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"Rhythm is everything in boxing. Every move you makes starts with your heart, and that's in rhythm or you're in trouble." - Sugar Ray Robinson, considered the greatest boxer of all time

Little Martin had grown up spending his entire life around boxers and boxing. The young folf's earliest memories were of his champion father working out in the gymnasium behind their house. He would sit their, patiently, watching for hours as his father sparred, lifted weights, hit the various types of punching bags that adorned the place. It was such a tremendous part of his childhood, seeing the effort that went into creating and maintaining a world class prize-fighter. And for as long as he could remember, that's all he wanted to be, much to his mother's dismay.

That lifetime of being raised in such an environment, coupled with his previous two years fighting as an amateur, had led up to this point. The day he turned eighteen, he had signed the contract to become a professional fighter. He wasn't going to waste anytime second guessing himself. He wanted to get his career rolling. With his father, Will McCallister, and sometimes his grandfather when he was lucid enough, the team set out getting him into tip-top shape for his debut professional bout. Having the last name McGregor, there was no shortage of fighters getting in line to take him on; hoping to boost that they defeated the next in line to head the McGregor dynasty. Little Martin wasn't about to let that happen.

So, here he was now, getting ready to head into the ring at "The Pyramid" in Memphis. Being that this was his debut, he didn't get top billing, but instead was placed on the first of two under card fights before the headlining heavyweight title fight. Martin didn't mind at all. He told himself that before long, he would be getting top billing, and even non boxing fans would no his name. His father cautioned such thinking.

"This isn't the amateurs, boy," Bradley said seriously. "You might have to go the full twelve rounds with this guy."

"We'll see," said little Martin, shadow boxing after having his paws wrapped and gloved. He looked at himself in the mirror, making sure that he was every inch the champion he believed he already was.

A burly pit bull in a security outfit appeared in their dressing room. "McGregor! We're ready!"

Martin got his entrance robe on. He had a special robe made for his debut. A bold turquoise garment that read "Marvelous" Martin McGregor on the back of it in gold, cursive lettering. He was ready to show the public what he was made of.

Martin walked down the aisle of the arena, hearing the spectators cheering him on. Most had heard that the son of Bradley McGregor and grandson of Mighty Martin McGregor would be fighting tonight, and they were anxious to get a glimpse of him. Many fans were puzzled, expecting to see a huge, heavyweight pugilist walking down the aisle, but instead they saw a middleweight folf entering the ring. There was murmuring amongst the attendants if this was really a McGregor they were seeing, or just someone with the same last name. Little Martin paid no attention to any of the conversation, as he was being prepped by his team for the fight.

As Martin was getting ready in his corner, his challenger was entering the arena. Danny Dickinson, a dingo from Australia would be who Martin had to test his mettle against this evening. Dickinson was an accomplished fighter, and had leaped at the chance to prove his abilities against Martin. The folf watched, glaring at the dingo as he entered the ring. The ring announcer, a hippo, went to the center of the ring to announce the first fight.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Memphis Pyramid! This is the first event of the evening, twelve rounds of boxing in the middleweight division. This fight is sanctioned by the Tennessee State Athletic Commission, along with the World Boxing Council! Scoring will be on the ten point must system!

Introducing first, fighting out of the blue corner, wearing the turquoise trunks and coming to us from Catskill, New York. He weighed in at 156 and one quarter pounds. Hailing from the royal family of boxing, he's the son of former undisputed heavyweight champion Bradley McGregor and grandson of undisputed champion Mighty Martin McGregor. He enters the ring for his very first professional bout, having had an impressive 55-0 amateur record. Here is Marvelous Martin McGregor!"

The younger Martin held his paws in the air as he jumped up and down to less than enthusiastic cheering. The ring announcer went on.

"Fighting out of the red corner, wearing blue, white and red trunks, he weighed in at the middleweight maximum of 160 pounds even. Coming to us by way of Perth, Australia, he enters the ring with a perfect record of 10 wins, 0 losses, and 7 of his wins have come by way of knockout! Ladies and gentleman, here is Danny "The Decapitator" Dickinson!"

The audiences response to the dingo was on par with that of Martin's. The referee, a Great Dane, brought them in for their pre-fight instructions.

"I've give both of you your instructions in the dressing room. I expect a tough, clean fight. Protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands at all times. Touch gloves!"

Both fighters went back to their corners, with Bradley cautioning Martin not to underestimate the dingo. Martin nodded his understanding before heading out to face his first professional opponent.

The bell rang, and both Martin and Danny danced towards the center of the ring. Martin had taken the liberty of studying the videos of the dingo's ten professional fights to try and figure out his opponent. It was no accident that he went by the monicker "Decapitator", as the dingo rarely threw body shots at his opponents. Martin circled around the dingo, neither one of them throwing a punch for the first ten seconds of the round. Martin saw the dingo glaring at him as he raised his fists, but he wasn't intimidated. Dropping his paws from in front of his face, Martin was inviting the Australian to take a shot at him. Seeing him wind up to throw a right hook, Martin knew exactly what to do. The dingo lashed out with the right hook, but was blocked by the quick left paw of Martin, who brilliantly moved in and countered with a right cross, wobbling the dingo briefly. The crowd started getting into the fight, shocked to see that the newcomer had so smoothly pulled off such a counter attack against the dingo. Martin kept dancing around the dingo, who out of anger, charged him, tying him up, or at least trying to tie him up. When two fighters clench, the fighter with the free paw was allowed to continued throwing punches, and that's just what Martin did. Before the referee could break them, the folf gave the dingo a triple dose of his left paw, leaving Danny the worse for the encounter. After exchanging a few jabs, the bell rang and the fighters returned to their corners.

"You're doing great, son," said Bradley, giving his son his water bottle and placing the spit bucket below him. Will moved in with his advice.

"Careful of that left hook of his," warned the white wolf. "It's one of the best I've seen in a long time!"

Martin had his face wiped off quickly, only to have Vaseline reapplied to it, making sure that none of the punches from Dickinson would stick. The seconds were ordered out, and the folf got off his stool, ready to jump right back in.

Martin had made his amateur career by building a brilliant defensive strategy against his opponents. He would wear them down with his quick speed and endurance, and then let them come to him for, as he put it "a good ol' ass whipping!". Martin wasn't about to abandon this strategy tonight, as Dickinson was a well known offensive fighter. The two danced around like in the first round, but this time Martin decided to let the dingo have a taste of his left jab, and it was an all you can eat buffet that the folf was serving. Martin danced, ducked, dodged, bobbed and weaved as he went all over the ring, punishing the dingo with his left jab. Skilled as Dickinson was, all he could do was throw wild shots, hoping that they'd connect with Martin, and it took far more out of a fighter to throw a punch that missed than it did to throw one that connected. Martin kept jabbing, seeing that he was accumulating serious damage on the dingo. Never once did he let his guard drop unnecessarily, fully cognizant that any fighter with enough gas left in him was capable of a lucky shot. He kept up the assault until the end of the bell.

"I think you can take him in this one, Martin," said Bradley as he ministered to his son. "You've got him on the run and ready to fall!"

"Seconds out!"

Martin, never one to like sitting on a wooden stool, got up and went back out to the fray. He noticed during the rest that Dickinson's corner was busy tending to him with a couple of enswells, a metallic disk object that was frozen and used to control the swelling of a fighter's face, but there was only so much an enswell could do. Dickinson's face was swelling badly, and his temper matched. The dingo snarled at Martin as threw several shots from the outside. Martin caught one straight right paw, but his training in rolling with the punches had proven beneficial, as his quick reflexes took most of the sting out of the blow. Knowing that the dingo was tiring and soar, Martin moved to the inside, giving Danny several hard body shots. The dingo reached out to try and clench at the folf, but Martin caught him with his best punch, the right hook, and the dingo tumbled to the canvas as the audience cheered on.

"One, two, three, four . . ."

Danny was back on his feet at five, but the rules stated that he had to take the mandatory eight count, a rule put in place for the referee to assess the condition of the fighter to see if they could still continue. The Great Dane referee asked him to take a step forward and give him his paws, and Danny was able to, so the fight went on. Martin came out of his neutral corner and went right back to work. Danny was a wounded animal, and it was only a matter of time before he was out. Martin went back to the body, slamming some punches into the arms of the dingo as he attempted to cover himself. This left him open for head hunting, and again Martin caught him with a crisp right hook to the chin. Danny fell to the floor, writhing in agony.

"One, two, three, four . . ."

From the neutral corner, Martin saw Dickinson's Chief Second jump into the ring and throw in the white towel, the sign that he was intervening on behalf of his charge to prevent further damage. The referee waved his arms and Martin ran over to his corner in triumph. He'd won by technical knockout! Bradley, Will, and even his grandfather piled into the ring, raising him up in victory. The crowd had enjoyed the five minutes of fighting that made up the first fight of the evening, and many spoke of how they now had a new fighter to keep an eye on. The ring announcer then went to the middle of the ring to address the crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman, Donny Dickinson, Chief Second and father of fighter Danny Dickinson entered the ring at 2;13 to signal that he was throwing in the towel. So now, celebrating his very first victory here tonight, the winner by way of technical knockout, Marvelous Martin McGregor!"

The crowd cheered as the referee lifted Martin's paw into the air. He was one and zero now in his professional career. He hoped to add many more to the first number, and keep his losses at their present number.

Martin went back to his hotel room hours later after cooling down and getting a nice, long shower to wash the sweat, grease and dirt off of himself. The left side of his face ached slightly from catching the right paw of Dickinson during the fight. Really, Martin wasn't complaining at all. That was the only decent punch the dingo had managed to get in during the entirety of their brief fight.

Martin took out the key card from his pocket to open the hotel door, but found a paw on his back. Ever the fighter, he jerked around, his right paw raised, ready to throw down with any would be attacker.

"You wouldn't hit a lady, would you?"

Martin lowered his paw, feeling foolish for having acted so hastily. It was only Olivia McCallister. He grinned at the white she wolf.

"Hey," said Martin. "You enjoy the fight?"

"Of course I did," said Olivia. "You were in it."

"And I won!" said Martin, grinning proudly.

"Yes, I know," said the white she wolf. "You didn't stick around to see the other two fights?"

"Nah," said Martin, waving a paw dismissively. "After all that, I just wanted to come back to get some peace and quiet."

"Me too," said Olivia. "Although, I was hoping you might invite me in."

"Sure," said Martin, opening up the door. "Ladies first!"

Olivia entered Martin's hotel room, which was more of a suite than a simple, postage stamp sized hotel room that most were used to. His father wanted to give him a nice, comfortable room for his first fight, as they had arrived several days before the fight and were still training. Olivia walked around inside, admiring the décor.

"Nice room," said the white wolf. "I guess your Dad didn't spare any expense, did he?"

"No," said Martin, sitting down in the living room of the suite. "Same with the room he got for my grandpa."

"How's your grandpa doing?" asked Olivia, concern showing in her voice.

"He has his days," sighed Martin. "The funny thing is, whenever I'm around, he always knows who I am, what I'm doing. It's just . . . weird, you know."

"I'd say you two have a special bond," observed Olivia. "You mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to me, too," said the folf.

Olivia walked over to Martin, and without warning, sat down on his lap and put her arms around him. "You mean a lot to me too."

"Same here," said the folf, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Martin and Olivia had been going out together for two years now, but had taken things slowly. The two had known each other almost their entire lives, and they didn't want to do anything to hurt the other. Both of their parents had given their blessing regarding the relationship, with Tori making sure to warn Martin about the risks of pregnancy. Being the smart ass that he was, Martin couldn't resist making several cracks about the irony of such a warning. The jokes stopped when his father gave him a smack on the back of the head, something he was very familiar with.

Olivia kissed her folf boyfriend, feeling the passion growing between them. "Martin?"

"Yes?" said the folf in a soft voice.

"I . . . I want this to be the night," she said.

"Are you serious?" asked Martin. "I don't want to feel like I'm pressuring you."

"You're not," assured Olivia. "I think after your first victory you should have a special celebration."

"Sounds good to me," joked the folf.

Martin and Olivia entered the bedroom of the hotel suite, and the she wolf saw the comfortable king sized bed that was in the middle of the room. Nervous though she was, she wanted to make this night magical for her boyfriend.

"I brought party favors," she joked, holding up an individually wrapped condom.

"Good," said Martin. "I don't want to have to tell my Mom that she's a grandmother just yet!"

Olivia laughed, then moved slowly in on her boyfriend. The two embraced in a passionate kiss. Wanting to make the night truly memorable, Martin pulled his shirt off, revealing his lean, muscular figure. Olivia had often seen her boyfriend working out, sparring without a shirt on, and she yearned to put her paws all over his white chest and abdomen fur. Now, her she was, feeling his trim musculature, wanting to see more of him. She pulled her shirt off, letting Martin undue her bra. The folf had never seen his girlfriend without a top on before, and it was a sight to behold. Olivia was petite for a wolf, but had a finely sculpted body adorned with snow white fur. Martin put his paws on her breasts, only to find Olivia's paws undoing his belt and pants. Grinning, he closed his eyes as the she wolf brushed her paw on the outside of his boxer shorts, which were becoming more and more tented with every passing second.

Not wanting to be rude, Martin returned the favor, undoing his girlfriend's pants and letting them slide to the floor of the hotel room. Smiling at each other, and not saying a word, the lover's took turns removing each others' remaining article of clothing, with Olivia tossing Martin's underwear clear across the room. Unwrapping the condom, she carefully unraveled the latex device around the folf's fully erect cock before they hopped into bed. Martin got Olivia on her back, leaned down and planted several kisses on her face.

"You remember how you ran crying to your Dad when I tried to kiss you?" asked the she wolf.

"Yeah," chuckled Martin. "If only I'd known that you were willing to do more than kiss back then."

Olivia laughed, but her laughter soon turned to moans as Martin carefully inserted himself into her virgin folds, tearing open her hymen. The folf waited until his girlfriend was sufficiently comfortable with what they were doing before he took up his thrusting. Olivia closed her eyes, feeling the strong arms of Martin grope at her breasts as he took her. She gripped the bedsheets, feeling his thrusts growing quicker, more intense. Martin licked at her face, wanting to make her feel as though no one but the two of them existed, and that she meant more to him than anything. Olivia wrapped her legs around her boyfriend, trying to pull him deeper into her. She wanted more, more! Martin thrust away, plowing her soundly as she begged him for more. The love making was surreal, transcendental for them both. Olivia kept begging for more, feeling her climax fast approaching. Martin squeezed at the she wolf's breasts as he kept his love making pace. He felt Olivia's claws dig into his back as she cried out, her orgasm washing over her. Drained, she tilted her head back as the folf kept up his thrusting, eventually growling as he reached his own climax, sending his seed into the latex shield over his cock.

Spent, he rolled off of her, but didn't cuddle just yet. Getting out of bed, he ran off to the bathroom to remove his condom and get washed up. Olivia looked over at his side of the bed as he climbed back in, happy to see his girlfriend resting her head on his chest.

"I'm glad we waited until now," said Martin.

"Me too," said Olivia, nuzzling underneath the folf's muzzle. "I wanted it to be special."

"Nothing's more special to me than you, Olivia McCallister. I love you."

Olivia hugged him tightly at hearing those words. "I love you too, Martin McGregor."

Martin flicked off the lights in the room. Everything was perfect now. The city lights were blocked by the thick curtains, the hotel's insulation helped soften the noise of the urban environment, and he was in a large, warm bed next to the girl he loved more than anything in the world.