FSE

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"Good morning, mister"--there was the brief sound of papers being flipped--"Williams." The nurse spoke with artificial interest; in reality, the fox was so tired after ten hours on the floor that if frogs started raining from heaven it probably wouldn't have done much more than annoy her. The nebbish of a mouse sitting on the examining table definitely wasn't worth opening her eyes all the way for. Reginald Williams was unremarkable, unassuming, and most of all and unimpressive: average height and with the build of a man who hadn't worked out more than a day in his adult life. Short brown hair capped over pale grey fur, brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. There was absolutely nothing special about him. "What brings you to the hospital today?"

Reginald cleared his throat and fidgeted a little with the hem of his button-front shirt. Hospitals made him nervous. Then again, everything made him some kind of nervous. Being a mouse was bad enough; being a nerdy, shy one was just fate kicking him when he was down. No one even made fun of him. They just looked right through him. He didn't even have a clever nickname. That's how little he registered on anyone's radar.

"I, uh, I need to get a physical. My insurance company, um, they say I need one. So, I'm here. Heh." His lame shot at levity flew through the air and landed with a dull thud on the floor. "Sorry, um..." Reginald leaned forward a bit, trying to read the fox's name tag. Between the tiny lettering on the worn tag, the vixen's not insubstantial bust, and the fact there was a clipboard in the way, it took a few awkward seconds. "...Janet."

Janet took a deep breath through her nose, fighting back a sigh. "We'll get you taken care of, Reginald. Shouldn't take very long and we'll have you on your way." The patter was robotic, but it was all she could manage. Of anything she wanted to deal with near the end of the day, a stuttering nerd was not it. She wanted--no, needed a smoke, some sleep, and a night away from whiny patients and grab-ass doctors.

"I'm going to need you to get undressed first. Take this gown and head behind the screen, I'll get set up." She put a plastic packet next to the mouse, then stepped back and waited. Then waited a little more. Reginald kept looking between the plastic and the wall, fidgeting even more. "What's the problem?"

He avoided the vixen's eyes as hard as he could. The floor was suddenly very interesting. "I, um...well..."

Janet put on her best customer service voice, pretending to be reassuring. "There's no reason to be embarrassed, Reginald. It's just a medical procedure, and I'm a professional. So hop to it." She smiled, at least a bit. "I'm not going to judge you." Not out loud anyways, she thought to herself.

Reginald nodded a little. Janet could see him preparing another protest before thinking better and swallowing it, shuffling off behind the screen with a defeated look on his face. She took a quiet breath, wishing she had something in her mouth to relax on. A sandwich would be okay, or maybe a cigarette. Did Carla at the desk have any weed on her? Couldn't smoke it on shift, sure, but once she was on her way home, the rules didn't apply. A blunt and some time with her man would definitely relax her.

The feeling of mild pleasure wafted away. The mouse was taking an absurdly long time to get into the damn hospital gown. "Are you okay, Mr. Williams?" There was no reply. Was it really so hard? Janet rubbed her fingers down the bridge of her muzzle and turned to the cabinets. If this loser was going to take an eternity just to get his pants off she could at least get ready for the handful of tests she'd be doing. The nurse didn't do a whole lot, just the prep work and maybe taking blood pressure and temperature. It was brainless.

"Sorry, sometimes--when I'm nervous I can't--what I mean is--sorry." There he was again, apologizing up a storm and making Janet cringe. "Can I leave my underwear on?"

"No, you need to be completely naked. There's other patients I need to get to, so if you can just hurry up a little..." Her patience was gone by now, wafting away on the breeze like smoke. If he didn't pick up the pace she'd--

"I, um, I think I'm ready." There was a pause. "It's...it doesn't cover very well."

"It's not supposed to. It's a hospital gown. Take a seat on the table." The familiar sound of shifting paper and worn-down vinyl was the cue he'd done as she'd asked--and quickly for once--and so with gloves on and thermometer ready the nurse spun on her heels and prepared her usual patter for the mundanest of mundane tasks. "Alright, Reginald, let's get your tem...per...a...what in the fuck is that?"

Janet was not new at her job. She'd been a nurse for more than a few years, and was sure that she'd seen damn near everything the world of injuries and illnesses had to offer. Nothing in the ward surprised her anymore; people tried, they tried often, and the vixen just rolled her eyes and did her job. Completely average Reginald Williams managed not only to surprise her, he stunned her into complete silence.

What the fuck had pulled off this herculean task was the mouse's genitalia. Reginald hadn't been lying when he said the gown didn't fit right--he'd had to put it on backwards just to get over his junk, leaving most of his midsection and legs entirely bare and doing nothing to cover up his cock and balls. Those genitals were positively massive, big enough that he needed to sit at the edge of the table and couldn't put his knees together. A pair of testicles like grapefruit rested against the surface of the exam table, blocking some of the higher drawers from view. And draped over them in a lazy curve was a penis. Janet wouldn't call it that, though. It was too big, too wide, and too thick for the beast that sprouted from a thick pad of pubic fur two shades darker than most Reginald's grey. The fox grasped for something to compare it to before remembering the massive decorative wine bottles her aunt used at a wedding years ago. The older fox had called them magnums and the name fit the situation perfectly. Reginald had a magnum of a cock, a meat missile with a warhead that rested about where his knees would be if he was standing up. It had to be over a foot long, maybe longer, and around twice the size of Janet's fist. Comparing her boyfriend's equipment to Reginald's absolute colossus of a fuckpiston was like comparing cocktail weenies to kielbasa, like comparing a NERF dart to a TOW missile, like comparing--well like comparing Adonis to a 98 pound weakling on the beach. To top all that off, she was pretty sure he was totally flaccid right now. A little voice in the back of Janet's head whispers that he'd better be a shower, because otherwise it was never going to fit...

Reginald blinked twice in complete confusion and looked all around him, worried he'd done something terribly wrong but had no idea what. Janet, on the other hand, couldn't look away. The sight of that pillar of flesh bouncing a little as its bearer shifted his weight was the beginning and the ending of the world right now. Her eyes travelled back and forth from glans to base, again and again, taking in every singular detail until it was burned into her memory as the most glorious phallus ever to grace this earth. It truly was a natural wonder of the world, the Colossus of Reginald.

"D-did I do something wrong? What's going on?" Reginald's reedy voice snapped Janet out of her rather pornographic reverie with an almost audible pop, and she shook her head hard to try and clear away the rather vivid imagery. She'd said she was a professional. Staring at someone's penis was anything but, even if it was--no, stop that, stop it! There's work to be done. Had she been worried it'd fit? Fit where? God, was she wet? The fox took another deep breath and put all that as far aside as it would go.

"No, no, you're fine, Reginald. I've just never--ah, I mean you're really hu--quite unusual. Is your father a horse of some sort?" Janet cringed inwardly. She was glad the mouse was oblivious to everything; otherwise she'd probably be sued for impropriety or something.

Reginald blinked. "No...? He's just a mouse. So's my mother. Is that important to the physical?"

Janet started in on the blood pressure cuff, lifting up a slim arm and trying to keep her eyes upwards. "It's always good to get a complete picture, y'know? All the details." Oh, she could smell him. She was too close. Her fingers fidgeted to try and seal the Velcro band as her thighs ground together. What was going on? Why did this little nerd make her want to bend over and hike her tail, to get her pussy plowed until she couldn't breathe? "Your di--your proportions aren't really mouse-like. I mean you're really big. Your genitals, I mean, they're...big." The words weren't holding still. The wrong ones kept running up and trying to get out past her lips. She licked them instead, a little more dramatically than she probably should have...

"Uh, I guess? I always thought I was average." Reginald shrugged, watching Janet with nervous confusion. "I don't really know. I, uh, don't, you know, look at...things like that much." He squeaked with a grimace. "Y-y-y-you're making that really tight..."

Janet jumped back to reality again. "Oh! Oh shit!" She flipped the air release on the collar before it did any real damage. "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry! I don't know what's coming on me--over me, what's come over me, it's like I can't think straight." She couldn't. Whatever Reginald was doing, whether he knew it or not, the fox was losing the battle against her libido.

"Are...are you alright, nurse? You're breathing really hard. I should go get someone--" He started to push off the table, but Janet grabbed his arm with a grip that would have surprised her if she could have thought about it. "What-what-what are you doing?"

"Sit down, Mr. Williams." Janet's voice was a hiss of hot air pushing through her clenched jaw. Her breath came in pants that made her chest heave and sway. When she leaned in closely to Reginald, he could feel the heat pouring off her. It made him shiver. The sudden presence of her palm on his dick made him jump as it stroked over the pink shaft. "I still need to examine you. Very...closely..." Her tongue rolled over the rim of his satellite-dish ear. "Fuck, this dick is just...fuck, I want it. I want it bad." She looked into his eyes with a dreamy expression draped across her face before disappearing out of his sight, down to her knees on the cold tile floor.

Reginald, for his part of the conversation, stuttered and squeaked. He'd never been in this kind of situation before--it was rare someone said something nice about him at all--so he was not prepared for a rather fetching vixen to go after his cock with both hands and her mouth. But there she was, Nurse Janet, moaning softly between swipes of her tongue. Reginald watched in stunned silence; his manhood, not so content to do nothing, rose to the challenge as best it could, rising, getting firmer, the veins rising out along the side like a topographical map of the Rockies.. In the back of her head, Janet mentally fist-pumped as she physically slurped--the guy was a shower. She could manage this. If she could get both hands around the girth, maybe she could do it. Even if she couldn't she had to _try. _ This was conquest. Fuck, he tasted good, clean and with just that little bit of salty that told her brain that this was a serious male, and she was drunk off just the sight. What did his cum taste like?

"What are you doing?" Reginald hissed, wide-as-saucer eyes focused on Janet. She didn't answer. "Janet, I--ah!" He leaned forward as her tongue hit a really good spot right under the glans, one he didn't know about until it made his toes curl like a party horn. Canines could lick the chrome off a trailer hitch the way most people went at a scoop of ice cream, and Janet was no exception. In fact she was gifted that way, or at least her boyfriends had always told her. Back in medical school she'd had something of a reputation for an oral fixation, but she'd grown out of it. Or maybe not.

Janet leaned back, panting, tongue hanging from her muzzle. "No one ever got your rocks off before, baby?" Reginald shook his head and the fox just laughed. "Explains these things," she murmured, stroking her palm up a fat, heavy testicle, squeezing it gently. The heat was palpable against her fingertips. She could swear she felt the jizz sloshing around in there, and the thought of that made her smile wickedly, licking at the layer of cock-sweat on her lips. "This is going to blow your fucking mind. I'm gonna suck until your dick turns white."

All the 'poor' man on the examination table could do was stare as Janet started to pull her top off. His brain was struggling trying to decide exactly how to react. On one hand, the whole thing didn't make any sense. Janet was a nurse, nurses didn't give blow jobs to patients--at least not in the real world--and they sure didn't give them to losers like him. But it felt so damn good. Was it supposed to be this great? The feeling was indescribable, a warm electric buzz from his ears down; every time she so much as grazed his cock he could barely breathe. It was amazing, and he wanted it to keep going as long as he could.

Janet's flimsy purple-ish top went flying across the room, landing with a soft paf_as it hit a wall and slid to the ground. She stretched a little, pushing her tits up, letting her patient have a good long stare. He did just that, but you couldn't blame him too much--Janet was _stacked. Whatever they made nursing scrubs out of had to be magic to hide a rack like hers, easily E cups if not bigger, held back by a feat of engineering posing as a bra. Reginald wanted to stick his face in the white ruff of fur that went down between them and disappeared into a valley that brave men spoke about in hushed whispers and private internet chats. Each was pressed back, spilling from their cups enticingly, obviously a bit more than simple white cotton and elastic could easily handle. It was strained enough that when the clasps at the back were undone Janet's tits surged like a small tidal wave, one that bounced and swayed under the newly bestowed influence of gravity, nipples as hard as diamonds pointing towards the mouse's shins. A throaty moan bubbled up out of her mouth, as unrestrained as her breasts and twice as shameless, broadcasting on all frequencies that she was horny _as fuck_and not cooling down at all. "Goddamn. Good to get the girls free." Pale grey eyes flicked up as they caught Reginald staring at two particular points on her anatomy. With a smile, she pushed her arms against them, making her bust even more plush and lush than before and dragging a choked squeak out of Reginald. "Tit man, huh? Should have guessed. "

"Why-why-why did you take your shirt off?!" Janet recoiled just a little. This guy's voice was grating, almost annoying enough to make her lose her groove. But it didn't. Her brain was locked on getting herself a big load right down the gullet and nothing short of a nuclear warhead was going to change that.

"Because I'm hot." The fox let the meaning of that line linger, wrapping her hand around Reginald's dick kind of like one of those sub sandwiches, pointing the throbbing tip right at her face. It took both hands and all ten fingers to really get a solid grip on it, and the slick mix of precome and spit worked like a perverse polish. The way it gleamed in the cheap fluorescent light was hypnotic. Janet's eyes glazed over, dreamy and unfocused, lost in the lust in a way she hadn't been since that time back in college with that bull frat guy with the wicked thick tongue. This was new and different. This might be something she'd regret later. But it was inevitable: this meat, this magnum dong, this schlong as thick as a softball and three times tastier, if there was any justice in this world it was going in her mouth right now.

Reginald, for all his sheltered upbringing and absolute social ineptitude, did know what a blow job looked like. He had the internet after all, even if he was somehow oblivious to the howitzer hanging from his pelvis. Getting one was entirely different. You can dream about having a warm, moist, snug mouth wrap around your dick with plush lips drawing down the underside of your shaft; it'll never prepare you for the real thing. Janet's muzzle was, for lack of a better word, exquisite as the mouse's erection slid in and filled up all the space. The texture and heat combined with the practiced motion of her tongue and fingers over those raw nerves was a better high than any other experience he'd ever had in his entire life--better than Christmas, better than graduating, better than the trip he'd taken to Japan or when a girl he asked out didn't completely ignore him. It was brain-clouding euphoria. It left Reginald's tongue hanging from his mouth and his eyes transfixed in panting and overheated awe as Janet did what looked by all accounts impossible: the vixen had at least half his length in her mouth. The girth alone forced her jaw to spread until the joints creaked and her cheeks pooched out like a cartoon chipmunk. There was no way it was going down her throat; it should have hurt just doing just managing the seven, eight, _nine_inches of shining manmeat pistoning right in front of her face and knocking at the top of her windpipe.

Janet should be choking or gagging.

She wasn't. In fact, the reality was the exact opposite: Janet was bobbing her head down most of the mouse's length without a struggle. It was a drug that gave her a rush of sexual bliss. Being between two slim grey thighs with a head full of salami and a face matted with precome had her so absolutely horny that she couldn't breathe. Janet knew without checking that her crotch was fucking soaked, probably all the way through her cheap cotton panties until there was a stain on her scrubs. Her pussy ached_and _burned; grinding her thighs together was enough to fire off little machine gun orgasms, little bursts of euphoria that built slowly towards the big fucking bang, and all without actually having anything inside her. Every thrust made her tits bounce and sway, one-hundred-percent natural knockers getting jostled by physics like a fat guy taking a cannonball to the gut.

Minutes passed quickly for Reginald and slowly for Janet. Fluids mingled together and dripped down into the white valley of her cleavage, a river of half-jizz that marked the fox as furry, frisky, and freshly face-fucked in a way that'd take her an hour in the bath to scrub off. The sound of slurping echoed off the tile walls, masking the murmur of other staff moving around just outside the door, doing their jobs rather than doing the patients. If anyone so much as cracked the door open, the stink of randy vixen and mouse dick would probably cause the kind of commotion that someone would have to hide from the press. Neither one of them cared. If she got fired, Janet could probably find a job sucking dick, preferably Reginald's. He pushed up on his toes, instinctively grabbing for the nurse's head and holding on tight, the new angle bouncing his heavy nutsac off her neck in a steady beat you could set your watch to. Reginald's belly was tight and his whimpering pants were getting sharper and louder.

"I-I-I think I'm gonna--oh shit--" Reginald was doing anything he could think of to stop the sudden explosion of sensation in his crotch as his balls said "Hello!" and prepared to let loose their payload out with less of a bang and more of a 'splut'. Being inexperienced, that amounted to sputtering out a warning to the nurse on her knees and grabbing on to the side of the exam table. Janet, in turn, realized two things in less than a split-second: firstly, the mouse was about to blow his first load with another person, and secondly, big balls usually mean big loads, something she'd learned after taking a dare to deepthroat a zebra exchange student. (She won the bet.) These were bigger than that, the biggest, most swollen nuts she'd had the pleasure of addressing with her tongue, and he hadn't really ever gotten off, not properly at least.

The vixen had exactly one wide-eyed heartbeat to realize she'd sucked off way more than she could swallow, and she'd be punished for her hormonally-driven hubris.

The heartbeat passed, and so did the moment of panic, washed away in a flood of mouse semen that clogged her mouth on the first spurt alone. Man-milk poured from the head until there was no room left to hold it, forcing streamers out past her lips like her head was a bag of icing and someone had just given it a good hard squeeze. Hacking and wheezing she pulled away from Reginald's cock, letting the cum roll pour down her jaw and onto her lap, the floor, everywhere, making a total mess of herself and the room in seconds. Reginald's schlong, however, had no interest in backing off. Not with that much gratitude to give to the first person nice enough to help it get rocks the size of boulders off. Even at full hardness and _throbbing_with blood, the mega-wang couldn't stand upright even after Janet took the suction off, pointing out into the now empty space like a flesh-colored truncheon, hanging at a perfect angle to serve its new role as a vixen-seeking jizz cannon. The bottom of his shaft pulsed visibly as it worked like a factory, pumping more and more ammunition to the head, prepared for a hard volley. Shot after shot after fucking shot made a parabolic exit from purple helmet a few inches from her face and landed on the target territory, drawing pearly lines on Janet's fur until she was positively coated in enough all-natural mayonnaise to drown a lesser woman.

"Hold that cock still!" She was not one of those weak little girls and would not be cowed by a torrent of man-milk! With both hands buried between her thighs and grinding at her sodden, burning snatch, the fox opened her mouth wide and put her face right in the trajectory, hell-bent on getting a satisfying drink from that hot pink mouse-powered firehose before the supply was exhausted. Reginald started but pulled together enough presence of mind through the hormones and adrenaline to grip his cockbase with both hands, pointing it straight at Janet's waiting maw. The vix took the load like a professional until it backed up and poured down like some kind of hedonistic waterfall, like Willy Wonka's chocolate river only not intended for children. Spunk covered her eyes and ears; it glazed her snout until there was nothing in her senses but cum, more cum, endless cum, a load that no warehouse would ever store.

"I c-c-can't stop!" Janet didn't hear Reginald; even if her ears hadn't been plugged by jizz, the words wouldn't have made any damn sense to her at all. The vixen was offline, blue-screened, down for the count like a phone dropped in a toilet then run over by a forklift. Visions of geek-mice danced behind rolled eyes to a song of ridiculous phalluses, weaving in a fleshy pink haze of smoky arousal. A hacking breath sent her off balance without enough brain power to coordinate two sticky limbs and a sodden torso in a growing sea of cooling mouse-cum; the end result was a giggling, gagging, topless vixen landing on her back on the tiles, sucking in one deep breath as yet another volley of ballistic semen shot over the Sea Of Seamen and hit Foxtits Atoll with a nuclear splat. Janet was the whitewashed Godzilla of someone's sick but probably profitable wet dream, but she wouldn't be rising from the depths soon--instead, she lay there panting and gasping, the vixen-shaped glazed pastry content to rest in the results of her labors with a drunken grin plastered across her face as Reginald's emission finally tapered off to just a few dripping spatters. The worst--or the best, depending on where you were seated during the festivities--was over, though Janet would be seeing fireworks for quite a while longer.

"...d...damn." Reginald finally relaxed his fingers and let his dick drop with a soggy plop against the side of the exam table. He didn't like swearing, but that was like nothing else he'd ever felt before, a high he'd only seen in movies about people who did stuff like this way more often than him (which is to say ever). "That was...wow."

"'Wow' is an understatement..." Janet stared at the ceiling, all ten fingers in her pants, lazily rubbing one last orgasm out of her snatch and letting the last jizz trickle down her gullet. "I've never sucked a dick like yours. Where have you been all my life?"

"I--uh--er--" Reginald caught himself before he answered a rhetorical question like the socially maladjusted basement dweller he was. "Do...you do this...often?"

"You mean suck dicks? Only ones as amazing as yours, baby." Janet pushed herself and leaned back on her palms. "Can...can you give me a hand? I think I'm stuck to the floor."

As he peeled the vix up with a soft schlop sound; she grabbed her soaked shirt off the floor and made a crude attempt to cover up before walking out of the room, seemingly oblivious to the trail of cooling mouse semen pouring from her body. He didn't say anything, content to just relax and wait for the doctor. Reginald figured this was just some weird fluke of fate and decided to enjoy it for what it was.

When two completely different nurses pushed their way in and stared at him in utter disbelief, the idea of a statistical anomaly started to fade out.

When he left the hospital three hours later, dehydrated and sore from the waist down, he was sure something in the cosmic fabric had changed in his favor.

He had to come back a week later to actually get the physical.