You weren’t exactly sure why the old pool shed had a reinforced lock on it, but you’d finally found the key. It had been tucked away in the last drawer of the house you inherited—once a summer getaway owned by your uncle, who had always told wild stories about magical mascots and "sentient splash buddies." You always thought he was joking.

The shed creaked open, the smell of sun-worn vinyl and chlorine wafting into your nose. It was packed with pool toys, long-deflated floats, storage bins, and dusty forgotten water guns… but right in the center stood a massive, glossy, immaculately preserved fox-shaped inflatable, standing upright.

Red, white, and blue. Glossy finish. A thick blue collar with a round “I” tag hanging from the front.

And it looked like it was smiling.

You blinked. Its blue eyes blinked back.

“Hiya!!” it chirped, its voice like a cartoon come to life—bubbly, booming, and cheerful. “Took ya long enough! You must be my new buddy!”

You stumbled back as the pooltoy fox stepped forward with a rubbery wobble, his paws raised in a wave. His belly squeaked as it shifted with his movement, and you could hear the soft creak of his vinyl with each step. “Name’s Inflatax! Patriotic protector of pools, bounce zones, and hugs!”

You weren’t dreaming. You were standing in front of a living, talking, waddling pooltoy fox with a smile a mile wide.

“Oh, hey! I see you found the key. That means I’m officially your squish now! That’s how the pact works!” He turned and gave you a wink. “And if you really wanna see what I can do… give my collar tag a tug.”

You glanced at the big “I” on his chest, hanging just below his chin.

He leaned forward slightly, puffing up his chest. “C’mon, I dare ya~”

You hesitated… then reached out and gave the tag a light pull.

PFFFWHOMP!

Inflatax giggled as his belly expanded out with a sudden bounce, becoming even rounder and more huggable. He looked down proudly. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. Give it another tug if you wanna see me get even puffier! I’ve got room for so much cuddly air.”

A third tug might just leave him too big for the shed.

“I’m all yours now,” he beamed. “Think of me as your personal inflatable guardian. I bounce, I float, I snuggle—and I’ve got built-in speakers if you want music while we clean up this old place!”

His rubbery arms opened wide for a hug, squeaking gently. “Now, how about a nice squish to seal the deal?”

The shed, the key, the weird stories—it all made sense now. You weren’t just fixing up this summer house. You were about to start a brand-new life…

…with a magical, inflatable fox best friend.