Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

The Bins Next Door

by Binboy

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2008 - Binboy - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-M; sbm; bagged; gag; hood; tape; dumpster; trash; foodwaste; encased; locked; stuck; cons/nc; X

I watched every single Thursday morning as the garbage truck shuddered to a halt in the service yard next door. I worked in an IT sales company, which was on a main road next to a huge restaurant and drive through complex. That place had bank machines, sit down cafe, off license, the works. It was really handy when you needed something on the way home from work, but it was very dear.

For me, one of the most fascinating parts of this place was the collection of huge wheelie bins around the back. Every Thursday, like clockwork, the truck marked "Souhans Waste" would pull up, and the driver, a very fit young lad by the name of Jake, would pull the huge bins to the truck and one by one, empty their contents away.

I guessed the manager next door must be quite mean, because the bins were always stuffed over the fill level, with occasionally a few dozen bags lying on the ground. As I sat in my office, (with a view of all this :-) ), I would often dream of being in one of those bags. Being hauled by Jake into the truck, to be swept away with the trash and then to suffer whatever fate awaited garbage in this part of the city.

After one particularly horrible Monday, I had decided that the next day, I would act out my fantasy, and screw the consequences. I got the bus to work that day, with my backpack over my shoulder containing my drum liners, and my roll of tape. Just what I needed to make this happen. I'd planned this somewhat the day before, when I went next door and pushed one of the bins over to right beside our power maintainance unit. In the unwatched dark after my office had shut, I could prepare myself on top of the unit, and then roll right into the bin placed next to it on the other side of the wall. I wanted this to be as real as possible.

I climbed onto the roof of the unit, and steadied myself. Ripping off the first bag on the roll made me rock hard instantly, and I really relished what I was doing. I pulled the bag over my knees so that I was sitting in it with its mouth around my armpits, and then I took out the tape. Rolling it round and round my kneeled legs, I secured myself into a kneeling position whereby I could not move. Finally, I took another bag, and pulled it over the taped up bag beneath, hiding from view any suspicious looking plastic layers.

Taking the next bag, I pulled it right over my head til the tough plastic corner touched off the corner of my head. With the bag as far over me as it would go, I poked air holes where my nose would be, and one eyehole so that I could see what I was doing for the next few minutes. The tape then wrapped 7 times around my head, securing the bag into place over my nose and one eye, also gagging me completely. I was unable to utter a sound. 

But then, a clang of a door opening. Fuck! It was the door from the kitchen in the restaurant. One of the young lads that worked there was dragging a huge black bag of rubbish out, needless to say to dispose of, and here was I, half taped up and bagged, gagged with tape and sitting on the roof of the generator. I held my breath, petrified for what felt like ages. Finally, he turned to one of the bins that was outside the restaurant, and heaved the bag in. It made a wonderful plasticcy smoosh noise as it fell to rest on the pile already in the bin. He hadnt seen me. Thank God. As the door shut from the inside, I began the second half of my task.

I inched my way over to the side of the roof, right next to the bin. This was so I could just fall into the bin when I was ready. The next, and last, bag I would need I took and with some difficulty, poked a hole large enough for my head. I pulled my head through, meaning my plastic clad shoulders were now in the corners of this bag. I could still breath through my nose holes, and now my arms were totally covered too.

The final piece was to take the roll of tape; heavy duty baling tape that cost a lot of money, reach both arms behind my back, and wrap and wrap and wrap around each arm til I was secured. It was a bit difficult, but after about 20 circuits, I was suitably immobile with my arms bound together. I expected it would take about 3 hours to get out of my binds, but I had plenty of time, so was generous with the taping.

Finally, the outer bag kind of fell with a whoosh over my body, as I leaned over the precipice, and got ready to fall into the smelly maw beneath. I fell for only nanoseconds before a squashy landing absorbed my fall. I had made sure to choose a bin that was almost full, so I would have a soft landing. And also so that there would not be too much weight above me that could restrict my escape.

I hadn't figured on sinking so far into the warm trash already in there though, and after about 25 seconds of settling, I reckoned I must be near the bottom of the bin. About 2 or 3 bags deep beneath me and about 7 or 8 bags deep above me. It didnt matter, this was esctasy, and  I lay there for about 3 hours shuddering with excitement at the idea of where I was. Nobody knew I was here, and that prospect thrilled me. My rock hard cock throbbed against its plastic prison and pressed deep into the bag of garbage that lay, crushed, beside me.

Most of the bags around me were quite full, and relatively heavy. The feel of the smooth plastic pressing me lightly all around my body was exquisite. The subtle smell of the trash was intoxicating, and being gagged made this so much more real.

It wasn't long before I heard the door of the restaurant clang open again. No surprise, they were open 24 hours, and had a lot of waste, so there would be people putting it out all the time. The only thing that surprised me was the voice. The next man I heard speak was Martin, the night manager. He was barking instructions at one of the young lads, and I could hear vague snippets. It sounded like they had a lot of rubbish to get rid of, and were trying to figure where to put it.

Martins voice grew in volume as I heard him say, "For fuck sake Ryan, go and get that bag I bought in the hardware store today".

Hardware store I thought? What was going on. I rocked slightly in my binds to check my movement, and it wasnt too bad. I still had out on this.

Ryan returned to Martin who seemed to be right outside my bin and must have handed him something.

"Here you go Martin", I heard him say, "whats up anyway, why is this bin over here?"

Shit, they had noticed my bin being out of place.

Martin's response filled me with dread. "Its those fuckers next door, they've been using our bins again. They were at this a few years ago, and I'll be damned if I'm paying for their rubbish. Just last night, I seen one of the lads from in there pushing this bin over to the wall. No doubt to fill with his crap, but it doesn't look like he's been here yet, all this rubbish is ours".

I was frozen with fear. I had been spotted last night getting this scene ready, and now my container was being scrutinized. This was not something I could explain off lightly, so as the conversation continued, I held my breath, and tried not to make a sound. It didnt really matter anyway, it was unlikely they would hear a vague sound of plastic rustling over the noise of the traffic on the main road.

"These are gravity locks that I got today," Martin continued. "Once you lock this on a bin, it will not open again unless you either know the combination, or you turn the whole bin upside down. Once the truck has the bin over the compactor, the lock opens spilling the contents into the truck. They really are a great idea." he concluded.

"Yeah, nifty," replied Ryan with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

My bin began to roll as Ryan pushed it back towards the restaurant. He struggled with the unusual weight, but he didn't complain. I heard the hinge above me open, and suddenly my breath was knocked out as a huge heavy bag was dropped into the pile above me. All around, bags writhed and moved and slithered as this new member of our bin settled into place. Seconds later another, and another and another. This new rubbish was removing what little free movement I had left, and I was starting to feel uneasy. At least my breathing was fine. My dilemma now though, should I try and struggle free and get caught by Ryan, or should I sit it out and try to escape when they went back inside.

Ryan answered this for me. I heard him call another guy to help. The lid of my bin would not close, but he had to put the lock on to keep Martin happy. He got the other guy to climb on top and put his pull weight on to force the lid shut. Whoever the guy was, he weighed a ton, and near the bottom of the pile where I was, all I could hear was the creak and groan of plastic bottles and tin cans being squashed, and the occasional whistle as a bag burst. All around, my ears filled with a groaning crushing noise and the pressure became intense. Suddenly, there was a click, and the waste moved a fraction back. But only a fraction, and I was well and truly packed. Ryan had locked the bin shut with rubbish squashed down, and me at the bottom, bound, gagged and helpless.

I was starting to panic now. Although, my panic made no difference, I could not move an inch. My arms were well and truly packed behind me now, and even if I did get the tape off, the hefty bags packed all around me made movement impossible. I tried to rock side to side, back and forward, but it was pointless. Even the shouts I attempted was nothing more than a distant murmur, impossible to hear from outside I would imagine.

In my eagerness for this scene, I had put myself in an inescapable situation, and I now regretted that. Kind of. Part of me was still loving this, and my rock hard cock still pressed into the bagged waste all around me. I still had a day and a bit though, so perhaps if I continued struggling, I could get out of this.

Before long, I was exhausted, and had to sleep.

It was 14 hours before I woke again, and my time was running thin indeed. I tried to move again, but again, my well packed smelly prison cell refused to relent, and I settled back into my now all too familiar position.

How the fuck was I going to get out of this mess??????



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


story continues in


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