Fix your dress and compose yourself as the car arrives at the restaurant, ready to meet Rebecca for dinner.

As the Range Rover glides to a stop in front of Lumière's elegant facade, you frantically tug your red dress back into place, the silky fabric stretching tighter than before across your newly enhanced chest. Your fingers tremble slightly as you adjust the plunging neckline, which now reveals a scandalous amount of cleavage thanks to your impulsive upgrade.

"Hold still, princess," Rick murmurs, his large hands helping to straighten your dress. His fingers linger possessively over your new curves. "Christ, you're stunning. These new tits are perfect on you."

You giggle, your simplified mind still buzzing with post-orgasmic bliss. "Do I look okay? Not like, too obvious we just fucked?"

Rick chuckles, using his thumb to wipe a smudge of lipstick from your chin. "You look like exactly what you are—my gorgeous girlfriend who can't get enough of me." He adjusts himself in his trousers and smooths down his shirt. "Nobody's going to question why your tits look different now. They'll just be jealous they're mine."

Marcus clears his throat from the front seat as he opens his door. "We've arrived, sir. Shall I help the young lady out?"

"I've got her," Rick replies, but not unkindly. As Marcus circles around to open Rick's door, you quickly check your reflection in your compact mirror. Your chestnut pigtails have come slightly loose during your backseat activities, giving you an even more innocent-yet-debauched appearance. Your freckled cheeks are flushed pink, your pupils dilated with lingering arousal.

When Marcus opens the door, Rick steps out first, then offers you his hand. As you emerge from the Range Rover, the cool evening air makes your sensitive nipples harden immediately against the silk of your dress. The doorman at Lumière raises an appreciative eyebrow at your enhanced figure but maintains his professional demeanor.

"Mr. Reynolds, welcome back to Lumière," he says with a slight bow. "Ms. Winters called ahead to say she's waiting at your table."

Rick's arm settles possessively around your waist as you enter the restaurant, a cathedral of understated wealth with crystal chandeliers and crisp white tablecloths. Heads turn as you walk by, both men and women appraising your curvy figure in the clinging red dress.

"They're all staring at me," you whisper to Rick, half-embarrassed, half-thrilled by the attention.

"Of course they are," he rumbles proudly. "You're the hottest piece of ass in here."

The maître d' leads you through the dining room to a secluded corner table where Rebecca sits, engaged in an intense phone conversation. She's dressed impeccably in a tailored black dress, her laptop open beside her plate. When she spots you, her eyes widen momentarily at your enhanced chest, but she recovers quickly, waving while continuing her call.

"—absolutely unacceptable, Jean-Pierre. The contract clearly stated exclusivity," she's saying as you approach. "We'll discuss this tomorrow. My father and his girlfriend just arrived."

She ends the call and stands to greet you both, her professional demeanor shifting to something warmer as she leans in to air-kiss your cheek. "Ashley! That dress looks even better on you now than it did in the store," she says with a knowing smile, her eyes briefly flicking to your enhanced cleavage without a hint of surprise or confusion.

"Thanks! I was worried it might be, like, too much?" you reply, gesturing vaguely at your chest.

Rebecca shakes her head. "Not at all. I always thought you'd look amazing with a little more up top. Fills out the neckline perfectly."

Rick pulls out your chair, his hand trailing possessively across your shoulders as you sit down. "Princess here was worried people would notice," he says with a chuckle.

"Notice what?" Rebecca asks, perfectly genuine in her confusion. "That you two were probably going at it in the car? Because that's pretty obvious from Ashley's flushed cheeks."

You gasp, mortified yet oddly proud. "Rebecca!"

She laughs, a sound surprisingly similar to your own giggles. "What? We're all adults here." She raises her champagne flute. "To new beginnings and... enhancements of all kinds."

As you settle in for dinner, you marvel at how naturally everyone accepts your transformed body. It's as though your smaller breasts are a distant memory that nobody questions has changed, like getting a haircut nobody quite remembers the details of. The waiter arrives with menus and a knowing smile, and the evening stretches before you, full of possibilities.

19:05 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Lumière Restaurant, Mayfair, London