RR Lori Warren - Chapter 33 (Patreon)

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 33 - Dinner and a Bank Shot

[November 19th, 2005]

“Hi Paddy!” Victoria chirped with a near ear-piercing cheerfulness, practically bouncing in her chair with excitement.  Her eyes, which may as well have taken on the cartoonish trope of  balloon-inflated pink hearts, watched with fascination as Lori set little Michael down on the dinner table next to her plate. 

Between sips of her well deserved wine, Lori did her best to conceal a chuckle at how intimidated little Michael seemed to be in the presence of her daughters.  Such an ironic thought considering her feelings as a parent.

She knew it was wrong and even a bit sexist, but the Mama Bear instinct in her immediately judged just about any male that came within a yard of her beautiful, innocent girls.  

And if they were older than them? Another red flag.

And if they were handsome? Forget about it.

And if they were naked? Well, goodness! That fear had not come to fruition, at least not in the traditional sense…until now. The funny thing was that Michael literally checked every one of these boxes. And yet Lori wasn’t the slightest bit worried.  The judgemental and sexist instinct didn’t seem to apply…at least not in this terribly unique situation. 

The most Lori had come to feeling those protective instincts over her daughters with Michael–and it really wasn’t even that much–was when she saw her youngest daughter’s neon green sock coming down on the cowering boy, but even then he seemed so vulnerable and pathetic. 

She’d felt several flavors of anger since that moment and long after, but when she was thinking rationally, she’d recognize that the ‘Mama Bear’ anger was a fraction’s contribution.  There was no getting around it, he just wasn’t a threat to Gina, Isabella, or Victoria. He wasn’t really a threat to anyone, really. 

Literally no one. 

Without a doubt, her curious daughters could do way more damage to Michael than he could to them.

…and some of her girls were more curious than others. 

“Paaaaa-deeeeeeee…Hellooooo! I’m talkin’ to youuuuuuu!” Victoria sang, insistent on using the nickname she’d bestowed upon him.

Lori's eyes drifted down to Michael. He seemed like a mouse cornered by a mischievous and unpredictable kitten, timid and wary of what might come next, but Lori felt comfortable to chuckle at the adorableness of it all. A grown man too timid to even make extended eye contact with a 17-year old girl. Meanwhile, Vicky sat there, bright with interest and curiosity, her gaze fixed on Michael as if he were the latest shiny toy she just couldn't wait to get her hands on.

With a gentle smile, Lori encouraged Michael to interact. “You can say hi back; she won’t bite.”

He glanced up at Lori's voice, then cautiously turned his attention to Victoria. Faded blue jeans clung snugly to thighs that bounced impatiently for a response, and her arms crossed over the emblem atop the black band t-shirt.

Michael timidly waved. “Hi, Victoria.”

His greeting had clearly lacked reciprocal enthusiasm but Victoria squealed in delight all the same. She was giddy as if she’d just met Justin Timberlake.  

Oh wait, she doesn’t like him; that’s Gina.  Who did Victoria like?  The Fall Out Boys? Or was that Isabella? What’s even the difference? Who could possibly keep track!

Or maybe it was just the results of a sugar-induced euphoria that pressurized the teenager like a can of shaken-up soda. Whatever it was, it was fleeting;  Her short, brown, wavy locks bounced around her chubby cheeks as her interest in the tiny man by Lori’s plate took a backseat to dessert.  While her mouth was full, Victoria reached for one of the two remaining slices in the center of the table.  

“Why not wait a few minutes, Vicky?” Lori asked. “You might not be as hungry as you think.”

“I’ll be even hungrier if I wait, Mom! It’s science!” Her words tumbled out swift and decisive between a mouthful of crunchy cookie crumbs and fluffy whipped topping. Without missing a beat, she seized another slice and had the first bite ready before she’d swallowed the last one. “...and besides this is so good!”

“Yeah Mom, this is awesome.” Isabella chimed in, her voice carrying a tone of genuine satisfaction. "Yeah, Mom, this is awesome." Her dainty fingers delicately lifted small, precise morsels from her modest sliver of Oreo pie. 

Lori couldn't help but notice the striking juxtaposition between Isabella's bird-like nibbles and the voracious appetite of Victoria. While Isabella's bites were small and deliberate, Victoria's were practically devouring her slice whole. But it was all relative, of course. Even Isabella's most petite bites were still several magnitudes larger than what would constitute a full meal for little Michael.

With a content hum, Isabella savored the lingering taste of the chocolatey goodness that passed in measured, small bites past her lips. With a graceful motion, she leaned forward, her slender fingers encircling her cool glass of milk. 

The dining room table creaked softly in response, its sturdy surface accepting the gentle pressure of Isabella’s ample chest.  Her considerable curves molded against the smooth wood and began to splay across the surface near her plate.

Lori couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia wash over her.  It seemed like just yesterday that Isabella had excitedly shown off her first bra (purchased by her father and new stepmother…grumble, grumble). In reality, it had been years since the milestone and yet, the memory was still fresh in her mind.

Before Lori knew it, Isabella had blossomed into a young, mature, and responsible woman. It didn’t take long for Isabella to surpass Lori’s own cup size, an event that might have unsettled some mothers.  After all, there were women out there who would have felt envious or even intimidated by the prospect of their daughters eclipsing them. 

Not only did Lori consider those feelings to be petty and shallow, but Lori often reinforced to not only Isabella but all of her daughters that womanhood in any capacity was nothing to be ashamed of. Lori wasn’t bothered at all by her daughters

All that to say…the mother of three wasn’t impervious to insecurities and concerns.  Lori did often worry about the extra, unsolicited attention her sweet, innocent Isabella would receive as a result of her genetic gifts.  Isabella was such a smart, driven, and goal-oriented girl; Lori hated the idea of her daughter being simplified to a big-breasted sex object.  

To be fair, Isabella’s choice of attire certainly tiptoed the fine line between comfort and provocation. While Lori admired her daughter’s self-assurance and body positivity, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern over the message that Isabella’s wardrobe sent to the world.

In Lori’s eyes, the revealing clothing–admittedly not an entirely common occurrence– bordered on audacity and obliviousness, and it was almost always centered around that generous display of ample cleavage. 

Today was no exception; Isabella’s pale-pink blouse clung to her youthful and glowing figure, a low-cut neckline plunging daringly south and leaving very little to the imagination.  

The blouse seemed to accomplish the degree of absurd tightness her well-endowed daughter was going for, but Lori’s objective and correct opinion was that the blouse seemed woefully inadequate in the face of Isabella’s fully-blossomed (and hopefully complete!) physique.

Lori was sure the sight of breasts that large, that ‘on-display’, and presented in such a way on the table as they were now would have been enough to send any unsuspecting teenage boy into a state of cardiac arrest. It probably wouldn’t be the first time either.

Lori vividly recalled a particularly unpleasant encounter with the school’s stuffy and grumpy principal who had called Lori one day to complain about Isabella’s attire: her mother’s old college sweater.

Baggy as it had been on Lori–at least in her college days–it still managed to cling to the curves of Isabella’s chest despite her sincerely intended modesty. But to the principal, Isabella had committed the gravest of sins. Lori would never forget the tone of that woman! Laced with thinly veiled disapproval as she lamented the supposed distraction Isabella’s attire posed on the male students. As if they were all bankrupt in agency and independence!  There was only one man that Lori would describe in such a way, and he was on her dinner table right now.

As Isabella grabbed her milk, Lori’s keen eye caught Isabella’s generous bosom inching dangerously close to the edge of her dessert plate. 

Her considerable chest created a shadow over the delicate china atop the pristine table cloth and they threatened to engulf the remnants of her Oreo pie like twin tidal waves of pale pink crashing against the shore. Her breasts swelled closer, catching the edge of the plate and lifting the other side.

“Bella, honey...your shirt.”  

Isabella looked down and saw that her breasts were bulging forward, the tightly stretched, pale pink material of her blouse mere millimeters from the Oreo pie.  “Oh, thanks Mom.” Isabella said sheepishly, leaning back and straightening her blouse over her chest with a slight blush in her cheeks. She’d leaned back just in time to avoid covering the front of her shirt in Oreo pie. 

Lori felt a pang of sympathy for her daughter, who seemed to be grappling with the unfamiliar territory of living with such prodigious protrusions.  As graceful as she’d always been, Isabella was clearly still learning the challenges that came with such curvature. As someone with her own prodigious protrusions, albeit hanging from her hips instead of her chest, Lori felt her pain. At least Isabella’s hung from her chest.  Lori remembered a time in college when she was navigating a crowded hallway. She turned sideways and scooted closest to a wall that just happened to contain a blackboard covered with chalk.  Sure enough–and unbeknownst to her–Lori’s greedy bottom had gathered up a metric ton of that pink dust onto the seat of her jeans, so much so that a light cloud of pink followed her for several steps. It looked like fairy dust, or at least that’s what her best friend told her between giggles.

“How was your day, Mom? Did you get all your errands done?” Isabella asked, eager to change the subject from her near-accident.

Lori was happy to help, nodding as she swallowed her own large mouthful of Oreo goodness.  “Sure did, sweety.  And I even stopped off at a new makeup store that just opened up in the mall.”

Isabella nodded, “Oh yeah, I saw the grand opening signs at Gretchen’s Spa last week.  Cheeky Chic, right?”

Lori winced at the sound of silverware clanging against her eldest daughter’s plate.  “Cheeky Chic?!” Gina asked, sputtering on her Oreo pie slice. “There’s one in Seattle now?!”

“You’ve heard of them?”

“Uhhh…yeah?!  I went inside one when I went on that trip to California with Jenna and her family.  What’d you get?  Anything cool?” 

Before Lori could even respond, Gina gasped. “Did you get me anything?!”

“Who gets that excited about a makeup store?” Victoria made no attempts to mask her boredom with the conversation.

“I just got something for myself..” Lori said. “Something small.”

“Small like Paddy?” Victoria snickered.

Lori smirked and gently slugged her daughter’s shoulder. “Bigger than him, funny girl. I treated myself to some blush; that’s all.” 

It was a lie, of course.  But these kinds of lies were okay. There was just no way that she would be telling them about the free pink thong.

Oh, that thong…

What would it be like for Michael when she tried it on?  The space between her buttocks was more than deep enough for him, and her cheeks more than soft…but in Lori’s mind, her full-coverage underwear was yet another security measure in place to keep him snug and secure in her bottom.  If she were to swap out that safety net for a tiny little string, how would that feel for him?  

I could have asked Colleen.

Lori’s mind returned to that bubbly young woman in the Cheeky Chic store.  The one that was just as blessed as Lori was.  Colleen had shown Lori the thong, and if Colleen was also a Participant, she’d definitely be housing her little subject during working hours, right?  He must have been in there.  

If Colleen could do it, so could she.

Lori looked down at Michael and she couldn’t help but smile.  He stood there awkwardly, not daring to get too far away from her plate. He was a quiet fixture atop the table surrounded by chatty women and Lori could see him occasionally glancing over at her plate of crumbs.

‘God, he looks so small next to my plate…my wine glass is a crystal tower to him. He looks so small next to everything...’

The Oreo pie was a clear hit to everyone seated at the table.  Everyone was finishing up their slices except for Isabella who decided half-way through that she was full. There were plenty of big crumbs and even a little bit of cream left smeared on her plate.  She hadn’t dreamed of giving Michael a full slice…where would he put it?  This leftover on her plate, it was the perfect amount for him. 

“Go ahead, dear.” Lori said. She had to lean the plate over so that the edge was low enough for him to step up.  He looked even smaller on the table, standing among the normal sized dishes, bowls, and glasses.  Victoria let out a giggle as Michael started to climb the edge of Lori’s plate.

Looking down, she saw the poor, tiny man was still struggling to climb the thick, rounded lip of the plate.  Lori had come to know him reasonably well...as well as she could anyway...and she was both pleased and amused to see how determined he was to climb that edge.  He didn’t often display such determination in their normal day-to-day life; he must have really wanted that Oreo pie!  Lori smiled and slid a finger under his nude bottom, lifting him up over the edge.  He clumsily stumbled down the inward slope of the plate and Victoria giggled.  

The strange journey of this experiment had been difficult and fraught with obstacles but Lori and Michael overcame them.  And now he was to enjoy the fruits of his labor.  It caused Lori sadness to think that this would be the last time that Michael was to consume traditional food, but she kept reminding herself of everything Dr. Walker said. This really was the best thing for him.   She had to trust Dr. Walker’s judgment.  And she had to trust her own.  Lori was the one responsible for Michael’s wellbeing.  And even though she was firm on the idea of converting his diet to the vitamin regimen, she certainly was not looking forward to that conversation with him.  But why dwell over that right now?  For now, it made the most sense to live in this wonderful moment, and smile down at him as he slid adorably over the slippery surface of her dessert plate. He was so dead-set on getting to the cluster of crumbs and cream, his little legs moving so quickly like a car trying to accelerate on ice.

“Mom...seriously?”

Lori looked up to see Gina’s gaze fixed on Michael with disdain.  The sleeve of her soon-to-be college’s sweatshirt covered her lips, but the frown she wore was so laden with disgust that it made itself known through her eyes. “Do you have to do that right now?”

“He has to eat too, honey.”  Lori said.

“Okay, but can’t he do that somewhere else? Like in the bathroom? Or in your butt? We’re eating here; it's gross.” Gina said.  

“You’re gross.” Victoria’s unsolicited reply could have been seen as her coming to Michael’s defense but in all reality, it was less about defending him and more about pushing Gina’s buttons.

Gina let out an exasperated and overly dramatic sigh, pushing back her blonde hair to massage her temples, “And you’re an annoying little gremlin. You’re not funny; you’re not cool. Stop bugging me.”

It didn’t happen often but as the cherubic smile wiped from her face, Lori knew that this was one of those times that Victoria had been caught off guard and her feelings were hurt.  

“You’re even more annoying.” Victoria grumbled under her breath. “I bet you couldn’t last a day in my shoes with all the cool stuff I do.”

“Girls, please.” It was Lori’s turn to massage her temples. “Can we please call a ceasefire? Just for the rest of today?”

Lori stood up from the table and picked up her mostly empty wine glass.  After all the walking she’d done today, her lower back was sore and her thighs were still pulsing, another glass of wine seemed like the perfect remedy.  She’d barely made it three steps from the dining room table before she heard Victoria and Gina bickering once more and Lori rolled her eyes as she topped off her wine glass.

Gina was the oldest and oftentimes the most equipped at dealing with the harassment of her baby sister, even if Gina’s chosen responses were more acidic than they needed to be. Isabella was a different story.

With Isabella and Victoria, it was a completely different dynamic.  Lori would have thought the two would be much closer since they were fraternal twins. Instead, it seemed that the fraternal bond aided Victoria in her ability to get under Isabella’s skin and annoy her.  Isabella’s intellect was undeniably leaps and bounds above Victoria’s, but Victoria just had a way of cutting through with an almost comedian-tier timing that Isabella couldn’t compete with. Some of it could have also been middle-child syndrome.  Isabella was only several minutes older than Victoria, but that still technically set her in the middle. 

Lori kneaded her lower back as she squatted down to retrieve another bottle of wine. As she uncorked the fresh bottle, she listened to the buzzing banter in the dining room continue. Sure enough, Gina and Victoria had continued their argument, barely missing a beat once their mother left the room.   

“Well, at least I’m not a crybaby like you.” Gina’s voice carried.

Victoria fired back. “I’m not a crybaby; you are!” 

“Oh, please!” Gina scoffed. “Which one of us was in literal tears last night over that Snowboard Kids video game?”

A fist pounded the wooden table, just hard enough for the sound of silverware to clatter. “You cheated! That’s the only reason why you won!”

“Can you guys stop, please?” Isabella asked.

“I didn’t cheat, Vicky!” Gina corrected. “I won because your fingers had too much potato chip grease on them.”

“And you wouldn’t let me pause!” Victoria wailed. “You knew I was going to win!”

Gina clapped back with a condescending laugh. “Cry more, crybaby. Keep on crying.”

Lori took a large sip of her just-filled wine glass before topping it off once more.  “Oh, these girls! I’ll be in a rubber-padded room before a nursing home, I guarantee it.” Lori grumbled to herself. She started back toward the dining room…

…but it was just a few moments too late.

Suddenly, Lori heard a shrill, ear-piercing scream.  It was Gina!

“STAHHHHHHHHP!!”

With a palm overtop her sloshing wine glass, Lori ran into the dining room and she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Encased in the short, chubby fingers of her youngest daughter was a struggling blur, colored in flesh and blonde.  He was absolutely no match for the strength of Victoria’s fingers and those fingers were holding him directly in front of Gina’s disgusted face.  

Gina’s brown eyes crossed down her short button nose, narrowing in on what Victoria was holding up to her face.

It was Michael. 

In a last-ditch, desperate effort to ‘win’ this war between sisters, Victoria must have resorted to swiping Michael up off of Lori’s dessert plate. Gina’s cute nose wrinkled up and her brow furrowed as she leaned her head back, trying to create some distance between her face and Michael, frantically squirming in Victoria’s fingers.

Victoria had the biggest grin on her face as she brought him in closer to Gina. So close that one of his tiny little feet kicked against the tip of Gina’s nose.  

She bellowed, “Oh my Gawd, you brat!  Get it away from my foooooood-uh!”

Thwackk!

Victoria yelped as the slap’s echo reverberated through the dining room.  That was going to leave a mark on Victoria’s wrist, no doubt about it.  But there were bigger problems at the moment.  

Gina had chosen to slap away from Victoria, not toward her.  This was very unfortunate for Michael, who was already in a quite precarious situation, being used as a tool in this sisterly war.  The trouble-maker’s grip loosened enough after the slap that poor little Michael shot out of Victoria’s oreo-caked fingers like a cannon. Four sets of eyes followed the little man as he soared through the air toward Isabella. 

Isabella yelped as the tiny naked man collided with the formidable expanse of her exposed chest.  Like a basketball meeting the backboard, Michael tumbled downward toward the pronounced chasm of her cleavage. At first, he simply came to rest upon the soft mounds of her breasts, albeit with a harmless bounce or two.  Isabella’s breasts were so tightly packed into her shirt that had Michael actually landed squarely atop either of her breasts, he might have actually remained there with no problem.  But as if fate required it, Gina and Victoria’s bickering resulted in Michael ultimately tumbling down Isabella’s bare chest and following the steep curvature toward the area where they met–and then he slotted between her breasts.

~