RR Lori Warren - Chapter 38 (Patreon)

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 38 - A Thief in the Night

[December 16th, 2005]

It had been weeks since Lori had weaned Michael completely off what she called ‘big people food’ and he missed it so, so much.  He’d asked several times for something…anything else, but it was never met with a yes from Lori.  But Lori made it up to Michael in other ways. She was taking him out from between her cheeks more often than before…nowhere near as much as when he first arrived at her door but it was something.  And much to Michael’s satisfaction, Lori kept his interactions with her daughters to an absolute bare minimum.  

She trusted him more, and he cherished that trust, for in that trust was some semblance of freedom.  Michael couldn’t believe he actually saw things this way, but his and Lori’s relationship was actually getting better.   Lori would let him sit on her nightstand while she read before bed and on the rarest of rare occasions, she would sometimes even let Michael spend the entire night out from between her butt cheeks while she slept.  

Those were his favorite nights..he would just cuddle up on her nightstand and stare up at the ceiling of her bedroom.  Sometimes he’d hear the soft pattering of sock-clad feet out in the hallway–one of the girls creeping in the dark to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. The bathroom light would find its way in under Lori’s door and if it managed to pass through the sparkling glass of her ceiling fan just right, Lori’s ceiling would become painted with dim light that Michael could pretend were brilliant stars millions of miles away.  It reminded him of camping in the midwest, sleeping under a blanket of the cosmos.  

When he could sleep on her dresser, he was able to watch the clock, which he loved.  It was also torture, especially when he knew that her alarm would be going off soon.  He hated that time because he knew that once that beeping started, he’d be back in her butt soon after. He took it like a champ though, and even though he still didn’t know when this would all be over, he was enjoying the freedom and trust.  

Weeks had passed since Michael had reluctantly succumbed to Lori's demands, and his life had settled into an unthinkable routine. Each day began and ended the same way, tucked away deep within the warm, soft expanse of Lori's enormous butt cheeks. The pressure was constant, the darkness absolute, and the heat stifling. Yet, somewhere in the midst of this daily ordeal, a strange sort of adaptation had begun to take hold.

Lori's mornings started with their usual ritual. Michael lay on the counter, his tiny, naked body carried the evaporated remnants of the previous day's perspiration. Her hydration the previous day had a big influence on how abrasive and salty the perspiration was against his skin, and on this day Lori had drank plenty of water. Lori's massive figure loomed over him, her smile wide and genuine.

"Good morning, Michael! How are you feeling today?" She looked as cheerful as any morning person would.

Michael, still battling the remnants of his pride, forced a weak smile. "Good morning, Lori. I'm... managing," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation.

Lori's eyes softened with sympathy. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, but I can see the progress. You look stronger, healthier." She paused, then added with a playful grin, "So guess what–I've got a surprise for you."

Michael's heart fluttered with a mix of hope and dread. "A surprise?” He’d learned that surprises were not guaranteed to benefit him.

Lori nodded. "I bought tickets to a comedy show! And you’ll never believe this… It's to see that comedian you like! What’s her name…Sasha Silverman?"

Michael tilted his head in confusion, as if Lori was speaking another language.  “You mean…Sarah Silverman”

“Oh, is that how you say it?” Lori rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I get corrected enough by the girls, Michael.  Don’t you do it, too!”

For a moment, genuine interest flickered in Michael's eyes. "Really? I guess you’re bringing one of the girls?”

Lori laughed “No, silly.  I got the other ticket for you. I know, I know…you wouldn’t need one but it was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else.”

“Lori…I don’t know what to say.”  Michael’s words choked in his throat.  “I would..be able to actually…see her? Or am I going to stay in your bottom the whole time?”

Lori nodded proudly.  “I’m not sure how we’re going to do it just yet, but we’re going to come up with something, Michael.  You and I are both going to see her.”

“That's... that's amazing, Lori!" His smile was real, a rare moment of happiness breaking through the cloud of his existence.

Lori's grin widened, pleased with his reaction. "The show is still a few weeks away so we’ll have plenty of time to figure out how it’s going to work. I know it seems like a long time, but it's something to look forward to, right?"

As Lori's words sank in, Michael's initial joy was tempered by the sobering realization that this meant at least two more months of his degrading routine. The negative part of him screamed in despair, but a budding optimist inside whispered that he should pay his dues and be good. He had to agree with Lori.  Things were, in some twisted way, getting better.

"Yes, something to look forward to," he echoed, trying to hold on to the positive.

Lori's expression softened with understanding. She gently picked him up, her fingers cradling his tiny form with surprising tenderness. "Alright, are you ready to get settled in for the day?"

Michael didn’t dare bring down the mood with his normal pouting. “Yes, Lori!” 

He braced himself as Lori turned around, revealing the vast, fleshy expanse of her buttocks. She parted her cheeks, the soft, pliant flesh giving way to a humid, dark crevice. As she positioned him, the familiar wave of heat and scent enveloped him. The humiliation of his new diet was a constant battle, but what disturbed him even more was the creeping realization that he had started to appreciate the taste of her perspiration. It was salty, almost tangy, and in his desperate state, it had become oddly satisfying.

As she tucked him securely into place and allowed her doughy dual mountains of cheek meat to flop back together in and around him, Lori's voice came from above, gentle and encouraging. It was the last time she’d speak directly to him that day, and he played it over and over again in his mind. 

"I know this is hard, Michael, but you're doing so well. I'm proud of you."

Michael's heart ached at her words. The praise, meant to comfort, only deepened his sense of shame. He was a grown man, reduced to living off the sweat of a woman who treated him like a cherished pet. And yet, he couldn't deny the strange comfort he found in the warmth of her body, the way her soft flesh cushioned him.

Inside his humid prison of flesh and fat, Michael struggled with his feelings. The humiliation of his diet, the deplorable comfort of Lori’s putrid warmth, and the genuine praise from Lori all warred within him. Each day, he found himself more reliant on her perspiration for sustenance and surrendering just that little bit more to what his life had become. The taste, while not terrible, could be interpreted by his mind in no way other than revolting–and yet it had become a grim necessity. Michael could feel the salty liquid seeping into his mouth as he suckled on the wall of inner cheek flesh. The tang of her sweat mingled with his saliva as he swallowed greedily, his body craving the hydration and salt.

He hated himself for it, for the way his body had adapted to this grotesque diet, for the way he had slowly started coming around–coming to appreciate the taste. Each swallow was a blow to his dignity, but his hardwiring prioritized survival over pride, and he had to believe that there was some light on the other end of this dim, dark tunnel.

As the days went by, Michael clung to the promise of Sarah Silverman’s comedy show, a beacon of normalcy in his twisted reality. And in those quiet, solitary moments within Lori's embrace, when her jiggly cheeks weren’t sloshing around him like jello, he allowed himself to dream of the day when he might be free. For now, he was a tiny man lost in the vastness of Lori's, but he refused to define himself by her ass.

One evening, from the relative safety of Lori’s seated posterior, Michael heard Lori talking to her daughters about the comedy show over dinner one night.  Gina quipped that it sounded like ‘Mom and Paddy’s first date’.  Victoria, in the way that only Victoria could, brought up the semantics of whether Michael was going on a date with Mom or Mom’s butt.  That line of logic branched off into another one-person contemplation if it were the latter: which of Lori’s butt cheeks was Michael dating?  Left or right?  Or was it both? 

She enjoyed a nice long and obnoxious laugh at her oblivious yet vicious mockery of Michael.  But the biggest hit to Michael’s pride and resolve came next.  It came when Victoria asked the date of the event.  

“January 28th.” Lori responded.

Michael wasn’t aware of how long it had been since he was shrunken by those horrible women at RR Labs.  Or how long it had been since he was first introduced to Lori’s fat ass.  But now, hearing the date of the comedy show, only two months away,  Michael came to a sobering and sob-worthy conclusion.  Two conclusions, actually.

First conclusion…he was going to spend Christmas living between Lori’s butt cheeks.  Wow.

Second conclusion… the comedy show would mark 4 months since the day he’d been dropped off on Lori’s front step.

* * * * * * * * * * *  

Two Weeks Later

More time passed and although his time in Lori’s ass crack wasn’t really getting easier, he was spending less time there.  It was clear that Lori wanted to only keep him in there as long as she needed to and not a second longer and for that, he was so grateful.  

The world kept on turning.  

Lori’s oldest, Gina, left for college and it was clearly bittersweet for Lori.  She stayed up and talked to Michael for hours about her relationship with each of her daughters.  

How excited she was for Gina embarking on her college journey.

How proud she was of Isabella’s waiting scholarships.

How…worried she was for Victoria.

Michael was half-interested (at best!) in what Lori had to say, especially about her bratty daughters, but he did his best to look enthralled.  Every second spent listening to Lori was a second spent away from her big ass.  

Michael’s perception of time was far less skewed now.  He spent lots of time near her alarm clock and could even see the calendar that hung atop her dresser.  He saw a big, fat, pink circle over the date of the comedy show and he couldn’t believe how excited he was.  It was next week!  Lori had been discussing with him different ways that she might bring him in without having to keep him in her ass crack.  Michael was very invested in developing solutions, suggesting that she keep him in her pocket book or maybe even her shirt pocket. Much to his excitement, Lori was open to the idea!  Just as long as he met his 12-hour minimum for the day.  

She gave him a lot of leeway these days and had scaled back drastically on his confinement time and she seemed like there may have been the slightest chance that if he continued to be good, she might let him have some regular people food, if only to reward him for good behavior.  Despite all these softenings, the 12-hour minimum was something she clearly wasn’t budging on; it was a line she would not cross, no matter how much better their relationship got.  The only exception came the day that Lori went to help Gina finish moving into her dormitory.  

That was the longest he’d been away from her ass since…geez…he couldn’t even remember. Much to his surprise, he was feeling a strange, uneasy feeling.  She’d fed him plenty before she left and she promised she would put him right in her bottom when she got home so it wasn’t a worry of going hungry.  It was something else.  He pushed the feelings away easily, because right behind them was his desire to be free from this experiment…free from Lori.  He could go the rest of his life with never seeing her or her shithead daughters again.  He had to keep playing this game though.  He just had to pay his dues. 

One night, just like any other night, Lori had asked Michael where he wanted to sleep.  It was getting colder outside so Michael opted for the warmth of Lori’s underwear drawer.  Michael stared up at Lori who looked quite tired from the events of the day and said good night.  Lori smiled down at Michael. 

“Good night, Mikey.” 

Lori blew Michael a kiss and pressed the drawer shut, leaving about a 2 or 3 inch crack for air flow.  There was an exceptional amount of laundry in Lori’s underwear drawer tonight, plenty of clean socks to choose from.  He selected a pair of dark gray wool socks and as he got comfy, he heard the sound of Lori’s bed springs as she got into her bed. He drifted off to sleep.

Michael wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but he was startled awake by the sound of Lori’s bedroom door opening. A sliver of dim light pierced the darkness of the dresser drawer he called his bed. It felt far too early for Lori to be up and about, and Michaelinstinctively knew something was off.

Maybe she was getting up to start breakfast? No, it couldn’t be. She always slept in a little longer on weekends. And she had her own bathroom, so she wouldn’t be going out to use the bathroom in the hall–that was the girls’ bathroom. 

Michael strained to hear, his tiny hands clutching the wool sock he used as a blanket. A gentle footstep crossed into Lori’s room, but the door didn’t shut behind it. A cold sweat formed on Michael's brow. Lori always shut the door behind her, especially when leaving him alone with her daughters at home.

The footsteps were tender, almost imperceptible, not like Lori's confident stride. Each muffled step brought a new wave of dread washing over Michael. His breath hitched as the sound drew closer, creeping ever nearer.

“Oh, no…” Michael pulled the wool sock up to his trembling chin, feeling like a helpless child about to be eaten by the monster under the bed. Only now, monsters were real, and they were enormous. And he knew exactly which monster was creeping up on him now. 

It was Victoria, the most insatiably curious and mischievous of Lori’s daughters. It just had to be.

Victoria had been obsessed with him since the moment she discovered his existence. Michael shuddered at the memory of being pinned down under her dingy, dirty sock. Her fascination with him was terrifying. She saw him not as a person but as a toy, a joke, and a plaything to satisfy her whims. To Lori’s credit, such a playtime had never transpired.  The closest thing was that day when she swiped him up from the dining room table.  Not since then had he been required to interact with Victoria…but it looked like that streak was about to be broken, and in the worst way possible.  

He was alone with her.

The soft footsteps didn’t grow louder, but they did grow closer.  And then they paused right next to the dresser. Michael’s whole body tensed up and his tiny muscles coiled like a spring. The drawer above him creaked open, the noise like thunder in the silence. And then he heard the rustling of fabric as Victoria shifted through, looking for him no doubt.  He could hear Victoria’s breath, shallow and excited, and the scent of coconuts seeped into his drawer, the next one to be opened.

Michael's mind raced. He had to stay hidden. If she found him, there was no telling what she might do. He wished he could disappear, become invisible, anything to avoid her clutches.

The drawer shifted slightly as Victoria rummaged through Lori's belongings. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, praying she wouldn't think to look in the bottom drawer. But he knew it was only a matter of time. She’d already resorted to breaking into her mother’s bedroom.  She’d already pawed through her mother’s delicates.  She wasn’t going to stop. She wasn’t going to leave this room without him.  Victoria was relentless.

The soft rustling above him ceased, replaced by the quiet shutting of the drawer above him. Michael held his breath, hoping against hope that she would leave.

“Please, just leave…” Michael whispered.  

He heard a gentle tap as fingers clasped the brass knobs of his drawer.  Then, the inevitable happened. Michael’s drawer slowly began to slide open. Light spilled into his tiny haven, illuminating his trembling form. He could see her looming shadow, feel the oppressive weight of her gaze through the particle-board wood of Lori's dresser. There was no escape now. She was going to find him.

There came a gentle tap as fingers clasped the brass knobs of the underwear drawer from the outside.  The drawer ever-so-slowly opened and he saw her.  

The intruder.

As he predicted, it was Lori’s daughter staring down at him, her innocent face painted in moonlight. She looked like an angel, dressed in a pristine white spaghetti-strap night shirt that ended just high enough above her pajama pants to show a flat tummy. He caught a glimmer of metal in her mouth as a single finger pressed against her pouty, glossy lips to command silence.

Michael’s breath caught in his throat.  Her large, expressive brown eyes bore into him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.  Those eyelashes…so thick and beautiful.  As she leaned forward to get a closer look, Michael’s eyes widened as he stared in awe at her cleavage.

This wasn’t Victoria.  

It was Isabella.

Michael screamed at the top of his lungs. “LOOOOOORRRIIIIIII! PLEEEEEEEEASE HELP MEEEEEE! WAKE UP!!!!!! PLE—”

“Quiet!” Isabella hissed, quickly pulling Michael towards her. She cupped the miniature man against her cotton-clad stomach, pressing him tight enough to muffle his already barely audible squeaks. Her warmth surrounded him, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the terror coursing through his veins. Michael wriggled in her grasp, his tiny heart pounding furiously.

Isabella’s hold was gentle yet inescapable. Her fingers cradled him with surprising care, but the power she held over him was absolute. He was utterly at her mercy, and the uncertainty of her intentions filled him with dread. What could she possibly want from him in the dead of night?

His mind raced with horrifying possibilities. He couldn't predict what Isabella, with her innocent yet intensely curious gaze, might do next. The fear of the unknown gnawed at him, making him almost wish he was back in the humiliating but predictable safety of Lori’s care. Even the indignity of being nestled in Lori’s asscrack seemed preferable to this—at least there, he knew what to expect. There, he was hidden and protected from the prying eyes of her daughters.

Michael screamed at the top of his lungs. “LOOOOOORRRIIIIIII! PLEEEEEEEEASE HELP MEEEEEE! WAKE UP!!!!!! PLE—”

“Quiet!” Isabella hissed, quickly pulling Michael towards her. Even with the hasteful and rushed way in which she snatched him up, Michael recognized that Isabella was still much more gentle with him than her younger, more brutish sister Victoria had been.  Isabella cupped the miniature man against her stomach, pressing him tight enough to muffle his already barely audible squeaks against the soft, thin cotton. He waited to hear that beautiful motherly tone of Lori’s voice.  Something like “Isabella Mae!  You put Michael down this INSTANT!”.

But as he waited, shaking like a leaf against Isabella’s stomach, he heard Lori’s gentle snoring continue uninterrupted.  His entire body trembled with fear as he struggled to comprehend what Isabella might want with him. 

Isabella's enormous presence overwhelmed Michael. The rise and fall of her breathing–it was fast.  She was nervous…or excited.  He couldn't believe he was actually wishing to be back with Lori, even in the most humiliating of situations. Being tucked away in the safe, albeit degrading, confines of Lori’s asscrack suddenly seemed like a sanctuary compared to the terrifying unknown of Isabella's intentions.

But those big, protective buns of Lori’s were getting further and further away as Isabella quietly stepped out of her mother’s bedroom, pulling the door quietly shut behind her.

~