#dog!dean

You don’t need to look at the clothes that now lie pooled at their feet - paws - to know which brother is which. Sam is slender yet hulking, all warm chestnut with floppy, hanging ears the size of your hand and the wettest eyes you’ve ever seen. Frowning, of course, because that’s just what he does. Dean, on the other hand, is proportionally much smaller. He’s a big guy when he’s human, but this form does not represent it. He looks like a mix of breeds, chest white and the rest a soft, deep caramel. His mouth is hanging wide open and he looks like he’s goddamn grinning while his tail wags back and forth like a whip. Scruffy little thing.

He barks once, sharp, loud, and you flinch, then stand there, frozen. Sam does something between a snort and a sneeze. You drop your tensed shoulders, slowly shake your head, your eyes refusing to stop being saucer-big.

“No way,” you mutter as you look at the two dogs that are Sam and Dean.

You grab their clothes. 

The two aren’t skittish, so that’s good. You wonder if that at all means that they are aware of the situation, or if they simply don’t see you as a threat. They watch you, heads tilted, as you quickly gather up jeans, flannels and jackets, t-shirts and underwear, trying not to look too closely at the latter. Your arms full of clothes and your head full of slowly rising panic, you bend down again, grab for two large pairs of boots. It makes the red and black flannel that Dean was wearing drop out of the pile in your arms, only to be quickly scooped up by his dog version.

“N–no, dog, I mean, Dean, stop it!” you yelp, but he’s already running around you in circles, the shirt dragging over the dirty ground of the abandoned warehouse you’re in. You chase him for a few steps, then stop with a frustrated sigh. Turn to look at Sam, who is sitting on his ass, still more than half as tall as you, watching you while his ear twitches.

You lead them out to the car, open the back door, toss the clothes in, then grab for Dean’s jeans, fumble for the keys. You can’t panic. That’s the most important part. They’re alive, they’re not hurt. They’re just, well, dogs. This is something you can fix.

You find the keys, throw closed the door and haul ass over to the other side. You open that door, then turn to Sam, waving him in. Good boy that he is, he trods forward, and with something that can only be described as an embarrassing hop, his front half makes it into the backseat, the frame creaking under him just like it does when human Sam gets into the car. He seems to have trouble bringing in the rest of himself though, so you scoot down, reach for his backside and help him push up. He plops down on the bench, dragging more creaking from Baby. You’re already sweating. 

You open the passenger side, and Dean shoots in like lightning.

“At least you’re still good at that,” you mutter, close the door and hurry over to the other side. You slide into the driver’s seat, only to immediately feel sharp little paws dig into your thigh, and a second later, Dean is on your lap, panting and looking out the front.

You look at him, and then you can’t help but bring one hand up, fingertips brushing against the rough fur under his chin. He smacks his little mouth contentedly before he starts panting again. You can’t fight the grin that spreads on your face.

“You wanna drive, huh?” you mumble, scratching him again, and Dean yawns, mouth ripped open, ears pulled back in a shockingly accurate imitation of the real thing. 

For a second, you’re half sure the witch somehow survived and has hit you in the back when you feel the impact, but when you quickly turn your head, you realize it’s only Sam, smushing his big skull against yours, humongous paws over the back of the bench. You scoff, raise your other hand, scratching at his chin too.

“We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” you say, your voice dipping into that cutesy register reserved for adorable animals and babies. “It’s all gonna be fine.”

Sam snort-sneezes again. Dean’s tongue shoots out and wets the side of your thumb. Yeah. It’s all gonna be fine.

You make it back to the motel. You’re pretty sure dogs aren’t allowed here, so you hope to usher them in without drawing much attention. The boys, however, have other plans.

Dean keeps running circles around you, nipping at your heels while Sam seems to have a unique talent of managing to stand in your way every time you’ve just avoided Dean, making you grunt with the way you smash into his big body.

“Guys, come on,” you hiss through your teeth. “Not helping.”  Dean yaps, runs ahead, then looks over his shoulder and you could swear he’s grinning again. His hindlegs are rounded just like his real ones. 

They crowd you as you unlock the door, nearly pushing you off your feet, but then they stumble over each other to get inside. You throw the door shut behind you, sigh as you watch the two.

Sam goes for the bed, jumps on it, walks around in a circle before lying down, big head going down to rest on the back of his brick-sized paw. Dean meanwhile waddles over to the couch. He jumps up, grabs for one of the pillows and starts chewing on it.

You blow out some air through your pursed lips. Then you walk over the table, reach for the book Sam left open last, and start reading.

When Sam gives a low whine, you look up, blink. Almost forgot both your boys are dogs. 

Sam whines again, full-bodied yet soft. You look over at Dean on the couch. He still has the edge of the pillow between his teeth but he’s on his back, eyes closed, one outstretched paw twitching. It’s darker in the room and with a start you raise your hand, look at the watch on your wrist.

“Shit, you guys must be hungry,” you mutter, immediately interrupted by your own stomach growling. You grimace, then push yourself away from the table.

“Okay,” you say, looking at the two dogs in turn. “I guess I can figure out how to turn you back once we’ve eaten.”

After Dean wakes with a snort and Sam accidentally body checks you on his way to the door, you finally manage to hustle the two outside. There’s a small grocery store down the road, and the boys trot after you, both staying close. When you reach the store, you see the large No dogs allowed sign. You turn around.

“You guys okay to stay here for a sec?” you ask them. Sam tilts his big head, but Dean is busy trying to bite his brother’s wagging tail. You look at them for a second longer, then nod. Turn to walk away, but look back immediately. They remain where they are. You can’t help but smile. “Good boys.”

You buy several large tins of dog food, even springing for the slightly more expensive one, as well as a few plastic dog bowls. You also grab a pre-packed sandwich and some coffee for yourself. If you want to crack this curse, it might be a long night. You’re standing by the cash register, waiting your turn when your eyes fall on the bargain bin nearby, and you grin to yourself.

Sam and Dean haven’t moved when you come back outside with two plastic bags in your hands, the coffee cup balanced in one. You click your tongue as you approach, then stop in your tracks.

“Sam,” you sigh, “take your brother’s head out of your mouth.” Sam sideeyes you, while Dean yaps from inside his little brother’s maw, being gently gnawed on.

You’re halfway back to the motel when you see the park. You stop walking, look around, then at the two dogs. It’s silly. They’re not really dogs. But it still feels wrong for them to be cooped up all day. And you could use the break and fresh air yourself.

“You guys wanna go to the park?” you ask. Both of them react with wagging tails.

You cross the street, then set the bags down, reach into one. The bone dog toy goes flying, lands on the ground somewhere behind the dogs. Both give you a questioning look.

“You can go after it,” you say. “Kinda what dogs do.” 

Dean starts running first. Not surprising really. Sam keeps looking at you, as if wanting to make sure he’s really allowed to have fun. 

“Go, boy,” you say, and then he’s off. He catches up with Dean within a few quick bounds of his long legs, takes the toy from him like it’s nothing, Dean yapping and jumping on his bowed hindlegs.

“Don’t fight!” you yell after them, grinning, and already reaching into the bag again. “There’s more where that came from.”

The air is cool and the trees naked, which is why the pumpkin plush must have been so cheap. It goes flying too, and maybe it’s the bright color that gets Dean’s attention, makes him sprint towards it. He catches it out of the air, and you can’t help but whoop at that. Before you know it, you’re running towards him.

Dean’s hanging on to one side of the pumpkin toy, your hand is holding the other while he throws his head back and forth. Sam is jumping around you two, more excited than you’ve ever seen him. You’re laughing loudly at both of their demeanors.

“Yeah, get it, boy!” you say, shaking the toy and Dean along with it. “Death! Death to pumpkins!”

Eventually, your arm gets tired, and you cede the pumpkin to Dean. He starts running in a circle with it, much too proud by half, until Sam, now untethered from his usual seriousness, comes bounding towards him, snort-sneezing again, and Dean drops the toy and instead goes for his brother.

You take a sip from your coffee, then nearly spit it out when the two go rolling a few feet, Dean pawing at Sam’s neck, the big dog looking positively bored but like he is humoring the little guy. You can’t stop laughing at their expressions, their short yelps, the way they throw themselves back and forth so dramatically, like titans locked in a battle for life and death.

Eventually, Sam untangles himself from Dean, comes bounding towards you, but rather than tackle you he hides behind you, pressed close, as if he’s hoping he’ll be able to hide. The chuckle that leaves you sounds so delighted that it surprises you - it’s been a long time since you’ve heard yourself laugh like that. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen the Winchester brothers so free of worry, and as Dean runs towards you as well, basically jumping at his brother and you squeal, it’s pure excitement and joy that make the sound come out of you.

You play until the sun begins setting. Until even the boys seem to start getting tired out. Sam somehow managed to turn both flaps of his ears around, and you take his big face in your hands, scratching at it, before turning them around, and scratching behind them too for good measure. He opens his mouth, pants at you and you grin.

It’s only when you turn around, call for Dean, that you guffaw. There he is, out for God and everyone to see, humping the plush pumpkin.

“Dean!” you hiss, running towards him. “Stop that!”

Eventually, you manage to get them both home, back to the motel. You put out the bowls and open their food for them, both boys attacking the stinky brown mess like it’s their last meal on earth. Once they’re busy with that, you sit on one of the chairs, unpack your sandwich. Chew it slowly and deliberately as you watch the two eat their fill, pushing the bowls around with their noses when they’re empty.

The grin on your face isn’t going anywhere. You’ve understood that at this point.

It’s not much later that you notice your eyes are starting to close on their own accord. You stretch your neck, then sigh. 

It’s been a long day. Surely a short break, maybe a nap, won’t make much of a difference. Your boys have had their exercise, they’ve been fed. They’re warm and safe.

You plop down on the couch, TV already on, then pat the seat either side of you. Dean is quicker, jumping onto the couch like he was born for it, but Sam’s arrival is a bit more impactful. He hops up on the couch, and then leans against you, nearly sending you to the other end of it. You manage to get your arm around his barrel chest, petting it, while you’re keeling to the side, and in the next second Dean’s wagging tail hits you in the tit with a suddenness that makes you gasp, but you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling over.

“Guys, guys,” you say. “Calm down.”

The three of you eventually all get settled. Your arm is still around Sam, while your other hand is gently patting Dean’s butt. The TV’s sounds are lulling you in, and you lean your head back, close your eyes. Just a quick little nap, in between the warmth of your boys. And then you will take care of everything.

Morning sunshine falls on your face, and the TV is still on. You make a noise in your throat, turn your head, body stiff from sleeping in that position. You sniff, remembering the previous day, sure the air in the room must be filled with the smell of dog.

It is, but it’s not as bad as you think it would be. And when you move the fingers of one hand, they don’t brush against fur, but against skin.

It’s like you’re catapulted off the couch. You turn, see just enough to confirm that Sam and Dean have, in fact, at some point in the night turned back to being human, were lying smushed against you, completely and utterly naked, before your hands are shooting up and covering your eyes.

“Oh my God!” you yell. “You guys are friggin’ naked!”

They must only just be waking up themselves, because Dean’s voice sounds rough and heavy when he speaks - very unlike his bark.

“What the hell happened?” he asks. “God, this is the worst hangover ever.” And then Sam speaks next.

“And why are we… holy crap, why are we naked?”

You take that as your cue to spin around, sprint towards the bathroom, nearly stumbling and breaking your neck a few times until you manage to slam the door shut between you and your friends.

You lean your back against the door, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“A Jack Russell Terrier? Seriously?”

It’s not the first time Dean asks, and you doubt it’ll be the last. You confirm again, and he makes a face as he opens Baby’s trunk.

“Aren’t those the small, yappy ones?” he asks as you deposit your duffle, then look up at him. He looks more than insulted. “Meanwhile Sam was freakin’ Scooby? Not fair.”

“It was hardly about fair, Dean,” Sam says, ever reasonable, as he walks up next to you, drops his bag in the trunk too. “It was just a spell.”

“Yeah, but I should have been a majestic dog,” Dean continues, not dropping the bone, you think to yourself with a grin. “A Rottweiler or German Shepherd or something.”

“You don’t even like dogs,” you fire back, rolling your eyes at him. “Besides, all dogs are, you know, dogs. They’re not actually majestic. They’re all a bit silly.”

Dean’s halfway to rounding the car so he can get into the driver’s seat when he freezes, looks at you, eyes narrowed.

“Dear God,” he says. “Did I… did I roll over and get my belly scratched? Did I like it?” You press your lips together, try to keep your expression serious. Think of that pumpkin toy, waiting for Dean to call. You’re gonna keep that one in your backpocket for a rainy day.

“Nope,” you say. “You’re all good.” Dean throws you a suspicious look before finally getting in the car, but Sam looks at you with a knowing smile deepening his dimples.

Once all three of you are in the car, Sam turns around where he’s sitting, looks at you.

“So,” he says, “we know what kind of dogs we turned into. What breed would you have been?” You lean forward, arms crossed over the back of the bench.

“Easy,” you say, looking between the two brothers. “I would have been a cat.”

Dean snorts and Sam chuckles, and then Dean starts the car, pushes in a tape. You drop back with a shit-eating grin. Tap your finger to the music.

Once you’re pulling off the lot, you reach forward, extend your arms, and scratch both brothers behind an ear.

You don’t hear the end of it for a couple hundred miles.

“Uh… Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly, knowing he sounded ridiculous, but what other explanation could there be to a sudden disappearance of Dean and simultaneous appearance of a dog that had not been there moments before. 

“Ruff!” A deep, booming bark responded, and Sam had a feeling that translated as ‘yes’. 

“Can you understand me?” he asked next, and dog-Dean answered with an identical affirmative bark to his first. “Okay, well, that’s good… I guess,” Sam mused out loud, still shell-shocked by this turn of events. 

There was a moment of awkward silence as Sam stared at his brother before he let out a shaky whoop of laughter. 

“I gotta be honest man, I don’t know what the hell to say to this,” he ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. “I guess we just wait until it wears off, right? The spell said it only lasted like forty-eight hours or something, right?” 

Dean made this sort of whiny-growl noise that Sam thought might be some kind of warning to stop laughing at the situation, but he just couldn’t help himself. The dog stood up and walked pointedly towards the motel door, jumping up to stand on its hind legs, and tried to bite the handle, jiggling the lock. Sam surreptitiously picked up his phone and snapped a couple photos. 

When he didn’t manage to get the door open, Dean sat back on his haunches and barked at the offending object, then swivelled his head to look at Sam, then back to the door, then barked again. 

“What do you want?” Sam asked in a slightly babying voice, the way you would talk to a child who wasn’t great at communicating their needs yet. Or, you know, a dog. 

Dean barked again, baring his teeth this time to illustrate his displeasure with Sam’s tone. He scratched at the door and when that only engendered more laughter from Sam, he trotted over to the man, ducked his head, and bit firmly at his brother’s ankle, causing Sam to jump up in alarm. 

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” he griped, trying to bat the dog away, but Dean was insistently butting his head against the back of Sam’s knees, urging him towards the door of the motel room. “Okay, okay, calm down!” he admonished Dean in exasperation, reaching for the Impala keys. “I was just messin’ with you, c’mon, let’s go to the pound and see if you can understand dogs like you’re supposed to,” Sam laughed as Dean growled at him in annoyance, but the dog trotted after him obediently nonetheless. 

Sam thought the visit to the dog pound went well. As soon as they’d walked inside, Dean had run off towards the kennels and the ensuing cacophony of barking was loud and lengthy. Sam took it upon himself to distract the poo volunteer that was running the shelter at the time by taking him outside and quizzing him about dog care. On the surface, this was just a stalling tactic to give Dean time to talk to all the dogs inside, but in the back of Sam’s mind, it occurred to him that if something had gone really wrong with the spell and they were stuck with Dean in German Shepherd form for longer than the prescribed length of time, he might actually need to know all the stuff that the volunteer was prattling on about. 

Back at the motel, Dean ran into their room and immediately jumped up on one of the beds, walking himself in a circle and pawing at the ratty comforter until he was satisfied, then curled himself into a circle and settled down with his head tucked over his legs. Sam watched him bemusedly, wondering how much of this behaviour was basic dog instinct, and how much was his brother. It seemed pretty evenly split in his opinion. 

Normally, at this time, they’d be thinking about what to get for dinner, and that presented Sam with the curious conundrum of what to feed Dean. Should he go buy dog food? 

Dean growled viciously when Sam suggested the idea, so he decided to go with the Dean classic of burgers. He skipped most of the toppings his brother normally went for, simply providing him with some cooked burger patties and a side of bacon, but Dean seemed satisfied with this offering, eagerly wolfing down his own portion, sitting on a chair at the table with Sam and eating off a plate, because he had growled yet again when Sam had tied to place the dish on the floor for him.

Sam was getting quite good at interpreting ‘fuck off’ in dog language. 

They couldn’t proceed with working the case until Dean changed back from dog to human form so he could actually tell Sam what he’d learned from the other dogs at the kennel. Sam had tried to get Dean to spell things out for him using a bunch of words and letters written out on index cards, but the results had been frustrating to say the least, so they’d set them aside and decided to wait out the duration of the charm. 

Bedtime presented an interesting problem too – just another on the extensive list that had resulted from this whole ungodly incident. Typically, Sam and Dean would spend most nights in the same bed, unless they were pissed with each other about something. Dean clearly expected business as usual tonight despite his current form, because when Sam tucked himself under the covers, the dog jumped up on the bed right next to him and nosed his way under the comforter, shifting awkwardly onto his side and attempting to spoon his younger brother. It was sweet, really, Sam thought. Dean was actually much more eager to cuddle as a dog; if he’d been human, that whole routine would have been accompanied by grumbling and a facade of reluctance. Sam wasn’t opposed to this particular shift in behaviour. 

At first. 

After a few minutes of the heat ratcheting up between them, Sam shifted a little to rearrange the furry leg –arm?– that was draped over his middle causing him to sweat. Dean as a dog was even more of a furnace than usual. That’s when he felt it. It was poking at the small of his back, rather than the crack of his ass where it normally rested, but there was no mistaking it. Dean was hard, and his doggie cock was rubbing casually against Sam’s body as if this was any other night. Except Dean was a dog. 

Heat began to overwhelm Sam for an entirely different reason. Unbidden, his thoughts flashed back to a case a few years ago with their friend James –a witch– and his familiar. Portia had the ability to shift between her human form and her alternate, a large German Shepherd. Dean as a German Shepherd was even larger than she had been. At the time, Sam had congratulated Dean on not stooping to the level of making a bestiality joke when James had confessed about the true nature of the relationship between him and Portia, but it had been an uncontrolable urge on Sam’s part to see what Dean would say when he mentioned the B word - because Sam’s brain had immediately gone down that road from the second he knew what the girl was. It had been Sam’s attempt at subtlety, bringing up bestiality in a way that could easily determine Dean’s feelings on the subject without revealing Sam’s own thoughts.

Because he had had a lot of thoughts. When Dean had transformed into a dog earlier that day, they had briefly flashed through Sam’s mind, but he’d pushed them aside easily in favour of the case at hand, they had work to be doing, after all. But now, when there was nothing left to do but get a good night’s sleep and wait for the spell to reverse, when Dean’s obvious erection was beginning to rut more intentionally against his back, Sam had something serious to consider. 

Was he really contemplating this? Letting Dean fuck him like this? Letting a dog fuck him like this? As if he could hear exactly what was running through Sam’s mind, Dean let out a whine and tried to wrap Sam more tightly in his paws, humping against him with a pathetic, animal desperation that had Sam’s dick throbbing painfully in his boxers. 

Fuck. Am I actually… yeah, Sam decided as he reached over his shoulder to run a hand through the thick shaggy fur of his brother’s coat. Yeah he was gonna do this. Who knows when else such a perfect fucking opportunity would present itself? No pun intended.

Cautiously, Samm rolled himself around so he was facing Dean, the dog’s paws still draped over his waist and thigh. He wrapped his arm under Dean and pulled him in gently, rubbing his cheek into the fur of Dean’s neck and scratching behind his ears. The dog gave an appreciative whine and bucked his hips again, and Sam took a deep breath, steeling his nerves and trying not to fly out of his skin with excitement and guilt-ridden arousal as he skimmed his right hand down the fur in Dean’s chest, over the soft, velvety skin of his belly, and down to his cock. 

The dog dick was wet, practically slimy, and it should have put Sam off immediately, but with an embarrassed groan he felt his own dick twitch in his shorts, pushing out its own drops of arousal. It felt smaller than Dean did as a human, but Sam knew that would change – dogs got bigger when they fucked, the pressure of a willing home wrapped around them prompting more blood to flow to the extremity, stretching it hard and wide until… Sam gulped and whined at the thought – the knot. 

God, he knew he was sick, he knew it was insane and disgusting but he didn’t fucking care anymore. He wanted this dog cock to stuff his hole and knot him like a bitch. 

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam groaned, moving his hand over the wet doggie dick, pressing a finger against the leaking slit and gathering the slick on his fingertip. hesitantly, he brought it to his lips, then sucked it in, letting out a whine that nearly matched the desperate pitch of the dog’s. 

Working quickly now, Sam shoved his boxers off and threw the blankets haphazardly down by their ankles so he could move more freely. Dean wriggled a little, as if unsure where to move to, so Sam made the decision for him, helping him roll a little more onto his back so his belly was facing up in the air. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Dean’s cock, angry red and dripping wet, only about half of it poking curiously out of its soft sheath. Sam reached out, mesmerised, and ran his hand over the base that was still covered. The dog panted happily when he sped up his persistent touches, so Sam took that as a sign that Dean enjoyed being jacked off by his brother just as much as a dog as he did when he was human. 

Without pausing to think too hard about the reasons this was still all a very bad idea, Sam bent over and sucked the flared tip of the dog’s dick between his lips, rolling the flesh eagerly against his tongue. It was so wrong, so unbelievably fucking wrong, and that’s exactly what had him reaching down to wrap a fist painfully around the base of his dick, because he was in serious danger of busting his load over the sheets in about two seconds. 

It kind of felt like the first time Sam and Dean had ever touched each other – the taboo so hot and overwhelming they both cum quicker than teenagers losing their virginities, despite the fact they were both well into their twenties and far from virginal at the time. Apparently incest was no longer the limit of the sick and twisted shit they were willing –eager– to do to get off. 

Dean’s cock was growing noticeably in Sam’s mouth, and to his astonishment, he could already feel something thick and harder forming at the base of the dog’s shaft. Fuck, if Sam wanted that knot stuck in his ass rather than his mouth, he had better get a move on. He let Dean’s cock drop from his mouth reluctantly and scrambled off the bed quickly to find their lube. 

Fingering himself open had never been Sam’s favourite thing, he had always preferred Dean to do that, and his wrist cramped up funny as he bent his arm behind himself and began to stretch his opening. Partly out of laziness and partly out of curiosity of what it would feel like to be stretched open on doggie dick, he only worked two fingers inside before he gave up and dropped onto the bed on his hands and knees. 

The large German Shepherd circled him, snuffling around Sam’s neck, beneath his arms, the crease of his hips - scenting his bitch before he mounted him. The tongue took Sam by surprise, and he yelped and twitched out of reach when Dean’s long tongue licked in a solid stripe from his balls up to the crack of his ass. Dean wasn’t happy that he was trying to avoid his investigation of his hole though, because he immediately followed Sam across the bed and stuck his tongue firmly back where he wanted it, which was laving enthusiastically over his brother’s freshly lubed hole.

“Fuck, Dean,” groaned again through clenched teeth. “Fuck, why does that feel so good?” Obviously he wasn’t expecting Dean to answer him, but the dog gave a sort of yip, his teeth grazing over Sam’s flesh and making the man shiver, and Sam kind of thought that might have been Dean telling him: “shut up and enjoy this, bitch.” 

It seems that the appeal wore off very quickly for Dean though, because he only treated Sam to a few more rough licks before Sam felt the dog’s paws scrabbling over his back awkwardly, trying to find purchase in an unfamiliar position. He could feel Dean’s cock slipping eagerly across his back, but the dog wasn’t having much luck with aiming. It seemed like all he could manage was catching the head of his cock on the rim of Sam’s entrance before it skimmed by and Dean would whimper in frustration. 

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” Sam reached behind him to run his hand through Dean’s fur, comforting him as if this was actually a dog and not his big brother. Dean would give him shit for it later, he was sure, but the playacting was making Sam even harder, so right now he didn’t give a fuck. “Take it easy boy, lemme help,” he grunted, his hand groping behind him blindly until he felt the dog’s cock. 

Sam gripped him firmly and directed the cock back towards his hole, rubbing the tip insistently over his entrance until –finally– Dean slipped inside. The groan that ripped through Sam was practically inhuman as the dog began to fuck him furiously, without any care for Sam’s comfort, just using his body to accomplish his goal – and Sam was one hundred percent okay with that. More than okay. He was being one hundred percent, completely and utterly ruined by a fucking dog cock and he fucking loved it. And the knot wasn’t even inside him yet. 

He could feel Dean trying to force it inside of him, but his thrusts were becoming increasingly erratic the closer the dog got to his own finish and Sam was becoming impatient. 

“C’mon boy, fuck me, fuck that knot inside me, good boy. Yeah, there you go buddy, make me fucking take it,” Sam practically growled the last words as Dean’s knot forced its way inside his hole, stretching him past the point of comfortable, but the pain and ultimate sign of submission was what did it for Sam. As Dean pumped ungodly amounts of doggie cum into his ass, Sam came untouched onto the sheets beneath him, panting just as heavily as the dog now locked with him. It was just as well that Dean in dog form seemed to enjoy cuddling, because Sam wasn’t entirely sure how long they would stay knotted together. 

However long it turned out to be, he had a feeling it wouldn’t feel like long enough when Dean pulled out and left him empty again. 

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