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.

~