This is just a backstory to a DnD character I made for a campaign, but I was so proud of it I felt like uploading it here~

While not really a fat fur story, there is some weight gain in it, but I wouldn't call it a fetish story still. Also, I should mention that this campaign takes place in a cyberpunk setting.

I really like writing action and emotional scenes, so this was a ton of fun! It feels great breaking out of my mold once in a while. I'm honestly thinking about making Axel into an actual OC. He wouldn't be ludicrously fat like Denya or Zero, just a swave, albeit slightly pudgy sergal~

I hope you all enjoy!

---

The sudden bright flashes of the neon street lights and banners as he raced by. The quiet purr of his precious ride which rose to a roar whenever he slammed his boot onto the pedal. The steady vibrations that traveled from the steering wheel to his paws, jolting him occasionally as if he were a recharging battery. The feeling of his heart pounding in his chest, almost in sync with the heavy chugging of the engine of his beloved vehicle. The way the blackened night sky blended with the vibrant glows of the towering skyscraper lights; creating a surreal, almost psychedelic scene around him as he drove.

Axel loved it all.

The sergal’s grin never left his wedge-shaped muzzle, even as he threw his steering wheel hard to the right. The tires screeched, the seat shuddered, the car leaving behind a pair of skid marks as it drifted around the impossibly tight corner, yet it made that turn regardless. Slamming his foot back on the gas, Axel felt the sudden g-force push him further into his seat as he sped, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and asphalt.

He didn’t need to see his spedominter to know he was going over twice the legal driving speed of this road. On the outside, he must have looked exactly like how he saw everything else; a brightly colored blurr. It was dangerous; the road was barely wide enough for two cars on its own, even without the dozens of stands and furs lining the side of the street cheering him on. There were obstacles that were never more than five feet away from his car at all times, yet Axel didn’t feel the slightest bit of concern. The sergal had raced down this road dozens of times before he could legally obtain his own drivers license; he could probably race it blindfolded if he really wanted to. In fact, he barely even paid attention to the road in front of him, too busy admiring the reflection of his car on the windows of the closed shops he sped by.

She was a beauty, Axel’s vehicle of choice. Most street racers drove CTD-700 model cars and left them the same factory-colored black, save for a splash of color here and there to make them stand out a bit. Not Axel, though. He preferred the older CTD-550, modified to hell and back to the point where it was completely unrecognizable. The entire vehicle glowed various hues of bright pinks, yellows, and blues; all flashing and alternating colors like a virtual disco ball. He felt like Apollo the sun god, driving his flaming chariot to light up the dim and dreary atmosphere of New Diamond City. The older car was somewhat bulkier than the CTD-700s, but that just meant he had more room to install flashy lights and other colorful decals. Everyone knew that car belonged to him because the front of the CTD-550 ended in a wedge, much like the sergal’s head. In fact, the car itself was the perfect comparison to Axel: Not the fastest, but the flashiest and most-impressive.

Honestly, Axel was considering honking for the audience on the side of the road, who were no doubt cheering and screaming his name at this point, before a sudden ringing brought his mind back to the race. The sergal turned, before groaning as he saw his dashboard flashing bright red, a glowing red phone lighting up his windshield. “Put me through,” he muttered, knowing full well who was on the other end of the Holiphone call.

Unfortunately, he was right. The phone symbol rearranged itself, the red lines quickly snaking across his windshield to resemble the shape of a lion’s head; or at least tried to. The CTD-550’s Holiphone was quite primitive, which meant that calls to a species with a head structure more complicated than a typical canine or feline tended to make them look somewhat distorted. Sure enough, the head on his screen looked more like a house cat with extremely spiky hair rather than the lion with a luscious mane that Axel knew was on the other end of the call. However, even his low quality CTD-550’s Holiphone did a great job of showing that lion’s signature scowl. “You’re losing, Wedge.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” Axel rolled his eyes. Truth be told, he genuinely hadn’t noticed. The sergal was so busy admiring his reflection on the windows that he failed to realize his competitor, a pitch-black CTD-700 with three horizontal gold stripes, was managing a sizable lead ahead of him. “Whoops.”

“Yeah, whoops indeed,” the lion growled; two of the lines making up part of his mane rushing over to his eyes to properly show off that furrowed brow. “I don’t need to remind you that I have 100,000 credits riding on you thrashing this poser, do I? If you don’t win, I will run you over so hard, they will need a shovel to scoop you off the street, do you hear me?!”

“That’s implying you can catch me,” Axel couldn’t help but blurt out. He also couldn’t help but snicker as he saw the lion’s low-poly mane look like a stupid wig as more detail was added to the feline’s fuming face. “I’m kidding, Manny, I’m kidding. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation. They say 1 in 3 car accidents are Holiphone related, ya know.”

The glowing lion head sighed, and Axel swore he saw the one polygon representing Manny’s eyes rolling. “Just hurry up and win this,” the lion muttered before fizzling off his windshield.

The sergal smirked. “That was always the plan, Manny.” Foot on clutch, the cocky racer shifted into a higher gear and sped off, both odometer and speedometer quickly rotating clockwise. This was where the fun began.

With his car rumbling beneath him, Axel slowly managed to bridge the distance between himself and his competitor, but ultimately accomplished little else. The other racer wasn’t a fool, and constantly blocked the sergal off at every chance he got. It didn’t help that they were practically racing down a bottle neck, where it was nearly impossible for two cars to race side by side without causing some sort of damage, either to each other or their surroundings. “I might actually lose this,” Axel chuckled, fender to fender with his competition. “That’d be inconvenient.”

The further they raced, the more Axel realized his competitor was doing practically everything he could to keep the sergal as far away as possible. This was most evident when they finally dove into an abandoned parking garage; the only time the raceway actually widened. Axel had more than enough room on either side of him to pass the other racer, yet every time he made a move, the black car would veer into whatever direction the sergal was steering. Hell, the competitor grazed against a pillar, showering Axel’s car in sparks, just to ensure that the colorful vehicle had no chance in passing. “Well aren’t you being an annoying twat,” Axel muttered under his breath as they rose out from the underground garage, practically flying off the ramp. “And here I was thinking of actually letting you win, too. Guess I gotta end your career before it’s even started.”

Axel was behind and the race was almost over; only a single hairpin turn to go. It was the sharpest turn in the entire race, to the point where any driver would slow down at the sight of it, racing or not. Even Axel’s foot hovered over the break as he saw the food mart stand leading to the turn arise, but he kept his speed stagnant. If the driver in front of him wanted to stay ahead of him, he’d have to match the sergal’s pace; letting Axel ahead now would make his defeat inevitable. Little did that driver know that Axel wasn’t even paying attention to the curb; his eyes were set on a single spot away from the curb.

That spot being a pothole the size of most tires!

Axle barely saw it too; noticing a strange black smudge on the shimmering road before him. The millisecond he saw it, a plan suddenly came to mind, the sergal steering away from the curb and towards the pothole. Out of reflex, the driver ahead of him bolted to the side to cut Axel off, which ultimately determined the fate of the race. At well over 100 mph, the other racer flew into the air for a solid three seconds, spiraling like a pinwheel on a windy day. The resounding crash was a far less pleasant spectacle, the sound of metal scraping deafening to Axel even in his own car. The black car spilled over itself like a tumbleweed, flipping over again and again before slamming itself against the side of an abandoned office complex with enough force to shatter the second story windows, overturned. Axel’s heart dropped at the sight of such a violent wreck, a part of him feeling guilty for partially causing such a wipe out.

For a second.

“Should have just let me pass,” Axel thought to himself. The driver was most likely fine; CTD-700s had excellent airbags, and its internal computer was most likely dialing up emergency services before the car even hit the ground. But now was not the time to worry about his competition; he still had a hairpin turn to make, and he was going well over double the speed he would have liked!

Gritting his teeth, Axel threw the clutch back and slammed on the breaks, forcing the wheel as far left as possible. The resounding screech of the tires was far louder than even the crash had been, the sergal feeling the right half of his car lifting off the ground. If he wanted to, Axel could have lowered the window and ran his claws along the pavement! His heart pounding a mile a minute, Axel willed himself into staying steady throughout the turn; one wrong move could either end with him careening into a building or overturning his precious vehicle. Tighter and tighter the turn, the sergal’s entire body burning with exertion. C’mon….C’mon….

There! He could see down the street again! Axel relaxed his grip on the wheel and brought himself out of the turn, the car thudding back onto four wheels. Finally out of danger, the sergal let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding, suddenly realizing how damp his forehead was with sweat. He knew that maneuver would have been tricky, but that was still far too close for comfort. Everything: the pothole, the crash, the turn; happened all within a couple seconds; Axel was just now properly processing everything that happened.

But he couldn’t worry about it now; he still had a race to win and an image to maintain!

Which is why when he finally crossed the finish line, his car was casually coasting along, the windows rolled down to reveal the smirking sergal fully reclined in his chair with his arms behind his head, his heels resting against the steering wheel.

The crowd practically exploded into cheers, dozens of furs rushing over to take pictures of the sergal, who looked so nonchalant despite the harrowing turn and dreadful crash that appeared just moments earlier. Axel was all too happy to oblige, flashing grins and winks to his swarm of adoring fans, even reaching over to sign a few autographs. He could have sat there all night posing and signing for those grinning furs, were his door not forced open by a familiar lion, whose scowling head looked far more detailed than the low-poly variant on his Holiphone. “You had me worried for a moment, Axel. You could have died back there!”

The sergal’s grin widened as he regarded the looming lion. “Awww, you do care!” he squealed in delight, taking one of the pens from his fans to try and sign on Manny’s crimson mane.

Manny, unamused, flicked the pen out from Axel’s paw and grabbed it, prying the sergal out from his car. “Not for you, idiot! You almost cost me a fortune with that stunt of yours just now. You could have passed that poser a hundred times, yet you went with the most insane, flashy trick I’ve ever seen you do!”

“You act like this is the first time I’ve done something stupid like that,” Axel smirked as he stepped out, wrapping his arm around the lion. Truth be told, his legs were still somewhat shaky after that harrowing experience, yet he dared not show a hint of hesitation anywhere on his body. Instead, he continued shining bright, toothy smiles, waving at the various furs and cameras as he leaned against the lion. With all the attention on him, Axel had to lean in close to whisper to Manny through his parted, grinning lips. “Once word gets around of what happened, imagine how many more furs will be showing up to my races. Bets are gonna go through the roof. I think I’m overdue for a little raise, wouldn’t you say?”

Even without looking, Axel could feel the lion’s stare boring holes through him. Manny hated talking about finances, but only when it came to discussing Axel’s part of the cut, which was the sergal only brought it up when they were surrounded by witnesses. The sergal heard the lion sighed heavily through his nose, before slapping him hard on the back, enough to make the racer wince in pain. “You’re lucky I like you, Wedge. You’ll get a decent bonus, now get out of my sight before I make a scene.”

“You’re a wonderful human being, Manny!” Axel called out, happily striding away from the fuming lion. Soon, he was engulfed in a sea of fans, old and young alike. Some wanted an autograph, others a handshake, or a selfie, or a few questions. And Axel was all too happy to make his fans happy. He had an image to maintain, after all.

You don’t need to be the fastest street racer in New Diamond city to make a killing; being the most popular is more than sufficient! Even if he didn’t win every race he was in, Axel was still the crowd favorite. Most racers were either thuggish brutes or overly-competitive jerks, yet the sergal did everything he could to be approachable and attractive. Whether he’s pulling off insane stunts on the raceway or showing off for his fans, the sergal thrived on the attention he received. He was an entertainer first, and a racer second. Hell, Axel wasn’t even his real name; just a pseudonym he made up to sound that much cooler.

“Hey, is that Axel?”

He heard those words almost everywhere he went, even when he wasn’t near his car. Like his precious CTD-550, Axel did all he could to make himself stand out to his adoring fans. His red and black jumpsuit contrasted hard with his lighter body: his fur a simple light blue with a white face and middle. Of course, it wasn’t his fur or markings on his body that made him stand out; it was his body itself. Outside of being a sergal, a relatively uncommon species, Axel’s chiseled body shone through his skin-tight jumpsuit easily, the tight rubber showing off his broad pecs and riveting abs, his strong biceps and triceps, his toned thighs and calves, down to his shapely rear and nether regions, none of which left much to the imagination. Couple that with a shining smile and a very flossy fur coat, and he had all sorts of furs, male and female, begging to get their paws on him.

His popularity didn’t end with the lower class citizens, either. Plenty of middle and even higher class individuals came to watch his races, most of whom stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd simply because they didn’t wear rags or town fabrics. Axel would always seek them out first, offering plenty of his attention to earn their favor. In return, those wealthier furs would invite him to dinners or parties, yearning for the attention of New Diamond City’s most beloved and beautiful street racer. And at these dinners and parties, Axel would show up wearing even more revealing clothes, a crop top to show off his washboard abs and torn jorts for the view down under. The sergal would throw a few witty comments here and there, dance with others, laugh and joke with others, everything he could to show himself off, save for drink. Instead, he’d bide his time and wait for his new “friends” to enjoy a drink or five before finally coming to them for favors.

“Man, that last race was intense! A shame that asshole did a number on my paintjob in the end. You wouldn’t happen to have a few extra credits lying around to help me fix that, would ya?” Axel would say a variant of that line, or a similar request for some “pocket change.” That pocket change would end up being worth more than a week’s worth of racing once Axel started offering favors in return, such as a ride in his car, or a ride on himself! Men, women, it didn’t matter to the sergal, so long as his partner was satisfied and his pockets were heavy once he left. This was how he made most of his living; Axel often wondered that, if circumstances were different and he were born with more influence, he would have made for a great politician or a business owner.

Axel had spotted one such wealthy individual just now, a pretty mouse girl wearing pearl earrings that looked more valuable than the yearly wages of most furs here! What a fool; it was a miracle she wasn’t mugged from the walk over here! The sergal licked his palm and rubbed it over his fuzzy blue headfur and along his pointy blue ears, his lengthy tail flicking in anticipation. Manny could screw himself; this bonus would be worth more than anything that greedy lion could provide.

But before he could reach that pretty mouse girl, before he could offer her a night she wouldn’t forget, before he could earn himself enough cash to completely redesign his CTD-550, he was interrupted. By Manny, no less.

“C’mon, kid, I’ve got you booked for another race, starting now!”

Axel yelped as he felt a harsh tug on his tail, the lion’s grip strong enough to stop him in his tracks. The sergal turned sharply with a glare, indignant at the rude interruption, looking to see who the hell would want to race him now, especially after what happened to the other racer no more than 10 minutes ago! He looked at Manny, standing with whom he presumed was his new competition, and almost doubled over in laughter.

“HIM?!”

The other racer was no more than 5 feet in height, with a foot of that height being made up by two enormous ears! To say that goofy appearance ended there would be underselling it. Buck teeth, oversized clothes, unkempt hair, chubby body; how could Axel not laugh at the fennec challenging him to a race?! The sergal knew practically every street racer personally, and he had never seen this fox before.

The rest of the crowd joined in with the teasing as well, snickering and throwing shade to the fennec’s dorky appearance. The tiny vulpine didn’t say a word throughout; hardly made a face, in fact. He simply stood by and waited for Axel to finish laughing before finally speaking up. “Are you done? I’d like to get started while I’m still young.”

Axel snorted; even that whiny voice was hysterical! “Pffft, sure thing, kid. Anytime you’re ready.” Still snickering softly, he looked up to Manny, silently mouthing. “You owe me for this!” After all, he just about to score a fantastic night with an oblivious, wealthy mouse just now; to blow it all on a race with a nobody was vexing, despite the laughs. “Alright, kid, where are we racing? Are we driving the length of your ears or gap between them? Either way, I’ll need to refuel if we’re driving that far,” the sergal crossed his arms, the crowd snickering.

“Industrial District: Sector G”

Axel and his fans roared with laughter even harder than before, the sergal actually wiping away a tear with his claw. Sector G was infamous for being a death trap of a course, with a 90% mortality rate. Most of the course took place on a construction site that had been abandoned centuries ago; filled to the brim with rusted metal contraptions that could bend or snap off at a moments notice. The ground hadn’t been paved for just as long, leading to a very bumpy and unstable road, with piles of dust hiding sharp jagged objects that could easily destroy a car going 100+ mph, as well as the person driving it. If that weren’t enough, the area was perfect for crimelords to reside in, as local authorities tend to steer clear of the abandoned area. These crime lords had access to some very deadly and precise weaponry: guns that could lock on and shoot a speeding car would be common for even the lowest grunts! The entire sector was a death trap; no sane street racer had ever dared attempt it in months!

That was why Axel laughed as hard as he did when this tiny fennec suggested such a suicidal drive. And it was also why Axel’s grin slowly faded away when he saw that his new competitor was completely serious. “You...You’re kidding, right?”

The fennec shook his head, wobbling those large ears. “Dead serious.”

What’s worse was that Axel knew he was right. This fennec wasn’t bluffing, nor was he simply being oblivious. He had a look in his eye that shook the sergal down to his very core: the fox was an incredibly experienced driver; either that, or he had some connections with the crime lords in Sector G to make his drive the slightest bit easier.

Hell, Axel actually gulped in fear as he saw the fennec walk away towards his vehicle of choice. It was a Hovercar model Z20! No wonder the sergal didn’t hear the fennec drive up earlier; that model Hovercar was so silent it may as well not even exist! To use it for street racing was like buying an expensive supercomputer just to run Solitaire! Just who was this guy?

“What’s wrong? You’re looking paler than usual, big guy.”

All attention was on Axel now. It wasn’t fair! He was being played hard, and he knew it! His adrenaline was still pumping after his amazing victory, making him cocky. He could just easily say no and go back to the mouse girl from earlier, and the worst he would have gotten was a few jeers and sneers that wouldn’t last longer than a few days. People would forget, and he’d make it up with another few spectacular races. Nothing was at stake here, save for his pride.

So why did he say yes?

“You’re on!” Axel found himself blurting out before he could stop himself, his fear and hesitation currently numbed by his false bravado. “Go strap yourself into your booster seat, tiny. And don’t cry to momma when you break that precious toy of yours,” he gestured to the Hovercar.

The crowd exploded in cheers, and Axel managed to make his way over to his own car without fidgeting or shaking. “I can do this, I can do this,” the sergal whispered to himself; soon enough, he started believing those thoughts. He was a great driver; not the fastest, but definitely the most skilled! The fennec would freak out and drive off the moment things got hairy, which meant he could take things nice and careful! This would be a cakewalk, especially for someone of his skill!

He revved his car and gripped his steering wheel until his knuckles were white. The fennec silently pulled up beside him in his Hovercar, his expression completely neutral. Soon, Manny walked out between them with a flag in his paw. And with a single wave of that flag, the two racers sped off!

---

“Here’s your pie, hun.”

Axel was brought out of his daydream by the plate clattering before him, followed by a delightfully sweet and fruity smell filling his nose. A slow smile spread across the sergal’s wedged muzzle; he couldn’t keep a straight face every time he saw that delicious pie enter his view. “Thank you, Suzie,” he nodded his appreciation towards his waitress, a curvy brown hare.

With that, he licked his lips and slowly dug his fork into his apple pie, purring as he watched the tip of the wedge crumble beneath the weight of his fork. Mama T’s Diner was one of the only restaurants in New Diamond City that still used locally-grown produce for their food; none of the food-replicator crap used practically everywhere else. The difference in taste was subtle, but it was enough to get the sergal hooked, his mouth getting moist just looking at the moist caramelized apple slices filling his fork. Real apples, on real crust; sure, the sugar and cinnamon were still synthesized, but it hardly diminished the apple pie’s superb taste!

Axel had eaten here hundreds of times now, and not once had he grown bored of the delightful taste of Mama T’s famous apple pie. He opened wide to take a bite, ready to lose himself in the fruity sea of flavor, when Suzie spoke up. “I wish you’d tell me what happened.”

The sergal blinked and lowered his fork, looking up to the rabbit waitress. “What do you mean?” He asked innocently, smiling.

“Just what I said, sugar. You always got that look on your face before I bring you your pie. That look hasn’t changed, not once, since the first time you showed up five years ago. I wish you’d tell me what happened.”

Axel heaved a heavy sigh. Being obsessed with appearance as he was, he never realized how he might have looked when he slipped into his usual reminiscing. Judging from Suzie’s worried expression, he must have looked quite sullen indeed. The sergal chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t I just enjoy my pie in peace?”

“I think you’ve been enjoying a few too many pies,” the hare muttered, glancing towards her customer’s middle.

Owch, low blow. Axel’s ears wilted at that last remark, his eyes wandering down on himself. He had...put on a few, over the years. The sergal didn’t quite fit into his brown leather jacket and black undershirt anymore, now that he sported a somewhat soft and bulbous middle. His broad chest was no longer quite as defined and firm as before. Even though his jeans weren’t skinny jeans, they certainly hugged along his wide hips and round rear. Just leaning forward was reminder enough of his increased weight, the sergal wincing whenever the lower helm of his exposed belly accidently rubbed against the cold metallic steel of his prosthetic legs.

Axel smiled again, although that smile was forced. “Consider it a compliment to the chef’s magnificent cooking.” He turned away, once again raising the fork to his mouth.

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there, dear?”

Axel slammed his fist on the table, hard enough to rattle the plate and silverware. “Maybe this is why your diner is empty all the time, Suzie, cuz you won’t stop running your yap!”

The restaurant became eerily quiet, and Axel immediately regretted what he said. That wasn’t fair at all, especially since Suzie hardly said a word to him in the 5 years he had been coming into the diner aside from idle chit-chat. She was trying to help him, he knew and appreciated that, but he didn’t want help. He just wanted some peace and quiet to enjoy his goddamn pie!

Suzie didn’t say a word in response; she simply stood there looking down at the sergal with an expression not even Axel could figure out. The air around them grew stiff and uncomfortable; Axel wished the spotted brown hare would finally walk away and leave him be.

But she didn’t.

Instead, the waitress slowly sat down in the booth, across from the sergal.

Axel glared. “What are you doing?”

“I’m on break,” Suzie responded matter of factly. “And I thought you would like some company.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” the sergal muttered, dismissing the waitress. He didn’t matter anymore; she could be pulling on his ears or tail for all he cared. Axel picked up that forkful of apple pie he had been depriving himself of and finally took the bite. It tasted the same as he remembered: the creamy, sweet, fruity flavor washing over him yet again.

Yet it tasted bitter.

Axel took a second bite, and then a third, longing to be swept off his feet by the delightful flavor yet again. Nothing. He wasn’t reminiscing about his past anymore, or about his glory days, all the times he was showered with praise and attention, others begging him just to look at them. There was no getting lost in the deliciousness of his pie either, his mind too murky and clouded to even enjoy the tantalizing flavor anymore. It was just him, painfully aware that he was just a nobody sergal sitting in a booth, eating a pie.

Alone.

The fork gradually felt heavier the longer he ate, the pie now tasting like cardboard on his tongue. He suddenly thought about the racer who crashed in that race with him all those years ago. The sergal simply assumed he made it out alive after the ambulance came in the past, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about that poor victim. Was he traumatized? Humiliated? Did he still have all his limbs? Were his friends still there to support him after the crash? Most importantly, why didn’t Axel stop and check if he was ok? That night could have ended so, so much better if he had taken the time to get over his own bloated ego and helped the crash victim. Things would have been better for the both of them.

Axel’s eyes flickered up to find the bunny sitting there patiently, still watching him eat. Why? Was it to mock him? No, her face showed no signs of pride or mischief; the hare’s brow was slightly furrowed like a concerned friend. Why? What did Axel do to deserve her pity? She treated him no differently than any other customer when he first showed up 5 years ago, and showed no sign of recognizing the famous street racer. Then why was she here? Why was she bothering her time with someone who looked sad, when he himself didn’t even bother to check on a racer who possibly died right in front of him? Why was she so concerned with a loser, a nobody, a fat waste of space? Why would anyone feel pity for someone who used their fame and body to manipulate people?!

Why, why, WHY!?!

The fork fell from Axel’s paws, landing with a clank on the crumb-covered plate. The sergal couldn’t see clearly anymore, the half-eaten pie now just a blurry smudge in his vision. All those regrets and fears bubbled up to the surface, something he had been trying to bury for years with delicious food. His mouth was dry, his throat hoarse, but he slowly opened his mouth, trying to say something, anything to end this horrid silence. “I’m...never driving again.”

“No one said you had to, sugar.”

Axel trembled, his metal legs creaking at the joints. “Driving...racing...was everything to me.”

Two arm paws clasped his own trembling paw, as if squeezing out the tears hiding in his eyes. One by one they flowed, hot and steamy, down the edges of his wedged muzzle. Axel sobbed silently, taking short gasps of air. For once in his life, he was glad no one else could see him now. Defeated, a total loser, someone without a purpose. He cried, not just for himself, not for the crippling amount of fear he now regarded driving, but for those he humiliated and ruined for his own self gain.

And Suzie, sweet and wonderful Suzie, sat with him, holding his paw and stroking his arm gently. He slowly looked up to her, looking like a complete mess. He was chubby, his fur had lost some of its sheen, his nose runny, his face covered in pie crust, yet she looked at him without a hint of judgement in her expression. Silently, she reached for the napkin dispenser beside the table and offered the sergal a sheet. Axel gratefully took it to wipe his face as the hare spoke. “There’s an old saying I grew up with, years and years before I moved to New Diamond City. ‘When you fall off your horse, you stand back up, and get right back on that horse.’ My momma used to tell me that every time I got frustrated.”

The sergal sniffed and matted up the napkin, reaching for another. “Not this horse, Suzie...I never want to ride that horse again.” Axel stared down, bright-red images flashing through his mind like a photo album, a finger reaching down to rub where his legs ended and prosthetics began.

Suzie smiled. “Then don’t.”

Axel blinked, and slowly looked up, confused by this new logic. Suzie patted the sergal’s paw. “New Diamond City is a damn big rodeo, hun, I’m sure you can find another horse to ride here. Maybe you’ll find the strength to climb back on your old horse, and maybe you won’t, but that’s not to say you’re all done riding. Find another horse, tame her, and if she bucks you off or don’t feel right, then find a different one. You’re gonna find one that’s gonna stick eventually, sugar.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Suzie chuckled. “Then at least you would have tried.” And with that, she stood up and returned to the counter, but not without giving her customer a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Axel was alone, his mind racing. Slowly, the sergal came to understand what the hare was trying to say. Who said his story ended here? Who said his entire life had to be confined to just racing? He was still in the prime of his youth. He had contacts. He even had some leftover money still! It wasn’t too late to change things, to right his wrongs, to discover something new about himself! For the first time in a very long time, Axel found himself genuinely smiling to himself. There was still an adventure out there calling to him!

But first, he finished his apple pie. No reason to let good food waste, after all.