Accept David's obvious invitation and suggest going home together after dinner

18:00 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Luciano's Restaurant, Putney

You lean across the table, your platinum blonde hair cascading over one shoulder as you fix David with a coy smile. The constant arousal humming through your veins makes your voice husky when you speak.

"I think I'd rather see your bedroom than Matt's tonight," you purr, watching his pupils dilate in response. "Maybe we could, like, skip dessert here?"

David's expression shifts from surprise to hunger in an instant. He signals Marco for the check without taking his eyes off you.

"And here I was planning to be subtle," he says, his voice low and rough. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Your giggle bubbles up naturally, high-pitched and feminine. "You have no idea."

Marco brings the bill, which David pays with barely a glance, sliding his credit card across the table. His attention is entirely focused on you—on the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, on how you lick your lips unconsciously.

"Ready?" he asks, standing and offering his hand.

You take it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. The movement sends a wave of dizziness through you—a combination of wine and the constant arousal that's been building since your transformation.

"Whoa," you breathe, steadying yourself against his chest. The contact sends electricity crackling across your skin.

David's arm wraps around your waist, steadying you. "I've got you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's get you home."

The walk back to the flat is a blur of streetlights and mounting anticipation. David's hand never leaves your lower back, occasionally dipping lower to brush against the curve of your ass. Each touch makes the throbbing between your thighs intensify.

"You know," he says as you round the corner to your street, "I've always thought Matt had terrible taste in women. But you..."

He leaves the sentence hanging, but his meaning is clear. You should feel strange about this—about the way your flatmate is talking about you as if you're someone else. But those thoughts dissolve into static before they fully form, your bimbo-locked brain unable to hold onto anything

[complex.

At

](http://complex.At) the flat door, David fumbles with his keys, distracted by the way you press against him. When the door finally swings open, he pulls you inside and has you against the wall before it even closes behind you.

His mouth finds yours, hungry and demanding. His hands slide down your sides, gathering the hem of your silver mini-dress and inching it upward. You moan into the kiss, your body responding with an intensity that surprises even you.

"Bedroom," you gasp when you break for air. "Please."

David pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you breathe, and it's not just the programming of your new body speaking. Some part of you—the part that's still Matt underneath it all—wants this too, wants to know what it feels like to be taken this way.

With a growl of approval, David takes your hand and leads you down the hallway toward his bedroom.

18:20 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Flat Hallway, Putney

[TIMER | Orgasm Requirement | 2:45:00 remaining]