Fic: The Monster - Part 1/2 - Sam/Dean - R
Title: The Monster
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: adult
Word count: 11,156
Summary: After 5 years spent on the run and hiding out in Mexico, Sam and Dean return to South Dakota to settle down and run Bobby's old scrap business...
Warnings/kinks/genres: chubby!Dean, chubby!Sam, weight gain, some mild sex scenes, belly!kink, some mild stuffing, domestic!boys, schmoop, outsider!pov
Author's Note gift is for toeveryenemy for the chubwinchesters gift exchange. I hope you like this sweetie, all I can do is apologise for it, as I'm not quite sure what happened here, it kinda got out of hand ;-) I tried to shove in as many of your preferences and kinks as possible, it's domestic boys, schmoop, outsider!pov, lots of weighing and measuring with exact numbers, confident, swaggering!Dean, self-conscious!Sammy, tight clothes. I hope Dean isn't too heavy for you, as I said, totally got out of hand... ;-P
,
The Monster
Jodie had gotten the call a few days ago; Dean Winchester calling up to tell her that he and Sam were heading back to South Dakota. The heat had died down a little, he said. Some FBI guy who'd owed them a big favour had managed to bury their files deep enough for them to come back safely to the US. So the plan was for them to settle down in South Dakota for a while, try and start up Bobby’s old scrap business again.
She gave him the address of her new place, Dean expressing surprise over her new change of career. “You’re running a bar? Seriously? You’ve got your own bar? Like, a bar that’s yours that you run? You ain’t in the force anymore.” She’d answered him patiently, explaining again and again that no, she wasn’t sheriff anymore, she’d given it up two years ago, and yes, she really did own and run her own bar. She’d gotten off the phone with a smile on her face, surprised to realise that she was actually looking forward to seeing them again. It had been far too long.
In fact it had been over five years. Dean had been a little circumspect on the phone when she’d asked him what they’d been doing down in Mexico (aside from hiding out from the Feds), but he’d sounded happy enough, his normal, charming self. She’d always assumed that they would end up selling Bobby’s old place, once the tricky legal situation got resolved. But she was happy to think that they would actually come and live there, try to make something of Bobby’s old business. That place had been empty for a long time, and now that the insurance company had finally paid up and the repair work was almost completed, it was a shame to keep it standing empty.
They turned up a few days later. She was in the middle of serving drinks to some other customers and glanced up to see two guys making space at the bar.
“Sheriff Mills, so good to see you again.”
She blinked at the two guys in surprise, not recognising them at first, because... wow, they looked different. She quickly hid her shock and pasted on a smile, saying, “Sam and Dean Winchester. At last. Guys, it’s been a long time.”
They both laughed, a little awkward, a little self-conscious, exchanging a look with each other as she stepped up to shake hands. She served their drinks, waving away the money, insisting that this one was on the house. She watched them carry their drinks to a nearby booth when they were done, staring after them, still feeling like she was in shock. Sure, people changed over the years and she didn’t look the same as she did five years ago, a few more lines around the eyes and more grey hairs unfortunately. But, if it hadn’t been for Dean greeting her by name, she was pretty damn sure she would never have recognised him. Sam, at least, didn’t look that different. The height was something that wasn’t going to change, though he looked understandably older. The grey in his hair was more obvious amongst the dark brown, and overall he looked less imposing than she remembered, less muscled and all-round huge than the last time he’d seen him, like he’d dropped some weight and muscle mass.
Dean, on the other hand. Oh boy. She sneaked a glance at the two of them, sitting in the booth. Sam was leaning over the table, eyes locked on Dean’s face as he spoke, Dean drinking deeply from his pint pot, nodding at whatever his brother was saying. She blinked again, staring at Dean, still not quite believing what she was seeing. Dean was... he had... well, there was no other way of putting it, but the guy had seriously blubbered out. He’d gained a hell of a lot of weight, maybe seventy, eighty pounds since the last time she’d seen him. He was sporting a truly impressive beer gut, big enough to rival some of her most loyal and regular customers. Thinking about how firm and ripped he’d been before, well... the change was staggering.
Those booths were pretty narrow, (in fact, enough of her customers had complained that she was seriously considering ripping them out and installing some roomier ones), and Dean definitely looked like he was having some trouble getting comfortable. He was leaning back against the booth in an attempt to accommodate his increased girth which wasn’t having much effect; she could see his belly bump against the edge of the table as he shifted in his seat. She watched him drain his glass in record time and motion at Sam to get them another round, one hand absently resting on top of his stomach as he spoke. Sam made a face at him, and shook his head, though he was smiling as he got up from the table and headed to the bar.
“So, are you guys still hunting?” she asked as she served Sam with two more brimming, foamy glasses.
Sam shrugged, “Not often. It’s not like it was. Things are much slower these days.”
Yeah, I can see that, she thought, as she glanced back across to the booth. Dean was struggling to take off his jacket, the small space and his big belly making the manoeuvre difficult. He draped the jacket over the side of the booth when he was finally done and attempted to smooth down his t-shirt where it had ridden up a little at his exertions. He was obviously having trouble; the t-shirt looked like it had been a while since it fit him properly. The fabric was stretched as taut as cellophane and she swore could make out the shape of his naval even from this distance. The open shirt he was wearing over the tee also looked too small, stretched to breaking point across his broad shoulders and thick arms and it had obviously not buttoned in a long, long while.
“I see Mexico’s been treating you well,” she said, nodding her head towards the booth.
Sam glanced behind him and chuffed out a breath, his cheeks pinking as their eyes met again. He looked a little embarrassed and he licked his lips uncomfortably before he answered, “Uh, yeah. We’ve been taking it kinda easy for the past couple of years. After everything, you know.”
“Well, you deserve it,” she said, handing over the drinks. “Listen, I’ve got a darts match tonight so I’m not going to get much chance to talk for the next couple of hours. But stick around, okay? And we’ll catch up afterwards.”
“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Sam said with a nod. He paused, took the drinks from her. “Um, so if we’re sticking around, could you let me have some food menus?”
As she expected, she didn’t get much chance to talk to them for the next few hours. The rest of the team arrived, followed by their opponents and then it was the usual good-natured chaos of a regular darts night. Every time she did get the chance to glance over at the Winchesters, they seemed happy enough, and they were definitely making the most of the food menus she’d given them. In fact, every time she looked their way, Dean was eating; burgers, nachos, chilli fries, wings, ribs, mozzarella sticks, onion rings. The guy didn’t seem to let up over the next two hours, and Sam was constantly at the bar ordering more beers. It was no wonder Dean was the size he was if he ate and drank like that every night.
The game finally finished, (another win of course) and things started to wind down, though it was another hour by the time she made it over to Sam and Dean’s booth. Amazingly, Dean was still eating. He had a slice of Lena’s peach pie which he seemed to be enjoying, going by the groans and moans as he forked it into his mouth.
“Guys, you got room for another?” she said.
Sam craned his head up and patted the seat beside him, scooting over to let her in.
Dean finished his mouthful and laid his fork down. “Sheriff, this pie is amazing,” he said, smacking his lips.
Beside her Sam shook his head. “That’s his fourth slice, seriously.”
“Who’s your cook? I want to marry your cook,” said Dean.
Jodie laughed. “Good luck with that. She’s seventy-three.”
“An older lady? Hmmm,” Dean said, looking thoughtful. “Well, she can sure cook. Did she grill the burgers too?”
“She did.”
Dean slapped the table top with his hand. “Well then. That’s it. She’s won my heart.”
“That’s ‘cause your heart is located in your stomach,” Sam said.
“Hmm,” Dean murmured, bowing his head to look down at his belly, the movement making a double chin form. He placed his right hand on the roundest part of his stomach and gave it a couple of proud pats, causing the flesh to jiggle a little. “You might be right.”
“I am right,” Sam snorted. He turned to Jodie. “Can we take the rest of that pie to go? He won’t shut up about it if we don’t.”
“I’m sure we can arrange that,” she said. She glanced back at Dean. He was taking a long pull on his beer, his other hand still resting on top of his very full looking stomach which was now looking well and truly wedged into that booth. Dean didn’t seem overly concerned though, draining off the rest of his beer with a satisfied sigh as he rubbed and petted his belly.
She called Julie over to clear the table of Dean’s many empty dishes and plates, and to bring them new drinks and “some chips please!” Dean added as she made to move away. They sat and talked for a while, drinking a few more beers, Dean eating more chips as they exchanged news. She explained about why she’d quit the force and opened up the bar. Sam talked about Mexico, about what he’d been doing there: teaching English to Mexican kids while Dean had worked some shifts in a burrito joint - which probably explained a lot.
They’d moved into Bobby’s old place yesterday. Most of the repair work on the house was finished and there was already a good load of scrap and used cars for them to get things going again.
“It looks good,” Sam said with a small smile. “You should come out and take a look. Dean’s gonna be running the yard, and I’m - well - I’m gonna help him and see how things go. I might get myself another job. I don’t know yet.”
She smiled faintly at them, swallowing down the lump at the back of her throat. “That’s good. I know he would be pleased to know that you two were running it.”
She headed to the kitchen to fetch Dean’s pie when it was time for them to leave. She could hear Dean bitching and grunting as he manoeuvred himself out of that booth, obviously finding it a lot harder to get out than it had been to get in. Not surprising given how much he’d eaten and drunk all night. When she stepped back into the deserted bar with the wrapped up pie, Dean was pulling on his jacket. His t-shirt had ridden up even further, exposing a few inches of large, pale stomach where it surged over the waistband of his jeans which also looked extremely tight around his ass and thighs. She marvelled again at how this guy - this guy with the huge beer gut and hefty love-handles - was Dean Winchester, the hunter, and she bit her lip as she handed the wrapped-up pie to Sam.
*********************
Dean woke up hungry, his stomach rumbling and growling in protest. It wasn’t used to feeling empty, not these days. Man, that had been good food last night, Sheriff Mills sure knew how to keep a good cook.
He pushed the covers down and got out of bed with a sigh and a grunt. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, holding his belly in both hands, enjoying the sensation of it sitting there heavy and warm in his lap. He ran his hands over it, soothing and comforting, hearing another long, drawn-out rumble.
“Hey, quit it,” he murmured, “I’ll feed you soon, you damn monster.”
He heaved himself up from the bed, and padded into the bathroom. He sat down to take a piss, it had been a while since he’d been able to see his dick and it was easier these days to use the toilet that way. It was funny how being so much bigger had changed his life in these small ways. He thought about those booths in Sheriff Mills’ place last night. Boy, they really hadn’t been built for bigger guys. He’d have to remember that if they ever went there again. And they were going there again, those burgers and that pie...
He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, then took a step back, eying himself in the big bathroom mirror.
He’d gained a lot of weight over the past few years. When they’d settled down in Mexico three years ago, he’d been pushing 200lbs. Not exactly flabby or fat, but kinda chubby, a slight beer gut, a thin layer of pudge over his ass and hips. Those three years in Mexico had put even more weight on him, courtesy of his own gluttonous nature, a lot of burritos, and Sam.
He chuckled to himself, remembering. God, Sammy had been so freaking embarrassed when Dean had figured him out, he hadn’t let the kid forget it. But hey, it wasn’t like he was disappointed, exactly the opposite in fact. It had given him free reign to eat as much as he liked and drink as much beer as he wanted, with Sam’s encouragement. And boy, they had both really gone for it. The evidence was there, staring him right in the plumper, chubbier face. He leaned into the mirror, licked his lips at his reflection. Actually, his face wasn’t that much fatter. He had the beginnings of a double chin, but it only really showed when he bent his head down. Sam liked to tease him about his rounder, “more cherubic” cheeks when he was being annoying, but it wasn’t all that different to how he’d been before.
His shoulders were thicker and broader, but still strongly muscled. Sam had an obsession with Dean keeping up his muscle strength, saying he needed the muscles to cart around all that extra body fat and not end up with varicose veins or something equally embarrassing. It was embarrassing enough for him to admit that he suffered much more from back pain these days, having to put cushions behind his back when he sat down on the couch to watch TV, having to tilt his car seat back to get comfortable, (though he had to do that anyway just to accommodate his big belly in the cramped space, his baby was not built for guys his size), so he was happy to go along with Sam on his strength and healthy food regimes. In his usual geeky way, Sam made sure he ate plenty of fibre and protein as well as the purely fatty, unhealthy foods. Sure, this had made his weight gain slower, but he was a lot healthier for it, and he was keeping up his muscle alongside the fat. He was proud to say that he could still pack one hell of a punch; he hadn’t lost all his strength under the encroaching pudge. They might not be hunters anymore but it was still important to keep up his strength and they’d already planned to get a punching bag and some weightlifting apparatus out the back, alongside Bobby’s old shooting range.
He lifted his arms into a muscle-man pose, flexing his biceps at his reflection. Oh yeah, he was still a tough-guy. Even his chest and pecs, which were definitely fleshier now, were still firm and strong underneath, not quite man boobs like some of those soft, big guys, but more like a wrestler. He dropped his arms to his sides, the movement causing his belly to wobble a little. Well, okay, yeah, his belly - the resemblance with a wrestler or weightlifter pretty much stopped there - he’d never seen a wrestler with a gut as big as his. He gave it a couple of pats, watching the flesh jiggle, turning sideways to check out his profile.
From this angle, he looked huge, seven or eight months gone at least, and with the stretch marks to go with it. His slid his hand around to the side to grab hold of one chunky love-handle where it spilled over the tight waistband of his boxers. Yep, now that was pure flab, no muscle there. Sam loved to grab onto him there when they fucked, Sam never got enough of sinking his fingers into that thick roll of flesh. The sense memory of Sam’s hands on his body made his dick start to take interest, the blood rushing south. He smirked at his reflection, feeling his dick attempt to swell and fill, pressing against his uncomfortably tight shorts - which, speaking of… He twisted around to check out his ass. He had one hell of a bubble butt these days; the fabric of his boxers was so tight around his round, plump ass cheeks it looked faded, like the seams were going to give at any second.
“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to do that without me.”
He dragged his gaze away from the mirror and turned to see his brother leaning against the bathroom door, an appreciative smile on his face. Sam stepped into the room, slid up behind him.
“Mmm, I ever tell you how incredibly hot you are like this?” He snaked his arms around Dean from behind to cradle his belly in his hands. “How much I love this.”
“Only every damn day, man.”
“Well, it’s worth repeating,” Sam said. He lowered his head to nuzzle at Dean’s neck. His fingers sank into his soft flesh as he sighed happily.
“You’re such a freak,” Dean said fondly, rolling his eyes at his brother’s reflection. But Sam’s presence was having his usual effect on him. He could feel his dick trying to escape those way-to-tight boxers as Sam brushed up closer to rub his denim-clad erection against Dean’s ass. Sam sighed again, and at that moment Dean’s belly gave a loud, protesting rumble.
Sam grinned and kissed the side of his face. “I think we need to feed the monster,” he said.
“Sounds good.”
“But we got something else to do first,” Sam said. “Something more important than breakfast.”
“Something more important than breakfast? I don’t think so."
Sam stepped away and smiled deviously. “Go, wait in the bedroom,” he said and disappeared.
Dean heard him go downstairs and he shrugged, frowning at his reflection. Oh well, whatever Sam had planned, it was probably going to be good. And as long as food came afterwards...
He sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Sam. His dick was still pleasantly half-hard, the memory of how Sam had felt brushed up against him, of how his belly had felt underneath Sam’s amazing, huge hands. He placed his own hands on his belly, imagining they were Sam’s, remembering how Sam had given him one of his long, perfect belly-rubs after they’d gotten home last night. God, he’d been so full, it had been a long time since he’d eaten that much in one night. Sam didn’t usually let him stuff himself like that. Sam’s regime was more about the slow and steady. But he’d lost track of how much he’d eaten at that bar, and Sheriff Mills - well, he could see how shocked she’d been. He smiled slyly to himself and felt his cock give another twitch. Oh yeah, she’d been shocked alright, seeing how much bigger he’d gotten. Hmm, it was kinda hot, picturing that shocked look on her face and her increasing amazement as he’d kept ordering more and more food and drinking more and more beer.
And that hadn’t just been it. Oh no. He wondered what she would think if she could’ve seen them afterwards. They’d stopped at a drive thru for him to devour three more big macs and large fries. Sam had gotten him dessert too, two extra-large McFlurries, one with M&Ms and one with Oreos. God, he loved those things. There had been more beer of course as well. There was always beer.
He patted his belly, smiling ruefully. Oh yeah, beer had a lot to answer for. It was no coincidence that five years ago after he’d sworn off hard liquor he’d started gaining weight. He’d done it to please Sam of course, the poor kid had made him promise to give up drinking and they’d ended up compromising on beer. It had been hard at first. But he’d soon found out that he could just replace the old hunter’s helper with other things he loved: sex and food, lots and lots of food, and that had just led to other things. New addictions and new obsessions - for the both of them. And once he’d found out that Sam actually preferred him bigger, then boy, their sex life had only gotten even more amazing as he piled on the pounds. He’d been kinda weirded out for a while, but whatever gave Sammy pleasure was fine by him, and as long as Sam was happy, then well, he could deal with anything.
Besides, he found that he actually kinda liked being big. He was proud of his monster gut, of how it stuck out, defying gravity and still enviably perky, of how it was always there in front of him, of how he always felt like he was the one following it around. He loved watching himself grow, seeing the look of unrestrained desire on Sam’s face when he touched him. And he loved those times when Sam did let him go all out: when he ate so much that it actually hurt, when he’d collapse down into the pillows with Sam’s hands on him, feeling as if he was trapped under the weight of his vast, bloated belly.
“Dean.” He looked up to see Sam hesitating in the doorway. He looked a little jittery, a pink flush rising up in his throat and cheeks. He stepped into the room and Dean noticed that he was carrying something: the scale under one arm and a measuring tape and notebook in the other hand.
And ohhhh, of course. How could he have forgotten what day it was today? Dean grinned, feeling his own jolt of excitement. It had been two months since Sam had last taken his measurements. He had two months worth of growth to track. He knew he’d gained. He knew the results would be good. No wonder Sam was looking so nervous and excited.
He watched Sam bend over and place the scale on the floor. Sam straightened up and ran one hand jerkily through his hair. The kid was practically vibrating on the spot from anticipation and arousal, his face pink, tongue slicking over his lips and oh yeah - that was one hell of an impressive tent pole in his pants. Dean felt his own cock fill even further. He lifted his ass to roll down those ridiculously tight boxers, feeling the seam give and tear a little as he pushed them forcibly down over the plump curve of his ass. Freed from its cotton prison, he felt his dick slap up against the underside of his belly, now fully hard. He raised his head to see Sam looking at him, his pupils dilated with want, his lips parted and breath coming hard.
Dean swallowed and put a steadying hand on his belly as he pushed himself up slowly to his feet.
“Where’d you want me?” he said.
“Ugh, bending over the bed so I can fuck you,” Sam said with a jittery laugh. “But um,” he licked his lips, flexed his fingers. “I wanna see what you weigh first. Get on the scale, Dean.”
His heart was thumping in anticipation as he stepped onto the scale, hearing it creak and strain under his weight. He glanced down at the floor, but he had no chance of seeing the dial. Not that he needed to, Sam was down there with his little notebook and that pencil between his teeth.
“What’s it say?” he asked, his voice a little shaky.
“2-uh-267,” Sam read off. He straightened up, writing it down in his little notebook. “That’s seven pounds gained, Dean. You were 260 last time.”
“Hmm, seven pounds,” he echoed. “Okay.”
He kinda expected a little more than that. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He definitely felt bigger. His clothes were all smaller. Nothing he owned actually buttoned around his belly anymore, all his jeans were too tight, even the ones he’d bought two months ago, just after their last measuring.
He stepped off the scale. Sam approached him once more, holding out the tape measure. Obediently Dean lifted his arms up, letting Sam wrap the tape around the roundest part of his belly. Dean frowned down at it, trying to read the numbers upside down.
“Well?” he demanded.
Sam tilted his head back, smiling, his cheeks flushed. “Dude, we’re gonna need a bigger tape. You’re 55 inches. This only goes up to 60.”
“What was I last time?”
“53, just. So that’s just over two inches you’ve gained. The weight must’ve redistributed. God, you’re getting so big, man.”
Dean flushed, felt his cock throb. Christ, 55 inches. He could remember when he used to take a 30 inch waist in jeans.
“I want to outgrow that tape,” he said. “Now that we’re settling down here. Get me up to 60 inches. How’d you feel about that, Sammy?”
Sam nodded, his eyes burning feverishly, his face even more flushed, a couple of beads of sweat on his top lip which he licked off. “Christ, yes. So much yes. You have no idea how freaking hot you are like this.” He got to his feet, placed his hands on Dean’s belly, fingers sinking into the giving flesh. “You’re so big right now, Dean, thinking of you getting even bigger, this monster growing some more. But you - you did so well. I’m gonna, guh, I’ve gotta...” he broke off, ducked his head down to lick across the tip of Dean’s cock.
Dean shuddered and groaned, throwing his head back, as he felt his dick throb again.
“Get on the bed, Dean,” Sam murmured. “Now.”
He scrambled to obey, feeling his belly jiggle as he dived onto the bed and lay down on his back, watching Sam loom over him on all fours from under half-closed lids. This was one of the very few negative things about being this big, his stomach got in the way when Sam tried to suck him off standing up. But that didn’t matter, not when Sam could do it like this. And he seemed to have gained so many more erogenous zones along with the extra pounds. His body trembling with desire when Sam dragged his tongue over the insides of his chunky, muscled thighs, peppered kisses over the underside of his belly where he was abnormally sensitive. Sam kissed along the stretch marks at his sides and licked around his much bigger belly button. Sam brought him to the edge before he even put his mouth back over his dick, and then when he did finally suck him all the way down, it only took a couple of glides up and down of his brother’s talented mouth before Dean was coming and Sam was chugging him down like he was a McDonalds vanilla shake.
His belly rumbled loudly when Sam removed his mouth.
Sam blinked at him and grinned, his lips shiny with saliva and Dean’s come. “I’m gonna finish breakfast. Get dressed and come downstairs. You must be starving.”
*******************
Dean retired back upstairs to rest after breakfast and Sam cleared up the kitchen, humming happily to himself. He got out his laptop when he was done, opening up the spreadsheet marked “Dean”. Dean mocked him mercilessly for this, for managing to be geeky even about his freaky sexual fetish, but Sam didn’t care.
He entered the new numbers into the spreadsheet, staring at the curve on the line graphs as they tracked Dean’s inexorable upward progress. He licked his lips, felt his cock give a twitch as he tracked how far his brother had come. They’d only started measuring properly three years ago, just after they’d settled in Mexico. That memorable occasion when Sam had actually plucked up the courage to tell his brother that he umm, actually, kinda, umm, liked Dean with the extra weight, and umm, what did Dean think about maybe, umm, gaining a little bit more?
Sam blushed at the memory, but Dean had been so relieved to hear that he was still attractive to Sam that it had been almost funny, definitely endearing. Sam smiled to himself; the stupid idiot had actually thought that Sam might be put off by his weight-gain. Even if he hadn’t had a massive thing for Dean with a little more flesh on him, he could never imagine not wanting him. He’d wanted his brother for as long as he’d known what it was to want somebody in that way - which was one hell of a fucked up sentence when he thought about it, but they were fucked up guys, so whatever...
Dean had been so relieved by Sam’s big admission that he’d actually let Sam weigh and measure him, laughing and mocking him all the while. He’d been 201lbs and 37 inches back then; quite a difference between then and now. The thought made Sam groan in pleasure and palm his thickening cock through his jeans. Compared to some gainers, (Sam had done a lot of research, of course he had), Dean’s progress was pretty slow, but Sam was determined to do this properly, and to keep his brother healthy along the way. After all, Sam was under no illusion that Dean was mainly doing this for him (the stupid, romantic fool), it was therefore up to Sam to make sure his brother didn’t suffer a premature heart-attack from carrying all that extra weight around. Sure, he’d let Dean overindulge on occasions - like last night, for example, which for the record had been totally worth it when he’d seen the look on Sheriff Mills’ face...
He groaned again, slid his hand into his boxers. Christ, she’d been so shocked, seeing Dean with that huge goddamned belly of his, his t-shirt not even fitting properly, his jeans so snug around his big, peachy ass... He flicked his thumb over the head of his cock. The Dean she remembered was all trim and firm and muscled, and now he was - God - he was so fucking big, getting practically stuck in that booth as he stuffed his face, his belly expanding, wedging him up against that table. And his hands, always freaking touching it, drinking all that beer, his throat always working as he ate and drank, his tongue coming out to slick across his lips, shiny and plump from grease and beer.
He shivered, felt his cock give a few more twitches as he tugged down his zipper to free it from his jeans and boxers, gasping in relief as he began to jerk off for real. He closed his eyes, picturing her face as she’d watched Dean devouring that fourth - fifth slice of pie, and then afterwards, the way Dean had so thoughtlessly rubbed his belly in front of her, helping him to digest all that food. Sam had been itching to reach out under the table and rub it for him.
God, they’d really overindulged last night, those big macs in the car on the way home, Dean in the passenger side, completely incapable of driving in his stuffed state, his stomach heaving from the effort of eating so much, the skin as taut as a drum, his t-shirt pushed up around his armpits to let him breathe. If they’d done the measurements last night, he was pretty sure Dean would’ve been a few pounds heavier and certainly a couple of inches bigger, and Sam had been sorely tempted. But that was cheating; measuring first thing in the morning gave the most accurate data.
He stared down at the graphs again, pumping his cock, as he pictured Dean as he had been in the beginning. God, he’d been so small back then. Just that small pooch of a belly, barely a handful for Sam to play with... compared with now... He groaned again, picturing the digits in his head, as he’d wound that measuring tape around Dean. 55 inches, that was so big, so freaking big, and he just wanted to be bigger... imagining how he’d look when they couldn’t get the tape around him anymore, when his belly got too big for it...
He gasped out loud and shot, come spurting over his fingers. He sat for a moment, letting his breath get back to normal, his heart stop thumping so hard. He’d actually gotten off to a freaking line graph; Dean would never let it go if he found out. He laughed to himself, a little breathless, chest shaking with it. He wiped off his hands on a dish cloth, and got up from his seat to tuck his cock and balls back into his jeans.
On to Part Two
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: adult
Word count: 11,156
Summary: After 5 years spent on the run and hiding out in Mexico, Sam and Dean return to South Dakota to settle down and run Bobby's old scrap business...
Warnings/kinks/genres: chubby!Dean, chubby!Sam, weight gain, some mild sex scenes, belly!kink, some mild stuffing, domestic!boys, schmoop, outsider!pov
Author's Note gift is for toeveryenemy for the chubwinchesters gift exchange. I hope you like this sweetie, all I can do is apologise for it, as I'm not quite sure what happened here, it kinda got out of hand ;-) I tried to shove in as many of your preferences and kinks as possible, it's domestic boys, schmoop, outsider!pov, lots of weighing and measuring with exact numbers, confident, swaggering!Dean, self-conscious!Sammy, tight clothes. I hope Dean isn't too heavy for you, as I said, totally got out of hand... ;-P
,
The Monster
Jodie had gotten the call a few days ago; Dean Winchester calling up to tell her that he and Sam were heading back to South Dakota. The heat had died down a little, he said. Some FBI guy who'd owed them a big favour had managed to bury their files deep enough for them to come back safely to the US. So the plan was for them to settle down in South Dakota for a while, try and start up Bobby’s old scrap business again.
She gave him the address of her new place, Dean expressing surprise over her new change of career. “You’re running a bar? Seriously? You’ve got your own bar? Like, a bar that’s yours that you run? You ain’t in the force anymore.” She’d answered him patiently, explaining again and again that no, she wasn’t sheriff anymore, she’d given it up two years ago, and yes, she really did own and run her own bar. She’d gotten off the phone with a smile on her face, surprised to realise that she was actually looking forward to seeing them again. It had been far too long.
In fact it had been over five years. Dean had been a little circumspect on the phone when she’d asked him what they’d been doing down in Mexico (aside from hiding out from the Feds), but he’d sounded happy enough, his normal, charming self. She’d always assumed that they would end up selling Bobby’s old place, once the tricky legal situation got resolved. But she was happy to think that they would actually come and live there, try to make something of Bobby’s old business. That place had been empty for a long time, and now that the insurance company had finally paid up and the repair work was almost completed, it was a shame to keep it standing empty.
They turned up a few days later. She was in the middle of serving drinks to some other customers and glanced up to see two guys making space at the bar.
“Sheriff Mills, so good to see you again.”
She blinked at the two guys in surprise, not recognising them at first, because... wow, they looked different. She quickly hid her shock and pasted on a smile, saying, “Sam and Dean Winchester. At last. Guys, it’s been a long time.”
They both laughed, a little awkward, a little self-conscious, exchanging a look with each other as she stepped up to shake hands. She served their drinks, waving away the money, insisting that this one was on the house. She watched them carry their drinks to a nearby booth when they were done, staring after them, still feeling like she was in shock. Sure, people changed over the years and she didn’t look the same as she did five years ago, a few more lines around the eyes and more grey hairs unfortunately. But, if it hadn’t been for Dean greeting her by name, she was pretty damn sure she would never have recognised him. Sam, at least, didn’t look that different. The height was something that wasn’t going to change, though he looked understandably older. The grey in his hair was more obvious amongst the dark brown, and overall he looked less imposing than she remembered, less muscled and all-round huge than the last time he’d seen him, like he’d dropped some weight and muscle mass.
Dean, on the other hand. Oh boy. She sneaked a glance at the two of them, sitting in the booth. Sam was leaning over the table, eyes locked on Dean’s face as he spoke, Dean drinking deeply from his pint pot, nodding at whatever his brother was saying. She blinked again, staring at Dean, still not quite believing what she was seeing. Dean was... he had... well, there was no other way of putting it, but the guy had seriously blubbered out. He’d gained a hell of a lot of weight, maybe seventy, eighty pounds since the last time she’d seen him. He was sporting a truly impressive beer gut, big enough to rival some of her most loyal and regular customers. Thinking about how firm and ripped he’d been before, well... the change was staggering.
Those booths were pretty narrow, (in fact, enough of her customers had complained that she was seriously considering ripping them out and installing some roomier ones), and Dean definitely looked like he was having some trouble getting comfortable. He was leaning back against the booth in an attempt to accommodate his increased girth which wasn’t having much effect; she could see his belly bump against the edge of the table as he shifted in his seat. She watched him drain his glass in record time and motion at Sam to get them another round, one hand absently resting on top of his stomach as he spoke. Sam made a face at him, and shook his head, though he was smiling as he got up from the table and headed to the bar.
“So, are you guys still hunting?” she asked as she served Sam with two more brimming, foamy glasses.
Sam shrugged, “Not often. It’s not like it was. Things are much slower these days.”
Yeah, I can see that, she thought, as she glanced back across to the booth. Dean was struggling to take off his jacket, the small space and his big belly making the manoeuvre difficult. He draped the jacket over the side of the booth when he was finally done and attempted to smooth down his t-shirt where it had ridden up a little at his exertions. He was obviously having trouble; the t-shirt looked like it had been a while since it fit him properly. The fabric was stretched as taut as cellophane and she swore could make out the shape of his naval even from this distance. The open shirt he was wearing over the tee also looked too small, stretched to breaking point across his broad shoulders and thick arms and it had obviously not buttoned in a long, long while.
“I see Mexico’s been treating you well,” she said, nodding her head towards the booth.
Sam glanced behind him and chuffed out a breath, his cheeks pinking as their eyes met again. He looked a little embarrassed and he licked his lips uncomfortably before he answered, “Uh, yeah. We’ve been taking it kinda easy for the past couple of years. After everything, you know.”
“Well, you deserve it,” she said, handing over the drinks. “Listen, I’ve got a darts match tonight so I’m not going to get much chance to talk for the next couple of hours. But stick around, okay? And we’ll catch up afterwards.”
“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Sam said with a nod. He paused, took the drinks from her. “Um, so if we’re sticking around, could you let me have some food menus?”
As she expected, she didn’t get much chance to talk to them for the next few hours. The rest of the team arrived, followed by their opponents and then it was the usual good-natured chaos of a regular darts night. Every time she did get the chance to glance over at the Winchesters, they seemed happy enough, and they were definitely making the most of the food menus she’d given them. In fact, every time she looked their way, Dean was eating; burgers, nachos, chilli fries, wings, ribs, mozzarella sticks, onion rings. The guy didn’t seem to let up over the next two hours, and Sam was constantly at the bar ordering more beers. It was no wonder Dean was the size he was if he ate and drank like that every night.
The game finally finished, (another win of course) and things started to wind down, though it was another hour by the time she made it over to Sam and Dean’s booth. Amazingly, Dean was still eating. He had a slice of Lena’s peach pie which he seemed to be enjoying, going by the groans and moans as he forked it into his mouth.
“Guys, you got room for another?” she said.
Sam craned his head up and patted the seat beside him, scooting over to let her in.
Dean finished his mouthful and laid his fork down. “Sheriff, this pie is amazing,” he said, smacking his lips.
Beside her Sam shook his head. “That’s his fourth slice, seriously.”
“Who’s your cook? I want to marry your cook,” said Dean.
Jodie laughed. “Good luck with that. She’s seventy-three.”
“An older lady? Hmmm,” Dean said, looking thoughtful. “Well, she can sure cook. Did she grill the burgers too?”
“She did.”
Dean slapped the table top with his hand. “Well then. That’s it. She’s won my heart.”
“That’s ‘cause your heart is located in your stomach,” Sam said.
“Hmm,” Dean murmured, bowing his head to look down at his belly, the movement making a double chin form. He placed his right hand on the roundest part of his stomach and gave it a couple of proud pats, causing the flesh to jiggle a little. “You might be right.”
“I am right,” Sam snorted. He turned to Jodie. “Can we take the rest of that pie to go? He won’t shut up about it if we don’t.”
“I’m sure we can arrange that,” she said. She glanced back at Dean. He was taking a long pull on his beer, his other hand still resting on top of his very full looking stomach which was now looking well and truly wedged into that booth. Dean didn’t seem overly concerned though, draining off the rest of his beer with a satisfied sigh as he rubbed and petted his belly.
She called Julie over to clear the table of Dean’s many empty dishes and plates, and to bring them new drinks and “some chips please!” Dean added as she made to move away. They sat and talked for a while, drinking a few more beers, Dean eating more chips as they exchanged news. She explained about why she’d quit the force and opened up the bar. Sam talked about Mexico, about what he’d been doing there: teaching English to Mexican kids while Dean had worked some shifts in a burrito joint - which probably explained a lot.
They’d moved into Bobby’s old place yesterday. Most of the repair work on the house was finished and there was already a good load of scrap and used cars for them to get things going again.
“It looks good,” Sam said with a small smile. “You should come out and take a look. Dean’s gonna be running the yard, and I’m - well - I’m gonna help him and see how things go. I might get myself another job. I don’t know yet.”
She smiled faintly at them, swallowing down the lump at the back of her throat. “That’s good. I know he would be pleased to know that you two were running it.”
She headed to the kitchen to fetch Dean’s pie when it was time for them to leave. She could hear Dean bitching and grunting as he manoeuvred himself out of that booth, obviously finding it a lot harder to get out than it had been to get in. Not surprising given how much he’d eaten and drunk all night. When she stepped back into the deserted bar with the wrapped up pie, Dean was pulling on his jacket. His t-shirt had ridden up even further, exposing a few inches of large, pale stomach where it surged over the waistband of his jeans which also looked extremely tight around his ass and thighs. She marvelled again at how this guy - this guy with the huge beer gut and hefty love-handles - was Dean Winchester, the hunter, and she bit her lip as she handed the wrapped-up pie to Sam.
*********************
Dean woke up hungry, his stomach rumbling and growling in protest. It wasn’t used to feeling empty, not these days. Man, that had been good food last night, Sheriff Mills sure knew how to keep a good cook.
He pushed the covers down and got out of bed with a sigh and a grunt. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, holding his belly in both hands, enjoying the sensation of it sitting there heavy and warm in his lap. He ran his hands over it, soothing and comforting, hearing another long, drawn-out rumble.
“Hey, quit it,” he murmured, “I’ll feed you soon, you damn monster.”
He heaved himself up from the bed, and padded into the bathroom. He sat down to take a piss, it had been a while since he’d been able to see his dick and it was easier these days to use the toilet that way. It was funny how being so much bigger had changed his life in these small ways. He thought about those booths in Sheriff Mills’ place last night. Boy, they really hadn’t been built for bigger guys. He’d have to remember that if they ever went there again. And they were going there again, those burgers and that pie...
He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, then took a step back, eying himself in the big bathroom mirror.
He’d gained a lot of weight over the past few years. When they’d settled down in Mexico three years ago, he’d been pushing 200lbs. Not exactly flabby or fat, but kinda chubby, a slight beer gut, a thin layer of pudge over his ass and hips. Those three years in Mexico had put even more weight on him, courtesy of his own gluttonous nature, a lot of burritos, and Sam.
He chuckled to himself, remembering. God, Sammy had been so freaking embarrassed when Dean had figured him out, he hadn’t let the kid forget it. But hey, it wasn’t like he was disappointed, exactly the opposite in fact. It had given him free reign to eat as much as he liked and drink as much beer as he wanted, with Sam’s encouragement. And boy, they had both really gone for it. The evidence was there, staring him right in the plumper, chubbier face. He leaned into the mirror, licked his lips at his reflection. Actually, his face wasn’t that much fatter. He had the beginnings of a double chin, but it only really showed when he bent his head down. Sam liked to tease him about his rounder, “more cherubic” cheeks when he was being annoying, but it wasn’t all that different to how he’d been before.
His shoulders were thicker and broader, but still strongly muscled. Sam had an obsession with Dean keeping up his muscle strength, saying he needed the muscles to cart around all that extra body fat and not end up with varicose veins or something equally embarrassing. It was embarrassing enough for him to admit that he suffered much more from back pain these days, having to put cushions behind his back when he sat down on the couch to watch TV, having to tilt his car seat back to get comfortable, (though he had to do that anyway just to accommodate his big belly in the cramped space, his baby was not built for guys his size), so he was happy to go along with Sam on his strength and healthy food regimes. In his usual geeky way, Sam made sure he ate plenty of fibre and protein as well as the purely fatty, unhealthy foods. Sure, this had made his weight gain slower, but he was a lot healthier for it, and he was keeping up his muscle alongside the fat. He was proud to say that he could still pack one hell of a punch; he hadn’t lost all his strength under the encroaching pudge. They might not be hunters anymore but it was still important to keep up his strength and they’d already planned to get a punching bag and some weightlifting apparatus out the back, alongside Bobby’s old shooting range.
He lifted his arms into a muscle-man pose, flexing his biceps at his reflection. Oh yeah, he was still a tough-guy. Even his chest and pecs, which were definitely fleshier now, were still firm and strong underneath, not quite man boobs like some of those soft, big guys, but more like a wrestler. He dropped his arms to his sides, the movement causing his belly to wobble a little. Well, okay, yeah, his belly - the resemblance with a wrestler or weightlifter pretty much stopped there - he’d never seen a wrestler with a gut as big as his. He gave it a couple of pats, watching the flesh jiggle, turning sideways to check out his profile.
From this angle, he looked huge, seven or eight months gone at least, and with the stretch marks to go with it. His slid his hand around to the side to grab hold of one chunky love-handle where it spilled over the tight waistband of his boxers. Yep, now that was pure flab, no muscle there. Sam loved to grab onto him there when they fucked, Sam never got enough of sinking his fingers into that thick roll of flesh. The sense memory of Sam’s hands on his body made his dick start to take interest, the blood rushing south. He smirked at his reflection, feeling his dick attempt to swell and fill, pressing against his uncomfortably tight shorts - which, speaking of… He twisted around to check out his ass. He had one hell of a bubble butt these days; the fabric of his boxers was so tight around his round, plump ass cheeks it looked faded, like the seams were going to give at any second.
“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to do that without me.”
He dragged his gaze away from the mirror and turned to see his brother leaning against the bathroom door, an appreciative smile on his face. Sam stepped into the room, slid up behind him.
“Mmm, I ever tell you how incredibly hot you are like this?” He snaked his arms around Dean from behind to cradle his belly in his hands. “How much I love this.”
“Only every damn day, man.”
“Well, it’s worth repeating,” Sam said. He lowered his head to nuzzle at Dean’s neck. His fingers sank into his soft flesh as he sighed happily.
“You’re such a freak,” Dean said fondly, rolling his eyes at his brother’s reflection. But Sam’s presence was having his usual effect on him. He could feel his dick trying to escape those way-to-tight boxers as Sam brushed up closer to rub his denim-clad erection against Dean’s ass. Sam sighed again, and at that moment Dean’s belly gave a loud, protesting rumble.
Sam grinned and kissed the side of his face. “I think we need to feed the monster,” he said.
“Sounds good.”
“But we got something else to do first,” Sam said. “Something more important than breakfast.”
“Something more important than breakfast? I don’t think so."
Sam stepped away and smiled deviously. “Go, wait in the bedroom,” he said and disappeared.
Dean heard him go downstairs and he shrugged, frowning at his reflection. Oh well, whatever Sam had planned, it was probably going to be good. And as long as food came afterwards...
He sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Sam. His dick was still pleasantly half-hard, the memory of how Sam had felt brushed up against him, of how his belly had felt underneath Sam’s amazing, huge hands. He placed his own hands on his belly, imagining they were Sam’s, remembering how Sam had given him one of his long, perfect belly-rubs after they’d gotten home last night. God, he’d been so full, it had been a long time since he’d eaten that much in one night. Sam didn’t usually let him stuff himself like that. Sam’s regime was more about the slow and steady. But he’d lost track of how much he’d eaten at that bar, and Sheriff Mills - well, he could see how shocked she’d been. He smiled slyly to himself and felt his cock give another twitch. Oh yeah, she’d been shocked alright, seeing how much bigger he’d gotten. Hmm, it was kinda hot, picturing that shocked look on her face and her increasing amazement as he’d kept ordering more and more food and drinking more and more beer.
And that hadn’t just been it. Oh no. He wondered what she would think if she could’ve seen them afterwards. They’d stopped at a drive thru for him to devour three more big macs and large fries. Sam had gotten him dessert too, two extra-large McFlurries, one with M&Ms and one with Oreos. God, he loved those things. There had been more beer of course as well. There was always beer.
He patted his belly, smiling ruefully. Oh yeah, beer had a lot to answer for. It was no coincidence that five years ago after he’d sworn off hard liquor he’d started gaining weight. He’d done it to please Sam of course, the poor kid had made him promise to give up drinking and they’d ended up compromising on beer. It had been hard at first. But he’d soon found out that he could just replace the old hunter’s helper with other things he loved: sex and food, lots and lots of food, and that had just led to other things. New addictions and new obsessions - for the both of them. And once he’d found out that Sam actually preferred him bigger, then boy, their sex life had only gotten even more amazing as he piled on the pounds. He’d been kinda weirded out for a while, but whatever gave Sammy pleasure was fine by him, and as long as Sam was happy, then well, he could deal with anything.
Besides, he found that he actually kinda liked being big. He was proud of his monster gut, of how it stuck out, defying gravity and still enviably perky, of how it was always there in front of him, of how he always felt like he was the one following it around. He loved watching himself grow, seeing the look of unrestrained desire on Sam’s face when he touched him. And he loved those times when Sam did let him go all out: when he ate so much that it actually hurt, when he’d collapse down into the pillows with Sam’s hands on him, feeling as if he was trapped under the weight of his vast, bloated belly.
“Dean.” He looked up to see Sam hesitating in the doorway. He looked a little jittery, a pink flush rising up in his throat and cheeks. He stepped into the room and Dean noticed that he was carrying something: the scale under one arm and a measuring tape and notebook in the other hand.
And ohhhh, of course. How could he have forgotten what day it was today? Dean grinned, feeling his own jolt of excitement. It had been two months since Sam had last taken his measurements. He had two months worth of growth to track. He knew he’d gained. He knew the results would be good. No wonder Sam was looking so nervous and excited.
He watched Sam bend over and place the scale on the floor. Sam straightened up and ran one hand jerkily through his hair. The kid was practically vibrating on the spot from anticipation and arousal, his face pink, tongue slicking over his lips and oh yeah - that was one hell of an impressive tent pole in his pants. Dean felt his own cock fill even further. He lifted his ass to roll down those ridiculously tight boxers, feeling the seam give and tear a little as he pushed them forcibly down over the plump curve of his ass. Freed from its cotton prison, he felt his dick slap up against the underside of his belly, now fully hard. He raised his head to see Sam looking at him, his pupils dilated with want, his lips parted and breath coming hard.
Dean swallowed and put a steadying hand on his belly as he pushed himself up slowly to his feet.
“Where’d you want me?” he said.
“Ugh, bending over the bed so I can fuck you,” Sam said with a jittery laugh. “But um,” he licked his lips, flexed his fingers. “I wanna see what you weigh first. Get on the scale, Dean.”
His heart was thumping in anticipation as he stepped onto the scale, hearing it creak and strain under his weight. He glanced down at the floor, but he had no chance of seeing the dial. Not that he needed to, Sam was down there with his little notebook and that pencil between his teeth.
“What’s it say?” he asked, his voice a little shaky.
“2-uh-267,” Sam read off. He straightened up, writing it down in his little notebook. “That’s seven pounds gained, Dean. You were 260 last time.”
“Hmm, seven pounds,” he echoed. “Okay.”
He kinda expected a little more than that. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He definitely felt bigger. His clothes were all smaller. Nothing he owned actually buttoned around his belly anymore, all his jeans were too tight, even the ones he’d bought two months ago, just after their last measuring.
He stepped off the scale. Sam approached him once more, holding out the tape measure. Obediently Dean lifted his arms up, letting Sam wrap the tape around the roundest part of his belly. Dean frowned down at it, trying to read the numbers upside down.
“Well?” he demanded.
Sam tilted his head back, smiling, his cheeks flushed. “Dude, we’re gonna need a bigger tape. You’re 55 inches. This only goes up to 60.”
“What was I last time?”
“53, just. So that’s just over two inches you’ve gained. The weight must’ve redistributed. God, you’re getting so big, man.”
Dean flushed, felt his cock throb. Christ, 55 inches. He could remember when he used to take a 30 inch waist in jeans.
“I want to outgrow that tape,” he said. “Now that we’re settling down here. Get me up to 60 inches. How’d you feel about that, Sammy?”
Sam nodded, his eyes burning feverishly, his face even more flushed, a couple of beads of sweat on his top lip which he licked off. “Christ, yes. So much yes. You have no idea how freaking hot you are like this.” He got to his feet, placed his hands on Dean’s belly, fingers sinking into the giving flesh. “You’re so big right now, Dean, thinking of you getting even bigger, this monster growing some more. But you - you did so well. I’m gonna, guh, I’ve gotta...” he broke off, ducked his head down to lick across the tip of Dean’s cock.
Dean shuddered and groaned, throwing his head back, as he felt his dick throb again.
“Get on the bed, Dean,” Sam murmured. “Now.”
He scrambled to obey, feeling his belly jiggle as he dived onto the bed and lay down on his back, watching Sam loom over him on all fours from under half-closed lids. This was one of the very few negative things about being this big, his stomach got in the way when Sam tried to suck him off standing up. But that didn’t matter, not when Sam could do it like this. And he seemed to have gained so many more erogenous zones along with the extra pounds. His body trembling with desire when Sam dragged his tongue over the insides of his chunky, muscled thighs, peppered kisses over the underside of his belly where he was abnormally sensitive. Sam kissed along the stretch marks at his sides and licked around his much bigger belly button. Sam brought him to the edge before he even put his mouth back over his dick, and then when he did finally suck him all the way down, it only took a couple of glides up and down of his brother’s talented mouth before Dean was coming and Sam was chugging him down like he was a McDonalds vanilla shake.
His belly rumbled loudly when Sam removed his mouth.
Sam blinked at him and grinned, his lips shiny with saliva and Dean’s come. “I’m gonna finish breakfast. Get dressed and come downstairs. You must be starving.”
*******************
Dean retired back upstairs to rest after breakfast and Sam cleared up the kitchen, humming happily to himself. He got out his laptop when he was done, opening up the spreadsheet marked “Dean”. Dean mocked him mercilessly for this, for managing to be geeky even about his freaky sexual fetish, but Sam didn’t care.
He entered the new numbers into the spreadsheet, staring at the curve on the line graphs as they tracked Dean’s inexorable upward progress. He licked his lips, felt his cock give a twitch as he tracked how far his brother had come. They’d only started measuring properly three years ago, just after they’d settled in Mexico. That memorable occasion when Sam had actually plucked up the courage to tell his brother that he umm, actually, kinda, umm, liked Dean with the extra weight, and umm, what did Dean think about maybe, umm, gaining a little bit more?
Sam blushed at the memory, but Dean had been so relieved to hear that he was still attractive to Sam that it had been almost funny, definitely endearing. Sam smiled to himself; the stupid idiot had actually thought that Sam might be put off by his weight-gain. Even if he hadn’t had a massive thing for Dean with a little more flesh on him, he could never imagine not wanting him. He’d wanted his brother for as long as he’d known what it was to want somebody in that way - which was one hell of a fucked up sentence when he thought about it, but they were fucked up guys, so whatever...
Dean had been so relieved by Sam’s big admission that he’d actually let Sam weigh and measure him, laughing and mocking him all the while. He’d been 201lbs and 37 inches back then; quite a difference between then and now. The thought made Sam groan in pleasure and palm his thickening cock through his jeans. Compared to some gainers, (Sam had done a lot of research, of course he had), Dean’s progress was pretty slow, but Sam was determined to do this properly, and to keep his brother healthy along the way. After all, Sam was under no illusion that Dean was mainly doing this for him (the stupid, romantic fool), it was therefore up to Sam to make sure his brother didn’t suffer a premature heart-attack from carrying all that extra weight around. Sure, he’d let Dean overindulge on occasions - like last night, for example, which for the record had been totally worth it when he’d seen the look on Sheriff Mills’ face...
He groaned again, slid his hand into his boxers. Christ, she’d been so shocked, seeing Dean with that huge goddamned belly of his, his t-shirt not even fitting properly, his jeans so snug around his big, peachy ass... He flicked his thumb over the head of his cock. The Dean she remembered was all trim and firm and muscled, and now he was - God - he was so fucking big, getting practically stuck in that booth as he stuffed his face, his belly expanding, wedging him up against that table. And his hands, always freaking touching it, drinking all that beer, his throat always working as he ate and drank, his tongue coming out to slick across his lips, shiny and plump from grease and beer.
He shivered, felt his cock give a few more twitches as he tugged down his zipper to free it from his jeans and boxers, gasping in relief as he began to jerk off for real. He closed his eyes, picturing her face as she’d watched Dean devouring that fourth - fifth slice of pie, and then afterwards, the way Dean had so thoughtlessly rubbed his belly in front of her, helping him to digest all that food. Sam had been itching to reach out under the table and rub it for him.
God, they’d really overindulged last night, those big macs in the car on the way home, Dean in the passenger side, completely incapable of driving in his stuffed state, his stomach heaving from the effort of eating so much, the skin as taut as a drum, his t-shirt pushed up around his armpits to let him breathe. If they’d done the measurements last night, he was pretty sure Dean would’ve been a few pounds heavier and certainly a couple of inches bigger, and Sam had been sorely tempted. But that was cheating; measuring first thing in the morning gave the most accurate data.
He stared down at the graphs again, pumping his cock, as he pictured Dean as he had been in the beginning. God, he’d been so small back then. Just that small pooch of a belly, barely a handful for Sam to play with... compared with now... He groaned again, picturing the digits in his head, as he’d wound that measuring tape around Dean. 55 inches, that was so big, so freaking big, and he just wanted to be bigger... imagining how he’d look when they couldn’t get the tape around him anymore, when his belly got too big for it...
He gasped out loud and shot, come spurting over his fingers. He sat for a moment, letting his breath get back to normal, his heart stop thumping so hard. He’d actually gotten off to a freaking line graph; Dean would never let it go if he found out. He laughed to himself, a little breathless, chest shaking with it. He wiped off his hands on a dish cloth, and got up from his seat to tuck his cock and balls back into his jeans.
On to Part Two