FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Hey, all, I'm back with another commission, one that's more in my usual vein of fetishes. All of the characters in this story are original, though Elena had some input form Scarletjumper. Enjoy!

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Well, this was it… the day Mason got his fitness back on track. Ever since high school, he'd been slowly slipping down a rabbit hole of chips, pizza, and gaming on his couch, losing what little muscle mass he'd gained for track and replacing it with lard. Mason wasn't sure what had made him do it, what made him finally get off his ass and start chiseling a man out of all his pudge… was it the TV ads? The way he sweated going up a flight of stairs? The way he looked in the mirror?

Whatever it was, it had led him straight here, to a rough-and-tumbled-looking building advertised as the Red Rodeo Gym. "We'll make a fighter outta you, no matter your size!" the ad had said, "No bullshit fees, no pointless classes, just good old fashioned training. Book an introduction by the 8th and get your first week free!" Sure, there were lots of other gyms out there, gyms that catered to those just getting up off their couches, gyms that did their utmost to have a welcoming atmosphere, gyms that didn't have a graphic of a stallion cold-cocking a bull on the front window… but Mason had already tried those. He needed to jump straight into the deep end, and judging by what greeted him as he pushed through the doors, that was just what he was doing.

The first thing that reached him was the sound, Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" blaring from some speaker over various forms of slapping and grunting. Then came the boxing ring in the very center of the gym, lit with spotlights like a Broadway stage, and the two actors on it seemed busy beating each other to a pulp. The first was a grey-furred staffie terrier, and the other was an olive-skinned human, both of whom wore headguards and boxing gloves; to his untrained eye, it looked like they were fairly matched for brawn and speed, both of them the kind of guy who could knock him out in a second.

Then he started to notice the other patrons, an assortment of characters ranging from scruffy to downright dangerous. A middle-aged lion and crocodile were shouting advice to the two boxers on display from either side of the ring, though Mason wasn't sure who was rooting for whom. Off to the side, a couple of younger boxers looked to be practicing on some heavy-duty punching bags, and beside them, an alarmingly burly rhino was jump-roping like a maniac. Some others were practicing with some hand pads, and others were smacking teardrop-shaped bags around with rapid precision. Over on the opposite side of the room, several worked with more traditional exercise equipment, pumping dumbbells, barbells, and several other weights… though the gear lying beside them revealed what they were really after.

The whole place felt like a time capsule of a tougher time, back when brawling was just something you did when another guy insulted your tie, back before modernized social services uplifted the poor and OSHA requirements stopped factories from being deathtraps. Where the walls weren't hosting equipment, they were adorned with posters and newspaper clippings in various conditions, and he thought he could see one that was world war two propaganda. Up on the far wall was a giant blackboard, and at the top, it only read "COMBATTE." Below that was a table that looked like a series of fight listings, but before he could figure out who was next up, he was greeted by a lovely feminine Italian voice coming from about 10 inches above him: "I take it you're Mason?"

Mason was already off-guard from the gym's foreign, pugilistic atmosphere, but when he turned and came face to chest with a giant, what semblance of poise he still had flew out the window. His eyes came about level with a massive cleavage formed from two D-cup breasts covered in jet-black fur, all of it held back by a grey sports bra. However, as his eyes began to take on the size of the woman in front of him, her chest suddenly seemed a tad less impressive: she was huge, layered with muscle under just a bit of fat, and he guessed she was at least six and a half feet tall. His gaze drifted downward without really thinking, passing over her bare midriff before arriving at her hips; he wasn't sure how much of what lay under her yoga pants was pure muscle, but whatever it was, it made her hips surprisingly shapely. However, her shins looked like a marathon runner's, and her legs terminated in solid-looking hooves.

"My eyes are up here, cazzo."

The accented jab quickly brought Mason back into focus, and as embarrassment flooded his nerves, he hastily looked up to meet the mare's eyes. "S-sorry," he stammered, "I, ah… ah… I'm Mason." He recognized her face from the brochure, her elegant equine features framed by her black mane, her bright brown eyes gleaming with amusement.

The mare let out an almost pitying chuckle. "Relax, paffuto, I'm joking. Did you come to just stare at my boobs all day, or shall we step into my office?"

It took Mason a second to realize that she wasn't accusing him further, and instead of putting his foot even further into his mouth, he simply nodded. He followed behind the mare like a scared puppy as she led him through the gym, silently hoping that none of the practicing boxers would notice him sticking out like a sore, chubby thumb.

"My name's Elena Graziano," the mare explained as she led him toward a back room. "I run this little gym, my father ran it before me, as did his father before him, pace all' anima sua."

As they made their way into the office, Mason began to see the name plastered all over the various wall-hangings, from the faded newspaper clippings to the promotional posters featuring a jet-black stallion. It was a bit more organized inside the office, with everything either framed or arranged on a shelf, but it was still saturated with the Graziano legacy. A little way in was a desk tall enough for its owner to sit down comfortably, and as Mason sat down in one of the two plastic swivel chairs before it, he felt like he'd been sent to the principal's office.

"So," Elena began, "You're interested in joining the gym?"

Though reluctance swelled in his throat, Mason managed to swallow his fears of inadequacy. "Yes, I am."

"Hmm…" The mare pulled something up on a surprisingly modern laptop, typed at it a bit, then looked back at the human sitting before her with a raised eyebrow. "May I be completely honest with you?" she asked, lacing her fingers together as she rested her elbows on the table.

At first, it seemed like she was looking for an excuse to tell him off, but as Mason looked deep into her eyes, he realized there was something else… Elena wasn't just trying to swat him down, she saw something in him, and perhaps that something was what it would take to get him out of his rut. "Yes, Ms. Graziano."

Her demeanor broke into an amused grin for a moment. "Just call me Elena," she replied, "No miss or signora needed." Elena then went right back to her train of thought, looking Mason over head-to-toe like she was sizing up an opponent. Her eyes seemed to take in every feature, every flaw and quirk his body had to offer, and after a moment's careful consideration, she candidly asked, "If I can be honest, why are you here?"

He could say he just wanted to get fit… but that went without saying. He could say it was because of the brochure he found… but that just seemed sarcastic. He could say he didn't know… but that was a lie. "I'm here because I need something new," he replied, his voice icy with candor. "I've spent all this time in my comfort zone, going to places that coddle you and take everything in baby steps, and look where it's gotten me." Mason briefly gestured to his love handles, earning a suppressed grin from Elena. "I need to jump in the deep end, and this seems like the perfect opportunity. I'm no boxer… in fact I've never won a fight in my life, but I'm willing to do what it takes to get there."

At the end of his little speech, the towering mare before him broke into a smile, though he couldn't tell if it was sinister or proud. "Oh, you're definitely in the deep end," she replied, "But I promise you this, paffuto: in six months, you'll be fighting with the best of them."

Though paffuto sounded like some sort of insult, her tone told him she meant no offense by it. He then thought about mentioning his aversion to violence, but quickly realized the raw thrill might be worth it. "Thank you," he said with a grateful nod, "I… I'll try not to disappoint." Now that he'd set his course, his reasoning mind immediately went to preparations. "Do you have some forms for me to fill out, or a down payment I have to make?"

Elena just let out a small chuckle. "Don't worry about that pencil-pushing cazzate, the first week's free, and you don't have to sign any waivers until we really get into it."

At all the other gyms he'd gone to, Mason felt like he'd had to sign his very soul over before they'd let him so much as touch anything… but this seemed the kind of place where any injury was repaid in fistfights and family feuds rather than settlements and court cases. "So when do I start?" he asked, wondering just how long he had before the plunge.

"You could've started right after I finished talking to you," the mare replied, "But judging by your lack of a gym bag, I think you need a little time to prep, no?"

Suddenly, Mason felt like he'd been caught with his pants around his ankles. "Yeah… do you have an equipment list or something?"

Before he'd finished talking, Elena had plucked a piece of paper from a notepad on her desk and begun writing on it with a blue pen. After a minute of scribbling, she slid it across the desk, and though it was a tad hard to read the messy cursive, he could tell it was an equipment list of sorts:

Workout clothes

Boxing/wrestling shoes (socks)

Hand wraps (will teach)

Training gloves (full or fingerless)

Big towel

Small towel x3

Headband (optional)

Bag (for gear)

"You can get most of this stuff at Dick's," Elena explained, "Or online if you want. These are just the basics, though… if you wanna go all the way, there's other stuff you'll want down the line."

"Is there a local place you usually buy from?" Mason said without really thinking, "Are there certain brands that're best?"

The mare gave an uncaring shrug. "Any place is as good as any other, suppongo. So long as you're not buying five-dollar chinese merda, what you get will work for starters."

"Alright…" He folded the list and tucked it in his pocket, then tapped his foot a bit as he wondered what happened next. "So are we done, or…"

"That's it," Elena replied, standing to her feet and offering a hand. "Welcome to the Red Rodeo Gym." As Mason stood and shook her hand, he felt like her steely grip could easily break a few bones if she wanted to, and her eager gaze seemed just the slightest bit off… was she really this excited to have a newbie join her gym? "When do you think you'll come in next? The free week only starts when you're actually working out…"

As tempting as it was to give himself a nice, fat buffer of a full week, Mason knew procrastination and leniency were just what had gotten him into this mess. "I'll be back tomorrow," he replied, vowing in that instant to buy the gear early Saturday morning.

"Molto bene," the mare replied with a grin, right before following him back out of her office and into the main gym. Instead of leading him, she simply gestured to the door, letting him traverse his way through the testosterone-infused landscape on his own. The thought that he'd be working out beside all these hard-boiled brawlers sent a slight shiver down Mason's spine, even though he had no real reason to suspect they were out to get him. Along the way, he noticed several of them glancing at him, but instead of staring down their new bitch, they all seemed either curious or eager to see him improve. He walked out of the gym feeling like he was about to start 1st grade all over again… only this time, the teacher was a six-foot-seven Italian mare.

True to his word, Mason returned the next day with a gym bag stuffed with all the gear he'd been told to get… plus a few other accessories. During his foray into the sporting goods store, he'd been helped along by a surprisingly knowledgeable young buck, and thanks to him, Mason felt confident in every piece of gear in his bag. After a few deep breaths to pump himself up, Mason pushed through the doors and walked right into the gym, doing his best not to seem like a complete poseur. It didn't help that everyone seemed to notice him even more this time around, but as he scanned the room, Mason realized something even worse: Elena was nowhere to be seen.

His very first instinct was to panic, but Mason quickly battened down his mental hatches. "This isn't kindergarten," he thought to himself, "You're an adult. Just go ask someone where she is, they won't bite." After briefly surveying the room, the nervous human settled on a coyote working on a punching bag, and after psyching himself up a bit, he headed on over. "Excuse me," he asked, causing the coyote's ears to swivel back toward him, "Do you know where I could find Elena?"

After briefly steadying the bag, the coyote turned to face him, then replied with a question of his own: "You're Mason, right? The new guy?" His voice sounded cheerful and friendly, somewhat contrasting his predatory teeth and skull-emblazoned tank top.

"Yes, that's me…" the human replied, hesitating just a bit.

"Great, always nice to have a new face around." Suddenly, he stuck out a hand still clad in padded training gloves. "I'm Danny, by the way."

Mason took Danny's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Pleasure to meet you. Is Elena-"

"She's in the locker room," the coyote answered, "Straight back and to the left. Just so you know, it's pretty freeform in there… no one judges."

"Freeform? You mean… like… nudist?" Despite his urge to try new things, the thought of strutting about naked was a challenge he hadn't anticipated in the slightest.

"Yeah, most don't bother with towels, especially her. You get used to it."

Mason's eyes went wide at the thought of Elena strutting around in the nude, her muscles rippling and massive melons swaying as she strutted toward him… no, focus! Just don't gawk, and you'll be fine. It hardly even occurred to him that it'd be an utter sausage party in there; in the heat of the moment, his mind was focused on two round, shapely things. "Alright, I'll talk to her there," he sighed, then began marching his indecisive body over toward the locker room door with his bag in tow.

When he finally reached the looming portal and pulled it open, he was swiftly greeted by the twined aromas of exertion and deodorant. Some of it smelled like the kind of cheap stuff bodybuilders were stereotyped as using, but not all of it, and some peculiar fragrances had a spicy hint of sophistication. A thin veil of steam accompanied these scents, and as he proceeded inward, his eyes were confronted with something that seemed both obscene and completely natural. A few of the characters he'd seen exercising yesterday were now stripping, washing, drying, and re-clothing themselves without a shred of shame, showing off a massive variety of bodies. Mason initially worried he'd be the least endowed by far amongst brutes, but some of the biggest and burliest had manhoods reminiscent of renaissance artwork.

Then, amidst the unbridled displays of the male form, he saw her, one hoof stepped up on a bench as she ran a towel between her legs to dry her nethers. Just the view from behind was enough to leave him paralyzed, her curvy thighs and rump accentuated by her flicking tail, but she swiftly spotted him by looking over her shoulder. "Hey there, paffuto!" she called out, "É bello vederti! Dante and I had a bet to see whether you'd keep your word… guess that scemo owes me twenty bucks." Through it all, she didn't hesitate for a moment while drying her lady bits, only stopping once she was moisture-free. "102's yours," the massive mare explained, "No one's gonna go digging through your stuff, but it couldn't hurt to get a lock eventually."

It took a second for Mason to tear his eyes away from the spot she'd been drying, where her puckered tailhole hinted at a thick set of labia over in front… goddamnit, focus! "Alright, uh…" he mumbled, "I'll, um… I'll do that." The bewildered human marched himself over to the locker, a sizable container amidst a row of others that contained nothing but a faint musky scent. Mason threw his bag in, closed the door, remembered his clothes were inside, opened it back up, retrieved his stuff, then shut it again. After that came the actual changing, and as he began stripping down to bare skin, he could feel eyes tracing all over his chubby body. However, a quick glance around revealed that something even more uncomfortable was going on: while the rest of the boxers didn't care, Elena was staring straight at him. The flustered human frantically donned his clothing, his worry gradually fading, but just as he'd grabbed the first roll of hand wraps, he felt a towering presence step behind him.

"Let me show you how to put those on," Elena began, reaching her muscular arms out toward Mason's hands. As she did so, her elbows pushed him backward just a bit, gently pinning him against her furry bosom while her hands went to work. "First, you put the loop around your thumb like this… then you wrap it around a few times… get all your fingers… and your thumb… a few more rounds… and there you go!" In a series of fluid movements, Elena had wound the whole of the wrap around his hand, going around his knuckles, fingers, palm, and thumb before returning to his wrist. Seeing his own hand prepped for full-on combat was a strange sight indeed… but it still managed to fill him with a fair bit of confidence.

As the mare looming behind him stepped back just a bit, Mason took the other wrap and began working it around his other hand, though it was nowhere near as fast as when Elena had done it. He'd wind it forward, realize he'd made a mistake, then re-do it the right way, all while continually referencing his other professionally-done hand for how to do it right. It seemed to take forever, all with Elena constantly watching over his shoulder, but when he finally got the whole thing done, it felt like he'd learned to tie his shoes all over again.

"Molto bene!" she chuckled, "Now just get those gloves on… I need a second to change, but then I'll mostrarti le corde." With that, Elena walked back to her own locker, leaving Mason to pull on his padded black training gloves. Both of them slipped on like he was made to wear them, and after fastening the velcro wrist straps, it only felt natural to punch one fist into his palm. He could do this… he was doing this… and no matter how much it hurt, he was getting back in shape.

With that, he stood up from the bench and swung a small towel over his shoulder, turning to find Elena dressed up and ready to go. Without a word, she seemed to recognize the fighting spirit kindled inside his chest, and he followed her out into the main gym.

"Alright, paffuto," she began, "The first thing you're gonna learn are the jump ropes. They might have been girly back in elementare, but for us pugili-"

"-they train you to be quick on your feet," Mason finished for her. Even if he didn't have a penchant for storing tidbits of knowledge, the way the boxers hopped, swayed, and bounced gave it away.

Elena seemed a bit impressed, but she was quick to correct him when he pulled a green jump rope from the rack. "You'll want a blue one, paffuto," she said, "Greens are just a tad too tall for you."

Her human pupil swallowed what felt like a solid marble of embarrassment as he selected the right one, then quickly got into position. Sure enough, this one seemed to have just a bit more slack, and as he gave it a test hop, it seemed about his size. He quickly began hopping up and down, and though he managed to screw up twice in thirty seconds, he still earned a grin from Elena. "You're a natural," she teased, "But you didn't come here to jump rope." She beckoned over toward the adjacent assortment of punching bags, and Mason hastily returned the rope to its place before joining her.

Their first stop was the smallest of the bunch, a teardrop-shaped speed bag about the size of a human head. Mason had seen enough examples of it being used in various movies and TV shows, but after giving it a few test bops, Elena gave him a few pointers: "Don't wind all the way up like that, and keep your guard up." She was quick to get behind him once again, puppeteering his hands into the proper form. Both fists covered everything from his chin to his ribs, and when Elena demonstrated how to throw a punch, it went straight out from his guard. "You always want to punch straight through," she explained, pushing his padded fist into the bag and forcing it backward. "Comprendere?"

"Yeah, I think I got it." Once Elena stepped back, Mason threw a quick jab-cross combo using the proper technique, and it felt a whole lot faster than his wound-up sluggers.

"Molto bene. This one's for precision, practicing your form, but when you move over here…" She paced over to one of the free full-sized bags. "... Don't worry about looking bello." As if to demonstrate, a rhino on one of the others put all his weight into a cross, sending his own sand-filled bag swinging back with an impressive slap.

"Alright…" Mason made his way over, sizing up the bag; he'd heard they were pretty heavy, but it wasn't until he halfheartedly jabbed at it that he realized it was a good hundred pounds. He looked over at Elena, received a reassuring nod, then tried hitting the bag with a full-forced punch. The leather thing barely budged, hurting his hand more than anything and remaining stubbornly in place. He threw a few more strikes, but each smacked against the bag with an ineffectual thud.

"Roma non è stata costruita in un giorno," Elena offered in a reassuring tone, "Keep at it, you'll get there."

To Mason's surprise, the rhino on the other bag paused to give his two cents. "Try using your whole body," he offered with a moderate African accent, "Wind up like a spring from your feet to your fists, then turn it all into one big punch." He quickly demonstrated by pulling his fist back, then using the rest of his body to turn him around in slow motion, shifting his weight forward with his feet and whirling his lumbar. His massive fist touched the bag with the grace of a butterfly, right before he threw another full-speed punch that made a resounding thwack.

After a bit of calculation, the chubby human readied himself, then did his best to emulate the rhino's earth-shattering blow. He could feel the momentum of all his limbs pushing forward, sending his fist flying forward with even more speed, but something about it seemed off… almost like the cogs in a clock not working in sequence. When his glove struck the bag, it wasn't with the strength of a three-hundred-pound rhino, but it still managed to move the bag a little.

"I'm Zane, by the way," the rhino said, pausing in his training to offer one massive hand encased in an even bigger boxing glove. It was somewhat intimidating, staring down the six-foot-nine mountain of muscle, but the warm smile across his lips convinced Mason to take his hand.

"Mason," the human replied, doing his best to shake Zane's bulky glove.

With that, Elena started leading him over to where a lion held up sparring pads for a crocodile, and Mason recognized them from yesterday: they'd both been giving advice to the boxers in the ring, but now it seemed they weren't just burnt-out has-beens. Both of them were fast, faster than Mason thought was possible for a couple of middle-aged men, and each strike to the pads rang out with a satisfying smack. However, the two of them stopped as Elena approached, turning their attention to her hairless protege.

Before the mare could begin introductions, however, her phone began to ring in her pocket, and after checking the caller ID, she seemed quite intent on answering it. "Ed, mind showing him the ropes?" she quickly asked, and once the lion nodded, she hurried back to her office.

Once Elena had left, Ed looked Mason over like a master artisan inspecting a canvas. "You must be the new guy," the lion began, crossing his arms over his chest. "Got a name?"

"Ah… I'm Mason," the human replied, missing the barest spark of warmth in Ed's eyes that revealed the stony demeanor was just an act. "I don't mean to intrude if you two are busy…"

Before he could back so much as a step away, the crocodile broke into a sharp-toothed grin. "Nonsense," he said with sunny levity, "Us geezers were just doing a bit of reminiscing! I'm Brad, this is Ed, and we'd be happy to show you around."

Though Ed's only concurrence was a grunt, he couldn't help but break into a tiny grin. "I suppose we should start with the obvious: this here's where we keep the sparring pads, and it's where you can practice hitting a moving target." Suddenly he raised the two pads on his hands, bracing a bit as if preparing for an impact. "Wanna give it a try?"

While he was somewhat worried by the lion's fiendish snark, Mason stepped forward, raising his fists in a fighting stance in front of the lion. However, before he could throw any punches, Brad was quick to say, "Keep that guard higher!"

Mason quickly complied, and just as he did, Ed's hand shot out in a swift jab. Had he not taken Brad's advice, the training pad would've hit him right in the jaw, but it instead slammed into his guard. Once the pads were back in position, the human darted in to smack one with a cross, then got smacked in the head by Ed's other pad hitting him in the ear. "Always be on defense," the lion chided, "It only takes one good punch to put you down… never let that punch hit."

Taking the blow hurt, even with the pad and even though Ed was holding back… the sheer shame of it was enough to shake Mason's confidence, but despite his worries, all he did was nod. Next time he darted in with a quick jab only to have Ed sock him in the gut. "It isn't a wall," the lion growled, "Keep it moving."

"Watch his eyes," Brad added, "Everyone looks where they punch."

He'd never been smacked around by someone so obviously more skilled than him before, and the sheer breadth of the gap was disheartening. Combined with the swift smacks to the head, it was almost enough to make Mason want to quit, to cut his losses and go back to his cushy couch… but something spurred him on. As his mind drew it into focus, he realized it was the shame of leaving, the shame of going up to Elena with his tail tucked between his legs and whimpering, "They hit me too hard!" He wasn't about to be a little bitch, no sir… he'd live up to whatever Elena saw in him even if it meant taking a hundred punches to the jaw. As soon as Ed's hands were up, he surged forward with another flurry of strikes and tried to avoid the inevitable counter, but it came a split second too fast for him to not get bopped on the forehead. So began a cycle that lasted for what felt like an eternity: strike, block, get hit, strike, dodge, get hit, strike, counter, get hit… until finally, he managed to evade one of the lion's attacks.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, whether by some stroke of luck or a slip-up of his opponent's, but somehow Ed's padded hand didn't make it to his ribs. Of course, a split second later, the lion threw another punch that hit him square in the jaw, but the rush of finally blocking a single hit helped stifle the sting of failure. With his blood pumping in his ears, Mason eagerly lunged forward for another strike but was stopped by a scaly hand on his shoulder.

"I think that's enough for now," Brad chuckled as he patted the human on the shoulder, "You'll get plenty of chances to sock ol' Ed, but we still haven't gone through half the gym."

Ed pulled one of the blocky pads off, extending the freed hand to Mason with pride shining in his eyes. Somehow the human knew it wasn't pride in his technique, but in his steadfastness, and that seemed to be what people really valued in the gym; he took the lion's hand and gave it a firm shake, ending their little practice session with a profound sense of mutual respect.

With that, Mason followed Brad over toward the assembly of traditional weights, but after a few steps, he realized Elena was standing in the doorway to her office. Though she still had the phone raised to her ear, her eyes were tracing him over with the same prideful look that he saw in Ed, only this time, it was mixed with something more… intimate. He had a hunch that she had been watching through the whole training session, half-listening to whoever was on the phone while admiring his fighting spirit, and as Brad introduced him to the various dumbbells, bars, and plates, Mason couldn't help thinking about her.

Mason had practiced with weights back in high school and knew the basics: always have a spotter, don't take all the plates of one side off at a time, don't slam the bars, all that good stuff. His weightlifting wasn't exactly something to marvel at, but Brad seemed reasonably confident he knew what he was doing. The crocodile even let him act as a spotter to his 220-pound deadlift, and while Mason was overseeing the bar, Brad decided to start up a conversation: "So, why here?"

After going through the whole training regiment, Mason found that he had a much better answer. "I need something real," he explained, "Something visceral… something with risk. Every other gym across town has safety net after safety net, and I think I've been shown more kindness in my first day here than in all those other gyms combined.

Brad let out a loud chuckle that turned into a grunt as he pushed the bar upwards. "Couldn't have said it better myself… rrrrnngh… even back when I was your age, the world was all TV shows and canned events… rrrrrnngh…"

This time it was Mason's turn to chuckle. "'Back when I was your age?' You're, what… forty? Forty-five?"

"Fifty-six," the crocodile replied, meeting Mason's expression of surprise with a toothy grin. "It's all in the exercise… and quitting actual fights before you get brain damage."

Though he kept glancing over to find Elena watching him from the door, Mason kept at the weights with Brad until she came over and got him. By the end, he was sweating like a pig, and though the same wasn't true of Brad, the crocodile still happily shook his hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you," he said, "Hope you'll come back for more sometime."

"Oh, I will," Mason replied with a mirrored smile, "You can count on it."

With that, Brad headed back off toward Ed, leaving Mason alone as Elena approached. "Seems you've made yourself right at home, paffuto… well done."

"Yeah, guess I have." Now, instead of feeling like a foreign territory, the gym was beginning to feel like some kind of sanctuary... a place where you could escape the half-truths of the outside world and just beat the crap out of something. Granted, he was only an initiate to it all, but everyone seemed willing to teach him… especially when it came to Elena. "Same time next week?"

The ebony mare raised an eyebrow. "Next week? Why not tomorrow? Why not keep going today?"

As much as he wanted to live up to Elena's challenge, to throw corporate drudgery to the wind and make this his life, the outside world still had far too much sway over him. "I would, but… I've got a deadline I've gotta meet, and I've gotta get up early for work tomorrow."

"So tomorrow?"

It'd smash his routine to splinters, going in after his shift or before he even went to work… but for Elena, for his own sake, he was willing to try it. "Sure, tomorrow. Not sure when I'll be here, but I'll be here."

The mare's grin widened even further. "Eccellente… I'll be waiting. Now why don't you get cleaned up, wouldn't want your boss to see you all sweaty."

Mason nodded, then headed off to the locker room, feeling Elena's eyes on his sweat-soaked body all the way to the door. With dregs of adrenaline still running through his veins, the human wasn't nearly as shy, and after taking a cold shower, Mason stepped out and dried himself off without a moment of hesitation. He could still feel the lard weighing him down, but after today, it felt the slightest bit lighter, and Mason knew he was on the right track. Rain or shine, he'd keep coming back to this sanctum of brick and mortar, and with enough effort, he'd become as much of an athlete as the rest of the gym's customers.

He showed up the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, staying for longer and longer each time he went. Mason bought more clothes specifically for the gym, more equipment to help him stay safe, even a speed bag for his own apartment… and as a cordial afterthought, he'd signed up for the gyms monthly fees. After a few weeks, the human felt like he was just beginning to fit in, but it wasn't until a month later that he felt genuinely intertwined.

While he was practicing his gut-punching on the heavy bags, the coyote named Danny approached, but not to join him. Over Mason's time in the gym, Danny had become something of his go-to partner for practicing, and the two of them seemed well-matched despite something of a size gap. "Hey, Mason," the coyote called out, "Wanna spar for a bit?"

At first, Mason wasn't quite sure what he meant. "You mean with the pads?" he replied, right before throwing a brutal combo to what would have been his opponent's midsection.

"Nah, up in the ring." When Mason faltered a bit, Danny seemed to notice immediately. "You've never been up there, have you?"

"No, I haven't…"

"Well, today'll be your first!" Danny pointed over to the big blackboard labeled "COMBATTE," and to Mason's utter surprise, he and Danny were listed on one of the slots. "C'mon, man, I know you're more than ready…"

All of a sudden, that creeping, childish fear of the unknown came creeping back into Mason's mind, but he quickly stuffed it away. "Alright… right now?"

"We've got the slot from seven to seven-thirty, and it's currently…"

"...seven-o-one." This was it, he was finally stepping into the ring, the holy altar that he hadn't dared to touch ever since he arrived. Granted, it was only for some light sparring… but it was still a significant step toward becoming something more than a lazy slob. "I've gotta get my headguard, but after that, you're on."

Danny flashed him an eager canine grin. "Don't worry, big guy, I'll take it easy on you."

With that, the coyote headed for the ring while Mason made his way to the lockers, and in his almost rapturous excitement, it hardly took him two minutes to don his matte-black helm of foam. He then swapped out his fingerless training gloves for traditional boxing mittens, and once those were on tight, he headed back out into the gym.

Up in the ring, Danny had already gotten himself set up, and as Mason approached, the coyote watched from the elastic edge. Some of the other residents of the gym paused in their routines to observe, and though he hardly realized it himself, he wasn't quite the doughy nobody who first walked in a month ago: he'd lost a good twenty pounds, built up a decent amount of muscular bulk, and most importantly, carried himself with a lot more confidence. As Mason ascended into the ring, he half-noticed Ed and Brad pausing in their routines, but he was far more focused on Elena as she stepped up to the ringside. Through the past month, her leering and uncomfortable closeness had only grown more blatant, and that sense of almost inappropriate interest spurred Mason to try twice as hard.

The human slipped on his head guard before stepping back into his corner, and after a few moments, Danny called out, "Let's do this!" The coyote began pacing toward his opponent, and Mason did the same, raising his arms up to guard both body and chin. This was it, his first full-on sparring session, a chance to put the things he'd learned to use… and as he and Danny met in the middle, Mason did just that.

Using his agility to his advantage, Danny darted in with a quick jab-cross to test Mason's defenses, but the assault glanced harmlessly off the human's guard. The coyote paused as if to give Mason a chance to retaliate, but the human didn't… until Danny let his guard down by throwing a half-hearted punch. Mason's left fist hooked into Danny's belly as he ducked out of the way, followed by his right fist connecting with the coyote's jaw. It was obvious Danny had overestimated him, and the coyote reacted accordingly, but as Mason met Elena's gaze, he too stepped up his game. Mason could practically feel her excitement and pride spurring him onward, eager to watch him go above and beyond… and that was just what he intended to do.

What started as a lighthearted training match quickly grew heavy with intensity, both fighters caught in arms race until they were both giving it their all. Danny was ducking and weaving around Mason's heavy-handed strikes, getting a few quick hits through the chinks in his guard, but the blows that did hit were seriously knocking him around. Maybe Danny just hadn't gotten a good read on his buddy before, but he wasn't fighting the same guy who'd walked in the gym a month ago.

Meanwhile, Mason was riding a high of adrenaline and glory, drawing strength from Elena's warm gaze as he battered his opponent. Danny just seemed so weak… his punches barely hurt, each blow almost knocked him off balance, and his eyes were beginning to glimmer with what must be fear. It felt good to be the winner for once, to have his enemy crumbling before him while a beautiful woman watched, to claim victory in this sanctimonious ring. Nothing had ever come close to this, not in his job, not in his games, not-SMACK!

He didn't hear the blow so much as feel it, and right after, he didn't feel much of anything. Mason didn't even remember what'd happened beforehand, so when he woke up on the floor with an aching jaw and Danny standing over him, he was more than a little confused. "What… what happened?"

"Pretty sure I knocked you out," Danny replied, "I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry, but… you were kinda fighting like a maniac."

Though he couldn't recall exactly what happened, some cache of memory deep in his skull remembered how little restraint he had. "Oh, shit… sorry about that…" He tried sitting up, but the sudden motion caused his head to spin like a tumble-dryer, and he would've fallen smack on his back had a strong pair of hands held him up. As his vision cleared, Elena's beautiful features came into view, and the mare seemed to be inspecting his eyes with a surgeon's attention to detail.

"Eh, it's fine," Danny replied with a carefree grin, "But maybe save that stuff for a full-on fight, yeah?"

Sensing no life-threatening damage, Elena broke into a smile of her own, though it looked like an odd mixture of pride and… something else. "Come ti senti? How do you feel?" she asked, her accent ringing through Mason's head like a cathedral bell.

"Dizzy… and my head hurts…" Now that his higher functions were starting to kick in, he realized that getting knocked unconscious was nothing like they showed in the movies, and just by looking at the clock, he knew he couldn't have been out for more than a minute.

"That's normal," she replied, "It's always a bit disorienting." She then raised her voice to reach throughout the gym, and though she was still looking at him, he got the feeling Elena was speaking to everyone at once. "Looks like you're fine, no danno cerebrale. Ancora una volta."

"Ancora una volta," echoed the rest of the gym, even Danny, and it seemed to signal them that the crisis was over. Danny strolled out of the ring with a final wave, and everyone seemed to go back to their previous activities, leaving Mason sitting alone in the ring with Elena right beside him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mason asked, but as he tried to stand up, Elena swiftly held him back down.

"Easy now, pugilello… you might not have any lasting bolts loose, but you still oughta lay down." With her black-furred hand gently pushing on his chest, Mason reclined back until he was lying flat on the ring's canvas, and Elena scooted cross-legged beside his head. "Even if you feel sano, it's best to lie down for a few minutes… let your cervello right itself."

It felt weird, staring up at the ceiling while a massive mare sat beside him, but Mason's reasoning mind realized it was probably a good idea. "So what did that phrase mean?"

"Hmm?"

"The italian one that everyone said, 'Ancoro una-'"

"Ancora una volta? It's something Nonno Paolo used to say, pace all' anima sua… it means, 'One more to go,' as in you've still got another fight left in your career. He used to say it every time he survived getting knocked out, and now, it's something of a tradition here."

Mason's brow furrowed a bit. "So… a lot of people get knocked out?"

"Of course," Elena replied with a chuckle, "It comes with the territory. I think just about everyone here's been put down for the count… but no one's done it quite like you." Her gaze seemed to get warmer by the second, almost as if she was his longtime lover instead of his boxing coach.

"How do you mean?"

The mare reached down and tenderly brushed a few strands of hair from Mason's face, making the human the slightest bit uncomfortable. "Well, most people get knocked out during their first real lotta, and that usually takes a few months for them to get up to that point." Her hand changed position and began gently petting his sweat-soaked hair, making Mason wonder whether this whole concussion precaution was just a ruse to get uncomfortably close. "Inoltre, most take the hit while difendendo, not while throwing punches like a pazzo."

Perhaps all this lying down was helping after all… Mason was beginning to remember how the fight went down, how he was all offense with nary a thought to guarding. If Ed or Brad had been in the ring with him, he'd have taken a knockout punch to the jaw in seconds. "Yeah, I kinda had that one coming."

"Non lo direi, pugilello, don't be so hard on yourself. He got a lucky shot in, and if he hadn't, you would've pounded him into the ground like a flimsy stake." It almost sounded as if she was excited by the violence, as if she wanted the human to triumph… almost as if the thought of him fighting for her turned her on. "We ought to put you up against someone more in your classe di peso… Shawn, perhaps."

Mason had seen that puma around the gym, and he definitely agreed that he'd be a good match weight-wise, but he also seemed like the kind of rough-hewn bruiser that'd knock him senseless. "Eh, maybe." The fear might just be his nerves talking… but either way, it was a topic for another day.

Elena continued to sit beside him for the rest of the ten-minute time-out, but she didn't do anything else to estrange her protege. Seeing as how he'd already put in a decent amount of time in the gym, Mason decided to wash up and head home for the day, and on the way home, he mulled over how Elena had been acting. On the one hand, she'd seemed somewhat into him, but on the other, she didn't seem the sort to fall head-over-heels for a chubby nobody… it could just be the concussion warping how he saw things, but now that Mason thought back, she'd been pulling similar stunts the whole time he was at the gym. By the time he closed his apartment's door behind him, he'd decided it was some sort of friendly flirting… maybe an Italian thing he knew nothing about.

That night, Mason settled in for a bit of TV to round things off, using his grip strength trainer while watching a sitcom he'd meant to catch up on. While he'd stopped his three-hour pringle-fueled binges, it never hurt to slouch in moderation… but that night, an alert on his phone heralded something else altogether. He pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number:

"Meet me at the gym. Workout clothes, but no gear."

Despite the text's anonymous nature, Mason had a hunch as to who it was. "Elena?" he replied, "Is that you?"

"Ovviamente ;)"

Of course it was her… and Mason already had a theory or two why she wanted to meet him in the gym past closing hours. Well, then again, she could mean some other time when he didn't have to get up early for work. "Now?"

"Now."

The timid desk jockey in him wanted to make excuses, to reschedule, to try and get things on his terms, but that part of him had been buried under heaps of dogged determination. "Alright, be there in twenty."

"Molto bene."

It took Mason no time at all to get out of his sweats and into a fresh set of gym clothes, but he had to stop himself from reflexively grabbing his gear as he headed out the door. Then came the trip down to the gym, a route he knew practically like the back of his hand, and he managed to make it to the door with a minute to spare. The gym seemed utterly dark save for a spotlight on the ring, and the door was locked tight, but a little investigating turned up a simple key hidden under the doormat. He stepped through the doors curious as to what Elena had planned for him, but before he could get more than two steps inside, his phone dinged with another text: "Lock it, per favore."

Mason went ahead and complied, re-locking the door, then turned back to the lighted ring, obviously a point of interest for whatever Elena had in mind. From her office to the door, the rest of the gym was shrouded in shadow; had there been anything at ankle-level between him and the ring, he'd have fallen flat on his face. However, nothing impeded him, and Mason crawled up onto the illuminated canvas platform before getting to his feet. "Alright, Elena," he called out into the darkness, "I'm here. Mind telling me what this is all about?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out." Elena's warm voice came from back towards the entrance, swiftly followed by the sound of her hooves sauntering forward, and Mason expected to see her coming out of the darkness wearing her usual athletic getup… but that wasn't at all what he was greeted by. As his eyes inevitably drifted downward, he realized with a start that she wasn't wearing a sports bra or anything at all for that matter; her massive melons were left swaying in the breeze, simultaneously arresting Mason's attention and kicking him into a panic. It took a second for his shameful gaze to drift further down, and when it did, his panic only worsened. The mare wasn't wearing a single scrap of clothing, not a single thread to cover up her voluptuous body, and as Mason glanced up to her face, he realized she loved the attention. "What's the matter, pugilello?" she teased as she started up a staircase hidden in the dark, "I thought a pervertito like you would be happy to see me naked…"

As the six-foot-seven boxing coach dexterously slipped through the ropes, she moved just slow enough to flash Mason with her nethers. The thick, teardrop shape of her vulva and puckered donut of her tailhole seemed almost alien in the human's confused state of mind, especially when the lips winked out her warm, pink insides. Though he'd been hardened for combat by his time at the gym, this was one scenario he'd never envisioned being in. Despite Elena's sensual strut and eager grin, Mason found himself pacing backward, his mind suppressing the part of him that was getting turned on. "I… you're… Elena, what are you doing?" It was a trick, a prank, a ruse, and if he went after her, something terrible was going to happen.

"Oh, I'm just reaping what I've sown, pugilello." By now, she'd made it halfway across the ring, and Mason was backed up into the elastic ropes.

"What? 'Reaping what you've sown?'" Some tiny, skittish portion of his mind wanted to vault through the ropes to freedom, but the rest of him held his limbs as still as marble.

"Just look how far you've come… you were cute before you even walked into my gym, [and now]..." Without warning, she rushed forward and grabbed ahold of Mason's neck and torso, holding him still for a sensual kiss. Her lips were as soft as velvet, pressing up against his own with intimate ferocity, and he was helpless to resist as her tongue pressed into his own mouth. The long, muscular, slimy thing tasted like oats as it rooted around, playing with his own tongue in a bizarrely arousing experience. Her muscular arms easily held up his bulk, and he could feel one hand sneaking under his hem to get at his bare back.

By the time Mason started to lean into it a bit more, he'd swallowed what felt like a whole glass of her saliva, and his mounting boner threatened to rip straight through his shorts. All thoughts of running were gone, and as Elena pulled away, he mirrored her primal need to breed. "I was going to wait until your first lotta, but after watching you vincere over Danny…" The massive mare suddenly pulled Mason's shirt up and over his head, laying bare his muscular-yet-chubby physique. "E con me in calore cosi male... I just had to have you."

Mason looked down from her hazel eyes to her furry breasts, seeing her as a woman with needs for what felt like the very first time. He'd seen the signs, all her ogling and uncomfortable closeness, but only now did he really put two and two together. "Was that your plan all along?" he asked, "Train me up as you personal sex toy?"

"Oh, we've still got work to do," Elena purred, "But for now… you deserve una delizia." With that, Elena pulled the slightest bit away and carefully got down on her knees, putting her head roughly level with Mason's belly as she leaned down. Her mouth was inches from the human's caged erection, almost salivating at the thought of putting it to use. "Mio Dio," she purred, "É piu grande di quanto pensassi…"

As her thumbs slowly hooked under his waistband on either side, a shiver ran across Mason's nerves, and it only intensified as she began pulling his pants down. "So, ah… we're just gonna do it right here?" he asked, briefly glancing toward the gym's wide-open front window. The odds were slim that someone would pass by, but if they did…

"What, is my pugilello shy?" Elena seemed to savor the human's tension, taught as a rope as she revealed his cock inch by inch. When it finally sprung forward like a doorstop, he reflexively gulped, causing Elena to chuckle. "Am I the first woman to ever see you like this?" she asked, "Penserei che qualcuno ti sarebbe arrivato prima di me…"

After the mare pulled his pants all the way down to his ankles, Mason swiftly kicked off his shoes and slid both them and the shorts out of the ring, leaving him clad in just his socks as Elena began to gingerly stroke him. "Yeah, well… yeah, you're the first." Mason had fantasized about losing his virginity since he was twelve, but he never imagined it'd be like this, laid bare and vulnerable on the ropes of a venerable boxing ring.

However, for Elena, it was just how she'd imagined it, all the way down to the bead of salty precum she licked off his tip. "Calcolato altrettanto," she purred in reply, "I could smell your virginity from when you walked through the door."

At first, Mason was shocked, but he quickly remembered his freshman biology class: the human sense of smell was miniscule compared to any other mammal… god, half the people in the gym could read him like an open book from his scent alone. "So, uh… are we just gonna…"

The mare let out another chuckle, then leaned in to smooch Mason right on the belly. "You could use some warming up first… wouldn't want you to blow it all in one go."

With that, she shifted her grip to Mason's shaft, held his cock steady, then gently pressed it into her lips. It slipped into her mouth one inch at a time, forcing a gasp from Mason that swiftly devolved into a groan. Her muzzle was so warm, so slick, so soft… and to top it off, he could feel her tongue rooting rubbing and wrapping around his member in the most delightful way. "Oh my god," he gasped, "That's… woah…"

It only got better as she began bobbing up and down, sucking hard with each pull back and pressing back on each push forward. Her lips squeezed tight in a silky seal around Mason's shaft, gently massaging his entire length, and he could feel her throat swallowing the pre that dribbled out. "Oh god," he moaned, "You're so… gahhh… don't stop…" Before long, he was leaning entirely on the ropes for support, totally at the mercy of his equine coach… and down in his groin, he could feel a particular pressure building. "I'm gonna… gonna…"

Before he began the plunge into a climax, Elena suddenly pulled back, and Mason had just begun to look down when she slid his slickened tip right between her breasts. The fur and squishy tissue felt every bit as good as her mouth, but watching his manhood slide in and out of her cleavage was the icing on the cake that made it so much better. "Oh fuck," he groaned, "So good…"

Elena thought about saying something witty, but if Mason's bliss-soaked voice was any indicator, he wouldn't hear her over the blood pounding in his ears. Instead, she simply bent down and suckled some more, drawing a new wave of moans from her human plaything's lips. She could feel her nethers begging for something stiff and throbbing, but Elena staunched that primordial urge to rut… for now.

Back on Mason's end, it almost felt like his soul was getting sucked straight from his balls. His hand had never been this intense, this intimate, this exhilarating… and it had never swallowed after he was done. Once again, that pleasurable pressure was building in his loins, and this time, Elena didn't seem like she was going to stop. "Elena, I'm gonna cum," he moaned, "You gonna… no? Okay…"

Since the mare didn't show any signs of stopping, Mason simply held onto the ropes for dear life, squeezing the nylon as his body wound like a spring. He was so close, so tantalizingly close, and… "Aaaaaghhhhh!"

His legs shivered, his hands clenched, and his hips bucked, but none of it was enough to dislodge the grip of Elena's lips. Her hands continued using her tits as the human's first glob of cum shot down her throat, milking spurt after spurt of hot slimy semen from Mason's dick with her exquisite lips, draining pent-up desire that tasted weeks old. The human was utterly at her mercy, but that wasn't any reason to fret… she just wanted to give him the experience of a lifetime.

Eventually, Mason found himself sinking back down from his cataclysmic high, his clarity recovering just in time to see Elena grinning back up at him. "That was quite the load," she purred after licking her lips, "You ready for more, pugilello, or should I let you sit?"

It took Mason a second to match her words with any sort of meaning as he stood back up, regaining his footing once Elena leaned back. "I guess… sure." he sighed, "But we don't just have to sit." Mason's recovering powers of reason were already calling back to many a lonely night, and as he did so, the human remembered something that'd be perfect for the occasion. After sidestepping Elena, he rolled over onto his back, then beckoned the massive mare forward. "C' mere… I wanna try something."

While Elena wasn't quite sure what her human lover had in mind, she quickly complied, crawling over on all fours towards Mason. "Cosa avevi in mente?" she asked, noting that his dick had already started to go flaccid.

"Alright, so just get your hips up to here… now just bring your knee over my head… back a bit… and then just lower down." Once Elena was in position, Mason found him staring up at her equine snatch, its meaty lips already glistening with a hint of arousal, and her hips hung over his head like a furry wrecking ball. As Elena winked again, she flaunted what Mason quickly recognized as her clit, and he gently began guiding her down. This might be a tad unorthodox, and it felt like she might smother him… but he was up to the challenge. "C'mon, don't be shy, I can take it."

Elena complied, and as soon as her plump vulva got near Mason's mouth, she understood exactly what he intended. His hands gently spread her lips while his head raised up, and as his tongue traced along her revealed clit, she finally understood what he was about to give her. "Mio Dio," she gasped, "You dirty bastardo!"

Mason quickly pushed her hips up off his face before giving his reply. "You want me to stop?"

Instead of gracing the human with a reply, Elena sat back down, pressing her squishy nub right up against Mason's lips. Before long, he was right back at it, sucking and slurping at her folds like his life depended on it. "Ah… quella tassa," she sighed, already sinking more and more of her weight onto Mason's head as her pleasure built. Her hands both took hold of his curly hair and pulled him into her groin, though after a few minutes, she had to repurpose one as a brace. "Mio Dio, pugilello… I thought I was your first?"

"Mmmph hrrph hrrmph," Mason replied, his voice muffled under 250 pounds of horny mare. Down between her legs, he was fully enveloped in both the taste and smell of her snatch, a primordial musk that spurred him on and sent life pulsing back into his manhood. Elena had been steadily getting slicker throughout their naughty escapade, and now it felt like he was slurping up her juices by the mouthful. Her legs clenched all around his head, threatening to crush Mason's skull when she finally came… but to his surprise, he suddenly felt her flip onto her back. The death grip on Mason's head brought him along, allowing him to seamlessly continue, but it seemed like he wouldn't have to keep going for long.

"Ohhhh, cosi buono!" Elena moaned, legs torn between spreading wide and smushing together. The human's tongue was driving her up the wall with pleasure like few men had ever done before, and after less than a minute, she was right on the ropes. "Verro, pugilello," she groaned, "Cosi vicino… e… aaaaahhhhhh!" Her piercing cry reverberated through the gym and even out onto the curb, announcing the sheer magnitude of her orgasm to the world. Elena's muscular legs crossed behind Mason's head while her nethers spurted feminine juices, nearly waterboarding Mason with her pulsing snatch. It got in his mouth, it got in his nose, and her silky lips formed a perfect seal around the lower half of his face, depriving him of air during her potent climax.

When she finally began to relax, he broke free of her legs and took a massive gasp of fresh air, but that was all he needed to get back in the fight. Before Elena could come to her senses, he crawled on top of her voluptuous body with his manhood rock hard, and right as the mare recovered enough to feel it, his tip slipped into her folds with a supple squelch.

Both let out tiny gasps as Mason slid all the way in, gliding deeper and deeper into her cozy nethers until his crotch pressed against hers, enveloping his cock in warm, silky goodness. Then, he began thrusting away like a jackhammer without missing a beat, causing Elena's curvy body to rock with each powerful stroke. "Ah, mio Dio!" she groaned again, "Sei enorme... come diavolo sei ancora vergine?"

Mason still didn't know a word of Italian, so he just let his body do the talking. While his hips kept plowing into Elena's yielding muff, his hands took hold of her two teats and got to work: one got rubbed and pinched by his delicate fingers, while the other popped straight into his mouth. Elena let out another booming moan at the increased pleasure, and soon enough, her body shivered in the throes of another orgasm. "Mio Dio…" she gasped as the vigor left her limbs, "Tale resistenza…" It took what little strength she had left to hold onto her human lover, keeping his swole chest pressed up against her furry belly as he humped away… god, where had all this strength come from?

By now, Elena was so slippery that her canal hardly posed any resistance to Mason's thrusting assault, its soft embrace gently encouraging him toward a climax of his own. Being buried to the hilt in a willing woman just felt so damn good, so satisfying after a lifetime of celibacy… and yet, Mason was only now starting to feel his own climax build. Though the only sounds he managed to make were primal grunts of pleasure, Elena seemed to understand him all the same: "Don't stop… vieni dentro di me!"

With a growl of acknowledgment, Mason let go of her breasts to fully focus on his own pleasure, grabbing her hips like a randy hound as he pounded away. Despite cumming twice already, the force of his tip roughly massaging her g-spot was enough to drag Elena along, and after a few more moments of wild exertion, the mismatched couple hit their climax in tandem.

"Sto venendo!"

"I'm cumming!"

It felt like two dams bursting in harmony, flooding both their bodies with electrifying pleasure as they locked together. Mason slipped balls-deep into Elena's eager depths, spurting his seed as deep as he could go in powerful jets, emptying the night's sexual tension through the sticky ropes of spunk. Elena's snatch squeezed him tight, milking him for every drop, and for one ecstatic moment, it felt like they were bound by more than could be physically described. Elena finally had her protege, and Mason finally had a mentor… but as their climax gradually abated, they regressed back to reality: a human balls-deep and cuddled close by a mare.

"Wow," Mason sighed, "That was… wow…"

"Si, that really was something, pugilello." Elena gave her human a brief squeeze with both arms and legs, relishing the tiny squelch of him shifting inside of her. "You're everything I hoped you'd be…"

Amid the haze of post-coital bliss, Mason gradually realized something: "Did you take me in just for the sex?"

"Not just," Elena replied, "But… yes, I wanted to bed you."

Mason tried pulling back just a bit, but when his lover's legs held firm, he simply relaxed against her furry bulk with his head on her breasts. "But why?" he eventually asked, "Have you just got a thing for chubby guys or what?"

"No, it's more about the training than anything else… the idea that I shaped you into what I want. I've had a few other protetti before you, but all of them already had attachments, someone else they prefered to scopare. You, on the other hand… you're a blank slate." She paused for a moment, listening to their unsynchronized panting, then asked, "Does that seem strano to you?"

"Yeah… well… I dunno. I don't see anything wrong with it, I just… never thought that was a thing." Now that he thought about it, however, Maos could definitely see the appeal in screwing someone you trained from the ground up… someone who you knew inside and out even before you set foot in the bedroom. Plus, even without all that, Elena made for one hell of a girlfriend… she was absolutely stunning, and laying on her like this, rising and falling with her breath, made him feel more content than he'd ever felt before. "You wanna get cleaned up?" he eventually asked, "I'm not sure how well all this is going to wash out of canvas…"

Elena slowly nodded in agreement, after which she and Mason pulled apart with a slimy schlorp. They headed down to the showers and began to get all the fluids washed off, but they didn't emerge clean until after making love a second time. As Mason shuffled out of the locker room, re-dressed and scrubbed down, Elena snuck up behind him one last time, hugging him firmly back into her gorgeous tits. "See you next week," she purred, "Or maybe I'll come over to your place…"

Before Mason could respond, Elena hustled over toward the cleaning supplies, leaving her human lover to leave by himself. Mason wasn't sure how this would work out, whether she could be both boxing coach and girlfriend… but after tonight, he was willing to give it a shot.