Thankfully she puts the knife down on the counter. "Nah," her voice booms, "sooner or later he's going to discover what I put in these; no sense grossing him out."

Fox sighs in relief at not being horrendously sliced in half, but realizes he is by no means safe as Krystal tenderly picks up her sandwhich in both hands and brings him up to her muzzle, the vixen licking her lips as she eyes him hungrily.

Fox wiggles himself as far out as he could and gathering his strength prepares to yell out, "Krystal, it's me, Fox, don't EAT me!" But before he can a glob of ketchup rolls into the hapless vulpine's mouth turning his last ditch plea for help into a splutter.

Before anything else can happen, his prison of bread and toppings starts forward rapidly as Krystal slowly opens her mouth.