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It started out innocently enough. Well, as innocently as any kink could start.
Sam and Eileen were away on a hunt. Cas and Jack were… actually Dean didn’t know what those two were up to. A week earlier, Dean had tweaked his back, and although he felt almost back to normal, Sam had insisted that Dean take it easy for a few more days. Left behind against his wishes, Dean was alone in the bunker. And what does one do when left alone? Peruse porn, of course.
Sadly though, the porn well seemed dry that day. After almost a half hour, Dean hadn’t found a single thing that would keep his interest for more than thirty seconds, and he was getting frustrated. This had happened once before — okay, maybe more than once — and he learned one way to push past this: keep clicking on the next recommended vid over and over… and over, until he hit the weird side of the internet. Weird was new. Weird was interesting. Weird was… inspiring.
Ten minutes later, he didn’t know what he was watching. There was a fully nude middle-aged man, on a bed, just lying there, his face out of frame. Slowly though, over the course of a few minutes, Dean saw the man’s belly getting larger, rounding out like a beach ball. The man got hard without even moving, his cock growing in speed with his belly. Then, without ever having to touch himself, the man had what could only be described as an explosive orgasm. And then the screen went dark.
“What the fuck?” Dean mumbled to himself. He clicked on the next video, this time it was a presumably young woman, again face out of frame, but she was standing. Wearing a swimsuit, she was holding what looked like the pump from a blood pressure cuff, squeezing it every few seconds. Again the belly grew. After about five minutes, the woman’s belly was huge, forcing her to lean back slightly. She patted her belly gently, creating the sound of a drum. And then she let out a tiny burp. It took Dean a moment to realize what she had done: she had completely filled herself up with air.
He looked at the tags to try to figure out what he had just witnessed. “Inflation,” he read out loud. It sure looked like that’s what was happening, but Dean couldn’t understand why they were doing it. What was the point? He continued watching videos for another hour, completely entranced. Usually it was just one person. Sometimes there were two. Some held a bicycle pump, while in other videos Dean heard the soft hum of a motor. What he did realize at first, however, was that he was rock hard. But then with barely a flick of the wrist, he came all over himself in tandem with one of the videos.
And that was how Dean Winchester discovered belly inflation.
Dean had never been a chubby chaser. He had never had a pregnancy kink. So why was this getting him off? He spent the rest of the day “researching” what he had found, to try and learn more. There were countless forums and websites of people describing why they did it, how they did it, and what to avoid. He even found how-to videos for the casual beginner! People warned not to go too fast or too far, explaining that doing so could lead to serious injury. SERIOUS INJURY. As in: try explaining to the ER doctors, your brother, an angel of the Lord, and the son of Lucifer why you have a perforated colon and a bike pump sticking out of your ass.
Still, even with the warnings, Dean knew he had to try. If he could cum so fiercely just from watching, even not knowing the reason, surely it would be even more glorious with a real attempt. Dean tried to think if there was anything in the bunker that he could use. Going out to the garage, he searched for a bike pump. He knew he had seen one years earlier, but where was it now? Digging through some shelves, he found its base. Success! But upon pulling it off the shelf, he quickly realized it was in no condition to go inside him. The rubber hose was cracking and falling apart. Not surprising considering it was probably fifty years old or older. But then Dean remembered the plastic tubing he bought only a year or so earlier. What had that been for? Who cares. Finding the tubing, Dean ripped the old hose off the pump and jammed the tubing on. Yes, this would work perfectly, at least for his first experiment.
Dean made his way back to his bedroom, texting his brother a casual, “How’s it going?”. If the case had been simple, they could have been on their way back already, and Dean definitely didn’t want to be caught in the act. He smiled when he saw the response. “Alright. Probably another day or two. You okay?” Was he okay? He was about to shove a tube up his ass and pump up his belly just to get his rocks off. “Netflix marathon,” he replied instead. “The heating pad is helping,” he lied. Sam’s response was brief. “Told you.”
Even knowing he would be alone, Dean still locked the door to his bedroom for added security. But then he thought about Cas and Jack. The bunker was warded, but there were ways for the two to get in. With a heavy sigh, Dean opened the door again and made his way to the library. He was going to have to ward his bedroom to be safe.
An hour, a headache, and one angel and nephilim-proof ward later, he was ready. Everyone thought that Sam was the smart one, but that’s just what Dean let them think so he didn’t have to do as much book work. Dean knew he could out-research his brother any day of the week. Case in point: researching this new fascination.
Based on the videos, he had high expectations of what he’d soon experience. He knew there would be no going back. If he found a new kink, it could ruin vanilla pleasures for the rest of his life. He took a deep breath. “Just do it, Winchester,” he said to himself in the manliest voice he could muster. It took him a minute to get the tube in. It felt… different. Not good, not bad, just different. He once dated a girl who liked to play with him back there, and this reminded him of that. Gingerly, so as not to dislodge the tube, he lay down, pump in hand. Once situated, he closed his eyes, took another deep breath, pulled out the pump’s plunger, and slowly pushed it back in.
Dean’s eyes shot open as fast as the air rushed inside him. The thrill was near instantaneous, the pressure exhilarating. And that was with just one pump! Dean pulled the plunger back again and pushed it down. He felt and heard the air gurgle inside him. Already there was a tingle in his nether-region. Now he understood the appeal.
He continued pumping air into himself for another five minutes, taking frequent breaks. Cramps hit about halfway through, but the tutorials gave tips on how to help them pass. Once the discomfort subsided, he kept going, feeling the pressure build. Pressure in his belly and pressure further south. His skin felt tight. Heat radiated throughout him. And then, just like in the video that started this all, Dean came. It was explosive. He saw stars and moaned louder than he ever had before, so glad that he was alone in the bunker. He took a deep breath and pushed in another pump full of air, feeling the aftershock.
His sex life would never, could never, be the same.
Dean rested for a few minutes, enjoying the afterglow while still connected to the pump now left limp next to him on the bed. Finally, once his heart had stopped pounding, Dean lifted his head from the pillow and looked at his body. At first he was disappointed. There was almost no noticeable difference. Although Dean didn’t have sculpted abs like his brother, apparently he had enough muscle to prevent much of a belly from sticking out.
He patted his belly and was instantly stunned. Was that… the drum sound? He gave it another pat. “Holy shit.” He may not have reached an impressive size, but what was there was solid. He pressed his index finger firmly into his belly and immediately regretted it, with cramps radiating out. “Nope,” he hissed, “can’t do that.”
But inflating he would definitely do again.
~o~O~o~
Dean continued inflating his belly each and every time he was alone. For the most part, this had to be in the middle of the night, as he couldn’t exactly continue to pass on hunts without raising suspicions. Only a few weeks in, Cas found that he was unable to walk into Dean’s room and questioned him about it. Dean had completely forgotten about the warding, and in a flustered stream of consciousness explained that he just needed more privacy. “It’s nothing personal, Cas. We can hang out in the Dean Cave, or the library, or anywhere else. But I need a space that’s all mine.”
Dean's natural belly, not bloated by food or air, was a svelte thirty-four inches. Well, maybe not quite as svelte as it was in his twenties when he was down around thirty inches, but still it was nothing to scoff at. His middle had gotten a little soft over the years, less defined, but he still looked better than the average guy his age. When inflated, he made it to thirty-six inches, no different than when he was bloated with food, he found. With each inflation session, he wished his muscles would melt away just a little… just enough for him to grow in capacity. He didn’t know when it started, but inflating became less and less about getting off — though he’d take every mind blowing orgasm he could get — and more about increasing in size. He decided his goal would be to inflate to forty inches. Considering the impressive beach ball mounds in the videos, adding four inches couldn’t be that hard, could it?
But it was slow goings. He read in the forums that it could take months or years to expand even a little. Women seemed to expand more quickly than men, which made sense since their bodies were built for it. Other inflators said that the more often someone inflated the more likely they would be successful, and to just be persistent and patient.
He had started getting eager, going to bed ahead of the others, and was almost caught one night when he had forgotten to lock the door. He had just gotten situated, tubing in place and trusty pump beside him, when a knock came at the door. Thankfully, he had kept his boxers on that night and was able to throw the covers over the pump just as Sam let himself in. Dean was certain he looked crazy, pretending to play on his phone, but Sam didn’t even bat an eye. Instead he was rattling on about some possible case in Nebraska, and that they should leave first thing the next morning. Once he was gone, Dean realized the moment was over. He’d skip that night. After that he decided he needed to wait until he knew, without a doubt, that everyone was sound asleep.
A month after he started, Dean measured himself after a particularly lengthy inflation. To his dismay, he was only at 36 and a half inches. A gain of only half an inch. Although it would be a challenge, he decided he’d wait three months to measure again, assuming he could regularly inflate.
~o~O~o~
And regularly inflate, he did. For a solid three months he inflated in the middle of the night, pushing his limits each time. The downside was that meant he was often exhausted in the mornings. So much so, that he made Sam drive time after time, eliciting worry from his brother that he was ill. Dean insisted it was just because he had hit middle age. Well, middle age for the average person. For them it could have been well past the halfway point. All the more reason to enjoy his time while he had it.
It was of course easiest to inflate when they were at the bunker. Easier still when he was alone at the bunker. But that wasn’t the life of a hunter. When on the road, he realized he’d lose all of progress if he didn’t keep practicing, and he wasn’t willing to let that happen. Dean had managed to get his hands on a small bulb pump and some new tubing, and hid it all away in the Impala. Each night, once Dean knew Sam was passed out, he’d sneak out the room, drive to anywhere he could for some privacy, and inflate as quickly as possible. Of course it would take some time to, ahem, deflate afterwards, meaning Dean was often gone for a couple hours in total. At first he thought this wouldn’t be possible, knowing that at any second Cas could appear. That was until he found a spell to ward off celestial creatures but only for a few hours. As long as he remembered to recite it perfectly, he could insure privacy from his angel.
Though Dean was in the clear from Cas, it didn’t take long for Sam to notice, again, that something was up. He had heard the Impala rumble away one night, and then again the next. At first he accused his brother of going out to get drunk. He begged Dean, “Please don’t drive drunk,” but quickly realized his brother never was hungover, never even smelled of booze. Sam then accused Dean of going out to get laid, and Dean decided to roll with that one. “I hope for your sake you're double bagging, or you’re going to end up with an STI,” Sam warned. Dean just shrugged and told him to stop worrying.
Every night, like clockwork, he’d fill himself so full of air he swore he felt his skin stretch. He’d cum each time like he was a teen again, unable to hold back. The drum sound became more hollow. His skin was shiny with tension. And then he reached a new threshold: he was so full he was burping out the air. After that point, he knew he could never stop an inflation until that happened. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, he had to fill up, top to bottom. Or bottom to top.
And after every inflation, or deflation rather, Dean was voracious. Being completely full of air must have been stretching out his stomach too, or at least fooled his brain into thinking it had, which in turn made it think it was empty more often and in need of sustenance. Once most of the air was evacuated and he felt safe being around people, he’d go out and find whatever 24-hour diner or drive-thru was nearby, ordering enough for two and eating it as quickly as possible so that he could get back with time for shut-eye. After a few weeks of this ritual, Dean noticed that his midsection was getting softer, doughier. Whether it was the inflations finally stretching out his muscles or the midnight “snacks” adding padding, he didn’t know. And he didn’t care. Endorphins were rushing through his body each and every day, and he’d do whatever it took to keep that stream flowing.
The three months seemed to take forever. Dean felt like a kid waiting for Christmas. When the day, or night rather, finally arrived, he pushed his body to its limits, inflating until the pump quite literally wouldn’t push any more in. His back arched as he came, and afterwards he realized he couldn’t rest it down, not comfortably, as his body pulling forward in an attempt to make more room for the air. Dean couldn’t move. He was too full. Thankfully, he had thought ahead and had the tape measure by his side. He pulled it around himself, making certain it was at the fullest, roundest point of his belly. Pinching the tape, he pulled it away and looked.
38 and a half inches. He had grown two full inches! He knew that some of it was in fact a new layer of fat, with a couple budding stretch marks as proof. But he loved it. Just thinking of how he was transforming his body, he was half hard again.
Dean patted his belly, reveling in the drum sound and felt a burp making its way up his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing the air back down and listening to it gurgle when it hit his stomach. He didn’t want any air to escape. The longer he held it in, the more time his body had to stretch. And the more likely he would continue to grow. With a great deal of force, he pushed one more pump in, cumming again as he felt the glorious pain of the stretch. At this rate, he’d hit forty inches in only a few more months.
~o~O~o~
Unfortunately for Dean, the next few months were grueling. Brutal cases kept coming their way, and he simply couldn’t inflate every night. He wouldn’t risk being so exhausted that he’d slip and put himself or his brother in danger. Still he tried to inflate at least twice a week, pushing his body to burping each and every time, if only to maintain his size.
Without the euphoria caused by inflating, Dean found himself eating more to chase that high. Two dinners at every pit-stop. Pie on the side at each lunch. Thankfully the constant running of hunting prevented him from gaining too much. Yet still, Sam noticed. “I’d ask if you had a tapeworm, but you’d be losing weight if you did.”
Dean looked down at his belly as he sat in the diner booth. He’d had to loosen his belt a notch that week, and still there was a soft swell rounding out and pushing on his shirt. “Shut up. It’s middle-age spread.” Not wanting to be called out and having the fun end, Dean reigned it in slightly. Within a couple weeks of hunting till exhaustion, he had slimmed down some. But not too much.
When six months had passed since his previous measurement, he decided to measure again. He told himself the results wouldn’t be spectacular, especially with the weight loss. But the world had calmed down, the boys were back in the bunker, and he had been able to inflate three nights in a row.
So just like the last time, Dean waited until 1am, pumped himself full to bursting, and measured. 39 and a half inches. He was so close to his goal! He could feel that his body had changed. His abs had all but disappeared, and with each inflation, his belly button became more shallow, straining to push outward and make more room for air. Dean released the tape measure and put his hands on either side of his belly.
That’s when he noticed: his sides were rounding out. Before he simply looked bloated. But now, he was finally starting to take the shape of a sphere. With this revelation, he felt his arousal again. Instinctually he look down, but all he saw was belly. He could no longer see his own cock! Ever so gingerly, Dean stood, making sure to not let any air escape. His back arched as he shuffled to his mirror. Waddling. Holy shit, I’m waddling. He ran his hand down his belly, reveling at the size and shape. Soon he’d be at 40 inches. His next goal would be 42.
~o~O~o~
It took only three months to hit that next goal. 42 inches.
When he had set his heart on that number, he told Sam that he was ready to start slowing down. Sam was taken aback at first, but Dean assured him it wasn’t retirement. More like a sabbatical. “Yes, Sam, I know what a sabbatical is.”
When Sam pressed him, asking him what was really going on, Dean paused. Embarrassed to tell the truth, he let that blushing lead him into his lie. “I need to take some time for my mental health.” Sam nodded and said that he understood. Dean had been going hard for years, decades. He needed a break.
Later that night, Sam approached Dean, telling him he had an awkward question. Panic flooded Dean as he wondered if his brother had figured it out. Had he left an inflation video up on his laptop? He was surprised when Sam asked, “Are you in AA?”
It was true that ever since starting his new hobby, Dean had been drinking less and less, nearly to the point of sobriety. Even just that night, he had turned down a beer when Sam had offered one. Little did Sam know, Dean’s time and energy was all spent on getting bigger, pushing his body further. He didn’t even miss the booze, instead finding his joy with air.
When Dean didn’t immediately answer, and then started to stammer, Sam spoke for him. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m really proud of you. I know you still drink from time to time, and that’s okay. I mean who wouldn’t with our job. But it’s clear you’re doing so much better. Don’t laugh, but it’s like happiness is radiating from you again. Like when we were kids. But I want you to know, you don’t have to sneak around in the middle of the night to go to meetings.”
The lie formed organically in Dean’s mind. “I like that time for myself. Before and after the meetings, I can just drive in the darkness, clear my head. Plus,” he pretended to be embarrassed, “at night is when the cravings get intense. The drink-till-I-blackout cravings.” A year earlier, that wouldn’t have been a lie. He grimaced as he looked up at his brother.
Sam gave a sympathetic smile and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, “It’s okay, Dean. It’s no secret we drink too much. I’d be lying if I said I’ve never had those thoughts.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m really trying to stop that. And filling that time with meetings seems to be doing the job. I know that the whole point of the program is abstinence, but I don’t know if I’ll quit entirely,” and he sure as hell didn’t want to quit drinking. “Either way, the group is really helping me moderate it. Keep myself in check, ya know? It’s why I want to slow down on hunts for a while. Recharge, re-balance. All that New Age hippie shit you love.”
Sam smiled widely and pulled his brother into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
And that was how Dean Winchester found time to inflate his belly twice a day.
~o~O~o~
Even with his more intense inflation schedule, Dean found it hard to increase his capacity. It was like he hit a plateau at 42 and a half inches. After six weeks with no change, frustration set in. That week, he had decided to go on a hunt again, the first one since his “epiphany” with Sam.
They got to the town late after driving all day, and decided to start interviewing people first thing in the morning. Dinner was at a greasy spoon, where Dean gorged himself. Burger, loaded fries, chicken tenders, a slice of pie, and a milkshake to boot. Sam didn’t say a word, but Dean felt his stare. Back at the hotel, after a quick shower, Dean exited the bathroom, towel around his waist. When he glanced up, he saw that Sam was sneaking glances at his midsection. “See something you like?” Dean muttered as he reached into his duffle for his pajamas.
“Sorry,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You just look… different.”
Dean looked down at his body. Stretch marks from his previous binges were already fading, though new ones had started to form. As his frustration had built, he had turned back to food and hadn’t even realized that he’d put the weight back on. And on top of that, his stomach wasn’t bouncing back after inflations quite as much as it once did. Dean realized he had stretched it out so many times, he had permanently loosened his muscles and skin. Add on that night’s binge, and Dean was looking plump. Bloated. He felt excitement at that revelation, and more importantly felt a twitch in his cock.
His thoughts were interrupted when Sam spoke again. “Maybe we should slow down on the diner food. Find healthier stuff.”
Dean’s body was changing so much that his brother was noticing and was worried. Hiding his smile, Dean tried to act hurt as he quickly abandoned his pajamas for regular clothes that were rapidly becoming too tight, and told Sam that he was going to find a meeting. He didn’t know why, but making a game out of it, even if he was the only one “playing,” was a new kind of excitement. And plus, this would give him another opportunity to inflate. He knew his small bulb pump was still safely tucked away in its hiding spot in the Impala. Good ol’ Baby always kept his secrets safe.
Dean drove to the next town over and rented a room with a fake credit card. Normally, he’d just inflate in his car, but that night he wanted to do it right. Readying the room, he laid out his pump and tubing on the bed before stripping down to his boxers. He paused for a moment and considered if he should leave the boxers on. There was no need to take them off, knowing that he’d cum just fine without the help of his five fingered friend. Plus, he enjoyed feeling the elastic tighten…
Once on the bed, he started pumping away. The bulb pump was much slower than the bike pump, but sometimes that meant he could push himself further, let his body adjust better.
Lost in a trance, Dean pumped for what seemed like hours. Squeeze, count to five as the air shifted, and repeat. He could feel his skin stretching, feel heat radiating through him like it hadn’t for some time. Air was filling every nook and cranny of his body. It tried to find its way up his throat, but he wouldn’t let it. Right hand occupied with the pump, he rested his left hand on his belly. His eyes were closed, but he could feel how large he was getting, rounding out into a sphere. He gently pressed into his side and felt virtually no give. His cock was at full attention, edging to be set off with every squeeze of the bulb. One more pump and Dean felt a new sensation. It was a little pop, and a little relief. He was so close, he pumped again, four times in rapid succession, and his orgasm took off, cataclysmic.
His heart was racing. Something was different but at first he couldn’t tell what. Once his breathing had calmed, Dean opened his eyes and looked at his body. “Holy. Shit.”
A small nub of skin was protruding out. He had inverted his belly button! He pressed it back in, but as soon as he removed his finger, the belly button popped right back out.
He’d read in forums that some claimed this was possible, but no one had ever posted a picture or video of them actually doing it. Dean laughed. He had finally reached a new level. He had no idea what his measurement was, and doubted it was much more than before, but it was at least at its max. After all, the pressure had built so much inside him that it was pushing his insides out.
Laughing apparently had been the wrong move as it flexed his muscles and a cramp hit him hard. Dean winced and shut his eyes, putting a hand on either side of his belly. Yep, he had overdone it that day, but he had no regrets.
“Dean,” came a gravelly voice, “Are you okay?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Dean opened his eyes and saw Cas standing by the hotel door, looking at him quizzically. Never before had he been so happy to have his boxers on as his body betrayed him again. Getting caught in the act was somehow more arousing than inflating! He realized that in his haste to inflate, he forgot to cast the spell. It took him another moment to realize just why Cas had appeared. I thought of him as I came.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean said with a chuckle, hands still on either side of him as he begged his erection to go away. “You caught me in quite the state, huh?”
“You’re in pain. I can help,” Cas said as he took a step forward and reached his arm out.
“No, no, no,” Dean quickly replied, propping himself up on his elbows, His belly strained as it was compressed slightly, hitting a new erogenous zone. Dean stifled a moan as he said, “I did this on purpose.” He let his arms fall out from under himself and he immediately started rubbing and patting his belly, unable to contain his pleasure and not caring that Cas was seeing the whole show. “Do me a favor and disappear for a couple hours so I can make myself decent. And don’t talk to anyone!” Dean blurted just before Cas vanished.
After taking care of business, Dean had left the air in himself for an hour to encourage stretching, and then deflated, getting most out before Cas arrived. Dean was sad to see his belly button go back in, but he couldn’t hold the air in forever. Just as he was finishing cleaning up, and two hours later on the dot, Cas reappeared.
“Come on,” Dean said as he finished dressing, squelching a burp from the last bit of air that was still in his stomach. “Let’s find some grub. I’m starving.”
“But your stomach,” Cas replied with confusion. “It was so distended before.”
“Food first. Then we’ll talk.”
They found the greasiest of greasy spoons about ten minutes from the hotel. Dean ordered himself two meals and then one for Cas, which he knew he’d eat too. With a mouthful of burger he said, “So you’ve got questions.”
Cas nodded as he sat with his hands clasped in his lap. “What were you doing?”
Dean looked around the diner. It was pretty empty since it was the middle of the night, and they were in the back corner with no one around to overhear what he was about to say. “Tube up the ass, pump myself full of air, and get off.”
Cas furrowed his brow. “Why?”
This was going to be an awkward conversation, no matter how it happened. Why was he doing this to himself night after night? Dean looked down at his plate and then back up at Cas. “Remember when I taught you about kinks?” Cas nodded. “Well this is mine.”
“What does it accomplish?”
Dean smiled. Sometimes talking to Cas was like teaching a kid the birds and the bees. “People do kinks because they feel good for them. And this feels amazing for me. Better than any sex I’ve ever had.”
Still not understanding, Cas said, “But it looked so painful. You were groaning. And it can’t be safe.”
Dean leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I was moaning. It was a happy noise,” he said with a wink. Sitting upright again, he took another bite of his burger and said, “It’s probably not the safest, but that’s part of the thrill. So is the pain. I’m trying to get as big as possible. Stretch myself out. Tonight was my biggest yet.” He smiled proudly.
Cas nodded as he thought about what he was being told. He wanted to help his friend achieve his goals. “I can help. My powers can relax your body and allow it to stretch to infinite sizes.”
Desire flashed in Dean’s eyes as he understood what that could mean. He could get so big, he’d fill a room… But then he shook his head. “I appreciate that, but that sounds like cheating. Anyway, feeling the pressure, like I’m gonna burst, is half the fun. And this needs to be kept secret. Just between you and me. Sam, Eileen, and Jack can’t know that I’m doing this, okay? That’s part of what a kink is: something you keep secret, even from family.” The fact that kinks were usually shared between romantic partners, and Cas was the only being to know, wasn’t lost on Dean. Not to mention that I thought of him when…
“But–”
“No ‘buts’, Cas. If you’re my friend, you won’t tell anyone or anything what you saw tonight.”
Cas hesitated, but nodded. “Yes, Dean.”
Dean smiled again. “Good. Now give me your plate.” He reached across the table and swapped their plates so they looked less suspicious.
“Is gaining weight part of this kink also?” Cas asked as he pulled the empty plate closer to himself.
With a chuckle Dean asked, “You noticed that?”
With a quick glance down at what he could see of Dean’s body in the booth, Cas replied, “Yes. I was first aware of it a few months ago, though the difference was slight then and seemed to reduce. Tonight your body was quite visible when I arrived. And the added weight was even more noticeable once your abdomen had returned to its normal state. I’d estimate you’ve gained about twenty pounds recently. Very recently actually, based on the striations on your abdomen.”
Dean blushed. “It, uh… blowing myself up makes me hungry. Unexpected side-effect.”
Twenty minutes later, with all the food gone, Dean was bloated in a very different way. As soon as they sat in the car, Cas had said goodnight and flew away to who-knows-where. Sitting in the parking lot and burping out as much air as he could, Dean put his hands on his belly, feeling the renewed roundness. Stretching out his abs meant he could eat so much more throughout the day, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Undoing his jeans button to get some relief, Dean said to himself, “Can’t keep eating like this.”
~o~O~o~
By the time Dean got back to their shared hotel room, Sam was fast asleep. In the morning, Dean woke, stretching with a groan. When he looked up, he saw Sam at the table, working on his laptop. A quick glance up at Dean revealed a worried expression.
“What’s eating you?” Dean asked as he swung his feet to the floor.
“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I hope it didn’t derail your progress.”
For an instant, Dean again thought Sam knew what he was doing, that he had either figured it out or Cas had said something. It took a moment for Dean to remember his cover story — that he had gone to an AA meeting. “No, man. I went to a meeting and then went to get some food. I’m too thick skinned for what you said to hurt me.” He patted his belly, still bloated with the three meals he crammed into it the night before. “And literally now too, huh?” Dean chuckled and saw some tension leave Sam’s face. “I didn’t drink last night, but that doesn’t mean I won’t ever again. Remember I’m working on moderation more than abstinence.”
Sam nodded. “I am sorry for what I said, though. It was kind of a dick thing. We’re both getting older, and with you not hunting as much…”
“No, you were right. Clothes are getting a little too tight for my liking. I’m gonna slow down on the food,” Dean said, and he meant it. He knew that the layer of fat he was growing was probably getting in the way with expanding his inflation size. He just didn’t know how he’d be able to do that when binging felt so good after a big blow-up session. But maybe his friendly guardian angel could help after all…
~o~O~o~
Dean saw Cas walk past his room. “Cas, come in here,” Dean called out with his head down towards his phone. When he looked up, Cas was standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong? Come on.”
“You warded your room, Dean.” Cas said, matter-of-factly.
“Oh, shit, forgot about that.” Dean stood up and scratched some paint off the sigil on the wall. When Cas stepped in, Dean closed the door and asked, “We still alone in the bunker?”
“Yes. Jack found some Tiebetian monks he wanted to help, and Sam and Eileen likely won’t be home before tomorrow.”
“Perfect. I need to talk to you.” Dean sat on the end of his bed and patted it, inviting Cas to do the same. “Remember what we talked about the other night at the diner? What you walked in on me doing in the hotel.”
“Of course,” Cas replied as he sat.
“You said I’ve gained twenty pounds–”
“I apologize,” Cas interrupted as his eyes scanned down Dean’s clothed body. “I believe I misestimated the amount.”
Relief flooded through Dean. He knew he hadn’t gained that much. “Oh?”
“Yes. Upon second examination, I now believe you’ve gained approximately twenty-eight pounds.”
Dean felt his face turn beet red. Twenty-eight pounds?! Shit! Dean tried to hide his panic with a chuckle. “Well, then I need you more than I thought.” He looked down and saw he had started unconsciously rubbing his belly. “Can you make it go away?”
“Make what go away?” Cas asked, tilting his head slightly.
Dean patted his belly. “This. The fat.”
“But I thought you enjoyed your kink.” The statement was innocent, and Dean could tell Cas was trying to learn.
“I do. But this,” Dean stood and pinched at his belly, “Sam pointed it out. He made a comment about my weight, so it’s gotta be pretty obvious.”
Cas tilted his head in the other direction. “Why do Sam’s thoughts on your weight matter?”
Dean paused in thought. Did they matter? After all, at first Dean had been thrilled that his changes were being noticed. He shook his head remembering that the weight itself wasn’t the problem. “No, I guess they don’t. But the added padding is making it harder for me to inflate like I want to. So, I don’t know, maybe you could make five pounds disappear today, another five in a week or two. We’d have to make it look natural though. If I drop thirty pounds in one day, Sam’ll know something’s up.”
“Why can’t you exercise like other humans?”
Dean rolled his eyes and sat back down. “Have you met me? I’m lazy! And I’m in my forties. It’ll take me a year to lose thirty pounds.”
“I don’t know, Dean.”
“Come on, buddy. You were willing to help me stretch, but you’re not willing to help me shrink so that I can stretch? Plus, losing weight will be good for my health.”
With a furrowed brow, Cas asked, “So you only want to get back to your more healthy weight of 195 pounds?”
Dean was taken aback. “195? I thought I was in the 180s.”
“Not for a couple years, Dean.”
Dean swore he saw a slight smirk as Cas said that. But then he paused and did the math. 195 plus 28 pounds is… “Wait. Do I weigh more than Sam?”
“Yes. You’ve… I think the term is ‘filled out’,” Cas replied with air quotes.
“Shit. Fine, take me back down to 195, I guess. A little less if you’re feeling generous. But like I said, not all at once. And maybe you can do some hocus pocus so that I stay at that weight. My appetite’s been off the charts, and I don’t see that slowing anytime soon.” As if on cue, his stomach let out a long, low rumble. He had never been a calorie counter like Sam, but he knew he was eating well over the recommended amount more days than not. He had eaten lunch only an hour earlier, but obviously he had trained his body to need more.
“Let’s get some food,” he said, clapping his hand on Cas’ shoulder and standing before even getting affirmation that Cas would agree to help.
“Is your plan to actively work against my powers?” Cas asked as they started their way to the kitchen.
“Nah, not ‘actively’. But why not enjoy indulging if I can?” Dean grabbed a bag of chips and ripped it open, shoving a handful into his mouth. “I mean, I know yo-yo dieting isn’t all that healthy either, but whatever you do will be safe, right?”
Cas leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Of course I won’t harm you. But I don’t understand why this is so important to you.”
Dean shrugged. “Like I said the other day, it feels good. I don’t get my jollies that much anymore, but this does the trick.”
“Then I’d like to be a part of it.”
Dean choked on a mouthful of chips. “You want to do what now?”
“Inflate you. I’d like to inflate you, if you’d be comfortable with that.”
Heat rose from deep inside Dean. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”
~o~O~o~
Dean had seen videos of people being inflated by other people, their partners maybe. But Cas wasn’t his partner. They’d never broached the topic even though Dean’s mind had wandered that direction more than once. The thrill of possibly being inflated by someone else sent a new kind of excitement through Dean. He would no longer be in control.
They decided to try it that day, knowing the others wouldn’t be around. No time like the present, right? Dean told Cas to wait outside his room while he got ready. He didn’t want the angel to see the not-so-sexy part of shoving the tube up his ass. Dean opted to stay dressed in his boxers and tee shirt. The boxers for basic decency, and the tee shirt because he was curious how it would stretch. The shirt was already feeling tight with the weight gain, riding up every so often when he was extra full of food. What would it do when his body was inflated?
Dean laid down on the bed, getting himself into position and then called for Cas to come in. Entering the room, Cas looked unsure of what to do. With hesitation, he went to the other side of the bed, sitting down but staying upright. Dean handed him the ball pump. He had decided on that one to start slow. Maybe with time they would build up to the full bicycle pump.
“What do I do?” Cas asked.
“Just squeeze it. Might take a while to fill me up, but don’t go too fast.” Dean relaxed his shoulders and put a hand on either side of his belly. This would be the first time he could feel the entire process from the outside. He wanted to enjoy it.
Cas squeezed.
Immediately Dean felt himself start to get hard. Usually it took so much more, but the thrill of Cas doing it sent shockwaves through his body.
“Again,” Dean said and closed his eyes. Cas complied. “Slow and steady. Keep going until I say to stop.”
Cas pumped every few seconds. Dean could feel the air filling him from the inside and out. His hands rose with his belly. His heart was racing, and he didn’t know if he would be able to contain himself. As his belly started to get tight, he felt the fabric of his tee shirt stretch and his boxers begin to pinch. He slid the waistband down to below his growing orb, feeling some relief.
Dean tried to concentrate so that he didn’t cum too soon. He wanted to get full, make it worth it. He was doing so well, holding down burps and feeling his skin stretch. And then…
As another pump of air went inside him, a third hand rested on his belly. And Dean came.
Dean looked down at himself and saw the hand. Connected to Cas. Who was wearing a smile. “I can feel the euphoria inside you,” he said.
“More,” Dean gasped, pressing his head back into the pillow and enjoying every molecule entering him. Cas did as he was told. One squeeze, wait five seconds, repeat. Dean felt Cas’ hand on him, rubbing his belly ever so gently.
“Your skin is getting warm,” Cas said.
Dean nodded but kept his eyes closed. He swallowed down a burp. “That happens.”
“Does it hurt?” Another pump went in.
Dean nodded again, gasping, “In the best way.” Dean moaned. He felt huge and round and ready to pop. “I’m full. I’m so full. Stop.”
Cas’ hand stopped rubbing but stayed rested on Dean’s belly. “No,” Cas said, “You can handle more.”
Dean opened his eyes and looked at Cas. The angel was still smiling. Dean couldn’t tell if he was looking for permission or obedience. But he didn’t care. He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”
Dean came three times that night. Cas pushed his limits so far, his shirt barely covered him and his belly button popped again. But this time, Dean was so full, he couldn’t move, could barely breathe as his lungs were compressed by the air in his guts. He felt like he could rip in two if any more air went inside him, but knew that Cas wouldn’t let that happen.
Euphoria. That’s what Cas had called it. Dean was filled with euphoria.
And that was when Dean Winchester knew Cas was taking over the pump.
~o~O~o~
“45 inches,” Dean said.
“What?” Cas asked as he sat on Dean’s bed, rubbing the globe of a belly he had created that night.
“I want to be 45 inches around. I mean, I want to get bigger, but 45 inches is my next goal.” Dean patted his belly and almost came again at the drum sound it made. He swallowed a burp. “We can do it.”
“How large are you now?” Cas asked.
“Last I checked, a little over 43 inches. And with the way you’ve been filling me, I’ll be 45 in no time.” Every night for two weeks, after Sam and Eileen were fast asleep, Cas had been going into Dean’s room to inflate his friend, pushing the hunter’s body to its limits. Dean suddenly realized that a gain of a half inch in two weeks was very fast, especially considering Cas had already removed eight pounds off of him. Furrowing his brow, Dean asked, “You haven’t been stretching me with magic, have you? ‘Cause I told you I don’t want that.”
“No, Dean. The only angel power I’ve been using, apart from the fat removal, has been to make certain you don’t rupture anything. Your increased size is all from our hard work. Your muscles have become much more elastic.” Cas gave the belly a little pat, getting his own amusement out of the sound.
“Good,” Dean said with a smile. “Now what do you say about melting another pound off me, and we can see if we can’t add a few more pumps?”
“I think we can manage more than a few,” Cas replied with a gummy grin.
~o~O~o~
“Are you sure you don’t want me to use my powers to help you reach our new goal?”
Dean sighed. Cas had asked him this nearly every day for two months. He understood the angel’s desire to help, he did. But he also wanted to do it on his own. Or, well, let his body decide how much it would stretch. “Cas, I’ve already told you, it feels like cheating doing that. And I like the pressure.”
The reason they kept having this conversation was because Dean had actually gone down in size. At his peak, he was able to get to 43 inches. But after that he plateaued. And then, with Cas helping him lose weight, his max inflated size had dropped to 41 and a half inches. That had been his size just that night. And now Dean felt deflated, both in anatomy and in spirits.
Cas lounged next to him on the bed, his hand resting on Dean’s flat stomach. Well, mostly flat. He was still hovering around 208 pounds. They had decided to really keep the weight loss slow so that Sam didn’t get suspicious. Or more suspicious than he already was. After he had come back from a hunt a few weeks back, he had commented on Dean looking trim.
“Yeah, well,” Dean had said as he came up with a reason for the weight loss, “turns out I was replacing booze with food. Meetings have been helping me keep that in check too.” Thankfully Sam hadn’t been around to see his continuing post-inflation binges.
To this Cas rolled his eyes and said, “Just be honest Dean.” Panic flooded the hunter as he was afraid of what the angel would say. “Sam, when you’ve been on hunts, Dean has been spending his free time in the bunker gymnasium. That’s always the first place I look for him now.” Relief coursed through Dean as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Wait. Our new goal?” Dean said, bringing himself back to the present.
“Yes,” Cas replied, his thumb gently stroking Dean’s belly.
“Since when did it become our goal?” Dean wasn’t upset at this phrasing, but was confused by Cas’ apparent ownership of what they were doing.
“Why wouldn’t it be? I’ve been the one pushing you further, haven’t I?” He pulled his hand away, evoking a little whine from Dean.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Dean said as he put Cas’ hand back in place. “So what is that goal?”
Cas thought for a moment. “I think 50 inches is a nice round number.”
Dean started feeling excited at that idea, but then was brought back to reality. “That’ll never happen, Cas. Even when I was fat, I was inches away from that. No way I can do that now.” He was disappointed in having to say that, but he also didn’t want to get his own hopes up.
Cas frowned. “Give me one opportunity to show you how I can help you stretch and you will still enjoy the pressure building up. If you don’t like it, everything will go back to how it currently is.”
Dean considered this option. What was the worst that could happen? He knew he wasn’t going to pop, but he might get to enjoy the feeling of being that big just once. He nodded. “Trial run, that’s all.”
~o~O~o~
Once Dean had readied himself, making sure he had stretchy clothes to really feel the tightness, he gave Cas the signal to start. The angel began slowly, just like any other session. Dean felt the air shift and pressure build as the minutes passed. They reached a point where Dean felt full. Not bursting, but full.
“Want me to keep going naturally?” Cas asked.
Caressing his bloated belly and noting that the hem of his shirt had crept up a few inches, Dean said, “Yeah. At least until my button pops.”
As Cas continued, still slowly to let Dean’s body stretch, Dean felt his lung capacity shrink as his guts expanded. With a pat, Dean heard the drum sound. He could feel his skin stretching, and the tell-tale itchiness around his navel. It only took a dozen more pumps before the pop.
“I think I’m at capacity, Cas,” Dean said, trying to hold in all the air. And then he felt his angel put the measuring tape around him.
“You’re almost at 42 inches, Dean. Want to keep going?”
This would be the time to turn back. “I um,” Dean stammered. “Yeah. Keep going.”
Cas laid a finger on Dean’s bloated belly. Dean didn’t know what he was expecting to feel – warmth, cold, pressure subsiding – but he felt nothing except the same tightness.
“I don’t think it worked,” he said. Dean’s hands were on his belly, his shirt now nothing more than a crop top. He could tell that he wasn’t as big as he used to be, but he was still quite round.
“It worked,” Cas replied as he started pumping again.
Oh. Oh, this was different. Dean felt and heard the air moving inside of him. He could feel the shifting skin under his fingertips. After several more minutes, with Cas showing no sign of slowing down, Dean started to worry. The pressure was building so much, he was sure he was going to blow. But he wanted to keep going, see how much he could take. Dean craned his head up slightly, and realized he could no longer see his feet. His belly had become an orb.
“Cas, stop,” he said, genuinely worried now. A burp escaped. “I don’t think I can take any more.”
Cas pulled the tape measure around him again. “You’re at 48 inches already, Dean. You can take two more.” Without waiting for a response, Cas began pumping again.
48 inches, Dean thought, There’s no way. He winced at the tightness he felt. It didn’t hurt, not exactly, but it didn’t feel natural. His skin felt warm as it stretched to its limits. And it felt tender near the base of his belly. Dean didn’t realize that Cas had stopped pumping, but then he noticed that the sound of whooshing air had stopped.
“Am I…?” Dean asked.
“You’re at 50 inches, Dean. Though I do have some bad news.”
Dean furrowed his brow. What could it have been? Did the angel juice not work and he was actually injured? Would he be stuck like this somehow? “What happened to me, Cas?”
Standing up and moving the mirror so that Dean could see without needing to get up himself, Cas said, “I wanted you to feel the pressure, so I didn’t elasticate your skin as much as maybe I should have. You have some new striae, I’m afraid.”
Dean looked in the mirror. Sure enough, there, at the base of his belly where he had that odd sensation, he saw new stretch marks. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. “You ripped me.”
“I’m sorry, Dean. I did this without asking. I can remove them–”
“No,” Dean interrupted, shaking his head. He ran his finger along one, and then glanced at Cas. “Can we make them bigger?”
Cas smiled. “Of course, Dean.” He started pumping again, and as the next few minutes passed, Dean watched as the stretch marks grew in length and in width.
And that was when Dean Winchester decided he wanted to be Cas’ balloon.
~o~O~o~
That first magic session had been amazing. In the end, Dean let Cas grow him to 55 inches, and then he waddled around the room giggling. When he sat, the giant ball belly sat on his legs, forcing Dean to open them slightly. He felt massive.
Dean wanted to keep his stretch marks, like little tattoos that Cas had put on him. But Cas pointed out that eventually Sam would see them and worry. Especially since, as far as Sam knew, Dean had never been so big to get marks that size. Dean couldn’t argue with that. So Dean and Cas came to the agreement that Cas would shrink Dean down and remove the inflation marks each time.
Still, that night Cas let Dean keep his size for a while longer, if only so they’d have something to cuddle.
When Dean woke hours later, he realized he was fully deflated and stepped out of his room quietly, pulling the door shut behind him. Still groggy, he jumped when he nearly ran into Sam in the hall.
“What are you doing home?” Dean asked a little more harshly than needed.
“Wow,” Sam said, “You might need a little more sleep, Cranky. I texted you last night that we’d be back this morning. The hunt went quicker than we thought.”
Both men heard a creak behind them and turned to see Cas leave Dean’s room, all bedhead and crumpled pajamas. Dean’s pajamas.
Sam looked back and forth between the angel and the hunter. “Um. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Dean quickly replied.
Still confused, Sam asked, “Are you two… an item?”
In unison the two spoke. “Yes,” said Dean. “No,” said Cas. And then they stopped to look at one another.
“Are we not?” Dean asked, hurt creeping into his voice.
“I didn’t know if you wanted to be,” Cas replied.
“You fucking moron,” Dean replied as he grabbed the sides of Cas’ face and planted a kiss on his lips. Pulling apart but not taking his eyes off Cas, Dean said, “Sam, you’re gonna be pairing up with Eileen full-time. I’m officially retiring.”
And that was how Dean Wincester and Castiel became a couple, retired, and spent their days blowing Dean up.