>"...4....5".You grunt as you re-rack the bar on the bench. 
>You sit up, heart pounding as you suck air in and out
>225 isn't a bad new PR, considering you've been at work all day
>As you look around, the faint glow of the fluorescent bulbs echoes in the now empty gym. The setup isn't too fancy, with some of the dumbbells being so worn that you can't even read the weight etched upon it, and the residual chalk powder on the black rubber mats that lined the floor
>"Hey anon, catch!"
>You quickly spin around to see Boris, a squat 5'8 275lb ex-soviet deadlifting champion, and also the grizzly bear owner of the gym, toss a set of keys at you
>"No forget to check rooms before leave, OK?"
>"No worries Boris, I'll be packing up soon. Have a good night"
>Boris curtly nodded, and shuffled out the door
>Despite the somewhat uncomfortable fact of being one of the only humans in a anthro-dominated area, you can't help but be thankful for the cheap monthly costs. Not to mention the lack of DYEL's and crossfitters at this time of night.
>For some reason, Boris took a shine to you, and trusted you enough to give you extended hours in return for closing up shop when you leave. Perhaps this was also a sense of concern with less human-friendly anthros that dominated in the daytime.

>After wiping down your stations and taking a shower, you pack up your gym bag and proceed to saunter towards the door.
>Without your headphones on, you notice something different tonight
>The muffled *thump thump* and a rattling of a chain is heard the back of the building
>"Huh... I didn't expect anyone to still be here" you mumble to yourself
>As you get towards the back of the building, the noise becomes louder, and you peek through the window separating the boxing room from the rest of the facility
>Much to your surprise, an imposing 6'2 she-wolf anthro was still furiously beating the punching bag
>She had long mane-like brown hair flowing with her movements. Her body was ripped, but still had a femininity to it. Wearing little else but a sportsbra, short shorts and her hands and wrists wrapped with something akin to linen bandages, you could make out the sinew and muscle she was packing
>Her thighs looked like they could squash your head like a watermelon, arms sinewy, and her toned abs rippling as she bobbed and weaved
>You knock on the glass a few times. She slows down and pauses, turning her head and pierces right through you with her ice blue eyes
>With an uncomfortable pause, you say "H-hey, sorry for bothering you, but I've gotta close up."
>She glares at you further, as if inspecting your very soul, then walks over and picks up her bag. 
>As she walks out, she nearly bumps right into you
>With a rough voice, she barks "Huh, who knew ol' Boris would let a runt human run the place?"
>You begin to feel the heat rise in your face, "I've been coming here for 2 years, what gives you the right?"
>"As she exits the door, she turns her head and laughs "2 years? Sure doesn't look like it", and she heads off.
>A mixture of anger and embarrassment comes over you. "Fucking anthros" you think
>You shut off the lights, and head out the door. Hopefully you're not gonna see her again anytime soon. 

>Well, you were wrong
>For the following weeks, it was often just you and her at the end of the night. Despite the initial rocky encounter, interaction has not regressed beyond a mere acknowledgement of your presence, and a willingness to comply to the rules
>Each night was roughly the same, with you finishing your sets and cleaning up, and her boxing until you tapped on the glass. Then you both exit with nary a word to each other
>On occasion however, you sometimes peek and notice her watching you while you do your sets, seemingly critiquing your rate of motion with those blue eyes. Then she was would return back to her boxing as if nothing happened
>As Boris was about to leave, you beckoned him over
>"Hey Boris, who is that she-wolf that boxes here?"
>"Her? Her name Farrah, she apparently female boxing champion in lupine division. 25 or so now, been training since was little girl"
>He then grins and winks "Never knew anon liked amazon, nevermind nonhuman, heh heh".
>You return the grin with a slightly weary smirk, rolling your eyes as he slaps you on the back
>"Evening Boris" you hear, and you feel a slight tinge of embarrassment as you hear that rough voice of Farrah's
>She turned her head towards you, and you could have distinctly heard her mumble "Hey" towards you
>Well that was surprisingly friendlier than what you were expecting

>Later, you were in the middle of your routine. It's leg night, and you were huffing and puffing as you went up and down in the squat rack
>You hear the faint drawl of "hip drahve" as you struggle to finish that last rep
>The sweat beads, and rolls along the bridge of your nose. But you are slightly shocked by the realization that Farrah was standing behind you with her arms folded with a slight smirk on her face
>"You, your name is anon right?"
>"Yeah, and yours is Farrah?"
>Ignoring your question, she shakes her head while scoffing "No wonder why you're so small. Your squat form needs work. Your back is not straight enough, and your legs are too spread apart", kicking my legs into position as she said so. 
>"She saunters over to the bar, says "Watch and learn", and she masterfully squats the weight with only mild effort.
>You could only stand and watch, mouth slightly agape, seeing her go up and down.
>In fact, you couldn't help but admire her skill. Or her toned, thick rear for that matter
>When she re-racked, you quickly shook the mental image out of your head. She stood there waiting for you to try again
>You mimic her form, and she curtly nods, before huffing off without a word to the boxing room

>Tonight you had to cut your workout short (walking with gelatin-like legs was a challenge already). You now have to get to the bus stop, since your car was broken into last week by some asshole kids, and paying the fare is a hell of a lot cheaper than repairing your windows every few months.
>You nod towards Farrah, who had her hair tied in a ponytail, still damp from her shower, and she curtly nodded back
>As she turned towards her direction, you never thought about the fact that the bus stop was in the same direction. Maybe she just walked to her parking spot that way?
>As you keep walking, you watch her stop and settle at the bus station, and sit down on the bench. 
>Sure, things have been improving between you two, but it was still uncomfortable. Maybe she was just being "nice" by showing off?
>As you walk towards her, she looks up at you with a raised eyebrow. Fortunately the potential awkward moment was finished as the bus rolled up to the stop
>You both quietly enter the sparsely filled bus. A vixen mother sat with her kid, doing a cross-word as her daughter combed her doll's hair. An old owl wearing a tweed jacket was sound asleep (confusing you greatly)
>You settle towards the back of the bus, and Farrah sits on the side seats, facing the window with her head in her paws
>Pulling out your copy of the Iliad, you began to finger through the text to pass the ride

>At the next stop, a gang (or is it mob?) of young crows swagger onto the bus, cackling and cursing as they hopped on
>You decide to keep your eyes down. Late night, being the only human on the bus, not a recipe for a good time
>One of the crows takes a gander in your direction. He barks "Well look here, it seems the fleshy fuck is sitting in our spot!"
>So much for a quiet evening, but still you keep focus on the book. They may have been shorter than you, but they did outnumber you.
>The head crow places his foot on the empty seat next to you, and leaned forward. You could smell the cheap booze eeking out of his pores.
>"Hey, I'm talking to you, you pink asshole. You're sitting in our spot"
>As you glance up, you see the leader smack your book out of your hand onto the ground
>Fuck being outnumbered, that was your grandfather's copy
>Before you took a swing, Farrah stood up between you and the group of crows. 
>Fur bristling and with fangs bared, she growled "Get off this bus now, I'm gonna toss you headfirst through the window"
>One foolish crow tried taking a swing at her from the side
>She daftly bobbed out of the way, sucker-punching the bold offender in the stomach so hard that he was violently retching whatever booze he was drinking as he was being carried by his mates out the door
>She picks up your book, dusting off whatever remnants were collected on the jacket, while looking at the cover with a face of... admiration?
>"Here you go anon" in perhaps the softest tone you've heard from her, handing your book back
>"Thanks Farrah, you really saved my skin back there. I'd hate being the guy who crosses you" 
>Her smile faded a bit, before giving me yet another grunt "Well, you of all people would need the help"
>She returned to her seat, and we continued the ride in silence, before I got off at my stop

>The next few nights were quiet, with not much to say between you and Farrah. You continued to peruse through your copy of Homer, and as you read through the final lines, you noticed her watching you intently from her seat.
>You curtly smile before putting your book away in your bag
>Farrah has a look on her face like a kid unable to contain some sort of response, but hesitated and began to look away
>You politely clear your throat to make some small talk
>"It was a... pretty good book"
>Her ears perked up, glancing over towards you. 
>"You uh, ever read much?"
>Nice going. 
>You could see her body language immediately change, becoming tense. The faint look of indignation spread across her features, before she quickly chuffed, got up and left without saying anything.
>Surprised as much as confused, you can't help but feel a tinge of guilt for basically insulting her. Was she mad because she thought you implied doubt on her ability to read? Or was she mad you implied she was anything but a physical specimen? 
>Who knew, but you made up your mind to apologize to her the following night