A/N: Thanks guys, SO MUCH for liking this story, I've really made progress as a writer, thanks to you guys' critique! I love your (sometimes) patience, and your pleading reviews to continue with the story. Plz continue to fave and alert! Thx sooo much againnn! I am also doing Chapter Requests; review or PM if you would like clarification/a chapter describing an event/details. (:

After school, Amy headed to the Loca Moca! Coffee shop to meet up with Scourge. As she walked, Amy looked around to make sure her Mom's car wasn't coming up the street. But . . . it's not like she would, though. Mrs. Rose, weighing in at 317 pounds and growing to a height of 6-foot-9, could NOT ride in the small-ish truck that Mr. Rose had left behind—therefore, Amy had to walk a mile to the local grocery store and get some cheap, oily chips and stuff like that.

The sound of a loud motorcycle broke into Amy's thoughts. It putted to a stop a foot away from her, idling in the bike lane. A neon green hedgehog flicked his sunglasses up onto his forehead, then gestured for Amy to get on the bike.

"Hop on." Scourge croaked, his voice probably scratchy from a coughing fit. Cigarettes. "Sit in front of me, though." He grinned crookedly.

Amy stepped on the bike and sat in front of Scourge. She knew it was a bad idea, but it wasn't like she was going to sleep with him or anything. . . .

Scourge crossed his legs over hers, then stretched them back to reach the pedals. She couldn't move if she wanted to. He put one hand on a polished handle, and the other on her boob.

"Hey, Freak! Hands off, damnit!" Amy shrieked, struggling hopelessly. When Scourge's grip finally got too tight, Amy gave up.

"Hmm . . ." Scourge hummed pensively. "Water Bra . . . C38."

Amy gasped as he pulled the motorcycle into a lane and accelerated, his hand still on her boob. As Scourge drove to a highway, Amy frowned. A "longcut" to the Loca Moca!.

Amy's thoughts drifted to her Mom. Mrs. Rose used to be a princess, like a purified Amy—at least until she "saw the world." Pink quills now dyed a barfy jet black and cut horribly short; a nasty good-cheese smell; and a love for blood. Amy had gotten her blue-green eyes from her Dad. Mom, however, had deep purple eyes. At first glance, they looked like they belonged on Knuckles, but a closer look reassured you that hatred and willpower had been injected into these eyes.

Mrs. Rose also wore Amy's trademark dress . . . except it looked like it belonged to a gangster-slash-hobo. It had elbow-length sleeves and was a rotting-mayonnaise color: A white, green, and blue mixture that smelled like good cheese. Ick. It fell 5 inches or so below the waist, which was NOT good for a woman Mrs. Rose's size. Black boots with spikes along the middle tower up near her knees.

~Amy's POV~

"We're here." Scourge murmured as his hand left my aching breast, but he clutched my arm tight as he dismounted the bike. Hmm. He had parked behind the building, where the only objects were a dumpster and a grimy door leading out here. No windows. . . .

He slammed my back against the brick wall and began stroking my breasts. A patch of duct tape quickly stopped my cries for help, and took out two pairs of handcuffs. With one pair, he chained me to one bar of the dumpster, and he did the same for the other side as well.

"MMM! HM!" I yelled, my mouth burning from the tape.

Scourge paid no attention to my objection. He just unzipped my dress and slid it off. BASTARD! I tried to yell, but it came out like "MM-FMM!"

Scourge did bad things to me. Really bad. At times, I loved the physical feeling, but my soul was shattering at the emotional feeling. I'll never forget what he did to me.

That night in bed, I didn't dare get conceited and try not to wake up Mom. I was planning for a job in the near future so I could buy more dresses and a bigger bra. Ouch.

And, ah, tomorrow. Hmm hmm hmm. The day that Cream would be . . . creamed. I had already plotted nice injury for her—but it's a surprise, so I can't tell you! You'll just have to review to find out. . . .