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“Goddamn, motherfucking, shit-licking, good-for-nothing witches!” Dean’s voice borders on hysterical as he punches the roof of the Impala.
“Dude, calm down, you’re gonna make a dent and then regret it.” Sam tries to keep his voice even and soothing, but he’s as thrown as Dean is.
Dean reaches out and strokes the dashboard as he murmurs, “Sorry, Baby.”
They’d already called Bobby and he’d cursed them out well and truly for messing with witches—“But we didn’t know!” Dean nearly whined—he said there wasn’t anything to do except wait for the effects of the curse to wear off.
Sam tries to keep his eyes on the road and away from Dean’s ever-expanding chest, but it’s fascinating to see his brother’s flat chest slowly develop breasts like a young girl.
Dean had reluctantly agreed to let Sam drive as the soreness and tightness in his pectorals increased and distracted him from keeping his thoughts on the road. Sam’s pretty sure Dean is as irritated by that as he is by his newly developing…breasts.
It was supposed to be a simple job—in and out—find the hex bags and burn them. But they got caught by the man who placed the hexes—he’d been watching the house, determined that the object of his ire get what he felt was coming to them. Turns out he was recently dumped by the girl (Melanie) who had hired them and he didn’t take kindly to the Winchesters trying to foil his revenge. He had barged into the house not long after they entered, took one look at the two of them, cackled heartily and then dug in his pants pocket and blew what he took out directly into Dean’s face.
At least, that’s what they thought. Things were a bit hazy after that and the man had managed to disappear without so much as a chase by Sam or Dean who found themselves driving down the road away from the town without any cognizant realization of how they’d got there. About thirty minutes later, Dean started to complain about the soreness of his pecs. Thirty minutes after that, Sam was driving and here they were.
They’d determined not to go back to finish the job until after whatever curse the man had placed on Dean wore off. It sucked, but sometimes retreat was the better part of valor. When they returned, they’d be better equipped for what they were dealing with. And Melanie’s ex-better stay the fuck away if he had any sense of self-preservation.
Since then, Dean’s been bitching and moaning about his chest and Sam has been doing everything possible not to catalog each minute change that he could see happening under Dean’s shirt. Dean cups his hands to his chest (breasts Sam’s mind supplied) and gently massages the budding flesh there. Dean lets out tiny pained whimpers every now and again that send a pulse of heat directly to his cock. If those noises weren’t so damned familiar (Fuck, Sam, right there, yes…) Sam’d have a much easier time focusing on the road ahead.
It's another twenty minutes before Sam can’t take it anymore and finally pulls over at the closest town, parks at the run-down motel, and rushes into the office for a room before Dean can protest.
Key in hand, he pulls open the passenger door from where Dean has made no effort to move. Sam grips his brother’s bicep and hauls him out of the car, slamming the door behind.
“Sam, what the fuck, man?!” Dean protests as Sam pulls him towards room eleven and jams the key in the door, turns the lock and yanks him inside.
Sam doesn’t answer, just pushes Dean up against the door and pulls his shirt up. Sam inhales sharply as he stares at the swollen mounds on Dean’s chest; small, and pert, Dean’s pectorals have softened and changed shape, shifting from stretched muscle to gently curving rounds with rosy areolae at their peak. Even his nipples have changed, becoming larger and more pronounced.
He can’t help himself, Sam drops his head and licks at one perky nipple, eliciting a hiss from Dean.
“Sam…Sammy, what are you…” Dean trails off as Sam stretches his mouth wide and takes as much of Dean’s newly budded breast into his mouth as he can. The pained moan was back and Sam’s cock threatens to burst out of his jeans.
“So beautiful, Dean. Always so beautiful…” Sam husks as he moves to Dean’s other new and tender breast, giving it the same wide-mouthed treatment.
Dean squeaks and brings a hand up to cover his abandoned breast, “Goddamn, the air’s cold. Fucking hurts.” His protest quickly turns to a moan as Sam warms his other breast with his mouth, “How do girls do this? Everything is sore, and tight, and aches.”
Sam moves his mouth off his brother and says, “You’re still growing, can feel you getting bigger inside my mouth.” Dean looks down and sees nothing but lust and wonder writ large across his little brother’s face. He supposes he can put up with a bit of pain if it made Sammy look at him like that.
Sam moves from breast to breast and Dean’s body finally starts to connect the dots, more precisely, his new breasts (dear lord…breasts) seemed to have a direct line to his cock. He moves a hand down and starts rubbing himself through his jeans as Sam laves each of his new breasts with his tongue and lips, licking and sucking and just holding each one in his hot mouth.
“Sammy, don’t want to come standing against the door, man.” He presses on his brother’s shoulders angling him towards the bed. Sam rips the coverlet off and tosses it in the corner before rounding on Dean and manhandling him to get all his clothes off. Sam then strips efficiently, never taking his eyes off Dean and joins him on the bed before Dean can even find his bearings.
Sam is single-minded and focuses his attention back on Dean’s breasts (holy fuck…breasts) and then scrapes Dean’s nipple with his nail. Dean flinches as it sends a shock of pain through him and a throb through the tissue of his breast. Something white and liquid appears at the tip of his breast. Sam catches it with his thumb. They both stare at the bead of it threatening to run down Sam’s finger.
Dean’s brain starts panic—full-blown, bring-the-house-down, call-the-men-in-the-white-jackets, panic—when he sees Sam bring his finger to his mouth, watches as he delicately sucks the liquid from his finger, pink lips wrapped around it as if loathe to let it go. Sam hums around it and Dean can’t breathe.
“Not bad.”
Dean watches as Sam licks his lips like he’s still tasting Dean’s milk on his tongue and looking for more.
“God, Dean, you’ve got tits.” He cups Dean’s chest in his hands, “Perfect handfuls.” He jiggles them slightly and this time both nipples let out a tiny bead of white. “Look at you, so gorgeous.”
Dean can feel the blush starting. He looks down at his newly formed breasts and moans as he watches Sam’s huge hands wrapped around each of his tits (Jesus, Mary and Joseph…tits—he’s got tits), his thumbs moving to rub at his nipples, moving the rising liquid around and around.
Sam is sliding his hips against Dean’s and his trapped cock is starting to leak just like his new tits. He feels like he’s on over load as he croaks out, “Go ahead. Know you want to.”
Sam flicks a quick grin at him before leaning down. His hair tickles Dean’s collarbone and the itchy ache that had started to develop in his breasts is soothed by Sam latching on. His mouth is warm and wet and everything Dean didn’t know he was craving. When Sam moans Dean feels it shoot through his body. He doesn’t mean to push his chest into Sam’s mouth, but he can’t help it. It’s like they were both made for this.
When Sam starts sucking in earnest, there’s a mix of pain and relief as Sam’s mouth pulls at Dean’s tender nipples. Sam’s so careful and gentle, with soft soothing laps against his nipples, as he switches back and forth from one breast to another.
Dean wants Sam to keep sucking, drawing his tits into his mouth, sucking at his nipples, swallowing his milk (his motherfucking milk), but his cock is hard and aching too and he wants so badly to fuck or be fucked. Sam’s moved position and is sitting in Dean’s lap now, rubbing his ass over Dean’s cock and he’s slowly losing his mind.
“Killing me Sam.” Dean’s hand cards through Sam’s hair as he grinds up into his brother’s tight crack.
Sam pulls off for a moment, eyes blown, lips wet with milk, “Taste so good, Dean. Running dry now though, but you taste so good.”
Dean groans and pushes his hips up to roll against his brother, when Sam moves back down to latch back onto his right nipple, he can’t hold back any longer. The feel of Sam’s hot mouth pulling at his tender flesh, the hard length of Sam’s cock on his stomach, the sweaty glide of his cock against Sam’s ass sends him spinning over the edge. He can’t remember the last time he came this hard, phosphenes bursting behind his eyelids, muscles loose and languid. And still Sammy sucks.
Dean pushes him away gently—he just can’t take any more abuse on his newly grown breasts, no matter how good it felt moments ago.
Sam whines, literally whines and looks at Dean like a child whose favorite toy has been taken away.
“You’re not done yet,” Dean says. “I want you to come in my mouth. I want to be as full of you as you are of me.”
Sam moves up to bracket Dean’s head with his knees, eager cock bobbing in the air. Dean can’t take him all the way like this, but he makes it as good as he can. He suckles at the head of Sam’s cock like Sam suckled on his breasts, he flicks his tongue along the thick vein along the bottom of Sam’s cock, he lets Sam fuck into his mouth as far as he can comfortably take. It’s only a few minutes before Sam’s shooting into his mouth, filling Dean’s mouth with come as Dean tries to swallow each drop of it.
Sam moves down and flops to the side of Dean, reaching down to hold Dean’s hand, while they both breathe deep and enjoy the afterglow.
Dean doesn’t know how much longer this curse (blessing?) is going to last, but he damn well knows they’re gonna make the best of it.