By: David Ihnen,

NOTETommy is a main character in my Jargan series. These events are related to and/or mentioned in the Jargan series. Kavkazskaya Ovcharka
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The late afternoon sun sent heat shimmering off the cracked asphalt. The cheeping of roadside crickets amongst the tall dry roadside weeds was the only sound. Suddenly the relative quiet was shattered by a sharp rattle and squeak. A figure came into view over a rise. Ears rose from the shimmering pavement first. The face of a fox came into view. His face was symmetrical but narrow, with startlingly large brown eyes, lit with the joy of life and exertion. His tongue flapped out the side of his mouth, open as he panted from exertion. A loose t-shirt flapped around broad shoulders. The wind held it around a slim waist, his stick-like red-furred arms giving way to black paws that gripped the handlebars. The first impression was that he was painfully skinny. He was small of stature, maybe fifteen years old. His t-shirt was frayed along the collar, the logo on the front cracked and faded. A thin leather belt with a battered buckle held up a pair of cut-off jeans. They were several sizes too small, clinging to his emaciated legs and bulging in the crotch. His bare, black furred feet paused their relentless cycle as he coasted down the hill, the shirt flapping sharply in the stir of air in his passing. His white tipped red tail, streaming behind him, was held well above the rapidly spinning back wheel. In a flash he was past, fenders rattling over the uneven broken asphalt. Brakes protested with a rusty screech as he slowed a few dozen yards by a rusty mailbox. He paused and opened it, but apparently found nothing. He continued on down a rough gravel drive by a rusty mailbox.

The young fox stopped his bicycle well out of hearing of the house. He carefully walked the bike into the tall brush and leaned it against a small tree. The dry grasses crunched under his paws as he padded along the edge of the fallow front field. His father had failed to plant it this year, yet again. The soil was ready, it would grow good soybeans. He soon neared a ramshackle farmhouse. Its roof showed a definite sag, and the front porch had completely collapsed. A tractor with weeds grown up around it fronted a small barn. The pickup truck was nowhere in sight, maybe nobody was home. He skirted around to the left of the building, keeping a cautious distance. He focused his ears and could hear the faint squawk of the TV inside. The rear screen door still hung akimbo from one hinge. His father had slammed it open a week or two before. He hadn't found the screws to fix it yet. He padded softly up the rickety steps. He winced as the wood groaned, and made sure to skip the fourth which squeaked.

He passed through the kitchen, hardly breathing as he tried to move silently. A few dirty dishes had been tossed carelessly in the sink. He could smell no edible food, only mold. Flies buzzed about, having long ago coated the sticky tape which hung from the dusty lamp in the center of the room. The kitchen table was coverd with some greasy pieces of machinery and a haphazard pile of mail. He could, however, smell beer. His ears went back as he paused and tentatively peered into the living room, nose twitching.

He smelled him first, Father. The only source of illumination in the room was the TV and the glow around the heavy drapes from outside. His eyes adjusted to the dimness quickly. An adult fox lay on the couch, his fur scruffy and tangled in spots. He was snoring softly under the squawk of the TV, the main source of light within the room. He was entirely naked, one hand still on a half-empty beer beside the couch. Tommy's muzzle twisted in disgust, a surge of dislike rising in his chest. But the coast was clear for the moment.

The youth quietly padded through the room. He carefully navigated the stairs, taking them three at a time to miss the squeaky ones. He made it safely through the obstacle course hallway to his room. In sharp contrast to the rest of the house, his room held almost nothing. A foot locker filled the space at the foot of the fastidiously made bed, barely more than a cot. A tiny scarred dresser crowded between the bed and the wall. Its surface was slightly dusty, but bare. He sighed and flopped onto the bed. It protested with a loud squeak. He winced, listening tensely. There was a snort but then all he could hear was the TV.

The fox shed his t-shirt and shorts, tossing them on top of the foot locker. He had been wearing nothing beneath. His ribs stood out plainly through his thin fur, which rippled under the movement of muscles and tendons with no fat to pad it. His cock hung long over his largish balls, finally released from the restraint of the tight shorts. He yawned and stretched, then rolled onto his stomach reaching below. He pulled an ancient threadbare blanket from under the bed. He used it as a pillow as he lay back and looked up at the poster on his wall. It was a movie poster for some long forgotten box office bomb. The main image was of a farm, spread out over a valley. Neat rows, a toiling tractor, and a story book farmhouse. He smiled vaguely, letting the oppressive heat of the afternoon relax him. His stomach growled but he made no move it. He rolled on onto his side, arm and a leg sprawled off the bed, eyes closing.

"TOMMY! I KNOW youz up thar, now getcher pansy faggot ass down here before I come up there and tan it!" The voice was loud and angry.

Tommy sat bolt up right in a startle, heart pounding. "Shit." he muttered into the darkness, stomach sinking. It was late, not a good sign. But at least he got some rest. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since lunch at school, but that was normal. He likely wouldn't eat again until he got back. "Coming!" he yelped as he stumbled down the crowded hallway and halfway down the stairs. The TV was still the only light in the room. He grit his teeth and stopped just within view of his father. The man was sitting on the edge of the couch leering towards him. His eyes narrowed in loathing. He knew what was going on.

"'Bout time!" the man barked, "What the hell you doin up there?"

"Sleepin, I was..."

"Whatever." he cut him off, and pointed to his crotch. Tommy's heart sank further, and he swallowed his growl hard. His father's cock was no doubt the reason his mother had ever gotten together with him, as it was his only perceptibly redeeming feature. It lay on his lap, still soft, a good eight inches soft. "Git to work boy, I ain't got all night." He took a another slug from a bottle of beer.

Tommy squelched the anger that flared in him. Acting out only got him hurt, he had scars enough to prove that. He decended the stairs, crossed the room, and knelt. He took a breath, daring not delay too long, his ears layed back hard against his head. He lifted the heavy shaft and started mouthing it, trailing his tongue over it as he head been taught to so long ago. His father remained silent as his son worked his phallus over. It slowly hardened into a 12 inch long and proportionately thick rod. The youth's eyebrows knit in a frown as he felt his own penis harden. He hated his father. He hated doing this. He hated that it aroused him. But there it was anyway. He could feel the pressure of his cock swaying as he moved. His head bobbed on the huge cock. The better he did it, the sooner it would be over. He knew how to angle his neck to take the thick shaft down his throat. He drove it in over and over. He gasped breaths when it left his throat. His father's legs tensed under his paws. He could feel the muscles twitching as his father rocked his hips forward. Tommy felt a spark of hope. If he kept it up, it would all be over in a minute or two.

Light flashed across the curtained front window. The fox involuntarily winced and was rewarded with a cuff to his ear.

"Watch the teeth!" he ordered.

Tommy got back to sucking. That had to be his brother in the truck. The sound of the crunch of wheels on gravel faded into the rumble of an old V8. It shut down with a dieseling chortle. He could fix it, but they wouldn't let him touch the truck. The youth bobbed frantically, trying to get his father off before his brother came up the back porch and into the kitchen. It was too late. Already there was a gleam of light from the doorway as the refrigerator was opened, bottles were placed inside and closed again.

"Well well, what have we here." snickered his brother. Tommy glanced with his eyes as he continued to work the hard phallus in his mouth. The stocky form of his brother stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He was visible in the flickering blue light of the TV taking off his shirt. His chest bulged with muscles. "If it ain't pop and that pansy-ass little faggot slut. You like doin that, don't you fuckhole?" The question was obviously rhetorical.

Tommy shook his head negatively around the cock in his mouth. He most certainly did not. His tail clamped down helplessly over his rear. He knew what was going to happen, even as he tried to get his father off. The penalty for stopping was far too great to risk. His cock throbbed harder still beneath him, traitor to his anger. He closed his eyes and concentrated on blowing the cock in his mouth.

"Should show that lil pansy what sluts like him are good for, huh Shane?" his father suggested as his older son walked across the room.

"Way ahead of you." he growled, his jeans hitting the floor with a jingle of change. Tommy felt his tail grabbed, lifted despite his spasmodic clamping against it. "There it is." his brother growled. Tommy's hardness twitched as his brother ground his thick cock against the tight tail hole. Where his father was very long, his older son was not only long, he was thick. A full ten inches of painfully wide cock stood from his hips. He favored forcing it on his younger brother at every opportunity.

His brother's rough paw grabbed the youth's painfully aroused eight inches and yanked it, letting it go to twitch, dripping precum.

"Your little pussy cock LIKES that, I know it!" he crowed.

He buried himself in the young fox, shoving him forward. He ignored the resistance, he already knew how to get past that. The patriarch met the thrust with one of his own, sending his shaft straight down Tommy's throat. The fox was impaled on both ends. Pain screamed through his body at the massive intrusion forced under his tail. Despite the cock filling his throat managed an abbreviated yelp. His nose was crammed hard against his father's sour smelling crotch. His stomach churned, empty. His whole body clenched as he gagged helplessly, he tried to back off. But the heretofore passive paws of his father grabbed his arms. He was pulled into the man's crotch against the driving of his throbbing cock into his spasming throat.

"Yeah, that feels good, fuck him!" he encouraged, grinding himself into the fox's mouth.

Tommy twitched helplessly as his brother reamed his ass, pounding with the merciless speed of lust and power. The youth was driven forward brutally, helpless to keep the cock from drilling into his face. He couldn't breath. He couldn't throw up. His head was spinning. He was completely dominated, shamed, and used. His cock was rock hard beneath him. It rubbed painfully against the rough fabric of the couch. Tears of shame and frustration leaked out of his closed eyes as they used him. His jaw ached from extension, his ass thankfully waning in its protests. His chest spasmed as he tried to breath. The lack of oxygen buzzed in his brain, drawing panic up from his heart.

His father came first. He could not mistake tickle of the long spurts of cum forcing their way into his stomach, much less the rock hard rigidity of the adult's cock. Fully swollen it hurt, stretching his throat painfully. His father was making some incomprehensible noise. Tommy just wanted it to be over, he wanted to breath! Through the growing haze in his mind he felt his brother shudder. Shane injected a load into his brother's ass, almost as copious as his father's. The youth's lungs burned, his body on fire. He had to breath! Let it be over already! That had to be it!

And then he could breath again. He gasped great lungfuls of air. It was the only thing that mattered. Breath. He found himself tumbling senselessly to the floor. He coughed and gagged, getting a mouthful of sour cum he forced back down. He panted heavily, his heart slowing as the panic of not breathing faded. As he got his wind back he found himself laying on his side. The flickering light of the TV shone above him. He noticed his treasonous cock was still hard. His body shook, he realized that he was crying. Suppressing his sobs in grit teeth, he scrambled to his feet. There was a noise in the kitchen. The light of the refrigerator showed his father opening another beer. He could hear the splash of somebody taking a piss in the adjoining bathroom. Traditionally, after the fuckings, the beatings would commence. Apparently if they couldn't fuck the slut out of him, they would beat it. He made a lightning decision, he would not stay. He sprinted through the kitchen. His father let out a startled bark and reached for him. His hand closed on his tail. Tommy didn't even slow down, letting his weight yank his tail out of his father's grasp. He welcomed the burn of the pulled fur if it meant he got away. He was out the open door, and in two bounds he cleared the porch. He ran at full sprint down the farm road into the welcome womb of the night.

"Where do you think you're going!?" the father roared from the porch. "Shane, that damn slut has run off again!"

The fox slowed to a trot once he was well away from the house. The fur of his muzzle was matted from his tears. His erection had waned, the cool night breeze on him helping. The rising half moon illuminated the road enough that he could see. He didn't need to, the rough stones and dirt of the family land a familiar friend under his feet. Suddenly making a decision, he turned, diving between the tall rows of a corn field. He crossed at a fast trot, rustling through the tall plants. His paws hit the still warm hardness of pavement as he vaulted the enclosing fence without even slowing down. Just over the road, a single porch light illuminated the front of nicely painted cottage. Dormer windows were dark in their white frame over the large porch roof. Without hesitation the fox scrambled up the big oak tree in front and out one of the strong branches. His paws hardly made a sound as he dropped to the porch roof. It took only a few steps to bring him to an open window. His paws hit the rug with soft thumps. He paused in the dark room for his eyes to adjust.

A digital clock glowed softly in green digits from a high boy dresser. The room was decorated in pinks - a fluffy bed with warm comforter with little pink horses on it dominated the room. He lifted the blanket and slid in, inhaling the thick, warm scent of his russian canine friend.

"mmm?" he stirred, sniffing querously. "oh, Tommy!" he gave a little wuff of delight and scooped him in giant arms. He hugged the skinny fur easily against his chest.

Tommy slipped his arms around his friend's thickly furred body. His narrow fox muzzle meeting the canine's massive maw. "Shhh Sasha" he whispered.

"Da, I know." he smiled, looking into the fox's eyes. His friend looked haunted, his breath still ragged from his run, face fur matted, his large brown eyes moist. The dog growled. "Not again?"

Tommy grimaced, he could feel the tension in the strong muscles beneath his paws, the hackles raising. He just pushed his head into the thick chest fur, hugging him tightly.

Sasha snarled under his breath, "Gavnuk. Etogo bolshe ne sluchitsya!"

Tommy sobbed into the dog's thick fur.

"Shh, its okay." the big dog whispered, petting the fox's shoulder and back, holding him close. He let his friend shudder against him, let him cry it out.

The fox slowly relaxed in his warm embrace, his sobs spent. As he did, Sasha could feel his arousal come back in force, pressing stiff and hard against his thigh. He hugged the fox close. He knew what his friend needed. He rolled onto his back, spreading his legs to the sides.

"Take care of that, Foxy" he commanded softly, "you need it"

From familiar practice, the fox's hips probed. He found the yielding under tail of the giant canine. Tommy sighed, torn between love, lust, and the experiences of the past hour. He pressed in and shortly was eagerly filling the big dog's warm ass with his little cock.

"oh Sasha." panted Tommy, "you're so sweet, you're not just letting me..."

"Nyet! I love your humpings Tommy of mine." the dog's voice was soft and tender, his accent endearing. "such a big foxy you are, so long and hard. I want all of you!"

Tommy loved this, the closeness, the warmth, the flame of desire. The silly flattering things his friend said. The love between them filled their little cave beneath the blankets. It felt so very good to be loved. Not to be forced. To have both sides want it.

"Da, harder foxy" Sasha whispered. The fox could feel and smell the canine's own arousal pressing against his front. Sasha really did like being fucked, he couldn't hide that.

Tommy felt his excitement growing with Sasha's. He pumped in and out, in and out. The musky, thick scent of arousal filled nostrils. He panted, tongue lolling as his back flexed to drive his cock deeper, harder. The fox knew that his churning balls would shortly have their out. He mock growled, soft in their secret little cave. He thrusted himself deep into the clinging, milking ass.

"Yes, do it foxy, do it" whimpered Sasha. He closed his eyes, his breathing went shallow. He loved his friends big fox cock, stroking him so delightfully inside.

Tommy could feel the swelling of the big dog's maleness against his stomach. The words were sweet music. He wanted him, he really did. Just a little more... he angled just right, grinding the end of his shaft into his friend's prostate. The massive dog shuddered. His scent thickened, his powerful body quivered all over. His ass clamped down around the fox's rigid phallus, milking the tool lustfully. Hot, muskily scented precum soaked the fur between them. The fox needed no more encouragement. He shoved his hips and throbbing cock against the dog's ass hard, seven times. One for each convulsion of pleasure that wracked his body and mind, injecting his passion deep into his lover.

Spent, he panted for a long moment, face in the warm fur. Then he withdrew, turning and sliding down, spooning with the big dog. He sought that perfect place where the larger canine's warm, dripping cock pressed under his lifted tail.

"Mm, you really want?" whispered Sasha.

"Please," whispered Tommy, "fill me."

"This I can do." replied the Russian shepherd.

He worked himself into the fox as gently as he could. Little asses like his needed plenty of time to relax to accommodate him. Tommy made small, happy noises with every movement, encouraging him. He finally felt the fox's ring relax around him. He rotated his hips and sunk his swollen shaft fully into the vulpine. There was little resistance.

"Such a big foxy" he whispered, "such a good deep foxy.".

"Bu I'm just a lil fox" Tommy protested, but not with much sincerity. It sounded like he was smiling.

The vulpine lay relaxed, letting his friend's gentle movements fill him with warm, thick, slippery cock. He was hard again, but he felt no urgency about it. Sasha felt so good inside him. He inhaled as the big dog he slid all the way in. Tingles spread from deep inside him. The glow of pleasure and arousal in his loins increased with every movement.

"oohhh... God... tie me" he whispered joyfully, "feels so good!"

Sasha didn't require much encouragement, rocking his hips to stroke in and out of the lustful little fox. His admonition to commit fully set off sparks in Sasha's head. The thought of his friend's pleasure sent shock waves into his own arousal. He flexed his hips, blood rushing into his cock as orgasm filled his head.

"guh..." the russian dog managed. His hips twitched twice as his cock fully hardened, swelling inside. He could feel the fox's insides shifting. His length and girth swelled to proportions only other Kavkazskaya could normally handle. But he had tied with the fox before. The spacious little fellow had been so insistent that he eventually relented, much to their mutual delight. Sasha felt his head roar with pleasure as his cum gushed. It pulsed through his orgasming phallus deep into his friend. The fox only shivered for a long moment, then made a soft yiff noise before relaxing completely.

Tommy's eyes closed, head swimming as his friend swelled up inside him. He was so impossibly big. So full. Keeping him so safe. The pressure inside him climbed and climbed. A tingle of panic entered his mind. But he handled it before, he could do it now. He could feel the slosh of seed forced aside. The pleasure in his loins exploded as the cock swelled huge, pressureing his prostate. His loins tensed in orgasmic pleasure for long moments. He let out a satisfied yiff as his cock twitched. He splattered a bit of cum over the inside of the blanket cave. He relaxed drowsily, quickly falling asleep. The fullness inside him was only a vague ache, he was used to far worse feelings, like the gnaw of his empty stomach. And he was so tired.

They fell asleep just like that, warm in their blanket cave, tied irrevocably.

The room was illuminated by the first rays of the rising sun. There came a soft tapping on the door. Tommy twitched. Sasha put his paw over the fox's muzzle.

"Da?" he called.

A pleasantly husky female voice responded "Sasha. Tvoi drug pozavtrakaet s nami?"

"Da. Seichas pridu, chavez minutu!" Sasha replied, and let go of Tommy's mouth.

"I should go." the fox said, trying to climb out of the bed. The Kavkazskaya pulled him back, and kissed his muzzle with a broad tongue. "Nyet. That was my mother, inviting you to breakfast. Come, I want to eat!"

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