This was a request from ellemisha11 ( u/5363621/).
She asked for a submissive, overweight Sam acting as Dean's feedee, and gaining for his pleasure. She specified that I should include a lot of burping. She also gave me a deadline (this story was intended as a present for her friend), which I met. (And which is why I worked on this request rather than Heart or one of the stories that are higher up in my queue.) So I can't promise how good it is, since I wrote it on a schedule. But - look, everyone, look! I actually finished something on time!
Granted, it's PWP, but still!
WARNING: Contains Wincest, dominant!Dean, submissive!chubby!Sam, weight gain, stuffing, belly play, belly worship, burping, lots of dirty talk, and (I'm sure) OOCness. If none of that appeals to you, I'd advise you to click the 'back' button on your browser window...it's always a little traumatic to read erotica concerning a weird fetish that you don't like.
Yes, I take requests. From everyone, and about anything, just so long as it has to do with Supernatural.
PM me if you're interested.
Sam Winchester had never had a weight problem.
Dean, who had been present for pretty much his entire life, knew that with a dead certainty. Even when he'd just been a little, tiny kid, and he was supposed to be all soft and round with baby fat, Sam had been a bundle of bony elbows and knees. Dean had caught one of those in the side, while sleeping next to him, way too often not to notice them. His little brother had grown into a lanky teenager, the ridges of his ribs visible beneath his pectorals after he hit his growth spurt and what little meat there was on him was spread thin. As an adult, he was built like a freaking Greek god, all muscles and flat planes and height that was only enhanced by how broad his shoulders were. Or, at least, he had been like that. Up until recently.
Dean could pinpoint the catalyst easily enough. They'd moved into the Men of Letters bunker, it'd come equipped with a massive kitchen, and he had discovered that he could cook. Really well, too, if he just had ingredients and the bare bones of a recipe. He took to it like he had fixing cars, and marksmanship: with all the passion that came from knowing he was good at something. Sam had confirmed that he was good at cooking, the very first time he put a meal in front of him, and Dean hadn't been able to quell a cocky grin and a flash of pride. Or a decision to start spending a lot more time in the kitchen, honing his brand-new craft. Practice made perfect, after all, and also, apparently, generated a whole lot of delicious-looking food. He ate when he was hungry. Everything else (and there were copious amounts of "everything else") found its way to Sam.
He willingly ate whatever Dean handed to him, no matter how rich it might be, or how many treats he'd already allowed to be coaxed into his stomach. He wasn't doing a whole lot of hunting or training - Dean had the kitchen, Sam had the library. Reading books and files was a pretty sedentary activity, and his jeans were too tight for him in under two weeks. Dean noticed.
There were the expected complaints from his baby brother, of course, once Sam noticed that he'd packed on a few pounds. This wasn't healthy, he was losing his body, he needed to get rid of this extra weight, even if just so his clothes would fit again. He was embarrassed that he'd let himself get so out of shape when they were still needed for so many things. Dean and his stupid, greasy cooking were entirely to blame for the softening in his stomach and on his hips. But he didn't stop eating the "stupid, greasy cooking," he didn't put down the books, and he didn't stop gaining weight. Dean didn't stop noticing, either. The way the seat of Sam's jeans was always stretched tight across the plush curve of his ass, the way his cheekbones were disappearing under soft swells, the way he eagerly reached for whatever his older brother had made now. Even when his belly was so round and full it pushed his jeans down and his shirt up, exposing a wide band of taut, tan skin that Dean ached to rub.
No matter how many times he went over it in his head, Dean couldn't figure out exactly when they'd acknowledged that they both liked it and wanted to go further with it. Speed it up. It was a lot like when they'd admitted that each of them had feelings that weren't exactly brotherly for the other and they'd started having sex - it hadn't happened at one definitive point in time. First, there had just been a lot of touching, with that. Then the occasional kiss. Then sleeping in the same bed, then...one night, they'd gotten each other's pants off and Dean had shown his little brother who was boss. Sam liked that, being Dean's and doing what he wanted him to. Which was probably why he started asking for belly rubs when he had stomachaches from gorging himself. Why he didn't say a word when Dean intentionally gave him more, wanting to see him stuffed. And why he didn't ask for new clothes or go and get some himself, though he couldn't get his jeans buttoned over his soft stomach and his T-shirts put his every growing curve on display. That was probably intentional, though.
Dean wasn't totally sure that Sam liked this as much as he did and wanted more, for awhile. After all, the guy was a total health freak, all but vegetarian and religiously dedicated to staying in shape. He ran every single morning. Or, at least, he used to, but still. So Dean wasn't completely comfortable with the whole situation until one night in...mid-January, wasn't it? It wasn't like he admitted to being a hardcore chubby chaser, or Sam admitted that he liked gaining weight and especially liked doing it for Dean, but it was still reassuring.
They were watching a movie, on Sam's bed in his room (where Dean usually spent the night - his own room and bed were really just for...well, actually, he had no idea what the hell they were for. Sam hadn't kicked him out of bed in years). Dean'd made chocolate cake for dessert, slices of which he'd eagerly showered Sam with, so his little brother groaned with effort and burped softly when he hauled himself up onto all fours. He kissed the corner of Dean's jaw, nuzzling against his ear and into his close-cropped hair, obviously looking for attention. Dean was more than willing to give it. He turned and cupped the back of Sam's head with one hand, kissing him on the lips with gentleness that he usually only reserved for when he was being bitchy and really needed some romance. When he tangled his fingers in Sam's long, silky hair and tugged slightly, he made a low sound of pleasure. With his other hand, he reached underneath him.
He'd meant to fondle the shapes of Sam's cock and balls through his jeans, to get him ready for some real fooling around, but he got distracted when his hand brushed against his warm belly. His jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped, and his T-shirt was pulled up, completely exposing him. And probably making him a lot more comfortable. His stomach was swollen with the huge, heavy meal that Dean had made that night, and already plump form all the other rich food that had completely replaced his diet of salads and wraps. Dean laid a hand against Sam's belly without thinking, groaning into the kiss that he was still involved in as he felt his cock rise to immediate attention. Oh, God, that was amazingly hot. Soft. Round. So big - and stuffed with his cooking. Sam was getting fat off his cooking. His erection twitched.
When he started stroking him, feeling out the shape of this new, incredible belly, he expected Sam to push his hand off or to pull back, puzzled, and ask him just what the hell he was doing. That didn't happen. Instead, he shivered with pleasure, practically purred, and put his hands on Dean's shoulders so that he could kneel right next to him. That gave Dean a lot better access to his stomach - which'd almost certainly been his intention.
He'd touched Sam's belly before, obviously. He'd had to, to massage away the pain that came from eating way too much (and, even though he'd never said it, to get a series of cute burps out of him). But never like this, while they were kissing and both horny - there was something unmistakably sexual about the whole thing, and he liked it. Actually, he liked it a whole lot.
He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Need a belly rub, Sammy?" His voice came out husky and affectionate as he moved his other hand from the back of Sam's head to his stomach. He held it with both hands, loving the weight and the firmness under that first layer of fat.
"Uh-huh." Sam pressed his forehead to Dean's, panting. It was pretty dim in the room, besides the bluish light of the TV, but Dean could feel heat coming off of him. He somehow got the idea that he was blushing, even though he couldn't see it. "Think I ate too much again." He dropped one hand to his own belly, brushing against Dean's fingers and cupping his palm over the swell of it. The gesture wasn't embarrassed or pained, and Dean felt a wave of excitement and arousal. "Dammit, Dean...I wish that everything you make would stop tasting so fantastic."
"Not really sure I can do anything about that wish," Dean said with a wide grin. "What can I say, Sammy? I've got a gift." He started to rub, kneading Sam's bulging stomach between both hands, and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his strong nose. He wanted to duck under his jaw and search for softness that would become a second chin pretty damn soon, but that might be going a little too fast. He was just barely playing with his belly, after all.
"Mmngh..." The small of Sam's back arched, thrusting his stomach into Dean's hands. Dean bit his lip, his cock aching in his jeans, and rolled his wrists. "Yeah, I picked up on that." He burped again, bringing the back of the hand that had been on his belly to his mouth to stifle it. Dean chuckled a little.
"So, you think you ate too much, huh?" he asked, turning to completely face Sam. "Nah..." He reveled in the grunt of pleasure that he made when he dug his thumbs in. "You need more, Sammy."
Sam laughed, disbelieving. "You...feel this, right?" He lowered his hands to Dean's, completely covering them, and unexpectedly guided him to new areas on his stomach. Dean heard another, quiet burp as he squeezed a little.
"Yeah, course I do." He pressed his own mouth to Sam's, and felt him start a little in surprise. He tasted cake, burgers, fries, beer...maybe Sam was a little drunk and that was why he was allowing this. But, nah, he was a big guy and he'd always been able to hold his liquor pretty well. Unless it was his intention to get hammered. "I think it needs to be bigger." He was aware of his own barely-touched slice of cake (he hadn't been hungry), set aside on the small table next to his bed. He wanted to see Sam eat that. He wanted to feed it to him, rub his growing belly soothingly as he did so, see his face relax into a perfect expression of sated bliss. "Lots bigger."
He shifted his position so he could turn Sam and then push him down onto his back, manhandle him into the numerous pillows of his bed. If he was gonna feed his chubby, lazy baby brother until he was so full and sleepy he couldn't even move to eat another bite, he wanted him totally comfortable. And he wanted to be on top of him. Having Sam under his hips and hands was something he loved with a passion.
Dean heard a barely-audible whimper as he pushed him down - he must've jostled his stomach - but then he started making all the requisite happy noises. Sexy purrs, low moans, even something that Dean swore was a coo and honestly couldn't get enough of. Sam liked to be taken care of, guided...controlled. They'd learned that very early on. Maybe Sam wore the pants in other relationships, but here, it was Dean's job to be in charge.
He stroked his hair, leaning down to kiss him again - and, yep, there was the coo-thing. God, he loved that. He rocked back, sitting on Sam's thighs and returning both hands to his belly. It gurgled slightly under his callused palms, and he imagined that that sound/feeling was demanding. More.
"I've been loving watching you pig out," he said. He felt more than saw Sam smile, and knew him well enough to tell he was blushing, hazel eyes bright with pleasure and pride. "I should really feed you more, though. I want you eating plenty, gaining weight. Getting fatter for me."
"Well, if you make more of what we had tonight..." Sam reached up and placed his hands on Dean's hips. "You can stuff as much of that into me as you want." He sighed, faking frustration. "I really hate you. You've had me eating stuff that tastes amazing every five minutes, and, seriously, look at me. I found a scale down in the infirmary, and I've gained almost forty pounds from all this food you've been shoving at me."
"Holy - forty?!" He'd had no idea at all that it was that much. Maybe Sam had a slow metabolism, when he was doing nothing all day but reading and eating. "Shit, Sammy."
"Yeah, I know." He sounded a little embarrassed. "I'm officially overweight. All this stuff's too rich."
"No, not overweight." Dean gave his stomach a pat. "Just well-fed." Soft chest, expanding belly, plush love handles, cushiony ass, thickening thighs...yeah, Sam had been fed very well. And from now on, he'd be fed even better. "Speaking of which..."
He reached over, picking up the plate that the slice of cake he'd remembered was on. Sam must have seen, or heard, or felt, because he made a plaintive "you've-gotta-be-kidding-me" noise in the back of his throat. "Dean, no. I'm too full for that." As if to punctuate that statement, he stifled yet another burp.
"You're not," Dean replied matter-of-factly. He pushed on Sam's stomach a little, with his fingertips, and he burped again with a slight whimper. "There's plenty of room in there, and we should fill it up. 'Sides. A growing boy needs lots of food."
"I'm twenty-nine," Sam pointed out dryly. Dean picked up the fork on the plate, loading it with the corner of the slice of cake.
"Doesn't mean you're not growing." He pushed it into Sam's mouth, and definitely noticed how eagerly he accepted it. He stroked the side of his belly encouragingly. "Attaboy, Sam. That's it."
Dean wasn't afraid to admit that he loved this new, softer version of his brother. The extra weight meant that he was safe. Happy. He was comfortable enough here, with Dean, to let himself go up a few pants sizes, and that made him ecstatic. Not to mention the fact that the bigger he got, the more attracted to him Dean would be...and he really liked watching him eat until he was content and weighed down by his own swollen stomach. That was why he kept feeding him, steadily.
"Never knew you were such a glutton," Dean murmured. There wasn't much left of the slice, and he swore that Sam felt fuller under the hand that he had resting on his belly. He dragged a finger through a smear of frosting on the plate and poked it between his lips, doing his best not to growl with pleasure as he felt him suck and lap it off.
"It's not really like I can turn it down," he replied after pushing Dean's finger out of his mouth with his tongue. He stretched luxuriously, then looked surprised when the movement forced an apparently-unexpected burp out of him. "'S too good."
"Oh, I like that. Can't help yourself, huh?" He rubbed his stomach, making little circles. Sam seemed to like it a whole lot ("Ahh...Jesus, Dean, that feels good, keep - " He interrupted himself with a small burp. " - doing that."), so he pressed a little harder. "Bet you won't be able to help yourself when I give you more."
"Ugh. Please tell me you're joking." Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and grimaced. "Dean, I physically can't fit anything else."
He was lying; there was still plenty of give to his belly. Dean would get rid of that. "You know you wanna keep eating. It's so good, isn't it? And you know I'll get rid of a bellyache before it even starts."
"Don't even try," Sam said firmly, before hiccuping. He absentmindedly put a hand on his stomach where Dean's weren't. "I'm done."
"And I want you totally sated," Dean continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Belly chock-full of good food. So you can go right to sleep, and you won't wake up hungry, and you'll get a little chubbier. You need to be fed."
"Stop," Sam commanded. Dean ignored him. He could read between the lines well enough, and tell that he didn't mean a word of his protests.
"Oh, c'mon, Sammy. I know you feel full, but let's stuff you just a little more, at least. There's plenty of cake left in the kitchen. Moist...thick frosting...heavy and rich..."
Sam groaned and shoved at Dean's chest, tipping his head back into the pillows. "Okay. Fine. You win. Go on and feed me until I can't even roll over, see if I care."
Dean just grinned, gave his belly another pat, and went.
He took the last few slices of cake back to the bedroom, and a carton of ice cream, just in case. He worked Sam's jeans off of him before he started feeding him again, not wanting him to pop any stitches. That'd be painful. He was actually pretty amazed he'd gotten them on in the first place, considering how tight they were. Freed, Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position for the first mouthful of cake. Dean didn't even bother with a fork this time, just using his fingers to hand-feed him. He lovingly rubbed his little brother's already-round stomach as he filled it, noting with delight that he had an erection to match his own. They hadn't even touched the more intimate parts of each other, but this whole thing was a turn-on all the same.
Forty-five minutes passed, with Dean feeding Sam cake and rubbing his belly and murmuring encouragement to him. When the last few crumbs had been popped into his waiting mouth, Sam carefully leaned back against his pillows, cradling his overstuffed stomach with both large hands. His eyes were hooded, and his breathing was shallow. He raised his face when Dean leaned forward to kiss him, and gently kissed back.
"Yeah, that's a lot better," Dean decided after breaking the kiss, laying a hand on Sam's belly and rubbing it without any real force. Half again as big as it had been, it had to be sensitive. Sam groaned, then burped.
"Happy?" he asked, right before burping again.
"Very." Dean dropped his head and planted a kiss on his gut. "Hope you are, too. But I'd really think you'd have loved this. Getting fed and pampered."
"You obviously know how to take care of me." Sam held either side of his belly, looking down at himself as Dean rubbed and kissed again. He wanted to run his mouth over every inch of it. Sam was so full, so big, and getting bigger. He'd never loved him more. Which was saying something, considering how he felt about him on even a day-to-day basis. "It - " He hiccuped. "It feels good."
"Really?" Dean wished he'd thought to grab a chocolate bar or something while he was in the kitchen. He could have broken it into pieces, and be popping those pieces into his brother's mouth right now. He wanted to feed Sam as many treats as possible. "Man, you've really let yourself go, haven't you? Haven't been hunting in weeks, love having me feed you junk food until your poor belly's stuffed as full as it can go."
"I might be getting too fat to hunt, Dean." His heart sped up, hearing him say that. If Sam accepted that, he could completely be Dean's, gain full-time. It would be even better than what he'd been doing for him so far. "Your fault. Feeding me so much, I mean."
"Poor Sammy. Too much food, huh?" Dean gripped Sam's love handles appreciatively, then pulled his shirt up, over his head. He didn't want it getting uncomfortably tight like his jeans had. Now he was only in his boxer shorts, with almost everything that Dean wanted to see exposed. "Oh, yeah, I'd say so." He put his hands back on his belly and began to gently knead. "Seriously, though...I'm gonna start making more for you. You look good like this - happy. I love it." He pressed a quick kiss to Sam's lips. "Y'know, if you hadn't figured that out yet."
"Mmnn..." Sam shifted under his hands, gripping his wrists and pushing his full stomach right into his palms, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes in pleasure. Dean smiled. He hadn't been able to make him act like that since he'd given him a blowjob when he was stoned on pain pills (he'd caught a werewolf's claw in the side of his ass, making the usual sex acts that Dean performed on him impossible).
"Like that?" he asked, leaning forward to kiss a trail down Sam's long neck. "That, at least, wasn't getting chubby yet.
"Dean..." Sam opened his eyes and looked at him, and, this time, the light from the TV - still on - was enough for him to pick out the blush spreading across his cheeks.
"What?" Dean smiled indulgently.
"I'm hungry," Sam admitted. "I want - " Another hiccup. " - more. Please." He sighed a little, obviously enjoying himself, as Dean kept rubbing and massaging. "Uh...feed me?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at him through his lashes, somehow pulling off a cute, vulnerable expression despite his size. Dean had always loved that he could do things like that.
"Oh, man, definitely," he said, all but grinning from ear to ear. This wasn't the first time Sam had asked for more while obviously full, but it still felt good. "Yeah, Sammy...I can tell you need more." He jiggled his belly a little (his blush had spread to the smooth skin there, pink and soft), and was rewarded with a startled burp. He smirked and reached for the carton of ice cream, patting Sam's stomach affectionately. "Go right ahead and eat. I'll take care of your belly."
Sam's eyebrows drew together as Dean handed the carton to him. "You're...not going to feed it to me?"
That made Dean laugh. He'd really spoiled him, hadn't he? Giving him just as much as he could hold every single day and rubbing his belly when he asked for it? Not to mention feeding him by hand for the last two hours or so. He absolutely had to kiss his brother right now, and, when he leaned back, he smiled at him. "Just eat, Sam. If you can manage that..." He trailed the fingertips of one hand down, off his belly, to the obvious bulge in his boxers. "I've got a reward in mind for you."