RR Lori Warren - Chapter 47

Short chapter this week, but hopefully the post tomorrow will make up for it. It's the start of something very special!

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 47 - The Devil Incarnate

January 21st, 2006

“Hey Mom.” The sweet voice carried from the doorway. Her presence filled the room with that striking beauty and elegance Michael had come to fear.

“Hi Bella.” Lori replied.

Isabella needn’t brace herself against the door frame as she wiggled the thin black thongs out from between her toes; the young woman was grace personified…among other things, as Michael had learned today. 

A few gentle scuffs against the hardwood floor later, and Isabella had stepped out of her flip-flops.  She took the extra time and used her toes to align them at the door, nudging them into perfect symmetry next to Victoria’s clunky skater shoes.  As he watched those toes work, Michael had immediate flashbacks to earlier that day when Isabella had used those toes on him.  Painted jet black, they could have been death incarnate, all ten of them.  And that sole…coming straight down on him.  He could still see the subtle hints of pink at the heel and ball of her foot. He’d never seen a sole so soft, smooth, and unmarked as Isabella’s, a true testament to a life untouched by hardship.  And yet the raw strength and power that sole possessed…orders of magnitude higher than anything Michael could ever muster.

Isabella’s bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor as she made her way toward Lori and Michael and her snug top worked hard to contain her exceptionally large chest. The black and pink straps of Isabella’s backpack dug into her shoulders–as if she needed something to push those huge tits out further and make them appear even fuller! The weight of those breasts…god.  Michael knew first-hand just how heavy those breasts were, and that supportive, heavy-duty bra of hers could only dampen the fluid jiggling so much.  There was still plenty of sway as she walked in agonizingly slow motion.  

She didn’t notice Lori and Michael in the dining room at first, but Michael knew the precise moment when she did, because her eyes widened to saucers.  She stopped at the threshold into the dining room. Her sharp, calculating eyes had flicked over his body just long enough for  a shiver to run down Michael’s tiny spine…and he lost all his nerve. 

“Hey Mom, what’s going on?” Isabella asked. 

Lori straightened up, turning to face her daughter.  “I’m just having a little talk with Michael.” 

The intensity of Lori’s presence didn’t fade, however. If anything, it became stronger because as her laser-focused gaze took a break from dominating him, her shelf of an ass now loomed over him as she turned to face Isabella.  

Isabella’s eyes sparkled with an innocence that Michael immediately recognized as fake.  “Oh, so you found him.  Where….was he?”

“Oh, he was trying to run away, nearly killed himself on one of the mouse traps.”  She turned back to face him.  “Isn’t that right?”

Oh, no.   Please…please don’t make me confess to this…

He pleaded with Isabella’s watchful deathglare of a gaze, pleading for mercy.  He pleaded with himself..to find some semblance of courage to stick up for himself against these massive women.  He found nothing in neither.  

“......yes.”

Michael could see the deep breath in Isabella’s expansive chest release–and with it, all of her tension and concern about getting caught.  With that explicit confession from Michael, she’d gotten away with it.  She’d gotten away with framing poor little Michael for all of this.  

Michael recognized that things were not only going to get worse from here, but that they’d likely never get better again.  And he began to cry. 

“I’ve raised three girls, Michael.” Lori said with ice in her tone.  “Water works aren’t going to change my mind about where we’re going from here.”

Isabella groaned softly as she slipped the heavy backpack off her shoulders. She set it down on the dining room table with a solid thud and the table seemed to grimace under the weight of all those textbooks. She was much quieter when easing herself into her seat. 

“Bella, do you mind?”

Isabella gathered her thick hair into her hands, lifting it off her shoulders as she prepared to tie it in a scrunchie. “Mom, I’ve got a lot of homework and there isn’t room upstairs at my desk.  You always said we could work at the dining room table.”

There was probably plenty of room at her desk, but Michael knew better.  Isabella wanted to observe.  She wanted to make sure that Michael wasn’t going to change his mind and tell the truth.  She needed to be there, hearing what was said.  But more importantly, she needed Michael to know that she was listening.  All of this was confirmed when Lori turned back to face Michael, and Isabella’s expression twisted into a hostile frown.  She moved her lips silently.  What she said, Michael didn’t know as he was terrible at reading lips, but it couldn’t have been anything good. 

Isabella buried her nose in her textbook, but she was keeping one ear on the conversation as Lori picked up where they’d left off.

“Ok…where were we?” Lori's voice softened, but the disappointment in her tone was unmistakable. "I thought we were a team, Michael. I thought we’d gotten past all this selfishness.” Lori’s eyes pinched shut in a somber acceptance of the situation. “I thought you understood that I’m doing this to protect you. But now…I realize I was wrong."

Michael looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear and regret. But Lori wasn’t finished.

"From now on," she said, her tone turning resolute, "things are going to change. I can’t risk you trying to escape again. I can’t trust you to take care of yourself, not after putting yourself in such danger…not once, but twice!” 

She looked to Isabella.  “Do you remember when Vicky almost stepped on him?”

Michael winced to see how quickly Isabella had gone from merely being allowed to exist in the same space to an ally in MIchael’s berating.  

Isabella nodded her head vigorously, “Uh-huh!  We all thought he was a bug and Vicky was within…like…a heartbeat of squishing him.”

Lori nodded.  “I can’t trust you not to run, Michael. I can’t trust you to keep yourself out of danger.  The only way to keep you safe is to keep you close to me—very close."

Tears welled up in Michael’s eyes as he looked between the two Warren women.  Isabella must have felt emboldened by the earlier question to fully drop the pretense of studying.  She was fully engaged–participating now in the conversation.  

“It really is the best thing for something so little, Mom.”

Lori nodded, “I agree, sweetheart.  She’s right, Michael.  This isn’t just for my peace of mind; it’s for your safety. I wanted you to have some sense of autonomy in this strange new world we’re living in, but it's like you took the small amount I gave you and threw it in my face.  DIdn’t you?”

Isabella’s upper lip twitched, and a flicker of fire danced over her gaze.

“Yes, Lori.  But I’m so sorry…I don’t…I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, whatever it was, I can’t let you risk your life like this ever again. You made your choice when you tried to run, and now, this is how it has to be."

“How…does it have to be, Lori?”

"I hope you understand, Michael. This is for the best—for both of us." Lori’s eyes softened, but there was a sternness in her voice that left no room for argument. “You’re going to live where you belong, where you’ve always been the safest—between my cheeks. And I’m extending your DDM.  Permanently.”

“DDM?” Isabella asked, chewing on the eraser of her pencil.

“Dynamic Daily Commitment, it’s the minimum number of hours per day that the lab requires him to…” Lori caught herself.  “Actually, how about I stop oversharing and you get back to that homework, miss?”

Isabella smirked and returned her attention to her studies. 

“Anyway..” Lori said, her subtle grin wiped as she returned her attention to Michael. “I’ve given you freedom, Michael.  Because you’d earned them. Or at least I thought you did.  Maybe you were just biding your time and waiting for the right moment.  I won’t make that mistake with you again.”

Lori reached out, her massive hand gently cupping him as if to emphasize the care she still held for him. “I spoke with Brandi Thompson. She’s the…well…I suppose she’s the ‘psychologist’ person at RR Labs.  You’ve met her before but you might not remember.  Anyway, we had a long talk about you and she recommended a new rule to help put you on the right path.  And I agree with her.  New rule: you’re going to stay in my bottom for twenty-three hours a day, every day.”

“What?!” Lori, no! Please, you can’t do this!” Michael’s voice trembled and his voice cracked. Raw panic seeped from each syllable and his body shook uncontrollably.  “I can barely handle what you put me through as it is!”

“What I put you through?” Lori asked, almost amused at what she perceived to be audacity. “You can’t be serious.”

“Twenty-three hours a day…I can’t.  I’ll…I’ll lose my mind.  I’ll lose myself!” His breath came out in ragged, uneven bursts as if he were trying to prepare for the inevitable future by coding the memory of fresh air into his mind. 

How could any person handle twenty-three hours wedged between a set of hot, fat ass cheeks? It was impossible! “This is all too much!  No, it’s too much of too much!” Michael wailed like a child.  “It’s torture!  It’s evil!”

“Hey, don’t talk to my mom like that.” Isabella’s eyes locked onto Michael’s, daring him to do it again. “She’s doing this for you. She does all of this for you. Stop being so ungrateful.”

Michael’s head almost exploded from the audacity of this bratty teenager. Not only did she cause all of this, but she was going to reprimand him for being upset?  Isabella sat with impeccable posture–back always straight and ankles always crossed. She cut her food into tiny pieces and dabbed her lips with a napkin after every bite.  She was polite and studious, elegant and graceful.  But all of it was an act.  Michael couldn’t believe that she had everyone fooled. Isabella wasn’t the sweet, pretty princess she presented herself to be.  

She was cold and calculating.

She was selfish and deceptive. 

She was the devil incarnate.

As far as Michael was concerned, Isabella should have been wearing a white lab coat.

He hated her. He wished horrible things for her. But he dare not say a word.  The fire in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes terrified him, and the real horror came from wondering what she was capable of.  Michael wanted her to pay the price for what she’d done, but he didn’t want to end up at Victoria’s hands (or her feet) to accomplish it.  God only knew what even just an evening with Victoria would be like, and he never wanted to find out.

“It’s okay, honey.  He needs this but he doesn’t understand yet.”  Lori said, patting Isabella on the shoulder. “But she’s right, Michael.  We’re going to go with twenty-three hours a day because I think I’ll be able to manage keeping you safe for the other hour. But who knows?  I’ve clearly been wrong before so if I end up being wrong about this too, then we may have to go to higher.”

“Higher?!  Higher than twenty-three hours?!”

“And if you’re behaved.” Lori continued. “...then maybe the number will work its way back down.” Lori said with a tinge of short-lived sympathy. “But I’ll tell you right now, it will never be what it was yesterday. That ship has sailed.”

“Lori…please…I swear on my life.  I will NEVER let this happen again.”

“See, I don’t like that phrasing, Michael.” Lori crossed her arms over her chest.  “LET this happen?  You didn’t LET this happen.  You created this.  You and only you. You have only yourself to blame.  You and no one else.”

Michael felt dizzy…like he was going to pass out.

“You could’ve kept a bit of freedom, but you decided that freedom wasn’t important.  You threw it all away, and now… you’ve lost it all for good.”

Lori sighed, as if the weight of the decision was as heavy for her as it was for him. But for Michael, the true weight was right around the corner…right around those wide hips rising from Lori’s sturdy chair.

Michael shot one final glance at Isabella–the one person on earth who could rescue him from this nightmare within a nightmare. She’d gotten up and went into the kitchen.  Apparently she wasn’t concerned anymore with Michael’s silence.  She knew he wouldn’t say anything, and she was right.

Lori’s fingers circled Michael’s body, crowding him and closing in, and at the same time he heard the sound of dishes clacking.  It was Isabella opening the dishwasher.  “Mom, are these clean?”

Lori escorted Michael around her generous lovehandle and traced him down her lowerback, plunging him beyond the waistband gripping snug against her hips.  

As the lights went out and the normal sounds of the world outside turned to a dull fuzz, Michael could still make out Lori’s speech as it reverberated with bass through her dense butt cheeks. She was answering Isabella’s question about the dishes.

“No sweety.  I’ve still got to run it.  Here, I hand-washed this one a few hours ago for Vicky but she wasn’t feeling well enough to come down.” From within the seat of Lori’s yoga pants, Michael heard the friction of glass against wood as Lori swiped up the glass from the table.  

The glass that he had been trapped under. 

The glass he assumed Victoria had drank from–and left bitter, unpleasant backwash.

The water in the glass…it was…fresh? 

It was clean?

~