Gromet's Plaza Trashcan Stories
The Bins Next Door
by Binboy
binboy101@gmail.com | forum feedback
© Copyright 2009 - Binboy - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; bagged; gag; hood; tape; trash; foodwaste; dumpster; stuck; encased; truck; disposal; compactor; suffocated; cons/nc; XX death scene
WARNING Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life will result in injury or death.
The Bins Next Door 2 by Binboy Solo-M; bagged; gag; hood; tape; trash; foodwaste; dumpster; stuck; encased; truck; disposal; compactor; suffocated; cons/nc; XX
continued from part one

Part Two

I was well and truly panicking now as I struggled again in vain against the moist plastic garbage pile that surrounded me on all sides. I tried desperately to make some noise that might be heard by a passer by, but against the tight sealed tape over my mouth, all I could manage was a vague "mmmmm" noise, and I knew that even if someone stood right outside my steel trash prison, they would never hear it above the noise of the passing traffic. I had totally lost track of time, but I knew that from the fact that I was here at least one night, then Jake the garbarge boy would soon be here to do his job, and sweep away the trash to make way for another weeks load of spoil.

I guessed that most of the bags that surrounded me now must contain food waste, as they were for the most part quite soft. They would have been pliable were it not for the fact that they were packed so tightly. It was a miracle that my breathing hole still had access to air, but I knew that this was borrowed time. As soon as the garbage truck came, I would be buried and packed away forever in a huge block of garbage in the back of the ravenous truck. I wondered for a moment if anyone thought it strange that I had not turned up for work that morning.

Funny in a way to think, that totally unbeknownst to them, I was bound and gagged, and pressed into the rubbish in a steel container not more than a few dozen feet from where they sat, I doubted that I would ever return to work now, as my fate seemed to be pretty much sealed. I felt that my only hope now was for the bags around my body to rip, and for Jake to notice my exposed flesh, but the bags I had used were super industrial strength, and they were almost impossible to tear. I felt hopeless, but yet still, my rock hard cock pressed into the soft bag beside me. While even the strength in my arms and legs could not repel the trashy tomb, my cock managed to make all the room it needed. I writhed in ecstasy once again as I came with such powerful force, and felt the warm cum drip around my bound body inside the toughened industrial bag. Exhausted, I slumped again, and pondered my situation. I did not want this to go so far, but now I was well and truly screwed.

As the heat rose over the course of the morning, so I became so much more aware of the smells inside my prison. All true garbage smells, rotting food, sweetness from spilled milkshakes, sour milk. These smells had always been intoxicating to me in the past, as I pictured myself buried deep in their stenchy pile. Now that I was in the position, the smell still held an attraction that preventing me from gagging, as would most people. The plastic against my body felt warm, and almost as if it would melt off of me. I knew I would not be that lucky though.

Suddently, I became consious of a noise. A growling belching mechanical noise that I knew from my weekly spying. Jake was here with his garbage truck! The squeal of  brakes was incredibly loud considering how deep I was buried, so I guessed that he must have stopped right beside my bin. Fuck, what could I do to prevent this????

I pressed and strained against my plastic prison, but to no awail. I "mmmm"ed away trying vainly to make some sort of sound, but the noise of the truck engine right beside me made it all the more futile. I was likely to never be found, but dammit, I was gonna keep trying.

A sudden loud CLANG noise right beside me alerted me to the fact that Jake had connected the arms of the truck to the first bin. It was an overhead lift that lifted the bin up above the truck before upending it and pouring the contents into the hopper below. There, the compactor would push the hoppers contents deep into the bowels of the trucks steel container. The clang happened again as the bin was dropped with a jolt back onto the ground, and then the noise increased greatly as Jake pulled the levers to activate the compactor.

The loud WHHHRRRRRRRRRR of the huge steel plate totally surrounded my senses as I pictureed the black sealed bags in the truck being squeezed and pressed into each other, as they are shoved into the stinking pile already inside the truck. I had peered into the compactor once before from an upstairs window, and it was so dark, and so inviting. I had no idea that this would be my ultimate fate.

5 or 6 times more, Jake manouvred the bins in front of the trucks lifting gear, and each time, the noise of the activated packer surrounded my senses making me writhe and struggle against my plastic bonds. To no avail though, as I got nowhere, but once again, my cock exploded at the thoughts of the fate that was mere moments away.

Finally, my own bin jerked as Jake put his shoulder against it to manouvre it into place. My struggles increased, but it was totally in vain. I had no way out of this. I imagined Jakes overalls pulling taught against his muscular body as he strained against the unsusual weight of this bin. Perhaps he would notice the weight and question it? No, that was silly, he was hardly likely to investigate the contents of a huge bin stuffed to the gills with black plastic sacks of rotting food and detritus.

There was a harsh BANG and my whole world shook as the gripped blades of the truck hugged my prison tight, and then a sudden lightness of body as the machine wheered into life once again and lifted the container into the air.

As my container began to turn upside down, I felt a strange sense as up became down, and everything about where I was lost sense. The weight of the trash pressed from underneath me and against the lid for only a  moment before the gravity lock gave way, and the plastic wrapped contents fell with a "swoosh" into the maw of the compactor. As I had been near the bottom of the bin, I was now near the top of the pile, and the weight around me eased considerably. I thought that maybe I could get to the top of the pile and make some sound, while desperately trying to free my hands which were still taped behind me. I moved like an earthworm in slow, agonizing lurches. My muscles were competely locked into place, and it was almost impossible to get any leverage. However, poking my black bag clad head up through the pile, and suddenly, I could smell cold air right outside the plastic covering my face. I could see nothing now, as my eye hole had slipped out of place, but I was sure that I was at the top. Still in the trucks compactor, but nearing light and air and freedom!!!

In my excitement to escape, I had lost all sense of the sounds around me, and it knocked the wind out of me when the contents of another bin came sloshing down all around me. Suddenly, my fresh air was gone, replaced only by the intoxicating scent of plastic that comes from being buried under dozens of packed trash bags. The next noise I heard was the sudden action of the compator blade as it kicked into action.

As I had been at the top of the first pile to go into the truck, the blade managed to pass right underneath me. I could feel the packed bags below me move and twice I felt the sudden movement of air as bags beneath me burst under the intense pressure. The noise of crushing tin and plastic, and all manner of trash snapping and bending filled my ears, and it became apparent what my end would be. I struggled again, with little confidence, but the weight of the trash above me pressed me into the packer moving below me. I felt it jerk to a halt, and then pull back out of the compactor again, ready for another run.

As the packer moved back to its starting position, the bag below me shifted, and fell about 4 feet into the bottom of the hopper. Like dominos the bags around me fell likewise, and the mound above me fell to fill the hole, burying me entirely in rubbish. Once again, the loud whine of the packer kicked in as it began to push the squashy pile deep into the trucks belly. The pressure around me suddenly became unbearable as the blade met with the pile and forced it, squealing and bursting into the black square hole of the compactor bin. Every part of my body felt tight and totally unable to move, as the plastic against my face strained to the shape of my head. The tape across my mouth begain to move and I managed to mutter a faint "aah" before the other full bags around my head pressed into place and silenced me totally.

As the final load in this truck began to press all around me in the dark, steel container, the hole through which I was breathing finally slipped out of place. Unable to move, I struggled in vain as my nose inhaled nothing but plastic. I could feel the bag being sucked up my nostril as I inhaled like I never had before, but it was all in vain. Whatever fate awaited the contents of this truck awaited me. In my final moments, I acknowledged that despite it all, this had been once hell of a ride.

the end.

You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum

14.04.09

If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
trashcan stories