City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in tmnt mating season. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with tmnt mating season,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“tmnt mating season, tmnt mating season, tmnt mating season!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “tmnt mating season” down on the streets fifty stories below.