hiya! i come bearing some biggerhud scenarios that I don't plan to write, in case any spark your (or anyone else's) interest...!
(and thank you for your generous gift of a scenario in my inbox today, I'm working on it!)
when the meeting is over everyone leaves but big hud sticks around, supposedly to "get more work done". in fact it's because he's having trouble getting out of his seat. also there are over half a dozen donuts left and the 3 he had during the meeting were not enough, but he wanted to wait until everyone was gone to continue indulging
big hud has to get to work super early so he can park in a spot in the parking lot that won't have any other cars pull in next to him. he's learned the hard way that if there's a car next to his on the driver's side, he won't be able to get back in at the end of the day, and will have to stand around in the parking lot until they leave. OR he'll have to wait for someone thinner to walk by (connie.....?) and sheepishly ask them to pull his car out for him
big hud has to start submitting travel comp requests for 2 airplane seats. of course connie is the one approving the requests
omg thank you for these giftssssssss i truly love Connie and big hud so much 😭
i think bc of my taste for oblivious big hud who just eats what Connie tells him and is kind of in denial of the effects of this, i love the idea of the last one BUT he hasn’t booked himself two seats, Connie has…
They’re in the bedroom and Big Hud is just finishing packing for his upcoming trip and Connie is fussing over him and making him get a bigger suitcase so she can fit some extra snacks in for him because she’s worried about him going hungry when he’s away.
And Hudson asks, “Do you have my passport, Connie?” because she’s the one who keeps on top of everything like that for him so he doesn’t have to worry his pretty little head about a thing.
“Yes, baby,” she says. “And your tickets too.” She passes him the passport and four airline tickets. And he looks at them, confused.
“What… Why are there four?”
Connie steps a little closer to him, smiling in that ever-so-slightly mean way that makes his skin tingle. She smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, slow drag across the substantial swell of his belly.
“Well, I went ahead and booked you two seats each way.”
Her eyes glint as she looks at him. She knows he knows why, but it’s like he needs to hear her say it.
She pats his round, overfed tummy.
“I think you might be getting a bit too big for one, baby.”
He’s shaking his head, feeling dizzy, cheeks hot and surely bright pink.
“No,” he says. “I don’t… I mean I’m not.” He looks at her with wide, desperate eyes. “I’m not that big am I?
Her smile sharpens as her lips turn up at the corners.
“I don’t know, honey,” she says. “Shall we check?”
Meaning she wants to get him on the scale, something she does every few months because she says she wants to see how he’s growing. She never tells him the numbers, and he can’t see past his gut to know, all he has to go on is the way she hums with approval, the way she rests a proprietary hand on his tummy like she, alone, is responsible for how much fatter to make it.
So, to the bathroom. She makes him strip down to his boxers; he turns away, blushing, from his reflection in the mirror. He can’t help but notice how… wide he looks. He’s suddenly thinking maybe one plane seat really isn’t enough.
She nudges him to step on the scale. No talking. The almost clinical way she almost does him always gets him hard, gets him desperate.
She looks down. Nods. She’s a little pink too, the only sign this affects her anything like as much as it does him.
“Yes,” she says. “Definitely too big for just one seat.”
She glances up, meets his eye.
“Good thing mommy took care of it, hm?”
