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The Enigmatic Gift â€" A Fuzzy Navel Tale

John Werner never did have much experience in the "love" department. He couldn't really be blamed for it, either. His business was a cut-throat business and letting your guard down at any moment invited everyoneâ€"competitors, malefactors and even those hoping to ride your coattailsâ€"straight to your doorstep. John was the editor-in-chief for a popular magazine and was as much as celebrity as he was a businessman. His job included "telling people what to think, watch, read, feel, do and believe...and getting paid for it." Though it was a crude definition, it was sadly true.

People say that the wealthier one is the more paranoid one becomes. Perhaps there is a lot of truth in that. How could he afford to drag a young, unsuspecting woman into the lens of the media like that? And, if he did, would she love him for him, or his money? And then there was possibility of rejection or even an ugly divorce. Could he (or his career, for that matter) survive such a melodramatic breakup? Such trepidation kept him well off the dating scene. John found it best to play it safe and keep to himself.

So, to spare himself the pain of being loveless, he occupied the lonesome latter hours with reading, star gazing and other avocations suitable for a businessman like himself. Rather than go for a social drink with colleagues, John retreated to the safety of his penthouse apartment, where he could be left alone to his thoughts and books and the dazzling nighttime sky.

This is not to say he didn't want to be loved. Often, John would feel the pangs, the ever-aching need to love and be loved by another. But the conditions were much too grave for loving relationship to grow, not a normal one, anyway. He himself understood that his job scarcely left room for romantics, though he wasn't necessarily happy with this disposition. Like a plant that withers in the harsh, arid heat, doomed was an ordinary romantic life for John.

So, now we turn to a not-so-ordinary day in the day-in-day-out life of Editor-in-Chief Mr. John Werner. It was a sunny Friday in August and the clock had just struck six.

"Quitting time," John muttered to himself. After a long and gruesome week of editing the 100th issue of the magazine, John Werner breathed a small sigh of relief. The presses would have the issues done by morning, ready to hit shelves by Sunday. Tired of scraping by on double shots of espresso and Sun Chips, John packed up his briefcase and prepared to depart for home. As far as he was concerned, he had done his part.

John's mind began to wander, planning a relaxing evening. As he exited his office, his secretary, Tania, smiled at him and rose from her desk. With the same kind of loyalty a dog possesses when it follows its master, the girl pursued. "Going to the office party tonight, Mr. Werner?"

"No, I'm headed home; there are some things I need to attend to. What about you?"

Tania shrugged, "I thought of going to the party, but now I'm not so sure. It won't be as fun without you there."

John smiled to himself. Tania was a faithful girl and he admired her, but it wouldn't do for an editor-in-chief to date a secretary ten years his junior. This saddened him, he knew she had been putting out signals, but he was refusing to pick them up. He didn't want to tell her how he felt about this either, because that would probably just make matters worse. She might have thought he was stuck-up to reject her and the last thing he needed was to be in bad standing with someone he relied on nearly everyday.

He didn't do this to shoot the poor girl down; he did it for her own good. She was only twenty, a fresh intern with a fertile college mind. It would be a downright shame if she was discovered entering a relationship with her boss. The media would have a field day with them both. Just because John was an Editor-in-chief didn't mean he commanded any respect from fellow journalists outside the company. "Journalists," as John would put it. "in a vernacular sense, are like dogs. Given a juicy enough bone, they'll tear one another to pieces."

By now, they had reached the elevator. John got in, ready to descend into the parking garage below the building. Tania stopped outside, as if the elevator were some enchanted circle she dared not enter. She probably still had loose ends to tie up in the office, so John decided not to question her hesitation. Seeing as how she would not be accompanying him any farther, John issued a farewell. "Well, take care, Ms. Rosewood. Have a nice weekend."

"You can call me Tania, Mr. Werner, but, I will." She smiled but with a hint of disappointment, as if she had been expecting him to be more informal. True, there was an empty feeling in the air, a vacuum waiting to be filled by the pleasant conversation of lovers.

John hit the button for the garage and the doors slid closed with smooth grace. With a low hum, the elevator glided downward. "Poor thing," John muttered to himself. "She's just trying to be nice." Trying to ignore the overplayed music inside, John watched the lighted numbers on the overhead panel disappear one by one. They couldn't have gone fast enough.

The parking garage was soon filled with the hollow clacking of his shoes on the pavement. There was just something about fluorescent lighting and echoes that made him feel very alone. As he approached his car, a more than modest BMW, John's pace quickened. There wasn't any time to waste.

John just so happened to have an affinity for astronomy. He even had his own telescope and star charts. Of course, this is why he was in such a hurry. A lunar eclipse would be in full effect in a few hours and he wanted to be able to observe it from his penthouse window. He had been planning it for weeks, aligning his telescope to the proper position and checking the predicted times of equinox. There were still other matters he wanted to address: he needed a shower desperately and he wanted to get out of his suit and tie as quick as possible.

The apartment building was not terribly far away, only a fifteen minute drive, provided traffic wasn't bumper-to-bumper. John was glad to see that the traffic wasn't bad at all, even on a Friday. Pulling his car up to the curb in front of the building, he got out of the car and tossed his keys and a small tip to the valet. The doorman opened the entrance wide for him and John nodded cordially.

He had worked hard to win these perks and he certainly didn't take them for granted, especially now. He appreciated the hard work a lot of people put in to make things easier or more comfortable for others. John was very polite, despite being secluded.

Which is why having a concierge came in particular use today. As John passed, the kind woman who sat behind the front desk in the lobby caught him before he could make a beeline for the elevator. He had just pushed the call button when the concierge, Mrs. Fox, called out to him

"Mr. Werner?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fox?"

"A large parcel arrived for you earlier. I had it brought up to your room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fox. You have a nice evening."

The elevator arrived at the bottom floor and the doors slid wide open for him. Soon the doors closed and put him out of sight of Mrs. Fox, who returned to her work. Though he had acted pleasant, it was time to drop the charade. He became puzzled at the thought. He received regular mail quite often, but a parcel? From whom? The answer continued to elude him on his journey to the top floor.

Once there, the doors hissed open and he proceeded down the short corridor. He could see his door from the elevator. On the floor in front of his door, there lay the package. As he got close, he realized how describing the package as "large" was an understatement.

It didn't seem out of the ordinary, save for its size. It had no distinguishing marks, just a common, brown, cardboard box. But, not wishing to examine it out in the hall where his fellow tenants could see him, he decided to drag it inside and open it there. However, dragging it was not necessary. The box was so light he could simply carry it under his arm. That only made its contents more mysterious.

Opening the door to the penthouse apartment, John felt to cool air swirl around him. It was a large apartment, but he could afford to splurge, so it was a nice fit. It had one bedroom, a nice kitchen, a small dining room, a living room complete with various forms of entertainment, a balcony where he could study the cosmos and a small home office for when he was working at home. It was tranquil and peaceful, just as John liked it. But all the comforts of home seemed offset by such a mysterious gift.

The box was oblong, almost resembling a cardboard coffin. In fact, the parcel was only a little shorter than him, about five and a half feet long, but wide and deep enough to confirm his suspicions. He examined all the surfaces of the box, but could find no bill of lading or even a return address for that matter.

He thought back: Was his birthday coming up? No, his birthday was in December. Was it a holiday? Not that he knew of. Did he order anything online? No, he didn't internet shop very often. So, what could it be?

Deciding to give up the ghost, John procured a box cutter from the kitchen. His hand shook as he pushed the button forward, exposing the blade from the sheath. He placed the blade along the tape that held the two flaps together and slowly and gradually moved his way down the length, hearing the crisp sound of the blade as he did so.

As the tape yielded to the blade's edge, the flaps popped up a tad, but not enough to see what was inside. With a burning curiosity like that of a five year-old on Christmas day, John folded the flaps back to reveal a bed of Styrofoam packing peanuts, hiding what lay inside. Though this sea of polystyrene did not conceal all of what was in the box, however, as what looked like a lavender animal muzzle was protruding upward. It was short, but curved nicely and shapely, with a smooth, black nose, much like one would see on a figurine of a Disney character.

Perplexed by such an odd sight, John moved the peanuts aside, as if trying to part the sea and observe what lay beneath. As the pesky particles were brushed away, the fuzzy face to which the muzzle belonged came into view. It was almost vulpine, certainly not supposed to resemble a human, but an animal. The eyes were glossy and unmoving, stupidly transfixed into a thousand-yard-stare toward the ceiling. The creature's mouth was turned upward in a jolly smile, cartoon-ish and silly.

Moving more of the packing material out of the way, John moved down the body, eager to see if something else lay hidden beneath the avalanche of plastic. A firm neck and torso appeared this time. The shoulders were slender and sloped down at nice angles, making the creature appear more delicate than robust. Two shapely mounds protruded from the chest, suggesting it was made in the image of a female. John thought that was a little suggestive, if not somewhat vulgar, but he decided to ignore it and continue searching.

Two stringy, flexible arms, a tight tummy, a wide tail, two strong, hocked legs and two big, pawed feet were all subsequently unveiled. But one feature gave away the doll's nature: a small lining on the abdomen, elastic and easily pulled away from the tummy, similar to the elastic band on boxer shorts. It was a pouch. The thing was a toy kangaroo.

John frowned down at the thing. It was a child's toyâ€"nothing more. It was, frankly, quite ridiculous to him. In a nostalgic sort of way, he could remember a storybook character of much a similar nature, but his mind failed to place it. He'd long outgrown storybooks. Heavily disappointed and even more confused, John made ready to close up the box.

But then, something caught his eye. In one hand, the kangaroo was clutching an envelope. There was a fancy seal holding the flap closed and it gave off the pleasant scent of perfume. Opening it with care, John pulled out a fine piece of folded parchment. John, hoping to find some explanation for what was going on, unfolded the letter and read it forthwith:

"Mr. John Werner,

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of this lovely kangaroo plush, Jill! If your would be so kind as to give her a good home, as well as lots of love and affection, Jill will most certainly, in return, treat you with the love and respect you most certainly deserve. We all have those moments when we just need someone to hold or to squeeze and Jill can most certainly help with that!

She has been specifically tailored to compliment your own personal traits. She's bubbly, she's energetic and, most of all, she's fun! Her interests are: cooking, hugs and kisses and much, much more! Jill is built for hours and hours of cuddling, wrestling and, yes, even stress relief!

If you find yourself confused or puzzled as what to do next, please see the manual Jill is carrying with her. Any question you have can be answered by turning to the appropriate page.

Finally, and most importantly, be sure to have plenty of fun!

Best wishes,

Anonymous"

John read and reread the letter, just to make sure there wasn't something he missed. It was especially naïve. The author of the letter was trying to be cute, almost sickeningly so. He felt like he was being treated like a child. If this was a joke, he obviously didn't get it. Whoever had sent this to him knew both his name and address. That wasn't necessarily helpful, as he was well-known. It could have been a large number of people. Maybe it was someone he didn't even know. This seemed like a serious invasion of his privacy.

Still, John couldn't really bring himself to throw it away. He knew for a fact that the paparazzi dug through his trash every now and then, so trashing it would probably bring more harm than good. It really was kind of cute. It would be a shame to let it just go to waste. John couldn't explain why, but it tickled his fancy somehow.

Nevertheless, he decided to do what the letter had suggested and read the manual. But, as he rifled through the piles of Styrofoam, he found that the manual simply wasn't there. He scratched his head. Had the sender forgotten to include it? "Well, that figures," John muttered.

Regardless, John realized he should stop wasting time on the doll and get ready for the eclipse. It was about an hour from the start of the moon's darkening and there were still things to do before he was ready to begin observing. He shook his head and chortled a bit. John closed the flaps on the box, putting the kangaroo toy out of sight and mind.

He moved it against a wall, where it would be out of his way and then proceeded into the bathroom to use the shower.

After thoroughly cleaning up, John exited the bathroom with some more comfortable clothes on and a damp towel in his hand. Checking his digital watch, he saw was that it was nearly time for the eclipse. The sun had gone down and the moon had risen from its hiding place.

John threw the towel over the arm of the couch and walked out onto the deck, where his telescope was sitting. Taking off the tarp, John made sure the telescope was correctly set and that the sky was as it should have been. It was a clear night, no clouds to block his view. He could hardly ask for more ideal conditions.

And, suddenly, it started. The full moon, sitting like a wafer in the dark night sky, began growing dark on one side, as if a black ocean was settling in. Gradually, the moon became consumed by the encroaching darkness until, eventually, the moon was totally dark.

The night sky was now moonless, lit only by the dimly burning stars.

But, soon, a little pool of light, in the same fashion the darkness had done before it, started fighting back, pushing the darkness from the moon and lighting up the night sky once more with pristine white light.

John stood back from the telescope. Although many would find it boring, John found it as interesting as a Broadway play. It made him feel so small, seeing heavenly bodies interact with one another on such a grandiose scale.

But despite all this, John found himself growing tired. It had been a long week and his body and mind required rest. Putting the tarp back on his telescope and closing the door to the deck, John started toward his bedroom. But, as he walked back through the living room, he noticed the package again. "Maybe I'll donate it to some toy-drive tomorrow," said John with a yawn.

Confident that that idea would work out well, John went into his bedroom and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

But, meanwhile, back in the living room, everything was very still. The moon, newly arisen from its clash with darkness, gleamed in through the window, casting a little light around the room. The box, sitting there so lonely and still, was being bathed in the gentle light, as if simmering in some silent, celestial stew. One of the flaps was open. Not much, only a bit. But that was enough. The moonlight spilled into the box and something inside began to stir.

...

John struggled to open his eyes the next morning. He was still a bit tired; outlandish dreams had not permitted him much respite. But wasting free time was something he loathed, so he yawned and tried to wake himself up. The sunlight was somewhat harsh and stung his eyes, but John forced them to stay open.

Suddenly, John heard a soft cry sound out nearby, "Oh! Shoot!"

When one lives alone for so long, one becomes aware if something isn't right very quickly. Call it paranoia, call it a heightened sense of things, but John bolted upright when he heard that voice. Sizzles, soft clinks and humming could be heard coming from the kitchen. John panicked. Was it a burglar? The security guard downstairs did seem to slack off a lot, so it was definitely a possibility.

Deciding not to take any chances, John reached into his nightstand drawer. Inside, lay a snub-nosed revolver, an S&W Model 60 loaded with .357 rounds. It was a gift from his company; a precaution to protect himself in situations like this. John wasn't very gun savvy, however. He had never fired one before in his life and certainly hoped today wouldn't be the first time.

Clad in only a t-shirt and his boxers, John carefully moved to his bedroom door. He no longer felt any drowsiness, veins pumping from fright-fueled adrenaline. With the gun held clumsily in front of him, he proceeded out into the small hallway. The humming and sizzling grew louder as he moved out of the bedroom and into exposed territory. The sounds were definitely coming from the kitchen. Whoever it was, they had decided to commandeer his stove for the time being.

But as he approached the entrance to the kitchen, John began to question whether it was wise to just charge in. Should he call the police? Well, he was too close now. If he moved back toward the bedroom to try and use the phone, the burglar would probably hear his footfalls. Plus, John was too curious. This was his home and he needed to start protecting it. The media would be all over him if this got out of hand. It was time to do or die. Hopefully not the latter.

With a swift, SWAT-like pivot, John bolted around the corner and leveled the revolver at the intruder. But as soon as John saw what was standing in his kitchen, he felt like he'd been the one hit with a bullet. Standing over a hot skillet, was a purple kangaroo.

John's entire body went slack. He almost dropped the gun out of sheer shock. Apparently, it hadn't even seen him yet, it was too busy wiping down the counter. Some orange juice had spilled. John kept the gun level but took a glance toward the cardboard box. Low and behold, the flaps had been peeled back and packing peanuts were strewn across the hardwood floor. Well, at least there weren't two purple kangaroos walking around his apartment.

But John's train of thought was smashed as a jovial voice sounded out to him, "Oh! Good morning, hun. Did you sleep well?"

John spun around to face the kangaroo. "She" had noticed him standing there. She held a spatula in one oven-mitt clad hand and covering her front was an apron with red, stitched letters that read, "Kiss the Cook". She didn't seem to care that he was pointing a gun at her. She just smiled at him and then turned back to her cooking, "You like your eggs scrambled, right?"

John was stupefied by how calmly she was dealing with this. Determined not to let her simply walk all over him, John said, in an irritated tone, "What do you think you're doing?"

The kangaroo didn't look him in they eye, she simply went on scrambling the eggs on the skillet. "Well, I thought I'd stop slacking off and cook you a nice breakfast. I needed to stretch, too. That box is awfully cramped."

John could detect no sarcasm, no falsity in her voice. Now he was getting angry. Did she even understand what a crime it was to break into someone's home, let alone dress up like a kangaroo in order to do so? She was acting as if nothing was wrong, like all was well with the world.

Had that been "her" plan all along? To sneak into his house by mailing herself? Impossible. The box was way too light for it to be carrying a human. What sort of deranged criminal would deliberately dress up like a kangaroo? It didn't make any sense. But John was holding the gun, not her. Perhaps he could use it as leverage.

Determined to find out just who it was hiding behind that cartoon mask, he slowly crept toward the occupied marsupial. He had spied a zipper waving near her neck, obviously the aperture through which one entered the costume. Perhaps if he could unzip it, he could catch a glimpse of the criminal's face.

"It's time to find you who you really are," John said quietly as his hand wrapped around the zipper.

The kangaroo, who was obviously still focused on the eggs, scarcely had time to say, "What's that, hun?" Before John ran the zipper down the kangaroo's back, making the costume part as he did so. But as the zipper ended its journey down her back to her tail base, John stood back, amazed. There was no one inside.

As he backpedaled wildly, trying desperately to retreat from the autonomous plush, he tripped on an ottoman in the living room and fell flat onto his back. The gun flew across the room, out of reach.

"Oh! Sweetie, are you alright?" the kangaroo hopped over to him with a look of concern on her face. But John, too frightened to be phased by the fall, simply backed away from her again.

"Who are you!?" John asked hysterically.

The girl, persistent as ever, took his hand in both of hers. She tried to sooth him by rubbing his hand gently with her silky pelt. "It's Jill, sweetie, remember? Jill? Jillian? Jilly Bean? I was in the box you opened."

He still didn't seem satisfied, "You're...real?"

Jill nodded, "Of course, love. Here, feel." Guiding him gently, Jill placed John's hand over her right breast. Beneath the silky fur, John could feel a steady series of contractions and expansionsâ€"the beating of a heart. The doll, for all intents and purposes was...alive. "See, babe? I'm real."

John was still shaking. How could this be happening? Was he dreaming again? Were his dreams playing some cruel trick on him? He quickly realized that it was all too real. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples. He could feel fear grip him at the throat, like the strangle of some foe. A dream this was not.

Seeing him shake with pure trepidation and confusion, the kangaroo held him to her chest tightly, though her soft body yielded to his weight. "Oh, baby, you're scared, aren't you?" Despite the fact he was being held by someone he just couldn't comprehend, John felt strangely comforted by Jill's calming embrace. Her touch was so...relaxing. His heart-rate slowed down quickly.

But all was not well, an acrid odor, accompanied by an angry hiss, permeated through the room. "Oh no! The eggs!" cried Jill, setting John down and racing toward the stove, which was spewing black smoke and volatile projectiles of hot grease. With her oven mitts, she managed to turn off the burner. But it was too late; the eggs had been scorched into a blackened, sticky mess.

With a beaten look on her face, the kangaroo's knees buckled beneath her, defeated. Slowly, though she fought back the urge valiantly, Jill began to cry. And what shocked John all the more was he could really see tears rolling down her cheeks. He got up and approached her slowly, still not used to having a living plush walking around his kitchen.

"All I wanted was to make a good impression. I just wanted to make you a nice breakfast and get to know you. But I've scared you and ruined everything. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea."

John, who was brokenhearted to see the poor thing cry, moved toward the grieving girl. She looked so sad. Though this was all happening so fast, John could only think of one thing to do. With gentle arms, he pulled her into an embrace, as she had done, comforting and soothing her. She buried her face in her arms, still crying noticeably. "I'm so sorry," she said betwixt her sobs, "I just wanted to make you happy. That's why I'm here, after all."

"Shhhh," cooed John, "it's okay. They're only eggs, we'll just try again. Don't cry, please." He could scarcely believe those words were coming from his own mouth. He had never really held a woman this close before. He didn't know if a talking purple kangaroo actually counted, but if she had feelings, she most certainly was entitled to a little respect. Holding her made her seem all the more real and made him all the more willing to believe this strange situation was more than met the eye.

Jill's tears ceased to flow and began to warm up to John a bit. Picking her up in the way a groom carries his blushing bride, John carried the girl over to the leather couch and laid her to rest on one of the pillows. "Are you okay, Jill?"

Jill wiped the last remnant of a tear and smiled, "Yeah, I think so. Thanks for being so understanding."

John took a seat next to her on the couch. "Now, if you'd be so kind, can you tell me exactly what you are?"

The girl smiled giddily, "Well, yeah. I'm an enchanted plush doll. Go figure, eh?"

John smiled to be polite, but he wasn't really satisfied with that answer. "Well, what's an enchanted plush?"

The girl giggled again, "I'm a doll that was brought to life for the purpose of keeping you company. That's all."

As awkward as that sounded, John scarcely had another option to consider. "I see, I think. If that's the case, who brought you to life?"

Jill gave him another sheepish grin, "I'm not at liberty to discuss that, I'm sorry."

John frowned. She was actually going to keep secrets from him after all that? "Why not?"

"Well," Jill began, "I really don't remember all too well. All I remember was being packed into that box and waiting for you to open me. Other than that, I'm clueless."

The human gave a heavy sigh. Well, there went any chance of him finding out who has pulling the strings. But, he realized there were more pressing matters at hand. He had a living, breathing doll sitting in his living room! Finding out whom the puppet master was could wait.

"So, tell me about yourself, Jilly Bean," said John, trying to change the subject.

The kangaroo giggled again, obviously delighted he had decided to call her by a pet name, "Didn't you read the letter? I'm just a fun-lovin' plum-colored roo with big heart. That's all." She said this as if it really wasn't such a big deal.

"And where did you get this?" asked John, tugging gently on the stylish apron she was wearing.

"Oh, this? Well, do you want a good lie or the harsh truth?"

"Well, if I can get my mind around you being a talking toy kangaroo, then I think I'd believe just about anything right now. Give it to me straight." John rubbed one of her big feet, getting more comfortable with the idea of her.

Jill squealed with delight as he massaged her big footpaws. "That tickles! Anyway, we plushes can eat fabric. We crave it, really. What's more, after we eat it, we can turn it into pretty much anything we want. I found a towel on the couch last night and I turned it into this cute little apron. Hope you don't mind."

"Wait. We? There's more than one of you?"

The kangaroo brought her paws up over mouth, as if to conceal any further sacred truths from being revealed. "Me and my big mouth. Well, I suppose the secret's out. Yes, there are more of us, because we each have the ability to ‘reproduce', but I'll fill you in on that later. I remember being ‘born', not made. So, its common sense that their must be more of us out there."

John pondered that for a moment. The internal gears of his head were churning, his analytical brain picking up steam. If what the kangaroo said was true, then that would suggest that there must have been an originalâ€"an ‘Eve' of the plush dolls. Even if this particular figure wasn't Jill's "mother", that didn't dispel the idea that she probably existed. Whoever this pioneer was, she sure sounded important, goddess-like even.

The human was quite impressed, though it was an odd talent, nonetheless. "Well, your abilities sound like you'll come in handy, then. I hate clothes shopping."

The kangaroo scooted closer to him and put her arms around his neck. "You're funny. I take back what I said earlier, this wasn't a bad idea at all. I am welcome to stay here, right?"

John wasn't sure how to answer that. Just yesterday he had considered giving her away to a charity. But it was apparent that circumstances had changed dramatically. Ordinarily, he would have felt like it was an encroachment of his privacy, but, she seemed perfect.

Sure, she wasn't actually human, but she was damned cute. She already had a personal conviction to make him happy, too. He couldn't really think of a reason not to let her stay. The paparazzi may have been able to go through his trash, but their cameras certainly couldn't reach his private life up here.

"Why not?" asked John. "You're really dedicated to me. I don't think I've ever felt this kind of affection before. You can stay."

The kangaroo giggled and nuzzled his cheek, "Thanks, love. You won't regret it, I promise."

John chuckled again as Jill smooched him on the cheek. "You remind me of someone," he eventually said, trying to think of something interesting to say.

"Really? Who would that be, hun?"

John thought for a moment. "Sour Kangaroo. She was a Dr. Seuss character. She was a purple kangaroo, just like you. She always hopped around all cute like, too. For some reason, you just remind me of her."

Jill frowned a bit, "Sour Kangaroo? Wasn't she the mean one? You don't think I'm mean, do you?"

The human chuckled a bit, "No! No!" he said, trying to save face. "I only meant you looked like her. You're so sweet, I think I might be a diabetic now."

She gave him another smooch on the cheek, "You haven't seen anything yet, babe." She sounded somewhat sultry, salacious even. John wasn't sure what to make of that.

Presently, John stomach grumbled. It was very inopportune, but Jill picked up on it. "Hungry, are we? If you're willing to restore my kitchen privileges, I'll make you something. Just not eggs, though."

The human nodded, "Okay, it's closer to lunch than it is to breakfast, though. Let's just make some sandwiches, how does that sound?"

The kangaroo nodded happily, "Sure thing. I would've woken you up for breakfast, but the thought of waking up to a talking purple kangaroo would be kind of..." she trailed off, not sure which word to use.

"Startling?" finished John, trying to help her out.

"To say the least! Well, I could tell you needed your rest. You work awfully hard. Maybe I can help you relieve some stress."

"Oh? How so?" asked John. He had read in the letter that she was good for stress relief, but that was an awfully vague term.

As she was hopping over to the refrigerator, Jill blushed a bit. "Oh...well. You'll see. I'm like a one of those Swiss Army knives. I can do a lot of things, but let's not race through them all just yet. I want the remaining ones to be a surprise." She winked at him and opened the fridge to find some deli meat.

Though she had kind of brushed him off, John grew excited with her answer. She was obviously planning something. He'd be good and play the waiting game for her.

...

With their combined efforts, they had made a bacon, lettuce and tomato club sandwich. It was piled high with toasted bread and crunchy bacon, a treat by any right. But when Jill refused to make a sandwich for herself, John persisted, "Aren't you going to eat? It would be rude of me to eat in front of my guest."

"Oh, don't worry about me. Like I said, I can't really eat that stuff. Besides, I made it for you with love. Go ahead, take a bite. I'll find something to eat later."

The girl was awfully persuasive. She was so cute and gentle that if she argued with him that the sky was purple instead of blue, he might have been tempted to believe her.

Sitting on the leather couch as they had done before, John started to dig in and found it was delectable. He voiced his approval as he munched on the sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, hun," said Jill, wiping a crumb off his face with one of her fuzzy fingers. John nodded, although Jill wasn't exactly a woman he needed to impress, he realized he should still use some manners. After he had gotten the sandwich down, he stirred up more conversation.

"Too bad you hadn't woken up last night. We could've had a romantic dinner beneath the eclipse."

"Well, I considered it. But I thought it was the wrong moment, so I just waited."

"Wait, so you saw me open the box? You were just feigning sleep?"

The kangaroo cracked an embarrassed, sly grin, "Yeah. I was really excited to meet you, but when I saw your face, I, uh...got nervous. Sorry for tricking you. But I didn't want to hop out of the box and say, ‘Here I am!' I thought I might have given you a heart attack that way."

Now it was John's turn to kiss the girl on the cheek. "Yeah, I appreciate that. Even if you did kind of almost give me one this morning. It's the thought that counts."

So John ate his lunch while chatting with Jill pleasantly. When the plate had been reduced to mere crumbs, he rubbed his stomach, full from such a scrumptious meal.

Jill picked up the plate and kissed him on this nose, "Did you like it, sweetie?"

"It tasted great. But I still feel guilty."

Jill placed the dish in the sink and then hopped back over to him, "Guilty? Why?"

"Aren't you going to eat anything? The last thing you had was that damp towel, right?"

The plush nodded. "Yeah, I could eat. But I think I'm in the mood for something other than fabric."

John raised an eyebrow. Hadn't she said she only ate fabric? And if she didn't eat real food, what was she going to have? All these thoughts buzzed about his brain as Jill drew closer to the couch.

"I want you, babe." Jill seductively pulled loose the tie of her apron, letting it drop to the ground. To John's surprise, Jill now sported two pink nipples and a pair of labia between her strong legs. When had she gotten those? She hadn't had them when he looked in the box yesterday. Was this one of the powers she had been talking about?

John fidgeted on the couch a little bit, not sure of how to react. Nevertheless, he could feel a bulge developing within his boxer shorts. Although he really didn't know if he should feel aroused, he couldn't help admitting she had a very attractive, buxom body.

She crept over and knelt on the floor in front of him. Noticing his growing erection, she used her ever-so-soft paws to slowly yank his boxers down to his ankles. Once she had done so, she exposed his erect phallus. "Hmmm, you've got a nice one. This'll do just fine."

John shook a bit. He had never been so intimate before. He was both thrilled and frightened at the same time. Sure, he liked Jill, but was it really time for them to move into such passionate things? He soon realized he had little choice, as he was far too modest to ask her to stop.

With a fuzzy paw, she gripped his erection and gave very slow strokes, trying to coax him out into full form. "Don't worry, babe. I'll take very good care of you. I'm in need of a little snack and I've got the strangest craving for your essence. Let's hope you enjoy this as much as I'm going to."

He groaned as she continued to stroke him gingerly. When his member had grown to its maximum potential, Jill moved in closer, ready to enjoy her "meal". Placing her hands on her malleable breasts, she gently placed them on either side of his length and mashed them together.

John let out a moan of approval as he found himself surrounded by such soft sensations. Her bosom encircled him in a tight and loving embrace. As she enveloped him, she moved her chest upward a bit, stroking his member in that pleasurable pit of cleavage. Soft and luxurious fur engulfed his shaft, making him lose himself in an ocean of ecstatic sensation. As she raised her breasts to the tip of his length, she coaxed his long held back seed to rise to the surface.

John felt as if his member were resting between two pillows, sandwiched in such a delightfully squishy and cuddly way. Jill did this for several moments, cushioning him and stroking him, as if trying to summon to the surface that which she desired.

But as her hunger grew, Jill found it difficult to hold back. She licked her lips in anticipation, seeing a drop of fluid surface on the tip of his member. That was her cue. With her stout tongue, she lapped at his tip hungrily. She discovered he was quite salty; much like the rim of an exotic drink.

"Mmm, you taste lovely, hun. Mind if I savor you? You're delicious," she said, being naughtily humorous. She resumed her licking with much vigor, tracing circles around his tip. John meanwhile felt the fiery tingle of her tongue on his flesh and whimpered. She was amazing! His hands roamed to the back of her head, stroking her lovely ears.

"You're awfully affectionate. You like being touched, don't cha?"

John nodded helplessly. Her curvaceous breasts, strong lips and adroit tongue all played their part, making him shake with pleasure. He was astounded by the fact she possessed the ability to salivate. The warm liquid allowed him to slide wonderfully insider her hungry maw.

"I don't mean to be a party-pooper, hun, but I'm starved. Mind if I ‘dig in'?"

The human shook his head as he leaned back, giving his lover a much easier angle to work with. With a wide-open maw, Jill engulfed John's member. She began to suckle, taking long draws upon him. She tickled him with her tongue and turned her head this way and that, trying her best to evict from him the seed his body contained. Jill imagined she was sipping from a very tasty drink through a very large straw, pursing her lips and sucking gently.

John's hands continued to stroke those cute ears and caress her delicate cheeks. He was slowly losing himself to the pleasure. It was maddeningly intense, too much for his virgin body to take. He felt a warm, burning feeling rise from his testicles, as if Jill really were drinking from the virile fountain inside of him. He whined, overcome by the intensity coursing through him, ready to meet Jill's lips and complete the journey.

He gripped Jill's ears tightly as she enthusiastically suckled him to a climax. As his legacy spilled onto her awaiting tongue, John felt ecstasy and rapture. He could hardly believe all that had just transpired. Though he slowly began to realize how obscure and bizarre the situation was, he could not help but relish the afterglow Jill had so thoughtfully provided him with.

As he sat there, heart hammering and head spinning, John voiced his appreciation through labored breaths, "You're...amazing...Jill."

The kangaroo allowed John's now spent member to slide from her muzzle and licked her lips greedily, "And you're delectable. Do you see what I meant by ‘stress-relief'?"

John nodded dreamily. As Jill climbed onto the couch next to him, she nuzzled his ear a bit and kissed him on the cheek in her trademark way. Playing with his phallus in her hand, she began to talk naughtily with him: "You were really backed up, I could tell. You needed that, didn't you?"

John blushed a bit, "I suppose." He nuzzled her back, though he lacked a muzzle with which to do so. His heart seemed melt as the couple snuggled on the couch, his chest full of butterflies.

"I don't deserve you," John muttered softly as he held her.

"Don't be foolish, of course you do. Everyone needs a little romance. You just needed an extra-ordinary partner for extra-ordinary circumstance," Jill corrected him calmly.

"But, I was considering giving you away to some two-bit thrift store. I even pointed a gun at you when you were just trying to be nice. You shouldn't have to deal with me after I did those things."

The kangaroo put on a serious face and brought him closer so that their faces were only inches apart. As she poked a fuzzy finger into his chest, Jill argued, "It's not exactly normal to receive a living, breathing doll in the mail. The toy-drive, the gun, none of that matters now. It would be wrong of me not to forgive you. To err is human, love. And I was made with you in mind, so please, have me as you will. I'm yours now, John. Now and forever. As long as you want me by your side, I'll be there."

John, shaken by his lover's discourse, could only think to hold her tighter. He gave her a big kiss. And, for awhile, he was content with just that. Holding and snuggling and cuddling and nuzzling with his newfound lover and friend.

But soon, again, John could feel his arousal bubbling to the surface, making itself known by his member's renewed strength. And as his member brushed up against Jill's tummy, the kangaroo broke into a smile.

"Well, ready for another go?"

John nodded bashfully. "Yes, but I'd like to please you this time."

The kangaroo giggled. She may have been meant for him, but that didn't mean she had to do all the work in the relationship. "Okay, but let's take this one into the bedroom. The couch is nice, but a nice, soft bed would probably work a lot better in this case."

Getting up from the couch, John carried Jill bridal style down the hall and into the bedroom. His heart was racing and his libido flared. He could feel an uncontrollable hunger begin to overtake himâ€"a desire to thrust and to bounce and to sate.

Entering the cool and dark bedroom, Jill jumped out of John's arms and into the soft, yielding, water bed. "You know, if you ever want a threesome, I can make it happen," said Jill rather proudly.

John's eyebrows bolted for the heavens. One woman was incredible. But two? Two was divine intervention! "Really? How?"

Jill blushed again, "Well, you see, in the same way that I was ‘born', I can birth animated dolls like myself by keeping them in here." She rubbed her tummy, indicating it was probably somewhat like childbirth. "All you need to do is provide me with a doll that I could incubate until it's ready to walk on its own."

John sat down next to her. "So, you're a walking plush factory?"

With a giggle, the girl nodded, "Yup. And it would only take a day or two. By the end of this week, we could have an orgy too big for this bed!"

John decided he liked that idea a lot, but was growing hungrier and hungrier for his lover by the moment. He vied to hold her in that wild frenzy of aroused passion he had long since awaited. Placing his hand on hers, John began to move into more risqué territory, "Well, although all that sounds incredible, I think you and I should spend a little quality time together first. After all, I did just meet you today."

Jill grinned, sensing what he was getting at, "Okay, Casanova. You don't have to be so formal about it." And, with an undue sense or recklessness, she pulled him onto the bed, laying him against the soft pillows. Apparently, she wanted to be on top.

The girl locked with him in a tight kiss, a kiss that almost spoke out in words how intense the feeling was. John could only grin and kiss back, waiting for his love to work her magic. Positing herself accordingly, Jill sank into John's lap and as John's tip came to rest on those immaculate lips, the both of them shivered with pleasure.

For a moment, they lingered like that, just enjoying the feeling of their bodies coming into contact. Jill's womanhood was made of luxurious velvet and silk, a captivating tunnel fit to sate even the neediest of men. And slowly, John, driven by his urge to experience the sweet rush of sex, pushed up and into her smooth and tight warren. He even noticed the girl's walls were lined with womanly nectar, another little surprise Jill had deliberately failed to mention.

"Oh, baby!" shouted Jill, loving the warm sensation flowing through her body. "You're about to see just how well a kangaroo can bounce, love," said Jill, kissing him deeply once more. As John's member moved deeper and deeper into the silken channel, the fire burning within his bosom grew hotter, the hungers and desires aching to be slaked.

With gentle movement, Jill began to move up and down on her man's shaft. She would move up until John's member would nearly slip out of the lovely cave and then just as arduously slip back down to where their hips met. John groaned a bit, never before having felt such wild gratification. "You're so warm," he managed to say.

Jill, who was enjoying the friction their bodies created as well, simply replied, "You like parking it in there, eh?"

John could only nod, losing his ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Well," said the kangaroo in a scandalous tone, "you had better get used to it."

And, with that, Jill began to pick up her pace, completing every circuit with a tad more speed. As she pushed down on his member, the water bed yielded to each thrust, cushioning them, enveloping them in a world of silken softness and of bliss.

The human, whose hands longed to roam about his new lover, took hold of her gracious bosoms. "You're...so beautiful, Jill," he gasped. He could only gasp between bated breaths. His chest heaved and his face went red with the rush of love-making. This truly was the most pleasurable, loving, ecstatic feeling he had ever experienced in his entire life.

"Aw, you're sweet," chimed the girl, allowing him to stroke her breasts. His thumbs grazed across her nipples while his palms supported the perky orbs. John could not remember a time when he was happier or so in love. He could only feel his heart throb out blissfully while his loins grew more and more excited down below.

Her breasts simply amazed him. They were things of perfection. They were somewhat large, curvaceous and bounded gingerly as their owner gracefully moved about. The soft flesh would give way to his touch, yet would give gentle resistance. The kangaroo would give a small yip each time his fingers passed over her aureoles.

As his pleasure grew and grew, he could not resist the impulse to buck his hips. His muscles began spasm rowdily, as if a galvanic current were now coursing through his form. The water bed only aided him in their bouncing. It would aid in allowing him to thrust upward into his lover and would yield as John's hips came swiftly down.

Putting her kind's nature to the test, Jill began to move her hips more rapidly, bouncing, easily sliding up and down John's manhood. Her virtual weightlessness and the yielding nature of the bed made these bounces all the more enjoyable, each more pleasing than the last.

John could not help but moan. As a virgin, his idea of love-making was limited. Never in countless millennia could he have thought it felt this wonderful. His beautiful kangaroo just continued to use those powerful legs, sending them plummeting into the bed and just as quickly allowing them to be pushed back up. John could feel his teeth gnash together, as if to stomach the feelings of ecstasy flooding through him.

"Jill, I...can't hang on," croaked John, his voice dry from all the intensity. His hands and forehead had grown slick with sweat. His hair was wildly tossed about from their romp. Although the joys continued to multiply sweetly, he could feel himself on the verge of slipping into the world of slumber.

"Then don't, babe," replied the perky girl riding him. "It's not like this is a one night stand. There are plenty of opportunities for us. Just let go, John. I'm here for you."

Her words were kind and gentle, even at such an emotional moment. With them, she urged her lover on, giving him the go-ahead to unleash, within her, the very essence of his body, an essence that would most certainly had gone to waste if she had not been here for him.

The girl bent down and kissed her lover softly on the cheek. He brought his arms around her incredibly cuddly form, holding her, preparing for the climax to come. And as their hips hurried, setting off toward bliss, whimpers and soft kisses were exchanged amid them both, little signs of affection just dying to get out.

John felt a pleasant burning, a fiery feeling spread over his hips as his seed climbed its way into his instrument. The entire outside world was forgotten by himâ€"he could only feel the warm kisses of his lover, her soft nipples moving against his chest, her fur blanketing him in bliss and that heavenly, silken channel of passion to which he was now committed.

His mind became awakened and alive through these pure and raw emotions. He could feel the adrenaline charging through his veins, bulging out of his hands like forked lightning. His mouth went dry, his eyes filled with happy tears and his heart began to beat so fondly, he thought it might spring from his chest.

And, as the lovers came to their peak, as high and miraculous as the summit of a majestic mountain, John's seed went soaring into the awaiting womb of Jill. They both howled, loving the blistering feeling of orgasm. Jill's womanhood locked up tightly, as if to prevent any of John's precious seed from escaping her. She too, thrilled by receiving the legacy of her beloved, came, unleashing a torrent of her own feminine juices.

As this transfer of bodily nectars took place, John and Jill could not help but remain snuggled in each other's embrace. Jill's pelt felt all the more silky and soft now that John had time to relish it. A warm, calming afterglow began to permeate about them both. It was such a nice feeling to have after wild, intense love-making, to slow down and appreciate what had just transpired.

"Oh, Jill, I think this is the beginning of an absolutely wonderful friendship," said John, his strength finally returning to him. He pulled his lover closer and gave her a little peck on the nose.

The kangaroo, laying her head on John's chest, giggled, "You've got that right. Now how about a little nap? It's been a rather eventful morning."

John chuckled and nodded. As he pulled a cover over Jill, he could hear the calm breathing of his lover as she fell asleep within his arms.

Although just about to retire to such a state himself, John could feel, upon his abdomen, an awkward shape protrude. Jill's pouch seemed stretched out by some foreign object. Reaching in, John's hand clasped what appeared to be a tome of some sort. Pulling it free of its hiding place, John analyized the volume's cover: "A Guide to Your Fuzzy Friend".

John laughed silently to himself. "So, that's where you were hiding, eh? Figures it was the last place I thought to look."

Ready to crack the book open and learn more about the beautiful girl who now rested upon his chest, John's hands shook with excitement. But just as soon as his hand began to unveil the cover, he hesitated. He found the morning's ordeal had exhausted him and yawned.

John, too tired to even get past page one, gently set the manual down on the nightstand. He could slowly feel himself fading from the waking world and into a peaceful, restful one. Besides, Jill had so many secrets to share with him. Why spoil it? Wrapping his arms about his beloved plush, John fell asleep, content and with a heart full of love.

...

But somewhere not too dreadfully far away, someone was not half so happy as John and Jill. Tania Rosewood stood lonely on her porch, drinking a cup of coffee. She was clad in just her bathrobe and some slippers, too depressed to bother with prettying up.

She had really wanted John to notice her yesterday. She had gotten her hair done, even worn a push-up bra to impress him. But all seemed lost. He just didn't share her feelings. With a sad sigh, Tania dumped the remnants of the coffee in her mug to the ground and had begun to go inside when a large brown truck pulled up to the curb.

Seeing this tacky vehicle come to a halt in front of her house, Tania decided to stay where she was and see what was up. A man wearing clothes that matched the truck walked up to her briskly, holding an electronic clipboard in one arm and a large package beneath the other.

As he mounted the porch step, he asked, "Tania Rosewood?"

The woman, somewhat confused, answered, "Yes, I'm she."

"Sign here, please."

Using the stylus he handed her, Tania scribbled her signature on the clipboard.

"Thanks, ma'am," said the postman, "You take care now." He set the package down and tipped his cap before bounding down the steps, getting in the tacky truck and driving noisily away.

When he had gone, Tania looked down at the package he had dropped off. She gave it a slight kick, not really sure of what it was. But as the kick sunk in, a pleasant giggle sounded from inside the box. Tania dropped her coffee mug and it shattered loudly as it hit the ground. And though her eyes could scarcely believe it, the box's contents roused.