Heavy Sleeper
Danor yawned as he walked down the hallway towards the bathroom. Judging by the unwavering silence throughout the house and the blanket of darkness in every room he passed, he guessed that it was the early hours of the morning. The only reason he had even risen from bed was the intolerable pressure in his bowels that had been the very reason for his wakening and sadly, no amount of tossing and turning would alleviate the pressure on his gut. As much as he had longed to return to the warm, comfy sheets and drift off once again into sleep, he would need to empty himself before that could happen.
As he strolled carefully down the dark corridor, he noticed that one light in the house was still shining; a light that came from his brother's room. With silent footsteps he approached the open doorway and poked his head around the corner to spy on what his brother was doing awake at such a late hour. Much to his surprise though, he wasn't! His ebony scaled sibling; Fyrre, was fast asleep on his back, his jaws wide as he snored quietly from his place on top of his bedsheets.
_ 'He must have passed out from tiredness.'_ Danor thought as he peered in on his older brother who lay on top of his sheets; no doubt having fallen asleep moments after laying down. The red drake wasn't exactly surprised. Fyrre could probably fall asleep anywhere. He shook his head a little and turned to continue his journey but as he was about to move on towards the bathroom, he paused and contemplated a very cruel, but very amusing prank.
'Perhaps I don't need to go any further.' he thought jovially, eyeing that widely-opened muzzle. 'This room has a toilet too.' The red male was well aware that his brother was a heavy sleeper. In fact, as far back as he could remember there was no memory of Fyrre waking up before morning and he had pulled many a prank of his sleeping sibling.
'Let's see just how much of a heavy sleeper you are, Fyrre.' The younger brother thought. Stepping into his older brother's room, he sauntered over to where that dragon lay face up; completely oblivious as to what he was about to receive from his brother's stuffed rear end. It only took a second to lift himself onto the mattress and straddle over that gaping muzzle. It didn't even matter about being careful; Fyrre wouldn't wake up from something as gentle as climbing on his bed.
He did however take care as he squatted down in his brother's face, though only to make sure that his pink tailhole was lined up properly with his target. Inside his bowels, the pressure was only growing worse and worse and the younger drake was forced to let out a long, hissing fart right over his brother's face. It practically burned his tailhole as it seeped out and only seconds later the red sibling was turning his head in disgust of his own sulphurous scent. Still, Fyrre showed no signs of waking even with the air around his head turning so rapidly to fetid farts and the unsubtle wave of heat that accompanied it.
Danor sighed in relief. If Fyrre had woken then his plan would have been ruined and he hadn't even started voiding his bowels! There's was no point in waiting around. With only the tiniest bit of pushing, he felt his twitching tailstar start to spread as the tip of a softish, golden brown log began to slide free. In the silence of the night, the dung made a gentle crackling sound as it oozed out, sagging under its own weight towards the back of Fyrre's throat. That thick, moist log was already past the ebony dragon's lips but it took a few more moments before it finally touched his brother's tongue which guided it smoothly to rest at his throat opening.
Expecting Fyrre to wake at any moment; Danor did not stand on ceremony. Bearing down on his guts, he felt the stream of solid waste pile out of his rear as fast as it could flow. After the first log had finally broken free and landed with a soft thud in his brother's jaws, it was instantly replaced by the start of a second. This one however was supported by the weight of the first steaming pile and so did not break off through its own weight and softer consistency. Instead it flowed out in a rank, constant stream that curled and squashed into those jaws, forcing itself into every nook and cranny around those exposed teeth and that now-filthy tongue.
Before he even had the chance to finish emptying himself, the freshest end of that forming turd broke free of Fyrre's lips and sagged down over his nose and the top of his muzzle. With a small sigh, the younger male finally cut his loaf free and took a step to the side to admire his work. Somehow, his brother still hadn't woken up! Even with his muzzle stuffed to the brim with his little brother's dung and a log laying over his nose, the ebony drake still slept. The air was full of the revolting stench and yet Fyrre didn't cringe or stir in the slightest, his nostrils flaring as he took in long breaths through his partially unobstructed nose.
'Hmmm, still asleep...' Danor pondered, staring down at that unseemly brown bulge in between his brother's lips and wondering what he should do about it. 'What kind of toilet doesn't flush?'
With a small shrug, he hooked his tail around and lined his tip up with the top of that pile. Struggling not to gag himself at the thought of what he was about to touch, he started to push against the top of the pile. The warmth that it gave out and the way that it caved under his touch made him shiver and before long his tail was sliding into Fyrre's mouth and forcing a good portion of that dung down into his throat. The ebony dragon coughed a little but was soon quietened by Danor's tail working its way inside that tight neck to shove his waste into his brother's belly. Not all of his waste was forced down by the tail though, some of it oozing sideways to crackle and squelch out of the corners of his mouth before sagging onto his cheeks.
Once he had forced his tail a good way down Fyrre's throat, the sleeping dragon instinctively swallowed and cleared his neck of that rancid midnight meal and Danor drew his tail back, shuddering at its sight. Clumps of saliva and light brown dung stuck to it horribly after being squashed against his own waste inside that contracting throat and yet still somehow his brother had not awoken! Danor may have known he was a heavy sleeper but this was beyond anything he expected. Luckily though this meant that he wouldn't mind 'cleaning' his brother's tail. Dragging it along his brother's grey chest, he soon got the worst of the dung free from his own scales in exchange for leaving a long brown smear on his brother's torso. That wasn't Danor's problem though.
He was about to head back to his room when the smaller dragon decided to satisfy one more need of his; hiking his hind leg and beginning to relax his bladder this time. A hot golden stream rained down between his brother's lips, striking the back of his throat with that salty urine to make the older dragon cough and accidently swallow down repeated mouthfuls of piss. By this point, the red-scaled drake wasn't even concerned with whether his brother would wake up or not and so he hardly even aimed. Sometimes it splattered down on his top lip and caused salty drops to dribble into his nose; sometimes it struck the side of his cheek and ran down into his mattress to ruin his sheets and leave the bed stinking of his brother's urine, but most of the time it landed on his brother's tongue and bubbled loudly as it briefly pooled before being swallowed.
Before too long though, the stream ebbed and dribbled to a stop all together. Fyrre by now was covered in his brother's waste and reeking so badly that even Danor nearly gagged at the smell that now permeated so thickly throughout the entirety of the room. With nothing left to empty onto his brother, Danor hopped off of the bed and began walking back to his room; already thinking about his warm and clean bed. No doubt Fyrre would be in for a nasty shock when he woke up and realised exactly what his brother had done to him during the night but that was something he could deal with in the morning; for now it was time to sleep.