Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

Got Carried Away

by PolytheneWrappedMe

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© Copyright 2018 - PolytheneWrappedMe - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-M; F/m; hotel; maid; befriend; hide; trolley; trashbags; bagged; disposal; compactor; garbage; truck; mast; cons; X

Warning! Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death

Having booked a luxury break away in the summer holidays, I was looking forward to a relaxing time, but perhaps maybe an adventure, if I was courageous enough.

I was booked into this 5 star hotel. All the hotel staff prided themselves on catering to their guests every need! Nothing was too much trouble, was their claim to fame. Indeed it was why people went there, and paid the astronomical sums.

The hotel had a spa, hairdressers, tennis courts, five fine dining restaurants, billiards room, conference room, swimming pools. The hotel guests could be chauffeured about in limos, relax in the hotel gardens, or watch sports on the big screen telly.

I had timed my holiday, to coincide with the football world cup. Not deliberately, you understand, but it meant that hotel guests were often occupied for hours, so that other parts of the hotel complex were quiet, if not completely deserted. You could wander about, no questions asked...…

Behind the scenes, the housekeeping staff (the maids) were kept very busy. The eight hundred guest bedrooms were well appointed and comfortable. Each room had a well-stocked minibar, which was replenished three times a day. The bathrooms had loads of towels, which were changed twice a day, and guests given supplies of sanitary bags, sewing kits, face cloths, face wipes. The maids also "turned down" the beds, while hotel guests went for dinner. So hardly three or four hours elapsed before the maids would do their next turn of duty. Of course, each visit also meant that the trash bins were regularly emptied from the bedrooms and bathrooms.

I was staying there alone, and I had taken some 1100 litre (240 gallon) black wheelie bin liners from home, so I could play with myself naked inside, pretending I was a bag of hotel waste. Naturally, I had to remember putting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the bedroom door, so that I would not be discovered.

Much to my amusement, I read that on the back of the "Do Not Disturb" sign, the reverse read: "Please make up the room" and my mind wandered what would happen, if I had placed the sign the wrong way round, or some mischievous person had walked passed, and changed the sign over! The maid would come bursting in to tidy the room, and find me stark naked inside a massive black bin liner and take me away as rubbish!! That actually was not that beyond belief, as I was only 2ft tall, and the liner was nearer 6ft 6 inches.

One afternoon, I had placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, and played with the sanitary bags left for the female hotel guests. I inserted my cock, and rubbed it up and down inside the white plastic sanitary bag, which dreaming I was small enough to go inside, and be joined by a used tampon or used panty liner pad, only to be thrown away in the bathroom bin, and collected by a maid.

Unlike most guests, who barely noticed the maids, I made an effort to befriend mine. She was in her late 50s, and was almost a good three decades older than me, a young lad in his early 20s.

Being vertically challenged, I had struggled to open the door, when I arrived with my suitcase, and the maid, seeing me struggle, had helped me open the door. In such a simple act, which was all part of the guest experience, a friendship of sorts grew. I would always ask her about her day, and show appreciation at her work, and she would chat and talk as she cleaned my rooms.

The maids all pushed a hand trolley along. It was a huge wooden table on wheels, with shelves for the fresh towels, and guest supplies (i.e. the sanitary bags), and at each end of the trolley, hung a large polythene bag. A clear bag at one end, that she stuffed dirty laundry in, and a thick black polythene bag that the other end for the bedroom and bathroom waste. On average, it would take the maids, 10 to 15 minutes to clean each room, depending on what needed to be done. If she stripped down the bed linen, for example, that would take longer, and often involved her calling a colleague for assistance with the king-sized beds. All the maids also had a vacuum cleaner for the carpets.

Whilst each guest room was cleaned, the maids were told to keep the doors almost closed / ajar to deter other guests from snooping into rooms that did not belong to them. This meant that during the cleaning of each room, the maid was often inside the guest room, with the door nearly shut. So the maid would not see out into the corridor, where the trolley was left.

Whilst I know some readers would want me to explore the laundry bin, I was more interested in the trash. Both bags were around 5ft deep, but not very wide, no more than 1ft in diameter.

I had to know more!

Originally my questions, were more to help my fantasies. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered whether this could be a real adventure.

So I lied and told her, that I was in the waste management business, and that I was interested in what the hotel did with its trash.

"You want to know about the trash, sir?" she asked with a puzzled look. No one had ever asked about that before.

I explained that with eight hundred bedrooms and bathrooms to clear, that the hotel must produce tonnes of it daily. Not to mention the waste food from the restaurants.

"Oh no", replied the maid, correcting my assumption, "the restaurants produce no food waste, it is all EATEN by the mechanical bio digesters in the kitchens. The food is mixed and turned into waste water".

I took a mental note to myself, never to fall inside one of them. Unable to escape, and be mulched into liquid, as I was rotated and drowned.

"The bedroom and bathroom waste is collected and taken to the trash compactor in the basement" she continued.

"May I have a look ?" I enquired, thinking if you don't ask, you don't get.

"The basement is off-limits to the hotel guests", she replied. Then seeing my disappointment on my face, she said, "I suppose it would do no harm, you being in the waste business".

The maid led me to the good's lift and inserted her key to operate it. Straight away, I noticed, that without her help, I could not be able go here by myself; for I had no key of my own. The lift doors opened at the basement level, and the two of us walked over to the trash compactor. "We put the bags of waste in here", she said pointing to the open hopper, "press the green start button, like so" (activating the compactor's ram) and I heard it cycle and return the ram to the open position again. Naturally, being so vertically challenged, I did not see. I gestured, and she instructed me to climb up onto a ledge so I could peer inside. I did so, and she pressed the green 'on' button again, so I could watch it cycle again. It confirmed my thoughts that when stopped, the ram retracted and the hopper stayed open (to make a future escape possible).

I joked, "Thank you for showing me, I just wish I could have a CLOSER look".

Stunned the maid replied, "But sir, for you to have a closer look, you would have to get INSIDE the compactor!"

I laughed. She laughed. She thought I was kidding. I was not.

"How often is the rubbish collected?" I asked.

"Twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays." she replied. Today was Friday.

We walked back to my room. After she left, the visual image still potent in my mind, I replaced the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, got another 1100 litre black bin liner out of my suitcase, and jerked off for hours.

Then I hatched a plan. I would wait until the next morning, when the maid wheeled her housekeeping trolley along the corridor outside the guest bedrooms on my floor of the hotel, and I would sneak out of my room with a black polythene liner, climb up the wooden shelves (where the towels where) and jump inside the 5ft tall black trash bag hanging from the trolley. I would then use my own black bin liner, to hide under.

I barely caught any sleep that night, thinking it through in my mind. I would spend all of Saturday with the waste, and make my escape in the small hours of Sunday morning when no one would be around.

Right on queue, the maid arrived the next morning.

Stark naked, I quietly opened by bedroom door, and peered out into the corridor. There was her housekeeping trolley a few rooms away.

I picked up my black bin liner, which I intended to use as my camouflage. The way I figured, a black polythene bags inside, another black polythene bag would blend in and be unnoticeable. I hoped.

I quietly closed my bedroom door. There was no going back now.

I climbed up the shelves where the fresh towels were neatly folded, and onto the top level. I dangled my feet inside the trash bag, hanging there. It felt so blissfully naughty, yet erotic, as my skin touched the shiny black plastic. I left myself slide inside, and I quickly pulled my own black bin liner over my head and hid.

I was now part of the hotel bedroom and bathroom waste, destined for the trash compactor; but in order for the plan to work, I had to remain perfectly still and perfectly quiet. Just like trash does.

The maid came out of the room, carrying dirty towels and linen. These were rammed into the laundry bag, and fresh replacements selected and taken to the room. Then she returned carrying two waste bins, one from the bedroom and the other from the bathroom. These she emptied into the trash bag, without another thought. And the contents rained down upon me. Empty glass bottles from the minibar (ouch), plastic bottles, tissues, women's make-up face wipes, a small white sanitary bag, with what looked like a used tampon in, all folded up. Then she returned to the room, and switched on the vacuum cleaner, and cleaned the carpets.

Having finished, she merely wheeled the housekeeping trolley to the next guest bedroom and continued.

Every so many minutes, more and more trash was emptied on top of me. The maid clearly had no idea, I was there.

Trash from my own room was even dumped on top of me.

"Why that lad throws out these large black bin liners I do not know" muttered the maid, as these were inserted into the trash bag on top of me also.

At the next guest bedroom, some hotel guests walked passed the maid's housekeeping trolley, containing a hotel guest, in its trash bag. I froze in fear, of being discovered, and stayed as still as I could be. But I need not have worried, as they just walked passed uninterested. As I said, the maid's duties are ignored by the vast majority of hotel guests, except those of us interested in the subject.

More rooms were cleaned. More trash buried me alive. More people walked passed uncaringly. I knew I was trash, and this was where I belonged.

As the trash bag filled, so, from time to time, the maid pressed down on the pile of trash above me, with her hands. Although far gentler than the jaws of the compactor, it still made my heart race, as I pictured her using the weight of her body to compress me in the waste.

This went on for what seemed like hours, before she decided the trash bag could hold no more, and needed emptying !

I was wheeled to the good's lift, and down I went into the basement.

The previous time, it was as her friend. Now I was nothing more than hotel trash, to be discarded, crushed and disposed of.

She unhooked the bag from the trolley, used her strength to flatten the trash one last time, before tying the bag closed. I was now sealed inside ! How would I breathe?

Then she hurled me into the trash compactor, pressed the green button, and the compactor did as it was programmed - its ram pushed me into the container; and she just walked away.

A little while later, ten other members of the hotel's housekeeping team, dumped their trash bags into the compactor too, and I was compacted ten more times.

I was becoming a solid block of waste.

The trashing continued throughout the afternoon, evening and until around 1 a.m. and all went quiet.

I struggled to escape, and I found I was stuck solid. I kicked, wriggled and strained. But stuck I remained.

How stupid! I thought. I had thrown away myself in the trash. How was I to escape?

Would I end up in landfill or burnt in an incinerator?!

Sunday dawned. Another 24hrs of trashing and compacting ever tighter. Unable to move, when would I be unable to breathe, I wondered?

Although I was enjoying myself in there, as I wanked like no tomorrow. I did not want to die, and have no tomorrow.

Then I heard the garbage truck arrive. It lifted the contained holding me and the waste with ease, and I fell inside a new home. Only this one, had a habit of squashing things very flat!!

"That will do," I heard the maid say. "Get the lad out now."

A rather embarrassed me, was rescued, still naked and still bagged in polythene with the trash.

She paid the garbage truck man, to buy his silence, and wheeled me back to my room.

"As soon as I heard your bedroom door shut, I thought you were going to breakfast, but I did not hear you walk passed. I was going to say hello, but you were no where in sight. So I assumed you had gone back inside your room. But when I entered, you were not there. I found your kinky trash bags, and wondered about what you had said earlier. I dismissed the idea, that you had actually gone and got yourself trashed, but when I saw the bag on the trolley move slightly, as you breathed, I thought I would play along with you. I chuckled to myself as I squashed you in the compactor. I just hoped you would be okay. Naturally, this must never be spoken of, or I could loose my job."

So I, too, agreed to remain silent.

She did say, that if I wanted to be bagged and compacted as her trash, she would let me do it again!

As I left, the hotel manager came and saw me. "Was everything alright with your stay? We do like to pride ourselves on trying to cater for our guests every needs. Nothing is too much trouble."

Did he know also?

It was all I could do to smile and try to keep a straight face.

"I think I will be back" I replied.

"Delighted", said the hotel manager.

story continues in

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