A high-pitched beep from your watch jolted you out of mental acuity and signaled the end of your workout for the day. Mentally noting that you had set a new personal record, you retrieved it from your pocket; it was time to shower before going to your friend's house for dinner. After raising the barbell to shoulder level with a groan, you lowered it in a single smooth motion, completing your set with perfect form. The weight felt good on your shoulders; it had felt great ever since those first sets three years ago when you began lifting weights. The muscles you had were getting stronger with every passing week, and you felt like you could overcome anything.
In the beginning, you were not interested in getting into shape; you were a mild-mannered, docile individual. It wasn't that you were obese, but you weren't exactly living a healthy lifestyle either. It was never obvious to you that something was amiss, so you never changed. Until you got robbed, that is. On your way home from work late one night, you were pulled into an alley by a thief. Despite your best efforts to defend yourself, you were too weak to fight back, and the thief took away your wallet and keys, beating you for daring to defend yourself. As you laid there, bloodied and wheezing, you knew you had to change. You could still recall the dark clouds above you cracking with thunder and raining. So that's what you did, buying a gym membership and starting your biweekly routine after a few weeks of recuperation in the hospital. The diet you switched to consisted of low-calorie vegetables, you listened to fitness podcasts, and you joined groups dedicated to improving your physical health. In your current state, you may not be the Adonis you had envisioned, but you're certainly much healthier and happier than you were before.
With another deep breath, you stretched the tension from your limbs, then moved to pick your stuff, an old bag, and your membership key fob, completely unaware of the sound of footsteps barreling towards—Suddenly, you were sent crashing down onto your front, a figure barging into you at full force, leaving your face to bounce with a smack against the smooth floor. Stunned, you groan in pain, rolling onto your side before being dragged across the ground by the mystery assailant until they deposit you in front of them. Their voice is the first thing you recognize. "Oh, look who it is! The resident hairless ape, slinging his shit everywhere again! Hahaha!"
Katie's cackling at her own joke filled your ears with harsh sounds, and you sighed. Every Wednesday around closing time, after you finish working out, this would happen. Katie seemed to despise your existence because of circumstances beyond your control, repeatedly hurling insults about how weak you were or how you should just give up. Regardless, no matter how much you despised yourself, you continued to exercise because you loved it. The verbal abuse wouldn't stop you from training your body. It was your stubbornness that made Katie hate you more.
"Ow." You rubbed your sore chin, trying to rub away some pain. Somehow more tired than after your workout, your tired eyes regarded her. "Katie, aren't you supposed to be at your Karate class?"
At that, she stopped laughing, furrowing her brow in a hard scowl and twitching her lips. "Stupid fucking instructor broke his leg and couldn't show up today, so now, I have no outlet for my anger." She glared daggers at you, a vein throbbing in her temple. Her mood was particularly bad today. Previously, she would leave the gym when the class was canceled, but it was not worth suggesting that to this emotional mouse girl. The only thing you could do was shrug and pretend pity for her situation, hoping that she would be on her way.
In the midst of the silence, she grabbed you by the t-shirt and pressed her head against yours, tickling you with her fur. "I said: I need an outlet, shit heel. And the way I see it, a skin suit like you would make the perfect punching bag."
"So, what do you want?" You asked.
Before answering, her eyes narrowed and she stared into yours for several seconds. "Well, it's been a while since I've had a real sparring session. The other fighters in class are too scared of me for some reason—fucking pussies—so let's see if you're any good at taking punches. If you can last five rounds without getting knocked out, then maybe you're one of the okay humans out there, and when the revolution comes, we'll kill you last."
You pondered her 'offer' in silence. Five rounds? Most TV matches are less than half as long as that! It's never been your intention to battle anyone, let alone mouse-girls possessing enough skill to be top of a Karate class. However, judging from her frantic look, you felt that you couldn't just leave this one with mere words. Katie wouldn't allow it. You nodded, giving in to her demands. "O-Okay."
An insincere smile, more akin to a sneer, spread across her furry visage. She turned and walked back towards the changing room. "Good! Now hurry up and meet me on the mat in ten!" she said. Your haze of despair was shattered by the loud slam of the door. It looked like you were going to be late for dinner.
***
You used the allotted time to mentally go over the dire situation, trying to come up with a way to win. In fact, you were completely outmatched. Katie was a Rokudan level fighter, probably conditioned since birth to be the violent, vindictive mouse she is today, whereas you only had a raw strength, size, and reach advantage. She could and would knock you out with a single punch, even though she knew you were harmless. You had to rely on your strengths if you wanted to win. Katie would be quick, so you'd have to guess what her next move would be. You were bigger and stronger, but she was faster; it would only be a matter of time before she had you in a chokehold or a submission hold. You needed something, anything, to make her doubt you even more than she already did.
"Times up, runt!" Katie's voice rang through the now empty gym, reverberating off the walls and sounding off the idle equipment. "You ready to lose?" she asked, tone stormy, but you sensed a hint of frivolity in her voice.
Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and stepped onto the mat. You were about to face your gym bully, and you were not prepared. Katie leaped across the mat to the other side, flashing a big grin stretching the sides of her muzzle. Her hands were raised before the sparring had even begun as if announcing a predetermined victory. "Let's do this," she growled. With a last glance to the side, you took your stance, crouching low with your fists at shoulder level and your feet slightly apart. Her eyes seemed to rove over your body indiscriminately, and your confidence was already slipping away as she examined you, but now it was too late for you to change stances.
The match had begun. A barrage of punches and kicks was aimed at you as Katie charged forward, arms flailing wildly in your direction. Her attacks could be dodged just about without breaking a sweat. The mouse swung again, aiming for your midsection, but you jumped backward, avoiding the blow by an inch and a half.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" she roared, spinning around in frustration and launching another attack toward your body. Even though you avoided the brunt of the attack, your shirt was frayed by the grazes. Several slits appeared in your shirt when you turned to her new direction, revealing a lot of bare flesh underneath.
"Ow, shit." The exposed spot burned; you rubbed it instinctually.
Her next attack was suspended in midair, as she gazed covetously at your prominent abdominal muscles with her mouth wide open in lecherousness. Her whisper was clearly heard: "Oh my god, you could tenderize meat with those." She shook her head and returned her gaze to your face as if it were a reminder of why she was here. Swinging her arm down, she closed the distance between you with a snarl of anger and sexual frustration.