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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.
~