on everything that happened to bring her here.  She laid there for what felt like an hour.  

She laid there for so long she actually fell asleep...and she was awoken by the door opening and shutting.  Her eyes fluttered open and her neck forced her eyes to the door.  It was Dr. Walker and Laura…Dr. Walker was holding her trusty tape recorder in one gloved hand. 

Laura was holding what looked like one of those trays that holds surgical equipment...but there was only one thing on it...right in the center.  

‘Holy cow…’ Becca thought.

She’d seen one earlier that day with Jane, but only in passing.

And that one wasn’t hers. 

Laura set the tray down a few feet away from Becca, level with her eyeline on the counter.  Her unblinking eyes glued forward in disbelief.

It was...the most adorable thing she had ever seen in her life.  

The boy looked to be a few years older than her...maybe even 10 or so. He was in good shape...best she could tell anyway.  He was trembling...maybe he was as nervous as she was.  That was okay.  It was okay to be nervous.  She took her time feasting her eyes, allowing herself to study every detail of his tiny body.  

"It's okay, ya know.  We’re going to be just fine." She said to him with a smile.  Becca’s words of encouragement didn't seem to stop his trembling, but hearing her own words of reassurance  helped with her own nerves.  Becca wondered how large she must look to him, laying there on that patient bed. 

‘...how large all three of us women must look to him. Gosh, he must be so brave to volunteer for this...I mean...it's scary for me and I pretty much don't have to do anything at all except make sure he stays in my butt'.  

"How come he's naked?"  Becca asked, her large eyes still fixated on the tiny adorable boy. He was naked as a baby.

Laura replied, "He  doesn't need clothes anymore…not where he's going." 

'True', thought Becca.  

'He came into this world naked...and now he's kinda entering a new one the same way...I guess it’s kinda poetic.' she mused as her new tiny little friend on the platter was lifted gently by Dr. Walker.  

‘God, he’s just so small in her hands…and those same hands looked so small when they were jiggling my butt…I guess it's all relative.’

Dr. Walker brought the subject close to her face, probably giving one final inspection.  She gently squeezed his arms and legs, occasionally lecturing Laura on the importance of this and that…but most of it went over Becca’s head.  She was swimming in her own thoughts anyway.  

"Preparing installation of subject 298A into participant Becca Young's rear."  Becca then heard a faint but noticeable squeaking sound immediately after Dr. Walker’s statement into the tape recorder.  

Becca felt Laura's fingers come out of nowhere, pulling gently at the knot keeping the pink paper dress over her expansive ass. Gravity caused the gown to split down the center. The two sides of the gown slid over her curvy rear and then her pale, curvy buns were exposed to the air.  The squeaking seemed to get much louder right around this time, Becca noticed.  

"Subject is ready.  Participant ready?" Dr. Walker asked.  

Laura looked to Becca for confirmation.  Becca took a deep breath through her mouth…feeling goosebumps and she nodded.  Laura gave a thumbs up.  

Dr. Walker stated "Participant ready."  

Becca felt Dr. Walker's familiar glove-clad hand come into contact with her left butt cheek, from palm to finger tips…and it started slowly applying gentle yet firm outward pressure.  She could feel her crack once again exposing to the world.

And then she felt it…

"Oh my goodness.." she whispered to herself.

Clear as day, Becca felt the tiny figure clasped in Dr. Walker's fingertips graze against her skin. The 20-year old felt it on her right side down near the crease that appears where the upper thigh meets the butt cheek.  She felt his tiny little arms and legs moving.  Then it glided up the curvy hemisphere of the cheek, reaching the soft, plush peak. The subject’s gloved transport slowed down a bit, seeming to take its time at the highest point of Becca’s butt cheek, and then it made a wide and 90 degree turn to the left, now going down the fleshy mountain slope into the fleshy, cushioned valley.  

The sensation was more pronounced as the hand and subject moved to increasingly more sensitive skin, the slope of descent toward where the two mountains meet negatively increasing quickly .  Dr. Walker and Laura each pulled Becca’s cheek’s further apart, allowing plenty of space for this tiny cutie’s bizarre journey into her butt. Becca gasped when she felt the fingers introducing the tiny figure to its new surroundings, the skin far more sensitive to Becca the further the boy was guided into that deep valley.  Finally, it was as deep as it could possibly go.  Becca shivered.  She felt Dr. Walker's intruding fingers now retreating from her butt...and Becca glanced into a nearby mirror to see those aqua glove fingers retreat…and they emerged completely empty.  

Becca could see Dr. Walker and Laura peer down into her exposed and spread crack. They were staring for a while, Dr. Walker’s hand still holding Becca’s left cheek and Laura still holding her right.  Initially, she felt self-conscious but quickly realized that they probably were more focused on the boy in her crack as opposed to her butt itself.  While she couldn't see what they were looking at…she sure as heck could feel it...he was moving around a whole bunch. 

The boy.  

'The boy that lives in my butt now.'  

She could hear it too…the cute squeaking…but it was very, very quiet.  Becca felt Dr. Walker lift the hand that had been holding Becca's big butt cheek open for so long now, finally giving it what it had been fighting the doctor’s hand to do since the moment it was separated from its twin. As soon as the doctor lifted her fingers, the fleshy glute rushed back to meet its sister...greedily swallowing the little boy inside. The cheek rushed back so quickly and eagerly, she could feel both big cheeks jiggling. She figured it was safe to assume that, like the little orange peg, there was 0% visibility.  The adorable squeaking had instantly and effortlessly been silenced as she felt her plush, pillowy cheeks reverberate off each other and eventually settle. 

"Subject installation complete and fully documented.  Success.  Great job, Laura.  And great job, Becca."  

Becca shivered again. 

~

Chapter 11 - Post-Procedural Debrief (Part 1 of 2)

Becca felt her heart skip a beat as the reverberation of her naked butt cheeks decayed over time, but the sensation of movement deep in her crack was just as consistent as it had been the moment it started...faint but consistent.  It felt somewhat like the orange peg and even somewhat like the tiny aspirin pill had felt between her cheeks, but while she forgot about the white capsule nearly moments later, she wondered if she could ever disregard the frantic frenzy of activity going on several inches beyond her fleshy globes. 

The other major difference was the temperature.  The boy felt a little bit cold when Dr. Walker was tracing him up the length of her right cheek.  And then when Dr. Walker was keeping her butt cheeks separated, when she let them collide…holy cow…her warm butt hugged him so so, so tight. Every square inch of his shivering tiny body said hello to her butt cheeks, and his skin was so cold!  He had warmed to the cozy temperature of her crack very quickly though, and now all that was left was the struggling; she guessed he was trying to get comfy since this was all so new for him.  Becca hoped it was okay for him in there.  She was glad that the procedure required her to add some of that lavender fragrance to her crack...at least it probably smelled nice for him in there.  And like Dr. Walker had said, her butt was plenty big enough and her butt cheeks more than soft enough to properly take care of him.  She hoped he hadn't had a change of heart. 

It had been about several minutes since the two women had performed the "installation" as they called it, and Becca was just swimming in her own mind, focusing on the movement deep in her crack, but her attention left the boy when she felt fingers wrapping around her one of her ankles and fabric at her bare feet.  Laura said, "I'm putting your feet through some training underwear. Don't worry, not THAT kind of training. I’m putting them on for you because they have to be on before you get up."

Laura guided Becca's bare feet through the leg holes of the pristine, white underwear, which looked a bit like boyshorts.  “This is a cute color.” Laura said, commenting on Becca’s blue toenail polish.  

“Oh, thank you.  It’s Essie Aruba Blue.” 

“I’ll look for it.” Laura said as she pulled the waistband up over Becca's ankles and up her calves, reaching her knees and stopping.  

"You can go ahead and take over from there, Becca." Laura said, releasing the waistband to settle just above the back of her knees. 

Becca reached down and began pulling the underwear up, lifting her wide hips up off the table/bed just high enough to hike up the undergarment, but it met some hefty resistance: the undersides of Becca's butt cheeks. 

"Oh....I think these are a few sizes too small for me."  Becca said, weakly trying once to rock them up over her glutes but failing. The band was now digging in under her glutes, which made them appear to overflow atop the underwear.  “They’re super tight. Can I stand up and try pulling them on.”

Laura looked from Becca to Dr. Walker, who smiled and nodded her head.  “Sure, Becca.  Just please note that your buttocks may naturally part in the process of bending your waist and legs.  Please make sure to tighten your glute muscles so as to keep the subject wedged firmly.

Becca pressed her palms into the bench as if she were doing a push up, and then sat back on her heels, making sure the entire time that her butt cheeks were clenched as tight as they could be.  She couldn’t help but notice both Dr. Walker and Laura looking intently down between her bare feet, expecting the tiny boy to have dropped out of her butt, although he was nowhere to be found.  Nowhere to be found because he was still in her butt.

As Becca grabbed the waistband of the panties, Dr. Walker continued,  "The undergarments may seem impossibly tight, but our very talented engineers have sized the undergarment based on the rear images you provided last year.”

“Isn’t this going to make my cheeks..like…less soft on him?  If they're like..squeezed super tight?” Becca asked.

“That’s a great question, Becca.  The answer is yes. You see, over the course of the subject's interaction with the female rear, one might argue that this moment will be the moment in which he is most resistant to his environment and most diligent in attempting to escape it.  Admittedly, it is somewhat counterproductive to our goal of acclimating the subject to your rear end slowly, but that goal is considerably low priority in comparison to the goal of keeping him safe within your rear."

Becca didn't like that she used that word. 

"Escape..?" she asked, still gripping the waistband and slowly starting to pull up.

Dr. Walker pushed past Becca's concern.  "It is extremely unlikely that the subject has even a concernable fraction of the strength required to actually part your buttocks enough to emerge from between them, but we do still have to follow protocol.  When worn, the undergarments will greatly compress your buttocks, creating an environment that the subject has no chance of leaving.  If he were to somehow emerge from your rear, which—again—considering how tight your buttocks will contain him--the full waist-to-upper-thigh coverage of the undergarment ensures the subject would at least remain pinned between your skin and the fabric of the underwear.” Dr. Walker said matter of factly.

“…Until you could reinsert him, of course."  Laura added.  

Becca looked over her shoulder at the underwear. She was not used to underwear that covered her entire butt, and the maroon color was very mature; it looked like something her mother would wear. These were cut far more conservative, both on the waistband height and the cheek coverage.

“They aren’t very cute.” Becca said, and then she squinted as if she’d just skinned her knee. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Dr. Walker chuckled, “It’s quite alright, Becca.  That’s the kind of feedback we might normally have to pay for focus groups to gather for us.”

Dr. Walker took out her tape recorder, "Note to self: Consider printing training underwear in some more...feminine colors and youthful pattern designs." 

Becca lifted her hips once more and gave it another try, tugging up on the super tight underwear.  It was snagging the undersides of her large cheeks again, but she kept rocking the underwear, hitting against the waves of butt flesh until she established a rhythm.  Slowly yet surely, the underwear started reluctantly climbing the extreme slope of her cheeks.  The waves traveling through the jiggling flesh had less distance to reverberate as the waistband made grudgingly slow progress; more and more of her cakey cheeks were compressing and packing into the tiny panties as she bounced on her heels until all that was left exposed was the top several inches of her deep, dark crack.  She wiggled her hips side to side as she tugged, finally hiding the last remnant of the darkness between her butt cheeks.  'Good lord', she thought.

"How do they feel?  How is the subject responding?" Dr. Walker asked, clicking her tape recorder to accept Becca's answer. 

Becca shivered a little, "It's so tight on my butt it almost feels like I just have one big butt cheek, if that makes sense.  And he is...oh, he is definitely trying to move around, but at the same time I almost feel.....yeah…I almost feel him less..". 

Laura then chimes in, "That's because since your glutes are packed and condensed more tightly, they are much more dense, and the higher density means that your glutes have much less give, and the subject can try all he wants, but he isn't strong enough to move them...just like Dr. Walker said would happen." 

Dr. Walker smiled and nodded her head, "Alright Becca.  You did so well.  We will give you some privacy so you can get dressed. Please take your time and come see me in my office when you are ready. Do you think you can find your way there?"

“Yeah, I think so…” Becca said, a little uncertainty in her voice.  

“I know we walked around a bit and you might be turned around.  To get to my office, all you have to do is make a right out of this room and you’ll be standing right in front of Dr. Bexley’s office.  My office is right next door to hers. Can’t miss it!”

“Okay, thanks Dr. Walker.” Becca said, sounding more confident.

The door shut and Becca was alone...well...not truly alone.  Becca bent at the waist to pick up her jeans and noticed something interesting: her cheeks didn't budge; they didn’t part in the slightest.  Also, the leg holes were slightly digging into her upper thighs. They were definitely right, even if he somehow managed to fall out of her buttcrack, he’d be confined into one of the leg holes and held firmly in place until she could correct the situation, even if she was asleep and it meant he had to wait a few hours. 

Becca looked over her shoulder and down at her compressed rump.  Her cheeks protruded from her waist and her eyes danced over the subtle central curve of the tight undergarment as its tightness barely permitted the slight dip inward between her cheeks one would see in pants or underwear.  She lightly slapped her left cheek, the sound of impact dead, muted, and stiff; the flesh barely moved, but she could still feel the boy moving.  

What a cutie he was.  

She couldn't help but smirk a little. 

She pulled her jeans up and noticed it was a little easier, as her butt took up less outward volume due to the compression.  She stretched her white socks back over her bare feet and put her sneakers on.  She then put her bra and shirt back on, flipping her hair out of the collar and then looking in the full body mirror.  She put a hand on her hip and stood on her left tippy toe, accentuating the "shelf-ness", as Krystal would call it, of her booty.  She walked away from the mirror but turned her head to watch herself go.  It was insane that nobody would even know what was going on between her butt cheeks. 

She knew a girl in highschool who went to class with a buttplug in…or at least she said she did.  But that was just it...Becca never actually saw the buttplug and neither did any of her friends, and if the girl hadn't told one or two gossipy girls, she wouldn't have had any idea.  This wasn't any different…except for the fact that he was way smaller than a buttplug, way more adorable, and Jenny Henson wasn’t getting paid hundreds of dollars a week to keep something buried in her butt under her underwear and pants.  Becca left the installation room and followed the directions to Dr. Walker's office.  She passed Dr. Bexley’s office, recognizing the black-haired woman from earlier.  She was the one with the bob cut that had been feeling up that handsome man in the Reduction Therapy room earlier.  Her door was propped open and she was now wearing a headset at her computer, typing things on her keyboard.  Becca seemed to catch Dr. Bexley’s eye, and she smiled and waved politely.  

Just as Dr. Walker said, her office was right next to Dr. Bexley’s.  Becca knocked lightly on the door.  Immediately, the knob turned and Becca saw Lori and Dr. Walker talking, Dr. Walker’s hand on the doorknob. 

"Alright Lori, thank you so much for coming in.  You can return to the waiting room and I will let you know once I've finished up with him; I won’t keep him from you for too long."  Becca couldn’t help but stare when Lori’s massive ass bounced in her yoga pants as she enthusiastically shook Dr. Walker’s hand.  Lori recognized Becca from earlier.  

Lori didn’t say anything at first.  Instead, she just looked at Becca with raised eyebrows, silently asking a question.  What question that could have been was pretty quickly confirmed when the older woman’s eyes wandered down to Becca’s waist.  Becca looked over her shoulder at her large rump and then back at Lori with a cute smile.  A giant grin grew on Lori’s face and she patted Becca on the shoulder.

“Good for you, dear.”

Becca was practically hypnotized as Lori walked down the hallway toward the waiting room.  Watching that thing jiggle and shake, she didn't know whether to feel bad for Lori's subject or to consider him lucky.  Lori’s butt was WAAAY bigger than Becca’s and considering that Lori was a little overweight, her butt cheeks were probably super doughy and cushiony, too; probably way softer than Becca’s.  

That was a good thing for her boy, right?  

How confusing this all was!

"Sorry about that, Becca. Please, come on in and have a seat."  Becca shut the door behind her and approached the chair across from Dr. Walker's desk as Dr. Walker paged Laura regarding something about a psych profile for someone. 

"I hope you'll forgive the mess", Dr. Walker said, stepping around a cardboard filing box of papers.  "We’ve made some truly incredible progress in expanding our Participant and subject pools.  Our awareness campaigns have been very successful, and we've received a large influx of participation inquiries and applications…not to mention the batch of subjects who have recently become viable for assignment. A large part of my day involves looking through dozens and dozens of application forms, which are essentially just women photographing their backsides; the interns like to joke that it’s the dream job of every teenage boy."

Dr. Walker took a seat in her chair and folded her hands atop the only space on her desk that was not covered with papers; Becca remained standing, afraid to sit down with the boy in her butt.  When Dr. Walker saw her reluctance to sit, she smiled, "Becca...we've proven a proportional relationship between size reduction factor and resilience durability; your subject is currently 0.337% of his original size. I assure you…sitting down will not harm him." 

Becca had no reason to disbelieve Dr. Walker, but she still was hesitant.  Still, Becca was not stupid.  She acknowledged she would have to sit down eventually, and it wasn’t like the little boy was coming out of her butt anytime soon.  Becca slowly bent at the waist, her palms pressing into the arm rests as her large derriere slowly lowered to the seat.  She was focusing on the feeling of him in her crack, he seemed to have relaxed for a few moments but now that she was bending at the waist and lowering her rear, she thought she could feel him moving. Then, when her cheeks made slight contact with the cushion of the seat, it was unmistakable. Very slowly, trying to ignore his movements, she began trading the weight from her palms on the hard arm rests to her booty in the soft seat.  Just by slowly lifting her palms, she was increasing the burden of weight on her butt...and by extension, the boy trapped inside of it.  Finally, she felt a thin layer of air between her sweaty palms and the wood of the arm rests.  She folded her palms upon her upper thighs and wondered what it must be like for him in there...under all her weight.

Despite her concern, her strict concentration told her that the faint tickle in her crack was still there, and that meant he was okay.  She sighed in relief, relaxing into the seat.  "How can he breathe?  I mean...my butt is like…really squished up right now...I don't know if any air can get in there.."  Becca said, concerned.

Dr. Walker did not look worried.  "He will be fine in there, Becca.  We have been administering a series of shots to the subject for some time now, and they allow him to survive in areas and conditions that people like you or I might not be willing to do or even capable of doing at all.  Some of them are quite complicated, but some are simple.  One of these simple shots disrupts the subject's ability to regulate his own body temperature." 

Becca tilted her head.  "You mean...you made him cold-blooded?" 

Dr. Walker smiled, "Hmmm…there is a little more to it than that, but you can think of it that way, yes." 

Becca asked, "Why would you want to do that to him though?". 

Dr. Walker responded, "Well, we had to address the issue of reduced oxygen flow while between the buttocks of a woman.  Intuitively, the air flowing into a woman's rear is a fraction of the air content you or I might breathe out in the city or even here in this office.  Predictably enough, degradation in quality of breathable air is a function of buttock cleft depth.  Basically, the deeper our sensors go, the less quality the air is.  This is partially because of the air having to permeate between the buttocks and filter through whatever bottom wear and undergarments the woman may be wearing.  We discovered that, by removing the subject body's responsibility and burden of warming itself, we could reduce their oxygen consumption rates by as much as 65%.”

Becca's mind was being blown, occasionally wandering away from Dr. Walker's science and to the boy in her butt…and then away from him and back to Dr. Walker. “…but it sounds like it's hard enough for him to breathe in there as it is, how does it help to make it even harder for him to breathe?”

"We don’t make it harder for him to breathe; we make it so that he doesn’t have to breathe as much. Our studies indicate that the regulation of body temperature ranks as one of the most intensive bodily functions in humans, and therefore it requires large consumption of oxygen.  You are definitely right that permanently removing the subject's ability to regulate his own body temperature is not ideal.  However, at the loss of that function, he can now survive indefinitely within your rear...even in conditions of extremely low oxygen.  The only consequence is that some subjects are unable to sustain a normal body temperature without assistance.  Regardless of which category your subject falls into is not a problem for him, as your rear will keep him exceedingly warm and comfortable." 

Becca was relieved.  She had thought a few times about how silly it would be if she had to randomly remind herself to spread her butt cheeks so that the boy in there could breathe; she was happy to learn that she would not have to do that. 

"Interesting fact: the oxygen that will filter into your buttock cleft is actually not the only sustenance for the subject’s respiration.  This was determined early on in our experimentation, and it's one of the several reasons why we removed breast cleavage from the list of potential housing areas.  Although untreated subjects could theoretically survive just fine, we decided to develop another biological modification just for the sake of testing: the way he processes the air he breathes.  You, me, and every other person on the planet breathe oxygen, right?  Well...this is partially true, as what we breathe is partially oxygen."

She reached into her pocket and emptied its contents onto the table in front of her.  There were several quarters, dimes, and nickels.  She segregated the coins into piles in silence, and then when she was finished, she looked up at Becca, gesturing down to a pile. 

"Imagine this pile, equaling $1, is one breath." Three fingers came down on the center of three quarters, and Dr. Walker shifted them over to start a new pile.  She slid a nickel over with the quarters as well.  

"This is Nitrogen." she said, waving a hand over the quarters and nickel. 

She then engulfed two dimes with two fingertips, sliding them in the other direction.  "And this is Oxygen."  

She lifted a penny and traced her fingernail along the outer edge.  "And if I could shave off about half of this penny, it would make up all the other gasses that make up the air we breathe."  

Dr. Walker dropped the penny and it spun for a moment before flattening.  "The modifications we've made to the subject's biological processes effectively create within the subject a contingency plan for respiration requirements on the molecular level.  Treated subjects can now respirate on varying combinations of Nitrogen, Oxygen, Hydrogen, Carbon Dioxide, and Methane.”

Becca was not quite following.  "Well...what's the point?  If Oxygen can't get in my buttcrack then what makes it any easier for stuff like Methane to...." it was slowly dawning on Becca. As professional as Dr. Walker liked to keep things, Becca's cute button nose wrinkling up and her eyes squinting brought a smile to her face.  

"...Oh, yuck!"

"Looks as if someone remembers a bit about Chemistry."  Dr. Walker said with a smile. 

Becca was not as amused, "Dr. Walker...you're seriously telling me I have to.." she lowered her voice embarrassed and looked around, even though no one else was in the room.  She whispered, "you're telling me I have to…fart on him?" 

Dr. Walker said, "Well, you are correct about what the subject will primarily be breathing while in your rear: Nitrogen and Methane.  You are also correct about where it will be coming from:  you.  Your gas is balanced opposite of the air we breathe, being roughly 60% Nitrogen and 20% oxygen.  With this information, the biological modification was clear, and as I mentioned earlier, this was one of the main reasons to favor the woman’s rear end over somewhere else like her breast cleavage.  However, keep in mind that the subject is so very small, and he requires so very little to sustain life.  Throughout your day, a near constant but barely detectable supply of Nitrogen and Methane emits from your rear...and this will be enough for the subject given his diminutive size.  I only bring this up to you because when--not if--when you pass gas directly onto the subject, you may feel a bit of guilt, depending on the intensity of the event and what you consumed prior to the event.  You shouldn't feel guilt.  Not any, Becca.  Not only is this something that he must get used to, as it is a natural process of the rear he now resides in, it sustains his life! So do not feel bad.  If anything, he should be grateful..but we won't get ahead of ourselves.  We are certain that, given enough time, he will get used to it." 

"Does he know? Can he hear us right now?" Becca asked, her hands wandered down toward her hips. 

"Buttocks are incredibly effective at insulating things like speech, although heavy compression can result in a more sustained reverberation of audio.  Still, to put it simply, It's very unlikely." Dr. Walker said plainly, and Becca nodded her head accepting the answer.

"He can probably make out the bass in our voice, but it is likely all muffled beyond resolve." Dr. Walker leafed through some of the documents close to her. "Let's see....oh, here it is." Dr. Walker quickly scanned the document and then her eyes lifted and met Becca's.  "How were you planning on feeding?" Dr. Walker asked. 

Becca scratched her head, fingers disappearing in her gorgeous long hair. "Umm...well, I hadn’t really put a lot of thought into that, to be honest.  But I guess I would take him out and feed him bits of my food whenever I eat."  

Dr. Walker raised an eyebrow that looked disapproving.  

Becca appended, "…but…umm…but during times when he has to stay in my butt, like if I’m in public, I would...I dunno...if it can’t wait till later I would just wedge the pieces of food between my cheeks for him to find when nobody was looking?" Becca asked instead of answering. 

Dr. Walker replied, fingers gliding over the form. The silence was uncomfortable for Becca.  

"You could certainly remove him to feed him, and that is what a number of our Participants do for their subjects.  I can tell you based on Participant testimony that I would not rely on inserting the morsels between your buttocks for him to find.  Remember, he is so very small..just barely over one inch tall…and  unless you were to get lucky enough to press the morsel of food directly against the subject, there is a good chance he will have a hard time traversing the distance within your rear to locate it.  This would require you to plan feedings in advance.”

“That makes sense.” Becca said, nodding.

“However," Dr. Walker set the form on the desk, used two fingers to rotate it 180 degrees to face Becca, and slid it to her edge of the desk.  "Might I recommend an alternative?" 

~

"You see, Becca...we have additional experiments that we try to conduct with the more long-term Participants like yourself." Dr. Walker started as Becca's eyes wandered over the document she’d been handed. 

"It's to sign up for vitamins?" Becca responded inquisitively.

"Yes, that's exactly what they are: special vitamins.  Rest assured, they have been thoroughly tested and are safe for human consumption, but you won't find vitamins like these in your local pharmacy or GNC." Dr. Walker said.  

"If you want to feed your subject scraps of your food, that is fine with us…but if you would prefer a more...convenient feeding method, these vitamins would be the way to go." 

Dr. Walker slid a tiny bottle that looked like aspirin or Excedrin. Becca unscrewed the cap, opening the bottle to take a look inside.

"Ummm....these are like...the same size as him…how would he take these?" Becca asked skeptically, to which Dr. Walker smiled.

"He doesn't take them, Becca. You do."  

As Becca’s head tilted in confusion, Dr. Walker reclaimed the container of vitamins. She removed a single capsule out of the container and held it up, pinched it between her fingers.  

"These capsules are fortified with specially engineered vitamins, proteins, amino acids, and nutrients.  They have a large time release window and are designed to pass through the taker's body with full absorption but minimal diffusion into the taker’s system.  The dormant contents of the capsule will circulate throughout your bloodstream and disseminate into your skin, where they will finally escape through perspiration.”

Becca stared on with her mouth agape, afraid to tell Dr. Walker that she had no idea what she’d just heard.

Dr. Walker must have detected this, because she graciously summarized. 

“Essentially, your perspiration will be packed with all the vitamins, minerals, and nutrition the subject needs to sustain life."

Becca's mouth was still agape, but now her eyebrows shot straight up.  

"Oh my god...you're suggesting that I feed him...my butt sweat?" Becca said, her lips curled in disgust as she clutched the neck of her shirt.  

"Is that really so strange?" Dr. Walker asked.

"You keep on saying that! All of this is weird, Dr. Walker!  Not only am I sitting here with a boy literally sandwiched between my butt cheeks, and not only is he going to apparently be breathing in my gas, but youre saying that my butt sweat is going to be his food?!"  Becca was feeling a little overwhelmed, shifting nervously in her seat...remembering her densely packed butt cheeks and the struggling treasure buried between them.  

Dr. Walker responded logically and calmly, "Becca, everything we are doing is with the subject's quality of life in mind; you have to remember that.  Imagine living a majority of your life in darkness and extreme warmth and softness...imagine now that you are periodically bombarded by light and cold air.”

Dr. Walker paused and Becca took the opportunity to genuinely try and imagine. 

“Imagine that you have to come out of that state of deep relaxation…a state your subject is probably in right now thanks to the habitable and cozy environment the cleft of your buttocks has created for him..Imagine you’ve been forcefully removed from that only to chew on food that is far larger than you and honestly not meant for you, and that's the best case scenario!”

Becca didn’t respond, she only thought about it deeply as Dr. Walker continued.

“The subject is no longer capable of enjoying food the way that you and I do.  Imagine trying to masticate ground beef at his size! Or broccoli. Or bread. How exhausting it would be to gnash the morsels with his small, ineffective teeth…and that’s not even considering the work his tiny body would have to do to process and digest that complex food!"

Becca was starting to come around.  Dr. Walker continued.

"Also, what if you were to forget to feed him?  He’s a small one…not our smallest but a small one nonetheless.  Believe it or not, if you participate for long enough, the day will come when you don’t even notice him in your rear.  And when that happens, it will be remarkably easy to forget about him. He would be there, wedged between your buttocks wondering when his next meal would be.”

“Okay...now picture something else for me.” Dr. Walker said, the palm-edges of her hands up as if she were framing a camera shot.  “You wake up every morning and popping just one of these tiny, inconsequential little pills…and for the rest of the day, you don't even have to think about whether the subject is being properly nourished.  Naturally, as long as you aren't freezing, small quantities of perspiration are going to develop between your buttocks, and it will be  enough for the subject.  And if you are particularly active, then the subject will get more than he requires for sustenance.  Simply by living your life, you would be giving him what he needs for his.  Does that not sound appealing to you on any level?" Dr. Walker asked.

Becca was silent.  It did sound appealing to her.  'I mean...it's definitely really gross and all…' she thought to herself as she stared at the form. 'but it would be like I was taking care of him with my body...like I was nurturing him without even trying.' 

As if Dr. Walker could hear Becca's inner monologue, she added, "...and honestly Becca...during the subject's stay in your rear, your buttocks will perspire...there is no getting around it.  Especially if you are active, the subject will often find himself immersed...drenched even...in the accumulating moisture of your glutes.  The experience may as well benefit him, right?"  

This was the first big decision that Becca was making for her subject...and it didn't even occur to her to ask him.  She reached out for the purple ballpoint pen on the desk, but Dr. Walker set two fingers atop it and made eye contact with Becca.  

Her eyes were so wise…and they appeared so deep and mysterious.

"Just know," Dr. Walker said, "as the subject's nourishment from your perspiration continues, his ability to process complex carbohydrates and sugars will degrade.  Eventually, and none of us know when, his digestive tract's diverse bacterial fauna will simplify. This will likely result in the digestive tract rejecting anything but what it has been receiving. What does that mean for you and him, you may ask? Well, it means that he will be dependent solely on your perspiration for sustenance." 

Dr. Walker paused for a moment and then lifted her fingers from the pen.  Becca gripped it in her right hand and signed on the dotted line, checking the box for Participant consent. Dr. Walker suggested to Becca that she go on and check the box for subject consent as well. 

"You’re making the right choice, Becca.  He will thank you one day.” Dr. Walker said with a smile as she accepted the form and swiftly filed it.  

“I will write a script and send it over to our pharmacist. The cost for the vitamins is $25 per month supply; we will deduct this from the subject's compensation.  Yes, you are the one taking them, but they are for him...so it only makes sense that it comes out of his pay.  Speaking of pay, the next order of business is compensation." Dr. Walker said, leafing through some more of Becca's documents, stopping at a banking form. 

"I see you've already filled out your routing and account information.  Direct deposits will go through biweekly on Friday's.  Today is actually pay day, and since today is your first day participating, you will not receive anything this Friday or next.  The Friday after that, October 13th,  is when you will receive your first payment. Participant rates for your selected tier and commitment term length are set at $350 per pay period."  

At that moment, Dr. Walker's door opened, and a young woman Becca hadn’t yet seen walked in holding what looked like a black tic-tac box in her left hand.  Becca thought it might have a little person inside of it, but the care-free, rough way that the girl was handling it suggested to Becca that there couldn't be something inside of it.  

"I'm sorry, Dr. Walker, but Lori has been waiting."  

Dr. Walker responded, "Oh my goodness…the psych eval.  Please apologize to her for me." Dr. Walker said, accepting the tic-tac box from the girl.  "How are his vitals?” Dr. Walker asked. 

The girl responded with a smile, “They are consistent with what we would expect in a subject of his exposure time.” 

“Great.  I see this one has a heat-rated box.  I’m assuming he’s a cold one?”

“Mm-hmm!” the girl nodded sweetly.

“What's the container heat rating?"

"Well, it was B-rated when we did the extraction, but that was over a half hour ago.  It's starting to cool off now."  the young girl said, flipping through her notes.  Becca watched Dr. Walker handle the tiny little container, but she was more so playing with it in her fingers as someone might play with a pen when they are distracted and thinking.

"Yes, I'll have to conduct the eval soon so we can return him to Lori.  Thank you, dear. I'll get to it shortly. Please thank Lori for her patience."  

The young girl smiled at Dr. Walker and politely nodded her head at Becca before walking out. 

Dr. Walker looked down at the tiny container in her fingers and then back up at Becca.  

"In addition to some very talented and driven scientists, molecular biologists, and geneticists, we also have on staff a few highly qualified psychologists…as well as a psychologist in-training you may have met already.  Her name is Brandi.”

“Oh yea, I met her…she’s really sweet.” Becca said.

“Indeed she is!  I have big hopes for her in the future! Anyway, we like to do physical and psychological evaluations of the subjects and the Participants at random interval points in the experiment.  We have already recorded Lori's attitudes toward the subject and the experiment overall, and now we must do the subject.”  

Dr. Walker and Becca were looking at the box containing Lori’s little butt companion.  

“You’ll remember what I had said earlier about how some subjects have permanently lost the ability to regulate their temperatures outside, right?”

Becca nodded her head. 

“We try not to remove subjects from their homes unless we have to…and when we do, we strongly prefer to keep their time away from their Participant’s rear down to the absolute minimum.  While they are away from their homes, we try to address the warming issue with the next best thing: we keep them in these heated containers.”

Dr. Walker held up the box for Becca to accept.  She took it in her hand and turned it gently and carefully.  It felt warm on the outside, and she gasped when she felt shifting inside.  The tiny little thing was moving!  She eagerly gave it back to a smiling Dr. Walker.  

“Unfortunately, The containers are pre-heated and slowly cool over time."  Dr. Walker set the tic-tac looking box on the desk surface right in front of her, declaring that the container was likely in C-rating and had some time before reaching F-rating for temperature.   Becca stared at the tiny black box as Dr. Walker continued. 

"So where were we?  ...oh yes...biweekly payments, right?  Since we’re signing you up for a tentative 1-month commitment term length, your first bi-weekly payment on October 13th will be in the amount of $435." Dr. Walker said.

Becca responded in disbelief, "Oh wow….wait, but I thought you said $360 every two weeks earlier."

“Well yes, Participant compensation for a 1-month CTL is $360 per week, and the subject's compensation is locked in at $90.  So that’s $350 + $90 which gives us $460, but then we deduct $25 for the vitamin regimen…and that brings us to $435 every two weeks"

Becca tilted her head, "You're giving me his money too?"

Dr. Walker nodded her head. "Yes of course, Becca.  You are now his legal power-of-attorney.  All his compensation goes directly to you for distribution."  Dr. Walker cleared her throat, cupping her hands in front of her, not noticing that she happened to be trapping the tic-tac box between them.  "One way for things to go would be for you to transfer these funds into a separate account for the subject...but most Participants...well...to be perfectly honest…they just keep the funds."  

Becca was visibly shocked, "What?!  That would mean...the boy would be down there…living in my butt...and he wouldn't be getting paid at all!"

Dr. Walker said, "Well honestly Becca, what is he going to do with the money?  Especially if he is being nourished by your perspiration and protected around-the-clock by your rear end?"

She had a really good point.  Becca did not know how to respond to that, so Dr. Walker continued.  "Listen, Becca.  There are a lot of ideas out there about what the right thing to do is when it comes to anything.  And yes, since the subject is entitled to that compensation, you could set it aside for him, but it’s not as if he could make use of it like you could.  Why let the funds stagnate in some account the subject can never touch when they could be put towards helping the person who is taking care of him?"  

Becca responded, "Well, won’t he need money when he grows back?"  

Dr. Walker seemed to have most responses staged on the tip of her tongue, waiting only for the question to complete.  This time, however, the doctor seemed to take her time in answering properly.  

“It’s a moot point.” Dr. Walker said flatly.

“What do you mean?”

“The lion’s share of our triennial funding is always earmarked for Reduction Therapy R&D, among other things.  Historically, Size Restoration Therapy has never been high on the priority list of our investors.  As much as I would appreciate the challenge, I do not expect that to change anytime soon.  We’ve been putting in just enough research to legitimize the assertions and terms outlined in our subject-oriented contracts, but SRT is still very much in its infancy.”

Becca's eyes widened.  Dr. Walker continued, “As of right now, every subject is physically capable of withstanding only one session of SRT, and one session of SRT will result in a maximum of 0.8% size restoration.  There is still a long way to go. It will likely be years before we can even restore 10% of a subject’s size with SRT.”

Becca was trying to understand what she was hearing, and she stared at the tiny container between Dr. Walker's fingertips.  Was it moving?  Perhaps in protest or lamentation of this grim development?  No…he had to know, right?  He had to understand the risks.  She saw little tiny air holes in the container so she was certain he could hear. Did that little person in there really accept the risk?

Did the little boy in her butt really accept the risk?

Or did Dr. Walker deceive them?  

"Becca, I cannot get into it right now, but I assure you that everything is iron-clad legal as far as contractual obligation and informed consent goes.  There exists no risk to me, and certainly no risk to you or any other Participant.  The subjects had every opportunity to review the contracts they signed, and they still signed."  

Becca wondered if the boy in her butt even knew what he was signing up for.  She felt really uncomfortable with this.  In fact, she briefly considered standing up, pulling the ridiculous tight panties down, plucking the boy out of her butt crack and telling this crazy doctor to have a nice day..but her mind danced back to her life in New York.  She had only been in North Carolina for a day so far, but it felt like so much longer.  What a relief it was to be away from her problems and responsibilities!  To not have to worry about her delinquency in rent payments, to not have to worry about the bill collectors calling, to not worry about her parents finding out that she stopped going to class but still had a hefty debt to them, a secret she was honestly blown away that she could keep this long. 

The brand new brunette Participant went as far as to raise her toes from the sole of her flip flops, gently press down on the arm rests with her hands and flex her calf muscles.  She took about 30% of her body weight off her ass in the seat preparing to stand and walk out, but then she thought about it, and slowly allowed the full pressure of her weight to return to her butt.  Everything about this seemed so wrong, yes, but if it was all legal…and she wouldn't get in any trouble...then how could she say no to that much money?  It would be life-changing.

"I.....I want to keep the money separate."  Becca said softly.

Dr. Walker responded, "That really is up to you, Becca, and I respect your decision. However, I just want you to know that I, nor anyone else here, would think less of you if you were to merge the subject's compensation with your own...or even put it toward something else. Look at Lori, for example."  

Becca watched Dr. Walker's brown eyes to see if they would acknowledge the box with Lori's boy inside of it.  

She didn't.  

"Lori has 3 daughters:  one that’s just starting college, one in 11th or 12th grade, and one that I believe is just starting high school.  Anyway, Lori decided right from the beginning that her subject's compensation would go toward her daughters’ college educations.  She has been putting the subject's biweekly payments away in a separate nest-egg account, and when the girls are old enough to go to college, Lori’s compensation would go toward paying their tuition, and every cent of the subject's earnings would go toward some extra spending money for the girls to purchase books, other school supplies, and maybe a few snacks along the way.  Sure, it’s not much, but isn't that a noble use of money that would otherwise go unused?"  

Becca didn't answer for a moment.  "I'm sorry Dr. Walker...I just…I wouldn't feel right.  I want to keep the money separate."  

Dr. Walker did not look disappointed or happy. 

"That's completely fine, Becca.  It's your prerogative."  

Dr. Walker removed the banking form from her cluster of papers and leaned forward to give it to Becca.  As she leaned forward, her left breast, large and tight against her thin white cotton shirt, made contact with the tiny tic-tac box on her desk.  With nowhere to go, the heavy, swollen breast began to lose shape and press out on the sides. The soft white mass of her huge left breast engulfed the black box, completely without the doctor's knowledge.  

"You'll just have to make a note of separate transactions on this form..." she said, pointing with her pen to a few different blank boxes and lines.

"...and when you get home, just make sure to open a new account for the subject's funds to be deposited.  If you don’t, they will by default be deposited into your account."  Becca's eyes were still on Dr. Walker's left breast, compressed firmly into the wooden desk, the black tic-tac box nowhere to be seen, submerged in all that soft flesh.

“Apologies for the extra step there,” the doctor continued, oblivious to the pressure that the underside of her swollen breast was imparting ,” 

Dr. Walker only even noticed because she thought Becca was staring at her cleavage so she followed Becca’s gaze to her breast.  

"Oh my mistake.." She said to herself as she leaned back, the cushiony breast reforming into its spherical shape as it lifted from the desk and revealed the box.  The young doctor gripped it in her hands, seeming to check its temperature, and the corners of her lips fell.  Becca watched as Dr. Walker reached four fingers on her left hand down to her cleavage and parted her breasts, creating a space.  She lowered the box into her cleavage.  The box left Becca's view, and then Dr. Walker's fingertips...all the way up to her knuckles.  As her four fingers emerged from the cleavage, her full breasts returned to rest, swallowing up the box deep in her cleavage. 

It was remarkable to Becca, as Dr. Walker did not seem to respond at all to the stimulation.  It was as if she took no pleasure in it at all..as if she was entirely indifferent to it...as if she did it for scientific purposes.  

"My apologies, Becca, but I must return to my duties, first of which will be sitting in on the psych eval of Lori's subject and then getting him back to her so she can return him to her rear." Dr. Walker said, eyes remaining forward and not on her own cleavage as she referred to the subject.  

"We did reserve a room for you at a hotel not too far from here in case things moved slowly, but seeing as everything is complete, I think we can send you on your way today if you prefer!"

Becca nodded her head, still staring at the doctor's cleavage.  

"Alright then."  Dr. Walker looked at her watch. Her large breasts swayed slightly as her wrist raised to her eyeline. 

"It's 6:45 pm right now.  See the receptionist up at the front; there are a few things she has to go over with you, and then she can get you rail transport back to New York.  It will be about 16 hours, which nobody would be excited about, but we will ensure your trip is comfortable. We've arranged for a VIP lodging room complete with a bed.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Thanks, doctor.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Becca. Also, please let the receptionist know about your plans to nourish the subject with your perspiration.  I believe she has a supply of generic vitamins to hold you over until the script is approved and fulfilled.  We will then mail the supply out to you."  Dr. Walker stood from her desk, and so too did Becca.  Dr. Walker extended a hand and shook Becca's. 

"I'm very glad that we were able to meet, and I am thrilled by your commitment to this experiment." Dr. Walker smiled and Becca smiled politely in return.  

"Okay, Doctor." Was all she said.  She was not sure how to feel about this woman standing before her anymore.  But she knew how she felt about $360 a week.  

Had she won the million-dollar lottery?  No.  

Was it a life-changing amount of money?  No.  

But it was income…and it may just have been the start of something wonderful.

"Please remember to adhere to the non-rear exposure time in these first few days as outlined in these pamphlets.  There are also some journal entry forms in there that we would like you to fill out. You'll find almost everything you need to know about the experiment in these, as well as any questions you may have and even some activities. If you ever have any questions, you can of course call me any time."  Dr. Walker said with a smile.

She turned around and walked out, the change in her butt's positioning stirring a frenzy of attempted movement deep in her previously dormant crack as she left Dr. Walker's office.  

~

"Just a little further up this way, miss."  The attendant said cheerfully.

Becca followed closely behind her, glancing at the passengers stowing their luggage and taking their seats in cramped confinement. They looked uncomfortable packed so tightly together in those small seats, but they looked content in each other's company. 

'Crammed but content', she thought as she followed the attendant toward the back of the train, discreetly tracing a hand over her left butt cheek.  Maybe one day ‘crammed but content’ would come to describe the boy she’d been entrusted to protect with her butt. She considered asking Dr. Walker what the boy’s name was, but for some reason, she just couldn’t.  It was as if something inside of her deemed the knowledge dangerous and wanted to protect her from it.

Becca and the attendant crossed several train cars that all looked identical: the same small seats with the same kinds of passengers.  They all looked the same and soon she wasn’t observing the nuances in their movements, dress or disposition.  They were all the same to her now.  

She didn't look down on them though...of course not.  Even riding in coach wasn't something Becca could afford to do, and the luxurious train suite she was about to enjoy would have normally been well beyond her wildest dreams.  She did not forget that it was paid for entirely by R&R Labs, and she certainly appreciated it.  

"Alright; just a bit further until....ahh...here we are." The attendant said, pointing to the temporary placard that said "Miss Becca Young".  The attendant tore the paper cleanly off the door and pulled a light purple RFiD card from her back pocket.  

"Let's get you settled, shall we?" 

The door opened and Becca could not believe what she saw.  It was basically the size of one of the train cars she had been walking through, but instead of there being a bunch of people and seats, all that space was for her.  Well, truth be told, it was half a train car?the back cars being split into two luxury suites divided by a narrow hallway...but Becca had the whole half to herself.  It was stocked with furniture, a large desk and comfy chair for letter writing and business.  There were flowers, beautiful lights, rich wooden paneling, and a queen sized bed that seemed to just fit side-to-side.  There was even a bathroom!  And not one that she would have to share with a car full of train-goers...one to which only she had access.  The attendant set a key down on the table near the door.  

"Is it to your liking, Miss Young?"  

Becca turned and smiled, "Oh yes, it's beautiful."  

The attendant returned with a warm, proud smile.  "I'm glad.  Well, I will leave you to your room.  My name is Sasha, and if you need anything please do not hesitate to ring!"  She said, gesturing toward the phone next to the bed.

With that, the door shut behind Sasha, and Becca was alone. 

'Well...not completely alone?' she thought to herself.  

That was a realization she had earlier that day in the lab, and she realized that she would not truly be alone for a long time to come. Not with the tiny boy living between her butt cheeks following her everywhere she went.  She realized something else, in the time she had been following Sasha to the back of the train, she had done a fair amount of walking, and she had barely thought of the boy in her butt. 

Sure, as she thought about it now, she could feel his movements and she wondered if he ever got tired…

…but it was almost alarming how little stimulation or focus was required for her to completely forget about him in there.  

Her young, sharp female mind had tackled several logistic and social tasks in the past few minutes all while gravity and the genetic gift of a large booty teamed up in securing the little naked boy with barely any thought and absolutely zero effort.

But now it was just the two of them in here.  Now she could focus on him for a moment.  

It was strange...for some reason, knowing he was there made her feel safe.

 'Isn't that just silly?' she thought to herself.  'I'm keeping him safe with my butt like...literally in every way possible...with the softness and cushion of it…with its temperature...and somehow I'm the one that feels safe'. 

It wasn’t THAT strange of a thought, she supposed.  Sure, she was protecting him with her rear, but if it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be getting $350 every two weeks!

She set the overnight bag she’d brought down at the entrance and pulled out her phone, it was 8:07pm.  That meant the boy had been in her butt for about 2 hours now.

She wondered what he might be thinking right now, and she was tempted to take him out, but she remembered what Dr. Walker had said: no less than 3 hours away from her booty. Or had it been 5?...she couldn't remember exactly.  

Becca picked up her bag and put it on the bed.  

'Oh', she thought, looking at the green square on the pillow.  'it's a mint.'  

She felt even more luxurious as she opened it up and her teeth sank into the cracking chunk in what seemed to be a 5/95 split.  She held the remainder on her finger as she chewed the tasty chocolate, letting the mint coat her palate and tongue.  The remaining tiny piece adhered to her finger, shining a bit along the teeth marks. It was a very small piece, something a normal person like her would only slightly taste...'but it would be a perfect treat for the boy', she thought as she lightly patted her heavy, dense butt cheek. 

When she took him out, that is.  

It didn't seem fair...the both of them were participating in this experiment, and while she was getting flights and first-class train rides...he was tucked deep between a set of soft but firm, warm butt cheeks.  It sounded like it might get boring for him, but she had to tell herself that Dr. Walker was right.  He had signed the line just like she did.  But still, she saw it in her power to make his experience a little more enjoyable..it didn't take much effort, as she would be removing him from her crack anyway...why not give him a tiny morsel of chocolate?  Especially since she was going to be starting those strange vitamins...which meant he would be starting…

'ugh...one thing at a time', Becca thought. 

She pulled the manila folder she’d received from Dr. Walker out of her bag and left the rest on her bed, walking over toward the chair and desk. She scooted the chair out and slowly lowered her large rear into the cushioned seat. She knew he would be okay, but it just felt...disrespectful to sit as quickly and thoughtlessly as she normally would...like when you walk past a custodian mopping the floor:  you have no choice but to walk right through his work, but you tip toe, even though you know it makes no difference, but it makes it seem like you care.  

Becca wanted to let the boy in her butt know that she cared, as pointless as the gesture may have been otherwise.  

She gradually allowed her hefty rump to sink into the thickly-woven cushion and enjoyed the sensation of her weight leaving her feet, gradually centering fully on her wide, splayed ass.  With her flip flops slid off, the carpeted floor felt nice and rough against the soft soles of her bare feet.  Becca opened the manila envelope. 

The receptionist said that the generic vitamins she’d picked up on her way out of the lab were not an ideal long-term supplement because they lacked the custom-designed material to interact with her own body.  They were suitable for the short term though.  The receptionist had explained that since the vitamins were basic, they could be modified to develop a pleasant flavor when absorbed and passed through Becca’s body during digestion.  Basically, her perspiration would taste sweet, which made her feel a lot better about him living off of it. 

Unfortunately, the flavor modification tweak was not available in the specially prescribed variant that the subject would be purchasing monthly, so when she switched over, the pleasant taste would be gone.  At that point though, it was explained to Becca that he would have already gotten the point that consuming her perspiration is how he is expected to survive, and with no other options for sustenance, he will understand that he must continue to do so.  

Sure, it would be great if he enjoyed the flavor, but being healthy was far more important than taste.  It felt like a very ‘mom’ thing to say.  This really was part of it; she was taking care of him, so it was her responsibility to not only know what was best for him, but to be firm about enforcing it.  Dr. Walker had added that she was confident that the subject would develop a taste for the unflavored perspiration anyway, given enough time.  

Until then, however, he would have the generic.  

She set the rattling pill container on the edge of the desk and leafed through some of the documents.  The first was a notice with her signature.  The header read: 

GLOBECOM MANUFACTURERS: A Subsidiary of BexCorps  

Below a large body of technical jargon way beyond Becca's understanding was some italicized text, the only text that Laura said she had to worry about:  "I, the aforementioned, consent to regular monitoring by use of GPS positioning, accessible at any time by R&R Labs for official use only". She remembered this was one of several forms she had to sign today, and honestly a lot of them blurred together.

It was explained to Becca that the lab had recently contracted work with GlobeCom, a company mainly aimed toward the manufacturing of super-small semiconductor devices such as BJT and MOSFET transistors, had been bought out by a company called BexCorps, which Becca knew very little about.  It apparently was a big purchase, since GlobeCom themselves had recently acquired a popular, confidential GPS company, and were now expanding their operations.  They were contracted to manufacture nearly microscopic GPS tracking systems, but they were not informed why. Becca understood why, but only because it was explained to her.

There were too many situations where subjects, while away from their caretakers' rear ends, went missing or were otherwise injured.  GPS tracking allowed for recovery of these subjects, and sometimes they were even able to be retrieved prior to their expiration.  Once recovered, the living subjects were mostly fine, albeit some psychological scarring depending on what the Participant's negligence caused.  One thing was for sure though:  whether they were recovered and returned to their Participants, or kept due to injury or death...there was plenty to learn from the experiences."

"Ugh..."  Becca thought, rolling her eyes as she set the paper down.  She had an itch on the back of her upper thigh, right where the thigh meets the cheek, but the underwear was so insanely tight she couldn't even get to it.  She really wasn't a fan of it, to be honest, and now that she was ‘alone’, she could change into something more comfortable.  She stood up from the desk and pulled the blinds down so no passer-by could see into her luxurious room. 

Once the blinds were down, she unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled out.  Standing there in nothing but her shirt and tight underwear, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband.  It was one thing putting them on, but taking them off was quite simple.  She simply started yanking down side by side, alternating as she wiggled her hips rhythmically. The waistband stretched over her cheeks, getting tighter and tighter as they peaked over the mountainous flesh's peak...and then it was all downhill from there…quite literally.  Her pale white butt cheeks practically exploded with a celebratory jiggle out of the underwear and she couldn't help but giggle and sigh at the relief.  She looked into the mirror on the wall and saw deep imprint lines from the underwear tracing along her butt.  The cold air felt nice. She scratched at the persistent itch at the base of her ass cheek and got goosebumps. 

Once her big butt was fully out of the underwear, she immediately felt it.  The boy in her butt, just now feeling the heavily compressed butt cheeks relenting their strong inward pressure, must have seen this as a golden opportunity to take a mile out of an inch.  Becca actually gasped when she felt the struggling increase in her crack.  

"Oh my goodness.." she thought, her hands instinctively going down, one to each butt cheek.  

Without thinking, her fingertips sunk into the curvy, soft hemisphere of her cheeks along their outer edge and she pressed them together, sandwiching the subject firmly in her crack. She’d definitely overdone it, the inward pressure greatly exceeding the amount of force the underwear exacted on her bottom, but her cheeks were very soft so Becca was confident that he would be okay.  

She shimmied her hips, as the training underwear was still at her thighs, until the underwear started coming down and landed on the tops of her bare feet.  She stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor. 

Becca looked around for a moment and saw her bag on the bed.  She waddled over to it, still firmly holding her cheeks together as she quickly and expertly pulled a pair of blue polka dotted panties from the bag.  They were mesh/see-through, and she hardly ever wore them, but she decided to bring them because she thought it might help the boy in some way.  Maybe the transparent material would allow a little bit of light in there for him to see?  Or maybe the material would breathe a little bit better and help increase air circulation?  She stepped into them and hiked them up over her rump, and her clenched cheeks fit much easier into these than they did the other tight underwear.  Once they were up and over her ass, she felt she could finally unflex her ass cheeks.  

Becca could still feel him fighting her buttcrack, but she definitely wasn't worried about him parting her cheeks.  Still...it was at this moment she realized that the underwear definitely had a purpose, and much to the poor boy's dissatisfaction, that was most certainly not the last time she would be wearing them. 

She sighed in relief and then returned to the chair to review the documents.  The next one had the R&R Labs header she'd seen several times already, but this packet she only glanced at when Laura put it inside.  The first page asked for the stuff you’d expect: name, age, subject’s ID number…and it also briefly went over the minimum requirements for the experiment.  

It talked about how the minimum time she had to keep the boy in her butt, the Dynamic Daily Minimum, was 6 hours for the 1-month tier she’d selected, but Dr. Walker said that she could start out at the lowest threshold of just 3 hours.  Becca thought it best to fall somewhere between those numbers. 

The next page of the packet said "Activities to Monitor". 

These were activities that a woman might perform in her normal day-to-day life as well as some things to try solely because said woman was participating.  The idea was to engage in these activities and monitor the subject's response as well as the woman's own personal feelings about subjecting the boy to the experience.  Laura clarified that thinking about how something affects the subject is not something we as participants should get in the habit of, but the periodic monitoring is important for R&R Labs research and documentation. Becca started viewing the list and at the top was AEROBIC EXERCISES.  It recommended cardio, weightlifting, and even sauna/steam room visits.  That made sense to her.

The next two made her blush:  

SEXUAL INTERCOURSE/MASTURBATION  

She didn't really do those things very often…the second one not so much, and the first one even less.  The idea of masturbation, to her at least, was a very private thing...the idea of doing it in front of the boy was kind of embarrassing but then again what did she have to be embarrassed about?  It was completely natural for a girl her age to be doing that sort of thing.  Actual sex...while he's back there?  That might be a little too much for her.  She was glad to see that these were not hard requirements.  Instead, there seemed to be monetary rewards for taking part in some of these activities, so long as documentation on results were detailed.  SITTING.  She could certainly handle that one. SWIMMING. There was a note next to it that said "EXPERIMENTAL: CONTACT DR. WALKER PRIOR TO ATTEMPTING). 'Hmmm', she mused, 'I may have to do that...I do like swimming'. 

Next was the banking statement; she'd already seen that.  After that were about several dozen copies of a single set of pages adhered with a tiny paper clip..again with the R&R Letterhead.  On the first page, there was a spot for her name, age, and commitment length.  Next section asked about the subject: how many days since initial installation and how big he was.  Next section was about specific rear activity for that particular day: how long (in hours) was the subject away from the participant's rear?  How long (in hours) was he between her buttocks?  How long (in hours) was he inserted into her anus?  ?Wow?this is really exhaustive.? She said allowed as she filled out the lines.  She saw a line asking the time the subject spent in a ‘rear-alternative’.   

She wasn’t sure how to answer this quite yet because she hadn’t completely decided where the subject was going to sleep (although she had an idea of where).  The next several pages were for more detailed writing.  The first page read "Notable Interactions with subject.

~

Becca pulled out a pen from her bag and filled out her first journal entry.  Better to get it over with now, she thought, while the memories were still sharp in her mind...plus she could always add more to the journal entry later if anything else happened that night.  It took a few minutes, and when she was finished with the first journal page, she put the paper in a separate folder.  “I’ll get to the rest of it tomorrow”, she said to herself. She then put the rest of the documents back into the manila folder, the top uninspected form that looked to be about using the restroom. She had used the bathroom shortly before arriving at the lab and didn't feel the need right now, and feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the new information, she decided to tuck both the folders into her bag.  She figured she didn't need a shower either, since she had been cleaned by Laura right before the boy was put in her butt, so all that was left to do now was go to bed.  She looked at her phone and yawned...it was 9:40pm. 

The boy had been in her butt for over 4 hours now.  That meant that she needed to give him a break, and she definitely wanted to. In fact, she was excited about it. Jeez, he deserved it after all.  Becca wondered what Lori was doing right now.  She’d had her subject for god only knows how long.  It had been so long that Lori probably didn’t have to worry about making sure her boy got a break from her butt every now and then…or that her butt even had to be completely 100% clean.  She was probably snoring on her back, her poor boy tucked deep in that enormous soft ass, completely forgotten about and disregarded…and she’d probably wake up and not even think about him.

Becca yawned again sleepily as she sat down on the edge of the comfy yet firm bed, pulling her favorite pair of blue and orange flannel pajama pants out of her bag, along with a pair of black socks with purple hearts all over them.  She rubbed the purple hearts with her thumb, chuckling silently at the realization that the boy in her butt was barely larger than just one of those cute little hearts.  She slid her bare feet into the clean, soft socks and then pulled on the pajama pants. 

The 20-year old pulled out a clean towel from her bag and set it on the nightstand next to the bed, bunching it up and manipulating the fibers into a nice, small nest for the boy. She thought for a moment about what Dr. Walker had said about how some of the subjects couldn’t breathe regular air as good or something like that, but she was pretty sure that only applied way down the road.  No, he would probably be fine, but Becca would watch him closely just to make sure he had no trouble breathing. He was her responsibility now, and she was being paid very well to protect him and keep him safe.

 She kind of liked that….  

Becca made sure to set the center of the towel nest much lower than the bordering edge.  She told herself that it was to make sure the little one didn’t accidentally tumble out in his sleep. The girl plugged in her phone and set it next to the towel.

Once everything was set up, she took a deep breath and slid her fingers into the waistband of her thin pajama pants and tight boyshorts, the elastic band sliding against her fingertips and over her knuckles.  Focusing her thoughts into her fingertips, she reached down into her ass crack, the mere force of her digits enough to sufficiently part the dense, fleshy glutes just enough for their entry, but not a millimeter further.  It was much warmer in there than she was expecting it to be. Despite the warmth, the environment between her cheeks was dry.

She was feeling a little silly with her fingers fishing around between her buttcheeks, never realizing just how much real estate there was to explore for such a–

“--Oh…’

She felt it.  

Him.  

The tiny little lump buried in her crack.  

If she didn’t already know what she was looking for, she could have easily mistaken it for a mole, or perhaps a collection of lint from her underwear or shorts.  It wasn’t any of those things though: it was a tiny, naked, inch tall living, breathing, struggling little man.  Her fingers closed on it gently and started pulling it out from between the fleshy valley of her parted cheeks. 

As her digits retreated with its stolen prize, her glutes sealed spitefully around her fingers, trying to steal back its cuddly warm possession.  Finally, the tiny warm lump was out from between her insistent ass cheeks, which had given up and bounced back into position.  Becca’s hand was now peeking out of her pajama pants and the two waistbands returned with a dull snap, snugly against her lower back.  She lifted her hand up from her ass and it soared around to her face. Becca squinted her eyes as she peered at the insignificant boy clasped between her enormous fingers.  She froze for a moment.  

‘What do I say??’, she pondered, ‘What do you say to someone who has spent the last 4 hours trapped in your butt?  I mean...he knows me in a way that no boy ever has or probably ever will.  Or anyone ever will.’

Becca searched her mind for the words and found ones that would do for the moment.  "Hello." She said, feeling almost silly greeting him in such a way. 

‘Ummm….I’m Becca.  It’s nice to meet you.’

He was very cute...not even just for his size...he was adorable for his size, but the tiny features she could make out a little better now that she was holding him suggested to her that even at his normal size, he was surely handsome.  She was sure he’d had many girlfriends and probably even broke a few hearts in his time.  He was staring up at her with as wide a set of eyes as something so tiny could have. 

"I hope it was pleasant for you in there.  The doctors used some nicely scented soap down there before Dr. Walker…well...put you in there." Becca said, blushing a little bit. “If you like the way it smells, I can pick up some lavender scented soap next time I go to the store and start using that.”

He was close enough to her face that when she breathed in through her nose, she could detect the boy’s scent.  It was a little unpleasant, and for a moment she was fixated on the fact that if she found the smell unpleasant, and it was from her own body…not to mention afflicting her from such a very small source, she couldn’t imagine what it might have been like for him.  

That wasn’t at all fun to think about though. Becca twisted the tiny treasure around in her thick fingers, inspecting him from all angles.  She was a little bothered by a giant red blotch on his butt. She squinted at it from several angles, deciding ultimately that it was either a birthmark or a mark from one of the shots the doctors gave him to get him ready for her butt.

The boy in her fingers wasn't exactly struggling, but he was shaking profusely.  It looked like he was trying to speak, but there was either no sound coming out, or he was just too tiny to be heard.  "Are you trying to talk?"  Becca lifted him up to her ear, pulling away from it long flowing locks of her brown hair. She allowed her locks to fall back once he was positioned, and Becca imagined him surrounded in an enchanted, chestnut-brown forest, dense with her shampoo’s fragrance and her own natural pheromones. 

Boys liked that kind of thing, right?

She closed her eyes and focused...even then she could only barely hear him…but then again the train was a bit noisy.  Becca had this naive thought in her mind that she would be able to communicate with this boy, but at his size that was beginning to seem unlikely…at least while they were on the train. Maybe when they were home.  His little squeaks were adorable, but they were just too tiny to resolve against the roaring sound of the rails. She could not pull more than a solid syllable or two from the high pitched, faint audio.  Perhaps in the future she could devise some way to communicate with him, but for now, it would have to be a one-way line. 

Becca returned the boy to her gaze, which meant she was finished trying to understand him, regardless of whether he was done trying to be understood.  She had a frown on her face, a frown that one makes when they know something they don't want to know.  But Becca didn't really know anything for absolute sure.  ‘Not absolutely', she thought.  

Becca only suspected. 

And she almost certainly was wrong.  He was just adjusting.  This was hard for him.  She understood that.  This was kind of hard for her too. They were figuring this out together.  There would be clumsy moments…and confusing moments…but they were both human.  They were going to get through this.

"Don't worry little one.  I only had to keep you in there for 4 hours today and we've already done that so far." She thought she saw him get a bit more animated upon hearing this.  Maybe he thought a shorter amount of time had lapsed, which would mean that it really wasn't that bad for him.  

‘Oh!’ she thought excitedly, “and don’t worry! I set up the accounts before I left so all your money is going into a separate one.” It didn’t seem like the news had a strong impact on the little boy’s disposition but Becca felt good that she had made that decision all the same…that she was going to let him keep his money. The thought of keeping it seemed so cruel.  Her mind went to Lori and her three girls and it almost broke her heart a little bit. 

She wondered if they even knew about the person trapped between their mother’s comically huge butt cheeks, basically giving up everything so that they could get an education.  And really not even an education!  The fluff that surrounded it.  He’d be paying for the daughters’ meals out, her alcohol, her school supplies.  And Becca remembered from her own experience in college that a measly $180 a month wouldn’t even scratch the surface on that.  

Was Lori appreciative?  Were the girls grateful?  Would her oldest pose for a picture years from now with her mother and younger sisters, cap in position on her golden, flowing hair with one hand proudly clutching her expensive diploma and the other wrapped around her mom’s wide, motherly waist? Would she hold Lori in high regard for making this possible while the boy that paid every scent of his earned money remained hidden in Lori’s big, all-consuming butt? Would they only deny him the privilege of being in the photo, but facing the opposite direction entirely?

Would he even be acknowledged in some other way if not in a genuinely appreciative manner?  Would Lori jokingly instruct her eldest to thank him?  Maybe she’d motion to remove him from her deep crack only to be begged by her daughter not to bring him out because it would be gross, and it would embarrass her in front of her friends.  Maybe she wouldn’t be embarrassed at all and would instead get on her knees and sing the two words of appreciation into her mom’s ample and protective derriere to the amused laughter of her siblings, joking about how the middle sibling would be next in a few years? 

Or maybe none of them would say anything about him at all.  Maybe they would leave the university, go to a celebratory dinner at a nice restaurant, the oldest might raise a toast to honor her adoring mother, seated atop the boy partially responsible for the evening but his experience that night would be no different than the night before, the month before, the year before…or any day, month, or year to come.  Toasts, laughter, discussions of the future…all occurring in a world outside of his own while he enjoys it from a far, tucked deep in Lori’s crack.  She’d shift left and right in her seat, the cheeks on her face blushing at the recognition and the tremendous cheeks of her rear swallowing up the poor little thing even deeper. Would they return home without ever even thinking of him?  Maybe they wouldn’t even know about him.   Maybe he would be entirely forgotten. 

‘Gosh’, Becca thought, her mind completely racing, ‘Which one of those awful scenarios would be worse?’ 

Now more than ever she was sure, and she felt powerful to make this decision on his behalf

‘Not this boy, not him’, Becca thought, gently cupping her cheeks from where he had been pulled and tenderly caressing them as if the gesture somehow translated to contact with him (he was sort of an extension of her now anyway).  Every cent would go to him.  It was his money, and he was sacrificing an awful lot to get it. 

"So.." Becca continued, enjoying that she'd made herself feel a little better.  "...I'm going to give you a break and let you sleep here on this towel." She said, turning the boy to face the nightstand where the towel was set.  She lowered the boy down to the towel and nestled him into the soft fibers, making sure that the nest was tucked way down.  "There we go". She cooed, her hand going to her heart as she smiled warmly, watching him trying to get comfy.  He really was quite cute.  It reminded her of caring for a gerbil or a hamster.  He needed her so much.

"Are you going to be warm enough there?" Becca thought, her smile fading a little.  Why did she ask?  It wasn't as if she could hear his answer.  She sat down on the bed and put her right foot up on the bed next to her left thigh and hugged her right knee, resting her chin on the kneecap, and she just watched him. 

'I can't believe he was in my butt' she thought incredibly, 'and I can't believe that he's going to depend on me to take care of him...it's almost like I'm his mother now.' That was a crazy thought for her...the boy looked to be at least 10 years older than her, and here she was establishing this relationship of superiority and nurturing over him.  But it was all justified, wasn't it?  Look at him!

He seemed to be breathing okay, but when she reached out a hand to touch him, she remembered one of the reasons why Dr. Walker decided the space deep between a woman’s butt cheeks was the ideal home.

"Awww; you’re kind of cold, little one."  Becca had thought his trembling was a fear response, but she sighed deeply in relief.  Clearly it was on account of being cold!

'Holy cow…’, she thought. ‘he's only been away from my butt for like...a few minutes...and he's already this cold?' 

Becca was feeling even less guilty now. It was clear how much he needed her…and not just her…but it was clear how much he needed her butt…even if he may not like it.  But a promise was a promise. Becca didn’t know the doctors at R&R Labs very well, but she trusted that the women there knew what was best for this little boy.  Sure, he’d be cold but they decided that he shouldn’t get too much ‘butt’ on the first day.  Becca was going to respect that.  

She couldn't put him back in her butt, but he needed to stay warm.  She sat and thought for a few minutes in silence as he stared up at her, vulnerable and helpless...and then as her eyes drifted down, the idea hit her.

"Oh!" She thought.  "Well...this will have to do for tonight." She said out loud as she began to remove her right sock, the purple hearts wiggling at the tip of the sock as their fullness made way for empty dangling. 

Five cute, bright blue painted toes wiggled out of the black and purple sock, her naked heel still anchored to the edge of the bed. Becca reached out for the boy in the towel.  She lifted him effortlessly and brought him over the mouth of the sock. 

"You'll be nice and warm in here, little one." She said to him, happy that she was able to solve the problem: keeping him warm and safe, while still also giving him a well-deserved break from her ass.

"Good night." She said in a soft whisper as her fingers separated, allowing the tiny naked boy to freefall toward the open mouth.

The cotton mouth swallowed him effortlessly, and he bounced cutely into the toe section, immersed now in the ghostly warmth that her chubby, plump toes had lovingly left behind for him.  She massaged the toe section of the sock from the outside. It felt warm and the cotton was thick, the little lump foreign and interesting to her fingers. 

She lifted the sock to her nose and breathed in. It smelled mostly of soap and detergent since she had only been wearing them for a few minutes.  There was also a hint of mango from the mango scented foot lotion she liked to use. All in all, she decided the little boy would be just fine in there.

She aligned the sock with its empty twin and curled the mouths together, pairing them into a cotton sock ball and gently placed it in the towel.  

“There we go.” Becca said warmly.  

She brushed her teeth and washed her face, and then the 20-year old sat back down on the bed and brushed her hair for a few minutes.  She was feeling a little hungry so she slid her bare feet back into her flip flops, on the hunt for a vending machine. After purchasing a few items, Becca struck up a conversation with two very sweet boys who were on their way to Canada. She talked about music, school, and some other things while eating her bag of pretzels and drinking her Diet Coke. They were cute and one of them was very flirty, but she had a boy waiting for her back in her room so she politely said good night. 

When she got back to the room, she sat down on her bed and slid her feet out of her flip flops. Becca reached to check on the boy in the sock ball.  She hoped that he hadn’t already fallen asleep because her jostling the socks might have scared him, but she had to find out if he was still warm.  She unpaired the socks and reached in, and she frowned, feeling the cold boy on her fingertips.  Through her frown leaked a hint of a smile.  His little hands against her fingertip felt so cute.  

She briefly considered putting him back in her butt.  Should she feel bad for breaking her promise?  He needed to be warm and safe, and Dr. Walker decided that butts were the best way to do that.  Maybe the risk that they talked about only really applied to butts that weren’t very clean.  Hers was immaculate from earlier!  Stressing out over breaking her promise, her eyes wandered, and they came to rest on her bare feet.  She wiggled her toes and smiled.

‘Another great idea, Becca…’ the 20-year old said to herself proudly, looking down at her soft, velvety bare foot.

She gave one final approving smile as she looked down and saw him lying in the toe section as if it were a 3D hammock, staring up in wonder at her face. She then lowered the sock to her bare foot, anchored once again to the edge of the bed, and wiggled those 5 blue toes in.  She tugged up slowly, the skin of her toes disappearing into the cotton sleeping bag that was her sock, and it was her big toe that made contact with him first.

By the time the mouth of the sock stretched tightly up over her bare heel and up to her ankle, the scrambling boy had somehow positioned himself atop her toes, laying across them.  This didn’t feel quite right to Becca. After a little bit of wiggling and adjusting, she could feel the boy wedge between her big and second toe. Much to Becca’s relief, the cold little lump warmed quickly to its surroundings. 

"Well..that's that." She said sweetly as she lifted her foot up, resting her right ankle on her left knee and inspecting the underside of her foot. All she could see were purple hearts.  No movement.  Satisfied, she swung her sock-clad feet under the big heavy covers and pulled them up to her chin.  ‘There’s no way he would be cold now.’ 

She looked over at the thermostat. It was set to 63 degrees.

"Oh.." She said, "I forgot I'd turned it way down...maybe I should have turned it up first."

The fleeting thought was in her head for a moment, but then it was gone, "It probably wouldn't have made a difference." 

She sighed deeply, stretching her arms and legs. 

It felt so good!  

Her toes naturally curled as her muscles lengthened and then relaxed.  Her thoughts went to her butt. She couldn’t help but giggle a little bit to herself. 

‘No girl in the history of the world has probably thought about and paid as much attention to their butt as I have.’ Becca mused. 

It was pressing firmly into the bed as she laid there on her back.  This was how she typically slept, but she sometimes tossed and turned a bit.  It was something he would have to get used to, she realized.  For, as much as she enjoyed rewarding him for good behavior with a nice break from her booty, it couldn’t always be this way; his fate was her butt, and it was inevitable. 

But that wasn’t what tonight was about. 

Let him have this one blessed night, where he might think at least until the sun comes up, that he’s not going right back in her butt. 

Becca uncapped the container of vitamins she’d received from the lab and popped one into her mouth.  The taste was bitter on her tongue, and she winced as the pill slid down her throat.

She reached over to set the alarm on her phone, she noticed the tiny sliver of chocolate she had set aside for the boy.

‘ Oh?’.  

Chocolate in hand, she lifted the blanket and then looked down at her feet.  She wiggled her ten toes and thought about stretching the mouth of the sock and dropping the morsel in, allowing it to wander down to the boy. 

'Oh...but it would probably melt...' she said to herself. She briefly considered taking the boy out of her sock so that she could give him the morsel she had promised him, but she was far too tired from the big day she'd just had. Plus, the bitter taste of that pill was still in her mouth.  That morsel of chocolate may have been just large enough to eliminate it!

She lifted the finger, the miniscule chocolate morsel centered on it, and she swiped her finger against the middle of her tongue, sucking the sliver of chocolate off.  It began disintegrating in her cavernous mouth instantly. She could barely taste it, but it was good…and she was right.  It did eliminate the bitterness of the pill she’d taken.  The pill she’d taken for him.  

Becca reached over to turn the lights out, putting the two of them in complete darkness, although things were already completely dark for him when she put her feet under the covers.

‘Probably toasty warm too’, she thought, wiggling her toes gently and lovingly. 

The subtle taste of chocolate ever-so-slightly massaged her taste buds as she felt the little boy nuzzling deeper between her toes to get comfortable.   She sleepily played with his body, shifting him out from between her toes so that he was longways under the natural curl of her toes. It was satisfying how perfectly he fit there; she preferred this position to the one he had wiggled himself into a few moments earlier and she hoped that he wouldn’t start squirming again.  Becca would have hated to keep on readjusting and repositioning him within her sock.  Luckily, he seemed to enjoy the position as much as Becca did.  

Becca lovingly curled her plush toes, hugging his tiny naked body, saying goodnight to him. Her heavy eyelids fluttered. She smiled. She fell asleep. 

~

Becca Young's First R&R Journal Entry

Typed Version:

Name: Becca Young

Age: 20

Commitment Term: 1 Year (Tentative)

Installation Date: 9/29/2006

Current Date: 9/29/2006

Subject ID: 298-A

Subject Size: 1 inch

Time Between Buttocks: 4 hours

Time in Anus: 0 hours

Time Away from Rear: 20 hours

Rear Alternative(s): In my right sock between my toes

This section designated for interactions that the participant deems interesting or pertinent enough to mention. If section response exceeds allowed space, attach extra paper to end of entry:

This was the first day keeping the shrunken boy wedged between my cheeks.  I felt embarrassed about him being in there at first but I just remind myself that no one else knows he's there except for me.  Walking and sitting feels funny; I'm not sure that I'll ever get used to it!  As soon as I changed out of that super tight underwear that Dr. Walker had given me, it felt like his struggling was a lot more productive even though he was basically as deep between my butt cheeks as he could be.  I didn't know if it was necessary, but I clenched my glutes real tight while I was getting some of my more comfy underwear on just to make sure he wouldn't fall out.  They aren't quite as tight as the other pair of underwear, but they are quite snug and seemed to keep him in place just fine.

This section designated participant's inference of subject response to experiment. If sufficiently covered in previous section, skip this section:

The subject seemed scared...or at least he did when Dr. Walker was putting him in my butt.  He was just this tiny, naked little thing in her gloved hand and the next thing I knew, I could feel her parting my cheeks and putting him in.  I don't like the idea of him being scared...but then again, I guess I was scared too.  We both signed up for this experiment and if I can be brave, so can he!  I haven't really talked or communicated with him since then.  I guess I could have when I took him out before bed, but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched...its really hard to make out his words.

This section designated for any opinions or thoughts pertaining to the structure of the experiment, focus of the experiment, or the subject:

When I was getting ready for bed, I decided to give him a little break from my butt since it was the first day and all...and he already hit the minimum time of four hours that Dr. Walker said he needed.  I decided to keep him inside one of my socks like a big cozy sleeping bag. It was kinda cute the way he bounced in the toe section when I dropped him in.  I paired the sock with the matching sock and set it on the nightstand next to me. After about 5 minutes of being bundled up in the sock, he still felt cold, so I decided the best thing would be to...well...put the socks on...so I did.  I take really good care of my feet and my toes are super soft so I knew that he would be ok down there, and plus it still counts as a break from my butt!  It's a good thing my feet aren't ticklish because it took awhile for him to get settled between my toes.  It felt nice as I was falling asleep.

Chapter 15 - Home [September 30th, 2006]

Becca’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of a gentle chirping that was coming from her bedside.  She lazily rolled over onto her stomach searching for the phone, missing several times before finding it and raising it to her ear.  Her thick, unruly hair was pressed between her ear and the speaker affecting her ability to hear so she clumsily moved it.  She was greeted by a voice that she was trying to make sense of:

“--pologize for the delay; our original arrival time of 7:30am has been pushed back several times over the night due to some track issues, but there are no reported problems over the remainder of the track, so our new estimated arrival time is 12:30pm.  We hope you understand--”

Becca struggled to open one of her eyes to look at her phone…it read 9:30am.

“—Uh-gay; thass vine, thayngew”

The words oozed out of her mouth, interrupting the caller as she returned the phone to the receiver and slammed her cheek back into the cushiony pillow.  A wave of relief washed over her, much like the feeling one gets when they wake up an hour before their alarm and realize they’ve been gifted additional sleep time...and Becca loved her sleep.  Her pajama bottoms had bunched up to her calf on her left leg and up over her knee on her right.  The room was cold but not quite as cold as she liked it so she tossed and turned a bit...but now things felt colder. 

She used her feet to push the bunched-up cotton down her legs. Once the wrinkled material no longer bothered her skin, she hugged the pillow to her face and went back to sleep, straightening her left leg and bending her right leg.  She ran the sole of her right foot up her left calf and tucked her sock clad toes underneath the meat of her heavy left thigh, making a slanted “P” with her legs…and then she drifted carelessly and blissfully back to sleep. 

Becca woke again, this time not quite so peacefully as the first time.  She had remembered in her half-awake state that her stop would be coming up at 12:30pm.  She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, hovering her sock-clad feet over the floor as she reached for her phone. 

“12:05…that’s enough time.”, she said out loud to convince herself…something that worked often on her.   She turned on the fancy radio and shifted through the static, trying to find a good song to get ready to.  A smile spread approvingly on her lips when the static cleared. It was the first verse of “Eternal Flame” from The Bangles. Becca slid her feet into the soft, fuzzy slippers that had been waiting patiently at the edge of her bed all night long.  She wiggled her toes in and quickly got up; there wasn’t much time. 

As Becca brushed her teeth, she briefly considered getting a shower but realized she wouldn’t have enough time, so she just concluded her hygiene maintenance by brushing her thick hair.  And then, despite being alone, she locked the bathroom door and did her morning business.  The sound of the toilet flushing echoed off the bathroom walls and out the opening door as she approached her bag and pulled out a small pair of jeans, nice and soft from plenty of times worn.   

Why did Becca feel like she had been forgetting something ever since she woke up?  

She removed her flannel pajama pants and slid into her tight blue jeans.  

‘Should I change my socks? Maybe I—” 

Becca gasped.

The 20-year old suddenly realized that the slight hint of a tickle she’d felt between her toes all morning and had honestly somewhat enjoyed was in fact the boy that R&R Labs had given her!  

How could Becca have forgotten about him so quickly? 

It was honestly startling to her.  

She sat down on the bed and slid the slippers off.  She brought her right foot up and rested the ankle on her left kneecap and peered at the underside of her white sock, otherwise pristine save for five very subtle, slightly darkened little circles up at the toe section.  The spherical outline of each of her chubby toes was subtly present but no sign of the boy between them. Becca cupped the five toes on her right foot with her left hand and gently curled them down.  She could feel the little lump that was the boy wedged firmly between her big and second toe…what a perfect fit.

She was disappointed with herself.  ‘I even went to the bathroom…what if he was…oh god…where he was supposed to be?’ she thought morbidly.  

Well, as far as he knows, this was her plan all along.  She hadn’t forgotten him…no...she knew what she was doing.  It was all part of her plan.  She was the infallible Participant, afterall.  Charged with caring for something so desperately and adorably incapable of caring for itself.  And she was doing a fine job of that!  Her feet were well taken care of and her toes pillowy soft!

And now, as part of the whole plan, it was time to take him out.  Becca peeled the sock off, exposing her smooth bare sole, and lifted the sock to inspect.  She peeked in but did not see the boy down in the toe section.  She practically stuck her own face in to find him and even carefully turned the sock inside out, feeling the soft cotton lining, but he was nowhere to be found.  

A quiet giggle escaped Becca’s lips when she discovered that he was actually still tucked between her toes. She was about to remove him, the tiny human at least 10 years her senior, but she just had to look at him for a second…as he looked up at her.  

‘Wow’, she thought.  

She just stared at him, between her soft toes.  

She’d received plenty of comments about how tiny and cute her feet were…from jealous girls and silly boys alike, but tiny and cute were not the words she would attribute to the mountainous masses that so easily kept the tiny boy in place.

Tiny and cute may not have been words he’d have used to describe her protective toes, but they were the perfect words for him.  She squinted to make out his detail, easily resolving the intricate and detailed patterns of the grooved prints that made up the undersides of her toes, and Becca could make out the alertness on his face…

He seemed….wide awake?  

‘Oh good!’ Becca thought relieved, ‘...that must mean he slept well.’

‘He must know them better than I do by now,’ the familiar thought crossed her mind. She’d remembered drawing cute little faces on her toes when she was younger and putting on cute plays for her parents that would make them laugh and laugh.  But even then, Becca doubted that neither her parents nor herself had dedicated as much sole focus to her feet as the subject did.

‘And in just one night!’ Becca thought with fascination.

She plucked him out from between her toes and held him gently in her fingertips.  

“I hope you slept well.  I sure did.  I never thought sleeping on a train could be so peaceful...but it just kinda rocked us to sleep like babies, don’t you think?”

She knew that she couldn’t hear his response as the train was way too noisy, but it made her feel less…what was the word…mean? …by talking to him. 

She hoped it made him feel like she felt like they were equals. Like she was concerned with his well being.  Like they were in this together.

“Okay…well, it’s time for us to leave and go home. I think you’ll really like my apartment.  For now though, I’m going to have to put you back in my...well…”

Her big, chocolatey brown eyes drifted down and her head turned to look over her shoulder at her ample ass.  

“...you know…

Becca cleared her throat nervously.

“...but don’t worry! I know it’s been kinda overwhelming so I’m only going to keep you in there for 4 hours…or 6….or something like that…I’ll have to check the paperwork when we get home…but anyway, I’ll take you out as soon as I can and you can stay out for the rest of the day, ok?”

She didn’t even wait to pretend to listen to his response or opinion.  She unbuttoned her jeans and lowered one side...enough to expose the top of her crack and the pale skin that surrounded it.  The 20-year old lowered the hand that contained the subject to the top of her ass and the hand closed into a half-fist…entering the waistband.  On the surface, denim rose and fell in various places, bulging under the surface area of Becca’s ass until her fist was now centered over her rear. 

The denim moved and danced slightly as her fingers opened and the bulge in the denim disappeared a little...sinking in toward her ass, and then the bulging and sinking moved upward: up toward the waistband. Finally, Becca’s small, feminine hand emerged from the waistband empty, and it moved to button up her tight jeans, effectively locking the gate. 

‘So weird how I’m technically holding him…but I’m using both hands for other stuff.’ Becca thought, zipping her fly and straightening her t-shirt over her belly.  

She took note of his struggles; again, they were more noticeable in her own panties, but with them and the jeans hugging her large ass, there was no way he was getting out.  She decided she would wear the underwear Dr. Walker provided for her when she was going to bed…god forbid he try to get out and explore while she was sleeping!

She went into her bag and pulled out the manila envelope, remembering that she hadn’t finished filling out the journal entry.  She decided to finish the entries regarding the first day and the boy’s long night between her toes while it was still fresh in her mind. When she finished, as if on cue, Becca felt the room shift to her right and a pen she’d left on the flat desk rolled onto the floor. The train was slowing down.  She grabbed her bags, filling them with the last of her presence in the suite, and left.  She checked her phone.  

It was 12:35pm.

Becca sat on the wooden bench outside the train station, watching buses and taxis come and go.

“Excuse me miss, do you have the time?” A much older woman who had just emerged from the station asked Becca. 

Becca leaned forward and picked up the bag resting between her feet and retrieved her phone.  “It’s……1:55” she said with a hint of annoyance outweighed by obligated politeness.  

The woman did not pick up on the former.

“Oh, well that means my dear husband is late.” The woman said with a smile as she set her luggage down.  

“You know you’re setting yourself up for failure when you put your fate in the hands of a man!” she said, almost unable to get to the end of her sentence without chuckling.  

Becca returned the laughter politely but genuinely.  

“Oh, but he’s not all that bad.” The older woman continued, as if responding to herself with a big smile, her eyes seeming to reflect some truly wonderful memories of the past.

“Well, girls can apparently let you down too.” Becca said impatiently, flipping open her phone. “My friend was supposed to be here a half hour ago.” Her eyes fixed on the most recent notification and she sighed in relief.

“Oh my...well I hope nothing has happened….”

Becca looked up, “No, no....she’s totally fine.”

An old, junky ‘94 LeBaron pulled up and caught the woman’s attention. 

“Oh!” the old woman says, looking around at her luggage several times before lifting it up.

“Here’s Arthur now. It was very nice speaking with you, dear.”  

As she was leaving, she stopped and turned back to Becca. 

“You wouldn’t by any chance like a ride, would you?  Arthur owes me for making me wait.” She said playfully, to which Becca smiled, standing up. 

“Thanks, but you should save that favor for another day.  I think I’m just going to walk; after all, I’ve been cooped up on that train for over 16 hours.  The fresh air will be nice.”  

The two said their goodbyes and Becca slung her luggage on her back.  Before setting off on her walk, Becca opened up the email message she’d received from Krystal and quickly re-read it.

Becca,

i cracked my stupid phone screen earlier today so its at the store getting fixed. i forgot to tell u i have a final today and right after i finish it…and then kill myself for not studying, i’ll come pick u up. See u at like 2:30

Krystal

Becca still decided to walk.  She wasn’t lying about wanting the fresh air and some exercise, but she decided not to mention to the old lady that there was a boy tucked away in between her bare butt cheeks that she wanted to get acclimated to the…varying climates. 

About a mile in, Becca wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her brow, and then her hand on the waist of her jeans.  It was getting colder outside, sure…but today was one of those days that stood out from the others…the type of day that makes you feel foolish for wearing a coat to school.  She briefly reflected on the morality of all this as she focused on the movement of her ass cheeks: left step, right cheek slides up against left cheek.  Right step, left cheek slides up against right cheek.  Left cheek up, right cheek up. Left cheek, right cheek. Left cheek, right cheek.  Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right.  The frictional force was surely contributing to the rising heat under her jeans, along with the sun.  Every several dozen steps or so, the sliding of her cheeks became less burdened by friction.

She still couldn’t believe that someone as intelligent and impressive as Dr. Walker would be so interested in little boys tucked away in big butts.  It was just so silly!

She took a break from the morality deliberation to lightheartedly wonder, if she wasn’t wearing anything on the bottom: no jeans, no panties, no thong, no nothing, would the rhythmic movement of her butt cheeks slowly nudge the boy out from between them? Or would the movements gradually swallow him up deeper into her crack like some kind of inescapable black hole?  

What was it called again? The event horizon?  

‘Is my crack his event horizon?’

As silly as it was to hope, she hoped that it was.  That way she wouldn’t have to worry so much about him getting out in the future.  She would have to test this out later to find out.  

Uh oh…her brain was easing back to the morality question. 

What if it was miserable for him back there?  She looked over her shoulder as she walked, her cheeks moving with each step.  She could feel the perspiration beginning to accumulate deep between her glutes, originating where the friction was the strongest, and she knew that while it was something she had to focus on to feel, it was likely that the boy was…let’s say…incapable of ignoring the situation. Her mind could wander while she walked, thinking of any of the other countless aspects to her complicated life…the boy in her butt didn’t have that privilege.  His life was much simpler.  Was that really a bad thing though?

She wondered if he knew about the vitamins… and that his new caretaker had decided to take them.  She didn’t want to disrupt the process of acclimating his body to the new sustenance, so she had already decided that she wasn’t going to feed him any “big people” food anymore.  Hopefully he would get the hint himself because it was definitely something she wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing out loud explicitly. Hopefully Dr. Walker was right about the vitamins making it taste better.  

Hopefully she wouldn’t have to explain it to him.  

Hopefully he would just get it…get with the program…and understand that he wouldn’t be getting normal food anymore.  

Becca wondered what his favorite food might have been before he shrank, ‘Maybe if it's a fruit, I can start using a body wash that smells like it…’ Becca thought.

She had to make herself stop. Becca was going to drive herself crazy trying to picture this from his perspective.  She had enough to worry about, being the one worrying for both of them.

Despite all of this…all the guilt she was fighting…she found solace in the thought that she could take care of him better than anyone else could.  This was his fate now! There was no going back.  Dr. Walker had told her that the shrinking was permanent. He would be a tiny boy forever…and if she decided that she couldn’t do this anymore…that she couldn’t house him in her butt anymore…what would happen? 

First of all, she would lose out on all that money…that’s what would happen.  And not only that, she’d have to give him back!  And maybe he’d just go right to some other girl’s butt.  What if the other girl didn’t care about him at all?  What if she was overweight or unattractive?  What if she had a scary-big ass like Lori did? No…. This poor boy was right where he needed to be, and maybe time would tell that Becca Young was the best thing that ever happened to him. 

At that moment, Becca heard the shifting of gravel behind her.  

She turned to see Krystal’s silver Prius.

Becca opened the door and bent at the waist, backing her expansive ass into the car and letting it fall into the cushiony leather seat with an audible but not obscenely loud impact, and then she swung her legs in and shut the door.  As she leaned forward to guide the vents pumping cold air out toward her shining face, Krystal snatched Becca’s bag from her lap and started rooting through it.  Enjoying the cold air too much to care or even turn her face, eyes closed and mouth agape, Becca simply said, “What are you doing?” 

Without looking up, Krystal responded, 

“What do you think? I’m looking for him…”  

A few moments go by, and Krystal looks up, having rooted through the entire bag and coming up empty-handed, 

“…where is he?”

Becca turns her head and leans back into her seat, allowing her back to contact the backrest of the seat and her eyes rolled sarcastically. 

“Umm…where do you think?” Becca asked matter-of-factly. 

Krystal’s gaze slowly wandered down from Becca’s eyes to the wide hips stretching from center console to passenger door, and the two thick, denim clad thighs pressing firmly into the seat.  After a moment of silence, Krystal burst out in hysterical laughter. 

“Oh my freaking god…you’re kidding right?” Krystal said, wiping tears away from her eyes.  “It’s like a bajillion degrees outside!”

Becca responded, “It’s only like…80 degrees!”

Krystal wailed, “Well still, I would imagine that when you’re trapped in a butt, 80 degrees must feel like a bajillion! You walked this far from the airport…in this heat…with that guy up your ass?”  

Becca rolled her eyes, “He’s not…UP it.  He’s...”

Becca hesitated and tried not to laugh as the corners of her lips curled and her hands raised making a parting gesture

“…he’s more…BETWEEN them.” 

This sent the gradually calming Krystal into another spiraling wave of hysterics, complete with gasps and snorts.  Becca couldn’t help but laugh at Krystal’s contagious giggling, but then she couldn’t help but wonder if the boy could hear them talking about him…and them laughing like they were. 

Would he think they were laughing at him?

…WERE they laughing at him?

“Well...what’s he feel like in there?” Krystal asked, wiping her eyes, finally calm enough to speak.

“It feels…interesting so far; sometimes though, believe it or not, I forget he’s even there.” Becca stated

Krystal replied, “I’ll bet HE doesn’t forget!”  

Krystal had a million other questions…some of which Becca could answer and some of which she could not. Some things she’d done with him already…some she had planned for later…and some things she didn’t even want to think about. 

Things the brochure covered…some that made them laugh…some that made them gag…and some that made her blush.  

She talked about Dr. Walker.  

She talked about the pill box that Dr. Walker…kept warm.  

She talked about Lori. 

She talked about Laura washing her butt.  

Finally, they were back at Becca’s apartment.  Becca briefly thought about saying goodbye to Krystal there, but Krystal had the keys out of the ignition and the car door opened before Becca could even remove her seatbelt.  She decided it couldn’t hurt to let Krystal come up…after all this entire idea…the fact that there was a tiny little boy buried in her butt was all thanks to her. 

Once inside, Becca set her luggage against the wall and left her flip flops at the door.  Not bringing an extra pair of shoes was a mistake, as the long walk had made them filthy.  Krystal sat on the couch and as Becca went to sit next to her with the TV remote in hand, she felt Krystal’s hand cup her left ass cheek and apply strong pressure.  

“Nooooo way…c’mon…no TV…no movies…take him out right now…don’t make me beg!” she said playfully.

Becca sighed and stood back up, her feet pounding and her butt just sweaty enough to feel self-conscious about this. Even so, the 20-year old removed her jeans.  She didn’t feel awkward about standing in front of her friend in her underwear, and it was alright that there was probably a bit of dampness on the center of her underwear, but fishing around in her buttcrack in front of Krystal was strange. 

Then again she’d had two women staring into her exposed ass crack yesterday, so the bar for ‘strange’ was rising every day.  

She pulled the boy out from his new home and held him waist high in front of Krystal’s wide eyes.  

“Oh my god…he’s seriously real…he is freaking adorable! Look at his little arms and feet!”  She cooed, her hand rushing to her heart.  “Can I hold him?” She pleaded, eyes not leaving the tiny boy’s naked, wriggling body.  

“Well...he was…like…in my butt, ya know…” Becca says with a light smile.

“It’s okay.” She said, slowly reaching out an index finger and thumb, picking the boy from Becca’s fingers with as little of her own finger surface area as possible, her upper lip curling a little bit, probably at how warm and sticky he felt.  

“We’ll get you aww cweaned up now wont we?” Krystal said, lips puckered out as if she’s speaking to a baby while she walked to the sink and Becca heard the faucet turn on. 

“Plug the drain!” Becca shouted in a sing-song voice.  She considered turning on the TV but then realized that her butt was hurting from sitting way more than her feet were hurting from standing.   She knew what the solution to that would be.

“I’m not a moron!” Krystal returned the sing-song tone, “and I’m using warm water.  

Becca changed into a pair of tight orange nylon shorts.  As she packed her wide ass into the form-fitting nylon and pulled the white drawstring tight, she definitely noticed the absence of the warm little lump in her crack.

“There we go widdle boy! Aww cwean!” Krystal’s cutesy voice echoed from the sink, returning to Becca with the now vibrantly clean boy.

Becca giggled cutely down to him.  Becca thought for a moment about how the boy was all clean now and had the smell of her ass, pleasant or unpleasant as it may be, off of him. She realized the only reason why he was even given the chance to be cleaned was because he was being handled by a woman who was offended by the smell.  What an interesting thought.  

She gripped the waistband and folded it inward several times; it was something she’d seen Instagram models do to shorten their shorts and also accentuate the curve of their booty. When she bent over at the waist to put on her running shoes, she heard Krystal’s footsteps approaching.  She heard quiet snickering and realized that her full-moon ass was on full display for Krystal, the nylon stretched so tight over her widened cheeks that she was certain her panty lines were poking through.  Krystal was looking back and forth from the display in front of her and the boy in her hands. 

“You’re soooooo funny” Becca said absent-mindedly as she turned and leaned back, letting her ass crash into the sofa behind her as she tied her sneakers. 

“I know, right?” Krystal said as she set the boy down on the glass coffee table.  “So…”, she said, sitting down Indian style in front of the table, resting her hands on the table and her chin on her hands.  “How could a person really be okay with living the rest of his life in a girl’s butt?”  

Becca avoided answering, keeping her attention on her shoes. It was a question she’d asked herself a few times, but it was so much harder to ignore a question when it's coming from outside your own head. To answer that was to acknowledge the possibility that he wasn’t.  Much to her dissatisfaction, she heard Krystal giggle, “Oh god...his little eyes just got so wide!  I’m guessing he didn’t know?”

Becca snapped back, “Of course he knew...he signed the contract.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what he was signing.” Krystal said.

“Yes, he did.” Becca said flatly and unconvincingly. “And it's not like he’ll be spending the rest of his life in MY butt.  I only signed up for a short amount of time.”

“How do you even know what he knows though? You said earlier that you couldn’t even hear the little thing.  Let’s find a way to ask him.”

Becca didn’t like where this was going and felt a dread growing in her chest.  Krystal pulled out a napkin from her purse along with a tube of crimson lipstick.  She opened up the napkin and placed the tiny boy directly in the center of it. She drew an “N” on one side of the napkin.  

“We can’t hear him...sure..”. 

She drew a “Y” on the other side a little too roughly because the boy toppled over from the shifting of the napkin.  

“Oh sorry cutie….But we CAN see him.” 

Krystal crossed her big pretty eyes looking at the tiny boy in the center of the napkin and didn’t know what to call him...so she didn’t call him anything.  She simply said, “Uh…did you know you were going to live the rest of your life in my friend Becca’s big ol’ butt?

Becca shot Krystal a dirty look and Krystal rolled her eyes.

Krystal (and Becca, discreetly) watched the boy look left, look right, and then wander timidly over toward the “N”. 

Krystal reached a fingertip down to block the boy after he’d walked several dozen steps, causing him to tumble cutely back onto his bare butt, 

“Okay, we got it, we got it…” she said, gently but firmly nudging the boy back to the center.  

“Did you know you were going to be in her butt at all?” 

Again, the boy walked toward the “N”, attentively staring up at Krystal and stopping the moment that the giant women interpreted his answer.  Becca’s heart was sinking.  

“Okay okay…did you know you were going to be in any butt at all?”

“N”

Becca was looking down now as Krystal continued her line of questioning. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Did you know you were going to be shrunken?”

“Y”

“How long...oh wait...he can’t answer that.” Krystal giggled, her eyes drifting up as she rephrased the question in her mind. 

“Did they say they were going to grow you back?”

“Y”

Becca felt her eyes starting to water. 

Why was she surprised?  Why was she shocked?  Dr. Walker and the rest of the women at the lab had basically told her all this.  She just couldn’t bring herself to accept it.  Not until she saw the vulnerable little boy on her coffee table answering her best friend’s questions.  She couldn’t believe Dr. Walker…she’d lied to this poor boy. God only knows why he agreed to this…God only knows what she told him…what she promised him, but now he was stuck like this forever…and this was his fate now…her butt.  And if not her butt, then someone else’s. 

Becca cleared her throat, “They aren’t going to grow you back.”

The boy whipped around to face Becca…the woman whose big cushiony ass he had spent over 9 hours inside of so far...and had only seen her beautiful young face for a fraction of that time. 

She had to clear her throat again, “The shrinking is…it’s permanent.”

Gratefully, her eyes clouded over from tears…she was glad she couldn’t see the boy after delivering this blow to him.  She touched her eyes as Krystal asked, “Oh, he’s shivering…do you want to go back into Becca’s butt?”

Becca quickly wiped her eyes and looked hopefully at the boy now staring up at Krystal.  Hopeful that despite the misery he must be feeling, perhaps he would accept the fact that there was nothing else better out there for him.  That the hand he had been dealt was a bad one…and this was really his best option.  Her butt really was the best option. It was soft.  It was warm.  She would take care of him.  She would give him what he needed.  If she could believe that he was happy and grateful...well…that would just make all of this so much easier on her.  She stared in silence for what felt like hours waiting for him to answer.

The boy broke out into a full-on sprint toward the “N”

Before the boy could reach the halfway point to the “N”, a blur of bright orange fingernails streaked across the ambient air of the apartment, swooping up the naked running boy like a falcon picking up its prey.  Becca stood up and Krystal looked up at her in shock.  Never so quickly had she pulled back the waistband of her orange nylon shorts and so easily deposited the tiny boy down the back of them.  She simply dropped the boy and felt him land with a bounce against the tight underwear and before he could even finish sliding all the way down the huge, velvety mesh polka dotted slide toward Becca’s deep, building-length ass crack, she released the tight nylon waistband, sending the material flying back to her skin, rocketing the tiny boy into her crack and between her dense, cushiony butt cheeks, the nylon slapping the firm yet soft flesh with a vengeance.  Krystal couldn’t help but giggle a little bit, clearly not as phased by all this as Becca was. 

The boy was back where he belonged. Krystal stood up and placed her hands upon Becca’s shoulders, clearly sensing that the interaction had troubled her close friend.  “You really shouldn’t feel bad, you know.  It’s not like you’re going to get in trouble for this or anything.” 

Becca gently pushed Krystal’s hands off her shoulders and walked toward the door, grabbing her water bottle.  

“I just…I don’t…we don’t even know for absolute sure if he heard what we were saying when you asked him those questions.  Who knows how we sound to him?  He’s all squeaky to us…who knows? Maybe we sound like really deep and stuff to him…”

“Oh, honey…” Krystal said, and then trailed off. 

Becca knew that Krystal didn’t believe that.  

Becca knew she didn’t believe that.  

And the boy...well...it didn’t really matter what he believed right now…it was because of his enthusiastic resistance to this whole ordeal that she felt bad in the first place.  

Why was it her fault? It’s not like she set all this up. Maybe if he believed this was the best of all scenarios for him, that would make her feel better.  Why couldn’t he just arrive at that conclusion like she had? What was wrong with him?  She needed to just forget about this for a while. 

“I’m gonna go work out.” Becca said at the door, “You still have your key right?” 

Krystal’s eyes wandered down over Becca’s left hip. She was standing sideways, and Krystal appreciated how Becca’s ass jutted so far out.  

“Yeah, I’ll let myself out.  Let me know how you’re doing later, k?”  

Becca smiled with her mouth, but not with her eyes.  “Sure thing.” She turned and walked out the door. 

~