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"writing": "[b][center]A Midnight Tryst and a Glorious Awakening[/center][/b]\n\nThe savory scent of Elara’s rabbit-root stew, so named because it was a favorite of rabbits and not because it contained any, filled their modest home, a rare and welcome late evening feast. The occasion was Warren’s visit. Franky’s older brother, now broader of shoulder and confident in his City Messenger tunic, was a rare sight at the family dinner table. Since beginning his training with the North Gate garrison, his life had become a whirlwind of duties and drills, leaving little time for home.\n\n“You’re all muscle and bone, Warren,” their mother, Elara, fussed, pushing another scoop of stew onto his plate. “Are they feeding you properly up there?”\n\n“They feed us plenty, Mum,” Warren said with a good-natured grin. “Mostly marching rations and stale bread, but it builds character.” He winked at Franky, who sat across from him, trying to appear nonchalant while soaking in every word. “Chased a pickpocket who tried to escape to the Rough yesterday. Nearly lost him twice. You should have seen the alleys, Franky, barely wide enough to breathe.”\n\nFranky’s ears perked up. This was the stuff of his daydreams. But now, as he listened to Warren’s tales, a smug, secret warmth settled in his belly. He had his own adventures now and he had been to the Rough himself.\n\n“It’s this new dog of Franky’s that brought him home, I’ll wager,” Corbin, their father, said from the head of the table. His initial reluctance about Fang had evaporated the moment neighbors began stopping by the workshop, curious about the magnificent feral beast dozing inside. “He’s become quite the local celebrity. I’m thinking of bringing him to the market stall on the High Holiday. Might attract some more business.”\n\nFranky felt a flash of possessive pride. Fang wasn’t a marketing gimmick; he was a friend. Well, his friend and more.\n\nAfter the bowls were cleared and their older sister, Willow, had shooed their youngest brother, Bino, off to bed, Corbin stood. “Come on, then. Let’s show you the beast.”\n\nFranky’s heart gave a nervous thump. He was bursting with excitement to show Warren, to finally have something cool and adventurous of his own to share. But as he followed his father and brother out into the cool night air, a ripple of apprehension chased the excitement away.\n\nThe short walk to the workshop, a path he trod a dozen times a day, felt different now. The mundane space had been transformed by his secret. It was a stage, the scene of an act so intimate and strange that his fur prickled just thinking about it. He could almost smell the musk of their encounter in the air and could almost taste the metallic tang that had filled his mouth. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. What if someone could tell? What if Warren, with his guard training and sharp eyes, could somehow see the memory of it clinging to him?\n\nCorbin unlatched the heavy workshop door, holding a lantern high. The looms stood like silent, skeletal giants in the moon light, but in the warm firelight they resolved into more mundane tools . In the far corner, on his customary pile of wool sacks, a pair of amber eyes blinked open. A low thump of a tail against a wool sack announced Fang’s waking.\n\nWarren whistled low, his casual demeanor replaced by the sharp assessment of a trained guardsman. “Spirits above, Franky. That’s no stray.” He stepped inside, his eyes never leaving the dog. “That’s a full-blooded Dustmoor feral. Look at the breadth of his chest, the muscles in those legs. You didn’t just ‘find’ him.”\n\n“He followed me home,” Franky said, the practiced lie slipping more easily from his lips now with the number of times he had repeated it. He hoped his voice didn’t tremble. He walked over to Fang, his own movements feeling stiff and rehearsed. He knelt, scratching the dog behind the ears as he’d done a hundred times.\n\nFang whined happily, his body wiggling, and leaned in to lick Franky’s hand. The gesture was innocent, but for Franky, it was electric. The ghost of a different kink of lick, sharp and overwhelming, flashed in his mind, and he had to fight the urge to snatch his hand away. He felt his father's proud gaze, his brother's impressed stare, and beneath it all, the hammering of his own secret heart. He was performing, a perfect imitation of a boy and his dog, praying that no one could see the truth lurking just behind his eyes.\n\nWarren continued to eye the dog, a professional appreciation in his gaze. \"No wonder he's the talk of the neighborhood. Bet no one has seen the like.\" He knelt down, extending the back of his hand slowly, letting Fang get acquainted with his scent. Fang, ever calm, rose to his feet and gave Warren’s knuckles a cursory sniff.\n\nFranky watched, his breath held tight. Everything seemed normal. But then Fang, having approved of Warren’s hand, moved on. He started at Warren’s worn leather boots, his nose twitching, and worked his way methodically up his brother’s left leg. He seemed to catch a whiff of something particularly interesting near Warren’s waist and abruptly shoved his snout under the hem of Warren's tunic, right into his crotch.\n\n\"Whoa! A bit overly friendly,\" Warren yelped, jumping back and pushing the dog’s persistent nose away.\n\nA spike of pure terror lanced through Franky. He’s gonna know! The irrational thought screamed in his mind. He felt his cheeks burn, certain his secret was about to be unravelled by a dog’s curious nose.\n\nBut Corbin just laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the workshop. \"He's got a strong nose for scents, that one,\" he chuckled, oblivious. \"He's always sneaking up on me and doing that after I've had a night with your mother.\" A flush crept up Corbin's own neck as he realized what he’d just said in front of his younger son. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. \"You've got a woman you're seeing now, boy?\"\n\n\"Ahh,\" Warren hesitated, a flicker of something guarded in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck and trailed his hand up to tug at one of his long ears. It was a telltale sign, Franky recalled from his childhood, that he was hiding something. The brief flash of evasion piqued Franky's curiosity immediately. His perfect, adventurous older brother had a secret of his own. But before Franky could ponder it further, Warren sidestepped the question with practiced ease. \"Nothing like that. At least not yet anyway. Maybe I'll be looking to settle down more in a few years.\"\n\nCorbin looked slightly disappointed, but he let it drop. \"Well, let me show you what I've got working on the loom, since you're here.\" He gestured towards the massive frame holding the half-finished tapestry of Veloria’s founding. As his father began to explain the complex thread counts and dye lots, Franky’s panic slowly subsided, replaced by the lingering intrigue of Warren's strange reaction. He watched his brother nod along to their father's explanations, but his eyes kept darting back to Fang, who had settled back onto his sacks, a look of profound canine satisfaction on his face.\n\nWith a quiet whistle, Franky led Fang away from the other two rabbits, putting some distance between the dog’s inquisitive nose and anything else he might find interesting. \"Okay, boy, let's practice,\" he murmured, crouching down in a clear space. \"Paw, Fang, give me your paw.\"\n\nHe held out his own paw expectantly. Fang just sat, staring back at him with those intelligent amber eyes, his tail giving a single, lazy thump on the floorboards. Franky wasn't really expecting success; teaching the dog to sit had been a monumental effort. It wasn’t because the dog wasn’t smart, he really just seemed to be resistant to following Franky’s instructions. The true reward was in the posture. When Fang sat, his hind legs splayed just so, his sheath was presented in a way that was impossible to miss. Franky could stare openly, his gaze lingering on the subject of his fascination, all under the guise of patient training.\n\nBefore long, Fang grew bored of the one-sided lesson and nudged Franky’s hand with his wet nose. The nudge turned into a playful nip, and soon the training devolved into a wrestling match on the dusty floor, a flurry of soft thuds, playful growls, and the scrabble of claws on wood.\n\nThey must have gotten a bit too loud. Corbin paused mid-sentence in his lecture to a visibly bored Warren. \"Franky! That's enough!\" he called out, his voice sharp. \"Don't get him all riled up so late at night. You'll rouse the whole neighborhood.\"\n\nFranky sighed, his fun cut short. \"Yes, Papa,\" he mumbled. Dutifully, but sourly, he gave Fang one last scratch behind the ears and headed for the house. He washed up quickly in the basin by the door, the cool water doing little to quell the excited thrumming under his skin. He changed into his simple sleep shirt and climbed into the bed he shared with Bino. The younger cub was already a small, warm lump beside him, lost to the world, his gentle snores punctuated by the soft sound of sucking of his thumb in a display of pure innocence.\n\nBut Franky couldn't sleep. His mind was a whirlwind, and his body was far too excited. The image of Fang sitting attentively, his sheath so casually on display, was seared into his mind and Bino’s suckling wasn’t helping. He was horny, a restless energy buzzing through his limbs. Since that fateful afternoon with Pip and Fang, everything had changed. The solitary explorations that used to bring him a quiet, furtive release for the past few months now felt… hollow. They were a pale shadow, a lonely echo of the shared, wild intimacy he'd experienced. They no longer fulfilled him. He tossed onto his side, then his back, the wool blankets tangling around his legs like restraints as he shifted fitfully in the quiet dark.\n\nHe couldn't help it. His paw squeezed gently around his own little clit, already engorged and sensitive. The wetness spread on his slit, lubricating his fingers as they worked. He bit his lip, longing for something more substantial than his own slick folds. For the hardness and heft of a boy's parts, the weight of them in his hand.\n\nHis thoughts turned to Pip and the way the raccoon's little hardness had felt against his palm. The smoothness of it as it came out of his sheath, the way it had twitched when he stroked it. He gulped, his throat suddenly dry as his mind conjured images of Pip’s sheath nestled between his furry legs, a telltale bulge growing larger as it hardened, slipping inside...\n\nHe blinked, realizing his other hand had slipped under Bino's blanket and sleep shirt. He'd started fondling his brother's immature sheath and balls without even realizing it. He slowly withdrew as if touching something dangerous. This wasn't right. Bino was just a cub. He shouldn't be touching him like this.\n\nFranky's cheeks burned with shame. He felt sick, his stomach twisting with guilt. No. No, he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't be that monster. His chest heaved as he struggled to compose himself, feeling wretchedly ashamed. He'd almost crossed a line he couldn't come back from. He needed to get himself under control. He couldn't let his urges take over like that.\n\nHe took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He needed to think about something else. Anything else. He thought of Warren and his stories of chasing pickpockets through the maze of alleys. The thrill of adventure, of doing something dangerous and exciting. That was what he wanted. That was what he craved. Not this. Not the twisting darkness that sometimes gripped his heart.\n\nFinally, his breathing slowed, his pulse returning to normal, and his arousal fading. He glanced over at Bino, who was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of how close he'd come to danger. Franky vowed he wouldn't let it happen again. He'd find some other way to satisfy his urges. He'd... he'd ask Pip to teach him more about tending to the needs of the body. That seemed safer.\n\nWith his resolve set, he turned his back to Bino hoping for sleep, determined to find a better outlet for his restless energy and adventurous heart. Sleep, however, remained a distant, unreachable shore. Franky’s mind refused to quiet, replaying his transgression with Bino, the near-miss with his father, and the thrilling memory of Pip's fingers and Fang's tongue. He was still tangled in these thoughts, his body humming with a frustrated energy, when the bedroom door creaked open.\n\nWarren entered, moving with a quiet confidence that spoke of his training. The full moon had risen higher, casting a pale, milky light through the window that silvered the objects in the room. Warren's bed, which had sat mostly empty for two years, was a silent testament to his mother’s enduring hope. Tonight, for the first time in what felt like forever, it would be occupied.\n\nFranky’s breath caught. He froze, instantly feigning the deep, even breathing of sleep. His curiosity, which had only just been wrestled into submission, rekindled and flared to life. He remembered, with a vivid, visceral clarity, the last time Warren had stayed over. Franky had walked in on him by accident, catching him in a private, feverish act. He hadn't truly understood then, not really, but the image of his brother's flushed face and the powerful, rhythmic motion of his hand on his own body had been burned into his memory. Now, with his own recent awakenings, that memory was charged with a keen, palpable interest.\n\nThrough slitted eyelids, Franky watched as Warren began to strip. His brother moved with an unselfconscious grace, peeling off his messenger's tunic and trousers. The moonlight painted his lean, muscular frame in shades of silver and shadow. Franky’s gaze was riveted. When Warren’s hands went to the tie of his loincloth, Franky stifled a gasp, pressing his woolen blanket to his mouth.\n\nThe linen cloth fell away and for a breathtaking moment Warren was completely naked. The sway of his brother's long, uncut dick as he moved was barely more than a shadow in the dim light, a dark, pendulous weight between his thighs, but the brief glimpse was enough to send a jolt of pure, white-hot arousal through Franky. It was real. It was right there.\n\nBut all too quickly, Warren slid into his bed, pulling the blankets up to his waist, hiding his nudity from view once more.\n\nIt was too much. Franky felt as if his skin were on fire. Heat radiated from his body, his fur prickling with sweat. The frantic energy he'd tried to suppress came roaring back, centering itself with an almost painful intensity in the soft mound between his thighs, which had only just begun to calm down. He was wide awake, trapped in a bed with his sleeping baby brother and his magnificent, unknowingly tempting older one, his own body a furnace of frustrated desire.\n\nThe next several minutes were a torment. If anything, Franky's arousal had only continued to climb, his thoughts turning to a salacious reel of memories. Of Pip. Of Warren. Of Fang. It was all too much. As soon as he heard the steady, deep breaths of sleep finally coming from his older brother's bed, he could bear it no longer. He slipped from beneath the blanket, a silent shadow moving through the scant lit room, and crept out the door. He had to get back to the workshop. To find Fang, and to find relief.\n\n[center]* * *[/center]\n\nSleep hadn't truly taken hold for Warren. He was accustomed to the light, alert dozing of a guardsman, always attuned to the sounds of the night. He heard the whisper of blankets being moved, the soft shuffle of bare feet across the floorboards, and the faint, careful click of the door latch. Franky was making a late-night visit to the privy, he thought at first, and rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position.\n\nBut the silence that followed stretched on. He lay there, listening to Bino's soft snores and the distant chirp of crickets. Minutes bled into one another until he judged a full quarter of an hour had passed. No one, not even a child with a weak bladder, took that long.\n\nA prickle of unease disturbed his drowsiness. It wasn't just the late hour; it was his mother’s letter. She had written to him at the garrison, her neat, worried script filling the page. The letter was the true reason for his visit. ‘Franky has been on edge,’ she'd written. ‘More than his usual restlessness. I am worried for him.’ \n\nShe had asked him, her oldest son, to come home, to take Franky to see the old herbalist in the EastWard while their father was away making a delivery tomorrow. Her concern was for her son's health, a delicate matter given his unusual circumstances: a boy in heart and mind, but with a body that was different. She'd confessed that their father, a good and simple man, was simply not equipped to discuss such matters. The responsibility fell to him.\n\nA core tenet of his training with the Guard was to always have his companions’ safety in mind. You never let a man on watch wander off alone into the dark. And family… family was a bond that ran deeper than any oath to the city. Feeling an undeniable surge of responsibility, Warren slipped from the bedsheets. He moved quietly, pulling on his tunic but leaving his legs bare, and padded to the door. Something was amiss, and he was going to find his brother.\n\nWarren moved through the house with the practiced silence of his trade. He passed his sister's room, quiet and still, and caught the low, droning snore of his father from behind his parents' closed door. The kitchen was empty, the back door slightly ajar. Warren slipped through it into the cool night air, his bare feet making no sound on the cool stones of the yard.\n\nHe made for the workshop, a knot of concern tightening in his gut. His first thought was the new feral dog. Franky and the beast seemed inseparable, and maybe his brother had just gone to check on him. But he was uncertain.\n\nHis messenger training was like second nature now. Moving quickly and silently was one of the first skills they drilled into you. Your life, and the message you carried, often depended on not being seen, not being heard. Stealth was a shield. This time, he used it to stalk his own brother.\n\nAs he quietly entered the workshop, he slowed. There were sounds coming from within, and he almost called out Franky’s name. But he paused, his hand on the door latch. It wasn’t talking or barking. It was a strange, wet, rhythmic sound. It was oddly familiar, a noise from the periphery of his own life, but out of context here, he couldn't quite place it.\n\nHis instincts screamed caution. He gently pushed the door closed and eased the latch closed with a barely audible click. The scene that met his gaze shocked him to absolute stillness.\n\nHe saw his little brother and the dog, but not in any way he could have anticipated. Franky was there, in the back of the workshop, but he was bent over a large bale of wool, his simple nightshirt hiked up around his waist, his grey buttocks bare in the moonlight. And Fang, the huge Dustmoor hound, was standing behind him. And he wasn't just sniffing. Warren’s mind struggled to process what he was seeing, but there was no mistaking it. Fang's head was nestled between Franky’s legs, his long, dark tongue rhythmically, wetly, licking his little brother.\n\nWarren watched on in shock from the entryway to the rear of the workshop. His mind was slow to comprehend what was before him. Fang was expertly lapping at Franky's very exposed cunny and the boy was gasping and moaning. He seemed to be in pure ecstasy. He debated whether he should walk away and pretend he didn't see it, or stop it, surely embarrassing the boy and maybe making the whole situation worse. \n\nThe sight was arousing to be sure. Warren felt his own cock begin to harden, the foreskin pulling back to expose the tip of his glans. It rubbed against the linen of his tunic, almost painfully. Maybe there was a third option? He stifled a moan, trying to ignore the heat that washed over him. \n\nInstead, he simply strode forward, moving silently through the workshop. Franky was too immersed in his own pleasure to notice him. Warren moved closer, a predator's grace in his step. Fang was slow to react, his head lifting at first in annoyance at the intrusion, then curiosity. Franky craned his neck to see why the dog had stopped, the look of lust plain on his face.\n\nHe stopped a few feet from the pair, close enough that Franky could feel the heat of his body, the soft rustle of his clothing. He watched his brother's eyes go round, his lips part in surprise. Fang huffed, more indignant at being interrupted rather than defiance.\n\nWarren peered down as his younger brother, who was definitely entering the cusp of puberty, had grown taller and a bit slimmer in just a few months. But Franky still looked much smaller compared to the masculine shape of the large canine. And then Warren spoke, his voice low and rough. \"You like that, don't you, little brother?\"\n\nAt first, Franky didn't react. He was clearly shocked by Warren's sudden appearance, his eyes wide with panic, his body vibrating with tension. But Warren was resolute. He reached out a paw, tentative at first, and touched his little brother's backside, the softness of his fur, the taut, smooth skin beneath. He slid his hand over the curve, pressing the thin fabric of the nightshirt higher up Franky's back, baring more of his boyish body. The touch seemed to do something to Franky; some of the fearful tension drained from his shoulders, the panicked furrow of his brow smoothing.\n\n\"Please, big brother, don't tell...,\" Franky stammered, his voice breaking on the words. But Warren cut him off, his touch drifting lower, tracing the seam of Franky's nether lips, which were indeed wet and slick from a mixture of Fang's saliva and his own arousal. The soft, pink folds were slightly parted, inviting, and Warren's paw inadvertently brushed the hard little nub of Franky’s clit. Franky shuddered, a soft whine escaping his throat.\n\nWarren couldn't think. Couldn't reason. His body was thrumming, his cock hard against the fabric of his tunic, throbbing with need. \"You grew up on me while I've been gone. And found new uses for your body, haven't you?\" Warren was surprised by the huskiness in his voice. He sounded lost, breathless. He felt a rush of embarrassment, hot and prickling, but it was quickly overtaken by the overpowering smell of arousal that filled the room. Fang's heavy panting mixed with the heady, musky scent of Franky's cunny.\n\nWarren's paw moved of its own accord, stroking the slick, warm folds open. He could see the hard little knot of Franky's clit, could hear the small, breathy moans that escaped his brother’s lips as he explored him. \n\n\"Is this what you want, little brother?\" he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. \"Is this what you need?\" But Franky seemed too overwhelmed to respond. \"Why don't you show me,\" Warren suggested huskily, moving his paw in slow, deliberate circles over his brother's most sensitive area. \"Show me what you like.\"\n\nFranky moaned, his hips spreading wider, an invitation. But before Warren could press his advantage, Fang reasserted himself, pushing aside the rabbit's paw with his muzzle and lapping his long, rough tongue deep into the confines of the boy's slick sex.\n\nFranky gasped again, his breathing hitching, the sound needy and desperate to Warren’s ears. The older rabbit marveled at how exposed, how vulnerable his little brother looked in that moment. He knelt beside Franky, using both his paws to spread the bunny’s ample cheeks, making it easier for Fang to delve deeper with his snout, his tongue spearing into the tight heat of his brother’s core. The position also exposed Franky's tail and little pink tail star to the cool night air.\n\n\"Please, Warren. Don't tell on me,\" Franky pleaded, his voice strained, his hips rocking back to meet Fang's strokes. \"I need this.\"\n\nWarren watched his brother writhe under the dual attentions of his brother and the dog, his body betraying his own deep-seated need. Franky’s eyes drifted lower, and Warren followed his gaze, noticing that the nightshirt had ridden up, exposing a good seven inches of hard, quivering bunny cock. It jutted out lewdly, the partially-exposed glans glistening in the faint moonlight. A single drop of precum oozed out to dribble over the purplish head, leaving it slick and shiny.\n\nWarren felt cock twitch at being exposed, and could feel the precum leaking from his narrow slit. \"I think you might have spotted something else you want,\" he prompted the young bunny, his voice raspy with arousal. He had seen and done many things in his time with the guard, though nothing quite as explicit as this. But it seemed that Franky was determined to explore his sexuality in the most depraved of ways.\n\nAgain, Franky's lustful gaze never left his brother's cock. Although he’d not planned for tonight's activities to be anything like this, he couldn't deny that he wanted it just as much as Franky did.\n\nWarren pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside as he positioned himself in front of his prone brother. Again, Franky's eyes never left the prize he sought as Warren knelt with one knee on the bale, bringing his hard bunny cock level with Franky's cute face. He gave it a few gentle tugs, pulling back his foreskin and sliding it forward again, smearing his precum over the exposed head.\n\n\"This is what you want, isn't it?\" Warren asked, his voice thick with desire. \"Your brother's big cock?\"\n\nFranky groaned again, either from Fang's ministrations or the sheer realization that he did want Warren's cock. And the smaller bunny leaned forward, his pink tongue flicking out to taste the clear fluid leaking from Warren’s piss slit. Franky's eyes fluttered closed as he surrounded Warren's cock head with his warm, wet lips, savoring the flavor.\n\nWarren felt his cock twitch at the sight and could feel the precum leaking from his own slit. He watched his brother's cheeks hollow as he sucked greedily on Warren's cock head. Franky was obviously enjoying the taste of his brother's dick juice.\n\nFranky was a bit more experienced than Warren had initially thought. The way he covered his buck teeth with his lips and avoided scraping his shaft spoke volumes. \"This isn't the first cock you've sucked, is it?\" Warren asked aloud, his voice thick with arousal.\n\nFranky shook his head, as much as he could without losing the suction on his brother's cock. Warren couldn't help but chuckle. The poor little rabbit was determined to prove his expertise, and Warren couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in his little brother.\n\nHe shifted his hips forward, feeding another inch or two of hard bunny cock into Franky's eager mouth. Franky shuddered visibly, his body tensing for several moments. Warren could only surmise that he’d experienced a small orgasm as he was worked from both ends. His cock twitched at the thought, and he vowed silently to give him more.\n\nWarren pushed forward until he felt his cock head hit the entrance to Franky's throat. He pulled back quickly when he felt the boy gagging, heaving his stomach, taking in a sharp breath of air. \n\nWhen he seemed to calm again, Warren slipped back into his untried throat. But Franky rode through it, not giving up when his limits were tested, proving to Warren just how far he was willing to go. \"Good boy,\" Warren praised his little brother, his voice thick with desire. \"Keep working my cock just like that.\"\n\nHe began to saw his cock in and out of Franky's maw, gently fucking the boy's throat gently. Warren felt a surge of power, knowing he was giving Franky the very thing he craved. His cock throbbed, leaking precum as he lost himself in the pleasure of his brother's mouth.\n\nWarren couldn’t take it anymore. He loved the feeling of Franky's mouth on his cock, the way the younger rabbit worked him so expertly, but his own need was becoming increasingly desperate. He knew he wouldn’t be able to reach completion at this rate, no matter how good it felt. He had to have more.\n\n\"You want to try something different?\" he prompted, his voice thick with desire. \"Do you want to feel my cock between your legs?\" Franky didn't need to respond; his body did it for him as he shivered through another little orgasm. The very thought of it had been enough to push him over the edge.\n\nWarren pulled his slick cock away from Franky's mouth, leaving the boy gasping with need. He repositioned himself on the ground, using his discarded tunic as a makeshift blanket beneath him and the bale to support his back, and gripped his throbbing cock in his paw. He waggled it invitingly, tempting Franky with the very thing he craved.\n\nFranky hesitated, glancing back at Fang, who was still licking at his slick cunny. But the temptation of his brother’s cock was too much for the young bunny to resist. He stood and repositioned himself above Warren, looking down at him with a mixture of need and excitement.\n\n\"Can I, Warren?\" Franky pleaded softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of their own panting.\n\n\"Can you what, bunny?\" Warren prompted, his voice rough with desire. He wanted to hear Franky say it, wanted to hear him beg for it.\n\n\"Can I feel it inside me?\" came the whispered reply, so soft Warren could barely hear it.\n\nBut it was enough. With a groan of need, Warren pulled Franky down onto his throbbing cock, guiding it towards the younger bunny's slick, waiting hole. \"Yes,\" he hissed, as he felt the shaft of his cock against Franky's tight, hot cunny. \"You can have my cock inside you.\"\n\nHe kissed his brother gently, his tongue tangling with Franky's, the kiss gentle and loving, but tinged with a deep-seated desire. But Warren knew this position wasn’t ideal for the inexperienced little bunny. He needed to take control.\n\n\"Let's get you comfortable,\" Warren said, manipulating the smaller rabbit to lie with his back against Warren’s chest, his hips propped open wide, as he held Franky's legs apart. The weight of the smaller form atop his own was easily managed, and he felt his wet cock slap upwards against Franky’s exposed cunny when he got them into place. This would allow Franky to have a bit more control of the situation as well and Warren felt his arousal spike at the thought.\n\n\"Reach down and guide your big brother's cock.\" Warren couldn’t help but moan as Franky’s smaller paw wrapped around the girth of his cock, the younger rabbit’s paw guiding the slick cockhead towards his entrance with a surprising confidence.\n\n\"It feels so hot. And so big.\" Franky mused, his voice dripping with awe as he ran his paw up and down Warren's length. \"Will it fit? I've never. Not with one so big.\"\n\nWarren felt a surge of pride at the thought of being the first to take his little brother in such a way. Franky wasn't as inexperienced as he'd first thought, but this would be a new experience for him nonetheless. \"Just do what feels right, little brother,\" Warren whispered into his big ears, trying to keep the need from his voice. \"You don't need to take it all.\"\n\nFranky nodded, taking a deep breath and Warren could feel the tension drain from his shoulders as he relaxed into his brother’s hold. Gently, Franky guided Warren's cock head, the tight heat of his cunny lips enveloping Warren’s hardness with a slow, delicious agony that had them both gasping with pleasure.\n\n\"Fuck, you're tight,\" Warren grated out from between clenched teeth, as he felt the first inch of his cock sink into Franky’s willing body. \"Just relax, bunny. Let me in.\"\n\nAs Warren's cock began to sink into his brother’s tight, willing body, he felt something against his own thigh and turned to see Fang loping over to them, not willing to be dismissed in favor of another. The feral dog’s tongue snaked out, greedily licking at where Warren and Franky were conjoined, his tongue swiping over Warren’s coated length as he eased deeper into his brother. Fang’s ministrations to their joined bodies, lapping up the wet evidence of their actions, only spurred Warren on.\n\nHe hitched his hips up, sinking his cock in a little deeper with each gentle roll. He was rewarded by a gasping “Oh, gods,” from Franky as Warren sank into his depths. The tight heat of Franky’s cunny gripped him like a vise, and he could feel the wetness dripping down his shaft as Fang’s eager tongue lapped up the dripping proof of their incestuous coupling.\n\nAs Franky continued to grind and wriggle atop him, Warren’s cock sank in ever deeper, pulling a moan from Franky’s throat at the deeper penetration. Warren’s hips met Franky’s swaying ass with every thrust, his cock muscles tensing, millimeter by millimeter, as he pushed deeper into his brother’s body. \n\nA new sensation caused him to moan when he felt Fang's tongue lapping at his balls. His eggs bounced under the tongue bath. His hips jerked upwards involuntarily and a bit more than he intended and he felt a barrier burst like a dam and a new feeling of wetness dribbled down his shaft. The smaller bunny’s tight insides yielded reluctantly to Warren’s onslaught, and as his thighs tensed in preparation, his cock head suddenly burst through the tight ring of Franky’s previously untouched depths.\n\nHe felt Franky tense, heard him groan a bit in pain at his deeper, sudden intrusion, but the young rabbit’s gyrating and wriggling didn’t stop. The sudden give, the sensation of hot wetness surrounding his cock as he sank into the new depths, nearly bowled Warren over.\n\nWarren's paws slid up his brother's body, roaming over the smooth, flat planes of his chest until they found the small, tender nipples. He gripped them tightly, using them as leverage as he continued to gently rut his brother’s cunny.\n\nIf anything, the sensation intensified Franky’s movements, becoming more frantic as he rutted atop Warren’s cock like he was riding a racehorse. Warren couldn't help but moan in response to the incredible sensations he was feeling, the tight heat of his brother's body surrounding him, making his head spin with lustful desire.\n\nHe felt the shiver of another little climax ripple through Franky's body as the boy muttered, \"so good,\" through the paw covering his mouth.\n\nWarren's own arousal spiked at the sight of Franky's flushed cheeks and the soft panting leaving his parted lips. He felt himself teetering on the edge of an orgasm himself, even as he steeled his resolve against it. He couldn't. He wouldn't. The thought of getting his younger brother pregnant, of doing something so irreversible, was too horrifying to contemplate. No, he wouldn't take that chance. Not without protection.\n\nWith a pained groan, he pulled his hips away, separating their joined sexes with a wet, audible slurping sound. He felt Franky's hand reach down, trying to stop his cock from slipping free as the smaller rabbit whimpered, “No, don’t stop.”\n\nBut it was too late. Warren’s cock popped out with an obscene wet sound, leaving Franky empty and bereft. “We can’t…,” Warren started to explain, but Fang’s heavy paws thudded down on either side of the males’ bodies, cutting him off.\n\nFang moved in, his big, furry body pressing against Franky's, sandwiching the young rabbit between him and his brother. Warren felt the dog's hard cock pushing his own aside, his slick glans rubbing against the dog’s fuzzy nuts as Fang moved in to take his place.\n\nWarren knew quickly that the large canine had claimed Franky's empty cunny by the boy’s gasping breath, his own throbbing cock having been replaced by Fang's as he humped atop the young bunny. His initial concern for his brother's well-being was quickly replaced with a twinge of relief. He wouldn't have to dampen the mood with a talk about the dangers of pregnancy.\n\nFranky appeared lost in the throes of passion, his gasps and moans punctuating the air as he and Fang moved together in a frenzied, erotic dance. The young rabbit's hips bucked wildly, meeting Fang's every thrust, his hands clutching desperately at the dog's fur. Warren could hear Franky's breathy moans as he cried out the dog's name over and over again. He slid his paw down from the boy's chest to his hard little clit, gently pressing down on it and using Fang's thrusts to stimulate the young cub further.\n\nAs much as he tried to ignore it, Warren couldn't help but be aware of his own cock, which was still hard and throbbing from his recent self-denial. His balls ached with the need for release, a release that had been promised, but not yet delivered. The fluids dripping down from the joined pair’s sex onto his hot cock were only serving to increase his desperation.\n\nReaching down with his free hand, Warren gripped his aching hardness, his paw closing around the pulsing shaft. It took some creative maneuvering, but he managed to get his cock positioned between Franky's legs, rubbing against the boy’s wet taint. He wanted to be inside his brother again, he realized, feeling a desperate longing for the tight, wet heat that he’d been so unceremoniously ejected from.\n\nThrusting gently, Warren felt his cock head bump against Franky's other hole, the one he'd glimpsed in the moonlight earlier. The tight ring felt impossibly hot as it grazed against his wet cock head, and Warren couldn’t help but wonder if his brother would be willing to let him in there. \"Big brother!\" Franky gasped, his voice tight with a mix of surprise and arousal.\n\nWarren paused, his breathing heavy as he tried to gauge Franky's reaction. He knew he was crossing a line by suggesting they go further, but he couldn't help himself. The thought of claiming his brother completely, of sinking his cock into that tight, hot hole, was too tempting to resist. \"Do you want me to stop?\" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.\n\nFranky hesitated for a moment, his hips still moving in time with Fang’s thrusts. He seemed to consider his options all the while, Warren’s hardness teased at his forbidden backdoor. Finally, Franky nodded, a small, breathless sound escaping his lips. \"No... don't stop,\" he whimpered, his hips twitching as if seeking more.\n\nWarren groaned, a low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest, and he slowly pushed forward, sliding his cock head past the tight ring of muscle and into the even tighter confines of his brother’s tail hole. Franky whimpered, his fingers clutching at Warren's arm as he felt the invasion, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed to push back, impaling himself on his brother’s cock with a soft moan.\n\nThe tight heat enveloping Warren's cock was almost too much to bear, and he had to fight the urge to come immediately. Instead, he began to thrust gently, matching the rhythm of Fang's pounding hips. The three of them moved together in an erotic tangle of limbs and heat, and Warren knew he wouldn't last long. He could feel his orgasm building, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he thrust deeper and deeper into his brother’s greedy hole.\n\nWarren's cock was relatively thin for its length, a feature he found useful for breaking in virgin holes. He thought back to a night several weeks earlier when he'd helped take Clover’s anal virginity. The horse's insides as he sank into them had been far looser than the tight confines he fought his way into now. \n\nThe added stimulation of Fang's hard cock rubbing his brother's insides along with his own was driving Warren close to the edge very quickly. There was no worry of knocking up his little bro by busting in his tailhole and he resolved to bathe his insides in rabbit jizz.\n\n\"Oh gods,\" had replaced Franky's muttering of Fang’s name as he was now getting double penetrated. But even those were cut off as Franky let out a moan of surprise, “he’s knotting me!” Warren wouldn't have believed it possible if he didn't push his paw between the pair to find the feral dog had indeed knotted his little brother's cunny. His fingers brushed against the pulsing, swollen flesh as the two became locked together. He could feel the pulses as the more experienced canine pumped ribbons of hot cum deep inside his brother.\n\nAs Warren's own climax reached its peak, he thrust hard into Franky's clenching hole, the added stimulation enough to send Franky careening over the edge once more. The young rabbit cried out, his body shuddering as he came for the fourth or maybe fifth time, his release shuddering around Warren's and Fang's lengths. Warren followed a second later, his cock twitching and spurting as he filled Franky's willing hole with his own hot, sticky cum, his groan of completion drowned out by his brother’s moans of ecstasy.\n\nThe trio's erratic movements turned to gently grinding and their arousal ebbed. Warren felt a bit jealous as Franky's shudders continued long after his own few seconds of spurting ecstasy, the differences in their anatomy was again highlighted. Fang would likely be locked in the cub for quite some time if Warren understood canine anatomy and he wasn't ready to pull out of his brother's warm confines. Instead he hugged the shuddering bunny close to his chest murmuring in his big ear's what a good boy he was.\n\n[center]* * *[/center]\n\nAs their combined climaxes receded, their erratic, almost violent thrusting gave way to a gentle, rhythmic rocking, their bodies still entwined, sated and content. Franky was still reeling from the intense sensations coursing through his body, his every nerve humming with pleasure. He felt a rush of warmth flooding his cunny, the result of Fang's swollen knot, locking them together. The feral dog had effectively claimed him, marking him as his own.\n\nAs his muscles twitched, adjusting to the new presence inside him, Franky couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for his brother, who had not only allowed this moment of pure ecstasy but had shared in it as well. He knew their father would never approve of such acts, but Warren's acceptance of what they'd done made it seem almost normal, acceptable even.\n\n\"You were such a good boy for me,\" Warren murmured in Franky's ear, his voice rough with emotion. \"I'm so proud of you for being able to take Fang's knot.\"\n\nFranky shivered in Warren's arms, his heart swelling with affection and gratitude at his brother’s words. He knew he should be panicking, worried about what they'd just done and what it meant for their future, but Warren's words were a soothing balm, calming his fears and reassuring him that everything would be alright.\n\n\"I didn't know my little brother was so adventurous,\" Warren said, a hint of pride in his voice as he nuzzled Franky’s big ears. Franky felt his cheeks flush at the praise, his heart soaring at Warren's approval. Despite the unexpected events of the night, Franky felt safer and more loved than he ever had before. \n\nFranky felt the need to speak, to say something about what they just experienced, but his mind only resolved on the obvious. The afterglow, a peaceful silence that followed their intimacy, was broken as Franky whispered. \"You squirted in my butt,\" he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.\n\nWarren chuckled softly, running his fingers along Franky's side, making the younger rabbit shiver. \"That's right,\" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. \"I came in your tight, cute little bunny butt. And it was amazing.\"\n\nFranky hesitated for a moment, his mind grappling with the reality of what they'd just done. \"It's not dirty? Wrong?\" he asked, needing reassurance.\n\nWarren pulled him closer, cradling his brother against his chest. \"I mean, not everyone would understand,\" he admitted, his voice soft. \"But I love you and would never hurt you.\" Franky felt warmth spread through his body, his heart soaring at Warren's confession.\n\nFor a brief moment, Franky considered turning and truly hugging his brother close. But the weight of Fang's body pressing against his own and the very obvious knot stretching his cunny rendered such a gesture impossible.\n\n\"I'd love to stay inside you longer, but I'm not built for multiple orgasms,\" Warren said, his voice tinged with sleepy regret.\n\nAs if to punctuate those words, Warren's cock eased out of his tailhole with a soft, wet sound, leaving Franky feeling oddly empty. True, he had the feral dog's still-hard cock filling him, but the loss of Warren's presence left Franky feeling strangely bereft. He tensed his muscles, trying to keep his brother's cum from leaking out, a futile effort that spoke to his deep desire to hold onto this moment, to keep a part of Warren inside him.\n\nAt least Franky still had Fang inside him, his knot pulsing and stretching as the feral dog continued to pump him full of cum. Franky remembered just how much the dog could produce from their previous encounter, and how it had overwhelmed him at the time.\n\nCuriosity piqued, Warren asked, \"I take it this is not your first time with Fang?\" His voice was tinged with concern, but surprisingly, Franky could detect no judgement in his tone.\n\n\"No,\" Franky admitted, his cheeks flushing with shame. He wished he could make himself smaller, disappear into his brother’s fur beneath them, but he felt he had no choice other than to face his brother's questions. Franky hesitated, unsure how to answer. He considered making up a story, telling Warren that it had been awful, dirty, wrong, but something stopped him. He knew that wasn't the truth, and he didn't want to lie to his brother. Not after what they'd just shared. \"But, I've only sucked him before.\"\n\nWarren seemed to accept this, Franky could feel rather than see the older rabbit nodding. He didn't comment on the brevity of his response, but Franky got the impression his brother had guessed there was more to the story. \"Oh, wow,\" Warren said, his voice now tinged with excitement. \"He feels kinda big.\" He gently patted Franky's round belly, the motion soothing and affectionate. \"How was it?\" he asked, his voice tinged with what Franky thought was genuine curiosity.\n\n\"It felt good,\" he said finally, his voice small. \"Really good. But…I don't know. It feels different. Wrong, maybe.\"\n\nWarren was quiet for a moment, his hands still moving softly over Franky's skin. \"I get that,\" he said at last, his voice soft. \"But it's not wrong, Franky. Not if it felt good. Not if you wanted it. Everyone's different, you know?\" He paused, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Franky's head. \"And I love you no matter what.\"\n\nWith those words, Franky felt a weight lift from his shoulders. His brother accepted him. All of him. He closed his eyes, content to lay there with Warren's strong arms around him, Fang's knot still locked inside him, and his brother's love surrounding him like a warm blanket.\n\n\"It didn't feel wrong, I guess,\" Franky admitted, his voice taking on a new confidence. \"Sometimes the things I feel seem like they should be wrong. But they don't feel wrong to me.\" The words started tumbling out of Franky’s mouth now, as if a dam had broken and the flood of emotions was being released. \"Even with you. I wanted to feel your cock inside me so bad. And you and Fang together inside me was....\"\n\nUpon hearing his name mentioned in the conversation, Fang seemed to wake up more and take notice. He gave a soft bark, his body tensing as if recognizing his name being spoken. His pumping cock seemed to slow down, but the knot remained, keeping Franky and him locked together. Franky felt the dog’s muscles shift, preparing to move and likely wanting to change position to be more comfortable, but he hesitated, unsure of what to do.\n\nWarren jumped in, hastily explaining, \"Oh, he's gonna want to turn now, but don't let him pull out the knot yet. It'll hurt if he does and you're not ready. Spin around when he turns, it'll be easier.\"\n\nFranky nodded, not really sure what his brother meant, but trusting him nonetheless. He felt the stretching sensation in his cunny from the knot change as Fang started to turn his body. Franky reached down and grabbed hold of the thick piece of flesh joining them, then rolled himself at the same time.\n\nWith Warren's help, Franky maneuvered, still attached to Fang, into an awkward position belly to belly with Warren. His hips gyrated as he rolled, spinning his body around until he faced the same way as Warren, who maneuvered his own body to the side. This put some strain on Franky's back, but the alternative was worse as he would have pulled on the knot painfully otherwise.\n\nIt wasn't ideal, with his tail lifted up and Fang's muzzle facing away from the brothers, but it would have to suffice for now until the knot went away. Franky whimpered at the awkward twist, but Warren just petted him gently, helping to alleviate some of the discomfort. \"Just relax, little brother,\" Warren murmured, his voice soothing. \"Try to enjoy this position while it lasts. It's kind of a rare experience, you know?\" Warren chuckled softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.\n\nFranky nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to relax his muscles as much as possible. He knew this wasn't going to last forever, but he could still appreciate the closeness he felt with Warren and Fang in this moment. He just hoped it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for the dog.\n\nWith Fang situated and seeming content, Franky released the knot and wiggled slightly, testing the feeling of the dog still inside him. He felt a twinge of pain but pushed it aside, determined to enjoy the remaining moments of closeness with his brother. He wrapped both arms around Warren's neck, pulling him closer, and whispered, \"Thank you, big brother.\"\n\nHe really meant it. Not just for helping him adjust as Fang moved, but for loving him unconditionally. For not spurning him or berating him when he found Franky involved in a bestial romance with Fang. He could feel tears in his eyes now, but he promised himself he wouldn't cry like some scared little cub.\n\n\"I've seen a lot more of the world outside our little ward in the city. I've been with my own fair share of men myself,\" Warren explained, his voice soft and reassuring. \"I even had my tail filled by a canine, the two legged variety. Once, mind you.\" Warren stroked Franky's ears affectionately. \"I know it can be scary and maybe even a little lonely exploring your sexuality. But you can always talk to me. If it helps.\"\n\nFranky took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He felt a warmth spreading through him at Warren's words. It felt good to know that his brother understood. That he wasn't alone in his struggles. He opened his mouth, unsure of where to start, but the words started flowing once he did.\n\nHe told Warren about his adventure with Pip and rescuing Fang from the pompous noble family. He even told him about his and Pip's first exploration with Fang in the workshop. The words tumbled out of him in a rush, the memories vivid and intense, but Franky didn't hold back.\n\n\"I was so scared papa’d be mad at me. Or worse, mama would be disappointed,\" Franky admitted, his voice soft. \"But it felt so good, Warren. So right. I didn't want to stop, but I was so worried about what you'd think of me.\"\n\nWarren listened intently, his expression serious but not judgmental. When Franky finished, Warren sighed, pulling him into a tight hug. \"I'm not mad, little brother,\" he said, his voice rough with emotion. \"I promise. I'm just glad you had the courage to explore who you are. It's a scary thing, and you're so young, but you shouldn't be afraid of who you are. Ever.\"\n\nWith Warren's reassurance, Franky felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been holding onto this secret, this fear, for so long, and now it felt like a weight had been lifted. He felt lighter, freer, and most importantly, loved.\n\n\"I wish I was a normal boy,\" Franky sighed, his voice tinged with a deep-seated longing. He reached down and gently cupped Warren's deflated member in his paw, feeling the soft, smooth skin. \"More than anything, I wish I had one of these.\"\n\nWarren looked down at his soft cock, then back at Franky, a thoughtful expression on his face. \"You can explore mine for a bit if it helps,\" he suggested, his voice warm and encouraging.\n\nTaking him up on the offer, Franky gently wrapped his paw around Warren's uncut member, feeling the slickness of his brother's cum on the skin. Warren's foreskin was no longer pulled back, his purplish head now hidden within the skin folds, but it still felt generous in his paw. Franky marveled at how soft and smooth it felt, running his fingers along the length of it, exploring every inch.\n\n\"It's not all it's cracked up to be,\" Warren said, trying to explain. \"Especially when you get random boners all the time and you feel the need to hide them. It's kind of shameful and embarrassing.\"\n\nFranky nodded, listening intently as Warren continued, \"That doesn't even begin to explain how annoying having balls can be. They are always getting in the way. And even the slightest tap can feel like agony.\"\n\nCurious, Franky reached down and gently felt Warren's balls, comparing them to the eggs his mother would sometimes get from the market. They were similar in shape, but smaller, and the furry sack that held them felt loose and strange under his palm. He didn't realize how different they felt compared to Pip's and Fang's, both of whom seemed to have tighter sacks pressed against their bodies.\n\n\"It feels amazing to me,\" Franky admitted, his voice filled with wonder and just a hint of jealousy. But he appreciated his brother's willingness to let him explore, to ask questions and learn.\n\nThey sat like that for a few more minutes, with Franky gently exploring Warren's cock and balls, asking questions and learning about his brother's body. It felt good to connect with Warren in this way, to share something so intimate and personal. It made Franky feel closer to his brother, more connected to him than he ever had before.\n\n\"I love you, Franky,\" Warren whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his brother's forehead. \"No matter what. Always remember that.\"\n\nFranky could feel the knot in his cunny starting to shrink, deflating slowly as Fang's cock began to soften. He whimpered softly, not wanting to be separated from the dog, dreading the emptiness he knew would follow when they were no longer connected. The discomfort he felt from the stretching and the fullness was nothing compared to the fear of losing this closeness, this intimacy he shared with both Fang and his brother.\n\nWith a soft, wet sound, Fang's knot slipped free, his cock sliding out of Franky's very sore and gaping cunny. A fresh wave of pain washed over Franky, making him gasp and whimper again, his hands clutching at Warren's arms. But his brother held him tight, pressing soothing kisses to his fur, his voice a soft rumble in Franky's ear as he whispered words of comfort and love.\n\nFranky felt something wet and warm lapping at the mess between his legs, and he realized it was Fang, cleaning their fluids with his rough tongue. The sensation was soothing, almost lulling Franky into a peaceful daze, even as he felt the slick evidence of their coupling being licked away.\n\nWhen Fang trotted away, looking pleased with himself, several minutes later, Warren shook him from his dozing. \"We should get you cleaned up, little brother,\" Warren said softly, gently lifting Franky to a standing position. \"Let's get you to bed.\"\n\nFranky nodded, his eyes already struggling to stay open as exhaustion started to take hold. He vaguely remembered Warren pulling his nightshirt back into place and gathering his own discarded clothing. And he easily slid into Warren’s arms as the bigger rabbit picked him up and cradled him not unlike the way his brother used to put him to bed when he was younger.\n\nHe leaned into Warren's chest, feeling safe and loved as he was carried up to his bed. Warren laid him down gently, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before tucking him in with a warm blanket. Franky's last sight before drifting off to sleep was Warren's gentle smile and Bino’s gentle snores across the room. And the knowledge that he was loved and cherished, no matter what, eased him into slumber.\n\n[center]* * *[/center]\n\nFranky awoke with a start, blinking in the bright morning light. It was too late in the morning, he realized with a jolt. He was going to be late to help his mother prepare the family's market stall. His father was going to be furious. But no one had woken him.\n\nThen he realized he was in Warren's bed. He must have shared his older brother's bed the night before. But the bed was empty now, Warren and Bino both gone.\n\nAs he stood up, a rush of pain shot through his hips and pelvis, reminding him of the night before. Fang! The feral dog had knotted him, and he could hardly believe it. And Warren… Warren had been there, too. A wave of shame washed over him, but it was quickly replaced with a sense of awe, a feeling that he couldn't quite put into words. He'd never been closer to anyone, never felt so connected to another being.\n\nBut all of that would have to wait. He had obligations, chores to do. Being the son of an artisan meant that he had work to do, a family to help support. He quickly dressed, wincing as he pulled on his underclothes. He'd avoided wearing them as much as possible lately, feeling that a male loincloth didn't seem right on him. But the more feminine, softer underpants, hand-me-downs from his older sister, felt revolting. Yet today, he was grateful for the extra comfort they provided.\n\nHe hurried downstairs, feeling the need to apologize, to make up for his late arrival. Instead of finding his parents waiting for him and seething at his tardiness, he found Warren waiting for him in the family room, a plate of kale, spinach, and grain in front of him. \"Good morning, sleepy bun,\" Warren said cheerfully, the morning light casting a warm glow over his features as he slid the bowl towards an empty chair.\n\n\"Sorry...,\" Franky stammered, feeling guilty. \"I need to get to the market. Mama will need me to help her set up the stall.\" He felt nervous seeing his brother again after their closeness last night. What if Warren decided to change his mind after sleeping? What if Warren found him disgusting, depraved? He needed to get out.\n\n\"I see she didn't tell you,\" Warren said, breaking through Franky's mounting anxiety. He looked at Franky, a mild, nervous expression on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck—a sure tell of his brother’s unease. \"Ma and Pa tasked me with taking you to see an herbalist today. You've got the day off. So, relax.\"\n\nFranky blinked, surprised. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been given a day off from the stall, let alone been taken to an herbalist. \"What... what for?\" he asked, a new suspicion creeping into his voice. But he also couldn’t deny his hunger as he eyed the bowl.\n\nWarren sighed, folding his hands on the table. \"Mum's worried about you, Franky. About... about how you've been feeling. She thought maybe an herbalist might help. Maybe give you some tea to calm you down.\" His voice sounded unsure, like he was trying to convince himself this was a good idea.\n\nFranky frowned, a throb of hurt rising in his chest. Was he really that much of a mess that his parents thought he needed herbs to calm down? He'd thought he'd been doing a pretty good job of hiding his turmoil, but maybe he hadn't been as successful as he thought.\n\nWarren seemed to sense his brother's unhappiness, and he reached over, giving Franky's hand a gentle squeeze. \"It's not a big deal, Fran,\" he said softly. \"It's just... they love you. They want to help. And maybe the herbalist will have some advice for you. For... for what you're going through.\"\n\nFranky sighed, nodding slowly. He knew Warren was right, but it still stung. Maybe it stung a little more to hear his brother use his old name. Still, a day off from the stall, a chance to spend time with his brother... maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He slid into the seat next to Warren, picking up his fork. \"Okay,\" he said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. \"I'll go. For Ma.\"\n\nWarren smiled, clearly pleased. He began to eat his own breakfast, and Franky followed suit, the silence between them comfortable, companionable. By the time they finished, Franky felt the tension that had been knotting his shoulders start to ease, not completely, but somewhat. Maybe this day wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.\n\nFranky didn't want to mention their activities last night unless Warren did. As they ate in silence, a pregnant aura seemed to hang in the air around them. But Warren eased the tension a little more, explaining that their father was out on an errand and they would be going to see Mistress Elara, a fox who lived across the river.\n\nAfter their meal, they headed out to the East Ward. It was the part of the city populated mostly by farmers who worked the fields outside the gates. Not the most glamorous part of the city, but new to Franky, who was growing excited for this little adventure. They meandered through the streets of the Upper Ward, the sounds of working artisans heard from every direction.\n\nAs the pair crossed the bridge spanning the River Vael, Warren paused. The spot seemed like a nexus point in the bustling city despite the occasional passer-by. \"I always find these crossings to be calming,\" Warren said, looking out over the lazy river. \"Maybe it's the sound of the river or the way the air smells fresher here, but it gives me a real change of perspective.\"\n\nFranky wasn't quite sure what he meant until he also stopped beside the stone railing next to his brother. The river ran lazily beneath them, and Franky marveled at how the stone bridge spanned the wide river without supports underneath. He never stopped to think about it before, but he knew the bridges were mageworks; he just always took them for granted.\n\nThey stood there in companionable silence for a few moments, just watching the river flow beneath them. It was peaceful, tranquil, and Franky felt some of his anxiety start to melt away. Maybe Warren was right about this being a good opportunity for him to relax and get some perspective.\n\nInstead of continuing on, Franky and Warren lingered at the bridge railing, watching the river below. The tension between them still felt heavy and unspoken, a weight pressing down on Franky’s shoulders despite Warren’s previous attempt to dispel it.\n\nFinally, Warren broke the silence, his voice gentle but probing. “So, are you feeling okay today? I've noticed a little tenderness in the way you are walking.”\n\nFranky tensed, his fur prickling. “I'm fine,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. He didn't want to address the reason for his soreness. He didn't feel ready, so he focused on the river below instead.\n\nBut Warren wasn't done. He looked down at Franky, his eyes soft but with a worried tinge to their edges. “You really did take Fang's knot like a champ last night. I was afraid maybe you might be in pain today.”\n\nFranky couldn't believe his brother was talking so openly and touching him too. Out in the open where anyone could see. He glanced around, but found no one else nearby to hear them.\n\n“I mean...,” Franky stammered out, trying to find a way to explain. “I am sore, but not hurt. It's like a good kind of hurt. Like when you empty a wagon of heavy wool bales and your arms ache, but you feel like you accomplished something.”\n\nWarren nodded, seeming to understand. “Yeah, I can understand that.” Franky felt his brother's hand slide down his back and rest on his tail, rubbing the soft fur there. “And your other hole, how does that feel?”\n\nFranky blushed, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “It's... it's okay,” he said, his voice small. “A little sore too, but not too bad.” He wasn't quite sure what else to say, how to explain the strange mix of pain and pleasure he'd felt last night. How it had felt to have Warren inside him, filling him up and making him feel whole.\n\nWarren smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That's good to hear. I was worried I might have been too rough with you.” He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Did you... did you like it? What we did last night?”\n\nFranky swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He'd been so focused on the physical sensations, the overwhelming pleasure and closeness he'd felt, that he hadn't really stopped to think about whether he'd liked it or not. But now, looking back on it, he knew the answer. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I liked it. A lot.”\n\nWarren’s smile widened, and he pulled Franky into a tight hug. “I'm glad,” he said, resting his chin on the top of Franky’s head. “I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it, but I'm really glad you enjoyed it. And I want you to know... I want you to always feel like you can talk to me about this stuff, okay? I'm not going to judge you or think you're weird or anything. I promise.”\n\nFranky felt a lump form in his throat, but he nodded, hugging Warren back just as tightly. He knew he could trust his brother, and that meant more to him than he could possibly express. “Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled by Warren's chest. “I... I love you. So much.”\n\nWarren chuckled, his hand stroking the back of Franky's head. “I love you too, little brother. More than anything. Maybe even more than I should.”\n\nWith those words, Franky felt a warmth blossom in his chest, spreading through his entire body. He knew, no matter what happened, no matter how confusing and scary the world outside might be, he would always have Warren by his side. And that was enough to face anything.\n\nAs they turned from the railing and continued walking, Franky found himself looking forward to seeing Mistress Elara and getting her advice. Maybe she could help him make sense of the confusing feelings and desires that had been tormenting him lately. He knew he needed guidance, and if his parents thought this fox could help, then he would give it a chance. He just hoped she could offer him some real solutions, or at least some comfort. He couldn't take much more of this uncertainty and guilt.\n\nThe sun was beginning to climb, the long shadows cast over the cobblestone streets of the East Ward slowly began melting away by the time Franky and Warren found the small shop they were looking for. The sign hanging outside declared the owner to be Elara, an herbalist and mage. It was a bit of a shock to Franky; mages were supposed to reside in the Riverside district, or at least that's what he had thought. But here was one living and working in the midst of farmers and dockworkers.\n\nThe inside of the shop was neat but cluttered, filled with the earthy smell of herbs and plants. Shelves lined the walls, laden with bottles and jars filled with mysterious liquids and powders, and more books than Franky had seen in his lifetime. It seemed deserted at first, but then a lithe ferret emerged from a back room, eyeing the pair of rabbits curiously. “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone professional and polite.\n\nWarren explained that they were there at the request of their mother, who hoped that Mistress Elara might be able to help Franky with his... issues. He didn't go into much detail, but the ferret didn't seem to need much to understand.\n\nInstead of looking confused or surprised, the ferret just smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned and called back to the room he'd just emerged from, “Wake up you lazy, old vixen! You've got an appointment you didn't bother to mention to me.” His tone went from polite and professional to irritated in the blink of an eye, and Franky was taken aback by the sudden change. He felt his apprehension rising again, not sure what to make of this new development.\n\nThe ferret turned back to them, his professional smile firmly back in place as if nothing had happened. “She'll be right with you,” he said smoothly, as if they hadn't just heard him shouting at his mistress.\n\nWarren and Franky exchanged uneasy glances, but they had no choice but to wait. The ferret turned to a shelf and busied himself adjusting some jars, leaving them to wander in the dimly-lit shop. Franky shifted nervously from foot to foot, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into something dangerous, something he wasn't prepared for. But he had no choice. His mother had sent him here for a reason, and he had to trust her judgment.\n\nAfter what felt like an eternity, the curtain to the back room swung open, and a beautiful vixen emerged. Her fur was a rich, deep red, and her eyes sparkled with an almost otherworldly intelligence. She was dressed in a flowing robe, and she moved with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of nature.\n\n“Welcome,” she said, her voice like honey, sweet and smooth. “I am Elara. And you must be Franky.” She smiled, and for a moment, Franky felt as if he were the only person in the world.\n\nFranky heard the ferret mutter something about putting on a show, but before he could ask what he meant, the fox ushered him over to a corner of the shop set up for one-on-one consultations. Two small chairs faced each other over a short, sturdy circular table. Franky found himself seated in one, with Warren protectively looming behind him. He felt thankful for his brother’s presence.\n\n“Your mother sent me a missive explaining your predicament,” Elara said, her voice smooth and honeyed as she settled into the chair opposite Franky. “Quite fascinating, mind you.” Her eyes seemed to bore into him, as if she could see right through him, and Franky felt as if he were being inspected, or even dissected by the woman’s intense gaze. “I wouldn't have even guessed looking at you. I only see a handsome young man before me.”\n\n“I am a boy,” Franky said, maybe a little defensively, his ears flattening against his skull.\n\n“Of course, of course. You know, there is a city across the sea where children grow up without gender,” Elara said, her voice taking on a dreamy, reminiscent tone as if musing on some past memory. “They go about, all in little skirts. No one but their parents knowing their true sex. It's not until they are married that they choose a gender. Can you imagine?”\n\nFranky blinked, his mind reeling at the thought. A city where no one knew if you were a boy or a girl until your wedding night? It sounded… well, it sounded like an ideal society to him. At least, the idea of not having to worry about what gender you were supposed to be seemed ideal. He wasn't so sure about wearing skirts all the time.\n\n“Even their partners aren’t supposed to know what’s under those skirts until their wedding night,” Elara continued, her eyes widening at the scandalous thought. “Could you even imagine not knowing whether you’d be finding a cock or a cunny until your marriage bed?”\n\nFranky felt his cheeks heat at the thought and at the brashness of the woman’s words, his mind conjuring up images of a wedding night, of nervous anticipation and the reveal of a hidden sex. It both excited and terrified him, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be in such a situation.\n\n“I... I don't know,” he stammered, his voice tight and small in the quiet shop. “I... I never thought about it.”\n\nElara leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Well, it's something to ponder, isn't it? In the meantime, let's talk about you, Franky. About what’s been troubling you. About what brings you here today…”\n\nAnd with those words, the vixen launched into a barrage of questions, her keen eyes never leaving Franky’s face as she tried to unravel the mystery that was Franky’s life. Franky found himself answering honestly, his fear of judgment or recrimination from this stranger somehow less immediate than it had been with his own family. He talked about how he had always felt like a boy, despite the body he had been given, and how confusing and frustrating that felt. He even discussed the confrontation with his parents and his demand to be called Franky, and the subsequent avalanche of change that had brought.\n\nThere were some secrets he kept close, locked away in the deepest corners of his mind. He didn't mention Pip, or Fang, or the closeness he’d shared with Warren the night before. Those were private, a part of his heart he wasn't ready to share with anyone, not even this insightful and enigmatic fox.\n\n\"You do smell rather male to me,\" the vixen mused, as if she were trying to solve a puzzle. \"Have you been sexually active?\"\n\nFranky stiffened at the question, his throat suddenly dry. He could feel Warren's posture change behind him, becoming more protective, as if he could shield Franky from the question itself. The young rabbit didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to answer. Could the vixen smell Fang on him? Warren? Did she know what they had done last night?\n\nElara seemed to sense their discomfort, and she waved a paw, dismissing the question as if it hadn't even been asked. “It matters not,” she said airily. “You know, in that fascinating genderless society, they still tend to pair off male and female in marriage. Pheromones and body scents are pure giveaways. But it does allow more unusual pairings to arise, and without judgment. Two men may marry, one becoming the wife and the other the husband to the outside world. Yes, truly fascinating.”\n\nFranky couldn't help but wonder what that would be like, to live in a world where such things were accepted without question, without stigma. Would he have been able to be himself from the beginning? Would he have ever felt the need to hide?\n\nElara seemed lost in thought for a moment, but then she shook her head, refocusing on Franky. “But I have learned of certain herbal teas they use to slow development of certain features and to prevent or promote pregnancy. I think I can help whip something up that may help you.”\n\nFranky blinked, not entirely sure what he was hearing. “You... you can help me? How?”\n\nThe vixen smiled, a mysterious curve of her lips. “There are herbs that can balance the humors, ease the pressures of the body and mind. It will not change what you are, Franky, but it may help you find a path forward. One that feels right for you.”\n\nThe fox’s eyes turned shockingly cunning at that moment. “I won't even charge you for it,” she declared, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. At this, Franky heard the ferret groan as if in understanding that it meant less income for himself. But the realization that the ferret had been listening in on the conversation also made Franky feel embarrassed. He felt his cheeks heat, wondering just how much the other man had heard.\n\nBut if Elara noticed her assistant’s reaction, she didn't let it bother her. Instead, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with Franky’s. “All I ask in return is that you let me study your progress,” she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Do we have a deal?”\n\nFranky didn't know how much it would cost for the treatment the vixen was proposing, but he suspected it wouldn't be cheap. She was a mage, after all, and the prospect of free treatment and maybe even better treatment did appeal to him.\n\nHe felt Warren's reassuring paw on his shoulder, and when he looked up, he saw the unspoken words in his older brother's eyes. This was Franky's choice, and his brother would support him no matter what.\n\nFranky barely had time to finish nodding his head before Elara was up and out of her seat. “Perfect,” she declared, clapping her paws together. “I'll just have Nestor give you a quick examination while I prepare some initial teas you can try. He can fill me in on his notes later.”\n\n“Examination?” Franky and the ferret, who was listening on the other side of the shelf, both gulped in unison.\n\n“Nothing too invasive, I promise,” Elara said, waving a paw dismissively. “Your brother can watch over you.” And with that, she was off, inspecting the shelves in search of particular herbs that only she seemed to know.\n\nFranky and the ferret eyed each other warily, both seeming a little apprehensive about what their roles would be in this examination. But the ferret just hunched his shoulders, resigned, and opened the curtain to the back room. “We can use my room for the examination,” he said, his voice flat. “It's back this way.”\n\nFranky swallowed hard, his heart beginning to race. He didn't know what to expect, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Elara was his best hope, and if an examination was what it took to get her help, then he would endure it.\n\nFranky swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the back room. Elara spoke up again, a sly smile on her face. “Oh, and Nestor has become quite proficient at inspecting male bodies,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “If the scent of semen he carries home each night as of late is any indication.” The fox seemed to delight at tormenting her assistant, and Franky figured this was more of that rather than reassurance.\n\nFranky followed the groaning ferret into the back room, Warren close at his heels. The room was small but clean, with a narrow bed and a few shelves filled with vials and instruments. The ferret gestured for Franky to sit on the bed.\n\n“I'll be sure to keep it professional,” Nestor said, adding a muttered, “unlike my mistress,” under his breath. “But you'll need to remove your clothes.”\n\nFranky hesitated. He had become so accustomed to hiding his body that he struggled to remove his clothing too readily, but with Warren in the room, he felt a sense of comfort. He methodically removed each garment as Nestor fumbled at a nearby desk looking for writing materials. It helped that the ferret was not actively watching him.\n\nHowever, Franky did feel a subtle arousal blooming. He knew his brother was watching, and without realizing it, he started meeting Warren's appraising gaze as his shirt and trousers came off. And the embarrassing realization that he was wearing women's undergarments sank in.\n\nFranky felt his cheeks heat, but he pressed on, determined to see this through. He removed the last of his clothes, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. But Warren's gaze never left his face, never wandered down to his most private parts. It was almost as if he didn't see them at all. However, Franky realized that he secretly wished his brother had.\n\nNestor finished preparing his writing materials and turned back to Franky, his expression carefully neutral. “Alright, let's get started, shall we?” He had Franky lie back on the bed, and then proceeded to palpate his stomach and chest, feeling for any abnormalities. He checked Franky’s heart rate and breathing, listening carefully for any signs of distress. Through it all, Franky remained tense and anxious, but he didn't voice any complaints.\n\n“Are you okay?” Warren whispered, his voice low and worried. Franky nodded, reassuring his brother that he was fine.\n\nAfter a few minutes, Nestor stepped back, making a few final notations on his paper. “Alright, that's nearly everything,” he said, wiping his paws on a cloth. “I just need to examine your...,” he paused, seeming to search for the appropriate way of saying the next part, but just left it trailing, instead opting to motion towards Franky's lower areas.\n\nThe ferret bent and peered closely at Franky's exposed cunny. \"You do seem to have some mild abrasions,\" he remarked, his voice taking on a clinical tone. \"I'm not really a healer, but I have an ointment that can help.\" He didn't mention possible causes for which Franky was grateful. He already felt vulnerable enough with this virtual stranger examining his most private area.\n\n\"Is it okay if I touch you?\" Nestor asked tentatively. For the first time, Franky really looked at the ferret and realized he was just as nervous. That gave him a little feeling of power and control again. Warren's paw on his shoulder also gave him more confidence.\n\nFeeling bolder, Franky pulled his legs up, opening them wider, his voice sounding husky even to his own ears as he said, \"Go ahead.\"\n\nFranky felt Nestor's tentative paw on his cunny as the ferret eased him open. He saw the paw trembling, and he wondered why the other male was so hesitant, almost scared. But then the bleachy, raw scent of Fang's cum hit Franky. Bunnies weren't as sensitive to scents as predatory species, but it was strong enough that he could even smell it. The aftermath of their sexual tryst still lingered inside him.\n\nThere was no doubt that the ferret could smell it as well as his nose trembled and gentle sniffing turned into near animalistic huffing. Franky knew then that Nestor was struggling to not let the scent overpower him. Franky let his gaze wander to the ferret's crotch and saw the telltale bulge of an erection.\n\nAs Nestor leaned in to sniff at Franky's cunny, Warren's paw on the smaller beastman's fur halted any further progress. But Franky’s budding arousal from earlier was beginning to grow again. He kind of wanted the ferret to get a sniff. To know that Franky was implanted with the dog's seed.\n\n\"It's okay, Warren. Let him.\" Again, Franky was surprised at the resolve in his voice and the suggestion that it hinted at. He felt powerful, desired, and knowing that Nestor was struggling with his own arousal only heightened that feeling.\n\nWarren hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the ferret. But after a moment, he relaxed his grip, letting Nestor move closer.\n\nFranky watched, breathless, as Nestor leaned in, his nose inches from Franky’s slick folds. He could see the ferret's nostrils flare, could see the shudder that ran through his body as he scented the evidence of Franky's tryst with Fang.\n\nNestor closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent. Franky could see the bulge in his trousers twitch and grow, and he felt a thrill of excitement, knowing that he was the cause of the ferret’s arousal.\n\nFranky felt that the needy desire building inside him again. He was feeling the need to be touched again, to be caressed and loved. \"Maybe you should help him, Warren,\" he said, meeting his brother's gaze and willing the older rabbit to understand what he wanted.\n\nWarren looked at him with a questioning gaze, but then nodded slightly, understanding dawning in his eyes. And Warren responded huskily back, \"He may know his way around a man's body, but maybe not my brother’s.\"\n\nFranky watched, his heart pounding, as Warren gently pushed aside the ferret’s sniffing muzzle and replaced it with his own. His eyes never left Warren's as his brother leaned in and gently licked his glistening cunny lips. It was not the forceful assault of Fang’s tongue, but gentler and sweeter. And Franky felt his excitement rising all the more for it.\n\nHe felt Warren probing deeper and knew his brother must be tasting Fang’s coppery load inside him. Ripples of pleasure shuddered through Franky’s body as he felt the trapped dog cum inside him begin to ooze out a little as Warren’s tongue opened him up more.\n\nMoments ago, Franky had been too embarrassed to be seen naked, but now he was relishing being seen with his brother’s tongue between his thighs. He glanced over to see Nestor panting as he watched their incestuous act. The ferret’s paw had slipped into his linen trousers, and he was clearly stroking the length inside, his eyes dark with lust as he watched Warren lap at Franky’s most intimate areas.\n\nFranky could feel his own arousal building, the fire in his belly growing hotter with each passing second. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be letting his brother taste another male’s seed from inside him, but he couldn't help it. It felt too good, too right.\n\nHe moaned softly, his hips bucking slightly as Warren’s tongue delved deeper, searching for more of Fang’s essence. Nestor groaned, his paw moving faster in his trousers as he watched the brothers, his eyes glazed with lust.\n\nFranky tugged at Warren's ear, not to pull him in deeper, but away. As much as he wanted his brother to continue, he wanted to give Nestor a turn, to let him experience the pleasure that Franky was feeling. \"Know that you’ve seen how to do it, maybe you’d like to try again?\" he tossed the question to the horny ferret, his voice thick with desire.\n\nAs Warren moved aside, Franky reached for his brother’s bulging trousers, finding the rabbit’s hard cock and stroking it through the fabric, enjoying the feel of the throbbing flesh beneath his paw.\n\nNestor leaned in, his tongue replacing Warren’s, digging in deeper, exploring the depths of Franky's cunny. Franky tilted his hips out wider, giving the mustelid better access, wanting him to taste the cum that Warren had stirred up.\n\nTo further distract himself from the firebrand sensation of the ferret's tongue, he hungrily tugged at Warren's trouser lacings until his brother untied them and tugged them down, exposing his rampant rabbit cock. Franky marveled at how the foreskin pulled back to reveal the purple head glistening with precum for a brief moment before he guided it into his maw. He managed to swallow as much of his brother’s swollen member as he could in one go, feeling the stretch and burn of taking something so large into his throat.\n\n\"Little bro,\" Warren gasped, his fingers digging into Franky's hair as he thrust gently into his brother’s hot, wet mouth. \"You don't... you don’t have to...\"\n\nBut Franky ignored him, focusing on the feel of Warren’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth, the taste of his brother’s precum on his tongue. Nestor’s tongue continued to work at Franky’s cunny, digging deeper, searching for every last drop of Fang’s cum.\n\nFranky could feel his climax building, the fire in his belly growing hotter with each passing second. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, letting his brother fuck his mouth while another male ate him out, but he couldn’t help it. It felt too good, too right.\n\nFranky worked his brother's cock into his throat far deeper than he had managed last night, practicing and experimenting with his breathing as he popped the head in and out. It seemed to be growing larger even as he sucked, his own saliva making Warren's cock slick. He wanted to taste his brother's cum this time, he needed it, more than he'd ever needed anything before.\n\n\"Keep going, baby. You're gonna make me squirt this time,\" Warren encouraged, his voice tight with desire and arousal. His fingers tightened in Franky's fur, urging him on as he thrust gently into his brother’s hot, wet throat.\n\nIn the meantime, the growing pleasure in Franky’s cunny was blossoming throughout his belly, a warm glow that seemed almost visible in the sunlit room. The twin sensations of Warren’s cock in his mouth and the ferret's tongue in his cunny were driving him wild, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.\n\nWith a deep grunt, Warren unloaded deep into Franky's throat. The volley of bunny spunk flooding him as he pulled his head back just enough so he could taste it as well as feel it. The warm cum on his tongue set off his own orgasmic high, his cunny walls convulsing on the ferret’s tongue as the warmth in his belly reached a crescendo of sensation.\n\nAnd the glow wasn’t just imagined, it was visible, a golden hue emanating from deep inside, fighting for dominance against the sunlight. It felt so amazingly good, Franky never wanted it to end. He moaned around Warren’s cock, the vibrations making the older rabbit gasp and thrust deeper, his climax seeming to go on and on as Franky’s muzzle worked to swallow every last drop.\n\nWarren sagged against the bed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he pulled his cock free from Franky's hungry, spit-slicked lips. His brother's essence had tasted better than he had imagined it would. Better than Fang's, and that thought made him feel a little guilty, but also excited.\n\nFranky looked down to see Nestor licking the dog's cum and his own from his chops, his eyes bright with lust and greed. The ferret eyed Franky’s open, now-gleaming cunny with a look of profound wonder and awe. \"I don't think the ointment will be necessary anymore,\" he said, sounding dazed. \"I think... I healed you.\"\n\nFranky could feel the difference even as the aftershocks of his orgasms radiated through his body. The raw ache of his cunny and the lesser soreness in his tailhole were gone, as if they’d never been there at all. If anything, he felt better than he had in days.\n\nThen the ferret's excitement got the better of him. \"I HEALED you!\" he repeated, grinning broadly, his eyes wide with astonishment. \"I know some mages and priests are gifted healers, but I did it without any spells or anything. And I controlled it\"\n\nFranky blinked, not quite understanding why this seemed so strange to Nestor. He assumed the ferret was an apprentice mage, so didn't they do miracles every day? He wasn't sure why this was different, but he could tell Nestor was excited and happy about it, so he decided to just be happy for him.\n\n\"Congratulations,\" Franky said, smiling warmly up at the ferret. \"You must be very proud.\"\n\nNestor nodded, still grinning. \"Yes, yes I am. Thank you, Franky. You have no idea how much this means to me.\"\n\nFranky felt a warmth in his chest, knowing that he had helped Nestor in some way, even if he didn't fully understand it. He smiled over at Warren, who was watching with a bemused expression, then back at Nestor.\n\nNestor nodded, his grin widening. \"You should be able to...um, enjoy your activities without any pain or discomfort now.\" Franky felt a rush of excitement at that, his mind already racing with the possibilities. He looked over at Warren again, seeing the same excitement and desire in his brother’s eyes as well.\n\nThey were interrupted by Mistress Elara's shout from the front of the shop. \"If you three are done back there, I'd like to unlock the front door again and let some customers in.\" The pure absurdity of the situation set Franky to giggling. Whatever had made him think they wouldn’t be heard beyond a thin piece of fabric into the main shop?\n\nThe giggling turned into outright convulsions when he saw Nestor's face turn pale beneath his fur. The apprentice was gaping at being caught by his master. The look was so profoundly funny when combined with the very obvious wet patch and prominent erection forming the front of the distraught-looking ferret’s pants.\n\nFranky did indeed feel better than he had in years. Not since he had started to dislike his own body and the troubles it had brought him had he felt so wonderfully good. His brother, not only loved him, but loved him unconditionally enough to approve of his sexual escapades with a feral dog. Who encouraged their own incestual activities. He had begun to embrace his wanton desires and found comfort that no one had rejected him.\n\nHe dressed quickly, still feeling the afterglow of his orgasms and the healing touch of Nestor’s tongue. His skin felt alive, electric, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he followed Warren and a very sheepish-looking Nestor back into the main shop.\n\nElara was waiting by the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a stern look on her face. She handed over a wrapped bundle to Warren. But when she saw Franky, her expression softened, and she smiled. “How are you feeling, young Franky?” she asked, her voice warm and maternal.\n\nFranky blushed, still feeling the wet heat of his recent activities, but he smiled back at her. “I’m feeling great, Mistress Elara. Thank you for your help.”\n\nElara nodded, pleased with his answer. “You’ll find some instructions in the package on when and how much to use. But don’t hesitate to come visit if anything is unclear.”\n\nShe turned to Nestor, her expression turning severe once more. “Nestor, a word, please,” she said, her voice like ice.\n\nNestor gulped, nodding quickly. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, following her into the back room with his tail between his legs.\n\nFranky felt a pang of sympathy for the ferret, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Elara was his master, and he would have to face her wrath on his own.\n\nWarren put a comforting paw on his shoulder, and together, they left the shop, blinking in the bright sunlight. Franky couldn’t help but feel that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, that he was somehow free to be himself without fear or shame.\n\nHe wasn’t sure what the future would hold, but with Warren at his side, he felt like he could face anything. He smiled up at his brother, his heart full of love and gratitude, and together, they walked back into the city, ready to embrace whatever came next.\n\n[center]* * *[/center]\n\nDeep beneath the city of Veloria, in a forgotten cavern where even the stone sweats and time seems to unravel, something shuddered in its slumber. It was a will made manifest, a vastness of flesh and primal impulse coiled in the earth’s womb, dreaming for forgotten eons. A feral, wanton miasma enveloped the creature, a psychic scent so strong and overpowering that it overwhelmed even its own dormant senses. It was the rich perfume of life itself, of need and transgression, an offering that seeped into the city above. It fed on a thousand secret trysts and unspoken lusts, but recently, new, potent flavors had joined the stream—the scent of two rabbit cubs embracing their natures, a clydesdale finding power in submission, a dragon accepting long withheld pleasures, a burgeoning mage unlocking forbidden power. The scents of taboos joyfully broken and innocence shed with fierce abandon.\n\nEach new offering was a jolt to the slumbering god. Each tremor of wanton climax sent a corresponding shudder through its immense form. Its claws, larger and sharper than steel swords, scraped against the cavern floor as it dreamt dark, libidinous thoughts. A groaning gasp of fetid air, thick with ancient musk and ozone, escaped its maw, a sound on the verge of choking out a roar that could shatter mountains. The great, monolithic spire between its thighs, slick with untold ages of precum, throbbed with a gathering power, threatening to erupt into a cataclysmic orgasm that would shake the very foundations of the world above.\n\nSoon, the fitful dreaming would come to an end. It would rise, shaking the dust of millennia from its hide. It would once again force the world to succumb to its base desires, to drown in the glorious, terrible tide of its own unfettered lust.\n\nAs it had done before, so it would begin again.\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "
A Midnight Tryst and a Glorious Awakening
The savory scent of Elara’s rabbit-root stew, so named because it was a favorite of rabbits and not because it contained any, filled their modest home, a rare and welcome late evening feast. The occasion was Warren’s visit. Franky’s older brother, now broader of shoulder and confident in his City Messenger tunic, was a rare sight at the family dinner table. Since beginning his training with the North Gate garrison, his life had become a whirlwind of duties and drills, leaving little time for home.
“You’re all muscle and bone, Warren,” their mother, Elara, fussed, pushing another scoop of stew onto his plate. “Are they feeding you properly up there?”
“They feed us plenty, Mum,” Warren said with a good-natured grin. “Mostly marching rations and stale bread, but it builds character.” He winked at Franky, who sat across from him, trying to appear nonchalant while soaking in every word. “Chased a pickpocket who tried to escape to the Rough yesterday. Nearly lost him twice. You should have seen the alleys, Franky, barely wide enough to breathe.”
Franky’s ears perked up. This was the stuff of his daydreams. But now, as he listened to Warren’s tales, a smug, secret warmth settled in his belly. He had his own adventures now and he had been to the Rough himself.
“It’s this new dog of Franky’s that brought him home, I’ll wager,” Corbin, their father, said from the head of the table. His initial reluctance about Fang had evaporated the moment neighbors began stopping by the workshop, curious about the magnificent feral beast dozing inside. “He’s become quite the local celebrity. I’m thinking of bringing him to the market stall on the High Holiday. Might attract some more business.”
Franky felt a flash of possessive pride. Fang wasn’t a marketing gimmick; he was a friend. Well, his friend and more.
After the bowls were cleared and their older sister, Willow, had shooed their youngest brother, Bino, off to bed, Corbin stood. “Come on, then. Let’s show you the beast.”
Franky’s heart gave a nervous thump. He was bursting with excitement to show Warren, to finally have something cool and adventurous of his own to share. But as he followed his father and brother out into the cool night air, a ripple of apprehension chased the excitement away.
The short walk to the workshop, a path he trod a dozen times a day, felt different now. The mundane space had been transformed by his secret. It was a stage, the scene of an act so intimate and strange that his fur prickled just thinking about it. He could almost smell the musk of their encounter in the air and could almost taste the metallic tang that had filled his mouth. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. What if someone could tell? What if Warren, with his guard training and sharp eyes, could somehow see the memory of it clinging to him?
Corbin unlatched the heavy workshop door, holding a lantern high. The looms stood like silent, skeletal giants in the moon light, but in the warm firelight they resolved into more mundane tools . In the far corner, on his customary pile of wool sacks, a pair of amber eyes blinked open. A low thump of a tail against a wool sack announced Fang’s waking.
Warren whistled low, his casual demeanor replaced by the sharp assessment of a trained guardsman. “Spirits above, Franky. That’s no stray.” He stepped inside, his eyes never leaving the dog. “That’s a full-blooded Dustmoor feral. Look at the breadth of his chest, the muscles in those legs. You didn’t just ‘find’ him.”
“He followed me home,” Franky said, the practiced lie slipping more easily from his lips now with the number of times he had repeated it. He hoped his voice didn’t tremble. He walked over to Fang, his own movements feeling stiff and rehearsed. He knelt, scratching the dog behind the ears as he’d done a hundred times.
Fang whined happily, his body wiggling, and leaned in to lick Franky’s hand. The gesture was innocent, but for Franky, it was electric. The ghost of a different kink of lick, sharp and overwhelming, flashed in his mind, and he had to fight the urge to snatch his hand away. He felt his father's proud gaze, his brother's impressed stare, and beneath it all, the hammering of his own secret heart. He was performing, a perfect imitation of a boy and his dog, praying that no one could see the truth lurking just behind his eyes.
Warren continued to eye the dog, a professional appreciation in his gaze. "No wonder he's the talk of the neighborhood. Bet no one has seen the like." He knelt down, extending the back of his hand slowly, letting Fang get acquainted with his scent. Fang, ever calm, rose to his feet and gave Warren’s knuckles a cursory sniff.
Franky watched, his breath held tight. Everything seemed normal. But then Fang, having approved of Warren’s hand, moved on. He started at Warren’s worn leather boots, his nose twitching, and worked his way methodically up his brother’s left leg. He seemed to catch a whiff of something particularly interesting near Warren’s waist and abruptly shoved his snout under the hem of Warren's tunic, right into his crotch.
"Whoa! A bit overly friendly," Warren yelped, jumping back and pushing the dog’s persistent nose away.
A spike of pure terror lanced through Franky. He’s gonna know! The irrational thought screamed in his mind. He felt his cheeks burn, certain his secret was about to be unravelled by a dog’s curious nose.
But Corbin just laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the workshop. "He's got a strong nose for scents, that one," he chuckled, oblivious. "He's always sneaking up on me and doing that after I've had a night with your mother." A flush crept up Corbin's own neck as he realized what he’d just said in front of his younger son. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "You've got a woman you're seeing now, boy?"
"Ahh," Warren hesitated, a flicker of something guarded in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck and trailed his hand up to tug at one of his long ears. It was a telltale sign, Franky recalled from his childhood, that he was hiding something. The brief flash of evasion piqued Franky's curiosity immediately. His perfect, adventurous older brother had a secret of his own. But before Franky could ponder it further, Warren sidestepped the question with practiced ease. "Nothing like that. At least not yet anyway. Maybe I'll be looking to settle down more in a few years."
Corbin looked slightly disappointed, but he let it drop. "Well, let me show you what I've got working on the loom, since you're here." He gestured towards the massive frame holding the half-finished tapestry of Veloria’s founding. As his father began to explain the complex thread counts and dye lots, Franky’s panic slowly subsided, replaced by the lingering intrigue of Warren's strange reaction. He watched his brother nod along to their father's explanations, but his eyes kept darting back to Fang, who had settled back onto his sacks, a look of profound canine satisfaction on his face.
With a quiet whistle, Franky led Fang away from the other two rabbits, putting some distance between the dog’s inquisitive nose and anything else he might find interesting. "Okay, boy, let's practice," he murmured, crouching down in a clear space. "Paw, Fang, give me your paw."
He held out his own paw expectantly. Fang just sat, staring back at him with those intelligent amber eyes, his tail giving a single, lazy thump on the floorboards. Franky wasn't really expecting success; teaching the dog to sit had been a monumental effort. It wasn’t because the dog wasn’t smart, he really just seemed to be resistant to following Franky’s instructions. The true reward was in the posture. When Fang sat, his hind legs splayed just so, his sheath was presented in a way that was impossible to miss. Franky could stare openly, his gaze lingering on the subject of his fascination, all under the guise of patient training.
Before long, Fang grew bored of the one-sided lesson and nudged Franky’s hand with his wet nose. The nudge turned into a playful nip, and soon the training devolved into a wrestling match on the dusty floor, a flurry of soft thuds, playful growls, and the scrabble of claws on wood.
They must have gotten a bit too loud. Corbin paused mid-sentence in his lecture to a visibly bored Warren. "Franky! That's enough!" he called out, his voice sharp. "Don't get him all riled up so late at night. You'll rouse the whole neighborhood."
Franky sighed, his fun cut short. "Yes, Papa," he mumbled. Dutifully, but sourly, he gave Fang one last scratch behind the ears and headed for the house. He washed up quickly in the basin by the door, the cool water doing little to quell the excited thrumming under his skin. He changed into his simple sleep shirt and climbed into the bed he shared with Bino. The younger cub was already a small, warm lump beside him, lost to the world, his gentle snores punctuated by the soft sound of sucking of his thumb in a display of pure innocence.
But Franky couldn't sleep. His mind was a whirlwind, and his body was far too excited. The image of Fang sitting attentively, his sheath so casually on display, was seared into his mind and Bino’s suckling wasn’t helping. He was horny, a restless energy buzzing through his limbs. Since that fateful afternoon with Pip and Fang, everything had changed. The solitary explorations that used to bring him a quiet, furtive release for the past few months now felt… hollow. They were a pale shadow, a lonely echo of the shared, wild intimacy he'd experienced. They no longer fulfilled him. He tossed onto his side, then his back, the wool blankets tangling around his legs like restraints as he shifted fitfully in the quiet dark.
He couldn't help it. His paw squeezed gently around his own little clit, already engorged and sensitive. The wetness spread on his slit, lubricating his fingers as they worked. He bit his lip, longing for something more substantial than his own slick folds. For the hardness and heft of a boy's parts, the weight of them in his hand.
His thoughts turned to Pip and the way the raccoon's little hardness had felt against his palm. The smoothness of it as it came out of his sheath, the way it had twitched when he stroked it. He gulped, his throat suddenly dry as his mind conjured images of Pip’s sheath nestled between his furry legs, a telltale bulge growing larger as it hardened, slipping inside...
He blinked, realizing his other hand had slipped under Bino's blanket and sleep shirt. He'd started fondling his brother's immature sheath and balls without even realizing it. He slowly withdrew as if touching something dangerous. This wasn't right. Bino was just a cub. He shouldn't be touching him like this.
Franky's cheeks burned with shame. He felt sick, his stomach twisting with guilt. No. No, he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't be that monster. His chest heaved as he struggled to compose himself, feeling wretchedly ashamed. He'd almost crossed a line he couldn't come back from. He needed to get himself under control. He couldn't let his urges take over like that.
He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He needed to think about something else. Anything else. He thought of Warren and his stories of chasing pickpockets through the maze of alleys. The thrill of adventure, of doing something dangerous and exciting. That was what he wanted. That was what he craved. Not this. Not the twisting darkness that sometimes gripped his heart.
Finally, his breathing slowed, his pulse returning to normal, and his arousal fading. He glanced over at Bino, who was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of how close he'd come to danger. Franky vowed he wouldn't let it happen again. He'd find some other way to satisfy his urges. He'd... he'd ask Pip to teach him more about tending to the needs of the body. That seemed safer.
With his resolve set, he turned his back to Bino hoping for sleep, determined to find a better outlet for his restless energy and adventurous heart. Sleep, however, remained a distant, unreachable shore. Franky’s mind refused to quiet, replaying his transgression with Bino, the near-miss with his father, and the thrilling memory of Pip's fingers and Fang's tongue. He was still tangled in these thoughts, his body humming with a frustrated energy, when the bedroom door creaked open.
Warren entered, moving with a quiet confidence that spoke of his training. The full moon had risen higher, casting a pale, milky light through the window that silvered the objects in the room. Warren's bed, which had sat mostly empty for two years, was a silent testament to his mother’s enduring hope. Tonight, for the first time in what felt like forever, it would be occupied.
Franky’s breath caught. He froze, instantly feigning the deep, even breathing of sleep. His curiosity, which had only just been wrestled into submission, rekindled and flared to life. He remembered, with a vivid, visceral clarity, the last time Warren had stayed over. Franky had walked in on him by accident, catching him in a private, feverish act. He hadn't truly understood then, not really, but the image of his brother's flushed face and the powerful, rhythmic motion of his hand on his own body had been burned into his memory. Now, with his own recent awakenings, that memory was charged with a keen, palpable interest.
Through slitted eyelids, Franky watched as Warren began to strip. His brother moved with an unselfconscious grace, peeling off his messenger's tunic and trousers. The moonlight painted his lean, muscular frame in shades of silver and shadow. Franky’s gaze was riveted. When Warren’s hands went to the tie of his loincloth, Franky stifled a gasp, pressing his woolen blanket to his mouth.
The linen cloth fell away and for a breathtaking moment Warren was completely naked. The sway of his brother's long, uncut dick as he moved was barely more than a shadow in the dim light, a dark, pendulous weight between his thighs, but the brief glimpse was enough to send a jolt of pure, white-hot arousal through Franky. It was real. It was right there.
But all too quickly, Warren slid into his bed, pulling the blankets up to his waist, hiding his nudity from view once more.
It was too much. Franky felt as if his skin were on fire. Heat radiated from his body, his fur prickling with sweat. The frantic energy he'd tried to suppress came roaring back, centering itself with an almost painful intensity in the soft mound between his thighs, which had only just begun to calm down. He was wide awake, trapped in a bed with his sleeping baby brother and his magnificent, unknowingly tempting older one, his own body a furnace of frustrated desire.
The next several minutes were a torment. If anything, Franky's arousal had only continued to climb, his thoughts turning to a salacious reel of memories. Of Pip. Of Warren. Of Fang. It was all too much. As soon as he heard the steady, deep breaths of sleep finally coming from his older brother's bed, he could bear it no longer. He slipped from beneath the blanket, a silent shadow moving through the scant lit room, and crept out the door. He had to get back to the workshop. To find Fang, and to find relief.
* * *
Sleep hadn't truly taken hold for Warren. He was accustomed to the light, alert dozing of a guardsman, always attuned to the sounds of the night. He heard the whisper of blankets being moved, the soft shuffle of bare feet across the floorboards, and the faint, careful click of the door latch. Franky was making a late-night visit to the privy, he thought at first, and rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position.
But the silence that followed stretched on. He lay there, listening to Bino's soft snores and the distant chirp of crickets. Minutes bled into one another until he judged a full quarter of an hour had passed. No one, not even a child with a weak bladder, took that long.
A prickle of unease disturbed his drowsiness. It wasn't just the late hour; it was his mother’s letter. She had written to him at the garrison, her neat, worried script filling the page. The letter was the true reason for his visit. ‘Franky has been on edge,’ she'd written. ‘More than his usual restlessness. I am worried for him.’
She had asked him, her oldest son, to come home, to take Franky to see the old herbalist in the EastWard while their father was away making a delivery tomorrow. Her concern was for her son's health, a delicate matter given his unusual circumstances: a boy in heart and mind, but with a body that was different. She'd confessed that their father, a good and simple man, was simply not equipped to discuss such matters. The responsibility fell to him.
A core tenet of his training with the Guard was to always have his companions’ safety in mind. You never let a man on watch wander off alone into the dark. And family… family was a bond that ran deeper than any oath to the city. Feeling an undeniable surge of responsibility, Warren slipped from the bedsheets. He moved quietly, pulling on his tunic but leaving his legs bare, and padded to the door. Something was amiss, and he was going to find his brother.
Warren moved through the house with the practiced silence of his trade. He passed his sister's room, quiet and still, and caught the low, droning snore of his father from behind his parents' closed door. The kitchen was empty, the back door slightly ajar. Warren slipped through it into the cool night air, his bare feet making no sound on the cool stones of the yard.
He made for the workshop, a knot of concern tightening in his gut. His first thought was the new feral dog. Franky and the beast seemed inseparable, and maybe his brother had just gone to check on him. But he was uncertain.
His messenger training was like second nature now. Moving quickly and silently was one of the first skills they drilled into you. Your life, and the message you carried, often depended on not being seen, not being heard. Stealth was a shield. This time, he used it to stalk his own brother.
As he quietly entered the workshop, he slowed. There were sounds coming from within, and he almost called out Franky’s name. But he paused, his hand on the door latch. It wasn’t talking or barking. It was a strange, wet, rhythmic sound. It was oddly familiar, a noise from the periphery of his own life, but out of context here, he couldn't quite place it.
His instincts screamed caution. He gently pushed the door closed and eased the latch closed with a barely audible click. The scene that met his gaze shocked him to absolute stillness.
He saw his little brother and the dog, but not in any way he could have anticipated. Franky was there, in the back of the workshop, but he was bent over a large bale of wool, his simple nightshirt hiked up around his waist, his grey buttocks bare in the moonlight. And Fang, the huge Dustmoor hound, was standing behind him. And he wasn't just sniffing. Warren’s mind struggled to process what he was seeing, but there was no mistaking it. Fang's head was nestled between Franky’s legs, his long, dark tongue rhythmically, wetly, licking his little brother.
Warren watched on in shock from the entryway to the rear of the workshop. His mind was slow to comprehend what was before him. Fang was expertly lapping at Franky's very exposed cunny and the boy was gasping and moaning. He seemed to be in pure ecstasy. He debated whether he should walk away and pretend he didn't see it, or stop it, surely embarrassing the boy and maybe making the whole situation worse.
The sight was arousing to be sure. Warren felt his own cock begin to harden, the foreskin pulling back to expose the tip of his glans. It rubbed against the linen of his tunic, almost painfully. Maybe there was a third option? He stifled a moan, trying to ignore the heat that washed over him.
Instead, he simply strode forward, moving silently through the workshop. Franky was too immersed in his own pleasure to notice him. Warren moved closer, a predator's grace in his step. Fang was slow to react, his head lifting at first in annoyance at the intrusion, then curiosity. Franky craned his neck to see why the dog had stopped, the look of lust plain on his face.
He stopped a few feet from the pair, close enough that Franky could feel the heat of his body, the soft rustle of his clothing. He watched his brother's eyes go round, his lips part in surprise. Fang huffed, more indignant at being interrupted rather than defiance.
Warren peered down as his younger brother, who was definitely entering the cusp of puberty, had grown taller and a bit slimmer in just a few months. But Franky still looked much smaller compared to the masculine shape of the large canine. And then Warren spoke, his voice low and rough. "You like that, don't you, little brother?"
At first, Franky didn't react. He was clearly shocked by Warren's sudden appearance, his eyes wide with panic, his body vibrating with tension. But Warren was resolute. He reached out a paw, tentative at first, and touched his little brother's backside, the softness of his fur, the taut, smooth skin beneath. He slid his hand over the curve, pressing the thin fabric of the nightshirt higher up Franky's back, baring more of his boyish body. The touch seemed to do something to Franky; some of the fearful tension drained from his shoulders, the panicked furrow of his brow smoothing.
"Please, big brother, don't tell...," Franky stammered, his voice breaking on the words. But Warren cut him off, his touch drifting lower, tracing the seam of Franky's nether lips, which were indeed wet and slick from a mixture of Fang's saliva and his own arousal. The soft, pink folds were slightly parted, inviting, and Warren's paw inadvertently brushed the hard little nub of Franky’s clit. Franky shuddered, a soft whine escaping his throat.
Warren couldn't think. Couldn't reason. His body was thrumming, his cock hard against the fabric of his tunic, throbbing with need. "You grew up on me while I've been gone. And found new uses for your body, haven't you?" Warren was surprised by the huskiness in his voice. He sounded lost, breathless. He felt a rush of embarrassment, hot and prickling, but it was quickly overtaken by the overpowering smell of arousal that filled the room. Fang's heavy panting mixed with the heady, musky scent of Franky's cunny.
Warren's paw moved of its own accord, stroking the slick, warm folds open. He could see the hard little knot of Franky's clit, could hear the small, breathy moans that escaped his brother’s lips as he explored him.
"Is this what you want, little brother?" he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. "Is this what you need?" But Franky seemed too overwhelmed to respond. "Why don't you show me," Warren suggested huskily, moving his paw in slow, deliberate circles over his brother's most sensitive area. "Show me what you like."
Franky moaned, his hips spreading wider, an invitation. But before Warren could press his advantage, Fang reasserted himself, pushing aside the rabbit's paw with his muzzle and lapping his long, rough tongue deep into the confines of the boy's slick sex.
Franky gasped again, his breathing hitching, the sound needy and desperate to Warren’s ears. The older rabbit marveled at how exposed, how vulnerable his little brother looked in that moment. He knelt beside Franky, using both his paws to spread the bunny’s ample cheeks, making it easier for Fang to delve deeper with his snout, his tongue spearing into the tight heat of his brother’s core. The position also exposed Franky's tail and little pink tail star to the cool night air.
"Please, Warren. Don't tell on me," Franky pleaded, his voice strained, his hips rocking back to meet Fang's strokes. "I need this."
Warren watched his brother writhe under the dual attentions of his brother and the dog, his body betraying his own deep-seated need. Franky’s eyes drifted lower, and Warren followed his gaze, noticing that the nightshirt had ridden up, exposing a good seven inches of hard, quivering bunny cock. It jutted out lewdly, the partially-exposed glans glistening in the faint moonlight. A single drop of precum oozed out to dribble over the purplish head, leaving it slick and shiny.
Warren felt cock twitch at being exposed, and could feel the precum leaking from his narrow slit. "I think you might have spotted something else you want," he prompted the young bunny, his voice raspy with arousal. He had seen and done many things in his time with the guard, though nothing quite as explicit as this. But it seemed that Franky was determined to explore his sexuality in the most depraved of ways.
Again, Franky's lustful gaze never left his brother's cock. Although he’d not planned for tonight's activities to be anything like this, he couldn't deny that he wanted it just as much as Franky did.
Warren pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside as he positioned himself in front of his prone brother. Again, Franky's eyes never left the prize he sought as Warren knelt with one knee on the bale, bringing his hard bunny cock level with Franky's cute face. He gave it a few gentle tugs, pulling back his foreskin and sliding it forward again, smearing his precum over the exposed head.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" Warren asked, his voice thick with desire. "Your brother's big cock?"
Franky groaned again, either from Fang's ministrations or the sheer realization that he did want Warren's cock. And the smaller bunny leaned forward, his pink tongue flicking out to taste the clear fluid leaking from Warren’s piss slit. Franky's eyes fluttered closed as he surrounded Warren's cock head with his warm, wet lips, savoring the flavor.
Warren felt his cock twitch at the sight and could feel the precum leaking from his own slit. He watched his brother's cheeks hollow as he sucked greedily on Warren's cock head. Franky was obviously enjoying the taste of his brother's dick juice.
Franky was a bit more experienced than Warren had initially thought. The way he covered his buck teeth with his lips and avoided scraping his shaft spoke volumes. "This isn't the first cock you've sucked, is it?" Warren asked aloud, his voice thick with arousal.
Franky shook his head, as much as he could without losing the suction on his brother's cock. Warren couldn't help but chuckle. The poor little rabbit was determined to prove his expertise, and Warren couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in his little brother.
He shifted his hips forward, feeding another inch or two of hard bunny cock into Franky's eager mouth. Franky shuddered visibly, his body tensing for several moments. Warren could only surmise that he’d experienced a small orgasm as he was worked from both ends. His cock twitched at the thought, and he vowed silently to give him more.
Warren pushed forward until he felt his cock head hit the entrance to Franky's throat. He pulled back quickly when he felt the boy gagging, heaving his stomach, taking in a sharp breath of air.
When he seemed to calm again, Warren slipped back into his untried throat. But Franky rode through it, not giving up when his limits were tested, proving to Warren just how far he was willing to go. "Good boy," Warren praised his little brother, his voice thick with desire. "Keep working my cock just like that."
He began to saw his cock in and out of Franky's maw, gently fucking the boy's throat gently. Warren felt a surge of power, knowing he was giving Franky the very thing he craved. His cock throbbed, leaking precum as he lost himself in the pleasure of his brother's mouth.
Warren couldn’t take it anymore. He loved the feeling of Franky's mouth on his cock, the way the younger rabbit worked him so expertly, but his own need was becoming increasingly desperate. He knew he wouldn’t be able to reach completion at this rate, no matter how good it felt. He had to have more.
"You want to try something different?" he prompted, his voice thick with desire. "Do you want to feel my cock between your legs?" Franky didn't need to respond; his body did it for him as he shivered through another little orgasm. The very thought of it had been enough to push him over the edge.
Warren pulled his slick cock away from Franky's mouth, leaving the boy gasping with need. He repositioned himself on the ground, using his discarded tunic as a makeshift blanket beneath him and the bale to support his back, and gripped his throbbing cock in his paw. He waggled it invitingly, tempting Franky with the very thing he craved.
Franky hesitated, glancing back at Fang, who was still licking at his slick cunny. But the temptation of his brother’s cock was too much for the young bunny to resist. He stood and repositioned himself above Warren, looking down at him with a mixture of need and excitement.
"Can I, Warren?" Franky pleaded softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of their own panting.
"Can you what, bunny?" Warren prompted, his voice rough with desire. He wanted to hear Franky say it, wanted to hear him beg for it.
"Can I feel it inside me?" came the whispered reply, so soft Warren could barely hear it.
But it was enough. With a groan of need, Warren pulled Franky down onto his throbbing cock, guiding it towards the younger bunny's slick, waiting hole. "Yes," he hissed, as he felt the shaft of his cock against Franky's tight, hot cunny. "You can have my cock inside you."
He kissed his brother gently, his tongue tangling with Franky's, the kiss gentle and loving, but tinged with a deep-seated desire. But Warren knew this position wasn’t ideal for the inexperienced little bunny. He needed to take control.
"Let's get you comfortable," Warren said, manipulating the smaller rabbit to lie with his back against Warren’s chest, his hips propped open wide, as he held Franky's legs apart. The weight of the smaller form atop his own was easily managed, and he felt his wet cock slap upwards against Franky’s exposed cunny when he got them into place. This would allow Franky to have a bit more control of the situation as well and Warren felt his arousal spike at the thought.
"Reach down and guide your big brother's cock." Warren couldn’t help but moan as Franky’s smaller paw wrapped around the girth of his cock, the younger rabbit’s paw guiding the slick cockhead towards his entrance with a surprising confidence.
"It feels so hot. And so big." Franky mused, his voice dripping with awe as he ran his paw up and down Warren's length. "Will it fit? I've never. Not with one so big."
Warren felt a surge of pride at the thought of being the first to take his little brother in such a way. Franky wasn't as inexperienced as he'd first thought, but this would be a new experience for him nonetheless. "Just do what feels right, little brother," Warren whispered into his big ears, trying to keep the need from his voice. "You don't need to take it all."
Franky nodded, taking a deep breath and Warren could feel the tension drain from his shoulders as he relaxed into his brother’s hold. Gently, Franky guided Warren's cock head, the tight heat of his cunny lips enveloping Warren’s hardness with a slow, delicious agony that had them both gasping with pleasure.
"Fuck, you're tight," Warren grated out from between clenched teeth, as he felt the first inch of his cock sink into Franky’s willing body. "Just relax, bunny. Let me in."
As Warren's cock began to sink into his brother’s tight, willing body, he felt something against his own thigh and turned to see Fang loping over to them, not willing to be dismissed in favor of another. The feral dog’s tongue snaked out, greedily licking at where Warren and Franky were conjoined, his tongue swiping over Warren’s coated length as he eased deeper into his brother. Fang’s ministrations to their joined bodies, lapping up the wet evidence of their actions, only spurred Warren on.
He hitched his hips up, sinking his cock in a little deeper with each gentle roll. He was rewarded by a gasping “Oh, gods,” from Franky as Warren sank into his depths. The tight heat of Franky’s cunny gripped him like a vise, and he could feel the wetness dripping down his shaft as Fang’s eager tongue lapped up the dripping proof of their incestuous coupling.
As Franky continued to grind and wriggle atop him, Warren’s cock sank in ever deeper, pulling a moan from Franky’s throat at the deeper penetration. Warren’s hips met Franky’s swaying ass with every thrust, his cock muscles tensing, millimeter by millimeter, as he pushed deeper into his brother’s body.
A new sensation caused him to moan when he felt Fang's tongue lapping at his balls. His eggs bounced under the tongue bath. His hips jerked upwards involuntarily and a bit more than he intended and he felt a barrier burst like a dam and a new feeling of wetness dribbled down his shaft. The smaller bunny’s tight insides yielded reluctantly to Warren’s onslaught, and as his thighs tensed in preparation, his cock head suddenly burst through the tight ring of Franky’s previously untouched depths.
He felt Franky tense, heard him groan a bit in pain at his deeper, sudden intrusion, but the young rabbit’s gyrating and wriggling didn’t stop. The sudden give, the sensation of hot wetness surrounding his cock as he sank into the new depths, nearly bowled Warren over.
Warren's paws slid up his brother's body, roaming over the smooth, flat planes of his chest until they found the small, tender nipples. He gripped them tightly, using them as leverage as he continued to gently rut his brother’s cunny.
If anything, the sensation intensified Franky’s movements, becoming more frantic as he rutted atop Warren’s cock like he was riding a racehorse. Warren couldn't help but moan in response to the incredible sensations he was feeling, the tight heat of his brother's body surrounding him, making his head spin with lustful desire.
He felt the shiver of another little climax ripple through Franky's body as the boy muttered, "so good," through the paw covering his mouth.
Warren's own arousal spiked at the sight of Franky's flushed cheeks and the soft panting leaving his parted lips. He felt himself teetering on the edge of an orgasm himself, even as he steeled his resolve against it. He couldn't. He wouldn't. The thought of getting his younger brother pregnant, of doing something so irreversible, was too horrifying to contemplate. No, he wouldn't take that chance. Not without protection.
With a pained groan, he pulled his hips away, separating their joined sexes with a wet, audible slurping sound. He felt Franky's hand reach down, trying to stop his cock from slipping free as the smaller rabbit whimpered, “No, don’t stop.”
But it was too late. Warren’s cock popped out with an obscene wet sound, leaving Franky empty and bereft. “We can’t…,” Warren started to explain, but Fang’s heavy paws thudded down on either side of the males’ bodies, cutting him off.
Fang moved in, his big, furry body pressing against Franky's, sandwiching the young rabbit between him and his brother. Warren felt the dog's hard cock pushing his own aside, his slick glans rubbing against the dog’s fuzzy nuts as Fang moved in to take his place.
Warren knew quickly that the large canine had claimed Franky's empty cunny by the boy’s gasping breath, his own throbbing cock having been replaced by Fang's as he humped atop the young bunny. His initial concern for his brother's well-being was quickly replaced with a twinge of relief. He wouldn't have to dampen the mood with a talk about the dangers of pregnancy.
Franky appeared lost in the throes of passion, his gasps and moans punctuating the air as he and Fang moved together in a frenzied, erotic dance. The young rabbit's hips bucked wildly, meeting Fang's every thrust, his hands clutching desperately at the dog's fur. Warren could hear Franky's breathy moans as he cried out the dog's name over and over again. He slid his paw down from the boy's chest to his hard little clit, gently pressing down on it and using Fang's thrusts to stimulate the young cub further.
As much as he tried to ignore it, Warren couldn't help but be aware of his own cock, which was still hard and throbbing from his recent self-denial. His balls ached with the need for release, a release that had been promised, but not yet delivered. The fluids dripping down from the joined pair’s sex onto his hot cock were only serving to increase his desperation.
Reaching down with his free hand, Warren gripped his aching hardness, his paw closing around the pulsing shaft. It took some creative maneuvering, but he managed to get his cock positioned between Franky's legs, rubbing against the boy’s wet taint. He wanted to be inside his brother again, he realized, feeling a desperate longing for the tight, wet heat that he’d been so unceremoniously ejected from.
Thrusting gently, Warren felt his cock head bump against Franky's other hole, the one he'd glimpsed in the moonlight earlier. The tight ring felt impossibly hot as it grazed against his wet cock head, and Warren couldn’t help but wonder if his brother would be willing to let him in there. "Big brother!" Franky gasped, his voice tight with a mix of surprise and arousal.
Warren paused, his breathing heavy as he tried to gauge Franky's reaction. He knew he was crossing a line by suggesting they go further, but he couldn't help himself. The thought of claiming his brother completely, of sinking his cock into that tight, hot hole, was too tempting to resist. "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
Franky hesitated for a moment, his hips still moving in time with Fang’s thrusts. He seemed to consider his options all the while, Warren’s hardness teased at his forbidden backdoor. Finally, Franky nodded, a small, breathless sound escaping his lips. "No... don't stop," he whimpered, his hips twitching as if seeking more.
Warren groaned, a low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest, and he slowly pushed forward, sliding his cock head past the tight ring of muscle and into the even tighter confines of his brother’s tail hole. Franky whimpered, his fingers clutching at Warren's arm as he felt the invasion, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed to push back, impaling himself on his brother’s cock with a soft moan.
The tight heat enveloping Warren's cock was almost too much to bear, and he had to fight the urge to come immediately. Instead, he began to thrust gently, matching the rhythm of Fang's pounding hips. The three of them moved together in an erotic tangle of limbs and heat, and Warren knew he wouldn't last long. He could feel his orgasm building, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he thrust deeper and deeper into his brother’s greedy hole.
Warren's cock was relatively thin for its length, a feature he found useful for breaking in virgin holes. He thought back to a night several weeks earlier when he'd helped take Clover’s anal virginity. The horse's insides as he sank into them had been far looser than the tight confines he fought his way into now.
The added stimulation of Fang's hard cock rubbing his brother's insides along with his own was driving Warren close to the edge very quickly. There was no worry of knocking up his little bro by busting in his tailhole and he resolved to bathe his insides in rabbit jizz.
"Oh gods," had replaced Franky's muttering of Fang’s name as he was now getting double penetrated. But even those were cut off as Franky let out a moan of surprise, “he’s knotting me!” Warren wouldn't have believed it possible if he didn't push his paw between the pair to find the feral dog had indeed knotted his little brother's cunny. His fingers brushed against the pulsing, swollen flesh as the two became locked together. He could feel the pulses as the more experienced canine pumped ribbons of hot cum deep inside his brother.
As Warren's own climax reached its peak, he thrust hard into Franky's clenching hole, the added stimulation enough to send Franky careening over the edge once more. The young rabbit cried out, his body shuddering as he came for the fourth or maybe fifth time, his release shuddering around Warren's and Fang's lengths. Warren followed a second later, his cock twitching and spurting as he filled Franky's willing hole with his own hot, sticky cum, his groan of completion drowned out by his brother’s moans of ecstasy.
The trio's erratic movements turned to gently grinding and their arousal ebbed. Warren felt a bit jealous as Franky's shudders continued long after his own few seconds of spurting ecstasy, the differences in their anatomy was again highlighted. Fang would likely be locked in the cub for quite some time if Warren understood canine anatomy and he wasn't ready to pull out of his brother's warm confines. Instead he hugged the shuddering bunny close to his chest murmuring in his big ear's what a good boy he was.
* * *
As their combined climaxes receded, their erratic, almost violent thrusting gave way to a gentle, rhythmic rocking, their bodies still entwined, sated and content. Franky was still reeling from the intense sensations coursing through his body, his every nerve humming with pleasure. He felt a rush of warmth flooding his cunny, the result of Fang's swollen knot, locking them together. The feral dog had effectively claimed him, marking him as his own.
As his muscles twitched, adjusting to the new presence inside him, Franky couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for his brother, who had not only allowed this moment of pure ecstasy but had shared in it as well. He knew their father would never approve of such acts, but Warren's acceptance of what they'd done made it seem almost normal, acceptable even.
"You were such a good boy for me," Warren murmured in Franky's ear, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm so proud of you for being able to take Fang's knot."
Franky shivered in Warren's arms, his heart swelling with affection and gratitude at his brother’s words. He knew he should be panicking, worried about what they'd just done and what it meant for their future, but Warren's words were a soothing balm, calming his fears and reassuring him that everything would be alright.
"I didn't know my little brother was so adventurous," Warren said, a hint of pride in his voice as he nuzzled Franky’s big ears. Franky felt his cheeks flush at the praise, his heart soaring at Warren's approval. Despite the unexpected events of the night, Franky felt safer and more loved than he ever had before.
Franky felt the need to speak, to say something about what they just experienced, but his mind only resolved on the obvious. The afterglow, a peaceful silence that followed their intimacy, was broken as Franky whispered. "You squirted in my butt," he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Warren chuckled softly, running his fingers along Franky's side, making the younger rabbit shiver. "That's right," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I came in your tight, cute little bunny butt. And it was amazing."
Franky hesitated for a moment, his mind grappling with the reality of what they'd just done. "It's not dirty? Wrong?" he asked, needing reassurance.
Warren pulled him closer, cradling his brother against his chest. "I mean, not everyone would understand," he admitted, his voice soft. "But I love you and would never hurt you." Franky felt warmth spread through his body, his heart soaring at Warren's confession.
For a brief moment, Franky considered turning and truly hugging his brother close. But the weight of Fang's body pressing against his own and the very obvious knot stretching his cunny rendered such a gesture impossible.
"I'd love to stay inside you longer, but I'm not built for multiple orgasms," Warren said, his voice tinged with sleepy regret.
As if to punctuate those words, Warren's cock eased out of his tailhole with a soft, wet sound, leaving Franky feeling oddly empty. True, he had the feral dog's still-hard cock filling him, but the loss of Warren's presence left Franky feeling strangely bereft. He tensed his muscles, trying to keep his brother's cum from leaking out, a futile effort that spoke to his deep desire to hold onto this moment, to keep a part of Warren inside him.
At least Franky still had Fang inside him, his knot pulsing and stretching as the feral dog continued to pump him full of cum. Franky remembered just how much the dog could produce from their previous encounter, and how it had overwhelmed him at the time.
Curiosity piqued, Warren asked, "I take it this is not your first time with Fang?" His voice was tinged with concern, but surprisingly, Franky could detect no judgement in his tone.
"No," Franky admitted, his cheeks flushing with shame. He wished he could make himself smaller, disappear into his brother’s fur beneath them, but he felt he had no choice other than to face his brother's questions. Franky hesitated, unsure how to answer. He considered making up a story, telling Warren that it had been awful, dirty, wrong, but something stopped him. He knew that wasn't the truth, and he didn't want to lie to his brother. Not after what they'd just shared. "But, I've only sucked him before."
Warren seemed to accept this, Franky could feel rather than see the older rabbit nodding. He didn't comment on the brevity of his response, but Franky got the impression his brother had guessed there was more to the story. "Oh, wow," Warren said, his voice now tinged with excitement. "He feels kinda big." He gently patted Franky's round belly, the motion soothing and affectionate. "How was it?" he asked, his voice tinged with what Franky thought was genuine curiosity.
"It felt good," he said finally, his voice small. "Really good. But…I don't know. It feels different. Wrong, maybe."
Warren was quiet for a moment, his hands still moving softly over Franky's skin. "I get that," he said at last, his voice soft. "But it's not wrong, Franky. Not if it felt good. Not if you wanted it. Everyone's different, you know?" He paused, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Franky's head. "And I love you no matter what."
With those words, Franky felt a weight lift from his shoulders. His brother accepted him. All of him. He closed his eyes, content to lay there with Warren's strong arms around him, Fang's knot still locked inside him, and his brother's love surrounding him like a warm blanket.
"It didn't feel wrong, I guess," Franky admitted, his voice taking on a new confidence. "Sometimes the things I feel seem like they should be wrong. But they don't feel wrong to me." The words started tumbling out of Franky’s mouth now, as if a dam had broken and the flood of emotions was being released. "Even with you. I wanted to feel your cock inside me so bad. And you and Fang together inside me was...."
Upon hearing his name mentioned in the conversation, Fang seemed to wake up more and take notice. He gave a soft bark, his body tensing as if recognizing his name being spoken. His pumping cock seemed to slow down, but the knot remained, keeping Franky and him locked together. Franky felt the dog’s muscles shift, preparing to move and likely wanting to change position to be more comfortable, but he hesitated, unsure of what to do.
Warren jumped in, hastily explaining, "Oh, he's gonna want to turn now, but don't let him pull out the knot yet. It'll hurt if he does and you're not ready. Spin around when he turns, it'll be easier."
Franky nodded, not really sure what his brother meant, but trusting him nonetheless. He felt the stretching sensation in his cunny from the knot change as Fang started to turn his body. Franky reached down and grabbed hold of the thick piece of flesh joining them, then rolled himself at the same time.
With Warren's help, Franky maneuvered, still attached to Fang, into an awkward position belly to belly with Warren. His hips gyrated as he rolled, spinning his body around until he faced the same way as Warren, who maneuvered his own body to the side. This put some strain on Franky's back, but the alternative was worse as he would have pulled on the knot painfully otherwise.
It wasn't ideal, with his tail lifted up and Fang's muzzle facing away from the brothers, but it would have to suffice for now until the knot went away. Franky whimpered at the awkward twist, but Warren just petted him gently, helping to alleviate some of the discomfort. "Just relax, little brother," Warren murmured, his voice soothing. "Try to enjoy this position while it lasts. It's kind of a rare experience, you know?" Warren chuckled softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.
Franky nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to relax his muscles as much as possible. He knew this wasn't going to last forever, but he could still appreciate the closeness he felt with Warren and Fang in this moment. He just hoped it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for the dog.
With Fang situated and seeming content, Franky released the knot and wiggled slightly, testing the feeling of the dog still inside him. He felt a twinge of pain but pushed it aside, determined to enjoy the remaining moments of closeness with his brother. He wrapped both arms around Warren's neck, pulling him closer, and whispered, "Thank you, big brother."
He really meant it. Not just for helping him adjust as Fang moved, but for loving him unconditionally. For not spurning him or berating him when he found Franky involved in a bestial romance with Fang. He could feel tears in his eyes now, but he promised himself he wouldn't cry like some scared little cub.
"I've seen a lot more of the world outside our little ward in the city. I've been with my own fair share of men myself," Warren explained, his voice soft and reassuring. "I even had my tail filled by a canine, the two legged variety. Once, mind you." Warren stroked Franky's ears affectionately. "I know it can be scary and maybe even a little lonely exploring your sexuality. But you can always talk to me. If it helps."
Franky took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He felt a warmth spreading through him at Warren's words. It felt good to know that his brother understood. That he wasn't alone in his struggles. He opened his mouth, unsure of where to start, but the words started flowing once he did.
He told Warren about his adventure with Pip and rescuing Fang from the pompous noble family. He even told him about his and Pip's first exploration with Fang in the workshop. The words tumbled out of him in a rush, the memories vivid and intense, but Franky didn't hold back.
"I was so scared papa’d be mad at me. Or worse, mama would be disappointed," Franky admitted, his voice soft. "But it felt so good, Warren. So right. I didn't want to stop, but I was so worried about what you'd think of me."
Warren listened intently, his expression serious but not judgmental. When Franky finished, Warren sighed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm not mad, little brother," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I promise. I'm just glad you had the courage to explore who you are. It's a scary thing, and you're so young, but you shouldn't be afraid of who you are. Ever."
With Warren's reassurance, Franky felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been holding onto this secret, this fear, for so long, and now it felt like a weight had been lifted. He felt lighter, freer, and most importantly, loved.
"I wish I was a normal boy," Franky sighed, his voice tinged with a deep-seated longing. He reached down and gently cupped Warren's deflated member in his paw, feeling the soft, smooth skin. "More than anything, I wish I had one of these."
Warren looked down at his soft cock, then back at Franky, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You can explore mine for a bit if it helps," he suggested, his voice warm and encouraging.
Taking him up on the offer, Franky gently wrapped his paw around Warren's uncut member, feeling the slickness of his brother's cum on the skin. Warren's foreskin was no longer pulled back, his purplish head now hidden within the skin folds, but it still felt generous in his paw. Franky marveled at how soft and smooth it felt, running his fingers along the length of it, exploring every inch.
"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Warren said, trying to explain. "Especially when you get random boners all the time and you feel the need to hide them. It's kind of shameful and embarrassing."
Franky nodded, listening intently as Warren continued, "That doesn't even begin to explain how annoying having balls can be. They are always getting in the way. And even the slightest tap can feel like agony."
Curious, Franky reached down and gently felt Warren's balls, comparing them to the eggs his mother would sometimes get from the market. They were similar in shape, but smaller, and the furry sack that held them felt loose and strange under his palm. He didn't realize how different they felt compared to Pip's and Fang's, both of whom seemed to have tighter sacks pressed against their bodies.
"It feels amazing to me," Franky admitted, his voice filled with wonder and just a hint of jealousy. But he appreciated his brother's willingness to let him explore, to ask questions and learn.
They sat like that for a few more minutes, with Franky gently exploring Warren's cock and balls, asking questions and learning about his brother's body. It felt good to connect with Warren in this way, to share something so intimate and personal. It made Franky feel closer to his brother, more connected to him than he ever had before.
"I love you, Franky," Warren whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his brother's forehead. "No matter what. Always remember that."
Franky could feel the knot in his cunny starting to shrink, deflating slowly as Fang's cock began to soften. He whimpered softly, not wanting to be separated from the dog, dreading the emptiness he knew would follow when they were no longer connected. The discomfort he felt from the stretching and the fullness was nothing compared to the fear of losing this closeness, this intimacy he shared with both Fang and his brother.
With a soft, wet sound, Fang's knot slipped free, his cock sliding out of Franky's very sore and gaping cunny. A fresh wave of pain washed over Franky, making him gasp and whimper again, his hands clutching at Warren's arms. But his brother held him tight, pressing soothing kisses to his fur, his voice a soft rumble in Franky's ear as he whispered words of comfort and love.
Franky felt something wet and warm lapping at the mess between his legs, and he realized it was Fang, cleaning their fluids with his rough tongue. The sensation was soothing, almost lulling Franky into a peaceful daze, even as he felt the slick evidence of their coupling being licked away.
When Fang trotted away, looking pleased with himself, several minutes later, Warren shook him from his dozing. "We should get you cleaned up, little brother," Warren said softly, gently lifting Franky to a standing position. "Let's get you to bed."
Franky nodded, his eyes already struggling to stay open as exhaustion started to take hold. He vaguely remembered Warren pulling his nightshirt back into place and gathering his own discarded clothing. And he easily slid into Warren’s arms as the bigger rabbit picked him up and cradled him not unlike the way his brother used to put him to bed when he was younger.
He leaned into Warren's chest, feeling safe and loved as he was carried up to his bed. Warren laid him down gently, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before tucking him in with a warm blanket. Franky's last sight before drifting off to sleep was Warren's gentle smile and Bino’s gentle snores across the room. And the knowledge that he was loved and cherished, no matter what, eased him into slumber.
* * *
Franky awoke with a start, blinking in the bright morning light. It was too late in the morning, he realized with a jolt. He was going to be late to help his mother prepare the family's market stall. His father was going to be furious. But no one had woken him.
Then he realized he was in Warren's bed. He must have shared his older brother's bed the night before. But the bed was empty now, Warren and Bino both gone.
As he stood up, a rush of pain shot through his hips and pelvis, reminding him of the night before. Fang! The feral dog had knotted him, and he could hardly believe it. And Warren… Warren had been there, too. A wave of shame washed over him, but it was quickly replaced with a sense of awe, a feeling that he couldn't quite put into words. He'd never been closer to anyone, never felt so connected to another being.
But all of that would have to wait. He had obligations, chores to do. Being the son of an artisan meant that he had work to do, a family to help support. He quickly dressed, wincing as he pulled on his underclothes. He'd avoided wearing them as much as possible lately, feeling that a male loincloth didn't seem right on him. But the more feminine, softer underpants, hand-me-downs from his older sister, felt revolting. Yet today, he was grateful for the extra comfort they provided.
He hurried downstairs, feeling the need to apologize, to make up for his late arrival. Instead of finding his parents waiting for him and seething at his tardiness, he found Warren waiting for him in the family room, a plate of kale, spinach, and grain in front of him. "Good morning, sleepy bun," Warren said cheerfully, the morning light casting a warm glow over his features as he slid the bowl towards an empty chair.
"Sorry...," Franky stammered, feeling guilty. "I need to get to the market. Mama will need me to help her set up the stall." He felt nervous seeing his brother again after their closeness last night. What if Warren decided to change his mind after sleeping? What if Warren found him disgusting, depraved? He needed to get out.
"I see she didn't tell you," Warren said, breaking through Franky's mounting anxiety. He looked at Franky, a mild, nervous expression on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck—a sure tell of his brother’s unease. "Ma and Pa tasked me with taking you to see an herbalist today. You've got the day off. So, relax."
Franky blinked, surprised. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been given a day off from the stall, let alone been taken to an herbalist. "What... what for?" he asked, a new suspicion creeping into his voice. But he also couldn’t deny his hunger as he eyed the bowl.
Warren sighed, folding his hands on the table. "Mum's worried about you, Franky. About... about how you've been feeling. She thought maybe an herbalist might help. Maybe give you some tea to calm you down." His voice sounded unsure, like he was trying to convince himself this was a good idea.
Franky frowned, a throb of hurt rising in his chest. Was he really that much of a mess that his parents thought he needed herbs to calm down? He'd thought he'd been doing a pretty good job of hiding his turmoil, but maybe he hadn't been as successful as he thought.
Warren seemed to sense his brother's unhappiness, and he reached over, giving Franky's hand a gentle squeeze. "It's not a big deal, Fran," he said softly. "It's just... they love you. They want to help. And maybe the herbalist will have some advice for you. For... for what you're going through."
Franky sighed, nodding slowly. He knew Warren was right, but it still stung. Maybe it stung a little more to hear his brother use his old name. Still, a day off from the stall, a chance to spend time with his brother... maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He slid into the seat next to Warren, picking up his fork. "Okay," he said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. "I'll go. For Ma."
Warren smiled, clearly pleased. He began to eat his own breakfast, and Franky followed suit, the silence between them comfortable, companionable. By the time they finished, Franky felt the tension that had been knotting his shoulders start to ease, not completely, but somewhat. Maybe this day wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.
Franky didn't want to mention their activities last night unless Warren did. As they ate in silence, a pregnant aura seemed to hang in the air around them. But Warren eased the tension a little more, explaining that their father was out on an errand and they would be going to see Mistress Elara, a fox who lived across the river.
After their meal, they headed out to the East Ward. It was the part of the city populated mostly by farmers who worked the fields outside the gates. Not the most glamorous part of the city, but new to Franky, who was growing excited for this little adventure. They meandered through the streets of the Upper Ward, the sounds of working artisans heard from every direction.
As the pair crossed the bridge spanning the River Vael, Warren paused. The spot seemed like a nexus point in the bustling city despite the occasional passer-by. "I always find these crossings to be calming," Warren said, looking out over the lazy river. "Maybe it's the sound of the river or the way the air smells fresher here, but it gives me a real change of perspective."
Franky wasn't quite sure what he meant until he also stopped beside the stone railing next to his brother. The river ran lazily beneath them, and Franky marveled at how the stone bridge spanned the wide river without supports underneath. He never stopped to think about it before, but he knew the bridges were mageworks; he just always took them for granted.
They stood there in companionable silence for a few moments, just watching the river flow beneath them. It was peaceful, tranquil, and Franky felt some of his anxiety start to melt away. Maybe Warren was right about this being a good opportunity for him to relax and get some perspective.
Instead of continuing on, Franky and Warren lingered at the bridge railing, watching the river below. The tension between them still felt heavy and unspoken, a weight pressing down on Franky’s shoulders despite Warren’s previous attempt to dispel it.
Finally, Warren broke the silence, his voice gentle but probing. “So, are you feeling okay today? I've noticed a little tenderness in the way you are walking.”
Franky tensed, his fur prickling. “I'm fine,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. He didn't want to address the reason for his soreness. He didn't feel ready, so he focused on the river below instead.
But Warren wasn't done. He looked down at Franky, his eyes soft but with a worried tinge to their edges. “You really did take Fang's knot like a champ last night. I was afraid maybe you might be in pain today.”
Franky couldn't believe his brother was talking so openly and touching him too. Out in the open where anyone could see. He glanced around, but found no one else nearby to hear them.
“I mean...,” Franky stammered out, trying to find a way to explain. “I am sore, but not hurt. It's like a good kind of hurt. Like when you empty a wagon of heavy wool bales and your arms ache, but you feel like you accomplished something.”
Warren nodded, seeming to understand. “Yeah, I can understand that.” Franky felt his brother's hand slide down his back and rest on his tail, rubbing the soft fur there. “And your other hole, how does that feel?”
Franky blushed, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “It's... it's okay,” he said, his voice small. “A little sore too, but not too bad.” He wasn't quite sure what else to say, how to explain the strange mix of pain and pleasure he'd felt last night. How it had felt to have Warren inside him, filling him up and making him feel whole.
Warren smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That's good to hear. I was worried I might have been too rough with you.” He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Did you... did you like it? What we did last night?”
Franky swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He'd been so focused on the physical sensations, the overwhelming pleasure and closeness he'd felt, that he hadn't really stopped to think about whether he'd liked it or not. But now, looking back on it, he knew the answer. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I liked it. A lot.”
Warren’s smile widened, and he pulled Franky into a tight hug. “I'm glad,” he said, resting his chin on the top of Franky’s head. “I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it, but I'm really glad you enjoyed it. And I want you to know... I want you to always feel like you can talk to me about this stuff, okay? I'm not going to judge you or think you're weird or anything. I promise.”
Franky felt a lump form in his throat, but he nodded, hugging Warren back just as tightly. He knew he could trust his brother, and that meant more to him than he could possibly express. “Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled by Warren's chest. “I... I love you. So much.”
Warren chuckled, his hand stroking the back of Franky's head. “I love you too, little brother. More than anything. Maybe even more than I should.”
With those words, Franky felt a warmth blossom in his chest, spreading through his entire body. He knew, no matter what happened, no matter how confusing and scary the world outside might be, he would always have Warren by his side. And that was enough to face anything.
As they turned from the railing and continued walking, Franky found himself looking forward to seeing Mistress Elara and getting her advice. Maybe she could help him make sense of the confusing feelings and desires that had been tormenting him lately. He knew he needed guidance, and if his parents thought this fox could help, then he would give it a chance. He just hoped she could offer him some real solutions, or at least some comfort. He couldn't take much more of this uncertainty and guilt.
The sun was beginning to climb, the long shadows cast over the cobblestone streets of the East Ward slowly began melting away by the time Franky and Warren found the small shop they were looking for. The sign hanging outside declared the owner to be Elara, an herbalist and mage. It was a bit of a shock to Franky; mages were supposed to reside in the Riverside district, or at least that's what he had thought. But here was one living and working in the midst of farmers and dockworkers.
The inside of the shop was neat but cluttered, filled with the earthy smell of herbs and plants. Shelves lined the walls, laden with bottles and jars filled with mysterious liquids and powders, and more books than Franky had seen in his lifetime. It seemed deserted at first, but then a lithe ferret emerged from a back room, eyeing the pair of rabbits curiously. “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone professional and polite.
Warren explained that they were there at the request of their mother, who hoped that Mistress Elara might be able to help Franky with his... issues. He didn't go into much detail, but the ferret didn't seem to need much to understand.
Instead of looking confused or surprised, the ferret just smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned and called back to the room he'd just emerged from, “Wake up you lazy, old vixen! You've got an appointment you didn't bother to mention to me.” His tone went from polite and professional to irritated in the blink of an eye, and Franky was taken aback by the sudden change. He felt his apprehension rising again, not sure what to make of this new development.
The ferret turned back to them, his professional smile firmly back in place as if nothing had happened. “She'll be right with you,” he said smoothly, as if they hadn't just heard him shouting at his mistress.
Warren and Franky exchanged uneasy glances, but they had no choice but to wait. The ferret turned to a shelf and busied himself adjusting some jars, leaving them to wander in the dimly-lit shop. Franky shifted nervously from foot to foot, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into something dangerous, something he wasn't prepared for. But he had no choice. His mother had sent him here for a reason, and he had to trust her judgment.
After what felt like an eternity, the curtain to the back room swung open, and a beautiful vixen emerged. Her fur was a rich, deep red, and her eyes sparkled with an almost otherworldly intelligence. She was dressed in a flowing robe, and she moved with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of nature.
“Welcome,” she said, her voice like honey, sweet and smooth. “I am Elara. And you must be Franky.” She smiled, and for a moment, Franky felt as if he were the only person in the world.
Franky heard the ferret mutter something about putting on a show, but before he could ask what he meant, the fox ushered him over to a corner of the shop set up for one-on-one consultations. Two small chairs faced each other over a short, sturdy circular table. Franky found himself seated in one, with Warren protectively looming behind him. He felt thankful for his brother’s presence.
“Your mother sent me a missive explaining your predicament,” Elara said, her voice smooth and honeyed as she settled into the chair opposite Franky. “Quite fascinating, mind you.” Her eyes seemed to bore into him, as if she could see right through him, and Franky felt as if he were being inspected, or even dissected by the woman’s intense gaze. “I wouldn't have even guessed looking at you. I only see a handsome young man before me.”
“I am a boy,” Franky said, maybe a little defensively, his ears flattening against his skull.
“Of course, of course. You know, there is a city across the sea where children grow up without gender,” Elara said, her voice taking on a dreamy, reminiscent tone as if musing on some past memory. “They go about, all in little skirts. No one but their parents knowing their true sex. It's not until they are married that they choose a gender. Can you imagine?”
Franky blinked, his mind reeling at the thought. A city where no one knew if you were a boy or a girl until your wedding night? It sounded… well, it sounded like an ideal society to him. At least, the idea of not having to worry about what gender you were supposed to be seemed ideal. He wasn't so sure about wearing skirts all the time.
“Even their partners aren’t supposed to know what’s under those skirts until their wedding night,” Elara continued, her eyes widening at the scandalous thought. “Could you even imagine not knowing whether you’d be finding a cock or a cunny until your marriage bed?”
Franky felt his cheeks heat at the thought and at the brashness of the woman’s words, his mind conjuring up images of a wedding night, of nervous anticipation and the reveal of a hidden sex. It both excited and terrified him, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be in such a situation.
“I... I don't know,” he stammered, his voice tight and small in the quiet shop. “I... I never thought about it.”
Elara leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Well, it's something to ponder, isn't it? In the meantime, let's talk about you, Franky. About what’s been troubling you. About what brings you here today…”
And with those words, the vixen launched into a barrage of questions, her keen eyes never leaving Franky’s face as she tried to unravel the mystery that was Franky’s life. Franky found himself answering honestly, his fear of judgment or recrimination from this stranger somehow less immediate than it had been with his own family. He talked about how he had always felt like a boy, despite the body he had been given, and how confusing and frustrating that felt. He even discussed the confrontation with his parents and his demand to be called Franky, and the subsequent avalanche of change that had brought.
There were some secrets he kept close, locked away in the deepest corners of his mind. He didn't mention Pip, or Fang, or the closeness he’d shared with Warren the night before. Those were private, a part of his heart he wasn't ready to share with anyone, not even this insightful and enigmatic fox.
"You do smell rather male to me," the vixen mused, as if she were trying to solve a puzzle. "Have you been sexually active?"
Franky stiffened at the question, his throat suddenly dry. He could feel Warren's posture change behind him, becoming more protective, as if he could shield Franky from the question itself. The young rabbit didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to answer. Could the vixen smell Fang on him? Warren? Did she know what they had done last night?
Elara seemed to sense their discomfort, and she waved a paw, dismissing the question as if it hadn't even been asked. “It matters not,” she said airily. “You know, in that fascinating genderless society, they still tend to pair off male and female in marriage. Pheromones and body scents are pure giveaways. But it does allow more unusual pairings to arise, and without judgment. Two men may marry, one becoming the wife and the other the husband to the outside world. Yes, truly fascinating.”
Franky couldn't help but wonder what that would be like, to live in a world where such things were accepted without question, without stigma. Would he have been able to be himself from the beginning? Would he have ever felt the need to hide?
Elara seemed lost in thought for a moment, but then she shook her head, refocusing on Franky. “But I have learned of certain herbal teas they use to slow development of certain features and to prevent or promote pregnancy. I think I can help whip something up that may help you.”
Franky blinked, not entirely sure what he was hearing. “You... you can help me? How?”
The vixen smiled, a mysterious curve of her lips. “There are herbs that can balance the humors, ease the pressures of the body and mind. It will not change what you are, Franky, but it may help you find a path forward. One that feels right for you.”
The fox’s eyes turned shockingly cunning at that moment. “I won't even charge you for it,” she declared, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. At this, Franky heard the ferret groan as if in understanding that it meant less income for himself. But the realization that the ferret had been listening in on the conversation also made Franky feel embarrassed. He felt his cheeks heat, wondering just how much the other man had heard.
But if Elara noticed her assistant’s reaction, she didn't let it bother her. Instead, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with Franky’s. “All I ask in return is that you let me study your progress,” she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Do we have a deal?”
Franky didn't know how much it would cost for the treatment the vixen was proposing, but he suspected it wouldn't be cheap. She was a mage, after all, and the prospect of free treatment and maybe even better treatment did appeal to him.
He felt Warren's reassuring paw on his shoulder, and when he looked up, he saw the unspoken words in his older brother's eyes. This was Franky's choice, and his brother would support him no matter what.
Franky barely had time to finish nodding his head before Elara was up and out of her seat. “Perfect,” she declared, clapping her paws together. “I'll just have Nestor give you a quick examination while I prepare some initial teas you can try. He can fill me in on his notes later.”
“Examination?” Franky and the ferret, who was listening on the other side of the shelf, both gulped in unison.
“Nothing too invasive, I promise,” Elara said, waving a paw dismissively. “Your brother can watch over you.” And with that, she was off, inspecting the shelves in search of particular herbs that only she seemed to know.
Franky and the ferret eyed each other warily, both seeming a little apprehensive about what their roles would be in this examination. But the ferret just hunched his shoulders, resigned, and opened the curtain to the back room. “We can use my room for the examination,” he said, his voice flat. “It's back this way.”
Franky swallowed hard, his heart beginning to race. He didn't know what to expect, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Elara was his best hope, and if an examination was what it took to get her help, then he would endure it.
Franky swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the back room. Elara spoke up again, a sly smile on her face. “Oh, and Nestor has become quite proficient at inspecting male bodies,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “If the scent of semen he carries home each night as of late is any indication.” The fox seemed to delight at tormenting her assistant, and Franky figured this was more of that rather than reassurance.
Franky followed the groaning ferret into the back room, Warren close at his heels. The room was small but clean, with a narrow bed and a few shelves filled with vials and instruments. The ferret gestured for Franky to sit on the bed.
“I'll be sure to keep it professional,” Nestor said, adding a muttered, “unlike my mistress,” under his breath. “But you'll need to remove your clothes.”
Franky hesitated. He had become so accustomed to hiding his body that he struggled to remove his clothing too readily, but with Warren in the room, he felt a sense of comfort. He methodically removed each garment as Nestor fumbled at a nearby desk looking for writing materials. It helped that the ferret was not actively watching him.
However, Franky did feel a subtle arousal blooming. He knew his brother was watching, and without realizing it, he started meeting Warren's appraising gaze as his shirt and trousers came off. And the embarrassing realization that he was wearing women's undergarments sank in.
Franky felt his cheeks heat, but he pressed on, determined to see this through. He removed the last of his clothes, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. But Warren's gaze never left his face, never wandered down to his most private parts. It was almost as if he didn't see them at all. However, Franky realized that he secretly wished his brother had.
Nestor finished preparing his writing materials and turned back to Franky, his expression carefully neutral. “Alright, let's get started, shall we?” He had Franky lie back on the bed, and then proceeded to palpate his stomach and chest, feeling for any abnormalities. He checked Franky’s heart rate and breathing, listening carefully for any signs of distress. Through it all, Franky remained tense and anxious, but he didn't voice any complaints.
“Are you okay?” Warren whispered, his voice low and worried. Franky nodded, reassuring his brother that he was fine.
After a few minutes, Nestor stepped back, making a few final notations on his paper. “Alright, that's nearly everything,” he said, wiping his paws on a cloth. “I just need to examine your...,” he paused, seeming to search for the appropriate way of saying the next part, but just left it trailing, instead opting to motion towards Franky's lower areas.
The ferret bent and peered closely at Franky's exposed cunny. "You do seem to have some mild abrasions," he remarked, his voice taking on a clinical tone. "I'm not really a healer, but I have an ointment that can help." He didn't mention possible causes for which Franky was grateful. He already felt vulnerable enough with this virtual stranger examining his most private area.
"Is it okay if I touch you?" Nestor asked tentatively. For the first time, Franky really looked at the ferret and realized he was just as nervous. That gave him a little feeling of power and control again. Warren's paw on his shoulder also gave him more confidence.
Feeling bolder, Franky pulled his legs up, opening them wider, his voice sounding husky even to his own ears as he said, "Go ahead."
Franky felt Nestor's tentative paw on his cunny as the ferret eased him open. He saw the paw trembling, and he wondered why the other male was so hesitant, almost scared. But then the bleachy, raw scent of Fang's cum hit Franky. Bunnies weren't as sensitive to scents as predatory species, but it was strong enough that he could even smell it. The aftermath of their sexual tryst still lingered inside him.
There was no doubt that the ferret could smell it as well as his nose trembled and gentle sniffing turned into near animalistic huffing. Franky knew then that Nestor was struggling to not let the scent overpower him. Franky let his gaze wander to the ferret's crotch and saw the telltale bulge of an erection.
As Nestor leaned in to sniff at Franky's cunny, Warren's paw on the smaller beastman's fur halted any further progress. But Franky’s budding arousal from earlier was beginning to grow again. He kind of wanted the ferret to get a sniff. To know that Franky was implanted with the dog's seed.
"It's okay, Warren. Let him." Again, Franky was surprised at the resolve in his voice and the suggestion that it hinted at. He felt powerful, desired, and knowing that Nestor was struggling with his own arousal only heightened that feeling.
Warren hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the ferret. But after a moment, he relaxed his grip, letting Nestor move closer.
Franky watched, breathless, as Nestor leaned in, his nose inches from Franky’s slick folds. He could see the ferret's nostrils flare, could see the shudder that ran through his body as he scented the evidence of Franky's tryst with Fang.
Nestor closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent. Franky could see the bulge in his trousers twitch and grow, and he felt a thrill of excitement, knowing that he was the cause of the ferret’s arousal.
Franky felt that the needy desire building inside him again. He was feeling the need to be touched again, to be caressed and loved. "Maybe you should help him, Warren," he said, meeting his brother's gaze and willing the older rabbit to understand what he wanted.
Warren looked at him with a questioning gaze, but then nodded slightly, understanding dawning in his eyes. And Warren responded huskily back, "He may know his way around a man's body, but maybe not my brother’s."
Franky watched, his heart pounding, as Warren gently pushed aside the ferret’s sniffing muzzle and replaced it with his own. His eyes never left Warren's as his brother leaned in and gently licked his glistening cunny lips. It was not the forceful assault of Fang’s tongue, but gentler and sweeter. And Franky felt his excitement rising all the more for it.
He felt Warren probing deeper and knew his brother must be tasting Fang’s coppery load inside him. Ripples of pleasure shuddered through Franky’s body as he felt the trapped dog cum inside him begin to ooze out a little as Warren’s tongue opened him up more.
Moments ago, Franky had been too embarrassed to be seen naked, but now he was relishing being seen with his brother’s tongue between his thighs. He glanced over to see Nestor panting as he watched their incestuous act. The ferret’s paw had slipped into his linen trousers, and he was clearly stroking the length inside, his eyes dark with lust as he watched Warren lap at Franky’s most intimate areas.
Franky could feel his own arousal building, the fire in his belly growing hotter with each passing second. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be letting his brother taste another male’s seed from inside him, but he couldn't help it. It felt too good, too right.
He moaned softly, his hips bucking slightly as Warren’s tongue delved deeper, searching for more of Fang’s essence. Nestor groaned, his paw moving faster in his trousers as he watched the brothers, his eyes glazed with lust.
Franky tugged at Warren's ear, not to pull him in deeper, but away. As much as he wanted his brother to continue, he wanted to give Nestor a turn, to let him experience the pleasure that Franky was feeling. "Know that you’ve seen how to do it, maybe you’d like to try again?" he tossed the question to the horny ferret, his voice thick with desire.
As Warren moved aside, Franky reached for his brother’s bulging trousers, finding the rabbit’s hard cock and stroking it through the fabric, enjoying the feel of the throbbing flesh beneath his paw.
Nestor leaned in, his tongue replacing Warren’s, digging in deeper, exploring the depths of Franky's cunny. Franky tilted his hips out wider, giving the mustelid better access, wanting him to taste the cum that Warren had stirred up.
To further distract himself from the firebrand sensation of the ferret's tongue, he hungrily tugged at Warren's trouser lacings until his brother untied them and tugged them down, exposing his rampant rabbit cock. Franky marveled at how the foreskin pulled back to reveal the purple head glistening with precum for a brief moment before he guided it into his maw. He managed to swallow as much of his brother’s swollen member as he could in one go, feeling the stretch and burn of taking something so large into his throat.
"Little bro," Warren gasped, his fingers digging into Franky's hair as he thrust gently into his brother’s hot, wet mouth. "You don't... you don’t have to..."
But Franky ignored him, focusing on the feel of Warren’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth, the taste of his brother’s precum on his tongue. Nestor’s tongue continued to work at Franky’s cunny, digging deeper, searching for every last drop of Fang’s cum.
Franky could feel his climax building, the fire in his belly growing hotter with each passing second. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, letting his brother fuck his mouth while another male ate him out, but he couldn’t help it. It felt too good, too right.
Franky worked his brother's cock into his throat far deeper than he had managed last night, practicing and experimenting with his breathing as he popped the head in and out. It seemed to be growing larger even as he sucked, his own saliva making Warren's cock slick. He wanted to taste his brother's cum this time, he needed it, more than he'd ever needed anything before.
"Keep going, baby. You're gonna make me squirt this time," Warren encouraged, his voice tight with desire and arousal. His fingers tightened in Franky's fur, urging him on as he thrust gently into his brother’s hot, wet throat.
In the meantime, the growing pleasure in Franky’s cunny was blossoming throughout his belly, a warm glow that seemed almost visible in the sunlit room. The twin sensations of Warren’s cock in his mouth and the ferret's tongue in his cunny were driving him wild, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
With a deep grunt, Warren unloaded deep into Franky's throat. The volley of bunny spunk flooding him as he pulled his head back just enough so he could taste it as well as feel it. The warm cum on his tongue set off his own orgasmic high, his cunny walls convulsing on the ferret’s tongue as the warmth in his belly reached a crescendo of sensation.
And the glow wasn’t just imagined, it was visible, a golden hue emanating from deep inside, fighting for dominance against the sunlight. It felt so amazingly good, Franky never wanted it to end. He moaned around Warren’s cock, the vibrations making the older rabbit gasp and thrust deeper, his climax seeming to go on and on as Franky’s muzzle worked to swallow every last drop.
Warren sagged against the bed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he pulled his cock free from Franky's hungry, spit-slicked lips. His brother's essence had tasted better than he had imagined it would. Better than Fang's, and that thought made him feel a little guilty, but also excited.
Franky looked down to see Nestor licking the dog's cum and his own from his chops, his eyes bright with lust and greed. The ferret eyed Franky’s open, now-gleaming cunny with a look of profound wonder and awe. "I don't think the ointment will be necessary anymore," he said, sounding dazed. "I think... I healed you."
Franky could feel the difference even as the aftershocks of his orgasms radiated through his body. The raw ache of his cunny and the lesser soreness in his tailhole were gone, as if they’d never been there at all. If anything, he felt better than he had in days.
Then the ferret's excitement got the better of him. "I HEALED you!" he repeated, grinning broadly, his eyes wide with astonishment. "I know some mages and priests are gifted healers, but I did it without any spells or anything. And I controlled it"
Franky blinked, not quite understanding why this seemed so strange to Nestor. He assumed the ferret was an apprentice mage, so didn't they do miracles every day? He wasn't sure why this was different, but he could tell Nestor was excited and happy about it, so he decided to just be happy for him.
"Congratulations," Franky said, smiling warmly up at the ferret. "You must be very proud."
Nestor nodded, still grinning. "Yes, yes I am. Thank you, Franky. You have no idea how much this means to me."
Franky felt a warmth in his chest, knowing that he had helped Nestor in some way, even if he didn't fully understand it. He smiled over at Warren, who was watching with a bemused expression, then back at Nestor.
Nestor nodded, his grin widening. "You should be able to...um, enjoy your activities without any pain or discomfort now." Franky felt a rush of excitement at that, his mind already racing with the possibilities. He looked over at Warren again, seeing the same excitement and desire in his brother’s eyes as well.
They were interrupted by Mistress Elara's shout from the front of the shop. "If you three are done back there, I'd like to unlock the front door again and let some customers in." The pure absurdity of the situation set Franky to giggling. Whatever had made him think they wouldn’t be heard beyond a thin piece of fabric into the main shop?
The giggling turned into outright convulsions when he saw Nestor's face turn pale beneath his fur. The apprentice was gaping at being caught by his master. The look was so profoundly funny when combined with the very obvious wet patch and prominent erection forming the front of the distraught-looking ferret’s pants.
Franky did indeed feel better than he had in years. Not since he had started to dislike his own body and the troubles it had brought him had he felt so wonderfully good. His brother, not only loved him, but loved him unconditionally enough to approve of his sexual escapades with a feral dog. Who encouraged their own incestual activities. He had begun to embrace his wanton desires and found comfort that no one had rejected him.
He dressed quickly, still feeling the afterglow of his orgasms and the healing touch of Nestor’s tongue. His skin felt alive, electric, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he followed Warren and a very sheepish-looking Nestor back into the main shop.
Elara was waiting by the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a stern look on her face. She handed over a wrapped bundle to Warren. But when she saw Franky, her expression softened, and she smiled. “How are you feeling, young Franky?” she asked, her voice warm and maternal.
Franky blushed, still feeling the wet heat of his recent activities, but he smiled back at her. “I’m feeling great, Mistress Elara. Thank you for your help.”
Elara nodded, pleased with his answer. “You’ll find some instructions in the package on when and how much to use. But don’t hesitate to come visit if anything is unclear.”
She turned to Nestor, her expression turning severe once more. “Nestor, a word, please,” she said, her voice like ice.
Nestor gulped, nodding quickly. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, following her into the back room with his tail between his legs.
Franky felt a pang of sympathy for the ferret, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Elara was his master, and he would have to face her wrath on his own.
Warren put a comforting paw on his shoulder, and together, they left the shop, blinking in the bright sunlight. Franky couldn’t help but feel that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, that he was somehow free to be himself without fear or shame.
He wasn’t sure what the future would hold, but with Warren at his side, he felt like he could face anything. He smiled up at his brother, his heart full of love and gratitude, and together, they walked back into the city, ready to embrace whatever came next.
* * *
Deep beneath the city of Veloria, in a forgotten cavern where even the stone sweats and time seems to unravel, something shuddered in its slumber. It was a will made manifest, a vastness of flesh and primal impulse coiled in the earth’s womb, dreaming for forgotten eons. A feral, wanton miasma enveloped the creature, a psychic scent so strong and overpowering that it overwhelmed even its own dormant senses. It was the rich perfume of life itself, of need and transgression, an offering that seeped into the city above. It fed on a thousand secret trysts and unspoken lusts, but recently, new, potent flavors had joined the stream—the scent of two rabbit cubs embracing their natures, a clydesdale finding power in submission, a dragon accepting long withheld pleasures, a burgeoning mage unlocking forbidden power. The scents of taboos joyfully broken and innocence shed with fierce abandon.
Each new offering was a jolt to the slumbering god. Each tremor of wanton climax sent a corresponding shudder through its immense form. Its claws, larger and sharper than steel swords, scraped against the cavern floor as it dreamt dark, libidinous thoughts. A groaning gasp of fetid air, thick with ancient musk and ozone, escaped its maw, a sound on the verge of choking out a roar that could shatter mountains. The great, monolithic spire between its thighs, slick with untold ages of precum, throbbed with a gathering power, threatening to erupt into a cataclysmic orgasm that would shake the very foundations of the world above.
Soon, the fitful dreaming would come to an end. It would rise, shaking the dust of millennia from its hide. It would once again force the world to succumb to its base desires, to drown in the glorious, terrible tide of its own unfettered lust.
As it had done before, so it would begin again. ",
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