RR Lori Warren - Chapter 53

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 53 - The End of Michael's Punishment

January 28th, 2006

Lori closed Gina’s door softly behind her and she leaned against the frame of the door, her wide bottom splaying against the wood like warm dough. 

‘Well, that could have been way worse.’

It wasn’t an easy conversation to navigate but all in all, Lori was proud of the way Gina opened up. She was also proud of herself for handling the situation with patience and understanding.  Gina learned her lesson tonight, and Lori didn’t have to come down on her or make her feel bad about herself in order for that lesson to be learned. Unfortunately, there were rippling consequences for what Gina did tonight with Michael, and Gina wasn’t the one who was going to be paying them. 

Michael was on a very strict 23-hour-a-day rear confinement punishment.  

Not sock confinement. 

Not jewelry box confinement.  

Not whatever-other-else-kind-of confinement you could think of.  

Her matronly decree was rear confinement.  It was Michael. Between a set of buttocks.  23-hours a day. Period. 

Honestly, Lori felt like she was making a bit of a compromise by allowing him to spend so much time this evening away from her rear, but as long as he was confined between someone’s glutes, then that ultimately was all that mattered.  But Gina, with her budding curiosities and exploration–innocent as they may have been–had just interfered with all that planning.  

It wasn’t as if he’d spent the last few hours on vacation, sure.  Michael had essentially functioned as her eldest daughter’s foot warmer.  But it didn’t matter how he felt about the experience; whether he liked it or not. No matter how you slice it, non-rear time was non-rear time.  And Lori needed to manage that time very carefully.  There was no way to reclaim that lost time today; it was gone.  There weren’t enough hours left in the evening to get Michael to the 23 hours.  The 23 hours he should have spent in a bottom. 

Whether he realized it or not (probably not), Michael had just spent three days worth of his non-rear time all in one evening with Gina.  Did he intend to?  Not likely, but even that she couldn’t be 100% sure of. So unfortunately for him, there was only one way for Lori to resolve this predicament Gina had created: over the next several days, Michael’s hour break from Lori’s bottom would be cut down to a half hour.  Maybe less depending on how quick her bathroom visits would be.  And if she was feeling particularly motivated to make up for that lost time–well, plunging him into a dirty pair of her underwear and wrapping him up tighter than leftover Oreo Pie under cellophane might be worthy of consideration.  The other twenty three hours and thirty minutes of the day, he would spend confined between her cheeks, and after around six days, he would have made up for the lost time.  

Maybe that would be a good time to end his punishment. It’d be a little bit like turning the treadmill up to a sprinting speed in the last few minutes–you know, to really burn that last bit of fat.  

The punishment couldn’t keep going on forever.  Lori knew that. Twenty three hour a day confinement within a rear wasn’t very realistic, was it?  Or sustainable. There’s no way other Participants were confining their subjects that long on a regular basis, was there?  No, surely not.  The more she thought about it, the more it felt like the right thing to do. But it didn’t mean that she would forget.  Things would never be the same between her and Michael again.  Lori would never allow that to happen.  He had to be handled with a firm hand, that much was clear. A firm hand and a soft, hospitable bottom.

She took a quick peek in Isabella’s and Victoria’s rooms. Their lights were off and they both were asleep like angels.  Well, Isabella looked more the part of the ‘conventional’ angel. Her hands rested, clasped and motionless atop her gently rising and falling chest; her touching ankles continued down to sock-clad soles of snow white.  Victoria looked less like a gently snoozing princess and more like a twisted, loudly-snoring pretzel. But an adorable twisted, loudly-snoring pretzel!  With a smile, Lori headed for her own room, each step gently shifting Michael’s tiny body, settled securely between her denim-compressed cheeks.  

But those cheeks didn’t stay compressed for much longer. She unbuttoned her jeans and the snug denim loosened as she worked the fabric down over her hips. Lori let out a sigh as the cool air kissed her round, bare cheeks, imprinted with lines left by the tight denim. She was eager to slide those jeans all the way off, trading them for loose fitting silk. She brushed her hair, brushed her teeth, and the persistent squirming of Michael against her sensitive, sun-starved skin reminded her of one last thing she needed to take care of before settling in for the night.  Something she had refrained from doing all night because no way she was going to do it anywhere near a comedy club toilet seat!

Lori returned her toothbrush to its cup and her chilly bare feet found refuge on the shaggy carpet set right in front of the toilet. The loose and cozy fabric slid down over her hips–much easier than the denim, and with a gentle tug, her underwear followed.  Her fingertips found Michael between her cheeks and she adjusted her stance slightly as she tenderly pinched his torso between her thumb and forefinger.  

Lori cupped Michael in her hands as her large, round bottom descended gracefully. The plush curves of her derriere met the cool porcelain surface and spread, the smooth skin dimpling where it met the hard edge of the white rim. The seat was cold at first but just like Michael, it warmed quickly and obediently to the temperature of her ample flesh. The seat creaked faintly as she adjusted her feet and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and then she opened her hands. His tiny body remained curled in her fingers, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.  She tightened her core, but she needn’t tighten it much–pressure had been building for hours.  She let out a low, muffled burst of gas into the toilet so loud that Michael flinched.

“You’ve had quite an interesting night, haven’t you?” Lori said. Her tone was flat–judgemental, even. His limbs twitched as he groggily opened his eyes and Lori could see the moment when he remembered where he was.  His tiny face twisted with confusion and then a conflicted blur of relief and discomfort washed over him.  

He could have been at the comedy show with me tonight.  He could have spent the evening laughing. 

Instead, he spent most of it crammed into an occupied sock–squeezed between a teenager’s toes.  And he had only himself to blame.  It was all his doing.  It was all his fault.

As Michael slowly gathered the last of his senses, Lori leaned forward slightly, locking each elbow into the inner walls of her splayed, pale thighs while her free hand held him up to her face. Her abdomen tightened, and a deep, muffled sound escaped her body, followed by several loud, girthy splashes in the water beneath her. She barely flinched, though Michael’s tiny face visibly winced at the sound, vibrations, and of course the impending, inevitable threat of the thick odor.

Lori wasn’t embarrassed.  If anything, she was confused that he wasn’t used to this by now.

She turned him over in her hand, inspecting his trembling limbs and scuffed exterior. He had what Lori could only describe as ‘superficial sock burn’ on his back and buttocks, but it was very minor.  She’d have to make a note to herself to talk with Gina about wearing less scratchy socks if she was to keep him with her foot again. 

Pantyhose would probably be best.

Her fingers pinched and prodded Michael as she wrapped up her inspection. “You’re fine,” she said flatly, releasing another burst of gas. “No bruises, and very minimal scratching.” A few more bassy toots sounded off and they were accompanied by echoing in the small bathroom, followed by more unsavory, heavy splashing in the toilet. She didn’t bother excusing herself, nor did she even acknowledge what Michael was forced to experience.  After all, it’s not like this was his first time seeing this private side of her.  Or the second.  Or the third.  He should have been used to this by now.

Michael’s tiny face contorted, his features scrunching up in nausea as the thick, unpleasant stench filled the air around them. Lori noticed but didn’t comment. What did he expect, really? She had nowhere else to hold him while she took care of business, and it wasn’t like she could trust him to be away from her. Fat chance of that happening again.

She used to leave him in his drawer during these moments—back when he could be trusted not to take advantage of her generosity and relaxed scheduling. But those days were long gone. Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me. There wouldn’t be a third time. 

She wasn’t about to let him wander off again, even for a minute. He whimpered, unhappy with his view and position but Lori wasn’t having it. He wanted to play the victim? Nope.  Lori wasn’t going to allow him to get away with that.

“You only have yourself to blame, you know.” Lori muttered under her breath as she flipped him over to check his back.

Michael opened his mouth, his tiny hands gesturing as if to say something—probably a protest or another pathetic excuse. Whatever it was, his voice was drowned out as Lori’s bladder finally released, sending a steady, soft stream into the bowl below. The sound was continuous and rhythmic, punctuated by more pronounced splashes. Lori barely registered it, aside from the pleasant, relieving sensation.  Her focus remained on the small figure in her hand trying (and failing) to garner even a shred of sympathy.

“You know,” Lori said, her tone sharper now, “this would’ve all been avoidable if you hadn’t messed up. Twice. Twice, Michael.” She emphasized the word, shaking him lightly for effect. “But no, you had to go and ruin the trust we had. And now look where we are.  Look where you are.”

The heavy flow of the continuous stream was now beginning to taper off, though Lori didn’t seem in a hurry to wrap up. Her free hand casually grabbed a piece of toilet paper, folding it neatly and then ultimately setting it down after she felt a shudder in her stomach.  This wasn’t wrapping up in a few seconds.  She needed time. Lori continued her tirade.

“I’ll give you credit, Michael. You’ve been taking your punishment better than I thought you would,” she admitted. “Twenty-three hours a day back there, in my bottom–I can only imagine, and I’m sure it can’t be easy. Not for you, anyway.”

Her lips curled into a faint smirk as she shifted her weight and tightened her core again. Another muffled sound escaped her, followed by a wet, heavy splash below. Michael flinched, his expression twisted in equal parts disgust and despair. To him, it must have been like a car plummeting off the Golden Gate bridge.  Lori barely noticed.

“Honestly,” she continued, her tone almost conversational now, “I thought this arrangement would be harder on me than on you. You know…one of those ‘this is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you’ kind of deals.” She shrugged, finally lowering him from her eye level to rest him in her palm, between her creamy thighs. “But it turns out? It’s been way easier. So much more convenient. And so much more peace of mind, too. No more worrying about where you are or what you’re up to. Because I know what you’re up to.  I know what company you’re keeping.”

How silly, thinking of my cheeks as his companions.  But they really are.  And they keep him out of trouble!

She leaned back slightly, finally reaching for the flush handle. The sound of clean water rushing to replace the bowl filled the room as she gave Michael a final glance. “See? We’ve both adapted.”

Her words hung in the air as she stood and began to move on with her routine, holding him loosely in her hand like the minor inconvenience he had become.

Ever since he’d accepted his new diet on the vitamin regimen, Lori really didn’t need to take him out for anything if she didn’t want to. The only reason she’d even remove him at all was to use the bathroom or take a shower, otherwise she might never have removed him from her crack. Now that her perspiration was fortified with the nutrients Michael needed, he literally got everything he needed from her bottom, and Lori was perfectly fine to let him stay there. But it didn’t feel right. At least not to her.  

Michael squirmed in her palm, his tiny voice trembling as he spoke up.  She understood why it took him time; he had to muster up the courage, for it was a pretty pointed question.

“Lori, so you really did…you really did go see Sarah Silverman tonight?”

Lori didn’t even glance down at him at first. She leaned forward slightly, her forearm resting on her thighs while the other hand held him casually, her fingers drumming against him as her belly bubbled. 

“I did,” she replied in a tone flat and unbothered. Her lack of concern was painfully obvious. “Isabella and I went together.”

Michael’s face fell, his tiny chest sinking with a defeated sigh, and yet he still found the courage to continue. “...I thought I was going to—”

“—Yes, Michael,” Lori cut him off sharply as her hazel eyes flickered down to meet his pitiful gaze. She sighed heavily, her lips pressing into a thin line as though she were dealing with an insufferable child. “Yes, I was going to take you. Yes, it would’ve been easy to bring you along. Honestly, I’ve even grown kind of fond of the feeling of you down there, believe it or not. But…”

Her brow arched, and she tilted her head, her voice growing icy. “Do you remember what happened the last time I gave you an ounce of trust? Or have you conveniently forgotten?”

Michael’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “Lori, please—”

“Because I haven’t forgotten,” she interrupted again, her tone biting as her fingers tightened slightly around him. Her posture shifted forward, her abdomen tensing briefly before another loud, wet splash echoed from beneath her. Michael flinched, his tiny body trembling as the foggy, pungent odor thickened around him. Lori saw his nose crinkle and his lips purse, but to his credit, he tried to keep speaking.

“I’m sorry that this happened, Lori. I really am. But I want to tell you—”

Lori’s hand shot up, silencing him with a single pointed finger mere inches from his face. Her gaze was sharp and unyielding. “I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped. “I am done talking about that incident. Do you hear me? Completely done.”

She leaned back, her wide rump splaying and distorting into the toilet seat as her free hand reached for the neatly folded squares of toilet paper she’d set on the counter a few minutes earlier.  It wasn’t going to be nearly enough. 

“To be perfectly honest with you,” she continued, tearing off another generous wad of paper, “it makes me too angry to even think about. Your punishment is almost over, Michael, but if we keep reopening these wounds, there’s a good chance you’ll say something that’ll piss me off even more. And believe me, I will not hesitate to extend your punishment. So I really wouldn’t test me if I were you.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and his tiny legs dangled limply in defeat. He knew better than to argue. But silence wasn’t enough.

Passive compliance?  Not enough, mister.  I want active compliance.

“Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Lori,” he whispered.

“Good,” she said curtly, giving a single, satisfied nod.

Lori shifted on the seat, her thick thighs had been touching since the beginning but now they displaced against themselves as she adjusted her position. She leaned forward, pinning Michael’s fragile body against the smooth, creamy expanse of her thigh. She plunged another white cloud of tissue down and into the bowl, the hint of muscle in her forearm and bicep peeking through as she applied pressure and wiped a third time.

Once finished, she stood up and she flushed the toilet, the roar of the water hopefully reminding Michael of yet another danger–a swirling, watery hazard, something that he didn’t have to worry about so long as he stayed with her, safe and snug in her bottom.

Before even pulling up her underwear, Lori’s fingers moved to part the plump, bulbous cheeks of her ample rear. Her nails pressed into her plush flesh as she created just enough space to tuck Michael back where he belonged.

“You’re lucky I’m so thorough,” she muttered as she positioned him with deliberate care, aligning his trembling form against her sensitive, pulsing, stretched and healing hole. The heat radiated off her skin and shivers ran down her spine to her toes as she pressed him snugly into place, ensuring he wouldn’t shift or move. His shoulder grazed her pulsing hole.  Or was it his face?  It was hard to tell, but either way it felt nice.

Her fingers lingered for a moment, adjusting him just so, before she let her heavy cheeks fall with force back into place. The dense, suffocating pale flesh enveloped him entirely with an excited and excessive episode of jiggle, sealing him into the warm, humid confines of her body.

“Stay put.”

And then the underwear came back up.

                            *

That night marked the end of Michael’s punishment. The punishment for his reckless and selfish escape attempt. But as she’d warned him multiple times, merely getting to the end of his well-deserved punishment didn’t mean things would go back to normal.  The betrayals lingered in her mind like black paint on an otherwise cleansed canvas.  But with passing time, the specific details became fuzzy and even the strong emotions Lori felt were beginning to fade. 

They say a woman never forgets, but sometimes life just has a way of moving on.  Day by day.  Week by week.  She stuck to the new routine she’d established with Michael which solidified itself not through punishment and revenge, but in pragmatism. No matter what the day or occasion, Michael would spend most of his time securely nestled between her soft cheeks.  How long each day?  Well, in this brave new world of their relationship, it always depended on what worked best for Lori but it was very rarely less than twelve hours. With the permanent decommissioning of his ‘bachelor pad’, aka Lori’s sock and underwear drawer, Lori deemed it necessary that he spend each and every night between her cheeks, no exceptions. Each new day technically started at midnight, and sure as the sun would rise, Michael was always safe and sound, sleeping in her bottom at the start of each new day.  

So that was at six to eight hours right there, from midnight to her rise from bed, guaranteed.

She’d also keep him buried in the depths of her rump while at work.  There was a time long ago when she’d grant him a few hours reprieve from the pressures of her seated bottom and let him relax in her filing cabinet.  Goodness, sometimes she’d even step away to use the restroom or attend a meeting!  It was hard to imagine a time when she had that much trust and faith in Michael.

Never again. 

Once upon a time, at times when Michael actually was installed in her rear, Lori would break from her desk if she felt any uncomfortable stomach pressure. She’d find a bathroom or, if in a pinch, a private corner so that she could spare little Michael the indignity of being blasted by all that built-up pressure.

But dignity was for the behaved. For the obedient. And for those with integrity.

Michael demonstrated clearly that he no longer deserved dignity, at least not to such a large extent that it would be an inconvenience to Lori–or her comfort.  Or perhaps he actually never really did deserve any of that to begin with, and he’d just somehow fooled Lori.  

Never again.  

During the days of his punishment, Lori had quickly recognized how significantly extending his rear confinement had positively impacted her productivity while at work.  And it came at a great time, considering her boss had just moved up and there were whispers that Lori was being considered to fill his spot.  Even though the punishment was now technically over, there wasn’t a whole lot that needed to change about their new work routine. After all, it did wonders for her productivity not having to regularly check on him and adjourn to the bathroom just to pass a little gas. In fact, as long as he was properly aligned within her crack and stationed close to her asshole, his little body absorbed an awful lot of scent and sound, which made the taboo bodily function that much easier to do discretely from her desk.  

Nowadays, the only time she’d ever remove him from between her cheeks was the moments immediately before she actually needed to use the restroom; and that was an hour after her morning coffee and sometimes after lunch.  She’d clutch Michael in her clasped hands between her thighs and she wouldn’t waste any time.  Lori could take all the time she wanted when she was home and in her en suite. But not when she was at work. Not when she was looking to get promoted!

Team supervisors couldn’t spend all day in the bathroom stall, now could they? Sometimes he would squeak and whimper, which Lori didn’t have time for and she’d always quietly remind him of that.  

“You should enjoy the time while you have it, instead of complaining about not getting more.”  She’d whisper into her cupped hands. And when she finished, he’d be returned to the cleft between her buttocks, immediately after she wiped and immediately before her snug panties and professional, soft slacks slid up and over him. 

Back to work.

Factoring in her entire work day, and the half-hour commute each day, that’s another nine to ten hours of rear confinement. And you might think that she’d let that time slide on the weekends.  

You’d be wrong.

And then there were the hours at home.  Relaxing on the couch watching TV, trying new hobbies and revisiting old ones, and occasionally giving in to Isabella’s and Victoria’s demands that she try just one song on Wii dance. There were fewer safe bets than betting on Michael being wedged between Lori’s buttocks at any of these times, but those early evening hours were often the window of time he was to be given a break…or rewarded with a longer one. And Lori was very deliberate with her use of that word.  Reward.  Like all rewards, they had to be earned.  And if Michael wanted to turn a half hour break into something more, he would have to earn it.  

Lori owed one such method by which Michael could extend his break to Gina’s creativity. Lori wrestled with a weak curiosity after discovering Michael between her daughter’s toes, and that curiosity finally won over one day after a particularly busy work day.  Lori had put in a lot of extra hours that week, most of them spent on her feet traveling to and walking various job sites to check on productivity and workflow. Now it was time to relax over a movie with her daughters.  She propped her throbbing bare feet up on the chase, and suddenly the idea just came to her.

She leaned over, fishing for Michael within her compressed crack before finally plucking him out like ripe fruit from a tree.  He was warm and soft, almost like he’d been waterlogged.  But he looked excited to see her. Or maybe just to be out from between her buttocks.  Same difference. “You can stay out…” Lori said, setting him down before her towering feet. He fell over immediately–adorably…it wasn’t that often he had to support his weight with his own feet.  “...but you can only stay out for as long as the foot massage you’re going to give me.”  

The look of puzzlement and bewilderment on Michael’s face was interesting, but it was nothing compared to Isabella’s and Victoria’s expression. Fascination and disgust, respectively, as anyone would be able to guess.

“Oooo, me next! Me next!” Victoria squealed, kicking her extended legs up and down.  Isabella raised an eyebrow, “You’d really want him near your feet?  After where he just spent literally the whole day?”

Lori ignored both of them, keeping an expectant eye on Michael. He glanced back and forth between her pink, plump, heat-producing soles and her unchanging eyes.  

Lori raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as you being ready to go back in for the night, then?”

“No, no!” With swiftness, Michael stumbled clumsily toward Lori’s towering left foot. 

“What am I…supposed to do?” Micheal uttered, his tiny voice barely carrying over the television, even after Lori lowered the volume. 

“Have you never given a foot massage before?” Lori asked. Her expression remained neutral but there was an unmistakable hint of impatience in her voice.  “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

~