Adam reached into his pocket, pulling out a meeping mofucore. It was only some 'emergency ration', he told himself. What else was a man supposed to do when surrounded by so much of the fluff? Ignorant kitsune, chattering and talking amongst themselves about inane day-to-day goings on. She meeped again, more worried this time, as he held her tiny fluff ball in a white-knuckled grip.

SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFF

The intoxicating aroma of cardamom, cinnamon, and myrrh filled his nostrils. With a slight under-tone of linens and moth balls. The entire time the mofucore meeped rhythmically into his lips and nostrils. It was then that he came to a sudden realization: He was being watched.

Foxes, all around him, watching him fluff and sniff at the tiny creature. Their cheeks burning red as they realized the true nature of the man in the train car with them. Some hid their tails from view, clutching them as a woman would her pearls. A few others smirked, fluffing their own tails jeeringly at him.

Fluff addict. Mofu maniac. Fox fucker. The words echoed in his mind.

---


"I need something more," Adam said, his eyes darting back and forth sporadically, "The old stock doesn't do shit for me anymore."

"Jesus, you really are an addict. What happened to that dime bag of sheep sheerings I gave you the other week?" The toady salesman said, buggy eyes seeming to pop out of his sockets on an all-too-wide face. His trench coat was dingy and dirty, small zip-loc bags of various 'flavors and aromas' lining the insides in a living cliche. "You didn't really just *sniff* through all of it, did you?"

The salesman's eyes narrowed as he Adam's head sunk in resignation. There was no helping this damned fool. Some day he was going to get himself into deeper shit than just huffing fox tail trimmings in a public bathroom. This was the crazy kind of fucker who'd launch himself face first into an Ushi-Oni's crotch and take huge gaping whiffs of the smell of **fuck** and sweat.

"Look, I got some new stock in the other week. I can't guarantee you that it'll help but this shit's a new experimental, synthetic fluff. You know, like Kentucky Blue and Willy's Wonder, ya dig?" He said, bringing up a small animal carrier. "Now you gotta romance her first, though. This isn't some kind of trimmings you can just inhale like a city joe and be done with. Shit takes trust building."

Adam's finger reached out as the small grated door opened, the smallest tailpussy he'd ever seen latching onto the tip. He yelped and jumped back as whatever was inside the carrier began to meep excitedly. It was what looked like a Manticore, no bigger than a common street rat and more fluff than body.

"The fuck is this, man?" He said, his palms starting to sweat.

"They call it a 'Mofucore'. Your good old Uncle Bobby's been creating these things in his lab you see. He figured it'd be nice to have a way to curb your fluff addiction. But she will cost you a pretty penny." A crooked smile, teeth yellow from years of cigarettes. "Uncle Bobby's gonna let me sell her to you for a couple of Benjamins, ya dig?"