Collapse onto Rick's chest, breathing hard, and ask him what he thinks of you.

You collapse onto Rick's broad chest, your tiny body slick with sweat and still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm. His heart pounds beneath your cheek, his breathing ragged as he recovers from his own climax. Your chestnut pigtails are disheveled, and you can feel his release trickling down your inner thigh.

"What do you think of me?" you ask breathlessly, tracing circles on his chest with one delicate finger. Your voice comes out higher and more girlish than you'd intended, with that valley-girl lilt that seems permanently embedded in your speech patterns now.

Rick's meaty hand strokes your back, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle against your soft skin. He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours.

"Think of you?" He shifts slightly, angling your chin up so you're looking at him. His eyes, small and deep-set in his jowly face, glint with something possessive. "Honey, I think you're the best damn fuck I've had in years. Maybe ever."

His other hand squeezes your ass appreciatively, and you giggle, the sound bubbling up from your throat without conscious thought.

"That little bounce thing you do," he continues, mimicking the motion with his hand. "Fucking incredible. And those cute little noises you make? Christ."

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression growing more calculating. You can almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"You know what," he says finally, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "I got a proposition for you, princess."

You blink up at him, curiosity piqued. "Like, what kind of proposition?"

"How'd you like to move in with me?" The words come out in a rush, as if he's surprising even himself with the offer. "My place is bigger than this shithole. Got a view of the river and everything. You could be my little live-in sex bunny." He grins, revealing slightly yellowed teeth. "Since you love bouncing so much."

Your eyes widen at the offer, your transformed brain struggling to process the implications. Part of you—a distant, fading part—knows this is insane. You're not really this ditzy girl with pigtails. You're Ashley, a locksmith with your own business. You have a life.

But that voice grows fainter by the second, drowned out by the new programming that finds Rick's beer belly and balding head inexplicably attractive, that thrills at the idea of being his "sex bunny."

"You'd take care of me?" you ask, your voice small and hopeful. "Like, for real?"

Rick's grin widens. "Baby, you'd never have to worry about a thing. I got a good job, decent money. All you'd have to do is keep me happy." His hand slides between your thighs, fingers brushing against your sensitive folds. "And I think we both know you're damn good at that."

The touch sends aftershocks of pleasure through your system, making your toes curl. You squirm against him, already feeling desire building again despite having just climaxed.

"What about my stuff?" you ask, gesturing vaguely around the room that used to be yours when you were someone else.

Rick shrugs dismissively. "Leave it. Not like you need much, right? I'll buy you new things. Pretty things." He tweaks your nipple, making you gasp. "Things that show off this hot little body of yours."

He shifts, sitting up slightly against the headboard, pulling you with him so you're nestled in his lap. His semi-hard cock presses against your ass, a reminder of his recuperating desire.

"So what do you say, princess?" he asks, breath hot against your ear. "Wanna be mine?"

11:55 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London