"I totally have a new leak that needs plugging. And my nipples seem to be so cold and tight right now, maybe you know of some way to warm them up."

Your words come out in a breathy purr, shocking even yourself with how naturally they flow from your lips. You bat your eyelashes and twist one pigtail around your finger, cocking your hip to one side in a pose that feels instinctively right.

Rick's eyes widen momentarily before a slow, predatory grin spreads across his face. He steps into the bathroom, closing the distance between you with surprising speed for a man his size.

"Well now, sugar," he rumbles, his voice dropping an octave. "Aren't you just full of surprises?" His meaty hand reaches out, fingers tracing your collarbone with unexpected gentleness. "Cold nipples, huh? Can't have that."

You gasp as his palm cups your breast through the thin t-shirt, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. Your new body responds instantly, a pulse of heat flooding between your legs. You feel yourself growing wet, a sensation so alien yet so intense that your knees nearly buckle.

"Oh!" you squeak, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. The contrast between your delicate fingers and his broad frame sends another thrill through you.

Rick chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against yours. "Sensitive little thing, aren'tcha?" His free hand slides down to your waist, engulfing it completely. "Christ, I could snap you in half."

The size difference—your tiny new frame against his hulking one—triggers something primal in your rewired brain. You find yourself arching into his touch, your body moving with a mind of its own.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, lowering his head to speak directly into your ear. His breath smells of coffee and cigarettes, and somehow that only makes your arousal spike higher. "Like being handled by a real man?"

"Yes," you whimper, the word escaping before you can stop it. "Please, I need..."

His hand on your waist dips lower, fingers playing with the waistband of your boxers. "Tell me what you need, baby girl."

You try to remember why this is wrong—that you're not really this person, that this isn't your body, that Rick is your middle-aged landlord who's never been attractive to you before—but the thoughts dissolve like sugar in hot water. Your transformed brain can't hold onto complex ideas, especially not with his rough fingertips now sliding beneath your boxers.

"I need..." you bite your lip, squirming against his hand. "I need to bounce."

Rick barks out a laugh. "Bounce?"

"On you," you clarify, cheeks burning but core aching with need. "I wanna be on top. Bouncing. It's my favorite."

He growls approvingly, suddenly lifting you with surprising strength. He sets you on the edge of the bathroom counter, stepping between your spread thighs. "That can be arranged, princess. But first—" He tugs your t-shirt upward, exposing your small, perfect breasts to the cool air. "Let me warm these up properly."

When his hot mouth closes around your nipple, you cry out, fingers clutching at his thinning hair. Your head falls back against the mirror with a soft thunk, rational thought completely abandoned as pleasure surges through your transformed body.

10:45 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London