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This chapter is dedicated to David, who showed me the manifold joys of sleeping with a kangaroo. © 2007 by Oswald, all rights reserved. This story is a work of fiction. The characters depicted within are creations of the author or are used with permission, although not always under his control. * * *

Chapter 2, Ferret in the Pocket

• * * I love being a journalist, really I do. I get to see people helping one another in times of need, banding together in love and compassion and understanding. Anthropop sent me on an assignment to cover a rally. It was a get together of sorts gathering together people from all corners of the country with a single rallying cry. "Furs get out". I stood on the margins, far enough back as to be less noticeable, but close enough for my 70-200 zoom to have a good field of focus. I got pictures of faces contorted in hatred that reflected the twisted minds behind them, of faces so transported by abhorrence that it bordered on a religious experience. I took pictures of signs misusing bible verses and philosophers to sanction messages of loathing. Next came the part that I had been dreading. I had to get quotes. I moved my way up to the front of the police barricades. Some of the officers looked at me indifferently, as though I was just another bystander. That was better than the other looks I got, from other officers, as though they agreed with the painted slogans, and chanted fury. I spoke with people who ranted and raved spewing parroted incoherent garbage. They were less scary, however, than the people who calmly and evenly explained their position with propaganda and misinformation, believing it the whole time, as though trying to educate a mentally challenged child. I didn't bother to argue with any of them, noting their comments down in my notebook for later use. Finally I'd had all I could stomach. I had gotten off easy. Only two people had spit on me, and nobody had tried to come over the barricades so I counted it a win. The thought process behind the rabid hatred of Furs was easy to follow. Since we had been introduced into the general populace of the country forty years ago, certain people had seen us as a corrupting influence on society. They hated that we didn't seem to have the same hang ups as humans; that we seemed to be freer than they felt. Our outlook on life was not the same, our philosophies alien, our morals different. Which, if you know much about humans, makes us bad. So every couple of months, there were anti fur rallies like the one I was walking away from. It didn't really bother the Fur community as such, because as far as we were concerned you had a right to your opinion, distasteful as we might find it. If we had known what was coming, we might not have had such a laconic attitude. I walked the boulevards away from the park, towards my favorite coffee shop. I know what you're thinking, that coffee is the last thing a ferret needs, but hey, they give Ritalin to kids with ADHD right? At any rate, after all the craziness at the rally, I wanted to be somewhere I felt comfortable, and safe. I didn't like to admit it, but seeing that level of emotion directed at me for nothing I had any say about rattled me. I mean, I think that a person has value regardless of what they happen to look like. I don't discriminate against anyone for any reason, I may not agree with your position or outlook, but I will always respect your right to have an opinion, and to exist. Ehhh... I'm thinking too much, and getting up on my soapbox. I walked through the doors into my regular coffee house. It wasn't one of these cookie cutter national chain places, it was a real original. The people behind the counter knew how to do more than smile and follow the handbook on how to make and serve coffee. Calvin, the owner was manning the machine, and he was a true artist. He practiced the art of foam marking, whereby he would draw on the foam of a latte or cappuccino with the espresso. I didn't know another barista in town that was willing to go to such lengths to make every beverage an experience. Point of fact, I didn't know another person in town who could truly call themselves a barista. He smiled at me as I walked through the door. "Hey Oz, how's it hangin'?" I grinned at him, put a look of introspection on my face and replied, "oohhh... about three feet up, and just a little to the left." He loves that joke, which is why he always feeds me that line. I asked for my usual and sat down at the table, reached into my bag and pulled out my laptop. I began with my impressions of the event, things that had stuck out in my mind. Anthropop's position on the anti-fur movement was that these were just harmless loonies, that they were as a tempest in a teapot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. If I wanted to sell them this article, it had to be in keeping with their general ideals, but at the same time, I wanted to make the Fur community aware that the movement was gaining momentum. There were people out there that hated us, and their venom was gaining potency. As I worked, someone entered the shop. I looked up from my writing, and noticed, walking across the room, a young kangaroo. Male, he stood about five or six inches taller than me, not including his ears. There was something about him that I found hard to define for, as our gazes met for a moment; he drew away from the contact, as if he was trying to make himself less obtrusive. His ears had black tips, as well as his tail which I noticed as he waited on his turn at the counter. Another feature that caught my eye was a notch that had been cut into his ear. At this point, there's something that you should be aware of, and that is the fact that I don't really differentiate between the genders as bedfellows. I am of the opinion that what's between the ears is more important than what's between the legs. I'm just a sexual being, and I love it however it comes to me be my partner male or female. I watched as he ordered and took his drink back to a table. I felt drawn to him in a way that I was hard pressed to define. There was a sense of deep waters around him that I couldn't quite place. He moved as though he were unsure that he was doing the right thing, shyly in a manner of speaking. I kept my eyes on him as he sat down, and opened a news paper. My eyes kept returning to that notch in his ear. There was a story there, and I wanted to know what it was. My mind made up, I backed up what I had so far, folded my laptop, and placed it back in my bag. I gathered up my drink, and walked over to the table where the young Fur was sitting. He glanced up at me as I smiled my most disarming smile and said, "Hi, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" He looked up at me with a mixture of surprise and alarm. "Umm... I... I... don't know?" he replied with a slight Australian accent. Could you die? It was now out of my hands, I had to get to know him better. I pulled out my notepad, and sat down opposite him. "That's not the same as no, is it?" I asked with a twinkle in my eye. I found his uncertainty disarming, since I worked with people in the magazine business, I wasn't used to someone like that, and I found it refreshing. I pulled off the cap of my fountain pen and poised it over the paper. I decided to start off with introductions and said, "My name's Oswald, what's yours?" The kangaroo looked at me with eyes wide. He hesitated a moment before answering, "Umm... David," with a look that seemed to ask if that was ok. I sighed inwardly. If this guy didn't loosen up it was going to be a long interview. I looked around the shop. David, Calvin and I were the only people there. I reached into a pocket of my bag, and pulled out a metal flask wrapped in leather. Inside was a very good seventeen year old scotch, well aged, but not too oaken. Just the way I like it. I passed it across the table to David. "Here have a pull of this. It'll loosen you up a bit," I watched as he investigated the flask, opening it up, and gingerly sniffing at it. He was wary, which was understandable, but if I wanted to untie his tongue, I needed him to trust me. I looked over at him and said, "I understand your caution, after all you just met me, but you really don't need to worry," I turned and spoke to Calvin, "Hey Calvin! Will you tell this kid that I'm ok? He seems a little nervous." Calvin looked back at the pair of us at the table. "Listen David, you can trust Os, He's one of the most honorable people I know. I've known him for a few years now, and he's never hurt anyone deliberately." This seemed to satisfy him, and he took a long pull from the flask. As I waited for the drink to take effect I told him a little bit about myself. I told him about things like my job for the magazine, my friends that sort of thing, hoping to make him comfortable with me. Whether it was my charm, or my booze, he began to loosen up. He was born on a farm in central Australia in 1988, the notch in his ear marked him as property. He enjoyed his life on the farm, but when he was twelve, he was sold to another farmer a few miles away. His new owner mistreated him, and one day, when the gate was accidentally left open, he simply walked away. As he talked I got the feeling that there was more to the story than was being spoken. He hiked, and hitchhiked his way to Sidney, where he was taken in by an older human woman who gave him a place to stay. He worked for a grocery chain up till last year, and then was offered a place to live by relatives of hers in this country when she passed away. At this point in his narrative a group of people walked in. He began to look around uncomfortably, put off by the presence of so many strangers. He had me hooked now; I wanted to know more about his story, I wanted to know more about him. I suggested that we adjourn to my place, hoping that he'd accept. He looked around uncertain, took a glance back at Calvin, as if reassuring himself, and agreed. As we walked I asked him more questions about his life as it was now. He lived alone in a small efficiency apartment, and worked doing odd jobs around town. He seemed to have a sever case of wanderlust, never wanting to say in one place for too long, and he arranged his life around the ability to move on when the mood struck him. He seemed to be quiet and reserved, which was a counterpoint to my outgoing personality. I'd never felt such and intense immediate attraction to another person before. I snuck glances at him as we walked. The sunlight shone off of the fur on his ears and head. He was beautiful. His carriage suggested an inner pain that the story that he'd told me barely hinted at. After a few minutes walking, we reached my apartment and headed upstairs. As I walked through the door, I noticed a note on the table by the door. This was how Jimmy and I communicated when we were busy. I picked it up and glanced at it. Jimmy was out with Kia, again, and would be spending the night at her place. I smiled to myself. Sara and I had kept in touch after our liaison a week ago, but as nothing more than friends. For us it had just been a momentary distraction. My human roommate Jimmy and Kia, the whitetail doe that he had hooked up with that same night, had a real thing going. They had clicked, and what started as a one night stand had become something more. I smiled to myself, glad that David and I would have the apartment to ourselves, and mixed drinks for us, and we settled down on opposite ends of the couch. I pulled my notebook and pen back out, and tried to dig a little deeper into the psyche of the young Roo across from me. I asked him more about his life on the farm. I wanted to know how Fur slavery had existed as recently as 1988; I had been under the impression that it had been outlawed not long after Furs had been introduced. He explained that in the far outback, there were pockets of humanity that had little contact with the outside world, and that these communities did more or less as they pleased. I probed more into his life there. The reason that he had been sold was because his parents had been slaughtered. When I asked why they had been killed, he told me something that blew my mind. He and his family were bred as food animals. The shock must have showed on my face, because he hurriedly explained that one of the first things that he'd done after his escape was report it to the Ministry of Human/Fur relations. I made an excuse and headed to the bathroom, I couldn't believe that there was anywhere where Furs had been consumed in such a barbaric fashion. While I was in the bathroom I called a research assistant at Anthropop. I gave him the information that I needed to verify David's story. I may be a softy, but I'm no fool. I went back and asked him more about his experiences since escaping. He'd been shocked at how he'd been treated by most humans since his escape. Instead of barely concealed distain and contempt, he'd been treated humanely and with kindness. The death of Alice, the woman who'd taken him in after reaching Sidney half starved, and out of money had affected him deeply. After the treatment that he'd received under his former master he'd had a hard time trusting a human, or anybody for that matter and she had brought him in just like one of her sons. It was clear to me that there was more about his second "master" than he was telling me, and I wanted to find out what it was, but before I could ask, my phone buzzed with a text from the research assistant that I had called earlier. The text confirmed the essentials of David's story. There had been several farming communities in the heart of the Australian continent that had been raided and found to have been raising Furs as food animals. An anonymous tip to the ministry offices in Sidney had alerted authorities to the existence of these farms, which had managed to keep their existence off the radar for decades. After reading this, I saw David in a new light. He'd had a hellish life for one so young, and most of the trauma wasn't long past. My heart went out to the young roo. I have a "knight in shining armor" complex; I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, even if the damsel happens to be a male. I was sure there was still more to the story. I asked him, "What happened at the second farm that you lived at? I get the feeling that there's something that you're still not telling me." He looked me a moment, stared down into the empty glass that he held between his paws, and halting began to tell me. From almost the minute he'd been brought to his new owner, he'd been abused. The first thing he'd suffered had been a beating, "to tenderize him". Over the ensuing months, he'd endured a pantheon of verbal, psychological, physical and sexual abuse. The farmer had invited friends over and they'd taken turns raping the various Furs that he'd kept. As the words poured out of him, it seemed as though a dam had broken. A litany of humiliation, abuse, and torture poured out of him. Eventually he reached a point where the emotions overwhelmed his ability to shut them out. A single tear appeared in the corner of one eye, and rolled down his cheek, glittering like a diamond on the dark fur on his face. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached up, and cupped his muzzle in my hand, and using my thumb, wiped away his tear. I left my hand there for a moment, trying to comfort him without words. Something must have come across, because he leaned into my hand and brought his lips down to meet mine. At that point, intuition overwhelmed reason, and we acted on instinct. As his tongue explored my mouth, I slid a hand over his chest. He was stocky, not necessarily overweight, just built heavier than my own mustelid frame. I could feel him moan against my mouth as my hand passed over a small opening just above his navel. My eyebrows lifted, as I wondered what it was. I gently probed it with my finger which elicited an even stronger response. I pulled away from the kiss long enough to ask, "What is that?" David replied, "It's umm... my pouch." "I didn't think that male roos had pouches!" I responded in surprise. He blushed and cast his eyes down at the floor, "I do." I gently lifted his chin and gazed into his eyes, "don't be ashamed, I think that it's amazing! Besides it seems to be... sensitive." "It is," he responded, "just be careful ok?" "I will," I promised, as I locked our lips in another kiss. My hand went back to that spot, and I gently worked two fingers inside. He moaned again at the sensation and pushed his groin into my hip where it rested against him. His erection was large, not in an intimidating way, just pleasantly sized. Our kiss broke, and I could feel his breath against the side of my neck as he laid his head on my shoulder and panted, overwhelmed with the pleasure of what I was doing to him. After a few minutes of this, I decided to take things a little further. I pulled my hand away from his stomach, and lifted his shirt over the top of his head. Once that was accomplished, I undid the buttons of his jeans and slid them and his underwear off over his hips. I could see the slender pink tip of his member peaking out of its sheath of brown fur. I knelt there in front of him, my mouth hovering over his hot cock, breathing in the scent of an aroused male. It was then that I made my second amazing discovery about the marsupial in front of me. His balls were on top. Instead of a sack hanging underneath as I had and was used to, his balls were situated on top of his shaft, between it and his belly. I paused a moment taking in one more facet of the amazing male that was in front of me, then gently lowered my mouth taking him. As I did, David moaned and laid his head on the back of the couch. He had the taste of sweet herbs, and the musk of eucalyptus and sunbaked red earth. Or maybe that was just my imagination. I slid my tongue up and down his stiffness, feeling the slick heat of the fluids that he was putting out. I softly sucked, as I caressed his balls feeling their weight of seed waiting to be released. As I pleasured him, he sighed louder, and pushed his rod deeper into my muzzle. After a few minutes of this, I could feel him getting close, so I disengaged myself from him, and turned my oral attentions to his pouch hole. I worked around the opening as David moaned and writhed underneath me. Apparently his pouch was REALLY sensitive. I worked around it with my tongue moistening the fur, turning it a darker brown. As I slid my tongue inside his opening, he gripped the back of my head with one hand and pushed me harder, encouraging me in my explorations. I had had all I could take. I wanted this gorgeous male inside me. I wanted to feel him throbbing and pulsing within my tailhole. My mind made up, I pulled away from him, and stripped off my clothing. After a quick dash to my bedroom to grab the bottle of lube that I kept there, I returned to him, and laid him over on his back, his erection rising into the air like an organic obelisk. After applying a little to his member, and a little to the entry underneath my tail, I settled myself on top of him, feeling that firm length sliding into me, opening me up, pleasuring me as only a male could. Once I'd taken him to the hilt, I discovered that my own hardness was in a position to slide into his pouch. I did so and found my penis engulfed the skin inside soft and smooth, still wet with my saliva. I had never felt something so intensely pleasurable in my entire life. I began shifting my hips back and forth, working him inside of me, and thrusting myself inside of him. I have had my share of experiences, but nothing had ever been as intense as what David and I was sharing that at that moment. He began reciprocating, his hips thrusting deep into me, his stomach undulating with his movements, which served to intensify my own pleasure. I wouldn't be able to hold on too long, it was too intense, too much. These were thoughts that came later, though, at the moment my brain was lit with a white hot passion that consumed any attempt at rationalization. I felt David heave once more underneath me, felt the soft skin of his balls press against mine, felt them heave as his white hot come poured into my anus. Pushed over the top, my own load blew from the top of my cock, flooding his pouch with my sticky semen. The power of my orgasm lifted the top of my head off, and I was consumed with floods of pleasure that left me gasping. It was such that I collapsed against his chest, shuddering as aftershocks of ecstasy rocked my body. As I lay there, I felt David's chest hitch against mine, once, twice. Concerned I sat up and looked at him. He was sobbing silently, face contorted in emotional pain, tears running down his cheeks. "What's wrong?" I asked, worried that I might have unintentionally caused him some trauma in my desire to experience him. "I... I never... knew that it... it could be so... sweet," he answered. "What do you mean?" I asked half knowing what he was saying, but wanting to hear it from him none the less. "All the times I've... been with a male before... they've taken what they wanted from me... not worried about me at all," he said, tears still darkening the fur of his muzzle with moisture, "thank you." I looked at him, a little affronted. On the other paw, he'd had a hard enough life, and it wasn't surprising that someone showing him that sex could be pleasurable instead of terrifying moved him. "Don't mention it, and you have nothing to thank me for, all I did was show you the possibilities." He nodded, his sobs slowing comforted by having someone near who cared about him. We cuddled there for a little while longer. Unfortunately, he had to leave to take care of some business, and we exchanged phone numbers before he made his goodbyes and left. I finished my write up on the anti-fur rally, and then started my next article, as a gift to David. It was a biography, leaving out his name, but once he read it, he would know who wrote it, and why. I felt that the next nicest thing I could give him would be a sympathetic ear. Elsewhere, the silhouettes were meeting again. The Seductress spoke up, "It has been decided to accelerate events. We will move on to phase two, and in the ensuing chaos it will be easier to abduct our... test subjects." The Scientist had an objection, "But the formula isn't ready yet, if we move forward, I can't guarantee that it will be ready." "That is not a problem. If the formula takes a little longer to perfect, it will only be to our benefit, because the unrest will have longer to ferment and mature." The Scientist shrugged his shoulders, "as long as I won't be held responsible, I see no problem with it." The Commander spoke up at this point, "ever the fucking weasel aren't you? Well then, since we are decided, I will communicate with our agents. Now the solution to the Fur problem begins to move, and once its momentum is built nothing will stop it."