Date: Wed, 5 May 2010 22:47:37 -0600 (MDT)
From: kellogg@dim.com
Subject: Disorder/Order (Part 1)

Disorder/Order (Part 1) 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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Jason sat in the office chair without moving, his hands precisely folded
in his lap. Dr. Nasus looked at him carefully.

"So, you were referred here by Dr. Narium?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," replied Jason, still not moving.

The doctor filled through the folder laying on top of his desk. "It says
here that you have been unable to work for several years?"

"Y-yes," stammered Jason. "Ever since... well..."

"Ever since you stopped leaving the house?" asked Dr. Nasus.

Jason looked down, ashamed. He didn't need to answer.

Dr. Nasus got up from the desk. "Well, we'll fix that," he said, walking
around behind Jason's chair. "Are you ready to start working with me?"

At that question, Jason's face brightened, and he looked up at the doctor
filled with hope. "Oh yes!" he pleaded. "More than anything!"

The doctor studied him seriously. "No, I mean REALLY work with me. This
process will take a lot of effort on your part."

Jason took a breath. "Yes," he replied. "I am very committed to this."

The doctor rummaged through a cabinet in the corner of the room behind
Jason. "I am sure you know how this therapy works..."

"Yes," answered Jason, "it acts like..."

"Conditioning therapy," interrupted Dr. Nasus. "The idea that exposure to
a stimulus will reduce the effectiveness of the stimulus over time."

The words swirled in Jason's mind, but he nodded vigorously. "Yes Sir."

Dr. Nasus continued, "In your case, the goal is to desensitize an extreme
reaction to rhypophobia."

The doctor sat down in his leather chair again, across the desk from
Jason. He placed an opaque tupperware container between them.

"Rhypophobia," the doctor continued, "as you know, is..."

Jason's face was white. "Fear of filth, Sir."

Dr. Nasus smiled broadly. "Yes, good answer. Fear of filth, or dirt. Of
disease. But you know it goes farther than that."

Jason nodded. The doctor continued.

"Dr. Narium said that your phobia started an obsessive-compulsive disorder
related to washing hands. But your daily rituals became more and more
complex, eating up more and more of your time."

Jason frowned, looking sad. Dr. Nasus said, "You hated going to work,
afraid of touching the same things as your coworkers. Shared computers...
fax machines... telephones..."

Jason looked ill. "You remember what it was like using the public toilet
at work, don't you?" the doctor asked. "You would hold it in all day in
order to avoid going in there."

Jason spoke up. "I... couldn't..."

Dr. Nasus answered for him. "Eventually, you were afraid to go outside,
and spent the entire day cleaning and recleaning your house. The only
people you were in contact with were the deliverymen, right?"

Jason said, "And even then." Shrugging.

"Even then, you would disinfect everything going in and out of your
house!" Dr. Nasis finished. Jason looked close to tears. "And it was then
that your family and friends forced you to look for help."

Jason was unmoving, remembering the long hours of cleaning, the extreme
fear that somehow he was dirty and going to die.

Dr. Nasus opened the tupperware container that was on the desk. With the
lid tilted, Jason couldn't quite see what was inside.

"I want to get better," Jason said. "But what happens next?"

The doctor smiled. "Well, no better time like the present!"

Jason looked up, alarmed.

"I am a busy man, and can only take patients I believe will be," here he
paused, "*amenable* to my style of behavioral therapy."

Suddenly, Jason knew what was in the tupperware. He could smell it.

The doctor became quite serious. "We are going to do an experiment." He
looked at Jason without smiling. "Do you think we can do that?"

Jason vigorously nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yes Sir," he
whispered.

The doctor opened his desk drawer. "Since you were a boy, you've been
afraid of getting dirty. This has adversely affected your life. Today is
the day that everything changes." Dr. Nasus pulled out a pair of blue
rubber surgical gloves and put them on with a snap of each finger.

"Place your hand on the top of the desk, palm down" the doctor ordered.

Jason did so, his hand shaking as he laid it on top of the desk.

"There is a surgical sink in the back corner of the room," the doctor
explained. "It is fully stocked with antibacterial soap, with hot
water..."

The doctor turned the tupperware container around so Jason could see what
was inside of it. It confirmed his worst fears.

"If you can remain sitting in that chair for ten full minutes without
running to the sink, I will accept you as a patient." The doctor said this
in a flat voice. "If not..." he left the threat unfinished.

Jason couldn't stop looking into the container. Inside the tupperware was
a large dog turd. Light-brown in color, and quite soft. And there were
bits of... grass? Inside of it poking out the side, Jason thought. The
whole room was filled with the stink of the dog turd as the temperature
warmed up and the odors swirled around the room.

Dr. Nasus let them both sit there for a minute looking at each other.
Then, he slowly took two fingers and stuck them into the box, scooping out
a heap of stinking dogshit.

Jason's head was throbbing. He wanted to scream. All of the force in his
body was being used to force his hand to remain stuck to the table. The
scent of the dogshit was in his nose, making his dizzy. Jason wasn't sure
if he was going to pass out.

Was the doctor smiling? Jason almost thought so as he felt Dr. Nasus press
his two filthy fingers into the back of his hand. Jason felt the cold
paste smear across his knuckles as the doctor pressed a thick swath of
brown filth onto him. Jason wasn't sure what was worse: the soft gooey
feeling against the hairs on the back of his hand, or the realization that
now the intense stink in the room was coming from *him*. That Jason was
the source of the horrible contamination.

The doctor scooped up another two fingers of dogshit and made a second
pass across Jason's hand, forming an "X". Jason's knuckles were white from
the tightness of his hand. Jason close his eyes and almost started to cry.

Instead, Jason thought back to his childhood. His mother was always
overprotective, and was extremely fastidious. Their house was immaculate,
all of Jason's clothing was always clean and shining white. Jason's mom
died when Jason was the boy was ten, and Jason was inconsolable. Jason's
dad tried to organize everything, but he too, was emotionally distraught.
That left Jason as the person who did all the cooking and cleaning.

Jason tried to think of something else, anything but the mess of dogshit
that was currently drying on the back of his hand. The cleanliness of the
sink was so close! He could get up right now and wash it off... maybe
fifty or sixty scrubbings and he would be clean again...

Jason though back to the last time he played sports as a boy... playing
football with some friends in the backyard of a friend who owned a dog. He
had the football, and was running for the endzone when another boy tackled
him. Jason remembered the sickening feeling as he felt his palm and
forearm slip across the grass, sliding on the dog turd that his hand had
landed on. The other boys laughed when Jason stood up in panic, a large
brown smear of filth covering his arm all the way up to the elbow. He
never played football again.

Five minutes. Jason opened his eyes, and almost threw up when he saw the
cross of dogshit still on the back of his palm. He started breathing in as
shallowly as possible, almost hyperventilating to avoid inhaling more of
the shit smell than he had to. Jason could swear that he saw Dr. Nasus
smiling back at him as he shut his eyes tight again.

Jason thought back to the bathrooms at school, the classmates who would
piss on everything. Sometimes the larger boys would torture a smaller boy
by lifting him up and dunking his head in the toilet. A "swirlie" they
called it. One time, Jason was cornered in the boy's bathroom and chosen
to be the next victim. But Jason screamed so hard and so long - huge howls
of abject terror - that the older boys were freaked out themselves and
left Jason in the filthy bathroom, sitting on the dirty floor sobbing.

Two more minutes.

Jason thought about his job, and how the other coworkers thought it was
odd he never ate the the company cafeteria. His odd bathroom habits led to
some medical problems, as Jason starting taking large amounts of Imodium
AD in order to prevent having to shit every day. The habits and rituals
got worse and worse, until Jason was led to an intervention, and therefore
this office. Thinking about his path gave Jason the resolve to continue.
He wanted to be better. He wanted to be healed. He would do whatever the
doctor told him to do, because he...

"Go wash your hand," the doctor whispered. Jason looked up in shock. Ten
minutes! He lept up from the chair, and ran to the industrial sink.

For the next ten minutes. Dr. Nasus could here sobbing coming from the
corner of the room, along with frantic scrubbing. The doctor stripped off
the rubber gloves, wadding them into the tupperware before sealing it.
That tupperware container would get a LOT of use over the next few months.

Dr. Nasus spoke to himself. "I think I have something to work with here..."