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Longer story but not ~too~ long, and what they specifically wanted to see was, and I quote, \"loose sloppy marecunt butt stuff, fisting, and him drinking her piss from the tap if you can fit it\"\n\nWell, this is my job, so~\n\nHad a -lot- of fun with this one, but I gotta say, I was definitely worried at first that I'd made this boyo's Loose Sloppy Mare Cunt Tailhole too grotesquely blown-out (it's literally formed into loose, limp lips that drape down underneath him at all times) - but was given several huge thumbs up on this! Angel's fairly well along in his pregnancy now (oops) to the point where he's definitely showing, and to his sister Drash, who's responsible for that whole situation, it's extremely fucking hot. She can't get enough of him, and now that they've crossed that bridge, she can barely keep her hands off - or, rather, out of - him.\n\nY'ever thought about what it'd be like to jerk off while inside of someone?", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Sequel to Dress To Impreg for dangerraija, who gave me pretty much full chef's choice on this one! Longer story but not ~too~ long, and what they specifically wanted to see was, and I quote, "loose sloppy marecunt butt stuff, fisting, and him drinking her piss from the tap if you can fit it"

Well, this is my job, so~

Had a -lot- of fun with this one, but I gotta say, I was definitely worried at first that I'd made this boyo's Loose Sloppy Mare Cunt Tailhole too grotesquely blown-out (it's literally formed into loose, limp lips that drape down underneath him at all times) - but was given several huge thumbs up on this! Angel's fairly well along in his pregnancy now (oops) to the point where he's definitely showing, and to his sister Drash, who's responsible for that whole situation, it's extremely fucking hot. She can't get enough of him, and now that they've crossed that bridge, she can barely keep her hands off - or, rather, out of - him.

Y'ever thought about what it'd be like to jerk off while inside of someone?", "writing": "“If we put you in eyeliner and mascara, nobody will be able to tell the difference.”\n\nDrash had initially made the demand as a joke, and after feeling the way her brother’s guts slurped and sucked around her shaft as she had pounded deep beneath his tail, after hearing Angel’s panting moans and his needy whines, after squeezing his legs around her body and pumping what had up until that point been the most powerful, intense orgasm of her life, she had promptly forgotten about it. The two siblings had slouched across one another as they recovered from their long-awaited coupling, each laughing softly, sweating, trembling with with the residual aftershocks of their pleasure, then cleaned up in the shower and went about the rest of their weekend while waiting for their parents to come home, sidling along the silent agreement of we’ll never speak of this.\n\nNot that they would not still continue, of course: the afternoon of their parents’ return had seen the siblings out on a walk around the local park, during which Drash had yet again ended up both elbow and knot-deep inside of her brother’s loose, sloppy, heat-ridden tailhole, swelling out to proportions so impressive that he had had to stop wearing underwear and instead opt for loose sweatpants with extra layers of padding in the seat, and so that he could no longer sit straight up at his desk. When they had come face to face with their mother just taking her jacket off in the entryway, Drash had told her that Angel had tried climbing a tree and fell out of it in response to her “Drash, why is your brother so sweaty?”\n\nAnd then about a month and a half later, following the end of their exam season and shortly into summer break, the younger Doberman had stumbled into her room, slammed the door behind him, and stared at her with such concern and panic in his eyes that she didn’t even go for the “what, here to try to swallow my balls again? You almost got ‘em last time” that she had readied, and now…\n\nNow she glanced over to him in the passenger seat, sitting in that cocked, sideways fashion that he had to do now so that the loose, dangling lips of his permanently blown-out tailhole wouldn’t pinch underneath him. Angel with his hair combed over one eye, eyeliner and mascara and shadow on, lips done up, claws painted, in a formfitting blouse with one of Drash’s old bras stuffed with toilet paper, and a skirt over his legs with, of course, nothing underneath, and – her initial suggestion had been right. She had taken him to the mall today to find some clothing for him now that he had started to progress and show more, and that formfitting really went the distance.\n\nThe smooth, rounded curve of his full belly lifted out beneath the front of the material, the elastic stretching and straining around the extra bulk from his pregnancy. Their pregnancy, really: after he had shown her the test and managed, through his stammering and panicking, that he hadn’t done it with anyone other than her, that he had checked online and matched all the symptoms, to say nothing of what the test itself said. At the mall today everyone had referred to him as her sister, had congratulated him on the pregnancy, had treated him with gentle care and concern and showed him the best of what they had to offer for the money they had-\n\nBeside her Angel pressed a fist to his mouth, lurched a little bit, then after a moment relaxed back again with a sigh. Drash reached over to rub his leg.\n\n“Nauseous still?”\n\nHe nodded. “Yeah. It comes and it goes.”\n\n“Yeah, I’ve heard that’s how it happens.” Before leaving the mall he had bought an extra spicy individually wrapped pickle from a vending machine in the food court – waving off Drash’s surprise that such an option would even be offered – and then ran off to the nearby ice cream stand for a bowl of bubblegum gelato, completely with the actual pieces of gum in it, and proceeded to eat one with the other. And he swallowed the gum, too.\n\nAnd of course Drash didn’t tell him, and had no plans to do so, but she had desperately wanted to drag him off to the bathroom and put a second litter in him right then and there. That first time had broken the floodgates for the pair: after so many years of excited teasing and nervous touching, of Drash pawing off outside Angel’s bedroom door while he scooped himself out on the knotted horse toy he had gotten himself for his birthday last year, of her teasing three, four fingers, her entire fist up underneath his tail while watching TV on the couch, of wandering into the bathroom while he was sitting on the toilet so that she could unbutton, unzip, push herself into his maw, and then empty her bladder straight into his belly instead… after so many years of doing this, now she could hardly spend a full week without plunging her knot into him again.\n\nThe attendants in one of the shops at the mall had let her go into the fitting room with “her sister”, and as she had helped strip Angel out of his current shirt and into the next one, stretching the fabric over his swollen, beach ball belly, she had been unable to keep her gaze away from his tail… or, rather, a few inches underneath his tail. His constant heat had become even more insistent, swelling and inflating the rim of his ring into a long, loose, sagging mass of limp, wet lips, hypersensitive so that Drash even just breathing on them was enough for Angel to arch his back and suck in a gasp.\n\nSo kneeling there on the floor of the fitting room, helping him step into a new skirt, she just couldn’t help reaching up, pinning her fingers and thumb to a duckbill, and slurping in halfway to her elbow without so much as a preliminary stretch or a wad of spit to lube him up. Her brother had gasped, shuddered, and dropped the clothes hanger he held, his shaky paws going out to catch himself against the other wall: his back had arched and his tail hiked at the base, trembling, and after gathering himself he had rode forward along her arm towards her wrist, then slurped back down again, and-\n\n-and Drash’s fingerpads still stuck to the steering wheel with that thick coating of bodily slime, mostly dried into her fur at this point. She slowed, turned onto their street, and pulled up along the road towards the driveway, then turned again to stop the car; beside her Angel squirmed again, then managed to awkwardly sit up while still avoiding putting any pressure on his backside, and moved to open the door, and swung his legs out to stand up… and as he did so Drash watched those loose, sagging lips drag across the side of the seat underneath him from where they hung down below the hem of his skirt, leaving a greasy trail across the material where they went. Angel caught himself against the door, shivered for a second, then straightened up and began hobbling his way up, one arm caressing the wide expanse of his swollen belly.\n\nDrash stepped out as well, swung the door shut, hit the lock, then trudged up after him – and nearly froze in her pace with the thick, intense aroma wafting across her in his trail. Her brother’s advancing pregnancy had deepened his heat into a practically constant struggle, and with that impulsive need, his pheromones had sharpened as well: at each and every stoplight on the drive home Drash had caught herself with that same paw pressed to her nose, idly drawing in the scent of his musk where it had soaked through her fur, and then turning her head to taste it fresh from him beside her. Angel had had to start wearing that awful, heady deodorant favored by his track friends to try to hide it from their parents, and even going through two spray cans a week he still had to try to limit his time around them just to be certain.\n\nAnd that was why weekends like this – Drash hustled ahead of him to get the front door – came as a great relief to both of them. The strain of Angel hiding it himself, and then of Drash pretending that she didn’t know about it on top of her already ongoing act of pretending as though she hadn’t dropped more loads under her brother’s tail than she had laundry in the wash over these past two months, made for a needed break when the two had the house to themselves.\n\nAngel smiled at her as he passed, his makeup clouded and fuzzed somewhat from their brief distraction in the fitting room. “Thanks, Drash. Today was… was nice.”\n\n“Yeah.” Again she watched as he passed, eyeing the way the lips of his tailhole stuck to one smeared, matted thigh beneath his skirt, then shook her head and closed the door. Like a… loose fucking mare cunt, she had realized one night earlier, pressing her paw to her muzzle and breathing deep of the same scent that coated it now. It just… fucking hangs open. It visibly steams when it gets cold. He’s suction-cupped himself to his desk chair, and then fucking blasted rope when I pulled him off of it. I joke about him swallowing my nuts, but… “Yeah, of course, dude. You’re my brother. We gotta stick together.”\n\nThe other Doberman’s tail wagged, which of course lifted the back of his skirt further. He grinned over his shoulder at her; she returned the smile, then looked back down as soon as he started towards the couch again. Sure enough, the lifted tail afforded another unbroken view of the limp, wrinkled, almost grotesque mass of dark, stretched skin and flesh, glistening with constant slick wetness, dripping here and there where the natural lubrication from inside his constantly aroused body oozed out.\n\nI have responsibility in this, too, and I owe it to you to help you figure this out. But you won’t ever catch me saying any of that sappy shit.\n\nInstead of reaching down and sliding her arm up past the elbow like she really wanted to, Drash patted Angel’s shoulder, felt the residual heat thrumming through his body, and nudged him towards the next room. “Hey, go lie down on the couch,” she offered; he looked at her, then nodded. “I’ll bring you some water. Anything you want?”\n\n“Do we – still have some of the lemonade?”\n\n“Little bit, yeah. Do you want the hot sauce in it again?”\n\n“Mm…” From the next room came the rustling and creaking of the Doberman settling his lopsided weight onto the cushions. He grunted and groaned, then gasped, and Drash stifled a smile to herself; that was the sound of him brushing his tailhole across something, and recovering from the sudden burst of overwhelming pleasure. “Maybe later. Just the lemonade.”\n\nDrash couldn’t help but wonder if their parents knew already, and that was the reason why they had seemed to take these weekend vacations more often. Mom gets those crazy trip credits from her job, and ever since that one year we were in high school, she makes sure to take advantage of them as soon as they build up. Oh, wait, maybe she thinks he’s on drugs? And that’s why he’s been so twitchy and sweaty and stays in his room all the time. Maybe they think I’m the one giving him drugs, and that’s why I’m spending so much more time around him.\n\nShe tugged the fridge door open. Well, I sure as shit gave him something. Hopefully just one something. Wish it were zero, but. Reap what you sow, and we both knew those fields were extra fuckin’ fertile. At least their parents had yet to inquire about the strange array of various snacks that had begun filling the shelves as Angel’s pregnancy progressed and as his cravings changed, but least lemonade was just lemonade. Drash filled a glass, tossed the empty bottle, and then walked back around into the living room, where her brother now sat slightly sideways with both his paws draped over his wide belly.\n\nDrash flicked an ear. “I told you to lie down. It’s good for your back.”\n\n“I can’t lie on my belly. It’s too uncomfy.”\n\nShe rolled her eyes, handed him the glass, and reached for the remote. “On your back, stupid.”\n\n“But then it’s a little hard to breathe!”\n\n“On your side, then? I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant.” She nudged at his leg to scoot him to the side. “And unless something goes terribly wrong, I don’t think I ever will be. But, then, looking at you, I suppose I can’t rule it out…”\n\nBeside her Angel pushed himself through the lengthy, awkward process of sprawling out, for the moment seeming to forget that he wore nothing underneath his skirt. The lips of his tailhole draped down along the rear hem as he pulled himself towards the arm, pert little balls and even smaller sheath jiggling like firm tofu as he moved. Once in position he breathed out a great sigh, leaned over to take a sip of his drink, then settled back into place; Drash turned the TV on and flicked through the menus, then settled on something without looking too closely at it.\n\nAs the siblings watched, she draped an arm around her brother’s lifted leg, and ignored the way he glanced at her. Angel’s ears flicked and he stirred again, and she saw out of the corner of her eye the way his loose, cavernous tailhole glistened with its own wetness, thick ropy strands of mucus hanging between folds of flesh and then folds of fabric. Minutes passed; he finished his glass; Drash tapped through her phone a bit; she continued over to rub a now dried, matted paw across the smooth curve of his belly, surprisingly firm and quite sizeable for this point in his pregnancy.\n\nAngel jumped, then glanced at her again. “Um…”\n\n“Y’know,” Drash began, cutting him off, “I probably told you before, but I got – and gave – my first handjob when I showed my high school boyfriend Clerks 2. You remember Raymond, right?”\n\n“Raymond?” Angel tilted his head. “I didn’t know you two fucked.”\n\n“Oh, we didn’t. First, only, and last time a boy’s had a bigger dick than me. Broke up with him over that.”\n\n“Hmm.” He stayed quiet for a moment, then perked again. “Kiara’s dick was bigger than yours, and don’t you two still talk?”\n\nDrash scoffed. Kiara had been a transfer student in her chemistry class the previous year; one evening over winter break Angel had stepped into Drash’s bedroom to find Kiara on her knees, throat bulging out, lips sealed past the root of the Doberman’s knot, while she spurted her own load out across the carpeted floor. Drash had made Angel clean up the mess as punishment for not knocking, but if she looked closely, she could still see the stain.\n\n“Kiara’s a girl. That’s different.” She turned back to the TV but continued rubbing her brother’s belly, now slipping her fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and away, teasing over the spots where his fur thinned out along the pull marks, and the slight stretch lines that had begun to settle into the skin underneath. He felt tight and taut all the time, and yet when she pressed her fingers in – and he jumped and squirmed with the sensation – she still felt a surprising amount of springy give to his figure.\n\nSure, it’s super early in this one, she thought, and spread her palm. Drash trailed down over his belly button, inverted so that it now poked slightly outwards around the growing baby. But he’s handling it really well. Nice, strong, young body. Bet he can take two or three more, no sweat… and down further towards the waist of his skirt, where the elastic dug into the soft skin and fur, pinching down at the underside of the swell.\n\nAngel squirmed a little bit, coughed softly, and stretched a leg out to nestle it between Drash’s lower back and the cushions behind her. She realized she was staring at his belly and as such turned back to the screen, but still kept her paw there, thumb poking at the waist, claw running along the material stretched to its limit…\n\n“Drash.”\n\nShe feigned inattention. “Mm?”\n\n“You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”\n\nAnd despite herself, her heart skipped a beat and she felt her pants grow a little bit tighter. Briefly she considered lying to him, but then, without turning to look at her brother:\n\n“God fucking shit, yeah I do. Literally all the time, dude.” She wriggled her hips. “I can feel the fucking swamp-ass heat of your fucking horse cunt radiating onto my leg. And – look – you’ve stained the back of that skirt-”\n\n“Sorry! Sorry.” He pulled his paws in front of his chest, ears flicking back. “I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and it’s not like I can just go online and read about this, and – I-”\n\nAngel trailed off as Drash turned to face him more fully, bringing one leg up onto the couch between them. He looked up at her, head sideways on the arm of the couch; she glared, bit her lip, tilted her head, then reached down to swipe the skirt down his legs. He gasped and shuddered as the fabric drew past his hanging tailhole, then grimaced bashfully at the slime dripping from the rear folds.\n\n“I oughtta make you clean this up yourself,” Drash went on, leaning into the aggression a bit. Angel swallowed and spread his legs, though kept his eyes fixed on the wiggling rope of mucus. “And we really should lay down a towel wherever you go, or else Mom and Dad are gonna ask us what we keep spilling on the furniture.”\n\n“Sorry, here, let’s – go-”\n\n“Nope. No, no, no.” She tightened her grip on her legs and used that leverage to pull her closer, now bracing her brother’s lower body against her chest and draping his legs over her shoulders. He gasped, chirped, squirmed; his diminutive sack and sheath flopped up against his belly, and Drash brought her paws in along his thighs to dig her fingers into the plush, soft squish of his rump. “Already here. Already staining. What’s done is done, and now… I…”\n\nNow she looked down between his spread legs, his lifted sack… the loose, hanging lips of his tailhole, more draping across one another than remaining shut as they should. Drash had no idea how his body went around its natural processes, but then again, it didn’t seem as though that part of things even presented a problem to Angel. Even before all of this had started she had lusted after this part of him, sneaking glances when he undressed for the shower, or early in the mornings when he rolled over in bed and kicked his covers off, or those several, countless times where he enjoyed himself on one of his massive toys, and made sure to leave the bedroom door open.\n\nIt had been one of those times that had inspired her to finally close this distance between the two of them. Drash licked her lips, swallowed, and leaned in a little closer, nostrils flared, lips tingling with the swampy heat emanating from Angel’s constantly parted, opened bowels, wet folds of meat slurping and squishing audibly with every reflexive twitch of his muscles. She had pressed herself up to the wall outside his room, head tilted to peer into the gap of his door, and as usual he had been “performing” for himself there in front of the mirror, though had it tilted away so that he would not be able to see her watching. Drash’s gaze had remained fixed on the way his tailhole had sucked along the shaft of the toy, tugging visibly outward from his body, sleeving the silicone in drapes of greasy flesh, at that point puffier than they were loose and limp.\n\nNow, though… she swallowed again and teased her fingers up, and bit by bit peeled the sticky flaps of meat away from around the base of Angel’s tail. Immediately the other Doberman gasped and squirmed, one of his legs kicking; Drash smirked, ran his extended tailhole across her paws, then pursed her lips and came in for a slow, gentle kiss. The heat of his body radiated out across her, feeling almost as though it lightly seared her beneath the gathered sticky moisture; she couldn’t help but lick her lips again, catching some of this extended, wrinkled rim in doing so, and then smoothly drew him into her maw… and further… and further, suckling softly, drawing the naturally oozing juices from the limp, loose folds.\n\nAngel squirmed again, grinding his lower body against her chest, pulling in a breath and then huffing it back out. “O-oh, Drash…” he moaned, head going to one side; his sister spread her fingers along his body and pushed further down his shirt again, towards where his nipples had started to puff out soft and sensitive as well.\n\nAs expected, finally sinking into him for the first time, finally feeling her brother’s cute little ass squeezing and slurping around her, had been without a doubt the best fuck she had ever had – and likely ever would, especially now. The way his tailhole had wrapped around her cock, how she had felt his lips follow after even as she pulled out, how his then extended, plump rim slurped in around her and kept her nice and warm and slick, then puffed up as she pushed back in, and now… now he hung loose enough that she could literally suck his rim into her mouth and tease the loose lips around her tongue, swirling, circling, drawing him back deeper until she could nearly swallow them.\n\nUnderneath her Angel’s eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth had fallen open, and again he squirmed against her chest. Already he was hard – not that it makes much a difference, his sister thought with a smirk – and each throb, each clench, bounced weakly out through his lips between hers, the folds of what should have been muscle flexing weakly, tugging back in as his ring faintly tightened, then relaxed again.\n\nDrash pulled back, tugging as she went, pulling those loose lips out so that they stretched with slick, silky stickiness, then pulled free from her mouth and plopped back down against her brother’s body. Then she dove in again, parted them with her tongue, and followed up towards their root along his tailhole: she had never really had to prep him to go diving – Angel had been able to handle at least three fingers unlubed for literally as long as his sister could remember messing around with him – but ever since his pregnancy had started to show, things had become even worse.\n\nOr better, she thought, circling her nose around within the loose, gaping rim, dank folds of his tailhole hanging around her. Three fingers a few years ago, to four and a thumb earlier this year, to halfway up to her elbow just earlier today while he was bending over to fit on a skirt… and, naturally, that meant that the sleek, warm walls of his lower bowels parted easily for her muzzle as she now nuzzled up into him, nostrils flaring as she drew in the rich, warm musk floating around her. These sloppy folds of meat smacked and slurped around her, and still parted enough for her to twitch her jaw and flick her tongue out inside of him.\n\nThe first half of her snout scooped inside of him, she pursed her lips and sucked, drawing more of that sticky, slimy wetness across her maw so that it filled her mouth. Around her Angel twitched, shuddered, gasped again; she felt him trying to clench and squeeze, but his blown-out muscles refused to do much more than pulse weakly around the bridge of her muzzle, his inner walls briefly blocking off her nostrils so that she had to draw deeply from inside of him. Drash slurped, sucked, swirled her tongue, swallowed… did so a second and third time for the way that stickiness coated the back of her throat before she could fully manage it.\n\nAs she worked she rested him in against her chest, his legs hanging limp around her shoulders just like the extended rim of his tailhole hung loose on either side of her chin now, and braced just above his tail with one paw while the other reached down towards her own front. Without looking she swiftly undid her pants button and fly, then squirmed to wriggle the tight-fitting jeans down her legs – and couldn’t help but groan out inside her brother’s lower bowels with the sensation of the first stroke, remembering how this same paw had plunged up inside of his belly just an hour ago or so, and how he now clamped snug around her face.\n\nThen she drew herself back, ears flicking to the sound of sloppy, wet slurps, thick strands of mucus pulling between her face and her brother’s insides. Again she swallowed two or three times, then circled her tongue across her sopping wet lips; a thumb dancing across the tapered tip of her shaft spread a similarly thick coating of pre across her pad, and then that paw came right back up to plunge four fingers into the opened, cavernous tailhole here before her.\n\nDrash plunged those fingers in further, right up to the knuckles and then beyond. Mushy walls of glistening red squelched to swallow her paw. “Clench for me.”\n\n“I – am-”\n\n“Hmm?” Then her other paw joined the first to tug at his gaping rim. She spread him easily, the elastic ring of muscle tugging open while the flesh inside remained snug. “You are?”\n\n“I am!”\n\n“You are.”\n\n“Drash-”\n\n“Okay, then push instead-”\n\nAnd this time she could immediately tell. First those inner folds squished further together, squeezing into one another’s gaps and spaces, welling in among themselves – and then a thick, foamy froth sputtered out from inside as Angel squeezed at his lower bowels, pushing out all of that pressure, bubbling up through the malleable wrinkles of his guts.\n\n“Is-” He strained as he spoke, voice tight. “-that okay? Drash?”\n\nHis sister swallowed again, licked her lips again, and rolled her fingers within his stretched rim. “That’s perfect, she purred, then leaned in once more – and this time pursed her lips in a kiss to those blossoming inner walls, without ever once brushing up against the exterior of his tailhole. At the first contact Angel reflexively tensed again, blooming meat briefly retracting deeper inside of him, but then the other Doberman resumed his pushing so that Drash could press her lips against him. She expected more pressure in response, a soft, squishy firmness that would meet and reciprocate her kiss, but instead those folded wrinkles of overlapping meat squished inwards, once again drawing her deeper as she had been before.\n\nSo she did what she always did when a kissing partner drew her lips into theirs: she dropped her jaw a little bit, tilted her head… slid her tongue out, swirled it forward, dug around the extremities she could reach. Yet again Angel trembled around her, one of his legs kicking; he reached up over his head to steady himself along the arm of the couch, tail brushing against Drash’s breasts, chest heaving as he strained to continue pushing.\n\n“God, I… love it when you… do that,” he managed, every pause rippling out through the pressure within his guts.\n\nMore of that sticky slime bubbled and squelched between her lips, and she swirled her tongue again, sucked it out of him, let it coat her tongue and her throat, swallowed it down as best she could. This was another thing that had caught her deeper than she had expected: the first time she had spread him like this, both paws pulling him apart from outside, with the rosy, bloated swells of his guts pushing out against her, blossoming further as she sucked along the succulent inner meat – that had also been in a stall in a public bathroom, this one at a restaurant with their parents the end of the exam season.\n\nShe could still remember Angel bent over the toilet, back arched, arms forward, tail hiked up as he pushed as hard as he could, while she slurped and suckled at the meat of his tailhole. At the end of it Drash came so hard that the sound of her load spattering against the far wall echoed within the bathroom.\n\nShe pulled back once more, those same thick strands hanging down from her chin and lips. She swirled her tongue to break them off, then sucked them up into her mouth and swallowed again. “If you call me assface again,” she panted, now shifting to work her pants further down off her legs, “then I swear to God I’m gonna wedgie you with your own butthole.”\n\n“What? No.” Angel sighed with relief as his sister lowered him down closer into her lap. He squirmed a little bit to settle into a more comfortable position, deliberately grinding himself against her throbbing arousal. “Never. Well, unless you really deserve it.”\n\nThat’s something else that’s changed about him, she noted, reaching in to swipe the hanging folds of his exterior tailhole around her shaft. The loose, limp wrinkles of skin and soft meat smacked around her wet cock, smooth and silky like the interior of her sheath. Fucker’s gone from shy, nervous wreck to sassy brat who’s only too shy to say anything most of the time. And it’s fucking hot as hell. I love it when my bottoms bark back at me.\n\nElecting to ignore that last comment, Drash squeezed her fingers in around where she had wrapped him around herself, and began stroking herself with those loose, greasy lips of his, smearing his natural musk mixed with her hungry saliva over herself. This set her brother right back to squirming and moaning, one arm coming up to rest across his face, mouth hanging open; she could feel the occasional distant tense or pulse from his muscles struggling to clench, and after a while leaned down to rub the underside of her slickened shaft against him.\n\n“You close already?”\n\nAngel pursed his lips, swallowed, nodded wordlessly. Drash smirked, hitched back a little bit, nudged forward… and sank right up into the luscious wet folds of his inner bowels, quite a more smoothly than she had fit into her own pants this morning. For a moment she had to pause and hold herself there, growing accustomed to the sensation of his guts sleeving around her, shifting into place, trembling gently, then pushing inwards as she sank further.\n\n“...Good,” she then breathed, now burying herself up to the hilt. The lip of her sheath squished back against Angel’s tailhole, then similarly folded inside of him instead of retracting back. “I wanna see you cum, since God knows you’re too fucking loose for – me to feel it…”\n\nHer paws traced back around to his thighs to keep him spread around her, resting her brother’s legs over her lap, and pulling him down against her every time she thrust in again. There was no resistance whatsoever, no tension or clenching or anything: just smooth, sweet, luxurious silken wet warmth cushioning her entry, slurping around her when she slid out, squelching back into place yet again.\n\nThere was no need for her to bother with a slow, steady warm-up. Drash lifted her brother’s legs around her body, held them in place there, and then halfway doubled over him to immediately settle into her intended rhythm, the cushions of the couch bouncing gently beneath the pace she set; Angel turned his head again to let quick, breathy moans trickle out of him like drool, like the same froth that bubbled around the base of Drash’s sheath and smeared through her fur with her thrusting.\n\nIf only it was like all the porn you see online, she thought, gritting her teeth, smacking her hips to his rump, where the knot’s already out during the action. This boy needs to get knotfucked, but I get overstimmed after finishing and can’t continue. I guess I could get one of those… Drash drew back again so that just her tapered tip remained inside, then slid a paw back down Angel’s leg, easily scooped her thumb in alongside her cock, tugged his loose rim aside. One of those wearables designed for folks without ‘em, but knowing myself, I’ll probably split it once I do get to that point… and then I… could…\n\nShe blinked. Her thumb squished easily into the same sleeve of malleable meat held soft and snug around her; Angel tried to clench again, to no avail, and Drash turned her paw, replaced that thumb with two fingers, then a third, then a fourth. Her brother wriggled again, loving the extra tug; she pulled him open, tilted her head to peer down at the cavernous gape afforded by her fingers, enclosing walls of rich meat sucking in just beyond, then drew her paw back out of him, fur slickened by that same wetness.\n\nAnd so, still thrusting, Drash brought that paw to her muzzle, sniffed at it, then slid those fingers two at a time between her lips. The coating of mucus clung nice and light, holding together as she swirled her tongue around it, rolling to the back of her throat and hanging there when she swallowed; then she welled up a good mouthful of drool, pursed her lips, and spat into that same paw, though knew without a doubt that this was an unnecessary step. Then again she pushed in, all the way in to the base, the slight nudge of her as of yet unswollen knot not even making an impact in the ease of her entry. Neither did her first two saliva-slickened fingers, sliding in alongside her buried length; nor did the other two, and her thumb when she drew it around herself, and her wrist as that, too, plunged in.\n\nDrash licked her lips, arched her back, and leaned her head back to release a low, shivering breath of anticipation, then, as she enclosed her paw around herself, inside of Angel’s rump. The other dog shuddered again, and finally this time she felt him clench – in the way his stretched rum pulled around her wrist on one side and her shaft on the other.\n\nWith effort, Angel lifted his head. “Whoa,” he panted, “whoa, you’re-”\n\n“Yeah,” she responded, and this time instead of working her hips, she pressed her paw in deeper, pushing her fingers toward her tip, held there, then drew back again. Then forward and back, again and again, testing his limits, feeling the way his guts reshaped around her, nudging herself this way and then that to find the optimal position and angle to paw herself off while buried inside of him. “Yeah. I was just curious if I could, and… now…”\n\nIt was such a strange sensation, the familiar feel and grip of her own paw around herself, combined with the extra heat and slickness of her brother’s body squeezing around her. She had plunged both balls- and elbow-deep into him many times before, but never both at the same time, and it was the idea as well as the actual feeling that further fueled the fire burning inside of her. Angel reciprocated in his own way as well, his rounded belly lurching and shifting as he strained his muscles, alternately clamping down around Drash and then pushing out from inside again; a thin trail of piss had trickled up along the swollen curve, then split in two to pour down on either side of his chest as he pushed.\n\nThe longer he went, the wetter Drash felt her sheath and sack become. Thick, sticky slime coated her paw and aided in her stroking and thrusting both, and just continued rolling out from the further depths of her brother’s bowels. She tossed her head again, cleared her throat, and once again paused in her thrusting, working her arm fast and hard, fighting against the close angle and tight space afforded to her.\n\n“Oh, God…” Angel moaned, his eyes wrenched shut. He swallowed, bore down, then strained again: another squirt of fresh piss spread across his pregnant belly, and Drash felt the resulting blossom of hot wet meat parting around her shaft and her paw again. “Oh man, oh God, oh, Drash…”\n\nShe leaned in over him, pressing his legs up against his huge belly, then swiftly slurped that paw out from inside of him. Thick ropes of clinging mucus hung down and broke in the air; Drash shifted to the other side to replace it with her other paw, briefly pausing to get herself properly lubricated along his insides, then wiped her fingers off on her tongue, sucked those two clean, and reached in so that Angel could handle the rest. He turned his head to meet her, mouth immediately coming open: anal mucus mixed with her own drool dribbled across his nose and chin, and then she pressed three fingers into his mouth, flattening his tongue down, pushing up against the roof of his mouth. He closed his lips around her, sucked, swallowed; his nostrils flared with urgent breaths, and Drash shifted a leg up to pound at him in rhythm with her continued stroking inside of his body, and-\n\n-and when she came it hit her like nothing else, like an intense physical force that rocketed through her body. She gasped, bucked forward, drew her paw back towards her sheath, then pumped again, and again, until finally she again felt the strain of stretching her brother’s tailhole. As each pulse of her load pounded through her body, she ran her paw all the way up towards her tip, felt the thick squirt, and dragged it back around to coat herself even further, wrist pushed out by the swelling of her knot.\n\n“Oh God-” Angel gasped, his legs kicking. “Drash, that’s – I’m-”\n\nWith effort she managed to wrench her paw out from inside of him, though her knot briefly remained caught – and then the other Doberman relaxed just a touch, and the wide bulge of firm, stiff flesh dragged out as well. Yet again Angel shifted to push around her, sleeving her all over again in the malleable squish of his inner folds; Drash groaned out, a thick froth of drool, slime, and her own cum soaking through her fur, then slid her paw back down towards the base of her knot. She drew the root in between her middle two fingers, curled her toes and arched her back with the sudden, brilliant spark of sensation, then turned her arm, bit her lip… and forced herself right back inside of her brother, pushing a little bit harder to squeeze the extra girth in.\n\nAngel gasped again, and clenched. Drash shuddered, caught her breath, and pulled back out, shielding the root and back of her knot with her fingers, until she pulled free with a loose, sloppy squelch; then she pressed into him again, and tugged back, and again, and again, each time a little bit faster, a little bit harder, a little bit sharper as that familiar overstimulation began to bubble up inside of her. It simmered and sizzled like an electric fire, radiating throughout her loins; it forced her to double over her brother a little further, and move her paw down along his shoulder where the streak of sticky drool had begun to coat his fur, and tighten his leg around her waist since she was no longer certain she could remain upright of her own accord.\n\nIt was overwhelming, and invigorating, and unbearable, and delicious. Soon the Doberman began growling underneath each moan, coming in rhythm with the pops of her knot and wrist into Angel’s rump, and the tugs right back out. He squirmed, moaned, lurched and bucked and gasped again, and his slow trickle of piss forced out from constant pushing jolted with little squirts of his own diminutive load across his already streaked belly.\n\nThen, finally, she couldn’t take anymore. Turning that growl into a full-throated snarl, she slipped her paw out from behind her knot, gave it a good firm shake to whip off as much of the slime as she could, then deliberately yanked that tight bundle of sensation back out of Angel’s tailhole. Drash pulled herself back, letting his legs fall down around her, and reached shakily up to the back of the sofa so that she could then climb up over his swollen belly and straddle his chest.\n\nHer brother looked up at her, shock and confusion in his eyes – and then he looked back down at her belly when her slick, sticky paws gripped his head and yanked him halfway down onto her still hard cock, smeared and dripping with the juices of his own body. A short thrust forward, another swish of her tail and quick inhalation of breath; she kept one paw between his ears and dropped the other towards her slick sheath, once again digging around in the folds of skin, wrapping around her root, tugging, tugging until the sensation became overwhelming.\n\nThen she gasped, jerked, felt her entire body vibrate and tremble, and bucked so firmly forward that Angel spluttered around her. For a moment Drash thought she had just finished again, but when the sensation kept on going, when the rich, sweet heat tingled along through her still hard shaft and then poured out into her brother’s maw, she shivered again, pressed forward, relaxed… and let the piss continue to come. The relief felt forced, sharp and sparkling after such an intense bout of stimulation, and throughout it she kept her teeth gritted and back arched; Angel spluttered around her but kept his lips sealed and, with no other option, gulped down mouthful after mouthful of his sister’s fresh mark, each swallow forcing the pressure back up against her to briefly pinch off her stream.\n\nGradually her paws fell from his head to hang limp at her sides, Drash remaining with her hips forward, shaft between his lips as she continued to drain herself out… until that, too, trickled to a finish, her final few squirts sharpened to quick jets by the tense strain of her swollen knot and full throbs. Even afterwards she held herself there, then slowly pulled back – and winced at the sensation of her cock bouncing up and out of Angel’s mouth, resulting in yet another throb and another spurt of mixed piss and cum. After taking a moment to catch her breath, Angel leaning back on the arm of the couch, she came forward, carefully braced herself along his belly, tilted his muzzle up to her.\n\nHe wet his lips, coughed a little bit, smiled; she smiled in return, then teased a thumb in along the corner of his mouth, teased it open… and pursed her lips and dropped a thick glob of spit right across her brother’s teeth and tongue.\n\nImmediately he jerked upright, coughing more, wiping at his mouth. “Drash, fucking – gross-”\n\nDrash couldn’t help but laugh. She sat back, hard cock flopping against her bellyfur. “Dude you literally, literally just drank my piss. Shut the fuck up. You need a shower.”\n\n“Yeah, well, I don’t think I can walk.” He let one of his legs drop down off the front of the couch. “...Am I leaking?”\n\n“Let me check.” Drash scooted back further, made a show of pressing her paws along the underside of his belly to lift it up out of the way, scooped down a little bit more, then bunched her paw into a fist and easily plunged it up inside of him, pushing deep within succulent, slurping guts until she felt the twist within his bowels to turn the corner. Angel groaned and shuddered. “No. I don’t think so. Damn, guess I didn’t do a good enough time, then.”\n\n“You – made me cum – four times-”\n\nJust as quickly as she had buried it inside of him, Drash yanked that arm back out. It came free with a loud, wet squelch, followed by a series of short, sputtering patters, and of course another tense, relieved sigh.\n\n“Four? I only remember, um… two?”\n\n“Once when you… pissed in my mouth, and then once when, um…” Angel swallowed. “When you spat in it.”\n\nShe stared at him. Sure enough, a few more streaks of weak, milky white dribbled from the underside of his belly. Angel giggled nervously.\n\nDrash rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. I guess I can drag you to the tub – might need to get the dolly from the garage with you where you’re at now, and-”\n\n“Oh, no baths.”\n\n“What? Why not?”\n\n“Well, with me being, um… y’know… open, all the time-”\n\n“Ah. Roast beef sandwich lookin’ ass.” Drash turned to face him and reached down to once again spread his tailhole along her paws, though this time had quite a bit of difficult in gripping the sleek, slimy-wet folds of skin. “Actual legitimate meat curtains. Y’know, I think I swallowed your asshole for a bit back there.”\n\n“I think you did, too.”\n\n“Yeah. Okay.” Drash rose from the couch, wobbled where she stood on unsteady legs, reached back to stabilize herself, then rested her paws on her hips and turned to face her brother. He glanced down at her hard cock, hanging fully away from herself underneath its own hefty weight, and also still occasionally squirting little jets out across him. “Either way, I get what you’re saying. So then the options are, I can either drag you to the shower…” She tapped her chin. “Or… I can go chug a shitload of water and give you a shower of my own… or, I suppose, we can leave you here on the couch to dry off and get all, like… crusty and flaky, and then you can move yourself once you can walk. I kinda like that second one.”\n\nAngel reached his paws up toward her. “How about – the first and second at the same time?”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "“If we put you in eyeliner and mascara, nobody will be able to tell the difference.”

Drash had initially made the demand as a joke, and after feeling the way her brother’s guts slurped and sucked around her shaft as she had pounded deep beneath his tail, after hearing Angel’s panting moans and his needy whines, after squeezing his legs around her body and pumping what had up until that point been the most powerful, intense orgasm of her life, she had promptly forgotten about it. The two siblings had slouched across one another as they recovered from their long-awaited coupling, each laughing softly, sweating, trembling with with the residual aftershocks of their pleasure, then cleaned up in the shower and went about the rest of their weekend while waiting for their parents to come home, sidling along the silent agreement of we’ll never speak of this.

Not that they would not still continue, of course: the afternoon of their parents’ return had seen the siblings out on a walk around the local park, during which Drash had yet again ended up both elbow and knot-deep inside of her brother’s loose, sloppy, heat-ridden tailhole, swelling out to proportions so impressive that he had had to stop wearing underwear and instead opt for loose sweatpants with extra layers of padding in the seat, and so that he could no longer sit straight up at his desk. When they had come face to face with their mother just taking her jacket off in the entryway, Drash had told her that Angel had tried climbing a tree and fell out of it in response to her “Drash, why is your brother so sweaty?”

And then about a month and a half later, following the end of their exam season and shortly into summer break, the younger Doberman had stumbled into her room, slammed the door behind him, and stared at her with such concern and panic in his eyes that she didn’t even go for the “what, here to try to swallow my balls again? You almost got ‘em last time” that she had readied, and now…

Now she glanced over to him in the passenger seat, sitting in that cocked, sideways fashion that he had to do now so that the loose, dangling lips of his permanently blown-out tailhole wouldn’t pinch underneath him. Angel with his hair combed over one eye, eyeliner and mascara and shadow on, lips done up, claws painted, in a formfitting blouse with one of Drash’s old bras stuffed with toilet paper, and a skirt over his legs with, of course, nothing underneath, and – her initial suggestion had been right. She had taken him to the mall today to find some clothing for him now that he had started to progress and show more, and that formfitting really went the distance.

The smooth, rounded curve of his full belly lifted out beneath the front of the material, the elastic stretching and straining around the extra bulk from his pregnancy. Their pregnancy, really: after he had shown her the test and managed, through his stammering and panicking, that he hadn’t done it with anyone other than her, that he had checked online and matched all the symptoms, to say nothing of what the test itself said. At the mall today everyone had referred to him as her sister, had congratulated him on the pregnancy, had treated him with gentle care and concern and showed him the best of what they had to offer for the money they had-

Beside her Angel pressed a fist to his mouth, lurched a little bit, then after a moment relaxed back again with a sigh. Drash reached over to rub his leg.

“Nauseous still?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It comes and it goes.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that’s how it happens.” Before leaving the mall he had bought an extra spicy individually wrapped pickle from a vending machine in the food court – waving off Drash’s surprise that such an option would even be offered – and then ran off to the nearby ice cream stand for a bowl of bubblegum gelato, completely with the actual pieces of gum in it, and proceeded to eat one with the other. And he swallowed the gum, too.

And of course Drash didn’t tell him, and had no plans to do so, but she had desperately wanted to drag him off to the bathroom and put a second litter in him right then and there. That first time had broken the floodgates for the pair: after so many years of excited teasing and nervous touching, of Drash pawing off outside Angel’s bedroom door while he scooped himself out on the knotted horse toy he had gotten himself for his birthday last year, of her teasing three, four fingers, her entire fist up underneath his tail while watching TV on the couch, of wandering into the bathroom while he was sitting on the toilet so that she could unbutton, unzip, push herself into his maw, and then empty her bladder straight into his belly instead… after so many years of doing this, now she could hardly spend a full week without plunging her knot into him again.

The attendants in one of the shops at the mall had let her go into the fitting room with “her sister”, and as she had helped strip Angel out of his current shirt and into the next one, stretching the fabric over his swollen, beach ball belly, she had been unable to keep her gaze away from his tail… or, rather, a few inches underneath his tail. His constant heat had become even more insistent, swelling and inflating the rim of his ring into a long, loose, sagging mass of limp, wet lips, hypersensitive so that Drash even just breathing on them was enough for Angel to arch his back and suck in a gasp.

So kneeling there on the floor of the fitting room, helping him step into a new skirt, she just couldn’t help reaching up, pinning her fingers and thumb to a duckbill, and slurping in halfway to her elbow without so much as a preliminary stretch or a wad of spit to lube him up. Her brother had gasped, shuddered, and dropped the clothes hanger he held, his shaky paws going out to catch himself against the other wall: his back had arched and his tail hiked at the base, trembling, and after gathering himself he had rode forward along her arm towards her wrist, then slurped back down again, and-

-and Drash’s fingerpads still stuck to the steering wheel with that thick coating of bodily slime, mostly dried into her fur at this point. She slowed, turned onto their street, and pulled up along the road towards the driveway, then turned again to stop the car; beside her Angel squirmed again, then managed to awkwardly sit up while still avoiding putting any pressure on his backside, and moved to open the door, and swung his legs out to stand up… and as he did so Drash watched those loose, sagging lips drag across the side of the seat underneath him from where they hung down below the hem of his skirt, leaving a greasy trail across the material where they went. Angel caught himself against the door, shivered for a second, then straightened up and began hobbling his way up, one arm caressing the wide expanse of his swollen belly.

Drash stepped out as well, swung the door shut, hit the lock, then trudged up after him – and nearly froze in her pace with the thick, intense aroma wafting across her in his trail. Her brother’s advancing pregnancy had deepened his heat into a practically constant struggle, and with that impulsive need, his pheromones had sharpened as well: at each and every stoplight on the drive home Drash had caught herself with that same paw pressed to her nose, idly drawing in the scent of his musk where it had soaked through her fur, and then turning her head to taste it fresh from him beside her. Angel had had to start wearing that awful, heady deodorant favored by his track friends to try to hide it from their parents, and even going through two spray cans a week he still had to try to limit his time around them just to be certain.

And that was why weekends like this – Drash hustled ahead of him to get the front door – came as a great relief to both of them. The strain of Angel hiding it himself, and then of Drash pretending that she didn’t know about it on top of her already ongoing act of pretending as though she hadn’t dropped more loads under her brother’s tail than she had laundry in the wash over these past two months, made for a needed break when the two had the house to themselves.

Angel smiled at her as he passed, his makeup clouded and fuzzed somewhat from their brief distraction in the fitting room. “Thanks, Drash. Today was… was nice.”

“Yeah.” Again she watched as he passed, eyeing the way the lips of his tailhole stuck to one smeared, matted thigh beneath his skirt, then shook her head and closed the door. Like a… loose fucking mare cunt, she had realized one night earlier, pressing her paw to her muzzle and breathing deep of the same scent that coated it now. It just… fucking hangs open. It visibly steams when it gets cold. He’s suction-cupped himself to his desk chair, and then fucking blasted rope when I pulled him off of it. I joke about him swallowing my nuts, but… “Yeah, of course, dude. You’re my brother. We gotta stick together.”

The other Doberman’s tail wagged, which of course lifted the back of his skirt further. He grinned over his shoulder at her; she returned the smile, then looked back down as soon as he started towards the couch again. Sure enough, the lifted tail afforded another unbroken view of the limp, wrinkled, almost grotesque mass of dark, stretched skin and flesh, glistening with constant slick wetness, dripping here and there where the natural lubrication from inside his constantly aroused body oozed out.

I have responsibility in this, too, and I owe it to you to help you figure this out. But you won’t ever catch me saying any of that sappy shit.

Instead of reaching down and sliding her arm up past the elbow like she really wanted to, Drash patted Angel’s shoulder, felt the residual heat thrumming through his body, and nudged him towards the next room. “Hey, go lie down on the couch,” she offered; he looked at her, then nodded. “I’ll bring you some water. Anything you want?”

“Do we – still have some of the lemonade?”

“Little bit, yeah. Do you want the hot sauce in it again?”

“Mm…” From the next room came the rustling and creaking of the Doberman settling his lopsided weight onto the cushions. He grunted and groaned, then gasped, and Drash stifled a smile to herself; that was the sound of him brushing his tailhole across something, and recovering from the sudden burst of overwhelming pleasure. “Maybe later. Just the lemonade.”

Drash couldn’t help but wonder if their parents knew already, and that was the reason why they had seemed to take these weekend vacations more often. Mom gets those crazy trip credits from her job, and ever since that one year we were in high school, she makes sure to take advantage of them as soon as they build up. Oh, wait, maybe she thinks he’s on drugs? And that’s why he’s been so twitchy and sweaty and stays in his room all the time. Maybe they think I’m the one giving him drugs, and that’s why I’m spending so much more time around him.

She tugged the fridge door open. Well, I sure as shit gave him something. Hopefully just one something. Wish it were zero, but. Reap what you sow, and we both knew those fields were extra fuckin’ fertile. At least their parents had yet to inquire about the strange array of various snacks that had begun filling the shelves as Angel’s pregnancy progressed and as his cravings changed, but least lemonade was just lemonade. Drash filled a glass, tossed the empty bottle, and then walked back around into the living room, where her brother now sat slightly sideways with both his paws draped over his wide belly.

Drash flicked an ear. “I told you to lie down. It’s good for your back.”

“I can’t lie on my belly. It’s too uncomfy.”

She rolled her eyes, handed him the glass, and reached for the remote. “On your back, stupid.”

“But then it’s a little hard to breathe!”

“On your side, then? I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant.” She nudged at his leg to scoot him to the side. “And unless something goes terribly wrong, I don’t think I ever will be. But, then, looking at you, I suppose I can’t rule it out…”

Beside her Angel pushed himself through the lengthy, awkward process of sprawling out, for the moment seeming to forget that he wore nothing underneath his skirt. The lips of his tailhole draped down along the rear hem as he pulled himself towards the arm, pert little balls and even smaller sheath jiggling like firm tofu as he moved. Once in position he breathed out a great sigh, leaned over to take a sip of his drink, then settled back into place; Drash turned the TV on and flicked through the menus, then settled on something without looking too closely at it.

As the siblings watched, she draped an arm around her brother’s lifted leg, and ignored the way he glanced at her. Angel’s ears flicked and he stirred again, and she saw out of the corner of her eye the way his loose, cavernous tailhole glistened with its own wetness, thick ropy strands of mucus hanging between folds of flesh and then folds of fabric. Minutes passed; he finished his glass; Drash tapped through her phone a bit; she continued over to rub a now dried, matted paw across the smooth curve of his belly, surprisingly firm and quite sizeable for this point in his pregnancy.

Angel jumped, then glanced at her again. “Um…”

“Y’know,” Drash began, cutting him off, “I probably told you before, but I got – and gave – my first handjob when I showed my high school boyfriend Clerks 2. You remember Raymond, right?”

“Raymond?” Angel tilted his head. “I didn’t know you two fucked.”

“Oh, we didn’t. First, only, and last time a boy’s had a bigger dick than me. Broke up with him over that.”

“Hmm.” He stayed quiet for a moment, then perked again. “Kiara’s dick was bigger than yours, and don’t you two still talk?”

Drash scoffed. Kiara had been a transfer student in her chemistry class the previous year; one evening over winter break Angel had stepped into Drash’s bedroom to find Kiara on her knees, throat bulging out, lips sealed past the root of the Doberman’s knot, while she spurted her own load out across the carpeted floor. Drash had made Angel clean up the mess as punishment for not knocking, but if she looked closely, she could still see the stain.

“Kiara’s a girl. That’s different.” She turned back to the TV but continued rubbing her brother’s belly, now slipping her fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and away, teasing over the spots where his fur thinned out along the pull marks, and the slight stretch lines that had begun to settle into the skin underneath. He felt tight and taut all the time, and yet when she pressed her fingers in – and he jumped and squirmed with the sensation – she still felt a surprising amount of springy give to his figure.

Sure, it’s super early in this one, she thought, and spread her palm. Drash trailed down over his belly button, inverted so that it now poked slightly outwards around the growing baby. But he’s handling it really well. Nice, strong, young body. Bet he can take two or three more, no sweat… and down further towards the waist of his skirt, where the elastic dug into the soft skin and fur, pinching down at the underside of the swell.

Angel squirmed a little bit, coughed softly, and stretched a leg out to nestle it between Drash’s lower back and the cushions behind her. She realized she was staring at his belly and as such turned back to the screen, but still kept her paw there, thumb poking at the waist, claw running along the material stretched to its limit…

“Drash.”

She feigned inattention. “Mm?”

“You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

And despite herself, her heart skipped a beat and she felt her pants grow a little bit tighter. Briefly she considered lying to him, but then, without turning to look at her brother:

“God fucking shit, yeah I do. Literally all the time, dude.” She wriggled her hips. “I can feel the fucking swamp-ass heat of your fucking horse cunt radiating onto my leg. And – look – you’ve stained the back of that skirt-”

“Sorry! Sorry.” He pulled his paws in front of his chest, ears flicking back. “I can’t help it. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and it’s not like I can just go online and read about this, and – I-”

Angel trailed off as Drash turned to face him more fully, bringing one leg up onto the couch between them. He looked up at her, head sideways on the arm of the couch; she glared, bit her lip, tilted her head, then reached down to swipe the skirt down his legs. He gasped and shuddered as the fabric drew past his hanging tailhole, then grimaced bashfully at the slime dripping from the rear folds.

“I oughtta make you clean this up yourself,” Drash went on, leaning into the aggression a bit. Angel swallowed and spread his legs, though kept his eyes fixed on the wiggling rope of mucus. “And we really should lay down a towel wherever you go, or else Mom and Dad are gonna ask us what we keep spilling on the furniture.”

“Sorry, here, let’s – go-”

“Nope. No, no, no.” She tightened her grip on her legs and used that leverage to pull her closer, now bracing her brother’s lower body against her chest and draping his legs over her shoulders. He gasped, chirped, squirmed; his diminutive sack and sheath flopped up against his belly, and Drash brought her paws in along his thighs to dig her fingers into the plush, soft squish of his rump. “Already here. Already staining. What’s done is done, and now… I…”

Now she looked down between his spread legs, his lifted sack… the loose, hanging lips of his tailhole, more draping across one another than remaining shut as they should. Drash had no idea how his body went around its natural processes, but then again, it didn’t seem as though that part of things even presented a problem to Angel. Even before all of this had started she had lusted after this part of him, sneaking glances when he undressed for the shower, or early in the mornings when he rolled over in bed and kicked his covers off, or those several, countless times where he enjoyed himself on one of his massive toys, and made sure to leave the bedroom door open.

It had been one of those times that had inspired her to finally close this distance between the two of them. Drash licked her lips, swallowed, and leaned in a little closer, nostrils flared, lips tingling with the swampy heat emanating from Angel’s constantly parted, opened bowels, wet folds of meat slurping and squishing audibly with every reflexive twitch of his muscles. She had pressed herself up to the wall outside his room, head tilted to peer into the gap of his door, and as usual he had been “performing” for himself there in front of the mirror, though had it tilted away so that he would not be able to see her watching. Drash’s gaze had remained fixed on the way his tailhole had sucked along the shaft of the toy, tugging visibly outward from his body, sleeving the silicone in drapes of greasy flesh, at that point puffier than they were loose and limp.

Now, though… she swallowed again and teased her fingers up, and bit by bit peeled the sticky flaps of meat away from around the base of Angel’s tail. Immediately the other Doberman gasped and squirmed, one of his legs kicking; Drash smirked, ran his extended tailhole across her paws, then pursed her lips and came in for a slow, gentle kiss. The heat of his body radiated out across her, feeling almost as though it lightly seared her beneath the gathered sticky moisture; she couldn’t help but lick her lips again, catching some of this extended, wrinkled rim in doing so, and then smoothly drew him into her maw… and further… and further, suckling softly, drawing the naturally oozing juices from the limp, loose folds.

Angel squirmed again, grinding his lower body against her chest, pulling in a breath and then huffing it back out. “O-oh, Drash…” he moaned, head going to one side; his sister spread her fingers along his body and pushed further down his shirt again, towards where his nipples had started to puff out soft and sensitive as well.

As expected, finally sinking into him for the first time, finally feeling her brother’s cute little ass squeezing and slurping around her, had been without a doubt the best fuck she had ever had – and likely ever would, especially now. The way his tailhole had wrapped around her cock, how she had felt his lips follow after even as she pulled out, how his then extended, plump rim slurped in around her and kept her nice and warm and slick, then puffed up as she pushed back in, and now… now he hung loose enough that she could literally suck his rim into her mouth and tease the loose lips around her tongue, swirling, circling, drawing him back deeper until she could nearly swallow them.

Underneath her Angel’s eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth had fallen open, and again he squirmed against her chest. Already he was hard – not that it makes much a difference, his sister thought with a smirk – and each throb, each clench, bounced weakly out through his lips between hers, the folds of what should have been muscle flexing weakly, tugging back in as his ring faintly tightened, then relaxed again.

Drash pulled back, tugging as she went, pulling those loose lips out so that they stretched with slick, silky stickiness, then pulled free from her mouth and plopped back down against her brother’s body. Then she dove in again, parted them with her tongue, and followed up towards their root along his tailhole: she had never really had to prep him to go diving – Angel had been able to handle at least three fingers unlubed for literally as long as his sister could remember messing around with him – but ever since his pregnancy had started to show, things had become even worse.

Or better, she thought, circling her nose around within the loose, gaping rim, dank folds of his tailhole hanging around her. Three fingers a few years ago, to four and a thumb earlier this year, to halfway up to her elbow just earlier today while he was bending over to fit on a skirt… and, naturally, that meant that the sleek, warm walls of his lower bowels parted easily for her muzzle as she now nuzzled up into him, nostrils flaring as she drew in the rich, warm musk floating around her. These sloppy folds of meat smacked and slurped around her, and still parted enough for her to twitch her jaw and flick her tongue out inside of him.

The first half of her snout scooped inside of him, she pursed her lips and sucked, drawing more of that sticky, slimy wetness across her maw so that it filled her mouth. Around her Angel twitched, shuddered, gasped again; she felt him trying to clench and squeeze, but his blown-out muscles refused to do much more than pulse weakly around the bridge of her muzzle, his inner walls briefly blocking off her nostrils so that she had to draw deeply from inside of him. Drash slurped, sucked, swirled her tongue, swallowed… did so a second and third time for the way that stickiness coated the back of her throat before she could fully manage it.

As she worked she rested him in against her chest, his legs hanging limp around her shoulders just like the extended rim of his tailhole hung loose on either side of her chin now, and braced just above his tail with one paw while the other reached down towards her own front. Without looking she swiftly undid her pants button and fly, then squirmed to wriggle the tight-fitting jeans down her legs – and couldn’t help but groan out inside her brother’s lower bowels with the sensation of the first stroke, remembering how this same paw had plunged up inside of his belly just an hour ago or so, and how he now clamped snug around her face.

Then she drew herself back, ears flicking to the sound of sloppy, wet slurps, thick strands of mucus pulling between her face and her brother’s insides. Again she swallowed two or three times, then circled her tongue across her sopping wet lips; a thumb dancing across the tapered tip of her shaft spread a similarly thick coating of pre across her pad, and then that paw came right back up to plunge four fingers into the opened, cavernous tailhole here before her.

Drash plunged those fingers in further, right up to the knuckles and then beyond. Mushy walls of glistening red squelched to swallow her paw. “Clench for me.”

“I – am-”

“Hmm?” Then her other paw joined the first to tug at his gaping rim. She spread him easily, the elastic ring of muscle tugging open while the flesh inside remained snug. “You are?”

“I am!”

“You are.”

“Drash-”

“Okay, then push instead-”

And this time she could immediately tell. First those inner folds squished further together, squeezing into one another’s gaps and spaces, welling in among themselves – and then a thick, foamy froth sputtered out from inside as Angel squeezed at his lower bowels, pushing out all of that pressure, bubbling up through the malleable wrinkles of his guts.

“Is-” He strained as he spoke, voice tight. “-that okay? Drash?”

His sister swallowed again, licked her lips again, and rolled her fingers within his stretched rim. “That’s perfect, she purred, then leaned in once more – and this time pursed her lips in a kiss to those blossoming inner walls, without ever once brushing up against the exterior of his tailhole. At the first contact Angel reflexively tensed again, blooming meat briefly retracting deeper inside of him, but then the other Doberman resumed his pushing so that Drash could press her lips against him. She expected more pressure in response, a soft, squishy firmness that would meet and reciprocate her kiss, but instead those folded wrinkles of overlapping meat squished inwards, once again drawing her deeper as she had been before.

So she did what she always did when a kissing partner drew her lips into theirs: she dropped her jaw a little bit, tilted her head… slid her tongue out, swirled it forward, dug around the extremities she could reach. Yet again Angel trembled around her, one of his legs kicking; he reached up over his head to steady himself along the arm of the couch, tail brushing against Drash’s breasts, chest heaving as he strained to continue pushing.

“God, I… love it when you… do that,” he managed, every pause rippling out through the pressure within his guts.

More of that sticky slime bubbled and squelched between her lips, and she swirled her tongue again, sucked it out of him, let it coat her tongue and her throat, swallowed it down as best she could. This was another thing that had caught her deeper than she had expected: the first time she had spread him like this, both paws pulling him apart from outside, with the rosy, bloated swells of his guts pushing out against her, blossoming further as she sucked along the succulent inner meat – that had also been in a stall in a public bathroom, this one at a restaurant with their parents the end of the exam season.

She could still remember Angel bent over the toilet, back arched, arms forward, tail hiked up as he pushed as hard as he could, while she slurped and suckled at the meat of his tailhole. At the end of it Drash came so hard that the sound of her load spattering against the far wall echoed within the bathroom.

She pulled back once more, those same thick strands hanging down from her chin and lips. She swirled her tongue to break them off, then sucked them up into her mouth and swallowed again. “If you call me assface again,” she panted, now shifting to work her pants further down off her legs, “then I swear to God I’m gonna wedgie you with your own butthole.”

“What? No.” Angel sighed with relief as his sister lowered him down closer into her lap. He squirmed a little bit to settle into a more comfortable position, deliberately grinding himself against her throbbing arousal. “Never. Well, unless you really deserve it.”

That’s something else that’s changed about him, she noted, reaching in to swipe the hanging folds of his exterior tailhole around her shaft. The loose, limp wrinkles of skin and soft meat smacked around her wet cock, smooth and silky like the interior of her sheath. Fucker’s gone from shy, nervous wreck to sassy brat who’s only too shy to say anything most of the time. And it’s fucking hot as hell. I love it when my bottoms bark back at me.

Electing to ignore that last comment, Drash squeezed her fingers in around where she had wrapped him around herself, and began stroking herself with those loose, greasy lips of his, smearing his natural musk mixed with her hungry saliva over herself. This set her brother right back to squirming and moaning, one arm coming up to rest across his face, mouth hanging open; she could feel the occasional distant tense or pulse from his muscles struggling to clench, and after a while leaned down to rub the underside of her slickened shaft against him.

“You close already?”

Angel pursed his lips, swallowed, nodded wordlessly. Drash smirked, hitched back a little bit, nudged forward… and sank right up into the luscious wet folds of his inner bowels, quite a more smoothly than she had fit into her own pants this morning. For a moment she had to pause and hold herself there, growing accustomed to the sensation of his guts sleeving around her, shifting into place, trembling gently, then pushing inwards as she sank further.

“...Good,” she then breathed, now burying herself up to the hilt. The lip of her sheath squished back against Angel’s tailhole, then similarly folded inside of him instead of retracting back. “I wanna see you cum, since God knows you’re too fucking loose for – me to feel it…”

Her paws traced back around to his thighs to keep him spread around her, resting her brother’s legs over her lap, and pulling him down against her every time she thrust in again. There was no resistance whatsoever, no tension or clenching or anything: just smooth, sweet, luxurious silken wet warmth cushioning her entry, slurping around her when she slid out, squelching back into place yet again.

There was no need for her to bother with a slow, steady warm-up. Drash lifted her brother’s legs around her body, held them in place there, and then halfway doubled over him to immediately settle into her intended rhythm, the cushions of the couch bouncing gently beneath the pace she set; Angel turned his head again to let quick, breathy moans trickle out of him like drool, like the same froth that bubbled around the base of Drash’s sheath and smeared through her fur with her thrusting.

If only it was like all the porn you see online, she thought, gritting her teeth, smacking her hips to his rump, where the knot’s already out during the action. This boy needs to get knotfucked, but I get overstimmed after finishing and can’t continue. I guess I could get one of those… Drash drew back again so that just her tapered tip remained inside, then slid a paw back down Angel’s leg, easily scooped her thumb in alongside her cock, tugged his loose rim aside. One of those wearables designed for folks without ‘em, but knowing myself, I’ll probably split it once I do get to that point… and then I… could…

She blinked. Her thumb squished easily into the same sleeve of malleable meat held soft and snug around her; Angel tried to clench again, to no avail, and Drash turned her paw, replaced that thumb with two fingers, then a third, then a fourth. Her brother wriggled again, loving the extra tug; she pulled him open, tilted her head to peer down at the cavernous gape afforded by her fingers, enclosing walls of rich meat sucking in just beyond, then drew her paw back out of him, fur slickened by that same wetness.

And so, still thrusting, Drash brought that paw to her muzzle, sniffed at it, then slid those fingers two at a time between her lips. The coating of mucus clung nice and light, holding together as she swirled her tongue around it, rolling to the back of her throat and hanging there when she swallowed; then she welled up a good mouthful of drool, pursed her lips, and spat into that same paw, though knew without a doubt that this was an unnecessary step. Then again she pushed in, all the way in to the base, the slight nudge of her as of yet unswollen knot not even making an impact in the ease of her entry. Neither did her first two saliva-slickened fingers, sliding in alongside her buried length; nor did the other two, and her thumb when she drew it around herself, and her wrist as that, too, plunged in.

Drash licked her lips, arched her back, and leaned her head back to release a low, shivering breath of anticipation, then, as she enclosed her paw around herself, inside of Angel’s rump. The other dog shuddered again, and finally this time she felt him clench – in the way his stretched rum pulled around her wrist on one side and her shaft on the other.

With effort, Angel lifted his head. “Whoa,” he panted, “whoa, you’re-”

“Yeah,” she responded, and this time instead of working her hips, she pressed her paw in deeper, pushing her fingers toward her tip, held there, then drew back again. Then forward and back, again and again, testing his limits, feeling the way his guts reshaped around her, nudging herself this way and then that to find the optimal position and angle to paw herself off while buried inside of him. “Yeah. I was just curious if I could, and… now…”

It was such a strange sensation, the familiar feel and grip of her own paw around herself, combined with the extra heat and slickness of her brother’s body squeezing around her. She had plunged both balls- and elbow-deep into him many times before, but never both at the same time, and it was the idea as well as the actual feeling that further fueled the fire burning inside of her. Angel reciprocated in his own way as well, his rounded belly lurching and shifting as he strained his muscles, alternately clamping down around Drash and then pushing out from inside again; a thin trail of piss had trickled up along the swollen curve, then split in two to pour down on either side of his chest as he pushed.

The longer he went, the wetter Drash felt her sheath and sack become. Thick, sticky slime coated her paw and aided in her stroking and thrusting both, and just continued rolling out from the further depths of her brother’s bowels. She tossed her head again, cleared her throat, and once again paused in her thrusting, working her arm fast and hard, fighting against the close angle and tight space afforded to her.

“Oh, God…” Angel moaned, his eyes wrenched shut. He swallowed, bore down, then strained again: another squirt of fresh piss spread across his pregnant belly, and Drash felt the resulting blossom of hot wet meat parting around her shaft and her paw again. “Oh man, oh God, oh, Drash…”

She leaned in over him, pressing his legs up against his huge belly, then swiftly slurped that paw out from inside of him. Thick ropes of clinging mucus hung down and broke in the air; Drash shifted to the other side to replace it with her other paw, briefly pausing to get herself properly lubricated along his insides, then wiped her fingers off on her tongue, sucked those two clean, and reached in so that Angel could handle the rest. He turned his head to meet her, mouth immediately coming open: anal mucus mixed with her own drool dribbled across his nose and chin, and then she pressed three fingers into his mouth, flattening his tongue down, pushing up against the roof of his mouth. He closed his lips around her, sucked, swallowed; his nostrils flared with urgent breaths, and Drash shifted a leg up to pound at him in rhythm with her continued stroking inside of his body, and-

-and when she came it hit her like nothing else, like an intense physical force that rocketed through her body. She gasped, bucked forward, drew her paw back towards her sheath, then pumped again, and again, until finally she again felt the strain of stretching her brother’s tailhole. As each pulse of her load pounded through her body, she ran her paw all the way up towards her tip, felt the thick squirt, and dragged it back around to coat herself even further, wrist pushed out by the swelling of her knot.

“Oh God-” Angel gasped, his legs kicking. “Drash, that’s – I’m-”

With effort she managed to wrench her paw out from inside of him, though her knot briefly remained caught – and then the other Doberman relaxed just a touch, and the wide bulge of firm, stiff flesh dragged out as well. Yet again Angel shifted to push around her, sleeving her all over again in the malleable squish of his inner folds; Drash groaned out, a thick froth of drool, slime, and her own cum soaking through her fur, then slid her paw back down towards the base of her knot. She drew the root in between her middle two fingers, curled her toes and arched her back with the sudden, brilliant spark of sensation, then turned her arm, bit her lip… and forced herself right back inside of her brother, pushing a little bit harder to squeeze the extra girth in.

Angel gasped again, and clenched. Drash shuddered, caught her breath, and pulled back out, shielding the root and back of her knot with her fingers, until she pulled free with a loose, sloppy squelch; then she pressed into him again, and tugged back, and again, and again, each time a little bit faster, a little bit harder, a little bit sharper as that familiar overstimulation began to bubble up inside of her. It simmered and sizzled like an electric fire, radiating throughout her loins; it forced her to double over her brother a little further, and move her paw down along his shoulder where the streak of sticky drool had begun to coat his fur, and tighten his leg around her waist since she was no longer certain she could remain upright of her own accord.

It was overwhelming, and invigorating, and unbearable, and delicious. Soon the Doberman began growling underneath each moan, coming in rhythm with the pops of her knot and wrist into Angel’s rump, and the tugs right back out. He squirmed, moaned, lurched and bucked and gasped again, and his slow trickle of piss forced out from constant pushing jolted with little squirts of his own diminutive load across his already streaked belly.

Then, finally, she couldn’t take anymore. Turning that growl into a full-throated snarl, she slipped her paw out from behind her knot, gave it a good firm shake to whip off as much of the slime as she could, then deliberately yanked that tight bundle of sensation back out of Angel’s tailhole. Drash pulled herself back, letting his legs fall down around her, and reached shakily up to the back of the sofa so that she could then climb up over his swollen belly and straddle his chest.

Her brother looked up at her, shock and confusion in his eyes – and then he looked back down at her belly when her slick, sticky paws gripped his head and yanked him halfway down onto her still hard cock, smeared and dripping with the juices of his own body. A short thrust forward, another swish of her tail and quick inhalation of breath; she kept one paw between his ears and dropped the other towards her slick sheath, once again digging around in the folds of skin, wrapping around her root, tugging, tugging until the sensation became overwhelming.

Then she gasped, jerked, felt her entire body vibrate and tremble, and bucked so firmly forward that Angel spluttered around her. For a moment Drash thought she had just finished again, but when the sensation kept on going, when the rich, sweet heat tingled along through her still hard shaft and then poured out into her brother’s maw, she shivered again, pressed forward, relaxed… and let the piss continue to come. The relief felt forced, sharp and sparkling after such an intense bout of stimulation, and throughout it she kept her teeth gritted and back arched; Angel spluttered around her but kept his lips sealed and, with no other option, gulped down mouthful after mouthful of his sister’s fresh mark, each swallow forcing the pressure back up against her to briefly pinch off her stream.

Gradually her paws fell from his head to hang limp at her sides, Drash remaining with her hips forward, shaft between his lips as she continued to drain herself out… until that, too, trickled to a finish, her final few squirts sharpened to quick jets by the tense strain of her swollen knot and full throbs. Even afterwards she held herself there, then slowly pulled back – and winced at the sensation of her cock bouncing up and out of Angel’s mouth, resulting in yet another throb and another spurt of mixed piss and cum. After taking a moment to catch her breath, Angel leaning back on the arm of the couch, she came forward, carefully braced herself along his belly, tilted his muzzle up to her.

He wet his lips, coughed a little bit, smiled; she smiled in return, then teased a thumb in along the corner of his mouth, teased it open… and pursed her lips and dropped a thick glob of spit right across her brother’s teeth and tongue.

Immediately he jerked upright, coughing more, wiping at his mouth. “Drash, fucking – gross-”

Drash couldn’t help but laugh. She sat back, hard cock flopping against her bellyfur. “Dude you literally, literally just drank my piss. Shut the fuck up. You need a shower.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I can walk.” He let one of his legs drop down off the front of the couch. “...Am I leaking?”

“Let me check.” Drash scooted back further, made a show of pressing her paws along the underside of his belly to lift it up out of the way, scooped down a little bit more, then bunched her paw into a fist and easily plunged it up inside of him, pushing deep within succulent, slurping guts until she felt the twist within his bowels to turn the corner. Angel groaned and shuddered. “No. I don’t think so. Damn, guess I didn’t do a good enough time, then.”

“You – made me cum – four times-”

Just as quickly as she had buried it inside of him, Drash yanked that arm back out. It came free with a loud, wet squelch, followed by a series of short, sputtering patters, and of course another tense, relieved sigh.

“Four? I only remember, um… two?”

“Once when you… pissed in my mouth, and then once when, um…” Angel swallowed. “When you spat in it.”

She stared at him. Sure enough, a few more streaks of weak, milky white dribbled from the underside of his belly. Angel giggled nervously.

Drash rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. I guess I can drag you to the tub – might need to get the dolly from the garage with you where you’re at now, and-”

“Oh, no baths.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, with me being, um… y’know… open, all the time-”

“Ah. Roast beef sandwich lookin’ ass.” Drash turned to face him and reached down to once again spread his tailhole along her paws, though this time had quite a bit of difficult in gripping the sleek, slimy-wet folds of skin. “Actual legitimate meat curtains. Y’know, I think I swallowed your asshole for a bit back there.”

“I think you did, too.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Drash rose from the couch, wobbled where she stood on unsteady legs, reached back to stabilize herself, then rested her paws on her hips and turned to face her brother. He glanced down at her hard cock, hanging fully away from herself underneath its own hefty weight, and also still occasionally squirting little jets out across him. “Either way, I get what you’re saying. So then the options are, I can either drag you to the shower…” She tapped her chin. “Or… I can go chug a shitload of water and give you a shower of my own… or, I suppose, we can leave you here on the couch to dry off and get all, like… crusty and flaky, and then you can move yourself once you can walk. I kinda like that second one.”

Angel reached his paws up toward her. “How about – the first and second at the same time?”", "pools_count": 2, "title": "Trimesters and Tribulations [Commission]", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "8" }