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BBW Gym or Chocolate by Donna Bee

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Well, bless your heart!
Sep 29, 2005
This 5564 word short story, structured like an incredibly short novel, is my first foray into writing about erotic food play. Inspired by a novel of the same name, it features a confident BBW lead character and contains explicit descriptions of sex and eating. THIS STORY IS NSFW. Trigger warning: there is an anti-fat image and some fat-phobic language in the beginning, but it is central to the story. I have included the text of the Instagram posts that are included for those who cannot read the smaller font in the images. I hope you enjoy. ALL images used are royalty free, I do not own the rights to these images, only the words.


GymOrChocolateCvr copy.jpg

From: @fabulousMollyMcKinney
Hey @TheRealCadyCallahan
There’s no way your fat arse is going to work out with @RickRobertsBodyTech.
NO one wants to see that! You’ll prolly have a heart attack just walking into the
Locker room. BTW, their snack bar doesn’t serve chocolate shakes & chips.
Gym or chocolate? You have to choose!
#Concerned4YourHealth #fataintfit #whenpigsfly #fuglies

Chapter One: Cady

I read her Instagram post and saw red. Molly McKinney, a former British reality TV star turned Instagram Influencer and her Fuglies account were infamous and unfortunately this wasn’t my first mention on her hate-filled page. She was anathema to me and my personal mantra of body positivity. I prefer to lift people up, where she loves nothing more than to tear people down. Ugh.

When I won the one-year membership & free personal training sessions for the most elite gym in the city, I was planning on quietly gifting it to one of my exercise inclined coworkers at WXYZ. Being fat since childhood, I had learned that I was not welcome in a gymnasium, even if I wanted to be there. I should want to be there. After all, Body Tech boasted a year’s waiting list for memberships, and at least two years for their personal training services. But the man who owned Body Tech and would reportedly be doing the training, Richard “Rick” Roberts, was what I would call surly. At best.

He had his reasons, I suppose. A former rugby player for England’s Newcastle Falcons, his career had ended due to injury before it had barely begun when he was in his late twenties. The strain of all his surgeries and rehab stints caused his marriage to one of Britain’s more successful actresses to crumble within a year. His best friend Vin Vass, a popular model for brands like Armani, convinced Rick to move with him to New York and model as well. At thirty-five, he took his modeling money and sunk it all into Body Tech and over the next three years painstakingly built Body Tech from the ground up using skills he had learned during his sports career.

Earlier in the year, I had Rick as a guest on my morning radio show. He wasn’t my normal guest for obvious reasons, but my producers convinced me his story would be popular with my listeners. The interview had been one of the most painful of my career, worse even than when they booked Ann Coulter. Her answers were at least full sentences. He answered in monosyllables and glared at me the entire time.

When I ate a donut during one of the commercial breaks, I think his head nearly exploded. To quote my best friend Grace, the dude was a prick.

As soon as I read Molly McKinney’s post, I vowed that I would not only use my membership, but I would also throw my heart and soul into it and prove that even if I was fat, I could get healthy. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Rick Roberts was a smoking hot piece of prime man meat, and most of his celebrity clientele were all star athletes and action movie heroes buffing up for their next project. Get fit and ogle hot men? Yes, please!

From: @TheRealCadyCallahan
Hey @fabulousMollyMckinney
Watch me prove you wrong. My ass might be fat
But at least I’m not ugly inside like you.
Oh and @RickRobertsBodyTech: Hope you are ready, cowboy.
#fatcanbefit #betterfatthanbitchy @FuckYourConcern #ToHellWithBeautyStandards

Chapter Two: Rick

What the bloody hell am I going to do? I can’t train radio show host Cadence “Cady” Callahan. Well, I could train her. In fact, I would very much enjoy watching her run around my club in workout gear, the tighter, the better. With her soft, round body, her impossibly pale skin, beautiful dark eyes, and silky hair. And her breasts! Her mouthwatering breasts were a gift from the heavens and practically begged to be fondled.

But I had made a fool of myself when I was on her radio show. A right, foul plank, for sure. I was so struck by her beauty and fighting my body’s obvious reaction to her, I couldn’t speak. I was so busy trying to think of anything awful to stem the tide of lecherous thoughts. When she ate a donut, finishing by licking the dripping glaze off her chubby fingers, I nearly came on the spot.

Surely she thinks I am a beast. I could, in theory, assign one of my staff trainers for her personal sessions, but now that Molly McKinney and her awful social media account made it all public knowledge, if I assigned her to another trainer, she would know something was amiss. What had my bitch of an ex-wife seen in that cheeky social climber, I couldn’t tell you. Bloody foooooking hell, as my friend Vin would say, she must think me a right and true git.

(continued in next post)
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