Kangaroo Dad

Content warning: the following story contains incestuous fantasies and foot worship.

It all happened in the vast lands of the Outback. My Dad and I were heading toward a mob gathering near Mount Conner in the Northern Territory, a journey that felt more like a pilgrimage than a simple trip.

We had a system for the long stretches. He’d take the lead for three hours, then we’d swap. It was the only way to keep our spirits up while we trekked from Western Australia, pushing east through the gruelling red heart of the continent. My Dad would say things like “let the desert guide your soul, Joey” or “you’ve got a better eye for the horizon than I do” with that rumbling laugh of his whenever I took the lead. It was the kind of effortless confidence that acted like a second wind for me whenever my legs started to give up. Every time I questioned if we’d actually make it across the wasteland before the season turned, he’d just clap a heavy hand on my shoulder and tell me that we were closer to home than ever before.

Every kilometre of scorched earth we covered felt like a victory, and though the heat was oppressive, the silence of the lands had a way of drawing us closer together, albeit in unconventional ways. With every passing day, I found myself tracing the lines of my dad’s mighty body or admiring the pristine sheen of his silver hair against his bright tan fur as he hopped ahead of me. My mind kept forming images that weren’t exactly… filial. I loved him, of course, but it was a yearning kind of love that made my chest ache and my fur feel too tight for my own body.

I tried to ignore these illicit feelings, telling myself that it was simply a by-product of the isolation. I clung to the excuse that I hadn’t had a proper girlfriend in a long time, and that my hormones were simply misfiring in the absence of a partner. But deep down, I knew it was a dumb lie to cover up the parts of my mind where the truth lived.

And this lie came crumbling down faster than I ever anticipated on the seventh day of our journey.

===

Dad and I made it to the base of Uluru just as the horizon began to bleed into a deep marigold. We were roughly a hundred kilometres from Mount Conner, but the air was shifting, losing its oppressive heat and taking on a sharpness that hinted at the chilling desert night to come. We didn’t need to discuss it. The rhythm of the land was something we roos knew by heart. We mutually agreed to set camp right there at Uluru, allowing the massive monolith to shield us from the wind, saving our final stretch for the following morning when the light would be kinder to our eyes.

“Go on, Joey, scout for some scrub,” Dad rumbled. “The temperature’s going to plummet once that sun dips. We’ll need a proper flame if we want to keep our toes from freezing.” He gave me a playful swat on the backside that sent a jolt of pleasure straight up my spine. I didn’t need to be told twice. I wanted to be useful, but more than that, I wanted to give him a few minutes of peace while I disappeared into the brush.

I didn’t have to wander far, barely a few dozen paces from the perimeter of our camp. The desert had been generous with its scrubs, all brittle and parched that could easily catch fire at the slightest spark. With every piece of wood I gathered in my arms, I felt the noise in my head finally settling. I pushed the taboo fantasies of my dad into a locked box in my mind, treating them like a secret treasure I’d only be allowed to visit once we reached the safety of the mob gathering. Now was the time to focus on getting us both warm and well-rested for the night.

This poise wouldn’t last very long.

Clutching the bundle tightly against my chest, I turned back toward our settlement as the red dust puffed up around my feet with every hop. The air was growing crisp, and the looming silhouette of Uluru looked like a sleeping giant under the bright sky. By the time I returned and peered from the edge of a boulder, I couldn’t believe my eyes. In that very moment, the fantasies rushed back in with a rapid force as if Pandora herself opened the box.

Dad was leaning back against a smooth slab of rock, draped in a state of unashamed vulnerability. The loincloth he usually wore, the only thing separating his dignity from the desert wind, had been discarded carelessly on the ground. His chest was heaving steadily while his eyes were drifted shut in a private trance of pleasure. Between his powerful thighs was a raging pillar of flesh. His hand was wrapped firmly around it, stroking with a gentle pace that left me gobsmacked. I guess the isolation of the desert has gotten to him as well.

But it wasn’t just the length of his meat that caught my breath. It was his feet that truly rendered me speechless.

I had seen those feet every day of my life, but in this light, they looked like two transcendent monuments of strength against the ochre dust. The toes were decorated with razor-sharp claws and the soles possessed a sculptural beauty despite the harsh journey from the past few days. The sheer scale of them made my own feet look dainty in comparison. Dad was a force of nature, a towering example of what a kangaroo should be. He was matured and seasoned by the years, yet still possessing a raw strength that felt like it belonged to a younger version of himself. He was in his prime, a mountain of a father who carried himself with a grace that belied his heavy build. I wondered how he would have looked in his youth during the rut while fighting off other males to claim his place. I could almost see the destructive power of those massive hind legs launching him forward, those beautiful feet acting as lethal weapons to kick rivals back into the dust.

I’m honestly not surprised why mum picked him as her mate. Seeing him stripped of everything and laid bare against the red rock, it was easy to imagine the primal magnetism he must have exerted over her all those years ago. The same gravitational pull was working on me in that very second, making my heart flutter like a hummingbird. I wanted to help him ease the heavy burden of his desire, to treat those prized weapons of feet with the reverence they deserved, and to prove that I could be the good boy he always praised, even in the most illicit of ways.

The bundle of wood slipped from my grip before I even realised I’d let go.

The dry twigs hit the ground with a clatter, shattering the private sanctuary my father had built for himself. He bolted upright, his eyes snapping open, his body jerking in a reflexive leap of surprise that nearly sent him tumbling off the rock.

“Crikey, Joey!” he yelled. “I thought you were still out in the scrub. What in the blue blazes are you doing sneaking up on...”

His voice trailed off, dissolving into a heavy silence. He didn’t reach for his clothes or try to cover himself. Instead, his bright blue eyes drifted downward, tracing a path down my torso before settling on my groin area. I nervously looked down to spy the undeniable protrusion pushing against my own loincloth. My cock was standing as rigid and honest as a compass needle pointing north, directed solely toward him.

“Well, looks like you found a sturdy piece of timber there, lad.” Dad chuckled knowingly while regaining the rumbling resonance in his voice.

A searing wave of embarrassment rushed to my cheeks up to that point, making my face feel hotter than the blazing sun of the Northern Territory. I felt exposed, stripped bare by my dad’s gaze. Absolutely horrified by the situation, I dropped my hands to my groin, desperately trying to shield my arousal with my palms as if I could somehow erase the evidence of my twisted desire.

“I-I’m so sorry, Dad! I d-didn’t mean t-to... I-I can e-explain...” The words tumbled out of my mouth in a clumsy heap. I tried to stammer out an excuse, but my voice cracked, leaving me sounding breathless and pathetic.

Dad leaned back into the rock with a relaxed confidence that made my body tremble. The shock had vanished, replaced by a gaze that was far too perceptive for my own comfort.

“Stop that fretful dancing, Joey. There’s no need to be ashamed of the truth.” There was a notable smirk forming in his lips. “You think I haven’t noticed? I’ve seen you tracing the muscles of my chest with those lustful eyes of yours whenever you thought I was looking at the horizon. I’ve even caught you peeking through the reeds during my morning baths more times than I can count. And as for my feet...” Dad chucked with dark amusement. “Oh yes, I know you are staring at them during the night. I’ve spent many an hour pretending to be fast asleep, only to feel your gaze burning into my soles. You’re not as stealthy as you think you are, boy.”

I stood there, petrified, unable to process how my dad knew about my deepest and darkest secret.

“You’ve been spying on your old man for a long time, Joey,” he continues. “It was only a matter of time before the curtain finally dropped.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt a crushing weight of guilt, fearing that I had obliterated the purity of our bond by projecting these blasphemous fantasies onto the roo who had raised me. I wanted to apologise, but how do you find the words for something so fundamentally wrong? How do you apologise for the way your blood hums when your father speaks? How do you say “sorry” for craving your father’s touch? I felt like a thief who had been caught stealing glances at a treasure he had no right to claim. Every instinct told me to flee into the scrub, to vanish in the Outback and never return, just to spare him the burden of knowing his own son viewed him as a lover.

“D-Dad... I-I...”

Before I could scramble for a coherent sentence, Dad lifted one of his heavy legs and rested the heel against a jagged protrusion of the rock. The movement was a casual display of power that brought his stomper directly into my line of sight. The size of it was overwhelming now, even more imposing than the already heavy length of his cock. It was a testament to a lifetime of endurance, a landmark of strength that felt like the centre of my entire world.

“Like I said before, we’ll need a proper flame if we wish to stay warm tonight.” Dad’s voice dropped an octave. “But seeing the state we’re both in, I reckon we can find some other ways to keep the chill out of our bones. Don’t you agree, Joey?”

He splayed his toes wide with a playful tease, causing my cock to twitch in response. The way he looked at me with that predatory warmth in his eyes was a dangerous game. He knew exactly how fragile my composure had become, how close I was to give in. For a moment, I wondered if the desert had finally broken my mind. Maybe the heat had seeped into my brain, cooking my inhibitions in places where there should have been boundaries. I wanted to tell him I was confused, that I should probably just pick up the wood and pretend this moment never happened, but the air between us was too thick with musk and desire to allow for a retreat.

Before I could think better of it, I stuttered:

“Y-yes, Dad!”

A satisfied hum vibrated in my dad’s chest at the sound of my surrender. The smirk on his face softened into something more indulgent, a look of paternal pride mingled with a masculine hunger that made my knees feel like jelly.

“Good boy,” he murmured. “Now, stop standing there like a statue and come over here. My feet have been aching since we crossed the salt pans of Pantu, and they’re screaming for a bit of attention. Give your old man some proper care, Joey!”