A depiction of the life of my favorite trio when they aren't doing kinky things. You know, like regular people, not that Amy would agree regular people get up early to go jogging. She gave that up a long time ago.

Art by  Kandlin, story below by me. If you'd like to support my writing feel free to join my Patreon and/or Subscribestar that I'm shamelessly plugging.

Enjoy!

***
The cool morning air did little to quell the fire in Amy’s legs. Hunched over in agony, the vole’s arms lazily hung forward as she struggled to keep up. Some small part of her couldn’t believe she used to be the track team captain back in high school. Sure, the duties were mostly about making sure everyone followed the rules. But it, like everyone in the track team, involved running and she was damn well good at it.

Was being the keyword.

“Come on, Amy.” Helga called out between her breaths. “Don’t slouch. We’ve got another lap around the park.”

Another? Amy didn’t bother to hide her groan. She’d lost count at how many laps the three of them had taken this morning. Rebecca stayed in the lead throughout, never straying from her forward gaze as if she were some kind of jogging machine. Helga looked ready to stop, gritting her teeth to power through another lap from sheer willpower alone. Whatever willpower Amy had left had evaporated a lap or two ago.

Spotting a bench, Amy plopped down face-first against the wood. The cool and dark morning air made her impromptu bed chilly as well as too solid for comfort. She felt her heartbeat pound against the frame, so much that she swore it could kick her off.

Helga’s shadow overwhelmed the light from the rising sun. “No more.” The vole turned away. “I can’t do another lap.”

“Is something wrong?” Rebecca asked, “Did she hurt her leg?”

“She’s just exhausted.” The pig said, out of breath, “Amy, can we trust you to stay here while we finish the rest?”

She wafted her arm in their general direction. Even if she wanted to, and Amy was quite certain she didn’t, the vole’s legs couldn’t support her for another step. Exaggerations aside, she did turn over to watch the two women jog off into the rising sun, then take a swift right as they continued following the local park’s walkway. Once they were out of sight, Amy laid against her back and watched the dark sky turn a warm blue as lactic acids made her muscles ache.

Track was the worst. Exercise in general sucked, but Amy had a special animosity for cardio-like running. She only did it in high school thanks to self-imposed pressure to succeed, something the vole had tossed out the moment she dyed her hair green and shaved off half her head. Gone was the overachiever, replaced by some lazy wannabe punk who had no direction in her life or any hobbies.

That’s why she let Helga and Rebecca, one health nut and another who exercised on reflex, drag her to the park for their jog. She had to stop wallowing in uselessness and find something, anything to give her a new idea. Something to snap her out of her quarter-life crisis.

But running could go fuck itself. If Amy was going to get exercise, she’d need to be doing something fun for it. Maybe wrestling? Was that fun? She’d never watched it or done it. She reasoned to look that up when they got home. The local YMCA must have some hobbies she could partake in for fun and exercise. Jewel, her former roommate, did talk about seeing some fliers around campus for some different activities. Fencing, archery, roller derby.

Upon their return, Amethyst had cracked a smile at the exhausted pig and the barely phased pitbull. “You two ready to head back?”

“Not without cooldowns,” Rebecca said. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

The vole and pig looked at each other, silently agreeing that Rebecca had the wrong definition of ‘fun’.