"This's new."  
He'd stuck his snout under my tail and dragged in air.  
"When'ja do this?"
It was strange being sniffed there, feeling my brother's hot breath and the prod of his snout right on my new vent.  Well, new wasn't quite right.  It'd always been there, just...
Weird stuff can happen with drake genetics.  I'd come out looking male, feeling male - just not quite with those bits.  I mean, they kinda looked a little bit male?  But not really, and didn't work right.  Our parents were told everything was technically female down there, and it'd be a hell of a lot easier getting my stuff working that way.  They'd left it for me to choose, and I'd just stuck with what I had, what I knew.  That'd worked for a while.  
But then I got older, and everyone else hit breeding age.  They all paired off, and I was the odd one out with the broke junk.  Seasons came, seasons went, and it dragged me down more and more ‘til I couldn’t stand it.  So, new year, new me - I took the plunge.  The treatment made my crowded slit puff up into a proper cookie.  Silly name for it, that, but I loved the sound of it.  Cookie.  My new cookie.  
Mind, I wasn't tryna be female, not at all.  Heart and soul, still my brother’s brother.  But when the choice was looking a little more masc or having a package that worked, I needed function over form.  At least drake biology's flexible enough to give me that chance.  
Now my brother'd come out a different way.  He's feral: grand ol' mane, walking on all fours, loads bigger than me or most any other of our kind.  And, well, loads bigger in other places, too.  Couldn't say I'd not snuck a few looks - wasn't hard, he didn't really do clothes.  Stores don't carry his size.  Or shape.  Not that he’s not a looker, mind.  Shock of gold fur.  Deep green scales.  Gorgeous.  
As for me, I'd a different excuse just then for being bare below the waist:  First, it was my pad.  Second, it was my room.  Third, I'd needed to change pants.  
See, his scaly ass’d dropped by - as he would time to time - and it was cold out, so I'd invited him to warm on my couch.  We'd got to talking, and he was same as always: curious, caring, unshakable.  Always good to me, always the best to me.  But, well, he's got all that junk just hanging out, yeah?  And I'd gone and gotten pretty wet from much too much peeking at it, thinking about what it’d be like all the way out and all the way up.  Shouldn'tve, I know.  Couldn'tve not, though.  
Guess he noticed.  When I'd stepped into my room to swap pants for something less-soaked in the crotch, he'd followed right behind.  Being a good sibling apparently didn’t include minding his brother's bedroom door.  
And now he had me up against the wall by my closet, his muzzle wedged under my tail to the source of this mess.  I felt him drag in breath, that cold air between my thighs, across my cookie; it made me shiver all the way down.  Then that warm, damp huff came back the other way, up and into me, and made me itch so bad.
"Ya gonna tell me, or keep on mewling?"
I wasn't mewling.  I wasn't!  He sniffed again, and I moaned.  
One thing they'd not made clear with my new gear - I didn’t know when my first season was gonna hit.  Or how hard.  I'd woken up that morning thinking it was just a horny day.  Then he'd walked in and I'd smelled him, and oh did he smell!  Maybe ferals have a rough time scrubbing their undercarriage, or something?  Or he just doesn't bother, and lets it all stew.  
So, I'd not just been staring because he was laying out - laying it all out - but because I could smell every inch of what he was packing.  And there was more to that reek than ever before - deeper, wider, richer.  Like sniffing him that one time years ago, back when I didn't know what to do with it and neither did he.  But now, now!  The whole room swam with him.  And I knew what it was for, what he’d do.  That beating mound between my legs wanted him to do that than anything.  And from how his drooling rod’d been filling out when he'd barged in, I couldn't imagine he was thinking of doing any different.  
He sniffed at me again, long and deep.  Then his jaws parted between my legs, just a little, and I felt his tongue.  It caught me like a striking viper, planted its pronged kiss right on what I guess was now my proper clit.  
I hissed out, "O-o-oh, ffffuuuck meeee...!"  
He rumbled words, and through his tongue they came up into me.  "I'm gonna."  
"That's not what-"  But I didn't get to finish.  He stuffed his tongue the rest of the way up my hole, packed me fuller than any toy I'd tried.  I wish I could say I snarled with pleasure.  Hah!  I squeaked.  
He said something else into my cookie - I couldn't hear him, but it felt dirty.  His tongue pressed harder, bunched up even more inside me.  He spoke again, and it made me quiver head to toe.  Still didn't understand a word, but, well... I understood.  
My legs were jelly, my insides clamped, my hips rocked up and down.  I didn't know if I was tryna to shove him out, or tease him further in.  He was going with in.  His tongue was so warm, so wet; I must've been just as warm and wet on him.  He curved himself under me, tipped his jaws up; then he pressed in hard, lifted me to my toes, made me screech.  Gods, oh fucking gods!  
And then he pulled back, pulled out, and that length of tongue unwound from inside me.  My knees gave, I almost dropped right there, but caught my claws into the wall and hung to it for dear life.  My cookie beat hot against much-cooler air.  I was sure I was dripping.
Behind me, beneath me, he huffed and smacked his lips.  Then, almost a purr, "I like ya this way."  
Maybe it was just the flies in my head, the dripping itch between my legs; but that felt like the nicest thing anyone'd ever said about me.  And in that moment, more sure than I'd ever felt since I'd taken the plunge, I also liked me this way.  
And the more I thought about it, the more I knew, "I like you this way,  too."
He purred.  No, not quite.  It was a deeper noise, a wanting one.  I wasn't wholly sure what he meant by it, but then he told me.  "Ya want more o' me, this way?"
Shoulda said no.  I knew enough to be scared of where this'd go if I didn't say it.  Just one sensible, sane word, and it'd be over.  But I was so much more scared of where this wouldn't go if I did.  
He raised a forepaw to the wall next to me.  I said nothing.  He did the other.  I kept silent.  Then step by step he walked his front up the wall, and his hindquarters followed forward to my rear.  I felt it slap my back - his drakehood, long and warm and so, so wet.  It twitched, it throbbed, it squirted onto the rear of my shirt.  My insides were tryna do the same.  
I needed him to know before this went further, "I'm not female."
"Good," he growled right back, "I ain't straight."  
He stank of... had to be rut.  Not that I smelled any better.  It itched so bad down there.  I squirmed against him, against his breeder.  Couldn't hold it in.  My tail went up for him, and spilled all that heat out between my legs.  
I heard him sniff, I heard him rumble.  Deep, low.  His full weight pressed me, pinned me, a quarter-ton of muscle and shining scale.  He rocked his hips, dragged the belly of his shaft down my back.  Big.  Fat.  Ready.  I'd seen it like that, a few times.  Never imagined I’d feel it.  Never imagined I'd want it in me.  Never imagined he'd do it.  I squirmed more.
He grunted, he humped.  His tip squashed against my cookie, but didn't go in.  Too much to fit.  But I couldn't help myself; I arched, mewled, pushed back against him.  That made my slit give, just a little.  The tip of his bulb peeked in.  
I felt his heartbeat inside me, felt him shudder with pleasure, felt a warm splash of pre force into my hole.  He wasn’t wearing a rubber, and I didn’t even know if they made them that size.  His forepaw went down to my belly, gripped me there, hefted me up.  My toes left the ground.  He thrust again, firmer, pressed me against the wall.  My entrance gave a little more.  
It was my first time.  I didn't know what to do, what I could do, if I even needed to do anything.  But he kept going, kept working me open around his bulging flare.  And then, at last, a hard thrust forced it through, and slowly - so gloriously slowly - the rest of him packed in.  It was so much thicker than his tongue.  
He stretched my mound, forced my thighs even wider 'round him.  But it was too much, too long; I couldn't take him to his hilt.  He bottomed out not even halfway - it stuffed my belly, made me fat and heavy.  Like I was full of his eggs.  
And then he started to rut.  
Out, then in, then out, then in.  His flare scratched every bit of me that itched.  I gasped and moaned and trilled out loud to the drumbeat of his thrusts.  They weren't gentle, they weren't rough, but firm and steady, a rhythm of purpose.  Then they came faster.  Then a little more.  I couldn't pretend anything else but what that purpose was.
He was mating me.  He was mating me!  My brother, plunging in and out of my cunt, my heat.  A horny beast, a rutting animal, working himself up to...
I gripped his paw on my belly, held to that pistoning pudge he made in me.  It felt even bigger than he already was.  My fingers followed his heaving down to its source, to my muff where his breeder went in.  I touched it, touched him, his beating organ soaked with my honey as much as his own.  
My insides were going tight around him, and everywhere else too.  I curled, fingers and toes, tongue and tail, and everything in between.  It was too much, too new.  I didn't know what to do, what was gonna happen; he had to wait, to stop, or he was gonna make me pop.  
"Slow... down," I gasped, "Pull out-!"  
"Ferals," he snarled, "don't."  
His ruttings came harder.  He held them in, drove me to the wall, made me climb it.  I caught a flash of his muzzle above - fangs out, tongue hanging, drool from its tips.  His hips below shook and shuddered with each thrust.  And then it hit home.  I was in heat.  He wasn't wearing a condom.  No pill, nothing.  He was just gonna cum.  He was gonna do it right in me.  My brother was gonna cum in me.  
Everything got fuzzy.  I wanted to squirm, I wanted to run, I wanted to jump out of my scales.  But my belly, my cookie - they clutched him, squeezed it out of him.  He was all I could feel.  Not my claws, not my tail.  Him.  I grabbed his mane, begged him, screamed.  Barely even words:  Do it!  DO IT!
He brought his jaws down on my neck and shut me up.  I felt him shudder, head to hips to flare.  I felt him bloat between my thighs.  I felt the heat bud at his tip.  It pulsed, it bloomed, and then it shot in me.  Then another, then another.  His heat spread up and down; he filled me, every inch, all the way to the base of my cookie.  I felt it on my rumplips, spilling out from inside.  It ran down my legs, splattered my toes.  
More beats, more spurts.  His hips jerked with each.  But these came slower, farther apart.  He dragged in a deep breath.  One more hump, one more pump.  And then he let out a long and shuddering sigh.  
His middle sagged against me, his grip on me relaxed.  My toes once more reached the floor.  He walked his fores down the wall, setting me slowly to stand.  But my legs were jelly, and even my knees.  Only his shaft kept me off the ground.  Then he set a forepaw to my belly, cupped me to him, held me up; he rumbled softly to me, turned us to my bed, and ambled over with me in firm tow.  
The sheets were softer than they should've been.  He laid me down, and himself at my side.  I sprawled out, much as I could with my limbs still tingling and his flare still in me.  Everything buzzed, everything hummed.  It was, it was… nice.  
I'd just fucked my brother - or, well, he'd just fucked me - and it felt so fucking nice.  Gods, I had to have just gone into heat, and he'd pumped a big load right up into it.  Couldn't imagine he'd not just knocked me up with my first clutch.  His first, too?  I wanted to think so.  
With his paw around me and rod still in me, both beating with the rhythm of his great heart, it felt right.  He tucked me to him.  I reached up to his neck, slipped my fingers again into his mane, pulled his head down, muzzle to mine.  He licked my snout.  I kissed him back.  His jaws were so big.  He parted them, just enough to take my embrace.  I felt his breeder twitch, a small spurt of leftover seed.  I loved it.  I loved him.  
What he’d just done to me, what we'd done, whatever came of this?  I wanted it.  Hell, filling out with his eggs might feel good as being full of him now.  Maybe better.  I didn’t know, couldn’t know, but I wanted so bad to find out.  And I wanted that finding out to be with him, every step of the way.  By the way he kissed me, held me, purred against me, I couldn’t think he felt any different.
It was terrifying.  It was wonderful.  New year, new me.  New us.