Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

For the Money

by malus_infantia

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© Copyright 2019 - malus_infantia - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; bin; collection; bagged; trash; diapers; compacted; XXX; cons

Warning: Death Scene

She received a payment last night, so she knew today was going to involve a special pick up. Driving her usual route, she reflected on how it had become routine. They were just more garbage to dump, crush, and haul away; all neatly bagged up, fates sealed by the presence of at least one ribbon. Part of her was mildly surprised at how easy it was for her, even the first time. The money was too good for her to say no - and once she followed her impulse to run the packer there was no turning back.

She paid off her truck with that first special pick up. Every pick up after that got her a little more financial independence. Within months she was an independent waste specialist and she had her pick of routes. Thus the job she took from necessity became one that she soon enjoyed, and then came to love. All she had to do was not ask questions, and not be too conspicuous with how she spent her new found and abundant wealth.

Over those months, a kind of ritual and system developed around her special pickups. A message attached to her first few payments established expectations of how the garbage was meant to be handled. If the garbage was simply bagged, then it was business as normal - dump into the hopper, and run the packer whenever it got full. But a green ribbon tied around the bag's knot meant, for instance, that she was to send a live video of the bin being dumped, and the packer being run from a burner phone. She assumed that it was being uploaded to a server somewhere, or maybe being watched live by an especially morbid audience. Over the two years she had been doing this part of her job, a number of themes and variations developed - but it all started with dumping the special garbage into her hopper and compacting it with all the other trash.

She could afford to take her time with her route these days - and so she made her stops, popped out of the cab, hand loaded whatever garbage was at a residence's curb, and ran the packer when it made sense to. It was an easy rhythm for her: stop, dump until the hopper was full, crush, drive, stop, dump until the hopper was full, crush, drive. She didn't think much more about the special stop with the special garbage until she pulled up to the end of the long drive, with its two large garbage bins.

First, she had to set up her phone for recording using a special rig she'd developed. It provided a full view of the hopper, and an excellent view of the packer's action. She wondered who was on the other end - whether they were watching it live, or just storing the footage for later - she had made up a few different stories in her head about what was happening.

As she wheeled over the first large bin, which while heavy was not heavy enough to be the special garbage, she considered her theory that these were enemies of the mob or something. Snitches and rats and crooked dealers. She hooked the bin to the lifter, observing as she bit her lower lip, black and white plastic sacks stuffed with what looked like adult baby diapers tumbled into the hopper. It made a kind of sense - being compacted into garbage would be an extremely painful way to go, and there would be no easy way to find the body. She shrugged, wheeling the empty bin back to the curb. It didn't explain the video though, or the frequency of these pickups. It could be that she stumbled onto a particularly extreme and gruesome genre of porn. She grunted as she yanked the next bin, pulling along to the lifter. If that was the case, then there must either be an exceptionally wealthy buyer, or an extremely high demand for watching people get disposed off as garbage.

The contents of the bin slid out, first a smaller bag, and then a much larger black bag with a number of ribbons tied around the knot that sealed it shut. As the larger bag settled into the pile of bagged trash in the truck's hopper, she noted that the customer wanted the whole disposal process filmed - from pick up, to dumping, shredding, and finally incinerating. A visual inspection insured that the garbage was well wrapped up and bagged. The bag squirmed, and she could hear some very faint moans coming from within.

Taking her place at the packers controls, she pulled the first switch. The packer blade extended out, as loose bags of compacted trash slide into the hopper. It was probably a sex thing, she thought. It explained a few things, such as how the garbage in the bag tended to moan rather than scream. Though it never stopped her when it did scream; garbage was garbage afterall, and it all got disposed of regardless of how it felt about the whole thing.

Pulling the next switch, the packer blade continued its sweep covering the contents of the truck's hopper. If it was a sex thing, that would also explain why there tended to be just one kind of trash packed in with the special garbage. Like today was adult baby diapers, but she's crushed up folks in pet waste, food waste, feminine hygiene products; and that was the trend with these special pickups was that there was frequently one type of garbage to be disposed of. Diapers were the most common though.

It made everything way easier for her if she thought of it as a sex thing, which is what she did as she pulled the final lever. She imagined that whoever was bound up in that garbage bag was cumming all over theirself, squirting their own garbage juice into their diaper, as the packer drew the contents of the hopper up into the trucks body. As the bagged garbage snapped, popped and crunched; she felt herself get wet, seeing the trash disappear, knowing that this was it...just compacted garbage to be hauled off and processed. Something about the finality of it, and the ease with which the garbage just disappeared felt extremely satisfying to her. She'd have no shortage of memories to masturbate to...she wondered idly if she should start her own collection of videos for these special pickups.

With a wistful sigh she returned to her route. The next time she ran the packer, the special bag of garbage slid into the hopper atop a fresh pile of bagged trash, making her chuckle. Whatever likeness it had to a person was gone. It was just another shapeless bag, which was joined by other bags, and after another run of the blade - was completely compacted into the truck. The rest of the route was business as usual: drive, stop, dump until the hopper was full, crush, drive, stop, dump until the hopper was full, crush, drive. The burner phone recorded every moment - every bin emptied, every load that crushed the garbage tighter and tighter.

At the station, after she emptied her truck into the pit, she set her phone up to record how the garbage was processed. The conveyor ran constantly and with a slight shake that forced the garbage piles to even into more of a constant stream of mangled trash, broken bags, and the occasionally unbroken but rather squashed garbage sack. She spied the ribbons attached to the knotted end of what was the special garbage - and focused the camera on its journey. Along the conveyor belt it went, ascending upward for a few dozen feet. She had not often had the chance to see things through to this point, and she took a special kind of relish from such moments - Over the edge the special bag went, sliding along the sides of the massive chute that lead to the churning teeth of the garbage shredder. The amorphous lump of plastic rested atop some other garbage, moving slightly, almost bouncing - she couldn't help but giggle as she imagined the crushed trash happily jostling about in anticipation. It lasted but a moment before the teeth of the shredder caught it and pulled it down. Diapers, flesh, bone and bag alike were shredded into an essence of garbage; slopping down into another chute, and another belt that moved the slurry along to the mouth of the incinerator...the final destination of all garbage. She recorded for a few more moments, making sure that the viewer would get the sense that whoever had been in the bag made it all the way to the flames.

On her drive home she felt satisfied. A hard day's work, generous pay, and she hoped, fulfilling someone's ultimate fantasy. Though when it came down to it she didn't really care how the garbage felt about being disposed of; it was her job to dispose of garbage, a job she'd come to love - and besides, how could she say no to all of the money?


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