Nova Peak brother you are comfy

@Whittier

Swift and his siblings generally spent their waking hours nursing at a teat, or expelling what had already been consumed, their ravenous newborn bodies having drawn all the nourishment from it they could. At this  moment, the black-spined Frostfur had suckled enough and was beginning to ebb back into sleep. But Swift could not just sleep where he was and keep things simple. His little body was compelled to wriggle elsewheres, this time over his brother next to him, who never seemed to have drank enough and probably suckled in his sleep. Swift scrabbled over Whittier, his stubby paws sticking in his ear and hauling on his skin until the smallest of the litter had found a comfortable spot to snooze - with his butt draped over his bigger brother's snout and his chin laid upon his rump.

It had taken Whittier about a dozen times consuming so much milk that he spit up all over himself to realize that the protesting grumble in his belly was his stomach's way of saying step away from the teat! He really hated it when his tummy objected like that for there was nothing he loved more than sucking on those giblets and filling his belly oh so very, very full. Considering the fact that taste and touch were the only senses he really had at his disposal (I.. think), there really wasn't much else to enthrall him besides mama's sweet, sweet jugs.

....Having said that, Whit was pretty convinced that maybe this time, he wouldn't throw up all of the contents of his stomach if he kept eating, in spite of the fact that his belly was quite certain that he would. The only thing that stopped him was a sudden heaviness upon his back that suggested one of his fellow puppy lumps was on the move. Whit jerked away from Bazi's titties, blinding searching for the bastard that had interrupted his dinner while mewling irritably - a sound that could not be silenced even as his brother's rump smooshed his tiny snout shut against the ground. Fortunately, he still had his wriggles to show his brother how unhappy he was with his current placement.

Newborns were not known for impressive control of their motor functions, and Swift was perhaps the leading example of this. While he would have been content to sleep where he was, his brother's mewling be damned, the Whittier's wriggling was enough to displace the little Frostfur, who rolled off his sibling's side, landing on his back with an unhappy squeak, followed by - you guessed it! - a steady rrrrrr... as he struggled to right himself. But for now at least, he was successful only in looking like a turtle on its shell, his chubby limbs flailing, one catching his brother firmly in the ribs.

His wriggling finally succeeded in dislodging the lump from his back. Triumphantly, Whit lifted his head from the ground, his jaws opened wide like a lion roaring to his kingdom. All that actually came from his throat was a squeaky little belch that for once, did not come with a flood of his mother's milk. Feeling pleased with himself, he squirmed about towards his brother, just in time to receive a nice kick in the ribs. Whit squeaked indignantly at jab, continuing to squirm in an attempt to face his offender.

Just in the middle of his movements, the pudgy little boy stopped - his face suddenly quite mellow as a little purr escaped his chest. The pause lasted for only a few seconds before Whit was at it again, jaws opened wide as he searched for his brother, completely unaware that he was now squirming about in his own little puddle of peepee.

Single post cameo from me!

Bazi looked on as her sons battled for supremacy like two drunk tramps in a ditch. They flailed and rolled, jabbing at each other with stubby little sausage legs. When Swift got stuck and Whit pissed himself, Bazi grabbed hold of Allure and Pasha, transporting them to safety whilst the battle raged on. If they were old enough to fight, they were old enough to do so to conclusion.

Swift continued to squirm on the den floor, which had become warmer and wetter in a way that was not soothing like the caress of his mother's tongue. Despite his name, he was unable to right himself quickly, and continued to wriggle until by some fluke he hit the appropriate combination of movements that found his belly pressed back onto the ground where it ought to be, his stubby and now tired legs splayed about him. He squeaked, and unsteadily turned his head as if to look around. He was not uncomfortable here, wet and and not snuggled between the bodies of his siblings. Slowly, he crawled, and ended up facing his bigger brother, eventually pushing pulling himself until he was forcibly under Whittier's pug puppy snout. Perhaps he would be allowed to nap here, unaware that his mother had interjected to ensure that his other brother and sister went undisturbed.

Whit was only vaguely aware of the dampness in his drawers. He was far too busy with this new game, which seemed to involve bulldozing his way over his smaller brother. He felt a wet little nose wedge itself beneath his chin. He lifted his head with a squawk to make room for his brother, even though he was none too pleased to have a pillow so fidgety to rest his noggin upon. He lifted his paws to smash them on either side of Swift's face, pushing against his cheeks in an effort to move him out of the way.

Swift started to rrrrrr... as his brother stirred, his primitive growl rising in pitch and finishing with a protesting squeak as Whittier's paws smashed against his face. He stuck out his limbs, trying to hold his position, but he found that his bigger brother overpowered him, and he was shoved unceremoniously out from Whittier's chin. One of his forepaws reached out to bat his brother's nose, as he started to rrrrrr... again. It was a flicker of dominant instinct that compelled him to worm back to Whittier, his muzzle pushing against his brother's mouth as he fought to take back his former sleeping spot.

Whit's head plopped back down onto the ground the moment there was no Swift beneath him to hold it up. Eagerly, the boy began to wriggle back towards Bazi's breasts - or at least, he thought he was when in all actuality, he was haughtily and determinedly wriggling his way towards the mouth of the den.

He only got about... no where.. when he suddenly felt his nose being slapped with a little paw. As though mimicking his brother, Whit too being to rrrrr with a ferocity he not only barely understood, but was actually.. barely even ferocious. He felt Swift bopping his muzzle out of the way and immediately parted his jaws, which he then aimed at Swift's face. With a little jerk of his head, he managed to find the tip of his brother's nose, which he quickly attempted to latch his jaws onto, intent upon gumming him into submission, apparently.

His plan was not going to work. In that moment, Swift might have appeared determined and dominant, but it was not to last. As soon as he sensed resistance in the form of his brother's rrrrr and felt his toothless jaws close on his nose, the little Frostfur relented, but not without an annoyed squeak as he pulled his head back. He let out a tiny baby huff, and started wriggle another way, toward his sleeping sister, and all the while he rrrrr...'ed grumpily. Perhaps she would not be so uncooperative and would allow the youngest, smallest Frostfur to sleep in peace. He hoped at least, as he scrabbled over her back and rolled off of her, in such a way that Swift's foreleg remained draped across her back. Here, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Wrestling with brother was so tiring.

Whit bit down ineffectively onto his brother's nose, successfully winning his very first battle for dominance. He of course had no idea of the connotations of this victory; In his mind, winning meant only.... Well, he didn't really remember what they'd been fighting about in the first place. All he did know was that without Swift's lumpy butt in his face, he was free to wriggle on back to Bazi's belly, chow down on a nice champion's feast and pass out snuggled happily against his defeated brother for a nice nap.