RR Lori Warren - Chapter 45

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We're finally here. Some of you might remember Lori's story from a few years ago. Chapter 44 was the farthest we ever got and I'm so proud of what this story has grown into since I decided to rewrite. With this chapter, we are on to unexplored territory.

It's cliche to say but none of this would have happened without you. There is no way I could have stuck to this schedule if I wasn't holding myself accountable to you! Thank you all so much for your support. We're currently only 13 patrons away from 100, which I NEVER would have dreamed possible. You all mean a lot to me :)

Now without further wait, here is Chapter 45 of Lori's story

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 45 - Two Strikes, You’re Out

January 21st, 2006

Have you ever realized you were conscious…without remembering when exactly you woke up? 

It's that strange sensation when, one moment, you're floating in a quiet oblivion without a shred of identity to call your own.  And the next, you're just…there. Fully aware, yet fully disoriented–your mind thrust into wakefulness and sensation without your permission.

You blink, and there's this weight in the back of your mind, subtle but persistent, pulling at your thoughts. It’s as if a movie was playing in your presence that only half your mind was paying attention to.  You couldn’t articulate the plot or details but you feel the shadow of the emotion it created. 

The room feels dim, even though the light filters through the window, casting soft, fading shadows on the walls. A creeping unease fills your chest, and you’re not quite sure where it came from.  

Maybe just the disorientation of waking up before you’re awake? 

Maybe.  Or maybe it’s something else…

And then, out of nowhere, something compels you. A whisper of intuition tugs at you, urging you to swing your legs out of bed and stand. You haven’t drunk your ritualistic sip of morning water.  You haven’t removed the bunched up fabric riding up your more-than-slight derriere from a night of tossing and turning.  

Could it be from the spicy dinner last night?  

Maybe.  Or maybe it’s something else… 

Your feet move before your thoughts can catch up. The feeling is impossible to ignore, almost magnetic, leading you to your dresser.  Your pulse quickens as your hand hovers over the handle of the panty drawer, and then before even opening it, you start to piece together where that nagging dread is coming from.  Call it women’s intuition.  Call it mother’s instinct.  Call it whatever you want, but you feel it.

And you pray to god that it's just the continuation of some nightmare you’d already started to forget.  You pull it open, and the soft rustle of delicate fabric should greet you.  You fully expect something else to greet you, too. Or rather…someone.

But you dig through your panties.  You turn every pair inside-out.

You inspect every bra, inspecting for tears that he might have burrowed into to keep warm, checking under every cushion.

You unpair every sock and dig deep. 

Your heart’s beating harder now as you drop the last sock, fully inspected and fully empty.

But he’s not here.

Doesn’t matter how frantic you dig through your panties, bras, and socks. 

He’s not in any of them.

Doesn’t matter how quickly you rip the drawer out of your dresser and dump its contents onto your bed.

He’s not here.

Doesn’t matter if you check the drawer right below it, and the one below that, and the one below that.

He’s not here.

Doesn’t matter if you rip your entire fucking room apart. 

He’s.  Not.  Here.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lori’s large buttocks quivered and quaked, spilling over enameled wood edges as she plopped down on the toilet and heavily rested her elbows on her knees.  This was where her best thinking often occurred, and she needed every modicum of brainpower.  Michael was missing…either intentionally or accidentally.  Isabella hadn’t seen him.  Victoria definitely hadn’t seen him.  And Lori needed to find him.

Lori had always cherished the solitude of the bathroom.  She learned quickly after Gina was born that it was the last place a mother could go for some semblance of quiet and personal space (and even then they’d still try to get in!).  But no longer did she hear whispers from the outside–or tiny fingers reaching in under the door like adorable attention-starved creatures, for her daughters were all grown.  And yet she still appreciated the solace of the space, seated atop her porcelain throne where the unpleasant symphonies of sibling bickering could not reach.  She needed that solace and silence now more than ever.

Thwack!

The peaceful quiet of the bathroom was suddenly shattered by a sharp, resonant snap from Lori’s bedroom. It was the unmistakable sound of a mouse trap being triggered.

A surge of unreal panic washed over her. “Oh no…MICHAEL!” 

The reality of the situation slammed into her like a freight train before the snap had even finished ringing out. Without thinking, Lori hastily wiped herself and rose from her seat. Her hands fumbled to pull her pajamas up over her generous hips and jiggling buttocks. With her pajama bottoms awkwardly bunched just above her hips, Lori burst out of the bathroom. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps as she practically sprinted toward the sound of the triggered trap. Her mind was swimming in an ocean of negativity and morbidity, and who could blame her?  That trap had been sitting there for god only knows how long…and it picks now to go off?  No.  It wasn’t a mouse that the trap caught. It had to be Michael.  Was he hurt? Was he even alive?

Lori’s heart hammered in her chest as she awkwardly waddled across her bedroom.  She could already imagine the horror of finding his tiny body caught in the unforgiving metal jaws. He was just so small and fragile.  He’d be ripped apart and unrecognizable–completely mauled and devastated by a cheap mousetrap. The sharp snap echoed in her mind, playing over and over again; she feared it would live there forever. 

The trap was there.  Its powerful metal bar had snapped shut with such a vengeance that small fragmented splinters of wood sprinkled the floor surrounding it.  As she got closer, Lori realized with a surge of mixed emotions that the trap…was empty.  

Michael stood next to it, cowering and shaking like a leaf and staring up at her.

For a brief moment, relief washed over her—but it was quickly replaced by a persistent focus on the timeline–what had brought them to this point where she stood over him and the triggered trap.  She’d tucked him away in his drawer the night before; she’d never been more certain of anything in her life.  And yet here he was, sprinkled with the saw dust of the exploded mouse trap that he must have somehow detonated without being destroyed.  This couldn’t have been an accident.  No matter how much she wanted it to be.  

But oh, how much she wanted it to be!  There had to be an explanation.  Other than what it must have been–the most obvious reason. 

Lori slowly dropped down, gently pressing her knees into the floor and she sat back on her bare feet.  Even now she still loomed over him.   

“Michael…what are you doing out here?” 

His shoulders were hunched up and he was shaking like a leaf. His expression was twisted into something she hadn’t seen in some time:  it was panic.  His tiny little eyes darted around everywhere–except for Lori’s eyeline. 

“Why aren’t you in your drawer? Have you been up here all along?  Why didn’t you come out when I was looking for you?  When I called for you?” Each new question stacked upon the previous unanswered question, and they left Lori’s lips at an increasingly quiet volume.  

Within her own mind, Lori was begging Michael like she’d never begged him before–almost with as much intensity as he had begged her back in the beginning of the experiment.  What was she begging for?  She was begging for Michael to have a good reason for all of this. Of course he had one, right?  Things were going so well. They’d made so much progress.  There was no way he’d risk throwing it all away.

And when he did not offer an answer to any of Lori’s questions, Lori found it harder and harder to avoid accepting the obvious explanation. 

“Were you…trying to run away?” Lori asked with more desperate breath in her question than voice.

Now that was a very direct question, and it called for a very direct answer. After hearing it, Michael finally made eye contact. Lori felt a trace of optimism. 

Oh, thank god.  He’s going to deny it.  He’s going to offer an excuse.  He has a perfectly good explanation.

But Michael didn’t say anything.  His eyes seemed to fixate beyond her. Maybe he was too ashamed to even look at any part of her. Or maybe he was still calculating an escape route.  And then he lowered his head, slumped his shoulders.  She’d never seen such defeat in his expression and posture.

“You’re not going to deny it?  You’re not going to say anything? …after everything I’ve done for you…”  Lori was beyond flabbergasted.  “You…you were really trying to run.” Lori said in disbelief, but it was a statement disguised as a question. She challenged him to deny it.  She pleaded with her eyes for him to deny it.

But he didn’t.

“You’re…not even going to lie?”

It was the strangest thing…he looked to be silently pleading with Lori, and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with her. What on earth was he looking at?  Lori was just about to check over her shoulder to see what was captivating the pitiful man’s attention when his shoulders slumped and his posture sagged. Michael buried his face in his hands and quietly cried.  

Only when she realized that there was no other explanation did Lori feel a surge of anger, flaring bright and hot.  Her vision seemed to tint with red and her fingernails burrowed into the palms of her clenching fists.  Her upper lip felt like it was beginning to sweat and her stomach fluttered.  She’d felt as she did that first time she caught him trying to run away, down in the living room pinned under Victoria’s foot.  God, so much had happened since then.  So much maturation.  So progress! But maybe Lori had imagined all of it.  Maybe this entire time, Michael had really just been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get away. Was he thinking about escaping when the two of them had a nice little laugh after she’d set him on top of their two Sarah Silverman tickets?  What about when he’d told her that she could have given a normal guy his age a heart attack when she modeled for him that skimpy pink thong from Cheeky Chic? When she’d occasionally share with him a steamy night of wine-provoked passion before sending him off to bed in the privacy of his drawer?  Was he always just thinking about how he was going to get away from her?

Lori’s breath steadied and the fiery anger that had almost consumed her unexpectedly began to cool.  She felt the crimson heat drain from her face as the sharp edges of her indignance inexplicably softened.  And taking its place was a deep aching sense of disappointment.  It was a somber realization.  Nothing had changed, no matter how much she wanted it to.  

“You got out of your drawer…how you did it, I don’t know.” Lori spoke with a haunting calmness as she recounted what had obviously happened…all while Michael held his face with his hands.  “But I must have woken up before you were able to get away.  So you hid, didn’t you? You hid from me.”

You’re ruining everything, Michael.  Why can’t you just deny it?! We can’t come back from this…

“You saw me looking for you.  You saw how worried I was.  You could have come out…but you didn’t.  Instead, you waited for the right chance to carry out your horrible plan.  And the opportunity came, didn’t it?” Lori asked, taking another deep breath as the last of her anger dissipated. But she remained profoundly disheartened by Michael’s betrayal.  That feeling wasn’t going anywhere..  “When I went to use the restroom, right? That’s when you did it?”

Again he looked over her shoulder.  Part of her wanted him to try running again, right here in front of her.  It would actually make this a little easier.  “Lori, I’m so sorry!” Michael dropped to his knees and clasped his hands, praying to her as if she were a goddess ready to smite him into oblivion. “Please don’t be mad at me!”

“I don’t want your apologies, Michael.  And I’m not mad at you,” Lori said. “What I’m feeling right now…sigh…it’s so much more…complicated than anger.”

Lori could have easily snatched little Michael up with enough acceleration to break his neck. Evident from the way he flinched as she leaned in closer, encasing him in her imposing shadow, it’s exactly what he expected.  But instead, she gently pressed her thumb against his chest and stomach, and three of her fingers ran from the back of his head to his heels.  He was up, and his ascent continued as Lori rose to her feet. 

“I have to go to the bank today, but they’re not opening for another 3 or 4 hours.” Lori’s tone was so matter-of-fact, Michael looked more afraid than if she was screaming.  Maybe he was right to feel that way. “So since I’ve already woken up much earlier than I intended this morning, I’m going to get a few more hours of sleep.”

Just like he had done countless times before, Michael entered into an all-too familiar flight pattern around the mother of three’s wide hip, and if his eyes were open and not too obstructed by tears, he’d have seen her free hand pulling away the waistband of her soft pajama bottoms.  It had been quite a long time since he had to sleep in her bottom.  She was terrified that he might protest–that he might ask to go back to his drawer; heavens…she might not have been able to control herself were she to hear such an audacious request.  But luckily for Michael, he objected in no way.  He lay as limp and pliable in her fingers as a miniature rag doll.  

He knew what was coming.  

He knew where he was going.  

He knew that he deserved this.  

As Lori’s hand escorted him down past the tugged waistband of her forest green pajamas, there was not a modicum of tension in his limbs.  There was no fight left in him–even as she held him mere inches from her round, pillowy bare cheeks, slowly being pried apart, he hung as loose and pliant as a strand of wet spaghetti.  She wasn’t nearly as dry down there as he might have preferred, but that was his fault, from the nervous sweating to the rushed restroom departure that ended sooner than it should have.  

All of this was his fault.  

Once he was as deep in her crack as he could go, she released her bulbous cheeks, permitting them to swallow him whole. Once the jiggling subsided, she was left with that familiar, comforting sensation–the feeling of her crack filled, and that pillowy flesh molding around his tiny form. The twin spheres of cushion brought his cold skin up to the comparatively sweltering temperature between her glutes.

Lori picked up the triggered mouse trap, along with one of her flats that had somehow found its way to the floor and set them where they belonged.  The rest of the room was still torn apart; she’d deal with that later.  For now, she needed to get a few more hours of sleep. 

Her large, heavy buttocks swayed and sloshed, spread and compressed as she crawled from the foot of her bed to the head, and yet Michael remained snugly nestled in his crevice.  He dared not move. He dared not struggle.  

Lori settled in under the covers. There was still so much she had to work through in her mind. A proportionate response to this betrayal was expected and she would figure all that out. But right now, as her captured body heat compounded under the thick comforter, Lori sighed in relief.  As disappointed as she was with Michael…as much as he had destroyed in just one morning…Lori was still happy to have him cuddled back up in her crack where nothing could harm him.

She allowed herself to relax and appreciate the fact that Michael was now cocooned in the warmth and softness of her body, where he couldn’t escape.  Nothing could protect Michael like her bottom could.  Not his own sense of survival and certainly not her underwear drawer. It was a mistake to let him sleep there, that much was abundantly clear to Lori now.  But she’d learn from her mistakes, and she’d never make this one again.  Hopefully Michael could learn, too. 

Lori nestled her hips into the mattress, digging her back and bottom into its cloud-like softness.  As wonderful as the cool cushion felt against her skin, her movements seemed to stir a sleeping giant.  It started as a faint, bloated sensation, like a knot slowly forming and then tightening within her stomach.  A wave of discomfort washed over her, making her shift uneasily in bed.  Lori’s large cheeks splayed and spread, compressed and squeezed in and around Michael as she tried to find a comfortable lying position.

The pressure in her belly remained persistent, and it was working its way down–down her digestive tract.  The source of the pressure was no mystery.  She knew exactly what it was, of course. Lori had been paying the price all morning for her rather adventurous outing with the girls last night at Tacos Fiesta Anarchy.  It had been over 120 days since the day Lori had installed Michael in her rear for the first time and if today were like any of those other days, Lori would have done everything in her power to avoid subjecting Michael to this blatant indignity. But today felt like a new day in a whole new world. As far as Lori was concerned, there was no going back to those days.  

As she lay there, fully aware of Michael’s vulnerable position between her massive cheeks as the bubbling pressure sank further down, Lori reminded herself that what she was about to do to him–about to put him through–was Michael’s doing, not hers.  If Lori had her way, Michael would still be in her underwear drawer, sleeping peacefully far away from what was about to happen under her thick comforter.  Instead, he was tucked away deep in her rear with a front-row seat.

There was no need to restrain nature’s forces.  In fact, Lori felt compelled to offer some help.

The muscles in her abdomen clenched and tightened.  Her eyes slammed shut.  She felt a few fluttering kicks in her crack.  He must have felt the rumbling.  DId he know what was coming?  It seemed so.  Could he stop it or escape it?  Absolutely not.

Lori flexed her glutes, turning the soft marshmallowy flesh of her cheeks into immovable peach boulders.  She used a fully expanded set of lungs filled with air to press even harder.  With a determined push, Lori forced the gas out in a powerful, forceful blast. The sound was loud and deep, rumbling against the mattress but the real impact and vibrational strength was felt between her meaty cheeks.  The gas burst forth with an intense, oscillating force that reverberated through her clenched buttocks.  The warmth spread quickly through the length of her crack and the relief was immediate as the tension in her stomach finally eased.  

She relaxed her clenched buttocks, but the heat didn’t seem to be going anywhere. It must have been quite difficult for him to handle; he probably didn’t realize that the friction of his fruitless struggling and squirming was not helping to bring the temperature down.  As Lori’s abdomen and glutes further softened, the strong and powerful muscle underneath retiring after a job well done, Michael continued to squirm and wriggle, pushing against the tight confines of the plush, malleable flesh.  Her cheeks were too thick and heavy, and their softness was as much a tool for discipline as it was for protection.

Michael’s alignment with the blast zone had been near perfect and so he accepted nearly 100% of the explosion.  With the way she forced the gas out, it was a wonder he didn’t pass out.  

“Goodness…” Lori wafted the air around her face to disperse the foul odor.  The humidity under the blankets had increased noticeably, she couldn’t have imagined how intense it must have been for Michael. 

She allowed herself to fully relax, knowing that Michael was safe and sound and that was all that mattered.  Before she drifted back to sleep, Lori heard soft, fluttering footsteps padding against the staircase outside her bedroom door–Isabella, heading off to school. 

Michael should count his lucky stars that her sweet, innocent Isabella didn’t find him.  If she were wearing her flip-flops, she might have completely panicked in fear and stomped without a second thought. And if Vicky found him?  God…Lori was limited only by the maximum levels of creative perversion and depravity that her mind allowed her to theorize.

Lori’s buttocks tightened as she reflected on the volume of the blast from a few moments ago. As much sound (and odor) that Michael’s little body had absorbed, it was still plenty loud (and quite smelly).

I hope Bella didn’t hear that…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It would be another several hours before Lori woke up in the early afternoon. The sunshine was dim as it filtered through her curtains and tickled her eyelids. Her mind slowly came to life, and the first thing she did was focus on the sensation between her buttocks. Michael was still there, of course (he better have been!), motionless and long-since lulled to sleep by the oppressive warmth and softness of the bare glutes surrounding him. 

At some point, Lori had rolled over onto her stomach. It seemed that Michael had changed positions, too.  He was still anchored between her cheeks, but he was slotted more toward the peak of her crack near her lower back. As easy as it would have been to interpret his relocation as another escape attempt, Lori knew that the natural movement, compression, and occasional flexing of her glutes had most likely caused him to drift north while sleeping.  There was no underwear beneath her pajama bottoms so her buns were not as compressed as they should have been on him.  She’d have to get back in the habit of wearing them to bed…a lot of things would be changing after this morning.

He was still technically wedged between her cheeks but she preferred him to be further down, where the pressure was greatest and the heat most intense. Without a second thought, she reached back and set her index finger against the small of her back.  She traced down, slowly and deliberately crossing the realm from lower back to upper butt until she felt his tiny form.  His small, pliable body responded to touch with a distinctive twitch against her sensitive skin.

With gentle but firm pressure, she slid him back down the deepening valley between her mountainous cheeks, guiding him further into the moist crevice. If the touch of her fingertip hadn’t woken him up already, his forced gliding against the slippery skin of her inner glutes surely did.  She could feel the resistance and friction lessening as he slid further into the tight space, where repeated leaks of gas had turned her crack muggy. The damp flesh greedily molded around him once more, welcoming him home as she ensured he was securely nestled in the deepest part of her crack. 

Lori clenched her glutes around Michael as she got dressed, and once she stretched a pair of full-coverage panties over her derriere, the tightness and compression was enough to naturally keep Michael in position. Set it and forget it.  She added on a layer of denim, opting for a pair that was just a little tighter than she would have normally worn.

Lori quietly opened the door to Victoria's room, peeking inside to check on her daughter. Victoria’s room was best equipped at fighting the light of morning, those dark curtains drawn and tied such that the morning light barely filtered through. Victoria was lying in bed, her face pale and flushed with the fever that had kept her home from school. Lori’s heart softened at the sight, and she tiptoed over to the bedside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she cooed, leaning down to brush a strand of hair from Victoria’s damp forehead. “How are you feeling, my little angel?” 

Victoria groaned softly, turning her head on the pillow to look up at her mother. “Not great, Mom. My throat still hurts,” she murmured, her voice raspy and weak.

Lori’s expression was full of sympathy; she couldn’t stand when her babies were sick. Victoria’s bedsprings groaned under the unfamiliar weight as Lori sat on the edge of the bed, placing a cool hand on Victoria’s forehead to check her temperature. “Oh, my poor baby,” she said, her voice a mix of worry and tenderness. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way. But don’t you worry, I’m going to take care of everything, okay?”

She gave Victoria’s hand a gentle squeeze before smoothing the blankets over her. “I’m going to run some errands, okay? Do you want me to pick up anything special for you while I’m out? Maybe some ice cream for your throat, or that soup you like from the deli?”

Victoria managed a small nod, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Ice cream would be nice,” she whispered.

“Of course, princess,” Lori replied, her voice as soft as a lullaby. “I’ll get you your favorite flavor. You just rest, okay? Don’t worry about a thing.”

Victoria gave a faint smile, her eyes closing as she relaxed into the comfort of her bed. “Sounds good, Mom,” she whispered.

Lori leaned down to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

She’d made it about three steps away from Victoria’s bed when she heard her youngest daughter’s quivering voice speak again. 

“Mom…did you find Paddy? I…heard you looking for him.”

Lori smiled. “I did, sweety.”

“Was he in here?”

A strange question, for sure.  But Victoria was running a fever…and even in perfect health, she was infatuated with him.  

“I don’t think so. But don’t worry about Paddy. He’s safe now.”

With her eyes still closed, a blissful smile spread across Victoria’s face.  “Good.”

With that, Lori quietly slipped out of the room to run her errands.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

She’d only been in the grocery store for a few minutes, a short enough time that the warmth of her heated seats still clung to the leather as she settled back into the driver’s seat of her car. The moment she leaned back, she felt it—the faint squirming deep within her crack. Michael was stirring, something he did often whenever Lori’s position changed. She smirked slightly, though her mind quickly shifted to the more pressing issue at hand: how to ensure he never attempted to escape again. Twice he’d gotten away from her and twice it almost ended so very poorly for him.  Lori wouldn’t make that mistake ever again.

As she drove, her thoughts churned with possibilities. She needed to come up with a punishment that would leave a lasting impression. Something that would make him think twice before trying to break free from her again. Lori’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as she went through an ever-growing list of disciplinary actions. Whatever punishment she chose, it would need to be designed to break his will, to ensure that he understood just how powerless and fragile he was.  It truly was for his own good.

As she pulled back into her driveway, Lori realized that the most effective punishment might not be something overtly cruel or terrifying. The fact of the matter was simple:  as much as he may not be willing to accept it, Michael was not safe in this world on his own. Period.  There were dangers everywhere, and he was either too stubborn or unintelligent to accept it. But sitting in her car, Lori looked down at her thick thighs, splayed and practically bulging against each other.  Somewhere underneath all that impressive cushion, which had been accumulating a little more generously over the years than Lori thought it might, was the boy she’d been charged with protecting.  He so desperately needed it–the unique protection that only her glutes could offer.  He needed to be swaddled by them, shielded between her cheeks, defended by her protective, thick flesh.  

Would he ever come to accept that?  Lori was now convinced the answer to that question had always been ‘no’. 

And in that realization lived Lori’s course of action.  

~