RR Lori Warren - Chapter 44 (Patreon)

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Reduction & Relocation: Lori Warren

Chapter 44 - Best of Luck!

[January 21st, 2006]

Isabella squeezed Michael hard enough to make him shriek.

“Good.  Now you’re going to listen to me, and you better listen closely.” Isabella growled. “I don’t care if you think I’m silly or simple or bitchy or petty.  You’re entitled to your opinion. But guess what…I don’t care enough about you to try and change it.  You’re a small pathetic weirdo who literally lives between my mom’s butt cheeks.”

That clearly hurt him…and yet Isabella wasn’t satisfied.  She continued.

“I couldn’t possibly value you or your opinion any less.  Seriously. What the heck do I care what a disgusting little butt parasite thinks?  You have no idea what it's like to be me.  Unlike you, I have real problems.  I have real issues. I don’t just sit back like a pet and let someone else take care of everything for me.”

“Isabella…” Michael said.  She squeezed him again. The teenager was out for blood now.

“But honestly, I’m going to graduate next year.  I’m going places.  I’m gonna make something of myself.  You’ll probably still be here living in my mom’s butt. So you go right ahead and believe whatever the heck you want about me. I guarantee you I’m not gonna lose a wink of sleep over your opinion.  But I’m warning you–if you say one word about this to my mom, I swear to friggin' god, Michael…I swear to god. I won’t be worried about Vicky anymore.  I’ll be going after YOU!”

She squeezed him again, chuckling like the crazy and overly emotional girls at her school did when they were upset. “And at that point, well..I’ll already be grounded for basically the rest of my life while I’m living here. I will have definitely missed the biggest party of the year so I won’t even care what happens anymore.  Heck, maybe I’ll just wait for Mom to let her guard down again…and she will eventually; I know she will. And when she does, guess what I’ll do.  I’ll just steal you again.  Then guess what I’ll do.”

Isabella brought him closer to her face. The scent of coconuts tickled her nostrils. 

“I actually really will give you to Vicky...”

She could practically feel the shiver running up his fragile little spine.

“...and you should have heard all the weird stuff she told me and Gina that she’d do with you if she got her hands on you…let’s just say most of it was worse than spending a few hours in a dirty sock.  A lot worse.”

Isabella gritted her teeth again, puffing out her angelic cheeks and furrowing her brow in anger as she squeezed him. She shook him violently. “Tell me you’re not going to say anything!”

Michael didn’t hold out for very long. With the same intensity used to berate the teenager holding him and his entire world just moments ago, Michael erupted into a frantic and terrified apology.  It was hard to tell for sure everything he said between his sobbing, but somewhere in all those apologies were a few promises, so Isabella was satisfied.  She enclosed him in her palm and quietly made her way upstairs.  As she made it to the last step, she heard another door shut. Was that her mother’s door?  Not the bedroom door, but the other door? 

No way…after everything that’s gone wrong this morning, could I really be that lucky?

She peered in and looked around her mother’s bedroom.  It was empty; she was nowhere to be seen.  But Isabella heard the sound of a toilet seat cracking down on the other side of the white door that she’d heard shut moments ago. It was the one that led to her mother’s en suite bathroom. 

Isabella and Victoria had gone out with their mom for dinner the previous night at Taco Fiesta Anarchy.  It was a hip new place and while the girls loved it, their mom didn’t care for the hectic atmosphere.  She also didn’t care for the heavy spices and the effect that they would have on her digestion for the rest of the evening and into the morning.  Thanks to TFA’s gratuitous use of spice, Isabella probably had a few minutes to come up with something.  

This was Isabella’s chance.  She wouldn’t have another one like it.  She didn’t have a fully fleshed out plan at this point, but luck was on Isabella’s side. 

She kicked her flip flops off into the hallway and entered her mother’s bedroom.  

Isabella had made it clear to Michael that snitching on her was not an option.  Now all she had to do was just find a place to put him that would look natural enough.  It needed to look like he was trying to run away and, not that she would have wanted it anyway, but she doubted Michael would be eager to help her find a location.  She heard the unpleasant, muffled splashing sound of her mother using the toilet on the other side of the white door, and then deep bass echoing off the walls and through the crack under the door.  

“Ugh…” Isabella groaned, looking down at Michael with a growing detestment, as if she was more disgusted with him.  

I’ll bet he can’t wait to get back to that.

Her eyes darted with little productivity, but at least she was identifying places she couldn’t put him.  She couldn't put him back in the drawer.  She couldn’t put him on her mom’s bed. 

“Please Isabella…” Michael whimpered again

“Oh my god, will you be quiet?” Isabella said, rolling her eyes without even looking down at him, in disbelief that he’d still have the nerve to beg her when she’d clearly made up her mind.

“Please just give me to her…I know she’ll–”

“Shut up!” She hissed. “I can’t think when you’re squeaking like that.”

Under her bed?  She probably already looked there for him.  In her laundry?  She might not find him at all and end up washing or–

Isabella froze, and felt the blood run from her face.

…end up washing…

…washing…

She brought little Michael up to her face and smelled him. 

Just as she thought.  Just as she feared.

“FUUUUUCK!” Isabella whispered, grabbing a handful of her hair with her free hand, trying to cope with yet another huge problem.

She’d caught a hint of it before, downstairs when she was threatening him. But now, upon closer investigation, it was completely unmistakeable.  The scent of her sweet coconut lotion was incredibly strong on his trembling naked body; it was from the time he’d spent buried in her cleavage!  

Also present on his body were the not-so-subtle and not-so-sweet notes of her Victoria’s feet, which in any other scenario would have sent Isabella into a gagging fit.  She couldn’t let her mom find Michael smelling like this! If her mom smelled him, she’d smell the coconut and recognize it immediately!  She’d know immediately that it was Isabella that had taken him! 

Isabella may have scared the little thing enough to keep his mouth shut but he was practically marked with both hers and Victoria’s scent!  It might as well be a big fat fingerprint on his stupid little body! 

She needed to cover her tracks. She needed to get the incriminating smell of sweet coconuts and rancid foot odor off of him!

Isabella darted quietly out into the hallway and went to enter the common upstairs bathroom so she could clean him.  

But then her heart sank. The brass doorknob was locked.  

Victoria was still in there!

“Hurry up, you big faker!” Isabella whispered sharply through the bathroom door to her sister.  

The response from the other side of the door was completely normal. No labored breathing or scratchy tone.  No injured princess vibes.  Just Victoria’s normal, annoying voice.

“What? No, go away.”

“I need to get in there!”

“I’m about to beat Snake for the first time ever! Use the downstairs bathroom.”

“There’s no time!”

“What, are you gonna pee your pants or something?” Victoria said with a laugh.

Isabella would have normally flipped out, but instead she grinned as an idea came to her; she leaned against the door and stroked the wood paneling with her finger.  “I know you’re not sick.  Hurry up and get out or I’ll tell Mom you’re faking.”

Victoria did not sound worried. “Fine, go ahead and tell her.  But then I’ll tell mom that you let Andrew Stetson squeeze your boob in the cafeteria.”

Isabella gasped; if she were wearing pearls she would have been clutching them. “Oh my god, he did NOT squeeze it!” She stomped her foot on the carpeted floor. “And I didn’t let him do anything, you liar! He elbowed it by mistake.”

Even from the other side of the bathroom door, Victoria’s laugh made Isabella’s blood pressure soar. “A squeeze is a squeeze…shoot, you made me lose.  I gotta start over now.”

A seething Isabella grumbled as she ran back into her mom’s room.  

There was no time.  

There was another bassy explosion from her mother’s restroom, and then Isabella heard the sound of toilet paper spinning on the roll.  Any minute now she was going to be done and Isabella’s window would have shut.  The bathroom door would open and she’d be caught holding Michael. 

Could she lie and say that she found him downstairs and was just bringing him upstairs?  Her mom would almost certainly have some followup questions. Where was he? How did she find him?  Isabella’s brain was already so fried from all the stress she didn’t trust her ability to improvise. 

And there still was that other huge problem that had yet to be solved.  He smelled like a gross combination of her boobs and Vicky’s feet.  And not at all like her mother’s butt!  There wasn’t enough time to run downstairs to the bathroom or the kitchen sink.  She needed to wash him off…but there was no water.  Even the cup near her mother’s bedside reserved for late night thirst was dry.  

She saw only one other option. 

Isabella brought Michael up and over her protruding chest, holding him just above her breasts . As she looked straight down at him, her long hair tumbled on either side, fencing him in and forcing him to stare up at her.  She pursed her full lips, gathering as much saliva as she could muster to the front of her mouth. She made minor adjustments, making sure he was aligned directly under her lips and then Isabella allowed gravity to pull a thick stream of her spit down directly on Michael’s chest.  

He looked shocked and in disbelief.  

Understandable, but unimportant.

“Isabella, why?!” Michael pawed at the thick, hot saliva clinging to his upper torso, long ropes running from his hands to his chest.  “This is disgust–”

No answer came from Isabella.  Instead, just another huge collection of thick, clear spit.  The second assault followed immediately after the first.  This time, right over Michael’s face, causing him to sputter and choke.  Isabella continued collecting saliva to the front of her mouth and letting it drop over and over again, dribbling over him several more times. She no longer had enough to simply purse her lips and allow it to drop from her mouth, but she needed to ensure that his entire body was covered with her saliva.   The desperate teenager was now blatantly and repeatedly spitting onto Michael.  His hair moved under the influence of the strong gusts of her humid breath. Its movement gradually dwindled as his hair became more and more saturated. His hair eventually became plastered to his head now that he was drenched, along with the rest of his body and the skin of her palm that surrounded him.  Once she was satisfied with his level of wetness, Isabella rubbed him violently through her fingers, spreading the saliva over every square millimeter of his body.  Isabella smeared it deeper into his hair and face, his chest and shoulders, his stomach and hips.  She spread his legs and smeared over his soft cock and tiny little buns, and continued rubbing all the way down to his feet. Once she was finished coating his entire body in her saliva, Isabella lowered him toward her hips.  Still sputtering on the thick viscous fluid, Michael disappeared up Isabella’s pleated skirt, between the gray fabric and her bare thigh.  

“God, this better work…”

With her free hand, she rubbed him thoroughly against the inside of her skirt, just as one might clean the dusty lenses of a pair of glasses.  

He came out from under her skirt, mostly dry. Now it was time for another smell check.  Isabella brought him back up to her face to inspect her work.  He appeared drained, even more so than when he emerged from Victoria’s sock.  But the coconut and feet smell was gone and that was what mattered most.  

Still one thing missing though…  

“Oh!” she chirped as the solution came to her just as quickly as the problem did.  

Isabella ran to her mother’s dirty clothes hamper and began ruffling through.  She pulled out the first pair of underwear she could find–a dark maroon pair. It was much more conservatively cut than Isabella herself would wear. However, at the same time, it seemed way too small for her mom.  She opened the panties up, trying not to vomit, and searched for the seat of the panties. With mixed feelings of excitement and disgust, Isabella finally found the area that came to rest against her mom’s ass.  And from the looks of it, wedged between her mom’s ass cheeks, too.  The area was much darker than the rest of the panties and visibly moist.  

Without a second thought, Isabella plunged Michael face-first into the soiled fabric and folded it over.  Ropes of her own saliva clung to the panties, mixing with the sweat and god only knew what else that was Michael was now pulling up from the fabric like a lint roller.  Isabella rubbed vigorously. She was going much harder than she had to.  She knew that.  But passing the accumulating odor and filth left on the panties into Michael’s skin was of the utmost importance.  

Isabella was understandably very reluctant to touch Michael after his intimate tour through her mother’s well-worn, dirty panties, but she didn’t have much of a choice.  She held him as loosely in her grip as she could, wanting to minimize her contact with his gritty, slick skin.  As she ran toward her mother’s closet door, Isabella–but mostly Michael–experienced the consequences of her loose grip on the gross boy.  He tumbled out of her hand and landed with a thud on the carpet.  

Her left foot almost came down directly on top of him but she managed to shift her gait to the left just in time to avoid his bouncing body.  Her breasts quaked violently from the adjustment in center of gravity and he was directly beneath her now. She squatted to pick him up.  Before she grabbed him, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye…something on the floor of her mother’s walk-in closet.  Something right next to where she’d dropped Michael. 

It was a mouse trap. 

Isabella smiled.  

Victoria’s basically the reason I’m in this mess…and it looks like she’s getting me out of it.

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

Nearly a year earlier, their Mom had shrieked upon seeing what she swore was a small mouse run through the kitchen.  Victoria would go on to privately confide in Isabella and Gina that the mouse their Mom had spotted was actually not a mouse at all. It was Buttons, the class hamster from Victoria’s science class.  Victoria had volunteered to bring it home for the long weekend and didn’t bother asking their mother, probably because Victoria knew the answer would be no.  Isabella, Gina, and Victoria all spent that entire day tracking and finally trapping Buttons. 

It was a miracle that they pulled it off without their Mom finding out but she was still sufficiently spooked. She went to the hardware store that day and picked up several small, cheap mouse traps.  Last Isabella had known, not a single one had been tripped in all the time they’d been down and re-baited.  

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

But that’s going to change…right now.

Isabella bent down, her fingers scooping Michael up between her thumb and forefinger. His tiny form squirmed helplessly in her grasp, his minuscule limbs flailing. 

“Isabella please…” Michael pleaded.  “Just…please promise you’re going to give me…the pretzels.”

“What?” Did she hear him correctly?  Pretzels?

“You said…you said that you would get me pretzels for helping you.  At the very least, can you please just–”

“--Are you serious right now?  You’re talking about dumb pretzels right now? Whatever, fine!” 

With a flick of her wrist, she gently tossed him right next to the untriggered mouse trap, watching as he landed with a soft thud on the floor. For a brief moment, Michael lay there, dazed and disoriented. Then, as the reality of his predicament sank in, he scrambled to his feet.  Isabella realized that she hadn’t told him what she was doing.  For all he knew, she was actually going to put him in the trap. He began to scamper away, his tiny limbs moving frantically in a desperate bid for freedom.

His instinct was to flee, which Isabella couldn’t necessarily fault, but she also couldn’t allow it either.  His tiny body darted away from the enormous, threatening trap but Isabella was quicker.  Isabella’s eyes followed his every move with a predatory gleam, laughably superior and outperforming the weak prey below. She watched his desperate attempt to escape, her heart pounding in her chest, and brought her foot down with precision. She took her time.  She didn’t need to rush.  She could cover a generous sprint of his with a single step.

Her bare sole descended over him, the velvety soft skin of her foot cupping his tiny form beneath it. Her heel touched the floor first, followed by the gradual descent of the rest of her sole followed finally by five toes that found the top of his mostly dry head. She felt the immediate sensation of his wriggling body, the way his tiny limbs pressed against the underside of her foot, each movement sending a delicate tremor up her leg. The chill of his skin contrasted with the warmth of her foot, and she could feel every struggle as he tried to push against the oppressive weight, of which was only a fraction of a fraction of what Isabella could impart upon him.

Her foot was large enough to cover him completely; five toes curled to encompass his head and secure it. The arch of her foot cradled his tiny body, her soft  sole molding around him like a gently-wrinkled, memory-foam mattress. She took great care of her feet and could therefore feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his frantic breaths vibrating through the ball of her foot and wafting up to her sensitive toes. The sensation was almost ticklish, but the seriousness of the situation kept her focused.

She shifted him down the length of her foot and applied just enough pressure to hold him firmly in place. His tiny hands pressed against her sole and she could feel his face moving between her big and second toe. 

"Stay still," Isabella commanded. She pressed down a little harder, feeling the contours of his tiny form mold against her soft sole. His tiny little nose nuzzled into the webbing of Isabella’s toes as if he were a cub trying to find milk, and then his little face popped out between her big and second toe.  He stared up at her with wide eyes. His pale, sun-starved face created a fascinating juxtaposition against the glossy, black-painted toenails on either side.

As Michael's struggles began to weaken, his tiny form exhausted from the relentless effort, Isabella kept her foot in place, ensuring he couldn't slip away. How was she going to trigger it? It was easy enough to pause him while she thought, but there was nothing she could do to stop her mother from finishing up in the bathroom. It felt like hours ago when she’d heard the fluttering of toilet paper but in reality, it was barely a minute ago; everything was happening in slow motion! The weight of that ticking clock pressed down on her just as firmly as her foot pressed down on Michael.

“Do not move.” Isabella said sternly and then she removed her foot. 

He listened.  

She grabbed one of her mom’s flats and triggered the mouse trap.  The snap was sharp and echoed throughout the bedroom. The mousetrap fell victim to its own kinetic energy, somersaulting in midair from the snap which caused Isabell and especially Michael to flinch.  

“Michael?! Is that you?!” 

Despite coming from the other side of the bathroom door, Isabella heard her mother’s voice loud and clear.  There was rustling of clothing and then the toilet flushed.  

This was it.  No turning back now.  

Isabella shot one more dirty, threatening look at Michael and then quickly pranced out of the bedroom. She managed to make it out and closed the door to a crack just as her frantic mother burst out of her bathroom.  

Naturally, she made a bee-line for the triggered mousetrap, muttering to herself in a panic and clearly expecting the worst.  Isabella crouched down and peeked with just enough of her eye showing to view the interaction. As luck would have it, the mouse trap and Michael were framed perfectly for visibility from the door. 

Her mom’s big, round cheeks swayed violently. She was still adjusting her tight pajama bottoms around her waist. She’d barely pulled them up over her butt before exiting the bathroom!  Isabella saw fear in her mother’s eyes as she approached the triggered trap and she was mouthing the word “no” over and over again. 

As she dropped down to her knees and sat back on her bare feet, her huge butt splayed against her heels and widened significantly, overflowing like fluid around her upturned soles.  The top of Lori’s dark plumber’s crack was visible above the unaligned waistband. The sight might have been worthy of a childish giggle from Isabella had she not been so stressed.  

Isabella breathed heavily on the outside of her mother’s door, her heart beating like crazy.  She couldn’t see her mother’s face, and she couldn’t hear what she was saying.   She could see Michael though.  He was squeaking emphatically but Isabella had no idea what the little thing was saying.  He looked energetic and defensive as he spoke to mom, but then he looked toward the door and made eye contact with Isabella.  Michael now knew that the sneaky teenager was watching with cat-like eyes, wide through the crack of her mother’s door and silently warning him of what not to say.  Which was definitely a good thing for Isabella.

He was so small, it was difficult to tell for sure…but Isabella swore that as soon as he noticed her watchful gaze from the hallway, his little shoulders slumped down and he looked incredibly sad…like he’d given up.  She knew why he looked that way…of course she knew. Up until he saw her watching, that little stinker was probably going to throw her under the bus! She just knew it!

Isabella hoped for her own sake as well as Michael’s that he would see the severe consequences in that decision.  

Isabella did her best to send Michael that message with her squinted eyes and bared teeth.  She still couldn’t tell what he was saying, but she could see that he was shaking like a leaf and…was he pouting? 

Okay, that’s a good sign.  And what was he doing with his hands?  Was he pleading?  That’s even better. 

She heard her mom saying something…and she couldn’t make out much except for the word “disappointed.”  

Disappointed! Music to my ears! That was a good sign too, right?!

Her mom leaned forward and reached for Michael.  He cringed and cowered slightly but didn’t run away, instead allowing the hand to encircle him.  Isabella watched as Lori stood back up, bringing him around her back where her free hand was already tugging away at the waistband of her tight satin pajama bottoms.  Isabella pumped the air with her fist as she watched her mother move Michael down her lower back.  

She was putting him back in her butt!

He made final eye contact once more with her. It was in time to see that Isabella was smiling in relief, and then he disappeared down the back of Lori's pajamas.  The relieved teenager saw some movement under the satin. Those horizontal green stripes bulging and oscillating like sine waves as Lori got him comfy. And then her right hand came out empty.  As Lori made her way toward her bed, she traced two fingers along the outside of her pajama bottoms, up her crack and then when her fingers reached where she must have sandwiched him, her knuckles her fingers turned white with pressure. What happened next made Isabella cover her mouth to avoid gasping too loudly. The satin had bunched up and wrinkled around half of her two fingers as they plunged deep between her big fat cheeks.  

Did she straight up just shove him…all the way up her butt?  Or just as deep as he could go?

As her mother crawled back into bed, Isabella looked a lot closer than she ever thought she would–she was looking for any sign of Michael between those huge cheeks.  But there was none at all…none she could see any way.  And then her mom turned her weight from her knee, sending her butt crashing down onto the soft mattress like an asteroid. It was at that moment when her mother wiggled under the covers and settled in that Isabella allowed herself to let out a huge sigh.  

She’d gotten away with it.  

Sure, the plan to get back at Vicky had failed but at least Isabella avoided getting in trouble…and little Michael was back right where he belonged.  So thanks to Isabella’s quick thinking and improvisation skills, everyone more or less won.  

Isabella strolled back into her room. Despite her victorious grin, her heart still fluttered with the close call.  She slid her pedicured feet back into her flip flops. As she wiggled her toes up, she clutched the thong of her flip flop between her big and second toe.  It reminded her of the way she’d grabbed Michael’s head earlier.  Interesting. 

She started to pull her hair back behind her ears but then froze dead in her tracks.  “Oh no…” Isabella said out loud.  Her nose wrinkled up as she caught a whiff of her mother’s ass and her sister’s feet.  She hadn’t washed her hands!  

“Ugh..” she almost gagged and had to practically gallop downstairs.  Good thing her bra was too tight because there was no way she was going to keep her bouncing boobs in place with such dirty hands!  Ironically enough, her mom didn't even smell Michael before putting him back in her butt.  So giving him that spit bath and rubbing him through her mom’s dirty underwear to get the coconut smell off of him wasn’t even necessary.  She rushed to the downstairs bathroom to wash her hands.  Isabella also had to wipe down her cleavage with a few baby wipes as well.  It was a nightmare.  She was definitely going to be late at this point, but there was no way she was going to smell that terrible smell for the rest of the day.  No freaking way. 

It also didn’t sit well with Isabella that Michael’s ass-scented body had been in such contact with her foot and toes, and now the toe section of her flip-flop had ass sweat on it!  She vigorously scrubbed her toes with a squirt of foam hand soap, as well as the top of her tainted flip-flop.

Not much could be done about the skirt, at least the part that Michael had been rubbed into was along the inside but she could feel the damp spot against her bare thigh.  Hopefully it would at least dry up sooner than later.  

She was definitely going to be late now. Oh well, it could have gone so much worse. 

Isabella grabbed her backpack and left for school.

~

As always, thank you for reading and for supporting my work. I can't express how much it means to me.

If you remember my first attempt at writing this story years ago, you might recognize that this is precisely where we left off before I circled back for my rewrites and improvements.

Everything beyond this point is new :)