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Helga pulled at the stomach fat she saw in her reflection. It wasn't much, and Amethyst kept telling her that she liked having a cushion to rest on, but the pig despised it. Growing up, she had to deal with a lot of bullshit about the expected body image for swine. Her mother was obese, her father was obese, all saying that it's natural for any hog to have a big gut.

She'd spend over twenty years fighting that. Helga didn't think she had to have zero fat on her body, but she damn well knew that she wasn't going to let it round her up like so many others.

It's amazing how much a few weeks of no gym can do to a body. "Of course, it had to be tax fraud," she grumbled, putting her shirt back on as she stepped out to the living room where she left her gym bag. The first thing Helga did when she got this house was turn the basement into a personal dungeon. Something she'd wanted ever since she got to experience being a live-in dom. Because of that, and the workshop she needed in her garage for her bike, she didn't have the luxury of personal workout space. Instead, she went to local gyms over the years to bulk up and keep her stomach from expanding past what she deemed acceptable.

"You can't just pay your taxes right like the rest of us, you stupid fuckers," she grumbled again, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels. Given it being Saturday and Amethyst's new part-time job, Helga didn't have much else to do as she waited for Jo to pick her up to take her to the bobcat's gym. She thought about doing some bike maintenance, but Helga doubted she had enough time to do anything worthwhile on her motor.

Jo's text arrived halfway through her show. Pressing the record option on her DVR, Helga grabbed her bag and headed out to find a restored 1970's blue and white muscle car waiting for her in the driveway. While the pig preferred bikes herself, she had to admit the bobcat had a good choice in cars. Rather than getting a bagger like the rest of the gang, Jo decided to work towards her dream car.

It helped that Jo didn't have kids. Granted, neither did Helga, but the pig spent her extra cash on leathers and restraints.

Helga felt the engine purr as she sat against the passenger seat, "So, where exactly is this gym? It ain't Orange Theory, is it?"

The bobcat in the driver's seat titled her brow. Like Helga, Jo looked fine for someone in her 40's, though she was only about two years younger. Even when not riding her bike, she kept herself clad in her leather jacket, while she hid her eyes behind reflective glasses and had an American flag bandana tied over her black hair.

"The fuck is Orange Theory?" she asked, putting her metal beast into gear and driving off.

"It's some kind of group workout gym thing," Helga shrugged, "Amy brought it up when I was looking for gyms. I tried it once, and while I don't think it's bad it's just not me. I know what I want to do at a gym, and I know what I need to do. That place is more for folks that don't know or don't want to think about it."

"Ah, cute that she cares about ya."

Helga smiled as she looked out to the window, "Well, yeah that's generally what it's like to be dating someone."

"Are you two dating? I figured it was just live in fuck buddies or something."

"We're dating, Jo. Just because we don't go out often doesn't mean we aren't."

The bobcat shrugged, "Whatever. You, Allison and now apparently, Tabitha, are the only ones that seem to care about this, 'lifestyle' or whatever you call it. I think it's hot, for a bedroom thing, but does that twenty-something really crawl around on all fours at your place?"

Helga gave a small smirk, "Only when she, or I, want her too. So," she asked to change the subject, "Where are we going? I've never been to your gym."

"My gym was your gym," she said, taking a left turn, "I just never went with you on account of you being a bit competitive."

"What? I'm not competitive."

"Do I need to bring up the wrestler story again?"

"He was being a prick!" Helga rolled her eyes, "Someone had to teach him a lesson."

"What about Andy? Or that bull on the bench press?"

"That asswipe said women were weaker than men."

"On average, we kind of are, at least in upper body strength. Most of us don't try to be literal amazons." she sighed, "Look, the point is that generally I avoid working out with you since you can be a bit too intense." she raised a finger before Helga could comment again, "I have at least five stories to back me up, so don't bullshit me."

Helga crossed her arms and leaned back into her seat as she admitted defeat. It's true, she could be a little confrontational. But nine times out of ten it's the fault of the other side, not her. Well, maybe seven times out of ten.

"Ok...so what changed?" the pig asked.

"A new place opened up that I figured would be great for you. One where you don't need to prove how much you can lift."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a boxing place, local too so I can feel good about my community. Figured you could use the cardio since you hate running."

"Boxing?" Helga asked, "The fuck makes you think I wouldn't be competitive there?"

"Oh, you probably will. But maybe this time a pro might actually kick your ass."

Helga laughed, "I'm sorry, but Jo, how many scraps have you been in with me?"

"In with? Maybe nine. Been in the same room 'because' you and Tabitha are goddamn lunatics? Too many times. Hell, the only reason I joined you on those nine times was that it was getting too rowdy or the rest of the girls got pulled in. I don't get why people look at me and think I'm just as violent as you too. I actually have a business that requires me not to spend time in jail."

The pig kept laughing as they made their way to the gym. Sure, Helga and Tabitha started and ended most of the fights they were in. All that experience meant something to Helga, something you couldn't get in a fight with rules. But boxing did sound like a nice change of pace, and they probably had some weights lying around to work with. Amethyst loved it when Helga manhandled her, and she couldn't do that with weak arms.

The actual gym didn't look impressive as Helga followed her friend through the glass doors. Sure, it had a sizable space that would fit a bunch of treadmills and other equipment no problem, but the pig couldn't help but feel like they'd be wasting their time when she saw the weight selection. With only two bench presses, Helga figured she'd be competing with a lot of people just to get a spot. Though another look around told her that wouldn't be a problem, with so few furs in the gym.

Two bunnies, one with pink hair, the other a ginger, took to each other on the treadmills, though it looked like only the ginger topped rabbit had a towel. A bull sat in the corner doing kettlebell squats, and a red-headed grey-furred pitbull was busy lifting her own set of weights. Helga shook her head, it was blue fur, not grey. It didn't make sense to the hog why they called that fur blue, but too many furs were sensitive to their fur color that Helga made an effort to remember more to avoid annoying arguments than the worry of insulting people.

"Welcome to Brawling Boxers," a pitbull similar to the one lifting weights approached them, though he stood a few inches taller, had a broader chest, and carried a short but shaggy beard with his maw. "Name's Terry, I'm the owner and head trainer of this place. You ladies looking to learn how to defend yourself?"

Both women chuckled at that. Helga flexed her arm, "Does it look like I need to defend myself?"

Terry's ears drooped for a second, "Hey, hey, I meant no disrespect ladies. Just a pitch I'm working on for any newcomers who walk through the door," he smiled, "Plus, no offense, but muscles don't mean much if you don't know how to use 'em. While I 'personally' wouldn't hit a lady, I have a feeling you wouldn't last long in the ring," he explained, though Helga's expression seemed to get the dog to step back.

"Sorry," Jo stepped between the two, "My friend here has had a rough time since our gym closed down. She gets a bit antsy when she can't work out. You offer boxing classes right?"

His ears perked up at that, "Damn right I do. Used to be a pro myself," he pointed to the wall, revealing a picture of a younger terrier with the same smug smile and dressed like a boxer as he held a trophy with both hands, "They used to call me, 'Terry the Tenacious' cause I just kept going."

"So why'd ya stop?" Helga asked, scanning the dog from top to bottom, "You don't seem to be out of shape, and you can't be that old."

"It's personal," he chuckled, "Let's just say that other things came first that were more important. But I love teaching," he made a few mock jabs in the blink of an eye, leaving Helga shocked for a few seconds, "You ladies interested in learning the techniques?"

Helga peered over to her friend. The pig knew how to fight, and not just because she liked to brawl in her youth. Jo shrugged with a smile, Helga hated it when Jo smiled. She couldn't help but feel a challenge whenever the bobcat threw a smirk her way.

She smiled back. Jo was right, she loved to compete.

"Sur-"

"Hey dad, you gonna keep me waiting?" interrupted the red-headed pitbull from across the way, "You're the one so hellbent on my training, the least you could do is be in the ring with a pad."

Helga felt just a smidge of familiarity as the pitbull approached them. If she'd been wearing a beanie and an ill-fighting leather jacket, the situation would have been almost like when she first met Tabitha. Well, not almost like it, just carrying the same smug arrogance that made the hog want to shut the girl up and teach her to behave.

Terry laughed it off, "I'm sorry, ladies. Seems my daughter is getting impatient," he said, pulling the girl in and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "Becca here is my pride and joy, a true fighter like me, only this time she's got a real fighter teaching her what's what."

Helga nodded with feigned interest while Jo pressed on, "Cool. So about those classes."

"Aren't you both a little old to box?"

The pig's grip around her bag tightened at the younger terrier's comment, "No. I'd say you're a bit too young, but being a shithead hasn't ever had an age limit."

"What was that?" she stepped up to Helga, fangs bared, "You want to go, piggy?"

That was the line. Helga let out a loud snort as she blew air through her nose into the red-headed pitbull's face, "Gladly, mutt."

Jo braced her shoulder, "Helga, she's just a kid."

"I'm 18 as of yesterday," the girl said, "If the government sees me as an adult, you can."

"You hear that, Jo?" Helga smiled, "She's 18. That's fair game for me."

"Ladies, ladies," Terry stepped between the customer and his daughter, "While I love the spirit between you all, I think we've all gotten off on the wrong side here. I wouldn't want anyone getting hurt."

"I won't break anything, dad," Becca said, smirking as she looked up to Helga, "And if I did, well, it'd be pretty pathetic for you to sue us cause you couldn't get up. Your move, granny."

Rage burned so deep in Helga's core that she started to laugh, "Oh, I won't sue. But to make it fair, neither will you. You got health insurance, brat?"

Terry nodded as Becca turned to him, "Yeah, meet you in the ring, piggy. I'll make sure to give you some extra pads."

Helga's lips curled as she stripped down in the locker room. She didn't fight anymore thanks to a combination of growing older and smarter. The hog wasn't like Tabitha, who liked to go around to bars seeking trouble before she found her own little toys. But that mutt lit something in her that she wanted to keep burning, so much that Jo had looked concerned.

"Hold back," the bobcat demanded more than requested.

"What makes you think I won't?"

"Cause you're smiling like the old days. Back when we used to call you Hrist of the Frel Valkyries. She put people in the hospital."

Helga shrugged, pulling her workout sleeveless tee over her sports bra, "Please, that was back when I could party for a week. I'm just gonna teach the kid some manners is all."

"Helga," Jo grabbed her shoulder, "Don't break the kid."

She sighed, "Fine, I won't hurt her that much," she promised. Jo's scowl had Helga cool down with a few deep breaths. The bobcat was right, she wasn't Hrist anymore and she shouldn't be bringing that side of her back. The closest she got back to that was when Amethyst got kidnapped. If the cops didn't arrive when they did, Helga might have been wearing orange.

The mutt, as arrogant as she was, didn't deserve that kind of beating. Helga smirked at her reflection as she put her bag away. Despite the extra weight, she still carried a strong form, with arms that she knew could knock a regular joe out in a few or more hits. A gut-punch or two would be enough for the gym brat.

A pair of gloves and knee pads were waiting for Helga when she entered the ring. The pitbull rested against the opposite corner, hands on the ropes as she watched the pig with both a smug and grim expression. She looked forward to turning it into a mixture of shock and defeat.

Ready, the two women stepped to the middle of the ring. Terry stepped between them, raising his right hand and holding a whistle in his left, "Ok, ladies, I want a good clean fight, you know the rules of Mixed Martial Arts?"

Helga nodded. She didn't, but she figured so long as she didn't do anything dirty then she'd be fine.

"Alright, one round, five minutes," he backed off as he blew the whistle, "fight!"

Becca came to Helga before the pig could blink. Right jab straight to the hog's face. Reflex brought her arms up to block, leaving her stomach open for a gut punch from the left. The dog's padded gloves took away most of the damage, leaving only a dull force to collide with the pig.

Becca jumped away when Helga threw her knee. The pig followed her, throwing a right feint followed by a left hook. Becca dodged the hook with inches to spare, spinning for a roundhouse kick to Helga's side. That, much to Helga's dismay, hurt more than she'd expected. The dog gave no respite, rushing in to avoid the sow's reach and sending an uppercut to her chin. Her mouth guard took most of the blow, and the weight class difference kept Helga on her feet.

The dog's footwork kept her out of the hog's fury. She threw punch after punch, each missing their mark as Becca twirled and sent a counterstrike. Her punches didn't hurt, but Helga could feel her resistance growing weaker with each hit. As did her desire to hold back. Growls, snorts, and grunts escaped her snout as her punches swung harder and faster. Becca's close calls got closer and closer, pushing the pitbull to the defensive as Helga pushed on through until that defense broke. Becca blocked a chest strike with a crossguard, the impact pushing her back several feet and into the corner post.

Adrenaline pumping, Helga charged forward while winding up a fist. Just one punch across the face and that stupid brat would be down for the count. Becca dodged forward, ducking below the strike as she rushed into Helga's stance. The pig's swing set her off balance, making it easy for the terrier to tackle her to the ground. She twisted her body around Helga's left arm, using all her strength to pull it back and force Helga to the ground.

The timer buzzed before Helga could try to throw her off. She may be strong, but lifting an entire person's weight on one arm might have been too much for her.

"Hot damn!" Terry clapped as he stepped into the ring, "You weren't kidding when you said you knew how to fight. Though, it's still pretty damn sloppy."

"Uh huh," Helga grunted as she got up, stink-eye heavy on Becca who returned with her own, "Nice moves, kid. You must be great at running away."

"Anyone can run from a granny like you," she stuck out her tongue while massaging the spot on her arms Helga hit.

"Hey, hey, hey," the older terrier stepped between them, "Let's take it easy. You all had a good fight, so shake hands and move on," he grabbed his daughter's glove and forced it to the middle, "Come on, Becca. Be sportsmanlike."

The younger pitbull rolled her eyes, "Good fight,"

Helga gave a half-hearted fist bump, "Same," she grunted, already tearing off the other glove as she headed off the ring. She didn't realize how winded the fight made her. How long had it been since her gym closed down? Just a few weeks, but how long had it been since she went to the gym before then?

Jo didn't look too pleased, staring Helga down like a disappointed mother, "The fuck was that?"

"A fight."

"It looked like Hrist was coming out,"

"If Hrist was out then the terrier would be on the floor, bleeding," Helga said, having enough of Jo's shit, "Besides, the girl can take care of herself. Her footwork wouldn't be as good if there was a bunch of clutter."

"I don't know who is worse," Jo sighed, "You or Tabitha."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean? Tabitha got barely any restraint."

"Yeah, and you know better. Yet you still let it get to you."

"Well sorry we can't all be calm and collective all the time, Jo. Why don't you take that calm sense of peace and shove it-"

Terry coughed. Both women looked over to see the owner of the gym standing before them, clipboard in one hand, "So...I'm sorry for interrupting a personal dispute and all, but if you ladies are interested in joining I'll need you to sign a few things."

"We're not-"

"Sure," Helga cut her friend off, taking the pen from Terry's hand and reading through the clipboard, "Though I have one condition for my fee."

"Uhh...ok? What?"

She pointed to Becca, currently busy with a jump rope, "Once a week, I want a rematch."