RR Lori Warren - Chapter 60

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 60 - In Good Company

September 29th, 2006

The engine of Brandi’s black Malibu purred back down the long dirt road out of RR Labs after dropping Lori off.  Apparently she was heading right back out to pick up another Participant. Someone not nearly as experienced as Lori was. Lori couldn’t help but think about the subject under her ample bottom. So small. And even more insignificant.  Lori didn’t even remember his name…or his number, whatever they assigned to replace his name.

Jane escorted Lori up to the building, as far as the buzzer, before unceremoniously shuffling away toward the other side of the building–probably an employee’s entrance, Lori assumed. Now Lori was being buzzed in, and making her way down the short hallway. Lori paused inside the doorway and scanned the RR Labs Waiting Room.  The plush chairs she’d recognized from her last visit were still there, arranged in two neat rows on either side of the mostly bare walls. The waiting room was quiet enough that she could hear the diffuser puff out light, fragrant clouds of lavender-scented mist into the air.  It was quiet, but far from empty. Four women were already seated, each of them strikingly different but all Participants…somewhere along this strange journey.  Lori could tell immediately–she had the eye for it now.

The first woman Lori noticed was seated closest to the door: she was dark-skinned, probably mid-forties, and built like she could run ten miles before appearing winded.  She was dressed in a sports bra and she sat forward with her elbows on the knees of her fitted leggings. She absently bounced one leg and chewed her gum in tight, slow clicks.  Lori triggered her peripheral vision and the sporty woman looked up, but then back down to her magazine just as fast. 

She looked comfortable but bored.  She was housing a subject, and she was used to it.  Lori could just tell.

The next woman was a twenty-something brunette. Glossy-haired, glossy-lipped, and very well put together. She was perched stiffly in her seat, wearing a sharp blazer and skinny jeans, stilettos crossed neatly at the ankle. Her makeup was meticulous and her hair was clearly heat-treated just that morning. Cherry red nails clutched a phone but she wasn’t using it–instead she held it between her thighs.  She looked like the kind of girl that would own the room if she wanted to, but right now she seemed out of her element. She didn’t even look up at Lori.

‘Definitely newer.’ Lori thought, making her way to the check-in counter as her heels clicked against the polished linoleum. ‘Maybe just started.’

Then there was the goth girl, off completely by herself. Early twenties if not a smidge younger but her black hoodie looked older than Lori.  Her eyeliner was as thick as her thighs; she had more jewelry on her face than any of Lori’s girls wore combined. She was sprawled in her chair, legs wide, and fishnet tights stretched over her soft thick thighs. One heavy black steel-toed boot tapped against the tile. The impatient scowl on her face paused only for her to let out a long yawn but then the scowl came right back.  

She looked absolutely bored out of her mind with her thousand-yard stare, but Lori didn’t miss the way her gaze would occasionally dart to the double doors at the end of the hallway.

Lori couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for the subject most certainly tucked away in her ample bottom.  The girl looked harsh and unfriendly. Impatient.  Maybe even sadistic, if all the movies and tv shows were right about people who dressed that way. 

Lori hated to judge books by their covers but she wouldn’t have been surprised if this goth girl used her subject as a tongue scraper. What a different life that little boy probably lived compared to her Michael! 

And finally, in the corner, was the oldest woman in the waiting room. Maybe late fifties, silver hair pulled into a tight bun. She was dressed like she’d just come from a PTA meeting — pearls, loafers, and a conservative, propper floral blouse. She was much heavier than any of the other woman.  Much heavier than Lori. But she carried it well.

Everything about her screamed decorum.  Poise. Old money.  A lot like Lori’s own mother. She had ‘church lady’ vibes without a doubt. And yet she was here.  At RR Labs.  Just like all the other women there, she agreed to this. Which meant she was either housing a tiny shrunken man between her buttocks, or she was looking to get one.  For this woman, it was definitely the former. Lori knew it.

After checking in with Laura the receptionist, Lori chose an open chair directly across from Blazer Girl.

She eased back in her seat, ankles crossed, and reached for the only other magazine not being read. The waiting room was still silent, save for the occasional rustle of fabric, turning page, or bored yawn and exhale of displeasure from the goth girl. Time passed slowly here–up until the double doors opened and a friendly woman in a white lab coat appeared. She was Puerto Rican with curly hair and a warm, friendly smile.

“Mrs. Carter?” she said.

The Gym Queen stood without hesitation. No glance around. No acknowledgment of the others. Just smooth, silent confidence. As she strode assuredly toward the double doors, Lori’s gaze dipped to the motion of her glutes. Because why not?  If there was ever a place to be curious and steal a peek, it would be here, right?  

Where glutes were so important. 

For all she knew, rear-housing was The Gym Queen’s livelihood.  And if it was, she was certainly living well. Despite her athletic, toned build, her cheeks were full-figured and shaped impressively round, like two overfilled balloons pressed tight into spandex. And there was a firmness that Lori could visibly see until she disappeared with the smiling doctor.

If she truly was already ‘with subject’, he’s either in heaven or being steamrolled. Or both.

Lori smirked to herself. A woman with a body like that, taking care of it, she probably doesn’t have a lot of free time. And by extension, neither would her subject. 

‘Wouldn’t surprise me if she works out with him in place.’

About ten minutes later, the double doors swung open and a new woman stepped into the waiting room, clipboard in hand and white coat swaying with each step. Her hair was sleek, shiny, and gorgeous, styled into soft, controlled waves that bounced beautifully on her shoulders as she walked. She was positively stunning–blonde and polished–the kind of ‘beautiful’ that could skip the record and bring an awe-inspired hush to the room like in those teen frat movies that Gina loved.

Despite the small number of waiting Participants, the blonde woman with the clipboard made several passes over the room, like she was looking for someone specific.

The impatient goth girl waved her hand sarcastically. “Uhhh…hello? I’m right here, Dr. Stirling.” 

Dr. Stirling was the stunning blonde clipboard doctor’s name, and her gorgeous golden locks flipped against a high cheekbone as she turned toward the impatient goth girl. A smile spread across her face.

“Miss D’Angelo. Yes, of course.” Even as Dr. Stirling smiled, she still scanned the room once more before giving the goth girl her full attention. “Are you ready for me?”

Miss D’Angelo let out a long, performative sigh before rising, dragging the soles of her heavy boots against the tile with no sense of urgency whatsoever. She didn’t smooth her hoodie or tug at her skirt. Just stood up and started walking, hips swaying with that same lazy, unhurried roll.

Her backside was nothing like Mrs. Carter’s tight, trim, gym-refined silhouette. Miss D’Angelo was the opposite—broad, untoned, and blatantly soft. Her glutes spread generously and spilled beneath the short hem of her dark green plaid skirt, shifting and settling with each step like heavy, pale pancake batter. Despite her youth and otherwise average physique, there wasn’t a trace of firmness to Miss D’Angelo’s bottom. Just pale, plush mass that jiggled on its own program, folding in on itself and creasing deep and dark at the tops of her white thighs as she walked. Dr. Stirling made an attempt at small talk but Miss D’Angelo wasn’t having any of it.  

As if Lori wasn’t already swelling with pride from her earlier conversation with Brandi, imagining how much worse Michael’s life might be with a rude, impatient girl like Miss D’Angelo filled Lori with even more vindication about the care she provided to Michael.

The waiting room remained mostly still and quiet. It was down to Lori, Blazer Girl and the silver-haired woman. And then there was a sharp buzz.

The mechanical clack of a high-action button followed from behind the receptionist desk.  It echoed off the undecorated, mute walls and Laura’s flat voice spoke to a speaker at her desk. 

“Name?” 

Another mechanical click as Laura released the button. And then there was a staticy, telephonic response, much more life and optimism in her tone than in Laura’s.

“Evelyn Vaccaro!”

Laura didn’t say anything back. Instead, she fiddled with something under her desk. Lori then heard familiar mechanical whirring and a loud, chunky unlatching of the front door she herself had entered earlier.

The three that remained, Lori, Blazer Girl, and the older woman, lifted their eyes as the newcomer stepped inside the waiting room.

She was hard to miss.

Tall and glowing with a friendly and welcoming warmth, Evelyn entered with the kind of gentle command and confidence you might expect from a proud, full-figured runway model. And yet, her stature or curvy silhouette didn’t catch the eye nearly as much as what she carried. Instead of her arms swinging in that over-exaggerated way that Lori and her daughters would often find humor in when watching runway models, Evelyn’s arms were busy.  One arm held true a thick-strapped canvas bag on her bare shoulder. And nestled in the crook of Evelyn’s other arm, swaddled in a pale pink blanket, was a baby girl.  

She wore a onesie that matched her tiny pink socks peeking out from under the fuzzy blanket. The whole little bundle gently rocked against Evelyn’s fluid chest with every step. There was a faint, almost imperceptible sound–more a sigh than a coo, as if she briefly considered looking around. But with a fraction of Evelyn’s attention and gentle effort, the babe shifted and turned away from the outside world, nuzzling deeper against the plush slope of Evelyn’s chest.

The woman was undeniably maternal. Broad hips leading up to a soft tummy trying to hide beneath a loose knit sweater. A single thick, pink bra strap curled up over her partially exposed shoulder and despite the bra’s heavy duty promises, Evelyn’s especially prominent, matronly chest bounced with rebellion over each step. Evelyn wore basic flats and stretchy leggings that could have used a lint roller. They were tight, barely containing the generous curve of her backside. She was dressed like a busy mom halfway through a day of errands, but she looked just a quick hair tease and a change of clothes from gracing the cover of a magazine.

Lori’s eyebrows lifted.

‘Wow, didn’t expect that.’

She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Blazer Girl briefly pulled out one earbud to glance over at Evelyn with faint curiosity, but then stuck it back into her ear without a word. 

‘Who brings their daughter to RR Labs?’ Lori wondered.

Victoria was just shy of eighteen, and to even bring her along would have been crazy enough. The thought of bringing an infant child here to RR Labs was peculiar, to put it lightly–but Lori tried her best not to judge.   Lori remembered the unique challenges of early motherhood and part of her wanted to commend the woman for having the confidence to do what she needed to do. And for doing it at that age!  Evelyn looked to be about Lori’s age and Lori couldn’t imagine starting that journey right now. And to make things worse, there was a tanline on Evelyn’s ring finger–where a wedding ring might have been before. 

Maybe she didn’t have much help.

The silver-haired woman offered a warm smile toward Evelyn and her daughter once they stepped close enough, and with a low and kind voice she murmured, “She’s just precious.”

The silver-haired woman was right.  Based on Lori’s own experiences with motherhood, she estimated that the daughter couldn’t have been much older than 12 months. She was tiny, but then again anything held up against those breasts would look small!

“Aw, thank you.” Evelyn stopped to absorb the compliment. She appeared to savor it as she smiled kindly, shifting the tiny bundle against her chest. The motion sent a rippling, eye-catching bounce through her bust, which strained against the loose-knit top. 

“What’s her name?” The silver-haired woman asked.

Evelyn looked down at her daughter and smirked, as if an inside joke had been invoked that no one else knew about.

“Mrs. Vaccaro?”

Evelyn’s head snapped up toward reception. Laura was standing from behind her desk, leaning over the counter.  She gestured with a peculiar impatience for Evelyn to expedite her check-in. She nodded toward Laura and with a smile, held up a single finger toward the silver-haired woman. Evelyn mouthed something to the silver-haired woman.  “I’ll be back.” 

Evelyn continued, with no particular rush, to the check-in desk where Laura was still standing and eagerly waiting.

Lori found herself even more interested now.

Why did Laura look so confused?  And so worried?  Maybe she just as concerned about a child being here at RR Labs? Empowering women and moms aside, the more Lori thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that it really didn’t seem appropriate to bring a child here.

Lori narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to eavesdrop toward the receptionist desk–no luck.  Whatever was being said between Laura and Evelyn was hushed–and deliberately so.  Laura’s brow lifted subtly as she glanced briefly at the baby in Evelyn’s arms and then back up at Evelyn. The receptionist retained her professional composure, although hints of discomfort and uncertainty floated through. The hushed conversation continued and Laura nodded gently along to Evelyn whispers.  

A few words, those with the sharper consonants, found their way to Lori’s curious ears, but nothing distinct enough to indicate what the conversation was about. 

Back. Sorry. Should. Stirling. 

That was about all she could hear.

Laura’s fiery red hair shook as she returned a final nod, an uncertain smile, and instead of asking Evelyn to have a seat, she actually sidestepped out from behind her desk.

Very peculiar, indeed. Admittedly, Lori hadn’t clocked a lot of time here at RR Labs, but she had never seen Laura leave her station.  Her role was to check names, call them back, and manage the screens. But she was now stepping around the counter with a purposeful stride, motioning for the busty mom to follow her.  

Evelyn nodded, clutching her daughter securely and adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder as she followed.  Her thick hips shifted smoothly beneath the oversized knit shirt as she strutted with pride and confidence, causing a ripple of movement across her plush rear. Unlike her bountiful breasts, her buns didn’t have the support of a racey, hot pink bra trying as hard as it could, charged with the hopeless task of restricting all that natural, eye-catching jiggle.   Her cheeks were two plush hemispheres that jostled with even the slightest movement, full of youthful spring and unapologetic heft. And standing next to Laura, who was much shorter and thinner than Evelyn, plush was a good way to describe Evelyn in general.

How strange. Was she some sort of VIP?  Why was she allowed to skip the line? No clipboard, no delay.  Just straight in.

The double doors sealed shut with a faint hiss and now they were left unattended in the RR Labs Waiting Room.  There was just enough time for Lori and the silver-haired woman to exchange curious glances before Laura reappeared alone. She walked briskly back to her desk, her heels clicking softly and her cheeks slightly flushed.  But her freckled face remained otherwise composed.  Professional.  Tight-lipped.

“Apologies for stepping away,” Laura said smoothly, reclaiming her seat and adjusting her headset like nothing had happened.  “Miss Fields?”

Blazer Girl startled and stiffened at the sound of her name — almost dropped her iPod. 

“I crossed paths with Dr. Stanhope in the hall. She’s on her way.  You can start getting ready.”

Miss Fields clawed at the earbuds in her ears and stuffed them along with her iPod into the pocket of her blazer and gathered herself. She stood a little too quickly, brushing invisible dust from her jeans as she moved stiffly toward the doors. Her high heels clacked nervously with each step. Lori watched her closely until another red-haired woman showed up at the double doors.  She had far less freckles on her face than Laura and she wore a lab coat like the other scientists and doctors.  

‘Definitely hasn’t housed yet.’ Lori decided. ‘Or if she has, she’s too uptight to let herself enjoy it. Bet she still asks for his permission.’

Only a few minutes later, the last of Lori’s Participant peers’ time had come.

“Mrs. Ellwood?”

The silver-haired woman rose without hesitation. No fuss. No wasted movement. She moved with quiet grace and surprising posture for her age. And as she turned to walk, Lori’s eyes followed.

The slacks were modest, yes, but there was no hiding it — that woman was blessed.  And the extra weight she carried only amplified that gift. The gift that kept on giving to her subject. Full, wide, matronly, yes — but there was a firmness under the curve that suggested control. Her gait was slow but confident, each cheek moving with an undulating sway.

And now Lori was by herself.

Lori leaned back in the cushioned chair, idly glancing around the waiting room of RR Labs. She’d read through the only magazine that interested her, the much less interesting fitness magazine that the Gym Queen was reading, and now resorted to drawing relief from her boredom in another way. But there really wasn’t much to work with.  The walls were a soft gray. Not a single piece of art to be seen, unless you were to count the redundant signage:

Cell Phone Use is Prohibited

Absolutely NO TALKING when Pink LED is illuminated, except when responding to RR Personnel.

Those pink lights were off now, and that was because there was no one there in the waiting room with Lori.  No one except for the receptionist Laura.  She was friendly enough to Lori and the other women but seemed very busy on her computer so Lori didn’t want to interrupt her.  It had been a year since she’d been in this waiting room and it was remarkable just how unremarkable the space really was.  

Hard to believe that such a plain and boring waiting room could be the pre-chorus to something as perplexing and whimsical as housing a shrunken man in your bottom. 

Lori took a deep breath through her nose, enjoying the broken silence. The air carried a faint scent of antiseptic, mingling with the artificial floral fragrance of whatever air freshener Laura had stashed up at her desk. She wondered if Michael could smell it. Probably not.

Lori shifted gently in her chair, scooting just enough to take the pressure off her hips where the unforgiving armrests had begun to dig in.  The adjustment was in her best interests, but she was of course mindful of the presence nestled between her glutes. A year ago, the idea of carrying someone between her cheeks was such a foreign, laughable concept she literally could never have conceived of it.  It was absurd. Unimaginable. And yet here she was. 

A whole year later.

Three hundred and sixty-five days of waking up, going about her day, eating meals, running errands, taking walks—and all the while, a man lived in her bottom.

Lived.

Not visited. Not stayed. Lived.

Her broad, full cheeks were more than just flesh.  They were his walls. Barriers. Pillows. A shelter from the chaos of the outside world. They were his roof and his floor. His mattress, his insulation. They were his safety net and his source of food. And whether Michael liked to admit it or not, they fit the role perfectly.

They say that sometimes all it takes to turn a house into a home is time.  And considering how long Michael had been in the Warren household, and how much of his day he spent between her glutes, Lori’s rear really had become a home to him. 

The familiar warmth nestled between her cheeks barely registered anymore. That gentle, constant pressure was once an odd and alien sensation but it had long since faded into the background of her daily life. As long as she remained still, so did Michael. Perfectly secure. Perfectly cradled. Perfectly contained.

It was just another part of her routine now. Mundane, even.

Lori could cook dinner, fold laundry, attend her book club, even carry on full conversations without once thinking about the tiny man nestled between the vast, plush weight of her backside. He had become something of a silent passenger—always present, always tucked away, and so often forgotten beneath the day-to-day rhythm of life.

But not now.

Now, she was acutely aware of him.

This wasn’t a casual afternoon. This wasn’t a quiet errand. This was a return to RR Labs, the very place where all of this had begun. And here, in this place, Michael wasn’t a discreet, unseen detail tucked away beneath her jeans and underwear.

He wasn’t just her little unmentionable stowaway anymore. He was the subject of scientific scrutiny. He was a specimen of long-term rear-housing viability. He was data to be reviewed and analyzed. Observed and interpreted.

All eyes would be on them today. On him mostly, of course—but also on her. On him.  And on her bottom.

That reminded her…

She’d have to keep an eye out for an opportunity to try and clean him.

Thoroughly, if she was going to show him off to the ladies here. These ladies were professionals, after all. No matter how intimate or strange the job was, there was still a clinical bar to meet. And while Michael might live between Lori’s cheeks, that didn’t mean he should be presented in an unappealing way.

If memory served, there was a small stainless steel sink in the corner of the exam room. She hoped it was still there. And she really hoped, she’d have time to get him rinsed and scrubbed before a woman in a lab coat came in.

It wasn’t for her own pride—though, yes, there was a measure of that. But mostly, it just felt like the polite thing to do. Like cleaning up after yourself at the movie theatre.

After all, the scent of Lori’s bottom—however natural—was a… lingering thing.

Lori winced, remembering one particularly awkward afternoon just a few months ago. She and Victoria had been working in the garden. Michael was there too, as usual, tucked away where he always was. But it had been a humid day. Sweat and soil had caked Lori’s skin and the area between her glutes had grown muggy and saturated.  Michael did a great job of absorbing some of that saturation but he could only handle so much.  And if he took on too much, his presence would cause the sensitive skin in Lori’s crack to itch.  A shower usually followed her strenuous gardening activities for this very reason but the two lost track of time. The matinee they’d planned to see would be starting soon. Lori wouldn’t have heard the end of it from Victoria if they missed the previews, so Lori ultimately decided against a shower.  

During a slow moment, about a half-hour into the matinee, Lori grew tired of shifting left and right in her seat, addressing the bothersome itch so she adjourned to the public restroom.  She dislodged him from her crack and set him on the sink’s edge. He absolutely reeked! It was the sort of thick, heavy musk that could only come from hours upon hours wedged in the humid furnace of a middle-aged woman’s glutes under the unforgiving summer sun.

He didn’t speak much then—he rarely did anymore—and he hadn’t resisted. He just stood there, tiny arms slack at his sides, looking dazed. Lori had just gotten the water to a reasonable temperature to rinse him when she heard the door burst open and a gaggle of women laughed their way in.  Lori rolled her eyes; luck was always against her, it seemed.

Before they rounded the corner and saw her, Lori tucked an unclean, sopping wet Michael back between her bubbly bare cheeks, cringing at how little friction there was due to the slickness of her crack. The scent on his skin and in his hair lingered in the air long after he’d been returned to Lori’s bottom.

“Oh god, that smell!” one of the girls said, wafting the air.  Her friend lightly smacked her shoulder, gesturing vaguely toward Lori, as if they thought she wouldn’t notice.  

A dainty “K’tchhhyou!” brought Lori out of her movie theatre memory and back to the RR Labs Waiting Room.

Laura had turned away from her desk and was dabbing at her nose with a tissue.

There was something almost cartoonishly adorable about that sneeze—quick and birdlike, with none of the drama or harshness some people like Victoria inflicted on the room when they did it. It reminded Lori of the way Isabella would sneeze: like she was trying not to disturb anyone.

Lori gave a warm smile. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Laura sniffled. “That one snuck up on me.”

Not much more of Laura was visible aside from her beautiful red hair, which remained mostly visible from behind her high-countered work space as she flipped through paperwork, stapled packets, and typed things on her computer. Occasionally Lori would catch a glimpse of her face, and the way her freckled cheeks would dance as she muttered things to herself–about whatever clerical task she was trying to complete. 

Suddenly, just as Lori picked up the once interesting, twice thoroughly-read magazine and resorted to re-reading it yet again, Lori heard another buzz coming from the intercom near Laura’s desk. She’d heard that same buzzer earlier when that woman came in with her daughter.

‘Oh, thank god.’ Lori thought.  ‘Someone else to share this boring space with.’

Someone was at the lab’s front door, trying to come in. Would it be another handsome man like last time she sat here waiting?  Lori wouldn’t have minded that at all.

The gentle clack of the high-action button sounded off from the receptionist desk and Laura’s flat voice once again. “Name?”

“Umm…Becca? Becca Young?”

The voice sounded young and timid, as if she wasn’t sure that Becca was even her name. Laura didn’t say anything back. She just opened the door.

~

Stay tuned for next chapter!

It's called Chapter 61 - Meeting Becca Young