BBW Desert Promise

Dimensions Magazine

Help Support Dimensions Magazine:

Apr 7, 2022
Everyone, I'm so sorry for bailing on this one for so long. Life got busy. It's wrapped up though, so I hope you like it. Thank you for the kind words.

Part 15


“You know what Monica said?” Soph took a sip of her chocolate shake from Burger King and followed it with a cluster of fries. Her hair was still damp from the shower, in a loose braid. She smelled clean and wonderful when we left, but now all I could smell is the fries. She bounced and jiggled with every small bump -- even her chin, I thought. “She said they do couple’s massages outdoors around sunset. They have a little – I guess it’s like an outdoor spa. But private, there’s a fence around it or something. And you can get a massage and watch the sunset.”

“That sounds amazing. I wish I had known earlier.” I took a right to head out of town towards the small airport on the outskirts. I heard the slurp and rattle that indicated the end of Sophia’s lunch. Lunch? Or afternoon snack? I was losing track of her meals.

“I know, it sounds incredible. I love it here so much, we’ll have to come back.” She put her hand on her belly absentmindedly. Did she just squeeze it?

I saw a small plane taking off overhead and knew we were getting close. I double checked the name of the helicopter outfit as I pulled in the gate, driving around hangars and low buildings until I saw it and parked. I helped Sophia step down out of the truck. Tight white tank top with her chest bulging out, ass looking enormous in her black leggings, little crescent of belly where the two have trouble meeting – there’s no way they’re not going to ask her to get on the scale. Suddenly my stomach dropped and my mouth went dry. I hadn’t told her yet. I grabbed her arm.

“Soph, wait. I forgot to tell you something.” She looked through the glass doors, maps on the wall, a few people milling around, maybe our pilot. Somewhere in that lobby there was a scale. “Soph, because it’s a helicopter they need to…make sure the load balances.” Load? Is that the best word I could have used?

She nodded at me. “Ok? Is that like a big thing?”

“They’re going to weigh you.”

“Oh… really?” Her nose scrunched up, half annoyed, half amused. “Is there like a weight limit?”

“Yeah, it’s 300 lbs so…”

“Ok…” She shrugged and turned towards the building, but her face was flushed and she seemed to be unconsciously sucking in her belly. “Well that’s not a problem. Let’s go.”


I handed in the release forms and took back out licenses. A little black box sat on the floor in the corner, not very different from the scale we had at home. It was in shadows, lurking, mysterious. The chopper pilot introduced himself and talked about safety, paying special attention – I thought – to the issue of weight balance in the helicopter. He seemed to be looking at Sophia the whole time.

Finally, he wrapped up his pre-flight speech and paused. “Ok, let’s get you on the scale and figure out seating. You two, I mean. Who’s going first?”

I volunteered and walked over to the scale. For some reason I was nervous as I briskly put one foot on it to get it started. The digital display drew four boxes, black on silver, clicking in a counter clockwise motion before flashing to zeroes. I stepped on. A moment later it blinked once and read “177.4”. A little higher than the last time I checked but I’ve been on vacation and I was wearing more clothes than I normally wear when I weigh myself.

I turned around and faced the pilot who was holding a clipboard and pen. “One seventy-seven,” I said dispassionately.

He wrote without looking up. “Point what?”

“Excuse me?” I said, adjusting the sunglasses hanging from my collar.

“One seventy-seven point what. I need the decimal for the sheet.”

“Oh, sorry. Point four.” I glanced at Sophia. Her flush from before had tuned to an ashen paleness. She was fidgeting with her hands and looked over at the black scale.

“Ok, you’re up next miss.” Sophia stepped to the scale and paused, looking down at it. From the back she looked massive – tank top tight on her ribcage sinking into the big folds on her sides, arms fat and quivering, pale flesh exposed between tank top and leggings gifting a peek of her red panty waistband, ass wide and chunky with visible panty lines, fat thighs meeting in the middle. She took a deep breath and then tapped the scale with her right foot, starting the gears in motion. Almost as an afterthought she slipped off her flats to fruitlessly shed whatever weight she could before stepping on.

She held her breath. Time stopped for a second. Finally, quietly, she said, “Two hundred twenty one.”

The receptionist, a thinner woman in her 30s, looked over at Sophia and raised an eyebrow, then looked back at her magazine. My mind raced. Forty pounds heavier than me. Almost forty five. Didn’t she say she was one hundred ninety five pounds just a few days ago? Or two hundred? She stepped backwards off the scale and the loose fat of her ass jiggled with the motion. She started to slip on her shoes, turning sideways. Her face was red as she bent over slightly to see her shoes over her chest and tummy.

“Point what?” The pilot said, looking up from his clipboard.

Sophia clumsily stopped, her half-on flat falling off her foot. She was flushed and mumbled something at half volume.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it.” I looked at the pilot. I didn’t think he was trying to be rude but I was starting to get upset for Sophia. She looked humiliated. “What was the decimal on the scale?” He asked again.

Sophia focused on her shoes and said louder, “Nine.” She tugged at her tank top, trying to cover her belly. I had enough and darted over to her, getting down on my knee to help her with her shoes. She muttered a thank you as I took her hand and held it tightly.

Checklist complete, the pilot grabbed headsets and led us to the pad.


The sun was getting lower in the sky as we left the airport. As uncomfortable as the beginnings were, we both were awestruck by the flight, the scenery, even the rollercoaster-like drops and turns of the helicopter. Our pilot was good and once we warmed up he took us on some acrobatic maneuvers. All in all, not a bad way to wrap up our vacation.

Sophia had indulged in thousands of calories already today, and had just had something of a humiliating experience at the airport. But it was dinnertime and it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Babe, can you eat? Did you want fast food or a taco or anything?” I peeked over. I could stare all day at her body jiggling as we drove.

She sighed. “I probably shouldn’t. I’ve gained a lot of weight lately. Doesn’t hurt to start the diet now instead of waiting to get home.”

The car was quiet for a few minutes as we drove back towards town. We passed stands of sagebrush on either side of the road, rustling gently in the breeze that was picking up. It feels like ages since I even thought about home, going back to a routine, work, kids. Missing this. So much.

“You know that if you sort of untuck your belly there…” With a little laugh I reached over and hooked two fingers in her waistband, tugging down gently. “If you kinda let that big girl out, you’ll have a little more room for some dinner, which, you know, is almost as good as a diet?” I smiled, hoping I was being charming and not a creep. She smiled back, and, using both hand, pulled her belly out of her leggings and let it rest on her lap. She had a red crease from the waistband.

“Tacos sound lovely”

That night, as she finished up the last of the dessert in bed, I heard a buzzing from the nightstand and grabbed my lit-up phone. I had a text message from reception for pre-checkout. We could check out of 223.
Apr 7, 2022

I felt the cold air before I heard the door close. With a rustle of plastic Sophia came into the kitchen and put two big bags on the table.

“Remind me why I decided to go brick-and-mortar Christmas shopping this year?” She opened one of the bags and pulled out a small, white, waxed paper bag. She took out a chocolate croissant and started methodically eating it. She was sucking the chocolate off her fingers before she stopped to take off her fur-lined hood and puff parka. She put the coat on the table as well and sat down in one of the chairs.

Her thighs squished as she sat, making her already short legs look even wider. Her lightweight leggings did nothing to hide the belly flowing onto her lap under her short knit top. She stopped to catch her breath before asking me to help her with her boots. I pulled them off her feet as she dug in to her second croissant (was it her second, or had she been snacking on the ride home?).

“I talked to my mom, the kids are doing fine. They got pizza tonight and they’re watching Peppa Pig before bed. She said Charlotte already had 3 slices.”

“They’re always good for your parents,” she said, still catching her breath.

“Are you ok? You’re winded.” I put my hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth. Her face looked so soft. Angelic.

“I’m fine, just a lot of walking today.” She patted her belly, which jiggled and shook. “I might lie down in a minute.”

“I can bring you supper in bed if you want. Need a drink before you head up?”

“Ooh yes, that would be amazing.” Using one finger she tipped over the pastry bag, hoping to miraculously find a secret croissant hidden in there, but alas.

I walked over to the fridge and grabbed heavy cream from the top, vanilla ice cream from the freezer. The rest of the ingredients were over by the blender. Ripe bananas and dates, oats, sugar. A squeeze of honey, a squeeze of flax oil, an extra splash of cream for good luck.

I turned to quietly observe her as she scrolled through her phone. The softness, the roundness, the pursed lips, the rise and fall of her chest. I couldn’t have been more in love.

I brought her the smoothie in a tall glass with a thick straw, and put the blender carafe on the table next to her for her refill. She pulled her belly out and let it plump on her legs, gently sinking between her spread thighs, then she started to sip while she browsed her phone.

I went back to the kitchen to pick up, thinking about what to make her for dinner. I felt like I almost didn’t eat for myself these days, I’d just pick at what Sophia couldn’t finish. There were some leftovers, I could always make pasta, we had some frozen chicken I could defrost. I heard the sound of her straw sucking air and smiled, knowing she would be feeling sated soon. I turned around as she was topping off her glass from the carafe.

My phone vibrated on the counter and I picked it up, swiping at the text.

“What is it? Is it from your mom?” Sophia asked, then gently burped. She blushed a bit and adorably patted her tummy. “Goodness!” she said with a smile.

“Not from my mom.” I looked at the text. “Just … an ad.”


Save $300.9 when you book a four night stay

Apr 7, 2022
I have a new story in the works. I’m about 1/4 to 1/2 finished depending on how I edit down.

If anyone who liked this story has feedback on how I could have improved it, it would be very very appreciated. Personally I think I stretched it out longer than I needed to, with too many episodes that were similar. I’d really love to hear what other people think so I can hopefully improve with the next one. Thank you!

Latest posts