It's Lieutenant Surge!

Iiiit’s… Lieutenant Surge!

♪ ♪ ♪

You dash over to the stage, eager to get a better look at the irritable pipsqueak and her humiliating situation. Up close, it’s even better than you imagined. That skimpy bikini does nothing to hide those small, perky titties of hers, showing those round titties off to everyone. It doesn’t even fully conceal her areolae, forcing her to bare a hint of pink to the crowd. When she spins around, you see her bikini bottoms are a razor-thin g-string, showing every last inch of that massive, squeezable ass of hers. And, best of all, she looks furious the whole time. Maybe you should be more empathetic, but it’s satisfying to finally see a familiar and unhappy face up there instead of being the unhappy stripper. Besides, Surge isn’t blameless when it comes to making girls expose themselves in skimpy clothing.

“Heyyy, Surge!” you chirp, raising your voice above the music.

Surge takes a second to pick you out of the crowd, but as soon as she sees you, her hands fly into defensive positions. “Emilia!? D-D-Don’t look!” she cries, attempting to cover up the assets well after you’ve gotten a good look at them.

“Fell on hard times after I kicked your butt, huh?” you ask, grinning from ear to ear.

“Sh-Shut up! It’s not like that!” she rebukes, but the poor stripper can’t even continue her argument. She glances to the side, gets scolded by someone off-stage, and then resumes her dance without covering anything. You smile the smuggest smile of your life.

“Anyway, I gotta go beat a Gym Leader now. Where can I find her?”

Surge huffs. “You shouldn’t have any trouble getting an audience if you’re dressed like that. Just walk that way.” She points to a bunch of glass panes built into the wall, about half a story off the ground. There’s a small set of stairs leading from the floor into the makeshift room. Somehow, you get the impression that the windows are only tinted from the outside, and that anyone in there still gets a perfect view of the strippers. It must the VIP section.

“That solves one mystery, now for the big question… When’d you get such a plump, perky, humongous ass!?” you ask in exaggerated shock. “I mean, it was always really big, but nothing like that!”

Surge physically recoils from the question. Looking timidly to the side, she replies, “I just… when you showed up, I thought about how different we were, so I beefed up my diet and exercise a bit, but…”

“Yeah, ‘butt’ is right! Thanks, Lieutenant Dump Truck! I’ll be back to stare at your shiny white hiney once I win.”

The little Gym Leader growls as her face goes red, probably from rage and embarrassment in equal measure. “I hope you lose, Cow Tits! You won’t be so peppy when you’re up here with me!”

Ahhhh… you needed that.