Fan Fiction Friday: Tails and Amy in “What’s the Story, Morning Glory?”

I really hadn’t realized I’d posted two watersports fan fics in three weeks until a few concerned and disgusted TR readers pointed it out. You all have my apologies. Obviously, it’s time to get back to what FFF does best — which is videogame characters raping each other. For that, I’ve turned to our old pal Harley Quinn Hyenaholic (of the memorable Jazz-molesting-Bumblebee story), who does not disappoint (it horrifies, but does not disappoint. Here, Tails sets the scene:

You might be interested to know that after Robotnik killed himself, we
weren’t heroes any more. Well, we were still heroes, but it was the
past, pure and simple. Nobody cared about us any more. Nobody needed us
to save their world, see? I guess we never realised how much we relied
on the world being grateful towards us for saving their butts.

You might be interested to know that was when the real problems began.

I might, but I’m not. Go figure!

The story’s already spread all over Station Square. All over the city.
And being so well known, well, that only helps the story spread. All my
so-called friends know it, and have been subtly avoiding me. Making
excuses. All because of the story.

What’s the story?

What’s the story, morning glory?

I’m gay.

And I only found out two days ago in a different bar, when some drunken
hobo staggered up to me and asked me to come home with him. I told him
I wasn’t gay. The entire bar burst into derisive laughter. God, that
was so humiliating. The fight that started because of that drunk was
pretty humiliating too.

I know who spread the rumour. There’s only one person with a really good reason to do it.

This is all Amy’s fault.


I even know why she did it. It’s the reason for all the stupid things
she’s been doing lately. Making herself look prettier with makeup,
trying to lose weight with boxercise, writing dumbass love letters. You
can always tell which ones are from her. She sprays them with Eau de
Rose. Probably. All perfumes smell the same to me. And if that fails,
she always writes on pink paper. With red ink. And dots the ‘i’s with
little hearts.

I don’t even know why I noticed any of it. Just that I did, perhaps
because it was pushed into my face. But I don’t love her. I’ll never
love her. Not even if she took back all that shit she said. Which she
won’t. Not now.

But she might after I’m done with her.

Oh dear. Hit the jump like you might hit a lying bitch female hedgehog to continue.

Tails mutters to himself for quite some time in his best Rorschach style; people avoid him (lots of homophobia in Sonic Town, apparently), Tails gets fired from his job, and he continues to blame Amy. He does get drunk in a strip club, where he ogles a stripper cat, and later wakes up in a pool of his own vomit. Eventually, he heads to Amy’s house to scream obscenities at her from outside. I’m fast-forwarding through all this, because I want to get right to the scarring:

I swear, I couldn’t stand it any more. The jeering. People avoiding me.
All because of the lies Amy told. The more I deny it, the more they
think it’s true.

It’s about 2 in the morning now. Breaking into Amy’s apartment was a
breeze with my skills. Then I start walking around her house. Car keys,
low calorie candy, makeup, I’m careful to put them all back where I
picked them up from. I take a large knife from her kitchen and hide it
in my coat. I don’t know why. I just do.

I go into Amy’s bedroom next. It’s pink to the extreme. There’s drawers
full of clothes, and pictures of hearts and Chao everywhere. Pictures
of Amy too. It’s mildly sickening. Fucking vain bitch.

I open one of Amy’s dresser drawers at random. Nothing interesting in
here. I try another one. This one is more promising. I push my hands
into Amy’s underwear, sifting through them. White, red and pink. Lots
of pink. It’s curiously exciting, the prospect of getting caught. I
pull out a random piece of underwear. A bra. I look at it for a few
seconds, then drop it, and pick out something else. Knickers. After a
few seconds, I smell them. They smell of cleanness. Not Amy. Not yet.
That’s nice, I suppose.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!” There’s a high pitched screech behind me. I whip
around. Amy is staring at me. She looks furious, “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU

“Uh…” Isn’t it obvious? Even a dumb bitch like Amy should know. I’m
being a pervert. But I don’t feel up to saying that right now though.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!” Amy slaps me, or at least she moves
to slap me. I catch her hand. She tries to slap me with her other hand.
I catch that one too. Geez, I’m fast, “GET OUT, GAYBO!” she screams.


“Want to know something? You’re actually quite beautiful,” I whisper, pinning her down roughly.

“Th-thankyou…” she stammers. She’s suddenly terrified. I can tell.
But she isn’t half as terrified as she should be. I grab a handful of
her spikes and pull her head back, kissing her heavily. Then I pull the
knife out of my coat and press it against her neck. I revel in her
expression. Now that’s fear.

Not coincidentally, I also had an utter expression of fear while reading this.

“So I’m gay, am I?” I say, throwing aside my hat, showing my ears.

I pull off her bra roughly. Then her knickers. Now she’s stark naked.
Now I know why I noticed before. I am, most definitely, not gay. I roll
her onto her front quickly and tie her hands behind her back with the
belt of my coat, and throw that aside too, showing my fur.

I reach behind her and turn on the radio. I turn the volume right up.
Nobody is going to bother us. Nobody. A familiar guitar riff starts up.
The neighbours start to thump on the walls. I ignore them, pulling my
gloves off.

“Is this what gay people do?” I ask her, running my bare hands over her body.

She chokes out the cloth, “No! No, you’re not gay! Please stop! I’m
sorry! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY I SAID THAT YOU’RE GAY!!!” she wails.

“Why, is there something wrong with gay people?” I ask her, my hands searching over her body.

“No! NO! PLEASE GOD, NO!!!” she screams.

“There’s no god here,” I say, “Just me.”

And Miles “Tails” Prower proceeds to rape the hell out of Amy the pink hedgehog. I;m breezing past most of it, as it mostly involves Amy crying and the sentence “In, out. In, out.” repeated almost 10 times. However, I’d hate for you not to be mentally annihilated, so here’s the last bit of it:

I ram straight into her tight little butthole. Shit but it feels so good…

In, out, In, out.

What I’m doing is disgusting. Despicable. Nightmarish. Horrific. Insane. Evil.

At least, that’s probably what Amy thinks.

I’m rather enjoying this feeling, this feeling of power.

In, out. In, out.

The way she flails around under me, the way her soft chest is heaving
with sobs, the way her cries are muffled by my lips pressed hard
against hers; fuck, every second I am inside of her feels so good.

In, out. In, out.

Release. My semen runs into her but, then overflows and goes down her legs.

Finally, I’m done. She’s done. She groans, not in pleasure, but a
painful, exhausted, choking gasp of agony. The sheets are sticky with
her blood and my semen.

I pull out of her and relax. But I’m not leaving her side. Not just
yet. I keep a tight hold of her. It’s not like she can get away; she’s
exhausted, but she won’t fall asleep any time soon. She continues to

I fall asleep on top of her.

Tails wakes up the next morning, when — I shit you not — a Pink song comes on the radio, and ol’ Harley Quinn Hyenaholic quotes the entire damn think during Tails rost-rape departure, as if it has some deep significance to this horrid little affair. It’s actually more disgusting than the anthropomorphic animal videogame character rape in its way.

Oh, the rapist’s identity was supposed to be a big twist — it’s only revealed here at the end, but I thought you guys needed to know early. Besides, it certainly helps to put lines like these in context:

I roll onto my side and look down into her face, “I’m not gay now, am I, bitch?” I whisper in her ear.

She shakes her head silently.

“Good answer.”

I stand up and pull on my coat again. It covers my extra tail
completely. I can’t stop grinning. Now I finally know why people make
such a big deal about sex.

It’s just a shame that I lost my virginity by raping someone.

“Ain’t nothing there now that wasn’t waiting for a chance to come out,”
I say, untying her bonds as she lies there limply, and pulling the belt
around my waist. “Now listen, whore, if you tell anybody about this…
I’ll come back here again and I’ll fuck you again, and next time I’ll
do it so hard I’ll kill you.”

I mean, how would you possibly know how to feel about this unless you knew these lines where being spoken by a 12-year-old fox with two tails?

I leave the house to the sound of the chorus. The sun’s just rising and
the birds are tweeting. And I’m now a rapist. It’s an ugly word. A word
with a lot of finality. Once it’s done, you can’t go back. You can
never go back.

And that’s the story, morning glory.

Well, part of it anyway.

Indeed! Because i’ve only given you the amazing first chapter of Harley Quinn Hyenaholic’s incredible 12-chapter epic! I have neglected to read further myself, but you’re welcome to learn more about Tails’ rape-tastic sexploits here. Oh, one last note before you leave a comment — the authorwould like to respectfully point out:

1: I don’t hate Tails. I just got sick of all the nearly identical
fanfics portraying him as a homosexual, and all the nearly identical
fanfics portraying him as an innocent yaoi rape victim.

2: I don’t hate Amy. She’s just the most convenient victim.

Whew! That’s a load off my mind! Because I just shot myself in the head, and my brains are covering the floor.