Novel & Cerita Curvy Person

Gabi finished her breakfast and headed down to the staffroom to grab all the cleaning supplies. She was relaxed and happy to be in her familiar, soothing routine. She’d worked at Curves for almost three years, and it really was like a second home in some ways. She knew the guys well – Jax and Aidan, and their friends King and Mac – and she trusted them, despite their tough demeanors and shady backgrounds.

Vin's voice drifted through my mind. I closed my eyes. "Was there a way to completely shut her out of my head whenever I needed peace and quiet?" " We are the same person in different forms and personalities," she replied, sounding far too pleased with herself. "You cannot shut yourself out." I rolled my eyes. "Did I really go too hard on him?" I asked reluctantly. Vin was quiet for a moment. Then she answered. " He is putting in effort, Aria. You should cut him some slack."

I gasped then, my cheeks coloring. “Too thin?” I parroted dumbly. “But… but … look at me!” I sputtered, gesturing to my figure. Even in the college sweatshirt and jeans, it was obvious that I was curvy, the cotton unable to hide the swell of my girls, my thighs thick on the stool. I have a “thigh smush,” where there’s absolutely no space between my clunkers, no light to be seen. But I like it. I love being curvy, sassy, and fine. It makes me feel confident and powerful, it was just surprising to hear that my man wanted more. After all, the “preferred body shape” was skinny, but I guess Ronan had different tastes?

Bouncing at Curves meant that Curtis was among the first people to step forward when trouble started – and trouble started there often. While everyone else ran from the violent assholes with the guns and knives and pool cues, Curtis walked right on up to them, and he always came out on top. He was fast, and strong, and merciless, especially when one of the female staff or customers had been touched or roughed up. He was an expert and fearless fighter, and in eighteen months of working with him at Curves, Tessa had never seen him tender.

Tala said, loud enough for the stall keeper to hear. The woman paused, wiped her forehead, and sighed. “This style just isn’t made for… fuller figures. Give me one minute, dear. I have one more option in the back that might work better.” And with that, she disappeared behind the curtain, leaving me standing there half-dressed, with my cheeks burning. I hated this. I hated everything about this trip.

Kim whispered as they walked into Provocateur. The mannequins adorned with several obscenely indecent lace scraps were all skinny as Holly noticed. The designs ranged from white and feminine to sleazy see-through. A tall woman with ink black hair approached them with a smile. "Welcome to Agent Provocateur, how may we help you today" she said in a voice so honeyed and sultry that it sounded seductive. "We're just looking for a few pieces. You know..." Kim replied as she winked at the woman.

He had requested my formal permission to artificially boost its visibility across the Western algorithms, and I had gladly given him the green light. "You are one lucky dude, man. My wife absolutely loves the video,” the older customer says, leaning a bit closer over the counter. I don't think Eleanor is aware the clip has gone viral. "My wife is also a curvy woman.” I give him a firm nod, sliding my card through the reader to pay for the supplies. "Well, she was quite slim before,” the man continues, his voice softening.

“Garrick’s order still stands. Break the scar. Not the people. We are four. We do not clear that bowl.” I kept my eyes on the thread. It was small, but it was growing in little jumps. Not steady. Like someone feeding it. “Can you see the scrap,” I asked. Pell squinted. “Something in the cut. Thin. Pale. Not the full slab. It is enough.” Ronan’s voice stayed low. “Do not stare at it too long. That is how it gets a hook in.” “It already has a hook in,” I said. “It is in my arm.”

We arrived at a modest cottage on the edge of the artisans’ quarter, smoke curling from the chimney despite the warm day. A woman in her thirties answered the door, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Two young children peeked from behind her skirts—a boy of about eight and a girl even younger. “Your Majesty?” the woman, Lira, gasped, dropping into a clumsy curtsy. “We… we weren’t expecting—”

I had spent my entire adult life surrounded by very thin, artificially enhanced women who only ate small salads and spent hours performing cardio at the luxury gym. The woman standing by the door possessed a completely natural, plump, and incredibly soft body. I found her thick curves absolutely gorgeous. I wanted to walk across the room, pull her against my chest, and feel her softness pressed against me. I forced myself to look up from her beautiful body and focus on her face. Her thick dark hair was completely plastered to her cheeks by the rain. She was shivering violently, wrapping her arms tightly across her chest to preserve her fading body heat.