Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 1 - Special Delivery

[September 22, 2005]

Lori Warren’s blue PT Crusier bounced over the several bright yellow, newly painted speed bumps leading into her development.  It was her day off but that didn’t stop her supervisor from calling her in for a few hours.  She didn’t mind since she could use the overtime and she was glad to be getting home before noon.  Everyone else seemed to have the day off too; perhaps a Teacher’s Day or some other administrative holiday that resulted in the local high school and middle school kids getting the day off.

‘Good for them’, she thought, smiling as she stopped for several children crossing the street bound for the neighborhood baseball court. She saw children playing in the street and parents sitting in chairs on their porches; it was a nice day for that.

Nestled deep in the heart of her suburban sanctuary, the driveway of Lori’s beautiful 5-bedroom was empty and waiting for her return.  She turned down the heated seats, cut the engine of the car, and didn’t bother to lock the doors of her car.  It wasn’t exactly cold out, but the pleasant warmth imparted upon her back, thighs, and rear by her heated seats had dissipated by the time she reached the front door.  Lori was greeted by the smell of the cinnamon air freshener plugged in at the door as she dropped her keys and purse on the adjacent end table.

It was a lovely house, the living room spacious and painted a light bluish purple. A large 3-cushion couch was centered in the room pointing at a large LED TV. Underneath the TV was a Blue ray player, Nintendo Wii, and a VCR.  Lori’s daughters thought the technological diversity was amusing if not quaintly charming but Lori had just always preferred VHS, evident from the neighboring bookshelf filled with old VHS tapes.  Her 17-year old daughter Isabella was the first to look up. Hard at work on homework at the dinner table, the elegant, brainy teenager shot a quick smile, her braces catching a mild glare off the overhead lighting.

“Hi Mama.” Isabella said sweetly before burying her nose back into the pages of her textbook.

Lori’s other daughter Victoria more or less offered the same greeting as her big sister but she said it into the television, her sneakers propped up on the large ottoman centered over the couch.

“Hello everyone.  Shoes off the furniture, please.”

Victoria’s white Nikes landed with a chunky thud next to the sofa.  and propped her feet back up on the chase, crossed at the ankles, now reduced to a pair of thread-bare black socks.

Lori looked around the living room and dining room for her third daughter but did not see her.

“Where’s Gina?” Lori asked.

Isabella replied from the dining room without looking up, “Upstairs talking on the phone, I think.”

Victoria ripped her eyes from the TV and twisted her upper body toward her mother. .“She’s prolly talking to boys!”, she interjected excitedly, never missing an opportunity to try and get her sisters in trouble.

Lori did not take the bait.  Instead the mother of three slid her stocking clad feet out of her flats and used her toes to align them neatly next to the unorganized, messy pile of sandals, slippers, sneakers, and boots stationed next to the front door.

“I see you’re making the most of your day off school, Victoria?” Her mother said playfully with some sarcasm.

Victoria scratched an itch on her left foot with her right toe and said something in response, and it was probably witty or quippy. Surely it matched Lori’s sarcasm.

Lori didn’t catch any of it.

Lori couldn’t hear anything…nor could she see anything.  She had tunnel vision and nothing else was registering to her other than what was resting inconspicuously next to her flats.

“What is this?” Lori asked with more breath than voice, swallowing hard .She stared down amongst the footwear, already knowing the answer to the question she just asked.  Despite wearing socks, Victoria’s footsteps were heavy and loud and Lori could hear and feel them getting closer.  Victoria followed her mother’s eyeline to the box.

“It’s a package for you, duh.  It was outside yesterday when I got home from school”, Victoria said.

The box was cardboard.  It was dull, small, and would have been quite easy to miss even if it weren’t lost in the midst of messy teenage footwear.  One of Isabella’s black flip-flops leaned vertically against the side of the box, toe-side up and the other matching flip-flop was lying flatly atop it, partially concealing it from all angles and fully obscuring it from others.  Isabella must have kicked them off her feet in a hurry the night before, either not seeing where they landed or not caring. The box was small, perhaps a third of the size of a shoe box.  The studious teenager’s flip flop hung off the edge on both sides and was nearly as wide as the entire box, so it was no wonder Lori hadn’t noticed it the night before or even this morning as she rushed out the door.

Lori squatted down and moved the flip flops from atop the box, brushing off a few particles of dirt that must have come off the teenager’s sole.

“What is it? How come it’s got holes?” Victoria asked quizzically.

“Huh?” Lori replied.

“Right there on the top.” Victoria stated, extending her left foot toward the box.  She set her foot down on the box. Lori watched as Victoria’s toe approached a lattice of holes in the top of the box, several of them covered by Victoria’s pointing toe.

“Oh…that’s just for ventilation, sweetheart.  It’s a work product I have to…review.” Lori said, cringing at how phony she sounded.  Lori prided herself on being able to detect when her daughters were lying.  If her youngest was anywhere near as observant as Lori was, there was no way she’d be convinced.

“Hm, okay.” Victoria said, seemingly losing interest in the box.  She plopped down on the couch and resumed watching TV.

Lori sighed in relief, but still she was self-conscious, feeling as if her daughters’ eyes were.  As discretely as she could, Lori stood up, box in hand, and took a quick peek to see if either were looking.  Lori was relieved to see both of her daughters had returned to what they were doing.

‘Good’, she thought.

No one would see how nervous she was.  Her hands shook a bit as she cradled the box against her stomach.   It was a little bit heavier than she expected, but not much.  She inspected the box, seeing up close the few small holes in the top that Victoria had pointed out.  Lori wasn’t lying about those probably being for ventilation.

There was also a small, light pink heart sticker on the side near the shipping label.  The label read:

Sender: Dr. Katherine Walker

RR Laboratories of BxC

Research Triangle Park, NC 27709

Addressed to: Lori Warren

Seattle, WA 98052

Priority Delivery (1-3 Business Days)

No Signature Required

Lori swallowed dryly.  She couldn’t believe it.

It was here.

It was actually here.

Or at least…a box with that doctor’s name on it was here.  Would it actually contain what the young doctor promised?  Would Lori actually take what was in there and put it….where she promised the young doctor she would?

Lori took another quick glance and after confirming she did not have her daughters’ attention, the nervous mother of three proceeded upstairs, trying not to jostle the box too much.  The soft, plush carpet compressed softly under her tired soles. The cuffs of her slacks made a rhythmic swishing against the corner of the step as she climbed each one until she reached the second floor.  To Lori’s left was a short wing. On one side of the left wing was the door to Isabella’s room.  Victoria’s door was directly across from Isabella’s.  Between Victoria and Isabella’s doors at the end of the left wing was the upstairs bathroom that the three girls shared.

The right wing was similar to the left wing but it only had two doors: one to Gina’s room and one to Lori’s room.  Lori walked quietly, briefly listening in on her 18-year old daughter talking to someone.  Normally, she might have listened longer but her mind was understandably very much elsewhere at the moment. A sense of relief washed over the 37-year old as she broke the plane of her bedroom door, feeling the wind pressure from the spinning ceiling fan.  She quietly pulled the door shut and locked it.

Lori sighed deeply, leaning against the inside of her door. Her soft body compressed into the hard wood and she closed her eyes.

‘Finally alone…’, she thought. ‘…or…well…..’

Lori looked down at the box.  Her heart was racing.

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

1 Month Earlier…

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

Lori’s PT Cruiser chirped and the doors unlocked as she pressed the button on her FOB.  This session with her therapist wasn’t all too productive and she decided that it would be her last meeting with Dr. Livingston.  It wasn’t that she was a bad therapist; the sessions just weren’t helping her.  All she’d ever say is that Lori needed to meet more people and make stronger connections outside the four walls of her house, that she needed to lose weight, that she needed to work less, that she needed to stop babying her girls, yada yada yada.

‘Lots of memories here…’, Lori thought scornfully.

The great irony was that she had a previous understanding of the executive complex’s layout since her former couples’ therapist worked out of the same complex.  Even more ironic, so too did her divorce lawyer.

She passed the executive complex’s bulletin board, which was often littered with advertisements for self-help groups, research studies, mixers, charities, and other events.  Lori normally never stopped to look, but tonight was different.  It wasn’t eye-catching, the advertisement that caught her attention.  In fact, it was incredibly normal and…well…bland…compared to all the other flashy and noticeable posts.  Perhaps that’s why it stood out to her.

Lori stopped to read it:

“Seeking Participants to support an ongoing residence-reassignment program.  Note that Participants themselves will not be asked to relocate.  Participants should be female, 35-50 years of age. Participants are expected to be open minded.  All heights, weights, sexual preferences, religions, races, and political alignments are equally welcome and encouraged to participate.  Participants with large backsides are more likely to be accepted.  Participants may be asked on infrequent occasions to travel but never outside of the United States. All expenses are covered. Participants will also be financially compensated for their time and effort during participation.”

Her eyebrow raised at the mention of backsides and she reflexively blushed.  She looked around half expecting to see someone jump out and laugh at her for even reading the words to herself.

‘Clearly some very bored teenagers looking to have some fun at a poor girl’s expense’, she thought, fidgeting nervously.

Lori was wearing a normal white blouse and gray slacks.  The slacks, like any pair of pants or shorts Lori wore, were exceptionally tight in the rear area.  Having a large bottom was something Lori had dealt with since she was a teenager and it had only gotten bigger as the years went by.  She usually didn’t allow herself to feel self-conscious about it even though she knew it garnered the occasional stare, but now she feared that someone was watching her read this obscene advertisement. Her hands almost lowered to cover her rear, just waiting for someone to shout something mean or suggestive.

She looked around, but there was no one else there, at least not visible to her.

She returned her gaze to the advertisement.  Lori was happy to see that no one seemed to be falling for it, as not a single perforated contact tag was torn from the sheet.  It still looked very pristine, in fact.  Perhaps it was hung recently.

Deciding that she didn’t want anyone else less skeptical than her seeing this and falling for it, Lori discreetly ripped the entire sheet off the wall in one motion, leaving one of the four plain, white corners remaining and pinned separately by a purple push-pin.  She folded it neatly as she walked to her car and dropped it into her center console.  Even if she wasn’t going to return, she still thought it prudent to mention it to the property manager or at least to Dr. Livingston.

‘That’d be a funny thing to warn Dr. Livingston about, considering her advice about downsizing certain assets.’ Lori thought with a self-deprecating smirk.

The next time the advertisement saw sunshine was a week later when Lori snatched it out of her daughter Gina’s hand.

“Are you sure that’s not it, Mom? I had it folded just like that.” Gina said in a confused tone, to which her mother quickly replied, “No, this isn’t your Learner’s Permit.”

Lori could feel Gina’s curious eyes on the paper now resting on her lap, and Lori reflexively folded her hands over top.  The teenager looked away and re-opened the center console to resume her search. Her brightly painted fingernails plunged back into the center console, digging through papers.  Gina sighed emphatically, pulling out nothing.

“It’s not heeee-ruh” she sang in that simultaneously annoyed and annoying tone that only a teenage girl could master.

Gina was 5’6”, taller than her mother and Victoria but not quite as tall as Isabella.  The eldest of Lori’s children, Gina had long, iron-straight, golden blonde hair down past her shoulders.  Lori often wondered where Gina got it since she, Gina’s father, and Gina’s two sisters were brunettes.  Like all the Warren girls, Gina was chubby all through childhood but she grew out of it at the end of middle school.

Lori replied, “Well you’d better go find it before I decide to go back inside.”

Gina rolled her eyes, moved her purse off her lap, and listened to her mother.

Gina had begged Lori to get her learner’s permit as soon as she turned 15. You can imagine how furious she was to learn that Lori had no intention of letting any of her daughter’s drive until they were 18.  Call it overly cautious, but she believed that kind of power did not belong in the hands of a 15-year old, she didn’t care who was supervising them. It was a challenge to say “no” as many times as she had to, but at least the younger girls, both of whom were now old enough to drive in Washington, had seen Gina’s begging fall on deaf ears so they didn’t even bother.  In any event, Gina was now 18 years old and couldn’t get behind the wheel fast enough.

‘And now she’s learning to drive…’ Lori thought, ‘...Lord, help me.’

A few minutes passed with no activity at the front door.  Lori could see blurs of Gina’s blonde hair, red blouse, and faded jean shorts through various windows throughout the first and second floor of the house.

Lori grumbled, “As precious as that thing is to her, you’d think she’d have tattooed that permit on her skin.”

While waiting, Lori couldn’t help but unfold and reread the bizarre advertisement.  She scanned the part that mentioned large bottoms.

“Yes…still ridiculous”, she said out loud with a chuckle.

What on earth could having a large rear end accomplish? This surely was a sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen! Probably some kind of pornography…but surely it would have made that more clear.

‘Oh sure, Lori’, she thought sarcastically to herself, ‘with all those pornography advertisements you see on a day-to-day basis, right?’

She read over the word ‘compensated’ again…and then again.

Gina had gotten accepted into Washington State University for Political Science. She was starting in a few months and god knows that it would cost a pretty penny.  Not to mention Isabella, who was exceptionally gifted at school and had big academic aspirations, would be seeking higher education. Probably a far more expensive one at that.

And Victoria…well…who knows, it was very unlikely but still possible that she may want to attend as well.

Lori looked once more at the number, requesting would-be applicants to text a specific SMS text code as a reply of interest.  Her short but thick fingers took control where her mind froze, dancing over the tiny buttons of her flip phone. Her eyes darted back and forth from the keypad to the instructions on what letters to type for age, location, etc.

RR-#C1728-WarrenL-37-WA-Y

She felt very strange about adding the “Y”, as it was her answer to the strangest question that a research place could ask: if she considered her rear end to be large.  As strange a question as it was, it had an incredibly clear, objective answer.

Yes.

Not a single Warren she’d ever met at any family reunion could say that they had a small backside.  Isabella’s was the smallest in the household, but even hers couldn’t be called “small”.  It was just genetics.

Lori quickly hit send before she could change her mind.

The driver side door opened and Gina sat down, shocking Lori back into reality.

“Well?” Lori asked.

Gina pulled the permit out of her purse, which had been in the car the whole time and Lori couldn’t help but smile.  She took one last look at her phone. The words “MESSAGE SENT” were long gone, and now on her homescreen was a flashing envelope icon, indicating that she had a new text message.  The message read:

“Thank you for your inquiry, L. Warren! Please schedule a phone interview to be conducted later today by selecting one of the available time slots.  Thank you and have a wonderful day. (7PM, 8PM, 9PM, 10PM).”

She couldn’t believe she was doing this.  She replied quickly, punching the keys 8-P-M and then stuffed the phone back into her purse. Gina put the car in reverse and backed out as her mother’s body stiffened in the passenger seat of her PT Cruiser, switching from one uncomfortable situation to the next.

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

Still leaning against her wooden door in the privacy of her bedroom, Lori raised the box closer to her face. She gave the box a gentle, Christmas-eve rattle, expecting to feel some movement inside.  She felt nothing, as if the contents inside were completely solid or as if the box was empty.  Had she been taken for a fool?

Of course she had! As if any of this could actually be real!

She set the box down at the foot of her bed and took a seat next to it.  As her wide backside sank deep into the mattress, the blanket-lined ground beneath the box bent and distorted; the box slanted and rolled toward her outer thigh as if it were a tiny little asteroid obeying the gravitational influence of a planet.

Lori crossed her large left leg over her right knee, reaching up under her slacks to address a persistent itch on her shin, and then allowed her fingers to wander down and rub her sore nylon-clad feet.  She was almost afraid to open the box.  Almost afraid of what seeing an empty box would do to her; she had built her hopes up around what this program meant, what was promised to her, what it would mean to her and her family.  She wasn’t ready yet to accept that it wasn’t real.

‘It can’t actually be real though, right?’, she thought.

The 37-year old tapped her foot nervously on the carpet.

Lori looked at her watch, it was 11AM.  She wanted to savor moments like family dinner with her daughters as much as she could, considering they were all growing up so fast.  She still had plenty of errands to run before she could even start dinner, and if the girls thought she wasn’t cooking they would just go out.  Thinking about dinner reminded her that she was famished, and she felt the pangs in her empty stomach, a consequence of not eating breakfast.

‘This is silly, I have things I need to do, lunch being at the top of my list, I need to just open it.’ She thought.

Lori lifted the box and centered it in her lap, carefully peeling the tape away from the edges.  It had been taped over several times to ensure it wouldn’t open and once all the layers were removed, she could see the darkness in the gap between the two cardboard flaps.  This was it.  She wedged a single meaty finger in the tiny gap where the two flaps nearly met.  The flaps flexed outward to accommodate the digit, and then the flaps were up.  The warm light of the bedroom filled the inside of the box.

Lori gasped.

~

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 2 - The Right Price

[August 19th, 2005]

Lori: Hello?

Dr. Walker: Good evening, is this Lori Warren?

Lori: …..oh!

Dr. Walker: …..?

Lori Warren: ….Shhh..its okay, girls; don’t pause it.

Dr. Walker: Pardon?

Lori Warren: No, it’s alright, Bella. Let the movie play; I have to take this.

Lori Warren: ………..

Dr. Walker: …..hello?

Lori Warren: Yes, I’m so sorry. I had to step outside.  My daughters and I were watching a movie.  This is Lori.

Dr. Walker: Oh, it's no problem.  Good evening, Mrs. Warren.  This is Dr. Katie Walker with RR Laboratories.  I am calling in response to the phone interview & screening appointment you scheduled.

Lori: ….okay?

Dr. Walker: Let me just take a look here….I just have to see which intern was responsible for our awareness campaign out west.  Okay, I see her paperwork here.  Okay Mrs. Warren, I’d just like to confirm the information that you’ve provided us…..let’s see………Spelling is W-A-R-R-E-N, correct?

Lori: Yes, that’s right. And its Ms. not Mrs….in case that matters.

Dr. Walker: Oh, thank you for letting me know, Ms. Warren.  Home state is Washington?

Lori: In Seattle, yes.

Dr. Walker: Age is 37 years old?

Lori: Correct.

Dr. Walker: And you indicated in your response that you considered your backside to be large?

Lori: …..

Dr. Walker: Ms. Warren?

Lori: ….I’m sorry, it's just a little…embarrassing--umm…..Why..umm…why do you need to know? Or why is that important? I’m sorry, it's just—

Dr. Walker: It’s quite alright, Ms. Warren. I understand that it is a somewhat uncomfortable and peculiar question.  I assure you that it is relevant and important to this experiment, and we are very invested in the comfort and dignity of both our subjects and Participants.  In fact, it is one of the most important components of the experiment itself.  I am very happy to go over the specifics with you on why that particular…. attribute is important once we get through a few more items here.

Lori:  Okay….well…yes, I would consider it to be…large.

Dr. Walker: Wonderful!  And I understand that the advertisement you saw specified that travel may be required from time to time but on an infrequent basis and always at the expense of R&R, correct?

Lori: Yes, I recall seeing that and I am okay with that.  I have to travel for work sometimes so I am used to it.

Dr. Walker: Does your work ever require you to travel outside of the US?

Lori: No, we do not do international business so everything is stateside.

Dr. Walker: Okay great, let me just jot a few things down here…..

Dr. Walker:  ……….

Dr. Walker: ….Okay.  Now let's get right into it.  Ms. Warren, let me tell you a little bit about what we do at RR Laboratories.  How familiar are you with size reduction?

Lori:  …Ummm…I don’t know. Is that referring to ummm….finance? Like overhead?  I don’t really understand.

Dr. Walker: When I say “size reduction”, I am speaking literally of the reduction in size of physical objects.

Lori: Shrinking?

Dr. Walker: Correct!  One aspect of RR Laboratories  is the REDUCTION in size of objects.  We spent years perfecting the reduction processes of inorganic material and in recent times have confidently crossed the threshold into reducing organic material.

Lori: Oh my goodness, I didn’t know that was even possible!

Dr. Walker: Oh yes, what was impossible yesterday becomes possible today, and effortless tomorrow! We spent several more years testing and ultimately perfecting the reduction process on mice and various human cell samples such as skin and blood cells.  We conducted our first successful reduction back in the year 2000. Now, we have pioneered and closely perfected a relatively standardized process that we call “Reduction Therapy”, which is aimed at the uniform size reduction of living, breathing human beings.

Lori: That’s very interesting.  Although I’m not sure how comfortable I would be with being shrunken; I don’t—

Dr. Walker: --Oh, not to worry Ms. Warren.  We are in no shortage of Reduction Therapy subjects. What we are looking for, however, are women willing to assist us in the second aspect of this continuing experiment.

Lori: What would that be?

Dr. Walker: Relocation…or to put it another way…housing.

Lori:  Relocation? Housing? …I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean by that.

Dr. Walker: Well, once our size-reduced individuals, which we commonly refer to as “subjects”, complete Reduction Therapy, there is much we can learn from their new status. However, as you might imagine, subjects in a reduced state experience a significantly amplified vulnerability to normal, every-day situations and encounters you and I might not even think twice about.

Lori: That….makes sense, I suppose.  I imagine it would be dangerous for a little man or woman like that to be walking around on the sidewalk.

Dr. Walker: Exactly!  It would be irresponsible of us as scientists and researchers to permit a size reduced individual to put himself in dangerous situations.

Lori: Sure, I agree.  I noticed you said himself?  Not herself?

Dr. Walker: Oh heavens no!  We determined early on that Reduction Therapy sessions conducted on females only met the “Target Reduction in Stature”, or TRiS for short, 17% of the time.  The remaining 83% were completely unaffected by Reduction Therapy.

Lori: Oh, wow; I wonder why that is.

Dr. Walker: We would be getting quite deep into chromosomal genetics and biology, but I can summarize by saying our studies and testing revealed that it is most certainly a gender issue.  A little over 98% of males who underwent trial Reduction Therapy sessions were within a ±2% acceptable tolerance range of the TRiS.  100% met or surpassed it, which empirically proved that males have a far greater susceptibility to Reduction Therapy. At that point, it really is just about energy efficiency and wear-and-tear on our technology.  After all, Reduction Therapy requires a substantial amount of power and coordination.

Lori: Oh, I see. I was a little confused though because you said 98% of men but then you said 100%?.

Dr. Walker:  Depending on several dynamically changing factors, we typically define our TRIS’s within 1-3 inches in final height. We do have situations that call for extremes on either end of that spectrum, mind you, but I digress.  Anyway, 100% of the males who underwent reduction therapy met the TRiS.  Less than 2%, however, continued significantly beyond the TRiS.

Lori: …Umm…you mean..?

Dr. Walker: They were reduced to a size much smaller than the TRiS.

Lori:  Just out of curiosity, how much smaller?

Dr. Walker: Difficult to say.  Reduction Runaway Events are quite unpredictable. Several orders of magnitude smaller in most cases.  They were well beyond recognition with the naked eye.

Lori: Oh, my goodness!

Dr. Walker: Please don’t worry, Ms. Warren!  This was during our trial sessions; we have improved the reduction therapy success rates to over 99.5% TRiS accuracy rates. Additionally, I have a small team of very intelligent women on payroll whose only job is to increase that percentage.

Lori: Well, that’s good I suppose…I wonder though, what happens to the ones that are too small to even—

Dr. Walker: --oh I’m sorry, we got somewhat off topic, my apologies.  I have a habit of getting carried away!  I had mentioned before our detour that it would be irresponsible of us to permit size reduced individuals to put themselves in dangerous situations.

Lori: …oh yes.

Dr. Walker: One great example you mentioned was out on the sidewalk.  I completely agree with you.  The problem is, if I gave you enough time, I’m sure you could think of one hundred others…and even then you would not have a fully comprehensive list! Especially for those that are reduced significantly beyond our Subject Registry average!

Lori: You have a point, doctor.

Dr. Walker: For example, and mind you all subjects present with different reactions and conditions, but one commonly occurring consequence of size reduction seems to be a diminished capability of regulating one’s body temperature.

Lori: Oh, that sounds like it could be a big problem

Dr. Walker: In most cases, it doesn’t present as fatal.  But the discomfort experienced seems to range from mildly uncomfortable to agonizing.  It is imperative that the subject have access to an environment that is constantly warm.

Lori: Right, like those heat lamps for reptile cages. My daughter has…ermm….well…used to have a lizard.

Dr. Walker: Exactly! We make use of heat lamps here at the lab too, but they only serve as a temporary means of warmth until we can assign the subject to a Participant.

Lori: And then the Participant is responsible for keeping them warm?

Dr. Walker: She’s responsible for keeping him warm, yes…and protected.  Remember the dangers we discussed earlier? Reduction Therapy, we’ve discovered, imparts a certain degree of heightened durability in the subjects, but they are still very vulnerable.  It's necessary that they are kept in an environment that is sufficiently soft and cushioned such that they are protected from both the cruelties of humanity and nature.

Lori: Okay, so keep them in a cage with the heat lamp and……what….I guess put in thick velvet pillows? Plush cushions?  I suppose that makes sense but hopefully the pillows wouldn’t get too hot or goodness..catch fire!  I do remember those lamps can get quite hot. Maybe a special kind of fabric could—

Dr. Walker: --Ms. Warren, if I may...

Lori: Oh, I’m sorry.

Dr. Walker:  The Participant protocol does not call for storing the subject in cages, at least not primarily.

Lori: So then how are the Participants expected to keep them safe and warm?

Dr. Walker: ….Do you remember the question that you had asked at the start of our conversation?  The one that was left unanswered?

Lori:  Umm….oh..yes?  I had asked why you needed to know how big my behind was...

Dr. Walker:  ..Correct.

Lori:  …okay? so I guess that means you’re going to answer that now?

Dr. Walker: ….Ms. Warren, I believe I just did.

Lori: …….!

Dr. Walker: Hm hm hm.  Please excuse me. I will take that gasp as your understanding of the requirements now.

Lori: …no…no, doctor you’ve got to be kidding me. You….you expect the other women…..you expect me…..to keep them in……..my rear end?

Dr. Walker: As unusual as it may sound, you are correct, Ms. Warren.  In order to achieve the level of cushion, softness, and warmth necessary for our subjects to survive, we expect you to insert the subject deep between your buttocks and house them there for an extended period of time.

Lori: …I’m sorry, Dr. Walker…but I’m having a very difficult time understanding how—What, Vicky? ……not right now, we’re saving them for after dinner…..yes, for dessert…..Victoria Grace, I am not arguing with you about this right now! Do you see that I’m on the phone?

Dr. Walker: …

Lori: …..it's not your business!  I’m going to count to 3.  Victoria!  1…..2……..

Dr. Walker: …

Lori:I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Walker.

Dr. Walker: That’s quite alright Ms. Warren.

Lori: Okay where was I…goodness…Dr. Walker, I’m having a very difficult time understanding why keeping them….there…is necessary.

Dr. Walker: Well, I did mention that they are especially vulnerable to physical and natural events.

Lori:Yes, of course.

Dr. Walker: Humanity escaped the food chain centuries and centuries ago. So long as we wield our greatest achievements, we will always surpass or at least rival any apex predator.  However, if you were to strip a human of community and technology, it is laughably inferior. Would you agree?

Lori: Yes

Dr. Walker: Thus, I have no issue with ascribing that same status of inferiority to the subjects, as they have effectively been stripped of a community, at least those of respective parity, and they are incapable of utilizing technology.  Even a human being of typical size and strength would be utterly hopeless in the wild. But the size reduced individual’s inferiority expands so much further than that of a typical human being.   Think about it, Ms. Warren.  Could a 6-inch tall human being hold its own against…say…a house cat?  What about a 2-inch tall human being?  I doubt he could defend himself from a pigeon.  How about the footfall of an unknowing businesswoman on her cellular phone walking to work?  It’s a dangerous world out there, and it would be unrealistic to expect a size-reduced subject to exist and thrive under the cruel and uncaring rule of Mother Nature.

Lori: I guess that makes sense.

Dr. Walker: It even goes beyond co-existing with other species and natural events.  Look at humanity itself.  Last week, a young woman accidentally collided with me at the supermarket.  Her shoulder had connected with my chest and she had stepped on my shoe.  Now, she had not struck me particularly hard.  It did not hurt me, and she was very apologetic.  But had it been a size reduced subject in her path, it's likely he would have been fatally compressed beneath her sandal.

Lori: It’s a dreadful thought.

Dr. Walker: I couldn’t agree more.  As I admitted earlier, testing has revealed that Reduction Therapy imparts in the subjects an increased durability, but not enough to withstand the full weight of that distracted teenager or anyone else. It should be obvious that the subjects simply cannot be left alone.  Their aptitude for independent survival is just too low.  Nearly zero, in fact.

Lori: I think I agree with you on that. But…let’s say that I was…participating?  Is that what you called it?

Dr. Walker: Yes.

Lori: Okay. Let’s say I was participating….and taking care of the little man.  Why couldn’t I just…keep him in a cage at home?  I mean, our hamsters and lizard were always content.

Dr. Walker: Well, I don’t think I have to point out that there are some substantial differences between those animals and human beings!

Lori: Oh sure, of course Doctor; I understand that. I wasn’t trying to offend anyone.

Dr. Walker: It's not a bad question at all, Ms. Warren.  Enclosure confinement COULD be viable under certain very specific conditions, but this experiment explicitly calls for confinement of the subject on the Participant’s person. I understand that may not be a satisfactory answer, but to be perfectly honest, there are aspects of this experiment that you do not yet understand…conditions of which you have not been made aware…goals that are currently confidential and may remain so.

Lori:  I see…….

Dr. Walker: …You know, I have conducted enough of these interviews and screenings to know when I’ve lost someone.  I assume that I’ve lost you, Ms. Warren?

Lori: …I’m sorry Dr. Walker.  You seem friendly enough, but I am just not comfortable with this. It just seems so strange…the idea of keeping a shrunken person between my…I mean, I have trouble even saying it!  …and the secrecy is a red flag for me.

Dr. Walker: If I could point out something: only CERTAIN goals are confidential at the moment, and it does not necessarily have to do with secrecy for the sake of it, but more so to preserve the integrity and the results of the experiment. If our Participants know too much too soon, it could influence their decisions such that the experiment suffers.  It is difficult to explain now but I assure you there is a reason for it.

Lori:  I hear what you’re saying, Dr. Walker.  I’m sorry but I have to decline.

Dr. Walker: I understand, Ms. Warren.  Before I let you go though, let me just say if I haven’t said already that we offer very generous compensation for Participation.

Lori: I’m sorry Dr. Walker. Goodbye.

Click...

...3 minutes and 17 seconds later

Dr. Walker: RR Laboratories, Dr. Walker speaking.

Lori: Dr. Walker, it's Lori again. I’m sorry for hanging up so abruptly.  Can you……tell me about the compensation?

Dr. Walker: Oh, it's alright Ms. Warren. This is a big decision and I understand your hesitation.  For Participation that meets all R&R requirements, we offer a flat rate of $200 for one week.

Lori: Oh my goodness.  Just for one week? And during this week, what exactly would I need to do to….?

Dr. Walker: It is one week of confining the subject between your buttocks.

Lori: …..you would really pay me $200 to keep a shrunken man between my….cheeks?

Dr. Walker: That’s right!

Lori: And what else would I have to do?

Dr. Walker:  What else?  That’s it, Ms. Warren.  You would be responsible for housing him in your rear for each day.

Lori: How long would I have to keep him down there? Would that be one of the R&R requirements you mentioned?

Dr. Walker:  We typically have our new Participants confine their subjects within their rears for at the very least 6 hours per day …to start.

Lori: Oh my, that’s a long time!

Dr. Walker: Oh trust me, if you end up Participating for longer than that you’ll see that the time really does start to fly! This is the consensus I’ve received from our other Participants.

Lori: How many others are there?

Dr. Walker:  I’m uncomfortable assigning a specific number, but we have quite a few...I would imagine more than you might expect!

Lori:  Okay…that kind of makes me feel better.  Anyway…okay….so…6 hours a day, but you said, “to start”?

Dr. Walker:  Yes, we have something called the DDM, or “Dynamic Daily Minimum”, which is essentially a minimum daily housing requirement that adjusts as time passes. More detailed information on the DDM and everything else related to rear-housing will be provided to you during installation.

Lori: Installation?

Dr. Walker: When the subject is installed in your rear end.

Lori: Oh, I never would have thought of it like that…wow.  Installation.

Dr. Walker: Yes, we can go over the more nuanced requirements of the experiment later. I will tell you now though, and this along with everything else will be covered in the RR Labs Rear Housing Guide, that the subject has been equipped with a variety of simple nanomachines.  These nanomachines help us triangulate the location of the subject were he to be reported missing.  Additionally, they communicate a variety of the subjects’ conditions back to us…examples include things like body temperature, heart rate, health, et cetera.  Most recently, we’ve established links between certain brain activity and the olfactory system.  To put it simply, through machine learning, our systems can “learn” what it is our subjects are smelling, feeling, hearing, and tasting

Lori: Wow that’s fascinating. So is vision too difficult?

Dr. Walker: Oh, certainly not!  Truth be told, we haven’t put the funds into learning what our subjects see since…well…they often don’t see much!  Between pants, undergarments, and not to mention the dense flesh of the Participant’s glutes, light has a bit of a hard time getting to them.

Lori: Oh okay, I guess their vision really wouldn’t be that important. Sounds difficult for them to be in the dark though.

Dr. Walker: Right; it's not crucial in creating that image of the kinds of environments the Participant is exposing her subject to.

Lori: Environments?  Isn’t it just the one?  Wouldn’t I have to keep him in my behind and that’s it?

Dr. Walker:  That would be the ideal scenario.  Of course, we would prefer that you confine him to your rear end indefinitely for as long as possible each day. However, we understand that exclusive rear confinement is something to be worked up to, if ever accomplished at all.  As I said in the beginning, we would ask that you confine him between your buttocks for at least 6 hours per day every day.  The locations he occupies and his assigned duties for the remaining 18 hours of permitted non-rear activity time is completely up to you.

Lori:  So….6 hours a day in my butt..and I’m not required to do anything else with him for the rest of the time? And you’ll pay me $200 for just a week?

Dr. Walker: That’s correct!

Lori: Wow…that is so much more than I had thought it would be. Honestly, any figure would be a lot more than I would have thought it would be for something like this.

Dr. Walker: Well, Ms. Warren…you might be interested to know that, excluding the unpaid daily commitment, the weekly flat rate is actually the lowest rate we offer.

Lori: Oh?

Dr. Walker: That’s right.  If the Participant commits to a full month, the compensation increases.

Lori: Really?  More than $200?

Dr. Walker: Indeed.  Compensation rates increase to $350 every week for the entire month.

Lori: My goodness…and that’s for a full month, huh? A full month of keeping someone back there…its hard to even imagine!

Dr. Walker: Well, one important aspect of the experiment is to understand how the subject adapts to this new environment over time. Naturally, longer-term participation is valued higher and therefore we aim to incentivize!

Lori: I’d say so!  Is that the highest it goes?

Dr. Walker: Oh, no not at all.  If a Participant commits to housing a subject in her rear for 6 months, she is entitled to $500 per week  Annual commitments raise the weekly compensation even higher to an impressive $800 per week.

Lori: Good heavens! That’s almost as much as I make!

Dr. Walker: As I said, the longer the commitment, the more valuable the Participant!  In fact, our ideal Participant would commit to a lifetime term of housing the subject.

Lori: ….lifetime?

~

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 3 - Participation

[August 19th, 2005]

Dr. Walker: As I said, the longer the commitment, the more valuable the Participant!  In fact, our ideal Participant would commit to a lifetime term of housing the subject.

Lori: ….lifetime?

Dr. Walker: Oh yes.  The objective is to monitor physical and psychological changes in the subject and Participant alike, and the thing about physical and psychological changes: sometimes they take lifetimes to develop and then identify.

Lori: …how much does that one pay?  …NOT THAT I WOULD…ahemm……not that I would opt for that one.

Dr. Walker: Actually, the lifetime commitment is one we reserve for Participants who have already invested a large portion of time into housing their subject.  New Participants will be considered “Purple Tier” until they have reached 1 year of housing their subject, at which point they will graduate to the next tier, called the “Pink Tier”.  For a Participant to graduate to lifelong commitments, which we call the “Gold Tier”, she must house her subject for a minimum of 5 consecutive years.

Lori: …

Dr. Walker: If your head is spinning with colors and numbers, do not worry.  All of this information will be included in the Rear Housing Guide!

Lori: Oh, you read my mind!  That reminds me of a question I had earlier…what if a Participant picks a certain amount of time to commit and the subject picks a different time?  Do you have to swap out the pairs to match with others who have matching preferences?

Dr. Walker: Good question! The term-length selected by the Participant is used in all cases.

Lori: So, the subject doesn’t get a say?

Dr. Walker: Well…..I wouldn’t put it quite like that.  The documents that we have our Participants sign are not quite as binding as the contracts our subjects agree to. These contracts are signed by our subjects before initiating size Reduction Therapy; they willingly and willfully surrender decision-power to the Participant, who consequently may specify any and all terms of alternative housing not already under the discretion of R&R Laboratories. To say a different way, virtually every decision related to the experiment would be left up to you, which includes rear-housing term length.

Lori: I see……so I could take things at my own pace?  Well, that’s comforting to know.  So…if I were to commit to…say…a month, and then a week later decide that I do not want to do it anymore…what happens then?

Dr. Walker: If you decide to withdraw from the experiment, your compensation would be downgraded to the weekly flat rate and you would simply owe the difference, and if it were 1 week on the day, that difference would be $150.  So you would have to repay R&R Laboratories $150 and you would be responsible for returning the subject as well.

Lori: That’s it?

Dr. Walker: Yes, Ms. Warren.  It is a very low-stakes situation; we aren’t asking you to etch anything in stone!

Lori:  Oh……..well, that doesn’t seem that bad at all.

Dr. Walker: Exactly!

Lori: Okay, so….sorry to go so far back, but I was still curious about the whole confinement concept.

Dr. Walker: Okay?

Lori: Well, I understand that you’re saying the subject would have to be on my person..but I just don’t understand…why does it have to be there?

Dr. Walker: Well, let’s think back to the teenager who bumped into me in the supermarket.  Let’s suppose I was housing the subject somewhere else…like in my pocket.  Now suppose the teenager struck me in the hip with a shopping cart.  That might be some discomfort for me…maybe a bruise on my hip.  How might that incident affect the subject?

Lori: Well…

Dr. Walker: Probably not very good, right?

Lori: No, probably not.

Dr. Walker: In all reality, it most certainly would be fatal for the subject.

Lori: Right, I understand how the pocket wouldn’t be safe…but..

Dr. Walker: It’s a matter of softness and warmth, Ms. Warren.

Lori: I get that.  But what about…umm..you’ve got me blushing right now but…what about..breasts?

Dr. Walker: That’s a great question.  Mammary confinement was thoroughly tested in the beginning of our experiment. It was actually the first type of confinement we tested, but it was ultimately abandoned in favor of gluteal confinement.

Lori: Why is that?

Dr. Walker: Well, we’re getting into the weeds a bit here but my co-founder and I just held a lecture for our interns going over the history of RR Labs so luckily all the information is at the front of my mind!

The preference of gluteal confinement over mammary confinement is for for two reasons, actually.  Reason 1: As I’ve mentioned, cushion and warmth are very important criteria for a suitable and safe housing environment.  We determined through experimentation that breasts easily exceed the cushion and warmth requirement.  However, problems arise when we evaluate the concealment factor.

Lori: Concealment factor?

Dr. Walker: It’s important that the subject is fully concealed by the Participant’s body.  It’s also critical that the subject does not become dislodged from the cleavage containing him, be it through accidental or intentional events. It is also important that this continuous containment be achieved through no active effort of the Participant.  Basically, we want the subject to be snug and secure such that the Participant does not have to intervene, reposition, readjust, et cetera.  Meanwhile, the woman housing him is free to continue her life as she normally would without having to realign her focus to him.  As I said, confinement tests with breast cleavage failed on the grounds of concealment.  Oftentimes, the inward force applied to the breasts by the bra was enough to contain the subject so long as the breasts were large enough.  However, the natural movement of the breasts during static activity resulted in the subject drifting upward and out of the cleavage if it were not tight enough.  More frequently, however, the subject would drift downward.  Sometimes this would result in the subject becoming lodged in the bra cup and wedged between the woman’s rib cage and the underside of her breast…which was fine as long as the Participant didn’t mind.  But more often than not, eventually they would completely fall out of the breast cleavage, which I’m sure you can imagine presents some non-ideal scenarios.

Lori: Oh, yes I can imagine.

Dr. Walker: The only situations where no problems arose was during times when the women were wearing sports bras.  It was an interesting thought but hinging the entire experiment on the idea of women exclusively wearing sports bras did not seem like a realistic premise.  So that is the main reason why breast cleavage is no longer considered. Another reason has to do with averages.  We were able to determine all the parameters and metrics of the ideal set of breasts for confinement, things like softness, perkiness, overall size, and several others were considered necessary and minimum scores were defined.  The problem we quickly discovered was that of the women we sampled, only 58% had breasts that met these requirements.  Something else worth mentioning is that the percentage of women whose breasts did not meet the requirements were largely in the older age range and were endowed with above-average sized breasts.  This indicated to us that large-breasted, young women were ideal for breast housing, but their eligibility decreases as they get older.

Lori: Well, that does make sense but still…58% sounds like a lot.  Is that not enough?

Dr. Walker: One term of success for this experiment is to determine a safe housing location for the subject such that the maximum number of women would meet the requirements for housing.

Lori: Oh, I see.

Dr. Walker: 58% is a good number, but we owed it to the experiment and our investors to see if we could do better.  Someone suggested we determine the minimum requirements of care and containment for the buttocks, just as we did for breasts.  We initially thought the idea to be a bit outlandish at first.  We contacted the same women we had sampled previously and requested to evaluate their buttocks. Well, the results were very interesting.  We determined that 97% of the women had rear ends adequate for housing.

Lori: Oh, wow…I wonder why so much higher?

Dr. Walker: Well, for a few reasons.  Obviously, the rear end meets the warmth conditions so long as the subject is deep enough between the buttocks.  In every case the buttocks were more than soft enough to provide adequate cushion for the subject.  Another part of it has to do with the concealment factor. In fact, the 3% of women who’s rear ends did not meet the requirements excelled in every category with the exception of gluteal cleft depth.

Lori: Umm…gluteal what?

Dr. Walker: Basically the measurable depth created by the cleavage of the buttocks.  It is a function of how far from the woman’s waist her buttocks protrude.  Unlike the breasts, which are sometimes partially on display, the rear end is almost always completely concealed.

Lori: Oh right.  Mine certainly is!

Dr. Walker: And not only is the rear completely concealed, the buttocks are often compressed into clothing, be it underwear, jeans, et cetera. The added compression of the buttocks contributed significantly to the continuous containment potential of the subject between them.  The 3% had rear ends sized too small for concealment and containment, but the silver lining was that the age range graphed against rear-housing acceptability within the 3% and the 97% were nearly identical Gaussian distributions.

Lori: I’m sorry Doctor, I’m having a hard time keeping up.

Dr. Walker: Oh no apologies necessary, Ms. Warren. As I said before, I often get carried away with the boring stuff…but I like to think the people appreciate it!

Lori: You could be right about that, maybe!  What does Gaussian distribution mean?

Dr. Walker: Well, in this context, we recorded just how good each woman would be at housing a subject in their rear end based off the criteria I mentioned earlier regarding their buttocks.  We also gathered their ages, which ranged from 17 years old to 52 years old.

Lori: Oh my, that’s a wide range.

Dr. Walker: Once we gathered all values for all women, we separated the information into two graphs: those who passed and those who failed and put them on graphs. The “scores” we assigned for their buttocks was along the y axis of the graph and the womens’ ages along the x axis.  When looking at the graph of those who passed, we saw that a majority of the women with the highest scores were right in the middle age range and then the scores got lower the further to the left (younger) or right (older) you go, making a shape like a bell.

Lori: Oh, like a bell graph; I do remember that now.

Dr. Walker: Precisely!  The dip-off in score was also more gradual when approaching the max as opposed to the min so it wasn’t an ideal Gaussian but very close.  The really interesting thing is that we did a graph of women who did not meet the requirements, and the graph looked nearly identical.

Lori: What does that mean?

Dr. Walker: It means that age was not a factor in eligibility as it seemed to be with breasts. The sagging of the buttocks in the older women in both the pass and fail categories did not contribute to their rear-housing eligibility; whether pass or fail, all ages were represented almost equally.  This means age was not a factor, only the size of their rear end and buttocks. We were confident in asserting that if a woman met the requirements for rear housing in her youth, she would almost certainly meet them as she ages.  In fact, some could expect to see increases in rear-housing suitability as they get older. This is a very big deal. It basically means that women are overwhelmingly, naturally capable of housing size-reduced individuals in their rear ends.  One might even extrapolate this further and say the female rear end seems to be “designed” with the idea of housing in mind.  Bold, I know!

Lori: Well….gee, Doctor...when you put it that way it actually kind of makes sense.  One thing though…well…a few things.  I get that its warm…I get that its soft…but it doesn’t seem like a very….nice place to be.

Dr. Walker: Admittedly, the subjects seemed much more open to the idea of mammary confinement. They also seemed to develop bonds with the Participants much quicker, that could be for several different reasons, mind you.  It could be due to the resonance of the heartbeat, it could be pheromone exposure, it could be that the particular area was aromatic.  In any event, it failed in the categories that the rear end decidedly met.

Lori: Well, you mentioned aroma…isn’t that important?

Dr. Walker: No.

Lori: …….just no?

Dr. Walker: That’s correct.  Well…okay, I’ll expand.  If there were an area that met all requirements as the rear end does AND was also known for being more aromatic, we would consider that area.  But no such area exists.  The rear end is the ideal housing location for size reduced individuals.  The fact that there are negative aspects inherent to the area such as odor and hygiene are acceptable downsides when considering all the positives.

Lori: So…..it may not be a really nice place to be, but it gives the most safety?

Dr. Walker: And the most concealment!

Lori: Oh…concealment…yes, I knew that!

Dr. Walker: Furthermore, and I understand that it may be difficult to understand at this phase of the experiment, but we are not as concerned with the subject’s comfort in any given moment as much as we are concerned with the subject’s ability or inability to psychologically and physically adapt over time to the environment between your buttocks.  I understand that it may sound cold, but the subjects sign legally binding contracts and at the end of the day, it really is all about the science.

Lori: And my contract?  What would it say?

Dr. Walker: As I said earlier, it's not so much a contract as it is an document with a few agreed upon points. We really try to go out of our way to accommodate our Participants and make sure they are comfortable.  In fact, that is arguably one of the most important aspects of the experiment right behind the subject’s ability to adapt and acclimate to this new environment.

Lori: What do you mean?

Dr. Walker:  Well, let's say that our experiments prove without a doubt not only that the rear end is perfect for short-term, long-term, and permanent housing of size reduced individuals…but lets say we also prove that given enough time and exposure to these environments, there is a nearly 100% likelihood that the subject will completely adapt to this new environment, and perhaps come to accept or even embrace it.  That would be a wonderful accomplishment.  However, it's honestly all for naught if the concept of rear-housing is too taxing or inconvenient for women.

Lori: I don’t think I understand.

Dr. Walker: To put it simply, if it's too difficult or bothersome for women to house size-reduced individuals in their rear ends, I fear that the idea of rear housing could never…catch on as a sustainable option, if that makes sense. We could prove that the rear end is the perfect home for a subject, and they could completely love it, but it stops there if the woman is inconvenienced by the process.

Lori: I see what you mean.

Dr. Walker: So to circle back, it is of the utmost importance to us and to the integrity of this experiment that our Participants are able to continue living their lives in the way that they prefer, in a manner that maximizes their comfort and convenience.

Lori: Umm…can you give me an example of what you mean?

Dr. Walker: Sure…lets say…oh here’s a good example.  We recently had someone somewhat new to the experiment…a mother just like you…who was heading out on a particularly long car trip.  She was taking her children to the grand canyon or something of the sort.  Anyway, she had called just to check in and let us know how things were going, and she’d mentioned offhandedly that she would be in the car driving all day and night and would be keeping the subject in her bottom for most of the trip.  She was quite excited, having just recently purchased a new SUV with “all the bells and whistles” as she put it, which included heated seats.  She informed me, however, that she was going to keep the setting off for the sake of the subject.  I immediately asked her why and her answer was that even though the exterior of her buttocks might be quite cold, she knows that the area deep between them would be sufficiently warm for the subject…and she feared that if she turned the heated seats on, her posterior would perspire and the subject would be miserable in the drastically increased heat and humidity.  This is a perfect example of where I would strongly encourage the Participant to do what is in her best interest.  In this case, that would be turning the heated seats on full blast so that her backside and back are nice and warm, and her comfort is maximized.  Yes, it comes at the cost of the subject’s comfort, but its so important that he get used to the various conditions and states that the female rear end can take on.  Honestly, she was doing him a favor by exposing him to it.

Lori: What did she end up doing?

Dr. Walker: Oh, she saw the reasoning in what I was saying.  She left the heated seats on for the entire trip, there and back.  She agreed that it was the right decision. Sure, the subject’s struggling had intensified once the perspiration had reached a peak accumulation point, but she informed me that he quickly “tuckered himself out”.     This is the way that it should be.  We want our subjects to learn to live around our Participants.  Not the other way around.  Never the other way around.

Lori: ….okay Dr. Walker…let’s do it. I want to participate.

Dr. Walker: Oh dear, I didn’t expect THAT story to be the final straw!

Lori: Oh..it wasn’t.  I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about it…but the fact that you consider my feelings and preferences so highly in this experiment…I don’t know…I just feel…safe.  And I could definitely use the money.

Dr. Walker: Well, that’s great Ms. Warren!  I am thrilled to have you on board!

Lori: Where are you based out of?  I am assuming I would have to come in and pick him up?

Dr. Walker: Typically yes, but I see you are on the west coast while we are based out of North Carolina.  Now, we are more than happy to pay your way to get you out here.  But if you’d like, we would be just as satisfied sending the subject to you through express mail.

Lori: Really??  You would do that?  You’re not worried about the subject getting…caught or seen or something?

Dr. Walker: Oh no, not at all.  We have an entire department dedicated to discrete and private shipping, methods by which we can conceal the packages contents from USPS/UPS/Fedex scanning equipment and technology.

Lori: But…you would trust me?  I mean, you haven’t even met me…

Dr. Walker:  Well Ms. Warren.  I DO trust you.  You seem like a very considerate woman who understands how much she stands to gain from participation.

Lori: Well, yeah that is true.

Dr. Walker: Not to mention, during our conversation I took the liberty of looking you up on various social media platforms.

Lori: Oh, well you won’t find me on any of those. Lord knows I can’t keep up with those things.

Dr. Walker: Partially correct.  I did not find your name when searching. I did, however, find a Gina Warren in Seattle, WA. A very beautiful young woman who has 2 sisters, a father who lives in Wyoming, and a mother named Lori.

Lori: Oh, you’re good!

Dr. Walker: Yes, I like to think so! I am assuming that this woman sitting with Gina in several of these beach photographs is you? I believe that is you sitting on a beach towel in the polka-dotted one-piece bathing suit with the sunglasses on putting the sunscreen on one of your daughters?

Lori: Oh God there’s a picture of me in that bathing suit out there? Yes, that was at Rockaway Beach in California a few years ago. Such a beautiful day that was..although I will have to have a talk with my oldest about posting my bathing suit photos for the world to see!

Dr. Walker: Well, be that as it may.  I will say though, based off that picture and the one I’m seeing here of you facing the ocean with your hands on your hips, I have absolutely no doubt that your buttocks are large enough and the cleft between them more than deep enough to completely conceal and secure the subject. To be perfectly honest, I think your rear end is perfect for this experiment, and formally confirming that would just be a waste of your time.

Lori: Okay well I really appreciate that, Dr. Walker….uhh…that you’re concerned so much with my time and my convenience, I mean.  If you are okay with sending him through the mail, I think I would prefer that.

Dr. Walker: Wonderful, that is exactly what we will do then! It is going to have to wait until later in the week though. The subject we will be assigning you has to undergo some more acclimation sessions.

Lori: Acclimation sessions?

Dr. Walker: Usually we like to enroll our subjects who have just completed Reduction Therapy into another program with our psychological screener, Dr. Kleinhardt and her assistant Brandi.  We call this program Acclimation Therapy.  We understand that, despite how suitable we believe the rear end is for housing, abrupt exposure to the new environment can be difficult, especially for long stretches of time!  This is why, as what you could call a “sub-experiment”, Dr. Kleinhardt and Brandi take on the task of introducing them to the female rear end at their new, post-RT size.

Lori: Oh really?

Dr. Walker: Yes, Dr. Kleinhardt is currently out of the office right now, but Brandi is standing in.  She has not been with us long but she is a very quick learner.  Not to mention she probably has the largest rear end of all the women here so she is a natural choice for this. From our records, I see here that the subject we will be assigning you, Subject 119b, has had 8 acclimations sessions with Brandi.  Essentially, Brandi dons some pants specifically designed for this purpose.  They appear normal to the naked eye, but they actually excel at maintaining an odor and dryness differential between what is outside the pants and what is inside.  The pants essentially “protect” the subject from Brandi’s perspiration and odor.  Brandi then wedges the subjects-in-training between her buttocks over top of the pants.  This way they are introduced to the idea of being cradled and contained by a large set of soft buttocks, and they are free to focus on that concept without overwhelming their other senses.  These sessions typically only last 15 minutes, and we would really like to get Subject 119b in Brandi’s rear for 2-4 more days of Acclimation Therapy before issuing him to you.

Lori: Oh sure, I understand. There’s no rush.

Dr. Walker: it’s actually probably for the best, as we will be needing something from you before we can ship him.

Lori: Oh?

Dr. Walker: We will need a DNA sample from you.

Lori: What for?

Dr. Walker: Prior to rear installation, we need to synthesize something akin to a booster shot for our subjects.  We call them “Assignment shots”.  The shot is specifically designed and tailored to the Participant’s DNA.    In essence, it makes the subject’s assimilation with your body a less traumatic process, increasing the harmony between his body and yours. We also use this opportunity to introduce the nanomachine sensors we talked about earlier…in addition to a few other things.

Lori: Oh okay. That makes sense. What do you need me to send?

Dr. Walker: The easiest thing you could do, if you have toothpicks, would be to carefully insert a toothpick into your mouth and scrape the toothpick along the inside of your cheek.  No need to scrape too hard!  Once you’ve scraped a few times, gently place the toothpick into a clean ziplock bag and send the scraped cells from your inner cheek to us.  That should be more than enough. Please try to send that out first thing tomorrow to allow enough time to synthesize the assignment shot and administer it.  We would like to mail him out in a few days and opt to overnight him.

Lori: Okay, I can definitely do that.

Dr. Walker: Fantastic.  Please review all the appurtenances, instructions, and educational literature that will be included in the packaging with the subject, to include the Rear Housing Guide.  Please sign the included documents and indicate for how long you would like to participate.  Don’t feel obligated to rush that decision!  Take a day or two to get a feel for it and then let us know.

Lori: Alright, doctor. No problem.

Dr. Walker: Great!  It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Ms. Warren. I am very excited to accept you into the experiment; we are expecting great things!

Lori: Thanks so much, doctor.  I’m looking forward to getting started too. I'm a little nervous but excited!

Dr. Walker: That’s completely normal!  Remember, I am always only a phone call away!

Lori: Ok, thanks Dr. Walker!

Dr. Walker: No, thank you!  Have a wonderful evening.

Lori: You, too.  Take care.

Dr. Walker: Goodbye.

Lori: …Victoria Grace, when I’m on the phone, you need to–

–CLICK

~

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 4 - Unboxing

[September 22, 2005]

Lori lifted the small opened box off her lap and up closer to her face.  One of the stiff flaps of the box scraped against Lori’s soft, plush stomach and flexed down against the underside of her breast.  Despite the screening interview call with Dr. Walker, the follow-up call a few days later, and all the mental preparation…she still couldn’t believe what she was seeing.  Lori stared down at him, her mouth agape and her eyes sparkling with curiosity and disbelief. The tiny little man inside the box was looking around, and then their eyes locked, but only for a moment.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties…handsome as far as she could tell…pretty good physical shape.  He was lying down in a chunk of pale-pink Styrofoam, naked as the day he was born. She couldn’t help herself but to take a quick glance at “it”.  The last one she’d seen in person was her ex-husband’s, and that felt so long ago.

It was definitely bigger than his…

’Well…obviously way smaller now, but maybe before he shrank’, she thought nervously.

It looked as if she’d gotten away with the glances she stole, as he was squinting in the amber light of Lori’s bedroom.

Everything in the box was packed extremely tight and secure, including the tiny little man.  Lori assumed it was to keep him safe from the unavoidable jostling of the package during transport.  The section containing him was an uninteresting brick of Styrofoam and cut into it was a shape reminiscent of a snow angel and it was cut to a depth such that he was embedded in the Styrofoam.  His legs were set a little wider than shoulder-width apart, and his arms were almost straight out to either side.  Over his body was a protective plastic dome-type covering.

It reminded her of a board game she played with the girls when they were little. In the center of the board was a set of dice enclosed in a clear, plastic dome.  When the player pressed down on the dome, the dice would pop up, indicating how many spaces the player would move ‘This isn’t Trouble, though,’ she thought to herself.

The dome-type covering that protected the tiny man had been “clicked” onto him over a deep circular cutout that ran around the outside edge of where the subject lay. It wasn’t a perfect dome like in Trouble, it was shaped similarly to the “snow angel” shape in which he was encased. It also covered a little more area than just the shape of the cutout. The dome was very shallow and there were a few fingerprints, probably from whoever had snapped it into place before sending him to her. Down between his ankles, she saw a pink LED light that was blinking slowly.  She wasn’t sure what it was.

She could see the ceiling fan over her bed spinning in the dome’s reflection, along with her own unbelieving face.

‘I must look so big to him’, she thought, a little self-conscious about her ‘looking-down’ double chin, the one that everyone got.

North of his head and outside of the protective clear, snow-angle shaped dome, there was a small folded sheet of paper with some handwriting on it  She almost reached for it but reconsidered as she thought the abrupt movement of her giant hands might scare him..

Still, she couldn’t just leave him in there forever.

‘He has places to be…’ Lori thought.

Lori carefully reached into the box with two hands and gripped the sides of the Styrofoam.  The little person inside the box had been squinting when she first opened the box.

‘The poor little thing has been in the dark for heaven only knows how long,’ she thought, and already his tiny eyes were widening as she gently scooped her fingers between the box walls and the Styrofoam.  Her fingers were a little too thick so the box flexed to accommodate their entrance.

The pink Styrofoam brick squeaked as it rubbed against the box walls on the way up and out. Lori set the Styrofoam down on the bed on her right side, having noticed that lifting the Styrofoam revealed more trinkets on the floor of the box.

With a finger and thumb, she lifted two soft fabrics, one pristine white and one a deep maroon.  Unfolding them, she realized they were women’s underwear.  Full coverage, just the way she liked it.  They looked a little small for her though.  Perplexed as to why underwear was sent, she set the undergarments to her right side atop the Styrofoam.

“Whoopsie”, she muttered looking down, seeing that she had covered up the little person with the underwear.

She lifted the underwear off the Styrofoam, folded them neatly, and laid them on her left side. Next there was another box, much smaller than the one she had just opened.  It was perhaps a little larger than a pack of cigarettes, purple with two horizontal stripes that circled the perimeter: the top stripe closest to the opening was pink and the one below it was blue. It was made of a thin but durable plastic.  Lori noticed there was an LED light on the opening flap similar to the one down between the tiny man’s feet, but it was not on.  She opened the flap of the purple box and saw that it was empty, but Lori was intrigued to find that the inside was lined with a very soft pink felt.

Next was a pill container. It looked just like any old pill prescription bottle, complete with a label. She lifted it and looked at the label, below her printed name was instructions,

“Take daily before bed. Diffusion shall complete overnight.”

The pill container rattled as she shook it…it was full. She shuddered, recalling her second conversation with Dr. Walker.  The one where they discussed these pills.

‘No…not thinking about THAT right now,’ she thought with a shiver, setting the pills with the underwear and box.

There were a few other items in the box as well: three individually wrapped lavender-scented wipes, various leaflets, instructions, and an agreement form Dr. Walker had asked to be signed and returned to the lab, at her convenience of course. Lastly was a small booklet; its cover said “Rear Housing Guide”.

She took the other items and put them back in the box, all except for the chunk of Styrofoam which had drifted down and was now pressing against her thigh.

The Styrofoam squeaked quietly as it slid against the soft material of her slacks. She bent at the waist to set the box on the floor at her feet, which had since been slipped into her fuzzy, warm “no-more-work-for-Lori” slippers.

She turned her attention back to the pale-pink Styrofoam brick.

Lori centered the brick on her wide lap and looked down once more at the man.

His eyes were darting every which way now, probably quite disoriented from the trip.  She felt it was time to reach for the note attached to the Styrofoam.  It was a woman’s handwriting, clear from the bubbliness of the lettering. It read “Warren”.  The paper was attached by a single staple. The man’s gaze followed Lori’s hand as it gracefully tore the paper from the Styrofoam.  She unfolded the paper.  It read:

Ms Warren,

Find enclosed the items we discussed in our phone conversations as well as a few others, which are explained in the attached pamphlets and Rear Housing Guide.  Find also enclosed Subject 119-b.  Please install him immediately and confine him to your rear for no less than 6 hours today. Please consult the pamphlet and guidebook that explains the DDM for experiment expectations going forward.  Thank you and please call me with any questions.

Dr. Katie Warren

Lori took a deep breath, folding the note back up and placing it in the box.  Her large fingers wrapped around the human-shaped dome that enclosed the tiny man, digging her digits in underneath the lip and with a little force, she felt the dome pop, detaching from the Styrofoam.  As soon as the dome clicked off, the blinking LED light switched from pink to a solid bright red.  She was also thrown off by the amount of heat that was trapped in the enclosure.  Not an immense amount, just more than she would have expected.  Now there was nothing but a few feet of Lori’s fragrant, circulating bedroom air between him and her.

She was horrible at estimating size, always had been, but she could tell that he was large enough to be heard.  Not necessarily understood clearly, but at least noticed.  The distinction was important because she could hear the squeaks emanating from the Styrofoam, but she could not tell what they were.  She lifted the box up off her lap and brought it to about chest level, lowering her face toward the man. “Are…are you trying to speak?” she asked nervously.  As he got closer to her face, the squeaking slowly took shape into recognizable syllables.

“—this place?  Where am I?  Who are you?”

God, that voice was so adorable.  As much as she’d thought about what he would sound like, Lori really wasn’t prepared for that.

It might have been the cutest thing she’d ever heard.

Lori held back as much of her amused smile as she could, hoping that it could pass for her just being polite.

“Hello.  My name is Lori, it's very nice to finally meet you.” she said, in an almost too professional, quiet tone. She didn’t want Gina or her other daughters to hear her talking in her bedroom.

“Am I….am I done now?” The tiny naked man asked with a nervous tone, and Lori tilted her head in confusion.

He elaborated, “Am I done with the experiment?”

“Ohh…” Lori shook her head slowly, “I’m sorry, but no.  We’ve got a…umm...little while longer to go apparently.”

The man asked, “Are you a doctor too?”

‘A doctor too?  Like Dr. Walker?’, she thought…

“Oh no, I’m not a doctor.”

“But you work for the lab?” he asked.

“Hmm…well….I don’t work for them per se…I’m…ummm…part of the experiment too; just like you.” Lori said.

Knock knock

Lori’s eyes widened and she prayed that she’d remembered to lock her bedroom door.  The doorknob engaged and jingled but abruptly stopped spinning.

“Mom, is it alright if I go to Sasha’s for dinner tonight?” Victoria bellowed from the other side of her mother’s bedroom door.

The man in the Styrofoam was looking in the direction of the loud teenager’s voice, now even more confused by this strange new environment. For a moment, Lori wasn’t a perplexed, anxious woman getting ready to insert a tiny, nude man into her bottom.

She was in mom-mode.

“Which one is Sasha?” Lori inquired, her voice dripping with skepticism.  “...Not the one with the lip piercing, right?”

Lori could practically hear Victoria’s eyes rolling on the other side of the door.  “Ugh…….no, Mom. That’s Sandra.  Sasha’s the girl from my math class, the one who plays volleyball.”

“Oh, okay, sweety that’s fine…but be back before 11pm.” Lori said.

“Okay, thanks Mom!” Victoria chirped.

Lori looked down at the man, “I’m sorry about that…where were—”

“Stop having phone sex!” Lori heard two bangs on Gina’s door, and then an obnoxious, sisterly laugh that Lori’s youngest had spent years refining. Gina must have returned the sentiment and thrown something at her own door, perhaps a shoe.  Then the mischievous sound of Victoria’s sock-clad feet pounded on the carpeted steps. It got quieter and quieter.

Lori sighed.

“Okay…..NOW where were we?”, she said to the man.

“Listen to me…” he said, she could hear a quivering urgency in his voice. The tiny man stood up out of the Styrofoam cutout, his little legs so shaky and void of confidence.  He stared up at Lori, his hands nervously covering his exposed private parts.

“Listen, you seem like a nice lady.  You…you have to get me out of here.  I…I did not sign up for all this..I mean…I signed something but if I’d have known…” he was starting to get more panicked as he recalled.

“They…they….holy shit, you would not believe it.  There’s this doctor there.  Dr. Walker, I think her name is.  She’s the one who did this to me.  And she…ohhh!!…and then there’s another girl… Brandi, I think…some kind of bullshit therapist..”

The tiny man shuddered and paused.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.” Lori said, trying to be supportive.

He took a deep breath, “She……she put me in her…ass.”

“The doctor?” Lori inquired sincerely.

“No, the airheaded, blonde therapist!  Actually, she wasn’t even a therapist by their crazy standards.  Some kind of assistant intern or something.”

“Oh my….why did she do that?” Lori asked, genuinely interested in how he would respond.

“Fuck if I know!  One minute I’m in the weird container that they’re keeping me in, and the next this blonde bimbo is taking me out and fucking wedging me between her ass cheeks!”

“Oh dear…” Lori said, pressing a hand against her chest in sympathy. The tiny little man in her lap seemed to be feeding off Lori’s reactions. He was growing confidence and conviction, becoming louder and seemingly less afraid.

“She just smiled at me, ignored my screaming at her, and pressed me against her leggings and wedged me in her crack.  You wouldn’t believe how long the bitch kept me in there…”

“How long?” Lori asked.

“15 minutes!” The subject exclaimed and Lori’s eyes widened.  “I know because she set a timer right before she put me…in.  I can’t believe I even survived!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, Lori replied in genuine shock.

The subject continued to rattle on, invigorated by Lori’s disbelief. Unbeknownst to him, Lori’s disbelief over the 15-minute statement had a very different foundation than what the subject assumed.

‘Wow’, Lori thought. ‘He’s complaining about being in an attractive young woman’s bottom for just 15 minutes, over top of her pants… he just has no idea...’

“Oh my goodness, I couldn’t imagine!” Lori said down to the tiny man.  She truly could not imagine what that would be like so as far as she was concerned, it was not a lie.

“And that wasn’t the only time she did it either! She wedged me between her cheeks a few other times…sometimes she’d jiggle her cheeks…sometimes she even sat down while I was in there!  Those fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years! I have no idea how I even survived!” He continued with his confessional statement, treating Lori as if she were a priest, or a therapist, or a police officer…or anything other than what she was…what he clearly didn’t realize yet. That was okay though; he needed this, apparently.  He needed to get all this off his chest. Lori thought it was good for him so she listened intently.

“I lost count of how many times she did it!  Good god!”

“That sounds like it was very...challenging.  Please don’t worry though, okay? You won’t be seeing her again.”

He appeared to relax a bit.

“Well…..what’s next?” The subject asked, speaking much more openly and comfortably with Lori.  That was good…they were a team and they should be comfortable with each other. “You said that I’m not done yet…are you…are you going to grow me back?”

The hope in his voice was heartbreakingly adorable. Lori liked the idea of him thinking that she was the end of his involvement in this experiment, and she wanted to hold onto that feeling.  Unfortunately, her commitment to the experiment…their commitment to each other was only just beginning.

“Umm…..no, sorry that’s not what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well what the hell are you supposed to do, Lori??”

Despite the high edges of the Styrofoam brick, Lori was nervous that her shaking hands might cause him to fall out, so she set him down on the bed and dropped her knees onto the carpet.  She sat on her heels at the side of the bed, as if she were praying.  She looked down at him, approximately level with her breasts, while he was also perfectly stabilized on the bed.

“Well, according to Dr. Walker…this is the part of the experiment where I…well…take over.” Lori said carefully.

“Take over?” he asked.

“Yes.  The blonde girl that you mentioned.  She…well…she’s what the lab calls an Acclimation Therapist…that’s what I understand from my second phone call with Dr. Walker anyway. I’m learning all this too, by the way. Brandi…that was her name right?  Yes, Brandi did what she did to you because it was to…well…prepare you.”

He was quiet for what felt like an eternity.  She thought she might have seen his eyes dart from hers and down into her ample cleavage, but it could have just been her imagination.

“………prepare me for what, Lori?”

Lori could literally see the confidence leaving his body as he waited for an answer. Did he already know?  Maybe she didn’t have to say it.  Maybe she could just do it.

No, she owed him a response.

Lori took a deep breath, for a moment noticing the softness of her glutes pressing against her heels while she squatted, staring at the tiny little man on her bed.

“To go in…well….in MY bottom.”

Lori winced as the high-pitched voice returned fire.  “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!  There’s no goddamn way! There’s no goddamn way! I am not—”

“Oh, please try and calm down..” Lori said with a soothing concern, seeing the tiny person in the container approaching the Styrofoam walls. He was frantically trying to climb out but he fell back in each time.  He was no longer concerned with modesty, his genitalia swinging as he ran, jumped, and clumsily fell several times.

Lori looked around nervously, worried that the tiny squeaking might be loud enough for one of the girls to hear from the other side of the door.  She gently shushed the tiny man, which seemed to only enrage him more.

“Calm down?!  You’re seriously going to tell me to calm down?!  Fuck you, Lori!  You want to stick me in your huge, gross ass and you want me to calm down?!”

Lori immediately felt her cheeks and forehead redden with embarrassment and shame. She had probably given him quite the show of her backside when she had stood up from the bed without even realizing it.

“At least the fucking intern or therapist or whatever was a teenager, early 20’s tops.  And yeah, her ass was fucking big but nowhere near as FAT and DISGUSTING as yours!  You keep it away from me!”

Lori felt like she might cry.  She didn’t expect things to go this way, but Dr. Walker had informed her that home deliveries of subjects were uncommon, and therefore it was uncommon that explaining the experiment fell on the shoulders of the Participant.

She’d always been self-conscious about the size of her derriere ever since highschool.

In fact, when she first learned she was pregnant with Gina some 18 years ago, the first emotion she remembered having after elation was a strong hope that she wouldn’t pass down to Gina her large backside…but of course she did.  Same for Isabella...and DEFINITELY the same for Victoria. Luckily for her daughters, large backsides seemed to be in style these days, but she herself could never get over all the negative attention, ridicule, and judgment her large rump brought her over the years…and now she was living it all over again.

“Listen…I….I understand you’re upset.  I get it.  But…I just have to do this. I just—”

“—NO! No, you fucking don’t! Lori, listen to yourself!  You don’t have to put me in your fucking ass! Are you fucking psycho?!”

For a moment, she considered not doing it…at least not right away.  It would have just been so much easier to give him what he wanted…and to not have to worry about the mean tiny man and his insults.  She had to be strong though…she had to be assertive.  This was part of the experiment…this was what she was getting paid for.  What the both of them were getting paid for. She grabbed one of the individually wrapped wipes and tore the wrapping.  The room filled with the pleasant scent of lavender.

“What are you doing?!” He demanded to know as Lori stood up and unbuttoned her slacks.

“Shhhhhhhhh” came from Lori’s pursed lips.  She lowered the zipper and then her pants until they were bunched up at her feet.  She stood there in her stockings and black underwear. The portion of the stockings that hugged her huge thighs was stretched to a much stronger degree than anywhere else, and as a consequence her pale skin was much more visible under the stressed material.

“It’s all going to be okay…”, Lori said calmly.

She then unfolded the wipe and plunged it down the back of her underwear.  She was facing him, so he couldn’t quite see what she was doing, but he watched in horror at the movement of her arm.  She was gently swiping up and down along the length of her glutes.  She had been incredibly nervous from the moment she laid eyes on the box under Isabella’s flip-flop. As a result, she’d begun sweating.  With each dab and swipe against the flesh of her butt, her cheeks bounced rhythmically and jiggled in response.

It made her feel self-conscious again but she reminded herself that a.) he couldn’t see them jiggling and b.) so what if they jiggle?  That just means they’re incredibly soft and perfect to keep him safe.

She swiped a few more times at the outer flesh of her cheeks, gradually getting closer to the area where they met, and then she plunged the wipe deep between her cheeks.  She started at the bottom and forcefully passed it up and through her crack.  Her ass cheeks were so full, the mass of flesh so abundant she actually had to slightly bend at the waist to prompt a natural spread of her glutes.

Lori definitely caught him looking down her shirt that time.

When the wipe came out the top, it left a small amount of moisture on her lower back as most of it was now all over her cheeks and in her crack.  She ran it back through once more for good measure.

The wipe landed in the wastebin adjacent to Lori’s bed with a dull, dry thud.

She thought to herself, ‘I’ll use one more…just to be really sure it’s okay for him in there’.

She opened another wipe and swiped cleaned the area deep between her cheeks, leaving one unopened wipe remaining. She could hear him squeaking but from her standing position, she was too far away from him to understand what he was trying to say to her. She lowered herself back to the floor, her stocking-clad knees now pressing into the carpet, the pale flesh of her inner thighs splaying wide as they pressed against her calves.

“Listen, Its not going to be that bad, I promise!  And I will take you out at about…”, she looked to the clock on her bedside. “…1PM.”  The tiny man followed her eyeline to the clock and shrieked,

“1PM?!?!? That’s like 2 hours!  I can’t do this! You can’t do this! Don’t put me in your ass! It’s too fucking big! I’ll die in there! Please don’t do this! I can’t do 2 hours! I CAN’T DO 2 HOURS!”

He started to cry.

‘My goodness…’, she thought as she stood back up, finished listening to him. ‘He’s crying about 2 hours…just 2 hours.  How is he going to react to knowing it’ll be a month of this…or three…or even more…’

“HELP!  SOMEONE HELP!  SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM THIS CRAZY FUCKING BITCH!”

She stood over him and looked down, frowning.  Clearly, he was trying to get the attention of one of her daughters, but she wasn’t worried about the girls hearing him anymore.  The nosiest of her daughters was out at her friend’s house and the other two were busy. Lori could barely even hear him, even as she stood over him like some kind of Goddess.  She reached down into the container, the tiny naked man still trying and failing to climb the side of the box.

He’d need her help to get out of that box…and she was happy to help him.

Lori wrapped her thick fingers around his body, ‘Goodness, he’s cold.’ She thought.

That must have been what the LED in the box was for, emitting heat or something to keep him warm in transit…and now that he wasn’t being warmed by the box…

’he needs to be warmed by this’, she thought, cupping her curvy ass cheek with her free hand.

She bounced it with two fingers underneath the cheek…it was quite heavy and the resulting bounce was persistent.

He struggled very briefly in her tight grip, but relented almost immediately when he realized there was no way he would overpower her. He was still trying to speak, but Lori wasn’t interested in listening anymore.  She had given him plenty of time to talk, and anything else he could say would either hurt her feelings or make this harder than it already was.

Neither was constructive.

It was best just to get it over with.

“I know that this is scary, but there are some incredibly bright minds behind this, and they are all concerned with your safety!  Dr. Walker would not have given you to me to go in my…well…to go with me if she didn’t think it would be safe.  I promise you will be okay…and I will check on you in 2 hours okay?”

Lori didn’t wait for a response, although he was surely responding.  Instead, she lowered her fist to the back of her panties, just as she did with the wipe. She used her free hand to slowly pull the waist band of her nylons and then her underwear away from her lower back.  She looked over her shoulder as her right hand sank into the waistband, escorting the tiny person into the confines of her black underwear. She frowned as he snagged the waistband with his armpit, trying to resist the inevitable.  It was a simple fix on her part: she simply lifted him up until he lost grip on the soft black cotton, pulled the waistband further out, and then lowered him back down. He was in her panties now…

She straightened her neck, which was getting sore, and was now closing her eyes, focusing on the feeling.  The fingers that had held the first door, the panties, had been relieved by the back of Lori’s hand.  Those same fingers were twisting and rushing ahead to open the next door.  They had their work cut out for them: they needed to pull her enormous left ass cheek away from the right.  Lori imagined what the sight must be like for him, to see those two pale fleshy mountains…quite literally hundreds or maybe even thousands of tons of soft cushiony flesh to him…parting right before his eyes, revealing a deep abysmal cleft.

She adjusted her fist-grip on the tiny man and switched to hold him with just her thumb and index finger.  With her other hand, she sunk her fingers deeper into the plush cushion of her ass cheek and brought her fingers down to her palm, dragging flesh with them.  Once the flesh was pulled to her palm, she held it steady with her palm and re-extended her fingers, grabbing more flesh and widening the gap between her cheeks. In just the same way heat had escaped the tiny protective dome, Lori’s protective cheeks were emanating body heat, but so much more than what was in the dome.

The squeaking was getting more and more frantic.  The scent of the lavender that had been buried in her bottom was tickling her nostrils.  Once her cheeks were parted, she slowly brought the tiny man into the gap, feeling his flailing against her fingers as she had since he entered her underwear, and now she felt them against the sensitive, supple flesh of her glutes.  Starting out on the outside of her cheeks, the struggling gradually went deeper and deeper as he himself was escorted deeper and deeper by her right hand, until finally he was as deep as he could go.  The squeaking got more frantic, but was slightly harder to hear.

“I’m….I’m going to let you go now…okay?” she said to him nervously.

She cautiously started to release him, hoping that he wouldn’t fall but even if he did, he would land in the safety net that was the crotch of her underwear. The squeaking got more and more intense.  He didn’t fall.  As her fingers released pressure on the man, so too did her finger’s grip on her hefty cheek.  She was trading the applied force to the tiny man from her hand’s grip to her cheek’s desire to hang in its normal position against its twin, and finally she was no longer holding him with her hand.  The squeaking got more intense as the hand that had guided him in began to retreat from her crack.

Her empty right hand emerged from her underwear, no tiny man in sight.  She could, however, still hear a very muffled squeaking; it sounded worlds away.

She was still parting her enormous butt cheeks.

“Okay…now I’m going to let….it go now..I’m going to do it slowly so don’t worry.” She said in a voice meant to soothe and relax the tiny man now nestled in her rear.

The 37-year old slowly allowed her hefty, eager left glute to return fully to its resting position, firmly pressed against its twin, sandwiching the naked man deep between…

…and the squeaking completely stopped.

Lori was holding him firmly in place…without even trying…completely safe and sound.  She looked over her shoulder at her sizable rump, pulling the black waistband and peering down…he was completely hidden in her bottom.

She could feel his little kicks and struggles and considering the sensitivity of the area, her heart skipped a beat. The first thing she noticed when her cheeks closed was just how cold his tiny little body was.  The cold quickly dissipated though, hungrily gobbled up by her immensely warm crack and dissipated with little consequence or impact by her warm, fleshy cheeks. Seconds after entering her crack, his temperature was increased to match hers.

Lori felt a little weak at the knees, but she dare not sit down.  This was already so much for him to go through. He had only ever experienced this with a younger girl, a bottom not quite so large, and probably the biggest difference: it was on top of the clothes!

Unlike with the young intern that prepared him for this, he was in direct contact with Lori’s skin…and not just in direct contact…every square millimeter of his body was being hugged by her big, pillowy buns.

‘Thank god it smells nice, at least.’ Lori thought, her left hand no longer holding her ass cheek spread but still in contact with it. She gently patted her ass as if to commend it on a job well done, and then she reached into the box for the Rear-Housing Guide.  She leafed through the pages, stopping when she saw a sketched diagram of womens’ underwear.

“Oh, this one is about the underwear.” She said, looking over at the neatly folded maroon and white pair of full-coverage underwear she’d seen earlier. leaning her hip against her dresser as she read:

"During the introductory phase of rear-housing, it is important that the subject is snug and secure in the Participant’s rear end.  There is no period of time where the subject will be at more of a risk of dislodging from the rear end, either by accident or design, than in the introductory phase.  For that reason, participants are issued two sets of “training underwear”.

These undergarments are designed specifically to compress the participant’s buttocks to a remarkable degree.  This will ensure the subject is unable to move or become dislodged from deep within the gluteal cleft.  It is recommended that participants wear the training underwear on-and-off for as long as she deems necessary for the subject’s safety and continued confinement in her rear end. It may feel uncomfortable at first, since the undergarments are sized to be quite tight on the rear, but wearing them conveys the right message to the subject about safety and expectation!"

Lori took a deep breath.  It took awhile to read the instructions since she was distracted by the sensation deep inside.

“Okay..I guess I’ll try these then…I’m sorry, dear…”, she said, stepping out of her well worn black underwear.  The gentle inward pressure that her black underwear had exerted on her cheeks had relented as they were lowered, and now her rear hung a bit more freely…more than it did when she was in her 20’s.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me but things might get a little tight.” Lori lifted the maroon undergarments, pinching them between four fingers and sized them up.

‘Goodness, they’re small. I don’t think I’ve worn underwear this small since I was in college.’ She mused.

The 37-year old mother of three lowered the underwear to the ground and started to step in, careful not to bend over too far, lest her large, bare cheeks naturally part and release its treasure.

She stepped both nylon clad feet into the maroon panties and slowly started pulling up.

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 5 - Lunch, Laundry, and Little Secrets

[September 22, 2005]

The underwear felt reasonably comfortable against Lori Warren’s fingers.  They were nowhere near the same quality as what she was used to wearing but Lori reminded herself that this underwear, unlike hers, had a very specific, unique purpose.  After both of her feet were in the leg holes and the panties static near her knees, Lori closed her eyes for a moment and focused on her bare bottom…more than she ever needed to in her life.

She permitted her consciousness to ignore everything else except the sensory input of her cheeks, and then Lori allowed her perceptions to drift between them.

Lori could not feel him.

Her eyes darted down to the panties between her knees, an obvious landing zone for the shrunken man if he had plummeted from her crack.  Lori inspected the hammock created between her thick thighs for any signs of the little man.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t there.

Her eyes continued down to the floor between her feet…not there either.

She waddled over to the mirror and looked over her shoulder, ready to pry her enormous pale cheeks apart. Her fingers had sunk into the pillowy flesh when she felt a strong kick in the deepest area of her crack.

Lori sighed in relief.

He was still there.  He was still okay.

She took the opportunity to stare over her shoulder into the mirror at her naked backside. She could definitely understand where his apprehension came from, even though it still hurt her feelings. Afterall, her backside was quite large.  Even her ex-husband, a burly man who stood over 6’-5”, would have needed 4 more copies of his giant hands to properly grope and grab all that flesh at once.

Lori cupped her right ass cheek and gently jiggled it.

‘I’ll bet just one of my cheeks is bigger than Brandi’s whole backside’, she thought, frowning.

Lori’s bottom had, as she liked to put it with her daughters, “slightly more than a hint of a suggestion of cellulite”. It was far less than what some of her long-time girlfriends had acquired over the years but more than enough to make her self-conscious.  Her cheeks were also incredibly pale, as she had always opted to cover them entirely when at the beach. Even aside from those facts, there was just no getting around it:

‘My bottom is huge’, Lori thought.

Her cheeks were massive in the sense that they were very wide and tall, despite having a relatively normal sized waist, at least for a 37-year old!  Her cheeks also protruded quite far out from her waist, lending to her aptitude for the study considering how much cushion was available.  She took a step back toward her bedroom wall and started leaning slowly toward it until she felt her round cheeks make contact.  Upon inspection, she saw that despite her butt cheeks lightly touching the cold wall, her back was nowhere near it.  It was one thing to have a large derriere…plenty of young women were embracing it these days, but most of those young women had shapely, toned, tight glutes.  If her bottom wasn’t so…soft…and jiggly…maybe she would be less insecure.

In the face of her insecurities, she reminded herself of what Dr. Walker had said:

“the bigger and softer the buttocks, the more safe, snug, and secure the subject will be.”

She repeated it within her mind as if it were a mantra. An axiom.  A universal truth.

The frown turned into a semblance of a proud smile; maybe her bottom wasn’t the most attractive one out there, but it was clearly perfect for this…perfect for him…according to Dr. Walker, at least. The jiggling of her hefty glute intensified under the influence of her two fingers as they rhythmically bounced under the heavy mass of pale flesh.  She gasped, feeling the struggles in her crack intensify in response to the stimulation.

‘Maybe I can communicate with him in this way…if I decide to keep him in for longer periods of time’, Lori thought.

She slid her two fingers from the underside of her right cheek to the outside of it, and then her left hand to the left cheek.  She slowly started pressing her hands together, and the doughy pale flesh had nowhere to go but inward, compressing her soft buns and deepening her gluteal cleavage.  She wanted to see how the compression would affect him, and yes the struggling intensified even further, but really how long could he keep that up?  The poor thing only had so much energy.

She relented and the struggling weakened…and then she squeezed again, and the struggling came back.

“I’m just—” she interrupted herself with a sigh, realizing that the chances of her voice being able to get through all that dense, pillowy flesh was not likely.

Lori ever-so-slightly spread her plump cheeks, prying the pale flesh apart just enough for what she thought would allow her voice to permeate throughout her crack.

“I’m just testing to see if you’ll be okay for the next part…and good news, I think you will”, she said right before releasing her dense cheeks, sealing him back up in darkness, silence, warmth, and cushion.

It was like walkie-talkies, instead of saying “over”, she just let go of her glutes; she had a very discrete giggle over that.

Lori resumed the arduous task of hiking the tight maroon underwear up over her massive derriere. The material fluttered against her knees but started meeting some serious resistance around her upper thighs.

‘Oh, dear’, she thought, tugging several times, ‘It's so tight and…I haven’t even gotten them past my thighs yet…’.

It was true; the underwear was snug, nearly digging against her upper thighs. The undersides of her cheeks, under the evil influence of gravity, were slightly concealing the maroon waistband.  The constricting underwear did not cut off circulation though; the material had some remarkable elasticity, and she knew if she could just pull hard enough, she…….could……..get it……

”Oooff”, the pear-shaped woman grunted, managing to work the waistband up to the bottom 1/5th of her enormous, round globes before one of her hands slipped off.

It would only get harder from here on out, working against the impossibly steep incline of her protruding cheeks.  Lori suspected he could already tell what was happening; perhaps not exactly that she was putting on underwear, but that her big, soft, hopefully comfy and fragrant cheeks were now beginning to undergo an extraordinary degree of compression.  She continued with trepidation, feeling the frantic movement get stronger; it tickled a fair amount, but it wasn’t overwhelmingly distracting.

Lori took a few deep breaths as she continued fighting the swell of her glutes, another 1/5th of the way up.  Out of breath and beginning to sweat, she never was one for physical fitness or exerting herself beyond what was necessary. The thought of her crack beginning to sweat while the poor boy was tucked away in there was enough justification to abort this strenuous activity.

Pulling them down was way easier than pulling them up, and they came down much quicker.  Yes, it was necessary for the next step of his “acclimation” to be tightly compacted by her cheeks, but Lori decided it was just too much too quick.

This was already such a big day for him…for the both of them.  There would be plenty of time for this.

‘I’ll try again another time, no need to rush right now.’ She justified, her bulbous cheeks exploding out of their partial confines of the tight underwear and jiggling rebelliously, as if to mock the single mom for thinking she could contain them.

Lori grabbed a clean pair of her light blue, satin, full coverage underwear and pulled them up.  They effortlessly slid over her bottom, and while they were much more loose and cozy than the training underwear, they still were tight enough to slightly compress her cheeks.

‘If he wasn’t safe and sound before, he is now.’, she justified, giving a look at herself in the mirror.

She grabbed a clean pair of black ankle socks and nearly sat down on her bed, stopping a few inches before making contact.

‘Oh, I can put these on standing,’ she thought, finding a way to make things just a little bit easier for the little man buried in her bottom.  The socks were dry, clean, and felt nice against her skin.  She pulled on a well-fitting pair of yoga pants overtop her underwear and a comfy t-shirt to complete the home-from-work look. She quickly ran a brush through her shoulder-length black hair and left her bedroom.

The 37-year old never been so aware of just how much her cheeks bounced and jiggled when she walked, not until she had to conceal something between them.  Remembering herself and her responsibilities outside of this tiny man, she saw Gina’s pale pink laundry hamper out by her bedroom door.  She grabbed it off the floor, carrying it over toward Isabella violet hamper and Victoria’s teal hamper, both also positioned outside their respective bedroom doors.

Lori had always enjoyed doing laundry; it was just one of those relaxing activities she found early on in life, so it didn’t bother her to do all the laundry in the house. Her girls were getting older and more independent every day.  One day, they’d leave the nest, and she would taste the bitter-sweetness of that reality when that day came.  Today, however, she’d help them in one of many ways a mother could.  She stacked Gina’s hamper atop Isabella’s and then the two atop Victoria’s before picking up all three.  Luckily there wasn’t too much clothing in any of them, otherwise she’d have to take more than one trip.

Once she reached the staircase, each step was its own mini explosion of force traveling up her foot, vibrating through her calf, rippling through her thigh, and creating waves of jiggling motion throughout the soft flesh of her cheeks, chaotic yet rhythmic waves.  She immediately adjusted on the third step, allowing her joints and knee to absorb more of the pressure and impact of a slow descent, as if she were sneaking down the stairs.  This helped a little, lessening the jiggling of her enormous, fleshy spheres.  After half the staircase, however, her knees were burning, and she had gradually returned to a normal pattern of movement.

She gratefully reached the last step and experienced the last extreme bounce of her glutes; now she was back to the regular bouncing.  Lori wanted to make this easier for him and she felt like she was already failing.  She briefly dedicated all her attention to her crack, felt the tiny man still moving and sighed in relief.  As long as he was okay, they could figure it out. It was going to be a clumsy process, lots of mistakes for sure…but she could be patient if he could.  Lori tucked the negative emotions away and tried to proceed as if everything was normal.

Nothing had changed downstairs, for she had not been gone that long despite how long it felt in her head.  Gina was still nowhere to be seen, presumably still in her bedroom.  Victoria was still watching TV and Isabella appeared to have switched from Math homework to English, snacking on sliced bananas.  Lori’s world had mostly remained the same during this short adventure, but Lori herself felt different and it was obviously all due to her new little stowaway.

Lori walked between Victoria and the TV, for the first time feeling self-conscious.

She was convinced that Victoria simply must be staring at her big, wobbling ass. It didn’t matter that Lori had walked by the TV hundreds of times in the past with no indication that Victoria was staring…Victoria must be staring now…

…and then Victoria must obviously see the tiny little lump of a man buried in her bottom, even though that tiny little lump is tucked as deep between her ass cheeks as it can go.

…therefore, Lori’s youngest and least observant daughter has obviously surmised the tiny little lump immersed in all that bouncing and jiggling flesh is in fact a shrunken person.

…all that’s left from there is the logical conclusion, beyond all reasonable doubt, that her mother is intentionally keeping a shrunken person tucked up between her ass cheeks.

As her mind felt like it was catching fire, Lori’s feet went from the plush carpet to the hardwood floor of the dining room, and she noticed that Victoria hadn’t said anything. In reality, Victoria had only darted her head a bit to see the TV around her mother as she walked by, but her focus remained on the TV the entire time.  Lori sighed in relief and felt a bit silly as she entered the semi-privacy of the laundry room, emptying the contents of the three small hampers into the washing machine. The three bins of laundry all combined in a colorful blend of delicate fabric.

It was an especially silly thought, of course, considering the fact that all three girls had more-or-less inherited Lori’s figure—the youthful version—with some slight differences. Of all people that could find a big, bouncing butt pretty run-of-the-mill, the Warren household was the most likely.  Victoria seemed to have most closely inherited the Warren figure, not like Isabella who was tall and petite, albeit with breasts far larger than her mother’s or sisters’. Gina was somewhere between the two sisters, but all three seemed to more or less take after their mother’s and their grandmother’s figure in the “hips and rear” department.

“Vicky the most, then Gina, then Bella”, Lori recalled her mother stating last year during a Christmas get-together that involved a little too much wine.

Once the laundry was in, she started next with making lunch for her and the girls.  She would finish off the last of the chicken fingers and french fries in the freezer.

‘Oh wow’, she thought to herself.

It had been 5-10 minutes and she had not thought about the subject at all.  She focused for a moment and could still feel some random movements here and there, not so much struggling as it might have been the little guy trying to get comfortable.  She assumed that movement had been there all along, but the normal day-to-day operations of her life had distracted her from him. There was only so much a woman could focus on, and a persistent, faint but slightly pleasnt tickle in the crack was clearly toward the bottom of that list of priorities.

Lori was relieved that the inevitable vertical shifting of her cheeks that resulted from walking didn’t seem to harm him.  Sure, it might have generated some friction on his body, but since her crack was still slightly damp from the cleaning product, the friction wasn’t even a concern in her mind.  Frankly, none of it should have been.

‘Stop worrying. He’s safe’, she told herself. Surely Dr. Walker had confirmed that the act of women walking was not harmful to a subject in her backside…and clearly her subject was fine.

Lori turned the oven on preheat and set the frozen food on the counter.  She bent down to open the lower cabinet where she kept the shallow baking pans and then lowered into a full squat to grab it from the back.  Her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat.  She was immediately reminded of an answer Dr. Walker had given to her during their second call:

“That’s a great question, Ms. Warren. Sometimes our day-to-day activities call for us to move into positions that seem less-than-ideal for alternative housing, but this is actually one of the reasons why rear-housing is so favored.  Consider the moment you squat…your buttocks will be forced to spread, which one might think would result in the subject becoming dislodged from your gluteal cleft.  This is reasonable to think since the buttock cleavage practically disappears.  But for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  As you squat and your buttocks spread, they take up more volume within their clothing confinement…think back to any moment when you squatted, perhaps even try it right now, and you will see that the material of your undergarments will stretch to accommodate the increased dimensions of your posterior.  As the seat of your underwear stretches, it will “dig” between your buttocks, effectively pinning the subject to the deepest wall of your gluteal cleft, and he will remain pinned until you stand back up, allowing your glutes to return and surround him once more.”

It was true when she tested it over the phone, and it was true now.  She felt her enormous cheeks spread apart and also expand from displacement, but she also felt the pressure of her underwear and her yoga pants firmly pressing the subject against her asshole, as if to say, “Oh, no you don’t.  You’re not going anywhere.”

The sensation would have brought her to her knees if she were standing straight up.  Lori took a few breaths, encouraging her heartbeat to slow back down.  She stood back up, her face a little flush as she looked to her middle child still working diligently at the dining room table.  Isabella had not looked up from her homework.  Lori discretely addressed the deep wedgie, careful to make sure she only pulled out from her crack what she wanted, and made sure to leave and not disturb what belonged and needed to remain in there.

The object that belonged in there must have been briefly grabbing onto the material of her panties when they were unwedged from her crack…or perhaps he was momentarily tangled in them, because he was pulled slightly away from her asshole.  She welcomed his departure from the sensitive location, and yet she was still content with his depth in her crack.

The perks of having a lot of cushion back there, she supposed.

Despite how confusingly wonderful it felt, it didn’t feel right...not here…not now.  She felt confused and a little guilty, especially considering her daughters were right there, but she did her best not to focus on it…or on him.

Lori called Gina downstairs several times, and on the 3rd attempt, Gina’s footsteps could be heard against the staircase.  Victoria was giggling, presumably about Gina’s private phone call, to which Gina rolled her eyes and told her to shut up. Isabella packed up her homework, having just finished it in time, and stuffed everything into her already overstuffed black and pink schoolbag.

Lori set the table for lunch.

The 37-year old stared reluctantly at the chair as the three girls sat nonchalantly in their seats and began eating.  Lori thought back to when she purchased them nearly a decade ago and now wished she had opted for the seat cushions.

Lori retreated to the living room for a moment and returned to the dining room with a temporary solution.

“What’s that for?” Isabella said between bites to her mother.

Lori looked down at the small couch pillow in her hands.  She gently placed the pillow on the center of the hard wooden chair at the head of the table, adjacent to Isabella, “Oh, I did an awful lot of sitting today, I need somewhere soft to park my fanny”.

The 37-year old mother of three centered her wide bottom over the wooden chair, wiggling it slightly to ensure it was properly aligned with the cushion and slowly began lowering it.  She felt her cheeks contact and compress into the cushion as the cushion also compressed under her weight.  Her bottom was quite wide and getting wider as her cheeks splayed, and they spilled in symmetrical excess over each side of the chair.  Not even half of her weight was down before she felt the frenzy of kicking and struggling pick back up again.  Reflexively, Lori leaned over so that one of her ass cheeks would rise from the seat, lessening the pressure on the tiny man but also burdening her single glute with all of her weight.

“Hemorrhoids”, Victoria speculated out loud. Her theory caused her mother to gasp, Gina to shake her head, and Isabella to giggle, which was quickly concealed by her hand.

“Victoria Grace!” Lori said with genuine shock and anger.

Victoria had quite a personality and often liked to joke, but as with most jokesters who are always trying to find the line, she occasionally went too far.

“That is NOT funny…and it’s also not true!” Lori said sternly, staring until Victoria’s proud grin turned to a frown.

“Okay, sorry Mom I was just kidding.” Victoria said, returning to her food.

It was uncomfortable sitting the way she was, her right leg crossed over her left, her right ass cheek hanging freely right above the seat…but the subject responded by calming down a little bit, so perhaps it was worth it. She tried not thinking about it as she ate her food and listened to the girls’ chatter.  Gina was excited about starting college soon, bragging about what she’d heard from older friends and the college advisers about dorm life.  Isabella was a straight A student and talked about how as of this quarter, every one of her classes were AP.  Victoria wasn’t quite as academic but was very active in some school clubs.

Lori had big hopes that all three would go off to college; she had to work way harder and swallow a lot more pride to get to where she was than she would have had to if she had just went to college when she was their age.  She considered it a motherly duty to set her daughter’s up for a good life, a life better and easier than her own.

Gina was going to college.

Isabella was almost certainly going…to an ivy league university no doubt.

She was sure she could convince Victoria to attend as well. There was plenty of time for that though.

Amidst the conversation, she would sometimes forget about the subject and start to center her weight back over the chair.  The frenzy of movement quickly brought her back to the reality of the situation and reminded her why she was sitting slanted. Lori begrudgingly and promptly returned to the uncomfortable position that seemed to be easier on the subject.  She couldn’t help but find it amusing that anyone on the outside looking in would see a mother and her three daughters calmly and quietly eating lunch, but in reality there was a 5th person there that no one could see…and no one in the room knew about except her.  It was an interesting, somewhat exciting reflection. She wondered if he could hear them all talking.

She looked at her watch, it was almost 1PM.  It had been nearly two hours since she wedged the tiny naked man between her bare ass cheeks.  She put the girl’s empty plates in the dishwasher and promptly adjourned to her room, once again bouncing the whole way up the stairs.  She mused at the realization that soon enough, the tiny man would probably develop an awareness of where Lori was and what she was doing based solely off the motion of her bottom. That was also an interesting thought she had not considered before.

There would certainly be times in the future when she might want to warn him or prepare him for something…perhaps she could communicate through discretely jiggling her cheeks.  All it would take was a light bouncing of two fingers…

Heck, I could probably just go on my tip toes and then let my heels fall a little bit’, she mused.

Communicating one-way with him through jiggling…she’d have to explore that in the future. It was kind of thrilling to think about someone getting so intimate and familiar with her routine that he could identify it simply by the rippling waves traveling through her bottom.

In a strange way, it made her feel important…special, even.

Once back up in her bedroom, she cupped her generous globes, gently squeezing them and releasing them together a few times to let him know…or rather…hoping to communicate to him that something was about to happen.  She took off her yoga pants and folded them neatly on the foot of her bed.  An empty hand disappeared into the waistband of her panties and she got goosebumps, parting her cheeks with her other hand, and inserted two fingers between them. She felt around in her crack for a few moments, eyes on the ceiling and biting her lower lip.

Lori sighed in relief when she found him.  He was nice and warm, and his frenetic movement of all four limbs told her that he was perfectly safe…protected by the cushion of her soft glutes. Her hand left her panties like a crane machine that had claimed a prize, and the prize went straight up to her face.  As he got closer to her ears, she could make out his squeaking more clearly.

--again!  Please!  That was terrible! I almost died in there!”

He said a few more things, a lot of what he’d said before.  It hurt Lori immensely when she’d heard it first but she forced herself to be a little more numb to it.  The interesting thing was that his tone was very different now.  He wasn’t as angry as before; there was much more desperation in his voice, but there was still anger.  She raised him within a few inches from her face and took a deep breath through her nose.

‘Lavender’, she thought with a smile.

Mostly lavender, anyway.

The subject got timidly quiet as the air she inhaled rushed around his body, ripping scent molecules off his skin.  Once she exhaled and smiled, however, his period of silence ended.  He began shouting and kicking at her fingers, but at least there were no insults.

“You did so good in there, hon. I’m very proud of you.  And don’t worry, we didn’t go a single second over 2 hours” Lori said with a smile, congratulating herself on being so fair with him and keeping her promise.

“Please, Lori! Please don’t ever make me do that again. I’m done with this..I don’t care about any of it…tell them they can keep the money…this wasn’t worth the money even after the first day. Even after the first 5 minutes with the bimbo! I can’t do this anymore!”

Lori frowned at the man but continued to listen.  He seemed to get more anxious, believing he was on the brink of convincing her.

She thought it tragic that he was trying to leverage a premature exit from the experiment by surrendering his compensation, something Dr. Walker touched on in their call…

“Good question, Ms. Warren. Yes, we do compensate the subjects as well, they receive 45% of the participant flat-rate weekly compensation, which is $90…but on a bi-weekly basis.  Unlike participants, we cap them out at this rate; even if a subject is assigned to a participant for life, he is still only eligible to receive $90 bi-weekly for the duration of his housing.  On that note, when you receive your first check or direct deposit, you will notice that you actually receive two checks/deposits, and they will both be in your name.  Residing in your bottom would make it difficult for the subject to take the necessary steps to accept the funds and spending the money is obviously problematic.  It’s just easier to put everything in the name of the participant; she is already in charge of every facet of his life, why not finances as well?”

“I’ll…I’ll……ooo!  I PROMISE I will sign whatever they want me to.  I won’t sue, I won’t make any trouble..just tell them to grow me back, please!!! I won’t take a dime of the money! Hell, YOU can even have it, I don’t care!”

Lori cringed sympathetically at the tiny naked man’s bargaining attempts.

“Yes, Ms. Warren.  At that point, it technically is all your money.  I would be lying if I said that most participants do not opt to just merge the funds.  Far be it for me to give financial advice, but I believe you are in a far better position to use that money than he is.  Just a thought!”

Lori thought for a moment how to respond to the tiny man’s desperate propositions…already knowing what her answer was before he completed the question, but taking some time to phrase it properly.

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.  I’m sorry.” She said, trying to stay upbeat.  “Just think..” she trailed off. She was going to tell him to just think about the money, but she didn’t want to give him false hope.

Maybe she’d have to explain it to him one day, but she knew today was not the day.

Lori sighed and didn’t bother capping the end of her trailed-off sentence.  Instead, she grabbed the tiny purple box lined with pink felt from the shipping box she received and opened the flap,

“….Sweety, I have to run a few errands but don’t worry, you’ll be safe here!” She tickled his tiny ribs with her index finger, “I think after all that hard work, you’ve definitely earned a little break!”

His jaw dropped and it was difficult to tell for sure, but it looked like his eyes were welling up.

“A….break?” He asked, sounding defeated.

She didn’t give him an answer; she didn’t think he needed one.

‘Things were pretty clear’, she thought.

Lori held the tiny man over the opening of the box and gently dropped him inside and heard a light cardboard thud when he hit the bottom.

She peered in and said with a smile, “I’ll be back soon, kay?”.

The flap of the lid shut securely and Lori was about to set it down when she noticed the unlit LED.  “Oh yeah…” she thought, remembering back to the pink LED in the shipping box.  She assumed it was for temperature and sure enough, that is exactly what the Rear Housing Guide said it was for:

Most subjects have varying degrees of Permanent Cold Temperature Intolerance (PCTi), an unfortunate consequence of imparting a lesser requirement for oxygen through biological and genetic manipulation. During those rare moments when rear-housing is not viable and your alternate is also not available, deposit the subject in the Enclosed HeatBox. Once sealed, activate Enclosed HeatBox warming function by pressing and holding the LED button until LED blinks.

She pressed and held the button. After 2 seconds, she heard a light chirp and the previously unlit LED was now blinking pink.  She stuck a few fingers in, being careful not to hurt the tiny man, and felt the temperature slightly increasing. Satisfied that he would be safe here, she re-sealed the box and even wrapped a hair tie around the top to make sure it would stay shut and therefore warm.  She set the box in her underwear drawer and shut the drawer.

Lori plopped down heavily onto the bed, sighing in relief as the mattress groaned noisily beneath her.  Burdening her single cheek with supporting her entire weight was uncomfortable, but her entire butt was more than up to the task of supporting her weight. She gently caressed and kneaded the cushion of her glute muscle for relief.  She then slid a pair of denim jeans on. They hugged her curves to an extent that she deemed too difficult for the little subject to handle so early on in their adventure, hence the yoga pants earlier.

She had gotten paranoid just before leaving her bedroom, worrying that he might somehow be discovered.  She returned to her dresser and opened the drawer, pulling a bit too hard which caused the box to slide a bit.  Lori lifted several pairs of her underwear and laid them overtop the box to hide it, and for good measure she draped one of her bras over it as well.  Content with her job hiding her buried treasure, she turned out her lights and shut the door to her bedroom. She bounced freely down the steps and told the girls she would be back soon.

~

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 6 - Halfway Done

[September 22, 2005]

Lori wiped her brow, grudgingly walking across the blacktop parking lot of her final department store.  She sighed contently as she got into her parked car, allowing her wide bottom to sink into and fill the driver’s seat.  She had been on her feet for a few hours now, initially planning only to return some blouses but never one to pass up on a sale, Lori ended up visiting several stores.  Despite having spent decades of her life walking around and living her life without a tiny, naked man buried between her cheeks, Lori couldn’t help but feel strange as her cheeks rubbed rhythmically up against…nothing. They bounced against only each other.  It was interesting what just 2 hours had done to her muscle memory.

It felt nice to take the weight off her feet and center her wide hips evenly on the cushiony leather. She would’ve liked to turn on her favorite feature: the seat warmers, but she figured she had already had enough of a…workout…with all that walking; her subject was already going back into her bottom when she got home, for at least another 2 hours…she didn’t need to make things worse for the poor thing. She had visited the bank, picked up a few groceries, and with the last errand crossed off her list, it was time to go home.

Lori Warren walked in the door, greeted again by the wonderful cinnamon scent of the living room as she set her keys on the end table and neatly lined her sneakers up next to the mess that was her daughter’s footwear.  Gina and Isabella were on the couch watching a movie. Sure enough, all of Isabella’s school work was neatly tucked into her pink and black backpack and put away along with any trash she may have generated while studying.

“Groceries are in the car, girls.” Lori said, setting her bags of clothing from the mall down next to her sneakers.

Isabella turned her head from the movie to her mother.

“Did you get honey buns??” she asked energetically and sweetly.  Gina was also interested in the answer.

Lori smiled and nodded, “Backseat.”

Gina paused the movie and both girls jumped up from the couch, moving quickly toward the door. While Isabella hastily slid her feet into her black flip flops, Gina opted to run out in her bare feet.  The two girls laughed as they raced to get the bags, and Lori smiled as they brushed past her. She wanted nothing more than to relax but figured she should take her clothing upstairs first.  She placed the several bags on her dresser, briefly looking at her underwear drawer.

She didn’t open it.  Maybe he needed a little more time. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he earned it.

The dining room and kitchen were filled with the distinct rustling of paper and plastic bags, growing more clear to Lori as she descended the steps. Curious, nimble young fingers were undoubtedly searching for treasure, and then she heard the crinkling of plastic wrappers.  Lori entered the living room as Gina and Isabella entered from the kitchen, sticky glazed honey buns in hand, and the three approached the couch.  Isabella sat down on her feet with a ceramic plate on her lap, her honey bun cut up into smaller pieces so as not to damage her braces.

As the girls settled back into their movie and their delicious sugary snack, Lori got comfortable on the chase and squinted at the screen.

“What is this?” She asked as Isabella pressed play.

“27 Dresses, we didn’t get that far into it yet”, Gina said.

“Yeah we can start it over for you, Mama.” Isabella added.

“Thanks sweety, that’d be great.”

Lori set her sock clad feet up on the chase and sighed, they were warm and pulsing from the work they’d done and weight they’d carried, and the sensation almost felt nice.

“Where’s Vicky?”

The moment the question left Lori’s throat, she felt a lump growing in its void.  When Lori went upstairs earlier, she hadn’t checked Victoria’s room to see if she was home. What was more alarming: she hadn’t taken the time to confirm that the subject was still safe in sound in her underwear drawer!  Her mind flooded with visions of Victoria’s pounding footfalls up the steps…and the mischievous teenager sneaking into her mother’s room and opening the underwear drawer. She pictured that playful grin spread across Victoria’s cherubic face as she purposefully took the tiny little box into her own bedroom.

…and that deafening sound of the devious teenager locking her bedroom door.

Lori got as far as putting her tired feet back on the ground ready to explode up and confirm her irrational paranoia when Gina plainly replied, “I think she went to Sasha’s tonight.”

“Ohhh, that’s right.” A sigh escaped Lori’s lips as she put her feet back up.

‘God, it’s truly exhausting to worry about him.’ Lori thought.

She rather enjoyed the movie, and any time Lori could spend with her girls was always a treat for her.  Once the movie was over, Lori was ready to get back on her feet and continue with the evening.  She rolled her eyes, seeing the box of honey buns out and open, but only half of the groceries put away.  Lori instructed Isabella and Gina to put the groceries away and as they did, she transferred their wet laundry from the washer to the dryer.  Just like earlier, she squatted down to grab a pot from the back of the drawer.

Since Lori was wearing tight, stiff jeans, the material did not force itself as firmly into her crack as the thin yoga pants did.  Not that it mattered, since the tiny subject was not currently in her butt anyway. Still, this was something she would have to think about going forward.  Lori decided that even though the denim did not curve and arc to fit the deep contours of her crack, the stiffness of the material relatively forbade her large cheeks from separating. For this reason, she decided that when she returned him to her bottom, under her jeans, he would have remained perfectly wedged in her crack anyway with no effort on her end.

‘I’ll have to test that at some point,’ she thought to herself as she prepared a few chicken breasts, some stuffing, and green beans.

Lori set everything to cook and wiped the counter down. ‘Speaking of which…’ she thought, washing her hands. ‘I should probably go up and take care of that’.

Lori locked her bedroom door once more and rooted through the box with more diligence.  She had recalled Dr. Walker mentioning something called a DDM in one of their phone calls, but there was so much new information being presented (namely the idea of an adult man living in her backside) that it was easy to miss some things.

She set aside a few pamphlets, some that she would look at later, finally finding the Rear-Housing Guide.  Using the table of contents, she flipped to the section called “DDM”.  Lori creased the corner of the page, deciding that she would read it in a little while.

It was getting late and after going back and forth on it for most of the day, Lori had made the decision that the boy entrusted to her care would not be spending the night in her bottom. The decision of leniency on her part was not without consequence, however.

Since she was not going to force him to sleep in her crack, she had to get the full 6 hours in before it got too late. She tucked the Rear-Housing Guide into her back pocket and unbuttoned her stiff jeans but did not take them off. She just needed enough room to insert the last remaining lavender wipe, for she had been quite active while away.

She frowned as she grabbed the remaining wipe.  The seal was open and therefore, it was a little drier than the others.  She plunged it down the back of her jeans anyway, wiping at her fleshy spheres.  She wished she hadn’t used up so much precious moisture on the outer flesh, because by the time she plunged the wipe between her spherical cheeks, the wipe was nearly spent and much drier.  In fact, it came out more damp than it had entered!

She did her best, wiping vigorously to impart the remaining scent of lavender deep between her large glutes.  Lori hoped it would be enough as she deposited the spent wipe in the trash.

The box was right there in Lori’s underwear drawer, exactly right where she left it. She saw the pink hint of a light blinking through the thin mesh material of the panties that partially concealed the box. She had to constantly remind herself just how small and helpless he was.  It was a difficult concept to wrap her head around, something being so weak and needing her so much.  He was just…in there…waiting for her and only her.

Something about it was kind of exciting.

Her girls, so independent and grown up now, were nothing like this anymore.

‘I kind of miss it’, she thought to herself as she gently moved the bra and stack of underwear away from the box and lifted the box out of hiding. She opened the box and peered in.  Squinting up at the opening was the tiny man, right where she’d left him.  He was so cute.  She couldn’t help but smile to see him again, but she also hoped that their exchange this time would be…pleasant.

“Hello, my dear!  I hope you enjoyed your break.” She said cheerfully yet quietly, just in case Isabella or Gina could hear her.  “I’m sorry to say, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to go back now.” She said matter-of-factly, but sympathetically.

“No!!! Please don’t! You can’t!”, he exclaimed, staring helplessly up at her from inside the box.

The poor boy seemed frantic but also in deep, calculated consideration. He appeared torn on sinking into the box to get away from her and scrambling out of the box which would involve moving toward her.

“I’m sorry dear but I don’t have a choice here, that’s just what the experiment calls for”, Lori responded solemnly.  “I’m sure you understand.”

The box lightly flexed to accommodate as best it could two of Lori’s meaty fingers. Acknowledging that they were too thick and lacked the dexterity to pluck him out of such a small box, Lori cleverly turned the box upside down, pouring him into her soft palm.  The pink LED had stopped flashing, perhaps it detected his ejection and knew to turn off?  ‘Such fancy equipment’, she thought to herself

His skin was warm, as was the inside of the box so she was happy he had been comfortable.  He would start getting cold again soon though, no doubt…best to get him back to where the warmth is in abundant supply…and it doesn’t run out.

Lori’s jeans were still unbuttoned so she brought him right around back and pulled away the denim waistband.

She imagined what the view must be like for him, to see the waistband separate from her pale lower back. The sight would surely be epic…the jutting, epic globes squeezing tight enough to form that dark, defined cleavage he would soon be forced to separate and enter if only just enough for his tiny little body to fit. She was more comfortable this time, wedging him deep between her bare cheeks effortlessly. She hadn’t even bothered to separate the mounds of flesh this time, instead opting to gently yet firmly force his naked body into the cleavage. The area between her cheeks was damp…mostly from the wipe, so the lessened friction made his plunge easier.

Her big, cushiony cheeks reluctantly parted, but only enough to allow the tiny man entry into her crack.  She wondered if he was strong enough to make the journey into her bottom on his own, without the escort of her fingers.  She pulled an empty hand out of her jeans and firmly caressed one of her glutes, one of two big, fat guardian angels protecting him from the world and even from himself.  She rhythmically kneaded the flesh of her glutes for a few moments before she pulled the jeans up over her buxom booty and buttoned them up.

The stiffness of the jeans was even more noticeable now that he was sandwiched. It actually seemed to hold him better than the yoga pants and as she discovered from bouncing on her heels a few times, the reverberations of jiggling flesh throughout her glutes did not echo for nearly as long.  Clearly there were tradeoffs…pros and cons of being in her bottom when she wore jeans.  Perhaps it was uncomfortable for him in certain ways but better in others; either way, this would surely be a good learning experience for him.  She looked at her watch.  It was 6:30PM.

Lori also had another slightly silly thought.

She liked to think that her big, soft cheeks were protecting the most sensitive part of her body. Naturally, they’d view the intrusion of something so foreign as a little man as something to protect FROM.  But now, having met him and spent some time with him, her protective cheeks understood now that he wasn’t something that needed to be protected against.  He was the thing that needed protection…so maybe her cheeks accepted him between them.  Maybe that’s why it felt much more right this time.

‘That would probably blow the socks right off Dr. Livingston.’ Lori thought with amusement.

Lori could hear Gina’s very loud music coming from the other side of her bedroom door as she walked past.  On the other side of the staircase was Isabella’s bedroom door, which was open.  She peeked in to see her middle daughter already changed into a pair of pajama pants and a white spaghetti strap top. The teen was lying on her stomach in bed, pristine white socks pointed up at her ceiling fan while she read a college prep book.

“Dinner will be ready soon, Bella.” Lori said gently

When Isabella’s head rose from her book to sweetly acknowledge her mother’s notice, Lori was granted a momentary view of the teen’s prominent cleavage.  She was displaying way more than Lori would have liked her to, but at least it was sleepwear and not something she was wearing out to a party.  You had to pick your battles with teenagers.  She also had a fair amount of sympathy for Isabella.  The bigger you are, the less you can do to hide it. Lori knew that lesson well when it came to her rear.

Lori smiled back at her daughter, “Tell the Rockstar next door”.

Isabella giggled and nodded her head.

She tried her best again to make light foot falls on the way down the stairs to reduce the rampant jiggling of her cheeks. Not nearly as much focus was needed since the stiff denim did so well at anchoring the cushiony flesh a bit more in place, but they could not completely cancel out the jiggling. Lori couldn’t help but wonder how he might fare on a walk down the stairs if she were wearing nothing but her panties.  Goodness, the jiggling would be unregulated chaos!

She walked straight to the kitchen, focusing on the swaying of her wide hips and vertical swishing of her glutes against one another, rubbing up against the tiny man between them. His struggles felt as intense as ever during her walking, but the stiffness and compression of the restrictive denim prison made the struggling far less productive.  It was much easier to ignore.

The green beans and stuffing were finished but the chicken breasts needed just a little more time. Lori remembered the booklet in her jeans pocket and decided to take a look.  She wasn’t quite ready to sit down with all the pain that “one-cheek nonsense” brings just yet, so she turned her back to the counter and slowly leaned her butt back against it.

The point at which her butt pressed into the counter was higher than where the subject was positioned between her ass cheeks, so the added compression didn’t seem to directly affect him, which was a win-win situation since she could relieve a bit of weight off her feet.  As she leaned, she flipped through the book to the previously earmarked page describing the “DDM”:

Considering the goals of this experiment as they pertain to the female rear end and its proposed suitability as a long-term housing environment for size-reduced individuals, it likely comes as no surprise that we at RR Laboratories enforce minimum standards when it comes to rear-housing.  In this section, one such minimum standard are the daily time commitments of rear confinement.

Research has shown that while extended confinement session enforcement is necessary, there is not a “one-size-fits-all” when it comes to duration. Since we cannot standardize confinement duration, we ask that our Participants comply with what we call the “Dynamic Daily Minimum”.

The Dynamic Daily Minimum, or DDM, is a fluent, ever-evolving, minimum rear-end exposure goal that changes and hopefully increases as time passes.  Think of it as the minimum amount of time the subject should be confined between your buttocks on any given day.  For almost all participants, the DDM initiates on the first day of installation at 6 hours. This means that we strongly encourage our participants to confine their subjects completely between their buttocks for at least 6 cumulative hours per 24-hour period.  Another way to say it would be the subject should reside in your backside for 25% of his day at an absolute minimum, every single day.

Please be aware that in the event of any DDM shortcomings, R&R Labs will be made aware. This is possible due to the indications of rear exposure, as experienced by the subject, being picked up and monitored by our instrumentation. We have a team of interns whose main responsibility is monitoring this equipment and its subject exposure indicator readouts in order to confirm the DDM’s are met. If you are having continued issues, please do not try to hide it.  Dr. Walker is very approachable and would love to discuss the issue with you.

Beyond the initial hourly requirements, the evolution and specific progression of the DDM is entirely up to you as the participant.  Do not feel obligated to increase the DDM but do your best to never decrease! While we would prefer to see a gradual increase in the DDM over time, we understand that housing a subject in your bottom might be strange at first. We understand this may slow the rate of DDM growth.  Please work through this and understand that this is what is best for the experiment and for you as a participant. Not quite as high a priority, but it is also worth mentioning that it truly is what is best for the subject as well.  The sooner he can acclimate to and accept his new environment within the safety of your backside, the more convenient caring for him will become and the better off he will be.

Accordingly, the participant should understand that while we do enforce a minimum rear-confinement time, there is no maximum rear-confinement time.  Additionally, the participant should not feel like drastic increases in confinement time necessarily translate to a permanent increase in DDM.  However, general consensus has determined that the average increase in DDM hours per week during the introductory period is between 0.75 and 1.25 hours.

For example, suppose Jenna is in her second week of housing her subject, and during this week she observes a 6-hour DDM.  Halfway into the week, for whatever reason, Jenna finds it more convenient to confine the subject between her buttocks for a much longer period of time. She confines him in her backside for a straight 19-hours.  Going forward, Jenna is under no obligation to PERMANENTLY increase her DDM to 19-hours (although that would be wonderful!). That being said, if she had been confining her subject within her rear for 6-hours during that week, she might want to consider making best of this opportunity and increasing her DDM to 7 or 8 hours.

The most important thing to take away: the DDM is important and with effort, you are capable of following it and improving it!  If you are interested in learning about much longer DDM’s, please contact Dr. Carla Stanhope, head of the “99% club”.

‘Goodness..’, she thought. ’19 hours…’

It just seemed like such an impossibly long time.  She wondered how that would even be possible.  Lori reflected on having to adjourn to the restroom during her mall shopping, how would she have done that if the subject were with her in her bottom?  Sure, she could have removed him from her cheeks while she powdered her nose, but its not as if she could have just hopped in the shower afterward. Returning him to the area deepest between her cheeks immediately after doing…that….

‘Perhaps I’ll just have to carry those lavender wipes with me…wherever I go…’ she thought grimly, not enjoying the hassle, but what other alternative was there?

At least she had a clear understanding of what the DDM was now. She was relieved that she, being in her first work…heck…first day…was right on track as far as the DDM goes.  She figured she could keep up with the 6-hours per day of housing him between her butt cheeks, and even when the next week starts, upping his time in her bottom from 6-hours to 7-hours wouldn’t be so scary or impossible.

‘He’d barely even notice’, she thought as she donned some oven mitts and pulled out the chicken.

Lori inserted the digital thermometer into the cooked breast:

162°

‘Perfect’, she thought, taking the oven mitts off and preparing four plates.

One for her.

One for Gina.

One for Isabella.

And one for Victoria.

~

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 7 - Dinner and Bedtime

[September 22, 2005]

“Kids! Dinner!” Lori shouted vaguely in the direction of the stairs around the corner from the living room.

Timed almost perfectly to match the tightening of her diaphragm as she shouted, Lori felt a sudden tickle deep in her crack. She took the opportunity before her daughters came down to have a little laugh over what she believed had just happened. She wasn’t sure if her abrupt yell scared the poor thing or if the tightening of her core had made the large, powerful muscles in her glutes flex and scare him that way. She’d never considered how tightening her body to yell could have that kind of subtle effect on her backside, but if anyone was ever in any position to be so perfectly attuned to these minor fluctuations and changes, it was definitely the tiny person wedged between her cheeks.

Lori wondered what he could even hear deep in there…

‘My voice only?  Or maybe just the bass of my voice? My heartbeat?’, she pondered.

Perhaps she’d ask him later. She didn’t like the idea of him being scared, she just found the situation amusing, ‘but only because, in reality, he’s completely safe and sound where he is!’, she thought.

Lori heard a set of sneakers thumping chaotically down the steps and a set of soft, shuffling sock clad feet directly following them. Gina rounded the corner first, making her way to the kitchen cabinets while Isabella plopped down in her designated dining room chair, patiently waiting for Gina.  Lori was seated in her normal spot at the head of the table.  She’d already had the opportunity to delicately lower her abundant backside onto the cushioned chair in private to check once more to see if the boy currently living inside her bottom could handle her full weight, realized that he still could not, and then begrudgingly shifted over to one cheek again.  Unlike Isabella, Gina had not yet changed into her sleep attire; in fact the 18-year old had changed into a pair of light, ripped jeans and a small band t-shirt. Lori grumbled under her breath as Gina reached into one of the higher cabinets for an empty glass, causing her t-shirt to rise enough to show her tan midriff.

“Are you going somewhere?” Lori asked Gina.

Gina looked up from her food, “Yeah, Michael is having some people over to play pool in like a half-hour.”

Lori raised an eyebrow, “On a school night?”

Gina quickly swallowed her gulp of soda in order to reply as quickly as she could, “Yeah, but his mom is there so don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Lori pondered, changing her position so that now her other ass cheek was supporting her weight, allowing the tired one to hang freely right above the cushion.  “Okay, that’s fine…just make sure you’re back by midnight…”

Lori glanced over at Isabella, who was nibbling at her food like a dainty bird.

“...and bring your sister with you.”

Gina immediately looked at her mom in dramatic, gaped-mouth disbelief, then at her sister Isabella, “She wasn’t invited, Mom!  Plus, if Mrs. Johnson gets one look at Bella’s rack she’s gonna get all religious on us girls about being modest and covering up and crap! And then she’s gonna be all lame and watch the boys like a hawk!”

Lori sighed.  It really was a shame how cut-throat girls could be, even sisters.  They were very loving siblings, not even a full year apart in age.  They always stood up for each other when it really counted, or at least Lori remembered that to be the case and hoped it still was…but they were in constant competition.

Isabella sneered, swallowing her tiny bite of chicken, “It’s not like I would wear my sleepshirt”, she said with some sass.

Lori glanced again at Isabella’s top.  Isabella was showcasing an extraordinary amount of cleavage. In fact, seeing it closer now than she had when her daughter was in her room readin gher book, Lori  remembered purchasing that very sleepshirt for Isabella a few years ago. Lori recalled looking at the size and thinking there was no way her little Isabella could fill it out.

Time has a way of proving lots of people wrong about a lot of things.

Gina fired right back, “So what? You’d probably just change into something with even more cleavage. You’re always wearing those booby shirts”.

Isabella scoffed, her normally sweet and pleasant demeanor adjusting proportionately to match the rising nastiness of her older sister.  Her upper lip curled, “Oh yeah? Well at least I don’t—”

Their mother interrupted, diffusing the teenage hormone bomb before it blew up the house, “Okay that’s enough.”

Gina didn’t want anyone stealing attention away from her at this get-together, and unfortunately there was nothing that grabbed the attention of boys quite so forcefully as a pretty young lady showing cleavage.  The teenager that lived inside of Lori sympathized with her daughter. No one liked to be outshined, but Lori couldn’t help but wish that her daughters didn’t compete so much.

Once again, it was kind of amusing to Lori…here she was sitting at dinner, mediating a rather immature but completely typical and normal argument between her two teenage daughters. All the while an unknown, tiny naked man was wedged as far up in her deep, dark crack as he could possibly go. Every square millimeter of his entire nude body was literally surrounded and hugged by the dense, pillowy flesh of her fat, bare ass cheeks.  He had technically been present for 2 meals in the Warren household.  That reminded her, he was probably getting hungry…

Gina abruptly stood up, the wooden legs of her chair scraping loudly against the hard floor.  Lori felt the little man in her bottom twitch and flinch in fear at the loud scary noise.  She wanted to assure him that he was safe, like when she used to hug her daughters after they had nightmares.  He’d learn, given enough time, that nothing could hurt him when he was safe and sound between her cheeks.

Lori’s eldest grabbed her plate and scraped the remainder of the food into the trash.

“Ugh…whatever. I’m gonna go now, I’ll see you later.” Gina said, kissing her mother on the cheek before leaving out the front door.

“Be home by midnight!” Lori’s voice carried from the dining room toward the teenager’s escaping footsteps.

A faint “okay mom” just barely made it through the door as it shut behind Gina.

Lori could feel the subject beginning to calm back down after the loud noise and settle back into the comfort of her protective rump.  If only Lori could sit without having to elevate a cheek from her seat, then she’d be comfortable too…

The table was silent for a few moments as Isabella returned to nibbling at her food, seemingly unaffected by the exchange with Gina.

“If you’d like, we can have some ice cream.”  Lori said, trying to comfort her excluded daughter.

Isabella looked up at her mother and smiled, “Oh, its okay Mom.  I didn’t want to go anyway, honest.  And no thanks, I’m trying to watch my figure”, she said.

The teen looked down over the swollen breasts that stretched her sleep shirt enough to make out hints of her bra’s lavender color underneath, down further to where the thin shirt wrinkled at her stomach.

“Your figure?” Lori asked in disbelief.  “Your stomach is practically flat!”

“Not fully!” Isabella said defensively, grabbing with her thumb and forefinger as much as she could from her stomach.

“Sweetheart, that’s just because you’re sitting down.  Don’t watch your figure so closely that you turn into a skeleton.”

Isabella giggled, “I know, Mom. I’m not being unsafe. But anyway, thanks for offering the ice cream, but I think I’m actually just gonna go to bed. I have a first period math test tomorrow anyway.  If you see my light on, it's only because I’m studying.” Isabella said.

Lori smiled, “Okay, sweety.  Have a good night.”

Isabella gently pushed her chair in and kissed her mother’s cheek.  The graceful teenager’s footsteps could barely be heard as she floated upstairs to her bedroom, leaving her mother sitting at the dining room.

Lori briefly centered her weight and felt the struggling.  She rolled her eyes, feeling a bit annoyed at how quick he was to complain despite her sacrifice for the entire meal.  Upon standing, her big, heavy cheeks were once again under the cruel and careless influence of gravity, but at least they were nicely condensed into the denim of her jeans.  Sure, they were still tightly held together, but the natural softness of her glutes returned as she stood and she was sure it was much more cozy for him.

She grabbed Isabella’s plate from the table and Gina’s plate from the sink, giving both another quick rinse before depositing them in the dishwasher.   She looked at her watch. It was 8:30PM.  She had been expecting Victoria home by now and if Lori didn’t hear from her soon, Victoria would be in big trouble.  After that thought, her mind returned to her bottom.

‘Oh dear, its nearly that time’, she thought, her attention briefly floating from her motherly duties to the stowaway tucked in her pillowy bottom.

Lori scooped hot, clean, and colorful laundry indiscriminately into one of the three hampers and carried them upstairs to her bedroom.  She set the hamper on her bed and felt a vibration in her back pocket.  She assumed it was the tiny man in her ass wiggling about like he had been all day but realized that it was actually her cell phone.  It was a text message from Victoria.

Hey Mom! Dont be maaaaaaaaad! i know i was supposed to be back at 830 but i lost track of time! im on my way back now. Also, I forgot my house key

Lori rolled her eyes.  She wasn’t too worried about this.  Had Vicky pulled this when she was younger, it would have been an issue but they were all young women now, and Lori appreciated that she had three girls who all kept her informed; they understood how important notice was.  Still, she would have liked the message a little sooner.

She texted back telling Victoria to take her time, that the key was under the rock shaped like a triangle, and to lock the door when she gets in.  Lori was in her room now, squeezing her glutes and hips out of her jeans.  It was a long, long day, and she could see the imprints of the denim against the soft flesh of her cheeks and outer thighs. Her ass and thighs had practically exploded out of confinement from the jeans, and the relenting of pressure must have been nice for him.

‘A well-earned reward’, she thought.

She stood there in her soft underwear and considered taking him out of her crack, but she figured another 10 minutes or so wouldn’t hurt.  Lori began separating and folding the girls’ laundry.  Interestingly enough, it was a more challenging task to sort them properly when they were younger. Now, they had their own styles.  Isabella loved polka dots and the color lavender.  Gina liked stripes and rose pink.  Victoria didn’t have any preferences either way. She’d raised the girls to pick a color that they thought best described them and it was evident from their clothing that they’d stuck with their colors.  Isabella favored periwinkle violet, Gina preferred rose pink, and Victoria loved every type of green, particularly pastel.

Neon green socks?  Clearly Vicky’s.

A rose colored American Eagle shirt? Folded and set in Gina’s hamper.

A size 32F black bra with violet polka dots? Couldn’t be anyone else’s but Bella’s.

The activity of sorting all the bright colors not only made her darling daughters’ lives a little bit easier, but it was great stimulation for her mind. It also helped to distract her from the flurry of movement in her bottom that would sporadically spike and diminish.  He was doing so well, all things considered and the softy in her wanted to take him out right now.

Lori firmly reminded herself, however, that she had a job to do. She really wanted to make sure she was meeting the DDM requirement for the day.

‘Best to get off on the right foot’, she thought as she set the hampers on the floor and dropped down to her knees.

The abrasive carpet felt nice against her bare knees as Lori sat back on her feet, unconsciously centering each hefty cheek over each of her heels.  In her mind, this wasn’t that bad for him. Her heels were pressing into the flesh of her glutes but not necessarily forcing them together on him, nor were they pulling them apart and giving him more room. It really wasn’t creating any additional pressure at all.  Despite that, she did wonder if maybe the pressure and squeezing might have been..in some ways…nice?  As if he was being cradled and protected?  She liked to think so…and if he didn’t agree…well…maybe one day.

10 minutes later, nearly on the dot, she folded the last shirt, a sunny yellow Hollister shirt that found its home in Gina’s rose-pink hamper.  It was now time to get the tiny man out and ready for bed.  She reached into her asscrack and extracted the tiny subject out from between her large, protective cheeks.  They grudgingly relented, parting just enough to allow her to retrieve him. The big, greedy cheeks slammed spitefully when her hand emerged from between them.  She lifted him up to her face and breathed in through her nose.

The smell of lavender was almost entirely gone, and it was replaced by a less than pleasant aroma that caused her nose to wrinkle.  It was interesting, this time when she lifted him to her face to smell him, he hadn’t said a single word.  He was just staring at her intently, he seemed to be shaking as well.

“Lets get you washed up and ready for bed.” Lori said, a bit self-conscious.  “You did so good today.”

The two entered her bathroom.  She turned on the water, carefully adjusting the hot and cold knobs until the stream felt appropriately warm.  She heard him squeaking and, considering he had been quiet up to this point, she was interested in what he had to say.  She raised him up to her face, she intentionally refrained from breathing in through her nose.

“Is it…over now?” He asked timidly.

Lori squirted a glob of baby soap into her palm.

“It’s over, sweety.  You did so good today.” Lori said sweetly.

“So, we’re done now?”

“Shhhhhhh…” She said, shushing the hopeful little man as she slowly lowered him to the faucet, allowing the thick stream of water to consume him.  She gently massaged the soap into his body, passing him through her fingers delicately and gracefully, the suds forming quickly and concealing him until she washed them away.  A bit more friction with her fingertips and they were back, and then she washed them away.  She regularly pulled his tiny naked form away from the thick stream of water to allow him a  moment to breathe, and then back in the warm stream he went.  This repeated for some time.  Finally, he was squeaky clean.

She allowed him to dry himself off while she brushed her teeth and quickly changed into her sleep attire.  Her heavy, mature breasts bounced as she pulled off her top, putting on something much more comfortable and a little bit more revealing.  She hadn’t had the instinct to be modest in this tiny man’s company, which was interesting to her.  Any other man, she certainly would have sought privacy before exposing her body, but not with him.  Either she didn’t view him on the same level as the men she’d literally look up to, or she just figured that he’d already gotten to know her so intimately, experiencing a part of her body that literally no other person ever had before. She liked to think that it was the latter.

She grinned a little bit as she pulled the black scoop neck camisole shirt on over her chest, the tiny man had appeared nearly catatonic, but she noticed his head shift and his eyesight adjust to ogle her breasts during the entire event.  Isabella hadn’t gotten her breasts from her mother, that was for sure, but Lori reveled in the fact that her breasts must have appeared impossibly enormous to the tiny man on her kitchen sink staring up at them, as if they were twin gods towering above him.  She gently picked him up, his body already feeling a bit cold, and left the bathroom.  She still had to go, but she would wait until after she’d tucked him in for the night.

“You get to sleep in your box tonight, sweety.  For being so well behaved today.” She said, trying to be chipper and make him feel accomplished.

She grabbed the box and raised him up to drop him in, but she heard him say, “Lori…please….I’m so hungry…”

Lori’s eyes reflexively bounced from the hungry subject to the pill container, still sealed as it was when she received it and now on her nightstand.  ‘Ugh….not yet.’ She thought, quickly pushing the thought out of her mind.

“Oh! I have just the thing!”  She carefully set the man and his box down on her bed, between two stacks of her daughters’ clothing.

It was amusing, she had considered the stacks to be quite small, for they were only comprised of a few pairs of socks, underwear, tshirts, and shorts.  However, seeing him between them, they were like columns stretching impossibly high into the heavens.  She turned away from the subject and bent at the waist to access the lower drawer of her nightstand.

“Ahh, there they are!”  She came back up, adjusting the breasts that had almost escaped from her slinky top and lifted a single serving package of Peter Pan peanut butter.  “I’ve always loved this stuff…ever since I was a little girl”, she said with a grin, lifting the package to her teeth and effortlessly tearing it open.

She squeezed a very small quantity of peanut butter onto the tip of her index finger and extend it out to him.  With a smile she said, “It’s okay, dear.  Go on.”

Cautious at first, he reluctantly nibbled at the peanut butter on her fingertip, but the intensity of his licking increased exponentially when he got the flavor of the peanut butter.  Lori smirked as he did his best to clean off her fingertip but came nowhere close.  When she decided that he’d had enough, she raised her fingertip to her mouth, pressing it onto her flattened tongue.  She sealed her lips around the digit and sucked the rest of the peanut butter off, revealing a glistening clean finger.  She finished the rest of the peanut butter in the package and tossed it into her waste bin, and then she picked the subject back up from her bed and up to her face.

“What’s going to happen to me?” He asked

“I told you silly, we’re going to bed and you’re going to sleep in your nice, warm box.” She said with a smile.

“No…” he said faintly.  “What’s….going to happen to me..tomorrow?”

Lori frowned.  “Well, little one.  Tomorrow, we’re going to do this again.  That’s what we both agreed to after all.

“Lori…” He said with a noticeable weakness.

“You’re going to get better at this, sweety. I just know it.  You did so good today and its only going to get easier; I promise you it will.  I don’t want to overwhelm you with all the information, because there is a fair amount that I have to learn, but there is this thing called the DDM”

“DDM?” He echoed curiously.

“Yes, I won’t bore you with the details but its basically the minimum amount of time that I have to keep you tucked away in my bottom.”

He cringed but continued to listen.

“This week, the minimum time is 4 hours…so tomorrow will be just like today…and the next day, and the day after that.

“Lori…I can’t keep doing this!  You’re saying it was only 4 hours but it felt like a fucking eternity to me!  I could barely breathe and it smelled so bad..and every time you walked…every time you sat down…any time you did anything it was like I was being punished.”

“You’re not being punished, sweety.  You and I are working together here.  We’re both a part of this…it’s bigger than both of us, and we have to stick it out till the end.  I know that’s easier said than done, but I have confidence in us! I have confidence in you!” she said with smile, gently pointing her glistening finger into the dead-center of his bare chest.

Oh, look at that, you’re getting so cold out here.  C’mon honey, we have to warm you up.”

Grateful for the segue, Lori deposited him into the felt-lined box and shut the flap on him.  She pressed the LED button and held it in, waiting for the pink LED to begin blinking and the box to start warming, but nothing happened.  She continued to hold it but still, nothing happened.  She set the box down on one of the stacks of clothing and consulted the pamphlet on the felt-lined box.  She had read the pamphlet on the heatbox earlier, but regrettably stopped right before the end.

…Enclosed HeatBox can be charged with any USB-c type charger.  Charging time takes 4-6 hours and will provide approximately 8-10 hours of continuous heat.   Be advised that, due to shipping requirements, the Enclosed HeatBox must be at less than 5% battery charge during transport.

“Oh goodness, it’s a wonder it even lasted this long.” She looked over at the closed box and frowned.  Because of her mistake, he would be freezing tonight…or maybe she’d even have to break her promise and confine him to her bottom for the entire night.  He needed to stay warm, after all!

“Oh!” She had an idea.  She lifted the box up and sat down on the bed, the mattress groaning beneath her full weight.  She opened the box flap and he squinted up at her.  “Sorry, sweety.  I’ll charge this up tomorrow, so it keeps you warm.  In the meantime,” she said, trailing off as she grabbed a rolled up pair of light pink ankle socks.  There were tiny little purple stars all over them.

“These are my daughter Gina’s socks.  Don’t worry, they’re clean!  But they’re still nice and warm from the dryer.  Hopefully, the box will keep their heat over night.”

His tiny hands went up to brace himself as she stuffed one of Gina’s star-patterned pink socks down into the tiny subject’s home for the night.  The socks were quite warm but also thin.  Since there seemed to still be some space in there, she stuffed the other one down too, just for good measure.  She shut the lid of the box and gave it a gentle shake.  Not only was Gina’s socks keeping him super warm, they were also keeping him snug.  She couldn’t feel any movement as she shook it, and the box was even slightly bulging from all the soft, warm cotton in there with him.

‘What a great solution’, she thought proudly.

Once more, she wrapped the box with a hair tie, just in case, and set it on her nightstand next to her phone and the sealed pill container.

“Good night, little one.”  She said softly.

She rose from her bed to put the clothing back in the hampers. She walked around the wall partition decorated with multiple family photographs and approached her walk-in closet and set the hampers down.  She then walked back to the other side of the bedroom to the bathroom door and used the bathroom. She briefly considered getting a shower.  ‘No’, she thought, pulling her underwear back up, flushing, and turning out the bathroom light.  ‘Best to get one in the morning, that way everything is as clean as possible for him.’

She always got showers at night, but this was such a simple compromise…plus she felt bad about what he had to go through during his second 2-hour session between her cheeks, considering how much less lavender there was to freshen her crack.  Lori turned off the bedside lamp and got under her covers. She pulled them up to her chin, glancing contently once more at the box by her bedside before her eyelids became too heavy.

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 8 - Hospitality

[September 29th, 2005]

“Excuse me?”

Heightened concern accented Lori’s distracted voice as she navigated the complicated maze of clothing racks and tables of folded shirts.  Her voice was loud enough that the sales associate abruptly turned her head as did the woman who she’d been helping with the purchasing of a comforter.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Lori said, feeling self-conscious as the sales associate and the woman stared.

“Can you please tell me where the bathroom is?”

The faces of the two women softened sympathetically.  “Just around this corner here, past the bras to the left side.” The associate said. “If you hit the Oreo Pie display on the right you went too far.”

With a polite thank you, Lori was off, shuffling her feet while clutching her stomach.  She could now see the women’s sign around the corner and she recognized it from earlier.  As soon as it entered her vision, something in her mind made the pain in her stomach worse.  Clutching it seemed to help, and after a moment the pressure miraculously  shifted within her gut. Lori had bought herself a few more steps.

The door struck the rubber stopper as the 37-year old woman exploded into the bathroom, her breath shallow and rapid.  In the restroom, Lori saw 3 stalls.

The first stall was taped shut with dull yellow masking tape. One of the freshly torn strips held  up a sheet of construction paper.  She read the sign and sighed:

Out of Service.

Our apologies for the inconvenience

There was no masking tape on the other two, but they were shut and appeared locked.  Lori instinctively pressed her hand against her chest to secure her breasts as she peered under the first stall door.  She saw cute, black boots surrounded by bunched up denim.

Lori clenched her cheeks desperately.

She took a glance under the final stall. This was the stall she’d used just a half-hour ago for the exact same thing.  This time, however, the stall was occupied.  There were fidgeting toes adorned with bright orange toenail polish resting atop a pair of cheap but cute white flip flops. The toes danced atop the strap as if to childishly taunt Lori for her predicament. Above them were bare calves framed at the very top by the legholes of a white pair of short shorts.

It was looking like she wouldn’t be getting any privacy, and she was out of time.

Lori couldn’t believe she was about to do this here in the public bathroom right here in the open.

The 37-year old mother of three plunged a hand down the back of her yoga pants and fished out the tiny man in her ass crack.  Her cheeks had barely finished sealing behind her hand…the strong waistband snapping against her lower back…

…and then it happened.

The echo was embarrassingly deafening due to the tile walls and floor of this acoustically nightmarish bathroom.  The vibration deep between her cheeks sustained for a full 2 seconds, which doesn’t sound like a long time but felt like forever considering how loud it was!  Lori protectively clutched the tiny little man in her left hand, hearing the hint of his squeaks only once the explosive echo of her pent-up , overpowering flatulence had finally decayed and dissipated.  She could feel him squirming more strongly in her hand now. No doubt that he was experiencing the odor on a higher level than she was…but he should have been grateful.  She had rescued him after all. It would have been far easier for her to just…let it happen…while he was back there.

It felt so nice to relieve the pressure, and she sighed, wafting with both hands the foul cloud of air that surrounded her.  Despite the relief, she was still mortified.  If she were in a stall (like a half hour ago), she could have cleaned herself up and stayed there until any other listeners left, granting her time to even wash him off before sending him back but now a flush from one of those stalls could come any minute, followed by a judgmental girl.

The bathroom door opened, letting in the sing-song chatter of several young women echoed off the walls of the small bathroom.  She didn’t have time to say anything to the subject. There was no time to thoroughly wipe the area between her cheeks in the privacy of a bathroom stall like earlier.  There was no time to run him under the sink and give him a short break and a clean-ish fresh start before returning him to her freshly wiped crack.

There wasn’t time for any of that now.

After compassionately mouthing the word “sorry”, Lori stuffed the squirming, naked little man back into his home deep between her huge, warm, cheeks.  The exterior curve of her buttocks were reasonably dry but as soon as he entered her crack, there was practically no friction due to how wet it had become and the squirming subject glided into placement. His progression into her crack was so much quicker than she expected that her soft cheeks clenched in and around him like strong, pale boulders..

When the girls rounded the corner, all they saw was a slightly overweight, middle-aged woman washing her hands. As she washed the smell of her rear off her hands, Lori noticed out of the corner of her eye one of the girls’ noses wrinkle up a bit at the smell of the air.  It was a bathroom, after all.  The smell could have been coming from any one of the other ladies already using the stalls.

Lori walked briskly from the bathroom, feeling an uncomfortable wetness between her shifting cheeks.  She tried not to think about how unpleasant the experience likely was for her little subject, trying to find a spot…anywhere she could discreetly remove him but it was a busy day in the department store, not to mention that there were cameras everywhere.  He would have to remain in her bottom until she left.

‘I should have just stuffed him down my shirt…’ Lori scolded herself.  As things currently had played out, it was as if she was punishing him for the other stalls behind occupied.  As if she was punishing him for her gassy stomach.

The warm sun felt nice on Lori’s scalp and shoulders as she crossed the sweltering blacktop parking lot and approached her car, but it was intensifying hers–and mostly her little subject’s–already enormous problem. Her crack had reached new, unpleasant levels of slickness and even though she was about to be seated in the privacy of her car, she had decided that she would not be removing the little man from her bottom.  It was just…she didn’t have any water or anything to rinse him off.  She didn’t want to set him on the seat and risk staining anything.  Lori found a way to convince herself that he had likely already gotten used to the uncomfortable experience she’d forced him into so what difference would another 10 to 15 minutes in her car make? Unlocking the door and preparing to lower her wide rump into her car seat, Lori thought to herself, I’ll make it up to him later.’

That was when she stopped herself right before her expansive, overworked bottom contacted the driver’s seat.

“Oh I nearly forgot!” Lori said out loud excitedlly.  She felt her partially spread cheeks wetly reconnect as she stood and retrieved her purchases from her bag. She rummaged through them until she found what she had been looking for.

“Ahh!” It was an incredibly soft, cushiony, velvet pillow.

She figured the cost of the expensive, adorable, light pink cushion shaped like a heart would be worth it if she could sit comfortably with her new little partner in her backside.  She excitedly lowered the plush pillow onto the driver side seat and then slowly lowered her rear atop the pillow.  Much to Lori’s disdain and disappointment, her legs had barely finished swinging into her car before she felt that increasingly annoying tickle deep in her crack.

‘Seriously?’, She thought in disbelief, ‘He is still complaining?’

This just wasn’t fair.  She had spent all that money on something she herself didn’t even need just to make his experience better, and he wasn’t even grateful!  She grumbled under her breath about it as she drove home, one of her heavy cheeks rising up from the driver seat the whole way back.

‘There is just no pleasing him’, she thought miserably.

The crazy, persistent itch born in the depths of her crack had only gotten worse during the drive, undoubtedly due to the wetness paired with the ungrateful subject’s persistent movement.

Once she was home, Lori wasted no time in immediately shuffling up the stairs, her big butt bouncing on each step. She briefly greeted Isabella along the way up the stairs, hoping she wasn’t in the mood to start a conversation or ask permission for anything.  Luckily enough, all the teenager said was, “Hi, Mama.” and continued her way downstairs.  Lori sighed in relief, gratefully adjourning to her bedroom.  Behind the closed door, she felt the clammy, warm flesh of her lower body expanding comfortably and cooling quickly as she began disrobing.  Her simple gray socks flew into the dirty clothes hamper followed closely by her tight, partially damp leggings, and finally, most in need of a long wash, her satin panties.

Lori stood their bottomless, having removed all bottoms…well, almost all.

There was only one more thing left to remove: the naked man buried deep between her sweaty ass cheeks.

‘Now that’s everything.’ She thought with a dry smirk.

Lori made sure to tuck away all cases of any amusement before raising him up for a quick inspection.  She held him up very close to her face.

“Listen to me, sweety.” Lori said, nearly having to cross her eyes to focus on his features.

He was close enough to smell, and the scent of those lavender wipes was long, LONG gone.  She had used the last one on the second day and hadn’t gotten around to getting more.  Work just had her so busy and with all the hurdles she had to help Gina hop through for her coming first year at college, it was a wonder the woman had any free time at all! The showers in the morning, while helpful in the beginning of the day, did not help much by the afternoon.

“I understand this has been difficult for you. It’s been a challenging adjustment for me, too.  But you have to understand I have been trying very hard to make this as comfortable as possible for you.” Lori said.

She waited in silence, urging the shrunken man in her custody to speak. He looked surprised, perhaps expecting her to have said more.

“C-comfortable?  For me??  I have literally been living inside your ass!  For months!!” he cried.

Lori rolled her eyes, “Months?! Please don’t be so dramatic. It hasn’t even been a full week yet.” She said to him, but that didn’t seem to make him feel any better.

“And you keep me in there all day!” He wailed.

“You’re exaggerating!” Lori said in frustration, lightly stamping her bare foot on the carpet.

“The first few days it was for 6 hours a day, and now we’re doing 8 hours!  Dr. Walker wants us to keep increasing but we don’t HAVE to!  We’re just trying it out!  And then you get to go into your box for the rest of the day, right? I feed you real food and drinks every day…I even got you that tiny weight set from my daughter’s doll house for you to use.” Lori said, pointing him down toward the left corner of her underwear drawer.

She had felt bad after the first week about how he had spent all his time either in her big soft bottom or in his tiny dark box, so she sectioned off a corner of her underwear drawer for him, creating walls of low-warmth but long-lasting hand warmers and the weight set.  It was a tiny little plastic bench and a few plastic barbells with comically large plastic weights on the ends.

She wanted him to say something…specifically something to express some modicum of gratitude for the way she’d went out of her way for him. He didn’t say anything.

“It’s like you just don’t even care.” Lori uttered in disappointment.

“How can you expect me to be grateful? You think you can throw some cheap plastic in your dusty underwear drawer and I’m gonna forget that you’re forcing me to LIVE in your disgusting fucking ass??”

“ITS! ONLY! 8! HOURS!” She chanted, stomping and raising her voice on each syllable, which immediately caused the tiny naked man to cower.

“But you know what, I’m starting to get so tired of this.” Lori said, exasperated.  “If you even showed me the slightest amount of gratitude…”, she held up two fingers with barely any distance between them, but ironically enough for his body to have fit, “…for the sacrifices I’ve been making, I would probably make more.”

Lori set him down less than gently on her bed.

“But no, you don’t care.  I like getting my showers at night but in order to make sure my bottom is as clean as possible for you, I change my showering routine to shower in the morning AND the evening…just for you so you have a better experience in the mornings…I don’t turn my heated seats on anymore cause god forbid my behind gets sweaty while you’re in there, I make it a point to pull you out of my bottom whenever I feel like I have to pass gas.  Do you know how inconvenient that is when I’m at the store?  I had to walk out of my daughter’s talent show because of you…”

Lori’s grievances were coming to life as they left her lips and filled her bedroom, and it was actually making her even more upset.  “You just haaaad to get out before the bomb went off.  And I missed her solo.  I suppose I’m not expecting a ‘sorry’ although it wouldn’t kill you…but not even a ‘thank you’?. I sit at an angle because…it’s no state secret…I’ve got a large bottom.  And I sit at an angle so my buns don’t squeeze you too tight because I know you just HAAAAAATE that too, don’t you?  Well, I’m starting to get these cramps and pains going up and down my thighs from it…do you care ? Nooooooo, of course you don’t.”

Lori was getting really worked up now.  She caught the box out of the corner of her eye, the one the subject was sent in.  She reached into it and pulled out the tiny maroon cloth.

“And you know what?  I got these…they came in the mail with you. Dr. Walker wants me to wear them…with you…in my bottom.  I tried putting them on the first day but then I didn’t go through with it.  You know why?” Lori asked, aggressively tossing the wadded up panties toward the subject, enveloping him as if they were a soft, maroon net catching her prey.

“Because they’re ridiculously tight, that’s why.  They’d squeeze my cheeks in on you so tight you wouldn’t be able to move a muscle.  You think it's bad when I sit like a normal person…on my $250 velvet pillow?”

She picked the panties back up, seeing he was hopelessly tangled inside of them.  She shook him out back onto the bed and opened them up, holding them against her waist.  The slight pouch of her pale stomach hung slightly over the edge of the maroon panties, and they barely even covered the full width of her wide hips.

He had almost certainly been responding to her…trying to, anyway…she’d said a lot, after all.  Lori had given him opportunities to speak…to say things like ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’.  She wasn’t in the mood for a two-way conversation anymore.  She had more to say, and he was going to listen to every word.

“Imagine if you were in my backside with these things squeezing it.”  Lori thought for a moment, quiet for what felt like an eternity as she reflected on the image herself.

Lor didn’t have to imagine what it would be like.

“You know what…” She said, reaching for him.  “I didn’t mention this to you, but I’ve got my followup meeting with Dr. Walker tomorrow.  It’s my one-week followup.  Did you know they’re sending a private plane out to pick me up.  ME, Lori Warren, getting picked up by a private plane.  No…why would you know that when all you do is thrash around, complain, and say mean things?  And you know what else? She’s probably going to expect me to be wearing these…it’s the least I could do.”

She said, massaging him into the maroon material.  She plucked him away from it and started to bring him around her bare hips.  “Might as well get started now.” She said, stuffing him back into her bare bottom, his nude body gliding effortlessly between her soft, nude cheeks. The environment in her crack was still just as prevalently wet and unpleasant as when she’d removed him.

She stepped her chubby bare feet into the maroon panties and started hiking them up her legs.  She met that same resistance as she had before, struggling and shimmying the material up her heavy, thick thighs…finally reaching the undersides of her epic, round globes.  She could feel him frantically fighting in her crack, but she’d had enough for now.  Lori wasn’t going to be bossed around by something a fraction of the size of one of her buttocks.  She continued her efforts, rocking and rhythmically swaying her hips, securing another millimeter of ass flesh here and there into the full coverage panties.

Somehow, she had packed over a third of her hefty rump into them.  She continued; she was just about halfway, shifting weight from her left foot to her right foot, even jumping up and down a few times until finally she reached the halfway point.  Once she was over the daunting, outward curvature of her expansive globes, the rest was much easier to cover.

Finally, the panties slid up over her entire backside, concealing and constricting all of it as the waistband secured snugly against her lower back.

The compression on her cheeks was positively insane.

Looking over her shoulder, she couldn’t believe it.  It looked like her big butt was going to explode out of the stretched maroon panties at any minute but somehow they held up.  She might have thought it was magic if she hadn’t known it was the work of clever scientists and engineers.  She really appreciated the garment’s engineering.

Sure, the undergarments weren’t incredibly comfortable, but they were tight where they needed to be..on her cheeks, but not so tight on her thighs so as to cut off circulation.  It felt like several hands were on either side of her wide butt and were squeezing it together as hard as they could.  She slid her hands up her backside, starting at her thighs, and curving up over her spherical glutes.  Her butt hadn’t felt this small and tight since she was in her 20’s!

She bent at the waist to pick up the underwear she’d worn today and it was fascinating: the underwear seemed to give enough so as not to dig into her belly or her thighs, but the garment remained so tight against her behind, her cheeks didn’t part at all…they held just as firmly in on the subject as they had been when she was standing straight up!  She looked at her digital watch:

8:04 PM

She had inserted him into her backside when she rose from bed at around 11am…after her shower of course. She could have taken him out now and let him spend the rest of his night in his box, or in the gym he seemed to hate so much.  She could have gotten a shower and washed off the effects of the hot day. There were a lot of things she WOULD have done to try and make the little man’s life easier, but if he wasn’t going to try and help her, why should she help him?

“You know what..” Lori said to herself, cupping her enormous, compacted, solid butt cheek and gently rocking it.

“Maybe you should sleep with me tonight.”

There was no argument or disagreement.  The little man who liked so much to complain and insult Lori’s bottom had no complaints nor did he hurl any insults at her bottom.  If he did, they had no chance of permeating the deep, protective confines of her crack.  Not only were her big, bulbous cheeks protecting him from the outside world but they were also protecting Lori from his disrespect.

She pulled on her silk pajama bottoms, amused at how easily they slid up over her compressed rump and then went downstairs. Her cheeks jiggled far less and she could already envision some scenarios in her life when wearing these panties apart from restricting the little man’s movement would actually be quite practical.  One such occasion was at work when the elevator was down for maintenance. Lori had to climb the stairs and there always seemed to be at least one young man stuck behind her during the ascent. Lori was always self-conscious about the way her big bottom shook and wiggled when she walked and she knew that it was twice as animated when ascending or descending stairs.  Bless their hearts, the polite men usually maintained a respectful distance behind her during the climb so as not to bury their faces in her bottom, but she couldn’t help but fear that they viewed the jiggling ahead of them as if they were viewing a car crash: unable to look away but wishing they could.  These panties would function wonderfully in restricting some of that distracting jiggle.

Once downstairs, Lori saw Victoria and Isabella on the couch, their attention split in some percentage between watching TV and playing on their phones. Lori was all dressed for bed but the girls were still wearing what they’d worn all day. Victoria wore a school t-shit and a pair of faded blue jean capris with mismatching socks, one striped green and the other a solid baby blue but both were equally dingy and discolored. Isabella wore a darker set of jeans with pristine white socks and, much to Lori’s satisfaction, the girl was actually wearing a full-coverage t-shirt.  It was remarkably tight in the chest area, moreso than Lori liked, but this was a problem that Isabella was likely aware of when it came to her body and t-shirts; she would have to get used to it so Lori learned not to make things worse by being too critical.

“Where’s Gina?” Lori asked, looking around.

“She went to bed early. She’s going swimming tomorrow morning I think” Isabella replied, her pretty chocolate brown eyes looking her mother up and down. “You going to bed too, Mama?”

“Yes, sweety.  Remember I’ve got that...business meeting I have to travel for.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot!” Victoria exclaimed excitedly.

Lori looked at both of them sternly. Most of the stern expression should have been directed toward Victoria but Lori split it equally so as not to single Victoria out.

“I’m going to leave $50 for takeout.  I don’t want you using the oven.  No parties.  Either of you.  Tell Gina too.  I’ll be gone all day Monday and I’ll be back Tuesday evening, okay?”

Both girls smiled and nodded in agreement.

“And I’ve told Mrs. Helen next door to keep an eye out for anything suspicious…like people, cars, kegstands.”

Victoria rolled her eyes, “Kegs, mom.  Kegstand is something you do ON a keg.”

Lori put her hands on her hips and said with a playful grin, “and just how do you know that, Vicky?”

Without missing a beat, Victoria responded with the smile of an angel, “Movies.”

Lori rolled her eyes and bent at the waist to kiss each girl on her forehead.  She grabbed a glass of water and headed upstairs for bed.  She set her alarm for 4am.  It was earlier than she liked to get up, even if it was a Monday, but she had to be on the plane at 6am. She didn’t dare be late for a private plane!

She laid out her clothing for the next day: a cute denim skirt and a nice blouse.  Lori didn’t bother to lay out any underwear. She’d be wearing the same panties tomorrow that she was wearing right now.

Lori slowly lowered her wide rump down onto the big soft bed and swung her legs in under her soft comforter. Her cold bare feet lifted up, allowing the comforter to tuck in under her heels and she sighed as they started to warm.

She scooted her body down the bed to align her head with her pillow and sighed deeply as she got comfy.  The movement in her highly compressed crack was noticeable of course, and the elements of compression were numerous; her soft but compressed backside in and around him was substantial as well as the soft but compressed mattress pressing back up against her large bottom.

He was going to break a record tonight.

He’d spent over 9 hours in her bottom so far, and he’d be right there between her cheeks until 4am.

“That’s..my goodness…16 hours!” she thought, yawning as she pulled the covers up to her chin. What an accomplishment..for the both of them…

She scooted her hips left and right, digging herself into the soft mattress. She was getting quite sleepy already. Lori decided to roll over and sleep on her stomach; she wasn’t sure how it would go having the poor thing compressed under her heavy bottom for an entire night without her awake to supervise.

‘Just another example of me being nice when he doesn’t seem to care.’ She thought negatively.

Before she drifted off to sleep, she started planning her morning.  “I’ll take him out when I wake up and let him wash up while I get a shower..then he’ll have to go…right back…into…” she didn’t finish the sentence.  Lori snored softly in the darkness of her bedroom.

~

This story is Up to Chapter 22 on Patreon which you can access at the the link here: patreon.com/user?u=4260306

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Joining also unlocks other early-access content including other RR stories, RR Vignettes series, Captioned Images, Injected 2: Jordan's Revenge and more.

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 9 - Good Morning

[September 30th, 2005]

Lori strained her ears, trying to understand the sound she was hearing.  It sounded as if it were a thousand miles away. This distant, rhythmic chirping began to intensify ever-so-slightly.  Was it getting closer? Perhaps…or maybe it was getting louder?  It could have just been a figment of her imagination.  It was muddled, barely audible, and slightly annoying. She was getting used to THAT.  As more time passed, her brain trying to understand, the sound gradually changed.  She was sure now.

‘Definitely not louder’, she thought.  ‘Closer…’.

She wasn’t sure why “a thousand miles” made so much sense to her, but she just knew that was the distance separating her and this device. With the same conviction, she was now certain it was only 800 miles away.

‘No..300 miles.’

Before she could even finish the correction, it was only 50 miles.  Closer and closer by the second.  It covered dozens of miles in distance between alarmingly intensifying, rigidly repetitive beeps.

30 miles away…

21 miles away…

2 feet, 9 inches away…

Lori’s eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on the blurry ceiling fan spinning over her head.  She turned her head atop her pillow and squinted:

4:07 AM

She fumbled clumsily with the noisy contraption, intending originally to slide the impossibly small lever to OFF, but settled for slamming the much larger, much simpler snooze button.  In the moment, it accomplished the same thing as far as she was concerned.  She stretched her bare legs under her comforter. She twisted her ankles and curled her toes as a yawn escaped her lips.  It was so warm and cozy under those covers and as much as she just wanted to stay there, she knew that she did not have much time.

Lori groaned as she sat up, swinging her legs out of the bed and allowing them to dangle over the floor and accept the cold kisses of the morning air.  She felt him right away.  She yawned again, stretching her arms straight up into the sky.  She arched her back, her sleep shirt peeking at the bottom and revealing her soft, padded stomach.  If she weren’t alone right now, Lori would have ended the stretch and yanked her shirt back down to cover her tummy.  With no one around to stare and judge, she was getting the most out of the stretch.

Her toes scrunched and searched the floor as she rubbed her eyes, eventually finding last year’s Mother’s Day gift.  She felt the fuzz and slid her feet into the bright pink slippers and stood up, relieving some pressure on the boy in her bottom.

Lori felt a bit guilty; she had set out to spend the entire night on her stomach to relieve the pressure on him, but she woke up on her back.  For all she knew, she could have rolled right over onto her back as soon as she dozed off.  She’d have to find a way to make it up to him.  She switched her lights from OFF to DIM and removed her underwear.  The maroon undergarment was much easier to get off than on, but it was still a challenge to remove.  Once below her waist, her bulging bare spheres exploded rebelliously out of confinement, bouncing jovially as if to celebrate an inevitable victory over the confining nature of the panties.

“My goodness”, she muttered.  “If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly is now.”

The natural jiggle of her buttocks felt interesting after spending so much time with them so tightly compressed.  She was sure that he liked it better this way, too.  Afterall, they were super soft this way…and they were like unyielding cement blocks the other way.  She gently rubbed her liberated glutes, kneading life and flexibility into the tight flesh and even indulged in a playful bounce or two.

She traced her right hand up and over her curvy cheek and slowly dipped between the two, searching for the tiny person who slept between them.  He was more-or-less right where she put him the night before. In fact, she was sure that if he was shifted, it was because of the violent bouncing her cheeks did when they escaped her panties just now.  The mother of three extracted the boy from her behind and raised him up to her face.

“Hello, sweety. How was your….ohhhhh”.

He was crying.  No, not crying…sobbing.  Sobbing uncontrollably.  Her smile turned to a frown. She’d seen him get explosively angry, upset, sad.  She’d seen him bargain and threaten, insult and shout.  This was new.

“Please!  For the love of god, I’m begging you miss, please don’t ever do that again!”

She could barely understand him between the sniffles and the quivering in his squeaky, quiet voice.  It was so frantic and erratic.  Desperate and naïve.  She really felt for him. It was so different from his normal begging.

“Do what?” Lori asked, expecting one of two answers, and hoping for one in particular.

“It was….it was so tight and cramped…I couldn’t move a muscle…I could barely breathe.  My nose feels broken..I was screaming when you….stuffed me in and…my jaw was locked open…my mouth was stuck open the entire time.  And..they were so….hard…it was like being trapped between two massive….boulders.” His sobbing picked back up as he re-lived his arduous experience.  How fascinating that the two could have had such different experiences.  To Lori, she had simply tucked herself into bed and went to sleep

“Did you sleep?”

“No, not at all…” he whimpered.

She sucked her teeth and tilted her head in sympathy, the compassionate mother in her coming out.

“Awww, well sweetheart. I’m sorry.  This was my fault.  I admit I got a little carried away last night and said some things I shouldn’t have said.  I was frustrated and I took it out on you; for that, I apologize.  You didn’t deserve that.”

Just as the inner mother in her had been tapped, the inner child in the man seemed to come out in response.  He looked as if he’d just skinned his knee riding his bike and could only be coaxed away from tears by the attention of his mother.

“I know that I’m not the only one who’s working hard to get through this.  I know it’s just as hard for you, maybe even more.  But we WILL get through this, I promise you.”

He really was quite a trooper…the idea of living in her bottom was still so new, and yet he’d just spent over 16 hours inside! She was grateful that the DDM wasn’t nearly that high.  He actually stopped crying and she smiled down at him, glad to have calmed him.  She gently stroked his naked body with her index finger a few times,

“I have to get a shower.  How about we put you in your nice, warm box?  Would you like that?”

She asked as she leaned over to grab it from her nightstand.  She opened the flap and lowered the subject into the box.  She grasped the charger cable and it disconnected from the box with barely any pulling force applied.  She rolled her eyes, kicking herself.  Despite knowing what she’d see, Lori held the LED button.  No light.  The battery was drained.  She looked down into the open flap at him with some disappointment.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It looks like I didn’t push the power plug in all the way.” She dumped him back out into her palm and squatted down, picking up her maroon panties off the floor.

He put two and two together rather quickly, quickly saying,

“No! No!  It’s okay!  You…you don’t have to!”

“Of course I do, silly.  You’ve got no clothes and it's cold in here.  I was wearing these all night and they’re still warm.”

Lori unfolded the wadded-up undergarment and placed him down inside. She made sure to set him down atop the area that came to rest along the center of her backside.

“They’ll keep you cozy and safe until I’m done with my shower. We’ll get you nice and settled then.”

“No, really! I’ll be okay in the box! You really don’t ha—”

She shushed him softly as she folded the panties in and over onto themselves several times, until they were a tiny maroon ball that would fit into the box.  She stuffed it in and shut the flap.  After setting the box down on her unmade bed, she started walking to the bathroom but paused, turning around to look at the lonely box under the ceiling fan.

As she picked the box back up, Lori lifted her foot off the ground.  Shebent her knee and raised her foot to the back of her upper thigh.  She skillfully removed the slipper off her right foot and slid the box into the slipper as deep as it could go.

‘Just to be sure’, she said with a smile, ensuring that the lid of the box was properly pressed as tightly as it could be against the toe section of the slipper before setting it down next to its twin on the floor.

Lori sat on the toilet, allowing the pressure that had built up into the morning to escape noisily and looked at some work emails; just because she had requested time off for today didn’t mean she couldn’t stay up to date. Finishing her business, she turned on the shower and brushed her teeth as she waited for it to get hot.  Finishing just as the mirror was too cloudy to see through, Lori stepped into the shower and washed her hair and body.  Naturally, she paid extra attention to her backside, lathering up her loofa and tracing it through her crack over and over and over again.  Sure, she would have done this for him anyway, but she was also going to be seeing Dr. Walker today.  The woman had commented on her rump during their first phone call, who knew what she’d want to see or do during their first meeting!

She lathered up her cheeks and washed them thoroughly and gave a few more firm passes between them before considering the area clean.  She spent just as much time as usual on her feet, her legs, her soft belly.  Underneath her breasts and in her armpits, her back and shoulders.  Her hair and face.  The soles of her feet, calves, and thighs.  Finally, she was turning the water off and drying herself, enjoying the rough sensation of the towel against her heated skin.

Steam flowed freely out of the bathroom as she emerged, wrapped in a towel and still drying her hair.  She glanced at her alarm clock, the snooze having worn off at some point during her shower.  She turned it off and picked up the box out of her slipper.  It was just how she’d left it.  Opening the flap, she carefully removed the panties and unfolded them, ‘so many layers’, she thought with amusement.  Finally, she uncovered the treasure buried within the creases and folds of velvety maroon.

A prominent, unpleasant odor rose to Lori’s nose, causing it to wrinkle up.  The underwear had only been worn over night, but Lori remembered how strong of a workout she’d put her body through with her errands, and the natural fragrance of her overworked rear, while serving as a bit of a punishment for the subject’s disrespect last night, had also settled quite quickly into the previously clean panties.

Lori didn’t want Dr. Walker to have to smell these.  Luckily, there was an identical clean pair among the mailed items.

“Awwwww...” Lori crooned, her attention returning to the boy cuddled up in the folds of her worn underwear.  He was sleeping.

He looked so adorable nestled in that sea of soft maroon. She gently stroked him with her fingertip.  He seemed to respond positively to the stimulation, albeit groggily, but then jolted as soon as his eyes opened.  She set the panties neatly on her bed.

“I hate to interrupt your sleeping but it's time for breakfast, my dear.”

The quarter-filled snack bag of pretzel sticks crinkled as Lori lifted them out of her nightstand drawer.  She removed a broken pretzel stick and snapped it in half before placing it down atop her maroon underwear.

“You can eat up while I get ready.” She said with a smile.

Once he started nibbling at the pretzel segment, Lori let her towel fall, crumpling in a bright-white arc around her bare feet.  It was kind of arousing, to act so casually in front of a man she barely knew.  The fact that he was so tiny and so reliant on her added an additional component of feminine strength and power, even superiority.

She made sure to swing her wide hips with confidence and authority as she sauntered over to her dresser.  Lori inspected a plain, white front-clasping bra from her top drawer.  This one was old, but it fit her body quite well.  When a girl finds a bra, she keeps it until it's no longer one piece and this one only had a small hole in the left strap!  She slipped the band behind her back and began pulling the cups inward to meet at the center of her chest.  Lori watched the tiny man in her underwear…he was watching her and she couldn’t help but smirk.  She still had it, it seemed.

Once the clasp was locked, her breasts mostly filled the cups but needed some minor adjustment to be perfect.  She stared down at her cleavage, wondering what it would be like to have the little man down there.

‘Maybe another time…’ Lori thought. Men love breasts so maybe she could even use it as a reward in the future.

His eyes remained fixed on her bosom until it disappeared under the cotton of her blouse, but her curves were still quite apparent.  He had returned to eating, but was still unable to look away.  She turned away from him to complete getting dressed.  She lowered her jean skirt and stepped one foot in, then another, and hiked it up over her bottom.  It was tight, but nothing was as tight as those underwear.

‘Ugh…that reminds me,” she thought.  She buttoned the skirt as she walked back to her bed.

She inspected the pretzel stick, barely any of it was missing.  She popped the remainder of the stick into her mouth and reached for her panties.

“Alright, sweety.  It’s time.” She said sweetly but ominously.

The look broke her heart.

“But…but…YOU SAID—”

“I said I was sorry…for last night…and I am…but…well, I told you we’re going to see Dr. Walker today.  I told you that last night.  I really should be wearing these…”  Lori lifted the second set of panties and carefully took the naked man between her thick but feminine fingers, “…and I should obviously be wearing you too.”

It rolled off her tongue so easily, alarmingly matter-of-factly.  She could see it hurt him on a deeper level, to refer to him as being worn.  He actually didn’t fight her at all as she brought him around to her bare bottom, her hiked up skirt presenting his jiggly, pale, soft home.  He didn’t struggle as she pulled her massive, heavy left cheek away from its sister, revealing the area he’d soon be forced into.  As her fingers and his tiny arms and legs probed her crack, she thought she may have heard the faintest hint of crying.

“In you go…”

By the time her dense cheeks sealed in around her fingers, any suggestion of sound was long gone. He may as well have been as far away as the alarm clock felt as she was waking up.  Her right hand emerged empty from her crack and tugged down the back of the skirt, concealing her bottom which now fully concealed her tiny man.

She decided not to wear the maroon panties.

‘...not on the trip over at least’, she thought as she stuffed them down into her purse.

Lori would make sure she was wearing them when she got to R&R Labs, of course.  But he was behaving pretty well at the moment, barely struggling at all.

‘Maybe he’ll be able to get some sleep in there’, she thought hopefully.

She decided to grab a satin pair of full coverage underwear from her dresser, a nice emerald green pair, and slid them up her thighs, encasing her sizable backside.  They were tight enough, but not so tight that her cheeks would be compressed into stone like last night.  As she tidied up and made her bed, she thought about how this relationship she had with the boy in her butt was incredibly complicated, and constantly pulling in strange directions.

Sure, he was living in her rear end, but she had made the choice not to make it worse with the tight underwear! At least not yet, anyway.  There was give and take on both sides, and she struggled with the guilt…the perceived obligation to improve his experience in subtle ways.  It felt like the right thing to do, but was it?  Was it really?

The girls were teenagers now, nearly ready to move on and start their lives without her. Call it a combination of sentimentality and a small, SMALL dash of overbearing mama-bear mentality, but Lori had to poke her head into each of her daughters’ rooms before leaving.

The first hints of morning sunlight softly illuminated the college textbooks neatly stacked atop Gina’s computer desk. The room exuded an air of preppy sophistication that reflected Gina’s tastes and personality.  Flowy curtains adorned her large, open bedside window and danced in the gentle breeze. Her closet was open, showcasing her ever-rotating collection of fashion-forward pieces from American Eagle, Abercrombie & Fitch, and Hollister.  Beneath the shirts, blouses, jeans, and dresses hanging neatly on wooden hangers was a long row of Rainbow sandals and colorful beach flip-flops.

A mountain of blankets covered everything except for Gina’s head.  She slept on her side, her golden blonde hair splayed across the pale pink pillow.  Her forehead subtly wrinkled, probably at the sound of her squeaky door being opened. However, it wasn’t enough stimulus to break the teenager from her slumber.  She looked serene and composed, peacefully dreaming of the day ahead.

Moving on to Isabella's bedroom, Lori couldn’t help but smile proudly how her academically driven daughter’s room spoke so strongly of her personality and sweetness.  The room was a sanctuary of knowledge, bookshelves filled to the brim with novels and textbooks.  Many of the textbooks were from previous years but Isabella sentimentally opted to keep and preserve every one of them. A study desk was positioned near her window which oversaw the neighbor boys’ basketball net.  The desk was decorated with a sleek laptop clad in a jelly-lavender protective sleeve and a neatly arranged stationary.

Atop a bed just as immaculately made as it was before the teenager went to sleep, Isabella lay motionless on her back with her petite frame huddled against several soft, white pillows.  Her hands were delicately clasped together over her chest and her face blissfully relaxed, reminiscent of a fairytale princess. A thin blanket covered the teen from stomach to ankle, and the soles of her white socks were so clean that they practically camouflaged into her pristine white sheets.

Finally, Lori peeked into Victoria’s room, bracing herself for the sight of chaos that often accompanied her youngest daughter.  The room appeared as though a whirlwind had passed through, clothing scattered on the floor with no discernible clue as to whether they were clean or dirty.  Posters were haphazardly pinned to the vibrant, lively walls of the teenager’s bedroom.  A guitar leaned against one corner of the bedroom, a dirty sock snagged on one of the tuning pegs.  Like her sisters, Victoria had a computer desk but it was cluttered with art supplies, unfinished drawings, and more laundry.

An onlooker might have been surprised to see the way Victoria slept, but nothing about the teen’s sleeping arrangement surprised her mother.  She was sprawled out on her stomach snoring loudly, a messy tangle of dark hair that matched her mother’s covering part of her face. Her limbs were carelessly sprawled out in different directions. The hem of her shirt rested above her lower back and her pajama bottoms had bunched up to her calves from excessive movement.  One foot clad in a dingy green sock twitched atop the mattress.  Her other foot was bare, dangling off the edge of the bed directly over top of the other crumpled green sock she must have lost at some point in her slumber dance.

Lori made her way downstairs and retrieved a Boost protein shake from the fridge.  She scribbled a note and pinned it to the fridge with a magnet, letting the girls know when she would be back, and that Gina was in charge while she was away.  Lori grabbed her purse and stood at the door, arranging the disorder of flip flops, flats, and slippers with her feet into neat, ordered pairs.

She had checked the oven to make sure it was off, locked the back door, filled the cat’s water dish, checked the oven again just to be sure, and even left Mrs. Helen’s number on the counter just in case there was an emergency.  Lori then confirmed what now was the latest item to appear on her morning checklist.

She hiked up her skirt, her jiggling cheeks celebrating their temporary freedom from their denim confines as she slipped two fingers long-ways deep up and between her thick cheeks.  She somehow found the tiny man hidden in the depths of her rotund bottom; he had slightly dislodged from her movements and deliberate pressure overtop of her underwear made sure he was as deep as he could go.

She gently pulled the emerald green material of her panties out of her crack, careful to make sure that the tiny man between her buns didn’t come out with it.

A simple clench of her cheeks and the apparent struggling made it clear to Lori that he was right where he belonged.

She readjusted her skirt to modestly cover her ample backside and she left, bound for R&R Laboratories.

~

This story is Up to Chapter 29 on Patreon which you can access for $5 at the the link here: patreon.com/user?u=4260306

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 10 - Break Time

[September 30th, 2005]

Freshly unwrapped from the communal fridge of the RR Labs Breakroom, the spinach and romaine lettuce of Dr. Carla Stanhope’s salad crunched with primal satisfaction between her teeth. Having skipped breakfast that morning, the red-headed doctor was too hungry to wait, accepting another forkful of greens and sun-kissed tomatoes into her mouth as she searched among the assorted, eclectic collection of coffee mugs on the countertop for the television remote.

Not to be dissuaded from her goal, the red-headed doctor broadened her search from the countertop to the cozy, secluded corner of the break room.  In that corner rested a pale pink, three cushion sofa where many a weary body and restless mind could find rejuvenation. Dr. Stanhope’s diligent search finally paid off, having found the device wedged deep between two of its plush cushions..  She returned to the countertop adjacent to the fridge to retrieve her salad and prepared a small cup of Camomile tea.

The table at the center of the RR Labs break room stood as a hub of activity, leisure, and convergence. It was a gathering place where the scientists, doctors, researchers, and interns alike could congregate during breaks.  Its polished surface, crafted from dark mahogany, was smooth with little blemishing and it lent an aura of elegance and sophistication to the otherwise utilitarian space. It reflected the soft glow of the overhead lights and absorbed conversations of years passed, scientific and otherwise.

The redhead slid her salad to the side and in its place, she stationed a compact keyboard.  Her fingers fluttered over the keys, a gentle clacking of their soft, malleable plastic as they actuated quickly and obediently under her direction. She struck the enter key with her pinky and immediately was greeted by a brief welcoming screen with the RR Labs logo. Walls of text, reminiscent of the code in the Matrix movies but in many assorted colors, flooded over the 60-inch wall-mounted television screen.

It was a good thing they’d sprung for large televisions; reviewing all this data on conventional computer monitor screens was a challenge that would now hopefully drift off into the past as a distant memory and a bragging right for those with seniority.  The powers that be sure got points for upgrading the displays in the Subject Monitoring Station but much like tech-startups that provide comfy couches and arcade machines at work, upper-management’s motives were clear in deciding to install one of the televisions in the breakroom.  Hooked up to cable as well as the monitoring network…and since the lab was filled with workaholics, the breakroom sometimes became just another workroom but with eating permitted.

Dr. Stanhope took another bite of her salad.  Lemon and honey chicken seemed like a strange combination, but the explosions on her tastebuds indicated that the risk was well worth the reward.

‘Good call, Hallmark Cooking…’ she thought.

Fire-red locks fluttered along pale, freckled cheeks as the chewing doctor turned her head toward the sound of the break room door opening.  A gentle breeze swept in, carrying with it the typical soft chatter in the public hallways of RR Labs. The room returned to relative silence as the door was pulled shut.

“Hey, Taylor.” Dr. Stanhope said with a smile, returning half the gaze of her emerald green eyes to the pixelated ocean of scrolling values and readings on the giant display.

The doctor’s golden locks cascaded in soft, textured waves that bounced as she unbuttoned and removed her pristine-white lab coat. Underneath the professional garment was a cute sky blue t-shirt with a single yellow sunflower on the front.  She turned toward the rack of lab coats, finding her empty hook directly next to Dr. Stanhope’s. Atop it was a placard with her name in bubbly, handwritten cursive:

Dr. Becotte

“Hi Carla.” Dr. Becotte replied with a smile, hanging her lab coat.   She floated with elegance to the fridge, grabbing a small striped-pink reusable lunch bag.  The blonde adjusted her shirt down around her denim-clad hips and took a seat at the wooden table with Dr. Stanhope..

“So I guess you’re just always working, huh?” Dr. Becotte remarked playfully, eyeing the fields of scrolling data dancing along the display.

“No, only 99% of the time.” Dr. Stanhope quipped.

Dr. Becotte couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, that’s a good one!”

“Were you trying to watch something?” Dr. Stanhope asked, suddenly realizing that Dr. Becotte may want to use the breakroom television to watch something, but the blonde research scientist seemed just as interested as Dr. Stanhope was in the cascading numerical values on the screen.

“No, no it's fine.” Dr. Becotte reassured, her crystal-blue eyes scanning the large screen TV as her nimble fingers unzipped the pink lunch bag. “Lunch won’t take too long anyway.”

She says with a smile pulling out a strawberry Boost shake.

“No lunch?” Dr. Becotte asked as Dr. Stanhope removed from the pink lunch bag a single strawberry Boost shake.

Dr. Becotte popped the cap and took a sip, “Nope, gotta fit into that two-piece this summer.”

Dr. Stanhope scoffed, leaning back in her chair, “Oh stop it, Taylor. You know you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

Dr. Becotte exhaled after taking several long sips, her tongue poking ever-so-slightly from between her lips to carry the remainder of the strawberry sweetness into her mouth, “Well, I’m also insanely jealous of your red hair and freckles, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Dr. Becotte scooted her chair under the table and took another drink of her shake, motioning toward the giant display of colorful scrolling text.  “So who are we looking at?”

The redhead slid her salad to the side and in its place, she stationed a compact keyboard.  Her fingers fluttered over the keys, a gentle clacking of the soft plastic keys as they actuated quickly. She struck the enter key with her pinky and immediately the rainbow wall of text and tangled forest of line graphs eroded away.  The data simplified down to only three graphs and three series of numbers, each graph-number pair a different color.

The first graph-number pair was bright green.

The second was vivid violet.

The third was hot pink.

“I’ve got 284c, 108r, and 324v this week,” Carla read.

“Oh, I think I had 284c last month actually.” Dr. Becotte squinted in concentration. “Funny he’d be up on the random screening twice in a row.  Who’s he with again?  It's on the tip of my tongue….Libby?  Lilly?”

“Lillith.”

“Ohhh that’s right!” Dr. Becotte gently tapped the table. “Yeah, I remember now.  Gothic-type girl? Looks like she’s never seen the sun?”

Dr. Stanhope raised an eyebrow, “Taylor…”

A grin of mischief and sincerity, the balance unknown to Dr. Stanhope, spread on Dr. Becotte’s face. “Don’t give me that look!  Pale is in, Carla! I meant it as a compliment.”

“Well, as someone who is either red or white…” Dr. Stanhope smirked, showcasing her fair skin. Her arms at least carried a fraction of a tan, but when she pulled away the collar of her shirt, the porcelain white skin around her prominent collarbone juxtaposed blatantly against her thick black bra strap.  “...I sympathize with LIllith.  But anyway, yes…that’s her.”

The two doctors gazed at the dancing graphs and scrolling text values in fascination.

“Golly, she really puts him through the ringer, huh?” Dr. Becotte remarked.

“Tell me about it…and she’s got an incredible rear for housing.” Dr. Stanhope replied, hiding the green and violet graph-number pair and leaving only the pink set.

With much more screen real-estate to spread out upon, the single pink graph automatically flowered out into several graphs, displaying even more information about subject-284c, updated every 4 seconds in real time.  She hovered over one of the graphs that had remained at a steady value for some time.

“In the past 2 days, he’s only been out from between her buttocks for…” Dr. Stanhope trailed off, clipping the time region of the graph to expand the x-axis. “…about 25 minutes.”

“Crazy, right?” Dr. Becotte said, savoring the final droplets of her sweet strawberry Boost shake.  “That’s exactly how she was when I was monitoring, too.  Looks like you might have another eligible member for the 99% club, huh?”

“Oh, Katie already approved the preliminary paperwork I drafted last month.  Six months from now will mark five full years since Lillith began housing her subject.”

“And five years is the minimum requirement to be considered, right?” Dr. Becotte asked.

Dr. Stanhope nodded and continued, “...believe it or not, this is a pretty normal ratio for Lillith and her subject…has been for years.  So yeah, she regularly qualifies for the 99% Club.”

“What is 99% of a full day again?  In minutes?” Dr. Becotte asked and then quickly rephrased her question, “Or I guess a better way to ask would be what is 1% of a full day? …the amount of time he’d actually be out of her butt?”

Without much of a pause, Dr. Stanhope responded, “14 minutes and 24 seconds.”

“Good golly, Carla!” Taylor exclaimed with an amazed giggle, “I spend more time washing my hair.”

The two women shared a friendly and cheerful chuckle over the comparison.

“Oh look at this, Taylor…” Dr. Stanhope gestured toward the hot pink graphs and numbers. “...Were his indicators at this threshold when you were monitoring him last month?”

Dr. Becotte wrinkled up her brow trying to remember, “I’m not too sure.”

“They suggest he’s made massive improvements in adapting to the environment of Lilith’s backside, at least compared to the value from exactly one year ago.” Carla remarked in fascination.

“Hmmm…yeah maybe…” Dr. Becotte replied skeptically, “...but he probably hasn’t accepted though.”

The blonde doctor gestured toward a wildly oscillating hot pink curve. “Check out the mins and maxes on the stress fluctuations.”

“Ahh” Dr. Stanhope observed, “Yeah, you may be right about that.  Hard to know for sure.”

Suddenly, several of the graphs spiked up to new maximum values for the narrow window of time visible on each of them

“Whoa, which ones are those?” Dr. Becotte asked.

“Hmmm…” Dr. Stanhope adjusted the text size of the graph titles. “Looks like they’re the instantaneous monitor values for Blood Oxygenation, Epidermal Surface Temperature, Olfactory Stimulation…”

There were several other more complicated parameters, but both girls giggled lightly under their breath, not feeling the need to delve deeper into the moment to understand what happened. They both knew exactly what that sudden spike meant for the subject’s experience.

“Let’s hope no one was around to hear that one, Lilith.” Dr. Becotte chirped through the subtle grin on her face.

The attention of Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte was pulled from subject 284c’s ongoing experience in Lilith’s backside to the break room door opening once more.  It was another blonde woman.  She was shorter than Dr. Becotte and her hair was more of a platinum blonde.  She appeared disheveled and disorganized, which was unlike her, as she shuffled in and pulled the door shut behind her. A look of disdain spread across her young face as she removed her aqua blue gloves.  She tossed them with sass and attitude into the waste bin and made a bee-line for the sink.

“Hey Quinn, gotta take off your lab coat before you come all the way in.” Dr. Becotte pointed out.

Quinn looked up, not even realizing anyone was in the room. “Oh, hi Dr. Becotte.  Sorry about that.  Hi, Dr. Stanhope.

“Is everything alright, Quinn?” Dr. Stanhope asked.

“Yeah, yeah” Quinn claimed, failing in her efforts to convince Dr. Stanhope.  “I umm..just came from ‘Install & Exam Room B’.”

The senior doctors looked at each other then back at Quinn.  “Observing?”

Quinn hung up her extra-small, paper-thin lab coat on one of the hooks with no label and resumed her straight path to the sink.  “Installing….or I guess re-installing.”

Dr. Stanhope replied, “Ohhh, I see.  Intense, I suppose?”

Quinn lathered her hands with liquid lavender hand soap, aggressively scrubbing until her small hands were covered in foam.  She normally looked like a fair, blonde, level-headed, albeit conceited but still friendly and eager-to-learn intern but this state of frazzlement was new for the young woman. The two doctors found the elegant young intern’s situation, if their general suspicions were correct, to be a bit entertaining if not downright cute.

“Oh yuck…was it ever.”

Quinn turned away from the sink, water pooling at her thin fingers and dripping from her white nail polish.  A look of concern grew on her face, probably remembering that she wasn’t just chatting with the other interns right now.  “Oh, please don’t tell Dr. Walker I said that though!”

Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte were both quick to squash Quinn’s concerns over her brief breaching of formality, “Don’t worry about it; we’ve all been there.” Dr. Stanhope assured, glancing over at Dr. Becotte who smirked and raised her eyebrows in agreement.  “What exactly happened?”

Quinn sighed, “It was a follow-up…like a 1-year or 2-year I think, I don’t know…maybe even longer…something like that.  Anyway, Dr. Walker had done the interview and let me sit in to observe.  The interview/follow-up was with a lady named Mrs. Romero.”

“Sofia Romero?” Dr. Becotte asked, her attention perked and following Quinn with her eyes as the intern dried her hands and approached the table to have a seat.  “I think I saw Laura checking her in this morning.”

“You probably did.” Dr. Stanhope remarked, “I was present for her subject’s physical and psychological screening just an hour ago.”

The red-headed scientist lowered her palms down to the sides of her own hips and then brought them out about 6 inches on either side. “Older, heavy-set Italian woman, right? Stern-looking?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Quinn confirmed, approaching the table to have a seat with the two doctors.

Quinn continued, “The interview was going just fine. I was taking a bunch of notes, paying attention to the way Mrs. Romero was answering. I was listening to queues and stuff and looking at body language just like Dr. Walker said to.  They had finished up the subject’s ‘Psych & Phys’ evaluation and Brandi dropped the subject off with us in the installation room about halfway through Mrs. Romero’s checkup. She was REALLY eager to get him back in her bottom but Dr. Walker held onto him; she said she needed to do a final look-over.  He seemed super upset with her…like way more upset than a typical subject.”

“Why? Did she show him a picture of my sister?” Dr. Becotte asked, but the words took on the tone of a joke’s punchline rather than a sincere question.

Quinn tilted her head in confusion, “Your sister?  I..umm…no, why would she?”

Dr. Stanhope smirked, knowing but not indicating to Quinn why Dr. Becotte would ask such a question.

“Don’t mind her, Quinn. Please continue.”

Quinn’s confused expression dropped as she put herself back into her own story.

“Anyway, Dr. Walker checked his temperature and stuff and wrapped up the interview with Mrs. Romero. I was just reading what was written in his file.  Then, out of nowhere, Dr. Walker handed the subject to me and said that she had to go, and she told Mrs. Romero that it would be ME performing the reinstall! .  I was caught off guard by it, but it’s not like it looks all that difficult to do…and I didn’t want to say no so I just took him from Dr. Walker and said okay.”

“How many installations have you observed?” Dr. Becotte asked.

“Three” Quinn replied, removing a salad with grilled chicken not nearly as fancy as Dr. Stanhope’s from a lunch bag not nearly as cute as Dr. Becotte’s. “...I’ve seen them done but never actually did an install myself.”

Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte nodded their heads, “Oh okay, that’s a decent amount.”

Quinn replied, “Oh yeah, it's not like I didn’t think I could handle it, I just didn’t expect her to leave so abruptly…and I kinda figured she would be watching the first time I did one…ya know, to make sure I was doing it right.”

“I suppose she was confident in your abilities.” Dr. Stanhope replied.

“Sure, not surprising.” Dr. Becotte remarked.

“That means a lot coming from you two…” Quinn continued, “...but after Dr. Walker left, Mrs. Romero got up on the table. She lowered her jeans and underwear, laid face down……and oh…my…gawwwd.”

The two experienced doctors smirked…they were right in their suspicions…time to see just how right they were.

“Pretty bad?” Dr. Becotte asked with a smile.

Dr. Stanhope nodded to herself. She had to give the subject several wipedowns AFTER he’d already been wiped down and dropped off by Dr. Bexley before she could even perform her examination without having to breathe out of her mouth. Dr. Stanhope was grateful to have trouble picturing what the aroma of the source could have been like.

“Oh it was so terrible, I can’t even put it into words!” Quinn bemoaned dramatically, clutching her chest, and wrinkling up her cute button nose at the thought of the experience.  “It was like…thick…in the air.  Ughhh..” She shivered.

“I put on my gloves and she was just so ready to get him back in her butt and be done with it. Mrs. Romero reached back and pulled her cheeks apart…”

“Oh, you hadn’t even parted her buttocks yet?” Dr. Becotte asked with a laugh.

“No!” Quinn exclaimed emphatically, that cute button nose wrinkled up even harder, “…and that’s when  it got a billion times worse! I almost gagged!”

Dr. Becotte declared, “Golly! You would think she’d take care of something like that prior to showing up.”

“I thought so, too!” Quinn commiserated.  “I know that I’d want to make things a little more presentable before having so much attention back there.”

“Most women do.” Dr. Stanhope added.

“Right!” Quinn said. “That’s exactly what I thought.  I felt soooooo bad for the subject.  I even offered to wipe..ugh…the area down before reinstalling him…wanna know what she said?”

“What did she say?”

“She said ‘Don’t worry about it, hon. Just put him back.  This is how he likes it.’”

It was Dr. Becotte’s turn to wrinkle her nose, “Oooo…..well, Adaptation and Acceptance is what we’re aiming for here, as unpleasant as it is to think about, I guess he’s just—”

“—Oh, he is NOT ‘A&A Passing’, at least not according to his Phys & Psych evaluation.” Dr. Stanhope interrupted.

Quinn nodded in vehement agreement.

“Oh wow, really? I would have expected SOME indication of A&A by now. He began rear-housing back in 2000…” Dr. Becotte remarked with intrigued.

“The year 2000?  He’s been living in Mrs. Romero’s butt for five years?  Oh my god, I was…jeez…in middle school when he started!” Quinn exclaimed in disbelief. “We’ve got subjects who reach Tier-3 of A&A within 2 years.  I wonder why he’s taking so long.”

“It’s not the craziest thing in the world.” Dr. Stanhope said matter-of-factly.  “It happens a lot more often than you’d think and it's something we’re looking at closely.”

“Anyway,” Quinn continued, “...he was basically still as resistant as a Tier-1….maybe even more resistant if that makes sense…and the way he was struggling in my fingers was definitely confirmation. I set him down on Mrs Romero’s lower back…just for a second so I could put on my gloves, and he tried running! It’s a good thing he’s as small as he is, he kept tumbling down the slope of her lower back.  But anyway, I looked down between her cheeks.  I don’t think I’d ever seen a rear that big, let alone a naked one that was being spread wide open.  And god…it was all wet and dark…and deep!  It was seriously so bad.  There’s no way he wanted to be in there even for a second.”

“What’d you do?” Dr. Becotte asked.

“Well, I looked at him…the pale little thing.  He’s a REALLY little one, too..maybe even smaller than the one they’re giving to that Becca girl.  He was trying so hard to fight his way out of my fingertips.  I tried one more time, for his sake, and told Mrs. Romero that it really wouldn’t be a problem to give just a little wipe-down.”

“And what’d she say?” Dr. Stanhope asked.

“She got this super stern mom-tone. Most Participants are…I dunno…a little nervous or self conscious about their butt cheeks being pulled apart in front of strangers?” Quinn commented with sass.  “...but jeez…not Mrs. Romero! I remember exactly what she said…she said, ‘You girls have kept him away from his home for long enough today…at least two hours, right?  Two hours in a single day?? Good lord, I can’t remember the last time he’s been out that long; it can’t be good for him.’  Then she pulled her cheeks apart even wider and told me to put him back in his home.

Dr. Becotte looked away from Quinn and over at Dr. Stanhope, “Is Mrs. Romero in the 99% Club?”

Dr. Stanhope shook her head, “No, she’s not.  She’s pretty close though.  Maybe 85% or so if I had to pick a number.  We’ve tried to encourage her to increase…she’s starting to warm up to the idea but she still likes letting her sister and cousins stand in as alternates pretty often, which we’d prefer not to see in the 99% Club.” Carla looked back at Quinn, “Sorry Quinn, please continue.  What did you do next?”

“Well, what could I do?” Quinn was almost defensive.  “I was out of options.  I looked down at the little thing. He seriously was just so small…each of her cheeks may as well have been like several football fields to him.  I mouthed the words sorry, and then I started.  I did the thing that Dr. Walker does where she firmly runs the subject up along the length of one of the butt cheeks first.

“Yup, tracing the cheek.” Dr. Becotte confirmed.

“Right, I knew that Dr. Walker does that to kinda gradually introduce skin-to-skin contact again.  It really wasn’t helping him though. He was trying so hard to get away, I had to push him super hard into the fat of Mrs. Romero’s glute and there was just so much cushion for him to sink into that he…like…disappeared into it.   And then I started sliding him in toward the center and I tucked him into her crack.”

“I really wouldn’t feel too bad for him, Quinn.” Dr. Becotte offered matter-of-factly.

“Dr. Becotte’s right.” Dr. Stanhope reinforced.  “Mrs. Romero’s buttocks are VERY large and are surely intimidating to something so diminutive in size, but think about the positives.”

“Exactly…” Dr. Becotte agreed.  “You have to consider the depth of the gluteal depth.  You said yourself in fewer words how deep the subject could be confined within her rear.”

“And…” Dr. Stanhope added, “...Mrs. Romero’s buttocks are incredibly soft. Honestly, between Mrs. Romero’s buttocks is probably one of the safest places for something of his size.  And let’s not forget her jiggle-factor score.”

Dr. Becotte smirked, “Oh! Is she the one who scored an 8.7?”

Dr. Stanhope smiled and nodded, “Indeed!  His mind and reflexes are constantly engaged as they struggle to keep up and adapt to their erratic movement. There’s never a dull moment!”

“I guess I don’t feel as bad now then.”  Quinn’s upper lip curled, “Ugh…but I didn’t even get to the really disgusting part yet.  The absolute worst part.  I was trying…like…so hard to reinstall him without touching Mrs. Romero’s skin with my fingers.  I had him all the way in between her cheeks…I had him face down, lined up right against her asshole just like Mrs. Romero wanted…I had just let go of him and given him a slight little press…and then BANG!” Quinn lightly clapped her hands,

“Mrs. Romero let go of her big fat cheeks and they slapped in on my fingers.” the blonde intern exclaimed indignantly.

The doctors laughed like girls at a sleepover, Dr. Becotte spitting out a bit of her water.

Quinn’s tone heightened, modeling her dainty right hand and wiggling her fingers, “It freaking swallowed up my whole hand!”

The doctors’ roared louder.

“It's not funny.” Quinn huffed with her arms crossed over her chest but then, a cute smile started to creep on the young intern’s face. Amidst the jovial laughter, Quinn conceded, “Okay..maybe it’s a little funny..”

“I’d never pulled my hand up so fast in my life.  You were right about the jiggle-factor, Dr. Stanhope, because Mrs. Romero’s cheeks were wobbling all over the place and I wanted to puke!  On one hand, I felt so bad for the subject, but on the other hand I was so glad to see her jeans come back up cause at least the smell was trapped in there and starting to go away!”

“Not to marginalize the experience…” Dr. Becotte started, “...but you were wearing gloves at least, right?”

Quinn nodded, but there was more to be said. “Yeah but…ugh….I held it together until she walked out the door…and I looked down at how wet my fingers were…and I saw there was a tiny tear in the glove along my ring finger…and I just started gagging.  That’s when I ran in here.”

Dr. Stanhope smiled, “Well, we’ve all got a story like that, Quinn. Don’t worry.  The takeaway from this is that you were professional…you made a recommendation that you thought would benefit the subject and Participant, but the Participant declined.”

Dr. Becotte continued, “...and when Mrs. Romero declined, you accommodated HER preferences.  Dr. Walker, Dr. Bexley, and anyone else here will tell you that’s the most important part.”

Dr. Stanhope nodded with a large smile, “You installed the subject per the Participant’s preferred depth and anal alignment…and then you sent them on their way. You were courteous, professional, and you handled it just fine.”

“Yeah, I guess I just never thought I’d have another woman’s ass sweat on my fingers. Life is full of surprises.” Quinn said.

Dr. Stanhope replied, “At least you had gloves on and it was only for a second or two, and the perspiration only contacted a small area of your skin!”

“Yeah”, Dr. Becotte added, “and if it's just us girls talking here, I don’t think her subject thought he’d be spending literal years of his life completely surrounded by it, and not with any kind of barrier protecting him either.”

“Not to mention living off of it.” Dr. Stanhope added.

Quinn wrinkled her nose, “Living off of it? Oh, Mrs. Romero is doing the vitamins, too?”

Dr. Stanhope replied, “Of course she is. Feeding the subject is so much easier that way.

Dr. Becotte nodded in agreement, “Especially for Participants on a year-by-year commitment term basis.”

“Well…it’s not just years.” Quinn informed.

“Huh?” Dr. Becotte inquired as Dr. Stanhope knowingly smiled, privy to some information Dr. Becotte did not yet have.

“You said ‘year-by-year commitment term basis’.” Quinn quoted, “At the end of the meeting, Dr. Walker told Mrs. Romero that she was eligible for lifetime commitment.  She’d become eligible on her five-year anniversary of housing her subject but according to her paperwork, every time she comes in for her annual RR checkup, she just does another annual extension. Today, Mrs. Romero finally said okay.”

Dr. Becotte smiled, “She opted for the lifetime commitment? Oh, good for her!  Glad to hear she met all the requirements and went for it.”

Quinn rubbed her chin, “Hmm…yeah come to think of it, that could have been why he was being extra-fidgety in my hands when I was putting him—er—reinstalling him.  They had just brought him in right before Dr. Walker asked Mrs. Romero if she wanted to do the lifetime commitment.  He was right there in the room in Dr. Walker’s hands, listening as Mrs. Romero agreed to house him in her rear for the rest of his life.”

Dr. Stanhope replied matter-of-factly, “That’s not surprising.  Dr. Walker usually likes to have the subject present for those decisions when possible.”

Dr. Stanhope noticed confusion on Dr. Becotte’s and Quinn’s faces at her statement and she smirked, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.  She clarified, “Not to weigh in on the decision-making process, obviously.  Just to document their reactions.”

Judging from the change in their expressions, that made a lot more sense to Dr. Becotte and Quinn.

Quinn broke the brief silence, “I did fine on the installations where I observed, just so you know.  For one of the installations I observed, Dr. Walker even had me do the ‘first-installation glute and anal scrubdown’ and I had no issues at all with that.”

Dr. Stanhope smirked, “Sure, Quinn.  And I’m sure you’ll do great on the installations you perform in the future.  The way you described this one with Mrs. Romero….it was definitely an outlier. Probably best for an RR Veteran like Dr. Becotte or myself, but you did great and I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dr. Stanhope!” a red-cheeked Quinn beamed with a smile.  She glanced over at the television.

“Oh! They installed the new monitors.  That’s a Subject Experience Monitor, right?” Quinn asked.

Dr. Stanhope replied, Yes, that’s right.”

Quinn’s head tilted in curiosity, her eyes scanning the live monitoring feed of subject-284c.

“What do all those spikes in the hot pink graph mean? There are dozens of them.” Quinn asked.

Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte looked at each other, a knowing grin on each of their faces.

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 11 - Waiting

[September 30th, 2005]

Lori stood nervously in front of the glass door.  Apart from the bright sun reflecting off the glass, the entrance appeared entirely innocuous, as if this were just some run-of-the-mill, cookie-cutter corporate building that you could drive by for years without it ever having caught your eye.  She’d seen many a corporate plaza in her day and even worked in one herself, but Lori had never seen one tucked back in such a serene, unexplored range of North Carolinian nature.  The air was more crisp here, and the sounds of passing cars were miles down the dirt road she’d carefully driven in her rented Prius.

Lori read the white text centered on the door at about eye level:

RR Laboratories

Lori took a deep breath and pressed the call button right next to the keypad.

In a combination of nerves and budding impatience, Lori absent-mindedly smoothed the back of her denim skirt down, focusing for a fleeting moment on the hint of fidgeting between her large, warm cheeks hidden from the world. The source of the fidgeting could barely claim any stake in this world that Lori so freely walked, buried deep below flesh, tight maroon cotton, and thick denim.

The first thing she’d done when getting off the plane was adjourn to a restroom in order to change into the tight maroon underwear.

She’d briefly considered taking him out to explain to him what was going on, but her landing was delayed and she feared that she might be late for her appointment.  Lori simply tucked the blue panties she’d worn on the plane into her purse.  He wasn’t happy about it but he should have been grateful that she’d allowed him the freedom of her normal underwear on the flight!

Lori’s attention was easily pulled from the faint struggling in her crack by an abrupt buzzing speaker. From the speaker, she heard a single word…the tone of a question…from a feminine, nearly skeptical voice.

“Name?”

Lori cleared her throat and leaned unnecessarily close toward the speaker, her eye catching the movement of a security camera mounted up in the corner.

“Lori Warren?” She replied, matching the tone of a question.

There was no response from the skeptical feminine voice, only the sound of the locking mechanism of the glass door unlatching with a loud “ca-chunk”.

Lori pulled the heavy door open and walked into RR Labs.

The air conditioning felt good against her arms, bare legs, and sandal clad feet.  It was quite a warm day, and she had to walk further in this heat than she and certainly him were expecting.  She was sure the tiny complainer in her bottom would have something to say had she given him the opportunity.  At least the flight over was reasonably air conditioned; she felt bad that the subject had to remain in her bottom for the entire flight though.

Lori rubbed her ample left cheek.  It was still sore from the long flight and the drive didn’t do her any favors.  As soon as she plopped down in the seat, she felt so sleepy that she dozed right off and didn’t wake up until they’d landed…and even as she slept, she adjusted her sitting style to prevent her bulbous cheeks from compressing too firmly in on the subject.

Did he care? Was he grateful?  Probably not.

And now she’d nearly walked off the cramp in her left ass cheek that had returned during the drive from the airport, each step inspiring a flurry of fleshy movements that reverberated up her calves and thighs into each cheek, loosening the flesh and creating relief for the selfless mother of three.  Lori continued down the long hallway, the slapping sound of her flip flops against her wide, calloused heels echoing off the bare, windowless walls that lead to a single, simple door.

On the other side was a waiting room that bore a striking resemblance to a doctor’s office. The room exuded an air of understated luxury, professionalism, and cleanliness.  The room exuded a subtle aura of calmness that did its best to slow Lori’s racing heart. Muted, cold light emanated from recessed fixtures in the ceiling while decorative fixtures along the walls complemented with soft, warm hues. Despite the room’s large size, there were only two rows of chairs.  They seemed expensive and designed for the utmost comfort, and were meticulously arranged along either creme-vanilla colored wall with at least 15-20 feet of walking space between the two rows.  Every luxurious, comfortable looking seat was empty except for one on the north wall.

It was occupied by a beautiful young blonde woman engrossed in the pages of a fashion magazine.  Lori looked further down into the depths of the waiting room and saw the receptionist’s desk.

Gratefully, the beautiful blonde had not looked up from her engrossing magazine as Lori self-consciously walked up toward the desk.  The last thing she wanted was a young woman like her looking at Lori’s bottom and wondering if there was a tiny little boy in there.

‘But was that even really a bad thing? If she wondered?’ Lori thought.  ‘Clearly she’s here, too…’

Lori approached the front desk with measured steps, her gaze fixed upon the young woman stationed behind it. The counter, remarkably elevated, was cold, gleaming, and uncluttered.  It presented an image of clinical precision and cleanliness, a testament to the meticulous upkeep and achievement ethos within RR Labs.  The counter concealed much of the receptionist from Lori’s view, revealing only glimpses of her chipper, vibrant young smile as well as the lapels and collar of her impeccably tailored blazer.  A nametag decorated her right breast, identifying her as Laura.

Laur wore a pin on her left lapel that resembled a mirrored image of two purple arcs, each one containing a small blue ball.  Lori recognized the symbol from the literature items she’d received with her subject.

Though youthful in appearance, Laura possessed an air of maturity beyond her years and her smile made Lori feel more at ease in such a complicated and confusing situation.  Lori estimated her to be not much older than Gina.  Perhaps in her early 20’s if not younger, yet her demeanor exuded a sense of practiced competence and genuine friendliness.

Lori’s voice, barely above a whisper, broke the stillness.

“Hi.” Lori greeted, the single word somehow packed with a healthy blend of curiosity and apprehension.

“Good morning, Lori. How was your trip?” Laura replied with a melodic symphony of professional courtesy and sincere warmth.

“Oh, it was fine…thank you.” Lori replied, a bit caught off guard but pleased by Laura’s interest in her wellbeing.

“I’m so glad to hear it!” Laura chirped.  Lori had a better view of the lower tiered workspace of the receptionist area, featuring a slender monitor screen and tight, compact wireless keyboard and mouse.  Laura reached for a pen from a full cup stationed next to a cleanly squared stack of blank forms.

“Did you bring your subject today?” Laura asked sweetly.

The question was a gentle reminder to Lori of what had brought her to this domain of scientific discovery and research.  She swallowed dryly.

How interesting…Lori had never attached the word ‘hers’ to the subject before.  For all intents and purposes, it really was true though, wasn’t it?

Lori recalled a time some years back when she and her daughters had visited a swim park. The ticket-selling cashier had asked how old her daughters were so that their tickets could be priced correctly. She’d not had the same introspective contemplation in that moment, wondering whether it was appropriate to refer to them as ‘hers’, and yet here she was, replaying the word rolling off of Laura’s full lips.

Gina, Isabella, and Victoria were ‘her’ daughters…sure, no problem there.  This…subject was…well…’her’ subject.  She could wrap her head around it…sure…if not for one thing. This just felt so different. Lori didn’t know this young woman, but the tone of her question wasn’t that of the ticket-selling cashier’s from that day at the water park years and years ago.

It could have been overthinking or her just imagining it, but Lori inferred from the tone that the receptionist didn’t view this as familial or even a professional relationship.  The tone implied that he was a possession of hers that she could have just as easily forgotten to bring…that he wasn’t just ‘her’ subject in the same way that Gina, Vicky, and Bella were ‘her’ daughters.  Unlike the full-sized, increasingly independent girls, the subject actually did belong to her…much like the sandals on her feet or the business cards in her desk drawer.

Lori wondered if she agreed with the receptionist’s implication.

“Umm..yes, I brought him.” Lori replied.  She nervously flexed her cheeks.  Her heart rate had started rising again.  This was the first time someone had looked her straight in the eye and referred directly to the tiny man concealed within her butt.  It was a little jarring, considering how secretive she’d had to be…hiding his presence, albeit with relative ease, from her daughters.

“Okay, then.” Laura smiled, grabbing a few sheets of paper and a pen from the cup.  Each pen had a long, plastic flower tied to the end, obviously to dissuade visitors from keeping them.

‘She’s just acting so normal….’ Lori thought in disbelief, watching the elegant young receptionist do her job. ‘I’ve got a human being tucked away in my bottom and she’s just grabbing papers.’

“We’ll just need you to fill out the fronts of these forms.” Laura said kindly, holding the papers and pen out.

The receptionist reached down behind the counter where Lori couldn’t see and grabbed another sheet, placing it on top of the small stack in Lori’s hands.  Laura pointed at the top of the first sheet and quietly said, “If you wouldn’t mind, go ahead and take a look at Note #2 on the top sheet before you go sit down, please.”

Lori read the note to herself:

Note #2:

Subjects must be installed prior to all appointments.

It is strongly preferred that Participants perform subject-installation prior to check-in. However, if the subject is not installed at the time of check-in, Participants are required to visit the waiting room lavatory and install the subject prior to any appointment.

Participants are responsible for ensuring that subjects are completely concealed at all times while on the premises except for in lavatories or until otherwise instructed by RR Laboratories personnel.

Lori looked up from the paper to the receptionist, not quite sure how to say it.

“Oh…I don’t have to go to….” Lori trailed off, looking over at the restroom.  She returned her gaze to Laura, hoping that the young girl would have gotten what she was trying to say.

No such luck.

Laura wore a youthful curiosity on her freckled cheeks, her green eyes sparkling with focus on Lori’s words.

Lori cleared her throat, “to the restroom…like the note says.  He’s…..umm…he’s already…” Lori gestured down to her wide hips and the receptionist’s eyes followed. Laura realized quickly what Lori meant and a smile spread across her young face.

“Oh, fantastic!  In that case, you can have a seat over there anywhere you like and finish reviewing the other notes…once you’ve read them over you can start filling out the paperwork.  If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask, Ms. Warren.”

Lori smiled and turned away from Laura, nervously clutching the papers to her chest, lightly tapping them against her skin as her heavy glutes shifted under her denim skirt with each hesitant step. She could feel Laura’s eyes dancing all over her big, jiggling bottom…at least the denim helped to obstruct their true jiggliness..at least a little bit!

“Oh, I forgot to add, Dr. Walker is just finishing up with some other obligations but she said that she will be with you shortly.” Laura added.

She took a seat in the same row as the blonde woman, only a single chair between her and Lori.  It was a comfy chair no doubt, several inches of soft, plush cushion compressed under her formidable weight. Her hips just barely fit in the gap between the arm rests.  Luckily for her complaining subject, there was enough room for her to uncomfortably shift to one glute, crossing one thigh over the other.

Before looking at her forms, Lori took another quick look around.  She smiled politely at the blonde who had acknowledged Lori’s entrance, and now her eyes continued to the large selection of signage she’d briefly spotted previously.  The most prevalently occurring sign was the one she’d seen earlier over top the blonde’s head. It looked to be about half the size of a standard poster and it had what looked like an unlit LED light at the bottom center.  Above it was text:

ABSOLUTELY NO TALKING in the Waiting Room when PINK LED is illuminated, except with RR Personnel.

There were other signs as well.

Cell Phone use is prohibited.

Please check in with the receptionist prior to sitting down.

No electronics.

Do NOT unmute the television

None of these signs were as large or occurred as often along the cream-white wallspace as did the no-talking sign.

“Beautiful day today, isn’t it?”

Lori’s eyes quickly darted back to the ‘no talking’ sign. Even though she’d literally just looked at it, she wanted to confirm once more that the LED was not illuminated.

Once she confirmed that it was okay to talk, Lori glanced over at the blonde woman and smiled politely, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The young woman set her magazine down in her lap and leaned over the empty seat between her and Lori, her tight blonde curls bobbing slightly as she extended a hand. “My name’s Hannah.”

“I’m Lori.  Nice to meet you.  Are you…. participating?”

Hannah showed a full mouth of pristine white teeth as she smiled and shook her head, “Oh no, no.  I don’t really meet the…well..” she motioned down to her narrow waist.  Lori’s rear took up nearly as much real estate of the luxurious, cushioned seat as possible, her upper thighs each flirting with the arm rests of her chair.  By comparison, there was plenty of air between Hannah’s hips and the arm rests.

“…I don’t meet the requirements.” She said with a short but genuine laugh.

Hannah’s slender thighs were mostly encased in dark designer jeans, adorned in fashionable tears, revealing glimpses of sun-kissed tan skin.  Lori’s own pale calves, caught in a momentary and unfair comparison, appeared even bulkier than Hannah’s thighs in contrast.  A tinge of self-consciousness flickered within Lori, but she swiftly brushed it away.  Hannah appeared at an age where her high school days were still an audible echo in a past within reach, and her exceptionally svelte figure led Lori to the conclusion that Hannah might have been one of those cheerleaders who effortlessly soared through the air, lifted and twirled by her teammates.

Amid Hannah’s petite frame, there was one aspect that attempted to defy the notion of her delicacy and svelteness. Her ample bosom, proudly on display with an arresting amount of cleavage that even Lori couldn’t avoid stealing a glance.  It might have even made her sweet Isabella blush.  Hannah’s thick, cascading curls framed her face beautifully, but very purposefully terminated above the shoulders, careful to avoid obstructing the stunning view of her chesty, feminine display.

As self-conscious as Lori felt about how much…well…thicker she was than Hannah, Lori felt more self-conscious about bringing up what could have been a sore spot for Hannah.  Not meeting the criteria for anything could be a bit of a slap in the face, even something as silly as not having large enough buttocks for a man to live between...but then again, that is an awful lot of money to miss out on.

“Oh…I’m sorry I asked.” Lori said, returning her gaze to her own wide lap.

“Oh no! Don’t be!” Hannah said, gently grabbing Lori’s arm and patting it.

As if she could see the next question on Lori’s mind, Hannah’s forest-green eyes wandered over toward the door across the waiting room between their seats and Laura’s station at the receptionist desk.

“I’m just waiting for my fiancée. She DEFINITELY meets the requirements,” Hannah said, punctuating her words with a playful wink that caused Lori’s eyes to widen and her cheeks to blush.

“Oh, I see!” Lori said in shock and Hannah laughed lightly.

“Oh, I hope you don’t think…I mean…you know my response wasn’t about—we’re very progressive back in Seattle! And three of my closest friends from high school, well I’d heard…and I mean…I was okay with…I was just—” Lori sighed, noticing a growing amusement on Hannah’s face.

“I’m just very new to all this.”

“To what, Lori?  Lesbian relationships or rear-housing?” Hannah teased.

“The second one, by far!” Lori enthusiastically answered.

Lori’s only experience with this strange new concept of rear housing was her own. From that single frame of experiential reference, she was most familiar with secrecy, shame, and pain.

Secrecy from her daughters, secrecy from her friendly coworkers at lunch, secrecy even from the handsome boy at the coffee shop who knew exactly how she liked her mocha.  None of them knew that she carried a miniature naked man in her bottom.

How disgusting would they all think she was if they knew? If they caught her removing the tiny little trinket from deep between her big soft cheeks, if they watched her ample, wide bottom wiggle and bounce with each waddling step, silently judging her for wedging something so small and helpless in their damp, earthy cleavage.

‘Oh…’ Lori added silently to herself, ‘let’s not forget persistent pain in either my left or right glute depending on which way I’m leaning to accommodate my subject’.

For the first time, Lori had been privy to a second frame of reference.  Even if it was all delivered in the form of a single sentence from a pretty, adventurous, and confident young woman.  The idea of two women…to borrow an inferred sentiment from Laura…”co-owning” a tiny little person so openly and unapologetically…it was just such a foreign and intriguing concept.

Lori couldn't help but picture the two women cuddled up on a couch watching movies, sitting across from one another over a candlelit dinner, or bare bodies intertwined under a thick heavy comforter…and all the while, Hannah knowing that there was a diminutive stowaway tucked deep between her love’s cheeks…and that Hannah wouldn’t care!

It was just very fascinating.  Maybe this wasn’t something to be ashamed of after all.

Lori and Hannah’s conversation continued, each woman gradually turning more and more toward each other and getting more comfortable. Hannah was so captivating and alluring, and Lori saw in her the things that she wished she could see in herself.  With so much of her finite focus on Hannah, the sensation of Lori’s subject struggling and wiggling deep in her crack became more and more faint.

“It actually works…wonderfully, believe it or not. Our relationship has never been healthier.” Hannah said.

Lori replied, “Because…of this experiment?”

Hannah giggled, “Yeah.  You see, I’m bisexual, and I asked Bridget once or twice about bringing a boy into our bedroom.  Only problem is that she is VERY not bisexual!  She told me if I wanted to go out and experience something with a guy, then that was fine as long as I came back home to her.  She’s an incredibly confident woman, which is one of the many things I love about her. Anyway, I wanted her to be a part of it too…I didn’t want to do it without her…but at the same time I completely understood that she just didn’t feel any kind of attraction to men whatsoever.  We’re both mature adults, so we both made our compromises…but then like…literally a day after Bridget approved of me calling this guy I dated in high school for a one-time thing, this experiment came along.”

“Oh?” Lori said, leaning in with more interest.

“Bridget was contacted by one of the interns here, I think through the hospital she works for in Arizona.  When she mentioned the idea to me, I thought it was crazy..but to make a long story short it clearly wasn’t.  And you’d think bringing a boy into our home, let alone our bedroom, might make her insecure...jealous even…but nope.  Not Bridget.  Seriously, not even a little bit.  He’s just the cutest little thing, I don’t think anyone could look at him as any form of equal competition like I might look at a grown man.  I mean…come on…Bridget and I are getting married next June…and he lives between her cheeks. She has my heart and he has her heart-shaped butt! There’s just nothing there to worry about.”

“So you don’t ask Bridget about threesomes anymore? Or encounters with men?” Lori blurted out, shocked by her own interest.  She was even more shocked by Hannah’s lack of shock in the bold and abrupt question.

“She doesn’t have to.” Hannah said with a grin, raising one of her dark eyebrows suggestively.

Lori’s mouth was agape.  She took a moment to look around uncomfortably but returned her gaze to Hannah. “You…Bridget…and the subject?”

“Oh yeah, all the time.  I mean, AFTER he’s finished his rear-confinement time for the day. They’re pretty big sticklers about that here at this lab.  And OF COURSE after we’ve washed him off..but we even find ways to have fun with that.” Hannah said with a devilish grin.

Lori looked over at the receptionist.  Laura was clearly within range of being able to hear the conversation, but Lori was the only one that was wide-eyed. She touched her chest, her heart fluttering under her hot skin,

“They’re…alright with being…well..involved in that kind of thing?”

Hannah looked for a moment like she was thinking, her forest-greens focusing in on the tiled ceiling, as if she’d never pondered the thought.

She shrugged, her large breasts bouncing slightly. “I guess.”

After some silence, she clarified, “I mean, what guy wouldn’t want to be with two girls?”

Lori heard a quiet, smirk-laden chuckle come from the receptionist desk.

“In all seriousness though,” Hannah said, “They told us that when we got him, we were allowed to literally do whatever we want with him as long as we met the DDM thing.”

Lori replied, “The Dynamic Daily Minimum.”

Hannah nodded, “Yup!  It's really a win-win for everyone involved.  Bridget gets to make some money while we save for a house and for the wedding AND I get to have fun with a guy..or well…pretty close to a guy anyway.”

Another quiet chuckle from Laura followed.

“And it's funny, Bridget is not attracted to men and she barely even cares to interact with the subject most of the time aside from putting him in her butt or taking him out but if you get a few glasses of wine in her, she turns into this playful, thick, cute little kitten toying with a mouse.  It’s actually super adorable to watch.”

Hannah pulled from her navy blue purse a studded flip-phone. After pounding a few keys, a picture popped up and she turned the small screen to face Lori.  She’d recognized the format of the photo immediately.  Gina loved posting pictures like this.

It was the typical girly vacation photo.  A photograph of a beautiful ocean landscape serving as the background and in the foreground were two sets of thighs, one set as sunkissed and tan as Hannah’s with the same light blue nail polish she was wearing now.  The other set of thighs were pressed up against Hannah’s and Lori surmised that they must have been Bridget’s.  They were much larger than Hannah’s thighs and far more starved for sunlight, but in neither way could they be described as unattractive.  Further down the pale legs were pale bare feet slightly larger than Hannahs adorned with black polish on toes longer than Hannah’s.  The most interesting and trend-breaking component of the photograph, however, was the tiny man hugging Bridget’s pale foot.  He kept one eye on the camera as he planted a deep, respectful kiss upon Bridget’s big toe.

The toe-kissing action occurred down in the lower-half of the photograph while the upper portion showed two champagne glasses clinking together, as if to celebrate the view and their collective feminine superiority and dominance over the subject at Bridget’s feet.

“He used to spend about roughly equal time with both of us each day when we first got him. But obviously, since Bridget is the one keeping him in her booty and the DDM is supposed to increase, she’s gradually been keeping him longer and longer as time goes by.”

“What do you normally do with him when you have him?  When he’s not…with your fiance?” Lori asked quietly, staring intently at the subject hugging Bridget’s foot.

She wondered what he was thinking…how he felt about the task…how much the girls had to insist...

Hannah grinned mischievously as her chin drifted down, her gaze aligning with her large breasts.  The silence of Hannah’s visual response was broken as the door leading to the rest of RR Labs opened, ripping both womens’ attention away from the blonde’s ample cleavage. The sound of flats scuffing against the tile floor came first, and then a woman appeared.  A single purple scrunchie held her thick, curly brown locks in place but graciously allowed for a cascade of captivating tresses to flow gracefully over her left shoulder. The woman looked around for a moment, a smile forming on her thin lips as her large brown eyes locked on Hannah.

“Hey, hon.” Lori heard Hannah say from beside her.

Lori stole more than a fascinated quick glance at Bridget as she walked toward Hannah.  Her choice of attire reflected a blend of grace, femininity, and professionalism.  A light gray, silk button-down blouse, its fabric appearing as delicate and soft as a whisper was tucked neatly into her high-waisted gray slacks. The horizontal stripes that ran from ankle to waist were wavy at her calves but tightened along with the material that hugged her thick, ample thighs.  Her fashion choice was feminine and professional, confident and yet conservative, suggesting that she might have come straight from work.

Hannah rose from her seat and the two women exchanged a quick, tasteful peck on the lips.

“Missed ya.” Hannah said, rising from her seat to plant a tasteful peck on Bridget’s freckled nose.  An expression of girlish infatuation on Hannah’s face as Bridget moved a stray strand of blonde hair from Hannah’s eyes.

“They're finishing up with him now…” Bridget said, “...and Dr. Kleinhardt said you can come back now…for the couple’s screening.”

“Oh, good! I like her.” Hannah said.

When she noticed Bridget looking over toward Lori, Hannah spoked up, “Oh, I’m rude, huh?  Bridget, this is Lori.  Lori, this is my fiance, Bridget.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Bridget said with a courteous smile.  “Are you already participating?”

‘Clearly Bridget could tell that I meet the requirements…’ Lori thought, unsure of whether she should be ashamed or proud.

“I am.  It’s my first week.” Lori said nervously. “Still trying to get used to it.”

Bridget replied, “Ohh, well you’ll figure it all out in no time, I promise.  It’s probably hard for you to believe it but you’ll eventually get to the point where you’ll go hours without even feeling him back there.”

“That’s only because her big butt just gobbles him up.” Hannah said playfully, gently tapping Bridget’s left ass cheek.

“Leave my big butt out of this, why don’t you?” Bridget said with a playful eyeroll.

“No, I like talking about your big butt.” Hannah said, running a hand along Bridget’s waist.

Bridget smirked and sighed, “It was very nice meeting you, Lori.  Excuse us?”

Lori smiled, “Oh, sure…nice meeting you too. Good luck!”

“It was very nice meeting you, Lori.” Hannah said, her large breasts swaying as she shook Lori’s hand.  “We’ll have to talk more about you and your little subject if we ever cross paths again.”

“I’d like that.” Lori said. “It was nice meeting the two of you.  Good luck

Bridget replied, “You as well.”

Bridget and Hannah walked to the large doorway into RR Labs.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Bridget said with a chuckle.

Lori watched as Hannah’s small hand did its best to grab as large a handful of Bridget’s expansive left ass cheek as it could. The two women disappeared behind the slowly closing door.  As it took its time closing, Lori heard Hannah’s voice echoing faintly off the hallway getting quieter with each step.

“So it's my turn now once we leave here, right?  Riiiiiight?  We both know he’s met his minimum for the day and then some.”

Lori heard Bridget sigh playfully and dramatically, “I don’t know…what’s in it for me?”

Hannah paused for a moment, “Ummm..a backrub?”

Bridget purred, “Deal.”

The conversation continued, but it was too faint for Lori to hear…and then the door finally sealed.

In similar waiting scenarios like when she would get her oil changed or visit the doctor, Lori would usually play a game on her cell phone. She didn’t know the name of it but it was something Victoria had downloaded for her where you tap colorful bubbles for points.

Much more alone now in the waiting room, she could hear nothing but her own heartbeat in her temples, and feel nothing but the tickle in her asscrack.  She picked up the pen and forms from the seat that was between her and Hannah and looked at the top page.  It was the one with Note #2, and she saw that there were several more.  The top note read:

Note #1: Participant is responsible for this sheet of information and is not permitted to share it with anyone. Participant is restricted from photographing, recording, transcribing, or reading aloud the text contained on this sheet.  Participant is required to surrender this sheet in its entirety to reception upon submitting paperwork and absolutely no later than exiting the premises after business has concluded.

Lori was interested to see that, unlike all the other sheets of paper, this one actually had her name written on it…everywhere.  Her name was written diagonally in light gray writing all over the sheet.  It looked to be a watermark placed so that if the document were to ever leak, R&R Labs would clearly be able to hold her accountable.

Lori reviewed the remaining notes and began to fill out the forms.

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 12 - Still Waiting

[September 30th, 2005]

Note #6 – Prior to installation, subjects receive a variety of important medicines and treatments administered via injection.  R&R Laboratories deeply respects the privacy of our Participants, but Participants should understand that several dozen parameters of our assigned subjects’ well-being and health are recorded on a continuous, never-ending basis and broadcast directly to R&R Laboratories.  R&R Laboratories personnel will occasionally monitor and record these parameters to document the assigned subject’s adaptation process over time.

These parameters include but are not limited to:

-blood oxygenation

-epidermal surface temperature

-olfactory stimulation

-cerebral stimulation

-hunger

-pressure

The subject’s involuntary and constant broadcasting of these parameter values occurs without his knowledge or added discomfort, and is made possible through sophisticated “nano” and “nano-0” technologies introduced to the subject via injection. Other injections serve to purposely enhance, diminish, or completely alter certain components of the subject’s physiology.

If you qualified for shipment and out-of-lab installation and this is your first visit, please indicate on Form #3 that an Assignment Shot is required.

Lori shifted position in her seat, giving her left side a break from supporting her body.  Her left and right cheeks shared the burden of her weight as she adjusted, causing extreme compression in her glutes. The struggling within her crack came as if it were a reflex, albeit at a much less productive intensity due to the tightness of the maroon panties.  Lori quickly shifted to the other side, burdening her right cheek with the task of supporting her full weight. She resumed filling out the papers, checking on Form #3 her need for an assignment shot…whatever that was.

An intercom speaker near Laura’s desk buzzed, breaking the silence of the waiting room. Lori could hear her press a button and she heard Laura say, “Name?” just like she had with Lori earlier.  She heard a deep voice on the other end say, “Brandon Hall.”

The young receptionist flipped a heavy switch Lori couldn’t see.

She guessed it would unlatch the door.

Lori heard a second heavy switch flip. Her eyes were immediately pulled to the “No Talking” signs dispersed throughout the waiting room.  All the LEDs, previously off, were now emitting a bright pink light.

Brandon was tall, young, and handsome.  Lori didn’t have to stand to know that he would have towered over her. His hair was dark as was the perfect amount of stubble on his square chin, jutting up symmetrically over his pronounced jaw line.  He had a friendly, disarming smile and Lori felt her heart flutter for a moment when he locked eyes with her and sent her a polite, crooked grin.  She calmly returned the smile and focused back on her forms.

‘Way too young for you,’ Lori thought as the man approached Laura’s desk.  He said hello and told Laura he’d had an appointment.  Laura was professional and courteous but not even a fraction of a percentage more than she needed to be.  She did not come off nearly as friendly as she’d been with Lori earlier.  Laura finished checking the man in quickly.  He was not given any forms to fill out or paperwork to read. The man was simply asked to have a seat and observe all posted signs and that someone would be with him shortly.

Lori watched out of the corner of her eye as he entered the seating area.  She wondered if he might consider sitting down next to her or on the same side.  She speculated that he might smell nice; he certainly looked like he did.  Brandon took a seat directly across from her, giving her a friendly nod and then looked up toward the muted television.

He was fashionably dressed, but not in anything too expensive or flashy.  A nice pair of blue Nikes, dark jeans, a teal & brown flannel shirt.  Rolled-up sleeves showcased strong forearms and an interestingly bright red wrist watch on his left wrist.  It didn’t seem to go with the outfit, but men were often granted leniency on these things…especially when they were cute and had the confidence to try.

The waiting room was far from entertaining.  Brandon didn’t seem too interested in the girly magazines nor the scientific ones that were available.  He seemed disinterested in the muted television as well.  She smirked a little, realizing after a few minutes that apparently the thing he’d found most interesting in this boring room was her bare legs.  He’d stolen several glances, and Lori had fun catching him without his noticing.

She didn’t fault him for it.  In fact, she welcomed it.  After the slight envy she felt for Hannah’s slender and youthful figure, it was a nice confidence boost to know that she could keep this handsome young man entertained while they both waited.  She would not have minded having a conversation with him…get to understand why he was here.  However, it seemed like it was this that the pink LED’s existed specifically to dissuade.  He was about college-aged.  She expected that Gina would be surrounded by men like this when she finally left home.

Brandon pulled out a pack of gum and unwrapped a single slice, folding it in half twice.  He looked up at Lori as he put it in his mouth and quietly said,

“Wanna piece?”

Without missing a beat, Lori heard Laura loudly clear her throat. Brandon’s gaze abruptly shifted to Laura.

“Oooof…sorry!” He whispered to the unamused but satisfied receptionist.

He looked back over at Lori with comically exaggerated wide eyes, large masculine hand covering his pursed lips.  Lori smiled at the situation and at his blushing, mouthing the words,

“No, thank you.” She returned to her forms.

He stole several more glances.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.  This time, a gorgeous blonde appeared, holding the door open with her foot.  Her golden hair, textured and thick, flowered down poetically over her white lab coat.

The woman spoke with pep and enthusiasm when she addressed Lori’s handsome waiting buddy.

“Hey Brandon!”

“Hey, Dr. Becotte.”  Brandon stood up slowly, a confident, knowing smile spreading across his broad face.

Lori almost laughed; he had noticeably deepened his voice from earlier.

“I feel like I just saw you yesterday,” Brandon said with a handsome smile that actually gave Lori butterflies.

Dr. Becotte quietly giggled. “Maybe that’s cause you were here yesterday.”

Lori watched Dr. Becotte in fascination.  What the blonde doctor was doing Lori had also done, albeit at a much younger age.  She’d seen Gina and Isabella do it, too.

‘Not so much Victoria…’, she thought.

Anyway, that was the kind of giggling a girl did when she was around a boy she liked, and it didn’t quite matter if what the boy said was actually funny or not.  It was getting a giggle.  Paired with the giggle, another strategy included—

“Are you ready to come back?” Dr. Becotte asked, twirling two of her fingers around in her hair, gesturing toward the door behind her.

Hair twirling.

Lori almost couldn’t refrain from letting out a bit of laughter.  The thought of a presumably intelligent and positively adorable doctor such as Dr. Beceotte becoming so smitten by this college boy was cute, if not a little difficult to believe.  Sure, he was handsome but this doctor…goodness…

…She looked like she could be a supermodel.

‘I suppose everyone has a type.’ Lori thought, ready to dismiss the situational quirk.

Brandon was now standing, stretching his arms up which caused his t-shirt to rise just enough to show his lower stomach.  Lori couldn’t avoid sneaking a glance…it was flat, toned, tanned, and had just the right amount of hair.  She paid attention to Dr. Becotte’s eyeline…it didn’t once drift down toward Brandon’s midsection.

Brandon completed his stretch, keeping the charm going as he walked toward her.

“Sure, let’s do this.  Last day, right?”

Dr. Becotte smiled up at him, “Kinda.  It’s definitely the most important one, that’s for sure!”

The blonde beauty pulled the door open and gently guided Brandon toward the opening she’d created, pressing lightly in the center of his broad shoulder blades.  Brandon didn’t look back. The last thing Lori heard before the door shut was Dr. Becotte saying “something-seven”.

Then they were both gone.

Lori then heard that familiar switching sound as soon as the door latched shut: all the pink LEDs went out.

With nothing left to fill out, and unable to check her phone, Lori leafed through some of the magazines. She was wondering what was taking so long, now nearly a half hour outside of her appointment time.  Far be it for her to complain though. Her round-trip flight had been paid for in full by the company.

‘Honestly, they can keep me waiting all they want,’ Lori thought.

Lori was about ready to ask Laura if she could step outside to call home and check on the girls when the heavy door opened again for a third time. The door seemed to explode off the hinges; the blast was so loud that Lori’s subject, insulated from most sounds by the dense flesh of her thick glutes, even twitched in shock.

A young woman exploded out the open door.  She was about as slender as Hannah, perhaps even moreso, but she didn’t look nearly as friendly. Lori guessed this woman was beautiful, but it was difficult to be certain considering how contorted her face was in…anger?  Misery?  Dark mascara smudged its way down her high cheekbones as she brought chaos into the quiet room.  Behind her was another woman in a lab coat.

It wasn’t the one who’d escorted Brandon into wherever he was going. Lori tried to read the nametag on her lab coat, but saw out of the corner of her eye the hysterical woman turn to face her.  Lori abruptly looked at the woman, who was now looking right back at her. Lori wasn’t sure why, but she could see that the moment they’d locked eyes, the woman seemed to be getting progressively angrier.

“And I guess you’re gonna give one to this old lady, huh?”, she said.

Lori blushed, sinking into her chair, not even noticing the squirming of her subject as her weight centered.  ‘She’s not talking about me, is she?  I’m the only one in here…so she must be.’

“……gave….”

The crying woman sheathed the daggers in her eyes and redirected them toward Laura’s desk.

“What did you say?” The slender woman asked.

Lori watched Laura cross her arms over her chest and matter-of-factly clarify, “You asked if we were going to give her one.  We ALREADY GAVE her one.”

The woman’s mouth dropped, and she was once more glaring at Lori.  Lori felt the young, thin woman’s eyes wandering over her body, but not in the interested and discrete way that Brandon’s did.  This woman was blatant and furious and….jealous?  Was that really jealousy Lori was detecting?  Lori winced, preparing herself for some tirade of insults that would expand upon the crying woman’s previous, incredibly insulting question, but she did no such thing.  Instead, she buried her face into her hands and ran out of the building.

Had Lori not just spoken to Hannah, she might not have had any idea what this girl was so upset about but considering how slender she was, and…well….the size of her behind, Lori suspected the girl’s backside was deemed either too small or not soft enough to safely house a subject.  Lori could understand the girl’s pain; afterall, RR Labs was paying a lot of money for this and she could understand the pain of missing out on that.

‘Such a silly thing…’ Lori thought, ‘...that I would qualify just because my bottom is so large.’

It was a strange thing to feel proud of as well.  Lori suspected just one of her own cheeks was more voluminous than the crying girl’s entire backside.  Some might see that as something to be insecure about, but apparently not here.

Once the echoing of the slamming door decayed, the three women standing in an uncomfortable silence that Lori decided to break.

“I’m…only 40.”

The woman in the lab coat who had been chasing the crying girl looked away from the door and at Lori with a smile.  Her hair was a thick and wavy chestnut brown; Lori suspected that it might have been dyed but she wasn’t sure.  Friendly, wise eyes looked at her through thick-framed, large black glasses.

The woman was not quite as beautiful as the other doctor who had come in. She was still cute though, and she had a strange confidence and aura about her.

“I’m so sorry about that ma’am.” The woman in the tight lab coat said.  “Are you waiting for someone?”

‘I recognize that voice,’ Lori thought, looking to the lab coat for the name tag.

The lab coat was under a considerable amount of stress in the chest region, and the woman’s large breasts caused the name tag to angle downward, making it a little difficult to read from her current distance.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Walker? At 11AM?” Lori said in the tone of a question.

The woman smiled.  She took a few steps toward Lori and extended a fair-skinned hand, five manicured fingers adorned with blackish-purple nail polish.

“Yes, that’s me,” Dr. Katie Walker said. “I’m terribly sorry for the wait.”

Lori immediately noticed how much smaller Dr. Walker’s hand felt in her own.  She had not noticed until Dr. Walker was in front of her, but the brilliant young doctor was definitely much shorter than Lori expected.

‘Funny how people can look so different from how they sound.’

It was nice to finally put a face to the voice.  Nice to also put a face to the experiment, which just seemed so silly to Lori. The feeling of the naked man in her ass crack presently squirming at the new orientation as she stood brought her back to a reality that was stranger than fiction, reminding her that it was all quite real.

The lights flickered for a moment. Dr. Walker’s sparkling brown eyes drifted up to observe them. She also noticed the young receptionist paying attention as well, a mischievous grin spreading on her face before she returned to her administrative duties.

“I hate to ask you to wait longer…” Dr. Walker said, “...but I will have someone send you in shortly.  Very sorry for the wait but it's been an uncharacteristically busy day.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Lori said.

Dr. Walker turned away from Lori and disappeared through the mysterious door.  Lori couldn’t help but try and steal a glance as Dr. Walker walked away. She was curious if the doctor giving all these tiny men away to live in womens’ bottoms actually had one in hers as well.

The doctor’s lab coat fluttered as she left but not enough to reveal what was below her narrow waist.  Lori recognized that even if she had caught a glimpse of the brilliant doctor’s backside, and even if there was a tiny person buried inside of it, how in the heck would she even be able to tell?

She considered sitting back down, but didn’t want to flatten the poor boy in her bottom again after having just stood up so abruptly.  She remained standing, grabbing the forms she’d filled out and bringing them up to Laura.

Laura warmly smiled and accepted the papers, lightly tapping them on the pristine, white counter to align them.  She took the top sheet, the one that had her name watermarked all over, and prepared to put it through a nearby shredder, but not before confirming with Lori that she’d read all the notes, especially the last note:

FINAL NOTE – Participants are not to discuss R&R experiments or operations with Pre-RT subjects, no exceptions!

Lori was too embarrassed to ask what a Pre-RT subject was, but she didn’t discuss the boy in her bottom with anyone anyway, so she just nodded.  Laura shredded the document.

“Okay, I see here that you need an assignment shot?”

Lori nodded, not knowing what it was but understanding that she needed it.

“Okay.” Laura said cheerfully, reaching into a drawer full of plastic containers.  She removed one of them, one that appeared to look like a pill container, but much more narrow.  Lori watched as Laura applied a blank sticker to the container and wrote a few things in certain spots.

When finished writing, Laura turned it over to Lori.  “Please spit into this.”

Lori tilted her head in confusion as if to silently ask why.

“Just up to that first line there at the bottom will be fine.  The sample is needed for the assignment shot.”

Lori was curious but did not ask Laura any follow-up questions.  Instead, she gathered up spit to the front of her mouth and filled the container to the specified line.  She screwed the cap on and returned it to Laura, who then applied a special type of tape over top of the lid to prevent it from being opened.  She then placed the sample of saliva inside the pale pink manilla folder she’d just inserted the paperwork and sealed the folder shut.

A few minutes later, that mysterious door opened once more, and on the other side was a short blonde woman.  Her hair was of a more platinum color than Dr. Becotte’s, and she appeared younger than Dr. Becotte as well.  She was wearing a lab coat like the other two doctors Lori had seen so far but it looked to be of a significantly lower quality. The logo for RR Labs, two purple semi-circles pressed together, decorated her breast but there was no nametag.

“Ms. Warren?  Dr. Walker is ready for you.”

Lori stood up and smoothed her skirt down over her ample backside, taking a deep breath before walking up to the young blonde woman.

“How are you doing today?  My name’s Quinn.”

“It’s nice to meet you.  You can call me Lori.”

Lori followed the short, enthusiastic young woman in the cheap lab coat as she bounced energetically through the doorway and down a long hallway.  Several people had disappeared into this mysterious opening, and now it was finally Lori’s turn.

She noticed a few rooms along the left and right wall as she walked, some of which had placards that read “Pre-RT Exam Room”.  Each had small windows built into the door; she could see into the exam rooms that were empty but the two with frosted glass, Lori suspected, were occupied.

The young woman lead Lori further down the short corridor to two large doors. Both looked to be much heavier than the door that led her here from the waiting room.  There was one door on the left wall and another directly in front of them.

Lori thought Quinn was going for the door on her left, the one with the large pink “2” painted. She grabbed the handle to try and hold it open for Quinn but the door was locked. Lori felt silly for not noticing the security keypads mounted next to each door.

“Oh, Door #2 is the Bypass Door,” Quinn said. “We’re going through Door #1 on the right here.”

Lori quickly read the sign overtop of what Quinn called the Bypass Door:

Pre-RT subjects are to use Door #2 for access to Reduction Therapy. All Pre-RT subjects require an escort at all times. ABSOLUTELY NO EXCEPTIONS!

As Quinn waved her ID badge overtop of the security card reader for Door #1, Lori read the sign above:

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

“Yeah, the Bypass Door would have taken us right to Dr. Walker’s office…” Quinn explained over her shoulder as she took the lead, “...which is where we’re trying to get to, but they don’t like us using it.” Lori’s guide explained over her shoulder as they walked. “It's meant for escorting subjects to the RT-Lab so I might get in trouble if we went down it.”

This hallway was a little wider here, and it was much busier.  She passed several women, some in lab coats and some dressed normally.

All looked quite busy.

The path became more complicated. New corridors presented themselves as explorable options, but her guide walked with certainty and purpose, hanging an immediate right as soon as it presented itself.

Lori saw signs posted on the walls. There were various safety signs, some pointing to eye wash stations, different types of flammable containers, and the more copies of the same sign she’d seen overtop of Door #1:

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

The densely packed corridors were littered with rooms on either side, just as with the simpler corridor.  One window looked like it led to a lab of sorts, where several women were pressing buttons on large machines, placing items in, and removing items from various refrigerators and incubators.  Some were sitting on stools looking through microscopes, others were mixing chemicals in beakers. Quinn stopped briefly to speak to a red-headed woman in a lab coat emerging from a room with the placard ‘R&D Laboratory 1 - Mass Spectrometry’.

“Good morning, Quinn.  Did you get a chance to send out the latest results from the MALDI-TOF analysis of those protein samples?”

Lori blinked twice, immediately feeling a surge of gratitude for not having to answer such a difficult question from such a beautiful yet intimidating scientist.

“I did!” Quinn said, “The mass spectra showed distinct peptide peaks, indicating good ionization efficiency.”

The freckles that decorated Dr. Stanhope’s cheeks came to life as she smiled, “That’s great!  Who is this?”

“This is Lori Warren.  She’s a brand new Participant finishing up her first week and I’m taking her to see Dr. Walker.”

Lori’s heart skipped a beat as the doctor’s emerald green eyes fixed on her and she extended a hand to shake Lori’s.  Again, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about standing there with a tiny little man buried in her butt.  Lori had to keep reminding herself that not only did Dr. Stanhope and Quinn know about the treasure between her large, soft cheeks…but they approved of it.

“Oh, It’s nice to meet you, Lori.” Dr. Stanhope said.  Her tone was warm and friendly, but it immediately clouded over into the confusing scientific speak that she barely understood.

“Do you have any other assignments after you’ve escorted her?” Dr. Stanhope asked.

“I’m helping Dr. Becotte with a post-RT that should be finishing up now and then after that, I’m free.”

“Okay great.  When you’ve finished that, I’ll need you to take a closer look at the isotopic distribution in the ESI-MS data for the new compound we synthesized. Did you have any first impressions?”

“Yeah, the resolution was excellent.  The monoisotopic peak is prominent and indicative of high-quality sampling. I think that if we optimize the collision energy in the Q-TOF system for…”

As Lori waited patiently, allowing the two womens’ conversation to turn gray in her already racing mind, she peered into the window across from Dr. Stanhope’s lab.  She saw two women sitting together on a loveseat.  The room was configured to resemble a therapist or psychologist’s office.

An older woman sat behind a luxurious, expensive looking desk and she was speaking to two women.  It didn’t take long for Lori to realize that the two women sitting across from the older woman were none other than Hannah and Bridget.

All three women were smiling and talking, but Lori could not hear them through the door’s thick wood and glass.  She did, however, catch a glimpse of Bridget slowly extending a closed fist toward Hannah as if she was about to hand her something but instead of sending a hand to meet Bridget’s, Hannah only stared at Bridget’s hand with an excited smile.

Bridget opened her hand directly over Hannah’s prodigious cleavage.  The blonde’s eyes lit up, pressing her palms into the undersides of her breasts, deepening her cleavage and making her breasts into even more of a “shelf”.

Lori watched in fascination as a tiny little naked man tumbled out of Bridget’s opening fist and plummeted down into Hannah’s pronounced cleavage.  He barely had time to bounce before Hannah swiftly plunged her index and middle finger down atop him and forced him deep between her lover’s significantly large breasts.  Only after he’d completely disappeared did Bridget’s small hand emerge from Hannah’s cleavage and it was completely empty.

The little man had just been stuffed down between Hannah’s huge breasts, completely swallowed by the ample cleavage.

Hannah raised her hands, saying something to Bridget and the brunette woman with round glasses responded by twisting her upper body to better face her lover. Bridget placed her palms on either side of Hannah’s breasts and began gently forcing them together.  Even though she couldn’t hear anything, she could tell from Hannah’s open smile and the movement of her body that she was laughing as Bridget rhythmically pressed in and released, pressed in and released, pressed in and released.

The older woman behind the desk smiled proudly and began speaking to the two girls.

“Sorry about that.” Quinn said, snapping Lori out of her voyeuristic daze. “We’re just about there now.”

Unable to break her interest in the two lovers’ situation, Lori peered into the room again as Quinn gained a step or two down the hallway, unknowingly without Lori.

Lori saw the two women standing up and shaking the hand of the therapist, presumably ready to go home.  The therapist waved at Hannah’s cleavage and all three women broke out into laughter again.

“Ready?” Quinn asked.

Unbeknownst to Lori, they were only a few steps away from Dr. Walker’s office.  There was, however, one more door on the right that caught her interest.  Quinn stopped at that door on the side and peered in.  Lori gratefully and curiously followed suite. The placard outside the room read:

Reduction Therapy

Everything in the room was bathed in a warm, red light.  In the back-left corner was an enormous machine with strange lights flashing in unpredictable sequences and several computer screens.  Immediately to the right of the machine was the doctor that Lori had seen earlier.  The one that had taken Brandon earlier.

It was Dr. Becotte.

She was not giggling anymore.

She was not twirling her thick, luscious blonde hair around her fingers.

She wasn’t smiling and gushing like a smitten kitten.

Now, she was very focused.

Dr. Becotte sat atop a short stool and handled a small petri dish, partially blocking the dish with one aqua-glove clad hand.  She was not using a microscope but she was peering in very closely, periodically jotting in a composition notebook.

There wasn’t much else at the stainless steel table except for another stool a few feet from Dr. Becotte.

The stool was not empty.

Atop it rested a pair of dark jeans, folded neatly, along with a brown & teal flannel shirt. Resting atop was a pair of gray boxer briefs.

Lori lightly gasped when she saw the interestingly bright red wrist watch that didn’t seem to go with the outfit.  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the pair of bright blue Nikes on the floor next to the stool.

Lori’s concentration was broken as Quinn gently knocked on the glass of the door. Dr. Becotte’s head rose quickly and her eyes tracked to the door.

Dr. Becotte waved.

Quinn gestured toward Lori and held up one finger, the universal symbol for “just a second”.

Dr. Becotte nodded in understanding and returned her focus to her work, where Lori could now see the unobstructed petri dish.  Inside was an incredibly tiny, peach colored figure…and it had all of the beautiful blonde doctor’s attention.

“Here we are.” Quinn said from Lori’s left.

She joined Quinn’s side and was now standing in front of what looked like a pretty normal office door, the door at the end of the last corridor.  It was an office door with a simple, plain placard to the left of the door.  It read:

Dr. Katherine G. Walker – Co-Founder and Lead Researcher

Just like that, Lori’s guide was gone, having joined Dr. Becotte in that room with the huge machine.

Lori didn’t feel ready as she stood in front of the door.

For a moment, she felt the urge to just stuff the tiny little thing in her crack and up inside her so far that everyone might forget about him, including her.

She didn’t like all this attention; she was ever-so-slowly just getting warmed up to the idea of him being between her cheeks at all, and that was only something that the two of them shared!

Lori took a deep breath and straightened her skirt down over her ample backside, a nervous tick that had long since rooted in her mannerisms at this point, and knocked lightly on the door.

If he could be uncomfortable, so could she.

She could do this.

They both could.

“Come in.”

The brass doorknob squeaked as Lori turned and pressed.

~

Anyone with a very good memory who read this Chapter on its first upload years ago might recognize that it ends a little differently than it did last time!

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 13 - First Screening

[September 30th, 2005]

“Hello, Ms. Warren.” Dr. Walker said, cupping the receiver of her office telephone from behind her desk.

Lori went out of her way to make work feel like a home away from home.  She took pride in adorning her office cubicle with cherished photographs of her beautiful daughters Gina, Isabella, and Victoria. Some of the art served a purpose beyond motivating Lori to grind another day, such as the ceramic vase Isabella made in elementary school that was somehow still water tight. In one of her drawers rested a row of coffee mugs and atop her stack of ingoing and outgoing paper documents were clever paperweights, each with their own amusing backstory.

By comparison, Dr. Walker had not taken the same initiative in her own office but then again, perhaps the young woman didn’t look at work the way Lori did.  It wouldn’t have been difficult at all to believe that Dr. Walker loved her job and cared not for comfortable distractions.  It looked almost as if she’d just started moving in…or was about to move out.  An old-fashioned analog clock decorated the wall overtop of the doorway into her office.  Lori couldn't help but notice the abundance of degrees and awards adorning the cream-colored walls, all bearing the young doctor's name. One framed degree was a Bachelors of Science in Organic Chemistry with double-minor acknowledgement in both Mechanical and Electrical Engineering. The one next to it was a Master's Degree in Molecular Biology and Genetics. Amidst the academic accolades, Lori also spotted framed paperwork documenting the establishment of R&R Laboratories, dating back to 2001.  .There were boxes on the floor filled with paperwork and her desk was a cluttered mess of forms, folders, and receipts.

The office had a mix of organized and messy elements. A plain gray filing cabinet nestled in the corner, and a long wooden table lined the east wall, cluttered with scattered papers, manilla envelopes, and peculiar devices. The futuristic contraptions looked almost alien-like, disassembled in varying degrees. Most resembled handguns with thin green plastic circuit board-type pieces surrounded by dizzyingly complicated webs of green, white, black, and pink wires.

A dark wooden desk occupied the center of the room, featuring an old CRT monitor and a gray keyboard, buried under a pile of papers. There were pictures as well.  Lori managed to catch a glimpse of a few that had been fanned out, perhaps 3 or 4.  One contained a woman in a bright red thong sitting on a beach towel in the sand.  Another was of what looked like two college students at a college party mooning the photographer.  The last image was of a black woman who was facing away from the camera against a plain wall with her fingers hooked into the waistband of her sweatpants, exposing what was without a doubt the largest backside Lori had ever seen in her life.

Lori only had about 2-3 seconds to take in the information she saw before Dr. Walker had stacked the photographs and put them in a manilla folder. Lori managed to read the label before it disappeared into her filing cabinet:

ATTN: Dr. Katie Walker

For Review and Approval - Participants and Alternates

Dr. Walker cupped the receiver of her phone once more. “Some of the interns here like to joke that I have the dream job of every 15-year old boy in the world.” Dr. Walker held the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she wedged the manilla folder into her filing cabinet. Lori couldn’t help but smile.

Lori had only identified accolades to Dr. Walker’s impressive academic accomplishments but upon closer inspection, she noticed that there were at least two personal items.  One was a captivating glass chess board with pretty pink and blue pieces. The other, stationed close to the chessboard atop a tattered Dearforms shoebox, was an intriguing piece of decorative art. It consisted of two glossy black spheres pressed together and overlapping. An inscription in gold lettering caught her attention:

"All sorts of things can happen when you're open to new ideas and playing around with things.

-Stephanie Kwolek"

But there was more to it. Right at the point where the spheres met, she squinted to read a smaller inscription:

SR+ds

Lori couldn't quite grasp its meaning—was it a chemical formula, initials, or an inside joke? It intrigued her, adding to the enigmatic atmosphere of Dr. Walker's office.

Lori was brought out of her pondering by the sound of Dr. Walker’s phone hitting the receiver.

“Goodness…terribly sorry about that. You now have my full and undivided attention, Miss Warren.”

She came around to give Lori another handshake.  Lori noticed the doctor, who was already not very tall to begin with, was even shorter having abandoned her footwear.

‘They were probably under her desk,’ Lori thought.  She did the same thing at work.

Dr. Walker’s toes looked to be painted to match her blackish-purple fingernails, but it was difficult to tell for sure through the smooth, dark nylon mesh encasing her small feet.  Her gray slacks started down at the tops of her feet and fluttered up her legs, disappearing into the bottom of her white lab coat.  There was plenty of give in the material down by her thighs, hips, and especially her stomach. However, the section of her lab coat that worked the hardest and was most void of slack or wrinkles was the region that covered her chest. Round and impossible to ignore, her breasts were massive for a girl of her size. They may have even been bigger than Isabella’s!

Somehow Lori ripped her gaze from the eye-catching swell in Dr. Walker’s chest to find her chocolate brown eyes creasing in the corners as the young doctor smiled patiently and politely.  They packed a professionalism and wisdom that Lori immediately identified as special and unique.

“Once again, I’m very sorry for the scene out in the waiting room.”

“Oh, it's no problem.  I know she was just angry.  I suppose it's about not being accepted?”

The cute brunette doctor was back behind her desk now. She didn’t say anything in response, only nodded. She appeared comfortable with the silence…much more comfortable than Lori. Or perhaps Dr. Walker experienced silence differently than others.  Maybe really intelligent people like her are never truly in silence, their powerful minds working constantly, running through new ideas and innovations.

“Well…that’s a shame but still…” Lori said, breaking the silence just to break it, but now she had to look for more words in her mind, “...probably for the best..”

‘Probably for the best??’, Lori thought. She spoke to herself in that sarcastic way that everyone does when they reflect on the silly things they say. ‘Yeah, probably for the best you don’t tuck a tiny little naked guy up into her bottom since it's not big and soft enough.’

As Lori sat down across from Dr. Walker’s desk, she could feel the brunette’s wise and curious eyes on her.  The chair’s teal, rough cushion was soft, but not nearly as soft as the cushion in the waiting room.  The arm rests were a little closer as well, pressing in firmly against the flesh on each of her thighs as she passed her weight to the seat.  The denim indents flanked her hips and she was sure that Dr. Walker had noticed them.  Dr. Walker didn’t say anything about the width of Lori’s hips or the size of her thighs. Perhaps most gratefully, she also didn’t say anything about the fact that the mother of three was now sitting sideways to accommodate the literal “pain in her ass”.

Instead, Dr. Walker just smiled.

Lori watched as Dr. Walker easily navigated the remaining chaos on her desk and pulled a blank form in front of her, uncapping a pen pulled from her tight breast pocket.

“Alright then, let's get started. The first week's follow-up is not incredibly in-depth.”

‘Oh yes…’ Lori thought, clenching her enormous, splayed cheeks.  ‘That’s why you’re here…so easy to forget….’

“We’ve already gotten your measurements…” Dr. Walker said, more to herself than to Lori as she moved the tip of her pen down a list of bullets. “We’ve provided you with the custom Training Underwear. Did they fit alright?”

“They’re very tight but I can understand their value.  I loved the color of the maroon ones.  I’m actually wearing them right now.” Lori replied proudly.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” The doctor’s pretty eyes feasted upon Lori’s thighs.

Dr. Walker seemed pleased that the subject was so thoroughly confined by Lori’s compressed ass cheeks. Still, Lori blushed self-consciously to have this woman not much older than her eldest daughter looking at her large thighs.  She smiled politely back at Dr. Walker and discreetly tucked her jean skirt down to make sure no maroon was showing.

“…and we’ve provided you with instructions. To be perfectly honest, I don’t expect that we would get a lot of new information from doing a…excuse the pun…but a ‘hands-on’ analysis…” the doctor said as she did air quotes with her fingers, “…so I just need to ask you a few questions.”

Dr. Walker’s eyes returned to her form. Lori used this opportunity to recross her left leg over her right and shift most of her weight from the left side of her ass to the right side.  She had almost completed the adjustment before Dr. Walker looked up.

‘Well…’, Lori thought, ‘…if she didn’t see the underwear before, she did now.’

“Alright…first question here, of course: subject’s current location?”

The young doctor was smiling at the obviousness of her question.  Lori wondered if some women ever came in and gave an answer other than “nestled deep in my bottom”.  She sensed that any other answer would be the wrong answer, and now any slight doubt about whether or not keeping him in her rear this entire time was the right choice was completely gone.  She felt completely justified.  The doctor’s face grew an approving smile as Lori looked over her left shoulder and down at her large backside, scooting subtly from left to right.

“Wonderful.” Dr. Walker said, scribbling at the top of the clean form she’d grabbed. “Is he merely wedged between your buttocks or is he fully inserted into your anal cavity?”

Lori felt her heart skip a beat.  What a question for someone to ask!  And what a question to answer!

She focused on the sensation of the tiny naked man for a moment.  He was deep in there…sure.  He was very close to…it…sure.  But was he…INSIDE of it?  Through it?  Lori blushed at the thought!

“The….first one.” She said, a bit embarrassed.

“Great.” Dr. Walker said, scribbling something down on the form. Lori wondered what kinds of notes she was writing.

“Next question.  How long has he been between your buttocks?”

Lori looked up at the drop ceiling, focusing in on some discolorations in the tiling as she tried to remember how long the miniature person had spent tucked up between her heavy, soft glutes.

“Ummm…he was delivered to my house a week ago, and I opened him the next day…”

“I see…and when did you insert him into your rear?” Dr. Walker asked, encouraging Lori through the answer.

“The next day.”

Dr. Walker checked another box. “Okay…..”

There was another long pause as the doctor looked over the form, turning over to a new page.

“And how was the first day? How long was the subject in your rear?”

Lori’s eyes returned to the ceiling.  Dr. Walker quickly said, “We’re only looking for rough estimates here.”

Lori sighed.  Math was never her strong suit.  “I put him in my…well….”

‘Saying this out loud is going to be strange…to move my lips and say it….’ She thought.

“…I put him in my behind on Tuesday afternoon only a few minutes after opening him. He was in there until lunch about 2 hours later…then I put him inside the little cardboard box that came in the bigger box you sent him in for a few hours while I ran some errands.”

Lori rubbed her chin, ‘But wait…wasn’t Isabella’s honor society dinner that night? He was tucked away for quite a long time that day’ Lori thought to herself, ‘Oh, no…that was a few days after.  That’s right, I remember...the first day was much easier on him.’

“…then when I came home, I took him out of the box and put him back in my bottom and 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…so I think he spent about…I’d say about 4 hours in my rear on the first day…maybe a little more.”

“That’s a great first day. The subject spent slightly over 16% of his first day completely surrounded by your buttocks.”

Lori couldn’t help but smile proudly, but the pride was strange.  This 20-something year old young girl praised her for keeping something wedged up between her ass cheeks for 4 hours…never mind that it was a living, breathing person!

“Fantastic.” Dr. Walker said happily. “I knew you would do well, Lori.  Okay, one of the most important questions here:” she said, reading her paper.  “How have YOU handled this new arrangement?”

Lori was a little taken aback.  She was expecting there to be a lot more inquiry as to how the little person was doing in her bottom…how he was handling what must surely be an abrupt and massive life change.  A change in temperature..a change in pressure..a change in odor..a change in independence.  She could keep going.

But the doctor was asking about her, but what specifically?  How did she feel about this?  About him?

“Well…” Lori said, trying to find the words as she shuffled nervously in her seat. “…the girls are getting older.  Gina is a senior now and I’ve got whiplash from how quickly I go from being her best friend to the lamest person she knows.  Isabella is in her junior year and is already talking about college herself. Victoria just started high school this year.  They’re all so busy nowadays, and it's kind of nice to take care of something…to have something so dependent on me for everything…even if I don’t get to see him all that often.” Lori caressed her left upper thigh.

She wanted so much to exude confidence…perhaps the level of confidence she was sure that Bridget seemed to naturally have…or any of the other participating women for that matter.  She thought back to when she was getting ready in the morning, and she felt the subject’s eyes dancing over her nude, moonlight-painted body as she dressed. It was power and control without any of the typical fear that might come with enticing a man.

“It's done wonders for my confidence…” Lori continued, “knowing he’s there is something of a mental stimulation.”

‘When I remember he’s there, that is…’ she added in her own head.

She felt a strong tickle deep in her crack and she rolled her eyes…time to rotate.  This time, Dr. Walker took notice.

“Is everything alright?”

A genuine expression of concern came over Dr. Walker’s face as Lori shifted in her seat.

“Oh…well…I’ve noticed that when I…do this…” Lori said, shifting her weight from one side of her ass to the other side, lifting up a cramped ass cheek and letting the other accept her full weight, “…he doesn’t kick as much.”

Dr. Walker nodded her head, “I see….well Lori, what do you believe that kicking represents?”

‘Oh, I don’t know, Katie,’ Lori thought, ‘maybe that my big ass swallows him up even more when I’m sitting and I weigh hundreds or maybe even thousands of times more than him?’

“I’m not sure…” Lori lied.

Lori felt the heat of the spotlight and pressed her palms into the arm rests, pulling more of her weight from her backside to her wrists.  It was clear that Dr. Walker wanted Lori to elaborate, and she’d established already that she was more comfortable with silence than Lori so the brilliant doctor was destined to win.

Lori continued, “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, the struggling was less intense and would sometimes go away entirely.”

Dr. Walker was listening attentively and nodding along.

“I think it's because when I sit centered, my cheeks are pressing in on him very tightly.” Lori concluded.

Dr. Walker allowed more silence, presumably to see if Lori had anything else to say.  When Lori didn’t say anything else, Dr. Walker spoke up. “Lori, do you know what that sounds an awful lot like?”

Lori was remembering the information she’d read in the pamphlets, and the rules, and the phone conversations with Dr. Walker.  She knew where this was going…

“Yes, yes…I know, Doctor.  I know you said not to inconvenience myself for his sake…but it seems like such a small gesture…and it probably means so much to him.”

‘Why are you fighting for this?’ Lori thought to herself.  ‘Your glute muscles are screaming at you!  Your lower back and upper thighs are sore! And it’s all because of his complaining!’

Dr. Walker’s hands reached out over her desk for Lori’s.  They were much smaller than hers, impishly cute and almost child-like. They were incredibly soft and smooth.

“Lori, you are not doing him any favors by babying him.  By what right does he have to be treated like a king by you?”

‘That seems…a little dramatic..’ Lori thought, but she continued to listen.

“You’re the one taking care of him, and what does he do for you?”  Dr. Walker asked.

A long silence with no answer…because there was nothing to say. There was nothing he did for her.  She kept him safe all day, be it in his box or in her butt.  She kept him a secret from her daughters and the rest of the world…not only for her sake of course, but to spare him the humiliation!  Of course!  She fed him peanut butter! Lori even found out how much he liked pretzels and added those to her shopping list for him!

She did do an awful lot to make him more comfortable, an awful lot to try and make this experience a bit easier for the both of them.  And what did he do for her?

Nothing.

Lori didn’t even want to bring up the insults that the subject had lobbed her way…afraid that Dr. Walker might want to punish him right then and there!

‘Look at that..’ Lori thought, ‘I’m even trying to protect him from RR Labs.’

“He should be grateful.” The doctor said.

Maybe if Lori hadn’t been keeping the tiny little person a secret, she could have vented to someone. Her daughters would have suggested she do what is best for herself.  Her cubicle neighbor Janet would have said the same thing. Surely any of her friends, had they been brought up to speed on this crazily silly yet possible situation, they would all say the same thing…right?

She’d been keeping all of this to herself, never speaking a word of the tiny treasure under her denim skirt and pounds and pounds of dense flesh, until now.

‘If these walls could talk’, Lori mused.  She imagined how many women had sat in this very seat, sandwiching their own subject between their bottom and the cushion beneath her.  How many casual conversations these walls heard about rear-housing and the like.  Lori’s walls had heard no such conversations. She dared not even paint her sins upon the ceiling of her bedroom for fear that one of her daughters might be listening on the other side of the door.

Seeing the doctor’s young, compassionate eyes just made it all click.  The struggle she was feeling…it was still there, but things were pulling in a different direction now.

Lori slowly started to lean over to center her position over the chair, slowly allowing her one floating buttock to contact the cushion and slowly compress. The incredible softness and mass of her derriere was something from which she benefited during long sitting sessions ever since she was a teenager. Why shouldn’t it be looked at as something that benefits him as well? Imagine how uncomfortable it would have been to be in that thin, boney, rude girl in the waiting room earlier!

Soon, both her cheeks were evenly sharing the burden of her weight, compressing fully into the cushion, passing that weight and pressure along evenly and equally to the subject buried in her crack.  Lori almost leaned over again out of habit, immediately feeling that familiar, entitled frenzy between her bottom and the cushion.  “Oh…he’s started…” she uttered with concern.

‘Goodness…’ she thought to herself, forcing herself not to react.  ‘It’s as if he’s…. trained me.’

“And he will stop.” Dr. Walker said with a warm, firm smile.

Lori ignored her instinct to lessen the burdensome weight upon the subject nestled in her bottom and continued to sit normally in her seat, her palms lightly pressing into the tops of her thighs instead of the arm rests.

It was so distracting, feeling his writhing and panicking. It would have been so easy for her to stand up. It would have been so easy for her to just shift her weight over to one side.  It would have been so easy to press her feet a little harder into the ground or her palms a little harder into the arm rests.  For every pound of pressure she applied toward the earth with her hands or feet would be a pound taken off the poor little thing in her bottom.  He was just so small and weak.  The amount of force she could apply with just a single big toe was probably more than he could exert at peak energy.

She could have done any of these things…but instead she listened to Dr. Walker and just continued to sit.

Lori just kept telling herself that her cheeks were large enough and soft enough to keep him safe. So large and soft, in fact, that she knew they could protect him from pressures that exceeded even her own weight.  She thought back to Isabella’s Honor Society dinner. Isabella took a seat on her mother’s lap for an Instagram post. Not to be left out of the spotlight, Victoria plopped down on Lori’s other knee and squeezed into the picture.  Try as she might, Lori couldn’t keep one cheek up with the both teenagers’ full weight on her so she was forced to sit normally. As Isabella snapped picture after picture trying to get the right smiles, he was forced to accept the full weight of all three of them.

Of course it was only for about a minute or two, but that should have been long enough to prove either his durability or the safety of her cheeks.  She adjourned to the bathroom to check on him later in the evening, and sure enough he was completely fine. Angry…but completely fine.

‘So if my bottom could protect him through that…it can keep him safe…through this…I know it can.’ Lori thought. ‘He can do this… he can do this.’

As if on queue, the struggling deep between her glutes started to fade…slowly at first but then very quickly. All of the sudden, the movement in her crack stopped entirely.  Dr. Walker must have seen it in Lori’s face, because the doctor sprouted a big grin.

“You were right!” Lori exclaimed.

She flexed her cheeks a few times, trying to instigate some movement from him to confirm that he was not injured or worse.  She didn’t want him to be hurt. She just wanted him to give up fighting…or tired himself out.

‘Maybe he even found a comfy position’

She hoped it was the last one.

The flexing of her glutes did inspire some very weak, feeble movement…enough to let her know he was okay.

She couldn’t believe it.  The silence was uncomfortable, sitting there with Dr. Walker focused on the thing in her bottom, but Lori had been taught an important lesson that she wouldn’t forget: he can handle it.

He can handle ALL of it.

She even lifted her bare feet up off the floor to increase the pressure, leaving her empty sandals on the carpet in front of her.  A small part of her knew he was capable of this…and all she needed was a small little nudge to believe in him… to believe in herself.

“Of course, I was right.” Dr. Walker said matter-of-factly.  “You know, you have to be careful with these subjects.  You give them an inch 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 could feel her cheeks reddening.  ‘The ones on my face…who knows…maybe the other ones too…’

She wouldn’t be mentioning the big, expensive pillow she’d purchased for sitting on.  Hopefully the store would accept a return on that since she clearly wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

“Anyway, now that we’re both finally comfortable…,” Dr. Walker teased to which Lori smiled and sank deeper into the seat. Lori slipped the thongs of her sandals back between her toes and scrunched them into place.

“…why don’t you tell me a little bit about your normal day-to-day activities?” Dr. Walker asked.

Lori was enjoying this, sitting comfortably across from Dr. Walker, not worrying about the subject but at the same time knowing that he was okay. It was such a relieving feeling.  “Hmmm…” Lori hummed, buying time to think.  Her days were not anything all that exceptional.

“Well, I usually start my work days at about 6am.  I’ll make the girls lunches before heading off to work, and when I get home I just spend time with them.  Like I said, they’re all getting so big…I’ve got to get my time in with them while I can.  We’ll usually just watch movies, relax in the backyard…. sometimes we’ll go to the beach or the movies..just fun momma/daughter things.”

“I see,” Dr. Walker nodded.  “And on a scale of 1 to 10, how much has the subject interfered with your ability to continue these traditions and routines?” Dr. Walker clicked her pen and prepared to write.

“With my routines and traditions? Ohh….” Lori breathed heavily out of her mouth and thought for a moment, “You know…I would have to say….barely even a 1.”

Dr. Walker smiled as she checked a box and scribbled some notes.

Lori continued. “And honestly, I would only say 1 instead of 0 because of how uncomfortable it's been to sit, especially for long periods of time….but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.  The less of an impact the housed subjects have on our Participants, the better we look!” Dr. Walker said, “and the more likely they’re to continue housing our subjects!”

The doctor turned to the next page of her packet. “How often does he spend the night in your rear?”

Lori answered, “Not often.  Usually he sleeps in his box, but sometimes he sleeps with me.  He slept with me last night…and one other night last week.”

“Do you tend to sleep on your stomach? Your back?  On the side?” Dr. Walker asked next.

“I’d say a bit of all three, but mostly on my back.”

Dr. Walker jotted down some notes, “Okay great.  Just trying to get an idea on the temperature and pressure experiences your subject has overnight.  Sounds like he spends most of the night highly compressed and, if you’re sleeping under covers, probably a substantially high temperature.”

“Is that okay?” Lori asked.  “I do have a pretty heavy comforter, but I could get a thinner one if you think that would be better for him when I keep him—”

Dr. Walker put her hand up, “Oh absolutely not!  He will be completely fine, you just keep doing what you’re doing!”

Lori was relieved, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying all this validation from the doctor.

“Okay, this one is somewhat personal….” Dr. Walker started.  “…but can you tell me about your sex life?”

Lori’s reaction could have just as easily been embarrassment or shock, but she was grateful that her initial reaction to this 20-something young lady asking her about sex resulted in an abrupt, knee-jerk laugh.

“Not existent.” Lori said, expecting the doctor to mirror her dismissive, mildly self-deprecating tone by smiling or laughing.  Dr. Walker did nothing of the sort.  She simply stared and waited in silence for elaboration.  In a much more serious tone, Lori elaborated.

“Well, it's…it's been quite a long time.  Since my ex-husband and I divorced some years ago.”  Lori was embarrassed to say how many, and luckily Dr. Walker didn’t seem interested in that number.  She didn’t think of sex often; in fact, she’d thought more about intimacy in the past hour or so after meeting Bridget and Hannah than she had since her divorce.

Lori continued, “…so it's not as if he…” her eyes lowered to her chair, where her subject was pinned beneath her hefty bottom, and then returned to the doctor’s gaze, “…it’s not as if he is really affecting anything like that.  Raising the girls on my own…and working…there just wasn’t any time.   And even now…It just hasn’t been something I’ve been seeking.”

Dr. Walker nodded, moving on way too quickly for Lori’s comfort with the next question. “And how often do you masturbate?”

This time Lori was both embarrassed and shocked, and it showed clearly on her face.  She became flush and fumbled through her response, “Well….I…you know..sometimes at night before I go to sleep if I’ve had a stressful day.”

Uncomfortable silence followed and Lori had to fill it.

“Oh, but never while he’s in his…spot!”, she blurted, trying to convince the doctor that it was true,

‘...because it WAS true!  She specifically made sure of that!’

Lori wondered for a moment if she’d convinced Dr. Walker or if she thought Lori was lying but Dr. Walker just wrote down the answer, accepting it with barely any change in expression.  It seemed almost as if she was bored with the answer.

Lori broke the silence, “….since that would probably be bad, right?”

Dr. Walker was in no rush to answer Lori’s timid question, taking her time finishing what she was writing before looking up.  One of Dr. Walker’s brown eyebrows raise up from behind her thick-framed black glasses.

Why would that be bad?”

Lori thought back to her time with Hannah in the waiting room.  She thought back to Hannah’s large breasts and deep, tan cleavage, deepening further as Hannah playfully pressed them together with her elbows.  She remembered Laura the receptionist’s light chuckle.  She remembered seeing Hannah and Bridget on their way here to see the therapist  She remembered seeing the tiny little man disappear into Hannah’s ample bosom, her lover and the unidentified woman smiling on. She reflected on their openness regarding their relationship and how he fit into it…how he was a part of it.

Lori swallowed dryly, unable to answer Dr. Walker’s simple question…so Dr. Walker answered it for her.

“You might not believe this, but it's actually quite common for our Participants to continue expressing their sexuality as if the subject were not even there.  It's natural and absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.  In fact, there are a fair amount of women who seem to derive an extra component of satisfaction out of the subject’s position.”

Lori’s heart was racing and she was wildly uncomfortable, but she was intrigued by the doctor’s implications.  Her mind drifted back to watching Bridget’s tiny subject swallowed up effortlessly by her lover’s epic cleavage.

“Well, thank you doctor.  I will…definitely keep that in mind.”

Dr. Walker smiled, “That, like most everything else in this experiment, is and always will be ENTIRELY up to you. I encourage you to read the literature we provided just so that you are fully informed, and move along at your own pace and comfort level.”

Lori believed her, and she felt relieved…and also a bit strange.  She thanked Dr. Walker.

Dr. Walker stood up, “Well Lori, I have to tell you it's been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”  Lori stood up as well, immediately noticing the tiny, stationary lump reanimate as his world rotated 90 degrees and the cushion factor undoubtedly multiplied by several orders of magnitude as her compressed glutes were once again under the influence of gravity, hanging a bit more than she would have liked but undoubtedly softened to his preference.  The two women shook hands.

“Likewise, Dr. Walker.  I’m very impressed by what you’ve done here…and by you as a woman.”

Dr. Walker smiled, “Well, thank you very much!” She lifted her paperwork from the desk taking a final look at it.

“Alright,” Dr. Walker stated, “Everything seems to be in order here.  Continue to take care of the subject. 4 hours of confinement in your rear was a great start, and I was thrilled to hear that you kept him in your rear overnight last night, but..”

‘uh-oh..’, Lori thought.

“…your homework this week is to keep the subject confined in your rear for over 12 hours.

‘like last night…but that was only for one night…and the other night was only for about 8 hours and I let him have the rest of the day in his box…this girl wants him to stay in my bottom for 12 hours a day…for the whole week??’

Lori smiled nervously, unsure of herself and her abilities, “Oh my…that would mean he would spend more time inside my behind than outside of it.”

Lori had realized before that the doctor was a somewhat plain looking woman, at least compared to some of the other supermodel tier doctors she’d seen today. Even so, she had an exceptionally large chest and Dr. Walker really did have the most disarming, adorable smile she’d ever seen…and at this moment, it was as big as it had ever been during their entire meeting.

“That’s what we’re working towards!  We will likely schedule another appointment within the next few months.  Until then, if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call.”

Lori smiled and happily walked out of the office, an extra proud and victorious swing in her wide hips.

Upon entering the short hallway, the red-headed woman who had helped Lori’s blonde escort with key access earlier was now walking toward her.  Lori remembered her name as Dr. Stanhope and saw that she was carrying a small tray with a few items on top of it.  Lori and the red-headed scientist locked eyes.

“Miss Warren, right?”

“Lori’s fine.” She said, nodding her head.

“Oh great, I’m very glad I caught you.  Come with me.” The read-head kept walking, not looking behind her to see if Lori was following.

Perplexed, Lori turned around to follow the red head.  She was walking back toward Dr. Walker’s office and now she was knocking.

She poked her head in the open door and said, “Subject-198m’s assignment shot is here and ready.  We are administering it before Lori leaves, right?”

Lori heard the abrupt scraping of Dr. Walker’s chair in her office. “Oh, yes! Thank you for reminding me, Carla.”

Lori peeked around the corner at Dr. Stanhope’s side and saw Dr. Walker fidgeting with her ballet flats under her desk, slipping her feet in.   “We will need to administer it immediately.”

Dr. Walker was now up and out from behind her desk and entering the hallway to greet Lori and Dr. Stanhope.  She placed a soft hand on Lori’s shoulder, but Lori wasn’t looking at Dr. Walker.  She was nervously eyeing the tray in Dr. Stanhope’s hands, which contained some sterilizing wipes and a syringe filled with a liquid that practically shined. “Would you mind joining us in one of our exam rooms? We’re going to have to get a look at your subject and administer this treatment.”

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 14 - The Assignment Shot

[September 30th, 2005]

Lori followed the two doctors down the hall away from Dr. Walker’s lab and toward the door at the end.  Doctors Walker and Stanhope glanced in the moment of passing the small window of the Reduction Therapy room. Lori thought they might stop there but instead they continued on walking.  Lori couldn’t help herself but to peek in again. In the Reduction Therapy room, Lori saw Dr. Becotte was still sitting, now talking to the blonde intern named Quinn, the one who had escorted her this far.  Quinn looked to be cleaning up supplies and wiping surfaces down while Dr. Becotte was opening a sky-blue spiral notebook and jotting notes.

“Taylor just conducted an RT session an hour ago.” Dr. Walker said. “How many sessions do we have scheduled for today?”

“Seven.” Dr. Stanhope replied.

“My goodness!”

“When it rains it pours!” Dr. Stanhope said with a chuckle, “We’ve got Quinn Kaplan to thank for that.  Mostly, anyway.”

“Not surprising at all.  Of all the interns, her subject prospecting numbers are consistently the highest. How is she doing, by the way?  I had her conduct her first re-install a few days ago.

“Oh yes, with Mrs. Romero, right? She did mention it.” Dr. Stanhope said. “I was surprised that Dr. Bexley wasn’t present for that one.”

“She would have liked to but she had other obligations and couldn’t make it.” Dr. Walker said.

“I imagine that’s got to be surreal.  The very first Participant…it speaks volumes about your trust in Quinn to perform the re-install unsupervised.”

Dr. Walker shrugged.  “Mrs. Romero is a special woman and very important to this experiment..and others…but that perfectly describes nearly all Participants.  They’re all VIP’s.”

“And her subject?”

Lori didn’t see the look that Dr. Walker gave Dr. Stanhope due to her position behind them, but nothing was said…the two women only chuckled.

“Anyway, you said she’d mentioned the reinstall with Mrs. Romero.” Dr. Walker said.  “Did she talk much about it?”

Oh, she only mentioned it in passing, but she thought it was a very positive experience.” Dr. Stanhope said. “She was very excited to get the subject back with Mrs. Romero.”

The two doctors paused before a random examination room and swung open its door, inviting Lori inside. This marked the first acknowledgment she received from them since their walk had commenced, but she didn't take it personally. Recognizing their intelligence and busy schedules, she aimed not to be an obstruction. Lori stepped into the examination room, her gaze sweeping across its interior. Abundant illumination graced the space, accompanied by two sleek stools and a reclining bench akin to those found in exam rooms.

Nestled in one corner was a computer, while a portable cart holding a laptop rested near the bench, and a diminutive flat-screen television occupied the head of the bench. The remainder of the room was bare, emitting an unmistakable aura of cleanliness and aseptic ambiance. With a flick of a switch beside the door, Dr. Stanhope transformed the clear glass into an opaque frost, rendering the door's interior completely obscured.

"Alright, Lori," Dr. Walker's voice was gentle but unavoidably direct. "Would you be comfortable removing your clothing for this examination?"

A delicate blush crept up Lori's cheeks as she found herself facing an unfamiliar situation, flanked by two beautiful young doctors donning aqua gloves. Her initial response was hesitant; she began to gingerly lift the hem of her shirt, already imagining the look of judgemental discuss that would surely spread across their youthful faces as they beheld the stretch marks and extra padding on her tummy.  Before she could proceed any further, however, Dr. Walker's calming voice interjected. "Just your skirt and undergarments will be fine."

While not exactly thrilled by the prospect, Lori recognized the necessity of complying. She was also quite thrilled that she wouldn’t have to expose her belly flab, perhaps her second largest insecurity point right behind her large bottom.  With a mixture of self-consciousness and resigned determination, Lori complied, allowing the denim skirt to cascade into a pile around her feet. The maroon underwear, snug against her skin, followed suit, revealing the astounding contours of her form, earned with genetics, age, and extra calories here and there. As she extricated her curvaceous hips from the confines of the fabric, her rounded buttocks seemed to assert themselves, their presence undeniable as if they were in charge of the room. She bore the temporary imprints left by the snug material of her underwear, a testament to the hold it had on her cheeks and the pressure they imparted on her well-protected little man.

With the rapid plastic actuation of buttons manipulated under her expert touch, Dr. Walker transformed the recliner  into a bed-like configuration. Her next instruction was delivered with reassuring softness, "If you could lie down here, Lori," she patted the cushion invitingly, "on your stomach, please."

Lori complied…one thick knee, then the other, ascended onto the cushioned surface, her body gradually settling down. The cool touch of the vinyl cushion met her soft belly as her shirt inched upwards, revealing the lower portion of her flesh. Responding to an innate self-consciousness, she hurriedly tugged her shirt downward, attempting to conceal her skin as much as possible. Irony, it seemed, wasn't lost on her; she marveled at her concern over modestly covering her plump belly while her generously proportioned bare bottom not only lay exposed, but it basked unabashedly under the glare of the overhead fixtures, starkly illuminated and bathed in a clinical glow of light.

“Should I take this one?” Dr. Stanhope asked.

Dr. Walker said, “Sure, I’ll support.”

The red-headed doctor held up a syringe, its transparent body brimming with a fluid so vibrant it could have passed as a light source. With deliberate care, she flicked the syringe, ensuring that no errant air bubbles remained trapped within. Lori, though not gripped by an overwhelming fear of needles, had an inherent unease about them. The anticipation weighed on her, and she couldn't help but cringe at the very thought of the prick.

Amidst the tension of the moment, Lori's eyes shifted upwards and landed on an unexpected sight—a television.

It sprung to life, displaying the messy signal of snow before cutting to clear CCTV feed. To Lori’s astonishment, the CCTV feed was of the very exam room holding her and the two doctors.  It’s camera was directed squarely at her own form, an overhead device pointed specifically her sizeable, bare backside. A blend of surprise and self-awareness flooded her thoughts. She adjusted her hips slightly, observing on the screen as her flesh responded, an intricate dance akin to the undulating rhythm of gentle ocean waves.

Her curiosity piqued, Lori couldn't help but voice her concern, "Is that camera…recording?"

Dr. Walker responded with a reassuring tone, "Oh no, Lori, it doesn't record. It's there for training, so our observing interns don't need to huddle around, and it also offers our Participants a chance to witness how the subjects are handled." With a precise twist of a dial, the video feed gradually zoomed in closer to the presentation that was her pale bare bottom, revealing the fine details, blemishes, and traces of cellulite.

Lori's intrigue manifested as a question, "The other Participants…they watch?"

Dr. Walker nodded, acknowledging the curiosity, "Absolutely. Some of our long-term Participants develop a certain... shall we say, possessiveness over their subjects. Feedback from Participants has shown a preference for having the option to watch the proceedings."

‘What does he have to do with me getting a shot though?’ Lori thought.

Dr. Stanhope placed the syringe with measured precision on a paper towel. Beside it, she unfurled a disposable wet wipe, gradually unfolding the tiny rectangle until it expanded into a full sheet. Lori, her anticipation palpable, braced herself for the expected sensation of the wipe making contact with the plump expanse of her glute. She remained uncertain about the purpose of this particular injection, yet it logically followed that it would be directed into one of her exposed, curvaceous cheeks. With her eyes tightly shut, she readied herself for the impending moment. But unexpectedly, the anticipated prick of the syringe never happened.

A shiver coursed through Lori's frame, a reaction to an undersized, yet fully capable hand making contact with her left glute.

It was Dr. Walker's hand.

A curious mix of sensations flooded Lori's awareness; the hand was diminutive in size, and yet, it exerted a surprising amount of control and precision. It grappled with the substantial mass of her ass cheek, coaxing it away from its pale twin sister. Simultaneously, Dr. walker’s other hand joined in, its touch just as determined, contacting her substantial buttock from palm to fingertip.  There was so much flesh it would have taken half a dozen of those cute, small hands of hers to fully grasp just one of Lori’s cheeks.  The experienced hands worked to reveal the hidden nooks and crannies of Lori's posterior to the ambient light, the faint coolness of the sterile room's air, and the two pairs of curious cat-like eyes intently observing her. In this moment of exposure, the trio's collective gaze bore witness to the intimate unveiling of her most private and secretive anatomy.

As if by extension, this deliberate manipulation revealed more than just darkened, sun-starved flesh. It exposed the intricate vulnerability of Lori's body. Complex sensations and emotions swirled within her as she watched the television feed of her rump.  Cold air sank into the fleshy valley of her derriere.

‘God, he just looks so small…’ Lori thought as she squinted at the television.  ‘I mean…he always looks small…but in that valley, with my huge cheeks on either side of him…he just looks so vulnerable.’  Lying in the deepest point of the valley was her pale pink little man, trembling either in fear or in response to the deprivation of heat her big protective cheeks provided. Part of her felt sorry for him, it couldn’t be easy being that weak and dependent on her glutes for protection…and part of her just thought it was adorable.

The cold air felt nice inside her crack, as it had been many, many hours since any light or fresh air had made its way in.  She hoped that the scent was not too offensive to the doctors; she’d went out of her way to really clean the area in anticipation of today, but it had been quite a long day already.  Lori watched on the television as Dr. Walker pulled her cheeks open a little wider. WIth the new availability of space, Dr. Stanhope reached a gloved hand into Lori’s crack.  Lori trembled at the sensation of Dr. Stanhope’s knuckles grazing the soft and neglected skin of her inner cheeks.  She then felt a light flutter as the red-headed doctor pulled the itty-bitty stowaway out of Lori’s protective, warm bottom.

Dr. Stanhope carefully set the struggling little figure onto a paper towel inside a tray with raised edges.  There was another overhead camera, showing its feed in a tiny window in the bottom corner of the television, a PIP feed.  This overhead camera had the perfect angle, akin to a camera filming a magician’s tabletop from overhead.  Lori worried a little for the subject, hoping he would calm down and stop struggling against the red-head.  She was so much larger than him and she was going to get her way…that much was clear.  Things would be so much easier for him if he just complied, because it was clear she was going to do her job..whatever that may be.

Dr. Stanhope applied the wet wipe, which must have appeared the size of a parachute, to the subject’s naked body and began wiping him down.

Lori gasped, putting it all together. ‘Oh no…..HE’S getting that big shot?’

“Are you okay, Lori?” Dr. Walker asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay but what about...” Lori trailed off.

Dr. Walker didn’t leave a lot of time for Lori’s incomplete question to linger.  She knew exactly what Lori was worried about,

“You see, Lori.  As you might imagine, adjusting to the new environment of a woman’s rear end can be quite a difficult adjustment for our subjects.”

“Even more when the subjects are confined for extended periods of time.” Dr. Stanhope added.

Dr. Walker continued.  “If you remember our earlier conversation about breast cleavage confinement, breast cleavage confinement was less ideal as compared to buttock cleavage confinement due to the former’s higher eligibility criteria…but I will admit that there was one significant benefit breast cleavage confinement had over buttock cleavage confinement.  That benefit was the ease of acclimation.”

“After the establishment of RR Labs, we held a very limited study on mammary confinement…just to confirm we’d explored the topic thoroughly.  Over 95% of new subjects could psychologically ‘acclimate’ to the environment between the breasts of our Participants while around 1% simply could not adapt to the conditions. This incredibly small sample of subjects developed something we call ‘Dante’s Syndrome’. I won’t bore you with the details as we are still trying to understand it but Dante’s Syndrome, as far as we can tell, is incurable.”

“It’s also mentally devastating to the subject.” Dr. Stanhope added, still thoroughly and roughly wiping Lori’s subject down with the wet wipe.

“We noticed when switching to rear end confinement that the percentage of subjects that developed Dante’s Syndrome increased significantly…what were the numbers, Dr. Stanhope?”

“Somewhere around 40% is what the records say.”

“Right,” Dr. Walker said. “So we responded by developing what Dr. Stanhope is prepping to give the subject. We call it an Assignment Shot.”

Lori looked toward the tray where the syringe had been resting earlier; stationed next to it was the familiar container she’d spit into earlier.

“That’s what I spit in the container thing for earlier, isn’t it?”

Dr. Stanhope nodded, finally concluding her thorough wipe session on the subject. She set him down on the paper towel, orienting him on his stomach.

“That’s correct,” Dr. Stanhope said. “What we do is we use a DNA sample from our Participant and synthesize it into a deliverable medium that imprints onto the subject.”

Dr. Stanhope had the subject pinned down with a single left thumb on his left thigh as she readied the syringe.  “Think of it as a VIP membership pass to your rear end that he gets to wear around his neck for…well…”

“...indefinitely,” Dr. Walker completed the thought.

Dr. Stanhope nodded with a smile.  “It’ll make his experience more tolerable; his body will sync with yours and your body will essentially accept him as something that belongs there. It really makes things easier for everyone.”

“Make sure you hold down the right shoulder as well….yes, like that…with your index finger.” Dr. Walker said, looking down at the squirming, panicking naked man.  “His struggling will intensify when you inject and we don’t want him pulling any muscles.”

Dr. Stanhope heeded Dr. Walker’s advice and precisely pinned down the subject in two spots, drastically limiting his movement.  Tiny little squeaks of protest filled the small exam room, but they were oh so very faint as Dr. Stanhope lowered the syringe. The broad, wide tip bit into the subject’s left ass cheek and then plunged in.  Lori could definitely understand now why the television was there.  She trusted these doctors and knew that what they were doing for him was in his best interests, but she just wanted to get him back in her bottom where it was safe…as soon as possible.

“Push very slowly”, Dr. Walker said as Dr. Stanhope pressed the plunger with her thumb.  “If you press too quickly, you might rupture.”

“I’ve got it, Katie.” Dr. Stanhope said, her white upper teeth creating a dent in her rose-red lower lip as she focused strongly on the injection.

As the squeaking got louder and more frantic, and as Dr. Stanhope forced more of the vivid bright liquid into the pinned subject, Dr. Walker continued talking. Lori’s best guess was that it was for her own benefit; meant to distract a distressed looking Lori.

“We usually prefer to administer Assignment Shots before installations, but due to the unique circumstances of your participation…how I was in Italy for a conference and we were trying to get the subject paired quickly, we just couldn’t wait.  We somewhat broke protocol, but subject delivery methods are something we’ve been talking about for years…we’re going to get there eventually and this was a great test run but I digress.  I think it worked out for the best; I was able to attend the entire conference, and you got to start participating and getting paid much sooner than if we waited…the only inconvenienced party was the subject, but now residing in your backside will be much more…comfortable…going forward.  At least once the shot starts to take effect, that is.”

Biting her lip in concentration, Dr. Stanhope removed the syringe and Lori could see a droplet of liquid drip down the subject and onto the paper towel he was lying atop.  The poor little thing was sobbing uncontrollably… and the wound on his tiny little bottom looked quite painful.

Lori had this primal instinct to just snatch him out of the doctor’s hands and stuff him back between her big glutes, pull up her underwear, and seal him away from the pain and embarrassment the big world carried.  He just couldn’t handle it anymore…not at this size.

Dr. Stanhope set the syringe down and reached for the wipe again.  She was a little more gentle this time as she wiped down the wound, sanitizing it thoroughly to protect it from infection.

Observing the tiny figure, Lori couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the fragile being before her. "He's trembling," she remarked, her tone infused with genuine sadness at the sight of his distress.

Dr. Walker responded in her typical matter-of-fact manner, "Yes, he's experiencing a fair amount of discomfort due to the shot. But it's for his own benefit. We’re setting him on the path to success."

With a shared understanding, Dr. Stanhope nodded in agreement, delicately raising the weak and whimpering subject up to her eyeline. She cradled him close, her focus shifting intently to the miniature being in her grasp. Her eyes, each glistening far more scientific curiosity than compassion, converged on his diminutive features. Dr. Stanhope's dedication was evident

"Subject's overall health appears relatively stable," she assessed, her gaze unwavering as she even took a moment to adjust a wayward strand of her red hair obstructing her view.

Dr. Walker, leaning over Dr. Stanhope's shoulder. She extended a gentle finger, her touch barely brushing the subject's tiny form as she carefully evaluated his condition. With a light but deliberate grasp, she held one of his minute arms between her thumb and index finger, assessing his muscle mass with a critical eye.

"There's a mild atrophy in his muscle mass, as anticipated," she noted, her voice thoughtful and clinical but with a hint of curiosity. "However, considering the circumstances, he should be further along. It seems the efforts he put forth in his struggles had a greater impact on Lori than we anticipated.”

A contemplative pause lingered before she released his fragile arm, allowing it to fall back into its previous position.

“Let’s get him home.”  Dr. Walker said, returning to Lori’s side.

‘Thank god..’ Lori thought, relief washing ove there. ‘This poor little thing…please just get back to where you’re safe.’

Lori's gaze remained locked, captivated by the unfolding scene as Dr. Walker once again embarked on the delicate task of parting the single mother’s voluminous, flesh-filled buttocks. Dr. Stanhope’s gloved hand entered the frame of the CCTV feed, and with precision and confidence, she lowered the crying subject toward the expanse of Lori's generous rump. The subject, held by Dr. Stanhope's fingertips, disappeared into the crevice between the soft, fleshy mounds. Lori was keenly aware of the sensation—the knuckles grazed against the fleshy walls of her curvaceous buttocks followed by the touch of the subject against the warm contours of her crack. The placement, almost identical to when he was first removed, rested at the top of the valley.

“Is this your preferred anal alignment?” Dr. Stanhope asked quietly, a hand still holding the subject firmly against the floor of Lori’s crack while Dr. Walker held the big, soft cheeks apart.

Lori grappled with the confusion Dr. Stanhope's words had stirred within her. The realization dawned on her, and she chimed in, "I don't really have a preference."

“Hmm…well, in that case.”

Dr. Stanhope applied subtle pressure and guided the subject downward. A single finger urged him toward Lori's delicate entrance. In an almost fluid motion, she maneuvered the subject onto his stomach, positioning him face-down at the threshold of Lori’s pulsating, sensitive ring. A gentle massage followed, as Dr. Stanhope firmly coaxed him to nestle against the dark rim. A mix of emotions surged through Lori. Her heart raced, and an audible gasp escaped her lips as she felt the tiny body press against her sensitive opening, the pressure both surprising and titillating.

As the pressure from Dr. Stanhope's finger lessened, Lori sensed Dr. Walker's movements—her hands, which had been holding Lori's cheeks apart, gradually lifted. The large, pliable mounds rebounded, converging in a cascade of jiggles and ripples. The lessening of Dr. Stanhope’s restrictive pressure on the subject was proportionately traded for Lori’s cheeks as if the two were exchanging responsibility so that the other could have some time off.  The subject's whimpers were instantly muffled by the reunion of her excessively large buttocks, concealed by the enveloping flesh.

Lori sighed in relief.

With the procedure seemingly concluded, Dr. Walker's reassuring words reached Lori's ears, "All done, Lori. You did great."

A comforting pat on her shoulder punctuated the sentiment and she was proud of getting through it so gracefully.

She felt bad that the subject had to go through all that just now, but at least now he was safe and sound back in her bottom.

“We’re going to give you some privacy so you can get dressed.  Unfortunately, I have to run and take care of something but Dr. Stanhope here will happily get you and your subject home. If you have any questions or concerns…ANY AT ALL…you can call me any time!”

Lori took this opportunity to change into the extra pair of underwear she’d brought with her.  The ones that didn’t turn her soft cheeks into cement boulders of compression.

‘He sooo earned this.’ Lori thought with a smile as she hiked them up over her big bulging bottom. She even considered rewarding him by not wearing the tight Training Underwear for at least another week.

The soft blue cotton of her typical panties contained her cheeks wonderfully, but they weren’t squeezed into cement boulders around him…she was sure he appreciated that.

Lori exited the exam room and the two were ready to leave.

“Ready to go?” Dr. Stanhope asked.

Lori nodded with a smile and the two entered the hallway just as the gorgeous blonde Lori had seen earlier was rounding the corner.

“Hey Dr. Stanhope, have you seen Brandi?”

“Hello Dr. Becotte, I saw her check a few subjects out of the SSF earlier.”

Lori felt a tremble surging through her body.  The electricity sparked as high as her scalp, as low as her toes, and most strongly between her legs and in her breasts.  She couldn’t stop staring at what was in the beautiful young doctor’s hands.

Dr. Stanhope followed Dr. Becotte’s gaze to the stunned Participant by her side.

“Dr. Becotte, this is Lori.  She’s a new Participant.”

Dr. Becotte extended a hand and with a huge smile, her pretty, full lips moved as she chewed a stick of gum. “Yes, I think I saw you in the waiting room earlier today.  Welcome!”

‘When you were flirting with that boy.’ Lori thought, her heart pounding.

Lori shook the friendly woman’s hand, gazing into Dr. Becotte’s crystal blue eyes just for as long as she needed to before her gaze returned to the stainless steel tray in the blonde’s hands.  In the center was a tiny, naked little man, staring up at her and trembling.

She recognized him from the waiting room.

It was the handsome man that Dr. Becotte was flirting with.

It was Brandon.

“Lori has just finished her first weekly screening and she’s ready to leave.  Would you mind escorting her out?” Dr. Stanhope asked, looking at her own wrist-watch.

“Sure, no problem…I’m heading that way anyway.”

“Okay great.  It was so nice meeting you, Lori.  Good luck!” Dr. Stanhope said with a smile before walking off.

Dr. Becotte smiled, “Alright Lori, right this way.”

Dr. Becotte, now in charge of Lori's guidance, assumed the role seamlessly. Walking beside the blonde doctor, Lori couldn't help but admire her—she emanated the kind of beauty that belonged in fashion magazines and Hollywood films. From afar, she was mesmerizing; up close, she was even more captivating.

As Dr. Becotte engaged her in conversation, Lori's attention was inexplicably drawn to Brandon. The transformation was undeniable; once seen as confident and cool, he now appeared vulnerable, enveloped by a sense of fear and uncertainty. The dynamics had shifted dramatically. Where once he had been the unattainable hunk she'd look at with a mix of nervousness, self-consciousness, and longing, he was now a tiny, fragile being in need of protection. An instinctual urge took hold of her—a desire to shield him from harm's way. It could have been mother’s instinct..or maybe it would be more accurate to attribute the instinct to the nature of being a Participant. Either way, and quite unfortunately for him, her remarkable assets for cushion, warmth, and unrivaled protection were already in use.

Breaking eye contact, Lori confessed, "It's going okay... it's only my first week, so it's all very new to me." Her words were laden with an underlying shiver, a sensation exacerbated by her subject's alignment, rubbing against her sensitive asshole with every step she took. Brandon, a stark contrast to his former allure, cast worried glances around, his anxiety evident as he darted his gaze between Lori, Dr. Becotte, and the other busy and uncaring scientists and doctors populating the bustling hallway.

Lori inquired, gesturing to Brandon on the tray, "Is he okay?"

Dr. Becotte's expression momentarily mirrored her confusion, "Who?"

Following Lori's pointed finger, her gaze settled on the tiny, naked figure of Brandon. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, "Oh, the subject! Yes, he's completely fine. Just a little cold, but that's temporary. He's headed to our adaptation intern, Brandi. She’s VERY good at warming up cold subjects. Speaking of which, there she is. Brandi!"

Before Lori and Dr. Becotte stood Brandi, her back turned to them. A departure from the lab coats and clean suits that were ubiquitous to RR Labs as far as Lori could tell, Brandi sported a distinctive outfit: a short yet professional, untucked women's dress shirt paired with sleek black pants. The ensemble was a departure from the norm, an intriguing contrast to the conventional attire that populated the facility. But what truly caught Lori's attention was the manner in which her attire accentuated her form.

The dress shirt did little to conceal the curves of her generous backside, instead framing it and drawing mesmerizing focus and attention. Every contour was hinted at beneath the expensive-looking fabric, the garment's tightness allowing a tantalizing glimpse of the soft swell of her buttocks. The black pants, hugging her with an almost magnetic allure, showcased her curves in all their astounding, youthful, gravity-defying glory. Yet, a small detail betrayed a hint of discomfort—the pronounced wedgie, a subtle imperfection that paradoxically added a touch of authenticity to her polished appearance.

As anticipation hung in the air, the woman turned around, revealing herself fully to the waiting duo. Her smile was radiant, a warm and welcoming expression that beckoned forth familiarity.

Her greeting was casual yet infused with a sense of respect, "Oh hey, Dr. Becotte."

“I’ve got another one for ya.  This is….” Dr. Becotte held the tray steady with one hand and with the other, she looked at her paperwork, “….Subject 480f.”

“Okay, is this the one that just finished with Reduction Therapy?” Brandi asked, and Dr. Becotte smiled, holding out the tray.

Brandon stared up at the big, powerful women that surrounded him as if he were a poor little lost puppy.  Lori’s heart really went out to him.

Brandi smiled at the tiny Brandon and plucked him up into her bare hand.

“Ive got another subject in at the moment... he’ll hit the half hour mark in just a few minutes.” She said to Dr. Becotte in a normal voice. She then looked down her cute button nose at Brandon and in a slightly higher pitched, much more condescending tone, she spoke to the shivering little man. “...then it’ll be your turn! Yes, it will!”

Lori saw the panic and terror in Brandon’s eyes, but Brandi just giggled and closed her fist around him, lowering her hand to her side.

Dr. Becotte gently chuckled, handing the folder to Brandi, “Thanks Brandi.”

Dr. Becotte motioned to the door down the hall. “That door will take you back to the waiting room.  You can check out with Laura at the front, she’ll validate any parking or print out any transportation tickets you may need to get where you’re going.”

Dr. Becotte extended a hand, and Lori shook it.  “It was great meeting you.  I hope we see you and your subject again soon!”

Lori turned to leave.  With no women to distract her anymore, she was focused on the tiny little man in her bottom, and the way he was tickling her most sensitive area.  She wouldn’t be doing this all the time, not by any stretch, but she was very appreciative of Dr. Stanhope for taking the liberty of installing him this way.

He was back where he belonged, and now it was time for her to go back where she belonged.

~

This story is Up to Chapter 48 on Patreon which you can access for just $5 at the the link here: patreon.com/user?u=4260306

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 15 - Home Sweet Home

[September 30th, 2005]

The sun was already setting when Lori got home.

As she crossed the threshold, the soothing fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon enveloped her senses, a welcome departure from the antiseptic sterility of the strange laboratory that existed half a world away. This aroma was a comforting embrace, the very essence of her one and only home sweet home. The ache of separation from her daughter was a bitter sentiment for sure, but the sweetness of their joyous reunion was proportionately surreal.  Lori felt as if she’d been off on some crazy, whimsical adventure…only she couldn’t share the stories.

Seated on the sofa, Isabella and Victoria reclined with their feet casually elevated on the coffee table. Across the room, Gina nestled into the padded recliner, engrossed in the world contained within the charging notebook computer laying across her lap. The trio were already cozily dressed down to their pajamas, prompting Lori to wonder whether they had transitioned from daywear to nightwear or if they had remained in PJ’s since she left.

“Hi, Mama.”

Victoria was the first to look up towards her mother with a sleepy smile and wave.  Isabella, however, had risen to her feet and approached her mother for a hug.

“God, it’s so good to see you three again.  I missed you so much.”

“It was only like a day, Mom.” Gina giggled.

“I know!” Lori replied.  “Way too long!”

“How was your business trip?” Isabella asked.

Lori had only opened her mouth to reply but Victoria had already asked a follow up question. “Did you get me anything?”.

“No, not this time, Vicky.” Lori chuckled as Isabella returned to her seat next to Victoria, propping her bare feet back up on the coffee table. “It was a short trip.”

Victoria sighed.

“Were you girls okay while I was gone?  No one got into any trouble?”

Lori saw the light immediately return to Victoria’s disappointed eyes as the bratty teen looked over toward her older sister.

“Isabella had a boy over!” Victoria blurted out.

Isabella reflexively swatted Victoria on the shoulder.

“Stop being a liar!” Isabella proclaimed in surreal indignation and then turned to her mom. “I didn’t!”

“Yes, she did.” Victoria said, proudly crossing her arms and smiling. “He was here aaaaall day and only left like an hour ago.”

Her braces usually made Isabella look cute and precious, but now the sweet middle child bared her teeth and wrinkled her nose the way she only ever did to her younger sister, and the glint of the metal in her mouth only lended more credence to the look of ferocity.

“It was NOT a boy! It was just Kyle!” Isabella exclaimed, stamping her bare foot on the carpet.  “He came over to study for the math test next week! That’s it!”

“She had him in her room, mom.” Victoria chirped, her tone carrying an unmistakable edge of mischief and sisterly sabotage.

Isabella’s mouth was agape.  “Oh my god will you shut the heck up?! Where else would we go?  That’s where my dry erase board is, you big, dumb idiot.”

“Dumb idiot, huh?” Victoria said with a giggle, which only seemed to push Isabella to new levels of frustration. Isabella was brilliant and beautiful…a petite angel of elegance and intellect, but she was never too good with the quips and insults.  At least not as quick as her little sister.

This was one of those moments that every parent had to handle carefully.  Teenage girls could be as dangerous as tigers if not handled properly.

“Bella…Vicky…” Lori said, interrupting the argument before it turned into an all-out war.

“Let’s just try to relax, okay?”

“The door was shut.” Victoria muttered under her breath.

THWAPP!

“Owwwwww-wuh!” Victoria yelped. “Mom, she hit me so hard her boobs almost popped out of her shirt.”

“Victoria!” Lori said in such disbelief she had to laugh at the pettiness.  “Enough!”

Lori turned toward Isabella, who was in her cute fuzzy polka dotted pajamas and yet it was the landscape of her upper body that garnered attention.  A white spaghetti-strap shirt dipped daringly low, displaying a prominent, eye-catching amount of cleavage.

“You…well….weren’t wearing that shirt though, right?”

Isabella rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation, throwing one of her legs up under her body and plopping back down on the couch, sitting on her foot with her arms crossed over her chest.  She didn’t do well with all this attention whereas Victoria seemed to crave it.  Gina was always somewhere in the middle and even though no one seemed immune to Victoria’s antics, Gina seemed old enough to know how to avoid feeding into her youngest sister’s fits of attention-craving

Lori adjourned to her bedroom, taking a page out of her daughters’ book and dressing down for the evening.  She’d almost pulled up her black and red flannel pajama bottoms when she realized that she hadn’t checked on the tiny little secret tucked away in her bottom since getting on the plane.

It was an interesting flight back.  Lori had remained strong, remembering all the thoughtful words Dr. Walker had said about the subject getting used to her sitting normally–how she deserved to be comfortable considering what a comfortable, warm environment she was providing for the subject.

He was incredibly warm in her fingers and barely conscious, the little cutie.

“Big day for a big man, huh?” Lori said with a playful chuckle.  “I want you to know you did really good today.  That big, scary shot…jeez…I’m so sorry that they put you through that.”

Lori tenderly stroked the subject’s body, his energy either drained from exertion or maybe he had just had such a good little sleep in her crack that he was groggy.

“I hope you know I had no idea they were going to do that.  I would have warned you or maybe tried to…oh, I don’t know…see if they had any numbing creams?  Anyway, I’m sorry for the traumatic day but don’t worry…it’s just you and me for the rest of the evening.” Lori smiled. “...well, and the girls, too obviously…but of course they won’t know that you’re with me.”

Lori returned the little subject back to the depths of her bare bottom and then packed her dense, pale cheeks into the seat of her black and red flannel pajamas.  The fuzziness felt wonderful against her bare glutes and just before she left her room, she remembered that without underwear, her dear subject would have one less layer of protection. She could have put some underwear on but the feeling of the cozy fuzz all over her skin just felt so darn good!

“Hmm…” Lori thought, running a hand along the expansive curvature of her left glute and then traced a finger along her crack.  She found him, nearly as deep as he could have went…and then sent him just a little deeper.  “Stay put, okay dear?  You’ll be just fine.”

The family gathered on the couch and watched a movie Gina had picked: 13 Going on 30.  It was cute but a little too airheaded for Lori’s taste.  Still, anytime with the girls was precious.

Several times, while the 4 sat in the dark living room, Lori felt the struggling of the subject deep in her crack. Several times she almost resorted to muscle memory and leaned over to alleviate some of the pressure of her full weight but each time, Lori stopped herself just before the volume of her left cheek reformed under the hang of gravity.  Instead of giving in to the subject’s unreasonable demands, she responded by scooting left and right into the soft cushion, wedging him further up into her crack before returning her full and undivided attention to the movie.  It felt so good.

Lori didn’t have work the next day and as happy as she was to be surrounded by her girls, she wanted some alone time to sort out some…thoughts she’d been having ever since leaving RR Labs. After the movie ended, Lori said her goodnights and sent the girls up for bed.  Once alone in her living room, she spent a few minutes straightening up, picking up Victoria’s bag of chips and putting away Gina’s notebook computer.  She then poured a large glass of wine, taking a long sip with a relished, surreal sigh.

“Sorry Mom, I left my computer down here.”

Gina scooped up her notebook computer and tucked it in under her arm, heading for the stairs.  It just so happened that Gina decided to head back upstairs right behind her.  For a moment, Lori considered letting her oldest daughter go first, but that would have looked strange…so Lori continued.  She could feel her hefty buns bouncing with each step she took, and she felt self-conscious with her daughter right behind her.

It wasn’t about the way her butt jiggled though!  It was about the tiny little naked man buried deep inside of it…but Lori had to remind herself that he was really in there…surrounded by so much flesh and the thick fuzzy material of her pajama bottoms.  Lori forced herself to continue normally up the stairs, and sure enough Gina didn’t say anything about her bouncing rump.  Alls he said was “Nite, Mom”.

“Good night, honey.”  Lori said, shutting the door of her bedroom.

Lori cocooned herself under her thick down comforter as she indulged in the pleasure of catching up on the novel that kept her busy during today’s travels. She earned herself another sip from her generously poured wine glass with the turn of each page and before she knew it, she’d devoured 2 chapters and a glass-full of sweet crimson warmth. The spirits danced in an ever-growing cloud of whimsical fogginess, strange thoughts growing that made her feel young again.

As the wine's embrace heightened, so did the heat beneath the blankets. She recognized the need to shed the layers that had kept her snug earlier. Lori peeled away her fuzzy pajamas, trading them for a smooth, clean pair of underwear that now embraced her full-figured form. The silk shirt, loose and airy, glided down over her shoulders and fluttered down around her soft stomach.

She settled back into her bed, the sensation of silk against her bare skin a sensual caress. It wasn’t until she’d gotten fully comfortable and settled that Lori remembered her earlier intention of taking the subject out of her bottom.

It would have been a nice thing to keep her promise, but Lori was so comfy! She was feeling very lazy from all the hard work today.  Sure, he had spent over 12 hours in her rear already today…but would another 8 to 10 hours overnight really be that much worse?  She figured it would, in some way, make up for the low amount of time he’d spent in her bottom the first week.

‘Dr. Walker looked happy with me meeting the DDM, but I wonder if she was hoping I’d have kept him in there for longer.’

The wine was starting to take a stronger effect, good thing she was already in her bed…and the girls were too by now.  Suddenly, Lori heard Victoria’s heavy elephant steps down the stairs, probably to get a drink. Lori might have reprimanded her youngest for the late-night noise but in her current inebriated state, the characteristic and unmistakable sound of her daughter obliviously stomping away came off as more endearing and cute than anything else.

As Lori allowed her mind to wander, reviewing the interesting experiences of the day, her thoughts continued to converge on Hannah and her girlfriend Bridget.  It was all just so fascinating to Lori. Not only was Hannah accepting of the tiny little man living in her girlfriend’s bottom, she actually encouraged it!  Lesbian relationships were mysterious enough to Lori, and to throw a toy-sized man into the mix–it was complicated enough to make her head spin!  She couldn’t help but ponder how it worked. What were the dynamics in their household?

The growing sound and vibration patterns of Victoria’s heavy steps intensified as Lori listened to the teenager run back upstairs and retreat into her room.  Not more than 30 seconds later, Lori heard another door open.

Isabella’s footsteps, softer and daintier than her younger sisters, were much harder to hear and required a mother’s perception to pick up.  She undoubtedly went down to make sure that Victoria hadn’t taken one of her seltzer waters. A few minutes later, Isabella commenced her stealthy ascent, each footfall barely a whisper against the carpeted steps. Then came the soft click of her bedroom door.

It didn’t take long for Lori to start snoring, covers tucked up under her chin, tucked down under her feet, and the tiny little subject nestled deep between her heavy, soft cheeks.  The final moments of her tipsy consciousness were of him and his subtle movements in her sensitive crack.  She thought about the nice doctor’s question about anal alignment earlier that had made her blush.  She thought about Brandon, the sweet and hunky young man she’d met in the waiting room–he’d been handed off to that bubbly blonde girl with braids and Lori wondered where he was now.  The last thing she thought of before slipping into deep, luxurious slumber was the image of Hannah and Bridget in that office…watching Bridget’s tiny little subject swallowed up in Hannah’s deep, ample cleavage.

__________

The sound of laughter and affection was strengthening, gradually overwriting the several hours of built-up silence in the quiet living room.  Like a wild tide reclaiming dried shores, it surged closer and was soon right at the entrance. The only thing keeping it out was the big, wooden door which was now opening, revealing to the quiet home interior its two owners: Hannah and Bridget.

The two radiant young women, their hearts irrevocably entwined, graced the threshold of the doorway leading into the home they cherished together. They wasted no time nor spoken word, Bridget pulling her golden-haired counterpart closer, capturing her soft lips in a fervent, soul-stirring kiss.  Hannah tried to drop her keys on the end table but her aim was understandably off.  The keys jingled with a thud in one of Bridget’s boots. Hannah knew she’d forget where they were but she didn’t care.  The keys could wait.  That was a hunt for tomorrow…there was a different kind of hunt going on right now.

The lovers lingered there in the entranceway, the insistent chirping of the security alarm nothing more than a distant echo in the sanctuary of their desire. Bridget, her smoldering gaze locking with the blonde's, backed her lover against the wall with a fierce urgency, causing Hannah's swollen breasts to dance with a hypnotic, primal influence on Bridget’s resolve.  Their lips interlocked and as the Bridget’s fingers explored the curves of the blonde’s heaving chest, Hannah blindly fumbled with the keypad of the security alarm.

Hannah felt a surge of sensations rush through her body as Bridget’s small but confident hands squeezed and kneaded the curvature of her breasts.  The pressure that Bridget imparted on the blonde’s massive breasts resulted in another wonderfully interesting sensation, originating from deep between them.  The soft, fluttering response to Bridget’s carnal desires occuring in the hidden depths of her cleavage caused Hannah’s heart to soar and her nipples to stiffen.  She was getting so wet.

Somehow, amidst the chaos of desire, Hannah managed to disarm the blaring warning beeps with her dexterous left hand while her right hand boldly ventured to explore the expansive, claimed territory of her lover's ample derriere.

Their bodies pressed against each other in an embrace that defied the intrusion of reality and with an assertive kick, the front door slammed shut a little harder than Bridget had intended.

In the shadowed hallway, their laughter intertwined with the playful flicker of light switches, illuminating their path toward the sanctuary of their desires. A wayward canvas teetered precariously on the wall as they stumbled down the hallway, stubbornly refusing to unlink their hips, lips, and breasts until they were finally alone in their dark bedroom.

Well…pretty close to “alone”.

Bridget’s fingers tingled with anticipation as she delicately grasped the hem of Hannah’s shirt. The blonde surrendered willingly, eagerly lifting her arms.

With a practiced precision, Bridget skillfully removed the garment, revealing Hannah’s  lustrous, sun-kissed shoulders. As the shirt fell away, discarded like a forgotten memory, a cascade of golden waves descended the blonde’s bare shoulders like a sensuous waterfall. Her radiant, confident smile illuminated the room as she smiled down at her own ample cleavage, the enormous breasts aching to escape the restrictive confines of her light pink Victoria’s Secret bra.

With a sensuous tilt of her head, Hannah closed the miniscule gap between them, her massive bosom gently compressing against Bridget's supple curves. She pressed her lips to the brunette's ear, nibbling with an erotic hunger that sent shivers up and down the Bridget’s spine.

A breathy, lustful whisper seeped from the blonde’s wet lips, laden with longing and devotion. "You’re too hot for your own good."

Hannah’s nose grazed against Bridget’s ear and her fragrant, thick curly brown hair as the brunette’s head lowered.  She could feel Bridget’s nose against her throat and her lips against her collarbone, planting soft kisses further and further down.

A shiver of anticipation rippled through Hannah as she surrendered to the sensual journey. Soft kisses fluttered over the top of Hannah’s chest like the delicate wings of a butterfly, continuing down to where the flesh softened and protruded so delightfully.  The busty blonde inhaled deeply, causing her prodigious chest to swell even further into the eager face and warm lips of her eager lover.

With an insatiable hunger, Bridget buried her face deep within the intoxicating crevasse of Hannah's cleavage. Her lips met the tender flesh, planting kisses that ignited a fiery longing within them both. Nibbles of desire followed, each one a fervent proclamation of the passion that bound them.

Emerging from the depths of her lover's bosom, Bridget's face bore the mark of a tantalizing secret encased between her pursed lips. A mischievous glint danced in her eyes as she raised a devilish eyebrow. With a seductive flourish, her hand journeyed to her lips, and with a sultry reveal, she allowed a tempting morsel to tumble from between her moist, parted lips. It fell with a seductive grace into the soft, fleshy cradle of her palm, an offering that bespoke of pleasures unspoken.

“Hmmm…look what I found.” Bridget teased, allowing the tiny trinket she’d claimed from Hannah’s deep cleavage to tumble from her lips and into her palm.

“Ohh…where did he come from?” Hannah asked with an emphatic playfulness, pretending the two of them had not mischievously forced the tiny naked man down into Hannah’s cleavage several hours ago.

“What do you think you’re doing with my girlfriend?” Bridget asked, her tone playful enough in Hannah’s ears to make the blonde giggle into her hands…but frightening enough to the tiny little breast-stowaway in Bridget’s hand to make him tremble so hard his knees gave out.

Bridget raised her hand, bringing him so close to her face that he could have reached out and touched her lips had he not been cowering away from her submissively.

“You think you can just get away with touching her like that?” Bridget growled. “I don’t appreciate that.”

“She really doesn’t, you know.” Hannah purred, her fingers tracing intimate patterns along Bridget’s thighs and cheeks. “She gets super jealous.”

“I get jealous of people who actually stand a shot with her.”Bridget said, bathing the little subject in the warm humidity of her minty breath.  “Boy specks like you…you’re not worthy and you know it.”

“Not even just a little bit?” Hannah said in a cute higher-than-normal pitched voice, her fingertips dancing over Bridget’s stomach.

Bridget trembled under the light, fluttery pressure of Hannah’s fingertips but she didn’t break eye contact with the trembling subject sitting in her palm.

“Nope.”

“Not even an eensy-weensy little bit?” Hannah followed up, holding two fingers up to her left eye, barely a centimeter between them. The blonde released her hold on Bridget’s soft body long enough to pour two glasses of wine.

Bridget’s tone increasingly darkened, as if it was the subject asking the follow-up questions and not Hannah instigating.

A heady and intoxicating aroma of alcohol wafted from Bridget's breath, likely overwhelming the tiny man cowering within her warm palm. Her voice, an embodiment of primal dominance, sent visible shivers of submission and adamant surrender throughout his body. "Her heart belongs to me... and you belong to us."

“I think you’re gonna get him drunk breathing on him like that.” Hannah giggled. Her slender arm encircled Bridget's waist, drawing her closer, and the teasing pressure of her fingertips on her lover's colossal derrière elicited a low, throaty groan of pleasure. Hannah’s fingertips turned white under the pressure of supporting and gently bouncing both of her lover’s large, heavy cheeks . Fingers, deft and determined, explored the metallic buckle and zipper of Bridget’s pants.

“Oh, I’ll need just a little more for that, love...” Bridget chuckled.  With her free hand, she took a long sip from her glass as Hannah undressed her.  “...but do you think this would do the trick?”

While maintaining eye contact with her love, Bridget opened her mouth wide and set the tiny little man atop her wine-soaked tongue.  The idea of any part of a man coming into contact with her tongue was the last thing she’d ever pictured herself enjoying but appetites fluctuating after a bit of sweet wine was not the strangest thing in the world.

Plus…this little thing stumbling around atop her thick wet tongue, jumbling against the ribbed roof of her mouth…he was no man.

Hannah watched in awe and unbridled arousal as Bridget slowly shut her mouth, her pristine white teeth forming an impenetrable cage around the imprisoned, thoroughly emasculated little man.  Her big, soft lips sealing shut into a playful smirk was the last level of added security, surrounding him in an inescapable chamber of Bridget’s potent, wine-laden saliva.

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 16 - Sweet Dreams

[???]

Bridget reached down between Hannah's slender thighs, sending twin currents of electricity up through both of their bodies.  The brunette’s unpainted fingertips glistened in the glow of their bedroom moonlight as she sensually undressed herself and the two bare-chested women locked in a passionate embrace. Sweet, warm, and breathy whimpers passed through their noses as Bridget’s and Hannah’s busy mouths alternated in hungrily claiming and reluctantly surrendering the writhing subject.  He was sent back and forth between the smitten young women, their tongues bullying him relentlessly.

After a few minutes of this intense exchange, Hannah slowly opened her mouth. Her glistening wet tongue danced and undulated, proudly cradling the naked little man within its folds.

The poor little thing was struggling to maintain his balance, even on his hands and knees.  He already seemed so exhausted and drained…and there was still so much more work to be done.

With a deliberate motion, Hannah guided him from the tongue's thick base to its delicate tip. Once he rested at the tip, Hannah opened her mouth wide. Careful to ensure that the little subject cleared her two front teeth, Hannah slowly extended her tongue toward a smirking Bridget, as if to present the brunette with an offering.

Bridget voraciously accepted the offering, her lips enveloping Hannah's tongue along with the tiny, squeaking subject. Their passionate kiss ended with a thick, wet popping sound as their wet lips disconnected, Hannah carefully ensuring that the subject was safely confined within Bridget's mouth. With a sultry whisper, the blonde gently guided Bridget's face downward to her enticing breasts.

“Put him back, baby."

Bridget complied eagerly, her nose nuzzling deep into her girlfriend's alluring cleavage. The inner walls of Hannah’s breasts hugged Bridget’s cheeks as she plunged deeper, extending her tongue and forcing the little boy into the world of Hannah’s cleavage as if he were a rehabilitated animal being returned to the wild. Bridget groaned, feeling the pressure increase on either side of her face as Hannah brought her elbows in with a giggle.  Hannah’s breasts closed in around the subject greedily within the shadowy, fleshy valley as Bridget pulled her face away.

Hannah fell gracefully onto her back with a bounce on the comfy queen-sized mattress, the tremors of her bare, inviting breasts echoing the rhythm of her racing heart. They quaked and danced against the continued compression of her palms’ inward pressure. Her long, lustrous blonde hair cascaded in a flowery display across the neatly made bed. Eager anticipation decorated Hannah’s face as Bridget, brimming with desire, gracefully climbed onto the bed and straddled her lover.

"Go, Mittens," Bridget whispered to their cat, nestled at the foot of the bed. Only after some insistent nudging of Bridget’s naked foot did the cat begrudgingly comply, leaping down with a rebellious growl. There was a light grunt as her white paws thudded against the carpet before she disappeared from Bridget and Hannah's world.

In that intimate moment, an electric excitement filled the air, reflected in the sparkling intensity of their eyes, locked in a magnetic gaze. As Bridget descended toward Hannah, their breasts, though slightly smaller, approached the landscape of Hannah's supple, lightly tanned skin. The pressure of Hannah’s palms finally relented and her swollen breasts surrendered to gravity’s influence, revealing the buried treasure between them.  The tiny spectator nestled in the valley between Hannah's invitingly parted breasts could feel the whisper of Bridget's approaching brown, curly hair.

Their two flat yet incredibly soft stomachs made contact, abruptly ending the subject’s very limited time in open space. Four perky, wildly different-sized breasts melded together as if they had been destined to join; they grooved and meshed in perfect harmony as their lips locked again, their sweet, humid breath mingling in the private forest of Bridget’s thick curly hair.

They’d remain in their private sanctuary, kissing, nibbling, and giggling until the time came for Bridget’s subject to join.

Each girl had their own sexual preferences, some kinkier and deeper than others…and they took great pride in learning what ignited the other’s passions.  These intimate revelations were the cornerstone of their healthy, happy relationship and they cherished the journey of exploration.

Their subject was regularly instructed on what these preferences were, most often by the other party.  He was constantly educated, basically any time that he was not confined to either Bridget’s rear or Hannah’s cleavage, and he was regularly tested. Tonight, he would be tested again by Bridget on how to properly tend to Hannah’s feet.  The brunette master planted kisses on the soles and tops of Hannah’s left foot as she kept a watchful eye on the subject, who was standing between the cute big and second toe of Hannah’s right foot.  No part of Bridget found men attractive, her feelings on the matter deep and complicated…but watching that tiny little thing perched between her toes, clumsily slobbering all over the inner side of her girlfriend’s cute big toe. It might have driven the brunette into a jealous rage to see someone else pampering her lover’s feet but the little subject was too pathetic to inspire those emotions.  He was on a completely different level from the two of them.In Bridget’s mind, it was a poignant illustration of the inadequacies inherent to men when it came to pleasing women. The tiny subject’s incompetence was not due to his size, it was due to his gender.

However, amidst the incompetence, there was an undeniable charm and adorableness that she couldn't help but appreciate, in the same way that a pretentious professional might silently watch an amateur.

“How’s he doing, baby?” Bridget asked as she continued to lavish Hannah’s delicate foot with a cascade of tender kisses.

"Mmmmmmmmm... not as good as you," Hannah purred as she idly played with her thick, blonde hair. The movement of her flexing toes almost caused the tiny figure nestled between them to lose his footing. Bridget couldn't help but smile at the pleasure she was able to bring her girlfriend as well as the feelings of superiority she felt over the subject.

Bridget shifted her body with deliberate grace, moving away from the foot she had been pampering and redirected her attention to the other.  There between Hannah’s toes, the tiny subject was ardently engaged in his affectionate pursuits…

…but they weren’t good enough…not for Hannah and not for Bridget.

A sly, judgmental smirk played at the corners of Bridget's lips as she observed him, her face now just inches away from the action.

The diminutive figure, acutely aware of Bridget's watchful cat-like eyes, couldn't help but react to her presence. His kisses became more vibrant, his tongue dancing with greater intensity, and his minuscule thrusts gained newfound vigor. Bridget, knowing that he was giving his utmost, had no doubt that he was striving with all his might to please the golden-haired goddess who held his world in the palm of her hand.

…but it wasn’t good enough…not for Hannah and not for Bridget.

"You're doing it all wrong." Bridget playfully chided, her warm breath caressing Hannah's big toe and the tiny man nestled beside it.

With an air of exaggerated feminine superiority, Bridget sought to demonstrate her point. Her nose nuzzled gently against Hannah's inviting big toe, the miniature figure beside it, witnessing this intimate exchange and bowing to the intrusion into his temporary home.

Bridget's voice was a soft, sultry whisper as she continued,

“You gotta do it like this..."

Bridget's mouth opened slowly, her unfolding tongue pressed firmly against the sensitive underside of Hannah's big toe, her head arcing downward in an enticing display of desire. As her mouth descended, her lips wrapped themselves sensuously around the entire cute big toe, pulling it, and the tiny subject, into the warm embrace of her mouth.

When Hannah saw the bright blue-painted toe disappear between her lover’s lips, a rush of desire surged through her. Her right hand instinctively ventured downward, seeking the sweet release of pleasure between her thighs, as the intensity of the moment enveloped them in a whirlwind of sensuality.

Bridget’s massaging tongue deftly navigated the soft, creamy terrain of Hannah's toes, tracing their every contour and inviting the miniature subject to experience each crevice.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Bridget gradually accepted more of Hannah's toes into her mouth, a seductive dance of intimacy unfolding. It was not just a feast for the senses but an education as well. Each additional toe provided more territory for the tiny spectator to traverse, more terrain to uncover, and more lessons for Bridget to impart.

She gathered him to the tip of her tongue and began to run it…and him…back and forth along the area where Hannah's toes met the base of her foot. Bridget's tongue moved like a skilled artist's brush, caressing, teasing, and enticing. Back and forth it went, snaking between each delicate, plush toe and retrieving the tiny subject on the other side.

Occasionally she’d mercifully take a deep breath in through her mouth instead of her nose, and the subject learned quickly that he’d have to use this opportunity to steal some of the oxygen powerfully whizzing past him and into her lungs.  Hannah’s right hand continued to flutter down between her legs and her speed increased to match the intensity of Bridget’s suction on her toes. All of the sudden, Hannah’s eyes widened, and the hand between her thighs slowed down.  Her voice quivered as she said, “Oh..I’m about to…I’m about to…hurry give him—”

Hannah's shiny toe popped out of Bridget's mouth, for she knew exactly what Hannah wanted.

It was one of her other kinks.

Bridget wasted no time in responding to her lover's unspoken invitation. She moved with an almost frantic urgency up her partner’s legs, moving so quickly she nearly swallowed the poor boy in her mouth.

Bridget's mouth opened eagerly, her tongue curling protectively around the miniature subject, possessively cradling him until he was delivered to where he belonged.

She then quickly forced the subject from the back of her throat to the tip of her tongue.  It was a tantalizing race against time. She descended upon Hannah's sweltering sex, sealing her lips over the intoxicating source of desire and plunged her tongue between Hannah’s super soft, sopping wet lips.

Hannah’s eyes rolled in the back of her head and she screamed, fingers alternately grasping at their expensive sheets, her large rippling breasts, and Bridget’s curly brown hair.  She tightened her grip on her lover’s hair and held her firmly at her crotch, but Bridget wasn’t going anywhere anyway.  Hannah came so hard she nearly cried, evidence of the sexual explosion flowing from her body into Bridget’s mouth, and the subject was positioned to accept the full brunt of the wave.  Bridget held still, swallowing the excess orgasm as it passed the subject’s body, who was firmly pressed against Hannah’s swollen pussy lips.  When it finally stopped, she gently forced the tip of her tongue all the way into Hannah’s sex.

Hannah shivered as she felt the tiny man swallowed between her soaking wet lips.

Bridget's head nestled against Hannah's steadily rising and falling chest, her curly hair damp and draped beautifully over Hannah’s right breast. The tranquility of their embrace didn’t last long, as Hannah was eager to reciprocate the pleasure she had received.

Hannah sent two fingers to retrieve the tiny subject from the depths of her pussy, invoking another strong episode of shivers running up her spine as he slid out. Glistening with the remnants of their shared desire, Hannah brought him to her lips.

“You’re so dirty.” Hannah giggled.  Her mouth enveloped him as if he were a breath mint, her tongue working him into every square millimeter of her mouth.  She ran him along the ribbed roof of her mouth, pinned him in under her tongue and pouched him between her cheek and row of teeth as she sensually sucked him clean.

As Hannah continued to savor the taste of their passion, she rolled Bridget over onto her back. Positioning herself between Bridget's inviting legs–thick, pale, and widening–her eyes sparkled with desire and anticipation, ready to bestow upon her lover the same intoxicating pleasures they had just shared.

Hannah knew how Bridget felt about the subject.  Usually he was more of a task than anything else, but once there was alcohol in Bridget’s system and that steamy look in her eyes, Bridget would symbolically forgive the weaker sex for their transgressions–for a time–if for no other reason than to demonstrate her power through the symbolic dominance of the little boy assigned to her butt.

For the next twenty minutes, Hannah devoted herself to the intimate art of pleasuring Bridget. Her lips, tongue, teeth, and her lover’s subject became instruments of passion and delight as they glided over and between Bridget's soft, plush pussy lips.

As Hannah ventured deeper into this carnal journey, she couldn't help but revel in the contrast between Bridget's robust thighs and her own slender ones. The feeling of Bridget's ample thighs pressing against her cheeks and temples was a sensual delight that made her feel appreciated and controlled, each touch igniting a fiery desire within the both of them.

Occasionally, Hannah would gently shift the tiny figure to her tongue, guiding him around Bridget's warm, wet slit like a skilled conductor orchestrating a passionate crescendo. But he’d always return to the pouch nestled between her teeth and cheek.  He wasn’t about to get ALL the fun!

At times, the miniature subject would tumble from Hannah’s mouth or slip from his perch atop Bridget's luscious mound. Hannah, fueled by their unquenchable desire, would simply lick him up from the sheets and resume her artistry, never missing a beat.

Finally, Hannah hovered tantalizingly over her lover's quivering and super-sensitive sex, her breath hot with anticipation. With an exquisite tease, she allowed the subject, imprisoned within a mouthful of saliva and natural lubricant, to drip sensuously from her pursed lips onto Bridget's eager, flaming pussy.

The miniature subject lay there in a disheveled heap, his tiny chest heaving as he desperately sought to regain his breath after the exhilarating journey he had just experienced. His eyes met Hannah's gaze, her raised eyebrow and devilish grin serving as a reminder that his efforts, while exhausting and emasculating, were far from over.

Hannah leaned in closer, her intention unclear to the tiny figure. Anticipation coursed through him as he expected to be drawn back into the depths of her mouth once more. However, Hannah's focus shifted, her attention diverting to Bridget's throbbing clit, a place of undeniable pleasure.

With an expert and learned touch, Hannah's tongue flicked and danced over Bridget's sensitive bud, eliciting a shuddering response from her lover. Bridget's body quivered with ecstasy under the skilled labor of her lips and tongue, sending waves of pleasure through up and down her body.

A devilish smile danced on Hannah's lips as she paused, her gaze shifting to meet the tiny subject's bewildered eyes.

"That's your job," she purred with a sultry command.

With deliberate grace, she continued her descent, moving lower between Bridget's meaty thighs.

She planted big, affectionate kisses on either of Bridget's enormous, plush, and wonderfully hanging ass cheeks, her lips leaving a trail of glistening warmth in their wake.

"And this," Hannah said with more wind than word, "is my job.”

Hannah started making out with Bridget’s tight asshole, her nose pressing firmly against the thick brunette’s pussy as she dug in. Her beautiful closed eyes occasionally opened to check on the subject, verifying that he was putting everything he had into pleasuring her lover.  Hannah’s beautiful, big eyes were fixed on the subject as he wrapped his arms around the humongous clit and did his best to stimulate it.  Bridget was getting close now…and unlike Hannah, Bridget had given plenty of notice this time.

In that charged moment, Hannah received the unspoken signal that it was time to divert her attention.

The blonde withdrew her tongue from its intoxicating exploration of Bridget's massive rear, her tongue leaving a lingering trail of saliva on the tight hole and on her plush cheeks. As hard as he was working, Hannah knew that she’d done more than 95% of the work in getting Bridget off.

In one swift motion, she scooped up the tiny, quivering subject from the apex of Bridget's throbbing clit, her fingers gently cradling his minuscule form.

Hannah was not one to waste time, especially when their shared passions ran as high as they did now. In a moment of heated urgency, she summoned saliva to the front of her mouth, the moisture glistening tantalizingly on her tongue. With a deliberate flourish, she spat upon the tiny subject, a cascade of warmth covering his sputtering face and trembling body.

Her fingers moved with a gliding precision as she began to rub the saliva thoroughly into the tiny man, ensuring that it covered every millimeter of his naked body. She paid particular attention to the top half, the slick moisture mingling with the natural flush of his skin.

As the intensity of their intimate connection grew, Bridget's voice rose in harmony with her escalating desires, her cries of pleasure filling the room and adding to the crescendo of their shared passion. The world outside their cocoon of ecstasy seemed to fade into a blurry nothingness as they surrendered to the intoxicating allure of their desires.

Hannah's fingers held the tiny man with a firm and deliberate care–best she could, anyway–her index and middle finger forming a secure cradle for his minuscule form. Positioned between these two digits, most of his body was held firmly, ensuring he remained within her grasp. The mixture of their intimate fluids – a blend of saliva, sweat, and the intoxicating essence of their shared passion – coated his body, creating a slick, sensual sheen that made him feel slippery and challenging to confidently control.

The slipperiness was a deliberate choice; it was precisely what Bridget needed.

Meanwhile, Bridget's hand moved with a frenzied urgency, fluttering at her sex. Her smaller breasts moved with rapid fluidity as her forearm and small bicep clenched, each touch and movement bringing her closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The room was filled with the heady scent of their arousal, an intoxicating aroma that the subject might have known and understood better than even they did; surely it was unforgettable and mind-shattering.

She whimpered, “Now baby…now!”

Hannah didn’t hesitate.

Hannah thrust her two fingers up as deep inside Bridget as they could go, her thick thighs tightening as if to bar the pleasurable hand from leaving.

As Hannah's fingers explored the intimate terrain, they spread apart, creating a tantalizing separation that caused the tiny subject deep inside of Bridget to lose contact. It was as if he sought desperately to cling to them, resisting the loneliness that threatened to engulf him within the depths of Bridget's sensual sanctuary.

She began to withdraw her fingers, slowly, sensually, then teasingly pushed them back inside, a seductive cycle of pleasure and anticipation. Each movement was a deliberate tease. With each withdrawal, she felt Bridget’s body quiver and with each penetration, the brunette breathed in sharply.  Hannah could also feel the subject occasionally paw at her fingertips, as if they were there to rescue him.  Instead, they’d only play with him or force him deeper.

Bridget herself was reaching the pinnacle of passion and power. Her own fingers skillfully caressed her sensitive clit, her very essence ignited by the dual pleasures of her soul mate thrusting her dainty fingers in and out of her sex and the tiny, devoted man lost deep within her. The symphony of their shared pleasure reached its climax, an unforgettable moment of ecstasy that promised to linger in their memories long after their shared adventure came to an end.

She screamed, raking her fingernails over Hannah’s smooth back.  Hannah screamed in pain and delight, and they held each other as Bridget shook like a leaf, riding wave after wave of knee-buckling consecutive orgasms.

Hannah and Bridget lay sprawled across their disheveled bed, the damp sheets a tangled mess and the pillows haphazardly strewn about. Their once-pristine sanctuary bore the marks of their passionate endeavors, and the room was saturated with the heady scent of their carnal desires. Both women's hair was a tousled tangle, their bodies glistening with the shimmering sheen of perspiration earned through an eternity of passionate lovemaking condensed into a single, unforgettable evening.

Bridget had succumbed to the embrace of slumber, her body exhausted from the intoxicating journey they had embarked upon. Hannah played on her phone, the impending embrace of sleep inching closer with every passing minute. The night had been an epic odyssey of pleasure, leaving them both drained yet profoundly satisfied.

But amidst the weariness that enveloped them, none was as exhausted as their tiny subject. He had been pushed to the limits of his endurance and stripped of any enduring modicum of pride and self-respect, facing challenges that would be inconceivable to a normal human being. However, he was far from normal, for he was the property of Bridget, and a cherished toy of Hannahs–a unique and treasured part of their unconventional relationship.

Lying there, atop Hannah's soft lower stomach, the tiny man felt a persistent sense of dizziness and disorientation washing over him. His world had been a whirlwind of sensations, each one more intense than the last. He had become attuned to the rhythmic rise and fall of their bodies, his miniature form somewhat sinking into the ebb and flow of their shared passion.

Finally, as the evening reached its end, Hannah made the decision that their time together had run its course. With great care, she gently lifted the tiny figure from her stomach, her fingers cradling him tenderly. It marked the conclusion of an extraordinary night, a night that had pushed the boundaries of pleasure and intimacy, leaving both Bridget and Hannah fully sated and ready to embrace the sweet surrender of slumber.

The tiny man lay there, his diminutive, dazzled form covered in a thickening cocktail of sweat, saliva, and cum that had long lost its warmth, rendering him feeling cold and abandoned. He was far from the center of attention during Hannah and Bridget’s play, but now he was nothing more than a forgotten plaything amidst the aftermath of their passionate encounter.

She didn’t pick him up to play with him.  She didn’t even look at him.  She wasn’t interested in him anymore, she was interested in sleep.  This was just something you do when you finish playing with your toys: you put them away.

Hannah rolled onto her side as she propped herself up with an elbow. She slowly inched down the bed until her face was in proximity to Bridget's waist, manipulating her large, swinging breasts into a comfortable position against the wrinkled sheets. Her lips descended, placing a gentle, affectionate kiss on Bridget’s closest hip bone. With a soft touch, she pressed against Bridget's wide waist, a silent request for her lover to turn over onto her stomach, an invitation that a sleepy Bridget lazily complied with.

As Bridget shifted, Hannah's gaze briefly admired the curvature of her plump, doughy ass cheeks, their surface glistening with a tantalizing combination of her own sweat and the remnants of Hannah's saliva.

Without the need for explicit direction from Bridget or the manipulation of her pale, fleshy glutes, the tiny man found himself gliding effortlessly between Bridget's luscious ass cheeks.

He required so little pressure and encouragement to glide into Bridget’s deep, sweaty crack that it was as if he harbored an insatiable desire to return to his haven, nestled within the soft contours of his world between her soft, protective glutes–a retreat to a realm of solitude, a fleeting moment of respite from the constant scrutiny and playful curiosity of his owners. Within the depths of this sanctuary, he found warmth, cushiony softness, and a semblance of solitude, albeit short-lasting and laced with humiliation.

Hannah, with a gentle but purposeful touch, urged the tiny figure further between Bridget's welcoming glutes, a realm that offered him both shelter and deep emasculation. Deeper he ventured, until he vanished entirely, swallowed whole into the embrace of Bridget's luscious flesh, his presence concealed from the world. He had been tucked in for the night, sent home, put away.  He had been utilized to the fullest extent of his unique purpose, only to be put away to focus fully on his primary purpose with Bridget’s bottom…until their desires inevitably called upon him once more.

Bridget's senses stirred from the depths of her slumber, a soft coo of pleasure escaping her lips as she felt Hannah reintroduce their tiny companion into the familiar and intimate embrace of her dewy, heated derriere.

The pale, twin globes of Bridget's buttocks trembled and shifted with a subtle sensuality, like a pair of inviting, plush pillows, as Hannah withdrew her hand, leaving behind a lingering warmth and a series of weak-willed, weak-minded struggles that resonated through Bridget's flesh deep between her cheeks. A playful, shared giggle passed between them, a light-hearted acknowledgment of the intimate games they played, sealed with one final flourish as Hannah bestowed a big, wet kiss upon each of the ample, inviting mounds of pale, cushiony cheek flesh.

Satisfied with the subject’s exit from their passionate evening, Hannah retreated further up the bed, aligning her hips perfectly with Bridget's. Their bodies effortlessly fell into sync, like two halves of a passionate whole. Their heads were now level with each other and they struggled to keep their eyes open. Hannah's bare feet, with their subtle arches, tender soles, and wiggling toes wearing hundreds of kisses, found a cozy sanctuary beneath the covers. She pulled the warmth over herself and Bridget, cocooning them in the slowly accumulating warmth.

Foreheads pressed together, they exchanged loving smiles, their fingers tracing the curves and contours of each other's faces.

"I love you so much," Hannah whispered, punctuating her words with a gentle kiss upon the tip of Bridget's nose.

“I love you, too.” Bridget said with a warmth reserved only for her lover.

She rolled over, her sizeable, inviting derrière shifting and swaying as she backed it up into Hannah's welcoming crotch. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces and Bridget playfully wiggled her hips against Hannah’s warm, slender body. It was peculiar, Bridget being so strong-minded, firm, and the primary breadwinner, it was obvious that she was the dominant one–the ‘alpha’.  However, one of the few rules of their bedroom was that Bridget was the little spoon.  Perhaps it was due to how well her large ass anchored into Hannah’s hips. It was just meant to be.

Hannah wrapped her arm around her lover's luscious form, her hand finding a comfortable resting place nestled between Bridget's inviting, soft, and perky breasts.

As she held Bridget close, Hannah inhaled deeply through her nose, taking in the sweet scent of her lover's skin, the subtle notes of her soap and body wash mostly replaced by the carnal scent of her perspiration, which Hannah loved even more. With delicate affection, she pressed gentle kisses along the curve of Bridget's nape but the brunette had already succumbed to slumber, her rhythmic snores a soothing lullaby that echoed through the room.

Hannah, feeling the warmth and comfort of their shared bed, nestled herself more snugly against Bridget's expansive, bare derrière. She looked at if her womanhood was just another layer of impregnable defense against any attempts the subject might make to leave Bridget’s rear.  In her drowsy state, she indulged in a few more sleepy, sensuous hip movements, her hips gently thrusting into the soft cushion of her gorgeous lover's voluptuous behind. The thrusts grew progressively weaker as the soothing cadence of Bridget's snores lulled Hannah into a state of serene relaxation.

Finally, with a sense of contentment and bliss washing over her, Hannah too fell asleep, but their naked bodies remained intertwined under the blankets for the rest of the night.

* * * * * * * * *

Lori's slumber was abruptly disrupted by the haunting sound of moans, and she found herself stirred from the depths of her sleep. Startled, her eyes fluttered open, and she remained in a half-reclined position, scanning her surroundings in the dimly lit room.

Only an hour or so had passed since Lori had drifted off to sleep, and her disoriented gaze fell upon an empty space. The room seemed devoid of any visible presence, leaving her momentarily puzzled. Her mind raced with possibilities as she considered the source of the haunting moans. Could it be one of the girls?

A sense of unease crept over Lori, casting a shadow of doubt over her thoughts. Perhaps that Kyle person that was supposedly studying with Isabella had come back…or maybe he never left.

She lowered her hand down between her legs and gasped.  Her panties were soaking wet!

"Was that... me?" Lori asked aloud, her voice a fragile whisper in the quiet darkness of her room. Her heart raced in her chest, its thunderous beats reverberating through her body as she struggled to piece together the fragmented remnants of the dream she’d just woken from.

The dream was packed with emotions and goals she’d never known or even contemplated, and it was woven together with such…unexpected players. Lori had never considered herself prone to such vivid and erotic fantasies, let alone ones that involved other women. She tried to make sense of it all, her thoughts muddled by the lingering effects of the wine she had consumed earlier.

She replayed the dream in her mind, each fragment of memory igniting a spark of curiosity. It felt wrong to dwell on the moments, but it felt so, so good to relive them.

Her hand slowly ventured into the waistband of her panties, her fingers exploring the plush terrain beneath. A surge of electric sensation coursed through her, beginning at her toes and rippling upward, ultimately reaching her fingertips in some kind of erotic closed circuit.

As she delicately traced the contours of her thick, plush lips, Lori's thoughts swirled in a heady mixture of arousal and confusion.

She couldn’t believe how turned on she was right now.   It was such a confusing emotion… and she wasn’t so concerned with figuring it out right now… she just wanted to feel good.  She continued rubbing her swollen lips up and down, periodically playing with her clit.  She thought about kissing…and grinding…and cuddling.

She played the dream back in her head, and when she reached the part where they were playing with their shrunken toy, Lori almost came right then and there.  It felt so real…like it had really happened.  Like she was really watching it unfold.  She bucked her hips several times, trying her best not to moan too loudly.  If the poor little thing in her ass wasn’t already awake, the constant rising of her huge rump up into the air and its forceful slamming had definitely woken him up.

This was just too urgent though…too important to stop.

She went further…getting more aroused…more turned on.  She thought about him being thrust inside each of them and she whimpered.  And then, she took a deep breath and felt the explosion coming.  She pictured Hannah lovingly tucking him in to bed…in Bridget’s big, soft, cushiony, fat fucking ass…that giant booty…safe and sound…protected…insulated from the noise and cold, and—

“FUCK!  ……FUCK!........OH My…….FU-HU-HU-HU-HU-UUUUUUUUUUCK!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she surrendered to the rising wave of climax. This visceral experience was unlike any other she’d experienced in longer than she could remember, and it left her on the verge of an emotional release as profound as–if not more than–the physical one.

The term "squirter" had never sat well with Lori, but it had been used to describe her during her slightly more promiscuous days. She couldn't deny the undeniable truth of it, and a part of her secret self-love rituals, back when she’d actually have them, had always included placing a thick, fluffy towel beneath her, ensuring that the aftermath would be easy to manage. However, tonight was different, and it felt good to abandon her usual preparations.

As she lay there in bed, panting from the exhilaration that coursed through her veins, she was acutely aware of the aftermath. Copious amounts of her ejaculate adorned her quivering pussy, glazing her thick thighs, and writing a story of passion and spontaneity across her sheets. A substantial quantity flowed down her ass crack, the sensation of it akin to a sweat on a hot day. Her thoughts briefly flickered to the tiny subject, and her heart fluttered with anticipation at the idea of their intimate connection. Would he recognize what it was?  Would it turn him on, too?

The sheer abundance of her release left no doubt in Lori's mind. There was no way he could have escaped its embrace; he must be drenched in her passion. The mere thought of it stirred an ember of desire within her, hinting at the potential for another wave of ecstasy. Yet, fatigue overcame her, the intense sensations having drained her of energy.

Too tired to clean up, Lori surrendered to the embrace of a deep and peaceful slumber, the faint tickle deep between her cheeks disappearing from her consciousness.

~

This story is Up to Chapter 54 and you can access all of it. Right now.  For supporting me on Patreon for just $5. patreon.com/user?u=4260306

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 17 - One Morning After

[???]

Bridget was stirred from her deep slumber by the blaring of her alarm clock.  She felt a rush of cold air infiltrate hers and Hannah’s intimate cocoon of blankets as she leaned over and slapped lazily at the giant snooze button.  In addition to the goosebumps sprouting all over her body, Bridget had a minor headache and a dry mouth from the previous evening. She’d drunk just a little too much wine and she was paying the price now…but oh was it worth it for the fun they’d had the night before!

As the alarm clock’s protests to comfort and sleep fell temporarily silent, Bridget settled cozily back into the shared space with Hannah, tugging the covers snugly around them. She repositioned Hannah’s hand back where it was prior to the alarm clock’s siren: under her arm and between her breasts in a tight, protective cuddle.

Bridget nestled her ample bottom back into the curve of Hannah's hips as if they were two puzzle pieces clicking into place. The brunette wiggled her wide hips, hoping to provoke Hannah to awake for some morning fun.  Bridget’s heart quickened with the prospect of an intimate awakening and waited for the feeling of Hannah’s hand to drift down from her breast and firmly grip Bridget’s hips followed by an intensity increasing with each thrust from Hannah. Bridget's desire was palpable, and it seemed as if Hannah might respond, her grip tightening as she gently squeezed Bridget's breast and tenderly brushed her fingertips across her sensitive nipple.

Bridget took a sharp breath and Hannah nuzzled closer into Bridget’s neck, but then the sleeping blonde’s grip relaxed and she fell back asleep.

‘Probably for the best…’, Bridget thought, gently lifting Hannah’s arm off her so she could get up.  ‘Gotta get moving.’

The sharp cold bit at Bridget’s naked body and her nipples stiffened as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed.  Hannah was quick to pull the door to their blanket sanctuary shut behind Bridget as the brunette’s body gradually acclimated to the cold bedroom air.

Bridget rose from bed, ensuring that the alarm clock was turned off lest it awaken her slumbering lover. As she stepped toward the restroom, gradually shedding the post-sleep clumsiness of her steps, the brunette adjusted her underwear which had ridden up significantly over night.  As the bunched up, soft cotton fabric left the cleavage of her derriere, so too did the tiny subject.  He had spent the entire night tucked away and now he squirmed feebly between the outer flesh of her cheeks and the tight cotton of her underwear as if he were a kitten playing in a cloth shopping bag.

“I don’t even remember putting him away last night.” Bridget said quietly, slipping her hand down the back of her panties.  The gesture was a familiar routine as she felt around for the subject, pinned between pillowy cheek meat and soft, slightly damp cotton. Her fingers closed around the tiny lovetoy and began retreating as if her hand was a crane machine and the subject a coveted prize.

He swung with her hand down by her hip as she walked and then…it all happened so suddenly.

Sensitive collided with unyielding hard plastic.

A subdued yelp escaped Bridget's lips as her swinging arm connected squarely with the Peloton machine. Her hand came to an abrupt halt, searing pain surging up her arm.  Distracted fully by the pain, Bridget had not yet noticed that Newton’s First Law of Motion prevailed and the subject continued his trajectorial path, landing with a soft thud on the carpet between her feet.

A tiny thud resonated as the subject hit the ground, followed by a significantly weightier one as coming from Bridget's dresser. Mittens, their black and brown spotted cat, landed gracefully and wasted no time in darting directly toward the tiny, disoriented man.

The addled subject managed to twist his head just in time to witness Mittens' eager approach. The shrunken man was awestruck by the sight of the overweight, domesticated feline. She was overweight and cuddly, softened by a life spent indoors with Bridget and Hannah but she moved with a surprising grace and terrifying drive toward her helpless prey. Mittens' light brown paws made virtually no sound as they met the carpet, allowing her to cover more ground in mere seconds than the tiny naked man could traverse in minutes. It was a captivating spectacle of nature's prowess, the scale of predator versus prey almost comically unfair and unbalanced.

As Mittens closed in, her predatory instincts undiminished by her plush domesticity, the shrunken man’s vulnerability loomed like a storm cloud over only him.  He’d been selected by Mother Nature, and she undoubtedly had tears in her eyes from laughing.  His frantic gaze shifted rapidly back and forth from the stealthy advancing feline to the towering, godlike presence of Bridget who stood barefoot above him.  Her eyes were closed as she tenderly sucked on her injured fingertip.

The shrunken man could have called out to Bridget, but he had grown so accustomed to being ignored by her that even in this critical moment, it didn’t even cross his mind to try. He no longer looked toward the advancing predator, now an indistinct brown and black blur drawing nearer by the millisecond, nor did he register the jingle of the tiny bell on her collar growing louder. His gaze remained fixed on the towering, apathetic goddess looming above him.

He was so weak and vulnerable now that his body had largely abandoned the very instincts that ensured his ancestor’s survival.  This was his instinct now—a primal surrender.

He wasn't seeking to protect himself; how could he, against such overwhelming odds? Instead, his instinct was to place his fragile hope in someone more robust and powerful, yearning for salvation from the formidable force so close he could hear her shallow breaths mixing with the jingling bell of her collar. In this desperate moment, he needed Bridget more than ever, that drowsy goddess who paid him no heed…but he had to keep praying.

Miraculously, Bridget's head swiveled just in time to the sound of the approaching bell—to what grim sequence of cruel Mother Nature’s hierarchy and plan was about to transpire right there before her…unless she intervened. Bridget didn’t want to go through the process of getting a new subject and since Mittens was well known for her sensitive stomach, the brunette decided to intervene.

As Mittens closed the remaining inches toward the quivering subject, Bridget raised her bare foot which sent the focused Mittens thumping into her ankle.

"Shoo, Mittens, shoo! Not yours!" Bridget said in a hushed, hissing tone.

Mittens persisted with several attempts to circumvent the protective barrier of Bridget's bare foot, which remained the sole guardian between the tiny, trembling man and the approaching feline predator. Despite Mittens’ best efforts, Bridget's leg moved with swiftness, her foot unwavering in its commitment to thwart the hungry cat’s every evasive maneuver.

Bridget couldn't help but suppress a quiet chuckle at Mittens' relentless tenacity to catch the tiny man on the floor at her feet but at the same time, the pet would be in BIG trouble if she got her paws on him.

"Mittens, no! Not your food!"

She casually reached down, her colossal fingers extending before Mittens could get around her dexterous, thick leg and plucked the tiny man from the carpeted floor.

The hungry feline growled in defeat, licking her lips as Bridget stood back to full height, holding the subject tightly. As Bridget's massive fingers enveloped him, the shaking subject became overwhelmed with gratitude. He pressed heartfelt, respectful kisses into her index finger, the only part within his limited reach while ensnared within her grip. However, Bridget responded with silence and cold indifference.  Her reaction consisted of a minor adjustment in her grasp, ensuring that he could no longer access that particular finger, denying him even the smallest gesture of gratitude.

Mittens observed the unfolding scene with curious eyes as Bridget carried her miniature captive toward the bathroom. It wasn’t until the bathroom door shut behind Bridget and her subject that Mittens' interest finally waned, and she swiftly lost all concern for the shrunken man.

Bridget wiped the last of sleep from her eyes as she centered herself in front of the bathroom mirror.  In the corner of the sink’s edge stood a shallow ceramic cup that housed two toothbrushes. One brush was pink and the other pastel green.

As she extracted the pastel green toothbrush from the cup, the subject was unceremoniously deposited in its place next to the towering pink toothbrush. Bridget began brushing her teeth, the tiny man an inconsequential and voteless passenger to her morning routine. She returned the dripping toothbrush back to the crowded cup and the subject could be heard scrambling within the cup to make room.

Bridget reached between the toothbrush cup and her deodorant for a pill container. She twisted open the lid and turned the bottle upside down over her palm.  Six tiny, violet tablets into her hand.  They looked almost like M&M’s but instead of the M&M logo, stamped on each side of the circular tablet was the letter ‘R’.

She swallowed one, returning the remaining five pills to their container and the child-resistant lid grinded as she twisted it shut.

Bridget's daily regimen continued as she took a seat on the toilet. Her thoughts remained focused on the busy day that lay ahead as she reviewed her schedule. She also set a reminder to refill her monthly prescription from RR Labs. The last time she’d forgotten to refill her prescription, the subject became very ill from lack of nutrition.  Despite her attention to detail regarding his sustenance, the subject within her toothbrush cup remained a mere afterthought in her daily routine, an insignificant presence in the grand scope of her world.

The toilet noisily flushed as Bridget turned the shower faucet and extended her hand to gauge the water's temperature. A sense of impatience washed over her as the water seemed to be taking an eternity to warm. With a lingering moment to kill, Bridget took a step back from the shower curtain and cast her gaze downward, her bored eyes finding the toothbrush cup.

The subject had managed to hoist himself upright, dwarfed by towering, branchless trees: one pink and one pastel green. His tiny form clung to the pastel green handle, lips pressed against the smooth plastic surface. He was greedily drinking up the precious droplets cascading from the generous, soaking wet bristles high above.

He clung to the pastel toothbrush like a stranded sailor to a piece of flotsam, huddling beneath the dripping bristles and greedily sucking up each droplet as if it were fresh rain water in an ocean of salt.

Bridget's upper lip subtly curled in reaction.

It wasn't that she held him accountable for quenching his thirst in whatever way he could. After all, it translated to less work on her part. Still, it didn't stop her from finding the sight repulsive, further diminishing any modicum of respect she could have possibly held for him, which was already a meager quantity at best.

In her eyes, he remained an insignificant entity, a blip within the backdrop of hers and Hannah’s life.

In the cover of night, lust, and alcohol, Bridget sometimes found him almost cute. Yet, in the harsh, sobering light of morning, this appeal quickly faded, replaced by a wave of indifference. The paradox intrigued Bridget.

A soft, disgusted "ugh" slipped from her lips as she directed her gaze away from the tiny man nested within the cup. Her attention shifted to the shower, and she extended her hand into the stream of water, feeling its temperature.

Nice and hot. Finally

The cascading water in Bridget's shower enveloped her in a rejuvenating embrace. The night's passion with Hannah had been nothing short of incredible, but it had left a residue on her skin, a sticky reminder of their intense connection. The hot water streamed down her body, washing away the sweat, cum, and saliva that decorated her body like badges of honor and passion.

As the liquid warmth enveloped her, she hummed a song she'd heard on the radio and thought about which morning show she would listen to on her 25 minute drive to work.

Nearly 20 minutes later, Bridget reached for a fluffy white towel, exited the shower, and set about drying herself. Each stroke was purposeful, a ritualistic act of renewal, her deft hands rubbing the towel against her skin in vigorous yet gentle motions.

She rubbed vigorously, enjoying the soft sensation against her rosey-red, exfoliated skin, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of being clean.

Bridget peeked down into the toothbrush cup once more. The subject who had no choice but to wait had curled into a slumbering ball, a fragile figure nestled as if curled up at the bottom of a shallow, porcelain well. Without a flicker of emotion or care, Bridget plucked him from the toothbrush cup.

He awoke abruptly in Bridget’s grip; she could sense it with her fingertips by the way he fidgeted and twitched, as if the blurry line between dream and reality was sharpening. She arbitrarily turned the hot and cold handles into what she figured would be appropriately warm and then she bathed him.  She passed him through her wet fingers and the heavy stream for a brief 10-15 seconds, rinsing away the remnants of the previous night's passion as he squirmed helplessly in her grasp.

Bridget briskly dried the subject with her damp towel and left the bathroom, clouds of steam following her back into her bedroom.

Under usual circumstances, this would have been the time when Bridget returned the minuscule little man back to the familiar cradle between her plump, warm, and impeccably clean buttocks. She’d get dressed, concealing her tiny little secret in her bottom and depart for work, leaving him there in her crack for the entire work day.

Today was going to be a little bit different.

Bridget's gaze lovingly fell upon her beloved fiancée. Since Bridget’s shower, sunshine had entered the window and warmed the bedroom just enough to encourage the sleepy blonde to emerge from her cocoon of blankets.  She rested upon her stomach, eyes concealed behind gently closed lids, her cute face smooshed against her pillow.

Her pristine, petite feet playfully peeked out from beneath the blankets, velvety white soles upturned toward the spinning ceiling fan.

After a few moments of surveying the bedroom for Mittens, Bridget concluded that the feline must have walked out to find something else to play with and not returned.

With the bedroom door gently closed, Bridget tiptoed back to the slumbering figure of her partner. She leaned in closer, her fingers cradling the diminutive subject in her palm.

Bridget carefully lowered the tiny being onto the expansive blank canvass that was Hannah’s creamy white sole. Positioned deadcenter upon Hannah's relaxed sole, the subject appeared so small and insignificant.  How funny it was to imagine Hannah’s tiny, dainty feet dwarfing something…but they did!

He looked so tiny against the vast, crinkled expanse of her foot, and the blonde’s toes twitched in response to his arrival.

He looked up at Bridget with an amusing helplessness, on his hands and knees…a nervous castaway atop a creamy, wrinkled raft in the middle of a pink cotton ocean.

Oh, but he knew EXACTLY what was expected of him.

The first few times she’d done this, Bridget had to explicitly instruct him to kiss, sometimes she’d even have to tell him more than once in the very beginning. But as time passed, he’d reached the point in his training that he didn’t have to be told even once; he instinctively dropped his face between his hands and started planting deep, passionate kisses on Hannah’s luscious, dimpled sole.  Despite her confidence in his learned obedience, Bridget remained there for a moment overseeing his work, making sure it was to her satisfaction.

Bridget couldn't help but smile as she observed Hannah's subtle yet unmistakable response to the subject's worship of her sleepy feet. The delicate curling of Hannah's toes, adorned with vibrant blue toenail polish, was enough to break the subject’s concentration as he struggled to maintain his balance atop Hannah’s sole.

With her lover entranced by the tiny figure at her feet, Bridget turned away, leaving the subject immersed in his subservient duties. She made her way back to the dresser and tossed her towel into the hamper.

“Was that a dream?” Hannah said sleepily, careful not to move her feet as the little one kissed dutifully.

Bridget, focused on her morning routine and sliding into her panties, asked with a hint of curiosity, “What's that, love?”

Hannah gingerly shifted her head, carefully cradling it with her hands beneath her cheek as she propped herself up. Her endearingly tangled, sun-kissed hair cascaded in wild disarray, framing her gorgeous face. "Last night…all of it…from the moment we walked in the door until the moment we fell asleep...it felt like a dream. Like it just didn't feel... real…and even now…it just almost feels too perfect, dontchya think?"

Bridget continued dressing while she spoke. She settled on Hannah's side of the bed, resting her ankle on her opposite knee as she pulled up a pair of dark stockings.

"Of course it’s all real," she reassured her lover with a gentle smile. "But why can't dreams be reality, too? Who's to say it has to be one or the other? Because, let me tell you, honey..." Bridget tugged the stocking up until it snugly adorned her voluptuous thigh. "...last night was as real to me as it could have been a dream to anyone."

"You are SUCH a smooth talker," Hannah remarked, her voice playfully blending 75% seriousness with 25% humor. She stretched her arms and legs carefully, relishing in the satisfaction of waking up. Gently turning her head, she directed a sweet but firm command toward the tiny subject still diligently worshiping her sole.

"Other foot, sweetheart."

Hannah extended her right foot and positioned it delicately atop her left sole. Without a moment's hesitation, the subject immediately complied jumping to the other foot and planted kisses just as focused and passionate as those that decorated her right foot’s sister. With utmost appreciation and respect, he lavished her foot with the attention it deserved.

“It's so weird when you talk to him like that.” Bridget said, adjusting the seam of her nylon stockings along her toes.

Hannah laughed, “What? Like he’s a person?”

“He’s not though.” Bridget retorted with a hint of amusement.

Hannah shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t hurt anyone, right?”

Bridget lowered her feet and wiggled her black-mesh toes into the carpet.  They both smiled as Bridget pinched Hannah’s lightly freckled cheek, “No, softy.  I suppose it doesn’t.”

Bridget began the process of getting dressed, selecting a conservative, knee-length skirt paired with a stylish blue blouse. The challenge of pulling the waistband up over her curvaceous, rounded cheeks was a task in itself, but Bridget knew that she was putting on quite the show for her lover. As Bridget grappled with her outfit, she couldn't help but overhear the faint giggles emanating from behind her.

Hannah's voice, laced with amusement, filled the room, "She's not fitting, huh?"

Without missing a beat, Bridget continued her struggle to tame her ample backside, inch by inch, squeezing it into the stubborn skirt.

Her retort came with a playful tone, "Oh, don't worry. She'll be fitting PERFECTLY over your face tonight."

Hannah's voice purred with intrigue, "Oooooo...promise?"

Bridget stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her skirt down over the massive, rounded expanse of her backside. It felt peculiar not to have the little subject buried between her cheeks, but it was also a welcomed relief. Taking care of a tiny man who lives in your butt is not an incredibly involved process, but there were some minorly inconvenient responsibilities that she was happy to not worry about today. She turned to Hannah, her eyes sparkling mischievously, and remarked, "You know the only reason I'm even okay with having a butt this big is because I know you absolutely adore it, right?" Bridget playfully teased.

“Where are you going?” Hannah asked.

“I have to go to court today, I’ll be there all day unfortunately.  We can’t all have summers off!” Bridget replied, wiggling her toes into a pair of chunky-heeled black pumps stationed by the dresser.  Her sheer, smooth nylon feet slid in with practically no resistance.  “But maybe we can go out for dinner tonight?”

Hannah smiled big, rolling over onto her side, her large creamy breasts undulating like soft, bare, inviting mountains as they settled, one nestled comfortably upon the other.

“It’s a date.”

Bridget caught Hannah in the mirror looking over her shoulder down toward her feet and a light giggle came from her lips. “So I guess you’re not bringing him today?”

“No.” Bridget replied flatly into the mirror, putting on her earrings. “They just installed the new body scanners at the entrances I was telling you about last week, remember?  You’re alright with watching him, right?”

Hannah looked left to fake as if she was even taking a second to think about it and a big grin spread across her face, “Ummmm….do you even have to ask?”

Bridget laughed, “I didn’t think I did, but you never know.”

Bridget made her way to the foot of the bed, where the tiny subject was valiantly struggling to get back up onto Hannah’s foot. He must have tumbled off when Hannah rolled to her side and Bridget couldn't help but find the situation comical. The brunette couldn’t decide what was funnier: the subject's relentless effort to return to those luscious, wrinkled soles, following his last command even in the apparent disinterest and lack of attention was amusing….or that the beauty in bed didn’t even care to help him so that he could properly worship her. Chuckling to herself, Bridget scooped him up and headed toward the headboard of the bed.

“Mittens tried getting him again this morning, so be on the lookout if you set him down or anything.” Bridget said.

“Awww…she was probably just trying to play with him.” Hannah said cutely.

Bridget chuckled, “No, she was definitely trying to eat him.”

Bridget pressed her lips to Hannah's, kissing her with a sweet, tender passion that sent shivers down both their spines. With her free hand, she sensually trailed her fingers along the blanket, drawing it away to reveal the full grandeur of Hannah's substantial bosom. The sight was nothing short of breathtaking. Hannah's left breast sprawled across the mattress, its voluptuous mound effortlessly cradling the weight of its equally impressive twin sister.

As Bridget deepened the kiss, her hand wandered lower, eventually finding its way to Hannah's right nipple. She began to tease it, eliciting shivers of delight from her lover.

Bridget adjusted her grip upon the large stiffening nipple and began lifting up, the flesh of Hannah’s humongous right tit was completely lifting to follow its nipple, unburdening her splayed left tit of all that impressive weight.

A majority of the mass was sagging and losing its shape  as the fully stiff nipple pointed toward the ceiling. With the new space created between Hannah’s lifted right tit and her splayed left tit pressing into the mattress, Bridget set the subject down.  He dropped to his knees, not even pretending that he could maintain bipedal balance atop Hannah’s massive left breast. Bridget carefully nudged him in deeper between Hannah’s breasts, closer and closer toward Hannah’s heart.  He went along with the motions, just as he did with the toothbrush cup…just as he did with Hannah’s feet…just as he did with everything now.

"Did you feed him?" Hannah asked as she looked down.  It was an exercise in futility as he’d left her eyeline, disappearing into the fleshy canyon of her massive chest.  Hannah shifted her wild hair off her shoulders and behind her back as the subject completed his clumsy, crawling journey, arriving at the skin of Hannah’s chestplate.  He was curling up in a ball, cast in what must have been a terrifyingly huge shadow by the spherical, misshapen fleshy orb above him.

"Dunno..I’m assuming he filled up after we went to bed" Bridget said.

She let go of Hannah’s heavy breast, allowing it to crash down atop its twin and come to rest, completely swallowing the tiny naked man in an impossibly large avalanche of peachy cream, jiggly flesh and fat. "If not, I'm sure he can wait till I get home."

The blonde’s tremendous right tit continued to jiggle, soft flesh rippling in reverberating waves for several seconds.  "I can feed him if you want."

Bridget said, "No, it's fine.  I've only got about 5 pills left.  And if you took one now, it would take a full day or so for it to take effect.  He can wait until later."

Hannah nodded, hugging her humongous breasts in and yawning.

“Don’t worry about Mittens” Hannah said, sighing deeply, the subject making a few final attempts to get comfy amidst the hundreds of tons of soft, warm, and somewhat sticky tit flesh.  His struggles were barely strong enough to send a few subtle ripples through her significant bosom.

“We’ll be alright.  We’ll probably just stay in bed all day.  It's one of those days, I think.” Hannah said.

“Luck-y” Bridget said, leaning in and planting a single kiss on Hannah’s nose.  “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Hannah said, grabbing the iPad and putting on an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy.  She pulled her properly pampered but slightly chilly feet back in under the covers and tucked the covers up under her chin. The busty naked blonde rolled over to face the other direction in bed, gently holding her breasts firmly together so as not to dislodge or disrupt the subject in her cleavage.

This story is Up to Chapter 55 and you can access all of it. Right now.  And all the others. For supporting me on Patreon for just $5. patreon.com/user?u=4260306

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 18 - And Then Another

[October 1st, 2005]

“MOM-MUH!”

Lori’s eyes snapped open. Gina threw the “muh” at the end of the word “mom”, which Lori had picked up was the universal sign of a teenage girl’s annoyance, outrage, exasperation…you name it, really.

Lori winced hearing two more sharp, explosive knocks.

“What is it?” Lori grumbled in confusion to the closed door.

“Mom, it's 10AM. They’re open!” Gina exclaimed.

“Who??” Lori asked, clutching her head from her light but noticeable hangover.  She was never much of a drinker, and now she was realizing at her age and tolerance, drinking water before bed was very important even if you planned to have a single, albeit large, glass of wine.

“Are you serious, Mom?  Did you really forget?  The DMV! You said you would take me to get my driver’s license!”

Lori paused and sighed.  She wanted to just stay in bed all day, but she didn’t dare stand in the way of a teenage girl and her driver’s license.  “Okay, okay.” Lori replied in defeat.

She waited and listened.  There was a concern that Gina might do what Lori had done to the three girls when they wouldn’t get up for school in the morning…which was to stand at the door and wait.  At least, if she decided to, she couldn’t do it with Lori’s door open.  It was a moot point though, because Lori heard Gina’s footsteps get further away and disappeared downstairs.

Lori sighed in relief, shifting her legs to stretch and then she felt—

‘Ohh..’ she shivered.

“I’d nearly forgotten” she said, feeling dried stickiness left behind on her thighs and in several other more intimate crevices.  Thoughts of the dream reappeared and clouded her mind, sending shivers down her spine.  Lori bent her legs to point her knees up at the ceiling, planting her bare feet into the mattress and pushing down. Her warm, decompressing buns remained in contact with the mattress for as long as they could as she lifted her hips, and now they were hanging a few inches from the stained mattress.  She could feel his movements from deep between her hanging glutes, gravity too weak to break the embrace between her cheeks and his tiny body, but not for a lack of his movement; he was awake.

Lori reached down into her panties, past last night’s mess, down and fished the tiny man out from her crack.  Just as she’d suspected, he matched her inner thighs and soiled mattress: he was covered from head to toe in her dried, cold cum.

“Hey sweetheart.” She said sweetly, setting him down on her stomach, propping her head up on her pillow to look down at him.  This wasn’t going to work, partly because she didn’t want to accentuate her double chin from looking down at him, but also because her chest was obstructing him.  She sat up a little bit to properly look at him.

“You know…I just have no idea what came over me last night.  I can’t remember the last time I felt so…smitten! I hope you didn’t mind.” She said with a smile.

She suspected he didn’t, remembering the way he was staring at her when she was getting dressed the other day.  It made her feel like a teenager again! Maybe this was the start of something beautiful.

“What were they doing yesterday?!” her subject squeaked, abruptly changing the subject, wiping the cum and sweat off his face.  “What did those psychopaths put in me?!?!”

Lori replied, “Dr. Walker explained it, did you not hear her?”

“I was trying to get away from that horrible red haired woman! I wasn’t listening to shit!” He exclaimed.

“Well, she said that basically it will make staying in my bottom easier for you…she did it for your own good.” Lori said matter of factly, her all-knowing, motherly tone shining through.

“My….own…..good?!” he echoes in disbelief, shouting so loudly he lost balance atop her soft skin.

“Which reminds me…” Lori said, abruptly picking him up off her stomach and lifting him up to her face.  She rotated her wrist and squinted her eyes to focus on the subject’s butt. He let out a high-pitched, weak grunt as she encircled him and she felt him pawing at her fingers.

“Ooooo, that looks like it still hurts.  You poor baby.” Lori reacted genuinely to the large wound on the subject’s ass.  She also couldn’t help but notice something else: his cock and balls dangling down between his legs.  She was shocked at how big they looked.

‘Well….in relation to him’ she clarified to herself.

She deduced that he must have been a wild ride before he volunteered for this experiment. He was already wild enough at this size!

“Let me make it feel better.”  She did what she used to do for her girls when they were younger if they fell down and skinned a knee.  Lori began gently blowing on the painful-looking wound on his ass cheek.

“Is that helping?” She asked between breaths, but he didn’t answer…nor did she stop.  She continued to blow.  After a few more breaths, Lori was just about to apologize for what she suddenly realized must have been some unpleasant morning breath when she noticed something interesting.  His cock was…moving.  It was hard to tell since it was so small, and she was seeing it from between his legs and from behind but it was…lengthening!

‘No way…’ she thought.

She now redirected the stream of her focused, cold breath from his ass down between his legs, against his cock and balls from behind.  She saw them noticeably twitch, but it could have just been from the strength of the breath leaving her lungs.  But then, it started growing more, and he started kicking his legs a bit.

Overcome with a strong, unrecognizable lust.  Lori turned him around and she stared at him longingly, like a prey animal…and the little subject seemed almost to understand what was happening.  The look in her eyes…the hunger…

Lori began blowing up close right on his growing cock. She was blowing much quicker now, inhaling quickly to refill her lungs and blow again.  He whimpered up to her between moans, “What…ohhhhhh…are you doing?”

She stopped blowing long enough to say, “I’m returning the favor…you made me feel so good last night.  Between the way you felt after the doctor put you back…and before I fell asleep…I just want to make you feel good too.”

She continued blowing, pulling in deeper breaths quicker so that the now close, warm streams of air could last way longer.  She then brought him close enough to plant a single delicate kiss on his stiffening member.  It felt so little against her lips.  Just this action alone, how naughty it felt, pushed her over the edge.  He was so stiff but still protesting, pushing against her soft lips.

Lori giggled, “Be honest with me..have you……you know….while you were in my behind?  Cmon now you can be honest! I can imagine it might be hard not to!  My ex-husband once told me that even exceptionally warm, cozy temperatures can make men get hard..and then it's all over!”

He emphatically said no as Lori continued kissing his lower half, but she didn’t believe him.

“Are you sure?” She asked teasingly, feeling flutters in her heart and lower stomach.  “Because I’m sure it's really warm and cozy in there..” she said, speaking of her ample rump, currently changing compression states as Lori started to absent-mindedly rock her hips up and down.

She extended her tongue and tucked it in under his balls.  She licked up, but did not have the precision she’d intended…for her tongue surged up well beyond the tip of his throbbing cock and slapped him in the chin.

“You taste like me.” She purred, unrecognizable even to herself.

She hadn’t felt this way since she was a teenager, feeling this way and watching the way his body was responding to her…she loved it.  She probed his crotch with her tongue, her other hand going down between her legs and into her dirty panties.

She focused her eyes on him, trying her hardest to even comprehend what was happening to him…breathing sharply out of her nose.  She suspected he was fighting it..fighting her.  Perhaps trying to last as long as he could?  Guys did that all the time.  The licking and probing intensified as did her stimulation of her own clitoris.  The tiny finally let out a squeak of defeat and twitched profusely, and Lori savored that now familiar, previously long-forgotten taste on her tongue.  It was so subtle you could have missed it.  He was breathing rapidly and twitching profusely.

“Oh you dirty, dirty boy.” Lori said.  “You know, I wasn’t going to do this right now.  I was going to actually have a serious talk with you about…the future.  But you’ve got me so riled up.”  She lowered his limp body down past her breasts, down her stomach, underneath the covers, lifted up the waistband of her panties, and—

“MOM! YOU CAN’T REALLY BE SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.”

Lori jolted at the sound of her door opening, dropping her tiny subject onto her soft cushiony stomach under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” Lori said defensively, pulling the blankets up to cover herself.  She was fully dressed on top but she felt vulnerable laying there in bed, especially considering what she was about to do.

“What am I doing?  What are YOU doing?  Are you serious right now?  It's like 10:30 and you haven’t gotten out of bed yet! You don’t even care” Gina wailed dramatically and then wrinkled up her face and whined, stamping her foot.

“I want—”

LIGHT STOMP

“—to get—"

LIGHT STOMP

“—my license!”

“Okay, okay!  I’m getting up!” Lori said, swinging her legs out from under the blanket, tucking the tiny naked man down into her panties before getting up.  She shivered as she stood, her lower half cocooned in her blanket as the waistband gently but securely snapped back below her belly button.  She felt the little man slide down and make frenzied, delightful contact with her hungry lips.

“I’m going to go get in the shower and then we’re going to go.  Don’t worry, the DMV will still be there when we get there…so please stop being so dramatic.”

Gina seemed pleased enough with the answer, enough to turn around anyway.  Lori reflected a moment on how close she came to being caught.  She must have forgotten to lock the door.  In all the confusion, she hadn’t reprimanded her daughter for just barging into her bedroom.  She’d have to say something on the drive over, for sure.  But right now, she looked down and pulled the waistband out, looking at the tiny little person; he looked like he was lying in a giant hammock, lovingly cuddling with her sex.  He just looked so cute.  She allowed the fire in her loins to slowly extinguish, confident she could reignite them later.  There was plenty of time for that.

“Looks like we’re going to have to have that talk later on today, honey.”  Lori grabbed the heatbox off the charger and deposited the subject in.

“Wait, wait!” he shouted before she shut the flap.

“I’m starving!  And so thirsty!  I can’t remember the last time I had any food or water!” he exclaimed desperately.

Lori caught herself actually rolling her eyes, looking over at the clock on the wall.  She then stole a quick glance at the vitamins she’d received with the subject, still in the same spot on her nightstand.  She almost picked them up…almost cracked open the seal…but she didn’t. Instead, she went over to her drawer and pulled out a half-full fun-sized bag of pretzel sticks.  She broke two and dropped them in for him and then quickly soaked a clean tissue with the last few warm splashes of her bedside water.

“Here” she said unceremoniously closing the lid, feeling the pressure to hurry lest her daughter return to whine some more.  The sopping wet tissue clung to his body, which might have been uncomfortable but at least he would have no problem pulling the absorbed water out of it.

After her shower, she ran the subject under the faucet, allowing his tiny little body to snake and slither pleasantly through her soapy fingers.  She was glad that she could make him feel so good, and she could tell by the way his little thing was stiffening again under the warm water that he was enjoying this too, he must be!

“Sorry, but if there’s no time for me there’s certainly no time for you!” she said playfully, cutting the water and drying him with her damp bath towel.

“Lori…Lori, Lori, Lori, Lori!” he squeaked, trying to get her attention as she dried him. “Please don’t put me back in…I’m not ready..I really can’t handle it..I can’t take another minute of this!  It's too much..there’s just..too much! It's been over a week! Please, tell me when it will stop!  Tell me it will stop!”

Lori frowned, “I’m sorry dear..I don’t have the answer to that.  We’ll talk more about this later though, I promise.” She gave him a gentle kiss on the chest, engulfing his whole front half.

He pushed forcefully trying to break her away from him, but the only reason why her lips left his skin was because she chose to end the kiss.

“Can you please just let me stay here today?  Please?!  Just today, Lori, I'm begging you.”

“You’re being as dramatic as my daughters, do you know that!  C’mon! It can’t be THAT bad!  I just got out of the shower.”

His pleading became more frantic and less articulate as he started to cry.

“It’ll be okay, it really will.  You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.  You can do this.  I know you can!”

She lowered his whimpering body to her freshly clean asscrack and forced him between her heated, freshly dried ass cheeks and got dressed.

Getting Gina’s drivers license was pretty uneventful, with a significant amount of time spent sitting in a boring room and waiting.  The drive home, however, was anything but uneventful. Lori practically ripped the “oh shit handle”, as Victoria once called it right before being grounded for a week, off the ceiling of the car when Gina got onto the highway.  Somehow, they got home in one piece. Her blood was pumping from the adrenaline, but she was proud of her daughter, and Gina was nothing but smiles.

Luckily, it was a weekend so there was nothing else to do that day except have fun and relax.  They’d actually done something as a family that they hadn’t done in awhile…and it was definitely something she would have grudgingly passed on doing had she not spoken to Dr. Walker about this very issue yesterday.

“Grab mine too, Vicky.”  Lori said as she bounced upstairs to change.

“Sure, mom.” Victoria said.

“And don’t forget the helmets.” She added at the steps.

“Yeah, I’ll get your helmet.”  Victoria replied specifically.

“Helmet-SSS” Lori added, hissing the “S” that pluralized the word helmet, to which Victoria rolled her eyes and complied.

Lori changed into a pair of dark-pink nylon shorts.  They were loose enough on her thighs not to restrict blood flow, but they hugged her butt almost too tightly…not enough to warrant getting a new pair just yet.  After pulling on her tank top and a pair of bright white socks, she went downstairs and met her kids out front.

Gina was already sitting, wearing a pair of baby-blue yoga pants and a light zip-up hoodie.  Isabella was bent over, pumping air into her front tire.  She was wearing her tight black bike shorts and a thin zip-up hoodie very similar to Gina’s, only it was light pink.  Victoria was trying to figure out how to unhook her helmet, she was wearing a band t-shirt that Lori hadn’t heard of but made sure they weren’t too offensive before purchasing it, and some hand-me-down nylon shorts similar to her own, but they were bright orange.  Ironic that they fit so tight all over considering they were hand-me-downs from Isabella.

“Here, let me.” Lori took Victoria’s helmet and unclasped it within seconds, returned it to her, and then accepted her own helmet.

“Okay then, are we ready to go?” Lori asked as Isabella and Victoria mounted their bikes.

Lori had noticed that the subject’s positioning in her bottom was quite high up, near the top of her crack in fact.  When all the girls were distracted, she stole a quick second to plunge her hand down the back of her shorts, find the subject, and quickly send him down the length of her bottom’s deep cleavage, stopping when he was perfectly aligned with her asshole.  She managed to pull her hand out of the back of her shorts right before the girls looked up, and by then she was straddling her bike and softly planting her wide bottom onto the narrow seat.

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 19 - First Screening

[October 1st, 2005]

That tiny little bike seat didn’t stand a chance against Lori’s expansive bottom and she wondered if she was making the right decision by pinning her little subject between the two cushions.  If sitting on a wooden seat was a challenge for him, a sparsely cushioned seat barely larger than her Kindle was going to be daunting.  ‘But maybe this is the key to building his confidence. If he could handle this, then he could handle nearly anything!’

Middle-aged, nylon-contained cheek meat spilled in excess over the edges of the tiny seat and when Lori set her sneakers into the pedals, the hanging flesh that flanked the narrow seat sank further around it, threatening to swallow the overwhelmed seat.  As she settled onto the bike, gradually passing more of her weight onto the narrow black cushion, her little subject, having no other option on where to go, was consequently forced deeper, prompting a sharp gasp from Lori.

“You alright, mama?” Isabella asked, fiddling with the stopwatch setting on her wristwatch.

“Yes! Just excited to ride is all.  Let’s go!” Lori’s colossal thighs and calves flexed mightily as she kicked the first laborious rotation of the pedals, setting the wheels into motion. Upon pedaling, she immediately sank into the rhythmic movement, and she liked to think that her subject adapted just as quickly.  Her substantial thighs and buttocks took turns rising from and settling back into the seat, the pale, tightly packed flesh now just as much a part of the machinery of the bike as the gears and pedals were.

The subject was part of that machine now, too…even though he didn’t have much of a purpose except to be pressed against Lori’s sensitive hole by the bike seat as if it were a hydraulic press.  The mother of three maintained the lead on her daughters for the first mile or two, probably a deliberate gesture of politeness from the girls, but the burning in her thighs and the sweat burning her eyes became too difficult to ignore.  The middle-aged, relatively out-of-shape woman slowed her pedaling, allowing Gina and Isabella to pull ahead.

As Lori, Gina, Isabella, and Victoria continued their bike ride through the scenic park, the tiny man entrusted to Lori’s care and crack came long for the ride. His existence was entirely dependent on the firm, unyielding pressure of Lori's well-padded posterior. Each pedal stroke of Lori's mighty thighs sent shockwaves through her overwhelmingly fleshy anatomy. Her biological cushions pummeled him, sure. There really was no getting around that.  But the more common, everyday scenarios that he could tolerate from within her bottom, the longer she could keep him there…keep him safe.

The terrain undulated beneath them as they journeyed along winding paths and lush green fields. It was Lori’s favorite park and she could remember bringing the girls there when they were much younger, when times were so much more simple. Lori's massive rear end swayed and flexed with the rhythm of her pedaling, the sensation of the tiny little squirming lump firmly pressing against Lori's sensitive orifice by the bike seat was both exhilarating and even…motivational?

Gina, Isabella, and Victoria, unaware of the tiny passenger nestled in Lori's behind, chatted and laughed, sharing stories and enjoying the camaraderie of their bike trip.

As the miles passed by, Lori’s trusty hand towel regularly toured her face and chest to mop up the steadily accumulating perspiration. She could easily address the sweat on her face, but the accruing slickness between her glutes, as much as it might disappoint her little passenger, was something that would have to wait for later. She pedaled with determination, her powerful thighs propelling her forward.

“Oo! It’s the pond!”

‘Oh, thank goodness.’ Lori said, following Gina as she detoured from the path.

Lori dismounted her bike. The tiny man must have felt a sense of relief as he was momentarily released from the unrelenting pressure. Still, he was wedged so deep between Lori’s buns that there was no concern of him becoming dislodged.  She had no intention of abandoning or releasing her diminutive passenger. Especially not out here in the wilderness!’. He’d be fair game for anything to just swoop him up.  Nope…as much as he might like and probably even deserved a break as much as Lori and her girls, he’d be staying put in her rear until they got home.

Victoria immediately plopped down on a toppled log and began untying her laces.  As Isabella and Gina drank water and adjusted their clothing that had drifted down in some places and drifted up in others, their youngest sister was stuffing her neon-green socks into her shoes. She wiggled her chubby toes into the sand, her nails displaying some final remnants of colorful, chipped polish and running barefoot into the water.

“It’s so warm!”

“Remember when Vicky thought this was the ocean?” Gina laughed, skipping a rock into the tiny pond.

“No, I didn’t..shuddup.”

“Yes, you did!”  Gina jovially pointed out toward a row of benches on the other side of the pond.  “You asked Mom if that was England!”

Even Isabella, usually a little more reserved, couldn’t help but to giggle into the sleeve of her zip-up hoodie and Victoria crossed her arms over her chest.

“Everyone thinks silly things when they’re younger.” Lori said, stretching her twitching legs. “You believed for years that the car wouldn’t start until everyone’s seatbelts were on.”

“Yeah, Mom.  I was little.  Vicky asked you that like three years ago!”

“Whatever, it’s a big pond and I don’t know crap about geometry.”

“It’s geography.” Isabella laughed.

“Holy crap, is it Make Fun of Victoria Day or something?” Victoria splashed her two older giggling sisters, effectively wiping the smiles off their faces.  They were just about to return fire. “Okay, that’s enough. Vicky, put your shoes and socks back on.” Lori was quick to end it there, content to give Victoria the win considering she was being double-teamed by her sisters.

“Okay, after I dry my feet on Bella’s hoodie.” Light danced through the animated particles of water that Victoria kicked up as she sprinted toward Isabella, who had already plopped back down on her bike, pedaling away like the protagonist in a horror movie.

With renewed energy, the four women resumed their ride, now heading back home. The tiny man, snugly nestled between Lori's monumental buttocks, was struggling far less on this leg of the journey.

Lori and Victoria traded off leading up the rear.  Her youngest opted to knot her shoe laces and sling her sneakers over her shoulder and pedal home barefoot.  Isabella and Gina were regularly checking over their shoulders to make sure everyone was together.

When they got back to the house, it became very clear that all four girls had worked up a good sweat.  Lori was proud of herself for keeping up with the girls but more than that, she was proud of herself for not letting the subject get in the way of this precious bonding experience.

Her thunderous thighs flexed as she dismounted the bike, her wide bottom no longer responsible for her full weight anymore, passing the burden onto her tired legs that were about as stiff and load-bearing as overcooked spaghetti noodles.  She shifted her legs a bit, feeling her sweaty cheeks rubbing easily against each other, indicating just how slippery her little subject was inside.  He was no longer aligned with her asshole as he’d been for the first leg of the trip and most of the second leg, but that was okay…he was there for the entire ride and that was the part that mattered.

Lori wiped her face with her damp hand towel and then wiped the excess perspiration off her bike seat, hoping to get it before her daughters saw.  The girls were not nearly as self-conscious as Lori, because none of them wiped their bike seats down.  Must have been a mom thing to care that much, or maybe their generation just didn’t care at all.

The three had barely made it in the door when Victoria sprinted up the steps, her heavy footsteps nearly bringing the house down.

“Firsties!”

“No! Let me go first! You always use up all the hot water!” Isabella footfalls were far quieter but just as quick as she ran up behind her little sister who was laughing like a gremlin.

* * * * * * * * *

The sun had set on another beautiful day and Lori knew it was time for the talk. After the girls had all gone to bed, Lori made a quick stop in the quiet kitchen to get something special and then made her way upstairs to her room. She shut her bedroom door, locked it, double checked to make sure she locked it, and then got ready for bed.  She looked over at her clock…it had been a few minutes over 12 hours since she stuffed him between her freshly showered buns, and while she’d changed out of her sweaty bike clothes into some comfy, cozy pajama bottoms, she expected that her little companion would judge her rear as far from clean.  For that reason, she would be happy to pass on the good news that he was done with his daily obligation to being between her cheeks.

Lori grimaced as she reached down her waistband and into her crack. It was great not having to think about how it felt back there, but now she was forced to feel it with her fingers.  The perspiration that had accumulated between her big cheeks had evaporated but the salt left behind created a gritty, unclean feeling in her crack, which wasn’t pleasant to sift through, but she wanted to get him out so she could reward him…and herself.  She took him out of her hot, sweaty rump and set him on her nightstand. When he was expected to use his two legs to hold himself up instead of being fully suspended by the flesh of her glutes, he predictably tumbled over and fell.  Lori suppressed a stunted giggle in her throat but could do nothing to stop the surge of warmth between her legs.

“Oh jeez…sorry about that..” Lori said awkwardly.  He had the same gritty touch and appearance that her crack did.

‘…but you’re going to have to get used to it…’ she finished in her mind.

Gina’s pale pink laundry hamper caught Lori’s peripheral vision and a solution presented itself.  She removed a white sock with cute little black stars from Gina’s hamper and wrapped the little subject in the thin cotton.  Lori was perplexed by his protests, as he was normally eager to welcome having the memory of Lori’s bottom removed from his skin. It wasn’t until after she was about halfway done wiping him down that she could smell faint hints of foot lotion emanating from the sock.

‘Whoops, looks like that was the dirty hamper’.  Now, if it were one of Victoria’s socks, it’d be an entirely different story!  Lori was already mostly finished and it wasn’t as if Gina’s sock smelled bad so she moved on to his upper body and face, which she approached with a more delicate hand, finally scrubbing the salt and lingering sheen of her rear’s perspiration off with Gina’s sock.

She tossed the sock back in with Gina’s other dirty clothing and then a smile spread on her face.  She’d forgotten all about the special treat she’d gotten from the kitchen.  A promise is a promise.

“You did so good today..and I know it couldn’t have been easy but I’m very proud of you.” Lori said with a smile, sliding over a small soda cap.  He looked down at it and then back up at Lori.

“I hope you like mint.  It's Victoria’s favorite and it's all we had.  Eat up baby, you earned it today.”

Lori nudged the ice cream filled cap closer to the subject.  He cautiously approached it and took a small bite, and Lori couldn’t help but laugh as he seemed to really enjoy it.  He proceeded to bury his face in the ice cream and eat as much as he could.  Lori figured he was okay to keep eating in semi-privacy while she got ready for bed.

‘I hope he appreciates things like this…’ she thought, glancing again at the vitamins, ominously staring back at her on her nightstand.

How much longer will he be able to?

‘How much longer can I put this off?’

Once ready, she returned to the subject, who was still eating the mint ice cream.

“Okay sweetheart, that’s enough for tonight, we don’t want you getting a stomach ache.” As Lori lifted the lid, the subject tried to keep eating but Lori had made up her mind and the subject fell backwards. Not one to let food go to waste, Lori lifted the lid and with one slurp, sucked the remaining ice cream out and threw it away.

“I worked hard today too, so I think I earned a bite as well!” she chuckled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t go to my hips!”

She lifted him back up off the nightstand and got into bed, setting him back on her stomach.

She looked down at the small, intricately detailed man. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as she spoke, her voice soft and reassuring.

"Okay... so... I don't know if you could tell, but today, I kept you in my bottom for... well... a little longer than usual," Lori confessed, her cheeks tinted with a subtle blush. "Did you notice that, honey?"

The little man sniffled softly. "I know it was a long time... way longer than 4 hours," he replied, his voice filled with concern. "What did I do wrong? I thought I was good... I thought I did what you wanted... I was good even when you were riding your bike."

His tiny eyes glistened with teardrops that threatened to spill over, and Lori's heart melted at the sincerity of his worries. She understood that her companion's earnest concern for their relationship was what made him so endearing.

Lori leaned in closer, cradling the little man with affection. "Nothing! You didn't do anything wrong," she reassured him, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "And yes! Yes, you were so, so good today! You barely kicked and squirmed the entire time at all except for a few times during the bike ride! I was very proud of you, you know!"

She continued to explain, her words as tender as a lullaby, "It's just that today was a particularly busy day, honey. You were so well-behaved, and I was wrapped up in so many things. You were there with me all the time, and I appreciate your patience and understanding.”

She wanted to promise him that this was a fluke–that he wouldn’t have to endure such long stints tucked away and blatantly forgotten in her backside.  But that would have been a lie as big as her bottom.

Lori's initial smile began to fade, and she felt the weight of the conversation pressing on her. She cleared her throat.

"But you see... so... you were in my bottom for 12 hours today, and... I know that might seem like a lot right now, but... well, the reason for that is…”

Goodness, how was she going to break this to him?  The moment was here.

“...That is actually going to be our new normal... going forward," Lori explained, her tone walking a thin tightrope bisecting compassion and firmness.

Her companion, visibly startled by this unexpected revelation, couldn't hold back his emotions any longer. "Our... new... normal?! What are you talking about?!" he cried, his eyes welling up with tiny tears. "YOU SAID 4 HOURS, LORI! YOU PROMISED ME! YOU PROMISED 4 HOURS! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! 4 HOURS IN YOUR BUTT, NOT 12! 4!!!"

Lori, determined to defend her stance, lifted her knees up, creating an enormous wall behind the shouting subject. The shifting of her bare feet against the mattress seemed almost deafening to her companion who flinched at the monumental sound. He turned around quickly in panic but returned his gaze to her face when he realized it was just her legs coming up.

"I know," Lori responded, her voice tinged with defensiveness. She paused to take a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I understand that... but when we had our meeting with Dr. Walker yesterday, she said that she wants us to try 12 hours a day... and I think we can handle it, don't you? It's for the experiment."

“FUCK the experiment!” he shouted.  “Why in the FUUUUCK should I give a good goddamn about this experiment?  What the fuck am I getting out of it?! What am I getting out of this, Lori?! Huh?! Tell me!”

Lori didn’t have an answer for him.  So instead of trying to think of something to say that would satisfy his outrage, which seemed impossible, she would satisfy something else, which would be easy.  He flinched once more as her meaty fingers rushed in and circled around his naked body. It was a tactic she’d used many times on her ex-husband. Of course, he was much bigger but the concept was the same. Lori raised the squealing subject to her face and started sloppily licking his crotch.  “Shhhlrrp, Shllllippp.” She could barely hear him trying to speak to her over the sloppy sounds of wet slurping and sucking as she probed wildly around and between his legs, hips, chest, and face.

‘Ohh….he tastes minty..’ she thought with amusement. Apparently he’d been so eager with the ice cream he must have gotten some on himself.  The quiet notes of mint ice cream were mere accents to the blatant taste of her own body. It wasn't a pleasant taste but people became open to and tolerant of a whole slew of things when they were aroused. Even so, the minty, salty flavor left on his body was long gone now.  This wasn’t the first time she’d used this approach since returning from RR Labs and Lori had already learned how to tell when he was about to cum. Her eyes remained fixed on his trembling body as her lips and tongue continued working.  

The trembling intensified and Lori responded by licking and sucking harder, pulling his entire lower half between her plush lips and sucking hard.  His cute little eyes slammed shut and he became stiff as a board, emerging from between her lips like a spent cigarette butt. He predictably shot his load into the folds of her creased tongue, which Lori could only just barely taste.

Satisfied, she pulled him out of her mouth, her lips seeming to defy her hand’s wishes as they formed a tight, pursed circle around him, savoring his taste until he popped out and swung from her hand.  “Pop!” She sent his tiny load, accented with equally subtle notes of mint, into her belly.  It was what she considered a reward for a job well done. The first reward of the evening.

She realized now that she made the right choice to confine him to her bottom for the DMV trip and the bike ride, because if she hadn’t, she would have to return him to her ass for the evening.  But since his 12-hour shift was done, he had all the free time in the world, and he could spend it anywhere…doing anything.

She didn’t say anything…

Instead, she coated his upper-half in as much glistening lubricant as she just had to his lower half.  She was no longer sucking on him, she was allowing the saliva to accumulate and compound. With his free hand, he wiped the saliva from his eyes and looked pleadingly into hers.

She still didn’t say anything…

She lowered the slippery little love toy down toward her panties, just as she did over 12 hours ago, and the red-hot coals of this morning reignited into an eruption of fire and passion as he passed the waistband and grazed her pussy lips.  The high waistband snapped against her wrist as her meaty hand rushed in to share the tight, confined space with her tiny little secret.  She was getting increasingly wet, evident from the sopping wet sounds coming from under the covers as she massaged and kneaded him against her slit, introducing yet another natural lubricant to his perfectly sized body.

Amid the intimate moments beneath the covers, a potent aroma filled the room, a heady blend of Lori’s desire and passion. The scent further fueled Lori's longing in a recursive feedback loop, stoking the fires of her desire. She was teetering on the precipice of ecstasy, but her unyielding willpower held her back. Lori possessed the kind of self-discipline that allowed her to savor every moment, making the anticipation all the more intoxicating. She yearned for the fireworks to be grand and explosive.

Once more, the electrifying wave of pleasure approached, and again, she deliberately slowed down her movements. She pressed him against her soft mound, almost motionless, her breaths shallow and deliberate. Lori begged him to remain still, acutely aware that even the tiniest twitch might send her spiraling into the depths of her climax. With tremendous self-control, Lori carefully retreated from the precipice of her impending orgasm.

Gradually, she resumed her movements, increasing the pressure and adding a gentle circular motion. Yet, she had to halt abruptly; she was on the brink of losing control so quickly all over again. Now it was her turn to whimper, but she clung to her dominance. It had always been her strength, her prerogative, and she had no intention of relinquishing it. She restarted, her actions growing swifter, more insistent, harder, and faster, driven by a desire that was impossible to ignore.

Her subconscious seemed to guide her fingers, increasing the pressure as she glided him effortlessly between her soaking wet, lubricated lips. The ease with which he moved made her wonder if he, too, was driven by a fervent desire to be inside her. She reached the crest of her orgasmic wave, and as it surged and crashed, she let herself go, surrendering to the intensity. Lori screamed into her pillow, as she shivered uncontrollably, her toes curling and her breasts quivering as her fingers danced over her clit.

The waves of pleasure finally began to subside, leaving Lori in a state of cold sweat and warm afterglow. She panted and smiled, relishing the memory of her experience. She withdrew her wet hand from her underwear, aware that it would require laundering tomorrow, but she couldn't resist a few gentle pats to her plush pussy through her panties.

How could something so little give so much pleasure?

~

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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 20 - Michael's Options

[October 24th, 2005]

Lori awoke with a long, luxurious stretch, her eyes blinking open as the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains. She extended her arms overhead, fully savoring the sensation of her body awakening from its deep slumber. She couldn't help but acknowledge the persistent itch that had nestled itself provocatively on her inner thigh.

As she slid her feet out from under the covers, the plush, cozy embrace of her fuzzy slippers welcomed and warmed her toes.

Her feet dangled gracefully over the edge of her spacious bed, a sturdy yet elegant piece of furniture that accommodated her form without complaint. The previous day was filled with chores and errands, seeing Lori on her feet all day long. The aching sensation in her feet had been repaired overnight but was now replaced by a faint pulsing sensation that extended down to her lower extremities, where

Emerging from the cocoon of her bed's warmth, she stood tall, allowing herself a leisurely stretch. The arching of her back and curving of her waist caused several joints and bones to pop in a satisfying, stress-reducing manner. Her left hand covered her mouth, muffling a yawn, and her right hand deftly adjusted a wayward wedgie.

“Please don’t be empty, please don’t be empty” Lori chanted as she reached into the bottom drawer of her nightstand.  The thick plastic of the bag crinkled and Lori felt nothing inside but air.  She was about to sigh in disappointment when she pressed down in the last uninvestigated corner of the bag, feeling and hearing a crisp snap.  It was a single pretzel stick. That was enough!  More than enough!

Lori snapped the pretzel stick into halves, then quarters, and set them down on the nightstand next to a framed picture of her, Gina, Isabella, and Victoria at the beach. She then twisted open a nearly empty, 20-ounce bottle of generic root beer and carefully filled the cap half-way.  This little meal fit for a miniature king would go a long way for sure!

With a pretzel stick fragment in her right hand and the half-filled soda cap in her left hand, Lori made her way toward her dresser. With each heavy step, the soft, pink fuzz lining the slippers squished and flattened beneath her naked, boxy soles until she arrived at the top drawer. Despite how gently she pulled, the drawer inevitably jerked along its squeaky metal rails which jolted awake the little person inside.

“Good morning, Michael. It's time to start the day, my dear.” Michael rubbed his eyes, rising from his cozy nest of Lori’s lesser-worn underwear and silently started walking toward the corner of the drawer. He rubbed his eyes as he stopped at the empty corner of the drawer, flanked by several stains in the particle-board wood.  She accidentally spilled some soda from the cap as she set it down, donating more carbonated sugar to the growing stain.  Next down was the pretzel fragment, and Lori made sure to rub her fingers so as to dislodge the tiny shards that were clinging to her skin. Each of those shards were small enough to wedge into the grooves of Lori’s fingerprints, and yet they were large enough for Michael to pick up and consume. Satisfied with Michael’s nibbling, Lori was just starting to shut the drawer when she heard a barely audible squeak.

The sound was different from the metal-against-wood squeak of her drawer.  The squeak came from Michael; she’d heard both enough now to be able to tell the difference.  Despite his stumbling, off-balance posture from her start of shutting the drawer, he was trying to get her attention as if he were a castaway on an island trying to flag down an airplane.  Lori bent at the waist to get close enough to hear him.  Her left hand instinctively rushed to her bosom, restricting anything from spilling out of her spaghetti strap sleep shirt, lest her large breasts invade the tiny little man’s space like a creamy pale avalanche of flesh.  His adorable little eyes widened, indicating hints of fear, respect, appreciation, and Lori delightful detected some resounding notes of arousal.

“What is it, hon?” Lori asked, brushing hair away from her ear to confirm she’d hear him correctly.  “Remember, you’ve got to speak up!”

“Can I have something else tomorrow maybe?” Michael asked.

“No more pretzels?  It's your favorite, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I love pretzels, but I’ve had them a lot…I feel like I need…I dunno…nutrition?  Pretzels are great but I’ve been feeling really weak lately, and I think it's because I’ve had nothing but pretzels for—”

Lori interrupted him, not wanting to spend TOO much time on this. Feeling like he was listened to was important and everything but she was a busy woman with a lot of other things that needed her attention!

“—Sure, sure…I understand.  We’ll get you something better tomorrow. How about……” Lori patted her chin with her finger and thumb, looking at the ceiling, “….dealer’s choice?”

Michael didn’t look too excited about that idea, but Lori had a huge ear-to-ear grin.  “I…I trust your judgment.” Michael said nervously.

“Okay great. Gotta shower.” She said shortly but politely, releasing the iron-grasp on her overflowing bosom after she’d stood back to full height. Lori then grabbed a pair of cute lavender panties from a neatly folded stack adjacent to Michael’s bed, offering him a gentle air kiss his way before shutting the drawer.

Lori shed her clothing once in the bathroom. Her heavyset frame bore the indications of motherhood, some worn more proudly than others, and yet she moved gracefully through the dimly lit bathroom.

The bathroom's tiles were cool beneath her bare feet as she entered the shower, and the soothing sound of steaming, crashing water filled the air. Lori's ample, curvaceous form was shrouded in a cascade of steam as she adjusted the water temperature to her liking.

She popped open the cap of her shampoo bottle, releasing the fragrant scent of lavender into the air. She thought back with amusement to their last house where all four girls shared a bathroom.  The idea of having a full bottle of anything was laughable back in those days! She poured a generous amount of lavender shampoo into her palm, allowing the water to penetrate her thick, wavy hair.

Lori gently began massaging her scalp, eyes closed in peaceful contemplation. Her strong, capable hands worked their way through her lush locks, a sense of tranquility washing over her with each soothing stroke.

As the lather built up, she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of introspection and relaxation. Inevitably, the responsible mother’s focus drifted to her responsibilities.  She had plenty of errands to do, some household chores, and today was going to be the day she finally honored her promise to Victoria to try the dancing game the girls loved playing on their Wii.

She continued to massage her scalp, her hair now a frothy, fragrant cloud of bubbles. The scrubbing was not getting her anymore clean, it just felt good.

It had been over a month since Michael had shown up at Lori’s door.  There were some clumsy, “growing pains” moments in that time, but all-in-all, Lori thought that she and Michael had some very productive conversations. They talked about priorities and expectations…compromises and considerations…and even though there was A LOT that they seemed to disagree on, they ultimately came to a pretty good place, at least Lori thought so.

Lori reached for her pale blue loofah, hanging on the shower rack and waiting for her right where she’d left it yesterday. It was much smaller than the worn-out pink loofah that it replaced but she’d gotten it on sale and it still did the job just fine. The loofah's fibers were soft and inviting to the touch but with enough pressure, the sensation would be pleasantly abrasive and exfoliating.  It was an instrument for pampering just as much as it was for cleaning. She applied a generous amount of her favorite shower gel, a fragrant blend of rose and vanilla, onto the loofah, which bloomed with a pale pink lather that overwhelmed the light blue as she worked it into the fibers.

As she began to guide the loofah across her curvaceous body, the frothy lather traced a path along her shoulders. Moving down, Lori's full, shapely bosom was lovingly treated to a pampering massage. The small, blue loofah explored the maternal curves and valleys of her ample chest, diligently touring the space between her creamy breasts, inspiring them to sway as she scrubbed under her arms. The loofah explored the undersides of her breasts as well, taking care to cleanse every inch and leaving her skin feeling supple and refreshed.

The rule regarding the experiment, as Lori explained it to Michael, was…well…that RR Labs made the rules…they were the one who was paying them, after all.  And Lori didn’t take pleasure in putting her foot down on the 12-hour rule, but her unwillingness to budge on this issue seemed to be paying off.  It had been nearly a week since he’d suggested alternatives or flat-out asked her not to do it.  That was progress!

Since he seemed to accept that the 12-hour rule was not a rule they would be breaking, and since Michael was having a difficult time adapting to it, Lori proposed a deal. The deal was he would meet the 12-hour requirement in her bottom in one of two ways that she referred to as his “options”.

Option #1 - Bedtime & Four:  Lori would take Michael to bed with her, nestled deep in her rear and he would remain there tucked safely between her cheeks while she slept. She would wake up 8 hours later and remove him, leaving only 4 hours left to be made up at some point throughout the day.

Option #2 - Six and Six: Michael gets the evening to himself, sleeping in his “bachelor pad” AKA Lori’s sock & underwear drawer.  However, first thing in the morning, Lori would tuck him between her cheeks and he’d remain there for 6 hours.  After 6 hours or so, depending on what Lori was doing, he would get a short, few minutes break.  After the break, he would be returned to her backside for another 6 hours, completing their 12-hour requirement for the day.

The “Bedtime-Four” option often meant Michael would be done with his 12-hour commitment much earlier in the day, leaving the rest of the time for him to relax in whatever way he chose.  He often chose to spend it in private, so Lori set up a space for him in the top drawer of her dresser.  It sounds like the ideal option, but the downside was that it was basically a coin flip as to whether Lori would be sleeping on her stomach or back.  If she slept on her stomach, it was tolerable since her cheeks were slightly spread, when she wasn’t wearing the training underwear of course. 

He had communicated to her that this kind of position was the most ideal scenario for him to do his time.  But the other side of the coin, sleeping on her back, was practically unbearable. Michael had told her that her ass cheeks under compression felt like cinder blocks, and whatever position he’d been in when Lori unconsciously rolled onto her back would be his fixed position, locked in until she rolled back over…if she rolled back over.  According to him, it was the worst when she sat, but at least she didn’t often sit for a straight 8 hours.

As usual these days, the tiny blue loofah’s most important job was next: cleaning her generous rear. She scrubbed the astounding circumference of each hefty cheek, free to let the pillowy masses of white flesh to jiggle and bounce as much as they needed to.  The lather frothed and swirled over the peachy curvature and then the loofah dipped in between her soapy glutes. Lori let out an involuntary moan as she ran the tiny blue loofah along the entire length of her crack.  The abrasive sensation sent shivers up and down her spine. She continued to run it along the deep valley, gently increasing pressure with each deliberate and pleasurable pass. Lori continued scrubbing the full gluteal crevice, even after she knew it was clean enough for Michael and she turned to let the steamy hot water fall from the shower head against her exfoliated bottom.

Lori wanted to give him a little variety and the ability to make choices since so much of his ability to choose had been signed away at the labs.  Still, she liked consistency and wanted to encourage it, which is why she designed these options specifically to de-incentivize go back and forth between the options while still allowing the choice to exist for him.  It seemed a little manipulative, but it was much better than just telling him he’d do it Lori’s way and that was final.

Lori clenched her doughy cheeks, transforming them into pale concrete boulders.  Her hand emerged from her crack, leaving behind the tiny blue loofah that was now being squeezed like an orange for its juice.  With both hands free, she tended to the area requiring the most sensitive touch, and she couldn’t help but let her mind wander as she paid much more attention to it than necessary.

Her knees became weak and her glutes flexed even tighter before returning to their normal jiggly, soft state.  Even so, the loofah remained obediently in her crack until she removed it.

She was surprised at how quickly Michael caught on…how quickly he realized that going with one option consistently day-to-day would mean consistent time between her cheeks, but switching on any particular day would result in him having to spend at least 4 more hours tucked in her bottom for that day.  For example, say he was on a “Six and Six” and decided he wanted to have most of the next day’s early afternoon to himself. He’d ask Lori to switch to the “Bedtime-Four”.  Michael would then be expected to complete the 12-hour obligation in her crack for the day, and then when it came time for bed, instead of going into his drawer, he would then be on the “Bedtime-Four'' option…which means…back in her crack he would go until morning.

Consequently, there were some days when he would spend over 20 hours in her bottom, for which he would vehemently express his disdain…as if it were really THAT much longer!  Lori made sure to inform Michael that while it was important to her that she grant the little man as much control as she could, Lori still always reserved the right to swap the options depending on hers and the girls’ schedules. Lori tried not to option-swap too often but it did happen from time to time.

Her breasts splayed against her own chin as she bent at the waist to clean her feet, applying more pressure to the loofah on her soles, heels, and toes than she had anywhere else on her body. Annoyed, she used her free hand to hold her heavy, swaying breasts at bay as she finished up.  Lori returned the spent loofah to its hook where it would wait patiently to be used again tomorrow.

It took a fair amount of thought to develop this system of choices and it was all for Michael. Lori certainly wasn’t getting any benefits out of it!  In fact, she couldn’t help but think at times how much easier things would be for her if she just kept him tucked away between her glutes all the time.  No need to worry about any of this if he’s just…always there.  She often avoided going too far down that line of thought, for she knew exactly where it would end up…where he would end up.

Lori checked her phone after stepping out onto the bathmat, water pooling slowly down around her feet as she dried herself off.  She responded to a work email and brushed her teeth.

Despite their progress, there were still some things that Lori had deliberately refrained from bringing up.  One example was his name.  Something about now knowing it made him seem more…more considerable…at least a little bit.  She hadn’t asked him for it; he’d offered it up himself.  Lori suspected he did it for that very reason.  It was clear that Michael was smart.

There were other things she avoided discussing with him as well…things that he almost certainly had to have experienced but Lori’s thought was that if she didn’t bring it up, it didn’t have to be addressed…

* * * * * * * * * *

Last Night

Dr. Walker: That’s great, Lori.  I wouldn’t be too worried about it.  In fact, if memory serves right, the most challenging hurdle a new subject must overcome is the transition from 4-hour days to 12-hour days.  It’s a huge leap and both of you should be very proud of yourselves for handling it so gracefully.  And If he’s accepted the increase this quickly, I expect future increases will be even more natural.  But enough about the subject, how are YOU doing?

Lori:  Oh, not too bad.  I received my first RR paycheck the other day, which was wonderful.

Dr. Walker: Oh, I’m glad. You earned it!

Lori: I took the girls out to this fancy Mexican restaurant we often drive by but never visit because of how expensive it is. They absolutely loved it; they felt like royalty!  After that, we did some shopping at Forever 21, and we all finished out the day by getting mani/pedi’s.

Dr. Walker: That sounds like a great day. I’m so glad you and your girls could experience something new and exciting! What did you get to eat?

Lori: Oh… well….you know, the girls had all the food they wanted and even dug into some fried ice cream at the end.  I only had a few chips with no salsa.  If memory serves me right, I think I was unable to keep Mich—the subject—in my bottom at all until about 11 am that day and so I had to keep him tucked away for the rest of the day in order to meet the 12 hours.  That meant he had to come to the restaurant with us.

Dr. Walker: Okay, I’m not sure I understand what that has to do with your decision not to get a meal.

Lori: Well, he was in my bottom while we were eating, and would remain there for the rest of the night with no breaks.  And we had the option to get a huge variety of food…from a Mexican restaurant of all places!  I didn’t want him to have to experience any..well…gas.

Dr. Walker: Hmm…I see…..

Lori: To be perfectly honest, Dr. Walker, I’ve been adjusting my diet. I’ve been eating food less likely to cause…. bloating and gas.

Dr. Walker: Because you’re trying to avoid passing gas directly onto him while he is between your buttocks?

Lori: Well, I’m glad you said it because I don’t think I could have…but yes.

Dr. Walker: Lori….

Lori: I know! I know, Dr. Walker.  But I just can’t bring myself to put him through that!  He’s already been through so much! I feel like if he were to have to experience something like that, how could I even…I don’t know…it just seems so demeaning!

Dr. Walker: Lori, I cannot think of a more inherent and necessary aspect of long-term rear confinement and residence than developing a familiarity with this completely natural process.  Everyone does it and you should not feel guilty about that.

Lori: I know, Doctor.  And when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound crazy at all…but in my mind…in my head…you’re suggesting I should…break wind directly onto him!

Dr. Walker:  You said earlier that he spends the night in your rear on occasion, correct?

Lori: Yes, when either of us picks the “Bedtime & Four” option I mentioned earlier.

Dr. Walker: Right.  When he sleeps overnight between your buttocks.  Lori, I’m not suggesting that you should break wind directly onto him.  I’m telling you that you already have…and continue to do so regularly.

Lori: Of course I don’t! That’s not true! I go to extreme measures to make sure he doesn’t have to go through that!

Dr. Walker:  But it is true, Lori.  You understand that once you go to sleep and your muscles relax, any built up pressure you’ve been consciously containing effortlessly escapes your body, right?  You must understand this happens many, many times over the course of just about every normal night.

Lori: …

…So…you’re saying he’s…already—

Dr. Walker: --Yes!  He’s been with you now for weeks, and I can assure you that he is intimately familiar with the full brunt of your emissions. He’s almost certainly confronted with your gas several times over the course of any night he went to bed with you.  It's inescapably true.  Lori, you have to trust me on this…I appreciate that you’re trying to do the right thing here but understand: you were asleep during these experiences but I assure you they happened…and they happen regularly. And most importantly, the subject is completely used to them by now.

Lori: ….

Dr. Walker: Don’t modify your diet…not unless it's what YOU want to do.  He can handle anything you throw his way, Lori. I promise.  This is what he’s supposed to do! This is precisely the kind of routine, natural experience that we need to confirm a size-reduced individual can learn to live around, adapt to, accept, or maybe even one day embrace.

Lori:  So…I shouldn’t try to…you know…hold them until I’m able to take him out?

Dr. Walker: Absolutely not.  You’re not doing him any favors that way and I see no way in which that enriches your life. In fact, I would venture to guess it only breeds inconvenience.  He needs to understand what rear-housing entails…all of it, the good and the bad in its entirety.

Lori: Thanks, Dr. Walker.  You always say the right thing.

Dr. Walker: Of course, Lori!  Was there anything else?

Lori: Actually, yes…one other thing…

~