As you look to the skies, you start to feel a bit stupid.. But you should probably keep that under wraps.
Can't let the little guy detect weakness. It would crush him.
Wipe the blood off your muzzle and onto the fur on your left forearm.
"Right," you sez, you sez. "That was all part of the plan. I told you I knew what I was doing."
"No, you didn't. You said that-"
"Nevermind what I said, boy. What I say and what I do are completely different things."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"I'm not sure you ever will," you sez, you sez.
You look to the sky and wonder how he managed to appear out of nowhere. Gaze dropping downward to notice the people gathering around in the street.
"You start to wonder what in the name of god you're supposed to do next."
"Are you talking to yourself?"
"Yes. No. What was the question?"
"Are you talking to yourself?"
"We need to call Boobles. Clue him in on this disastrophe."
"Don't you mean disaster? Or catastrophe?"
"No," you sez, you sez. "No, I don't."
"Tails?" Your little buddy asks, timidly.
"Yep?"
"I think you have a drinking problem," he sez, he sez.
"The only drinking problem I have is that there isn't a whiskey in my hand."
"That's not what I meant."
"Is there a payphone around here?"
"Oh, yeah, baby," the stripper sez into the receiver, leaning against the payphone and looking at her fake plastic nails. "When I get home, I'm gonna make your pinky alllllll stiiiiinkyyyyy."
You can't help but slightly be aroused by the pink hedgehog in the schoolgirl outfit. Talking dirty to someone while on break from shaking her titties.
Just your kind of whore.
"Okay," she sez, she sez. "I love you, too. Bye."
She hangs up the phone and turns to walk away, but you have to say something to stop her. It's in your blood, and more importantly, your loins.
Your burning, erect loins.
"Your boyfriend know you're stripping?" you ask.
"Girlfriend," she sez, smirking.
"Even better," you reply. "You want a little meat action on that sexy little sammich? I'm an awesome multitasker."
"Thanks, but no thanks. You're just not my type."
"Whaaaaaat? Don't dig on fox? That's just racist."
"I don't dig on dick, boy," she sez, she sez.
"I could change that sexy little mind of yours with the head of my throbbing member against the inside walls of your tight little cunt."
"My girlfriend takes care of that just fine," she sez, she sez.
"Strapons?"
"No. Yes."
"You ever pitch, or do you just catch?"
"We trade off," she sez, she sez.
"You ever slap her in the face with it?"
"Nooooo. Yes. Jesus, how do you know this shit?"
"I've been around the block a few times," sez you, sez you. "Isn't it empowering?"
"Slapping a girl in the face with a fake cock?"
"Kinda, yeah. Your cock, specifically. Isn't having a cock in general empowering?"
"It kinda is," she sez, she sez, blushing. "What's your name?"
"Tails," you sez, you sez. Suavely.
"THE Tails?"
"You know of any super sexy foxes with two tails?"
"No. No, I don't s'pose I do."
"What's your name?"
"Amy," she sez, she sez. "Amy Rose."
"THE Amy Rose?"
"You've... heard of me?"
"No," you sez, you sez, chuckling. "I'm just fucking with you. How about a private dance later?"
"You got money?" she asks, raising her eyebrow.
"Honey, I'm Tails. I've got a stack of one-dollar mobiums with your name on it," you say, winking.
"My," she sez, she sez, sarcastically. "You really know how to impress a lady."
"Bitch, Impressive is my middle name."
"What's your last name?"
"The Fox," you sez, you sez. "My whole name is Tails Impressive, The Mothefucking Fox. Baby."
"So, wait, is your last name Baby?"
"No, it's The Fox," you sez, you sez. "Don't you listen?"
"I heard somewhere that your real name was Miles Prower."
"That's a lie perpetuated by the liberal media."
"What's a liberal media?"
"Fuck if I know. What's your stripper name?"
"Bubbles."
"Bubbles?"
"Bubbles. Like the champagne."
"I'll ask for you," you say, picking up the receiver and shoving coins into the dirty phone's slot.
You punch some buttons with numbers on them and it rings until he answers. And shit.
"Hey, Boobles."
"Don't call me that, Tails."
"We found him. We found Snively."
"Yeah, I know," he sez, he sez. "The entire city of Mobotropolis found him."
"If I were you, I'd call the city Mobamatropolis. But that's just me, though."
"Cut the shit, Tails. What are you going to do about it?"
"You want me to... make a poopie?" you ask, confused.
"What?"
"You told me to cut the shit. Is that, like, cutting a fart? Only with, like, you know. Poop."
"Jesus Christ, Tails."
"Calm down, Boobles," you sez, you sez. "I'm just fucking with you. What's a Jesus Christ, anyway?"
"Well, in my culture-"
"Nevermind. Don't care. Don't even want to. We need to enlist the help of Mister Hands.
"Jesus Christ, you don't mean-"
"It's Tails. And yes, before you ask, he's probably still totally pissed off at me."
"This can't be a good idea, Tails."
"Don't question me, Boobles. You don't tell me how to do my job, and I won't tell your black ass how to do the C-Walk."
"What the fuck is a C-Walk?"
"I dunno," sez you, sez you. "It's supposed to be popular amongst African American youth."
"I have no idea what that means."
"Neither do I," you sez, you sez.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Tails."
"Me, too, Boobles."
"That's not reassuring. Like, at all."
"It never was and always will be. Peace, love and fried chicken," you say, hanging up. "Now, about that private dance."
"So, baby, how would you like to go on an adventure?" you ask, while she grinds her ass against your manhood.
"What kind of adventure?" she asks, not missing a beat. My, this 'hog can grind.
And grind she does.
"The kind where we kill Snively again and become heroes. And maybe you blow me while your girlfriend tickles my scrotum."
"That sounds sexy. Except for that last part."
"Mmmmm... What's your girlfriend's name?"
"Sally," she sez, she sez.
"She a 'hog, like you?"
She stops grinding you and slaps you in the face, which, oddly enough, turns you on more.
"Oh, my," you sez, you sez. "Do that again. I think I just found my new kink."
"It's hedgehog, dick. And you said I was the racist one."
"Sorry, jeez. Hedgehog. I was abbreviating. Is she a hedgehog?"
"No, she's a squirrel," she sez, she sez, resuming her grinding.
"Ah. I see. A nut-hoarder. Ironic that she'd be a lesbian, and all."
SLAP.
"Did you listen to a single fucking word I said?"
"Yeah, actually," you sez, you sez. "I did that on purpose. I just wanted you to slap me in the face again. My god, that is fucking hot."
"You're fucked up," she sez, she sez, flatly. Grinding you.
"Don't I know it. Think I could get a handy?"
"I'm a stripper, not a hooker," she sez, she sez.
"That wasn't the question. Happy ending? That was the question."
"The answer is no."
"Balls."
You're staring at Amy's tits while Sonic tries to start up The Tornado.
"Could you, uh. Could you not do that?"
"Not do what?" you sez, you sez.
"Stare at my tits? It's making me uncomfortable."
"Oh, that. I'm just reading your shirt. Trying to read your shirt, that is. Your tits are in the way."
"My shirt doesn't say anything."
"Yeah, I know," you sez, you sez. "But there's an awful purdy set of boobs hanging out under there. Can I touch them?"
"No," she sez, she sez.
That's when the engine kicks on. She starts shouting at you, but you can't understand what she's trying to convey to you.
"WHAT?"
"WHERE. ARE. WE. SUPPOSED. TO. SIT?"
You respond by grabbing her forearms and working your ass muscles.
By the time you fly her up to the top set of wings, she's screaming about something and your buttcheeks are sore.
You're out of breath, too.
"Perhaps you should work out more."
"WHAT?" she calls out.
"HOLD ONTO ME," you sez, you sez. "TIGHT. Nnnnh."
The biplane takes off as she squeezes your forearms to brace for the G's. You've done this many times before, so, obviously, you're okay.
The rush even gets you off a little.
That's when and why it happens.
"-OULD OO AH~ONER?"
"WHAT?"
"COULD YOU NOT HAVE A BONER?"
It's the adrenaline. Don't worry about it.
And that's when you grab her tits.
"Here, you're gonna want one of these sweaters," you sez, you sez, handing out a woolen top in each hand while wearing one yourself. "It's fucking cold out here."
Amy just stares at you with her arms crossed.
"I wouldn't be caught dead in that thing."
"Your loss," you sez, you sez, putting the extra one on over your own while Sonic puts his on. Like a good little slut.
"It's your fault we're in this mess."
"Hey, now. The plane crashed because you jumped off of the wing and into the cockpit. Somehow."
"I was blinded," Sonic adds, earnestly.
"By her tits, right?" you sez, you sez, throwing your arms into the air. "Thank god I'm not the only one."
"I, uh-" Sonic starts.
"You mean the tits you manhandled, causing this accident?"
"Yeah, those tits. Only, how could you possibly have a set of boobs that magnificent and not expect people to grab them from time to time? I mean, like, how selfish are you?"
"Fuck you," she sez, she sez, turning around.
"What, like, in the butt? You want me to put it there? Is that why you turned around while you said that? I don't have any lube. Well, I suppose I could spit on it. You know. To lube it up a little bit."
She sighs, disgustedly, and walks away from you.
"Her loss," you say to Sonic, shrugging. "She's gonna get all cold and shit and come begging for this sweater. And for my cock. And I'm not gonna give it to her."
"Tails?"
"Nnnn'yesss?"
"Why did you bring a stripper on this mission?"
"To, uh. Keep my spirits up? Yeah, we'll go with that one."
"I don't think she likes you," Sonic sez.
"Pfft. Fuck that. She loves me. Know how I know, little bro?"
"How's that?"
"Eye contact, bro. Eye contact."
"But you make eye contact with everyone you come in contact with. Even me."
"Slow your roll, cowboy. Closest you and I are getting is at opposite ends of Little Miss Slutbag over there."
"I thought she was a stripper."
"Same diff, bro. You wanna run the train on her with me later?"
"Run the... train?"
"Eh, you'll find out when you're ready. Any chance in hell on you fixing that there Tornado, there?"
"Tails," he sez, he sez. "It exploded."
You stare at the blackened wreckage for a moment before snapping out of your daze.
"Oh yeah," you sez, you sez. "I suppose it did."
"Tails?"
"Yeah, little buddy?"
"Are we gonna die?"
You look around at your desolate surroundings of the snowy mountains around you and you think for a moment.
"Honestly? Probably, yeah. We're probably gonna die here, little bro."
That's when Sonic begins to cry like a little girl.
You're pissing your name into the snow with golden letters when you hear her stuttering voice.
"T-tails?"
"Finally come crawling back to Big Papa Tails to plug your pooper, eh? I don't blame you," you sez, you sez, dotting your i with a controlled spurt of urine. "I don't blame you. I have that effect on most bitches. You're not Mormon, are you?"
"N-no, you fucking retard. My c-clothes..."
"Too skimpy for the mountains, right? Should have taken the sweater."
"F-froze. Shattered off my b-body."
"Wait, you're naked?" you ask, quickly turning around to see her curled up into a ball in the snow, covering her tits with her knees. Shaking. Almost violently.
Hello, intrigue.
"Quickly," you sez, you sez, rubbing your hands together in a dastardly fashion. "Lay flat on your stomach. I must warm you up with frictions."
"Just give me the sweater, you shithead."
"You said you wouldn't be caught dead in this sweater. I'm afraid it's written in my code to never let a stripper lie to herself. Nope, we'd better have sex. Buttsex, to be precise."
"No," she sez, she sez, through chattering teeth. "N-not that. Never that."
"Well, I can't let you just die, now, can I? It's not in my blood, see. I'll think of something."
"Give me the fucking sweater. Please. I'm gonna fucking die, I know it."
"Nonononononooo. We've already ruled that one out, remember?"
"Noooo," she whines.
Thinking critically, you come up with a solution to get you both out of this pickle you're in.
"Amy," you sigh, you sigh. "I'm gonna have to poop on you."
"WHAT?" she shrieks. "No. NO!"
"It's the only way. I mean, unless buttsex is still an option."
"Just kill me fast," she cries, she begs, sobbing into her knees, face buried between her sexy, sexy legs. " Just fucking put me out of my misery, so I don't have to suffer!"
"This is for the better. For your own good," you sez, you sez, pulling your trousers down and struggling with your belt.
"Wait, when did you start to wear pants?"
"Wh-what? Are you talking to yourself right now?"
"Hold still," you sez, you sez, reassuringly. "I'm just gonna scrub you down with mookie stinks. It won't hurt a bit, I promise. Honest injun."
"No! Nooooo!"
She's weakly trying to crawl away in vain, but your walking speed is too fast for her.
You approach her with the lightning quickness of a snail's pace, line the rim of your pants up with the bottom of your buttcheeks, lift your tails, and hose her down with hot diarrhea.
"Oh, shit," you sez, you sez. "You get to be my age, and you start praying for solid poop."
Amy is screaming and crying and incoherently babbling when Sonic excitedly skips up to the two of you.
"You guys! You guys! We don't have to freeze to death! I made a sled out of the wreckage of the biplane! We're saved again by The Tornado!"
"That's awesome, little buddy!" you exclaim, pulling your pants up, buckling the belt and raising your right hand up as high as you can. "High five, little bro!"
But he leaves you hanging. Like always.
Tilting his head to the side and staring at you with a confused expression on his face.
"Why is Amy crying?" he asks, timidly. Again. "And what's that all over her body?"
"That's poop, little guy," you sez, you sez, leaning as close as you can to his underdeveloped face and resting your tired hands on the boy's tiny little shoulders. "And a stripper that isn't crying? Well, that's like Santa Clause in flip-flops! Standing next to a barbecue, even!"
"Tails?"
"Mmm?"
"What's a Santa Clause?"
"You got me!" you sez, you sez. "But I've got a boner a mile long just thinking about it!"
