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