RR Lori Warren - Chapter 20 (Patreon)

Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren

Chapter 20 - Michael's Options

[October 24th, 2005]

Lori awoke with a long, luxurious stretch, her eyes blinking open as the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains. She extended her arms overhead, fully savoring the sensation of her body awakening from its deep slumber. She couldn't help but acknowledge the persistent itch that had nestled itself provocatively on her inner thigh.

As she slid her feet out from under the covers, the plush, cozy embrace of her fuzzy slippers welcomed and warmed her toes.

Her feet dangled gracefully over the edge of her spacious bed, a sturdy yet elegant piece of furniture that accommodated her form without complaint. The previous day was filled with chores and errands, seeing Lori on her feet all day long. The aching sensation in her feet had been repaired overnight but was now replaced by a faint pulsing sensation that extended down to her lower extremities, where

Emerging from the cocoon of her bed's warmth, she stood tall, allowing herself a leisurely stretch. The arching of her back and curving of her waist caused several joints and bones to pop in a satisfying, stress-reducing manner. Her left hand covered her mouth, muffling a yawn, and her right hand deftly adjusted a wayward wedgie.

“Please don’t be empty, please don’t be empty” Lori chanted as she reached into the bottom drawer of her nightstand.  The thick plastic of the bag crinkled and Lori felt nothing inside but air.  She was about to sigh in disappointment when she pressed down in the last uninvestigated corner of the bag, feeling and hearing a crisp snap.  It was a single pretzel stick. That was enough!  More than enough!

Lori snapped the pretzel stick into halves, then quarters, and set them down on the nightstand next to a framed picture of her, Gina, Isabella, and Victoria at the beach. She then twisted open a nearly empty, 20-ounce bottle of generic root beer and carefully filled the cap half-way.  This little meal fit for a miniature king would go a long way for sure!

With a pretzel stick fragment in her right hand and the half-filled soda cap in her left hand, Lori made her way toward her dresser. With each heavy step, the soft, pink fuzz lining the slippers squished and flattened beneath her naked, boxy soles until she arrived at the top drawer. Despite how gently she pulled, the drawer inevitably jerked along its squeaky metal rails which jolted awake the little person inside.

“Good morning, Michael. It's time to start the day, my dear.” Michael rubbed his eyes, rising from his cozy nest of Lori’s lesser-worn underwear and silently started walking toward the corner of the drawer. He rubbed his eyes as he stopped at the empty corner of the drawer, flanked by several stains in the particle-board wood.  She accidentally spilled some soda from the cap as she set it down, donating more carbonated sugar to the growing stain.  Next down was the pretzel fragment, and Lori made sure to rub her fingers so as to dislodge the tiny shards that were clinging to her skin. Each of those shards were small enough to wedge into the grooves of Lori’s fingerprints, and yet they were large enough for Michael to pick up and consume. Satisfied with Michael’s nibbling, Lori was just starting to shut the drawer when she heard a barely audible squeak.

The sound was different from the metal-against-wood squeak of her drawer.  The squeak came from Michael; she’d heard both enough now to be able to tell the difference.  Despite his stumbling, off-balance posture from her start of shutting the drawer, he was trying to get her attention as if he were a castaway on an island trying to flag down an airplane.  Lori bent at the waist to get close enough to hear him.  Her left hand instinctively rushed to her bosom, restricting anything from spilling out of her spaghetti strap sleep shirt, lest her large breasts invade the tiny little man’s space like a creamy pale avalanche of flesh.  His adorable little eyes widened, indicating hints of fear, respect, appreciation, and Lori delightful detected some resounding notes of arousal.

“What is it, hon?” Lori asked, brushing hair away from her ear to confirm she’d hear him correctly.  “Remember, you’ve got to speak up!”

“Can I have something else tomorrow maybe?” Michael asked.

“No more pretzels?  It's your favorite, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I love pretzels, but I’ve had them a lot…I feel like I need…I dunno…nutrition?  Pretzels are great but I’ve been feeling really weak lately, and I think it's because I’ve had nothing but pretzels for—”

Lori interrupted him, not wanting to spend TOO much time on this. Feeling like he was listened to was important and everything but she was a busy woman with a lot of other things that needed her attention!

“—Sure, sure…I understand.  We’ll get you something better tomorrow. How about……” Lori patted her chin with her finger and thumb, looking at the ceiling, “….dealer’s choice?”

Michael didn’t look too excited about that idea, but Lori had a huge ear-to-ear grin.  “I…I trust your judgment.” Michael said nervously.

“Okay great. Gotta shower.” She said shortly but politely, releasing the iron-grasp on her overflowing bosom after she’d stood back to full height. Lori then grabbed a pair of cute lavender panties from a neatly folded stack adjacent to Michael’s bed, offering him a gentle air kiss his way before shutting the drawer.

Lori shed her clothing once in the bathroom. Her heavyset frame bore the indications of motherhood, some worn more proudly than others, and yet she moved gracefully through the dimly lit bathroom.

The bathroom's tiles were cool beneath her bare feet as she entered the shower, and the soothing sound of steaming, crashing water filled the air. Lori's ample, curvaceous form was shrouded in a cascade of steam as she adjusted the water temperature to her liking.

She popped open the cap of her shampoo bottle, releasing the fragrant scent of lavender into the air. She thought back with amusement to their last house where all four girls shared a bathroom.  The idea of having a full bottle of anything was laughable back in those days! She poured a generous amount of lavender shampoo into her palm, allowing the water to penetrate her thick, wavy hair.

Lori gently began massaging her scalp, eyes closed in peaceful contemplation. Her strong, capable hands worked their way through her lush locks, a sense of tranquility washing over her with each soothing stroke.

As the lather built up, she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of introspection and relaxation. Inevitably, the responsible mother’s focus drifted to her responsibilities.  She had plenty of errands to do, some household chores, and today was going to be the day she finally honored her promise to Victoria to try the dancing game the girls loved playing on their Wii.

She continued to massage her scalp, her hair now a frothy, fragrant cloud of bubbles. The scrubbing was not getting her anymore clean, it just felt good.

It had been over a month since Michael had shown up at Lori’s door.  There were some clumsy, “growing pains” moments in that time, but all-in-all, Lori thought that she and Michael had some very productive conversations. They talked about priorities and expectations…compromises and considerations…and even though there was A LOT that they seemed to disagree on, they ultimately came to a pretty good place, at least Lori thought so.

Lori reached for her pale blue loofah, hanging on the shower rack and waiting for her right where she’d left it yesterday. It was much smaller than the worn-out pink loofah that it replaced but she’d gotten it on sale and it still did the job just fine. The loofah's fibers were soft and inviting to the touch but with enough pressure, the sensation would be pleasantly abrasive and exfoliating.  It was an instrument for pampering just as much as it was for cleaning. She applied a generous amount of her favorite shower gel, a fragrant blend of rose and vanilla, onto the loofah, which bloomed with a pale pink lather that overwhelmed the light blue as she worked it into the fibers.

As she began to guide the loofah across her curvaceous body, the frothy lather traced a path along her shoulders. Moving down, Lori's full, shapely bosom was lovingly treated to a pampering massage. The small, blue loofah explored the maternal curves and valleys of her ample chest, diligently touring the space between her creamy breasts, inspiring them to sway as she scrubbed under her arms. The loofah explored the undersides of her breasts as well, taking care to cleanse every inch and leaving her skin feeling supple and refreshed.

The rule regarding the experiment, as Lori explained it to Michael, was…well…that RR Labs made the rules…they were the one who was paying them, after all.  And Lori didn’t take pleasure in putting her foot down on the 12-hour rule, but her unwillingness to budge on this issue seemed to be paying off.  It had been nearly a week since he’d suggested alternatives or flat-out asked her not to do it.  That was progress!

Since he seemed to accept that the 12-hour rule was not a rule they would be breaking, and since Michael was having a difficult time adapting to it, Lori proposed a deal. The deal was he would meet the 12-hour requirement in her bottom in one of two ways that she referred to as his “options”.

Option #1 - Bedtime & Four:  Lori would take Michael to bed with her, nestled deep in her rear and he would remain there tucked safely between her cheeks while she slept. She would wake up 8 hours later and remove him, leaving only 4 hours left to be made up at some point throughout the day.

Option #2 - Six and Six: Michael gets the evening to himself, sleeping in his “bachelor pad” AKA Lori’s sock & underwear drawer.  However, first thing in the morning, Lori would tuck him between her cheeks and he’d remain there for 6 hours.  After 6 hours or so, depending on what Lori was doing, he would get a short, few minutes break.  After the break, he would be returned to her backside for another 6 hours, completing their 12-hour requirement for the day.

The “Bedtime-Four” option often meant Michael would be done with his 12-hour commitment much earlier in the day, leaving the rest of the time for him to relax in whatever way he chose.  He often chose to spend it in private, so Lori set up a space for him in the top drawer of her dresser.  It sounds like the ideal option, but the downside was that it was basically a coin flip as to whether Lori would be sleeping on her stomach or back.  If she slept on her stomach, it was tolerable since her cheeks were slightly spread, when she wasn’t wearing the training underwear of course. 

He had communicated to her that this kind of position was the most ideal scenario for him to do his time.  But the other side of the coin, sleeping on her back, was practically unbearable. Michael had told her that her ass cheeks under compression felt like cinder blocks, and whatever position he’d been in when Lori unconsciously rolled onto her back would be his fixed position, locked in until she rolled back over…if she rolled back over.  According to him, it was the worst when she sat, but at least she didn’t often sit for a straight 8 hours.

As usual these days, the tiny blue loofah’s most important job was next: cleaning her generous rear. She scrubbed the astounding circumference of each hefty cheek, free to let the pillowy masses of white flesh to jiggle and bounce as much as they needed to.  The lather frothed and swirled over the peachy curvature and then the loofah dipped in between her soapy glutes. Lori let out an involuntary moan as she ran the tiny blue loofah along the entire length of her crack.  The abrasive sensation sent shivers up and down her spine. She continued to run it along the deep valley, gently increasing pressure with each deliberate and pleasurable pass. Lori continued scrubbing the full gluteal crevice, even after she knew it was clean enough for Michael and she turned to let the steamy hot water fall from the shower head against her exfoliated bottom.

Lori wanted to give him a little variety and the ability to make choices since so much of his ability to choose had been signed away at the labs.  Still, she liked consistency and wanted to encourage it, which is why she designed these options specifically to de-incentivize go back and forth between the options while still allowing the choice to exist for him.  It seemed a little manipulative, but it was much better than just telling him he’d do it Lori’s way and that was final.

Lori clenched her doughy cheeks, transforming them into pale concrete boulders.  Her hand emerged from her crack, leaving behind the tiny blue loofah that was now being squeezed like an orange for its juice.  With both hands free, she tended to the area requiring the most sensitive touch, and she couldn’t help but let her mind wander as she paid much more attention to it than necessary.

Her knees became weak and her glutes flexed even tighter before returning to their normal jiggly, soft state.  Even so, the loofah remained obediently in her crack until she removed it.

She was surprised at how quickly Michael caught on…how quickly he realized that going with one option consistently day-to-day would mean consistent time between her cheeks, but switching on any particular day would result in him having to spend at least 4 more hours tucked in her bottom for that day.  For example, say he was on a “Six and Six” and decided he wanted to have most of the next day’s early afternoon to himself. He’d ask Lori to switch to the “Bedtime-Four”.  Michael would then be expected to complete the 12-hour obligation in her crack for the day, and then when it came time for bed, instead of going into his drawer, he would then be on the “Bedtime-Four'' option…which means…back in her crack he would go until morning.

Consequently, there were some days when he would spend over 20 hours in her bottom, for which he would vehemently express his disdain…as if it were really THAT much longer!  Lori made sure to inform Michael that while it was important to her that she grant the little man as much control as she could, Lori still always reserved the right to swap the options depending on hers and the girls’ schedules. Lori tried not to option-swap too often but it did happen from time to time.

Her breasts splayed against her own chin as she bent at the waist to clean her feet, applying more pressure to the loofah on her soles, heels, and toes than she had anywhere else on her body. Annoyed, she used her free hand to hold her heavy, swaying breasts at bay as she finished up.  Lori returned the spent loofah to its hook where it would wait patiently to be used again tomorrow.

It took a fair amount of thought to develop this system of choices and it was all for Michael. Lori certainly wasn’t getting any benefits out of it!  In fact, she couldn’t help but think at times how much easier things would be for her if she just kept him tucked away between her glutes all the time.  No need to worry about any of this if he’s just…always there.  She often avoided going too far down that line of thought, for she knew exactly where it would end up…where he would end up.

Lori checked her phone after stepping out onto the bathmat, water pooling slowly down around her feet as she dried herself off.  She responded to a work email and brushed her teeth.

Despite their progress, there were still some things that Lori had deliberately refrained from bringing up.  One example was his name.  Something about now knowing it made him seem more…more considerable…at least a little bit.  She hadn’t asked him for it; he’d offered it up himself.  Lori suspected he did it for that very reason.  It was clear that Michael was smart.

There were other things she avoided discussing with him as well…things that he almost certainly had to have experienced but Lori’s thought was that if she didn’t bring it up, it didn’t have to be addressed…

* * * * * * * * * *

Last Night

Dr. Walker: That’s great, Lori.  I wouldn’t be too worried about it.  In fact, if memory serves right, the most challenging hurdle a new subject must overcome is the transition from 4-hour days to 12-hour days.  It’s a huge leap and both of you should be very proud of yourselves for handling it so gracefully.  And If he’s accepted the increase this quickly, I expect future increases will be even more natural.  But enough about the subject, how are YOU doing?

Lori:  Oh, not too bad.  I received my first RR paycheck the other day, which was wonderful.

Dr. Walker: Oh, I’m glad. You earned it!

Lori: I took the girls out to this fancy Mexican restaurant we often drive by but never visit because of how expensive it is. They absolutely loved it; they felt like royalty!  After that, we did some shopping at Forever 21, and we all finished out the day by getting mani/pedi’s.

Dr. Walker: That sounds like a great day. I’m so glad you and your girls could experience something new and exciting! What did you get to eat?

Lori: Oh… well….you know, the girls had all the food they wanted and even dug into some fried ice cream at the end.  I only had a few chips with no salsa.  If memory serves me right, I think I was unable to keep Mich—the subject—in my bottom at all until about 11 am that day and so I had to keep him tucked away for the rest of the day in order to meet the 12 hours.  That meant he had to come to the restaurant with us.

Dr. Walker: Okay, I’m not sure I understand what that has to do with your decision not to get a meal.

Lori: Well, he was in my bottom while we were eating, and would remain there for the rest of the night with no breaks.  And we had the option to get a huge variety of food…from a Mexican restaurant of all places!  I didn’t want him to have to experience any..well…gas.

Dr. Walker: Hmm…I see…..

Lori: To be perfectly honest, Dr. Walker, I’ve been adjusting my diet. I’ve been eating food less likely to cause…. bloating and gas.

Dr. Walker: Because you’re trying to avoid passing gas directly onto him while he is between your buttocks?

Lori: Well, I’m glad you said it because I don’t think I could have…but yes.

Dr. Walker: Lori….

Lori: I know! I know, Dr. Walker.  But I just can’t bring myself to put him through that!  He’s already been through so much! I feel like if he were to have to experience something like that, how could I even…I don’t know…it just seems so demeaning!

Dr. Walker: Lori, I cannot think of a more inherent and necessary aspect of long-term rear confinement and residence than developing a familiarity with this completely natural process.  Everyone does it and you should not feel guilty about that.

Lori: I know, Doctor.  And when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound crazy at all…but in my mind…in my head…you’re suggesting I should…break wind directly onto him!

Dr. Walker:  You said earlier that he spends the night in your rear on occasion, correct?

Lori: Yes, when either of us picks the “Bedtime & Four” option I mentioned earlier.

Dr. Walker: Right.  When he sleeps overnight between your buttocks.  Lori, I’m not suggesting that you should break wind directly onto him.  I’m telling you that you already have…and continue to do so regularly.

Lori: Of course I don’t! That’s not true! I go to extreme measures to make sure he doesn’t have to go through that!

Dr. Walker:  But it is true, Lori.  You understand that once you go to sleep and your muscles relax, any built up pressure you’ve been consciously containing effortlessly escapes your body, right?  You must understand this happens many, many times over the course of just about every normal night.

Lori: …

…So…you’re saying he’s…already—

Dr. Walker: --Yes!  He’s been with you now for weeks, and I can assure you that he is intimately familiar with the full brunt of your emissions. He’s almost certainly confronted with your gas several times over the course of any night he went to bed with you.  It's inescapably true.  Lori, you have to trust me on this…I appreciate that you’re trying to do the right thing here but understand: you were asleep during these experiences but I assure you they happened…and they happen regularly. And most importantly, the subject is completely used to them by now.

Lori: ….

Dr. Walker: Don’t modify your diet…not unless it's what YOU want to do.  He can handle anything you throw his way, Lori. I promise.  This is what he’s supposed to do! This is precisely the kind of routine, natural experience that we need to confirm a size-reduced individual can learn to live around, adapt to, accept, or maybe even one day embrace.

Lori:  So…I shouldn’t try to…you know…hold them until I’m able to take him out?

Dr. Walker: Absolutely not.  You’re not doing him any favors that way and I see no way in which that enriches your life. In fact, I would venture to guess it only breeds inconvenience.  He needs to understand what rear-housing entails…all of it, the good and the bad in its entirety.

Lori: Thanks, Dr. Walker.  You always say the right thing.

Dr. Walker: Of course, Lori!  Was there anything else?

Lori: Actually, yes…one other thing…

~