© Copyright 2019 - PolytheneWrappedMe - Used by permission
Storycodes: FM; sex; fantasy; reveal; F/m; majick; transform; M2object; trashbag; boxed; used; trashcan; cons; X
I met this older lady online. A single parent mom, with two daughters, who although being in their twenties, still lived at home. The three women living in this large house, in the city centre.
The girls often went out, partying and leaving their mom alone and lonely. I was alone and lonely, until our paths crossed.
Invited back to her place, she was delighted that this younger man fancied her, and although more mature, she had a high sex drive, where all those years alone had given her a burning desire to be made love to long and hard.
It was simply a dream come true for both of us.
Being older and more experienced, she encouraged me to explore my fantasies.
After some time coaxing out the truth, she was somewhat startled at the revelation I liked the idea of being in the trash. Even in her trash !
The problem was although in fantasy I dreamed of some hungry garbage truck chewing and swallowing me, along with tonnes of neighbour rubbish, which had been left out, to be collected, crushed and carried away; I know that in reality it would be almost certain death and I did not want to die.
Investigating this further, she asked me what in particular did I find appealing.
So, having gone too far to back out from confessing all, I told her that I had a polythene fetish. I liked the feel of shiny plastic.
I also liked the idea of being compressed, but perhaps by her hands not some blunt force packer in a garbage truck. Indeed, perhaps she might even like squashing me.
It was then that she confided in me, that she could transform me and whilst I was her object she could trash me.
To demonstrate her powers she turned chairs into tables and tables into chairs, before my very eyes. If it was just an hallucination, it was very believable.
I have to say, by now, I had consumed too much alcohol to distinguish fact from fiction.
So not really believing that she could do that to me, I asked to become a polythene bin liner !
She chuckled loudly, in equal disbelief. "I suppose you want me to insert you into my kitchen bin, and bag up the waste inside you !"
Even that sexy talk, got my erection hard. There was no way out. I was unable to deny anything.
"Well I could be the next bin liner on the roll, you could tear me off and dangle me inside your kitchen bin, and stretch my mouth around its opening. Then to protect me from cuts and collection, you could then insert a second bag inside me, so that when the time comes to empty the bin, you just remove the inner bin liner and take it out to the dustbin, leaving me still inside the bin. Then you could keep refreshing new bin liners inside me." I said.
A puzzled look fell on her face.
So I added "You would obviously have to tell your daughters Michele and Krissy that from now on, you have decided to double line your kitchen bin, to keep it cleaner and fresher and that the outer polythene liner which is actually lining the kitchen bin stays put. For you don't have money to waste double bagging all the trash, and that should ensure that I survive and stay put."
The look on her face remained quizzical, as she pondered what I said.
In the silence, I found a need to carry on talking, and in doing so, get myself deeper into trouble.
"Naturally, I don't want you telling Michele and Krissy about me. I want them to treat me as any other bin liner." [For I had seen them often squash items in the bin, when it was starting to get full, to save emptying the bin. Like most daughters, they let their mom do most of the work in the kitchen, and that included taking the trash out. ]
I paused for breath.
Then she spoke. "So let me get this straight, instead of a sexy life here with me and my daughters, you have some sick fantasy to go inside my bin, as nothing but a plastic bin liner."
I hung my head in shame.
"Wish granted !" she announced.
The next thing I knew I was wrapped on a roll of white 60 litre (13 gallon) polythene bin liners, and I had been mechanically folded into quarters at the factory.
At first, I could not understand my senses, feelings, or knew what or where I was.
I was inside a kitchen cupboard.
Then I heard footsteps approaching. Three pairs !
Sure enough it was Margy, and her two daughters, Michele and Krissy.
Margy announced in a loud voice, for my benefit. "I have decided, that from now on I shall double line this kitchen bin. It is a bugger to clean, and having two liners will save my effort keep cleaning the damn thing. But in case you girls, think that mom is made of money, that does not mean that we shall be double-bagging the trash. Oh no ! When emptying the bin, you only ever remove the inner bin liner, the other one stays in place."
The two daughters, if I could have seen them looked very bored and disinterested. Taking out the trash was not their job, so why was their mom making a point of telling them ?
Then Margy opened the kitchen cupboard and I felt her hand grab the roll of polythene liners. Her strong grip forcing me hard against the next bin liner. Then I was spun about, as Margy unwound me from the roll, and there was a brief pain as my polythene body, was torn off the roll and she shook me open. Then I felt her hands force me inside the empty kitchen bin, and my body was hung over its opening.
I knew unless Margy kept her word, and double lined the bin, my future was to be nothing more than a disposable plastic bag for her trash.
But Margy kept her word, and shortly afterwards I heard a second bin liner get ripped off the roll, and that came and joined me inside her kitchen bin, lining my own insides.
"Now remember girls, only ever take the inner liner out, whenever you take the rubbish out." continued Margy.
"Yeah. Whatever" her daughters replied still disinterested.
Back in the lounge, Krissy discussed her mom's behaviour with her sister Michele. "Mom has lot the plot."
"I think she is getting old" replied Michele.
"Yeah, as if we need to be shown how to line and empty a kitchen bin." said Krissy.
"Yeah, fucking gross, as if these manicured fingers are ever going to take out the nasty rubbish." added Michele.
"Well, don't look at me, I ain't breaking one of my nails either." replied Krissy.
So the stage was set. Margy would be in charge of waste disposal, as normal; while her lover lay inside her kitchen bin made of shiny white polythene.
What could go wrong, the plan was fool-proof ?
story continues in Part Two