Filling Out (1/?)
Title: Filling Out (1/?)
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, past Dean/OFC, eventual Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: ~4,800
Warnings: Sam is a minor (fourteen at the start). One-sided for now but that will (probably) change. Mentions of feeder/feedee relationships. Mild stuffing.
Summary: AU in which Mary never died and Dean goes to college. Free from John's scrutinizing eye, he easily puts on the freshman fifteen (and then some). Sam in intrigued and finds himself exposed to a kink he never knew existed.
Note: Written for this prompt at the chubwinchesters Request Anything meme. It’s turning out a bit longer than I anticipated so I thought I would post this piece for now.
Filling Out
Sam rests against a shade tree, the leaves blocking the early morning heat.
Across the yard, Dean helps load the last of his things into the car. His Lawrence High Athletics shirt stretches across his broad chest and back, and his skin is tanned from spending most of the summer coaching little league. Sam soaks every detail in. He’s spent his life playing the role of the pesky younger brother, making it his business to inconvenience and annoy Dean as much as possible. Except now Dean’s leaving for college and Sam realizes just how much he’s going to miss him. He regrets the time they spent squabbling over stupid things; time that could have spent being brothers. Now he’s scared that opportunity has come and gone.
“Sam! Come say goodbye to your brother!” Their mom calls, her arms already enveloping Dean in a bone-crushing hug. Sam complies, pushing himself up and off the ground. He walks over and she lets go of Dean long enough for him to wrap one arm around Sam’s shoulders.
“See you later, geek,” He says with a cocksure grin that’s just so Dean. Sam used to see him with a new girl (or guy) each week, and he doubts it’ll be any different in college. His charm is positively infectious and his freckles have incited sonnets.
“If you need any help with your homework, give me a call,” He manages to say. This earns a laugh and a punch to the arm.
“Nah, then they’ll start expecting too much from me. Gotta keep the bar low.”
“Oh, Dean,” Their mother scolds him quietly, shaking her head and smiling. Sam musters a smile as well and Dean lets him go.
Their mom is on him again in an instant, hugging him and telling him he can come home whenever he wants. Sam takes a slow step away and then walks back across the yard, sinking down next to the tree again.
Jo-his best friend and neighbor-appears out of nowhere and plops down onto the ground next to him. “Your brother’s hot,” She says, eyeing Dean.
“Shut up,” Sam mutters.
“He is.” She states it like a fact and Sam doesn’t try to argue. Jo may be small, but she can have him on the ground with an arm behind his back in two seconds flat. Instead, he watches as their dad and Dean climb into the car. Their mom hovers near Dean’s window a moment longer, arms moving up and down as she probably explains the laundry process to him one more time, and then she takes a step back. The car rolls away and Jo begins talking about going to the library or something, but her words are drowned out by the sinking of Sam’s heart.
~
It isn’t until Thanksgiving that Dean comes home.
Mary has him wrapped in another hug before he can even make it in the door. She murmurs something about her baby boy or growing boy-Sam isn’t sure.
He keeps his distance, seated at the top of the stairs. Part of him wants to dash down and ask Dean a thousand questions, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to be the annoying little brother anymore, so he stays on top step and lets their mom smother him with embarrassing terms of endearment.
Despite the feast she’s preparing the next day, Mary still makes a large dinner that night. The table is filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, rolls with butter and for dessert there’s chocolate cake and ice cream.
Dean eats with a vigor Sam has never seen before. He’s always been a big eater, but now it’s as if he’s forgotten how to close his mouth for an extended period of time. Their dad eyes him warily and makes sly comments like, “You got a plan to work that off, son?” While their mom tsks John quietly and offers Dean another helping of mashed potatoes. She promptly drowns them in gravy and Dean eats every bite.
By the time he finishes his second helping of cake Dean leans back in his chair and rubs his stomach idly. Sam eats his own dessert quietly, and ignores the twinge in his stomach that forms at seeing his brother so full and happy. He doesn’t know what to make of it, so he doesn’t try.
It isn’t until later that night that he gets it. He’s getting ready for bed when Dean walks in, sans shirt and dressed in a pair of low-hanging sweats.
“Hey, Sammy, you got a blanket I can borrow? Mom’s washing my comforter or something and I can’t…”
He carries on, and when Sam turns to look at him he sees it: the small paunch that’s replaced Dean’s formerly flat stomach. Between a never-ending string of sports and the relatively strict diet their dad kept him on, Dean has never been in anything but fantastic shape-all sharp angles and abs. And now… well, he’s probably full and a little bloated from dinner, but there’s a distinct start of a belly. Sam has never had reason to look twice at Dean before, but now he can’t bring himself to look away.
It’s fascinating and causes something to stir inside him.
After a long moment, Sam swallows and nods. “Oh, y-yeah,” He stutters, tearing his eyes away. He walks toward his closet and grabs a blanket from the top shelf. When he turns back, Dean is seated on the edge of his bed. He pulls the blanket to his chest and takes a few slow steps toward him.
“So,” He says as he lowers himself onto the bed, a few inches away from Dean. He draws his legs up and under himself to sit cross-legged and takes a breath. “How’s it going? How’s college?” He asks.
Dean falls back onto Sam’s pillows and shrugs. “S’ok,” He says as he lifts a hand to scratch absently at his abdomen. His fingers press down into the soft, supple flesh. He must be stuffed from dinner. Sam resists the urge to reach out and give him a belly rub like their mom used to give them when they were little and they’d eaten too much. Except he isn’t their mom. He’s almost fifteen and Dean’s in college, and not to mention his brother, and wanting to do that is probably a little fucked up.
He opts to clutch the blanket a little tighter, instead.
“Yeah?” His voice comes out a little choked, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. He just nods his head.
“Yeah. The professors can be a little douchey, but the classes are really interesting. Plus, the dorms are sweet-there’s always a party happening. Like, every night of the week. S’pretty awesome.”
Of course Dean would be more interested in the parties. Sam kicks his thigh lightly with his own socked foot. “Mom and Dad aren’t paying for you to party every day of the week,” He tells him with a small smile.
“Ah, don’t worry-I haven’t missed a class yet. Don’t always stay awake in ‘em, but still.” He shrugs and Sam draws his foot back. He knows Dean doesn’t like to let on to how smart he actually is. If he were to apply himself he could easily get straight As, but he often gets distracted by the more frivolous aspects in life.
“My roommate’s pretty cool, too,” Dean adds after a beat. “We had a Clint Eastwood marathon last week-I think he might like ‘em even more than I do.”
“Is that even possible?” Sam’s smile grows and Dean laughs.
“I know, right? Who would’a thought. But yeah, we ordered a bunch of pizzas and shit-you know, the kind of stuff dad would’a made me run five laps after eating, before. It was awesome.”
“I can tell you’re enjoying yourself,” Sam comments quietly. He gathers his courage and reaches over to flick Dean’s stomach. Dean rolls his eyes and swats his hand away.
“Shut up,” He says, smirking. “All I’m saying is that it’s nice to be free from his tyranny.” Sam lifts an eyebrow and Dean smiles. “See, I know big words too. And I can make my own decisions now, which is great. If I want to go for a run, I do. If I want to eat a burger and fries, I do that too.”
“Must be nice,” Sam murmurs.
His desires might not include eating whatever he wants as Dean’s do, but the argument he had with their dad the other day over wanting to join the Academic Decathlon over basketball is still fresh in his mind. It was reminiscent of the way their dad and Dean used to go at it, only Sam rarely bulks with a Yes, Sir as Dean always did. He stands his ground and has to live with the disappointed looks and cutting comments.
Dean shifts on the bed next to him.
“Hey.” Dean sits up, eyes shining in the dim light of the room. “You can always call me, you know. Anytime. If you ever need to unload about dad or… anything, really.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course, man.”
“Well… thanks.” Sam pushes the blanket toward Dean. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Dean takes the blanket and stands up. He pauses to muss Sam’s hair and mutter, “You need a haircut, loser,” before he walks out of the room.
Sam watches him walk away, and the corner of his mouth tugs into a small smile.
~
“What’re you doing?”
“Studying,” Sam replies as he flips the page in his Biology textbook.
This is the second time he’s called Dean. He feels like his plan to become a little less infuriating is working and he can almost feel them becoming closer.
“Me too.”
“Seriously?”
“Finals, man. They suck.”
There’s a crinkling noise on the other end of the phone and Sam flips another page in his book. “What’re you eating?” He asks.
“Candy bar.” Dean’s words are muffled as he chews. Sam’s mind wanders to that start of a belly Dean was sporting at Thanksgiving and wonders if he’s worked if off by now. Or if he hasn’t. Or if he’s gained even more weight.
The mere thought sends a tingle of excitement through Sam’s body and he finds himself asking, “When’re you coming home?”
“M’last exam is on Thursday morning. I’m catching a ride with some kid that afternoon, so I should be back around four or five.”
“Cool.” Sam flips another page in his book and skims the paragraph in front of him. “Did you know a pig’s orgasm lasts thirty minutes?” He asks, reading from the page.
“Seriously?” Dean asks after a beat.
“Yeah.” Sam shifts the phone against his ear and skips to the next page. “And humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.”
“What the fuck are they teaching you?”
“The facts.”
“Dude.” Dean laughs, and so does Sam.
~
A beat-up Sedan pulls up out front and Sam pushes the curtains aside to see Dean climb out from the back seat. He throws one bag over his shoulder and carries two more in his hands, then waves to the driver before walking toward the house.
“Is that Dean?” Mary calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Sam hollers back.
She throws the door open right as he reaches it. He’s dressed in his heavy winter coat and his cheeks are pink from the cold outside.
“Hey,” He greets, setting his bags down on the floor.
Sam gives him a small wave and immediately notices how much thicker his thighs are. They’ve always been long and lean, but now they’re slowly inching toward one another.
“Hey, Sammy,” He smiles and tugs his jacket off. Beneath it he wears a grey t-shirt that actually clings to his stomach. It’s rounder. Softer. Sam can just make out the indent of his belly button through the fabric and the sight is enough to make his breath catch in his chest.
“Hey,.” He murmurs, distracted.
“You wanna help me bring my stuff upstairs? My roommate gave me his books from some class on ancient languages. You still into that shit?”
“Dean, watch your tongue,” Their mother scolds.
“Sorry, ma’am,” He says while he throws a wink and a smile toward Sam.
Sam quickly tears his eyes from Dean’s plump belly and nods his head. “Yeah, I am.”
“Awesome. You can take a look at ‘em, then.”
Dean grabs two of the bags from the floor and leaves the other for Sam, then starts up the stairs. Sam quickly follows.
An hour later finds Sam on Dean’s floor, flipping through the books.
“These are amazing,” He tells him.
“Figured you’d like ‘em. You should meet him-the two of you are complete nerds,” Dean says, smiling back over his shoulder. Then he pulls another handful of clothing from his bag and shoves it into his drawer. Sam rolls his eyes and then looks back down at An Introduction to Ancient Greek.
There’s a soft knock on the door and their mom walks in. She carries a dark pair of slacks in one hand and a roll of measuring tape in the other.
“Honey,” She says, stepping over Sam. He looks up and watches as she takes a seat on the edge of Dean’s bed. “Do you think you could try these on for me? I don’t know if they’re going to fit you anymore and you need something to wear for Christmas.”
“Oh, Sure,” Dean says, not even batting a lash.
Sam remembers those pants. He remembers the way they fit him perfectly and how Jo used to gawk at his ass whenever he wore them. There’s no way those are going to fit him anymore, Sam thinks to himself. He turns a page in the book and feigns interest in the text while keeping one eye fixed on Dean.
Dean strips down to his boxers and begins to pull the pants on. His belly jiggles slightly as he tugs them up. They immediately snag at his thighs, and then it’s a much more obvious struggle to get them up and over the swell of his ass. With a little hop it’s accomplished, but there’s no way they’re going to close. Maybe if he lied down and sucked in, but even then they’d be painfully tight.
Their mom laughs lightly. “I don’t think these are going to fit. Should we let them out or…” She tugs at the flaps, trying to get them to meet, and the motion only makes Dean’s stomach bounce even more. “Suck in a little, hun,” She murmurs and Dean complies.
Sam realizes he’s gaping.
“I don’t think that’s going to work.” She gives his stomach a light pat and he lets it back out. Wrapping the measuring around him, she laughs again. “Oh, yeah, you’ve gained about two inches there. No wonder.” She lets go of the tape and places her hand on his side, thumb grazing his belly button. “I’m going to the mall tomorrow. I’ll pick up a few new pairs for you to try, ok?” She asks with a smile.
“Sounds good,” Dean says, nodding his head. He pulls the pants back off and replaces them with a pair of sweats.
Mary walks back out of the room and Dean glances down at Sam.
“What’re you staring?”
“Nothing,” Sam says quickly, looking back down at his book.
“Sure,” Dean smirks.
~
“Your brother’s getting kind of fat,” Andy comments one afternoon. He and Jo are over to work on their history homework and study for a test in algebra. Sam went back to school right after the New Year; meanwhile Dean’s break stretches until the end of January.
“Shut up,” Sam murmurs.
“I think it looks good on him,” Jo muses, straining her neck to look out into the living room.
From his seat at the kitchen table, Sam has a clear view of Dean sitting on the couch. He flips through channels on the television and Sam’s eyes are drawn to where his t-shirt doesn’t quite meet his pants. As if his belly has gotten a little too pudgy for the shirt to comfortably accommodate it. He hasn’t been doing much more than hanging out with friends and lounging around the house, and with the amount of leftovers and sweets he’s been consuming Sam swears he can see him getting even heavier. John has made opinion on this very clear, commenting on how maybe he should go for a run or tutting when Mary gives him an extra-large serving of food at dinner.
”He’s a growing boy,” Is always her response.
He has a bag of potato chips next to him now and he pushes another handful into his mouth. Crumbs shower over his shirt and he pauses to brush them away. He then gives the fabric a quick tug, but it promptly rides back up. He doesn’t seem that phased by the fact.
Sam shifts in his seat and realizes his friends have already moved onto discussing polynomials.
That night, while getting ready for bed, Sam passes their parents’ bedroom. He pauses briefly at the low rumble of John’s voice.
“You didn’t buy him new clothing, did you?”
“Of course I did,” Comes Mary’s reply. “He can’t be walking around campus in things that are a size too small.”
“Might encourage him to lose a little weight,” He says gruffly.
“Oh, it’s a few pounds, John. I don’t see the big problem.”
“The big problem is that gut of his. If we don’t address it now, it’s only going to get worse.”
“I don’t see the point in making mountains out of molehills.”
“You should make an appointment for him with Doctor Jones. Lord knows he doesn’t listen to me anymore. If he tells him how much he’s gained and how dangerous it can be maybe…”
“Oh, John. Shush. You are not going to embarrass him like that. He’s perfectly healthy. Just because he isn’t your little solider or whatever it was you used to call him anymore…”
“I never said that.”
“You did, and he’s fine the way he is now. Leave it be.”
John doesn’t respond and Sam quickly hurries on down the hall.
A strange, warm puddle forms in the pit of his stomach and he thinks of how soft and round Dean’s stomach looked as he tried to fit into his old pants. How much bigger he’d gotten since Thanksgiving. What he might look like if the trend only continues. He imagines what it would be like if Dean did go to the doctor; how he’d have to step on the scale and be scolded for letting himself go.
He bites down on his lower lip and slips into his bedroom. If he happens to turn off the lights and jack off beneath the covers, it’s because he’s thinking about some girl on the cover of some magazine. Not Dean.
Definitely not Dean.
~
Dean goes back to school with a stack of new clothing from their mom and a disapproving look from their dad.
“Bright side, he’s been so hung up on you that he’s really been going easy on me. He signed the form for Academic Decathlon without saying a word,” Sam says one evening, phone pressed to his ear. He sits on his bed, books untouched in front of him.
“What’s he been saying about me?”
“I don’t know, just complaining about you wasting your talent and stuff. Apparently you were born to be a baseball star or something.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“I know, but I guess that’s what he was hoping.”
“Whatever.” The word is slightly muffled and Sam leans his head back against the wall.
“What’re you eating?”
“Brownie. Mom sent me a box of ‘em. The double-fudge kind.”
“Lucky. She must of sent all of them to you.”
“Probably. There’s a ton here.”
“And let me guess: you’re eating them all.”
“You know it. They’re so fucking good.”
“I bet they are.”
That night, Sam thinks about Dean. He imagines Dean in his dorm room, eating the brownies.
His stomach was probably already full from eating dinner in the cafeteria (All you can eat, he had raved). Maybe he’d eaten a few helpings of pasta and a side of breadsticks-enough to have made him lean back in his chair halfway through and want to pop the button on his jeans. Then he’d gone back to his room and stripped down to his boxers and undershirt. The shirt was probably snug, the fabric riding up as he pushed the first brownie into his mouth. He would have licked the chocolate from his fingers and tried to tug his shirt down, but his stomach was just too full. Maybe he thought about how big he’d gotten. Maybe he thought about trying to lose weight, but then again the brownies were just so good.
Before Sam knows it, he’s blindingly hard. He palms himself through his boxers and thinks about Dean. He imagines Dean rubbing his full, bloated stomach in vain attempt to make room for one more brownie. He imagines him stripping off his shirt, freeing his stomach from the tight confines, and it’s enough to send him over the edge.
He comes in his boxers and this time there’s no denying the driving force behind the orgasm. It’s Dean. Dean. His brother.
He’s screwed.
~
It's a long five months before he sees Dean again.
Dean takes a summer course and doesn’t come home until the start of July. Their dad goes to pick him up and despite talking to him on the phone at least once a week, Sam is still eager to see him. Primarily because of the number of fantasies he’s had about what he might look like now. Every time he talks to him it seems like he’s eating, or thinking about eating, so there’s a good chance he’s only put on more weight.
Sam can hope, at least.
The car pulls into the driveway, loaded down with Dean’s stuff from the dorms. As soon as he gets out of the car, Sam’s heart leaps in his chest.
He’s dressed in a t-shirt that fits him just fine, but there’s no hiding how much bigger his belly has gotten. It rolls out in front of him in a soft mound and is dangerously close to dipping down below his waistband. He has to have put on fifteen or twenty pounds since winter break, which is as impressive as it is exhilarating.
Mary hugs him immediately and her hand lingers over his stomach as she pulls back. She gives it a small rub and then Dean walks Sam’s way. He pulls him into a brief hug, his stomach pressing up against Sam’s own bony hip. The sensation is almost too much to handle. He just wants to reach out and touch-grab a handful and see if it’s really as doughy as it feels.
But he refrains, and pulls away with a smile.
“Good to see you,” He manages to say.
“Right back at ya. Man, you’re getting tall,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair. He’s going to have to reach up to so soon, if Sam keeps growing at the rate he has been. He’s shot up two inches in the past year and is almost the same height as Dean now.
He helps Dean move his stuff back into the house, stacking boxes in his bedroom and sneaking glances as Dean runs up and down the stairs, belly jiggling with each step.
It’s a sight Sam files away for later use, as shameful of a fact as that is.
~
Sam goes to the library with Jo most days, or goes to Andy’s house to watch movies and listen to music. Occasionally the three of them ride their bikes around or go down to the mall to see a movie.
His nights are free though, and if their schedules happen to align he prefers to spend those with Dean.
Tonight he sits on Dean’s bed as he flips through some magazine. Dean is on the other side of the room, picking at things in his closet. Clothing he’s unpacked. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Dean pull something over his head and when he looks back up he realizes it’s the Lawrence High Athletics shirt. The one he wore the day he left for school.
It’s obscenely tight now; it stretches taut across his stomach and emphasizes each dip and curve. The mere sight makes Sam salivate a little and his voice cracks when he asks, “You aren’t seriously going to wear that, are you?”
“Why not?” Dean says as he walks over to the mirror. His belly jiggles as he comes to a stop in front of it.
“It’s just a little… tight. Don’t you think?” Tight is an understatement, and while Sam wouldn’t mind the view he can’t be entirely responsible for what will happen if he watches Dean parade around like that.
“You calling me fat?”
“W-what?” Sam’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No. No. I mean…” He clamors for an explanation and finally, when he’s beat red and stammering, Dean laughs.
“Dude, it’s fine.” He gives his stomach a small slap and turns back to his reflection, grinning. “Fuck, I should bring this back to school. Let Mindy get a load of it.”
“Who’s Mindy?” Sam asks, mildly curious.
“Some girl I was hooking up with.”
“Ew.”
“Prude.” Dean walks over and flicks Sam’s ear as he falls onto the bed next to him. “She’s kind of into bigger guys and I bet she’d get a real kick out of seeing me in some of this stuff,” He explains.
It takes a moment for the words to sink in.
“She’s into… big guys?” Sam speaks slowly, unsure he heard correctly.
This entire time he’s felt like a freak for getting turned on by his brother’s expanding body, but maybe it’s a thing. Well… the weight part, at least. The brother part is an entirely different issue and he’d rather not deal with that right now.
Dean nods. “Yeah. Like, she used to feed me and tell me she wanted me even bigger. Real kinky shit, Sammy. I was kind of into it at first, but then it lost its appeal. I mean, I don’t care if I gain weight. Whatever. It happens. But trying to put on this much weight in this amount of time is what got to me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She’s with some other guy now, which is fine. We’re still friends. It’s cool.”
“Huh.” Sam picks at the hem of his jeans and asks, “So… how much weight did she want you to gain?”
“Well, this was back when I first got there. I had this tiny start of a belly and she talked about how sexy I would look if I got up to two hundred. That would have been something like thirty, thirty five pounds at the time. She fed me like, entire pizzas and cartons of ice cream… I mean, I have a tendency to stuff myself but doing it on a regular basis like that kind of took the enjoyment out of eating. Kind of made it a chore, y’know? I guess it wasn’t my thing.” He shrugs and Sam continues to process the information.
“Is she the one that helped you get like… well, like this, then?” He gestures to Dean's body and Dean shakes his head.
“Nah. I gained maybe ten pounds with her.” He pauses to give his stomach a small shake. Sam quivers at the sight and bites down on his bottom lip. “With the way I eat and without dad breathing down my neck, this came on pretty naturally. The freshman fifteen, y'know... well, I kind of jumped that hurdle in the first couple of months and kept going, but you get the point.”
“Right.” He nods his head slowly. “So… how much do you weigh now?”
“Dude.” Dean laughs and smacks the back of his head playfully. “I have no fucking clue. What’s with all the questions?”
“I-I don’t know. I mean…”
“Hold up.” Dean begins to grin. “I get it. You’re a little chubby chaser, aren’t you?”
“I-I-I don’t…” Sam’s cheeks begin to burn and Dean laughs.
“You into bigger girls, Sammy? Or guys? Trying to figure out what to do with it? It’s perfectly natural, bro.” Suddenly Dean is on him, straddling his thighs and practically sitting in his lap. His stomach brushes against Sam’s and he says, “You can tell me. Don’t be embarrassed-I’ll even give you some tips.”
Maybe it’s the sensation of having Dean’s stomach pressed up against him, or maybe it’s just the general heaviness of Dean resting on his legs. Either way, Sam is hard. Like, embarrassingly hard in no time flat and Dean must feel it because his eyes widen and he looks down.
“I-I’m sorry,” Sam begins to stammer.
“Dude. Are you-do you have-dude.” He jumps back and climbs off the bed.
“You don’t have to-I’ll just…” Sam dives onto the floor and stumbles toward the door. “I’m sorry. I’m just going to-” He fumbles out into the hallway.
Out of eyesight, he lets his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. The gravity of the situation begins to set in and he curses himself quietly, recognizing just how screwed he actually is.
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, past Dean/OFC, eventual Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: ~4,800
Warnings: Sam is a minor (fourteen at the start). One-sided for now but that will (probably) change. Mentions of feeder/feedee relationships. Mild stuffing.
Summary: AU in which Mary never died and Dean goes to college. Free from John's scrutinizing eye, he easily puts on the freshman fifteen (and then some). Sam in intrigued and finds himself exposed to a kink he never knew existed.
Note: Written for this prompt at the chubwinchesters Request Anything meme. It’s turning out a bit longer than I anticipated so I thought I would post this piece for now.
Filling Out
Sam rests against a shade tree, the leaves blocking the early morning heat.
Across the yard, Dean helps load the last of his things into the car. His Lawrence High Athletics shirt stretches across his broad chest and back, and his skin is tanned from spending most of the summer coaching little league. Sam soaks every detail in. He’s spent his life playing the role of the pesky younger brother, making it his business to inconvenience and annoy Dean as much as possible. Except now Dean’s leaving for college and Sam realizes just how much he’s going to miss him. He regrets the time they spent squabbling over stupid things; time that could have spent being brothers. Now he’s scared that opportunity has come and gone.
“Sam! Come say goodbye to your brother!” Their mom calls, her arms already enveloping Dean in a bone-crushing hug. Sam complies, pushing himself up and off the ground. He walks over and she lets go of Dean long enough for him to wrap one arm around Sam’s shoulders.
“See you later, geek,” He says with a cocksure grin that’s just so Dean. Sam used to see him with a new girl (or guy) each week, and he doubts it’ll be any different in college. His charm is positively infectious and his freckles have incited sonnets.
“If you need any help with your homework, give me a call,” He manages to say. This earns a laugh and a punch to the arm.
“Nah, then they’ll start expecting too much from me. Gotta keep the bar low.”
“Oh, Dean,” Their mother scolds him quietly, shaking her head and smiling. Sam musters a smile as well and Dean lets him go.
Their mom is on him again in an instant, hugging him and telling him he can come home whenever he wants. Sam takes a slow step away and then walks back across the yard, sinking down next to the tree again.
Jo-his best friend and neighbor-appears out of nowhere and plops down onto the ground next to him. “Your brother’s hot,” She says, eyeing Dean.
“Shut up,” Sam mutters.
“He is.” She states it like a fact and Sam doesn’t try to argue. Jo may be small, but she can have him on the ground with an arm behind his back in two seconds flat. Instead, he watches as their dad and Dean climb into the car. Their mom hovers near Dean’s window a moment longer, arms moving up and down as she probably explains the laundry process to him one more time, and then she takes a step back. The car rolls away and Jo begins talking about going to the library or something, but her words are drowned out by the sinking of Sam’s heart.
~
It isn’t until Thanksgiving that Dean comes home.
Mary has him wrapped in another hug before he can even make it in the door. She murmurs something about her baby boy or growing boy-Sam isn’t sure.
He keeps his distance, seated at the top of the stairs. Part of him wants to dash down and ask Dean a thousand questions, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to be the annoying little brother anymore, so he stays on top step and lets their mom smother him with embarrassing terms of endearment.
Despite the feast she’s preparing the next day, Mary still makes a large dinner that night. The table is filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, rolls with butter and for dessert there’s chocolate cake and ice cream.
Dean eats with a vigor Sam has never seen before. He’s always been a big eater, but now it’s as if he’s forgotten how to close his mouth for an extended period of time. Their dad eyes him warily and makes sly comments like, “You got a plan to work that off, son?” While their mom tsks John quietly and offers Dean another helping of mashed potatoes. She promptly drowns them in gravy and Dean eats every bite.
By the time he finishes his second helping of cake Dean leans back in his chair and rubs his stomach idly. Sam eats his own dessert quietly, and ignores the twinge in his stomach that forms at seeing his brother so full and happy. He doesn’t know what to make of it, so he doesn’t try.
It isn’t until later that night that he gets it. He’s getting ready for bed when Dean walks in, sans shirt and dressed in a pair of low-hanging sweats.
“Hey, Sammy, you got a blanket I can borrow? Mom’s washing my comforter or something and I can’t…”
He carries on, and when Sam turns to look at him he sees it: the small paunch that’s replaced Dean’s formerly flat stomach. Between a never-ending string of sports and the relatively strict diet their dad kept him on, Dean has never been in anything but fantastic shape-all sharp angles and abs. And now… well, he’s probably full and a little bloated from dinner, but there’s a distinct start of a belly. Sam has never had reason to look twice at Dean before, but now he can’t bring himself to look away.
It’s fascinating and causes something to stir inside him.
After a long moment, Sam swallows and nods. “Oh, y-yeah,” He stutters, tearing his eyes away. He walks toward his closet and grabs a blanket from the top shelf. When he turns back, Dean is seated on the edge of his bed. He pulls the blanket to his chest and takes a few slow steps toward him.
“So,” He says as he lowers himself onto the bed, a few inches away from Dean. He draws his legs up and under himself to sit cross-legged and takes a breath. “How’s it going? How’s college?” He asks.
Dean falls back onto Sam’s pillows and shrugs. “S’ok,” He says as he lifts a hand to scratch absently at his abdomen. His fingers press down into the soft, supple flesh. He must be stuffed from dinner. Sam resists the urge to reach out and give him a belly rub like their mom used to give them when they were little and they’d eaten too much. Except he isn’t their mom. He’s almost fifteen and Dean’s in college, and not to mention his brother, and wanting to do that is probably a little fucked up.
He opts to clutch the blanket a little tighter, instead.
“Yeah?” His voice comes out a little choked, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. He just nods his head.
“Yeah. The professors can be a little douchey, but the classes are really interesting. Plus, the dorms are sweet-there’s always a party happening. Like, every night of the week. S’pretty awesome.”
Of course Dean would be more interested in the parties. Sam kicks his thigh lightly with his own socked foot. “Mom and Dad aren’t paying for you to party every day of the week,” He tells him with a small smile.
“Ah, don’t worry-I haven’t missed a class yet. Don’t always stay awake in ‘em, but still.” He shrugs and Sam draws his foot back. He knows Dean doesn’t like to let on to how smart he actually is. If he were to apply himself he could easily get straight As, but he often gets distracted by the more frivolous aspects in life.
“My roommate’s pretty cool, too,” Dean adds after a beat. “We had a Clint Eastwood marathon last week-I think he might like ‘em even more than I do.”
“Is that even possible?” Sam’s smile grows and Dean laughs.
“I know, right? Who would’a thought. But yeah, we ordered a bunch of pizzas and shit-you know, the kind of stuff dad would’a made me run five laps after eating, before. It was awesome.”
“I can tell you’re enjoying yourself,” Sam comments quietly. He gathers his courage and reaches over to flick Dean’s stomach. Dean rolls his eyes and swats his hand away.
“Shut up,” He says, smirking. “All I’m saying is that it’s nice to be free from his tyranny.” Sam lifts an eyebrow and Dean smiles. “See, I know big words too. And I can make my own decisions now, which is great. If I want to go for a run, I do. If I want to eat a burger and fries, I do that too.”
“Must be nice,” Sam murmurs.
His desires might not include eating whatever he wants as Dean’s do, but the argument he had with their dad the other day over wanting to join the Academic Decathlon over basketball is still fresh in his mind. It was reminiscent of the way their dad and Dean used to go at it, only Sam rarely bulks with a Yes, Sir as Dean always did. He stands his ground and has to live with the disappointed looks and cutting comments.
Dean shifts on the bed next to him.
“Hey.” Dean sits up, eyes shining in the dim light of the room. “You can always call me, you know. Anytime. If you ever need to unload about dad or… anything, really.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course, man.”
“Well… thanks.” Sam pushes the blanket toward Dean. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Dean takes the blanket and stands up. He pauses to muss Sam’s hair and mutter, “You need a haircut, loser,” before he walks out of the room.
Sam watches him walk away, and the corner of his mouth tugs into a small smile.
~
“What’re you doing?”
“Studying,” Sam replies as he flips the page in his Biology textbook.
This is the second time he’s called Dean. He feels like his plan to become a little less infuriating is working and he can almost feel them becoming closer.
“Me too.”
“Seriously?”
“Finals, man. They suck.”
There’s a crinkling noise on the other end of the phone and Sam flips another page in his book. “What’re you eating?” He asks.
“Candy bar.” Dean’s words are muffled as he chews. Sam’s mind wanders to that start of a belly Dean was sporting at Thanksgiving and wonders if he’s worked if off by now. Or if he hasn’t. Or if he’s gained even more weight.
The mere thought sends a tingle of excitement through Sam’s body and he finds himself asking, “When’re you coming home?”
“M’last exam is on Thursday morning. I’m catching a ride with some kid that afternoon, so I should be back around four or five.”
“Cool.” Sam flips another page in his book and skims the paragraph in front of him. “Did you know a pig’s orgasm lasts thirty minutes?” He asks, reading from the page.
“Seriously?” Dean asks after a beat.
“Yeah.” Sam shifts the phone against his ear and skips to the next page. “And humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.”
“What the fuck are they teaching you?”
“The facts.”
“Dude.” Dean laughs, and so does Sam.
~
A beat-up Sedan pulls up out front and Sam pushes the curtains aside to see Dean climb out from the back seat. He throws one bag over his shoulder and carries two more in his hands, then waves to the driver before walking toward the house.
“Is that Dean?” Mary calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Sam hollers back.
She throws the door open right as he reaches it. He’s dressed in his heavy winter coat and his cheeks are pink from the cold outside.
“Hey,” He greets, setting his bags down on the floor.
Sam gives him a small wave and immediately notices how much thicker his thighs are. They’ve always been long and lean, but now they’re slowly inching toward one another.
“Hey, Sammy,” He smiles and tugs his jacket off. Beneath it he wears a grey t-shirt that actually clings to his stomach. It’s rounder. Softer. Sam can just make out the indent of his belly button through the fabric and the sight is enough to make his breath catch in his chest.
“Hey,.” He murmurs, distracted.
“You wanna help me bring my stuff upstairs? My roommate gave me his books from some class on ancient languages. You still into that shit?”
“Dean, watch your tongue,” Their mother scolds.
“Sorry, ma’am,” He says while he throws a wink and a smile toward Sam.
Sam quickly tears his eyes from Dean’s plump belly and nods his head. “Yeah, I am.”
“Awesome. You can take a look at ‘em, then.”
Dean grabs two of the bags from the floor and leaves the other for Sam, then starts up the stairs. Sam quickly follows.
An hour later finds Sam on Dean’s floor, flipping through the books.
“These are amazing,” He tells him.
“Figured you’d like ‘em. You should meet him-the two of you are complete nerds,” Dean says, smiling back over his shoulder. Then he pulls another handful of clothing from his bag and shoves it into his drawer. Sam rolls his eyes and then looks back down at An Introduction to Ancient Greek.
There’s a soft knock on the door and their mom walks in. She carries a dark pair of slacks in one hand and a roll of measuring tape in the other.
“Honey,” She says, stepping over Sam. He looks up and watches as she takes a seat on the edge of Dean’s bed. “Do you think you could try these on for me? I don’t know if they’re going to fit you anymore and you need something to wear for Christmas.”
“Oh, Sure,” Dean says, not even batting a lash.
Sam remembers those pants. He remembers the way they fit him perfectly and how Jo used to gawk at his ass whenever he wore them. There’s no way those are going to fit him anymore, Sam thinks to himself. He turns a page in the book and feigns interest in the text while keeping one eye fixed on Dean.
Dean strips down to his boxers and begins to pull the pants on. His belly jiggles slightly as he tugs them up. They immediately snag at his thighs, and then it’s a much more obvious struggle to get them up and over the swell of his ass. With a little hop it’s accomplished, but there’s no way they’re going to close. Maybe if he lied down and sucked in, but even then they’d be painfully tight.
Their mom laughs lightly. “I don’t think these are going to fit. Should we let them out or…” She tugs at the flaps, trying to get them to meet, and the motion only makes Dean’s stomach bounce even more. “Suck in a little, hun,” She murmurs and Dean complies.
Sam realizes he’s gaping.
“I don’t think that’s going to work.” She gives his stomach a light pat and he lets it back out. Wrapping the measuring around him, she laughs again. “Oh, yeah, you’ve gained about two inches there. No wonder.” She lets go of the tape and places her hand on his side, thumb grazing his belly button. “I’m going to the mall tomorrow. I’ll pick up a few new pairs for you to try, ok?” She asks with a smile.
“Sounds good,” Dean says, nodding his head. He pulls the pants back off and replaces them with a pair of sweats.
Mary walks back out of the room and Dean glances down at Sam.
“What’re you staring?”
“Nothing,” Sam says quickly, looking back down at his book.
“Sure,” Dean smirks.
~
“Your brother’s getting kind of fat,” Andy comments one afternoon. He and Jo are over to work on their history homework and study for a test in algebra. Sam went back to school right after the New Year; meanwhile Dean’s break stretches until the end of January.
“Shut up,” Sam murmurs.
“I think it looks good on him,” Jo muses, straining her neck to look out into the living room.
From his seat at the kitchen table, Sam has a clear view of Dean sitting on the couch. He flips through channels on the television and Sam’s eyes are drawn to where his t-shirt doesn’t quite meet his pants. As if his belly has gotten a little too pudgy for the shirt to comfortably accommodate it. He hasn’t been doing much more than hanging out with friends and lounging around the house, and with the amount of leftovers and sweets he’s been consuming Sam swears he can see him getting even heavier. John has made opinion on this very clear, commenting on how maybe he should go for a run or tutting when Mary gives him an extra-large serving of food at dinner.
”He’s a growing boy,” Is always her response.
He has a bag of potato chips next to him now and he pushes another handful into his mouth. Crumbs shower over his shirt and he pauses to brush them away. He then gives the fabric a quick tug, but it promptly rides back up. He doesn’t seem that phased by the fact.
Sam shifts in his seat and realizes his friends have already moved onto discussing polynomials.
That night, while getting ready for bed, Sam passes their parents’ bedroom. He pauses briefly at the low rumble of John’s voice.
“You didn’t buy him new clothing, did you?”
“Of course I did,” Comes Mary’s reply. “He can’t be walking around campus in things that are a size too small.”
“Might encourage him to lose a little weight,” He says gruffly.
“Oh, it’s a few pounds, John. I don’t see the big problem.”
“The big problem is that gut of his. If we don’t address it now, it’s only going to get worse.”
“I don’t see the point in making mountains out of molehills.”
“You should make an appointment for him with Doctor Jones. Lord knows he doesn’t listen to me anymore. If he tells him how much he’s gained and how dangerous it can be maybe…”
“Oh, John. Shush. You are not going to embarrass him like that. He’s perfectly healthy. Just because he isn’t your little solider or whatever it was you used to call him anymore…”
“I never said that.”
“You did, and he’s fine the way he is now. Leave it be.”
John doesn’t respond and Sam quickly hurries on down the hall.
A strange, warm puddle forms in the pit of his stomach and he thinks of how soft and round Dean’s stomach looked as he tried to fit into his old pants. How much bigger he’d gotten since Thanksgiving. What he might look like if the trend only continues. He imagines what it would be like if Dean did go to the doctor; how he’d have to step on the scale and be scolded for letting himself go.
He bites down on his lower lip and slips into his bedroom. If he happens to turn off the lights and jack off beneath the covers, it’s because he’s thinking about some girl on the cover of some magazine. Not Dean.
Definitely not Dean.
~
Dean goes back to school with a stack of new clothing from their mom and a disapproving look from their dad.
“Bright side, he’s been so hung up on you that he’s really been going easy on me. He signed the form for Academic Decathlon without saying a word,” Sam says one evening, phone pressed to his ear. He sits on his bed, books untouched in front of him.
“What’s he been saying about me?”
“I don’t know, just complaining about you wasting your talent and stuff. Apparently you were born to be a baseball star or something.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“I know, but I guess that’s what he was hoping.”
“Whatever.” The word is slightly muffled and Sam leans his head back against the wall.
“What’re you eating?”
“Brownie. Mom sent me a box of ‘em. The double-fudge kind.”
“Lucky. She must of sent all of them to you.”
“Probably. There’s a ton here.”
“And let me guess: you’re eating them all.”
“You know it. They’re so fucking good.”
“I bet they are.”
That night, Sam thinks about Dean. He imagines Dean in his dorm room, eating the brownies.
His stomach was probably already full from eating dinner in the cafeteria (All you can eat, he had raved). Maybe he’d eaten a few helpings of pasta and a side of breadsticks-enough to have made him lean back in his chair halfway through and want to pop the button on his jeans. Then he’d gone back to his room and stripped down to his boxers and undershirt. The shirt was probably snug, the fabric riding up as he pushed the first brownie into his mouth. He would have licked the chocolate from his fingers and tried to tug his shirt down, but his stomach was just too full. Maybe he thought about how big he’d gotten. Maybe he thought about trying to lose weight, but then again the brownies were just so good.
Before Sam knows it, he’s blindingly hard. He palms himself through his boxers and thinks about Dean. He imagines Dean rubbing his full, bloated stomach in vain attempt to make room for one more brownie. He imagines him stripping off his shirt, freeing his stomach from the tight confines, and it’s enough to send him over the edge.
He comes in his boxers and this time there’s no denying the driving force behind the orgasm. It’s Dean. Dean. His brother.
He’s screwed.
~
It's a long five months before he sees Dean again.
Dean takes a summer course and doesn’t come home until the start of July. Their dad goes to pick him up and despite talking to him on the phone at least once a week, Sam is still eager to see him. Primarily because of the number of fantasies he’s had about what he might look like now. Every time he talks to him it seems like he’s eating, or thinking about eating, so there’s a good chance he’s only put on more weight.
Sam can hope, at least.
The car pulls into the driveway, loaded down with Dean’s stuff from the dorms. As soon as he gets out of the car, Sam’s heart leaps in his chest.
He’s dressed in a t-shirt that fits him just fine, but there’s no hiding how much bigger his belly has gotten. It rolls out in front of him in a soft mound and is dangerously close to dipping down below his waistband. He has to have put on fifteen or twenty pounds since winter break, which is as impressive as it is exhilarating.
Mary hugs him immediately and her hand lingers over his stomach as she pulls back. She gives it a small rub and then Dean walks Sam’s way. He pulls him into a brief hug, his stomach pressing up against Sam’s own bony hip. The sensation is almost too much to handle. He just wants to reach out and touch-grab a handful and see if it’s really as doughy as it feels.
But he refrains, and pulls away with a smile.
“Good to see you,” He manages to say.
“Right back at ya. Man, you’re getting tall,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair. He’s going to have to reach up to so soon, if Sam keeps growing at the rate he has been. He’s shot up two inches in the past year and is almost the same height as Dean now.
He helps Dean move his stuff back into the house, stacking boxes in his bedroom and sneaking glances as Dean runs up and down the stairs, belly jiggling with each step.
It’s a sight Sam files away for later use, as shameful of a fact as that is.
~
Sam goes to the library with Jo most days, or goes to Andy’s house to watch movies and listen to music. Occasionally the three of them ride their bikes around or go down to the mall to see a movie.
His nights are free though, and if their schedules happen to align he prefers to spend those with Dean.
Tonight he sits on Dean’s bed as he flips through some magazine. Dean is on the other side of the room, picking at things in his closet. Clothing he’s unpacked. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Dean pull something over his head and when he looks back up he realizes it’s the Lawrence High Athletics shirt. The one he wore the day he left for school.
It’s obscenely tight now; it stretches taut across his stomach and emphasizes each dip and curve. The mere sight makes Sam salivate a little and his voice cracks when he asks, “You aren’t seriously going to wear that, are you?”
“Why not?” Dean says as he walks over to the mirror. His belly jiggles as he comes to a stop in front of it.
“It’s just a little… tight. Don’t you think?” Tight is an understatement, and while Sam wouldn’t mind the view he can’t be entirely responsible for what will happen if he watches Dean parade around like that.
“You calling me fat?”
“W-what?” Sam’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No. No. I mean…” He clamors for an explanation and finally, when he’s beat red and stammering, Dean laughs.
“Dude, it’s fine.” He gives his stomach a small slap and turns back to his reflection, grinning. “Fuck, I should bring this back to school. Let Mindy get a load of it.”
“Who’s Mindy?” Sam asks, mildly curious.
“Some girl I was hooking up with.”
“Ew.”
“Prude.” Dean walks over and flicks Sam’s ear as he falls onto the bed next to him. “She’s kind of into bigger guys and I bet she’d get a real kick out of seeing me in some of this stuff,” He explains.
It takes a moment for the words to sink in.
“She’s into… big guys?” Sam speaks slowly, unsure he heard correctly.
This entire time he’s felt like a freak for getting turned on by his brother’s expanding body, but maybe it’s a thing. Well… the weight part, at least. The brother part is an entirely different issue and he’d rather not deal with that right now.
Dean nods. “Yeah. Like, she used to feed me and tell me she wanted me even bigger. Real kinky shit, Sammy. I was kind of into it at first, but then it lost its appeal. I mean, I don’t care if I gain weight. Whatever. It happens. But trying to put on this much weight in this amount of time is what got to me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She’s with some other guy now, which is fine. We’re still friends. It’s cool.”
“Huh.” Sam picks at the hem of his jeans and asks, “So… how much weight did she want you to gain?”
“Well, this was back when I first got there. I had this tiny start of a belly and she talked about how sexy I would look if I got up to two hundred. That would have been something like thirty, thirty five pounds at the time. She fed me like, entire pizzas and cartons of ice cream… I mean, I have a tendency to stuff myself but doing it on a regular basis like that kind of took the enjoyment out of eating. Kind of made it a chore, y’know? I guess it wasn’t my thing.” He shrugs and Sam continues to process the information.
“Is she the one that helped you get like… well, like this, then?” He gestures to Dean's body and Dean shakes his head.
“Nah. I gained maybe ten pounds with her.” He pauses to give his stomach a small shake. Sam quivers at the sight and bites down on his bottom lip. “With the way I eat and without dad breathing down my neck, this came on pretty naturally. The freshman fifteen, y'know... well, I kind of jumped that hurdle in the first couple of months and kept going, but you get the point.”
“Right.” He nods his head slowly. “So… how much do you weigh now?”
“Dude.” Dean laughs and smacks the back of his head playfully. “I have no fucking clue. What’s with all the questions?”
“I-I don’t know. I mean…”
“Hold up.” Dean begins to grin. “I get it. You’re a little chubby chaser, aren’t you?”
“I-I-I don’t…” Sam’s cheeks begin to burn and Dean laughs.
“You into bigger girls, Sammy? Or guys? Trying to figure out what to do with it? It’s perfectly natural, bro.” Suddenly Dean is on him, straddling his thighs and practically sitting in his lap. His stomach brushes against Sam’s and he says, “You can tell me. Don’t be embarrassed-I’ll even give you some tips.”
Maybe it’s the sensation of having Dean’s stomach pressed up against him, or maybe it’s just the general heaviness of Dean resting on his legs. Either way, Sam is hard. Like, embarrassingly hard in no time flat and Dean must feel it because his eyes widen and he looks down.
“I-I’m sorry,” Sam begins to stammer.
“Dude. Are you-do you have-dude.” He jumps back and climbs off the bed.
“You don’t have to-I’ll just…” Sam dives onto the floor and stumbles toward the door. “I’m sorry. I’m just going to-” He fumbles out into the hallway.
Out of eyesight, he lets his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. The gravity of the situation begins to set in and he curses himself quietly, recognizing just how screwed he actually is.