RR Lori Warren - Chapter 57

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 57 - Driving Ms. Warren

September 29th, 2006

Lori slid into the backseat of the sleek black Malibu. The car had been parked right near the concrete wall’s opening so the leather seat was warm from sitting in the sun. She buckled her seatbelt with a soft click and shifted her luggage to the side, nestling it among the casual clutter of Brandi’s life—an abandoned volleyball and basketball rolling lazily on the floor, a pair of neon orange running shoes, and tennis rackets haphazardly stacked on the seat beside her.

As she adjusted her hips into the molded seat, she immediately felt a familiar stirring deep between her full cheeks. Michael was still wedged snugly where he belonged between them, but it was a further walk to the car than Lori expected and the sun was shining brightly; blame it on the way her cheeks jiggled with each step, or the slickening of the inner walls of her glutes from the heat–but Michael had been jostled loose and Lori could feel it better than ever as she slid and shifted along the car’s back seat. Lori bit back a smirk as she felt his tiny squirming form sliding downward, struggling against the satin-soft walls of her ample backside as if he aimed to emerge up and between her splayed thighs.

The car rocked to the left as Brandi collapsed into the driver’s seat. Jane was much more measured in settling into the passenger side next to her blonde coworker.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Brandi threw the car into gear; the wheels turned and scraped against the asphalt as Brandi backed out. As the vehicle vibrated beneath them and Lori settled her things, she felt Michael slip just a little further out of place. She let out a quiet breath, shifting her weight. She sensed part of him–the top or the bottom half, she couldn’t be sure–awkwardly breach the warm confines of her compressed glutes. More than half of him was wriggling fruitlessly along her perineum now, or trying to anyway. 

‘Oh no you don’t,’ she thought, amused. This little acrobat wasn’t going anywhere, even if he did somehow manage to pull himself entirely from her crack–not with the two added layers of safety netting, one made of soft cotton and one of stiff denim. But it wasn’t enough for Lori to just know he couldn’t get away from her.  He was much too far from home. He needed to be back where he belonged. And Lori had gotten so good at escorting him home that she didn’t even need to use her hands most of the time.

Lori gave her wide hips a firm, exaggerated wiggle against the backseat, grinding herself subtly deeper into the seat cushion. She felt her doughy cheeks clench and roll, the splaying motion deliberately guiding little Michael back into the deepest crevice of the plush valley he was meant to inhabit. There was the faintest sensation of resistance, probably just trying to right himself—but her soft glutes absorbed it with no problem, and they slurped little Michael up like a short spaghetti noodle. And then, with a soft final squish of her ample buns, greedily soaking in the leather seat’s built-up heat, Michael finally nestled securely into the deepest part of Lori’s crack once again.

She smiled to herself, satisfied with his depth and positioning along the length of her crack. He didn’t seem to share her sentiment, but Lori hadn't lied when she warned him last night: there would be a lot of sitting today.

The car came to a stop at its first redlight, less than a mile from the airport, and Lori looked up to see Brandi sifting through the cluttered center console and then leaning over in the driver’s seat. Lori ran her fingers along the smooth leather of the backseat. It still had that faint new-car smell, barely masked by a lingering hint of vanilla air freshener.  

“Does this belong to the lab?”

When Lori looked back up, she believed that Brandi had not heard the question; she was still awkwardly leaned over to the side, snapping shut what looked like a tiny little pill container.  Perhaps some advil? Brandi returned it to her center console before Lori could get a good look and the curvy blonde slowly centered her wide bottom back over the plush leather driver’s seat. She gave her hips a little wiggle, not unlike Lori did a few moments earlier, and Brandi whispered playfully over to Jane. 

“Almost forgot.” 

Brandi’s eyes then found their way to Lori’s through the rear view mirror. “Sorry, Lori. I got distracted. You were asking something?”

“The car.  Is it the lab’s?”

“Heck no! RR Labs wishes they had a ride this nice. This pretty girl’s all mine. Took me years to save up, but totally worth it.” She gave the steering wheel, adorned with a bright orange, fuzzy steering wheel cover, a fond little pat. “Got her certified pre-owned, and I still talked the guy down—”

Brandi abruptly stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as she shifted in her seat. There was a pause. Her brow furrowed, as did Lori’s.  Was she okay? Brandi’s lips parted like she was trying to puzzle something out.

Then her head snapped sideways to glare at Jane.

Jane, still facing forward, waited exactly one beat too long to meet Brandi’s eyes. And when she did, there was a telltale smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Jane!” Brandi gasped. She slapped Jane’s hand and quickly toggled the driver’s side seat warmer knob from MAX to OFF. “You did not!”

Her voice was caught somewhere between amusement and betrayal.

“What?” Jane couldn’t hide her smile, which she rarely wore and Lori swore looked wonderful on her.  “I didn’t do anything. Honest”

“Oh yeah, suuuuure.” Brandi sang. “The whole point of the super-lycra material is to mitigate heat seepage and keep the externals temperate! But now my whole butt feels like it's in a panini press. And the lycratic externals are practically on fire.”

Jane only gave the faintest shrug, entirely unapologetic. “My finger must have slipped, maybe when I was putting my water in the cup holder.”

Lori sat quietly in the backseat, smiling politely, but she couldn’t quite follow what was so funny. Or that confusing lingo about heat seepage.  Brandi seemed more bothered by the outsides of her leggings getting warm than her bottom itself. Strange.

“Yeah, yeah.  Tell that to poor little 093c,” Brandi said with a mock pout, poking her dainty fingers against either side of her upper thighs. “You owe him an apology, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jane snorted and covered her mouth, showing the most of her genuine self Lori had seen since meeting her. “Snowball’s chance in Hell of that happening.”

Brandi’s laughter spilled out before she could stifle it, and Jane finally gave in too. Their laughs were cute and unique on their own but they harmonized wonderfully—Brandi’s sunny and sparkling giggle and Jane’s drier, almost wheezy snicker from trying to hold it in. Once their laughter had quieted down, Brandi gave her head a little shake, still grinning at Jane as the moment finally passed. 

“Anyway, like I was saying…” She picked up right where she left off, as if nothing had happened—though she leaned left and right. “This car was probably one of the best purchases I’ve ever made. I needed something fancy and roomy with all the driving I do.”

“Transporting subjects?” Lori guessed.

Brandi’s lips curled. Her eyes darted over to Jane for a second before returning to Lori in the mirror. “You could say that. Participants and subjects, actually. You’re stop number one today, and then I’m picking up another Participant next—she’s coming in by train from New York.”

“Train?” Lori repeated. “Goodness, that’s quite a ride. Is she afraid of flying?”

Brandi shrugged. “Not sure. I think it was more of a Dr. Walker decision. She doesn’t like brand-new Participants flying—especially the younger ones.”

Lori tilted her head. “TSA checkpoints?” 

Brandi nodded. “Bingo.”

Inside, Lori was cringing at the thought of her close call at the TSA checkpoint on the way out here.  She wouldn’t be telling Brandi about that though!

“With experienced women like you, we’re not as worried. You’ve read the handbook, you know the travel protocols. But the newer girls? Sometimes they don’t grasp that once you’re in that security checkpoint bubble, the subject you’re housing technically becomes property in transit.”

“Not technically.” Jane added.

“Which means,” Brandi continued, “if an unruly subject causes a jiggle in your cheek at just the right moment, and a TSA agent sees it…they’re gonna know exactly where they should be patting.  And even worse than that, all it takes is forgetting to ask for the pat-down instead of the scanner, and poof—your little snuggle nugget’s gonna show up on that x-ray between your hip bones, lit up like a christmas tree bulb.

Jane made a soft “tsk”, looking out the window.

“And next thing you know, you’re in a dim-lit airport backroom, probably missing your flight, and getting interrogated about what you’re hiding in your booty.”

 “Happened a few years ago.” Jane said. “The Participant was really upset about it. Total mess.”

“Right?” Brandi said. “Did we ever get him back?”

Jane shook her head. “Nope.”

“So there you go.” Brandi said, looking back into the rearview mirror at Lori. 

Lori frowned. “That’s awful.”

“Now we play it safe at RR Labs. Trains, cars, ground transit. At least until the Participant knows how to handle herself. This girl coming in later? Super sweet, from what I read. But young. First-timer.”

She’s the one who flaked out last year, right?” Jane asked.

Brandi gave Jane’s leg a gentle pat. “Oh, don’t be mean, Janey. Girls have every right to change their minds, as many times as they want. And she just needed more time to think about it and she’s fully onboard now. Rear-housing is no light commitment.”

“Depends on the Participant’s gluteal parameters.”

Brandi burst out laughing, and Lori could see that Jane was soaking it up. Self-consciously, but enjoying it nonetheless.  “I’m not entirely convinced that Jane here doesn’t moonlight as a comedian!”  

Brandi returned her gaze to Lori. “But anyway…yeah, the whole chauffeur thing, it’s only sometimes.  Half of my driving is getting out of the sticks for some city nightlife…and the rest of the time I’m just doing back and forth trips to Indiana.”

“Oh?  Is that where you’re from?”

“Mm-hmm! Born and raised.” Brandi said, waiving a handsome young motorcycle rider to merge in front of her.  “But the driving I do on the clock is just to help out when everyone else is busy.”

“Yay for busy…” Jane said with flat enthusiasm saturated in sarcasm as Brandi flicked on her blinker to merge onto the highway.

The sleek black Malibu hummed along the highway, the air conditioner whispering through the vents as the sun cast dappled shadows across the dashboard. Brandi drove with one hand on the wheel, her other arm resting casually on the windowsill. In the passenger seat, Jane sat cross-legged, long pale fingers fiddling idly. And in the back, Lori leaned forward slightly, chin resting on her fist, listening and appreciating Brandi and Jane’s banter.

“Oh, you be quiet, Janey.” Brandi said. “I know you’re just dying to get back to the SSF.”

Lori didn’t know what the SSF was, but that must have been sarcasm from Brandi, because Jane’s eyes rolled like a bratty teenager. “Yeah, yeah.” Jane said. “Cause I’d much rather be cleaning cages and filling water bottles for little hairless gerbils than actually running RT diagnostics or anything like that.”

Lori tilted her head in confusion and looked at Brandi. “Gerbils?” 

Brandi smirked, waiving a dismissive hand over her shoulder toward the backseat. “Don’t worry about Miss Grumpy Pants over there.  She’s stuck on duty caring for our subjects. The ones that have already gone through Reduction Therapy and are awaiting final assignment. Until Installation, they go to the SSF, which stands for Subject Storage Facility.”

“Storage? How long do they wait?”

“After they’ve undergone Reduction Therapy? It all depends on how long it takes us to get the other stuff set up. RT is just one little part of the puzzle. There’s also preparing and administering the Assignment Shot, Acclimation Therapy, screening them for eligibility in other RR experiments, and of course the most important part: actually getting the Participant to the lab for Installation.”

“Sometimes things do line up though.” Jane added, fiddling with a CD case she pulled from under the passenger seat. Lori didn’t recognize any of the artist names printed on the CD’s.

“Mm-hmm! Sometimes it’s super quick.” Brand snapped her fingers. “Just last week, a subject went through Intake, Reduction Therapy, Acclimation Therapy, and Installation all in the same day.  I had him for…what, Jane…like forty-five minutes?”

“You’re talking about 117r?  No, not even.”

“Poor little cutie. He was having a rough time as it was with me. And I was going super easy on him!  No sitting, no bouncing, no exercising.”

Jane scoffed.

“What do you mean ‘with you’?” Lori asked.  “Are you the one that shrinks him?”

“No, no.  I wouldn’t know the first thing about working that thingamajig.” Brandi chuckled, patting her copilot on the knee. “I don’t have a super hard science background like Jane or the other girls.  They’re all literal geniuses.”

“The subjects go to Brandi after Reduction Therapy,” Jane said, tilting her head back as if reciting from a brochure. “And don’t let her fool you—gifted isn’t a strong enough word. She’s working on her master’s degree.”

“Struggling through might be a better way to describe it. With the help of wine and poptarts, I might add!” Brandi laughed

“Oh, geez.” Jane scoffed under her breath. There seemed to be an inside joke there.

“My official title with RR Labs is Acclimation Therapist.”

Lori tilted her head. “Acclimation Therapist? What’s an Acclimation Therapist do?”

Brandi’s blue eyes moved up to the mirror, catching Lori’s inquisitive gaze. “You know how in school you have a guidance counselor that talks to you about your feelings and your future and stuff?” she asked.

Lori nodded slowly. She had met Isabella’s and Victoria’s counselors on a few occasions throughout high school. One of them offered praise and the other offered criticism–no one needed to guess which girl got which.

“Well, that’s sort of what I do.” Brandi continued, placing a hand over her chest. “Only I do it for the subjects. Basically, I help them adjust after Reduction Therapy. From Intake to Installation, sometimes even beyond.”

She tapped her glossy orange nails lightly on the steering wheel and then gripped a little tighter as the Malibu bounced over a pothole in the road. Lori noticed Brandi shift in her seat again, adjusting her hips—maybe just stretching? Or readjusting after the pothole?

“I’m kind of like… a subject advocate. Isn’t that right, Jane?” Brandi added, pressing a playful fist against Jane’s shoulder.

Jane gave a droll look but kept her eyes forward and didn’t move. “Mm. Brandi likes to romanticize it.”

Brandi shot her a smile. “And Jane likes to give me a hard time. Doesn’t like that I’m nice to them.”

“She’s too nice to them,” Jane muttered, stretching her legs and straightening out the passenger side floor mat with her black converses. “She coddles them.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Janey.” Brandi laughed. “My buns are still baking from that heated seat but you don’t see me pulling over to get out or anything, do you?”

“Yeah well, you’re still too sweet…to them, I mean. I’ll bet Dr. Walker agrees with me.”

Brandi shrugged. “Okaaaaaay,” she drawled, “but I’ll bet even Dr. Katherine R. Walker herself would agree that you catch way more flies with honey than with vinegar.” She made a show of pushing out her chest and pretending to cup breasts MUCH bigger than her own. “Hence the low-cut tops she wears on intake days—right when the fresh new Pre-RT subjects are signing their little contracts. Total accident, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t call that honey.” Jane said. “More of a venus fly trap.” Jane shook her head, her dark bob shifting with the movement. “Remember that one subject she was interviewing? He literally walked into a wall.  God, he was dumb.”

Brandi chuckled. “Oh, it’s not their fault, Jane. You know that!”  Brandi chuckled.  “They’re just wired that way. You know they can’t help it. And you know better than anyone that Dr. Walker can be mesmerizing once she starts getting all technical and enthusiastic.”

“Oh sure. That’s exactly a pre-RT subject’s problem, sitting on the other side of her desk on contract day: Getting lost in her technical prowess.” Jane said, her tone so positively drenched in sarcasm that it sounded almost like she was singing. “I would never, in a million years, downplay Dr. Walker’s intelligence. She’s the reason that I’m in this field. But those subjects…they wouldn’t know intellect if it punched them in the face. They’re just enthralled with her two biggest talking points.”

Brandi howled with laughter. “Oh my God, stop. You’re gonna make me swerve.” She wiped the start of a tear from her cheek. “Anyway, at the end of the day, my job is to get these little guys ready for all the challenges of being housed in a rear. Teach them how to get along with their Participant and make things easier for her, whoever she may end up being–understand her needs and trust that she understands theirs; learn to live around her instead of in opposition. You know… set them up for success.”

“So you do that with therapy, you said?” Lori asked.

“Yup! All day every day!” Brandi chirped, her voice as chipper as ever. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with her words. “There’s some talking, some coaching, a little bit of training and advising… maybe even a pep talk or two when needed. Lots of spirit-lifting, bright-siding, and positive-thinking!”

Jane let out a quiet snort.

Brandi ignored her and kept going. “But it’s called Acclimation Therapy for a reason, right? Because the name of the game is acclimation. And sometimes, actions speak way louder than words.”

Lori nodded slowly. She still wasn’t exactly sure what Brandi meant, but the girl certainly sounded confident. Enthusiastic, even.

“Dr. Walker and Dr. Bexley figured it out pretty early—when a subject has their first experience being wedged between a set of glutes, it can be a little... hmm…” Brandi pondered, tapping her chin for a moment. “What’s a good word?” 

Jane didn’t miss a beat. “Funny?”

“No, you goofball!  I mean, a little bit but the word I’m thinking of…Ohh!” Brandi snapped her fingers. “Overwhelming! That’s it. It can be… very overwhelming.”

It still amazed her sometimes that Michael had come as far as he had. She’d never really thought of herself as… acclimating him, per se. But in hindsight? Maybe that’s exactly what she’d been doing. “I can definitely see that,” Lori said. 

Brandi flashed a grin in the rearview mirror. “That’s where I come in,” she said proudly. “They’re thrust into this scary new world, you know? Where all the pretty ladies that have been talking to them and fawning over them are suddenly massive.  And they get treated differently.  Especially by the mischievous black kitten over here.” Brandi nudged toward Jane.

“Not sure what you’re talking about.” Jane said. “I treat them no differently between pre and post RT.”

“That’s true. Touche.” Brandi laughed. “But either way, it’s a lot to take in, especially for the less secure and confident boys. I’m like the emotional support buddy that teaches them how to handle things. Having big emotions in such little bodies is a recipe for disaster and we gotta start working on that immediately.”

Jane visibly rolled her eyes.

“But so what is it that you do?” Lori asked. “Ask them about their mothers while they lie on a psychiatrist chair?”

“No, not quite. Beyond even just the loss of autonomy and sense of inferiority in such a big world, there’s a lot about being housed in a rear that is hard to get used to. And the way I see it, of all things that a subject needs to accept, being housed in a rear is paramount. It’s hard for a subject to get there on their own.  And who could blame them, right?”

Jane raised her hand, and this time she was the one grinning and Brandi rolled her eyes.

“I help them get used to it—gradually. You can’t just drop someone into the deep end of a pair of cheeks and expect them to thrive. You gotta start soft. Gentle. Build their confidence.”

“Well,” Lori said with a small laugh, “you certainly sound like you love what you do.”

Brandi beamed. “Oh, I do. It’s actually kinda beautiful, if you think about it. You're giving someone the tools to survive something that used to terrify them. Teaching them about respect–and how far it can get them, even if it feels like it’s only a one-way street sometimes. And then watching them adapt? And thrive?  And even learn to love it?  It’s just…magic.”

“How many of them do you acclimate?” Lori asked.

“Oh, between my supervisor and I, we try to get a little time in with all of them.” Brandi said. “Even if it’s just a session or two. It’s better than nothing!”

Suddenly, Lori remembered the very first day she and Michael had met.  He was still packaged in that box he’d been shipped in, cradled atop her thighs.  She would never forget how small he looked, curled up in that interior like a 2-inch tall porcelain doll. He looked so defenseless and vulnerable. Innocent and confused.  He looked clean back then. Uncreased. Untouched. She remembered how pure he seemed. 

God, could that really have been a year ago? How time flies. Even back then, before he’d learned Lori’s buns like the back of his hand, he wasn’t completely unaware of where he was and what was going to happen. 

All the pieces fell into place in Lori’s mind, and her eyes widened.

Now it all made sense.  

That’s why Brandi’s butt was so big! And that’s why she was dressed differently than Jane and the others! Back in September of 2005, Michael spoke of a woman at the lab.  One who had wedged him between her clothed glutes for short time intervals.  Lori remembered this clearly because Michael had explained the situation like it was some great travesty. Like 15-30 minutes between a set of cloth-clad buns was the worst thing in the world.  Now that he was spending most of his days wedged as deep between Lori’s big bare buttocks as he could possibly go, she often wondered if he might look back on those days with rose-tinted glasses. And how ironic it was for Lori to realize that the special RR girl who took his rear-housing virginity was none other than the girl driving right now.  She was the one who introduced Michael to rear-housing, and got him ready for Lori. 

It was Brandi Thompson.

~