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Dean was already up a good fifteen pounds when they first moved into the bunker.
He likes food. He's always liked food. But being chased by the monster of the week had kept his weight under control.
Longer, heavier days of research had allowed his waistline to spread.
That and a damn near obsession with being the reigning champion in the local food challenges.
He and Sam had actually managed to stop the apocalypse so there wasn't much to do anyway.
Sam had dove head-first into basically becoming a hunter call centre. Organizing groups of hunter, finding hunts and doing research.
The proof of Sam's achievements were hung up on the walls, photos of successful hunts and thank you cards. Little tchotchkes from all over the world sent by grateful hunters littered every available surface. Book shelves overflowing with ancient tomes on monster lore.
Dean's achievements were written on his body. A heavy waddle and low-hanging belly. Plump cheeks and sausage fingers.
And most importantly his picture in every restaurant in a hundred mile radius.
He'd started with the local challenges, just as a way to save money. Then his competitive spirit was awoken when someone beat his finisher time.
Despite never planning it out Dean's gain could be traced through the photos in every restaurant in an almost circular pattern. Moving out, then back in again and finally centring on Lebanon.
Occasionally Dean took a trip down memory lane. In his first few photos he looked exhausted. Heavy bags under his eyes, still sleeping way too little and obviously in pain from everything he had eaten.
Compared to now, he looked gaunt. Haunted in a way that couldn't be explained by a ghost or poltergeist. In fact, between the first picture and the next few he lost weight.
Unthinkable now, but back then he couldn't stomach anything for a few days after every challenge. He quickly got used to the onslaught of food.
Over the next year his weight practically exploded. Even just 10 lbs were visible on him back then. Every day there seemed to be a new part of his body softened up by fat. A new roll to discover.
Dean clung way too long to his usual shirt size of M so that a few of the pictures show off his lower belly. After a challenge he just couldn't pull them down anymore.
He went up another two sizes in that year. His size seemed to change much quicker back then than now.
An 8 XLT has been fitting, well, covering him for close to a year now. It took much more weight now to outgrow a size.
His second year of the food challenges had seen him gain some modest fame in the foodie circles. There weren't many dedicated newcomers. Most people tried a handful of challenges and then decide it's too much of a hassle. Not Dean.
All said modest fame brings him is the occasional free dessert and selfie with a hot chick in his lap. Though as time passed the photos were dominated by men more like him. Big and wide.
Lately Baby has been getting smaller too. Her steering wheel was constantly digging into his belly now, not just after a challenge. Eventually he'd have to relinquish her to Sam. For now though he headed to his favourite restaurant just down the road.
When he'd first moved here, Dean had walked to The Salty Sow. For a while Dean had enjoyed the walks there and back again. Heavy with food, his belly would force him to slow down, really take in the feeling of being overstuffed.
Eventually though it had become a struggle just to make it back to the bunker. He'd been exhausted by the time he was home again.
Just the walk inside from the parking lot had Dean breathing heavier and desperate to sit down.
"Dean, my favourite customer!" His favourite waitress, Lori, greeted him, "your table is ready. Do you need Toni to pull it away from the booth again?"
Dean wheezed a breath and nodded. His back was painfully arched as he tried to catch his breath. Lori disappeared into the kitchen to get the strong cook.
"Dean!" Toni greeted him with a big bear hug. "Back for another challenge so soon?"
"Gotta," Dean heaved a breath, "gotta even it out."
He pointed to the photo wall opposite of his usual table. The last row of winners was off by one photo. His face dominated the wall. Every photo showed him growing wider.
Toni had finally pulled the table far enough out for Dean to squeeze in and collapse on the booth. He might have to give up his life style of in-person food challenges and pivot to delivery.
For now he was set on beating the newest challenge: a three pie speed run. The cut off was 30 minutes, the best time to beat was 21 minutes. Dean was set on beating it in 10.
Dean adjusted his belly to drop between his thighs to give his stomach room to expand. He shoved his elastic waistband underneath his belly too. With the way the booth was curved no one should be able to see his overhang peeking out underneath his shirt.
Lori came back to the table with a root beer float and a pitcher of sweet tea. Water would probably be easier to balance out the sweetness of the pie but Dean was never one to take the easy route.
"I don't think I need to explain the rules to you."
She smiled wide at Dean, then took out a stop watch.
"Let's get set, ready, go!"