It started as an ominous boom in the distance. Like the stamp of a lion's paw to make known its presence. Then came the susurrus. Like the scampering of tiny mice scattering from the lion's warning. Then came the mighty roars, and the slashing of claws.
	She shivered in his arms, her muzzle buried against his chest, breath warming a patch of the cotton. His blinds did little to keep the flashes of light from striking fuzzy shadows against the opposite wall. His bed little to stand against the temblors that shook through the earth and air.
	He held her tightly, hackles puffing up. He felt strong. Courageous. Heroic. When she whimpered, he found the base of bun tied up by a pink bow, and squeezed it soothingly.
	Eventually, the lion's temper subsided.
	She breathed evenly.
	His hold relaxed, just a little, his pinned arm tingling as he freed it enough to give it circulation. Then, he too breathed evenly.
	There was warmth on him. Sort of like her breath against his chest, but lower; between his legs.
	She sucked on her thumb, like a toddler seeking it for comfort.
	He shivered, thinking she looked cute. Very cute. It felt good for her to suck on her thumb, for her to seek that comfort. So very good, it felt. A wave of delight splashed over him, and he twitched like he was laughing from deep within his gut; a hearty laugh.
	It felt pleasant, to suck on her thumb. The feeling glowed within him, the splash settling to a serene sprinkle, like a cool mist on a hot, stale day.
	Her thumb popped from her muzzle. It glistened with her spit and drool.
	It had felt so comforting to suckle her thumb.

* * *

	A rustling motion roused him. He pulled the warmth nearby him into a secure hold against him, turning over slightly. Like a tiny flame that was started by a spark, his awareness grew; he couldn't fall back asleep, now.
	One of the things keeping him alert was his bladder. The other was right in front of it. He was stiff. Just like yesterday morning, and the morning before that, and the one before that.
	For several mornings now, he woke up with a swollen bladder and a stiffy.
	Though not able to go back to sleep, he was still in a half-daze. His hands lowered, and he hugged his sister down by his waist, pushing the stiffness against her. It had felt good to do this yesterday morning, but after just a few moments their alarm went off and they had to get ready for school.
	A pang of fear hit him, that the same thing might happen again, but then he remembered it was Saturday. That pang of fear alerted him enough for him to realize what he was doing.
	He eased off on the tight hold he had on his sister. It felt good, but then it also felt weird. It felt comfortable and relaxing, but this was paired with nervousness and agitation, since his privates weren't usually like this.
	Finally, the feeling in his bladder became too much of a bother. He opened his eyes, and started to slowly untangle from his sister. She was a heavy sleeper, especially after a storm, but he still didn't want to chance waking her up. He liked to let her sleep in.
	When he stood up, his stiffy uncomfortably pointed outward in his boxer-briefs, which made him reluctant to stand up straight. His hand slipped in to point him upward, so that he could stand upright.
	That was when he noticed a couple of oddities.
	He must have gotten a bit sweaty during the night, because his stiffy was sort of damp. But he didn't feel like he had gotten sweaty, nor did it feel like he had leaked a little, and if his sister had wet the bed he would have seen evidence on the outside of his underwear.
	His privates also felt a little tender. Not sore or painful, but as he used his fingers to touch the smooth skin around his tip, it had the same feeling as his back muscles had when he had started to practice his twerk.
	Maybe he had held his bladder for too long, he thought, as he was already heading out into the hall. He continued to mindfully hold himself as he went into the bathroom, thankfully just right next to his room.
	He pulled down his shorts, and winced as he sat on the cool porcelain seat. While it was getting warmer, nights were still cool, and their air-conditioner was usually set to keep the house cooler anyway.
	He was so stiff, he had to scoot back to slip himself underneath the seat. He had gotten used to sitting to tinkle, so his sister didn't have to worry about falling in if she had to go in the middle of the night or something.
	This had become the moment of tension. Sometimes he could be here until his legs felt pins and needles. But thankfully, after just a minute or two, the cork at the base of his stiffness loosened, and he felt the rush of urine flow.
	This morning was a little different. It sort of got stuck for just a brief second, before it burst out, like something had loosely clogged the passage. Some of it even sprinkled out from between the seat and the bowl of the toilet, unpleasantly getting on his calves.
	He pushed himself down as far as he comfortably could, listening to the dribbling his stream made in the water. It took a few full breaths before it slowed to just a drip. He had even softened, which began to bolster the theory that he was getting stiff due to having to pee so much.
	Shaking himself off, and using a piece of toilet paper to make sure none of the spray from the beginning stayed on himself or the outside of the bowl, he stood, flushed, and washed his hands.
	He yawned, despite knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He looked at his face in the mirror. His hair and the fur on his face were still mussed, some maybe even from his sister's drool. He opened his muzzle and pushed his tongue out; he wasn't sure what it was for exactly, but he had seen it in cartoons and had done it ever since.
	Smacking his palate to wet his dry mouth with spit, he turned to head out into the hall. With their parents gone for the weekend, he was in charge of the house. That meant that while his sister slept in, he had a few chores to do.
	Since he couldn't go to sleep, best he get started early. He might even be done by the time she popped an eye open.

* * *

	While he wanted to let his sister sleep in, he couldn't let her sleep the day away. It was already ten-thirty in the morning, and she hadn't shuffled downstairs while he was mopping, or at least not that he saw.
	After the floors had dried, he made his way back up into his room.
	Sure enough, there she was, still in his bed. She had kicked off the sheets, and sprawled out on her back, doing her best to take up the whole middle. Her sleep-shirt was bunched up, her downy-furred tummy exposed and vulnerable.
	He tip-toed to his sister, bare feet making hardly a sound as his steps pressed down on the plush carpeting. Lightly, he set his fingertips upon that fuzzy, soft plain.
	As he touched her tummy-fur, a light warning touch before he intended the main assault, a warmth crept from between his legs. He thought, as he looked down at her belly-button, not of what he could see, but of what he could not see.
	He had long ago first seen what her clothes covered. He gave her baths, helped critique new outfits she wanted to try on, and every now and again she would dash from her room to the laundry room in the buff to get something.
	But seeing her nude was not a common thing, especially not lately. She bathed herself, didn't need his approval as much on attire, and though she still occasionally dashed it wasn't like he was trying to catch her.
	The differences between boys and girls wasn't something he paid much attention to. Not until the nurse came and told them about how cubs were made, and went over the different parts of the body.
	His left hand crept down her tummy, toward the waistband of her pajama pants.
	Ever since then, his friends talked about girls from time to time. Rejecting one another's' claims of seeing, or even getting to touch, a girl naked.
	He had seen a naked girl. He had touched her, even, though not deliberately.
	He didn't say a word, though.
	He was stiff. He knew why, too. He was getting excited, thinking about his sister being naked.
	It was funny, as many times as he'd seen her naked he didn't really look. At her chest. At what was between her legs. So now, though he was excited and stiff, what he imagined was fuzzy. Bubbles covered her in the bath, underwear covered her as she changed outfits, and she was but an orange streak of fire running down the hall.
	His thumb lifted up the elastic band.
	She was wearing one of her favorite pair to sleep in, with a Rapunzel print. She had gotten them quite a while ago, he recalled. The trim was taught about her waist, since she had grown a bit since then.
	The band held up by his thumb slipped, snapping down.
	She stirred, opening her eye.
	Before she could sit up to look, a flurry of touches danced about her belly. She giggled and squirmed, picking her knees up and shimmying to try to get away.
	”Stahahahap!” She pleaded, using hand and foot to fend off his assault rolling away.
	”Can't sleep all day, sis,” he told her. “Gotta wash the sheets.” He watched as she continued to face away from him, in a pose as if she was about to roll over and crawl feet-first off the other side of the bed.
	But then, without warning, she whipped round and lurched forward.
	He grunted, catching her out of reflex, as if she was going to fall. Her hands wrapped about his waist, and her cheek nuzzled him—right against where he was stiff.
	”Morning.” She said, looking up at him.
	”A-Almost afternoon,” he remarked, looking back down at her, her chin resting up along the dorsal side of his hardness. He let out his breath when she let him go and sat up, stretching, her shirt lifting up enough to let her belly peek out. When he was caught staring at it, she slapped her hands down to cover herself.
	”Dun eben tink abat iiit,” she told him with a goofy inflection.
	He shook his head. “Waffles?” He asked.
	”Yushy,” she nodded, akin to a bobble-head.
	”Kay,” he said, using his hands to steady her nodding head. He kissed her on the bridge of her nose. “Come down when you're ready, I'll fire up the iron.”
	”Okay,” she said, as he went out of the room. She sighed, flopping back over and closing her eyes.
	”Don't lie back down!” He shouted from the hall, his footfalls thumping down the stairs.
	She grumbled, wincing as she pushed up. “Phoo” she huffed, and crawled toward the edge of the bed, swinging her legs around. “Gotta tinkle anyway,” she muttered to herself, shuffling over to the bathroom.
	Leaving the door ajar, she approached the porcelain throne. She flicked her thumb over the waistband of her pajama pants, flicking it a few times. Her lids fell halfway, and she chuckled.
	Shimmying her bottoms down, she plopped onto the seat, sucking her breath at the slight chill. While she waited for her tinkling to happen, she ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, top and bottom. Then, she repeated the motion, along the outside of her teeth, and once again against the inside, and outside, of her lips.
	As her urine dribbled into the bowl, she touched a finger to her chin, and lifted it. She traced down her throat, squirming a little as she measured it, her cheeks reddening.
	Her waistband snapped as she pulled her pants back up, and she made her way down the stairs. The tile was cool upon her bare feet, and warm in the spots where the sunlight spilled through the open windows. The patches of light lazily drifted along with the slow journey of the sun, and from time to time throughout the day she would note the paths they took.
	Even before she had left the bathroom, she could hear the bass of the music playing downstairs, pumping from the living-room speakers. The chorus of Work started, and with a bounce that was in-pace with the syllabic beat. She approached the stool of the breakfast bar, climbing into it and spotting her brother in the kitchen.
	”You twerkin' on my breakfast,” she teased, catching his rump and tail bouncing a little to the beat. She beamed proudly at her own pun as he twisted back, giving her a stink-eye.
	”Yes, I'm working on your breakfast,” he replied, drizzling the waffle batter into the iron.
	The hiss of the sizzling batter started her mouth watering, the liquid beginning to bake into a delicious, golden, fluffy waffle that she would soon yum into her tum, with plenty of butter and syrup.
	Speaking of the syrup, as the waffle sizzled, her brother went to the microwave and pushed the button. It lit up, and inside she could see the syrup dispenser as it began to rotate on the glass plate.
	Reaching for her papers and coloring pencils, she began to draw a simplistic version of what she saw. As she drew, her feet swung back and forth idly. When the chorus of the song hit again, her toes tapped against the broad wall of the counter that loosely partitioned the kitchen from the living-room.
	”Don't kick the counter,” her brother admonished, as he pulled a plate down from the cabinet. He heard her stop, without a fuss.
	The microwave hummed while the waffle-iron began to settle. He lifted the top up by the handle, peeking in. He let it down for just a moment longer before pulling it up again, using a spatula to pry the waffle free.
	She heard him and the waffle-iron hiss together. “Uh oh, did you burn yourself?” She asked with a whimper of concern.
	”Not really,” he said. “Just touched the edge for like a nanosecond,” he reassured her, the waffle plopping onto the plate. He added a plop of butter to the middle of the waffle, and went to the microwave to stop it. It beeped, and he punched the release for the door.
	”I come bearing waffle,” he announced, reaching to place it on the counter. “But don't get too attached. I'll need your plate again for the next one when it's ready.”
	She took in a breath. “You made the heart ones!” She cooed. “I was gonna ask, but I didn't wanna be pushy,” she admitted.
	”You got your homework done this week,” he praised. “I think that deserves a little reward.”
	His sister loved the heart-shaped waffles. Aside from them being cute, they did not have the square pips that regular old waffles had. Instead, they had little trenches in an elegant and whimsical design, which were very good for collecting syrup.
	Which she poured for quite some time, making sure to get it into every little nook and cranny, as well as on her plate.
	”You uh... You want some waffle with your syrup, maybe?”
	She stuck her tongue out at him. “My sweetness levels are falling dangerously low,” she reasoned. “I need to refill my sugar-tank.”
	While she said that, he was pouring more batter onto the iron. For some reason, his brain conjured up an image of her, naked, with her hand on her lower-tummy.
	”Did you burn yourself again?” She asked with concern, when her brother let out another sound like he had before.
	”N-No,” he said, “Just... This one might look a little weird, poured a little too much batter in.”
	She shrugged, using her fork to break pieces of her heart away and pop them in her mouth. “S'm'kay'm,” she said, speaking while chewing.
	”So...” Her brother started, lowering the lid of the iron. “Is Princess  Steph gonna hang out in her Royal P.J.s all day?”
	”Hmm...” She thought as she chewed, tapping her finger against her cheek. “Hm'nm'nm'nm'nm...” She said again, adding little breaks into the thinking tone. She swallowed. “Well... Maybe Prince Aeden wants to go to the pool?”
	”Sure,” he agreed, right away. “I was gonna mow tomorrow morning since you slept so late today,” he said, teasingly rolling his eyes at her. “But, I kinda like doing work and then just jumping in the pool when I'm done.”
	”Oh,” she said, breaking off another piece of the heart, “I was actually meaning the big pool down the bloc,” she specified.
	”Oh, uh...” His hand brushed over his hair. “Yeah. But, why the water-park?” He asked, looking toward the back patio door, where he could just see the corner of their own infinity pool.
	”C'z,” she said, swallowing the bite she had taken. “Mom and dad have been away since Tuesday, and I just wanna be 'round other people.”
	Inwardly, she chuckled, when her brother turned around and shuffled over to her very carefully. She set her fork down on the napkin and pushed her plate forward so he could grab it.
	”Well, that means I'll have to mow tomorrow morning, before it gets too hot,” he said, prying out the next waffle.
	”Fine with me. We can sleep in my room tonight, that way I might not even hear it.”
	”Hmm...” He looked at the waffle as he lifted it up. “I'd better eat this one. It's kinda gooey and I don't think it'll cook any better.”
	”Split it,” she insisted. “I don't care.”
	He cut it so that she got the better-cooked portions. “Okay. But I'll make you another whole one if you want.”
	”Nah, I'll be okay after this. Don't wanna eat too much,” she remarked, “cuz then I just gotta wait longer to swim.”

* * *

	The afternoon sun was bright and fierce, with few clouds above to dampen the light; a contrast to the day before, where skies were gloomy for the oncoming storm.
	Little of the light made it to Stephanie's face, for she wore a broad-rimmed sun hat with a yellow ribbon that covered even her ears. She wore a white, two-layer sun-dress that would have probably picked up quite a bit if it was a breezy day.
	On the street-side of the sidewalk, and slightly behind her since her hat got in the way of directly beside her, brother followed a pace behind, carrying their bag. In it, a few pool toys tinkered together every once in a while.
	He was already wearing his trunks, which sported a collage of various fruits: watermelons, oranges, lemons, pears, peaches, and grapes, each in their own colored lane around his legs and waist.
	They heard splishing and splashing from behind the wooden fence as they approached the entrance of the water-park.
	Aeden helped lift an encroaching plant's wispy leaves out of the way of his sister as they turned the corner.
	He pulled out the money that was in the side pocket of the bag. “You go ahead and change,” he suggested to his sister. “I'll take care of the counter.”
	”Yup,” his sister nodded, hugging the bag as he dropped it from his shoulder. She carried the bag against her as she went to the changing cabana.
	Sand snuck its way beneath her flip-flops as she approached the cute purple cabana, with tresses of ribbons that occasionally fluttered in the breeze, when an errant draft would come by today. The boys' cabana was similar, but green instead of purple.
	There weren't many changing rooms, as they were meant to be in-and-out, without even a door; just a narrow walkway along a privacy wall. A small slider at the entrance of each stall indicated whether or not the stall was occupied, but of course people forgot to change them for either case.
	Just as Stephanie entered the cabana, a rabbit-girl—about her age—briskly emerged from the stall to her left, bumping into her. The collision knocked her sun-hat off.
	”Oof,” the rabbit, with brown and tan fur, huffed as they mutually took a step back. She squatted down and quickly picked up the hat, handing it back to the vixen. “um... S—S—Sorry,” she mumbled an apology.
	”No biggie,” Stephanie replied, taking her hat back. When the rabbit didn't quite move one way or the other, she smiled, stepping aside.
	”I... Uhm... L-Like your bows,” the rabbit said, a little stiltedly, as if she was unsure if the compliment was appropriate or not.
	The young vixen mindfully reached up to touch them, and make sure they hadn't come loose from the hat tugging off. “Thanks. I like yours, too,” she said, noting that the rabbit had a purple bow near the base of each lop ear, that almost matched her purple one-piece swimsuit.
	”Just decoration... Just decoration...” the rabbit replied, mindfully touching the ends of the ribbons between her thumb and finger. “Uhm... Gotta go find my sis.” She slithered past, darting out of the cabana.
	Stephanie cocked her head at the rabbit's sudden departure. Maybe the girl was like her brother, just shy around new people. She shrugged, and headed into the stall that the rabbit had come from, since the girl had forgotten to change the switch in her haste.
	She hung her hat upon one of the hooks along the wall, and set her bag upon the short bench that was barely big enough for an adult to sit on.
	Unzipping the bag, she dug into it with giddiness. She was too excited to worry about what kind of trouble she might get into, as she pulled out the separate top and bottom pieces of the bikini she borrowed from her friend.
	She wished it was pink, but it didn't matter. The blue top and blue-striped bottoms were good enough by virtue of them being two separate pieces!
	She liked wearing her gymnastics leotards and one-piece swimsuits well-enough, but she had always wanted to wear a bikini. Her mom avoided telling her an outright no, choosing instead to misdirect with questions like: “I thought you were worried about your tummy,” and comments like “your father might like you to wait just a little bit longer.”
	She hung the bikini pieces up one hook over from her hat, and squatted down to pull off her dress. She blushed, for she had forgone underwear on the walk to the pool. For no other reason than her friend, from whom she borrowed the bikini, talked about going out in public without underwear, and how it gave her kind of a thrill.
	Her mom was right with her question. She was worried about her tummy, which she mindfully rested her hands over and pushed in on, sucking in a breath to help flatten the baby-fat out. But the bikini was the only swimsuit she had packed, so despite that anxiety, she was committed now.
	She started to try and put the bikini top against her chest, finding it difficult to handle the strings to tie it with while keeping it in place. She should have practiced putting it on at home.
	What of her dad wanting her to wait to wear one? What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and she was pretty sure her brother wouldn't tattle on her. In fact, part of the reason she had borrowed the bikini in the first place was to—
	”Trinity?” Came a voice, with a peculiar accent. “Aspettiamo per vo—”
	Stephanie turned about, holding the top of her bikini in her hands. She looked up as an adult mink half-stepped into the stall, but paused when he saw her.
	”P—Perdonami, signorina,” the mink apologized, ducking partway back into the hall. “Sorry,” he spoke again. “Was looking for my eh... daughter,” he explained.
	”Bunny, with purple bows on her ears?” The vixen asked.
	”Sì—Yes,” replied the mink.
	”She said she was going to find her sister.”
	”Ah, grazie, sorry to eh... barge in,” he apologized again, starting to duck out.
	”Wait-wait-wait!” The vixen called, stepping toward the entrance. The mink paused, and turned back to her, his blue trunks shifting due to the narrow space.
	”Che... eh... What do you need?” He asked.
	She blushed, raising up her left heel as she held up the bikini top. “Will you help me put on my swimsuit, mister?” She asked.
	The mink looked back, thumbing back out the small walkway. “I uh... Get your mother?” He asked.
	”I came with my brother,” she explained. “But he's busy signing us in. Just real quick?” She asked again.
	He took in a small breath, and gestured back toward the room. “Bene, bene, bene,” he muttered, ushering her in.
	Back in the stall, she handed him the top.
	”Girarsi,” he instructed, using his finger above her head to motion for her to turn.
	She did so, and he lowered the bikini top from above.
	”Hold in place,” he instructed.
	She placed her hand over the soft cups, giggling as she basically groped herself. While she held the top in place, he pulled the strings over her shoulders and began helping to tie them against the nape of her neck.
	”Snug? Not too tight?” He asked.
	”Think so,” she replied. She let out another giggle when his fingers found the strings near her sides, tickling her as she lifted up her elbows so he could pull them around her torso. She shivered as the string tightened around her, just enough to hold the top in place. The knot was tied, felt gently pressing against her spine.
	”Same?” He asked.
	”Uh huh.”
	”All good?” He asked.
	She stepped forward to grab the bottoms, and turning about. “These, too?” She asked.
	His muzzle pursed, and he flicked his hand in gesture for her to give them to him. He looked at them for a second, then proffered them back. “Erm... Hold in place, again,” he told her.
	She smiled, taking the bottoms. She righted them, and placed her hand against her privates, holding the fabric in place—once again, effectively groping herself.
	He took the strings on the left side, and very quickly tied them, fumbling once and having to redo the tie. When he finished, he stood up. “You can do other side. Need to find my girls. Bene?”
	”Benny,” she replied with a smile and a wave. “Thanks, mister,” she bid, as he very quickly walked out of the stall.
	”Non parlarne,” he replied, his voice carrying over the gap between the partitions and the sheet-metal ceiling.
	Sticking out her tongue with concentration, she attempted to tie the other side of her bikini bottoms, but had to try two or three times, and even then the tie was nothing like the mink man's ties—not quite as elegant and snug.
	She looked down at her attire, butterflies fluttering about in her tummy. It wasn't much different from regular underwear!
	She walked about a bit, feeling how the fabric shifted and brushed over her private parts with the motions of her steps. She ran a finger over the soft cups that covered her nipples, tugging them a little make sure they didn't pull free.
	Then, she did a few quiet jumping-jacks, just to make sure nothing slipped off—it felt like it would with every motion!
	Reassured that it would stay on, she began folding her dress and finding a spot for it in the bag, with the squirt-guns and diving sticks.
	After donning her sun-hat, she hugged the bag again to carry it, holding it from underneath one of the ends and peeking out from the side. She carried it down the walkway.
	”Steph? You still in there?” Called her brother.
	”Just comin' out,” she replied, spotting her brother's head peeking into the hut as she waddled towards him.
	”You can set that down, I'll carry it,” her brother told her, “I need your hand so I can put on your wriahhhs—“
	The vowel slipped off his tongue as his jaw dropped once she stepped from the bag she had placed. Beneath the broad-rimmed hat, he saw much more of his sister's fur than he was expecting.
	She smiled, holding one hand in the other behind her back. “How's my bathing suit look?” She asked, as if they were at home, and she was asking for his thoughts on some new clothes she had picked out.
	He blinked, trying to both avert his eyes from, and flit to, the light-blue triangles that kept his younger sister modest. “Wh—Where—?”
	”Where should we start swimming?” She finished his question with her own conclusion. “I say we splash around in the shallow, first,” she pointed to the shallow pool, where some of the younger kids scampered about.
	He managed to find the hinge of his jaw. “Uh-uh, where'd you get that bathing suit?”
	”Oh, what, this?” She asked, keeping her voice steady with innocence. “Mom got it for me a while ago.”
	It wasn't often he used the paternal tone with his sister. “I don't think so,” he said, very deliberately. “I bet if I told mom and dad what you were wearing right now, they'd freak and ground your butt.”
	”But you're not gonna tattle... right?” She asked, flashing him a fluttery wink and clasping-hand-twist that also involved an ankle bend for added cuteness.
	”Stephanie Erin Thomas,” he folded his arms.
	Her ears flattened out nervously.
	”You go back and change into a proper bathing suit, or we go home.”
	Her upper lip wiggled.
	”Uh-uh,” he lifted his chin. “Not gonna work.”
	”But she's wearing a bikini, see?” The vixen pointed.
	He glanced in her direction, and saw a slender, teenaged calico wearing a bikini with a lemon-yellow top and a lime-green bottom. “Yeah... She's also older... than...”
	He turned back to face his sister, only to catch her quietly dashing off toward the shallow pool. The wind gently blew, and her sun hat fell from its delicate perch on the upturned duffel-bag.
	He pursed his lips as he watched her little tuchus clad in blue as she entered the pool, water splashing up from her steps. Then, his posture faltered as something else happened. He blinked, looking about; no one was looking at him. He went to the hat and duffel-bag, picking them up and moving them in front of him as he walked.
	Stephanie waded to the middle of the shallow pool before looking back. She saw her brother walking with the bag and her hat, finding a deck chair to claim as their own. Once he settled, she pushed off the ground to drift above the floor in the water, and felt the bikini draw downward just a bit along her body.
	She felt like it was going to slip off, but it remained secure on her as she settled on hands and knees upon the plaster ramp that led into the pool. She stood, passing the mothers and young children, the girls in one-piece bathing suits like she used to wear.
	She tentatively approached her brother, pausing when he looked at her after setting everything down. He whisked his hand in gesture for her to come to him. She trotted up.
	”I'm still deciding whether or not to tell mom and dad,” he warned, reaching into is pocket to pull out a plastic band. “Gimme your wrist,” he said.
	”If you promise not to,” she said with sugar in her voice, “maybe I can make it up to you.”
	The button snapped, and the plastic was secured about the brown glove of fur.
	She was given a quizzical look, before she flashed him a smile and once again trotted off to the pool.
	Though they required a wrist-band, the water-park was modest. It didn't have anything extreme like a gigantic water-slide at a real water-park, but it did sport a few amenities of similar ilk.
	His sister splashed about in the wading pools, with the other younger kids. Though she was a bit old for it, she liked to start off there, where she remembered learning to tread water for the first time. In a couple of years, she could even assist and help teach the little swimmers the same lessons she had learned.
	While there were no big slides, there were still slides; small ones that had decent lines. The first was a small, open, straight chute; the second a taller, closed, straight chute; and the third a much taller, closed, twisting chute.
	These slides emptied into the main pool, which was fairly large, enough room for many families to meander about. In the back corner was a spa where mostly adults and old-people sat to get pruny.
	Naturally, recliners and umbrellas lined the decks, where women sunbathed and where the older brother got situated, pulling out the inner-tube.
	Though the park had inner-tubes, they were fairly big and black, so they were difficult for kids to use and heated up quickly. Many families brought their own tubes, along with their own toys. The one rule being that the family name and phone number had to be written on the equipment—if the family cared about going home with it, or having it returned if lost, for certain.
	The fox started to get light-headed as he blew up his sister's inner-tube to about halfway. He took a break to glance toward his sister.
	As was her nature, she had made temporary friends with a few of the other young boys and girls, and they were currently trying to hold a beach ball steady on one of the bubbling jets that shot up from the floor of the pool like a spring.
	With her height, she was able to push down where the other kids couldn't, while they tried to hold it steady. Then, she quickly stood upright, and the ball immediately shot up right at her face.
	He shook his head with a grin as he heard her and the other kids giggling at their antics.
	She kicked the spring, then put her foot on it. The lifeguard blew a whistle, and she quickly looked, and took her foot off—that was not something they liked the kids to do.
	So, instead, one of the younger boys stuck his rump out into the stream, making the water bounce off it, the other kids giggling, and one of the girls wanting to do the same.
	They took turns being silly with the water. Then, came his sister's turn. She was tall enough that the water went just about at her hips, so she did something that none of the other kids around her could: she stood so the water jetted up between her legs.
	She stood with her arms out to the side a bit, giggling at the other kids, letting the water splatter between her thighs and dribble back down her legs to foam upon the shallow water.
	At school, he heard whispers about girls using detachable shower-heads, and pointing them so that the stream splashed at the spot between their legs. Supposedly, that was something similar to how he let the stream of water tickle at the tip of his boyhood, when he set the shower-head to massage.
	”S'cuse me?” A voice called.
	”Hh—!” The boy gasped with a start, looking up.
	A stocky tigress was standing beside him, a small hand-pump dangling at her side in her grip. She proffered it to him. “Why don't you use my pump for your tubes?” She offered.
	”Oh, um... Thanks,” he shyly said, reaching for the pump. He started to get up, but quickly realized he wouldn't be able to. There was a second where he wasn't quite able to reach as far as she had extended it.
	She stepped forward, getting the pump within his reach. “I'm over there,” she pointed to a deck-chair a few spots over, “just drop it off if I'm not there.”
	”Thanks, again,” he said, slowly sitting back down.
	She smiled, “welcome,” and walked off to the spot she had indicated she was at.
	He fumbled with the pump, trying not to move so much. He very quickly wondered if he should go up a size in swim-trunks, because right now his were feeling a bit... Small.
	Despite having limited shifting-room, he managed to place the pump upright on the ground. He fumbled with the small, red nozzle, having trouble lining up with the pushed-in, puckered-looking hole of the inner-tube valve. After taking a second to use his fingers to guide it, he finally sank the nozzle into the hole.
	”Haaah!” He heard his sister moan.
	Looking up, nervously, he watched her whip round to face a boy that had a super-soaker.
	”Don't get my bows wet!” She barked at him while she started to chase him. A quick tweet of the whistle stopped her in her tracks.
	Taking deep breaths, the fox set his foot on the brace of the pump, and gripped the handle. He started to pump, the air gasping in as he drew, and sighing out as he pushed. It was like a steady, soft panting, timed to the rhythm of his pumping motion.
	Within just a minute the inner-tube was already swelled full of air, to the point where he had trouble holding the nozzle into the valve.
	”Ooo! Bro, it's so nice and firm.”
	”Gh!” The fox boy startled, having been so focused on his task, he didn't notice his sister approach. “D-Don't scare me like that,” he grumbled at her.
	”Sorry,” she said sweetly. “I think this is good,” she told him, “I can barely fit both my hands around it,” she remarked, demonstrating that the inner-tube was large and firm enough that she could barely touch her thumbs and index-fingers together. “And it's so pink!”
	”H-Hey, hang on,” he said, holding it before she could take it away. “Can you please take this back to that lady over there?” He asked her, picking up the pump and pointing to the tigress that was lounging on her deck chair.
	”Only cuz you said please,” she half-grumbled, snagging the pump and walking off.
	While his sister returned the pump, he very quickly used a tactic he had started since his stiffies happened more and more during school. It wasn't fun, but it was the only thing that worked in a pinch: he bit down on his tongue, almost hard enough to cut it.
	”Okaaaaaay,” said the young vixen, as she trotted back to her brother. “Can we go to the big pool, now?” She asked.
	”Yup,” her brother replied, standing up and letting her take the inner-tube.
	She slipped it over her, holding it up around her waist as they walked.
	The big pool was where the slides emptied into, and where most of the people swam. The life-guard whistles tweeted every few minutes, usually at an errant runner.
	The young vixen barely got tweeted at with how she trotted up to the edge of the pool. Bending her knees and holding the inner-tube tightly, she hopped in, letting out a small splash and several waves from her landing.
	She bobbed up and down in the water, feeling chilled around her tummy and back. This bikini was not at all as warm as her insulated one-pieces. Though the air was warm, the light drafts that tickled over her mixed with the cool water to send a shiver down her spine and water-logged tail.
	She watched as her brother waited in line at the diving board, treading water and avoiding clusters of other kids and adults that waded about it in the pool. When he was a few kids from the board, she gave him a wave to let him know she was watching.
	He waved back. The much older, very much chubbier hedgehog ahead of him stomped onto the board.
	The hedgehog's footfalls thundered down the board as he ran, and the board sagged a dramatic amount as he put all his weight on it before the jump.
	The tower of water that mushroomed up from his cannonball was impressive, and the waves that spread from the epicenter were made apparent when the kids in tubes began gently shifting and bobbing up and down.
	The fox boy stepped up onto the board. It wasn't his first dive of the season, but he didn't often dive in front of a whole bunch of other people, and a line looking at him.
	He found where his sister was, and took a running start. At the end, took a hop, his toes hanging just over the edge of the board as he pressed his palms together.
	The blue rapidly consumed his vision, until he closed his eyes, and the water swaddled him.
	The bubbles tickled as they grazed over his face and chest. The shouting and giggling sounded distant and muffled from the water filling his ears. He kicked, turning left, and popped up, shaking his head to wring the droplets free.
	A few girls a little older than him squeaked, and one of them splashed him.
	”Watch iiiiiit,” one of them admonished him in a sassy tone. “We don't wanna get wet.”
	He blinked, looking at them in confusion. Somehow that prompted them to splash at him again. He ducked under the water and swam some more, before popping up again, this time using his hand to brush the sheeting dribble from his eyes.
	”Aeden!”
	He twisted about in the water, and found his sister doggy-paddling in the inner-tube toward him. He gently swam toward her to meet her halfway.
	”Why were those girls splashing you?” His sister asked.
	His hands popped out of the water as he shrugged. “They said they didn't wanna get wet.” He replied.
	She cocked her head, letting out a confused “Rrh?” Then, she looked downward. “But...” She reached with a hand, patting the water with her palm. “We're in wet.”
	”I think they didn't want their hair to get wet or something,” he offered as a reason.
	”Oh, “she looked up with wide eyes. “Yeah! We don't wanna get wet,” she teased, splashing him.
	When the splash melded back into the pool, and he was left with water dribbling from his muzzle, he had on his face a half-shocked, half-pained expression—purely artificial.
	She whimpered. “Stooooop, you knew that was coming,” she remarked, her hand splashing across the water in gesture.
	He smirked, moving forward and hooking an arm into her inner-tube.
	”Heeeey,” she wriggled, “dish ish my toob, get yer own,” she grumbled.
	”This is both our tube,” he retorted. “Mom bought it.” He started to swim around, dragging her with him.
	”Mom bought it for me, it's pink. You want a pink tube?”
	”Don't care,” he replied, twisting her around as he swam in circles around her.
	”You're making me dizzy!” She huffed, gripping onto the inner-tube. “If you're gonna drag me around, at least take me to the big slide so I can go down it with you.”
	”Mm'fine,” he agreed, and started to swim toward the three slides.
	The three slides were always boasting a line.
	The first slide was for kiddies, it was barely a foot long and had no bumps; it even had a small platform under the water at the bottom so the toddler or young cub wasn't dropped right into the pool.
	The middle slide was much taller, with two bounces in it. Better for the older cubs, but still relatively calm.
	The third slide was where the fun was really at. It had its own platform, and it was a spiral-slide with a water-jet going all the way down. The end was half a foot above the pool, so that when the rider finished, they were dropped off into the water with a splash.
	Riders had to be at least ten to go down that slide, which the brother cleared by a year and then some. If kids were younger, like his sister, the only way they were going down was with someone that was older.
	This slide was also the reason she didn't wear floaties to the pool. Even with her mother or father, she was not allowed because the lifeguards saw the floaties as a caution she couldn't swim well enough, even though she had mastered the doggy-paddle, thank-you-very-much.
	They got into the line, water from their legs and her inner-tube dripping onto the deck around their feet. She bounced excitedly, eager to feel the rush of the water and the sudden drop; and then feel it again for at least another dozen times, if she had her way.
	A hyena and a beaver took the spot in line behind them.
	”Dude, you see that?”
	The fox boy's ears twitched as he heard the hushed voices.
	”Hehe, yeah, you can practically see her boobs!”
	He glanced back out of the corner of his eye, and saw they were looking off in another direction. Following their gaze, he saw a young teenaged leopardess that wore a strikingly similar bikini as his sister did, except that it was hot-orange.
	She walked with a friend that had a more conservative, green one-piece, but it was very snug around her chest, and he could even see two small bumps on each swell.
	”Earth to Aeden.”
	He snapped from his gazing, only to see his sister had stepped up a bit ahead of him. He briskly closed the gap with her, and the two boys did likewise behind him.
	She watched with delight as each person dropped off of the edge of the slide with a shout or a shriek, landing with a splash in the water amidst the dribbling trail of the jet.
	They reached the stairwell, and she slipped her inner-tube off to hold it beside her, once her brother pointed out it was a bit rude to wear the bulky thing on the stairs.
	At about his head's height, the fox boy had the butt of a mousette facing him, which made him turn to the side and look out to the slide.
	The pre-teen mousette talked with her apparent boyfriend, and other friend they had ahead of them. They were discussing some movie they had seen recently.
	Every once in a while the fox caught the mousette's tail brushing against him as she shimmied or bounced on her toes with laughter. Once, he even saw her thumb reach behind and pull the edge of her red swimsuit out, keep a wedgie at bay.
	It was even more awkward when the group ahead got to the middle platform, as now they turned to the side and he could see their fronts.
	His eyes flitted to the two girls every once in a while, catching glimpses of their suits wrinkling across their fronts. It was impulsive; he didn't really intend to but every few moments his eyes twitched and he stole a glance.
	”Can you hold?” His sister asked.
	He was bumped by the pink inner-tube, and he reflexively took it. He followed his sister up to the turn and she went right to the railing, leaning against it and watching the people ahead of them as they bounded the bend.
	With each pass, the jet of water would splash up along the curve, droplets flying over to land in the pool, and even on the deck.
	He was sort of glad to hold onto the tube; it gave him a distraction. When an errant thought started to wriggle its way into his daydreaming mind, he would wiggle or dribble the tube to fidget it away.
	”Heeeeey, be gentle with my pink.”
	His ear flicked, and he looked at his sister. “H-Huh?” He asked, muzzle slack.
	She snatched the inner-tube from his dribbling hand. “You're gonna pop it.”
	”It's rude to snatch things from people,” he admonished, gently pinching her ear.
	”Well, you were being too rough with my pink,” she retorted, holding the tube on the opposite side of her from him.
	”Why're calling it your pink?” He asked, his eyes glancing at the two boys behind him that were smirking at each other.
	”Cuz. It's mine and it's pink. And you better not pop my pink, you're gonna be in big trouble with mommy and daddy if you do.”
	The boys behind him were trying their best not to snicker too loudly.
	”Th—The line's moving,” her brother mentioned.
	”Eeeee, it's almost our turn,” she said with glee.
	The rush of the water jets was rather loud now, bubbling out from the neck of the slide. The lifeguard at the top waited a moment after each splash of the current riders landing, before tweeting the whistle. The next people waiting at the top would then push off, and swish past rapidly on their way down, sometimes with a squeal of delight.
	Finally, it was her turn!
	”Stand here, wait for brother,” the lifeguard instructed the vixen.
	She put the tube around her waist, and stood at the neck of the slide. The bubbling jet tickled her ankles, and she started to lift her feet up idly. But the lifeguard held her, cautioning her to stand still.
	Her brother scooted onto the slide behind her, sitting down and blocking the stream from her ankles. She squatted down, sitting against his lap.
	The fox wriggled behind his sister, the tube butting against his stomach. She wriggled out of excitement, and her rump rubbed against him. He flinched when a hand rested on his back, the lifeguard asking if he was ready.
	He nodded.
	The lifeguard counted to three, and helped to push them off.
	He held tightly onto his sister as they leaned back, feeling the jets of water crash against his back and shoulders, pushing him down along the hard surface that might otherwise pull his hide off if it was dry.
	She squealed with utter delight as they went round bends and turns, creeping up along the walls so that they were nearly sideways.
	After what felt like just a few seconds from the excitement, the slide suddenly disappeared from under the boy, and gravity took them wholly into its cradle.
	His sister's heightened squeal was quickly muffled as they hit the water and he let go, dunking under, and letting her tube keep her afloat.
	He surfaced, and saw she was trying to tread away from the falling water that splashed and sputtered on the surface of the pool. He swam to her, and gently took hold of her pink, swimming her away.
	The whistle tweeted above them, and the next slider went down.
	”That was so cool!” She frantically reminisced: “It was like woosh and swoosh and I was all eeeeek and then it was like whoops where'd the slide go and then all my blood rushed to my head and then it was all sploosh and I got scared cuz you let go and can we do it again!?”
	”Of course,” her brother said with a chuckle, swimming his sister to a ladder so she could climb out.
	When the vixen clambered onto the deck, just a few steps in front of her she saw a pair of purple bows at the base of a pair of tan-brown ears.
	When her brother was out of the pool, he saw the rabbit standing in front of them with her hands at her sides, looking at them. “Hello,” he said.
	”Uhm... Hi,” she said.
	”Trinity, right?” His sister asked.
	The rabbit seemed to squint with alarm. “I... didn't tell you that,” she stated. “How do you... Know?”
	”Oh, uh... From your dad.”
	The rabbit went straight from agitation to sudden nervousness. “M-M-My dad?” She looked around. “Where?”
	”Um... I dunno,” the vixen said. “He was a tall, white mink, right? Kinda funny voice?”
	The brother saw the rabbit's lop-ears flop down a bit, almost disappointed. “Oh... R-Right. My... My dad.” She returned her level gaze to them. “He's with my sis, now,” she stated.
	The fox boy glanced warily at his sister.
	”Oh, right,” the vixen bounced, holding onto her tube. “Trinity, this is my brother, Aeden.”
	”Hi there,” the fox boy greeted, lifting his hand in a calm wave. “Let's move out of the way of the ladder,” he advised his sister, as someone was getting out of the pool.
	”I like... Uhm... Your swimsuit,” the rabbit said to the vixen, once again almost like she was trying her hand at an appropriate compliment.
	She giggled. “Thanks.”
	”My sis has one like that,” she mentioned. “Dad says I'm not allowed to wear one till I'm older.”
	”Well,” the brother folded his arms. “Steph wasn't exactly allowed to wear one, either...” He remarked, giving his sister a paternal glance. “You two kinda have matching bows,” he pointed out.
	”Yeah, we saw that earlier,” the vixen said. “Hey,” she stepped up to the rabbit, “can I see how you tie yours? It looks different from mine.” She made to reach up for the rabbit's bows.
	”No! Don't touch them!” The bunny barked, stepping back and holding her hands over her bows.
	The vixen's hand snapped back to her chest and she took a step back. “S-Sorry, I didn't mean to...”
	The rabbit slowly lowered her hands. “They're... Special,” she said. “Um... My... My mom gave them to me.”
	”No big deal,” the vixen said, waving her hands dismissively. “Maybe you can show me later.”
	”Hey,” her brother said, “the line for the slide is really short, now.” He pointed.
	”Oh oh oh,” the vixen hopped up and down. “You wanna go down the slide, Trinity?”
	”Um... I'm okay, I don't like being in the water,” she said.
	”Oh... Okay, um...” The vixen looked to the slide, seeing another person getting in line.
	”You can go,” the rabbit offered. “I'm used to... Being left behind.” She said with a shrug. “I'll be around here... If... You wanna come by again. You don't have to, though.”
	”Um...” The vixen looked to the slide, seeing yet more people extend the line. “We'll just be real quick, then maybe we can find your sis,” the girl offered.
	”Okay, let's go,” her brother urged, “walk fast, with me,” he said, starting to power-walk toward the slide.
	His sister followed, fast as she could. The inner-tube she carried made it a bit awkward, since she had to hold it up with both hands around her waist.
	Suddenly, she kept going, but her inner-tube did not. “Huh?” She wriggled, twisting about.
	The brother pivoted when he heard his sister squeak. He saw the two boys from behind him earlier holding his sister's tube, the taller one pulling off the left bow from her hair.
	The blonde bundle of hair fell slack over her shoulder, evenly wavy from being twisted up in the tightly compacted sprout.
	Right away, he barked at the boys, dashing after them.
	They fled from his sister, the taller one carrying the bow, which whipped and fluttered from his clenched fist as he bolted.
	He dashed after, and from all round a set of whistles screeched at them. He could practically hear his sister sobbing, curled his posture tighter, and sprinted.
	The boys turned round the corner of the pool, glancing back only to see the fox shaving the corner by leaping across it. The younger of the two kept going, but the older one stopped and turned.
	The two boys collided, twisting and staggering, before tilting to the side, and crashing into the pool.
	Even under the water he could hear the blaring of the whistle. Bubbles scattered from his motions as he grabbed for the ribbon. His eyes stung from the chlorine, but with vision he was able to pry the pink strip from the boy's hand.
	Just before her brother surfaced, one of the lifeguards made it to him. She told him to leave the pool, extending her buoy out for the other boy to hold onto.
	”You okay?”
	The vixen glanced to the question.
	The rabbit doe looked up with some semblance of concern on her face. In her hands, her purple bows were held by the ends, pressed firmly together between her fingers.
	”Uhm...” Stephanie mindfully touched the half-curtain of hair that fell down to her shoulders. “I'm okay, just...” She looked at her brother, who was getting questioned by the lifeguard, along with the other boys.
	A moment later, he started walking toward them. They met him halfway. He extended the ribbon to his sister.
	”So...” He said, taking her hand and walking her.
	The rabbit followed.
	”They're asking us to leave,” he said.
	”What?” His sister paused. “Why!?”
	”Well,” he answered, leading them to their lounge chair. “Two things. First... Kinda cuz I chased that kid down.”
	”Not your fault,” she protested, “you were getting my ribbon back. Jerk,” she scoffed, looking back in the general direction where the boys were at.
	”But, second reason,” he held up two fingers, and then pointed them at her. “They said that... Your swimsuit doesn't meet their dress-code.”
	She paused, and took a quick glance down at her bikini, clinging tightly to her body and barely keeping her modest.
	”They said we can come back with our parents, but you've gotta wear a more concealing bikini or a one-piece.”
	”Hmph,” she stood with her arms crossed, as her brother lifted the inner-tube off of her.
	He motioned for her to sit, and went behind her to the other side of the lunge chair when she did. Taking her bow, he started to bundle her hair up. He glanced at the quiet rabbit, holding her bows in her hands. “Worried someone's gonna snatch your bows, too, huh?”
	She blinked, nodding. “They're lucky they took yours and not mine,” she remarked.
	”Why's that?” The vixen asked.
	”Cuz,” the rabbit replied, looking over her shoulder. “If they took mine I woulda ripped their thr—Uh...” She looked back to the foxes, the older one pausing in repairing his sister's hair-do. “Ripped... Their trunks, yeah,” she said, gathering her bows so that the loops didn't dangle from her hands. “That's... That's all I'd do. Nothin' else.”
	”Well, no one's hurt, and now you're good as new,” he dusted his hands.
	She reached up, touching the bun. “Little lop-sided,” she mentioned.
	”Best I could do without straightening your hair first,” he shrugged.
	”Um... Sorry you have to go,” the rabbit said. “I'm gonna... Go put my bows up with our stuff. Maybe I'll... See ya some other time.”
	”Sure,” the vixen smiled. “If you want, we can just hang out in the kiddie pool. I don't mind being there, if you don't like the big pool.”
	”Mmh...” The rabbit glanced away, in consideration. “Maybe. See ya,” she bid, scurrying off.
	”Bye,” the vixen waved, even though the doe was already well gone. She looked to her brother as he popped the release on the inner-tube, and it began to exhale. She grumbled again, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin in her hands.

* * *

	On the stove, the double-boiler bubbled as the chocolate began to melt.
	The young vixen drooled, her eyes watching the hunks sink into the deliciously dark puddle.
	”How's it looking?” Her brother asked, stepping up from behind. He grabbed a rubber spatula.
	”Gooooooooood,” his sister replied, as if hypnotized.
	”Get your apron on and you can help,” he told her.
	She smiled, and shuffled over to the cabinet where they stored the aprons. She definitely did not want to get her favorite heart-printed pajama pants messy. Even during the warm seasons, the house was kept cool enough that she could wear full pajamas year-round; she didn't much like the cold.
	Their mother hand-made their aprons. Hers read Kitchen Nightmare, as a loving joke.
	Her brother had picked Twerk The Cook when he prepared dinner, and had donned it again to make dessert. He checked the chocolate, stirring the melted nuggets and smooshing them in to finish them off. “We spread the layer even to make sure there aren't any clumps still melting,” he instructed, as his sister watched.
	”Now, let's measure out some cream,” he tapped the spatula over the edge, cleaning it.
	”Can I lick?”
	”Not yet,” her brother touched her on the nose. “Still need it. Get me a measuring cup, please.”
	She went to the cupboard and pulled out one of their several measuring cups. “This one?” She asked.
	”That'll do,” he replied, patting the counter. He proffered the bottle of cream to her, “will my assistant measure out two-thirds cup?”
	”Eyup!” She said, taking the bottle. With her tongue sticking out, she hovered the bottle over the brim of the measuring cup. The cream began to pour, and she carefully tilted it forward and back several times to make the amount rise in small bursts.
	When it just barely touched the designated line, she straightened up. “How'zat?” She asked.
	”Almost,” he replied, prompting to take the bottle. He moved it to his side, pointing at the line. “See how there's a tiny space, like a bubble, right here?” He pointed at the top of the liquid.
	”Um... Yeah,” she nodded.
	”That's called the meniscus, and you really want it to be on the bottom of it to be the best measurement.” He slowly tilted the neck of the bottle until just a little dribbled out, nudging the cream up a tiny bit more. “There we go,” he set the bottle down, and went to the microwave.
	”Now what?” She asked.
	”Just need to warm the cream up, because warm things mix together easier and we need to mix the cream with the chocolate,” he said as he punched a few buttons on the microwave to turn it on. “While that's warming up, we need the small colander and a bowl.”
	She went to another cabinet and pulled out a small glass bowl, while he retrieved the colander. He also retrieved their jar of strawberry jam. “Put the colander over the bowl,” he did so, “and let's put some jam into the colander.”
	She watched as he scooped out some strawberry jam with a spoon. She wasn't a huge fan of strawberry, but in small doses like this it was okay.
	”Now, we want to remove the seeds, so all we have to do is take this,” he used the rubber spatula from earlier, still with a little bit of chocolate on it, “and gently press the jam through, like this.”
	She watched as he set the spatula on top of the jam, and used his fingers to push the edge of the spatula down. Some of the jam squeezed through the colander, dropping into the bowl below.
	”Wanna give it a try?”
	”Sure,” she replied, taking the spatula. She pressed her fingers down, wiggling them to get the jam through the holes. She giggled, “sqooueeeeeesh.”
	”While you do that, I'll prep the banana,” he said. He went over the banana-holder, which always had a hand of a bananas dangling from it. He tore off a finger, pinched the bottom, and skinned it. Getting off the strings, he looked it over, finding a couple bruises. His sister did not like the bruises, nor did she like either end of the banana, so he set it down on the counter cutting-board, and with a paring knife, he shaved out the bruising and chopped off its nubby head and black feet. He didn't mind any of it, so he got a bit of extra banana out of it to pop into his muzzle.
	It was a perfect banana, not too firm, but nowhere near mushy.
	He sliced the banana in half length-wise, and laid it out on a long plate, the insides facing up. Then he went back to his sister. “How are you doing?” He asked.
	She lifted the spatula away, just as the microwave beeped.
	”Pretty good. How 'bout you start mixing the cream in the chocolate and I'll finish this?” He offered.
	”Okay,” she agreed, following him to the microwave. She watched as he poured the melted chocolate into a small mixing bowl, and she poured in the cream, which was now much runnier.
	Giving her the wooden spoon, he instructed, “don't whisk it, we just want it mixed in so it becomes a chocolate sauce, okay?”
	”Yup,” she affirmed, and started to stir.
	”Not even that rough,” he told her in a calming voice, taking her hand in his and guiding her. “Just like this, slow and even.”
	”Slow and even,” she repeated. She stirred and stirred, while he went to the jam and pressed it down to sieve the seeds. She watched as the white cream mixed with the dark chocolate, blending into a slightly lighter shade. As it cooled it was stickier and a bit tougher to mix, but she was wary of doing it too hard or fast.
	He scooped up the seeds from the jam and nibbled on them, breaking them in his teeth, and walked over to check on her. “How's it look?” He peeked into the bowl. “Get the edges, see how it crept up along the sides of the bowl?” He pointed.
	”Yeah, yeah,” she halfway huffed, working to bring the excess cream down into the mix. She glanced as he got another nugget of chocolate out, and set it on the cutting board. He used the knife to gently shave off edges of it. “Careful,” she said with worry.
	”Don't worry,” he reassured her, “I'm a trained professional, I—gah!” The knife tapped against the board sharply.
	Her eyes darted to him, and saw red on the cutting board, and his index finger missing at the first knuckle. She gasped, dropping the bowl onto the counter. “Aeden!” She squealed running over to him as he grimaced. “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh” she said rapidly and in a panic, her eyes flicking from the red-tinted knife, to his finger, to the red on the cutting board, to his wincing face.
	”Eeeeeeegh,” he brought his finger to his lips and sucked on it. “Mmm, I taste delicious,” he remarked, his demeanor completely changing.
	”Hh—Huh?” She looked down at the board, noticing that the red was a bit familiar in tint. She also saw that his finger was fine, as far as she could tell—not chopped off like she had initially thought. Wrinkling her nose, she pressed her finger on the board and scooped up some of the red, licking it.
	”You're not supposed to lick someone else's blood,” he teased.
	She glared at him. “You butt!” She growled.
	”You got some blood on your lip,” he told her, pointing.
	Her tongue whipped out, sweeping along her upper-lip, collecting the bit of strawberry that had clung there.
	”That wasn't funny!” She barked, seeing him snicker.
	”Okay, okay, you're right, it wasn't,” he agreed, picking up the knife gain. “Just gotta get some shavings off of this for garnish,” he said, continuing to whittle off pieces of the nugget.
	She watched his hands as closely as she could, a foot away. Her own hands were curled into tight, tense fists. Finally, when there were dozens of little bits of chocolate on the cutting board, he set the knife down, and she let out her breath.
	He scooped the shavings into an applesauce cup. “Let's see... We've got our drizzles, our sprinkles,” he tapped the applesauce cup, “the banana... What's missing?”
	”Ice cream!” She announced loudly, shuffling over to the freezer in her blue-striped socks. She squatted down, and pulled out the tub of Chocolot, her favorite flavor. It was chocolate ice cream, with chocolate fudge, and similar chocolate shavings, as her brother had made, mixed in.
	She slammed the tub onto the counter next to the plate, looking to her brother with a toothy grin.
	He opened the tub and started scooping out the ice cream. The scooper clacked as he let go of squeezing the handle, and it separated in the middle, the ball of ice cream falling right into place on the banana.
	Two more heaping scoops followed.
	”Now, we drizzle the sauces,” he said, retrieving a drizzling spoon. He started at one corner of the plate, drizzling the strawberry in a tight wave. He did the same with the chocolate from the other corner, so that they formed a double-helix across the ice cream.
	”Add the shavings,” he said, shaking the applesauce cup to sprinkle the chocolate shavings over the cream and on the plate. “And... Why not?” He went to the fridge, and pulled out the glass jar of cherries. Fishing three out with a small spoon, he dipped them into the chocolate, and placed them at the crest of each mound of cream.
	”Viola!” He announced, dusting his hands. “Banana Split.”
	”Mmmmmm...” She licked her lips, practically drooling. “It almost looks too good to eat!” She complimented, then added: “Almost.”
	”Well, let's at least wait to get to the table,” he teased, lifting up the plate while she grabbed the spoons.
	Though she was disappointed for having to leave the water-park, he had managed to keep his sister happy and occupied for the rest of the afternoon.
	She was even good at the store, where sometimes she was grumpy and bored while mom and dad picked up groceries. Maybe it was because they were getting some of the ingredients for the very dessert her twinkling eyes beheld at the very moment.
	They started off by eating the cherries that were closest to them. She picked up the middle cherry, and was about to nom the whole thing; but, instead, she bit half of it, and offered the other half to her brother.
	He declined, giving her the entire extra cherry, which she started to eat with a bit of guilt, but it soon slipped away as it sweetly slipped over her tongue.
	They dug in.
	The sugar began getting to her. She started talking a mile a minute as her ball of ice cream dwindled. She talked about plans for the summer. Wanting to invite friends over, new games and toys she was hoping to get, and some stories and gossip from recent sleepovers and play-dates.
	He listened intently, whittling away at the banana split with his sister. While she ate in layers, not even touching the banana, he was slicing off bits of the banana on the right with his spoon.
	After several songs had played on the home stereo, all that was left was a banana and a half amidst melted bits of ice cream and small puddles of chocolate-and-strawberry drizzle.
	”Gotta eat the banana, too,” he told her.
	”I will, I will, I will, I will, I will,” she said, quickly, and picked the banana up. She popped the end in her mouth, and started sucking on it.
	He raised his eyebrow. “What're you doing?” He asked.
	She looked to him, her gaze twitching rapidly. “Gettin' all the ice cream and chocolate off,” she told him, popping it back in and pushing it deeper in her mouth.
	He glanced away, a bubbling rising in his gut. A tingling stirred in him, tickling in his legs. He curled his toes, trying to settle it; his cheeks started to warm.
	She bit into the banana. “You okay?” She asked.
	He twitch-glanced at her. “Huh?” He asked, lips ajar.
	”Your face is all red,” she said, touching one of her cheeks.
	”Uhm... Just... Cuz of the ice cream,” he said. “Got cold, so, maybe my brain is trying to warm me up,” he explained.
	She nodded, biting into the banana. Then, she let out a whine.
	”What's wrong?”
	”Yghr, ghna—”
	”Can't understand you with your mouth full,” he admonished.
	She swallowed. “You're gonna say it's bed time now, aren't you?” She said, her tail wilting to the floor.
	”Well, it is pretty late,” he mentioned, looking at the clock. “Mom and dad would probably be upset if I let you stay up too late,” he remarked.
	She let out a yawn.
	”'Sides,” he said, letting the rest of his thought be implied because of her yawn.
	She let out a puff of her breath. “Fine. But only cuz now I'm cold,” she shivered.
	”You can go upstairs, I'll clean up the dishes,” he offered.
	With a giggle, she scurried up the stairs, bounding them with both hands and feet like a feral, as she sometimes liked to do. Surmounting the stairs, she righted up, and dashed into her room. Her made bed was messed as she scurried onto it, and wriggled beneath the plumb-colored comforter.
	With her muzzle and nose beneath the edge of the covers, her eyes peeked out. The small light sitting atop her dollhouse glowed, giving off a soft white light that served to ward the dark and all its denizens away.
	She patiently waited, letting the comforter trap her body-heat and warm her up, the shivers getting less common and dramatic.
	Downstairs, her brother shut the sink off and started the dishwasher. He yawned again; maybe he would sleep in a little bit tomorrow morning, he didn't have to mow all that early.
	Putting their aprons back in the cupboard, for they hadn't gotten that dirtied making dessert, he began the trek upstairs. His feet were sluggish and he yawned again.
	In his room, he changed into his pajamas. Preferring to be cooler, he had on a blue, button-down shirt that he only secured a few buttons along the way of. He also changed into a pair of clean boxer-briefs, that matched the shirt, which draped down enough to cover them a bit.
	Stretching and popping a few limbs, he made his way to his sister's room, to tuck her in. When he approached the door, her eyelids flipped up, for she was still very much awake. He sat upon the bed, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Might sleep in a bit tomorrow,” he told her. “But,” he added, “you can wake me up when you get hungry.”
	She wrinkled her nose when he tickled it, flipping the edge of the covers back over it to keep it from his fingers' touch.
	He leaned over, giving her kiss on the brow. “'Night,” he bid.
	But, just as he was about to get up, her hand flipped the covers up and she clutched his shirt, letting out a soft whimper.
	He sat back down. “It's not gonna storm tonight,” he reassured her, laying a hand on her hair, gently squeezing the bundles of her bows.
	”But, mom and dad aren't here...” She mumbled against her pillow.
	He was a turn-over well before he was a turn-down, when it came to his sister. With a few sleepy blinks and a sigh, he lifted up the comforter, and slid underneath.
	She shimmied away enough to give him room, but when he was settled, she sidled back next to him, wrapping her arms around him.
	He smiled, returning the hold onto his sister, while she buried her muzzle between her pillow and the crook of his neck, where she liked to hide.
	With her breath tickling against the nape of his neck, he closed his eyes.
	She was warm; beneath the comforter, and wearing her pajamas, she was like a tiny furnace. He slipped a leg out from the comforter to let some of the heat out.
	As they breathed softly and hugged close, she would wriggle and shiver every once in a while, lifting her brother's consciousness like a warm draft lifting a balloon.
	Adrift between alert and slumber, he began to half-dream, and touch became more sensitive. Some fits of memory from the day slipped into his mind, especially around the pool.
	He recalled his sister standing over the bubbling jet of water. Except, the half-dream added a twist to the memory: instead of wearing that little blue bikini, she was completely naked.
	A wriggle touched him, close. A part of him liked it. It sought it out, firming and poking outward.
	She let out a hum and a moan. Her cheeks got warm, as did his.
	He could almost feel the cool water splashing against his own groin. But then, it was warm, and rather than a jet pushing against him, it was a small whirlpool that pulled away from him, in a sucking way.
	Then it was his sister. She sucked on her thumb, still naked.
	He offered his, eagerly.
	She took his hand, holding and cuddling it, and began sucking on his fingers.
	He hummed, feeling warm, like relaxing in the sun.
	He tingled and tickled in a strange way.
	They were on the slide, the water jets rushing all around them. He was naked, with her naked, too. She sat on him, and he hugged her. He was stiff, sticking up between her legs, and her thighs were wrapped about him, like a hug.
	They inched forward. Ever-so-slowly the water jets pushed them, the slide sloping just a little further down. His heart raced as he anticipated the sudden drop, his whole body starting to quiver.
	Then, it happened.
	With her held in his arms they started to rush down the slide. Darkness turned to white, and he felt dizzy and let out a gleeful shout, but to his ears it sounded weaker and softer.
	His whole body shivered and quivered as the water pushed and bounced him from side-to-side with the motions of the slide, until suddenly everything was nothing beneath him, and he dropped.
	”Hh!” He gasped, flinching as his eyelids burst open.
	Between his legs, his stiffened foxhood throbbed, and he let out a soft moan as a wave of pleasant warmth splashed over his face and shoulders. Something pushed out of him, and it felt wonderful to do that.
	As a sort of weariness settled over him, he started to get his bearings. He stared at the three-hearts painting his sister had done, hanging on her wall; the second-place ribbon held by the tack in the lower-right corner.
	But while his eyes stared, it was more what he felt that he focused on.
	Between his legs, he felt very warm. He also felt strangely... snug. His stiffness was confined, and slippery. With lazy blinks, he realized that neither hair nor head of his sister was obstructing his view, and that was why it was odd he stared at her poster.
	Then, a rush of bubbles spread from his groin all the way up his chest and down his shins, when a gentle tug pulled on his softening foxhood. Most of the slipperiness pulled away with the suction, leaving behind the snug warmth.
	He squirmed, his fingers touching a cheek and brushing hair. He pushed the covers away from his chest, and looked down.
	A pair of glowing green irises flickered as the little vixen blinked. She let out a whimper, and he felt it all along his half-soft foxhood.
	Then his loins felt cold and damp as he slipped out of her muzzle. The elastic of his underwear snapped back up, catching his boyhood in its path. He grunted, reaching down to straighten out the discomforting snag he found himself in.
	Suddenly, the covers burst with commotion. The little mound that outlined his sister's body under the comforter went limp, and he heard a thump. He patted around, feeling that she wasn't there.
	He leaned over, looking down in the shadows between the tables, hearing her scurry. Before he realized where she was, he caught her tail swishing as she slipped out the door, little footfalls carrying down the hall.
	He dashed after, following where he thought she had gone, thundering down the stairs. The automatic light clicked on. It took him several sleepy seconds to realize that the light clicked on from him, and if she had come downstairs, it would have been on already.
	He turned it off, just in case he might notice it on later if she tried to run downstairs, and went back up.
	”Steph?” He called. He walked to the bathroom, flicking on the light. He closed one eye, still not used to the brightness, but didn't see her in the shower stall.
	”Steph,” he called again, heading toward his room. He kept the door open, listening for her in case she scurried around to another room or downstairs to keep hiding, but checked several spots in his room.
	She sometimes liked to play hide-and-seek, and despite how often she won, she was not actually very good at hiding.
	He checked the other rooms, mindfully keeping an eye downstairs for any lights, but eventually he made his way back to her room. He walked in, shutting the door behind him, and approached the bed.
	He paused for a few seconds, before getting down onto his knees. He leaned to the side, lifting up the skirt of her bed.
	There, amidst another whimper, were her green eyes once again, this time her face caught by some of the light that snuck its way into her hiding spot.
	He let the ruffle fall, and crawled back onto the bed. The mattress springs squeaked as he did, quieting when he settled.
	A few moments later, the carpet scuffed, and her tail popped up over the edge of the bed. Then came her little dark-brown fingers, followed by her red ears, and once again her green eyes.
	He blinked, holding her gaze.
	She let out a soft vocal mumble, preparing her voice before she asked: “How much in trouble am I?”
	He shrugged, patting the bed next to him. “I could ask you the same,” he remarked.
	She climbed onto the bed, sitting on her knees.
	“What... Were you doing?” He asked, though he mostly knew.
	Her ears flattened, and she looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She mumbled her answer.
	”Hm?” He asked.
	”I was... S-S-Sucking on your neener,” she said, a little clearer.
	He sat up, crossing his legs. “Why?”
	”C-Cuz,” she mumbled, her knuckles kneading her thighs. “The... The girls in gymnastics was talkin' about boys' neeners, cuz one of the boys... He was like... We could see him... In his tights... They all said they seen one, and thought I did, cuz...”
	He uncrossed a foot to pester her with it a bit. “Cuz why?” He asked.
	”Well, cuz... Cuz the other girls with brothers and boyfriends said they saw theirs.”
	”So what'd you say?” He asked, genuinely curious.
	She let out an embarrassed whimper. “I told 'em I hadn't... They didn't believe me,” she said.
	”We did used to take baths together,” he replied. “But... How'd you go from just talking about it with the other girls to... Y'know?” He pinched the elastic around his waist, pulling it up a bit and letting it gently snap back into place.
	She swallowed, blushing. “Cuz they... Started talkin' about... That.. And... And other stuff...”
	”Like what other stuff?” He asked.
	She let out a whimper, squirming. “I dunno if I should say... I... I don't wanna get them in trouble, too...”
	He smiled, reaching out to touch her hands. “You're not in trouble,” he told her. “Besides... Some of the boys at school have been talking about the same stuff,” he told her.
	”Really?” She asked, a bit of relief in her voice.
	He nodded.
	”Like... Like what do they say?” She asked.
	He shrugged. “Same stuff, I guess. About how girls don't have neeners,” he said. “And... Y'know... Boobies and stuff,” he added.
	She giggled. “So... You're not... Mad?” She asked.
	”Well...” He set his hand down on the bed, and looked her in the eyes.
	Her demeanor receded again; ears falling back, eyes sad, and muzzle pointing downward.
	”I'm not mad, but... Have you...” He took in a breath, thinking of how to put it. “Was this the first time you sucked on my neener?” He asked her.
	She shook her head.
	”I thought so,” he remarked. “I've been... Having these dreams, funny enough the last few times we've been sleeping together,” he mentioned.
	She nodded. “I... Waited till you fell asleep,” she told him.
	”Cuz you knew it was kinda naughty, huh?”
	She squirmed, nodding. “But... I just... Uhm...”
	He scooted closer to her. “You don't have to feel... Bad,” he said, giving her a hug. “Just... Maybe next time, talk to me before doing stuff. We coulda both got in trouble if mom and dad found out.”
	She nodded.
	”Did you... Tell the girls?” He asked.
	”No no,” she shook her head. “I haven't told anyone.” She reassured. “The other girls didn't say they did, but even if they did I wouldn't.” She pouted. “I may be blonde but I'm not dumb.”
	”Not when it comes to getting in trouble,” he agreed, patting her on the head.
	”Other things, too,” she protested.
	”Mhmm,” he replied, continuing to pat her head.
	”You're being mean,” she grumbled.
	”Says the one who pulled down her brother's undies without telling him,” he teased.
	But, right away, he saw he had struck a nerve.
	She started to tear up, sniffling.
	”Hey, hey,” he lifted her chin, and gave her nose a kiss. “I'm sorry, I told you not to feel bad...” He reminded himself.
	”I'm sorry, too,” she said. “I won't do it again.”
	”Well...” Now it was his turn to get fidgety. “You don't... Hafta not do it again. Just, ask me, or tell me, first,” he told her.
	She smirked, nervously, then it fell to a weak smile. “So... You liked it?” She asked.
	He looked down at his feet as he changed to sitting half on his side. “It felt... Good,” he admitted.
	She let out a light squeal, swaying back and forth. “The other girls said boys did,” she explained.
	”What's it... Like?” He asked. “I mean... Isn't it kinda weird?” He asked.
	”Kinda,” she nodded. “The first time was... But, um...” She bashfully wriggled. “I just... Kept... Kinda sucking, and you got all twitchy, and then...”
	He let the air pause with her trailing words for a second. “Then what?” He asked.
	”You started... Uhm... White-peeing,” she told him.
	”White-peeing?” His eyebrow raised.
	”Y-Yeah,” she said, “th-that's what the girls called it. Wh-When a boy pees the white-stuff instead of the regular pee.”
	He made a face. “They make it sound gross,” he remarked. “See... This is why you shoulda talked to me... Even if it's naughty,” he admonished. “When the other guys talk about it... They call it cum.”
	”Cum,” she repeated the word.
	”It's spelled different,” he told her. “But... Are you sure I did that?”
	She nodded. “The girls said, they said it was totally not like water. And... It's not. I know.”
	”What's it like?” He asked.
	”Um...” She blushed, biting her lip. “It's... Well, the first time... I thought it was, like, snot or something,” she told him.
	He looked a bit concerned. “Oh... That doesn't sound good,” he mumbled.
	”Well, wait, hang on, that was the first time,” she was quick to say. “Um... The second time it... I didn't think that. It was just... I dunno, it was whi—cum,” she tried to explain, using the new word. “They also said it would taste bitter and salty, but, it doesn't. Maybe a little, but not like they were saying.”
	By now, he could feel himself stiffening. “Was there... A lot, or a little?”
	”Oh it's a lot,” she replied.
	His boxer-briefs suddenly lifted as her answer hit his ears.
	”...Um, bro?”
	He looked up, swallowing. “Yeah?”
	”Are you... Getting shtiff again?” She asked, cutely leaning forward and saying the naughty word differently.
	“Talking about this kinda did that,” he admitted with a nod.
	”I kinda saw it a couple times at the pool, too,” she told him. “Maybe... My bikini did that?” She asked, fluttering her eyes.
	”The one you weren't s'posta wear, ya mean?” He countered.
	She wrinkled her nose in disappointment.
	”You did look cute,” he told her, “but, maybe we should tone it down a bit?” He gestured, turning an imaginary dial.
	She nodded, looking at his underwear again. “I could, uhm... I could suck on it again, if you want me to.” She offered, half nervous and half excitedly.
	His smile twitched. “Hey, um... Did the girls ever talk about, y'know... Doing it?”
	Her tail puffed out a little, and she bashfully looked away. “You mean, like... When a boy puts his neener in a girl's pink?” She asked, innocently.
	He nodded.
	”Nope. Haven't got a clue,” she answered. Her face betrayed her shortly after, followed by some giggles.
	”Psh, yeah right,” he teased her, poking her all over.
	”'Ey, 'ey, 'ey!” She batted at his hands, finally catching them. “You sound like you know a lot more than me, huh-huh-huh?” She stuck out her tongue.
	Sticking his tongue out, he very quickly touched it to hers.
	She flinched, pulling away, covering her muzzle with her hand.
	His tongue drooped, and he pulled it back in.
	”That... Felt weird...” She told him. Then, her hand dropped, and her tongue stuck out. “Thoo I' again,” she told him, leaning forward.
	He placed his hand on hers, leaning forward as well. He stuck out his tongue, and leaned closer, until the broad faces of their tongues touched together.
	She let out a giggle, feeling his slippery, warm tongue rest against hers. Then, the tip of his tongue went up along hers, making her wriggle from the strange feeling of her tongue getting done to it what it usually did; then he went up further, licking her upper-lip, nose, and beyond to the bridge.
	Her other hand patted the bed as she pulled away. “That tickles,” she huffed. “That is so not how you kiss, though, just FYI” she told him.
	”Heh, and how do you know th—” His question was cut when her muzzle darted forth toward his.
	”Rrrmhm!” They both grunted, after their teeth clicked together. They covered their mouths, soothing the discomfort.
	”Thrss derfrnrtly nrt hr t' krss,” her brother remarked, rubbing his tongue over his gums to check for a coppery taste.
	”It looked easy when the girls did it at the sleepover...” She grumbled.
	”Not all practice makes perfect,” he advised.
	”I didn't practice,” she said, with a wrinkled muzzle. “Wasn't about to let my first kiss be with another girl. Geh-ross.”
	”Wanna practice, then?” He offered.
	Her tail twitched, subtly puffing again, and her posture softened. “We... We could,” she mulled. “You're not a girl, at least.”
	”Last I checked,” he agreed. Then with a smirk he added: “Last you checked.”
	Her ears flattened. “Fine. But only cuz it doesn't really count, cuz you're my bro.” She reasoned. “Right?”
	He shrugged. “It doesn't count cuz we're just practicing,” he offered as a different reason.
	She smiled, her tail giving one brush-stroke from one side to the other.
	”Okay, so,” he looked up, thinking for a second. “Kissing, is like whisking,” he started to explain.
	”Heeeere we go,” she teased, rolling her eyes.
	He gave an squinty-eye, but continued. “If you whisk too hard, it'll wind up like what just happened—doesn't feel good. But, whisk too soft, and it's like you didn't kiss at all.”
	”This sounds kinda like Goldilocks.”
	He sighed. “Okay, listen, here's what we do. I'm gonna close my eyes, and let you try again. This time, just... Go slower, and press more once you actually touch my lips,” he told her.
	What that, she saw him close his eyes, and poise for the kiss.
	She licked her lips, heart pounding. Scooting up to her brother, she held his cheeks in her hands to keep him steady.
	He patted the comforter, encouraging her on. A second later, her lips lightly brushed his, and then pressed firmly.
	The kiss lasted for several seconds. Long enough for a bit of drool to creep out around their lips. At last, when his head felt light from holding his breath, she pulled away, a thin strand of spittle breaking and falling down his muzzle.
	They both wiped their lips on their sleeves, looking at one another.
	They both had a furious blush on their cheeks.
	”S-So... Uhm...” She looked at him with a bashful smile. “How was that?”
	”That was... P-Pretty good,” he said with a nod.
	She let out a questioning whimper. “Pretty good?” She asked, displeased with that response.
	”I-I mean, for a first-kiss it was great, but it was pretty tame.”
	”Whaddaya mean, tame?”
	His hands slowly reached up, and rested on her cheeks. He neared, gazing into her eyes, before closing his.
	She closed hers, and felt her brother's lips press. For a moment, it was a kiss just like she'd giving him. But, then, something else happened; his tongue began to wriggle out against her muzzle. With a flutter in her tummy, her teeth parted, and his tongue darted in, and began touching her own tongue.
	He slid underneath it, tickling her frenulum, and then fencing with the tip before dominating and sliding over.
	The kiss parted with an audible gasp from both of them, but their noses stayed touching, trading breaths over one another's muzzle.
	”What... Was... That...?” She whispered.
	”Girls aren't the only ones that practice kissing at sleepovers,” he remarked.
	”What else do boys practice?”
	”You wanna—” His voice caught, when she looked him back in the eyes, her hand on his stiffness. He blinked, when her fingers touched either side, tentatively squeezing it to test its firmness.
	He swallowed, their mix of saliva lingering in his throat.
	”You want... Me to show you?” He asked, heart thumping in his chest.
	Her posture curled a little.
	He regretted his question right away at the look on her face. It was nervous and uncertain. “N-Nevermind, heheh, I was just ki—” His attempt to pull back the proposition faltered when she grabbed the collar of her shirt, and started to tug it off.
	The shadow swept up the wall, and back down, as she tossed it toward the table in front of her poster. It landed, draping over the edge.
	Despite how hot he felt, it must have been rather chilled from the AC. The small pink buds on her dormant chest were pert. It wasn't the first time he had seen them, nor the first time he had seen them sticking out; but, this time, he focused on them a little more than he otherwise might. He rested a hand against her, underneath one of the excited beads, and touched the pad of his thumb over it.
	She giggled, and reached for his shirt. While he touched her nipple, stroking it and giving her little tickles of delight, she began freeing the buttons from their fastenings, exposing her brother's own chest.
	When she had all of them undone, she tugged at the shirt, and he complied; it slipped over his head. She slid it toward the edge of the bed before letting it go, and it clung on just barely.
	Grinning, she pressed her thumb upon one of his nipples. “Mine are cuter,” she declared.
	”Well duh,” he rolled his eyes. “Yours work. Mine are just...” He placed his fingers astride one, and squeezed, “wonk,” he said as it squished between his fingers.
	She snickered, pulling off her socks and letting them drop wherever they cared to land. She rolled up onto her back, the black pads of her feet sticking up in the air, as she tugged off her pajama pants.
	When her little tush showed in her undies, he couldn't help but reach out and give it a little pinch; something he sometimes did, even when it was fully clothed.
	She yipped, her feet kicking, sending the pants against the wall. They were caught by the headboard, limply hanging down. When she sat upright, she gave him the most convincing glare of anger she could—which wasn't much, considering she was more excited and nervous about she and her brother only being in their underwear.
	They sat, eyes wandering over each other for a few moments.
	She ogled the tent that had formed in his boxer-briefs, which was very much more pronounced than the boy her age that had gotten stiff in his tights.
	His glances were fleeting, at first. But then he unabashedly appreciated her with his brown-eyed gaze, watching the two cherries printed on the front of her panties sway with her fidgeting side-to-side rocking.
	To break the moment, his toes touched against her black foot-pads, tickling them. That made her squirm even more, which in turn made the crotch of her tight-fitting panties show peeks of the cruxes of her thighs.
	”C'mere,” he bid, “gimme a hug.”
	Eagerly, her upper-body rolled forward and she was crawling over her brother. Her knees straddled either side of his thighs, and she settled her body over his, her hands sliding between his back and the pillow on which he reclined.
	He wrapped his arms around her, and suddenly he realized just how chilly it was, with her warm body against his. His foxhood was a little uncomfortable, squished between them with tension against his underwear. But, he enjoyed the gentle pressure all along him, teasingly light as it was.
	”Wanna kiss in our undies?” He asked.
	In response, she closed her eyes, and poised for the kiss.
	He met her, and after their lips touched for a few seconds his tongue took another turn sliding into her muzzle. As he explored her mouth and tickled her own squirming tongue, his hands wandered down her back, to touch her rump.
	While he had touched her panties, it was only during laundry. Never before had he really touched them. His fingertips traced the trim, feeling how the fabric unevenly bunched and waved toward the elastic.
	She let out a giggle, the fingertip tickling along her rear cheek. She took this as a silent agreement, and lifted her hips up just a bit. One hand receded from its hiding place behind her brother's shoulder, and found a new one between their fronts.
	She felt his breath and motions pause for just a second of surprise, and stopped as well. But then, when he continued, she relaxed, and moved her hand.
	She touched him over his undies, feeling the firm stiffy once again. She tentatively pressed it against his tummy, the heel of her palm near his base and the tips of his finger near the tip of his foxhood.
	She was momentarily startled when a soft murmur slipped from his throat and into her muzzle. Then, in her moment of stillness, his fingertip traced down the trim, toward the join of her thigh, before it slipped over her undies, and rested against her vixenhood.
	He paused, as he felt the subtle pull of air from his muzzle to hers. But then, against his fingertip, there was a subtle twitch, and her tongue brushed against his.
	Her gentle hand-press mirrored the press of his finger between her legs. She felt a tingle, somewhat familiar, but also very different. Her heart raced, and at first she thought she felt it in her palm, until she realized.
	The kiss broke, slobber everywhere around their muzzles. “You okay?” She asked.
	”Y-Yeah, you?”
	”Your neener's...” She let her voice trail as she touched it with her fingers. “Oh, okay... It's like, beating like your heart,” she chuckled. “For a second I was like... I dunno...”
	Suddenly, the stiffness in her hand swelled for just a second, before calming back down to how it was just before.
	”That?” He asked.
	”Wh-What was that?” She asked.
	”It can flex a little,” he explained, doing it again.
	She grinned, squeezing it while it throbbed. “I thought you were, I dunno... Did something wrong,” she tried to explain, her mind fuzzy, as his finger continued to touch and rub her vulva over her underwear. “Looking for my pocket?”
	”I-I was just...” He paused, his finger receding.
	She smiled with a blush, and lifted up.
	Their chests once again felt chilled, having gotten used to the warmth between them.
	”I can show you where it is,” she said, standing up on the bed and looking down at her brother. She pulled her underwear down, teetering from having to balance on the mattress as it depressed from her shifting weight.
	He held her steady, bracing her as she lifted a foot to pull it through. He held her steady as she squatted back down to straddle him again, flicking her wrist.
	He was too captivated by her downy-furred mound, and she too nervously watching his captivation, to notice that the panties had landed on her lamp.
	He brought his knees up, supporting her as she placed the pads of her feet upon the sheets, her knees pointing out on either side. He saw her vixenhood in a way he had not before.
	Even when he had previously seen her naked, in baths or when she tried on new outfits, it had always been tucked-away; never overtly displayed. The most he had seen, and not even to say he was looking, was the peek of her cleft. Or, perhaps once or twice, she had wound up sitting this way in the tub, but her girlish parts were obscured by bubbles and rippling water.
	But now, bared so explicitly before him, he saw the petite, slightly-chubby, downy-furred lips of her girlhood.
	After a few seconds, his gaze flitted to her eyes, and she had a hand over her muzzle, as if bashful. The other was resting over her tummy, as if tempted to cover herself, but resisting the urge.
	”R—Ready for me to show you?” She asked.
	He nodded.
	She shifted a little, widening her thighs more; she could also feel his stiffness underneath her tush. It nestled comfortably between her cheeks, and the worry she was making it uncomfortable slipped away as her hand slipped down to her mound.
	”I can't really see it well, in the mirror,” she told him. “But I know where it is, so... I just gotta...”
	He watched with a thudding heart as her index and middle fingers covered the gently-pressed lips of her vulva together, and then split.
	She felt a rush of bubbles when she saw him sit up a little, peering closer. Using her other index finger, she touched it against the middle finger she used to open up her pink, and followed that along until she found the small depression in her soft flesh. Her knees twitched when the pad of her fingertip covered the entrance to her vagina.
	”R-Right here,” she said, and then pushed her finger in, “see?” Beneath her tush, she felt his neener almost quivering with how twitchy it was. She felt her own vestibular muscles twitching around her finger from the tickles that putting her finger in caused, and right away started to associate the two as the same. “Does your neener... Feel all tickly, too?” She asked.
	”Uh-huh,” he replied.
	”Thought so; I can feel it. This is where it goes, right? To do it?”
	He swallowed. “Th-Think so,” he answered.
	She pulled her finger out. “Okay,” she said, pulling her finger out. She looked at it for a second, for she noticed that it had gotten rather... wet. She felt it on her other fingers, too. She let out a whimper.
	”What's wrong?” He asked.
	”I feel... M-My pink is,” she let out another embarrassed whimper, “w-wet, but I didn't pee,” she told him.
	”I think that happens, cuz...” He hesitated. “Um... Cuz, when I get those tickles, my neener starts getting kinda wet, too, but it's not pee.” He shifted under her, which made her change from leaning back to leaning forward, pressing her vulva against him, only his boxer-briefs separating their genitals from touching.
	They looked at each other, and she lightly twitched when she felt him throb between her legs.
	”W—Wanna see?” He asked.
	She donned a mask of guilt. “I... I kinda already have...” She admitted.
	”Well, you showed me,” he told her, patting her thigh. “So, now we're fair.”
	She smiled.
	”Except,” he tilted his head from one shoulder to the other, “I'm still in my undies.”
	”Hmph, so we're not fair.” She told him.
	”Then make us fair,” he retorted.
	She squirmed.
	”What's the matter?” He asked.
	”You're gonna make me pull your undies off?” She asked.
	He smirked. “You've done it before when I was sleepin',” he reminded her.
	She let out another embarrassed whimper, but even while doing so she scooted back. Taking hold of the elastic band around his waist, she carefully lifted it up and pulled it down.
	He raised his hips to help her, and in doing so his boyhood predominantly stood up at the crest of his raised pelvis. He glanced down at her as she paused; she looked to the side, but was clearly ogling her brother's stiffy at-attention.
	With a shimmy of his knees, she returned to her task of pulling off her brother's underwear. She got down to his ankles, and then left them, unable to resist the long, warm, and firm part of her brother she had come to enjoy suckling.
	As she crawled back up to her desire, he slipped a foot free of his underwear, to be able to widen his legs.
	This gave her vantage she had never had before, which made her pause. She watched it wiggle for a second, like the stem of a flower that had been gently shaken. When it settled, sticking straight up, her eyes fell to its roots, where her brother's balls were snuggled taught against his sheath.
	She cupped them. “Why are they all close like that?” She asked.
	He cocked his head. “What do you mean?” He asked.
	”Your boyberries,” she said, then bit her lip. “Um... When I... Y'know... Was suckin' on your neener... They were always, kinda... Like, not as close to you,” she tried to explain.
	”That's cuz I'm kinda cold,” he told her. “When I'm cold, they pull in to be warm. When I'm warm, they can kinda relax.”
	She whimpered, her muzzle dipping to her cupped hand, which she pried partly away. She opened her mouth wide and began to blow, her warm breath swaddling her brother's sac.
	He squirmed, chuckling. “What're you doing?”
	”Warming them up,” she cutely whined out of sympathy.
	They don't need to be warmed up,” he told her, tousling her hair. “They're okay. They get like that even if I just take a shower in cold water. It's not like an achy cold. Besides,” he rested his hands on her back. “You're the one that's cold,” he observed.
	She had picked up a shiver, especially since it had been long since they were hugging together. Seeking that warmth again, she crawled forward like she had before when he bid her to hug him.
	But, this time, as she straddled his waist, his foxhood and her vixenhood were no longer concealed by their underwear. When she started to settle on him as she had before, she gasped; his stiffness quivered against her petals.
	She lifted up, and looked down. It tilted toward his belly, and she saw the red tip like it was sticking out from between her own legs. She glanced at him, and saw that he was breathing softly from his parted lips.
	Glancing back down, her fingers were already on their way. She slid them over her lower lips, as she had done before, and opened her pink as best she could.
	This time, instead of her fingertip going to her middle finger and using that to find the entrance, she reached further out, and found her brother's stiffness.
	She touched his tip to her middle finger. A curious bit of warmth spurted onto her, sticking to her finger and the softness of her pink. She used that warmth to help guide her, touching the tip upon her tender flesh.
	She felt tingles and bubbles all over as she moved the tip about, fumbling a little bit. It wasn't quite as easy as when she could feel everything herself, and that warm stickiness was starting to get everywhere where she was soft and furless.
	Then, they both softly gasped.
	Her hands slowly lifted away, and as she did, his stiffness didn't flop back down away from her. It throbbed, and her thighs twitched, and then a burst of warmth rose up her tummy as her ring around his crown fluttered.
	His hands rested on her hips. Looking up at her, he tentatively pushed up, holding her in place.
	He slid in just a bit more.
	Her breath puffed, and she went limp for just a split-second, teetering forward. Her hands pushed out, her palms catching on his chest, barely able to keep her steady.
	He huffed, the soft impact barely startling him as he felt a warm wetness beginning to trickle down his length and find its way to his sheath.
	Both siblings held their breath for a few seconds.
	While they did, she started to ease down.
	When he felt her easing, he matched her, gently pushing down and up with his hands and pelvis.
	Their eyes went cross, their breaths leaving them as he slowly, but gently, slipped into her.
	There was no pain for her. She had accidentally torn her hymen in a botched attempt at jump-splits on the trampoline during gymnastics. She happened to be wearing a red leotard then, so she had merely thought she'd snagged a muscle, and forgot about it moments later when the ache subsided; the blood of her tearing going unnoticed and disguised.
	So the only discomfort she felt was in having to accommodate her older brother's size. But, with how gently and slowly he eased into her, that discomfort was mostly akin to the feeling of pulling out on her belly, where her brother's girth dilated her passage taught for the first time.
	He reveled at the snugness around his foxhood. It was soft and tender, with a kind of natural squeeze. It was like swaddling up in a duvet in front of the fireplace.
	Suddenly, the downy fur of his sheath, and the supple pink at her entrance, softly kissed together.
	Shivering, she lowered onto him, and was wrapped by his arms.
	He kissed her again, tongue pushing into her muzzle, now a familiar and delightful feeling for the two.
	Her forehead and cheeks tingled. It was strange, but with his tongue in her mouth and his neener in her pocket, it was like two pins closing a circuit; a buzz of electricity connected her tongue with her pocket, and the tickling feeling she had felt all along suddenly sparked.
	But, instead of giving off a light, the energy of these feelings exercised from her by sound: a soft, but full, moan slipped from her throat and into his muzzle.
	Abruptly, she pulled away.
	Once his breath quickly settled, he asked: “What's wrong?”
	”N-Nothing,” she answered, softly. “I just... I-I'm sorry, I dunno what that was.”
	”What what was?”
	”That... That noise,” she tried to explain. “You probably thought it was an ouch-sound, but, i-it wasn't, I swear.”
	He smiled, reaching up to squeeze one of her bows. “Silly sis,” he chuckled. “I know that wasn't an ouch-sound; that was actually a really good sound,” he told her.
	”Really?”
	”Mhmm,” he said, running his fingers through her hair. “Don't worry about making that sound; in fact, I'll probably do it, too,” he admitted with a smile. “In-fact-in-fact, me and you will probably make a lot of different sounds,” he tickled her nose with his fingers.
	”Stoooop you'll make me—” She started to sniffle and huff, her muzzle opening. She quickly turned her head away, right before her body jerked with a sneeze.
	Between them, a tingling pulse came from his foxhood and her vixenhood nudging around from her sudden motion.
	She distinctly felt it, and lifted up, propping her palms on his chest once again. Looking down at their pelvises between her arms, she carefully shifted her weight forward, lifting her hips up.
	Inside her pocket, she felt her brother's thickness recede, and it made her thighs quiver. After just a bit of lifting, she lowered back down, and the girth widening her passage again filled her with satisfaction; the most similar feeling being when she had done a very good stretch to a particularly tense muscle, loosening and relaxing it.
	She looked back to her brother as he shifted.
	”Put your legs under me,” he told her, holding her by the waist as he lifted up.
	Her breath hitched when his stiffness put pressure on her vulva with is lifting. With his help, she slipped her legs around him, tucking them under this knees as he bent his left flat.
	He winced as he tried to flatten his right knee. Though he was flexible, he was not as flexible as his sister. Instead, he lowered back down, and kept his right knee up, which also helped to support her and keep her from putting too much pressure on his chest.
	Her groin was not spread as wide as it would when doing the splits, but with her brother's neener deep inside her, and her leg trapped under his, the tendons in her thighs tugged with a pleasant bit of tension.
	”Ready?” He asked.
	Shimmying her hips and making sure her hands were securely on her brother's pecks, she nodded.
	He pushed up again, similar to when he had her put her leg under his; but, this time, instead of holding her up at her hips, his hands held her down, against his pelvis.
	Her legs went limp for a second as the pressure against her sent a tingling pleasure down to her toes. Then, she felt that peculiar twinge in her pocket as his neener started to recede; he held her up in place by her thighs.
	A fleeting whine left her tongue as she closed her eyes. His girth was going farther out than she had let it go before—nearly all the way out!
	She fought him, and lowered back on him. Her breath puffed when his tip pushed back along the soft, supple walls of her pocket, and his girth once again dilated her with a satisfying stretch.
	The bed springs squeaked from the soft bounce when she landed.
	”Lift up,” he instructed, “and then go back down.”
	Experimentally, she did so. Her core muscles were strong; she could do graceful flips, springs, and vaults, and had for a few years, now. She lifted up with ease, slowly, feeling the recession again.
	Then, she lowered back down, and the fullness satisfied her.
	She started to repeat the activity, at an even pace. She began to really like the rhythm. She sought that gratifying stretch of his neener going back in. Though it was dissatisfying to have it pull out, it was like that wait in the line for the big slide. The anticipation, the knowledge that soon he would be back inside her again, made her giddy.
	Even better: unlike the line, which she had no way of making go faster or be smaller, she had full control over the actions. If she didn't want to let him go out that far, she didn't have to: she could just lower back down any time she wanted.
	Which she did.
	Several times.
	She worked up the nerve to lift higher and higher, letting him recede further and further. Until, over about ten repetitions, she leaned forward and touched her nose to his.
	Before she even had a chance to move backwards, to have him push all along within her again, she was surprised when he pushed his hips toward hers.
	The rush of him pushing into her made her eyes go cross. The tickle of his tip along her anterior wall made another little noise escape from her throat.
	But this time, she heard one slip from his as well.
	They paused, in somewhat of an awkward curl, breathing softly as they let the tingles settle.
	Then, he pulled away, receding again.
	Just as his tip was nearly at her entrance, she pushed back, righting up again. Staring into his eyes, she began to lift and lower at an even faster pace than before.
	His breathing started to flutter when she picked up speed, hands limply resting on her thighs. Her pocket was very warm, and very slick, now. His pleasure-washed brain could just barely hear the soft squelching their genitals made as he passively penetrated her.
	He started to get his bearings again, participating with her. As she lifted, he tried to lower as much as he could against the mattress. When she sank back down, he gently pushed up into her.
	She started letting out hesitant moans between every few times her vulva gently kissed his now-formed knot. When he started to groan with pleasure, too, she felt less bashful, and allowed her noises to sip freely.
	The bed squeaked with each bounce. Soon, her brother was actively thrusting into her, the pressure building with each one. She didn't quite lift as high, so eventually it was like when they played horsey; except, this time, she wasn't riding on his back.
	Her snugness, her warmth, her wetness; it was all getting to him. He reveled in her pocket, and at how she pressed down on his knot. He started to slow his thrusts, trading hoist for speed.
	It was so pleasant to have his knot push against her, but also very frustrating. His body wanted it to go in, but somewhere in his mind he hesitated. He could feel how big it was against her, and he was very concerned about being too rough and hurting her.
	With each push of his knot against her, tentatively trying to squeeze its way inside, his eyes crossed and saw sparkles. His excitement built, his breathing flat-out arrhythmic now.
	He held her down, steadying her, and ground his knot against her. But only gently; that part of his mind fearful for his sister's well-being overriding even his most primal and instinctual of desires.
	Suddenly, he heard her suck in a deep breath. Her pocket tensed around him, getting very warm, and she let out a series of high-pitched yips.
	His own yips joined hers as his foxhood began to throb. Ropes of his recently-produced semen began spurting from his tip, deep into his sister's pocket.
	It lasted for much longer than with just his hand, drawn out by the fluttery squeezes of his sister all around him, fighting to restrain his throbbing girth.
	A moment later, they stared into each other's eyes once again.
	Now, her arms were shaking, desperately trying to keep her steadily propped up. Between her legs, she felt something warm and slippery dripping out of her pocket, tickling along her thighs; like the drool that snuck out from their kissing.
	But, she was too bewildered to do much more than just notice it.
	He also felt it; evidence of his deed trickling from his sister and onto his balls, and finding its way into his sheath.
	One hand traced up from her hips along her back to her shoulder. The other held her at the side. When she bent her elbows, he eased her down; otherwise, she would have flat-out fallen.
	Her muzzle rested into the crook of his neck, breath tickling his back as it spread out from against the pillow. She wriggled her arms around her brother, slipping them between him and her bed.
	He closed his eyes, hugging his sister, slipping off to sleep just moments before his neener slipped out of her pocket.

* * *

	His world pitched.
	”Wakeup-wakeup-wakeup-wakeup-waekup!”
	”What-what-what-what-what-what-what-what-what?” He hastily asked, thrust alert, and squinting from the sunlight that peeked through her window blinds.
	”Bro... It smells,” she remarked.
	Getting his bearings, he looked about the room. Their clothes were still strewn about, and he felt a stickiness in his groin when he started to sit up.
	Then, the odor tickled in his nostrils.
	It was very strong. Very musky. An odor unlike anything he had smelled before. Yet, just as his sister must have, he inherently knew what it was.
	He yawned.
	”Hel-loo, earth to Aeden!” She knocked on his auburn hair. “If mom and dad came home right now, they'd smell it, too,” she told him.
	”Relax,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.
	”We'll get in so much trouble!” She exclaimed. “Even more than if they found out about the bikini,” she pointed out.
	”It's still a while before they come home,” he reminded her. “Besides, they're not going to notice a thing when they do.”
	”How do you know?” She fiercely questioned.
	”Well, I mean...” He chuckled. “Have you ever smelled this in mom and dad's room?”
	”No,” she shook her head, “I've never smelled something like this before.”
	”Well that's because they clean it up so you don't smell it when they're done,” he told her.
	She cocked her head, the gears turning. “Ewwww! Aeden!” She lightly slapped his shoulder a few times. “Grooo-ho-hooooss! I don't wanna think about mom and dad doing that!”
	He turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I'm sure they don't wanna think about us doing it, either,” he mentioned.
	She froze. “...Should we... Have done that?” She asked.
	He was quick to turn. “W-Wait, I was just...” He went a bit still as well. “Did you... Like that?” He asked.
	She nodded. “You?”
	He returned a nod, then let out a sigh. “We're kinda messy,” he pointed out, eye dipping to her mound where the fur of her thighs was matted and clumped together like she had used far too much fur-gel. “Let's take a shower, and... Maybe talk about... Stuff... Later?”
	She nodded. When he extended his hand, she took it, and slid off the bed with him.
	The fur around her crotch tugged a little. She reached down, touching how crusted it was. She let out a discomforted whine when she tried to spread her pink, as it sort of stung, and felt glued shut.
	”What's the matter?” He asked, very concerned.
	”Nothing,” she replied. “Just... Feeling down there,” she told him. “It's got, like... Sandman sand on it, like my eyes sometimes get,” she explained.
	”It's okay, that kinda happens to me, too,” he told her, reaching up to her hair to untie her bows. “Sometimes, my underwear kinda gets stuck to my neener, a little bit.”
	Her hair tumbled down, brushing her shoulders; first the left, then the right, as he let the buns free, setting the ribbons on the counter-top.
	”But, we'll use some warm water and clean it all up, okay?”
	She nodded, following her brother into the shower.
	The stall was spacious enough that their parents could take a shower together comfortably; let alone the two of them, smaller and shorter.
	She closed the door behind her, while her brother stood at the dial. In cursive lettering cold and hot were written on it, with the handle pointed well past cold.
	He turned it to start the water.
	She shivered as the streams of water splashed on the floor, creating a cold draft and chilly mist at her feet. A moment later, the draft was not quite so cold, and she felt warmth coming from the stream.
	”I think it's at least warm enough to stand under,” he told her. “Let me know if you need it warmer.”
	She took a step forward, getting her shins in the stream. “Please,” she requested.
	A slight squeak came from the mechanism behind the panel as he nudged the handle a bit further toward hot.
	She stepped fully into the stream. The water trickled down the crown of her head, wetting her hair and making the blond locks drape more heavily down. The chilliness shivered away from her, replaced by the warmth. It soaked into her fur, and she lifted her chin to let it drizzle down her neck and chest. “That's good,” she told him. When she lowered her chin, she saw that her brother was actually sporting a stiffy once again.
	She took a half-step back, allowing him to stand in the stream. She watched the water fall over his shoulder, trailing down his tummy and quickly finding its way to his groin. It dripped off his balls, which she actually saw go from snuggling up against him, to subtly relaxing.
	She squatted, the warm water already softening the jism that so uncomfortably clumped her loins. “They're warm,” she announced, reaching to touch them. “This is how I saw them, before,” she mentioned, lightly pushing them to one side to have them sort-of swing back to the other side, before settling quickly.
	His hand lowered, holding his genitals to catch more of the water. “Yup, it's actually kinda good. Will be easier to clean them,” he lifted his sac, running his finger around it, breaking away the bits of semen that had dried.
	She observed his intentions, and used her own fingers to touch his foxhood. She traced around it, feeling the soft, downy-furred sheath as the water dribbled over it. She touched her fingers all along him, and all around, until all she felt was the smooth skin of his boyhood.
	He gasped when, rather suddenly, she slipped her muzzle over him. He opened his eyes, looking down, witnessing the sight of his sister squatting and looking up at him, with his neener in her muzzle.
	She started to suckle, her eyes lidding.
	He breathed slowly, enjoying the snugness and gentle tugs of her suckling. He reached down to touch her cheek, then rest his fingertips against her throat.
	It felt like it was strained and bulging. A pang of concern came over him. “Hey, c'mon,” he patted her cheek. “Gotta clean up,” he reminded her.
	She let out a disappointed whimper, but released him all the same. She grunted, holding onto his proffered arms as she stiffly raised up from her squat. “Easier when you're lying down, anyways,” she remarked. Then, she paused, as the hand of the arm she was still holding onto brushed the inside of her thighs.
	She parted her legs, and followed him forward when he stepped back. The stream of water landed on her tummy, splattering down between her ankles as some ran down his arm and streamed off his hand.
	His fingertips brushed her thighs, working out the dried semen from her clumped and crusted fur.
	She squirmed and shimmied. “That tih-hickles!” She whined, doing her best not to push his arm down, for it was also pleasant to have his fingers touching her there.
	”I'll give it a sec,” he said, pausing.
	”No... Keep going,” she urged, tugging on his arm. “I like the tickles...”
	Matching her smile, he turned his hand toward her vulva. “Tell me if it hurts or anything,” he said, before his fingertip touched her peeking pink slit.
	She blushed at the touch. It didn't hurt at all—completely the opposite. She planted her heels a bit wider even, giving him better access to rub a few more fingers over her.
	She let go of his arm with one hand, and reached out to his neener once again. She held it, feeling how thick and stiff it was, while also closing her eyes to focus on his fingers.
	Well past the point where he had worked her sensitive labia free of his dried seed, he continued to rub her. She was so soft, and so tender. Even the water wasn't as warm as she was.
	”You're going to clean my pocket, too, right?” She asked.
	His gaze flitted up to her, just as her eyes opened.
	”Uhm...” He throbbed in her grip.
	”Your cum,” she said, “the stuff you squirt out... I could kinda feel it, last night... You squirted it really deep in my pocket.”
	Despite his body being saturated with water, his mouth felt so dry.
	”You neener's nice and wet,” she observed, using her hand to demonstrate how slippery with water it was. “You can probably use it to clean really deep... In my pocket.”
	His knees felt weak. “If... If you want me to,” he said.
	She nodded.
	Pulling his hand away, he took hers, and led her to the wall of the stall. “Let me... Get behind you,” he said. “I might... Be able to clean you deeper, that way.”
	With a blush and a smile, she rested her hand against the wall, lifting her tail high. Glancing back to her brother, she twitched when his hand brushed against her leg, coaxing her to lift it.
	She did so, using another hand up higher to brace herself, since she didn't have a bar to use like she normally would when lifting her leg up like this.
	She looked down with anticipation, seeing her brother's stiff, red tip peeking out beyond her tummy; the top of his length brushed along the slit of her muff.
	Reaching down like she had, he used his fingers to spread her pink. His hips nudged back and forth as his tip sought out the entrance to her pocket.
	She sucked in a breath impatiently, his soft skin tickling against hers in an almost frustratingly teasing way. Her leg fought to close, but he kept it steady.
	Finally he found his purchase, and sank in.
	She let out her breath as he let out a moan.
	He pressed his hand firmly against her tummy, feeling that pressure on his own foxhood. He was wall inside of her.
	Moving the hand to help support her at the waist, he began to “clean” her.
	The shower-head idly spat water out straight onto the tile, as brother began slowly churning inside of sister.
	Her moans were hushed by the whisper of the water, but also vibrated within the stall, contained by its four walls. The squelches of his thrusts were disguised by the splatter of droplets on the tile, but were no less felt by the two of them as he drew out and pushed back in.
	The excuse of cleaning left their minds as soon as he felt the wonderful snugness, and she felt the gratifying fullness. It was especially so when, now with him in control, he began to thrust inside of her with motions that she could not achieve riding him like a horsey from the night before.
	As he pushed in he also pushed forward, sending a shock of pleasure when his balls patted against her clitoral hood. When he drew out, his tip pulled along her dorsal wall, tickling her in a way that distracted her from the forthcoming thrust; which, in turn, made it that much more electrifying.
	Once again, his knot began butting against her vulva.
	Once again, fraternal senses kept him from pushing it in; only allowing it to tantalizingly grind against her.
	She let out moan after moan as the knot put constant pressure against her hooded clit, giving it no rest. Her hands slipped and she fought to keep upright, only barely aided by her brother as he let out a hot moan of his own, while he let out his hot passion into her pocket once again.
	She let out a yip as the strong flood of tingles overtook her once more, this time more intense now that she knew it was coming. Her pocket squeezed and bore down on her brother's neener with more force.
	Panting heavily, they looked into each other's eyes, smiling. His jism began dripping to the tile, along with the water.
	”Bro...” She giggled. “You were s'posta clean me. You got me all dirty again,” she teased.
	He lowered her leg, and slipped his foxhood from her pocket. “I... Couldn't help it,” he said, half-teasingly, but also half-genuinely.
	”It's okay,” she replied, pushing him back into the stream. “Lucky us, we're still in the shower.” She reached between his legs and blinked. “Hey... Bro...?” She looked down, her fingertips feeling at the base. “Your... Your neener is different,” she observed.
	He nodded. “Yeah... Uhm, that's... That's my... Knot.” He told her.
	She leaned over, tilting him this way and that, observing the thick bulb at the base of his boyhood, tentatively wrapping her fingers around it. “It's... Way bigger than the rest of it,” she remarked. “Why is it doing that? Is that like... The next stage of getting stiff like this?”
	He chuckled. “Um... Kinda?” His balance stuttered, his whole body going nearly limp as she squeezed it. “C-Careful, it's sensitive,” he warned.
	Her hand snapped to her chest. “I'm sorry,” she whimpered.
	”It's okay,” he told her, holding himself up to show her. “This is... Well, when a boy fox does it with a girl fox... This is supposed to...” He took in a deep breath. “This... Goes into the girl fox.”
	”It does?” She asked, and then looked down. She parted her thighs, and then spread her pink. “But... It's so much bigger,” she noted. “Your neener... Feels huge, already.”
	A flare of pride welled up in him. “Well... You're... I mean,” he then felt a bit of guilt snuff that pride. “You're younger than me, so... I don't think you'd be able to.”
	While he didn't mean it that way, he used key words that really pushed her buttons. “I'm a big girl,” she protested. “Besides, you're not that much older.” She folded her arms. “If it's supposed to go in when we do it, then make it go in next time.”
	He shook his head, “sis, I didn't mean it that way,” he told her, softly but sincerely, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Listen... We have to be careful. If... If you want a 'next time,' then we can't do something that will make it obvious that's what we're doing. If mom and dad find out...” His voice trailed.
	She looked down at his neener.
	It was getting soft, shrinking back into his sheath.
	Sniffling, she slipped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. “Love you,” she told him.
	He returned the hug, his fingers reaching up to take hold of and twist a dangling lock of her hair. “Love you, too,” he responded, with just as different a meaning in his heart as she had.