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(Art by Emmatheslayer)
As all major life changing events with the Winchesters, it started explosively.
On their most recent hunt (witches! Dean’s favorite), Sam and Dean had been separated. Because it wasn’t a real case until one of them was kidnapped, tied up, or nearly killed.
The victims had all been male, handsome, with womanizing tendencies. This made Sam reasonably worried. The men had gone missing one at a time, vanishing off of the face of the earth for a month, or sometimes two, before turning up as bruised, sometimes dismembered or disfigured corpses in different creek beds and dumpsters.
Sam really didn’t want to find his brother in a creek bed. Or a dumpster.
Sam tried calling Dean’s cell phone. Every single call went straight to voicemail. No one in the town had seen Dean since they’d gone into a diner for breakfast that morning. Sam tried to think of everyone who’d been there, but it had been a busy morning with people running in and out like a swarm of ants.
It took a good day for Sam to find Dean. But kneeling on the floor of a big house in one of the town’s wealthier neighborhoods wasn’t where Sam had expected Dean to be.
Dean was unresponsive, staring ahead with drool on his chin, stripped of most of his clothes, and a cold puddle around him on the floor, stinking of urine. There were also some changes to Dean’s body. Lack of body hair, and a… a shrunken…woah. Sam suddenly wondered just what kind of humiliation the victims had gone through before their deaths. Dean was going to be livid.
With Dean deep in the witches spell, it was up to Sam to take her out. It would have been easy to overpower the witch on her own. Casting quick spells was clearly not her forte. It wouldn’t have been hard at all, if she hadn’t ordered Dean to defend her.
Dean was forced to obey any of the witch’s direct orders. But under the effects of a curse, Dean’s fighting skills were mediocre at best, and being bigger than Dean overall, Sam had almost no issue subduing Dean enough to get at the witch. Even while considerately trying to avoid “littler-than-usual” Dean.
A brief moment of opportunity and a quick firing of his gun had the witch down, and Dean started to come out of his trance. There was a lot of embarrassed swearing and an awkward search for Dean’s clothes before they finally left the witch’s house, and then the town
As they drove off, back towards the bunker, trying hard not to picture Dean when Sam had first found him, Sam was just grateful to put this whole, bizarre case behind him.
A few days later, Dean was being insufferable. But Sam kind of understood. The changes the witch had made to Dean’s… anatomy, had stayed even after her death. And Dean was often rushing to the toilet or washing damp sheets in the morning. So Sam understood why Dean was cranky and annoying. But he was trying to research a way to reverse the witch’s magic, and Dean’s constant barbed remarks and stumbling all over the bunker’s library was making an already tedious task unbearable.
Sam finally snapped. “Just sit down, shut up, and leave me the hell alone!” he barked, glaring down at the page he was reading.
And surprisingly, Dean said nothing.
For the next few hours, Sam read through the books he had on the table undisturbed. When he finally reached the end of the last book, he decided to call it a night and stood up from the table.
When he turned around, he saw Dean sitting on the floor with a half angry, half terrified face, right where he’d been complaining hours ago, his jaw tightly clamped shut, and a large puddle all around him.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. It seemed that the physical aspects of the witches curse weren’t the only things that stuck.
Months passed.
Another town, another case.
Only forty minutes out from their bunker, Sam and his brother stood in their familiar, cheaply made suits as they interviewed the police officers who’d been the first responders at the crime scene. The vic’s body was messily torn open, ribcage broken, heart missing. Coupled with the fact that the night before had been the last night of the full moon, they were obviously dealing with a werewolf. Sam knew that there wouldn’t be worry for another attack until next month. They were in no hurry. This interview was more of a formality, and all that needed to be done was a bit of not-strictly-legal investigation to determine which member of this little nothing town was chowing down on their neighbors once a month.
Sam, as was typical these days, led the questioning, Dean standing slighting behind him. Even with Dean out of his direct line of sight, Sam knew the instant that Dean lost control of his bladder.
His brother stiffened, just enough to catch Sam’s notice. There was a faint sound of hissing that Sam only heard because he was listening for it, but outwardly, Sam gave no reaction. He kept his eyes empathetic and undivided on the weary sheriff, allowing Dean the opportunity to let Sam know that it was time to leave.
Except he didn’t.
Sam kept asking questions, unnecessary and intended only to give the civilian some kind of reassurance that the FBI would put a stop to whatever was mangling his friends. And Dean kept quiet, ignoring the instructions that Sam had given him, disobeying his daddy’s rules.
Finally, Sam decided that he’d given Dean more than enough opportunity to be a good boy, so he thanked the officer for his time, and with a casual looking hand on Dean’s shoulder, began to steer them towards the car.
The moment they were out of earshot of the policemen, Dean started to speak up.
“Sammy, I–”
“You ought to close your mouth before I plug it,” Sam said in a low voice. “You disobeyed me, Dean.”
Dean’s mouth snapped shut, and he looked at Sam with wide, confused eyes. Sam continued to push Dean, steadily moving him forwards until they reached the Impala, keeping his eyes focused ahead. “You were supposed to tell me as soon as you were wet.”
“I was! I was trying to tell you!”
“No,” Sam corrected with his scolding tone. “No you stood there for at least ten minutes after you wet your diaper, and didn’t tell me.”
Dean looked horrified. “But…but you were talking to the sheriff! You were interviewing him about the case…I thought-”
“It’s not your job to think,” Sam said sharply, spinning around to face Dean. “You’re just a little boy, Dean. It’s Daddy’s job to keep you safe, and to do that, you have to obey everything I say.”
Dean’s face was completely red, his eyes downcast in frustration and embarrassment. “I’m…sorry, Daddy,” he muttered softly.
“Sorry isn’t going to make it better this time, baby,” Sam said unapologetically. Dean looked up, about to protest, but Sam didn’t give him the chance. “I don’t want to hear another word, Dean. You can still make this worse for yourself.”
Dean swallowed thickly, and Sam could see anger boiling behind Dean’s eyes, but his lips stayed firmly pressed together. He reached for the passenger’s door, but Sam’s hand stopping him from opening it. Instead, Sam pulled open the door to the back seat. Dean looked at him in bewilderment.
“Little boys who disobey don’t get to sit up front,” Sam said in answer to Dean’s unasked question.
Sam almost thought that Dean would argue, but to his satisfaction, Dean clenched his jaw, but offered no other protest before slipping into the back seat. Sam watched to make sure that Dean buckled himself in before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s seat of the Impala.
Sam turned off the radio as soon as the car started, leaving them in silence for the entire ride back to the bunker, his eyes darting up to look at Dean in the rearview mirror every few minutes as he squirmed uncomfortably in the back seat, still clearly angry and humiliated.
It was going to be a very long night, for both of them.
“Shoes go by the door, baby,” Sam gently reminded Dean as he walked inside.
Dean kicked off his shoes in a more disorganized heap than Sam normally would have allowed, but Dean had been sitting in his wet diaper for nearing an hour now, and he was clearly anxious and jumpy for his impending punishment.
“I want you to go to your nursery and stand in the naughty corner,” Sam instructed. “And I don’t want you to move until I come in and tell you so.”
Dean left without any acknowledgment, but Sam knew that he would obey.
Sam took off his suit jacket and tie as he headed towards his room. The wooden paddle was sitting in its drawer in his dresser, and he grabbed it along with the tub of cream he kept to ease bruising. He also took out the pacifier gag and bottle that screwed onto the front to make the device double as a feeding bottle. A quick trip to the kitchen had the bottle filled with baby formula, and Sam headed to the bunker’s nursery.
Dean was standing in the corner, just like he was supposed to. His nose touched the red dot painted on the wall, even though he squirmed where he stood, still wearing the FBI suit, and his hand itching at the back of his diapered bottom.
Sam stood to watch his baby for a moment, taking care to not make any noise that would let Dean know that he was there. The way that Dean fidgeted was, quite frankly, adorable. His little boy was so cute when he was flustered and embarrassed, and yet still so eager to not disappoint. Sam knew that Dean would follow any direct orders he gave him, Dean no longer had any choice in that, after the curse. But Sam wanted Dean to truly submit to him, follow the rules because he knew they were best for him. So Sam was very careful with how he worded things, giving reminders to rules and suggestions of behavior that wouldn’t force Dean magically to obey. Then Dean could choose to follow, and be rewarded, or disobey, and receive punishment.
And Sam wouldn’t deny it, he loved the excuse to give Dean a punishment.
Finally Sam cleared his throat, causing Dean to flinch slightly, but he kept his nose pressed against the wall. “Alright baby, that’s enough.”
Dean turned around and Sam saw his eyes follow the paddle as Sam purposefully set it down on the dresser next to the armchair glider and the ottoman. Without saying anything, Sam beckoned Dean over with a finger, smiling slightly when Dean stumbled a little as he walked over to Sam.
“Let’s get rid of these first,” Sam said as he reached for Dean’s suit jacket. He pushed the fabric from his shoulders, folding it messily before tossing in on top of a bin. Sam then moved to the tie. He tightened it briefly, pressing it against Dean’s windpipe until his breath hitched, but then loosening it to throw it along with the jacket. He pulled Dean’s shirt from where it was tucked into his pants, his grin growing as he saw a peak of the plastic diaper that reached up to his belly button. Instead of unbuttoning the shirt all the way, Sam started with the top few buttons, before pulling the shit over Dean’s head, stopping with it halfway off to watch Dean wriggle around, stuck in side of the shirt, before helping him pull it all the way off.
Dean’s face was already tinted pink with embarrassment, but he put his hands down by his sides like he was supposed to as Sam removed his belt and began to unbutton the slacks from around his waist. Bending down on his knee, Sam pulled the pants down slowly, revealing the sodden diaper bulging between Dean’s legs, and let them pool around his ankles.
“Lift,” he instructed gently, pulling at Dean’s right foot, working off the sock when Dean complied. After doing the same to the other foot, Sam went back to the first foot, and finally removed Dean’s pants completely.
Sam stood, leaving Dean standing there with nothing on but a wet diaper, and went to pick up the pacifier gag. Upon seeing it, Dean’s eyes went wide, and he looked at Sam with pleading eyes. “Please, Daddy, no, I’m sorry it was an accident!”
“You don’t have to wear it, but if you make any noise while I’m spanking you, you’ll be in more trouble, or you can wear it and cry all you need to.”
For a moment, Dean grimaced, seeming to thinking it over, but he eventually opened his mouth in defeat for Sam to push it in. He reached behind Dean’s head, buckling the straps to keep the pacifier in place, softly running his fingers through his hair and along his cheek as he pulled back.
Next Sam picked up the paddle, and sat down on the ottoman, his legs spread apart.
“You know how to present.”
Dean hesitated, for only a moment, but Sam’s raised eyebrow was enough to push him to move. Dean lay himself face down across Sam’s lap, his bottom pushed out and up.
Sam reached up to the back of Dean’s diaper, tugging in down past the round and dimpled cheeks, leaving the perk skin on display. The area was already slightly red from Dean scratching at it, and Sam traced a finger lightly over the lines, relishing the fact that he was about to turn the skin a much darker shade of red.
Dean shivered, his hand gripping Sam’s ankle tightly. Sam fought the urge to chuckle.
“Now, Dean,” he said lightly, his hand now rubbing Dean’s bottom. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them truthfully. Do you understand?”
Sam didn’t need to see Dean’s face to know that a blush took up most of his face. The pacifier strapped into Dean’s mouth would allow him to speak, but not without a prominent lisp. Something they were both very aware of. Dean’s grip tightened on Sam’s leg, but he didn’t attempt to speak.
A loud smack made Dean jolt, accompanied by a muffled whimper at the unexpected strike.
“I said, do you understand?”
“Yeth, Daddy,” Dean managed, his voice sounding so very small, but Sam gave him a small stroke of praise along his lower back.
“Very good baby, just like that.” Sam’s voice was practically purring. He took up the paddle and tapped it lightly against the top of Dean’s cheeks. “Do you know why Daddy is going to punish you, sweetheart?”
“I was uh bad boy,” Dean answered, his tongue sounding so thick around the pacifier.
“Yes, you were a very bad boy. But do you know what it is that you did wrong? Do you understand how you were naughty? Remember, Dean,” Sam rubbed the wood lightly across Dean’s skin. “Daddy doesn’t like liars.”
Dean shook his head.
Sam brought the paddle down with a thick pop. “Daddy wants you to use your words.”
Dean’s body was so tense, the combination of humiliation and anticipation causing him to tremble, ever so slightly. But he obeyed. “N-no, Daddy.”
“Oh of course you don’t,” Sam said, his tone overly sympathetic. “My poor baby is probably so confused, aren’t you? But that’s okay. You’re just a little boy, you need Daddy to help you. You don’t have to worry, because I’m going to explain it so you can understand.”
Sam began the real spanking. The paddle cracked against Dean’s bare bottom, hitting the tender flesh. Dean jerked, his body instinctively moving away from the source of pain, but Sam held Dean firmly on his lap as he spanked him again, and again, strangled whimpers slipping past Dean’s pacifier. Dean had his eyes screwed shut, but Sam was watching him carefully, and he saw the first tear slip down his brother’s face.
Sam paused, feeling his blood pumping heatedly through his skin. “Dean, baby, your bottom hurts, doesn’t it?” he cooed.
‘“Yeth, D-Daddy.”
Sam held back his laugh. This punishment was only beginning. “But it doesn’t just hurt because Daddy’s spanking you, does it?”
“No…”
“No, it doesn’t.” Sam set the paddle down for a moment on Dean’s lower back, placing his palm against Dean’s bottom. “Your bum hurts because you wet your diaper, Dean. You couldn’t wait for the potty like a big boy, and you tinkled, right in front of the police officers.”
Dean’s blush had reached his ears now, practically glowing pink against his hair.
“But that’s not a bad thing,” Sam started to kneed Dean’s mounds, squeezing gently as he ran his thumb across those scratch lines again. “It just means that you’re not a big boy. No...you’re just a baby, Dean. My helpless little boy. That’s why I’m your Daddy. You need someone who can take care of you, give you rules that keep you safe.”
Dean swallowed audibly as Sam lifted the paddle from Dean’s back.
“One of Daddy’s most important rules,” Sam said, speaking in a babyish tone that made Dean squirm. “Is that you tell Daddy when you wet your diaper. Daddy knows that you can’t help it, but if you don’t tell Daddy,” Sam smacked Dean with the paddle, “then your mess will make your bottom sting and itch. Do you understand?”
Dean’s eyes were still shut, his teeth clenching tightly on his pacifier, but he forced himself to nod, willing the burning feeling in his eyes to just go away, just make it a little bit longer…
Sam’s eyes narrowed. Dean was following along, but he wasn’t giving in. He wanted Dean to break, surrender everything to Sam, right here in his nursery. So he’d just have to step up his punishment.
“No answer? I guess that means that you don’t. Well then, Daddy will just have to show you.”
Sam started up a fast passed rhythm, striking Dean’s skin in the same spot repeatedly. After the fourth strike, Dean began to cry out, pitiful whimpers tearing from his throat. Something dark stirred inside Sam at the sound.
He began to push harder, letting go of the restraint he normally would hold onto, at least for a bit longer. “This is for your own good,” Sam hears himself hiss, his voice deeper. “Little boys need to understand their place.”
Dean’s body nearly convulsed under Sam, his face burning hot and the overwhelming need to cry pelting at him from the inside out, accentuated every time he was spanked.
“What are you?” Sam commanded between strikes.
Dean gasped at the last hit, which stung more than the rest had. “Ima lil’ boy, Daddy.”
“Who’s little boy are you?”
“I’m...I’m - ngh!” Dean moaned loudly in accompaniment with the paddle’s strike, tears bursting from him finally, pouring down his face in long rivets.
“Who do you belong to, little boy?” Sam said harshly, bringing down the paddle again, even harder than before.
“Y-you Daddy!” Dean wailed, Daddy’s name a long, drawn out sound that turned into a shaking sob.
Sam paused in triumph, his heart pumping blood thickly through his veins at this victory. He could feel it all rushing south towards his member, and speaking of members…
There was something unmistakably poking at his thigh.
Sam laughed. “Oh baby, Daddy feels something funny.”
Dean was whimpering with each long exhale, tears still escaping from behind tightly shut eyes, and a new wave of mortification caused him to begin shaking all over again.
“But what is it, I wonder?” Sam continued, well aware of the effect his babyish tone was having on Dean. “Something little and hard. What is it baby? Can you tell Daddy?”
Sam knew Dean didn’t want to answer, but already so unstrung, he gave a valiant effort, mumbling incoherently around the rubber in his mouth.
“What was that?” Sam asked, exaggerating his tone even further, leaning down as if to listen closer. “Daddy couldn’t hear you baby. What is that itty bitty thing that Daddy can feel?”
“M-my pee-pee, Daddy.”
Sam’s stomach jumped. “Uh oh,” Sam sat back up straight, schooling his delight into a disappointed tone. “Does my little boy have a little stiffy? How silly!” Sam began jostling his knee, just enough to press up against the front of Dean’s diaper. “My little boy doesn’t need a stiffy pee-pee. That’s why it’s all wrapped up nice and tight. Isn’t that right?”
Sam didn’t expect Dean to answer, but the slow nod Dean gave made Sam want to practically purr.
“My baby doesn’t need a stiffy. What could he use it for? Its not big enough to do adult things anymore. It can’t even make a tinkle like it’s supposed to! Daddy has to keep it wrapped up safe in a diaper, like a helpless little boy.”
Dean’s body was trembling, and he had the odd jerk away from Sam, more instinct than true rebellion, Sam knew. But he wasn’t about to let up.
“You’ve become a baby all over again. Can’t do anything without your Daddy there to help you. And now,” Sam’s voice got deeper, and he started to slide his hand down past the curve of Dean’s bottom, down in between Dean’s legs to push the drooping diaper up against his skin. “Daddy can’t even trust his little boy to say when he’s had an accident. That means that Daddy will just have to check from now on.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Sam felt desire curling up in his gut. He could picture himself now, pulling back Dean’s pants and sticking his hand between his legs at any given moment. Maybe keeping him in loose pants, or none at all, to make checking Dean easier. Maybe even making the pacifier a permanent addition to Dean’s mouth, since he couldn’t even tell Daddy when he’d pissed all over himself.
The absence of movement on his lap brought Sam back to the present.
Dean was no longer whimpering. His body was tightly wound, but he’d stopped struggling against Sam. He was still crying, but silently, and Sam’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Dean’s almost lifeless eyes.
A swift smack from the paddle caused Dean to jerk and blink, expression somewhat returning. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Daddy’s going to take such good care of you,” Sam crooned gently. “I can help. My perfect little boy. Just trust Daddy.”
Dean was shaking again, Sam could see him holding his breath. Tears were pouring down his face, and his grip on Sam’s ankle was so tight that Sam was sure there was going to be finger-shape bruises there tomorrow.
Sam’s hand started coming down hard and fast, the paddle bouncing high off of Dean’s burning skin before being drawn back like a weighted magnet. Again and again and again, Sam spanked his little boy, every choked sob and stifled wail he pulled feeling like the greatest victory.
Sam wasn’t sure how long it went on, he got lost in watching Dean, his muscles quivering and the prick of Dean’s tiny erection jabbing against Sam’s thigh through the wet padding of the diaper with every hit. Sam felt it as Dean tensed, knew that this was the moment he’d been waiting for, a thrill racing up his body. He leaned over Dean, placing his mouth directly by his brother’s ear.
“Come, now,” he hissed with one last accompanying smack, the first direct order he’d given Dean all night. And Dean obeyed immediately.
Dean’s body shuddered greatly, jerking in Sam’s tight hold before he went completely limp across Sam’s lap, crying without any restraint, completely pliant and vulnerable.
Absolutely beautiful.
Sam pulled Dean’s boneless body up immediately, scooting them back into the thickly cushioned glider as he tucked his baby boy up under his chin. He held Dean close and tight, putting his own feet up on the ottoman quickly so he could better support Dean without placing any pressure on Dean’s sore rear.
“That’s my good boy, baby,” Sam cooed gently, rocking his brother in his snug embrace. “You did so good. Daddy loves you so much, baby. I’m right here, I’m here.”
It took a long while for Dean to calm down, and Sam never stopped his constant mantra of praises and loving words. When Dean finally reached up his hand to curl into the material of Sam’s shirt, Sam knew it was time for the next step.
“How about we get you changed, huh little man?” Sam said tenderly, carefully standing up from the chair to deposit his brother onto the room’s changing table.
Dean seemed reluctant to let go of Sam, but he gave only a small whimper when Sam carefully pried open his fingers and wiped at the tear tracks staining his face.
Sam just shushed his baby, quickly getting to work to remove the wet diaper, filled with piss and Dean’s come. Wet wipes cleaned the skin swiftly, but Sam took his time to apply the cream he’d brought earlier to ease bruising, massaging it in as tenderly as he could manage, feeling the heat rising off the exposed skin even still.
Once Sam was satisfied that Dean’s bottom was well cleaned and cared for, a new diaper was fastened around Dean’s hips with a generous dusting of baby powder. Sam picked up his baby once again, taking him back to the glider with the warm bottle of milk.
Dean curled up into Sam, offering no resistance as Sam fiddled with the front of the pacifier gag, pulling out the stopper. He fastened the bottle to the gag, and Dean began to suck, long and slow tugs against the nipple, his head tucked against Sam’s slowing heartbeat.
Sam would never get over how small Dean looked in these moments. So young and honest. So dependent.
All too soon, it seemed, the bottle was empty.
Sam took away the bottle before reaching behind Dean’s head to carefully undo the straps of the gag. He used his own shirt to wipe away the milky spit that dribbled down Dean’s chin at the gag’s removal, dabbing carefully at Dean’s puffy lips. He gently rubbed at the muscles of his jaw, sometimes pushing back to run his fingers through Dean’s short hair as they continued to sit and rock slowly.
“How do you feel?” Sam asked, the dominance from earlier gone with the ending of their scene.
It took Dean a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was completely wrecked. “Fine. Tired…m’ really tired. But it’s a good tired, I think.”
“For a minute there, I thought you were about to use your safe word,” Sam said, not even bothering to keep the worry from his voice.
“Me too,” Dean mumbled, but he shook his head. “But – no. No, you took care of me. You knew just how much to push, and I…I-I feel really good.”
Sam felt a small burst of pride. Being able to achieve this with Dean was something that he’d never dared hoped for before the witch had cursed Dean. There were too many bridges burned by lies and feelings covered by manly bravado. Not to mention the moral dilemma of wanting carnal relations with the man who raised you.
But with the curse came the need for actual communication. Stripped of his control over his bladder, his manhood reduced to the size of a child’s, and forced to be completely obedient to Sam. Dean felt helpless, humiliated, and violated, and Sam truly never wanted to take advantage of his brother’s weakness. So talking had been necessary, negotiations and compromises had to be made. And in those talks, truths came to light. A relationship began to form, and somehow, Sam became a Daddy with the most precious, beautiful, delicious baby boy in the whole world.
These scenes were important for Dean and Sam. They strengthened their relationship, allowed Dean the chance to have all his walls broken down so healing could happen, and gave Sam the fulfillment of helping the person he loved most.
“I took it pretty far tonight,” Sam said a little guiltily. “I gave you an order at the end. I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out of me before I could stop it.”
Dean’s eyes met his, but to Sam’s surprise Dean shook his head again. “S’okay. I…I didn’t mind it like that. It was…uh, well. One of the best.”
There a rush of affection, and Sam couldn’t contain himself. He pulled Dean up into a fierce kiss, tasting the last lingering traces of sweet milk in Dean’s mouth. Sam broke the kiss with a moan. “God, I love you Dean.”
Dean just tucked his head under Sam’s chin, hands twisting into Sam’s chest again, and Sam just held his brother close to him, so grateful for the steady breaths and unrestrained closeness.
Despite the late hour, Sam couldn’t even think of putting Dean to bed yet. This scene had been a hard one on Dean, and Sam needed to make sure that his brother was alright. He’d sit here in this chair all night if he had to, as long as Dean was content to sit in his lap, in his arms, he’d hold his perfect little boy.
“Can we…can we do a scene tomorrow?” Dean asked, his voice sounding shy again, and Sam felt a big smile stretch across his face.
“I think my baby needs a little of Daddy’s love, am I right sweetheart?” Sam saw the pleased flush that lit up Dean’s cheeks as he nodded slightly. “Well, it’s a good thing, because Daddy needs some of baby’s love too.”
Sam felt Dean give a small shiver of pleasure as he pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead, feeling warmth in his own belly as he started to think up what they’d do tomorrow.
Tonight had been a punishment. Tomorrow would be a reward.