But Maria's attention had already moved. She swiveled her command chair toward the secondary console, where her personal laptop sat open, its screen glowing with a different kind of signal.
She'd been tracking this one for weeks. A timeline where the chaos energy ran hot and wild, where the hedgehogs of that world moved to rhythms their bodies couldn't always control.
She pulled the laptop onto her lap, her fingers finding the keyboard with practiced ease, and the screen bloomed to life with a live feed.
The image resolved into a bedroom—warm light, rumpled sheets, the soft glow of a city visible through a window. And there, on the bed, was Amy Rose.
Our Maria's breath caught.
This Amy was different from the one she remembered from her own world's records. Bustier. Curvier. Her pink quills framed a face that was flushed with heat, her emerald eyes half-lidded with a hunger that made Maria's own body respond in kind. Her chest was magnificent—full, heavy breasts that strained against the thin fabric of her camisole, nipples visibly hard beneath the pink cotton.
And beneath her, pinned to the mattress by his own desperate need, was Sonic.
His blue quills were bristled, his green eyes blown wide with the same hormonal haze Maria had seen in Shadow just moments ago. His hands gripped the sheets, his chest heaving, and when he spoke, his voice was strained, almost pained.
"Amy—I can't—I don't know how much longer I can hold on—"
"You don't have to hold on." Amy's voice was soft, soothing, but there was steel beneath it. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his chest, her pink quills brushing his skin. "I've got you, Sonic. Just let go."
Maria's hand drifted back between her thighs, her fingers finding her clit with a familiar, desperate need. She watched as Amy peeled off her camisole, watched as her breasts spilled free—full, round, impossibly soft-looking, tipped with dark pink nipples that made Maria's mouth water.
"You're in heat," Amy murmured, her hands tracing down Sonic's chest, his stomach, pausing at the waistband of his shorts. "Your body is demanding release. It's not your fault."
Sonic's hips bucked as her fingers brushed the bulge straining against the fabric. "Amy—"
"Shh." She pulled his shorts down, and his cock sprang free—long, thick, flushed with need. Amy wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slowly, and Sonic's head fell back with a groan that seemed to shake the walls.
Maria watched, transfixed, her own fingers moving faster as Amy lowered her head and took Sonic into her mouth.
The sound that came through the laptop speakers was obscene—wet, rhythmic, the unmistakable noise of a mouth working a cock with desperate devotion. Amy's head bobbed, her pink quills brushing Sonic's thighs, her hands cupping his balls as she swallowed him deeper, deeper, until her nose was pressed against his pelvis and his entire length was buried in her throat.
"Oh, god," Sonic gasped, his hands finding her quills, gripping them, holding her in place as his hips began to move. "Amy—that's—that's so deep—"
Amy pulled back just enough to speak, her lips slick and swollen, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to the head of his cock. "I want to taste you, Sonic. I want to feel you come down my throat."
She took him deep again, and Maria watched her throat bulge around him, watched Sonic's whole body convulse with the sensation. His grip on her quills tightened, his hips thrusting faster, and Amy matched his rhythm, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowing as she worked him toward the edge.
"I'm going to—" Sonic's voice cracked. "Amy, I'm going to—"
She hummed in response, the vibration sending him over the edge. His release came with a cry that seemed to tear itself from his throat, and Amy swallowed every drop, her throat working around him as he emptied himself into her mouth. She held him there, deep and pulsing, until he was spent, then pulled back with a satisfied smile, licking her lips clean.
"Good boy," she murmured, and Sonic's eyes fluttered closed, his chest heaving.
But the heat wasn't done with him yet.
Amy crawled up his body, straddling his hips, her slick cunt hovering over his still-hard cock. She reached down, guiding him to her entrance, and sank onto him with a moan that made Maria's own hips roll against her hand.
"Oh," Amy breathed, her head tipped back, her breasts bouncing with the motion. "Oh, Sonic—you feel so good inside me—"
Sonic's hands flew to her hips, gripping her, guiding her into a rhythm that made them both gasp. Amy rode him with abandon, her body moving in waves, her breasts bouncing with each downward stroke. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, and Sonic's hands slid up her body to cup her breasts—squeezing, kneading, his thumbs finding her nipples and rolling them between his fingers.
Maria's own hand pressed harder against her clit, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She watched Amy's body tremble, watched Sonic's hips buck upward, watched them move together in a rhythm that was primal and desperate and beautiful.
"Come inside me," Amy gasped, her voice breaking. "Please, Sonic—I want to feel you—"
Sonic's answer was a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. His hands tightened on her breasts, his hips driving upward, and he came with a shuddering cry, his cum flooding her cunt in thick, hot pulses.
Amy rode him through it, her own release crashing over her a heartbeat later, her body clenching around him as she cried out his name.
She collapsed onto his chest, both of them breathing in ragged unison, and for a moment the only sound was their gasping breath and the soft hum of the laptop's speakers.
But Amy wasn't done.
She pushed herself up, her cum-slick thighs straddling his hips, and reached down to grip his cock—still hard, still aching with the heat that wouldn't release him. She positioned herself above his chest, her heavy breasts hanging over him, and pressed his cock between them.
"One more," she murmured, her voice husky. "I want to feel you come on my tits."
Sonic's eyes went wide, but he didn't resist as she pressed her breasts together around his cock, creating a tight, slick channel of warm flesh. She'd spit on her chest, Maria realized—the glisten of moisture between her curves made his cock slide more easily as she began to move.
Maria watched, transfixed, her fingers moving in frantic circles against her clit. Amy's breasts were fuller than the other Maria's, impossibly soft-looking, and she worked Sonic's cock between them with a practiced rhythm that made his hips buck and his hands fist in the sheets.
"Oh, god," Sonic gasped. "Amy—that feels—"
"I know." She leaned forward, letting her nipples drag across the head of his cock with each stroke. "I want you to come for me, Sonic. Cover me."
She dropped her mouth to the head of his cock, still nestled between her breasts, and sucked him clean, drawing out every last drop until Sonic's whole body convulsed with the oversensitivity of it.
"Amy," he gasped, his voice wrecked. "That's—that's too much—"
"Shh." She released him with a final, lingering lick. "You did so well."
She crawled up his body, her cum-slick chest pressing against his as she curled into his side. Sonic's arm came around her, his hand finding her breast almost absently—squeezing it, kneading it, his thumb rolling over her nipple like it was a stress toy, a comfort object, something to ground him as the heat finally began to recede.
Amy sighed, content, her eyes fluttering closed. "See? I told you I'd take care of you."
Sonic's answer was a soft, sleepy murmur, his hand still working her breast in slow, rhythmic squeezes. "Yeah. You did."
Maria watched them for a long moment, her hand still between her thighs, her body trembling on the edge of release. The recording light on her laptop blinked steady and green—she'd captured every moment, every sound, every gasp and moan.
She let herself tip over the edge with a sharp, bitten-off cry, her body arching against the command chair, her eyes locked on the screen as Amy cuddled closer to Sonic, his hand still squeezing her breast like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maria slumped back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her hand slipping free of her shorts. She reached for the laptop, her fingers finding the keyboard, and typed a single line into the archive log.
"Timeline designation: Sonic's Heat. Sub-file: Amy's Care."
She saved the file, the data sliding into the Ark's vast storage banks alongside countless other timelines. The screen glowed soft and warm, Amy and Sonic tangled together in the aftermath, his hand still on her breast, her face peaceful in sleep.
Maria's abdomen kicked, a sharp, insistent flutter, and she pressed her palm against the swell of her belly.
"I know," she whispered, her voice rough with spent pleasure. "Mama's not done yet."
Her fingers found the keyboard again, already searching for the next timeline, the next story, the next version of herself waiting to be witnessed.