Date: Wed, 5 May 2010 22:47:42 -0600 (MDT)
From: kellogg@dim.com
Subject: Disorder/Order (Part 2)

Disorder/Order (Part 2) by Mudcub
stories@mudcub.com

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Warning: This story contains a lot of raunch and man sex. If you aren't
interested, consider this to be a warning. This story should only be
interpreted as one man's fantasy, not as a clearance to actually try any
of the unsafe practices here.
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"I am amazed at how much progress you have made in only a few short
months!" Dr. Narium said.

Dr. Nasus beamed. "Well, it helped to have such a... devoted subject."

Dr. Narium stood on tiptoe to look into the room. "Well, we both know the
high level of phobia he had." Dr. Nasus nodded his head, remembering that
first meeting in his office. Dr. Narium continued, "But I never thought
you could take things so far!"

"Well," Dr. Nasus answered, walking them away from the subject's cell, and
towards the exit. "It was a classical combination of reward and
punishment... pleasure and pain." He smiled at the thought of it.

Dr. Narium shook his hand as they reached the door. "Well, here is where I
take my leave." Dr. Narium patted the doctor on the back. "You both should
be congratulated. I bet you get a paper out of this. Or two!"

They both chuckled. Dr. Nasus took his keyring and unlocked the three
heavy locks on the outer door. The bars were heacy and thick. "I'll walk
you out to your car and tell you about the next steps. We still have a lot
farther to go."

-----------------------

Jason is woken up most mornings with his "bath". It's like a cleaning...
but in reverse. Even though the men try to be quiet, they make a lot of
noise in their huge white hazmat suits. Or rather, once-white hazmat
suits, now stained with layers of shit and mud. The "cleaners" tried to
remain pristine at first, but with all that shit - bathtubs of it,
pressurized hoses filled with it - it didn't take long for a permanent
patina of sludge to coat every surface and seam of the inflatable suit.

The two cleaners bring in the buckets. Jason looked up ruefully. Today
would be a scrubbing. He hated those. Initially, Jason had to be
restrained to the ceiling for a scrubbing, his arms stretched painfully in
heavy iron cuffs while his dangled on this toes and wailed and sobbed. But
today, Jason willingly stood up and stretched his arms out.

There wasn't an inch of Jason that wasn't covered in multiple layers of
shit. Not under his arms, not the backs of his legs. This morning would
add another layer, Jason thought, as the cleaners picked up their long
wooden brushes and dipped them deeply into the stinking mess.

Some days it would be runny pig shit. Some days chicken droppings. Jason
almost liked it when buckets of blood were dumped on his head, chunks of
rotting meat and intestines from the local slaughterhouse. The more
viscous the liquid was that the cleaners used, the more the layers of shit
would dissolve. Jason didn't like it when an inch of shit built up all
over his skin, and he was unable to touch his own skin or put his arms
against his own sticky body.

But today it was some kind of human shit, Jason thought. Fermenting for a
few days... maybe it was farmed from the local outhouses and rest areas
near the highway. Jason never ceased to be amazed at the doctor's
connections... the fiendish way he could come up with huge amount of
things to test on his favorite subject. One day, the cleaners produced
over a gallon of semen. Another time, Jason was told he was being smeared
head to toe with cups and cups of snot. Where does someone *get* that much
snot? Then again, Dr. Nasus was a powerful doctor with a lot of
connections to medical labs. Jason imagined that he was the recipient of
all the stool samples and urine samples after the necessary testing was
done.

Jason winced at the rough brushes as they scraped his skin. The men in the
dirty hazmat suits panted heavy from the exertion of moving the brushes
back and forth all over Jason. Their feet slipped in the eight inches of
slop that coated the concrete like the floor of a barnyard. That was where
Jason slept - on the floor burrowing into piles of manure like a pig.
Sometimes if Jason was lucky, he'd get a filthy blanket or a dead carcass
of a deer to cuddle against.

Jason kept his mind occupied while he endured the ritual of the morning
cleaning. First position arms up, spreading his fingers wide as the
cleaners painted both sides of his arms up and down making sure his hairy
armpits received a large clump of shit. A stinking brush in his face, the
bristles making his face bunch up, shutting his eyes tightly. Jason would
try to hold his breath while the cleaners coated his head in an even layer
of shit, but Dr. Nasus had given the men orders to hold the torture
implements in Jason's face until he had to take a huge breath, inhaling
the smell inches away from his mouth.

Next, position two. It tickled as the cleaners moved their brushes up and
down Jason's torso. The brushes would sometimes make Jason's nipples bleed
as they rasped his chest. Jason withstood it all, even when the cleaners
were clumsy and mashed his balls as they dripped more and more liquid shit
onto Jason's cock and balls. The men made sure their brushes were always
holding as much liquid shit as possible, dunking them into the filthy
buckets again and again. Slowly, the level of shit in the buckets dropped
as the filth was transferred to Jason's naked body.

Finally, position three, where Jason had to turn around and bend over,
showing his butt crack to the two uniformed men. The cleaners had to make
sure that even Jason's asshole was coated by the rough brushes. Only after
the thirty minute procedure was complete was Jason allowed to follow the
men out of his locked cell. It was awful, but better than the early days
when Jason was tied with heavy leather straps to a table where he couldn't
move at all during the cleaning.

Jason was quiet as he followed the clumsy men through the now-unlocked
gate. All three were dripping slime in long streams as they made their way
to down the hall, stopping about half-way down. The cleaners grunted to
Jason as they dropped the slop buckets next to Jason, trusting him to
carry them into the next room. Then, with a nod to the guard standing
inside the next room, the cleaners turned turned and walked to their
changing room, leaving Jason at the entrance to the next cell.

It was a horrible job for the guards, taking care of Jason every morning.
It was a lot of sweaty work operating the brushes, not to mentioned
helping each other get in and out of the heavy hazmat suits. And the
smell! Both guys were grateful for the gasmask and air they could breath
so they didn't have to smell Jason. But the job paid well, and once the
cleaners had stripped off their stinking suits and taken a shower
themselves, they were done for the day. But Jason had a lot more hard work
to do before he could sleep again.