Make yourself lunch and ask Becky to help you prep for Friday's gala and the seduction of her mother, DADDY's first wife.

You pad across the marble floor toward the kitchen, your stomach growling insistently. The tiny apron flutters around your waist as you open the massive Sub-Zero refrigerator, peering inside at the neatly organized shelves.

"Ohmigod, so much food," you murmur, pulling out containers of leftover roast chicken, fresh vegetables, and a block of aged cheddar. Your cooking skills have simplified along with everything else, but you can manage a basic sandwich.

Becky emerges from her bedroom, still flushed and disheveled from her encounter with Marcus. She's changed into a pink silk robe that barely reaches mid-thigh, her long brown hair cascading loose around her shoulders.

"Making lunch?" she asks, settling onto a barstool and watching you with amusement.

"Uh-huh!" you chirp, spreading mayo on sourdough bread with exaggerated concentration. "Want one?"

"Sure, babe."

You assemble two generous sandwiches, your enhanced breasts swaying beneath the apron as you work. Once you've plated them with chips from the pantry, you carry both to the kitchen island and settle onto the stool beside Becky.

"So like," you begin around a mouthful of chicken and cheese, "I need your help with something super important."

Becky raises an eyebrow, taking a delicate bite of her sandwich. "What's up?"

"Friday night, there's this fancy gala thing," you explain, struggling to organize your thoughts. "And your mom is gonna be there. Melissa? And I need to, like, meet her and stuff. But Daddy said I can't go, so Maria's gonna sneak me in as her plus-one."

Becky's expression shifts from curiosity to concern. "Wait, you want to crash Mum's charity gala? Ashley, that's insane. Security is crazy tight, and Daddy's not allowed within a hundred meters of her."

"I know, I know!" you say quickly. "But I have Marcus helping too, and we're gonna use the service entrance and everything. I just need you to tell me about your mom so I don't mess it up."

Becky sets down her sandwich, studying you carefully. "Why do you want to meet her? She hates Daddy. Like, genuinely despises him after what he did."

You squirm on your stool, the truth too complicated to articulate with your simplified mind. "I just... I need to show her I'm not like, trying to replace her or whatever. That I'm good for Daddy. And for you."

Becky's expression softens slightly. "Mum is sophisticated, Ashley. Like, properly posh. She went to Cambridge, runs a successful PR firm, speaks three languages. She's not going to be impressed by..." She gestures vaguely at your apron-clad body.

"Then help me!" you plead. "Tell me what to wear, how to act, what to say! You know her better than anyone!"

Becky sighs, taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. "Fine. But this is going to take serious work. Mum can spot fake sophistication from a mile away. We need to get you looking and acting the part, at least for one night."

You bounce excitedly on your stool, making your breasts jiggle beneath the tiny apron. "Yes! Thank you, thank you!"

"First things first," Becky says firmly. "We need to get you an actual dress. Not from Slink—somewhere proper. Harvey Nichols, maybe. And you need to practice not saying 'like' every other word."

17:05 | Tuesday 5 Aug 2025 | Rick's Penthouse Kitchen, London

[QUEEN BEE] | [Medium] | [Friday 20:00] | [3 days, 2 hours, 55 minutes remaining]