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Innocence Unveiled

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

23rd February, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

As the first rays of the new dawn painted the skies with hues of pink and gold, the quaint little town slept in obliviousness. Inside a small, yet comfortable home nestled on the edges of town, Owen Darrow, a red kangaroo anthro, lay sprawled across his bed. His athletic form was spread out, belly flat against the mattress, and his arms underneath the pillow upon which his chin rested, in a pose of deep, restful slumber.

His bedroom, adorned with warm earth tones, was dappled with the soft glow of the rising sun. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains, whispering of the new day about to unfold. Owen, lost in the peaceful realms of dreams, remained oblivious to the world starting to awaken outside his window.

As the town began to awaken, a distant melody pierced the tranquillity—the rhythmic trill of a ringing phone. Owen's eyes, hidden beneath pale lids, flickered with distant echoes of the dream world. His paw, concealed beneath the pillow, stirred with a subconscious awareness.

It emerged, a testament to his anthropomorphic form—his fur a rich blend of red-brown hues, a warm symphony of scarlet and russet. The paw, now exposed to the cool morning air, found its way across to the bedside table with sleepy determination. His claws clicked and clattered, finally touching the smartphone's screen and curling around it, pulling it back towards the bed.

Holding it, Owen blinked twice, more asleep than awake, before he hit the green button with a finger and held the phone, tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“Mmm – hello?" Owen mumbled, fighting to awaken.

A rushed, worried voice spilled out of the receiver. “Owen? It's Dr. Zalen – from the clinic? Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Owen yawned with a jaw-cracking yawn, transitioning from deep, restful sleep to almost full awareness. He sat up, holding the phone with his paw.

“What? No... What's wrong?" Owen frowned, one ear flicking.

It can't be good if Dr. Zalen's calling. Not again... Terrible thoughts filled Owen's mind.

As if he sensed it, there was a pause, then Dr. Zalen confirmed Owen's fears.

“There's another one, a young one – buck, the mother was hit and killed, but they brought him here, and I immediately thought of you, with your experience and other -"

Owen shuddered, rolling over onto his back before he swapped the phone from one ear to the other, idly scratching an itch on the thing he knew shouldn't be there but was. A fully functional pouch, its tightly clenched muscular opening sphinctered closed. As his short, blunt claws scratched at the itch, Owen shuddered in pleasure, unable to resist.

No, you don't have time for – that, his mind demanded, eliciting a quirk of a smile on his pale lips. As pleasurable as it would be...

As the sensations subsided, Owen found himself caught between the realms of wakefulness and the remnants of the dream world. The scratching, a fleeting but undeniable pleasure, lingered in the air, weaving itself into the fabric of his waking mind. His senses sharpened, sleep retreated, making way for a surge of determination and responsibility. His paw, once enshrouded in slumber, now gripped the phone hard enough to almost shatter it.

“I'll be right there," Owen spoke quietly.

Once more, Owen was called to duty...

As Owen hung up the phone, then dropped it on the bed, the room seemed to echo with the fading urgency of Dr. Zalen's voice. The reality of the situation suddenly struck Owen, dispelling the remnants of his drowsy mind.

He was needed; his particular skill-set was essential. The weight of the burden he'd placed upon himself as a Wildlife Carer took precedence over his own desires. Pulling his long legs close, he slipped them over the edge of the bed and sat there, a deep tremble rippling through him. His tail cramped uncomfortably behind him as he used his leathery paws to rub at his eyes. His russet fur and dark muzzle cheek stripes distinguished him as a red kangaroo. He twisted his neck, rolling his head from side to side, his ears swishing.

“That young one needs me," Owen commanded himself, his leathery paw pads gripping the edge of his bed as he levered himself upright.

Standing up, Owen's body swayed, and he slapped a paw against the wall until his blood pressure stabilised. Quickly, but carefully, he began moving around the room, gathering his emergency kit—marsupial milk powder of various strengths, latex teats, and small bottles for such. Sliding the satchel leather strap closed, he set it on the bed.

“Hmm, clothes – good idea," Owen laughed weakly. "Humans wouldn't like me just getting around in my fur..."

Less than an hour later, Owen, dressed in a short polo shirt tucked into his jeans, presented himself at the clinic and was immediately buzzed in by a senior staffer through a side door. Worried, the young human woman began rattling off all the details of the young life Owen was determined to save.

“Macropus Giganteus, about, we guess, between two and a bit months, fine, velvety fur, ears not fully upright, young male – some minor abrasions and possible soft tissue damage, Dr. Zalen is examining him now." She tried to keep her composure, and a level of professionalism, but Owen gently placed a paw on her shoulder.

“It's alright, Kelly," Owen murmured. “I know you and the staff here would have done everything you can, but it's alright. I'm just so grateful that whoever it was checked her pouch – and had the wherewithal to bring the Joey here, rather than try to raise it themselves."

With a sniffle, Kelly used a crooked finger to dab at her eyes. “This way, please."

With a nod of reassurance, Owen made his way to the examination room where Dr. Zalen was assessing the condition of the newly orphaned young kangaroo. The clinic's sterility, a blend of antiseptics and the metallic tang of medical instruments, assaulted both noses of orphan and anthro alike. Dr. Zalen, a seasoned veterinarian with a deep understanding of anthro and animal care, looked up, holding the terrified joey firmly but gently.

“Owen, good you're here. This little one's been through quite an ordeal," Dr. Zalen said, his voice carrying a mix of concern and determination.

Owen approached the examination table, where the tiny joey continued to cry and struggle, its fear visible and palpable. Its fur, soft and velvety, clung to its tiny form, and its eyes, although not yet fully open, were filled with terror and misunderstanding.

“Shh," Owen murmured, gently touching the hysterical joey with his paws, like its mother would. “you're okay little one, we'll take good care of you, it's alright..."

Owen, with a shudder, glanced at the nurse, then at Dr. Zalen nodded. “It's alright, Owen; she knows -"

Feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him once more, Owen shed his shirt with a sigh. His anthro form, now bare-chested, showcased the lithe musculature beneath the rich blend of red-brown hues of his fur. He breathed in and out, visible relaxation spread through his muscled frame, a prelude to what he had to do next.

Dr. Zalen, aware of the delicate nature of the situation, carefully maneuvered the hysterical orphaned joey towards Owen's open pouch. The clinic's sterility seemed to disappear in the urgency of the moment. With a careful awkwardness born from the immediate urgency, Dr. Zalen ensured the closeness of the joey's proximity to the welcoming warmth of the dark, furless interior of the pouch.

Owen, understanding the fragility of the young life in his care, observed with a mix of concentration and tenderness. He used his leathery paws to delicately pull open his pouch, creating a secure haven for the distressed joey. The transition was a delicate dance, a blend of human-anthro coordination and marsupial instinct.

As the joey's paws touched the inviting warmth of Owen's pouch, a palpable shift occurred. The hysterical energy seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sudden stillness. In a swift motion, the joey tumbled head over tail into the pouch, its quivering body instinctively curling up. Tucking its nose down between its slender legs, the tiny creature found solace in the dark, warm, and protective embrace.

Owen, now shirtless, felt the weight pull down on the sensitive pouch, the weight of the vulnerable life nestled against him. His pouch, a marvel of nature and design, albeit not belonging to an anthropomorphic buck, cradled the trembling youngster with a warmth that transcended mere physicality. At that moment, as Owen grunted and shuddered, Dr. Zalen and his nurse glanced at each other, then at Owen. Owen gently contracted his pouch muscles, shuddering as the joey instinctively kicked out, making Owen gasp and wince.

“Sensitive?" inquired the curious nurse.

Owen shuddered and nodded, panting slightly. “He may be young, but he's got a kick you wouldn't believe..."

Owen carefully cradled the orphaned joey in his pouch, feeling the tiny creature trembling form against the warm, fur-less interior, Owen sighed and gently rested both paws on the bulge the joey caused, giving a gentle stroke through the fur, a touch of understanding and sympathy.

Dr. Zalen observed Owen's every move, gauging the success of the transfer. The nurse too, looked on with curiosity and concern. As the joey's quivering eased, Owen's pouch muscles gently contracted again, creating a secure and comforting space for the young kangaroo. It's initial distress seemed to subside, replaced with a calm, then restful movement, the joey quickly going to sleep.

“I'd never have believed it - “ Dr. Zalen murmured. “He's gone to sleep, hasn't he? I expected the unfamiliarity of the smell, the..."

“He's very young," Owen admitted, resting his paws on the bulge. “He's traumatized, scared half to death, or worse! From his handling and losing his mother... So the dark, warm, and quietness of the pouch will soothe and comfort him. My heartbeat, which he'll hear, will emulate his mother's. Of course, the hard part – will be the fact I lack mammary glands and teats. As you know, Dr. Zalen, I was born like this – only a quarter of the right equipment..."

“You're unique, Owen," Dr. Zalen chuckled good-naturedly. “If there's any doubts or problems, you bring him straight back – okay? I'm sure, with your experience and gentle touch, he'll do fine. The first few days are always the hardest – as you know. Are you good on formula and teats? Anything you need?"

Quietly, the nurse slipped out of the room to go get what she thought Owen might need.

Owen shuddered, slipping his paws under the pouch and holding it, giving a lopsided grin. “Can I forward time a few months? I'll have to transition him into a makeshift pouch, I doubt I'd get much sleep – or him for that matter...in our arrangement."

Dr. Zalen gave a shake of his head and a weak smile of understanding. “I can only imagine. Give it a few days, it's not your first – so you're not entirely inexperienced being a parent."

Owen shot the vet a stare, that made Dr. Zalen flush as he chuckled nervously. “That was one time - “

With a knowing wink, the vet chuckled again. “Who'd have thought..."

Owen's ear twitched, his nostrils slightly flaring, as he waved a hand at the vet, who let his professionalism come back over him like a mask, the quiet implications remaining private and unspoken. Quickly, the veterinarian nurse returned, a small paper bag in her hand.

“Here are a few appropriate latex tears, now, we all know the milk isn't the same, but it's close enough, I just wish we could foster joeys onto doe's like they do with mares and ewes and..." Sighed the nurse quietly. “Kangaroo does never accept another's joey..."

Taking the bag, Owen nodded at her, folding his discarded polo shirt over and draping it over his satchel. “Thank you, I'll be in touch, I promise..."

*

Owen didn't sleep that night, the joey kicking and turning, mayhaps haunted by its own dreams and night terrors – Owen didn't know. He gently stroked the pouch, his coverlet only over his legs, as he half lay and half sat, all through that first night.

“How do your mothers put up with this?" Owen murmured, as the restless one kicked again, then tumbled once more. “Go easy little one, my pouch is sensitive!"

He's probably hungry, gods know how long it's been since he had any milk and he is very young, you know at their age they do drink a lot of their mother's milk. Would it hurt to offer him some, even – if – you have to force open his mouth and put the teat almost down his throat?

Owen sighed, carefully getting himself off the bed, and with a grunt, forcing himself to rise as he carried himself and his precious, restless pouch resident, into the kitchen. Here, he boiled some water, then added a scoop of formula into a bottle and shook it repeatedly.

With a sharp kick, the joey made his unhappiness known. Owen winced and gently placed a paw lightly on the restless, quivering pouch.

“Easy little one, I'm working as fast as I can," Owen shuddered.

Whether something in his voice or just its natural fear, made the joey tremble and settle, much to Owen's surprise. He affixed the teat, then shook the bottle again, before turning his forearm over and testing the warmth against his forearm. Satisfied, Owen carefully moved back to the bedroom, where he lay down in that awkward half-sitting, half-laying position again.

“Alright little man, I'm going to feed you. I'd prefer we do this gently and carefully, please?" Owen sighed, relaxing the pouch muscles, using his free hand to lift it up and gaze down at the Joey, whose wide, fearful eyes stared back, between his slender feet.

Carefully, Owen dribbled a little milk from the teat, brushing it carefully against the joeys lips. It blinked, then pulled its head away, refusing the artificial teat and the milk formula.

It's going to be like this...

Owen mentally sighed, then shook his head. Gently, he placed a paw over the joey's eyes, curling his fingers as he ever so carefully forced open the joey's muzzle and slipped the teat in, feeling it struggle and trash against him.

“Please, little one, please drink - “ Owen begged, tilting the bottle up. “I know it's not the same as your mother's, but it will help you, I promise..."

Again, the joey tried to pull its head away, Owen refusing to give in, until at last, with a tentative suckle, the joey's throat rippled as he made a half-hearted suck of the teat and formula.

“Good, good," Owen breathed quietly, watching as the first sips began to get a little more engaged. “That's it little one, drink your milk, it's very good for you."

Cautiously, Owen lifted his paw off the Joey's eyes, gently shaking the small plastic bottle as the Joey gazed up at him and continued timidly suckling. After consuming, reluctantly, most of the artificial milk, then pulling his head away, Owen nodded and set the bottle and teat aside.

“Smaller feeds, more often - “ Owen gently talked with the joey. “Alright little one, now, I know this is scary for you, but I'll try to be gentle. I'm not your mother, I will not toilet you in my pouch..."

Cautiously, Owen reached in, gently scooping the joey up and pulling him out of the pouch, as he plucked a few tissues from the nightstand.

“Please, work with me here, okay?" Owen murmured, holding the struggling Joey gently, as he started lightly wiping the small cloaca.

After several anxious minutes, the youngster finally did what the simulated feel of his mother's tongue would have done. Owen cleaned up the joey, then smiled and helped it back into the warmth and safety of the pouch once more.

*

Their first night was a challenge, to put it mildly. The joey, sensing on some level, the difference between Owen's pouch and it's mother's, displayed signs of restlessness. Owen, ever patient and determined, tried to ease the transition with delicate strokes and murmuring soothing words and sounds. However, the joey's distress was palpable, and Owen found himself sleep-deprived, grappling with the responsibilities of parenthood.

*

As the days turned into weeks, Owen and the joey finally, truly, developed a unique bond forged through adversity. The struggles, whilst taxing, deepened Owen's commitment to the well-being of the orphan kangaroo. Each successful feeding, no matter how large or how small, become a triumph in their shared journey together.

Once a week, Owen, joey safely in his pouch, would come to the veterinarian clinic for routine checkups, weigh-ins, and examinations of the young buck.

“You're a blessing in a fur coat," Dr. Zalen smiled at Owen, who reclined on the chair, his long feet up on a stool. “This youngster is thriving! How much does he drink?"

Owen chuckled, placing both paws on his swollen pouch, giving the joey comfort and strength from the touch. “Not as much as I'd like, but obviously, enough. We're at four feedings a day and three at night. He's taken to the formula – I thought I'd struggle like the last one, but he's got a strength to him."

Dr. Zalen pondered, as he pulled some nitrile gloves on, watching as Owen shuddered and looked away.

“Oh, stop that, they're not for you. Now, how settled is the little one? He really should have a name, I know, it's silly. We name our companions – it's what we do. Anyone ever asked them what their name is?"

Owen chuckled, still nervous about the gloves, then nodded thoughtfully. “He deserves a name, yes... What do I call him? My mother named me, I'm not his mother..."

With a snort, the veterinarian shook his head. “To him, you may as well be!"

Owen pondered, looking down at the heavily swollen pouch, pondering for a long, thoughtful time.

“Dr. Zalen..." Owen smiled nervously, as he intentionally spread apart the pouch, the young joey blinking and looking up with those large, dark eyes. “Meet... Buckley."

*

Buckley exceeded everyone's expectations, the grey kangaroo's notorious for their health and stress issues when hand-reared. He thrived under Owen's diligent and gentle care, going from a barely furred baby, into a young adolescent with all the tears and triumphs along the way. Owen was patient, gentle, and kind – but not afraid to put his foot down if the young teenager got too aggressive in their play as Buckley began to test the boundaries of what was, and was not, acceptable with his adopted parent.

Late one afternoon, Owen, naked as the day he'd been born, lay down on the back lawn, Buckley laying against his chest and belly, in that half-laying, half-sitting posture, one forearm and hind leg crossed over the other.

“I can't believe you're almost three now," Owen murmured, gently nuzzling Buckley between the ears, something he knew the young buck adored. “From that fragile, little velvet-furred baby, into a young, beautiful buck you've become."

Buckley merely flicked his ears, leaning his head back into the gentle nuzzles and licks between his ears.

“You hungry? I sure am - “ Owen laughed, gently caressing the flank of the young buck. “Come on, up!"

Obediently, Buckley rose, then stepped up onto his toes, flexing and stretching, before dropping back down into his normal relaxed pose. Owen rose, brushing himself off, before he moved back inside the house, Buckley cautiously hopping after him.

Here, Owen prepared his evening meal, watching as Buckley scraped and clawed at the old blanket before he lay down and gazed up adoringly at Owen.

“You want a carrot or celery?" Owen asked.

Buckley merely stared, then made a strange grunt, before looking away, his feelings made, or so Owen interpreted.

“Okay, so that's a no..." Owen pondered what else to offer. “You've got that marsupial mix – it doesn't smell half bad!"

Again, Buckley looked away, flicking his ears back.

“Fussy little thing, aren't you?" Owen chuckled good-naturedly. “Okay, what do you want? You got to eat something!"

Buckley pondered a moment, uttering a series of grunts, coughs, and strange movements, before he rose and crawled across the linoleum, then crouched down and looked up at Owen, making a strange chattering sound at him. Owen blinked in confusion before he slightly raised himself up and clawed gently at Owen's closed pouch.

“Ow, hey!" Owen gasped, gently taking Buckley's paws in his. “You've got sharp claws! Wait..."

Buckley again, this time much more gently, pawed at Owen's pouch.

“Really?" Owen snorted. “you're an adult now – you haven't had your milk in months! Alright, it won't hurt, but I need to make it, I want you to be patient, alright?"

As Buckley dropped back into his restful pose, paws almost touching the floor, watching his beloved parent prepare the milk and when Owen pulled the teat over it, Buckley began quivering in pleasure and expectation.

“Come on, you know the way - “ Owen laughed, grabbing a carrot from the counter.

Buckley hopped into the living room, then around in circles, uttering grunts, growls, and other noises, until Owen lay down on the sofa, Buckley awkwardly climbing up and laying with his head on Owen's chest.

“Comfortable?" Owen laughed gently, stroking Buckley's chest and belly, amazed the young bachelor could lay like that, his thick, heavy tail between his long feet. “Alright, patience! Here's your bottle..."

Buckley accepted it gratefully, eagerly sucking on the latex teat, his paws lightly gripping Owen's forearms.

“I'd forgotten how this feels, holding you like this, my dear, sweet gentle buck – feeding you when you were still so small..." Owen sighed, then tried to blink away the tears that threatened to slip down his cheeks.

Perceptive, Buckley stopped suckling the teat, lifting his gaze to stare at Owen.

“It's alright my sweet," Owen smiled, tenderly stroking Buckley's belly with his claws. “Just... reminiscing. Finish your milk, please."

Buckley blinked, then obediently returned to suckling the warm milk, Owen's head leaning back on the edge of the sofa as he sighed softly, lost in the memories and experiences of countless times he'd done this with other hand-reared joeys over the years.

*

Buckley awoke with a start, his transition from deep slumber to alertness almost instantaneous. From his comfortable spot on the blankets, he half-sat up, his tubular ears and nostrils twitching as he surveyed his environment. To his keen senses, the supposedly dark and quiet house was alive with subtle stimuli.

A peculiar sound caught his attention, prompting the inquisitive young juvenile to rise and move towards the source. Navigating the familiar space with practiced ease, he perceived the surroundings in varying shades of grey and black. His journey led him to his adoptive parent's bedroom, where he crouched down, moving with cautious curiosity.

With a nudge from his nose, he pushed the door open, then stood, wide-eyed and perplexed, both ears snapping forwards in an attempt to decipher the unfamiliar noise...

He stared, mouth hanging open, watching his adopted parent in what, to his young mind, seemed terrible and painful. His eyes wide, he watched helplessly, paralyzed with his confusion and fear, Buckley watched his father writhe and moan, his paws doing something the young buck couldn't comprehend. When his father's heart rate, already high, spiked and he made that sound – Buckley's terrified heart couldn't take anymore. With a frightened, primal cry of his own, his instincts seized him and he fled blindly, away from the perceived danger.

*

Owen lay on his bed, one paw buried in his pouch, the other making a sensual, gentle stroking motion against his engorged S-shaped length. Slick lube coated his paw as he carefully masturbated himself with intent and pleasure, the vibrator in his pouch only adding to the sensual pleasure. His head leaned back as his stroking intensified, his whimpers, gasps, and moans escaping his open muzzle as he grunted and began quivering.

With a animal-like grunt, Owen's hips rose off the bed, and his spine crackled alarmingly, as he began to ejaculate in strong, powerful spurts – thankfully contained within the condom that enshrouded his feral-like penis.

“Ffuuuucckkk..." Owen moaned and shuddered, his slick paw slapping down on the towel he'd thoughtfully laid down. “It's never been..."

His body slick with sweat, Owen's trembling paw switched off the vibrator in his pouch, pulling it out and dropping it down onto the bed beside him. He suddenly startled, hearing the terrified, loud piercing shriek from the bedroom doorway, then the sound of wild thuds as soft marsupial foot paws fled...

Owen's heart pounded in his chest as Buckley retreated in terror. He hastily stood up and stumbled towards the bedroom door, his urgent voice echoing throughout the house as he sought out the fleeing juvenile.

In the dimly lit living room, Owen found Buckley cowering in the corner, wide-eyed and trembling. The confused kangaroo, still visibly trying to process the unfamiliar sight, growled and held his paws up defensively, fear etched deep in his face and body language.

“Buckley, it's me!" Owen spoke gently, his anxiety palpable. He crouched down, mindful of his nudity as the towel fell, then extended a comforting paw towards the frightened kangaroo. “I'm not hurt, I'm okay, shhh, easy...easy!"

Buckley, clearly unable to verbalize his confusion and distress, remained aggressive and defensive for a few beats of his heart before he hesitated and instantly dropped to all fours, coughing in fear and submission, allowing Owen's tentative touch. Owen ran his paws gently over Buckley's fur, offering reassurance in the form of familiar petting and strokes.

Owen's heart ached at the thought of Buckley witnessing something he couldn't comprehend. “I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean for you to see that. I should have been more careful," he murmured, his heart filled with regret.

Owen gasped in surprise, as Buckley shivered then grabbed him round the neck, pressing his muzzle against Owen's chest, seeking comfort and safety. Owen, sensing Buckley's fear, gently cradled him in his embrace, mindful of the delicate state of the confused juvenile.

“Shh, it's okay, it's alright Buckley. Let's go back to bed," Owen murmured, lightly nuzzling Buckley's ears, before guiding the young kangaroo back to the bedroom. “You can sleep with me tonight, it's alright, come on – up!"

At first, Buckley hesitated, his senses overwhelmed by the confusing scents of sweat, semen, and lube. However, his trust in his adoptive parent won out, and he hopped up onto the bed. Owen gently held him, and Buckley lay down. Owen then tenderly spooned the quivering young buck, giving him reassuring petting and strokes.

“I'm sorry," Owen murmured, gently pulling Buckley close and holding him, feeling the quivering marsupial. “I didn't mean to frighten you Buckley, it's okay – you're safe here, with me."

As the night unfolded, Owen felt Buckley's fear drain away, his tense muscles slowly relaxing, and he wriggled slightly, drawing warmth and love from Buckley's furred body and presence. Owen carefully slid the light coverlet up over them both, cradling and comforting the kangaroo in his warm, loving embrace.

Be more mindful of your actions, Owen mentally chastised himself. Considering this poor creature's limited capacity for thought, what you were doing, whilst pleasurable for you – almost frightened him to death. He doesn't understand what he saw, how could he?

How could he indeed? Owen's thoughts turned hazy, as he lightly kissed Buckley between the ears, drifting off into a deep, restful sleep.

*

Buckley was gone when Owen awoke, about 0600 – but he had no fears about his young companion. He was probably outside taking care of his physical needs or browsing. With a jaw-cracking yawn, Owen opened his eyes and blinked wearily, absently scratching various places before he fully awoke, then sniffed himself and the bed, wrinkling his nose.

“Urgh, bad buck," Owen grumbled. “Now I got to wash my sheets and me, I know better than to self-pleasure myself in bed. Right, get up..."

Owen's mind commanded his body...reluctantly submit. Owen shuddered, a few loose strands of hair floating in the gentle breeze, as he stripped off his bedding and carried it to the laundry. Once it was started, he paused, hearing strange noises coming from the backyard. Looking out the back door, Owen chuckled, watching Buckley play fighting with a springy sapling.

“Right, shower young buck!" Owen snorted. “You positively reek!"

*

As the warm water flowed, Owen tilted his head up into the cascading spray. He reveled in the soothing embrace of the warm water, his closed eyes shutting out the world.

Unbeknownst to him, a curious observer approached, gently nudging open the bathroom door with tentative curiosity. Buckley, in his juvenile innocence, crawled forward, his eyes taking in a scene his young mind couldn't quite comprehend. His tubular ears twitched with curiosity as he observed his caregiver in the shower. The steam curled and swirled around Buckley's body, entrancing and captivating the curious young buck. He was more captivated, but the cascading water and the rhythmic sound it created. His innocent, naivety was driven by a child-like curiosity about the world around him – and just what his carer was doing.

As Owen's claws and paws scrubbed himself from head to ankle and back again, he slapped his paws against the wall, letting the water wash over him. Thoughts came to him, and thoughts led to action, as Owen sighed quietly, sliding one slick paw down into his pouch and splaying up and back his claws. The slickness of the fur-less pouch and his wet paw worked in tandem.

“Urgh..." Owen moaned, the sensations arousing and undeniable, his body hunching over slightly, as he began gently rubbing the cloaca vent between his hind legs.

Oblivious to his adopted parent's daily routine, Buckley watched with wide eyes, not understanding the nuances of privacy and personal space. His presence went unnoticed, as he nervously crept closer, his unblinking gaze fixed on what his adopted father was doing. His sense of smell was hampered by the steam and whatever that other scent was – all he could do was watch and listen, his ears forward and eyes wide.

Owen knew he shouldn't be doing what he was about to do, but the water and the imaginative thoughts that filled his mind overrode his common sense. It didn't take much to bring him to arousal, his slick paw, aided by the special soap, sensuously moved from the thick base up the tip and back again, his claws curling around it as he tilted his head back and moaned in marsupial pleasure. His mind began to summon such thoughts, as his paw stroking both upon himself and deep inside his pouch exasperating and heightening the self-pleasure.

Buckley, curious, watched his adoptive parent for ten minutes, confused yet curious at what he was doing. His young mind had no concept or imaginative thought on the actions, he just observed quietly, the reactions. The body language, the quiet moans and gasps were not of discomfort or pain – but positive sounds that fuelled the young buck's curiosity, making him draw closer before his claws splayed out and he felt the, to his mind, invisible barrier between himself and his parent.

Lost in his world of pleasure, Owen became vaguely aware of a subtle presence – right before he heard the clicking of claws against the shower glass. As he opened his eyes, his mouth falling open, he found Buckley, the innocent curiosity evident in those wide, expressionate eyes and the way his tubular ears swished. Owen, caught in a moment of self-pleasure, flushed and turned away, looking over his shoulder.

“Oh...hey there Buckley," Owen nervously laughed, trying to defuse any potential fear in the youngster. “Just, uh, having a shower... it's alright, really! Nothing to worry your sweet little head about and..."

Buckley, confused, made strange noises, his fear rising as he clawed at the glass in confusion – his desire evident to be with his caregiver, but this strangeness kept them apart.

“Step back, please - “ Owen murmured, his thoughts on self-pleasure forgotten temporarily.

Confused, Buckley felt the invisible wall push away from him, and with a frightened grunt, he leaped away, before his caregiver smiled and crouched down, holding wet paws out towards him – a gesture Buckley knew well. Cautiously, he crawled over, then into the shower, instantly gasping as the rain-like water splashed down over his fur, soaking through to his skin.

“Easy!" Owen chuckled, as he pulled shut the door, then gently cradled Buckley, holding him carefully. “It's just like rain – but warmer!"

Buckley, at first confused, but curious, looked up at Owen, the shower water cascading over his head. The sound of the water hitting the tiles intrigued him, reminiscent of the rain he'd felt outdoors. Hesitating at first, he extended a paw tentatively into the falling droplets, feeling the gentle touch on his fur.

As Buckley continued to investigate, he discovered the warmth and emotional closeness of his guardian, a contrast to the cool, sometimes outright cold rain he was accustomed to. His ears swiveled with interest, picking up the rhythmic sounds of the water hitting the tiles and the gentle hiss of the shower. With each passing moment, the young kangaroo grew more at ease, reassured by the controlled environment and the presence of Owen.

Emboldened by the safety of Owen's physical closeness and the trust he had in him, Buckley took a step closer to Owen, letting the water cascade over his fur. His eyes widened in wonder as the droplets glistened on his coat.

Owen, still crouched down, watching with a smile, appreciating the innocence and curiosity of the young kangaroo. The shower, once a new and unknown concept, became a shared experience, deepening their bonds.

Owen gently picked up the shower gel, a special formula specifically designed for marsupials.

“Buckley?" Owen murmured. “I'm going to wash you, just relax, it won't hurt you, you understand I'd never do anything to frighten you, don't you?"

Buckley merely blinked, the water droplets falling off his eyelashes, as he flicked his ears in curiosity.

Owen carefully squirted a generous amount into his paws, then began lightly rubbing it against Buckley's chest and forearms. Quickly, more was added, the curious buck twitching and grunting as Owen covered him from throat to ankle in a rich, not-unpleasant scented lather.

Owen's gentle hands moved over Buckley's fur, the lather seeping down against his skin, making it sleek and fragrant. The kangaroo stood still, seemingly enjoying the sensation, the trust between them evident in the relaxed posture. Owen paid special attention to Buckley's groin, ensuring it was clean and well-soaped – the youngster grunting and slapping wet paws on Owen's chest, gazing up at him with a look of confusion.

“Easy," Owen nervously laughed. “I know how sensitive it is down there, but I got to get you clean, one way or..."

Owen's paw felt something gently brush against it, as Buckley uttered a strange series of vocalizations.

“Oh – oh..." Owen blinked, then looked down at the slender length that rapidly firmed against his leathery paw pads. “My, my youngster has truly come of age..."

Buckley blinked, confused and not understanding, as he placed his paws on Owen's chest and grunted and coughed. He was torn between the surprise sensations and his absolute trust in his caregiver.

Be careful, Owen chastised himself. He's trusting in you, but it'd take very little to frighten him, go easy – leave your paw where it is, and let him experience the gentle touch before you try anything.

“Easy, Buckley," Owen murmured, his free paw lightly stroking Buckley's chest. “Easy, just relax and breathe, nice and steady, it's alright."

Buckley blinked, looking up as his young mind tried to decipher what his carer wanted – or was doing. Curious, Buckley looked down at the wet, slick length of Owen, his lips moving and whiskers twitching. Crouching down, his slender paws resting on the wet, slick floor, Buckley sniffed at the semi-erect length – then before Owen could think, Buckley licked it from tip to root, snorting and shaking his head.

“Buckley!" Owen gasped, his ears flattening.

Buckley remained crouched, looking up, confused, yet curious. He flicked his ears, grunting and coughing, before lightly placing his paws on Owen's thighs, tilting his head up to look up at Owen, almost in a curious, begging gesture.

“Buckley, that's..." Owen stammered, then slumped down onto the bench on the shower, gently holding Buckley's paws in his own. “How do I explain it to you, so you'll understand me? I know you're curious, very curious – you're young, your mind is expanding and you're so trusting of me..."

Buckley snorted and shook his head, the shower water spraying off his ears and neck, before he grunted and looked down, then back up, his vocalizations growing more insistent.

“Alright, alright!" Owen laughed nervously, letting Buckley's paws go. “I don't think you'll like it though..."

Buckley snorted and dropped back onto all fours, gazing at the now quite firm length. To Owen's surprise, Buckley took it between his paws, holding it like he did his bottle and teat. With a tentative lick, Buckley's tongue swirled over his lips and he blinked before his head dropped and he began to suckle.

“Buck..." Owen gurgled, his eyes wide as he stared down, afraid to move, to even breathe.

Buckley swept his ears back and continued, curious and surprised, growing steadily impatient as he perceived teat failed to deliver its warm, soothing milk formula. Buckley had no concept, no understanding that what he was doing was wrong, as his slender tongue pressed against the underside and he kept suckling, settling into a relaxed, comfortable stance, just like he had when he was fed his formula.

“Nnnngh - “ Owen gasped and shuddered. He had no words, no imagination to rationalize what was happening to him. Sure, he'd had his share of blow jobs over the years, but nothing compared to the warmth of this innocent, shy buck's gentle yet curious nursing.

Buckley continued for a few minutes, before realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere, he snorted and stopped, lifting his head up and away, gazing up at Owen, an unmistakable look of frustration and confusion in his eyes.

“Buckley - “ Owen panted heavily, having been brought so close by his own paws, and now this – his scrotum ached abysmally. “That... was amazing, I never expected..."

Buckley flicked an ear and grunted, then coughed, before reaching with his paws under his own scrotum and awkwardly grabbing at his own penis that stood proud and firm, slender in its S shape, Buckley's expression conveying what his guttural growls and clicks could not.

“I...can I try something, something gentle – with you?" Owen asked, as he stood up, then crouched down, so he could look directly into Buckley's eyes.

Buckley, once again completely oblivious but trusting, licked Owen's forehead affectionately, his love and trust in his owner absolute.

“Alright, now, steady – turn around, please?" Owen gently moved Buckley, sliding the kangaroo's long feet sideways.

Buckley frowned, until he seemed to understand, awkwardly turning himself about, then looking back over his shoulder.

“Good...boy." Owen smiled, then knelt down behind him, placing his paws on Buckley's rump, gently stroking and soothing the nervous and confused kangaroo. “Easy my friend..."

Buckley, curious and attentive, blinked and watched Owen, whose arms slid around Buckley's hips and down under his belly. With a startled grunt, Buckley's eyes widened as he felt Owen's left paw gently encircle his length and begin a delicate caress.

“Easy, easy..." Owen murmured, as he continued to tenderly rub and stroke. “I won't hurt you, Buckley, you know that, don't you?"

Buckley quivered and squirmed, his mind confused, but his trust absolute. He moved his tail slightly to the right, crouching lower, unintentionally lifting his hindquarters.

Owen shuddered, feeling himself pressed up against the cloaca slit – rubbing sensuously against the slick, soapy mound.

Stop it – Owen mentally chastised himself again. He's a buck, he'd not like being bred like that red doe you had that time...

Buckley blinked, then coughed and shook his head again, moving himself back against Owen's belly and groin, whether intentionally or accidentally.

Owen didn't know. His gentle masturbation of Buckley didn't seem to be scaring the young juvenile, and this unnatural pose, Buckley's wet, slick fur against his own, didn't help his own urges that wanted to be released. The feel of Buckley's groin, the slickness and the warmth of it, brought more pleasure to Owen's mind than he wanted to imagine.

It'd be so easy – Owen thought, then tried to banish the thought. Some lube, some gentle reassurance, and caressing, careful, gentle mounting – making this young buck a – doe – you know yourself it is possible...

Buckley suddenly tensed, then shuddered, his body convulsing as he began ejaculating. Hot, sticky roo semen spurted forth, spattering against the wall of the shower and sliding down its wet surface to puddle on the non-stick mat.

As the sensation of his companion's release, Owen moaned and his own pent-up release finally found its release. His orgasm was strong, undeniable, and almost as powerful – adding itself to the sticky mess that Buckley had produced. His forearms tightened around Buckley's hips.

Buckley grunted in surprise at the sudden sharp grasp of his parent, looking back, his ears twitching in alarm, but sensing nothing wrong with his adoptive parent, he quickly relaxed as he felt Owen twitching and shivering, the short, sharp breaths against the back of his neck.

“Fuck.." Owen gurgled, as he released Buckley and fell backward, his back colliding with the seat, then sliding down into the floor.

Buckley turned about, clucking and grunting, clawing gently at him, making Owen laugh weakly and tenderly stroke his companion.

“It's alright my young friend – just...need a moment... that was something else..."

Buckley blinked, turning about completely, then shaking the water off himself as he clawed and lightly scratched at Owen.

“Alright, alright," Owen laughed, still reeling from the orgasmic pleasures, but Buckley's insistent pawing made him stand up. “That was...amazing Buckley, thank you for trusting me."

Owen turned off the shower, then pushed open the door, stepping out and reaching for a towel.

Buckley blinked and shook himself off, water spraying from his fur, before he carefully crawled out, quivering and looking confused by what'd been done to him.

“Let's get you dried off, you know, I'm surprised you were so trusting, to get into the shower with me..." Owen murmured, then held out the towel.

Buckley, used to such things, nuzzled at Owen's throat, before getting wrapped in the large towel and vigorously rubbed until he was dry.

“What'd I ever do, to deserve such a gentle, sweet buck like you?" Owen asked as he smiled and gently kissed Buckley between the ears.

*

Morning showers – and pleasurable moments like what had happened, become more regular, Buckley almost seemingly looking forward to the special moment with his adopted parent. He would eagerly climb into the shower, proceeding to get himself thoroughly wet down and scrubbed – before Owen would help the young buck relieve his frustrations with gentleness and care. Each time, Buckley grew a little more inquisitive...and positioned himself into a more compromising position, gazing back at Owen with a look of pure trust.

*

At last, six months after his first shower encounter – Buckley made his desires known in the most unexpected of ways...

Owen had taken to using lube in the shower, whilst masturbating himself and Buckley. He enjoyed watching the young kangaroo buck's expressions. That way he'd sway and twitch – through to the tilting back of his head as his musculature rippled beneath his wet pelt. Finally, through to the quiver when he finally reached orgasm.

It was during one such time, that Buckley looked back at Owen, before lifting himself slightly up on his long feet and moving subtly before he glanced back and waited until Owen's eyes were closed.

Owen gasped, feeling something warm and slick, slide down upon a third of his marsupial member, his eyes snapping open in shock. He hadn't been watching, and now, at least a quarter of himself was sheathed inside Buckley's cloaca.

“Buckley - “ Owen panted, staring wide-eyed into the curious, muzzle-twitching buck's eyes.

What do I do? Do I dismount? Do I stay? Do I just...try to remain calm and...

Buckley grunted, then seemingly willingly took the decision out of Owen's paws, as he relaxed his tense thighs and cautiously lowered his hips, taking more of Owen inside him.

“Buckley, no, stop my love - “ Owen panted, his body fighting the instinctive urges, countered by the genuine fear of frightening, or worse, hurting his companion. “It's not...right – you're a buck, not a doe and..."

Buckley merely blinked and flicked his ears, seemingly unconcerned at the unnatural mating between himself and his beloved parent. If anything, he genuinely seemed to have a mixture of curiosity and genuine enjoyment, his vocalizations and quivering as he looked at Owen.

“Buckley," Owen protested, holding Buckley firmly, in what resembled a typical mating hold, his forearms around the buck's hips, one paw gently holding the quivering length of the buck, himself now, more than halfway inside Buckley's cloaca. “This... is..."

Buckley blinked, his ears pricking forwards as he twitched his lips, before slightly standing, then gasping as Owen's own roo-hood finally slotted inside Buckley's anal passage, making the youngster quiver and slightly tense up.

Owen couldn't help himself, memories of mating with that feral red doe surging within him, as he instinctively clasped Buckley tight with his forearms and began thrusting. It was primal, awkward, and thankfully – quick.

Buckley grunted and quivered, confused and surprised by this encounter, at first instinctively pulling away, but Owen's tight grip held him firm. Thanks to the awkward angle, and the fact Buckley's thick, muscular tail was impeding the worst of the trusts – Buckley submitted willingly, placing his paws on the floor of the shower in both submission – and acceptance, something in his mind demanding he comply to the older buck's urges.

It wasn't painful for him, if anything, Buckley quivered and panted, finding a surprising bond of trust and love between himself and his carer...even when the dominant buck grunted and pulled the panting youngster back, then shared his seed with him – Buckley merely swallowed the lump in his throat and quivered, overcome with equally powerful, yet opposing mental conflicts his young mind couldn't decipher.

*

It become a sensual, gentle ritual. It started in the morning, Buckley standing in the shower, getting cleaned. It led to Buckley being sexually relieved by Owen, with gentle, careful attention. Then after, come the eager, willing young buck's moment of mutual pleasure for both himself and his owner. Owen was always kind and gentle with him, from initial mounting, through to lovemaking and after lovemaking cuddles, pulling Buckley back and giving the panting youngster cuddles, kisses, and licks.

*

A year after their first, almost feral-like mating, Owen lay on his bed, pleasuring himself with a new toy he'd purchased. As always, the vibrator in his pouch brought its usual relief and pleasure – but this new one – was incredible. It'd taken some practice, and more lube than Owen wanted to admit to – but as it gently vibrated, twirled, and quivered deep up inside him – he couldn't deny the ecstasy. His paw gripped his slick, wet length, tenderly caressing and stroking and he shuddered and moaned, completely lost in the pleasure. He suddenly blinked, when his eyes focused and he saw the now fully grown Buckley standing at the end of the bed, looking on with a mixture of curiosity and awareness.

“Buckley, we talked about..." Owen blushed, then laughed softly. “Alright, up, come on my big buck, up!"

Buckley leaped up onto the bed, then instantly dropped to all fours, bracing himself. Owen watched, then confused, as Buckley twisted and placed his paws on Owen's muscular furred chest, one hind leg sliding over Owen's hips.

“What...are you doing..." Owen blinked, bracing his paws against the mattress as he sat up slightly, looking at Buckley, who merely twitched and grunted, crouching down and giving Owen's chest a gentle lick. “yes, Buckley, I love you too – now just what...oh..."

Buckley watched his owner's expression, as he expertly mounted Owen inside him, Buckley's paws quivering as the not-insignificant length of the anthropomorphic kangaroo's lube-slick shaft was sheathed.

“Urgh - “ Owen gurgled, his eyes wide and disbelieving at the sensations he felt.

Buckley panted and grunted, lifting his hindquarters and lowering them again, using his powerful leg muscles and feet, soon rocking up onto his toes with each eager thrust, his forearms on Owen's chest, his supple paws gripping and relaxing, his tongue licking and lathering Owen's nose and cheeks.

“Easy..." Owen wheezed. “you're not a...doe...yet you...you're so..."

Buckley grunted and steadied his eagerness, settling into a more sensual and careful mating, his eyes fixated on Owen's – watching the tightening of the eyes and the nervous twitching of the red kangaroo's muzzle.

“No...Buckley...st..." Owen wheezed, his paws gripping at the coverlet. “Stop..."

Buckley snorted and slapped his groin hard against Owen's, his nostrils flaring as he smelt that scent from his mate – for at this moment, that was what they had become, in Buckley's mind, as he convulsively quivered, feeling the thick, long length of the red kangaroo inside him give him the as Owen gurgled and gave his sperm to the adult grey in powerful intense spurts. He leaned forward, resting his paws on Owen's shoulders, his gaze wide and mouth slightly open.

He's going to lick me, our sign of friendship and bond, just like he always does... Owen smiled, expecting the sensual and pleasurable lick.

Only Buckley leaned even closer, nuzzling gently against the russet left ear of the kangaroo he straddled, before he quivered, and in a panting, breathless moment – he licked Owen's ear.

“Thank you...father..." Buckley's voice puffed Owen's ear.

END