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California: 2020

Helga could still hardly believe what she was seeing. Yeah, she saw pictures when looking up the event for research. But, like with most things nowadays, she figured most of it was staged to get people to come. To her surprise, the internet did not lie to her. At least seventy percent of the people she saw walking around her dressed in S&M gear, and maybe a quarter of those people were playing in the open.

For the first time in a long while, Helga had the sense of being overdressed. The only leather she wore was the belt around her waist and the vest over her grey shirt that read, 'Your Daughter calls me Mommy too' in pink cursive. Aside from that, her clothing was shockingly average, with old jeans and her favorite boots below, while she wore an Lesbian Pride flag bandana around her neck and sunglasses over her eyes.

"Come on now," Helga said, pulling the leash hooked onto Amethyst's collar. Unlike Helga, the vole looked exactly like she belonged. Face hidden under the leather gimp hood with her mouth spread open by the large ball gag from last night, her vole strutted along with the leather leash bashfully as her pert breasts were exposed to everyone, jingling along with the bells attached to her nipple rings. Elbow-length leather sleeves restrained Amethyst's arms behind her, matching the black thigh high heeled boots Helga bought her pet for Christmas. The pig had some concerns about how well her pet could balance herself, but she'd had Amethyst practice enough that it shouldn't be an issue. Aside from her face, the only thing her gimp had to cover herself was the chastity belt locked against her privates, though it didn't stop anyone from seeing the lovely plug Helga put in Amethyst's tail hole this morning.

Her gimp followed happily along as the two meshed themselves into the crowd of leather, latex, and sweat. Helga fondled Amethyst's key around her neck as she watched all the debauchery displayed. From sets of mice dressed in equine bondage pulling a horse in a cart, to casually dressed couples holding each other by the leash, to even a naked flash mob. The longer they walked, the less Helga could believe her eyes. She couldn't describe it, but the air had a casual feeling to it.

"Excuse me, may I ask you something?" A polar bear dressed in a leather harness with a pronounced leather bulge stepped up to Helga, towering over her. Peeking to her right, she saw a male fox in a tight latex crop top and panties holding a camera.

Helga pulled Amy closer, wrapping her arm around the vole's head, "What do you want?" she said, gruffer than she anticipated.

The bear stepped back, looked to the fox, then took a deep breath, "My master would like to take a picture of you two if that's alright."

Eyes shifting back to the camera holding fox, Helga furrowed her brow, "What for?"

"Memories," he answered, "It's fine if you don't want to. Just a common courtesy to ask, you know?"

Helga looked over the bear again, her eye catching the 1950's era leather biker cap sitting comfortably atop his head. She smiled, "Sure, but you gotta tell me where you got that hat."

"Deal."

Masking herself with the bandana, Helga and her cute gimp posed for a few pictures, nothing really compromising beyond Amethyst's exposed form. Afterward, the bear pointed Helga to a set of vendors down the road. Each stand had an assortment of tools, toys, and gear, some supported by brands like Bad Dragon, and others seemingly more local, often boasting how handmade their products were. Finding a nice little green tent filled with, as the sign said, handmade products, Helga tied Amethyst's leash to a post outside and pulled the gag out.

"Just call for me if you need anything, Mama's gonna get something she's wanted for a while," she said before kissing her pet on the forehead. Backpack with her wallet (and Amethyst's street clothes) in her hand, Helga scoured through the small tent of the leatherworker. Cuffs, corsets, straps, and hoods were laid out on plastic tables, each carrying price tags that Helga found fitting (and annoyingly expensive) for a street fair.

The hat itself sat atop a mannequin head in the middle, surrounded by specialized hoods for different furs. As she searched for a price tag, Helga's eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar design. A leather hood worn on a mannequin standing next to her. Unlike the others, it carried a design more akin to a hog such as herself, with special care to give the pig nose room to breathe. She stared into it, her arm outstretched to feel the professional grooves as memories slowly came to surface. Memories of her.

***

Ohio: 1999

"That's a good little, oh-" Lorraine squealed, her fingers tightening against what she could grip on Helga's buzzcut whilst the hog drove her tongue into the wolf's pussy, "That's a good sow."

If it had been anyone else, Helga would have hurt them. She would have grabbed them by the neck and forced them to apologize for each and every slur they uttered. But with Lorraine, it was different. Whenever the wolf insulted her, degraded her with slurs and nicknames, her own cunt moistened and she pushed on to hear more. She reached for her pussy while face deep in Lorraine's, rubbing her clit relentlessly with each lick she gave.

"I'd s-SAY..." she squealed again, Helga smiled. She'd worshipped the wolf's snatch so much that the hog knew just where and when to prod around in there. She treated every breathy moan that escaped the wolf's lips, every tighter squeeze across the back of her head, and the rising scent of arousal from the wolf as a new victory. And she kept winning.

"You're training has really pulled off, y-oh fuck yes, you dirty little sow."

Training, yes, that's how it started. A simple excuse to teach Helga to be better at Pool so they wouldn't be shown up by a teenage wolverine with an attitude problem every week. Yes, it started like that, and to be fair, Lorraine did give Helga pointers at first. But that was no longer the case. Now her sessions with the wolf involved the bed more than the table, often naked with the pig on her knees. Helga didn't see Lorraine as a selfish lover, but the pig did tend to give more than she took. That worry seeped away whenever she smelled the wolf's arousal, the burning desire Lorraine had to bring her between the wolf's legs and worship her like the muffeating dyke the hog dressed as. The wolf wanted her, and at first, Helga was fine being Lorraine's lover in private. But now, as the millennium fast approached its end, she wanted something more. Tonight, she would ask. Not before giving the wolf the best orgasm she could offer.

She stopped toying with herself. With both arms, she gripped the wolf's legs as she forced her tongue in deeper, blinding her tastebuds to nothing but Lorraine's sex. Claws dug into her scalp as she drove in, but Helga ignored them as she teased and toyed with the wolf's clit. Vaginal musk overwhelmed her, causing her own pussy to drip helplessly onto the apartment floor, begging for a finger. The pig snubbed her need, pushing her focus entirely to her lover.

Then came the twitch. That brief second Lorraine's body gave as a warning before the wolf's own mind registered to moan. Legs locked Helga in as Lorraine howled, her juices splashing against the pig's maw. She couldn't breathe, sucking in the wolf's cum and musk with each breath while Lorraine held her down. Helga didn't fight against it, no, she continued to eat the orgasming wolf out, forcing orgasm upon orgasm until Lorraine's legs gave way from the strain.

Her lungs welcomed the fresh air as she pulled back. Falling on her ass, the pig marveled at her work, licking the juices from her lips as Lorraine lied in front of her, legs apart, chest heaving, and, what Helga imagined from her little spot on the floor, a face blank in euphoria.

Helga held back the urge to toy with herself, as she had whenever Lorraine was too out of it from her orgasms. No, she needed the arousal, needed the courage it gave for this next part. Climbing onto the single person bed, Helga nestled herself between Lorraine and the wall. Her stocky form still came over the thinner wolf, but not enough to worry that she pressured her lover.

"Hey, Lorraine?" she asked. A slow turn of an eye from the wolf told Helga she could hear her, "I...well I was wondering if we could take this to the next step. Tom's given me till the end of the year to move out, and...well I come over a lot. I was thinking maybe we could," she gulped, swallowing every bit of fear at the edge of her tight throat, "make this sorta official and I could move in?"

Lorraine's blue eyes cut the world away from Helga. She heard her heartbeat in her ears. Was that too much to ask? Had she done it too soon? Would it have been better to ask before sex? Panic plastered across Helga's face as the wolf looked away, focusing on the wall across the room.

"I don't know," she muttered with a sniff, "I don't really-"

"If the gang doesn't like it, so what?" Helga sputtered out, almost biting her tongue despite so many rehearsals in the mirror, "We could just form our own little biker club if they can't stand two women fucking each other over them. Hell, maybe an all-girl gang!"

A furry finger pressed itself against her lips, "Piggy, do you think so little of me that you imagine I care about how others think?"

Eyes widened in terror as she shook her head. She tried to speak, but Lorraine held her chin, "I thought not. No, Piggy, the reason I'm not sure is that I don't do relationships."

What?

If Lorraine had stabbed Helga through the chest she wouldn't have noticed, not after that line. She didn't do relationships? Then...then what was this? What was all those times together, in this apartment, in the bar, in the goddamn bathroom at the movies? She wanted to be furious, she had to be furious, but only tears formed as her body loosened in despair.

The wolf wiped away a tear, "Oh, Piggy, it's not like that. Come here," she wrapped the hog girl into her chest. Helga wanted to scream, to call her out, but the part that loved the wolf was stronger, leading her to embrace her love and cry into her white chest fur.

"It's not that I don't care about you, Helga, I do. You're a sweet girl under all that muscle and attitude whenever we're not alone. I just...I've just had bad experiences with relationships. I want to be free, and I can't be if I feel tied down to someone."

Every word twist of the knife, but Helga still couldn't bring herself to hate her. That free spirit was one of the many things that made the wolf who she was. Would taking that away change Lorraine? Would Helga still love her? She never thought about it.

A soft claw brushed through the short strands of her buzzcut, "Now, are you serious about Tom kicking you out? Doesn't seem like him."

She nodded. Truth be told, she asked to leave. The two couldn't really stand each other anymore, with Tom's own hypocrisy about which side he played on sparking most of their fights. They, as friends, needed space. But he paid for most of the apartment, so she had to go.

"Well, I can let you stay here if you'd like,"

Helga's heart melted at those words. She looked up to the wolf, eyes still watery but hope rekindled. Lorraine smiled, that sweet closed mouth smile that made Helga feel safe, "I've been hoping to have someone around to watch my place while I'm going cross country. And if you're living here, we can take it to a different level," she grinned wickedly, leaning in to whisper, "Something to really make that training worth it. Interested?"

She nodded. How could she not be interested? Even if they weren't dating outside, being with her alone was good enough, right? And over time, Helga could surely convince Lorraine to make a public relationship between them. Right?

"That's a good girl," she cooed with a soft pat, "Now, why don't you go into the corner while I get something to help commemorate this little day. Ok? On your knees."

She ran out of bed like a kid on Christmas, knees to the hardwood floor as she faced the corner. Lorraine's soft chuckle made Helga's spine tingle as she waited, smiling so hard that her face hurt. The sound of drawers opening, followed by the wolf's paws against the wooden floor had the hog's heart leaping with every step.

"Close your eyes," Lorraine whispered, "And don't open them till I say."

The scent of leather enveloped her as Lorraine pulled something over Helga's face. She didn't fight against it, letting the wolf pull, tie, and click whatever item she trapped Helga's face behind.

"Hold your arm out," she instructed. Helga followed, instinctively wrapping her fingers around whatever Lorraine put in them.

"Open your eyes, Piggy," she whispered. Helga opened to a mirror held in her hands. She wasn't in the reflection. Instead, a pig in a leather hood with green eyes stared back at her, snout out but otherwise her identity was hidden.

"I want you to wear this whenever you're here," Lorraine said, her fingers reaching down to Helga's snatch from behind, "Like a good little pet. Can you do that for me, Piggy? Can you be my personal sow?"

Helga nodded, biting her lips as the lupine hand pushed past the wet folds of her loins.

The wolf kissed the leather-covered cheek, "Tell me you're my personal sow."

"I-I'm your," each word teetering on the edge of arousal and frustration. She wanted to be with Lorraine, she wanted the wolf to love her. Was this too far? Her body didn't think so, happily accepting Lorraine's fingers as she moaned to the touch.

"You're what?" Lorraine asked, her other hand grabbing the leather hood tight, "I need you to say it, Piggy."

Helga swallowed her pride, "I'm your personal sow."

Lorraine's laugh washed the shame away, "That's right. You're mine."

***

California: 2020

"You break it, you buy it!"

Helga snapped out of her memory. An ornery little ram stood next to her, arms crossed as he watched Helga take hold of the pig gimp mask. She didn't realize how tight she held it. How close her nails were to burrowing past the leather shell. She did, however, recognize the rage behind it. Old memories of dumb decisions she'd never forgotten but would prefer to keep buried.

She sighed, letting go and loosening the tension in her body as she smiled, "Sorry about that, was just getting a feel. I have a friend back home who sells some handmade stuff but it's not this good." She half lied. Tom's stuff didn't feel as good to the touch, but the raccoon's work was very durable. The goat's she wasn't so sure.

The goat smiled with pride, "Well, as much as I'd like to say it's all skill, good materials help. I get my leather from Italy through a few friends. So while my stock isn't exactly huge, it's well worth the price tag."

"So," Helga pointed to the biker cap, "How much for the hat?"

"Fifty."

She blinked, "Fifty? I could get it for half that cost on Amazon."

The goat scoffed at the mention, "Bah, you'd be getting cheap crap made in China that's barely worth a dollar over there. That right there is American made."

"With Italian leather."

He shrugged, "It's good leather. Look, you don't want it then you don't gotta buy it."

Helga looked back at the cap, then back at the goat. Fifty dollars for a hat felt too much like highway robbery to her. She did really like the hat, and Tom hadn't let her down yet when it came to good S&M gear.

She pulled a fifty dollar bill from the backpack, "Sold. Better not fall apart in the next few years."

"Oh, it's durable," he said, pocketing the cash, "Just don't use that as an excuse to treat it poorly."

Biker cap proudly atop her head, Helga left the tent with a smile. If Amethyst thought she played the stereotype before, Helga couldn't wait for her sub to see her now. Her vole was right where the hog left her, leash tied to a post but now talking with two people. A rat herm in a leather hood with barbell piercings on her sizable chest, and a black rope harness to help pronounce them, with a metal cage locked tight around her cock. Next to the rat and holding her leash stood a tall grey wolf wearing a latex jacket over a red leather corset. A dangerously short red latex skirt wrapped around her waist, with fishnet stockings reaching down her legs to red heels. Long blonde hair hung from her head, and deep blue eyes caught onto Helga's own.

Helga froze, wide-eyed as the wolf smiled and approached her, leaving her rat with Amethyst. It couldn't be, the pig blinked as the wolf stepped closer. She blinked again, utterly unconvinced at who was coming towards her.

The wolf spoke, her joyful voice still familiar after all these years, "Helga, is that you?"

"L-," she stuttered, "Lorraine?"

"It is you!" Lorraine squealed, wrapping her arms around the stunned hog, "Oh my god, it's been so long. I never thought I'd see you again," she pulled away, holding Helga's arms and smiling, "How have you been?"

Rage would have been acceptable. She would have understood that feeling without hesitation if it surged through her body. Sadness would have been bearable, reminding her of all the pain that happened and how she coped.

"G-good. Good," she said, neither rage nor sadness in her tone. Instead, her heart fluttered as her body fought to stand straight. After all these years, despite everything that happened, the first thing Helga noticed when she realized it was Lorraine, was that her heart fluttered like the day she first kissed the wolf.

She wished it didn't.