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FOXMEGENTLY: DEEP SQUEEZE
Written by Erin Lee (Twitter / Tumblr / Cohost / Itch) •  FMG © Jade/JAIYANDT •  2023
CONTENT WARNING: gore, medical


Through the few, high windows in the basement, neon-flavored light created alternating pink and blue beams that splashed, diffuse, on the not-quite-polished floor. It was otherwise dim in the room, save for a desk lamp that illuminated one person outside of Terry’s view.

It was well past dark.

The smell of sanitizer and alcohol reeked and burned the ferret’s nose. They looked this way and that as they could, but strapped down, they could see little but the echoes of others’ actions petering into this isolated little cubby of love. The anticipation burned somewhere under their breasts, a sticky tar knot that they hoped their patron could take care of.

Clink clink.

Said patron was busily preparing herself for the night ahead. The clatter of clean metal against itself was the primary highlight, though her body’s fur rustling against her clean scrubs, was louder still. The two had not spoken since Terry had willingly bound themself into the table, though all precautions had been discussed at length, every night, for a week.

A private place, out of the way, but close enough to a hospital if necessary.

Pre-checked consent several times over.

All sanitation possible.

Local anaesthesia.

Painkillers.

Terry’s heart rate spiked hard when they heard her voice suddenly pop into their ears.

“I’m about ready, sugar.”

A tiny pause, but Terry could tell that she’d turned around by the crinkle of fabric and fur.

“Are you?”

The ferret licked their lips and went over a mental checklist a thousand words long. It was a blur in their own head, but the only thing they could think was off was that they could not fully strap themself in. They awkwardly turned their short snout to their right hand, and then waved it weakly in the air to draw attention.

“Not much of a talker now, are you?” the vixen said, still out of sight.

Her tiny feet tap tap tapped on the concrete floor in their medical-grade disposable flats. From on top of the barely cushioned table, Terry could just barely see her tall red ponytail bobbing with every proportionally heavy step she took.

“S-sorry, Miss Rosa,” Terry managed to stutter out, simply too excited to keep their voice steady.

With a hop, a skip, and a jump, Rosa came into full view, standing on a step ladder. The four-foot- nothing shortstack was stacked, with hips, ass, and especially tits large enough to constitute half her body weight. Her tail was scaled to match her outsized proportions, though her hands and feet were particularly dainty – nearly pinpoints that she used to interact with the world.

The nose at the tip of her snout was shaped like a heart, but that was hidden behind the surgical mask over her long muzzle.

In her hands were two trays, one empty, one with multiple scalpels of different blade lengths and shapes, with identically shaped handles in nearly universal levels of wear. That is to say they had all been used before.

“…n-not your first time dealing with a freak like me?”

Rosa’s eyes were hooded over, relaxed. She placed the trays on top of an elevated table that Terry had failed to notice, just as another person, average height, entered the room. Without even looking back, the vixen introduced him.

“This is Wayne. He’s my personal assistant, and he’ll be the nurse for today’s operation.”

Terry gulped, and Wayne gave an awkward little wave, all decked up in his own set of scrubs and latex gloves. Without having really noticed at all, Rosa had tied the ferret’s hand up, just like they’d done to themself earlier.

“We’re going to begin the procedure now,” Rosa continued, and held her hand palm-up, expectantly.

Wayne, despite his obvious nervousness about this, dutifully stepped forward and plucked up a needle and plunger that looked more like a turkey baster. In it was a large quantity of a clear solution, though with a silvery sheen to it that didn’t quite catch the consistently changing lights from the club next door.

“This is local anaesthetic, and I’ll be liberally applying it to you. This is supposed to be fun – hurt a little” – Here, Rosa pinched her fingers together demonstratively – “– but mostly fun.”

At the ferret’s bare feet, Wayne silently flipped a switch in the table to power on the incredibly luminous overhead theater lights. They had to wince away from the bright shock, and so barely perceived the first firm poke of Rosa’s solution.

“Poke! One slightly heavy dose of local numbing…”

Wayne waved again, and Terry followed the blur of the blue latex. That distracted them enough to not shrink away from the next stab.

“Poke! Another.”

She was good. With those two immediate doses applied, she could more freely sink the needle into Terry’s scruffy fur and the sleek skin behind, and so traced and filled in from around their clavicle to their particularly gnarled happy trail. It took several minutes, but not even half the vial had been used. She gently placed the syringe down in Wayne’s waiting hands, and he cradled it with a surgical cloth to replace the needle, or whatever it was he was going to do.

She didn’t wait for him to come back before reaching for her first scalpel. Instead of the near- clinical tone that she’d been paid to put on, her voice was soft and heady, with an almost motherly care behind every syllable.

“This is your last chance to back out before things get hairy, sugar.”

“I consented,” Terry squeaked back, “and I am continuing to do so.”

Rosa blinked slowly, but it was noticeable how wide the smile behind her mask spread. Terry did the same, though also chewed their bottom lip behind their own bright blue mask.

“First incision,” Rosa stated as she leaned back.

Knowing not to move, as best they could, Terry held their breath as the unbelievably sharp blade pushed through and touched their skin. Rosa was an expert, because while she had numbed every possible spot, every single nerve she could, the dose hadn’t been too high. Terry wanted to feel it, so they did. That breath escaped in a series of delighted puffs and whimpers as they felt her deft hand guide the cold steel straight down their chest, between their breasts, and nearly to their stomach, and felt the blade glide clean through the thin layer of fatty flesh that kept all that they were sealed away from the world.

“Incision is clean,” Rosa muttered, “please replace the blade.”

Tink. The vixen placed the blood-stained scalpel in the second tray, and Wayne, trying his best not to look at Terry, grabbed it up and moved out of sight to do just that. Rosa plucked up a second scalpel and placed the blade tip just where the first incision had begun. The feeling of spreading warmth over numbness was very comfortable for the ferret, until they realized that it was them bleeding out. “Oh, uhm. Am I in danger?” they asked, suddenly realizing they completely neglected to account for bleeding.

“No,” Rosa interrupted, “we have transfusion bags in the cooler. Now shush.”

The ferret shushed.

The second scalpel hurt worse than the first, likely because the numbing didn’t reach quite as deep as the filmy sac that held everything inside, just below the skin. That membrane popped open with noticeable jolts, each of which elicited a tiny, involuntary wince from Terry. They couldn’t help but be so, so deeply aroused at the sight of themself spilling out to the world, even if most of it was indiscernible muscle and blood.

Rosa snapped her black irises from the long, pulsing, bleeding opening to her waiting attendant. “Wayne, blood bag, paralytic. Patient is moving. After that, suction.”

“S-sorry, Miss R-Rosa,” Terry said, though it was difficult to.

Without the membranes, muscles, and skin together in the correct way, speaking was hard. The ferret had a distant, hazy memory of hiking as a child as they tried to speak, but Rosa held up a single hand, obviously a ‘shut the fuck up.’

Shunk. The ferret winced with electric, grating pain as Nurse Or Whatever Wayne slid the dual- use IV into their arm. It was over quickly enough, though – not only the relative cool of the hanging blood entering their body, but a particular weakness and tightness as the paralytic took hold. Quickly and expertly, Wayne stepped away to get the suction tube, while Rosa pushed a button to force Terry’s head up. For a second they thought to try to help crane their neck forward to help, but found themself unable to move. That was probably for the best.

“This is so you can watch,” Rosa said, and then dropped the saran-wrapped remote to dangle by its cord yet again.

They couldn’t speak, so they nodded their eyes up and down faintly, though no-one was looking. With the primary incisions made, Rosa got to actual work. With a single sanitary hand up from Wayne, she stepped onto the operating table, short and wide and elegant and as powerful as a hurricane, and sat her wide, fat ass directly on the ferret’s firmly erect dick. The pressure so close to the opening seared, but more importantly, it felt incredible. Inside their own little bubble of thought, Terry moaned.

it got better. Rosa leaned herself forward, careful not to shift back and forth on top of that long open wound, just to apply her body weight to it. Terry felt a thousand-thousand nerves fire in confused shock, deeply numbed but too far gone to give any truly unbearable signals. The ferret’s cock pulsed yet harder against the pretend-surgeon’s fat, heavy ass.

She slid her arms, short and wide, up the sides of their immobile body. Terry would’ve shuddered in delight at those sticky, latex-clad hands against their breasts, so simply imagined it in their lack of physical response. A second layer of the fantasy played out in their deeply horny, blood-loss, anaesthetic, paralytic, and shock-addled mind; one where the restraints were gone, Terry was free to flail, blood, gore, the intimate desire of their insides falling out like wings of an angel escaping a cocoon. Rosa’s hands slipped under the skin, and that pulled them back to reality. She carefully danced her fingers along the grimy meat underneath skin, membrane, and muscle, against things that barely had any sensation to give, yet still had something to say. It was feeling beyond feeling, the confused here- there misfiring of neurons that should never have felt anything but the warm, wet cuddle of their fellow organs. The flesh distended and stretched to make room for her.

As faintly as a distant echo, Terry felt her fingers dance along their ribs, and nearly creamed then and there.

“What do we have here?” the vixen cooed as she slipped her fingers between two bones.

That most vital, essential, protected organ fluttered against the tips of her glove. With a particularly loud schlorp, Rosa managed to slide her arm up to her shoulder in Terry’s opened body, just so she could fit that dainty hand around the corners and valves of the ferret’s rapidly beating heart. All she had to do was press, ever so slightly, this way or that, to make Terry’s mind soar. They had felt that organ beat in their chest for decades. Now it danced for her, inside and out. “Nurse, make a note… the heart is fun.”

Terry tried to focus their eyes as best they could. The room had grown hazy and distant as they had revelled in the sensations and toxicity of the various drugs pinning them tolerably in place. Still, they managed to get a solid look at Rosa’s own eyes, and their dick pulsed heavily at the sight of her own unabashed ecstasy. Her irises had grown wider, and somehow, a deep blush showed at the corners of her cheeks exposed by her mask.

With a far less careful wrench and squelch, Rosa pulled her left hand from the meat beneath Terry’s breast, and wriggled her whole body to slide it on the other side of the ferret’s heart. They watched as streaks of deep red blood stuck to her scrubs, all over the bright white not-paper apron over her front, and some of it dripped back into the open wound stretched out by her gleeful digging. This way and that, the vixen tilted Terry’s heart, just to feel it throb and twinge in her fingers. An impossibly beautiful and complex organ that danced for her, in near perfect time with its effect on the ferret’s cock, itself wet – not with blood, but pre.

“Mmff, s-sorry, hon… this is just so… so exciting…”

Rosa squeezed their heart, and a rush of blood went two places. Terry’s head, and Terry’s cock. The former swam with a trillion seemingly pointless thoughts, all of them about how much they loved feeling little fingers in their guts and how they adored Rosa’s feckless mercy. The latter erupted with a confused lurch of its own accord; an errant tingle that exploded out into an all-encompassing wave of heat warmer than any day. A glorious spasm despite the flowing paralytic, and pleasure so encompassing that Terry, in all their vigor and desire, simply fucking passed out. Giddiness rolled over their mind with their afterglow, and, caressed in the tightest hug anyone could feel, closed their eyes and exhaled.

“Ope. Wayne, get over here, fun’s over,” Rosa snapped.

The last few things Terry thought they saw were the two sex workers suddenly coming close over them, the sight of a hook and thread, and Rosa shivering with joy, covered in slimy gore. Then they opened their eyes, and Rosa sat on the edge of the operating table, reading a book. Everything hurt. The ferret groaned, a sound that flared into a whimper when they failed to even lift a single arm. Immediately, the vixen turned around, eyes wide and bare smile bright. Not a single trace of uncleanliness clung to her perfect, t-shirt and booty-shorted body.

“Hey, sunshine. Have a good time?”

With her tiny feet on the step-stool, she placed her cheeks in her tiny fists, and beamed ear to ear. In response, Terry moaned with dull pain.

“That seems to be the common response. I’ve set up an antibiotic regimin for you – and no lifting anything heavier than a coffee cup for a month.”

“Only a month?” Terry asked. Their mouth was dryer than the desert.

“Then you can do a coffee cup,” Rosa specified, one finger raised, “but nothing more for two more months.”

Terry closed their eyes again.

“I don’t know if this was worth it,” they grumbled unconvincingly.

“Oh, no?” Rosa asked.

“Well…”

The vixen leaned closer and pecked, so carefully, the side of Terry’s breast. The ever so slight wiggle, spiked with pain and electric pleasure, made the ferret suck breath in through their teeth. “O-okay,” Terry conceded with a pained smile, “it was the best nut of my life.”

“Mine too,” Rosa said with a wink, “but you might not remember it.”

She giggled. They tried to return the gesture but winced and groaned; that just made her laugh even harder.

Definitely the best four paychecks Terry had ever spent.


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