Fic: Hunter (Sam/Dean, PG-13)
Fic written for happydays33 as part of the Valentine's Day Meme fic exchange. Chubby!Dean with Sam/Dean, outsider-POV and some case-fic. Apologies for the lame title, but I seriously couldn't think of one. I really hope you enjoy this as I worked a long time over it and it still ended up.. well, kinda bizarre. I blame my inability to write case-fic.
Hunter
“Did your friend notice anything unusual before her disappearance? Electrical problems or cold spots or just anything out of the ordinary, anything weird?”
Luisa blinked and stared at the FBI agent seated in front of her. He was regarding her intently, as if what he’d just asked made complete and total sense.
“Um, excuse me?” she murmured. “I thought the police had closed the case, they said in the paper that that poor escaped mental patient had done it.”
The agent exchanged a quick glance with his partner who was standing to one side staring at the photographs clipped to Luisa’s corkboard. The partner gave a half-shrug, lifting one shoulder. He was an attractive guy, she thought, good looking, though a little chubby in the face and thick around the middle. Not that she minded, she’d always preferred guys to have some meat on them, and from the way he was standing, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, his pose did nothing to hide the way the fabric of his dress shirt pulled snug around his soft middle.
“Miss Eastman?” The other agent prompted.
Luisa blushed and turned her attention back to the other agent. In contrast to his partner, he didn’t seem to have any spare flesh on him at all, but was very tall and athletically built with broad shoulders, a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. He was regarding Luisa with an expression that seemed to hover half way between amused and irritated.
“Umm, yes?” she finally managed to get out.
“It would help our investigation a great deal if you could tell us anything you can remember from the days leading up to Madeleine’s disappearance. Anything at all. Even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”
“Well I already told the police -“
“This is a new investigation,” the tall agent cut in smoothly. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard but there’s been a similar disappearance in Porterville. We have been called in to investigate any old similar cases. Anything you tell us now will help immensely towards finding this new missing girl.”
Luisa swallowed and nodded her head, trying to force her mind back, remembering Maddy on that last day before she’d disappeared. They’d worked the early evening shift as usual and Maddy had been her usual self, talking about school and work and her boyfriend, Glen, nothing out of the ordinary.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything,” she said finally. “She was just - well - she was just like always. Like normal.”
The guy on the seat in front of her nodded his head and flipped his notebook shut. “Okay, well, thank you for your time, Miss Eastman. We can let ourselves out.”
She wracked her brains while she worked her shift at the Black Lodge Pub that evening, trying to think over everything Maddy had said and done that evening. But still she couldn’t think of anything, certainly not anything weird or strange or off like that FBI agent had been angling for.
Speaking of...
The two agents were just entering the bar, not wearing suits this time, but scruffy jeans and flannel shirts. She watched them surreptitiously from the food station as they headed for the bar. The attractive one looked even more attractive out of his suit, more at ease in his scruffy jeans. Certainly, his clothes seemed to fit a little better, though the olive t-shirt he wore under his flannel was clinging to the subtle roundness of his belly, the waistband of his jeans sitting below the small plump curve.
She watched him order from Phil, leaning in to engage him in some talk before Phil moved away to pour their beers. He turned to his companion then and said something that made the taller one smile, a private intimate sort of smile that seemed kinda weird for a couple of FBI agents, not that she knew much about FBI agents, only what she’d seen on TV.
They accepted the beers from Phil and handed over a couple of bills. The hot one raised his pint pot to his lips and took a long swig, head tilting back and Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank, draining practically half the glass in one long swig. He put it back down on the bar and let out a long satisfied sigh, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the foam. He had a nice mouth, lips full and pink, shiny with the beer, cheeks a little plump and a slight double chin that was asking to be nibbled on. She blushed at the thought, but he was really attractive, far too attractive for Black Lodge, both of them were. But the shorter one had the kind of face that could’ve gotten him modelling gigs ten years and thirty pounds ago, though she definitely preferred him now, all soft and squishy with that small chubby belly.
The taller agent took a sip of his own beer and said something to the hot one which made him throw his head back and chuckle. He placed a hand on the front of his shirt and smoothed it down his chest to linger over the roundest part of his stomach. He gave it a couple of proud pats, the spare flesh jiggling a little, and Luisa felt her mouth go dry.
“Lou! Food’s up!” She jumped at the sound of Nico’s voice, calling at her through the hatch. She spun around and gathered up the order, rushing to deliver it quickly. Her eyes strayed back to the agents as she cleared a couple of tables and she watched the hot one - her one - finish up his beer and order another from Phil while the tall built one looked on with this fond little smile playing across his face.
They collected their drinks and headed for an empty booth towards one corner of the room - her section. Shit, they were sitting in her section. She watched them taking their seats, their shoulders brushing together a little too closely. The taller one rested one of his enormous hands against the small of her guy’s back and leaned in close - really close - to whisper something directly in his ear. His other hand dropped to the swell of her guy’s belly and rested there, giving it a soft proprietary sort of a pat before he slid smoothly away and climbed into the booth. Her guy started and said something, a surprised grin flitting to his face as he too slid into the booth opposite his smiling companion.
Her stomach lurched, butterflies and embarrassing arousal heating her up from the inside. She blinked, tearing her gaze away and swallowing hard. Were they together then? They had to be together, the way they’d been touching... That wasn’t the way guys usually touched each other. And now, the way they were leaning over the table to talk to each other…
“Hey, babe, you want me to take table twelve? Tall, dark and handsome over there?”
Tina’s voice made her spin around, her fingers curling around her notepad and pen. Tina was peering through the crowded bar towards the newly occupied booth - exactly where Luisa had just been looking - and she tossed her hair, grinned wickedly.
She had to be referring to the tall one, Luisa thought. And sure enough, Tina added: “Man, I love tall guys - what do you reckon he is? 6’4? 6’5? Mmm-hmmm. I bet he’d be a monster in the sack.”
“I think they’re together,” Luisa stuttered out.
Tina’s eyebrows flew up in surprise and she licked her lips. “Shit! Really? Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Goddamn shame, huh? Why are the hot ones always taken? Or gay?”
Luisa didn’t say anything in response, just gave her a wan smile. Black Lodge wasn’t exactly known for its gay population. In fact, Luisa was pretty sure that they didn’t have one.
“Well, hey there, Miss Eastman,” the hot one said, looking her as she approached and giving her a wide welcoming grin.
“Hi,” she said, “but, um, you should call me Luisa.” She smiled awkwardly and pointed to her badge with the end of her pen.
The hot guy nodded, exchanging a quick look with his companion. “Luisa, nice to meet you again.”
The other one leaned forward then and asked, “Have you been working here a long time?” His tone and expression all business in contrast with his partner.
“Uh-huh, about two years,” she answered.
“So you were here when Alison Huntingdon went missing?”
“Uh, yes, yes, I was. I’d only been here about a month, though. I didn’t really know her.”
The tall one blinked and said in a sharper tone: “Don’t you think you should’ve mentioned that earlier?”
She hesitated, looking between them, murmuring, “I, uh, I don’t know - I, um, I didn’t think it was relevant?”
“That another girl went missing exactly a year before your friend?”
“I thought you already knew,” she said simply. “The police caught the guy that did it.”
“Right, another escaped mental patient,” said the tall one with a dismissive look. “Convenient.”
“Hey, Sam, man, c’mon, let the lady do her job,” the hot one cut in, giving his companion a warning look. “Anyway, we’re here to eat, and I’m damn hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” the other guy - Sam - said, his expression mollifying a little as he turned his attention back to his partner.
“I gotta feed this beast sometime,” the hot one answered, reaching down to cup the swell of his belly in one of his large hands.
Luisa couldn’t help but look down too, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed the way his stomach swelled out over the tight waistband of his jeans, the way his love handles hung over the sides, small and perfectly formed, and just the right size for her to hold onto, just how she liked them. She swallowed heavily and forced herself to look away, curling her fingers tightly around her pen.
He gave his belly one last pat and reached for the menu, turning his head to look up at Luisa. “So what’s good here?”
He ordered the 20oz steak with fries and mashed potatoes, with extra sides of corn and chicken wings. “And he’ll have a chicken club with a side of fries,” he finished, pointing at his companion with the corner of his menu.
Sam rolled his eyes but he didn’t contradict the order so she added it to her long scribbled list.
“Um, anything to drink?”
“Just keep the beers coming,” the hot one added with a cheerful wink.
A couple of hours and a lot of food later, they were still there, the hot one - her guy - picking at his third serving of cherry pie while Sam watched him, still with the same fond smile. She watched him stealthily whenever she could, staring at the way his lips and tongue wrapped around his fork, the sensuous happy expression on his face, this hot bubbling feeling deep in her stomach.
She took her time wiping down the tables next to them, unashamedly listening in on their conversation.
“Man, these fuckin’ pants, Sammy, so damn tight.”
She hesitated and flicked a quick glance at him; he was sprawled back in the booth, one hand on his belly, rubbing and massaging. It looked bigger, she noted with a gulp, bloated with all the food he’d eaten, pushing even more over the waistband of his already tight jeans, his olive t-shirt riding up a little to expose a sliver of pale soft flesh that her fingers ached to touch.
“So stuffed, I gotta get this button -“
“Christ, Dean,” Sam whispered, “you can’t do that here, wait till we get in the car.”
Dean, so that was his name. Dean. She mouthed the syllable to herself. Dean.
She missed seeing them go, busy with another table. She cursed her luck when she went to clear their table, though she was cheered up a little by the generous tip they’d left for her. Her mind kept drifting as she finished her shift, fantasies about how it might’ve gone when they’d gotten to the car, how Dean would’ve popped that button on his straining pants, how his bloated belly would’ve surged forward, pushing down the zipper and pushing up his shirt. How the other one - Sam - might’ve leaned over and massaged over the red marks where the waistband had dug in, fondling and squeezing the soft squishy flesh in his enormous hands.
She was hot and flustered for the rest of her shift, and when she was finally alone in her bed in her room later that night, she found her hand creeping downwards, eyes fluttering closed and the fantasy replaying in her head.
She didn’t see the agents for the next couple of days, and she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but she saw on the local TV news that they’d caught the guy who’d murdered both Maddy and Alison and the other poor girl from Porterville. He was a Black Lodge regular, a middle-age, balding, incredibly normal and really polite guy called Chris who used to come in every Tuesday and Friday. He’d been dead when the police had finally gotten to him, killed in a freak horrific accident that didn’t seem to be possible when she saw it on the news. A steel rod had fallen from the roof of the town church and impaled him directly through his skull.
“Just like in The Omen,” Phil had told her, unable to keep the ghoulish expression of relish off his face. “Imagine it - all these years and we had no freakin’ idea.”
******
1 month later...
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Sam murmured as he pressed a series of kisses along Dean’s softened jaw line.
“Should I be worried?” Dean asked, tilting his head in an effort to see Sam’s expression, but Sam was hiding from him, his forehead pressed up against the back of Dean’s head, his hot breath puffing against the nape of his neck.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I just -“ Sam trailed off, licked his lips. He sounded uncertain, and unbelievably... kinda embarrassed.
“Dude, what? Spit it out already!”
“I think you should gain more weight. Like another fifteen pounds or so, Dean,” he blurted in a rush. His hand smoothed lovingly over the swell of Dean’s belly, fingers pushing under the hem of his t-shirt to fondle the soft flesh underneath. “You have no idea how fuckin’ hot it would be. I keep thinking about how you’d look if you were a little bigger. I keep picturing you with a bigger belly, and it’s...” he trailed off, gulping, “I get so hard thinking about it.”
“Yeah, I kinda noticed.” Dean ground his ass back against his brother’s body, Sam’s dick a fucking steel rod trapped between them.
“And you’d love it, Dean; you could eat whatever you wanted and drink lots of beer without me ridin’ your ass. And I’d be so appreciative.”
“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean said after a moment. “I’m a hunter, dude, and I wanna keep huntin’. I’d be no damn use if I turned into some 300 pound fat-ass.”
It still kinda bewildered him this weirdo kink of Sam’s. A few years ago when he’d started gaining weight, his metabolism finally giving up after all the abuse he’d given it over the years, he’d been a little embarrassed, freaked out over the changes to his formerly hard, chiselled body. But Sam hadn’t seemed to mind, in fact, their awesome sex life had just gotten even more awesome, and Sam had seemed even more turned on by him. So Dean had pushed any ideas of cutting back or working out more or - Jesus - dieting - to the back of his mind and just let nature and age take its course with his body while Sam had just... well, Sam had just gotten even more ardent and possessive and horny.
It had taken Dean an embarrassingly long time to put things together and when he’d had done he’d been relieved; okay, he’d been amused and kinda surprised too at just how damn strange his little brother was, but mostly relieved.
“No, I agree, and I don’t want that,” Sam answered. “I want you to be healthy, Dean. And we’d be sensible about it, we would keep workin’ out, and running, and you would still be muscled here -“ he reached to squeeze Dean’s hard thick thigh, “- and here.” He bent his head to place an appreciative kiss to Dean’s bicep.
“Yeah, good,” Dean muttered. He was proud of the fact that despite the weight he’d gained over the past few years, he could still keep up with Sam when they were running for their lives or going hand to hand with some monster freak. He wasn’t entirely soft, he still had muscle. Sure, he wasn’t built like Sam and he couldn’t bench press what Sam could, but he hadn’t been able to bench press what Sam could for years. And, admittedly, he was carrying, like, an extra thirty pounds or more and he had a belly, but he was still manly, goddamnit, he was still a hunter, he was still Dean Winchester.
“I don’t want you to be 300lbs, Dean,” Sam continued, “I’m just talkin’ like an extra fifteen pounds, just here, nowhere else, just here - just your gorgeous belly.” He reached around to place his hands over the mound of Dean’s stomach, cupping and rolling the soft flesh between his fingers. “Just so I got something to hang onto.”
“I think there’s plenty there to hang onto already, dude,” Dean said dryly.
“Hmm, yeah,” Sam murmured, leaning to nuzzle against the side of Dean’s throat. “But think how much hotter it would be with a little more to hang onto.”
Dean huffed out a breath and chuckled. “You really want this, don’t you?” He turned his head to catch Sam’s expression.
Sam looked dazed, eyes half-lidded, face flushed, so turned on his irises had almost disappeared. “So much,” he breathed.
Dean swallowed, his own already hardening cock twitching at the breathy arousal in his brother’s voice. “Okay, okay then.”
****
11 months later...
“There’s a couple of FBI agents here to see you,” Mom said anxiously as Luisa closed the front door behind her. Her head twitched towards the living room. “They’re in the living room, I made them tea. They want to talk to you.”
Luisa blinked and fumbled with her coat as she nodded at her Mom. “Oh, uh, okay. I’ll, uh -“
“Don’t keep them waiting, honey.”
Luisa wet her lips and nodded again. “Uh, yeah, okay.”
She made her way into the living room, telling herself that it couldn’t be the same two guys, that it wouldn’t make sense if it were the same two guys…
It was the same two guys.
She hesitated in the doorway, heart thudding in her chest, gaze fluttering over the two of them. They were dressed in suits, the tall built one - Sam - looked exactly the same as he’d done a year ago, with the same hair and the same big powerful body. But the other one - Dean -
He’d gained more weight. Quite a bit of weight.
Her heart skidded in her chest and she swallowed heavily, eyes quickly calculating the changes. His face was rounder, double chin more obvious, cheeks plumper, but it was his belly that was noticeably different. It was bigger, fuller, rounding out his tightly fitting dress shirt and pulling the small white buttons taut, his leather belt sitting underneath the full curve, taking the strain.
He must’ve gained at least twenty pounds, she thought, her mouth going dry and stomach lurching, practically all of it to his belly. No, not a belly, but a gut. He had a gut now. There was no other way of putting it. And it was so hot. It was about the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“Miss Eastman. Nice to see you again.”
It was Sam who spoke, and she flinched, dragged her eyes away from Dean - oh God, she was staring - towards Sam. Sam was watching her closely, his eyes a little narrowed.
“We’re here to talk about Tina Lopez.”
“Tina?” She froze, stammering, “But Tina -“
“Was reported missing yesterday by her mother.”
“What? But she - I - really? No, that’s not possible.” she stuttered. Tina? Was Tina in trouble?
“I’m afraid it is possible,” Sam said, taking a step towards her, his expression serious. “We think it’s related to the previous murders. All three girls worked at the same bar.”
“But you caught the guy that did it. He was one of our regulars.”
“It appears there was more than one of them,” Dean put in flatly.
Her gaze flew to him and she swallowed heavily as he met her eyes. He had green eyes, she noticed, green eyes and a couple of days’ stubble on his cheeks. But - oh God - how could she be thinking about this when Tina was missing? They weren’t really friends and she’d barely seen her since Tina had quit her job at the Black Lodge, but she was still someone she knew, and she was standing here drooling over an FBI agent.
“Tina quit,” she said. “She quit two months ago; she works at the White Rose now.”
“Really?” Dean took a step forward, moving to stand beside Sam, his eyes scrutinizing her closely.
She swallowed, forcing herself to look back at him. “Yes,” she nodded.
She answered a couple more questions, keeping her eyes carefully locked on the middle of Sam’s chest, not daring to glance at Dean again.
They left quickly after that and she watched them through the living room window heading back to their car. They walked with their heads together, Sam’s hand hovering over the small of Dean’s back. They paused by the car and she saw Dean turn around, Sam slide in even closer as he bent to whisper something in Dean’s ear, Dean looking up and glancing back towards the house with a smirk on his face. Sam patted Dean’s ass, big hand sliding underneath his jacket and lingering for a long moment, before he moved away to get into the shotgun seat.
Oh God, so they were really together. Huh.
Everything became clear just a day later. Though in a way, everything - her entire world - got turned upside down at the same time.
She was at work, closing up for the evening - one of her new responsibilities after her recent promotion to Assistant Manager - when the front door slammed open and Phil burst inside, panting for breath as he cried: “Help! They’re after me! They’re fuckin’ crazy!”
She stood, frozen to the spot, as Phil rushed past her and dived behind the bar. Shaking, she shuffled back towards him, stammering: “Phil? What? Who? What’s going on?”
The question was quickly answered as the front door slammed again and the two feds, Sam, followed immediately by Dean, burst through the door. They too were panting for breath, looking like they’d just sprinted a few blocks, chests heaving and faces red with exertion.
“Where is he?” Sam shouted. “Where did he go?”
Her mouth worked soundlessly, her mind still too much in shock to process what the hell was happening.
Phil? Was Phil? Could Phil be the one?
No. No way. She knew him. They’d worked together for ages.
She could see him from the corner of her eye, crouched into a ball in the space by the dishwasher, shaking his head, mouthing frantically at her. She swallowed, about to speak, but it was too late, they’d seen where she was looking.
Quickly, surprisingly quickly, for a guy his size, Dean sprinted forward, rounding the bar and grabbing at Phil’s legs from where they protruded. He yanked Phil out in a surprising show of strength and wrestled him to the ground, pinning him to the floor with one hand on each wrist and straddling Phil’s thighs.
She brought her hand up to cover her mouth and watched in shock and horror as Phil struggled and bucked underneath Dean, but Phil was kinda shrimpy and skinny and Dean - well - he wasn’t either of those things. In fact, he was obviously really damn strong. She could see the powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders flexing through his tight-fitting navy shirt, strong muscled thighs curled around Phil’s thrashing legs and his large round belly skimming against Phil’s chest as he held him down.
Sam dashed to his side, sinking to the floor and holding out what looked like -
Shit! It was a knife.
Oh God, they were going to kill Phil…
“Stop! Stop! What’re you doing?” she screamed, stumbling forward and clinging to the edge of the bar as she peered down at them.
“Get back!” Sam hissed grimly, not turning to look at her. “Stay away! It’s not safe!”
“You’re gonna kill him!” she cried.
She gulped hopelessly, taking in the picture below her. Open-mouthed, she watched Sam brandish the knife and swipe at Phil’s bare forearm. Phil screeched and snarled and thrashed as the wound smoked.
Oh my god, the wound smoked - steam coming off it like he’d been burnt with a red hot poker and not just a regular looking silver knife.
“What… what are you doing to him?” she whimpered.
“This ain’t a him,” Dean gritted out, “this is an it. He’s a monster. He’s the one who kidnapped your friend.”
She raised her hand back to her mouth, watching in disbelief as Sam plunged the knife into Phil’s chest, right over his heart, blood spurting and spraying. Blood that was… that wasn’t red… that wasn’t the colour of blood.
Phil - or whatever Phil was - let out an inhuman wail, a horrible metallic shriek and his body convulsed for a couple of seconds and then he went still.
“Oh man, I’m fuckin’ covered in that shit,” Dean bitched.
Luisa watched, frozen to the spot, still clinging to the bar, as Dean got slowly to his feet, stomach quivering at the effort. He stared in disgust at the greeny-black coloured blood that covered his shirt.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked.
Luisa blinked, only just realizing that Sam was talking to her, looking almost sympathetic as he got to his feet in turn.
“I… I - what - what just happened?” she stammered.
“We got the bad guy,” said Dean. “The other bad guy,” he added. “We missed this sonofabitch first time round, but we got him now.” He turned to glare down at Phil’s corpse.
Gulping, Luisa followed his gaze, then froze again. Phil’s face had - had changed. He didn’t look human now; instead he looked more like a corpse than a human, his face and skin all shrivelled, features hideously deformed, like those pictures of mummies she’d seen in history books back in school.
“What you’re seeing now is his true face,” said Sam. “He had the ability to appear to people in other forms.”
“But you don’t need to know about that,” Dean interrupted, giving her a reassuring smile. “What matters is that he’s dead. This town is gonna be a whole lot safer in future.”
She nodded dazedly. “Okay.” She hesitated, staring down at Phil. “What am I gonna do with him? What am I gonna tell people?”
“Don’t worry about that, we’ll take care of it,” said Dean.
“I’ll bring the car around,” Sam said, getting to his feet and striding out the bar. Luisa watched him go, feeling her heart finally rate start to slow down.
“Man, this was one of my favourite shirts,” she heard Dean mutter behind her.
She turned around again, seeing him yank off the gunk-covered shirt. Underneath, he was just wearing a plain back t-shirt, a way too small plain back t-shirt that looked like it had been a few months and several pounds since it’d fit him properly. It was fighting to contain his belly now, the hem stretched indecently tight around the thick full curve, starting to creep up, exposing the pale rounded underside of his gut.
“Ugh, gross.” He made a face, attempting to wipe his fingers off on the t-shirt, the action causing his belly to jiggle a little. He paused, then grimaced. “Oh man, it’s gone all the way through.” He looked up and shook his head, exchanging a look with her. “This stuff gets freakin’ everywhere. Hey, you don’t mind if I -“ He mimed pulling off his shirt and she gaped back at him, swallowing hard and helplessly shaking her head.
“No, I, uh, no, it’s okay, go right ahead.”
He gave her a quick grin, then tugged the t-shirt off over his head.
She stared, unable to tear her eyes away. He was a hot guy with his shirt on, but without it -
His body was - it was - amazing. He was… perfect. He could never pass for anything other than what he was: a big guy with a beer gut, but he was so much more than that. And she knew. She was a connoisseur. She worked in a bar for Christ’s sake, and she - well - she’d seen plenty of pictures and videos of chubby guys online. She’d even dated a couple.
He was muscled in his upper body, thick broad shoulders with defined muscles in his biceps and forearms. Even his pecs still had some definition though they were a little soft, but not saggy, not yet at least. His gut was the perfect shape, not too big and not too small, standing out round and full and proud, pale and firm and substantial, with a smattering of golden hairs trailing down from his deep-set navel to his straining waistband.
It took her a long while to realize that he was watching her back, this sly knowing look in his eyes. “You like what you see, huh?” he said.
She gulped, dry-mouthed, her face burning up, staring back at him.
“It’s okay. You ain’t the only one. Sammy goes crazy for this.” He gave his belly a resounding slap, the noise ringing out loud and hard in the quiet bar. “So you like big guys?”
“I, uh, I guess,” she finally managed to answer. Her voice sounded strained, cracked in her ears and she blushed even harder. But - oh God - this was crazy. He was smoothing his hand over the red mark he’d made, massaging and caressing the pale doughy flesh, watching her with this strange gleam in his eyes.
“Sam wants me to gain a little more,” he said. “He’s so damn transparent about it. I don’t know, though. What do you think?”
She swallowed hard again, stammered, “I - uh - I think you look great now. But, um, yeah, that - that would be - um - nice too?”
He nodded thoughtfully, moving his other hand so he was cradling his belly with both hands, fingers spread, cupping and jiggling the soft flesh, as if he was weighing and measuring it. Her stomach gave a lurch, fizzy funny sensation in her groin, her mind bringing up images of how he would look if he were a little heavier, that lovely big belly a little fuller, a little rounder, a little softer…
“Dean!”
Sam’s voice startled her from her reverie and she flinched as he came bounding through the kitchen door. He paused, eyes running over the scene in front of him.
“Err, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
Dean turned around to look at him and shrugged. “It was fuckin’ disgusting, man. ‘Sides, we gotta use something to mop up this shit.”
“Right, okay,” Sam said. His gaze moved to land on her and his eyes narrowed a little, suspicious and slightly pissed.
She felt her face flush, ashamed and guilty. He was right to be pissed, she was guilty, she had been perving, drooling, over his boyfriend, over his boyfriend’s gorgeous perfectly shaped belly. In fact, she was still doing it, unable to look away from how damn amazing he looked even from the back with his broad freckled shoulders, his padded sides and those generous love handles spilling over the waistband of his jeans.
They were quick and efficient about cleaning up, done before she really had chance to ask if they wanted help. Sam gathered up Phil’s body when they were done, tossing it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heading out the back door.
Dean gave her another of those reassuring smiles after Sam had gone. “So, sorry for messin’ up your place.”
“No, that’s - that’s okay.”
She still couldn’t quite process what had happened, what she’d seen with her own eyes. Phil… Phil was dead. Phil was some kind of monster?
Christ.
“We’ll square everything with the police, about Phil, don’t worry about that,” he added. “You won’t need to do anything.”
“Okay, um, thanks, that’s, um, that’s good of you.”
He nodded at her, wiping off his hands with the remains of his disgusting shirts. He bent over to drop them into a garbage sack she’d provided and straightened up, the movement making his belly ripple a little with the effort.
“Will you be okay?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. She felt her stomach give another lurch of embarrassment; she’d been drooling over him again, drooling over his body, while he was asking her a normal question. But - was she going to be okay? She had no idea.
She nodded dumbly. “Yes, yes, thanks.”
He nodded back at her and with one last reassuring smile, he left the bar.
****
One day later
Sam watched Dean drive as he pretended to doze, lashes half lowered, cheek smushed up against the back of the seat. His brother was leaning back in the driver’s seat, a serene smile on his face, one hand resting on the wheel and the other dipping in and out of a jumbo bag of peanut M&M’s resting on the bench seat between them.
He ate thoughtlessly, munching and chewing, licking off his fingers after each handful with an obscene and lascivious twist of his mouth and flick of his tongue, chubby cheeks hollowing, fingers sticky with peanut dust, chocolate and saliva. Sam felt his cock give a half-hearted twitch in his jeans, starting to stir awake at the little show in front of him.
Dean finished off the bag, tilting back his head to tip the last few M&M shells and dust into his mouth, then he balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder into the back seat. He settled back into his seat, squirming a little and running one finger under his tight waistband, pausing at the straining metal button to flick it open. His jeans popped open, and his gut surged forward, an audible sigh of relief escaping from his lips, and Sam suddenly remembered breakfast that morning, the mountain of eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes Dean had devoured only a couple of hours earlier.
He licked his lips, still staring at his brother. From this angle, he could see how much bigger Dean had gotten over the past few months, since their agreement nearly a year ago that Dean would gain another fifteen pounds. Dean had gained another fifteen pounds and then some, almost all of it to his middle, and Sam could see how the weight of his gut was forcing down the zipper of his jeans, how it was big enough now to spill out onto his lap, resting on top of his thighs in a perfect soft pillowy mound.
Sam’s cock gave an eager twitch, and he stifled the groan about to escape his lips, instead he said, keeping his voice admirably calm, “Do we need gas yet?”
Dean flicked his gaze to the dashboard, shrugged. “Maybe, but we’re good for a while.”
“Oh right, well I was thinking we should load up on snacks while we got the chance. Or maybe, uh - I saw a sign for Dairy Queen back there. About 25 miles out. We should stop, get lunch. I’m kinda hungry.”
Dean chuckled and flicked him a sly knowing look. “Oh, dude, you’re so freakin’ transparent.”
“What?” Sam protested.
“Look, I know you want me to gain more weight. You don’t need to make any bullshit excuses about loading up on snacks or being hungry to get me to eat more.”
“Maybe I’m hungry!”
Dean shook his head knowingly. “No, you’re not, Sam. We only had breakfast two hours ago, takes you longer than that to work up a hunger. I know you, remember?”
“Well I know you,” he retorted, “and I know that despite yourself, you’re already thinking about Dairy Queen. About a big juicy cheeseburger. About a chocolate fudge sundae. About ice cream and malts and chilli fries and every other delicious thing that you love and that they serve and that are only twenty five miles down the road from here.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Dean cursed and hit his palm on the edge of the wheel. “Dammnit, Sammy! Now you made me think about it!”
Sam chuckled smugly. “So, are we’re stopping?”
“Of course we’re stopping!” Dean returned. He splayed his hand over his belly, sinking his fingers into the soft pudgy flesh, and blowing out a breath. “I’m never gonna be thin again, am I?”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “But I thought you were cool with that?”
“Yeah, I guess.” But he didn’t sound sure, his voice slightly flat.
“Dean, c’mon, you’re still fit, you’re still a hunter. Look at the way you took out that freak just before. Look at the way that chick was practically panting over you. She was so hot for you, it wasn’t funny.”
Dean’s mouth twitched up into a full-on smirk. “Man, you’re such a jealous bitch.”
Sam frowned in annoyance. Maybe he had been a little jealous, but she’d been so obvious, and Dean had just been playing up to it as always, teasing the poor girl. Fucking taking off his shirt in front of her. Sam was the only one who was supposed to see Dean naked, the only one who got to ogle and touch and fondle and love and worship, the only one who got to play with that gorgeous belly, the only one who got to kiss him. Dean was his, Goddamnit, all his.
“Man, so jealous...” Dean was still chuckling to himself, tossing Sam knowing looks and grinning with wide and smug satisfaction.
Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling back at his brother despite himself. “Shut up, tubby-cakes. and just drive us to Dairy Queen.”
Dean reached over and punched him in the arm. "Don't call me that."
Sam laughed and rubbed his sore arm. Man, his brother could pack a punch, and now he had all that extra weight behind him it really wasn't fair.
"Yeah, yeah, alright, you win. How about I make it up to you later?"
"After Dairy Queen, though?" Dean added.
Sam grinned. "Yeah, after Dairy Queen, Dean."
Hunter
“Did your friend notice anything unusual before her disappearance? Electrical problems or cold spots or just anything out of the ordinary, anything weird?”
Luisa blinked and stared at the FBI agent seated in front of her. He was regarding her intently, as if what he’d just asked made complete and total sense.
“Um, excuse me?” she murmured. “I thought the police had closed the case, they said in the paper that that poor escaped mental patient had done it.”
The agent exchanged a quick glance with his partner who was standing to one side staring at the photographs clipped to Luisa’s corkboard. The partner gave a half-shrug, lifting one shoulder. He was an attractive guy, she thought, good looking, though a little chubby in the face and thick around the middle. Not that she minded, she’d always preferred guys to have some meat on them, and from the way he was standing, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, his pose did nothing to hide the way the fabric of his dress shirt pulled snug around his soft middle.
“Miss Eastman?” The other agent prompted.
Luisa blushed and turned her attention back to the other agent. In contrast to his partner, he didn’t seem to have any spare flesh on him at all, but was very tall and athletically built with broad shoulders, a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. He was regarding Luisa with an expression that seemed to hover half way between amused and irritated.
“Umm, yes?” she finally managed to get out.
“It would help our investigation a great deal if you could tell us anything you can remember from the days leading up to Madeleine’s disappearance. Anything at all. Even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”
“Well I already told the police -“
“This is a new investigation,” the tall agent cut in smoothly. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard but there’s been a similar disappearance in Porterville. We have been called in to investigate any old similar cases. Anything you tell us now will help immensely towards finding this new missing girl.”
Luisa swallowed and nodded her head, trying to force her mind back, remembering Maddy on that last day before she’d disappeared. They’d worked the early evening shift as usual and Maddy had been her usual self, talking about school and work and her boyfriend, Glen, nothing out of the ordinary.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything,” she said finally. “She was just - well - she was just like always. Like normal.”
The guy on the seat in front of her nodded his head and flipped his notebook shut. “Okay, well, thank you for your time, Miss Eastman. We can let ourselves out.”
She wracked her brains while she worked her shift at the Black Lodge Pub that evening, trying to think over everything Maddy had said and done that evening. But still she couldn’t think of anything, certainly not anything weird or strange or off like that FBI agent had been angling for.
Speaking of...
The two agents were just entering the bar, not wearing suits this time, but scruffy jeans and flannel shirts. She watched them surreptitiously from the food station as they headed for the bar. The attractive one looked even more attractive out of his suit, more at ease in his scruffy jeans. Certainly, his clothes seemed to fit a little better, though the olive t-shirt he wore under his flannel was clinging to the subtle roundness of his belly, the waistband of his jeans sitting below the small plump curve.
She watched him order from Phil, leaning in to engage him in some talk before Phil moved away to pour their beers. He turned to his companion then and said something that made the taller one smile, a private intimate sort of smile that seemed kinda weird for a couple of FBI agents, not that she knew much about FBI agents, only what she’d seen on TV.
They accepted the beers from Phil and handed over a couple of bills. The hot one raised his pint pot to his lips and took a long swig, head tilting back and Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank, draining practically half the glass in one long swig. He put it back down on the bar and let out a long satisfied sigh, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the foam. He had a nice mouth, lips full and pink, shiny with the beer, cheeks a little plump and a slight double chin that was asking to be nibbled on. She blushed at the thought, but he was really attractive, far too attractive for Black Lodge, both of them were. But the shorter one had the kind of face that could’ve gotten him modelling gigs ten years and thirty pounds ago, though she definitely preferred him now, all soft and squishy with that small chubby belly.
The taller agent took a sip of his own beer and said something to the hot one which made him throw his head back and chuckle. He placed a hand on the front of his shirt and smoothed it down his chest to linger over the roundest part of his stomach. He gave it a couple of proud pats, the spare flesh jiggling a little, and Luisa felt her mouth go dry.
“Lou! Food’s up!” She jumped at the sound of Nico’s voice, calling at her through the hatch. She spun around and gathered up the order, rushing to deliver it quickly. Her eyes strayed back to the agents as she cleared a couple of tables and she watched the hot one - her one - finish up his beer and order another from Phil while the tall built one looked on with this fond little smile playing across his face.
They collected their drinks and headed for an empty booth towards one corner of the room - her section. Shit, they were sitting in her section. She watched them taking their seats, their shoulders brushing together a little too closely. The taller one rested one of his enormous hands against the small of her guy’s back and leaned in close - really close - to whisper something directly in his ear. His other hand dropped to the swell of her guy’s belly and rested there, giving it a soft proprietary sort of a pat before he slid smoothly away and climbed into the booth. Her guy started and said something, a surprised grin flitting to his face as he too slid into the booth opposite his smiling companion.
Her stomach lurched, butterflies and embarrassing arousal heating her up from the inside. She blinked, tearing her gaze away and swallowing hard. Were they together then? They had to be together, the way they’d been touching... That wasn’t the way guys usually touched each other. And now, the way they were leaning over the table to talk to each other…
“Hey, babe, you want me to take table twelve? Tall, dark and handsome over there?”
Tina’s voice made her spin around, her fingers curling around her notepad and pen. Tina was peering through the crowded bar towards the newly occupied booth - exactly where Luisa had just been looking - and she tossed her hair, grinned wickedly.
She had to be referring to the tall one, Luisa thought. And sure enough, Tina added: “Man, I love tall guys - what do you reckon he is? 6’4? 6’5? Mmm-hmmm. I bet he’d be a monster in the sack.”
“I think they’re together,” Luisa stuttered out.
Tina’s eyebrows flew up in surprise and she licked her lips. “Shit! Really? Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Goddamn shame, huh? Why are the hot ones always taken? Or gay?”
Luisa didn’t say anything in response, just gave her a wan smile. Black Lodge wasn’t exactly known for its gay population. In fact, Luisa was pretty sure that they didn’t have one.
“Well, hey there, Miss Eastman,” the hot one said, looking her as she approached and giving her a wide welcoming grin.
“Hi,” she said, “but, um, you should call me Luisa.” She smiled awkwardly and pointed to her badge with the end of her pen.
The hot guy nodded, exchanging a quick look with his companion. “Luisa, nice to meet you again.”
The other one leaned forward then and asked, “Have you been working here a long time?” His tone and expression all business in contrast with his partner.
“Uh-huh, about two years,” she answered.
“So you were here when Alison Huntingdon went missing?”
“Uh, yes, yes, I was. I’d only been here about a month, though. I didn’t really know her.”
The tall one blinked and said in a sharper tone: “Don’t you think you should’ve mentioned that earlier?”
She hesitated, looking between them, murmuring, “I, uh, I don’t know - I, um, I didn’t think it was relevant?”
“That another girl went missing exactly a year before your friend?”
“I thought you already knew,” she said simply. “The police caught the guy that did it.”
“Right, another escaped mental patient,” said the tall one with a dismissive look. “Convenient.”
“Hey, Sam, man, c’mon, let the lady do her job,” the hot one cut in, giving his companion a warning look. “Anyway, we’re here to eat, and I’m damn hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” the other guy - Sam - said, his expression mollifying a little as he turned his attention back to his partner.
“I gotta feed this beast sometime,” the hot one answered, reaching down to cup the swell of his belly in one of his large hands.
Luisa couldn’t help but look down too, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed the way his stomach swelled out over the tight waistband of his jeans, the way his love handles hung over the sides, small and perfectly formed, and just the right size for her to hold onto, just how she liked them. She swallowed heavily and forced herself to look away, curling her fingers tightly around her pen.
He gave his belly one last pat and reached for the menu, turning his head to look up at Luisa. “So what’s good here?”
He ordered the 20oz steak with fries and mashed potatoes, with extra sides of corn and chicken wings. “And he’ll have a chicken club with a side of fries,” he finished, pointing at his companion with the corner of his menu.
Sam rolled his eyes but he didn’t contradict the order so she added it to her long scribbled list.
“Um, anything to drink?”
“Just keep the beers coming,” the hot one added with a cheerful wink.
A couple of hours and a lot of food later, they were still there, the hot one - her guy - picking at his third serving of cherry pie while Sam watched him, still with the same fond smile. She watched him stealthily whenever she could, staring at the way his lips and tongue wrapped around his fork, the sensuous happy expression on his face, this hot bubbling feeling deep in her stomach.
She took her time wiping down the tables next to them, unashamedly listening in on their conversation.
“Man, these fuckin’ pants, Sammy, so damn tight.”
She hesitated and flicked a quick glance at him; he was sprawled back in the booth, one hand on his belly, rubbing and massaging. It looked bigger, she noted with a gulp, bloated with all the food he’d eaten, pushing even more over the waistband of his already tight jeans, his olive t-shirt riding up a little to expose a sliver of pale soft flesh that her fingers ached to touch.
“So stuffed, I gotta get this button -“
“Christ, Dean,” Sam whispered, “you can’t do that here, wait till we get in the car.”
Dean, so that was his name. Dean. She mouthed the syllable to herself. Dean.
She missed seeing them go, busy with another table. She cursed her luck when she went to clear their table, though she was cheered up a little by the generous tip they’d left for her. Her mind kept drifting as she finished her shift, fantasies about how it might’ve gone when they’d gotten to the car, how Dean would’ve popped that button on his straining pants, how his bloated belly would’ve surged forward, pushing down the zipper and pushing up his shirt. How the other one - Sam - might’ve leaned over and massaged over the red marks where the waistband had dug in, fondling and squeezing the soft squishy flesh in his enormous hands.
She was hot and flustered for the rest of her shift, and when she was finally alone in her bed in her room later that night, she found her hand creeping downwards, eyes fluttering closed and the fantasy replaying in her head.
She didn’t see the agents for the next couple of days, and she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, but she saw on the local TV news that they’d caught the guy who’d murdered both Maddy and Alison and the other poor girl from Porterville. He was a Black Lodge regular, a middle-age, balding, incredibly normal and really polite guy called Chris who used to come in every Tuesday and Friday. He’d been dead when the police had finally gotten to him, killed in a freak horrific accident that didn’t seem to be possible when she saw it on the news. A steel rod had fallen from the roof of the town church and impaled him directly through his skull.
“Just like in The Omen,” Phil had told her, unable to keep the ghoulish expression of relish off his face. “Imagine it - all these years and we had no freakin’ idea.”
******
1 month later...
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Sam murmured as he pressed a series of kisses along Dean’s softened jaw line.
“Should I be worried?” Dean asked, tilting his head in an effort to see Sam’s expression, but Sam was hiding from him, his forehead pressed up against the back of Dean’s head, his hot breath puffing against the nape of his neck.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I just -“ Sam trailed off, licked his lips. He sounded uncertain, and unbelievably... kinda embarrassed.
“Dude, what? Spit it out already!”
“I think you should gain more weight. Like another fifteen pounds or so, Dean,” he blurted in a rush. His hand smoothed lovingly over the swell of Dean’s belly, fingers pushing under the hem of his t-shirt to fondle the soft flesh underneath. “You have no idea how fuckin’ hot it would be. I keep thinking about how you’d look if you were a little bigger. I keep picturing you with a bigger belly, and it’s...” he trailed off, gulping, “I get so hard thinking about it.”
“Yeah, I kinda noticed.” Dean ground his ass back against his brother’s body, Sam’s dick a fucking steel rod trapped between them.
“And you’d love it, Dean; you could eat whatever you wanted and drink lots of beer without me ridin’ your ass. And I’d be so appreciative.”
“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean said after a moment. “I’m a hunter, dude, and I wanna keep huntin’. I’d be no damn use if I turned into some 300 pound fat-ass.”
It still kinda bewildered him this weirdo kink of Sam’s. A few years ago when he’d started gaining weight, his metabolism finally giving up after all the abuse he’d given it over the years, he’d been a little embarrassed, freaked out over the changes to his formerly hard, chiselled body. But Sam hadn’t seemed to mind, in fact, their awesome sex life had just gotten even more awesome, and Sam had seemed even more turned on by him. So Dean had pushed any ideas of cutting back or working out more or - Jesus - dieting - to the back of his mind and just let nature and age take its course with his body while Sam had just... well, Sam had just gotten even more ardent and possessive and horny.
It had taken Dean an embarrassingly long time to put things together and when he’d had done he’d been relieved; okay, he’d been amused and kinda surprised too at just how damn strange his little brother was, but mostly relieved.
“No, I agree, and I don’t want that,” Sam answered. “I want you to be healthy, Dean. And we’d be sensible about it, we would keep workin’ out, and running, and you would still be muscled here -“ he reached to squeeze Dean’s hard thick thigh, “- and here.” He bent his head to place an appreciative kiss to Dean’s bicep.
“Yeah, good,” Dean muttered. He was proud of the fact that despite the weight he’d gained over the past few years, he could still keep up with Sam when they were running for their lives or going hand to hand with some monster freak. He wasn’t entirely soft, he still had muscle. Sure, he wasn’t built like Sam and he couldn’t bench press what Sam could, but he hadn’t been able to bench press what Sam could for years. And, admittedly, he was carrying, like, an extra thirty pounds or more and he had a belly, but he was still manly, goddamnit, he was still a hunter, he was still Dean Winchester.
“I don’t want you to be 300lbs, Dean,” Sam continued, “I’m just talkin’ like an extra fifteen pounds, just here, nowhere else, just here - just your gorgeous belly.” He reached around to place his hands over the mound of Dean’s stomach, cupping and rolling the soft flesh between his fingers. “Just so I got something to hang onto.”
“I think there’s plenty there to hang onto already, dude,” Dean said dryly.
“Hmm, yeah,” Sam murmured, leaning to nuzzle against the side of Dean’s throat. “But think how much hotter it would be with a little more to hang onto.”
Dean huffed out a breath and chuckled. “You really want this, don’t you?” He turned his head to catch Sam’s expression.
Sam looked dazed, eyes half-lidded, face flushed, so turned on his irises had almost disappeared. “So much,” he breathed.
Dean swallowed, his own already hardening cock twitching at the breathy arousal in his brother’s voice. “Okay, okay then.”
****
11 months later...
“There’s a couple of FBI agents here to see you,” Mom said anxiously as Luisa closed the front door behind her. Her head twitched towards the living room. “They’re in the living room, I made them tea. They want to talk to you.”
Luisa blinked and fumbled with her coat as she nodded at her Mom. “Oh, uh, okay. I’ll, uh -“
“Don’t keep them waiting, honey.”
Luisa wet her lips and nodded again. “Uh, yeah, okay.”
She made her way into the living room, telling herself that it couldn’t be the same two guys, that it wouldn’t make sense if it were the same two guys…
It was the same two guys.
She hesitated in the doorway, heart thudding in her chest, gaze fluttering over the two of them. They were dressed in suits, the tall built one - Sam - looked exactly the same as he’d done a year ago, with the same hair and the same big powerful body. But the other one - Dean -
He’d gained more weight. Quite a bit of weight.
Her heart skidded in her chest and she swallowed heavily, eyes quickly calculating the changes. His face was rounder, double chin more obvious, cheeks plumper, but it was his belly that was noticeably different. It was bigger, fuller, rounding out his tightly fitting dress shirt and pulling the small white buttons taut, his leather belt sitting underneath the full curve, taking the strain.
He must’ve gained at least twenty pounds, she thought, her mouth going dry and stomach lurching, practically all of it to his belly. No, not a belly, but a gut. He had a gut now. There was no other way of putting it. And it was so hot. It was about the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“Miss Eastman. Nice to see you again.”
It was Sam who spoke, and she flinched, dragged her eyes away from Dean - oh God, she was staring - towards Sam. Sam was watching her closely, his eyes a little narrowed.
“We’re here to talk about Tina Lopez.”
“Tina?” She froze, stammering, “But Tina -“
“Was reported missing yesterday by her mother.”
“What? But she - I - really? No, that’s not possible.” she stuttered. Tina? Was Tina in trouble?
“I’m afraid it is possible,” Sam said, taking a step towards her, his expression serious. “We think it’s related to the previous murders. All three girls worked at the same bar.”
“But you caught the guy that did it. He was one of our regulars.”
“It appears there was more than one of them,” Dean put in flatly.
Her gaze flew to him and she swallowed heavily as he met her eyes. He had green eyes, she noticed, green eyes and a couple of days’ stubble on his cheeks. But - oh God - how could she be thinking about this when Tina was missing? They weren’t really friends and she’d barely seen her since Tina had quit her job at the Black Lodge, but she was still someone she knew, and she was standing here drooling over an FBI agent.
“Tina quit,” she said. “She quit two months ago; she works at the White Rose now.”
“Really?” Dean took a step forward, moving to stand beside Sam, his eyes scrutinizing her closely.
She swallowed, forcing herself to look back at him. “Yes,” she nodded.
She answered a couple more questions, keeping her eyes carefully locked on the middle of Sam’s chest, not daring to glance at Dean again.
They left quickly after that and she watched them through the living room window heading back to their car. They walked with their heads together, Sam’s hand hovering over the small of Dean’s back. They paused by the car and she saw Dean turn around, Sam slide in even closer as he bent to whisper something in Dean’s ear, Dean looking up and glancing back towards the house with a smirk on his face. Sam patted Dean’s ass, big hand sliding underneath his jacket and lingering for a long moment, before he moved away to get into the shotgun seat.
Oh God, so they were really together. Huh.
Everything became clear just a day later. Though in a way, everything - her entire world - got turned upside down at the same time.
She was at work, closing up for the evening - one of her new responsibilities after her recent promotion to Assistant Manager - when the front door slammed open and Phil burst inside, panting for breath as he cried: “Help! They’re after me! They’re fuckin’ crazy!”
She stood, frozen to the spot, as Phil rushed past her and dived behind the bar. Shaking, she shuffled back towards him, stammering: “Phil? What? Who? What’s going on?”
The question was quickly answered as the front door slammed again and the two feds, Sam, followed immediately by Dean, burst through the door. They too were panting for breath, looking like they’d just sprinted a few blocks, chests heaving and faces red with exertion.
“Where is he?” Sam shouted. “Where did he go?”
Her mouth worked soundlessly, her mind still too much in shock to process what the hell was happening.
Phil? Was Phil? Could Phil be the one?
No. No way. She knew him. They’d worked together for ages.
She could see him from the corner of her eye, crouched into a ball in the space by the dishwasher, shaking his head, mouthing frantically at her. She swallowed, about to speak, but it was too late, they’d seen where she was looking.
Quickly, surprisingly quickly, for a guy his size, Dean sprinted forward, rounding the bar and grabbing at Phil’s legs from where they protruded. He yanked Phil out in a surprising show of strength and wrestled him to the ground, pinning him to the floor with one hand on each wrist and straddling Phil’s thighs.
She brought her hand up to cover her mouth and watched in shock and horror as Phil struggled and bucked underneath Dean, but Phil was kinda shrimpy and skinny and Dean - well - he wasn’t either of those things. In fact, he was obviously really damn strong. She could see the powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders flexing through his tight-fitting navy shirt, strong muscled thighs curled around Phil’s thrashing legs and his large round belly skimming against Phil’s chest as he held him down.
Sam dashed to his side, sinking to the floor and holding out what looked like -
Shit! It was a knife.
Oh God, they were going to kill Phil…
“Stop! Stop! What’re you doing?” she screamed, stumbling forward and clinging to the edge of the bar as she peered down at them.
“Get back!” Sam hissed grimly, not turning to look at her. “Stay away! It’s not safe!”
“You’re gonna kill him!” she cried.
She gulped hopelessly, taking in the picture below her. Open-mouthed, she watched Sam brandish the knife and swipe at Phil’s bare forearm. Phil screeched and snarled and thrashed as the wound smoked.
Oh my god, the wound smoked - steam coming off it like he’d been burnt with a red hot poker and not just a regular looking silver knife.
“What… what are you doing to him?” she whimpered.
“This ain’t a him,” Dean gritted out, “this is an it. He’s a monster. He’s the one who kidnapped your friend.”
She raised her hand back to her mouth, watching in disbelief as Sam plunged the knife into Phil’s chest, right over his heart, blood spurting and spraying. Blood that was… that wasn’t red… that wasn’t the colour of blood.
Phil - or whatever Phil was - let out an inhuman wail, a horrible metallic shriek and his body convulsed for a couple of seconds and then he went still.
“Oh man, I’m fuckin’ covered in that shit,” Dean bitched.
Luisa watched, frozen to the spot, still clinging to the bar, as Dean got slowly to his feet, stomach quivering at the effort. He stared in disgust at the greeny-black coloured blood that covered his shirt.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked.
Luisa blinked, only just realizing that Sam was talking to her, looking almost sympathetic as he got to his feet in turn.
“I… I - what - what just happened?” she stammered.
“We got the bad guy,” said Dean. “The other bad guy,” he added. “We missed this sonofabitch first time round, but we got him now.” He turned to glare down at Phil’s corpse.
Gulping, Luisa followed his gaze, then froze again. Phil’s face had - had changed. He didn’t look human now; instead he looked more like a corpse than a human, his face and skin all shrivelled, features hideously deformed, like those pictures of mummies she’d seen in history books back in school.
“What you’re seeing now is his true face,” said Sam. “He had the ability to appear to people in other forms.”
“But you don’t need to know about that,” Dean interrupted, giving her a reassuring smile. “What matters is that he’s dead. This town is gonna be a whole lot safer in future.”
She nodded dazedly. “Okay.” She hesitated, staring down at Phil. “What am I gonna do with him? What am I gonna tell people?”
“Don’t worry about that, we’ll take care of it,” said Dean.
“I’ll bring the car around,” Sam said, getting to his feet and striding out the bar. Luisa watched him go, feeling her heart finally rate start to slow down.
“Man, this was one of my favourite shirts,” she heard Dean mutter behind her.
She turned around again, seeing him yank off the gunk-covered shirt. Underneath, he was just wearing a plain back t-shirt, a way too small plain back t-shirt that looked like it had been a few months and several pounds since it’d fit him properly. It was fighting to contain his belly now, the hem stretched indecently tight around the thick full curve, starting to creep up, exposing the pale rounded underside of his gut.
“Ugh, gross.” He made a face, attempting to wipe his fingers off on the t-shirt, the action causing his belly to jiggle a little. He paused, then grimaced. “Oh man, it’s gone all the way through.” He looked up and shook his head, exchanging a look with her. “This stuff gets freakin’ everywhere. Hey, you don’t mind if I -“ He mimed pulling off his shirt and she gaped back at him, swallowing hard and helplessly shaking her head.
“No, I, uh, no, it’s okay, go right ahead.”
He gave her a quick grin, then tugged the t-shirt off over his head.
She stared, unable to tear her eyes away. He was a hot guy with his shirt on, but without it -
His body was - it was - amazing. He was… perfect. He could never pass for anything other than what he was: a big guy with a beer gut, but he was so much more than that. And she knew. She was a connoisseur. She worked in a bar for Christ’s sake, and she - well - she’d seen plenty of pictures and videos of chubby guys online. She’d even dated a couple.
He was muscled in his upper body, thick broad shoulders with defined muscles in his biceps and forearms. Even his pecs still had some definition though they were a little soft, but not saggy, not yet at least. His gut was the perfect shape, not too big and not too small, standing out round and full and proud, pale and firm and substantial, with a smattering of golden hairs trailing down from his deep-set navel to his straining waistband.
It took her a long while to realize that he was watching her back, this sly knowing look in his eyes. “You like what you see, huh?” he said.
She gulped, dry-mouthed, her face burning up, staring back at him.
“It’s okay. You ain’t the only one. Sammy goes crazy for this.” He gave his belly a resounding slap, the noise ringing out loud and hard in the quiet bar. “So you like big guys?”
“I, uh, I guess,” she finally managed to answer. Her voice sounded strained, cracked in her ears and she blushed even harder. But - oh God - this was crazy. He was smoothing his hand over the red mark he’d made, massaging and caressing the pale doughy flesh, watching her with this strange gleam in his eyes.
“Sam wants me to gain a little more,” he said. “He’s so damn transparent about it. I don’t know, though. What do you think?”
She swallowed hard again, stammered, “I - uh - I think you look great now. But, um, yeah, that - that would be - um - nice too?”
He nodded thoughtfully, moving his other hand so he was cradling his belly with both hands, fingers spread, cupping and jiggling the soft flesh, as if he was weighing and measuring it. Her stomach gave a lurch, fizzy funny sensation in her groin, her mind bringing up images of how he would look if he were a little heavier, that lovely big belly a little fuller, a little rounder, a little softer…
“Dean!”
Sam’s voice startled her from her reverie and she flinched as he came bounding through the kitchen door. He paused, eyes running over the scene in front of him.
“Err, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
Dean turned around to look at him and shrugged. “It was fuckin’ disgusting, man. ‘Sides, we gotta use something to mop up this shit.”
“Right, okay,” Sam said. His gaze moved to land on her and his eyes narrowed a little, suspicious and slightly pissed.
She felt her face flush, ashamed and guilty. He was right to be pissed, she was guilty, she had been perving, drooling, over his boyfriend, over his boyfriend’s gorgeous perfectly shaped belly. In fact, she was still doing it, unable to look away from how damn amazing he looked even from the back with his broad freckled shoulders, his padded sides and those generous love handles spilling over the waistband of his jeans.
They were quick and efficient about cleaning up, done before she really had chance to ask if they wanted help. Sam gathered up Phil’s body when they were done, tossing it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heading out the back door.
Dean gave her another of those reassuring smiles after Sam had gone. “So, sorry for messin’ up your place.”
“No, that’s - that’s okay.”
She still couldn’t quite process what had happened, what she’d seen with her own eyes. Phil… Phil was dead. Phil was some kind of monster?
Christ.
“We’ll square everything with the police, about Phil, don’t worry about that,” he added. “You won’t need to do anything.”
“Okay, um, thanks, that’s, um, that’s good of you.”
He nodded at her, wiping off his hands with the remains of his disgusting shirts. He bent over to drop them into a garbage sack she’d provided and straightened up, the movement making his belly ripple a little with the effort.
“Will you be okay?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. She felt her stomach give another lurch of embarrassment; she’d been drooling over him again, drooling over his body, while he was asking her a normal question. But - was she going to be okay? She had no idea.
She nodded dumbly. “Yes, yes, thanks.”
He nodded back at her and with one last reassuring smile, he left the bar.
****
One day later
Sam watched Dean drive as he pretended to doze, lashes half lowered, cheek smushed up against the back of the seat. His brother was leaning back in the driver’s seat, a serene smile on his face, one hand resting on the wheel and the other dipping in and out of a jumbo bag of peanut M&M’s resting on the bench seat between them.
He ate thoughtlessly, munching and chewing, licking off his fingers after each handful with an obscene and lascivious twist of his mouth and flick of his tongue, chubby cheeks hollowing, fingers sticky with peanut dust, chocolate and saliva. Sam felt his cock give a half-hearted twitch in his jeans, starting to stir awake at the little show in front of him.
Dean finished off the bag, tilting back his head to tip the last few M&M shells and dust into his mouth, then he balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder into the back seat. He settled back into his seat, squirming a little and running one finger under his tight waistband, pausing at the straining metal button to flick it open. His jeans popped open, and his gut surged forward, an audible sigh of relief escaping from his lips, and Sam suddenly remembered breakfast that morning, the mountain of eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes Dean had devoured only a couple of hours earlier.
He licked his lips, still staring at his brother. From this angle, he could see how much bigger Dean had gotten over the past few months, since their agreement nearly a year ago that Dean would gain another fifteen pounds. Dean had gained another fifteen pounds and then some, almost all of it to his middle, and Sam could see how the weight of his gut was forcing down the zipper of his jeans, how it was big enough now to spill out onto his lap, resting on top of his thighs in a perfect soft pillowy mound.
Sam’s cock gave an eager twitch, and he stifled the groan about to escape his lips, instead he said, keeping his voice admirably calm, “Do we need gas yet?”
Dean flicked his gaze to the dashboard, shrugged. “Maybe, but we’re good for a while.”
“Oh right, well I was thinking we should load up on snacks while we got the chance. Or maybe, uh - I saw a sign for Dairy Queen back there. About 25 miles out. We should stop, get lunch. I’m kinda hungry.”
Dean chuckled and flicked him a sly knowing look. “Oh, dude, you’re so freakin’ transparent.”
“What?” Sam protested.
“Look, I know you want me to gain more weight. You don’t need to make any bullshit excuses about loading up on snacks or being hungry to get me to eat more.”
“Maybe I’m hungry!”
Dean shook his head knowingly. “No, you’re not, Sam. We only had breakfast two hours ago, takes you longer than that to work up a hunger. I know you, remember?”
“Well I know you,” he retorted, “and I know that despite yourself, you’re already thinking about Dairy Queen. About a big juicy cheeseburger. About a chocolate fudge sundae. About ice cream and malts and chilli fries and every other delicious thing that you love and that they serve and that are only twenty five miles down the road from here.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Dean cursed and hit his palm on the edge of the wheel. “Dammnit, Sammy! Now you made me think about it!”
Sam chuckled smugly. “So, are we’re stopping?”
“Of course we’re stopping!” Dean returned. He splayed his hand over his belly, sinking his fingers into the soft pudgy flesh, and blowing out a breath. “I’m never gonna be thin again, am I?”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “But I thought you were cool with that?”
“Yeah, I guess.” But he didn’t sound sure, his voice slightly flat.
“Dean, c’mon, you’re still fit, you’re still a hunter. Look at the way you took out that freak just before. Look at the way that chick was practically panting over you. She was so hot for you, it wasn’t funny.”
Dean’s mouth twitched up into a full-on smirk. “Man, you’re such a jealous bitch.”
Sam frowned in annoyance. Maybe he had been a little jealous, but she’d been so obvious, and Dean had just been playing up to it as always, teasing the poor girl. Fucking taking off his shirt in front of her. Sam was the only one who was supposed to see Dean naked, the only one who got to ogle and touch and fondle and love and worship, the only one who got to play with that gorgeous belly, the only one who got to kiss him. Dean was his, Goddamnit, all his.
“Man, so jealous...” Dean was still chuckling to himself, tossing Sam knowing looks and grinning with wide and smug satisfaction.
Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling back at his brother despite himself. “Shut up, tubby-cakes. and just drive us to Dairy Queen.”
Dean reached over and punched him in the arm. "Don't call me that."
Sam laughed and rubbed his sore arm. Man, his brother could pack a punch, and now he had all that extra weight behind him it really wasn't fair.
"Yeah, yeah, alright, you win. How about I make it up to you later?"
"After Dairy Queen, though?" Dean added.
Sam grinned. "Yeah, after Dairy Queen, Dean."