Bond of Brothers 3
AHA! Finally, the long awaited 3rd installment... due to popular demand, I have once again stretched a tiny little yiff story into a trilogy! I hope that you all enjoy it...
But before I let you get into the meat of the story, I suppose that I should hit you up with a preliminary disclaimer! Indeed. CAUTION!!! This story contains somethings that you might not find suitable, firstly... incest. Then we go into sportswear fetishes, male on male action, oh yes... and some slanderous comments and language. If you do not approve of any of the above, I don't think that this is a story for you, but if you are okay with those, then please by all means, read away!
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-Bond of Brothers 3
Typhoon stared at the popcorn ceiling in his room trying to find hidden pictures comprised of the small shadows cast by the bumps. He sighed.
The rest of the year was fairly quiet. He had class work to wrap up, colleges to apply for as two weeks ago was his graduation. He had some classic rock softly drumming out a bluesy tune on the other side of the room while he lay and stared up.
He switched from the ceiling to the fan in the center of the room which proved far more entertaining to watch the blades spin on.
He was just bored.
And lonely.
Ever since the evening in the locker room showers, both he and Tundra had grown apart in the sexual sense. Even more than just that; they had stopped spending time together as much.
Nothing had really been said about their previous encounters, and Tundra seemed to have forgotten about them altogether.
Not even a word as to why. In fact, they hardly even talked. Especially after Pecan.
Pecan was a tawny lioness in a few of the same classes that Tundra had, and they had been going out. To Typhoon, this hurt him deeply inside. He thought that he and his brother had that special something covered... apparently not.
But to the older husky, he couldn't stop his feelings and he certainly couldn't stop his mind.
He had a stomach in knots. He rolled over on his side and stared at the plain white wall his bed was pressed up against. His tail drooped over the side of his bed, sighing listening to the words of love and lament that were coming quietly out of his speakers.
He took a ragged breath trying to think of other things, when from across the hall he heard his brother laughing along with the light giggle of a female as something funny was apparently said between them.
The only thing that came to Typhoon were tears.
He buried his muzzle under one of his pillows, letting the tears soak up into the sheets and pillow case. He had to get his mind off of everything. He pulled his head back pushing himself up on his elbows, and wiped away the few remaining droplets of liquid remaining in the corners of his eyes.
He took a deep breath and rolled out of bed, picking a t shirt up from the floor and pulling it on over his naked torso. He straightened out his shorts, and grabbed his car keys and proceeded down the hall away from the cheerful laughter of his brother and his brother's girl friend.
His father was in the living room, kicked back in his easy chair with a can of beer in one paw, the cable remote in the other watching "Harlpo Cressinwick Bass Fishing".
He looked away only for a moment to see Typhoon walk through, then turned back to the TV sipping his beer, laughing at a fishing joke made.
He entered the kitchen where their mother was wandering about on a telephone call, skipping back to the counter to write a few things down on one of her cosmetics spread sheets before wandering off again laughing.
All the laughter, all the happiness, and he was the only one who wasn't smiling. No one seemed to care in the least. He pushed open the door to the garage and closed the solid, insulated door behind him with a heavy, full-bodied "thunk" and then was immersed in silence.
He flipped the switch on the wall lighting up the two car garage where his mother's brand new silver Honda Odyssey was parked next to his dad's burgundy 1973 MG-B roadster, covered with a dusty, oily drop cloth covered in boat motor parts and fishing spools on four flat, dry rotted tires. He picked his way past the car, stepping over an engine block from a 1985 BMW K100RT bike that was mostly in parts in various cardboard boxes.
He supported himself on one leg and a work bench to grab his red tool box from behind a stack of patio chairs, then carefully picked his way back, and continued on, passing by the MG to the side door on the garage.
He jiggled and fumbled with the loose door knob, unlocking and opening it, stepping out into the hot tropical sun, closing the door behind him. Heading from there, he went over to his 1970 Plymouth Fury parked next to the garage on the grass. He had been working on the car since he was 15, and it had come a long way.
He pulled the drop cloth off of the top of it, tossing it to the ground next to the garage. When it started out 39 years ago, it was a dark blue.
When he found it for sale on the side of the highway three years ago it was in poor shape. The left fender had been caved in from an accident the owner was in 1984, being the last time the car ever moved as it broke the tie rods.
The car was still very dirty, spotted with several spots where he had rid it of rust, in a light primer gray, and replaced the dented fender with one off a white Fury.
He headed to the solid grille, under the word "Plymouth" which was missing a few letters leaving "P YMO TH" and felt underneath for the hood release. He opened the hood and smiled.
It had taken him every dime he eared at his summer jobs, and light hours during school, but under the outwards ragged appearance of the car was a completely rebuilt 440 sitting under a 3 double barrel carburetors.
Finally a smile. He walked around to the driver's door and opened it, climbing onto the cracked vinyl seat. He gripped the wheel for a moment then snagged a box off the seat next to him and got back out of the car.
He opened the top and felt over the cool chrome of the air filter he had gotten in the mail yesterday. The last necessary part he needed. He gleefully pulled the socks he had stuffed in the carbs out, casting them to the side, and pulled the shiny chrome air filter out, settling it over the bolts sticking up and quickly spinning the wing nuts down to fasten it.
He stepped back looking everything over. With a satisfactory nod, he fished the keys out of his pocket and got behind the wheel again. The engine he already knew ran well, but now he could run it anywhere.
He dropped the clutch to the floor with a squeak primed the block and turned the keys. The starter spun, and with a slight rock to the whole car, the block came alive with a powerful roar.
He revved it up, checking to make sure his tach was working and feeling the whole car shudder with extreme power. Satisfied with his work, he shut it off, popped the trunk and with his box of tools in paw, proceeded to replace the burnt out tail lights.
A half hour or so later, Typhoon was finished, dusting his paws off and wiping the dirt out of the lenses with a rag when he heard the front door close followed by Pecan, Tundra and his parents. Curiosity got the better of him and he stood up and headed around the garage. He slipped between the boat and the garage, then his dad's 2001 red Dodge Ram as he saw Pecan waving and heading down the drive way to where he mother was waiting.
Typhoon was still out of view, stopping and leaning up against the garage out of view when he heard his father say, "Cute girl. Now if only I could get your older brother to finally date a girl, I'd be a happy dog."
The comment stabbed at him a little. His ears drooped and he slowly made his way back to his car. He sighed and closed the hood, picking up his tool box and heading back into the garage.
He put his tool box back in the corner where he got it from and picked his way back through the piles of stuff. He dusted off his paws and went back into the house, where everything was already back to how he had left it.
His mother was on the phone again, his dad was back in his chair with a fresh beer flipping through channels. He headed down the hall again to his room. He opened his door and closed it behind him, dropping into his bed and sighing.
He was almost in a nap when his door opened. His ear twitched back to hear. "Look at this pigsty! I don't know how you can live like this. Clean up your room!" his mother said picking up a few dirty clothes and stuffing them into his dirty clothes basket.
"I know where everything is... I don't see the problem." He replied back not moving.
"Just clean up this mess." She apparently couldn't think of a better excuse.
She left shortly there after and Typhoon sighed, still not moving. He just lay there staring at nothing for a good twenty minutes or so. He heard the garage door go up and the van pull out shortly there after, followed by the rattle of the door going back down.
He nearly fell asleep again when he heard his door close and someone sit on the edge of his bed.
"Typhoon? Can we talk?" The black husky rolled over and saw that his younger brother was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He rolled back and glumly stared at the wall again. "Yea. Sure... considering that we haven't talked in months..."
Tundra bit his lip unsure of how to proceed. "I've been wanting to have this conversation with you a couple of times... I just really didn't know how to go about it. Plus mom and dad have been around a lot..."
"Where are they now?"
"They went out to dinner or something. I don't know..."
Typhoon sighed and rolled back over again and propped himself up against the wall, not really looking at his brother. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Well... us... I guess..."
"Yes?"
"Typhoon... I... don't know what to do. I'm scared." The older husky was a bit surprised when he saw tears welling up in the purple dog's eyes.
"Scared about what?"
"Just... everything...."
"Everything? Like what?"
"Like what I'm going to do after you leave for school."
Typhoon was confused a little. "What do you mean? You have Pecan now..."
"That's just it Ty... I have NO feelings at all towards her. I'm only dating her to keep mom and dad happy. I won't have you here when you leave and.... Well... mom found my box of porn, needless to say I had a lot of convincing to do that it wasn't mine and that's why I've had to date Pecan; To make it believable."
"Where was I during all of this?"
"You were at work... and that was a first taste of what things would be like if you left. Mom went ballistic on me."
Typhoon softened, and pulled Tundra into his arms, holding him tight against him. "Don't you worry little brother. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Needless to say, I've been quite upset about all of this because I thought that your heart had changed its course."
Tundra twisted in his brothers arms and looked up at him. "Never. I'm too much in love with you to ever do that." He licked the underside of Typhoon's muzzle and smiled.
The older husky smiled, feeling all the stress and anguish wash away at those words, and he kissed Tundra's head and hugged him tightly.
Tundra giggled then, and winked at his brother. "Besides... there's one thing that Pecan could never give me anyway." He squeezed his brother's crotch.
Typhoon murred deeply and with a twist, rolled Tundra onto his back on the bed, pinning him easily in place.
"There's a lot more that she couldn't give you." He said grinning and kissing his snout. Tundra opened his and murred back as their tongues intertwined with each other.
Typhoon pushed his paw up Tundra's shirt feeling something silky underneath. He pulled the shirt off his brother and tossed it aside revealing a blue and red wrestling singlet.
"Oh you kinky devil."
"I just put it on too." Tundra grinned. "But I don't think that we should do anything like what you're planning on..."
Typhoon put a finger against his brother's muzzle, and only answered him by pulling his shirt off revealing his bare furred chest and casting it away as well. He unbuttoned his brother's shorts next, pulling them off his legs and tossed those away, followed next by taking his off revealing to his brother a bright yellow thong underneath.
Tundra murred, his bulge naked under the thin layer of spandex beginning to grow as his member slid out of his sheath at the sight. He rubbed his paws over his body. "If only your wrestling teammates could see you now."
Tundra smiled. "It's very hard to wrestle. I always have to think of something else."
Their team singlet was tastefully designed. It was wholly blue, with red around the bottom of the legs, cutting up in angles on the back and front to a triangle half way up, and coming to a peak just above his brother's arousal.
Typhoon murred pressing his snout against the bulging material and taking in a deep breath, sucking out the wonderful smell of Tundra's young musk. That's all it took for him, and he too was filling out the pouch on his underwear, making it bulge out.
Tundra giggled again. "By the way... this is a spare singlet I have."
"Okay..." Typhoon said smiling wondering what his brother was getting at. "What does that mean?"
Tundra spread his legs and lifted them revealing his tight bubble butt in them with a hole in the back of the singlet, directly in the center. Tundra giggled again.
"And did you purposely cut that in there?" Typhoon smiled, rubbing his finger around the hole in the singlet, and then feeling inside, touching his brother's warm tail hole.
Tundra moaned as he touched him there. "Actually... urf.... No... it... ripped one day at practice."
Typhoon laughed. "Oh alright..." he pressed his finger firmly against his brother's tightness and slowly worked his finger inside. Tundra gasped a breath of air, moaning as he exhaled, his paws clutching onto his older brother's legs with pleasure.
"Please big brother... please..." he begged as Typhoon pulled his finger out.
The older husky smiled, and pulled each of Tundra's legs over his shoulders. He pulled the thong to the side letting his shaft pop out and murred, slowly pawing himself.
He pressed his tip through the hole in the singlet and rubbed it over Tundra's welcoming rear, dribbling plenty of his husky precum onto the younger dog's awaiting hole.
Tundra murred at the wetness coating his backside, pushing himself towards his brother with want.
Typhoon smiled and pressed himself against the tight pink pucker and with a gentle, solid push, entered his little brother, sliding himself deep inside. The purple dog moaned with pleasure as his needs were filled, gasping loudly, his member throbbing hard against the spandex encasement covering him, beginning to leave a darkened spot in the red and blue colors from his own pre.
Typhoon gasped at the warm, tight, smoothness encompassing his shaft, and he pressed a paw against Tundra's chest to steady himself. Slowly he pulled himself nearly out before returning to his younger brother's depths, a little quicker than before.
And thus began his thrusting motion, his shaft leaking pre cum inside Tundra, creating less resistance for him as he gained speed and intensity, murring loudly with each motion both in and out.
Tundra gasped from the sheer pleasure of having his brother's thickness inside him, his own puphood throbbing a response, and spraying a bit of pre each time he was fully entered. Typhoon rubbed his free paw down his brother's leg and felt over his dripping bulge, feeling the already formed knot on the other side. He wrapped his fingers around the stiff member in the singlet and began rubbing and stroking it to the same rhythm of himself.
The purple husky moaned with exceeding pleasure his head tilting back, and muzzle opening as he gasped for air through waves of extreme joy.
Watching his little brother, the black husky smiled, letting out a moan as well knowing that Tundra was in ecstasy. He gained a little more speed, his knot bulging, slapping against the young dog's tight hole.
The paw steadying him pressed harder down on his brother, only furthering the pup's pleasure. Tundra's paws squeezed his brother's knees, coaxing him to go harder. Typhoon abided and spread the stance on his knees, and steadily gained momentum and power, moaning loudly to join his brother's.
In no time at all his knot and sac were slapping hard against the tight hole and back side of the purple husky and he dug his claws into his brother's chest a little as he felt his climax quickly building.
Tundra wasn't too far behind him, moaning loudly, his back arching and bending, wanting more and more as his brother's paw worked him just as hard. Their scents filled the air in an intoxicatingly heavy intensity.
Tundra was first to the finish, howling loudly, and screaming in pleasure as Typhoon popped his knot inside him and his young, hot load exploded out of him in gush after gush, saturating his singlet.
The smell, sound and sight of his brother orgasming was the little extra needed to push him over the edge, and he too felt his shaft throb and spurt out his canid seed deep inside his little brother's eagerly accepting tail hole.
His arm trembled from the exertion and he collapsed on top of Tundra, gasping for air from the wild ride. He pushed his shaft a few slow times a little deeper into the purple puppy, smiling as he heard Tundra moan softly with each push.
Their muzzles intertwined lovingly, and Typhoon gently caressed the top of Tundra's head slowly, getting lost in the brilliant blue eyes looking back at him.
"Tell me what is on your mind..." Typhoon asked.
"Well, I'd like to know what in the fuck this is!" a stern, angry voice asked from behind them.
Both dogs cringed and looked over to see their father standing in the doorway, looking quite in shock of what he was seeing. Typhoon looked down to see if he would buy that they were wrestling, but the whole room smelled of yiff and it was evident that he was still mated to his younger brother, although that was fading quickly now.
"It's not what you..." Typhoon started to say, quickly pulling himself out of Tundra and in one quick motion, covering himself up as much as possible with his thong underwear and blanket.
"Shut your mouth right now you dirty, twisted, faggot!" His father snapped pointing his finger at him.
"What's going on?" he heard his mother ask from down the hall. She soon appeared in the door way, and her paw clamped over her muzzle when she surveyed the scene. Tears were the only thing that came to her.
Their father looked back at her only for a moment and then growled. "Look at what you have done! What in the fuck were you thinking?" he thundered at Typhoon. "So you think that this is right, that this is normal to take advantage of your little brother and live out your fucked up homosexual fantasies?"
"Dad... no... it's nothing like that..." Typhoon said trying to save himself.
"SHUT UP! I don't want to hear another fucking word out of your maw! You are not my son! You are some psychotic lunatic! And I certainly didn't raise no faggot of a son!" His face fur was turning a steaming red, and Typhoon could see the arteries in his neck throbbing, even through his ruffed fur.
"What did we do wrong as parents?" Their mother asked in-between sobs. Tundra pulled the blanket over his head and wished that he was invisible. "I don't understand any of this..."
"YOU!" his dad said now pointing his claw at the black husky. "You... you are an abomination!"
Typhoon growled now. "An abomination? No matter what I would have done... it NEVER would have been enough to please you in the least."
"Did I tell you you could speak you gay fudge-packing whore? No I most certainly did not! And we are certainly NOT changing the subject!" he then snapped at Tundra. "Tundra! Go to your room THIS MINUTE!"
Tundra peeked out from under the covers at Typhoon. "I'm scared." He said in little more than a whisper to his brother.
His father stomped in and grabbed Tundra's foot and roughly drug him off of the bed, his body hitting the floor with a loud thud. Their mother sobbed out loudly, then ran off down the hall away from the scene.
Typhoon snarled now, pushing his dad back. "Stop it! You're going to hurt him!"
He drug the purple husky to his feet and shoved him out of the room, slapping Typhoon hard across the muzzle, some blood splashing out in the process.
"Hurt him? No... there's no hurt that could ever top what you've done to him you sick twisted pervert!" His dad hit him again, knocking Typhoon to the floor with a thud. He then whirled around and grabbed Tundra by the scruff of his neck when he came running back to his brother's side.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he cried out when Typhoon was knocked to the ground. His dad drug him off to his room and threw him in, slamming the door closed behind him.
Typhoon wasted no time. He picked himself up off of the floor, pulled on his shorts, grabbed his car keys, cellphone, wallet and back pack and quickly left his room, heading down the hall.
He screamed when there was a gunshot from behind him and the drywall next to him exploded. He took off in a sprint down the hall then.
He crossed the living room, another gunshot from behind him, sending the cordless phone on the table sailing in a flash of sparks and several small pieces rapidly flying everywhere.
A third shot and he felt a white hot flash of pain stab at his right shoulder. He cried out in agony, stumbling for a minute, but making it to the garage door. He twisted the handle and fell inside, kicking it shut behind him. Quickly scrambling to his feet once more, he hurried across the garage, and out the side door, slamming it shut firmly behind him.
He crashed through the garbage cans as the window on the door shattered outwards with another stray bullet. He jumped, slid across the hood of his car and quickly got in. The keys jammed into the ignition quickly, and he started the car, wasting no time and jamming the transmission into reverse, he revved it up, and dropped the clutch, sending the Plymouth lurching backwards across the lawn.
He saw his father at the door, fumbling with the loose knob trying to open it. He wasn't about to stick around. He jammed his car into first gear and with two squealing tires, roared off down the street. He turned back only once to see the house as he left. The last thing he saw was Tundra in his bedroom window, his paws pressed against the window, clawing at the glass with tears streaming down his cheeks watching him leave.