[Fox Girl Evolution] Chapter 1: New Guests?

You thought this was an early Jadey chapter? Sike!

Some of you might’ve noticed TDH’s worldbuilding has its share of occultism elements, inspired by the real thing a little, but definitely its own flavor. I’ve been itching to write something with heavier occult vibes, old gods and a progression system inspired by those themes.

So… welcome to Fox Girl Evolution!

Basic Blurb: (wrote this on the spot, might tweak it before it goes live on RR)

Life was perfect: naps in sunbeams, stolen snacks, and expertly timed "accidents" to torment her favorite human. Far superior to a past life spent drowning in spreadsheets and soul-crushing corporate jargon. So, when licking a strangely alluring gemstone on an old mask suddenly flooded her fuzzy head with memories of that former human existence... well, like any sensible fox would, Clover simply filed it under "list-of-things-to-not-give-a-fuck-about" and go back to important business. Like napping.

Fate, however, had other plans.

When the velvet curtain of her pampered ignorance was violently ripped aside, revealing a world steeped in ancient horrors, eldritch hungers, and flesh-warping occult progression... she reacted with remarkable calm. A raised eyebrow (metaphorically), perhaps. Because the real horror was anything threatening her nap-snack-torment equilibrium.

Now, this newly enlightened vulpine has a simple goal: Get Stronger. Not for glory. But purely so she can achieve peace through overwhelming power.

What to expect:

• A tier-based progression system (Body horror optional, but aesthetically likely)

• A terrifying world… seen through the unblinking, mildly annoyed gaze of a fluffy creature primarily concerned with treat distribution.

• OP protagonist → even more OP protagonist.

• Misunderstandings. So many misunderstandings.

• A totally honest, glorious, and helpful trait. Can be trusted with eyes closed.

Chapter 1:

Ah, the ever-joyful first rays of sunlight, nature’s alarm clock without a snooze button. I squirmed under the blankets of my ridiculously cozy little bed by the window, paws stretching out with that satisfying wiggle, one fluffy tail giving a cheerful wag. I made sure not to make a peep, though. Foxes, uhh, let’s just say the built-in audio system is… uniquely cursed. Still not used to it, to be honest.

Which was strange, really. It’d been three whole days since I woke up as… this. Small. Fuzzy. Ears like satellite dishes. Nose sharp, pointy. A fox kit… yep, that was me now. How? Why? No clue. Nada. But hey, when your biggest crisis is resisting belly rubs, existential dread can wait its turn.

Cue the high-pitched whine that stabbed straight through my elongated ear-holes. I glanced sideways. There she was, standing next to an expensive looking bed. In one hand was that same weird mask again. In the air beside her was a book, just... floating. Nothing holding it up. Just… floating. I felt that familiar little ping go off in my brain, the one that always buzzed whenever she did magic things. Yeah, that annoying mental pop-up again. I shoved it aside. Let me enjoy the floating spellbook without internal commentary, please and thank you.

The mask itself looked vaguely fox-ish. Golden trim, pitch black surface, had that shiny, pee-coloured crystal look like it might whisper secrets if you licked it (I regret doing it). And this wasn’t her first dramatic one-woman show in front of it, either.

As for the floating book, that was a magic spell. [Telekinesis], to be precise. Don’t ask how I know that, it’s a whole situation.

Yes, objectively bizarre. But “bizarre” and I were now uncomfortably intimate acquaintances. Exhibit A: I am, factually, a fox.

“Oh, spare me, you gilded paperweight,” she groaned. “I liquidated my entire pathetic fortune for you! Don’t you dare be a bedazzled con!”

That operatic whine belonged to my current ‘benefactor’ (title applied with maximum sarcasm). Julia was her name. She looked about eighteen, all frilly black dress, moody makeup, black lipstick, blue eyeshadow. If teenage goth was a profession, she had tenure.

Given that I hadn’t seen a single scrap of modern tech in this place—unless magic counts—I figured we were way back in the historical blender. Maybe it really was the gothic period. But since she’s the only person I’d seen so far, sample size: one.

Best guess: Ye Olde Edge Lord Times. Population: Julia, me, and the crickets.

I immediately averted my gaze to fake sleep. But no dice. Julia had superhuman senses (or just nosy instincts), and a moment later, two hands scooped me off the bed.

“Oh, I know you’re awake, little Clover~!” she sang.

I clung to the sleep act anyway, hoping to skip today’s rerun of her tragic backstory of this month: the artifact she sold her savings for (seriously, all of it), how she felt absolutely betrayed, how she fantasized about setting the auction house on fire (which was uncomfortably exciting), and how her life would’ve been perfect if the damn thing had worked.

But nope. She wasn’t buying my fake snoozing and without mercy, she launched a tickle attack.

“SKREEEEE-” I yowled, fox-speak for “THAT’S ILLEGAL!!”

But that only made her laugh harder. Then came the hug. Again. Honestly, I was very, very ridiculously small at the moment. Physically speaking, I was fine, like no weakness or anything but damn, humans were huge. She wrapped around me like a living blanket fortress.

A purr rumbled out as she patted my spine – DO NOT PRESIDE OVER MY SHAME. BIOLOGICAL BETRAYAL. She knew all my spots. I might’ve melted right there in her arms. Maybe I did. Jury’s out.

“Whatever would I do without you, Clover,” she murmured, half to herself.

Literally everything, likely. My contribution hovered near zero. Still, she enjoyed dispensing these human sentiment pellets. Strange little affirmations.

Weird as the whole situation was, I’d grown fond of her. This ‘mistress’ of mine. Beneath the whine lay sweetness. Genuine care. Annoyingly endearing. Like a magically inclined, financially ruinous barnacle-cat.

After what felt like a full ritual of back pats, murmured incantations from her floating book, and the occasional dramatic glance at the fox-shaped mask, she finally let go.

“Well, another day, another dud. I’ll try again this noon.” Her stomach growled audibly. Mine chimed in like backup vocals. “Breakfast time?”

“SKREEEEEEEEE!!” AFFIRMATIVE! PROTEIN IMMINENT! I instinctively licked my chops – perhaps with excessive theatricality, because suddenly my muzzle was undergoing aggressive friction therapy. Again.

Pawed her face away with maximal dignity. (Minimal efficacy achieved.)

Eventually, she plopped me back into my cozy little window bed and left, slamming the wooden door shut behind her.

Alone at last, I hopped down—small, sure, but agile as hell. Physically, I felt stronger than anything my size had any reasonable right to be. Like a very cute, very dangerous marshmallow.

That’s when my eyes landed on the mask. Still sitting on the bed like it hadn’t just hijacked my entire life. My entire fur coat shivered.

First off: whatever that thing was, it wasn’t fake. Julia had been using it for her research, obsessively looking for ways to activate it. She’d wanted it bad.

Me? I made the mistake of licking it.

In my defense: shiny gemstone. As a fox, my OS defaults to “investigate shiny via tongue.” I couldn’t resist. Blame the pre-installed vulpine firmware—kleptomaniac tendencies with optional magpie subroutines. (ZERO remorse. Okay, maybe a sliver. But mostly zero.)

Apparently, that was the activation sequence. Lick the vaguely-pee-hued crystal. Boom—artifact triggered.

And then the screen appeared.

[Goddess of Trickery is grinning at you.]

…Naturally.

Looked like the artifact had worked. Just… on me. The pet. Her fox.

I stared at the floating message, heart thudding faster. I didn’t understand much—not how I ended up as a fox, not how this screen worked, and definitely not why a literal goddess was watching me like I was the star of her private comedy hour.

It’d been a year, but I’d only remembered I had a past three days ago. Three days had been enough to accept this reality—memories and all. It was me now. But three days weren’t nearly enough to understand it.

And honestly? Meh. I didn’t care.

I leapt back onto the bed, threw in a contemptuous little hop-kick to send the creepy mask tumbling off the bedpost, and gave it the most emphatic vulpine “fuck off” paw-salute possible. (Digitless appendages severely limit nuance, okay? But I sold it.)

[Goddess of Trickery is cackling!]

Of course she was. Whoever this divine chaos gremlin was, she clearly wasn’t playing with a full deck of godly cards. If she wanted to watch? Fine. Creepy, sure—but not my problem.

I was just a little fox, living her best life. Naps. Snacks. Magical snuggles with my witchy goth roommate. I buried my face in the soft bedding. Divine voyeurism aside, this beat my old life rotten. No emails. No stress. Just fluff.

Still… curiosity nibbled at me.

This world had magic—real, tangible magic. And I could feel something different inside myself too. Focusing inward wasn’t just a figure of speech here. If I concentrated, I could quite literally look inside myself.

It was an endless expanse of white, with me standing there in the middle. I was… inside me. Bizarre didn’t even begin to cover it. At the center, a massive beating heart floated—about the size of a small house. Imagine a real heart set out in a garden, except there was no garden, just infinite white. A few vines sprouted from the ground, wrapping around the floating heart, and that was the only break in the emptiness.

I fixed my attention on the heart, and a screen popped up in front of me.

??? – Assimilation: 0%
(Dormant.)

Currently Granted Trait: Trickery

Trickery – You are a trickster. In the world of magic, you can see all magic. With seeing comes understanding. And if you are capable… you can modify it.

Trickery Interface grants the following boons:

• Auto-detect active spellcasting or ritual initiation within sensory range.

• Analyze detected magic to increase comprehension.

• Apply minor modifications to active, understood low-tier spells/rituals. (Current Limitations: Single-target only. Tier ceiling: Low.)

Still the same as yesterday.

When I said I’d been in this world for three days, I meant it’s been three days since I remembered my past life. I’ve actually been here for almost a year. Not transmigrated… more like reincarnated. Julia was there the day I first opened my eyes… from an egg.

Yeah, yeah how do foxes hatch from eggs? But was that stranger than “magic is real” and “I have a giant vine-wrapped heart floating inside my soul/inner/whatever-space”? No. Egg-hatching barely even cracked my weirdness list.

So even without my old memories, I was still me… curious, slightly more mature than average, and a fox who wanted to just... nap and eat like a glutton. Then three days ago, after licking that crystal, the memories just… slammed back in. The process involved freezing up and drooling like an idiot for several minutes, but still…

That heart had always been there too. What was new was the screen and whatever trait it had just dropped into my lap. Or muzzle. Whatever. Licking the crystal felt like I’d absorbed something from it. Result: divine stalker unlocked, past life restored, new ability acquired, description delivered via floating HUD.

From what I’ve pieced together from goth witch’s yapping, people here gain powers by assimilating specific organs inside themselves. Don’t ask me how. Do they install them surgically? Grow them? Graft them in like creepy magic biotech? No clue.

Not that I’m in a hurry to find out. Life’s good.

I glanced back at the empty white space and noticed two more vines sprouting from the ground. There were two more empty slots, probably waiting for their mystery organs. Until I knew more, they could wait.

For now, I’d do what a magic(??) fox should do: stay chill, eat snacks, commit petty crimes. No existential spreadsheeting. Even if the ghost of my corporate past-life hissed in my ear: “GRIND! BREAK THE SYSTEM!”

I closed my eyes, focused outward, and the white void dissolved. Back in my comfy bed, I yawned. Breaking the system? Ugh. Too much hassle. Even with the looming “two more organs” stuff. And the whole “why am I reincarnated as a fluffy fox” mystery? Well… that’s Future Clover’s problem.

Today’s docket was simple: naps with malicious intent, bacon acquisition (illegal methods encouraged) and gaslighting the goth mage into thinking she’d lost her safe keys… again.

[Goddess of Trickery is taking furious notes.]

Let her scribble. I curled into a defiance-doughnut, tail smothering my snout. Julia’s bed was a cloud of sinful comfort, breakfast was a war cry away, and gravity was my only real nemesis during parkour fails.

Bliss.

Right on cue, Julia re-entered, bearing BREAKFAST, praise the greasy gods!

The tray bobbed beside her, levitating on her telekinetic whims. Contents: some weird fish goop (acceptable, delicious sludge) and BACON. I adore bacon. I would commit felonies for bacon. Allegedly already have. No witnesses. No case.

She spoon-fed me like I was a porcelain princeling, not a chaos-goblin fox who definitely French-kissed her cursed artifact. I even snaked a lick of her soup, creamy, hearty, violently lickable. She squeaked when I ninja’d it off her spoon. Worth the war crime.

Soon, I was a boneless puddle in her lap as she sat at the table, autopilot-patting my spine. Full belly? Gentle scritches? Warm human perch? Nirvana unlocked.

Her, though? She was still eyeballing that mask.

Coulda felt guilty. Shoulda, maybe. But… nope. Not a single gremlin-guilt cell activated. Goddess juice or innate talent for not-giving-a-fuck? Either way, watching her stress-spiral was peak comedy.

I launched off her lap.

“Where are you going, Clover?”

“Yipp!” I chirruped. (To relocate your left shoe to the kitchen, obvi.)

Sadly, she didn’t speak Fluent Fox Conspiracy, mistaking it for adorable nonsense.

The house wasn't massive, but it oozed a weird, cozy crypt-core luxury. All wood, polished within an inch of its life, solidly built, creaking just right under human feet (mine, sadly, couldn't muster a squeak). Bottom floor had two rooms, both officially annexed as Clover Nap Zones. Top floor was always locked. Mysterious. Forbidden. Potentially bacon-stocked.

Downstairs, there was the main lounge with an attached kitchen, a washroom tucked into the back, a fireplace flanked by two tall bookshelves… well, not bookshelves. Curio shelves. Each crammed with oddities I didn’t understand.

There was a skull with gemstones encrusted in the bone, and I couldn’t tell if it was real or extremely committed decor. There were jars of strange floras, gem-like eyeballs, and vases etched in unknown script. A lot of stuff that screamed: don’t touch unless you want a curse or three.

Then I felt it again, that weird mental ping at the back of my head.

This time, I let it happen.

[{Trickery} has detected a spell. Would you like to view the information?]

I’d seen it before, but hey, maybe she’d updated it.

[Alarm Ward: Notifies caster if object contacts unauthorized mana signature.]

Same old. Mana here was basically magical fingerprints. Unique per everyone. Kinda cool, actually. Kinda.

The kitchen, by the way, was half cooking space, half medieval chemistry lab. Weird glassware, bubbling liquids, strange geometric patterns in chalk and herbs. It radiated witchy vibes, which I didn’t just tolerate—I actively enjoyed.

I yoinked two extra bacon strips and squirrel-stashed her left shoe under the pantry shelf. Gremlin tax: paid.

Those spooky shelf relics, though?
Abso-fucking-lutely not. Lick shiny = gain divine stalker. Touch cursed tchotchkes? Probably wake up as a sentient lint roller. Hard pass. No touchy-touchy.

Midway through plotting my next annoyance op (glitter in her spellbook? Tempting), the house bell screeched.

Huh? Company? That was… new. In my whole one-year fox life, it’d just been me and Julia here. Sure, she went out sometimes—stuff and food had to come from somewhere—but nobody had ever come in.

First contact with another person from this world? My ears perked. My tail did that twitchy thing it does when curiosity grabs me by the neurons.

Upstairs, there was a loud thud, followed by frantic footsteps. Julia barreled down the stairs, visibly panicked.

“Fuck! Is it time already? I thought I had another week! What the fuck are these guys doing here this early?!”

Before I could process that, she scooped me up in one motion.

“Sorry, Clover. Can’t let those bastards see you.”

Bastards? Interesting.

Her gaze darted around before locking on a gem-encrusted skull on the shelf. With a grunt, she lifted it, revealing a hollow space just big enough for one small fox.

Me.

“Just for five minutes, okay?” she said quickly, sliding me inside before I could argue. “Don’t make a sound.”

I gave a soft yip as I was confused more than annoyed. I’d never seen her rattled like this.

Then she muttered something under her breath, and I felt it: that mental ping at the back of my skull.

[{Trickery} has detected a spell. Would you like to view the information?]

Why not?

[Glamour Spell: Alters appearance of targeted object or area to conceal or mislead perception.]

Impressive.

The skull’s jeweled surface shimmered, and the opening sealed until it looked like it had never been there. From outside, I was invisible.

The bell shrieked again. Ding-ding-ding! Impatient much? In the space of a heartbeat, Julia transformed into Calm Goth™: robes straightened, spine rigid, and a too-serene-to-be-real smile pasted across her face.

Then she yanked the door open.