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Ch. 1

It had been a long day at a cozy little bar in Los Diablos, Nevada known as the Gambler's Gambit, one of the three jobs the young mouse, Kari, worked at - and she knew the night was still young. As soon as 1:00 AM hit, the paint-splotched patterned white fur mouse had ditched her waitress blouse and skirt, donned her jacket and was already heading out the door. "Bye Ms. Lifeth. Happy holidays. Sorry I can't work overtime tonight, I have...something to take care of."

The wolfess owner of the Gambler's Gambit waved up at her, eyes still focused on the numbers on the spreadsheet before her, her buttoned up blouse straining to contain her generous chest, a lovely red blazer atop it to let everyone know who was in charge. Then, the awkward pause in Kari's words - at which point, she raised an eyebrow at the mousette. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up. "I know that sound in your voice."

The mouse pressed her lips together, before snapping a response out, "What sound?" Her eyes still gazed towards the door. Her tail whipped about, ears unnaturally still.

"Don't play dumb. There's something on your mind."

"It's nothing. Maybe I'll tell you later. I don't know." Before Lifeth could respond, she had dashed through the door and slammed it behind her.

***

It had been two full years since her father had kicked the bucket. She recalled it. In that hospital bed, hooked up to so many wires and monitors. The elder Mr. Kazushige had been owner of a moderately large department store, and had fallen ill some eight months earlier, and his illness had worsened so much. Emaciated - barely enough strength to lift his arm, his bones pressing up against his flesh and fur, as if his skeleton were ready to leap from his body and into the next plane of existence.

It was around Christmas time - she remembered because of all the jolly Christmas décor in the halls of the ICU of St. Nicholas hospital - the lights blinking alongside all the various machines and somber, morose nurse chatter. Odd thing about St. Nick - he was not only the one associated with Christmas, but also brewers and prostitutes. It was fitting that this was where her new life began.

She had finally finished paying off a potentially life-saving operation. It hadn't been easy. She had done the only thing she had any remote success in - fighting. She had joined an underground arena that catered to certain interests - featuring young ladies like herself who had debts to pay, forcing them to fight with various stipulations that would not be well-accepted by mainstream society.

It had only been for about a month - and it paid decently well enough. People enjoyed watching the debauchery of this young little lady, who fumbled about with her opponents in rings soaked in aphrodisiacs to get them...'adjusted' to their new lifestyle, getting them addicted to the scent of musk, lust, and blood within the ring.

It was all worth it. That was what good daughters did, right? Sacrifice everything for their parents, their loved ones.

But her father's face - the last she saw of it - haunted her. That look of pure rage when she explained how she had gotten the money to pay for the operation.

"You WHAT!?" In spite of his breathlessness, he had managed enough to hiss out his disapproval - forcing her ears to flatten against the top of her head in spite of the lack of volume.

"I had to, father. There was no other-"

"Don't call me that. I have no daughter. Get out," he whispered, his voice raspy and like that of a snake.

"But fath-"

His eyes glared daggers into her. As if with the tip of a knife at her throat, she backed out of the room.

She remembered getting the call from the hospital at 7:30 AM after a sleepless night. Of knowing what was to be said in the call even before the nurse could speak.

She remembered the next few months. Trying to drown her sorrow in trying to really make something of herself in the ring.

But no matter what, his anger clung to her, like a weight around her gloves and ankles. And no matter how hard she fought, some things were never meant to be.

Kari's other drug of choice? Sex. Sex made her feel loved. Made her feel wanted. People always wanted her, always whispered to her sweet things. And sex and violence? That was like the cocaine-laced ecstasy of her life. She needed it - always needing more.

Recently, she had found herself liking a certain...thing. She couldn't explain it.

Ch. 2 The Loneliest Time of the Year

It was during one night at Dick's Drinks - the seedy little club where she now worked in the underground erotic boxing scene. It had been about a year back - after she had started fighting in such arenas with some official capacity, having turned 18. He was a big guy - a silver-haired black wolf with a scarred eye and an eyepatch named Athaulf. Six feet and some change. Some two-hundred pounds and healthy change. Built like a grizzled Adonis. Golden-yellow gloves adorning his fists with fiery sunset orange trunks.

Athaulf had eyed her in the locker room on occasion, and he seemed polite enough. A charming smile, even if he was a little older than most of the others - she gauged him to be in his 30s at his youngest. Divorced, didn't talk much about why or how he felt about it, and mostly kept to himself.

It was at a point in her life where the fighting and fucking had become routine for the mouse - just another day, another appointment in a dimly lit gym to a roaring assortment of gathered watchers. Even if it was a clear Goliath slaughtering David, the audience loved the post-match show.

Still, Kari never liked the idea of 'jobbing' - even for show. So, before he could get his guard up, she was already swinging a hard right hook like a bolt of lightning, blasting him in the cheek, followed by a swift shot to his gut, plowing into his taut, chiseled abs - causing him to lurch forward - good eye bulging out from the winding blow as she ground that glove into him. She allowed herself a small smirk at landing them all.

Suddenly, his fist smashed her across the face with a hard right hook using his tree-trunk limbs - sending her stumbling to the side. Clenching down on her teeth, she attempted to whip back a hard right of her own across his face, the glove snapping his face to the side with an audible THWAP.

But he was too much. Every blow she landed on him, he gave back twice as hard. His right glove smashed into her chest, flatting her breast underneath the leather, and then his left followed to make the girls a matching pair of bruised, flattened pillows. Each blow forced out a restrained squeak - her already-modest chest mushrooming out underneath his gloves. Her gloved paws shot up to her chest to cover up, eye twitching at the throbbing in her hammered button-like nips.

"Mn. My little spitfire of a kitten. Had my eye on you for a while." The black wolf lapped at his cut lip - split open by the white-furred mouse's blitz of an opening.

Kari hissed at the words, and swung a heavy uppercut at the black wolf's chin - who leaned away from the blow - nearly kissing the leather - before driving his own goldenrod gloves into her tummy, forcing a squeak from her lips as his blow lifted her up off the canvas. As she dropped to the canvas once more, she felt her thighs and knees quiver from the blow as she clutched her belly.

"G-glad I caught..." Suddenly, she whipped her left glove out. "...YOUR INTEREST!"

The eye-patched wolf found his gaze snapped to the side again - the blow knocking a sprayed mist from his lips. "D-damn straight!" he called out.

Such fierce fights in Dick's Drinks were rare - due to Dick himself not knowing a damned thing about his own employees or the things they did - he just knew what made the money. And tonight, all were gonna be happy - tonight, the crowd was on their feet and Dick's pockets would be filled for weeks to come.

"KICK HIS ASS, MOUSIE!"

"YOU GOT THE PIPSQUEAK WHERE YOU'VE GOT HER, ATAULF."

"Come on, kitten, let's give the crowd what they came for. "The eyepatched wolf grinned fangedly, bringing up his guard.

"S-stop calling me that...!" Kari snarled at the repeated pet-name, and threw her entire weight into a drilling underhook, smashing into the wolf's gut, his limbs being thrown forward by the blow...

...before he stepped back and swung clobbering left down at her cheek.

The mouse raised her gloves to guard, but the big black wolf crushed through her guard, smashing into her eye, forcing a squeak from her lips, sending her straight to the canvas flat out on her back to the appreciation of the roaring crowd.

The grizzled one-eyed wolf merely grinned - flexing his chiseled biceps for the crowd, as he smirked cockily at Kari. "Come on, kitten, show me whatcha got...!"

Kari snarled, as she pushed herself up to a seated position with her paws, then slowly to her feet - beating the count of 6, eyes narrowed at the titan of a wolf - her right eye already starting to swell shut from the blows to the face. The ref gave them the signal to continue - and the ref had to dodge back to avoid Kari's reckless haymaker of a right straight...

But the vet wolf knew he was in her head. He swayed to the side, unleashing a gutting right underhook - slamming into the hem of her boxer shorts. Her thighs immediately were drenched, and her mouthguard was spat out onto the canvas, as her legs trembled underneath his grinding glove.

The mouse whimpered underneath his attention, as he leaned forward and whispered into her ear, as she struggled to remain standing with the glove screwing her belly.

"Come on, you've got more in the tank for daddy..."

Kari swallowed, her heart skipping a beat, tightening her stance, before scowling. "Sh-SHUT UP!" she screamed in the face of the wolf, before smashing him with a blistering left hook against his right unpatched-eye, her glove powering through and sending the titan stumbling from the blow, falling onto his rump.

The mouse panted, eyes closing, her entire body trembling as she leaned over to pick up her mouthguard, eyeing the wolf as he rubbed at his chin, grinning as he pawed at his eye with his glove.

"G-good," he huffed out - his non-patched eye starting to swell shut as he rose. "That punch made me proud."

That word. It drove her nuts in so many ways.

Ch. 3

As she wandered down the streets, Kari's eyes fixated upon the cracked-filled snow-covered sidewalks, side-eyeing people out of her periphery to make sure she was giving everyone else enough space - tail wrapped around her waist to prevent it from accidentally slapping at someone's leg. As her gaze scanned the area, the flashy multicolored lights of the season and the various displays and costumed Santas tried to catch her eye - and given that she was in the red light district of the town of Los Diablos (which was really the entire damned city), girls clad in Santa-themed bikinis along with their elf compatriots. How they managed to not get frostbite was beyond her. Maybe they changed out often enough.

A hint of bitterness creeped upon her tongue - her eyes narrowing further at seeing the festive cheer. She thought back to her grade school years. All the warm fuzzy movies about how the true message of the holidays was about family and giving and sharing and love.

No. Can't be a scrooge. Christmas WAS about celebrating love, giving, and sharing time with friends and family. All that joy and good will towards one's neighbors.

That would be nice, wouldn't it?

Her shoulders suddenly sagged with an unseen weight. She leaned against a building so she would be out of the way of the pedestrians, taking a deep breath - watching the condensation manifest and rise in front of her eyes - focusing on it allowed a certain tranquility - truly allowing the loneliness to settle upon her mind like a blanket of snow.

Family. Family was nice. The illusion of it, anyway.

***

Kari's drenched loins ached, throbbing with heat - the wrecking ball of a blow to her belly had moistened her nethers, making them throb with need for release - she widened her stance to accommodate her slickened thighs, her tail waving about slowly, as she kept an eye on Athaulf's gloves.

Athaulf grinned at her - even though his right eye was now just a slit, and his own cheek had swelled. He slapped his gloves together, as he readied to continue. As the ref signaled for them to fight on, his right glove lashed out in a swift blow against her cheek. She managed to snap up her gloves to guard against the high blow.

Suddenly, his left glove shot into her chest, crushing her right mound underneath the blow with a shrill squeak escaping her lips, forcing her to clutch her right tit with her left glove to curb the throbbing - her right glove lashing out at his face.

The wolf rumbled as he swayed away from the hook, before lunging forward in a straight at her face, the leather pounding her right in the eye. Suddenly, a heavy glove smashed into the underside of her chin - and she felt her lips loosen, the mouthguard flying from her lips into the crowd, being lifted off the canvas by the cannonball of a blow.

The mouse wavered, swaying back as her legs trembled. No. Stay up, she whispered to herself as she attempted to find her footing.

In spite of her wishes, time seemed to slow down as her knees give way, as she sank down, falling face first onto his trunks, tongue lolling out, her cheek against the bulge within his trunks.

The mouse groaned as she felt the wolf step back - the bulge brushing her lips before she then kissed the canvas. The count seemed far away - the heavy uppercut from the big wolf making her thoughts hazy, spinning. As the bell rang to signal the end of the match, she whimpered. "F-fuck," she muttered, laid out on her front, her chest pancaking against the canvas.

She felt herself being rolled gently onto her back, her upper body being laid upon the wolf's lap as he knelt beside her.

"Shhh. It's okay, kitten."

She grumbled, her swollen cheeks reddening. "S-stop calling me that . . . "

"Mn. Bet I could make you like it - you did real good. Gave this ol' wolf a run for his money." A fanged grin. "Don't think of this as my prize." He grinned. "Think of it as yours."

While most dared not turn down a public victory lap, Athaulf stood, picking up the mouse as he rose, gently laying her over his shoulder, allowing her gloves to dangle behind him - his leathery gloves slapping her shorts-clad rump with an audible THWAP, forcing a squeak from her lips.

A series of boos accompanied Athaulf's exit along with the potential show - the walk back to the locker rooms seeming to take an eternity, as Kari's ears wilted as she laid over his shoulder helplessly, too sore to move or protest.

"Why . . . ?"

"Because I paid good money for this, and I don't want the crowds spoiling the moment." Athaulf chuckled. "Had my eye on you for quite some time, pumpkin."

"'Pumpkin?' Not 'kitten'?"

"Heh, well, the name 'kitten' did seem to bother you." He gave a small, sad smile as he set her down upon the bench gingerly. "On a related note . . . I'm . . . into something very specific if you don't mind." He flashed another fanged grin. "Was hoping you would indulge me."

Her breath caught in her chest - something about his gaze set her fur on edge, and her tail wrapped around her bared waist protectively, leaning back upon her gloves as she instinctively backed away from the wolf, suddenly feeling the heat off her body, her heavy breathing becoming that much more apparent to her own senses.

Sensing her anxiety, the veteran wolf sat upon his haunches to lower himself to her seated height - a little lower even, and through the swollen slit of his non-eyepatched eye, he locked his gaze with her own swollen eyes.

"Call me daddy for the evening. Or as long as you'd like, pumpkin."