Foxgirl Smackdown - Cover

Foxgirl Smackdown

Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara

Chapter 6: The Over-Engineered Nursery

The “assembly phase” had moved faster than any project I’d ever managed. Apparently, when you mix human persistence with Vulpine biology, the turnaround time on “new units” is incredibly efficient.

I stood in the center of what used to be the ship’s secondary storage bay, clutching a blowtorch and wearing a welder’s mask.

“Is that really necessary, mate?” the Alpha asked, leaning against the doorframe. She was ... wider now. Her “chassis” had expanded to accommodate the payload, and she looked more smug than ever.

“Necessary?” I pushed the mask up. “Alpha, have you seen your people? They have claws. They have teeth. They have tails that can knock over a heavy-duty power generator. If I’m going to have miniature versions of us running around, I’m not taking any chances with the structural integrity of this nursery.”

I pointed to the crib I had just finished welding. It wasn’t made of wood or wicker. It was reinforced titanium-alloy plating with a quadruple-redundant locking mechanism.

“I’ve installed non-slip industrial coating on the floors,” I continued, pacing the room. “The electrical outlets are now shielded against kinetic impact. I’ve even put pressure-sensitive dampeners on the walls so when they start ‘sparring,’ they don’t go through the hull and into the vacuum of space.”

“You are baby-proofing a starship like it’s a high-security prison,” she laughed, her tail swishing with amusement.

“It’s not a prison!” I protested. “It’s a high-tolerance environment! These kids are going to be half-human. They’ll have my curiosity and your ... well, your everything else. They’ll be trying to hotwire the life support before they’re potty-trained. I’m just staying ahead of the maintenance schedule.”

A knock came at the door—or rather, a rhythmic thumping. The Chieftain and the honor guard were back, carrying gifts.

“We have brought the initiation tools!” the Chieftain announced. He handed me a rattle. It was made of solid brass and weighted like a mace. “To strengthen their grip.”

“And these!” a guard added, holding up a pair of tiny, fur-lined boots with steel toes. “For their first kicks.”

I looked at the steel-toed baby boots. “You guys really don’t do ‘soft and cuddly,’ do you?”

 
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