• Dimensions Magazine is a vibrant community of size acceptance enthusiasts. Our very active members use this community to swap stories, engage in chit-chat, trade photos, plan meetups, interact with models and engage in classifieds.

    Access to Dimensions Magazine is subscription based. Subscriptions are only $29.99/year or $5.99/month to gain access to this great community and unmatched library of knowledge and friendship.

    Click Here to Become a Subscribing Member and Access Dimensions Magazine in Full!

BBW Groundhog Day - by Marlow

Dimensions Magazine

Help Support Dimensions Magazine:

This site may earn a commission from merchant affiliate links, including eBay, Amazon, and others.


Well-Known Member
Feb 5, 2013
~BBW, ~~WG - Reliving the same day over and over, an uptight workaholic can finally live like there's no tomorrow.

(Note: Took a break from the long-form projects to try something a little shorter for once. It was also a good excuse to re-watch a great movie.)

Groundhog Day

by Marlow

Chapter 1

The clock flickered to 7:00.

Renee rolled over, shielding her eyes from the morning sun. Cheap motel sheets slipped off her as she turned, exposing her flesh to a wintry draft that chased away any hope of returning to her dreams.

Voices filtered through the wall. The radio was blaring in the next room, treating her to what had to be the world’s most annoying morning talk show. She tried to ignore their dopey voices as she got up, but couldn’t help catch occasional phrases like “record snowfalls,” “dangerous conditions,” and “widespread road closures.”

“That bad, huh?” Renee asked, pushing brown curls from her face. She hopped off the creaking bed and padded to the window. “It was snowing when I pulled off last night, but it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Looks like we’re all stuck here,” concluded the co-host.

It was even chillier by the window—a crack in the glass proved to be the source of the draft—and Renee wrapped a blanket over her shoulders as she approached. The blanket all but smothered her petite, meticulously maintained figure; she clutched it tight over her toned abdomen with one hand and fiddled with the curtains with the other.

Her window overlooked the tiny mountainside town’s commercial center, where a handful of shops and storefronts huddled around a picturesque village square. One road led back downhill to the interstate and another led further uphill to the campus of a tiny liberal arts college.

Renee frowned. The area was covered in snow, enough that the roads were still white, but hardly to the degree the radio show was describing. Sidewalks had been shoveled and a few locals were trudging about as though it were any other Friday morning.

A plump woman was walking her dog up a sidestreet; as Renee watched, the dog caught sight of something and circled around, tying its leash around the woman’s legs. Further up the road, some children were rolling up a ball for the head of a snowman. In front of one of the stores two shoppers collided with one another, spilling groceries across the sidewalk, and hurried to collect each other’s goods.

“Ugh, this place is so quaint it hurts,” Renee groaned, turning away.

She showered and made ready for another long day of driving, pulling on a pair of warm tights and a knit sweater-dress. The tights, on loan from her homebody sister, were a couple sizes too big, but their looseness was well concealed by the sweater. It hung halfway to her knees, tracing the contours of her svelte frame. Neatly folding the rest of her things into a trendy suitcase, she grabbed her coat and gloves and headed for the lobby.

A well-groomed young man waited at the front desk, much more pleasing to the eyes than the old woman who had checked Renee in the night before. He greeted her with a smile, but it fell as she asked to check out.

“You might want to wait on that, actually,” he apologized.

Renee started. “What’s that supposed to mean? I need to get back on the road. I have to be at a conference tomorrow.”

“That’s the thing. Roads are closed…the interstate’s shut down from here to Erie. Police are turning cars around and warning everyone to stay home.”

“You’re kidding.” She craned her head to glance out his window. “It really doesn’t look that bad out there.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, we got lucky here in town. We’re on the backside of the hill, so the lake-effect stuff usually doesn’t hit us as hard. But, take it from someone who’s lived here his whole life: you go maybe a mile in any direction and you’re gonna find yourself waist-deep in blizzard. It’s just the way things work sometimes in the mountains.”

Renee stared at the ceiling. “So, I’m stuck here.”

“Until things lighten up, probably. They’re hoping it’ll just be twenty-four hours.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed, reaching for her phone. “Well, I suppose I should let the boss know…”

The clerk swallowed. “Yeah, and the cell tower is out.”

Renee’s prim face broke open, aghast. She gaped at her phone, suddenly useless. She was marooned in the Alleghenies, untold miles from civilization.

“We’ve got a landline if you want to try to reach them—”

“There’s no point,” she sighed. “I’m stuck here, apparently.”

“And if you end up having to stay a second night, I’ll ask the owner about discounting your rate, since you obviously wouldn’t have been here otherwise.”

She bristled. “I guess I’ll go figure out how to entertain myself for a day. Is there anything good around here?”

“Well…” He pondered for a moment. “We do a pretty good continental breakfast here, or there’s a nice diner up the street if you like more variety. The place next door was voted best burger in the county…that pasta place up there’s always popular on weekends…and it’s Friday, so the pub on the corner should have drink specials and cheap appetizers tonight and they show all the national games.”

Renee nodded. “And if I don’t just want to eat backwater fast food all day?”

He blushed. “Ah. Right. Um…the midwinter festival starts tonight in the square, or…I think there’s some kind of art installation opening at the college.” He pointed. “It’s just a short walk up to campus if you take this street here.”

She took a deep breath. “What a happening town. Well, it’s just one day.”

“That’s the spirit. Just think: some of us have been stuck here our whole lives.”

After returning her things to the room, Renee sat down in the lobby for a long breakfast. She allowed herself more for the meal than her typical routine, hoping she could at least make the lost day feel like a vacation. Her standard juice and granola was replaced with coffee, cheap pancakes, sausage, and a small pastry. It was probably more, she realized, than she’d eaten the whole previous day.

Her stomach complained at the unfamiliar fullness. Despite a curious voice in her head suggesting she could eat a little more, she dragged herself out of the dining area and set out to explore.

Stepping out of the hotel was like stepping into a snowglobe. Disparate flakes fell over the little town, muffling sound and curtaining off any view of land beyond the city limits. It was warmer than Renee had expected, brisk enough that coats had to be buttoned but not biting enough to chase anyone indoors.

Staring up at the snowfall, Renee nearly walked into a hunched-over old man. She chuffed at him for being in her way; he recoiled in confusion and hobbled off with a dismissive wave.

“Nice attitude,” she spat, heading up the road.

Only about half the town center’s storefronts were open. It was late morning now, but evidently many of the owners were having difficulty on the roads. Renee wandered along until a little dress shop caught her eye.

A young woman looked up from behind the counter. Her remarkably vibrant purple hair was swept over in an asymmetric cut and her remarkably large bust was spilling out of a low-cut top.

“Hey,” she purred, hair falling over one eye. “Looking for anything in particular?”

Renee bounced on her heels and glanced around the store. “Not really. I’m stuck in town for the day and figured I’d see what’s around.”

“Sorry to hear that,” the girl chuckled. “This is one of the region’s least exciting towns. Four more months till I graduate and then I am never coming back. Four months…every day feels like forever.”

“You’re up at the college?” asked Renee, poking through a rack of dresses.

“Yep. And it’s equally boring. It’s a tiny school and most of the students are pretty local, so when we get a long weekend everybody just goes home. If you go up there today, you’ll find a campus that’s pretty much empty…except for a few of us weirdos who end up trapped here.”

“You must have some interesting parties, then.”

“Pff. If only. None of us seem to like any of the same things and no one around here is ever willing to leave their comfort zone…you know, take any risks. Any weekend stuff we try to organize just ends up being a few hours of indecision and passive-aggressive arguing, and then nothing.” She flicked the hair from her face. “You like that one?”

Renee held a green sheath to her chest, grimacing down at it. “I do. This is a fun color…any chance you’ve got it in a smaller size?”

“That’s the smallest size we carry.” The girl nodded to the lettering on the window. “We’re a plus-size shop.”

“Ah. I totally missed that.”

She smirked. “Yeah, sorry for not mentioning it earlier…it was nice to have some company in here. Didn’t mean to waste your time.”

Renee shrugged. “Wasting time is all I can do today, anyway.”

The girl leaned across the counter, showing off far too much of her chest, and snatched the dress from Renee’s hands. “Tell you what: since it’s not like we’re getting much business today, I’ll go ahead and see if I can take this in a little, try and get it to fit a beanpole like yourself.” She looked Renee up and down. “Come back tomorrow and you can…try it on.”

“Oh, wow. I guess if you’re that…bored.”

“Sure, why not? Not promising I’ll be able to make it slim enough…you’re, what, one-thirty?”

“One-twenty-eight,” Renee beamed.

“Okay. Well, no promises, but I’ll give it a shot. And hey, if you’re stuck in town for the night, maybe we—”

“So, I’ll check back in tomorrow,” Renee announced, heading for the door. “See you then.”

She meandered through the town center for a while, ducking into a few of the open shops and watching the locals set up for the festival in the square. She rolled her eyes at their rural enthusiasm and made her way to the diner for lunch.

Nothing on the menu appeared even remotely healthy, so she dropped some change on the table for her coffee and bustled out the door before the pear-shaped server could take her order. The Burger Bunker didn’t offer anything that fit into her diet plan either, but she settled for a value meal in order to quiet the uncharacteristic hunger in her stomach.

She hiked up toward the college afterward, hoping to walk off what had turned into a larger lunch than planned (the incompetent burger-flipper, when Renee had complained about the pickles she’d asked him to omit, had apologized with a complementary upgrade to the large-size value meal.)

A cramp in her abdomen forced her to pause on a park bench. The break was extended by the arrival of a strikingly handsome man, evidently out for his afternoon jog, who stopped to chat her up. She did her best to politely rebuff him, but couldn’t help but glance up as he fidgeted with his long, dark hair.

“Working out’s all about getting into a routine,” he was saying. “You gotta just commit to doing it every day. Over and over.”

Renee opened her phone. There was still no service.

“So, uh,” he asked at length, “what are you doing for dinner?”

“Something else,” she replied, rising and trotting away.

The college’s campus was as quiet as advertised. As she walked between the blocky limestone dorms and crossed the miniscule quad, Renee only encountered a handful of students. They shuffled wearily from one building to another, eyeing the visitor with suspicion.

One small group was clustered in the union, arguing over some trading card game. Outside the library, a pair of sorority sisters were arguing loudly: one berating the other for scheduling their chapter’s party on a weekend when most of the student population was off campus.

Renee eyed them with disdain. She, too, had been in a sorority, back at the massive state school she’d attended, but that sisterhood would never have permitted women like these two. They were sufficiently blonde and bubbly, but each weighed a good deal more than any of Renee’s sisters. One sported a heavy thighs and a derriere that should have precluded a more self-aware woman from wearing tights; her more apple-shaped companion carried a beer gut rounder than the omega on her ill-fitting sweatshirt.

“Come on, Theresa,” one was saying to the other, “we end up doing the same thing every time, over and over…”

The art installation proved to be closed, as the necessary faculty were snowbound on the other side of the hill. Renee threw up her hands in exasperation and marched back to town.

Unwilling to let the day prove a total waste, she located a record store off the square and purchased a few CD’s. The selection wasn’t particularly impressive, but the pop albums would be a welcome change from the back country radio stations she’d been stuck with for the drive.

The spiky-haired cashier attempted to strike up a conversation about Renee’s musical tastes, but she simply tugged the receipt from his hands and hurried from the store.

“I think his songs really capture the idea of someone trapped in a life they didn’t want, doomed to follow the same routines over and over again forever…” The cashier droned, as though failing to notice she’d gone.

“No, really,” she mumbled to herself, once she was outside, “I’m sure your opinions are fascinating and original. You must be so unique.”

Hoping to calm herself, Renee visited the much-lauded Italian restaurant for dinner. It was a cute, family style place built into a century-old brick house. ‘Family-style,’ she discovered, applied also to the serving sizes: the platter of pasta that found its way to her table could have fed her for a week.

She managed over half of it, though, along with a few breadsticks and a large salad. It was by far the largest meal she’d eaten in recent memory and she spent the whole walk home trying to rationalize it: she’d had a stressful day, she hadn’t eaten much on the road yesterday, she’d taken a few thousand more steps than usual, anyway…She reminded herself that one day off the diet wasn’t the end of the world, but the to-go box she carried served as a reminder of just how far off the diet she’d ventured.

“That looks like a doggy bag from Portia’s,” chided the hotel clerk, appearing at the front desk. “How’d you like it?”

Renee stomped the snow from her trendy boots and furtively placed a hand to her gurgling stomach. “It was fine.” She tilted her head at him. “You’re still here?”

He shrugged. “Mrs. Altman—she’s got the night shift—called in and said she’s snowbound. Apparently it’s pretty bad on the west side. So I’m still here, yep.”

“I guess we’re both stuck.”

“It’s not so bad. Extra hours, if nothing else. Sometimes it’s nice to have to stop once in a while…not be on the run all the time.” He gazed out the window at the snowy evening. “And there are worse places to be stuck.”

She shook her head. “Not really my style.”

“Well, they’re saying the roads should be open again by morning, so you’ll be free of us soon enough.”

“Oh, thank heavens. I really can’t afford to waste another day here.”

He turned back to his computer. “Lucky you. Some of us have to wake up here every day.”


Latest posts