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RR Lori Warren - Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2023-09-29 23:59:02 +0000 UTCReduction & Relocation - Lori Warren
Chapter 17 - One Morning After
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Bridget was stirred from her deep slumber by the blaring of her alarm clock. She felt a rush of cold air infiltrate hers and Hannah’s intimate cocoon of blankets as she leaned over and slapped lazily at the giant snooze button. In addition to the goosebumps sprouting all over her body, Bridget had a minor headache and a dry mouth from the previous evening. She’d drunk just a little too much wine and she was paying the price now…but oh was it worth it for the fun they’d had the night before!
As the alarm clock’s protests to comfort and sleep fell temporarily silent, Bridget settled cozily back into the shared space with Hannah, tugging the covers snugly around them. She repositioned Hannah’s hand back where it was prior to the alarm clock’s siren: under her arm and between her breasts in a tight, protective cuddle.
Bridget nestled her ample bottom back into the curve of Hannah's hips as if they were two puzzle pieces clicking into place. The brunette wiggled her wide hips, hoping to provoke Hannah to awake for some morning fun. Bridget’s heart quickened with the prospect of an intimate awakening and waited for the feeling of Hannah’s hand to drift down from her breast and firmly grip Bridget’s hips followed by an intensity increasing with each thrust from Hannah. Bridget's desire was palpable, and it seemed as if Hannah might respond, her grip tightening as she gently squeezed Bridget's breast and tenderly brushed her fingertips across her sensitive nipple.
Bridget took a sharp breath and Hannah nuzzled closer into Bridget’s neck, but then the sleeping blonde’s grip relaxed and she fell back asleep.
‘Probably for the best…’, Bridget thought, gently lifting Hannah’s arm off her so she could get up. ‘Gotta get moving.’
The sharp cold bit at Bridget’s naked body and her nipples stiffened as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Hannah was quick to pull the door to their blanket sanctuary shut behind Bridget as the brunette’s body gradually acclimated to the cold bedroom air.
Bridget rose from bed, ensuring that the alarm clock was turned off lest it awaken her slumbering lover. As she stepped toward the restroom, gradually shedding the post-sleep clumsiness of her steps, the brunette adjusted her underwear which had ridden up significantly over night. As the bunched up, soft cotton fabric left the cleavage of her derriere, so too did the tiny subject. He had spent the entire night tucked away and now he squirmed feebly between the outer flesh of her cheeks and the tight cotton of her underwear as if he were a kitten playing in a cloth shopping bag.
“I don’t even remember putting him away last night.” Bridget said quietly, slipping her hand down the back of her panties. The gesture was a familiar routine as she felt around for the subject, pinned between pillowy cheek meat and soft, slightly damp cotton. Her fingers closed around the tiny lovetoy and began retreating as if her hand was a crane machine and the subject a coveted prize.
He swung with her hand down by her hip as she walked and then…it all happened so suddenly.
Sensitive collided with unyielding hard plastic.
A subdued yelp escaped Bridget's lips as her swinging arm connected squarely with the Peloton machine. Her hand came to an abrupt halt, searing pain surging up her arm. Distracted fully by the pain, Bridget had not yet noticed that Newton’s First Law of Motion prevailed and the subject continued his trajectorial path, landing with a soft thud on the carpet between her feet.
A tiny thud resonated as the subject hit the ground, followed by a significantly weightier one as coming from Bridget's dresser. Mittens, their black and brown spotted cat, landed gracefully and wasted no time in darting directly toward the tiny, disoriented man.
The addled subject managed to twist his head just in time to witness Mittens' eager approach. The shrunken man was awestruck by the sight of the overweight, domesticated feline. She was overweight and cuddly, softened by a life spent indoors with Bridget and Hannah but she moved with a surprising grace and terrifying drive toward her helpless prey. Mittens' light brown paws made virtually no sound as they met the carpet, allowing her to cover more ground in mere seconds than the tiny naked man could traverse in minutes. It was a captivating spectacle of nature's prowess, the scale of predator versus prey almost comically unfair and unbalanced.
As Mittens closed in, her predatory instincts undiminished by her plush domesticity, the shrunken man’s vulnerability loomed like a storm cloud over only him. He’d been selected by Mother Nature, and she undoubtedly had tears in her eyes from laughing. His frantic gaze shifted rapidly back and forth from the stealthy advancing feline to the towering, godlike presence of Bridget who stood barefoot above him. Her eyes were closed as she tenderly sucked on her injured fingertip.
The shrunken man could have called out to Bridget, but he had grown so accustomed to being ignored by her that even in this critical moment, it didn’t even cross his mind to try. He no longer looked toward the advancing predator, now an indistinct brown and black blur drawing nearer by the millisecond, nor did he register the jingle of the tiny bell on her collar growing louder. His gaze remained fixed on the towering, apathetic goddess looming above him.
He was so weak and vulnerable now that his body had largely abandoned the very instincts that ensured his ancestor’s survival. This was his instinct now—a primal surrender.
He wasn't seeking to protect himself; how could he, against such overwhelming odds? Instead, his instinct was to place his fragile hope in someone more robust and powerful, yearning for salvation from the formidable force so close he could hear her shallow breaths mixing with the jingling bell of her collar. In this desperate moment, he needed Bridget more than ever, that drowsy goddess who paid him no heed…but he had to keep praying.
Miraculously, Bridget's head swiveled just in time to the sound of the approaching bell—to what grim sequence of cruel Mother Nature’s hierarchy and plan was about to transpire right there before her…unless she intervened. Bridget didn’t want to go through the process of getting a new subject and since Mittens was well known for her sensitive stomach, the brunette decided to intervene.
As Mittens closed the remaining inches toward the quivering subject, Bridget raised her bare foot which sent the focused Mittens thumping into her ankle.
"Shoo, Mittens, shoo! Not yours!" Bridget said in a hushed, hissing tone.
Mittens persisted with several attempts to circumvent the protective barrier of Bridget's bare foot, which remained the sole guardian between the tiny, trembling man and the approaching feline predator. Despite Mittens’ best efforts, Bridget's leg moved with swiftness, her foot unwavering in its commitment to thwart the hungry cat’s every evasive maneuver.
Bridget couldn't help but suppress a quiet chuckle at Mittens' relentless tenacity to catch the tiny man on the floor at her feet but at the same time, the pet would be in BIG trouble if she got her paws on him.
"Mittens, no! Not your food!"
She casually reached down, her colossal fingers extending before Mittens could get around her dexterous, thick leg and plucked the tiny man from the carpeted floor.
The hungry feline growled in defeat, licking her lips as Bridget stood back to full height, holding the subject tightly. As Bridget's massive fingers enveloped him, the shaking subject became overwhelmed with gratitude. He pressed heartfelt, respectful kisses into her index finger, the only part within his limited reach while ensnared within her grip. However, Bridget responded with silence and cold indifference. Her reaction consisted of a minor adjustment in her grasp, ensuring that he could no longer access that particular finger, denying him even the smallest gesture of gratitude.
Mittens observed the unfolding scene with curious eyes as Bridget carried her miniature captive toward the bathroom. It wasn’t until the bathroom door shut behind Bridget and her subject that Mittens' interest finally waned, and she swiftly lost all concern for the shrunken man.
Bridget wiped the last of sleep from her eyes as she centered herself in front of the bathroom mirror. In the corner of the sink’s edge stood a shallow ceramic cup that housed two toothbrushes. One brush was pink and the other pastel green.
As she extracted the pastel green toothbrush from the cup, the subject was unceremoniously deposited in its place next to the towering pink toothbrush. Bridget began brushing her teeth, the tiny man an inconsequential and voteless passenger to her morning routine. She returned the dripping toothbrush back to the crowded cup and the subject could be heard scrambling within the cup to make room.
Bridget reached between the toothbrush cup and her deodorant for a pill container. She twisted open the lid and turned the bottle upside down over her palm. Six tiny, violet tablets into her hand. They looked almost like M&M’s but instead of the M&M logo, stamped on each side of the circular tablet was the letter ‘R’.
She swallowed one, returning the remaining five pills to their container and the child-resistant lid grinded as she twisted it shut.
Bridget's daily regimen continued as she took a seat on the toilet. Her thoughts remained focused on the busy day that lay ahead as she reviewed her schedule. She also set a reminder to refill her monthly prescription from RR Labs. The last time she’d forgotten to refill her prescription, the subject became very ill from lack of nutrition. Despite her attention to detail regarding his sustenance, the subject within her toothbrush cup remained a mere afterthought in her daily routine, an insignificant presence in the grand scope of her world.
The toilet noisily flushed as Bridget turned the shower faucet and extended her hand to gauge the water's temperature. A sense of impatience washed over her as the water seemed to be taking an eternity to warm. With a lingering moment to kill, Bridget took a step back from the shower curtain and cast her gaze downward, her bored eyes finding the toothbrush cup.
The subject had managed to hoist himself upright, dwarfed by towering, branchless trees: one pink and one pastel green. His tiny form clung to the pastel green handle, lips pressed against the smooth plastic surface. He was greedily drinking up the precious droplets cascading from the generous, soaking wet bristles high above.
He clung to the pastel toothbrush like a stranded sailor to a piece of flotsam, huddling beneath the dripping bristles and greedily sucking up each droplet as if it were fresh rain water in an ocean of salt.
Bridget's upper lip subtly curled in reaction.
It wasn't that she held him accountable for quenching his thirst in whatever way he could. After all, it translated to less work on her part. Still, it didn't stop her from finding the sight repulsive, further diminishing any modicum of respect she could have possibly held for him, which was already a meager quantity at best.
In her eyes, he remained an insignificant entity, a blip within the backdrop of hers and Hannah’s life.
In the cover of night, lust, and alcohol, Bridget sometimes found him almost cute. Yet, in the harsh, sobering light of morning, this appeal quickly faded, replaced by a wave of indifference. The paradox intrigued Bridget.
A soft, disgusted "ugh" slipped from her lips as she directed her gaze away from the tiny man nested within the cup. Her attention shifted to the shower, and she extended her hand into the stream of water, feeling its temperature.
Nice and hot. Finally
The cascading water in Bridget's shower enveloped her in a rejuvenating embrace. The night's passion with Hannah had been nothing short of incredible, but it had left a residue on her skin, a sticky reminder of their intense connection. The hot water streamed down her body, washing away the sweat, cum, and saliva that decorated her body like badges of honor and passion.
As the liquid warmth enveloped her, she hummed a song she'd heard on the radio and thought about which morning show she would listen to on her 25 minute drive to work.
Nearly 20 minutes later, Bridget reached for a fluffy white towel, exited the shower, and set about drying herself. Each stroke was purposeful, a ritualistic act of renewal, her deft hands rubbing the towel against her skin in vigorous yet gentle motions.
She rubbed vigorously, enjoying the soft sensation against her rosey-red, exfoliated skin, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of being clean.
Bridget peeked down into the toothbrush cup once more. The subject who had no choice but to wait had curled into a slumbering ball, a fragile figure nestled as if curled up at the bottom of a shallow, porcelain well. Without a flicker of emotion or care, Bridget plucked him from the toothbrush cup.
He awoke abruptly in Bridget’s grip; she could sense it with her fingertips by the way he fidgeted and twitched, as if the blurry line between dream and reality was sharpening. She arbitrarily turned the hot and cold handles into what she figured would be appropriately warm and then she bathed him. She passed him through her wet fingers and the heavy stream for a brief 10-15 seconds, rinsing away the remnants of the previous night's passion as he squirmed helplessly in her grasp.
Bridget briskly dried the subject with her damp towel and left the bathroom, clouds of steam following her back into her bedroom.
Under usual circumstances, this would have been the time when Bridget returned the minuscule little man back to the familiar cradle between her plump, warm, and impeccably clean buttocks. She’d get dressed, concealing her tiny little secret in her bottom and depart for work, leaving him there in her crack for the entire work day.
Today was going to be a little bit different.
Bridget's gaze lovingly fell upon her beloved fiancée. Since Bridget’s shower, sunshine had entered the window and warmed the bedroom just enough to encourage the sleepy blonde to emerge from her cocoon of blankets. She rested upon her stomach, eyes concealed behind gently closed lids, her cute face smooshed against her pillow.
Her pristine, petite feet playfully peeked out from beneath the blankets, velvety white soles upturned toward the spinning ceiling fan.
After a few moments of surveying the bedroom for Mittens, Bridget concluded that the feline must have walked out to find something else to play with and not returned.
With the bedroom door gently closed, Bridget tiptoed back to the slumbering figure of her partner. She leaned in closer, her fingers cradling the diminutive subject in her palm.
Bridget carefully lowered the tiny being onto the expansive blank canvass that was Hannah’s creamy white sole. Positioned deadcenter upon Hannah's relaxed sole, the subject appeared so small and insignificant. How funny it was to imagine Hannah’s tiny, dainty feet dwarfing something…but they did!
He looked so tiny against the vast, crinkled expanse of her foot, and the blonde’s toes twitched in response to his arrival.
He looked up at Bridget with an amusing helplessness, on his hands and knees…a nervous castaway atop a creamy, wrinkled raft in the middle of a pink cotton ocean.
Oh, but he knew EXACTLY what was expected of him.
The first few times she’d done this, Bridget had to explicitly instruct him to kiss, sometimes she’d even have to tell him more than once in the very beginning. But as time passed, he’d reached the point in his training that he didn’t have to be told even once; he instinctively dropped his face between his hands and started planting deep, passionate kisses on Hannah’s luscious, dimpled sole. Despite her confidence in his learned obedience, Bridget remained there for a moment overseeing his work, making sure it was to her satisfaction.
Bridget couldn't help but smile as she observed Hannah's subtle yet unmistakable response to the subject's worship of her sleepy feet. The delicate curling of Hannah's toes, adorned with vibrant blue toenail polish, was enough to break the subject’s concentration as he struggled to maintain his balance atop Hannah’s sole.
With her lover entranced by the tiny figure at her feet, Bridget turned away, leaving the subject immersed in his subservient duties. She made her way back to the dresser and tossed her towel into the hamper.
“Was that a dream?” Hannah said sleepily, careful not to move her feet as the little one kissed dutifully.
Bridget, focused on her morning routine and sliding into her panties, asked with a hint of curiosity, “What's that, love?”
Hannah gingerly shifted her head, carefully cradling it with her hands beneath her cheek as she propped herself up. Her endearingly tangled, sun-kissed hair cascaded in wild disarray, framing her gorgeous face. "Last night…all of it…from the moment we walked in the door until the moment we fell asleep...it felt like a dream. Like it just didn't feel... real…and even now…it just almost feels too perfect, dontchya think?"
Bridget continued dressing while she spoke. She settled on Hannah's side of the bed, resting her ankle on her opposite knee as she pulled up a pair of dark stockings.
"Of course it’s all real," she reassured her lover with a gentle smile. "But why can't dreams be reality, too? Who's to say it has to be one or the other? Because, let me tell you, honey..." Bridget tugged the stocking up until it snugly adorned her voluptuous thigh. "...last night was as real to me as it could have been a dream to anyone."
"You are SUCH a smooth talker," Hannah remarked, her voice playfully blending 75% seriousness with 25% humor. She stretched her arms and legs carefully, relishing in the satisfaction of waking up. Gently turning her head, she directed a sweet but firm command toward the tiny subject still diligently worshiping her sole.
"Other foot, sweetheart."
Hannah extended her right foot and positioned it delicately atop her left sole. Without a moment's hesitation, the subject immediately complied jumping to the other foot and planted kisses just as focused and passionate as those that decorated her right foot’s sister. With utmost appreciation and respect, he lavished her foot with the attention it deserved.
“It's so weird when you talk to him like that.” Bridget said, adjusting the seam of her nylon stockings along her toes.
Hannah laughed, “What? Like he’s a person?”
“He’s not though.” Bridget retorted with a hint of amusement.
Hannah shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t hurt anyone, right?”
Bridget lowered her feet and wiggled her black-mesh toes into the carpet. They both smiled as Bridget pinched Hannah’s lightly freckled cheek, “No, softy. I suppose it doesn’t.”
Bridget began the process of getting dressed, selecting a conservative, knee-length skirt paired with a stylish blue blouse. The challenge of pulling the waistband up over her curvaceous, rounded cheeks was a task in itself, but Bridget knew that she was putting on quite the show for her lover. As Bridget grappled with her outfit, she couldn't help but overhear the faint giggles emanating from behind her.
Hannah's voice, laced with amusement, filled the room, "She's not fitting, huh?"
Without missing a beat, Bridget continued her struggle to tame her ample backside, inch by inch, squeezing it into the stubborn skirt.
Her retort came with a playful tone, "Oh, don't worry. She'll be fitting PERFECTLY over your face tonight."
Hannah's voice purred with intrigue, "Oooooo...promise?"
Bridget stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her skirt down over the massive, rounded expanse of her backside. It felt peculiar not to have the little subject buried between her cheeks, but it was also a welcomed relief. Taking care of a tiny man who lives in your butt is not an incredibly involved process, but there were some minorly inconvenient responsibilities that she was happy to not worry about today. She turned to Hannah, her eyes sparkling mischievously, and remarked, "You know the only reason I'm even okay with having a butt this big is because I know you absolutely adore it, right?" Bridget playfully teased.
“Where are you going?” Hannah asked.
“I have to go to court today, I’ll be there all day unfortunately. We can’t all have summers off!” Bridget replied, wiggling her toes into a pair of chunky-heeled black pumps stationed by the dresser. Her sheer, smooth nylon feet slid in with practically no resistance. “But maybe we can go out for dinner tonight?”
Hannah smiled big, rolling over onto her side, her large creamy breasts undulating like soft, bare, inviting mountains as they settled, one nestled comfortably upon the other.
“It’s a date.”
Bridget caught Hannah in the mirror looking over her shoulder down toward her feet and a light giggle came from her lips. “So I guess you’re not bringing him today?”
“No.” Bridget replied flatly into the mirror, putting on her earrings. “They just installed the new body scanners at the entrances I was telling you about last week, remember? You’re alright with watching him, right?”
Hannah looked left to fake as if she was even taking a second to think about it and a big grin spread across her face, “Ummmm….do you even have to ask?”
Bridget laughed, “I didn’t think I did, but you never know.”
Bridget made her way to the foot of the bed, where the tiny subject was valiantly struggling to get back up onto Hannah’s foot. He must have tumbled off when Hannah rolled to her side and Bridget couldn't help but find the situation comical. The brunette couldn’t decide what was funnier: the subject's relentless effort to return to those luscious, wrinkled soles, following his last command even in the apparent disinterest and lack of attention was amusing….or that the beauty in bed didn’t even care to help him so that he could properly worship her. Chuckling to herself, Bridget scooped him up and headed toward the headboard of the bed.
“Mittens tried getting him again this morning, so be on the lookout if you set him down or anything.” Bridget said.
“Awww…she was probably just trying to play with him.” Hannah said cutely.
Bridget chuckled, “No, she was definitely trying to eat him.”
Bridget pressed her lips to Hannah's, kissing her with a sweet, tender passion that sent shivers down both their spines. With her free hand, she sensually trailed her fingers along the blanket, drawing it away to reveal the full grandeur of Hannah's substantial bosom. The sight was nothing short of breathtaking. Hannah's left breast sprawled across the mattress, its voluptuous mound effortlessly cradling the weight of its equally impressive twin sister.
As Bridget deepened the kiss, her hand wandered lower, eventually finding its way to Hannah's right nipple. She began to tease it, eliciting shivers of delight from her lover.
Bridget adjusted her grip upon the large stiffening nipple and began lifting up, the flesh of Hannah’s humongous right tit was completely lifting to follow its nipple, unburdening her splayed left tit of all that impressive weight.
A majority of the mass was sagging and losing its shape as the fully stiff nipple pointed toward the ceiling. With the new space created between Hannah’s lifted right tit and her splayed left tit pressing into the mattress, Bridget set the subject down. He dropped to his knees, not even pretending that he could maintain bipedal balance atop Hannah’s massive left breast. Bridget carefully nudged him in deeper between Hannah’s breasts, closer and closer toward Hannah’s heart. He went along with the motions, just as he did with the toothbrush cup…just as he did with Hannah’s feet…just as he did with everything now.
"Did you feed him?" Hannah asked as she looked down. It was an exercise in futility as he’d left her eyeline, disappearing into the fleshy canyon of her massive chest. Hannah shifted her wild hair off her shoulders and behind her back as the subject completed his clumsy, crawling journey, arriving at the skin of Hannah’s chestplate. He was curling up in a ball, cast in what must have been a terrifyingly huge shadow by the spherical, misshapen fleshy orb above him.
"Dunno..I’m assuming he filled up after we went to bed" Bridget said.
She let go of Hannah’s heavy breast, allowing it to crash down atop its twin and come to rest, completely swallowing the tiny naked man in an impossibly large avalanche of peachy cream, jiggly flesh and fat. "If not, I'm sure he can wait till I get home."
The blonde’s tremendous right tit continued to jiggle, soft flesh rippling in reverberating waves for several seconds. "I can feed him if you want."
Bridget said, "No, it's fine. I've only got about 5 pills left. And if you took one now, it would take a full day or so for it to take effect. He can wait until later."
Hannah nodded, hugging her humongous breasts in and yawning.
“Don’t worry about Mittens” Hannah said, sighing deeply, the subject making a few final attempts to get comfy amidst the hundreds of tons of soft, warm, and somewhat sticky tit flesh. His struggles were barely strong enough to send a few subtle ripples through her significant bosom.
“We’ll be alright. We’ll probably just stay in bed all day. It's one of those days, I think.” Hannah said.
“Luck-y” Bridget said, leaning in and planting a single kiss on Hannah’s nose. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” Hannah said, grabbing the iPad and putting on an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy. She pulled her properly pampered but slightly chilly feet back in under the covers and tucked the covers up under her chin. The busty naked blonde rolled over to face the other direction in bed, gently holding her breasts firmly together so as not to dislodge or disrupt the subject in her cleavage.
