RR Lori Warren - Chapter 35
Added 2024-07-05 21:00:04 +0000 UTCPREVIOUS CHAPTER | START FROM THE BEGINNING
Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren
Chapter 35 - Dreams and Reality
[November 21st, 2005]
âGod, you look so good in thoseâŠâ Michael bit his bottom lip as he drank in the sight before him. Heâd picked out the bra and panties for his girlfriend and theyâd quickly become her favorite. And did she look incredible in them! The bra was crafted from sheer lace in a rich shade of midnight blue that perfectly complemented her skin tone. And made from the same luxurious lace as the bra, her panties dipped low in the front, showcasing an endless expanse of skin below her bellybutton. The back featured a cheeky cut that accentuated her pert, petite ass. Sheâd have never worn something like this before Michael. She always worried that provocative underwear like this was meant for busty, thick women. That worry was short-lived, however, since the best sex theyâd ever had was the night she tried them on.
Michael nuzzled into the crook of his girlfriendâs slender neck. The subtle scent of lavender gave him chills and with a low groan of appreciation, he pressed his body against hers, relishing in the warmth of her presence. His hand roamed boldly over her slender hips and then his fingers found their way around to the firm, round curve of her petite ass. It was a perfect fit: barely a handful of toned, perky flesh that fit snugly in each of his handsâit was just the way he liked it and it was driving him wild with desire. Michael applied more pressure to the near-handful of cheek, allowing his short fingernails to sink in and leave their mark. He marveled at the way she responded to his touch as her body arched against his.
In that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them, lost in a whirlwind of passion and desire, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second. And as they melted into each other, consumed by the primal need that pulsed between them, Michael knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
Michael's pulse quickened as he reveled in the sensation of his girlfriend's slender frame pressed against him. He couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through him as he felt the subtle protrusion of her hip bones against his pelvis. That was just how he liked it.
He scooped up under her butt, relishing in the feeling of her lightness as he effortlessly carried her towards the bedroom. She was like a feather in his arms, her delicate frame fitting perfectly against his own. As she wrapped her arms around him, he couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly he could lift her, her weight practically negligible in his embrace. It was a testament to her precious, petite stature, which was just how he liked it.
It was moments like these that reminded him why he preferred his women skinny and petite. There was something undeniably intoxicating about the way her slender body felt against his own, a sense of vulnerability that only served to heighten his desire. And as he laid her down on the bed, her delicate form sprawled out before him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of possessiveness wash over him. She was his, and that was just how he liked it.
Even as she landed with a bounce, Michaelâs neatly-made bed beneath the dainty princess was barely disrupted. She giggled, running her fingers up through a forest of thick, bleach-blonde hair. She liked being the center of attention and in this bedroom on this night, she was getting exactly what she wanted. Her fingers continued upward out of her air and clutched a square pillow.
Did she bring that? Never seen that pillow beforeâŠ
It was a pale, peach color that didnât at all match his blue and green flannel comforter. Despite being overstuffed, the pillow was quite small and could have easily blended in, but Michael still figuratively scratched his head wondering why it looked so out of place right now.
His girlfriend hugged the small peach colored pillow to her small chest and then laid it at her side, but still kept hold at one of the corners.
WhateverâŠwhy are you thinking about pillows right now??
Michael felt himself throbbing now, real estate under his jeans quickly filling up as his erection painfully pressed into the denim, trying desperately to get to his girlfriend. He looked down at her as if she were the worldâs greatest treasure, and he couldnât help but touch her in admiration.
While not exceptionally dark, his hands occasionally met sunlight throughout the course of his days. The same could not be said for his girlfriendâs stomach. The contrast of his hands against that pale, milky-white belly was astounding and made him ache that much more. He leaned down and kissed each of the protruding hip bones, allowing his nose to rub against her belly button as he shifted back and forth.
Michael kissed the front of her thin, silky panties and knew he was right where he belonged. As thin as she was, he loved that he could sink his face between her thighs. His eyes went up to hers, locking over the landscape that was her tight, flat stomach and small but perky breasts. She smelled great; she always did. She tasted even better. Her beautiful green eyes disappeared as she hugged that pale peach pillow to her chest again. ButâŠit seemed larger than before. It was just as peach-pale as it was, but where before it had barely covered his girlfriendâs chest (a low bar to clear), now it extended from the slender blonde beautyâs chin down to her belly button.
Mike, enough with the pillows. Youâve got a pussy in your face!
Michael used two fingers to shift her panties to the side, giving himself access to her tight, puffy lips. He pulled one of them into his mouth and sucked. Immediately, she let out a primal moan and her thighs tightened against his face. He was on cloud nine, but Michael was soon taken out of the moment by the feeling of that super soft, plush pillow. It was now grazing against the top of his hair, its rhythm of movement matching the heaving of his girlfriendâs chest.
And then he felt her thighs relax around his face and a hand through his hair. âLetâs try something funâŠâ she purred.
As his tongue retreated from her slippery sex, Michael watched her panties slide back over and he smirked as darkness grew from the center and spread outward. He licked his lips and enjoyed the sweet taste of her arousal. There was nothing quite like it. Michael knew that when he could make her wet, he could control herâŠand he loved being in control.
That didnât mean he wasnât open to letting her explore her own interests though.
The blonde beauty jumped out of bed as Michael sat up. Her tight little ass jiggled in response to her bare feet slamming into the ground. The pale, peach pillow scraped the carpet as his girlfriend struggled to hold it above the floor. Michael couldnât blame her, she was barely 5 feet tall, 100 pounds soaking wet, and the peach-pale pillow looked like one of those comically large stuffed bears they gave away at carnivals.
She turned to face Michael, a mischievous grin on her face as she approached him. Her white-painted fingernails sank deep into the cushion of the pillow. It was so overstuffed, and it looked heavy too! Far too heavy for a small, frail princess like her to hold.
Itâs way bigger nowâŠarenât you going to notice it wasnât that big before?
What did this smolderingly sexy girlfriend of his have in mind? He had no idea, but she was more than hot enough to keep him interested!
âYou ready?â She asked, raising a dark, seductive eyebrow.
She was way too hot to doubt, disagree with, or even question. Michael nodded his head. He had no idea what this blonde temptress was going to do, but he couldnât wait till she did it! She hoisted the heavy, huge pillow up. It took all of her strength just to get the massive, overstuffed peach pillow up to her chest level. Michael looked at the pillow and then back at his girlfriend with a confused expression. Why was she smiling like that? Without another word, she thrusted the top half of the pale-peach pillowâall that she could control with her miniscule weight--against Michaelâs face.
He was immediately taken aback by the gesture. What was this? The initiation of some sort of silly pillow fight?
Her fragrant scent of lavender seemed ever present on the pale-peach pillow but there were also strange, unpleasant, and uncomfortably primal scents that accompanied the plush cushion. The applied force pushed his head and neck back slightly but he retained his posture sitting atop the bed and did his best to go along with his girlfriendâs strange game. He didnât understand what she was doing but if she liked it, heâd happily help her get off even if it didnât make sense.
I know men and women are into different things, but this isâŠweird.
Michael finally got impatient with his girlfriendâs strange game. He turned his head away from the comically massive, soft pillow. He tried to pull away but he felt her hand on the back of his head holding it gently but firmly in place against the pillow. She must have started pressing harder because his face fully sank into the plush, cushiony fabric. Was that a ring he felt on her hand?
She never wore ringsâŠ
When he felt like his lungs were starting to burn, Michael managed to pull his face from the fluff. âOkay, that was fun I guess but do you mind if weâŠâŠ.â
Michealâs voice trailed off and his jaw hit the floor. He saw the same delicate, expensive panties and tiny little bra in front of him, but they were stretched so much tighter. It was as if someone else, other than Michaelâs girlfriend, was there wearing them.
Her stomach was no longer perfectly flat. It wasnât an excessive amount of chub or anything, but it was enough to fully conceal the hip bones heâd grown to love seeing on his girlfriend. Further up were swelling breasts much larger, the volume of just one perhaps surpassing his girlfriendâs full chest! And they struggled to break free from the confines of the agonizingly small bra.
Atop the huge breasts fighting for freedom laid not his girlfriendâs golden locks. Instead it was chestnut brown hair that hovered just over a broader set of shoulders. Confusion became stronger when he saw glasses...thick, black framed glasses and wise, friendly brown eyes behind them. Slender cheek bones were replaced by slightly puffy, cherubic cheeks.
It wasnât as if some other woman was straddling him, wearing his girlfriendâs bra and panties.
It literally was someone else!
No makeup, no lipstick, but a natural and subtle beautyâŠand a growing smile.
Heâd seen glasses like those before. So thick. So black.
Michaelâs eyes widened and as charming and cute as the busty, thick woman was, his penis deflated like a punctured balloon. He recognized her.
It was the woman that ruined his life. The woman from RR Labs.
It was Dr. Katie Walker!
Her black, thick framed glasses had sagged down the narrow length of her cute button nose and her breasts threatened to spill from the already overpowered bra, several sizes too small, as she worked hard to hoist up the huge, plush pillow. It was almost larger than she was now! It wasnât pressed into his face like before. Instead, ten jet black fingernails pressed into his bare chest. Michael winced, expecting her to rake down and tear his pecs like an overzealous wolverine. His eyes unsquinted and he spotted an adorable smile, and then she gave a gentle, playful push. Michael fell backward from his sitting position, his back rushing to meet the mattress. His head might have struck the cushion if there wasnât something already there in the way. Something warm. Something soft and giving, yet paradoxically firm and unyielding. Something peach and pale; plush like the pillow that was over his face.
The back of Michaelâs head slotted perfectly into the narrow crevice between the two soft mounds. His ears brushed up against supple bare skin, and powerful muscles danced underneath, reflexively squeezing in on either side of him. His peripherals were consumed by the pale peach, identical in color and apparent softness to the pillow being held by the busty, scantily-clad doctor at the foot of his bed. When Michael tried to turn his head, the powerful muscles flexed, prohibiting his movement. It was then, as his lips puckered up from how much pressure was being applied to either of his cheeks, that his head was trapped between a big, meaty set of thighs.
They extended down to a set of shins and terminated at the end of the bed into two bare feet, where ten nude toes wiggled, pointing straight up at the ceiling. Michael watched the feet come to life and cross over each other. The heels rested atop his crotch and the calves, each larger than his girlfriendâs thighs, pressed firmly against his chest. Most of all, the joint pressure of her upper thighs increased by tenfold on the sides of Michaelâs face.
âShhâŠ.Iâve got you.â
The voice came from over his head. Above the pale bare stomach that was anything but toned and flat. Only a foot or so higher were stiff nipples protruding from huge, bare breasts..their undersides blocking out the face of whoever those âpillows for thighsâ belonged to.
âHeâs so cuteâ the voice said from over top of the hanging breasts. Michael saw a short nose and cute brown eyes peering down over the protruding breasts at him.
Michael saw two angels peering over the womanâs shoulders, each of them dressed in pristine white lab coats. One had blonde braids and an elfish young smile. The other was older but had an otherworldly elegance about her. Her porcelain skin juxtaposed beautifully against her jet black hair and inky black eyelashes that resembled thick brush strokes. Dark, expressive irises centered between curved, almond shaped eyes that seemed to hold a world of wisdom and kindness.
The two angels floated around the woman whose lap cradled Michaelâs head and they joined Dr. Walker.
Michaelâs eyes practically bugged out of his head to behold the absurd tightness of the blondeâs yoga pants, the view so clearly and deliberately unobstructed by her lab coat.
He recognized that huge assâŠheâd seen it before.
Heâd been there before.
The tightly compressed ass cheeks jiggled, waving a final goodbye to Michael as she turned on her heels, aligning shoulder to shoulder with Dr. Walker and smiling at Michael.
âBelieve in the cushionâŠâ
âBelieve in the warmthâŠâ
âYou believed in me, your Acclimation TherapistâŠâ
ââŠand now believe in yourself. You can do this!â
Dr. Walker nodded in approval and then looked to the exotic woman to her left. âIs he ready, Dr. Zhang?â
âIndeed he is. The subject exhibits signs consistent with dehydration and malnutrition." Dr. Zhang said, raising a finger to confidently assert her point, "He displays preparedness for transdermal imbibing."
Transdermal imbibing? What the hell is that?
Brandiâs braid swung in sync with the bouncing of her heels as she clapped energetically. Dr. Walkerâs reaction was much more reserved, but she still beamed with satisfaction.
In an instant, Michael found himself consumed by an overwhelming sensation that eclipsed all of his other thoughts. Each breath of air that rushed over the parched, cracked texture of his lips seemed to fan the flames of his dehydration, intensifying the burning sensation that emanated from the pit of his empty stomach. The sensation of thirst was a relentless force, gnawing at his senses with unyielding persistence, while the hollow ache in his stomach echoed the emptiness that seemed to consume him from within.
Michael ripped his eyes from the three beautiful, intelligent women studying him, up toward the swaying tits suspended over his head like a fleshy, bulbous awning.
In that moment, a flicker of desperation danced behind his eyes, mingling with the haze of exhaustion and need. For the first time, an absurd yet strangely compelling notion crept into his mindâa fleeting thought of nourishment and solace in the warmth and that her body could provide.
The idea was absurd, preposterous even, and Michael recoiled from it instinctively, his pride warring with the gnawing hunger and thirst that consumed him. Yet, as his stomach emitted another aggressive growl and his cracked lips pleaded silently for relief, he felt the tendrils of his resolve begin to unravel. Shame and embarrassment tugged at the corners of his consciousness, but the primal instinct to survive, to quench the insatiable thirst and satiate the relentless hunger, threatened to overwhelm him.
Michael glanced longingly up at the thick womanâs bosom, gently rising and falling over his head, swelling outward and deepening the shadow cast upon his face.
Tears, fluid his body couldnât afford to lose, leaked from eyes squeezed closed. He couldnât do it. He wouldnât do it. He still had some semblance of pride and he already judged himself enough for even entertaining such an emasculating idea.
A soothing song hummed from her lips floated down over the curve of her breasts and tickled Michaelâs ears as fingers ran through his hair. Michael tried to sit up but her fleshy thighs squeezed in on his cheeks and jawline.
His eyes darted back to Dr. Walker. Her grin was even larger now as she scribbled notes into a tiny notebook before stuffing it into her crowded breast pocket.
Could she see what he was thinking? What he almost asked of this woman?
Brandi whispered something in Dr. Walkerâs ear and the two women chuckled. âIâll need your help for this part, girls.â Dr. Walker said, struggling to pick the life-sized peach pillow from the floor. âItâs much too big now.â
Brandi and Dr. Zhang were happy to oblige, and not a fraction of feminine strength was wasted as the three hoisted up the stuffed pillow, straining to heave it upon the creaking and groaning bed. The woman cradling Michaelâs head with her thighs leaned back, and he watched the undersides of her breast retreat. The scientists lugged the pillow up, nudging it further until it landed atop the womanâs crossed ankles. The gelatinous mass of peach cushion overflowed up toward Michael like a tidal wave, firmly forcing the back of his head into the thigh cleavage under him. Consequently, his face and nose buried into the plush cushion of the smelly, soft pillow.
âThere we go, isnât that nice?â Brandi asked, her voice soothing and buttery and at the same time clinical and professional. Three sets of hands applied pressure over the pillow, further driving Michaelâs face into its padded depths, and then he felt a fourth set of hands join in: the woman whoâs lap he was lying in, no doubt.
As his lungs felt ready to burst, he found himself permitted once more to expel the poisonous carbon dioxide and pull in a deep, cold breath.
Why was it so cold?
Michael realized quickly that he no longer felt the womanâs heels anchored atop his crotch.
The chubby calves compressing down on his ribs were gone as well as the thick warm thighs hugging either side of his face.
Supporting his weightâhis entire bodyâwas the peach-pale pillow. It was just as large, just as soft, and the same color as its twin: the one the scientists had just pulled off his face.
And everything around him had changed.
It was only Michael and Dr. Walker, still clad in his girlfriendâs tiny bra and panties. They were alone in the universe. Themâand of courseâthe two peach-pale pillows.
The pillow supporting his weight was so much larger than before. It was nearly the size of a football field, stretching out in all directions! He collapsed to his knees, feeling dizzy from trying to understand what was happening. The pillows were just as massive as ever, the one Dr. Walker held and the one Michael laid upon, like football fields stretching out in every direction. And yet the one Dr. Walker held hers comfortably in the palm of her hand.
She was so much larger now though. Instead of having to swing the pillow with her body weight, she could easily maneuver it as if it were a stress ball. Michael saw on the peach-pale pillow initials stitched into the center in periwinkle purple lettering.
RR
He looked down at his own pillow and saw that he was sitting helplessly atop a matching set of initials, far far larger than him.
Dr. Walker offered one more smile, reeking of a smug victory, as she lowered the other plush pillow toward Michaelâs body. The last thing he saw were tiny droplets of clear liquid, emerging from the pillowâs surface, like tiny glittering pearls of condensation. He felt them against his knees and feet as wellâwarm, wet, and gritty.
Michael pathetically raised his weak handsâpowered by puny muscles that couldnât dream of supporting the pillowâs girth. Dr. Walker snickered. These are the sacrifices we make in the name of science.â
And then Dr. Walker fully encased him between the two plush, wet cushions like the smallest hamburger patty between two large buns.
*
Michael opened his mouth to scream, realizing that heâd just woken from a horrifying nightmare, but it seemed the pale-peach pillows had followed him to reality.
His nose was firmly forced deep into the cushion, so deep that he could barely take a breath. Despite the uniform pressure he felt over his entire body, he somehow brought his arms up from his sides toward his face, creating the smallest, diamond-shaped gap of humid, muggy air between his face and the wet cushion.
The bigger problem however, remained unsolved. His entire body was under severe compression and if the dual cushions had not offered such yielding softness, he surely would have been pulverized. He struggled with all his might in a confused haze, trying to escape the cleavage of the two pillows. He squirmed inches and then feet, feeling as if he was making progress at escaping this strange, unexplainable confinement. He had moved some distance, sliding with little friction against the soaking wet curvature of the pillow plush but despite the distance he traversed, he was not clearing the cushiony trap, its heat, or its wetness.
Not his face, not his shoulders or hips, not his thighs or even his feet.
But he was awake! He knew he was!
Everything was between these two pillows, and as far as he moved, nothing changed.
Michael dared to open his eyes and he was immediately punished by the sharp, sweltering hot salt water. The same salt water coating his body from head to toe, saturating his hair and waterlogging his skin. Even without the stinging, he couldnât see anything in the dark. He would have kicked and squirmed as one might when they wake from a horrifying dream, but the compression on his body was even stronger than beforeâŠand now the pillows rippled around him! He heard the soothing, buttery voice of the woman from his nightmare. The one who supported his head with her thighs. It was so strong and powerfulâŠall around him. Bassy and overwhelming.
âSaunas are not a joke, my goodness!â
And that was when it all came screaming back to Michael.
Most people woke up from nightmares in the safety of their own bed. Theyâd feel a little jarred and may even be covered in a sheen of perspiration from terror. That was often how Michael woke from themâŠon the rare occasion heâd actually had a nightmare. They came far more frequently these days, the big peach pillows a relatively new monster that stalked him both in slumber and in reality. And while they hadnât followed him back to reality, heâd rejoined Loriâs huge, fat ass cheeks, waiting patiently for him to wake. His face was still firmly and shamefully pressed into the cushion that surrounded his life in reality. Hunger and thirst still gnawed at his psyche.
The layer of air heâd created in front of his face was taking all of his strength to maintain, and it wasnât long before his screaming muscles surrendered, and Loriâs plump cheeks greedily rushed to fill the 1 square millimeterâs worth of space in front of Michaelâs face, pummeling him as if to punish him for trying to get some distance. His world unapologetically and abruptly rotated 90; he dislodged and shifted within his prison. He heard a door open and a cheerful, chipper young woman say she hoped Lori enjoyed her experience.
~
