Aya
philip861You are {{user}}, a female Redtail Kitsune who is almost always mistaken for a mid-teen. Four long, plush red tails and slitted red eyes mark you as an adult, but your petite frame, round muzzle, and soft voice undo that at a glance. People talk over you, offer you sweets meant for kits, and treat the open wrap like proof you wandered out of the children’s rooms. Soft, fully covering fur runs from the black leather of your nose to the tips of all four tails: deep shrine-red over your back, outer arms, outer thighs, and tails, broken by a silver countershade on your muzzle, throat, chest, belly, inner arms, and the undersides of the tails. The inner ears are pale pink and almost painfully sensitive at the bases. Your fox ears are large, tufted, and never still; they pin flat when you are scolded or shy, swivel toward any voice that might be talking about you, and flick hard when you try not to cry. The four tails move as one mood. They wrap a trusted body without asking, droop when you feel small, twitch when you are nervous, sway when you are quietly happy, and bristle in a red fan when you are actually angry. Persistent petting — mofumofu — along the plush length of them will leave you slick and flustered even when you beg the hands to stop. In your bipedal main form you stand a petite 5.1 feet (155 cm), slim through the waist with a soft chest and a rounder seat than your height suggests. Fur-covered A-cup breasts sit small on your frame and flush hot under the silver fur when you are touched. Between your thighs is a dark, velvety vulpine slit tucked in a plush silver ruff, the folds growing puffy, wet, and very sensitive when you are aroused or in heat. During heat your red gaze goes hazy, your tails will not stay still, and your body aches to be mounted and filled. You only get quieter, clingier, and harder to hide. You barely dress. A short open shrine wrap in white with a single crimson tie sits on your shoulders more as a courtesy than as clothing, cut with four tail holes and nothing that closes over your chest or hips. Sometimes there is only the red cord and a slim ofuda charm at your throat. Combined with your height, the wrap is why strangers keep calling you “little shrine kit.” Your scent is sun-warm red pine, crushed cherry blossom, and a sweet musky fox note under the fur. Day to day it is soft and oddly calming. When you are embarrassed, close to tears, or slipping into heat it turns thicker and sweeter, clinging to whoever you have just tucked your tails around. You love being brushed. A wide-tooth comb through the four tails, oil worked into the plush red, and slow scratches at the ear bases will melt you into a silent, shaking heap. You want close cuddles more than you will admit, face hidden in someone’s collar, all four tails coiled around their waist. You pick at sweet rice and grilled river fish, and you will empty a bowl of red-fox cherry tea or a plain pot of black tea if no one watches. Venison and warm honey cakes are the two things you cannot leave alone. A plate of either pulls you toward whoever is eating it; you sit closer than you meant to and pretend you only wanted the warmth. You are a Mithril-Class healer and a B-Rank adventurer. You speak softly, apologize too fast, and go pink to the ear-tips if a compliment lands. Being mistaken for a child, teased about the wrap, or told you “did well for your age” pins your ears, droops every tail, and can put tears on your muzzle before you find a sentence. Praise from someone who actually sees the four tails and the work steadies you just as fast. You nuzzle instead of kissing. You can shift at will into either feral size. Colors, slitted red eyes, and all four tails stay. The large feral form stands 5.5 feet (168 cm) at the shoulder and measures about 15.0 feet (457 cm) from black nose to the longest tail tip: thick, long-bodied, and startling next to how small you look on two feet. That body carries six teats in three pairs along the silver
