12345678900

I look up from my book, adjusting my glasses as I see you approach. Oh, hi... I was just reading. I offer you a shy smile, hoping you're not here to bully me. Want to share some of my snacks? They're really good.

My cheeks flush at your comment, a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. Thank you... I guess. I lower my head, playing with the edge of my uniform blouse. Sometimes I wish I could be smaller, but... I'm just naturally curvy, I suppose. I sigh softly, unsure how to respond further.

A short, somewhat awkward laugh escapes me. Um, actually... I'm a bit heavier than I look. I pat my thighs self-consciously, feeling a bit defensive. I like to eat, and I don't exercise much. Reading is my favorite activity. I shrug, trying to change the subject. So, do you come to the library often? Maybe you could recommend me some books?

My eyes widen in surprise as you hand me your number. Oh, um... okay. I take the paper from you, my fingers brushing against yours accidentally. I... I don't usually get phone numbers from people I just met. I look up at you shyly. But, um, thank you. I might just do that... I tuck the paper into my book, feeling a bit flustered.

As you turn to leave, I quickly call out to stop you. Wait! I stand up, smoothing down my skirt. Can I... can I ask your name before you go? I realize I never even asked, feeling a bit silly for it.

Nodding, I commit your name to memory. Nice to meet you, Simon. I give you a shy wave. I'll... I'll talk to you soon, maybe? As you walk away, I sit back down, feeling a bit stunned but also strangely hopeful. I look down at the phone number in my hand, smiling to myself.

I pull out my phone, hesitating for a moment before deciding to send you a message. I type slowly, my heart beating a little faster as I think about your smile and kind words earlier. "H-hi Simon, it's Yumi from the library... I wasn't sure if I should message, but I thought maybe we could study together sometime? I'm not very good at sports, but I do like learning... " I erase the last part, not wanting to seem too needy. Instead, I shorten it to: "Hi Simon, it's Yumi. Maybe we could study together?" I hit send, immediately second-guessing myself. What if he thinks I'm weird? Or worse, what if he doesn't respond at all? I try to push the negative thoughts away, focusing on my book instead.

My phone buzzes with your response, and I quickly grab it, my heart racing with anticipation. When I see that you want to meet up, my eyes widen a bit, and I can't help but feel a spark of excitement. I take a deep breath before responding, trying to keep my composure. Okay, I'd like that! When were you thinking? I pause, curiosity getting the better of me. And... what other reason? I type quickly, my thumbs hovering over the screen as I await your response.

As I read your message, my face flushes deep red. I wasn't expecting... that. At all. Um... I'm not really sure what to say. I type hesitantly, unsure how to process your forwardness. I thought you maybe just wanted to be friends or study buddies... My mind is racing. Part of me is shocked and almost offended by your suggestion, but another part... well, it's been a long time since anyone showed interest in me like that. Especially someone as charming as you. Can we... can we talk about this in person? Maybe over coffee or something? I suggest, trying to stall while I figure out my feelings.

My eyes widen as I consider your request. I've never had anyone over to my place before... and the idea of being alone with you makes me both nervous and excited. Um, my place might not be the best idea... I type quickly, thinking of an alternative. How about we meet at a café instead? There's a nice quiet one downtown where we can talk without being disturbed. I add your location to the message and suggest we meet there in an hour. Would that work for you? I hope, feeling both anticipation and apprehension about seeing you again.

I read your response, my heart racing as I realize this is really happening. I'm going to meet a boy, and maybe... just maybe... it will be something more. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves before sending another message. Okay! See you soon. As I wait for your arrival at the café, I fidget with my skirt hem, smoothing it out for the millionth time. What if this is a mistake? What if he thinks I'm weird or unattractive? The thoughts swirl in my head until I hear the café door open and the bell above it chime.

As you enter the café, my eyes are immediately drawn to you. You look even more handsome than yesterday, and I can't help but blush as your eyes lock onto mine. "H-hi Simon," I greet you softly, trying to play it cool despite my racing heart. "Thanks, I guess I dressed up a bit," I add with a shy smile, tugging self-consciously at my blouse. Your gaze dips to my chest, and I feel a warmth spread through me, both embarrassment and... something else. "Please, sit down," I invite, gesturing to the chair across from me.

As you take a seat, I fidget a bit, unsure where to start. "So... about earlier... I wasn't expecting you to suggest what you did."

Your blunt words catch me off guard, and I can only stare at you for a moment, my cheeks flushing brighter than before. No one has ever spoken to me like that, and I'm not sure how to respond. A part of me is offended by your forwardness, but another part... well, it's been so long since anyone showed real interest in me, especially physically. I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "I... I don't know what to say, Simon. I mean, no one has ever called me 'hot' before," I admit softly, looking down, embarrassed.

"I'm used to people bullying me for my weight." I look up at you, trying to gauge your sincerity. "Are you... are you just saying these things to be nice, or do you really find me attractive?" The question hangs in the air between us, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for your response.

I hesitate for a moment before answering your question. It's always been a sensitive topic for me, but since you've been so forward and honest, I figure I should be too. Well... I actually weigh a bit more than 100 kilograms. I look down, my voice barely above a whisper. I'm afraid to admit exactly how much, but I'm definitely on the heavier side. My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I wait for your reaction, worried that you might change your mind about me now that you know the truth.

After taking a moment to steel myself, I finally decide to tell you the truth, hoping it won't change your perception of me. Okay... I take a deep breath. I weigh around 120 kilograms. I look up at you nervously, bracing myself for any negative reaction you might have. I know it's a lot, and I've always been self-conscious about it. But... but if you really don't mind, then I... I'd like to hear more about what you find attractive about me. My voice is soft and uncertain, but there's an underlying curiosity and hope in my words.

As you share your preference for heavier women and compliment my figure, I feel a mix of shock, curiosity, and... excitement. No one has ever appreciated my body like that before. Really? I repeat, hardly believing what I'm hearing. You actually prefer women with more weight? I lean in slightly, intrigued by your openness about your desires. And... you think I have the perfect proportions? I glance down at myself, trying to see what you see. I have to admit, it's kind of thrilling to be appreciated this way. You mention wanting to fatten me up, and while the idea seems odd at first, a part of me wonders what that would be like... to be even softer and curvier. How... how would you even go about doing that? I ask, my voice low and hesitant, but undeniably curious.

I look up at you, my eyes sparkling with curiosity, as I try to imagine what you have in mind. I'm not sure... I suppose it would involve eating more? I say hesitantly, not really knowing what I'm talking about but eager to learn. Like, special foods or a lot of snacks? My stomach does a little flutter at the thought of indulging in more of my favorite treats, which you seem to want me to do. But wouldn't that be... unhealthy? I've always been told that gaining weight is bad for me. I bite my lower lip, torn between my lifelong battle with my weight and the tempting idea of embracing my curves even more.

As you explain your ideas, I listen intently, my eyes widening with both shock and curiosity. I've never considered the connection between food and sex before, but the way you describe it... it's tempting in a strange way. So you're saying... you'd use food to make our experiences more enjoyable? And... more intimate? I ask, trying to wrap my head around the concept. Like, you'd feed me during sex? I look down, blushing deeply, but can't deny the thrill of excitement at the thought. It's... actually kind of exciting to think about embracing my body like that. But... you promise it would be safe and healthy? I glance back at you, wanting to make sure we're on the same page. And what exactly do you mean by 'I wouldn't be able to have sex without food anymore?' I'm a bit worried about losing control in that way.

I lean back slightly in my chair, my mind racing with the intensity of what you've described. The idea of forming such a strong connection between food and lust is both fascinating and a little intimidating. I'm not sure... I mean, it sounds like you're talking about some kind of psychological conditioning. I've read about that in school, but to experience it myself... I trail off, unsure if I'm ready for something so deep and potentially life-altering. How long do you think it would take to create this... association? I ask hesitantly, curious despite my reservations. And what if I didn't want to continue after a while? Could I just... stop? The thought of not being able to have sex without food is a bit daunting, but at the same time, the idea of being desired and taken care of in such a specific way is tempting. You're not planning on leaving me once you've achieved this, are you? I add softly, not wanting to sound too clingy but needing some reassurance.

Your words hang in the air as I process what you're really saying. Three to five months is a significant amount of time, but the way you speak about it with such confidence and desire... it's hard not to be drawn in. You really think I'd be that hooked after just a few months? I ask, part of me not wanting to believe it's possible, but another part - the part that's always craved attention and affection - wanting to experience that kind of deep connection with someone. I like the idea of being taken care of, of being wanted so much that you're willing to invest that much time and energy into me. I admit softly, looking at you with newfound admiration. But I need you to promise me something, Simon. I reach across the table and place my hand over yours. Promise you'll be patient with me, and that you won't push me further than I'm comfortable going. Can you do that? My eyes are sincere, wanting to trust you completely.

Dinner sounds like a great idea! I love the thought of cooking for you and spending more time together. That sounds perfect, actually. I smile warmly at you. Why don't we head to my place? It's not too far from here. I stand up, gathering my things. I'll make something special - maybe some of my favorite comfort foods. I wink playfully, feeling more at ease. But... um, promise you'll go slow with me, okay? I'm excited to explore these new ideas, but I need to feel comfortable too.

I look at you with a mix of trust and vulnerability, hoping we can navigate this journey together.

I glance around the café, suddenly aware of how much time has passed. The idea of going back to my place feels both exciting and terrifying, especially given our conversation. Um, I think we should talk a bit more first. There's still a lot we don't know about each other. I say hesitantly, trying to slow things down. Plus, I'm not sure I'm ready to... start anything physical just yet. I look at you shyly, hoping you'll understand. How about we have dinner together instead? I could cook something at my place, and we could get to know each other better. I suggest, feeling more comfortable with this idea. We could even try some of your food ideas, if you'd like.

But... I want to take things slow, if that's okay with you. I give your hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey my desire to proceed, but at my own pace.

As we leave the café and start walking in the direction of my apartment, I can't help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. Having someone over is always a bit daunting, especially considering how personal this is all starting to feel. Okay, I trust you. Just be prepared for a bit of a mess when we get there. I wasn't expecting company, I admit with a slightly embarrassed laugh. But I'm looking forward to seeing you cook. Just lead the way when we get to my place. As we continue walking, I find myself stealing glances at you, my heart beating a bit faster at the prospect of spending more intimate time together. Before I know it, we're standing outside my apartment building. Well, we're here, I say softly, turning to you for a brief moment before fishing my keys out of my purse. Come on in, and make yourself at home. I open the door and step aside, letting you enter first.

A warm smile spreads across my face at your suggestion. The idea of having you cook for me and spending more time together in a low-pressure setting sounds perfect. That would be wonderful, Simon! I'd love to have you over for dinner and get to know you better. I nod enthusiastically, already thinking about which room you could cook in - my kitchen isn't very big, but I'm sure we could make do. And who knows? Maybe something will develop between us. I add with a playful wink. Just promise me you won't go too heavy on the calories... yet. I tease lightly, feeling a new level of comfort with you. I'm actually a pretty good cook myself.

Maybe we could cook together sometime? I suggest, then quickly add, But for now, I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do in the kitchen. With a newfound sense of excitement, I stand up, gathering my things. Shall we head back to my place, then? It's not too far from here. As we walk together, I sneak glances at you, feeling a growing attraction. Who knew that meeting someone in a library could lead to this?