Foxy Chibi Novels & Stories

I don’t think I just act. I hear what sounds like vehicles. I put the guns away and run to Rebel. “Rebel, it’s ok. Mommy is here. Mommy has got you.” I untie her and pick her up and grunt in discomfort. She clings to me as I turn and run with her to the door. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” I stop and turn to see Foxy flicking a lighter in her hand and I sniff the air and I can smell gasoline. “Let her go Foxy, that was the deal.” I say to her as she walks closer. She is wearing a skirt that barely covers her pussy, a top that just about covers her chest and sky high heels. Her red hair is down in curls and her makeup is on point.

“Handsome, are you trying to cut all of Yamafuji Sai’s bounty hunters like vegetables?” The woman glanced at Tyr. Even though she sounded like she was blaming Tyr, her voice was calm. It was as if the death of the other bounty hunters had nothing to do with her. Tyr threw the walkie-talkie onto the ground and walked toward the two people, “Names?” The girl smiled and said, “I’m Foxy. He’s Crow. “I’ve never seen you before, handsome.” Tyr felt that this woman was trying to say something else and asked, “What do you mean?”

Three Years Later Aina I woke up to the sound of soft giggles and immediately knew who it was, but I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep as tiny fingers brushed against my lips. Without opening my eyes, I gently caught the little finger in my lips, which made the giggles grow louder. I finally opened my eyes to see a small, bright-eyed girl smiling down at me. Her hair was a lovely golden brown, Osborne had said that was also his hair color when he was young but it eventually darkened to the one he has right now. I pulled her close and tickled her lightly, making her squeal with laughter. “Oh, you little mischief, why did you have to wake Mama so early?” I teased.

Not anyhow sound but like moans or maybe cries even and the sound of a hot sex. Her face flushed and she turned crimson red, she never knew or never thought Kane would hook up with a girl. She was tempted to open the door and see how fast he can move which was making the girl scream like that. "Oliver?" She jumped like a child who had been caught doing something bad. After all, she was doing something bad. She was about to peek at her friend having a hot sex. "Caro! Wha-wha-what are you doing here?"

It took me a few days before she agreed to meet me. While her fox fae prepared lunch, she whispered, “So? How’s yours? Is he good in bed?” “…I’ve not tried that.” “What?! Don’t be shy! They’re literally like toys made for our pleasure. You don’t need to feel guilty about anything!” Right as she said that, her fox fae silently appeared behind us, eyes shimmering, lashes wet. His lips trembled as he said, “Master… am I only a toy to you?”

“Sight. Strategy. Stealth. The crow sees truths others hide. She slips between shadows and hears secrets even the wind cannot carry.” When I landed, I shifted once more, and this time I felt sly warmth ripple through me. My body elongated, lightened, and reshaped into a small, sleek black fox with silver-tipped fur. Rowan howled in joy. “I can’t handle this! You’re a wolf, a crow, and a fox!? What the fuck!” Morana preened. “The fox is your cunning. Your speed. Your ability to slip between the breaths of the world. She is the knife hidden behind the smile.”

The typical 10/10 on the attractiveness meter. Foxes are small and scrawny. Our size makes it easier to sneak around. The average height for a fox is 5'5''. And then there were shifters like the bears. Who were well over 7' tall and weight over 300 pounds. In their human form. Most of them were cuddle bunnies on the inside. Gluttons for sleep and food. I should have been born a bear.

Leif, age 12 and 5'5" with a wide chest and sturdy frame, marks him as one of the youngest, yet he holds true potential. His hair is a dark mop of curls, often wildly untamed. His eyes - pale green flecked with gold - shine with youthful defiance. He favours simple cotton shirts and well-worn leggings, though his tiny arms already bear the outline of where a future spiral tattoo might sit. At four years old and 3'6", Felix already tries to emulate his older brothers and sisters. His curls - jet black with tiny emerald tips - fall in soft ringlets. Wide ice-blue eyes brim with curiosity; he practices tiny sword-swings with a wooden blade. His frame is slender but energetic, clad in a miniatur

My life, it seemed, was now guided by this small creature’s whims. It felt surreal. I recalled that moment when Clay had texted our family group chat, announcing Tinkerbell’s long-awaited litter—eight healthy, squirming puppies of pure joy. My heart had raced as I demanded photos without delay, and among the sea of tiny furballs, Rufio stood out: belly-up, with oversized paws that seemed to bounce off the ground, and a little white tuft on his head resembling a mischievous mohawk. I called dibs on him, and I did so loudly. I wasn’t joking—not even a little bit.