Ashton stared openly at Sonja. Had she heard the other girl properly? The words made sense, but the reason for them was quite strange.

"Excuse me?" asked Ashton in surprise. "What do you mean come outside?"

Sonja rose to her feet then looked down her nose at the overly-amorous store manager. "You know exactly what I mean, or is it that you aren't worthy of joining this family?"

Scott shook his head slightly then tried to speak, but Ashton shot forward in her seat. "What do you mean worthy? Join this family? We don't even know each other like that!"

The cool mask that once formed Sonja's expression tightened then twisted into one of great fierceness. "You do not know each other like that? What foolishness."

She straightened her back and thrust out her chest decisively. "You come to my master's house with the stench of your perfume all over his body, but you do not know him in that way? Are you also a slave, or do your legs fly apart for any man who will lower his standards enough to accept you?"

Ashton shot to her feet with a feral snarl. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Scott, his eyes wide. He had never heard Ashton sound like that before! Was it a turn on, or was it the pheromones? It was impossible to tell.

Neither of the girls paid him any mind as they drew close, each bearing fierce expressions. They pressed close to each other, their bodies tight and muscles lightly straining from the efforts each of them made not to lash out in the moment.

Scott called out, "Hey! You two need to stop this right now!"

Once again, he was ignored. After a tense moment between the two girls, Scott snorted at them both then waddled toward the kitchen.

"Did you just grow a spine underneath all of that baby fat?" asked Sonja with a sneer.

"Yeah. I did." Ashton began to channel her bitchy college years in the sorority in that moment. Her adrenaline had not surged so hotly since the last time that she had seen Starbucks give away buy one get one free pumpkin spice lattes.

Sonja leaned in closer, her lips practically touching Ashton's nose. "Is that so?"

"Damn right," said Ashton as she leaned in closer, her words a mean-spirited whisper.

"Speaking as though you have steel in your bones, are we? Who do you think you are little nameless fox?" asked Sonja as her lips formed an even deeper sneer. In her eyes this girl was no fighter, despite her physicality. It was clear that she was little more than a diversion for Scott, one who had greatly overstepped her position.

Ashton did not back off in that moment even as Sonja's sweet warm breath kissed her face. For most of her life people had underestimated her, or worse actively undermined her. Dumb blond jokes, or rude comments about her breasts aside, no one expected her to do more than marry well and have some man's children. Women who looked like her were never successful based on their own merits. Clearly her pouty lips and ample breasts were the soul reason anyone took notice of what most would assume to be her mediocre talents.

Over time Ashton grew to see the attributes that others mocked as some of her greatest tools. She weaponized her feminine attributes and made them work for her, instead of allowing them to work against her interests. People would use any excuse to tear someone down who seemed to have an advantage in life without ever realizing the fact that their instant hatred of that person was itself a detrimental aspect of their life.

As a child she went from cute in the right light, to problematic for the good order of the student body practically overnight. At an early age she began to blossom into womanhood. Everyone from foolishly aggressive and perennially stupid boys to former female friends, who did not like the fact that their somewhat cute girl friend had morphed into a dangerous rival, tried to tear her down. Even some female teachers began to take notice of the woman whom she would one day become. They began to demand that she wear baggy clothing to school. Their reason? It was to maintain order and prevent the male students from becoming distracted by her presence.

In this moment when Ashton stood nose to lips with the most glamorous amazonian woman she had ever seen, a rapidly shifting kaleidoscope of old memories surfaced. Eleven years old and already in possession of a body similar to someone in their late teens who had been particularly blessed by genetics, she had walked past a small cluster of teachers smoking in the parking lot. Their laughter caught her ears.

Ashton was a sweet child, and loved to laugh. The sound of laughter caused her to smile warmly, but her own rising smile was quickly smashed when she heard their topic of conversation. According to them she thought herself to be something special. She was a slut who enjoyed riling up all of the little boys and shaking her ass for attention.

She had cried alone in her bed that night, inconsolable. Her parents were too busy with work to help her deal with such things, or even file a complaint with the school. The only thing that brought her any solace was her musical heroine and youthful girl crush, Britney Spears. Much like a cool big sister who sang even cooler songs, and even sort of looked like her. Beautiful, confident, Britney fierce! She saw in early 2000s era Britney everything that she wanted to become in life

Two years passed as Ashton tried to forget what those teachers said about her, but her life would not allow for it. Things grew worse. The boys got older, but for some reason they also became even dumber than before. The girls snickered about her behind her back, but were even worse when they did it openly and loudly enough for her to hear what they said. The baggy clothes that she wore wear a sign of her inferiority. However, as the last year of middle school started she noticed something. The other girls began to develop certain attributes as well, however they were not forced to wear baggy clothing.

Over the course of the next few months, the jeers and constant bullying wore on her greatly. Her parents continued to lack the interest needed to help her, and the school did not seem interested in doing so either. Little Ashton hated the girl that she saw in the mirror. By all conventional beauty standards she was ahead of the curve, but instead of being celebrated like some of the other girls in her school were treated, she was hated and bullied. Worse, her treatment made it so that she grew to hate herself even more.

Just like many times in the last few years, it was the song stylings of Britney Spears that helped her through it. One day, heartbroken because the boy she sort of almost kind of liked but certainly was not interested in as anything but a friend, decided to play a cruel prank on her. After school she fell into bed with her clothes on and stared up at the ceiling with her little vulpix plush toy in her arms and cried. One of Britney's songs, I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman, began to play on the radio.

As her idol's voice washed over her she had closed her eyes and realized that it was OK not to know what to do. It all came up in that moment, all the hate and the pain. All of the memories of the people in her life who failed to be there for her, or did not like her without even knowing her, and the things that they did. It all came back to little Ashton that day. Over the course of that weekend she went through a transformation.

Adult Ashton relived that pain at warp speed as she stared into the eyes of yet one more girl who thought she could look down on her. Little Ashton went back to school that Monday, infused with the fierceness of Britney, and she did not wear baggy clothes. She took mommy's credit card, for emergencies only, and went to school dressed in a style much like her idol.

Heeled shoes, tight skirt, a reasonable attempt at proper makeup application, and exuding far more confidence than she had ever truly felt in her life, she was as close to flawless as a thirteen year old girl without proper direction on such matters could be. Dressed in a way that could have waited at least a few more years, she wore her battle armor both with pride and alongside a confident smile that hid her nervousness. Young Ashton strode through the halls of middle-school academia like she owned the place and dismissed her haters as though they were nothing.

They tried to send her home, but neither of her parents could be reached. Britney Spears-Lite sat outside the principal's office with a smirk on her lips and her arms crossed confidently. It was the beginning. The little worker bee who did what she was told for the good of the hive had begun an unheard of evolution. Little Ashton would soon become a queen.

It all came back to her, the fierceness of her younger self and the moment that she rose-up and cast off all of the bullshit that her peers and supposed authority figures pushed onto her. Life since college had torn at that self-confidence and formerly unshakeable will. No more! Ashton stared deep into the eyes of yet another girl who dared to look down on her, to think herself to be her better.

Ashton shoved hear face forward and pressed her forehead to Sonja's. "What's my name?" she asked while the other girl reacted and pressed her head forward as well. Like two rams butting heads and trying to force each other back they tensed and strained. They pushed each other back and forth briefly, though it was clear that in terms of pure physical strength Sonja held an advantage.

They flew apart a moment later both of them snarling hatefully, while anger burned in their eyes. The fox girl's lips drew back in the feral imitation of a smile. Her inner Britney was unleashed in that moment as her eyes began to practically sparkle with charismatic star power. Her fangs glinted in the light, as she adopted a warm and cheerful tone of voice. "It's Ashton, bitch."

Sonja stared at her casually. In that moment, the bit of fluff that she thought the girl to be was revealed to be a ruse. Beneath her pouty lips and pheromones was a woman who might have potential. "Is Ashton a name that I should know?"

The fox girl's nostrils flared and then her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're about to know it."

Ashton was not the only woman in the room with sparkling eyes. Shara looked back and forth between them, her mouth wide and eyes positively alive with excitement. It was going to happen!

"If you have the guts to back that up, follow me outside." Sonja snorted derisively and turned to the door, but quickly spun back in place as Ashton's hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"No, bitch. You follow me," she said with a sneer that somehow managed to be cute and charismatic.

Sonja stared into her eyes for a moment. In them she saw only resolved. Slowly, her eyes slid down to the hand on her shoulder. In truth, the grip strength was something even a child of her kind could muster, but the fact that the little fox was so determined to show her strength now won her over. Sonja opted not to rip her arm off and beat her to death with it right there in her master's living room. "By all means, lead on then..."

A soft beeping noise pierced the air as they started toward the door. The three girls looked up, surprised by the intrusion. On the kitchen counter stood Scott. They watched in idle fascination as he opened the microwave door and pulled out a bag of popcorn. He looked to them as he opened the bag and continued to look at them while he poured the contents into a big white bowl.

No one spoke for a moment, and then without speaking Ashton and Sonja went outside. Scott watched them leave then looked over to Shara. "I have another bowl if you want some."

"Can't we share?" she asked him sweetly.

"Not without a battle royale it seems," he said with a mildly amused snicker.

"Hot girls fighting over you isn't your thing?" she asked him lightly.

Scott snorted loudly in derision. "I'm pretty dense about this kind of thing, but I'm sure this was never really about me."

Shara laughed at him then winked and rose to her feet. She practically skipped out the door ahead of him.

Popcorn in paw, Scott trotted out into the yard. As much as the guy he used to be wanted to stop all of this foolishness, another part of him actually understood what was truly happening between Ashton and Sonja. Their desire to fight was not about anger, not really. It was about pride, the pride in one's self and in those whom one will admit they associate with in public. He was just the prize trophy for the winner to brag about and possibly cuddle if he didn't burst into tears at the mere touch of a woman.