Diagnosing a Fetish Ch. 06

"It's OK. I don't need anything."

"Great! Well, I guess I'll leave you then. Would you like the lights left on or turned off?"

"Off, I guess."

"Off it is." Flicking the switch, she plunged the room into darkness before exiting.

"Is everything hooked up?" I could hear Dr. Morse's voice through the door.

"Yes, it should all be set," came Sandra's reply.

"Great, you're good to go home then. Thank you for staying late."

I couldn't hear anything else and assumed they had both left my vicinity. I was hoping that Sandra would stay throughout the experiment, but it seemed luck wasn't on my side. Knowing that I would soon be alone with Dr. Morse, trapped in a locked room only she could access, was doing little for my mental well-being. I held my phone under the pillow as I lay in bed, keeping it out of view. Worst case, I could call Kat for help, and she could get me out of here. For the time being, I pulled the thin sheets over my body and tried my best to sleep.

~`~`~`~`~`~

"Mallory," a voice shook me awake, "The test is over."

In front of me stood Dr. Morse, wearing the same lab coat as the night before. She was leaning forward, removing the electrodes from my body. Her hands worked fast, weirdly so, as if she was worried about someone coming in. That was until she got to the electrodes on my chest. These she took her time on, brushing her hands against my breasts and noticeably stroking my exposed skin as she did so. "Is Sandra here to do this?" I asked, turning to avoid her hand as she went for another electrode.

"No, she went home," her response was matter-of-fact.

"I don't feel comfortable with you touching me," I tried to move away, but her tight grip on my wrist kept me in place, "Let go of me!"

Without notice, Dr. Morse wrapped my hair around her hand, and she ripped me backward on the bed. The pain was excruciating as she pulled me across the blankets, her free hand swatting me away as I tried to fight back. "Don't you fucking tell me what to do. You're going to get my medical license taken away for a second time if you don't shut the hell up," she spat at me, simultaneously tying my wrist to the headboard with a thick piece of rope.

"Get away from you, crazy bitch!" I tried to kick her, but she avoided me and quickly went around the other side of the bed, grabbing my left wrist and tying it up like the first. I could feel the rope cutting into my flesh as I struggled, doing everything I could to break free. All the while, Dr. Morse stood by the bedside, taunting me with a grin on her face as she watched me flop and flail.

"You're not going anywhere," she teased, her eyes burning into my soul as she glared at my helpless body. However, it didn't take long until Dr. Morse got bored, at which point she took off her pants and straddled my body. I could feel the heat between her legs on my chest as she hovered over me. "What are you going to do? No one is here to help you," she sneered, moving forward to plant a long kiss on my lips.

"Kat will come for me."

"That bitch is coming for you? Yeah right, she hates you."

My hands were suddenly around her throat, squeezing her esophagus as I pushed her to the ground. In the moment, I didn't question how my hands were untied or how I managed to overpower her. It was a blur, but my knee was soon pressing into her stomach, grinding her into the floor. "Don't fucking say that." I spat.

"It's true," our positions shifted, and she was now on top of me, "Everyone hates you, especially her."

"This isn't real!" I finally put the pieces together. The weird atmosphere, the violence, my ability to escape the ropes; I was still sleeping. "This is a dream."

"If this is a dream, then do something to stop me," Dr. Morse snarled, "I bet your lungs are burning right now, your throat struggling to get even the tiniest little bit of oxygen."

I thought it was a dream, but she was right; I couldn't do anything. My brain spun, and my vision blurred as I tried to figure out what was happening. I couldn't trust what was happening. I couldn't trust my thoughts.

A second later and I was pinned against the wall now. Dr. Morse was still grabbing me, but her clothes had vanished, and her naked body was pushed against my torso. My clothes were gone too, at least I think they were. I could feel her warmth but couldn't look down to confirm. Her grip was too tight, keeping my head firmly in place.

"You like this," her tone had changed, quiet now, almost sultry, "You like when I do this to you."

"No, I don't," I squeaked out.

"Then why are you so wet?"

I felt a finger slip between my legs and into my slit. It shifted inside me, moving around my folds and burying itself deeper. I tried to fight it, but I could feel a growing warmth, arousal taking hold of my body as she pushed deeper still.

"You like it," she repeated.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look at her for another second, "Stop it."

"If you didn't want this to happen, then why did you come to me?"

I could feel myself getting light-headed, my body ready to give up. "Because I wanted help."

"You wanted help?

"Yes," I gasped, choking on the words, "I... Wanted... Help...."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

The pressure was gone from my throat, and I could no longer feel Dr. Morse against me. Slowly opening my eyes, I found her sitting across from me, now fully dressed, as was I. We were back in her office as if nothing had happened.

"You need to tell me what's wrong," she repeated.

"I don't know," my head began aching, "I-I can't... I can't remember."

"You were talking about Dave. You were saying something about him catching you? What did her catch you doing?"

"Dave?"

"Yes," Dr. Morse sighed, "Your ex-husband Dave. Please try to stay focused, Mrs. Byrd."

There was a muffled crackling in the room, and I could smell something. Its source was clear as I watched the seat of Dr. Morse's pants bulge outward, the blue fabric becoming saturated with liquid and turning dark. "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice barely audible. The room stank, the air thick with the putrid smell of the doctor's shit. Her face, however, had no indication that anything was wrong.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied.

"Why are you doing that?"

"Oh, you mean this?" she turned around, bending over to show off the bulge. I could hear her straining, the seat of her pants expanding as she pushed out more shit. "What's the problem? I know you like it."

"No, I don't."

"Then why are you doing it?"

Panicked, I looked down to find my pants soaked through with piss. I could feel a mass underneath me, the lump of shit squelching as I shifted in the chair. The filth seeping through my jeans was warm, pressed tightly against my skin as more leaked out. I couldn't control it, unable to stop the flow from either hole. "Stop it," I begged, but it didn't matter. The flow was seemingly endless, my shit piling in on itself while my pee leaked onto the floor, creating a golden pool.

"I'm not doing anything," Dr. Morse replied, striding across the room until she stood over me. Her hands tore at my shirt, ripping the fabric off my skin and exposing my chest as I continued emptying my bowels and bladder. "This is all you. This is what you want."

"No, it's not," I whined, trying to push away her hands, "Stop it."

"Oh, come on; you love this."

"No, I don't."

She continued to grab me, pulling at my top and fondling my chest. "You love it," she repeated.

"Get off of me!"

"Mallory, you need to calm down."

"No!"

"Mallory, it's me, Sandra. You were just having a bad dream; you're OK. Just calm down."

"Sandra?" I rubbed my eyes, sitting up on the bed. Sure enough, the nurse was back. "This is real, right? I-I'm not still dreaming?"

"No, this is real," she assured me, cautiously reaching back down to remove the electrodes.

I sat in silence as she did so, trying my best not to turn away from her touch. I was awake now; at least, I was pretty sure I was. Unlike in my dreams, I was wearing the provided pajamas again, although they were now saturated with sweat. The room also felt more... physical. Still, I was struggling to know what to believe anymore. Everything that happened while I was asleep felt real in the moment, regardless of how strange it seemed in retrospect. I was just glad that

"Are you OK?" Sasha asked once I was disconnected from the machine.

"Yeah, I think so," I massaged my temples.

"I, um," she stuttered, "I don't mean to embarrass you, but I think you've had an... accident."

My blood ran cold as I followed her gaze downward, discovering that the crotch of the blue pajama pants had a large wet patch. "Oh my god," I whispered, covering my face in a pitiful attempt to hide my shame.

"It's OK. We throw out the pajamas anyways, and the sheets are all waterproof," Sandra tried her best to reassure me, although it was pretty much pointless, "We have a shower you can use before getting dressed, too."

"No, I-I don't want to shower, not here. I just want to go home."

"Are you sure?"

"Please." I couldn't shower here. I couldn't trust Dr. Morse enough to feel comfortable getting naked in the same building as her. All I could think about was if there were cameras set up in that shower, giving her all the material she would need to blackmail me. I couldn't give her that power over me, even if I was covered in my piss.

"I can get you some baby wipes if you want. Maybe you can try your best to wipe yourself off instead."

"OK."

"OK, I'll be right back with those." Sandra left the room, returning a few minutes later with a container of wipes, some paper towels, and a plastic bag. "Here you go. Get cleaned up, and then meet me in the hall once you're dressed. You can put the pajamas in the bag, and I'll throw them out."

After she left, I waited a minute or two before peeling the cold, wet pants off and dropping them into the bag as directed. I did my best to use the baby wipes to clean myself, but I still wasn't going to take off my panties. As a result, most of my crotch stayed dirty, pressed into the urine-soaked fabric. I used the paper towels to dry off and then put on a clean pair of pants I brought. I changed the pajama shirt for one of my own, too, adding it to the bag with the pajama pants.

Unfortunately, I would have to leave the pajamas behind. I didn't know if there was anything Dr. Morse would do with them, but her past discretions made me unable to trust her. So, for now, I tied the top of the bag and set them beside the bed, hopeful that Sandra would find them before the Doctor. Then, taking a second to calm my breathing, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and exited the room, finding Sandra in the hall right outside my door.

"Good to go?"

"I guess so."

"Hey, don't sweat it," she whispered in my ear as we walked, "I haven't been doing this long, and I've still seen all sorts of stuff. This doesn't even crack the top ten, OK? No big deal, I promise."

Any unease she was alleviating returned all at once when we rounded the corner to find Dr. Morse standing in the center of the building's reception. My heart stopped, as did my feet. It was Sandra that had to pull me the rest of the way, offering words of encouragement along the way. I didn't know if Dr. Morse had found out what had happened, but I definitely didn't want to.

"Mallory," she greeted me with a slight nod. "I think the test went OK. I'll collect the results and should have an official report for you by the end of the week. For now," she handed me a folded piece of paper, "Here is a prescription for prazosin; it should help with the nightmares. I'll let you know if anything changes."

I cautiously took the paper, "Thanks."

Without another word, Dr. Morse turned and walked back into the offices, leaving Sandra and me alone. "Well, I guess this is goodbye then," she smiled, "It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you too." Almost in a haze, I wandered out of the building and into the parking lot. Kat was there to greet me, getting out of her car and helping me with my bag.

"How was it?" she asked, closing her trunk.

"It was fine."

"Nothing bad happened?"

I just shook my head, getting into the passenger seat. I don't know why, but it wasn't until we were about halfway home that a sudden burst of emotions struck me. Suddenly tears were streaming down my face, and my nose was running, and I couldn't stop any of it. I was hoping Kat wouldn't notice, but of course, she picked up on it immediately.

"Oh my God, Mallory, are you OK?"

"Yeah," I struggled to respond, my words getting stuck in my throat as I cried.

Pulling into a vacant parking lot, Kat unbuckled her seatbelt and quickly jumped to my aid, grabbing a package of tissues from her glovebox. "What did that bitch doctor do now? I swear to god if she did anything, I am going to sue her ass. This is not OK."

"It wasn't her," I whispered.

"What?"

"It wasn't her," I repeated, louder now, "It was me, OK? It was me." Kat didn't ask any further questions, instead just holding me as I covered her shirt with my tears and snot. I was exhausted, itchy, dirty, and I was sick of everything. I just wanted it all to stop.