feeder!cas and chubby!dean at a state fair because fried pickles are delicious and thanksgiving always puts me in the chubby!dean spirit and you’re all going to hell for reading this
“Do you need anything else, Dean?”
“No, I’m good for now.” Dean takes a bite out of his giant turkey leg. “You good?”
“I’m fine.” Cas sighs and looks off to the left. “Have you heard from Sam?”
Dean wipes his hands and squirms in his seat to try to get his phone out of his pocket. “Damn it.”
Cas levels him with a stern glare. “You put it in your front pocket, didn’t you?”
Dean nods and ducks his chin. It’s been a couple months since he could reach inside his front pocket while sitting, and he keeps forgetting that it’s not a simple task anymore. He pats his belly apologetically and turns his attention back to his food.
Cas continues babbling about the case, but Dean blocks him out in favor of stuffing his face with carnival food. They’re sitting at the end of a long picnic table under one of the tents, and there’s a lady sitting a few feet down who keeps giving Dean judgmental looks. The bench ominously creaks whenever he shifts his weight.
“Dean, are you listening?”
Dean sets down his destroyed turkey leg and drenches his pulled pork sandwich in barbecue sauce before picking it up. “No, not really.”
“You realize we’re here on a case, right?”
“You realize I can see right through your bullshit and know you’re shaking in your trench coat watching me pig out, right?”
Cas swallows thickly and stares as Dean picks up a fried pickle and scarfs it down in two bites before returning to his sandwich.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean mumbles.
“How much more are you going to...?”
Dean shrugs and eats another pickle. He has two orders of five pickles, a basket of fries, six fried oreos and a funnel cake. The barbecue pork sandwich was good but hardly made a dent. He looks longingly over to the stand where he got it.
Cas immediately gets up and comes back with two more pork sandwiches.
“I love you,” Dean says more to the sandwiches than to Cas.
He starts getting full by the time he’s run out of pickles and is digging into his last sandwich, so he takes a few deep breaths and presses a hand to his gut. He would love to lose a notch in his belt, but he’s going to have to stand up to accomplish that task.
“Are you OK, Dean?”
“Peachy. Can you go buy me another coke?”
“You’ve had two already.”
“Uhh, so? I ain’t exactly counting calories here, Cas.”
Cas tips his chin back. “Well, I am. And I think it’s time you switch to something else.”
He walks off before Dean can ask what the hell he means, but then he comes back with a huge chocolate milkshake and sets it between the oreos and the funnel cake.
Dean glares at Cas as he slurps down the whole shake in a matter of seconds. He tosses the empty cup across the table and asks, “They got refills?”
After Cas leaves this time, Dean takes the chance to assess the situation. The buttons on his flannel are beginning to strain, but he really can’t unbutton it. His undershirt is two sizes too small and the sleeves dig into his arms, and he’s not going to subject the fairgoers to his bare belly hanging out of the bottom of his t-shirt. As he looks at himself, his face starts to flush so he stress eats all the fried oreos two at a time.
It wasn’t exactly a conscious decision to....let himself go so much as it was subconsciously realizing that it drove Cas nuts. The first time they fucked was after Dean accidentally ate a whole pie in one sitting, and it’s really been downhill from there. It was a few months before Dean couldn’t button his pants and had to admit to himself that it was time to buy a new wardrobe he affectionately calls his chubby wardrobe. Two more months before the chubby wardrobe really started feeling tight and Dean considered upgrading to a fat wardrobe.
But he’s stubborn as hell, so now it’s been a little over a month since he outgrew his chubby wardrobe and he still hasn’t replaced it. He has to jump and squirm to get his jeans on every day, and he wears a belt to cover the fact that he can’t do the button. He split the seat of his pants on a hunt about a week ago, and Cas fucked him into oblivion for it. But the bigger he gets, the more he wants to eat--and not just because his appetite is getting out of control. It just feels good.
Cas comes back with a slush this time, and Dean struggles to finish it and the entire funnel cake. He burps and rubs his belly when he’s done, and the lady near him drops her mouth open as if she’s scandalized.
He’s wobbly when he gets to his feet, and his gut succumbs to gravity and drops painfully over his waistband. Cas places a hand on his back to steady him and then curls his fingers into his love handle.
“Bathroom,” Dean says as he waddles toward it. He has to tug his shirt down over and over again to prevent it from bunching up around his belly button, and he briefly wonders if Cas can mojo his clothes to be bigger. Well, he probably can but he definitely won’t.
Once inside the bathroom, Dean locks himself in a stall and unbuttons his shirt. He has to suck in to pull the buttons apart, and it hurts his full stomach. He then struggles to reach his belt buckle, but when he finally gets it free his belly expands and forces the zipper apart. He heaves a sigh of relief and rucks up his t-shirt so he can rub his skin in long, slow circles until some of the pressure dissipates. He runs his fingers over the stretch marks that start at his hips and extend all the way up to his belly button and wonders if he’s making any more of them tonight.
Getting his clothes back on is a much more grueling task, but he manages to get his belt to the first notch and all the buttons buttoned on his shirt without any accidents. He takes a piss and washes his hands for a long time after, staring at himself in the mirror and getting a kick out of how distorted and stretched all the lines on his plaid shirt look.
A guy at the sink next to him checks him out not twice but three times before asking, “Can I buy you another cheeseburger?”
Dean slaps him on the back and answers, “Not a great way to pick up fat guys, buddy,” before leaving.
As Dean walks toward Cas, he gets a whiff of red meat and parmesan and his stomach growls.
“Sam hasn’t had any luck finding strange incidents at other recent state fairs,” Cas announces, looking down at his phone as if he’s reading a text.
“Well, what city were these rides in last? If one of the rides is haunted, it would move with the fair.” Dean walks toward a food stand and knows that Cas is blindly following him. He orders a meatball sub and a large lemonade.
“That’s Sam’s theory as well, but as I just said, no strange incidents at recent state fairs.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Well maybe the ride that’s haunted wasn’t at a state fair last, maybe it was at a church festival or some shit.”
“Oh. I’ll suggest that to Sam.”
Dean receives his food and hands his lemonade off to Cas so he can eat and walk at the same time. The sub is incredible, and he makes obscene noises and gets sauce all over his face. He eats like a starved man despite the protests from his full stomach.
He gets so focused on his sandwich that he doesn’t even realize they’re at another food stand until he hears Cas ordering an ear of corn.
“What are you--”
“You need some vegetables to balance out the grease,” Cas deadpans as he pours a ridiculous amount of melted butter onto the corn.
Dean shoves the rest of his meatball sub in his mouth and eagerly reaches for the corn.
They walk around waiting for anything unusual to happen for another couple of hours, and it seems the more food Dean sees the bigger his appetite grows. A slice of homemade pie here, half a dozen cheap donuts there. They do a cake auction and win a pound cake that he gets halfway through before deciding it’s too dry and throws it out. He gets a waffle cone with four scoops to get rid of the dryness, a double bacon cheeseburger to balance the sweetness, three more orders of fried pickles because they’re goddamn delicious, popcorn and nachos and chili cheese fries and chicken and steak kabobs and anything else he can get his hands on. His stomach is so full it hardly moves as they walk. It protrudes out from his body so far that he keeps bumping into people, and his face grows hot whenever people stare. His skin is stretched to its limit and everything inside of him hurts and yet he still wants. He eats and he eats until it feels weird not to be eating.
He’s been out of breath for hours and has no idea if it’s because he’s completely out of shape or if he’s so full he can’t breathe. They find another picnic table to sit for a break, and Dean’s belly sits atop his lap like a trophy for the evening. He rubs it and pats it and tries to sink his fingers into his strained skin with no success. He alternates between deep and shallow breaths, and while he’s exhaling the second to last button pops off his shirt and onto the ground.
“How the hell did that not happen earlier?” he asks as he unbuttons the rest of the shirt and can finally breathe better. His stomach pushes further into his lap, and he leans back to try to relieve some of the pinching happening around his waist.
“I might’ve...been keeping an eye on it,” Cas admits.
“Oh, that’s weird because I was just thinking about--wait.”
“What is it? Did you realize something about the case because I think--”
“You’ve been making me hungry all night.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re using your grace to increase my appetite! I fucking knew it. Quit it, all right? I’m not gonna be able to hunt if I gain more weight.”
“O....K,” Cas concedes.
“I’m going to the bathroom. You’re a dick.” Dean holds his gut as he stands and then fruitlessly tries to yank his t-shirt down past his belly button.
As he watches Dean waddle away, Cas sends a text to Sam.
Dean thinks I’m using my grace to increase his appetite lol
