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RR Lori Warren - Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2023-06-02 21:00:01 +0000 UTCReduction & Relocation - Lori Warren
Chapter 6 - Halfway Done
[September 22, 2005]
Lori wiped her brow, grudgingly walking across the blacktop parking lot of her final department store. She sighed contently as she got into her parked car, allowing her wide bottom to sink into and fill the driver’s seat. She had been on her feet for a few hours now, initially planning only to return some blouses but never one to pass up on a sale, Lori ended up visiting several stores. Despite having spent decades of her life walking around and living her life without a tiny, naked man buried between her cheeks, Lori couldn’t help but feel strange as her cheeks rubbed rhythmically up against…nothing. They bounced against only each other. It was interesting what just 2 hours had done to her muscle memory.
It felt nice to take the weight off her feet and center her wide hips evenly on the cushiony leather. She would’ve liked to turn on her favorite feature: the seat warmers, but she figured she had already had enough of a…workout…with all that walking; her subject was already going back into her bottom when she got home, for at least another 2 hours…she didn’t need to make things worse for the poor thing. She had visited the bank, picked up a few groceries, and with the last errand crossed off her list, it was time to go home.
Lori Warren walked in the door, greeted again by the wonderful cinnamon scent of the living room as she set her keys on the end table and neatly lined her sneakers up next to the mess that was her daughter’s footwear. Gina and Isabella were on the couch watching a movie. Sure enough, all of Isabella’s school work was neatly tucked into her pink and black backpack and put away along with any trash she may have generated while studying.
“Groceries are in the car, girls.” Lori said, setting her bags of clothing from the mall down next to her sneakers.
Isabella turned her head from the movie to her mother.
“Did you get honey buns??” she asked energetically and sweetly. Gina was also interested in the answer.
Lori smiled and nodded, “Backseat.”
Gina paused the movie and both girls jumped up from the couch, moving quickly toward the door. While Isabella hastily slid her feet into her black flip flops, Gina opted to run out in her bare feet. The two girls laughed as they raced to get the bags, and Lori smiled as they brushed past her. She wanted nothing more than to relax but figured she should take her clothing upstairs first. She placed the several bags on her dresser, briefly looking at her underwear drawer.
She didn’t open it. Maybe he needed a little more time. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he earned it.
The dining room and kitchen were filled with the distinct rustling of paper and plastic bags, growing more clear to Lori as she descended the steps. Curious, nimble young fingers were undoubtedly searching for treasure, and then she heard the crinkling of plastic wrappers. Lori entered the living room as Gina and Isabella entered from the kitchen, sticky glazed honey buns in hand, and the three approached the couch. Isabella sat down on her feet with a ceramic plate on her lap, her honey bun cut up into smaller pieces so as not to damage her braces.
As the girls settled back into their movie and their delicious sugary snack, Lori got comfortable on the chase and squinted at the screen.
“What is this?” She asked as Isabella pressed play.
“27 Dresses, we didn’t get that far into it yet”, Gina said.
“Yeah we can start it over for you, Mama.” Isabella added.
“Thanks sweety, that’d be great.”
Lori set her sock clad feet up on the chase and sighed, they were warm and pulsing from the work they’d done and weight they’d carried, and the sensation almost felt nice.
“Where’s Vicky?”
The moment the question left Lori’s throat, she felt a lump growing in its void. When Lori went upstairs earlier, she hadn’t checked Victoria’s room to see if she was home. What was more alarming: she hadn’t taken the time to confirm that the subject was still safe in sound in her underwear drawer! Her mind flooded with visions of Victoria’s pounding footfalls up the steps…and the mischievous teenager sneaking into her mother’s room and opening the underwear drawer. She pictured that playful grin spread across Victoria’s cherubic face as she purposefully took the tiny little box into her own bedroom.
…and that deafening sound of the devious teenager locking her bedroom door.
Lori got as far as putting her tired feet back on the ground ready to explode up and confirm her irrational paranoia when Gina plainly replied, “I think she went to Sasha’s tonight.”
“Ohhh, that’s right.” A sigh escaped Lori’s lips as she put her feet back up.
‘God, it’s truly exhausting to worry about him.’ Lori thought.
She rather enjoyed the movie, and any time Lori could spend with her girls was always a treat for her. Once the movie was over, Lori was ready to get back on her feet and continue with the evening. She rolled her eyes, seeing the box of honey buns out and open, but only half of the groceries put away. Lori instructed Isabella and Gina to put the groceries away and as they did, she transferred their wet laundry from the washer to the dryer. Just like earlier, she squatted down to grab a pot from the back of the drawer.
Since Lori was wearing tight, stiff jeans, the material did not force itself as firmly into her crack as the thin yoga pants did. Not that it mattered, since the tiny subject was not currently in her butt anyway. Still, this was something she would have to think about going forward. Lori decided that even though the denim did not curve and arc to fit the deep contours of her crack, the stiffness of the material relatively forbade her large cheeks from separating. For this reason, she decided that when she returned him to her bottom, under her jeans, he would have remained perfectly wedged in her crack anyway with no effort on her end.
‘I’ll have to test that at some point,’ she thought to herself as she prepared a few chicken breasts, some stuffing, and green beans.
Lori set everything to cook and wiped the counter down. ‘Speaking of which…’ she thought, washing her hands. ‘I should probably go up and take care of that’.
Lori locked her bedroom door once more and rooted through the box with more diligence. She had recalled Dr. Walker mentioning something called a DDM in one of their phone calls, but there was so much new information being presented (namely the idea of an adult man living in her backside) that it was easy to miss some things.
She set aside a few pamphlets, some that she would look at later, finally finding the Rear-Housing Guide. Using the table of contents, she flipped to the section called “DDM”. Lori creased the corner of the page, deciding that she would read it in a little while.
It was getting late and after going back and forth on it for most of the day, Lori had made the decision that the boy entrusted to her care would not be spending the night in her bottom. The decision of leniency on her part was not without consequence, however.
Since she was not going to force him to sleep in her crack, she had to get the full 6 hours in before it got too late. She tucked the Rear-Housing Guide into her back pocket and unbuttoned her stiff jeans but did not take them off. She just needed enough room to insert the last remaining lavender wipe, for she had been quite active while away.
She frowned as she grabbed the remaining wipe. The seal was open and therefore, it was a little drier than the others. She plunged it down the back of her jeans anyway, wiping at her fleshy spheres. She wished she hadn’t used up so much precious moisture on the outer flesh, because by the time she plunged the wipe between her spherical cheeks, the wipe was nearly spent and much drier. In fact, it came out more damp than it had entered!
She did her best, wiping vigorously to impart the remaining scent of lavender deep between her large glutes. Lori hoped it would be enough as she deposited the spent wipe in the trash.
The box was right there in Lori’s underwear drawer, exactly right where she left it. She saw the pink hint of a light blinking through the thin mesh material of the panties that partially concealed the box. She had to constantly remind herself just how small and helpless he was. It was a difficult concept to wrap her head around, something being so weak and needing her so much. He was just…in there…waiting for her and only her.
Something about it was kind of exciting.
Her girls, so independent and grown up now, were nothing like this anymore.
‘I kind of miss it’, she thought to herself as she gently moved the bra and stack of underwear away from the box and lifted the box out of hiding. She opened the box and peered in. Squinting up at the opening was the tiny man, right where she’d left him. He was so cute. She couldn’t help but smile to see him again, but she also hoped that their exchange this time would be…pleasant.
“Hello, my dear! I hope you enjoyed your break.” She said cheerfully yet quietly, just in case Isabella or Gina could hear her. “I’m sorry to say, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to go back now.” She said matter-of-factly, but sympathetically.
“No!!! Please don’t! You can’t!”, he exclaimed, staring helplessly up at her from inside the box.
The poor boy seemed frantic but also in deep, calculated consideration. He appeared torn on sinking into the box to get away from her and scrambling out of the box which would involve moving toward her.
“I’m sorry dear but I don’t have a choice here, that’s just what the experiment calls for”, Lori responded solemnly. “I’m sure you understand.”
The box lightly flexed to accommodate as best it could two of Lori’s meaty fingers. Acknowledging that they were too thick and lacked the dexterity to pluck him out of such a small box, Lori cleverly turned the box upside down, pouring him into her soft palm. The pink LED had stopped flashing, perhaps it detected his ejection and knew to turn off? ‘Such fancy equipment’, she thought to herself
His skin was warm, as was the inside of the box so she was happy he had been comfortable. He would start getting cold again soon though, no doubt…best to get him back to where the warmth is in abundant supply…and it doesn’t run out.
Lori’s jeans were still unbuttoned so she brought him right around back and pulled away the denim waistband.
She imagined what the view must be like for him, to see the waistband separate from her pale lower back. The sight would surely be epic…the jutting, epic globes squeezing tight enough to form that dark, defined cleavage he would soon be forced to separate and enter if only just enough for his tiny little body to fit. She was more comfortable this time, wedging him deep between her bare cheeks effortlessly. She hadn’t even bothered to separate the mounds of flesh this time, instead opting to gently yet firmly force his naked body into the cleavage. The area between her cheeks was damp…mostly from the wipe, so the lessened friction made his plunge easier.
Her big, cushiony cheeks reluctantly parted, but only enough to allow the tiny man entry into her crack. She wondered if he was strong enough to make the journey into her bottom on his own, without the escort of her fingers. She pulled an empty hand out of her jeans and firmly caressed one of her glutes, one of two big, fat guardian angels protecting him from the world and even from himself. She rhythmically kneaded the flesh of her glutes for a few moments before she pulled the jeans up over her buxom booty and buttoned them up.
The stiffness of the jeans was even more noticeable now that he was sandwiched. It actually seemed to hold him better than the yoga pants and as she discovered from bouncing on her heels a few times, the reverberations of jiggling flesh throughout her glutes did not echo for nearly as long. Clearly there were tradeoffs…pros and cons of being in her bottom when she wore jeans. Perhaps it was uncomfortable for him in certain ways but better in others; either way, this would surely be a good learning experience for him. She looked at her watch. It was 6:30PM.
Lori also had another slightly silly thought.
She liked to think that her big, soft cheeks were protecting the most sensitive part of her body. Naturally, they’d view the intrusion of something so foreign as a little man as something to protect FROM. But now, having met him and spent some time with him, her protective cheeks understood now that he wasn’t something that needed to be protected against. He was the thing that needed protection…so maybe her cheeks accepted him between them. Maybe that’s why it felt much more right this time.
‘That would probably blow the socks right off Dr. Livingston.’ Lori thought with amusement.
Lori could hear Gina’s very loud music coming from the other side of her bedroom door as she walked past. On the other side of the staircase was Isabella’s bedroom door, which was open. She peeked in to see her middle daughter already changed into a pair of pajama pants and a white spaghetti strap top. The teen was lying on her stomach in bed, pristine white socks pointed up at her ceiling fan while she read a college prep book.
“Dinner will be ready soon, Bella.” Lori said gently
When Isabella’s head rose from her book to sweetly acknowledge her mother’s notice, Lori was granted a momentary view of the teen’s prominent cleavage. She was displaying way more than Lori would have liked her to, but at least it was sleepwear and not something she was wearing out to a party. You had to pick your battles with teenagers. She also had a fair amount of sympathy for Isabella. The bigger you are, the less you can do to hide it. Lori knew that lesson well when it came to her rear.
Lori smiled back at her daughter, “Tell the Rockstar next door”.
Isabella giggled and nodded her head.
She tried her best again to make light foot falls on the way down the stairs to reduce the rampant jiggling of her cheeks. Not nearly as much focus was needed since the stiff denim did so well at anchoring the cushiony flesh a bit more in place, but they could not completely cancel out the jiggling. Lori couldn’t help but wonder how he might fare on a walk down the stairs if she were wearing nothing but her panties. Goodness, the jiggling would be unregulated chaos!
She walked straight to the kitchen, focusing on the swaying of her wide hips and vertical swishing of her glutes against one another, rubbing up against the tiny man between them. His struggles felt as intense as ever during her walking, but the stiffness and compression of the restrictive denim prison made the struggling far less productive. It was much easier to ignore.
The green beans and stuffing were finished but the chicken breasts needed just a little more time. Lori remembered the booklet in her jeans pocket and decided to take a look. She wasn’t quite ready to sit down with all the pain that “one-cheek nonsense” brings just yet, so she turned her back to the counter and slowly leaned her butt back against it.
The point at which her butt pressed into the counter was higher than where the subject was positioned between her ass cheeks, so the added compression didn’t seem to directly affect him, which was a win-win situation since she could relieve a bit of weight off her feet. As she leaned, she flipped through the book to the previously earmarked page describing the “DDM”:
Considering the goals of this experiment as they pertain to the female rear end and its proposed suitability as a long-term housing environment for size-reduced individuals, it likely comes as no surprise that we at RR Laboratories enforce minimum standards when it comes to rear-housing. In this section, one such minimum standard are the daily time commitments of rear confinement.
Research has shown that while extended confinement session enforcement is necessary, there is not a “one-size-fits-all” when it comes to duration. Since we cannot standardize confinement duration, we ask that our Participants comply with what we call the “Dynamic Daily Minimum”.
The Dynamic Daily Minimum, or DDM, is a fluent, ever-evolving, minimum rear-end exposure goal that changes and hopefully increases as time passes. Think of it as the minimum amount of time the subject should be confined between your buttocks on any given day. For almost all participants, the DDM initiates on the first day of installation at 6 hours. This means that we strongly encourage our participants to confine their subjects completely between their buttocks for at least 6 cumulative hours per 24-hour period. Another way to say it would be the subject should reside in your backside for 25% of his day at an absolute minimum, every single day.
Please be aware that in the event of any DDM shortcomings, R&R Labs will be made aware. This is possible due to the indications of rear exposure, as experienced by the subject, being picked up and monitored by our instrumentation. We have a team of interns whose main responsibility is monitoring this equipment and its subject exposure indicator readouts in order to confirm the DDM’s are met. If you are having continued issues, please do not try to hide it. Dr. Walker is very approachable and would love to discuss the issue with you.
Beyond the initial hourly requirements, the evolution and specific progression of the DDM is entirely up to you as the participant. Do not feel obligated to increase the DDM but do your best to never decrease! While we would prefer to see a gradual increase in the DDM over time, we understand that housing a subject in your bottom might be strange at first. We understand this may slow the rate of DDM growth. Please work through this and understand that this is what is best for the experiment and for you as a participant. Not quite as high a priority, but it is also worth mentioning that it truly is what is best for the subject as well. The sooner he can acclimate to and accept his new environment within the safety of your backside, the more convenient caring for him will become and the better off he will be.
Accordingly, the participant should understand that while we do enforce a minimum rear-confinement time, there is no maximum rear-confinement time. Additionally, the participant should not feel like drastic increases in confinement time necessarily translate to a permanent increase in DDM. However, general consensus has determined that the average increase in DDM hours per week during the introductory period is between 0.75 and 1.25 hours.
For example, suppose Jenna is in her second week of housing her subject, and during this week she observes a 6-hour DDM. Halfway into the week, for whatever reason, Jenna finds it more convenient to confine the subject between her buttocks for a much longer period of time. She confines him in her backside for a straight 19-hours. Going forward, Jenna is under no obligation to PERMANENTLY increase her DDM to 19-hours (although that would be wonderful!). That being said, if she had been confining her subject within her rear for 6-hours during that week, she might want to consider making best of this opportunity and increasing her DDM to 7 or 8 hours.
The most important thing to take away: the DDM is important and with effort, you are capable of following it and improving it! If you are interested in learning about much longer DDM’s, please contact Dr. Carla Stanhope, head of the “99% club”.
‘Goodness..’, she thought. ’19 hours…’
It just seemed like such an impossibly long time. She wondered how that would even be possible. Lori reflected on having to adjourn to the restroom during her mall shopping, how would she have done that if the subject were with her in her bottom? Sure, she could have removed him from her cheeks while she powdered her nose, but its not as if she could have just hopped in the shower afterward. Returning him to the area deepest between her cheeks immediately after doing…that….
‘Perhaps I’ll just have to carry those lavender wipes with me…wherever I go…’ she thought grimly, not enjoying the hassle, but what other alternative was there?
At least she had a clear understanding of what the DDM was now. She was relieved that she, being in her first work…heck…first day…was right on track as far as the DDM goes. She figured she could keep up with the 6-hours per day of housing him between her butt cheeks, and even when the next week starts, upping his time in her bottom from 6-hours to 7-hours wouldn’t be so scary or impossible.
‘He’d barely even notice’, she thought as she donned some oven mitts and pulled out the chicken.
Lori inserted the digital thermometer into the cooked breast:
162°
‘Perfect’, she thought, taking the oven mitts off and preparing four plates.
One for her.
One for Gina.
One for Isabella.
And one for Victoria.
~
