© Copyright 2018 - Disposee - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; relationship; breakup; reunion; fantasy; femdom; D/s; bond; naked; bagged; trashcan; waste; disposal; gag; stuck; punish; replace; FM; tease; kerbside; garbage-truck; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X
This story is strictly fantasy! Although some of the sorts of trash play in the earlier parts of the story may be somewhat safe to try out for real with a person you trust, understand that this story doesn't fully account for the realities of things like needing to breathe, and so it should not be used as a template for real-life trash play! The text of this story is released under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license, meaning that you may share and modify this story so long as you credit the author, “Disposee”.
Mike stopped on the sidewalk outside Catherine's house. He still was't certain if he was ready to see her again after they'd had an argument which had ended with her breaking off the relationship. Spending a whole month without her had been tough. He'd messaged her every day for the first few weeks with no response, and had just been coming to terms with being alone when he got a text from her out of the blue earlier that day. "Hey babe. Sorry about everything. Missing you. Come by tonight?"
A part of him wanted to tell her to fuck off for not only dumping him but also for avoiding him so completely afterwards, but he sill loved her too much to shun her now. If she was ready to make up, so was he.
He steeled himself for the possibility of another round of disappointment, and walked up to the door.
Bzzzzzzz the doorbell went. It used to ring, but had broken at some point and now all it did was let out an annoying buzz. Still, it got the job done, and a minute later Catherine appeared in the doorway, looking sultry and wearing the stunning red dress he'd bought her last Christmas.
"Darling!" she said, as if she had just seen him yesterday.
"Catherine," he said, not entirely sure how to react to her unexpected cheeriness.
"Oh, do come in, it's getting chilly out there this time of year!"
It was the middle of September, a week after Labor Day, and summer had clearly come to an end.
He didn't need to be told twice. They'd been planning to move into it together, and Mike had already started moving some of his things over. He hoped they were still here and that she hadn't gotten rid of them or anything. He hung up his coat by the door, and when that was down he almost instantly found himself in a tight embrace with her lips upon his.
"I'm so sorry," she said when the kiss broke. "I'm so sorry about the argument and about ignoring you this whole month. I don't know what I was thinking, the whole thing was stupid."
It really had been, which was one thing that had been infuriating Mike for the whole month. They'd both secretly bought each other tickets to different concerts that were scheduled for the same night, and when they found out about the mix-up they couldn't decide which show to go to. It had been as stupid an argument as any ever was, but instead of settling on one choice or the other, she had flipped out at him and, in the end, they'd missed both of the shows entirely.
"Apology accepted," he said, just glad to put the whole thing behind them.
She lead him into the kitchen where his favorite of her homemade meals was already waiting, and they took the time over dinner to catch up with one another. In the month they'd been apart, she'd gotten a nice promotion at work and had also found a buyer for some of the paintings she worked on each weekend. Aside from the lack of male companionship, her life sounded perfect.
Mike tried to skim over the details of his own month, not wanting her to dwell on it or feel too much pity for him. His apartment lease had run out (since he'd been planning to move in with her) so he'd wound up needing to move into a tiny rented room at a friend's house. Not to mention, his depression over being alone had caused him to miss numerous days of work, and at this point he was officially "on notice" that if he missed another day it would be the last one he'd be scheduled for.
Still, he could put aside that whole month if it meant being able to be with her again.
After dinner, they went into the lounge and made an effort of watching a movie, but it didn't take long for them to start ignoring the movie as they put their hands all over each other, clothing coming off one piece at a time. When he just about couldn't take any more foreplay, she stood up, grabbed him by his arm, and began to lead him toward the bedroom. He followed eagerly, but wasn't prepared for what he found.
She'd only ever had a passing interest in bondage, and had never expressed any interest in the "trash can" fetish he had professed to her one drunken night... but there, set up next to the bed, was a trash can, and spread over the bed was an assortment of ropes and ties.
She noticed his surprise and smiled. "I know you've always dreamed about this stuff, and although I never really understood it, I thought that for today I'd make your dreams come true. I hope that's enough to make up for that awful month you've had!"
It wasn't (not really), but he wasn't going to complain about the unexpected surprise. "You mean it?"
"Yes. I mean it. I remember what you told last New Year's Eve, and I think it's high time I help you live out these crazy fantasies of yours. Now, you wanted it to have something of a Mistress/Slave thing, too right?"
"Y... yes..." he stammered, still surprised by the whole thing.
"Good. In that case, Slave, I want you to strip."
He didn't quite process what she said at first, so she snapped her fingers right in front of his face to get his attention. "Now, Slave! Strip."
He didn't need a second reminder, and in short order his clothes were thrown in a pile by the door.
"Now," she commanded. "Sit."
He, of course, did so without hesitation. If his cock hadn't already been rock hard from their earlier playing in the lounge, it certainly was now. As she had said, this was a fantasy of his. He'd given up on it ever happening, but now that it was...
He had to urge himself not to cum too soon just from thinking about the whole thing!
"Now, Slave," Christine said as she retrieved several bindings from the bed and sauntered over to where Mike sat, "do you understand what's about to happen?"
He was pretty sure he did, but he wanted to hear her say it. "No, Mistress."
"Well, Slave" – by now she was starting to tie him up, holding his arms behind his back and tying his wrists together – "the way I see it, if you're my slave, that means that I own you. Is that right?"
"Good. Now, Slave, do you know what I do with something I own when I decide that I don't want it anymore?"
"Well quite simply" – she pulled the knot tight and then went around his front to begin binding his ankles – "when I'm done with something, I throw it away. Now, I know, I know there's all the arguments about 'why not recycle' and 'you could donate that,' but you know what, those arguments are rubbish. Recycling and donating both take a lot more effort than just throwing things away, and personally, I don't see how I'd get any benefit from doing them."
Mike was stunned by how well she was getting into character in her role as Mistress in this scenario! She must have been practicing just for him. After all, she was a staunch environmentalist and gave to charity all the time when she could afford to, but she was doing a wonderful job of making it sound like she just didn't about such things in the slightest. She was making him feel like a useless piece of trash, and he wasn't even in the trash can yet!
Now she was starting to wrap a rope around him to bind his bended knees close to his chest. "Now, Slave, tell me. What are you?"
"I am trash, Mistress." His cock flexed a little as he said those special words.
"That's right, and from now on, trash is all you'll ever be. You are useless, worthless trash. Really, that's all you've ever been, and now it's time we made it official. Do you know what I'm going to do to you, Trash?"
She wasn't even calling him Slave anymore! She was doing such a wonderful job of playing out his fantasies.
"No, Mistress," he said. He could guess, but again, wanted to hear her explain it. Everything sounded so sexy when she said it.
"Well, Trash, I'm going to throw you away. I'm going to toss you in that trash can and then I'm going to fill it up with other trash, and when that's done I'll take the whole can out to the garage where it will sit with the other two cans of garbage I have waiting there – there wasn't any pickup last week, after all, due to the holiday. And as for what happens next? Well, that's just going to depend on how good you are at being my trash. If you're a troublemaker, I may have to extend your stay. If you're good, then maybe I'll get you out sooner. Assuming I don't just forget about you entirely. How does that sound to you, Trash?"
"Wonderful, Mi – "
He was caught by complete surprise as she brought her hand down hard on his cheek. "Good trash doesn't talk. Let that be your first lesson."
Mike shut up after that! He'd never expected her to be able to put on such a show of dominance, but he was loving every minute of it, even if his cheek did sting a bit.
"Now," she said, as though was still actually contemplating her next steps, "what to do, what to do. Oh, yes! I've been meaning to cleanup a bit around here. Does that sound like a good plan to you?"
This time, he wisely remembered to keep silent.
"Hmm," she muttered, as if to herself, "and here I thought there was someone else here. Seems like it's just me and all this trash. I suppose I'll just have to get rid of it and then I can have the night all to myself... maybe break in that new dildo I got last weekened..."
He was starting to wonder how much of this was just her playing around! Surely she'd just bag him up, but then get him out later that evening for a good old-fashioned fuck, right? But she surely wouldn't play with herself ahead of time if that was the plan. Or would she? Or was she actually considering taking him down to the garage for the whole night?
When he thought about it, he couldn't decide which he'd prefer!
But before he knew it, she was over by the trash can, looking between him and it. "Hmm," she mused. "That piece of trash looks much too heavy to lift. I wonder..."
As if she'd just had the idea, she pulled the can – which was empty aside from the large trash bag which lined it – over to Mike and laid it on its side, with its opening at his feet.
"Here we go," she said. Then, little by little, she began to push into the can. He adjusted his weight a little, trying to help as much as he could with all the restraints he had to work with, but they were surprisingly strong so he couldn't do much. Still, before long she had gotten him into the can.
"Good," she said. "That's that piece of trash out of the way."
Without giving him any word of warning, she grabbed the lop of the can and pulled, bringing the can back to its normal standing position. For Mike, the whole world seemed to move around him, and he was left sitting at the bottom of the bin, surrounded on all sides and from below by the crinkling of the black plastic bag.
Mistress was standing over him, looking down into the bag. "Okay, Trash. Here's the deal. I'm going to give you a few rules. The first rule is that trash doesn't talk. Not to ask for favors, not to ask for freedom, and certainly not to complain about being in the trash. You've already broken this rule once, but I'm willing to overlook that. If you break this rule two more times, then I'm going to have to gag you to keep you silent. The second rule is that trash doesn't move. If you break this rule even once, I'm going to have to pack you in tighter. Twice, and I'll have to close up the can and put a gravity lock on it so that you can't try getting out on your own."
She paused for a moment, smiled a wicked smile, then continued. "Each time you break either of these rules, it's going to extend your stay in the bin. But, if you break either rule three times, then I'm going to have to cut your time in the trash a bit short by taking the whole can to that new transfer station down the street and emptying everything inside straight into their incinerator. So unless you want that to happen, you'd best be a good little piece of trash. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," he quickly said, relishing the ominous, commanding tone of her voice. His fantasies had often had such threats... and sometimes they'd even been carried through. Of course, that was just in fantasies. This was real life, so of course all he could do was pretend that she was actually thinking about such a method of disposal!
"Well, Trash, there's strike one. Speak to me one more time and you'll get the gag."
"But – "
"And strike two. Well that didn't last long. Well? Do you want to try for three? You think I'm lying don't you? You think I wouldn't get rid of all this trash in an instant if it keeps making annoying noises?"
He wised up to her game, and this time simply shook his head.
"Good, Trash. Silent like you should be. Now, to ensure you stay that way..."
She went to the bed and retrieved a gag.
He'd been gagged several times by a previous girlfriend, but never by Catherine. She just wasn't really into that sort of thing. So, imagine his surprise when he saw that the gag she had for him wasn't some simple ballgag... it was a fullsize penis-shaped gag! He was NOT ready for that...
...but for Mistress, he was ready for anything.
She stepped behind the can, ready to lower the gag down to him, when she paused. "Okay, Trash. I'll give you one chance – one last chance – to say something without it breaking the rules. Anything you want to tell me? Anything that I should know? No safe words after this."
Wait, he thought, there was a safe word before?
He didn't say that, however. That would be a waste of his last chance to speak during this play session! "Thank you, Mistress," he settled on. "Thank you for throwing me out, it's just what I always wanted. I love you, Catherine. I hope that disposing of me pleases you as much as it does me."
"More than you know," she said ominously. Then, she brought down the gag slid it into his mouth, and fastened it on tight around his head. He gagged at first, stunned by the intruder. While he was coming to grips with his new reality, she kept talking down at him.
"Try to talk through that, even once, and its off to the incinerator with you. Now. Just two other rules, Trash... one for me and one for you. The rule for you is simple. I throw things in the trash to get rid of a mess, and I don't want my trash to make any more mess than it already is. That means that if you cum – if you so much as let out a dribble of pre – then it's game over. No three strikes on this rule. If you cum even once, I'll be hauling all of the mess down the street, and this can will be coming back empty. Understand?"
"Good. Last rule. This one's for me, but I thought you'd like to know it. Rule #4 is that trash is trash, and trash gets disposed of. Once I've made up my mind, there's no turning back, and darling, my mind was made up before you even got here today."
Positively evil! He loved the way she was playing this up, and it took effort on his part not to cum right there and then. He figured he would at some point, but he'd hold it as long as he could. He was beginning to think that breaking her "rules" was just her way of letting him end the session early, and that was something he had no desire to do just yet.
"Now that all the rules are out of the way," she said, "I suppose I should get to work. This trash can looks pretty large, certainly large enough to hold more than one piece of trash! It's time I did some cleanup around here."
With that, she walked off into the bathroom which connected to the bedroom, leaving Mike to wonder just what was going to be joining him. He didn't have long to wait.
"Look, at this," she said holding a small object out over the bin. "Your toothbrush. You remember this?"
"It seems I didn't throw it out like I had thought I did. Oh well. No time like the present."
She let it drop. It landed on one of Mike's knees then tumbled down to the bottom of the bag. Catherine didn't even wait to see it fall, she was back in the bathroom.
"And how about this?" she asked, holding a larger, red-hued object. "Your own special bath towel. Didn't you buy this because you didn't want to share? Afraid of germs are you, is that it? Funny, given your current position."
She lobbed the towel down into the can, letting it fall behind his back. He wasn't afraid of germs, no – he'd just wanted a separate towel so that whoever showered second didn't have to deal with the towel being damp – but he loved how she was talking about the whole thing!
"Oh, and look at these," she said, walking over to the door and sweeping something up off the ground. "Your clothes. I suppose you won't be needing those anymore."
In they went, falling into the can around him except for his undies which she seemed to almost specifically toss on top of his head.
"Speaking of clothes... I think that boyfriend of mine left some others around here somewhere..."
That boyfriend of mine, he thought, her words echoing in his head. Like I'm not even here anymore.
She went over to the dresser, pulled open the bottom drawer, and started taking his clothes out by the handful and tossing them into the can. He was shocked, mostly because most all of them were in terrible condition! He had brought the box of them over to her house in preparation for moving in and they hadn't even been worn yet, but now they were covered in dirt and riddled with holes, some of which looked to have been torn into the clothes and some straighter lines which looked like they'd been intentionally cut. He'd even liked some of those shirts! This was entirely a step too far.
"I really don't know why I kept them around so long," she muttered to herself as she emptied out the drawer. "Probably should have disposed of them after I took out all my anger over the break up on them, but, oh well. May as well get rid of them all now with the rest of his stuff. Now, what's next... oh, yes, these silly books of his."
In went most everything from his shelf of paperback fantasy novels, tossed into the bin two at a time and falling all over him.
"I really should just get rid of every trace of him..." she said aloud. Into the can went his MP3 player and his collection of video games... and, to his shock, his entire game console, dropped into the can beside him with a thunk.
On the one hand, this was going way too far. On the other, it was really hot seeing her take on such a dominant trash mistress role. On the other, it would be expensive to replace all this stuff... on the other, he'd made do for a month without it all, and this experience was so, so worth it...
"Shit," she said. "Even these." A momentary silence, then in dropped the pair of earrings he'd bought for her a couple years before. Then came a couple framed pictures of the two of them, then the small collection of sex toys they'd bought together – his, hers, didn't matter, out they all went tumbling over and around him. Then in went a half-empty box of condoms...
Half empty? he wondered for a moment. That box was almost full.
...but then in came several large rolled up papers, his own attempts at painting to join her in her hobby. They weren't any good, but unlike everything else, those were irreplaceable! And she just let them drop in, letting the edges crinkle against the trash already in the can. But... the whole experience was also irreplacable... fuck it, he thought, it was too late for second-guessing.
"Oh, and wasn't this technically a gift from his mom?" she said. He knew what was coming next, and didn't have to wait for long until the whole handmade blanket fell into the can as well, draping over him and hiding his view of the world outside the can.
"Wow," she said as more unseen things fell in, "this guy sure had a lot of crap. I'm going to have so much more room once I'm done here!"
Mike was getting frustrated not being able to see anything, and he rocked a bit back and forth, trying to get the blanket to fall off of him. Unfortunately – or fortunately – she noticed what he was up to.
"Hey!" she said. "I thought we'd established that trash doesn't move. What are you trying to do? Trying to get out from under the blanket? Trying to see the light of day again?"
"Hmm. Well, that's just too bad, because you see, personally, I just don't think trash deserves the chance to see anything, since I certainly don't want to see any trash. And if my trash is going to try to get all in the way, well. I suppose that now's as good a time as any to seal up this bag and make sure I never have to see this trash again."
That's when Catherine roughly grabbed the edges of the bag which lined the can, pulled them together the center, and tied them all off in a tight knot. All of a sudden, Mike's world went from nearly-dark to almost-completely-dark, and all his old belongings and the gifts he'd gotten for his love all suddenly were drawn in much tighter around him. Between him and the rest of the things in the bag, the bag was almost completely full, and it left him with very little room to even adjust his position, much less to properly move about.
Catherine's whispered voice came from right outside the bag as she broke character for only a moment. "Don't worry, babe, I poked some holes in the bag beforehand."
Then, she drew herself up and resumed her earlier tone. "There we go. One full bag of trash. Enough to get that asshole out of my life forever."
She walked somewhere, but Mike could only guess where. In the darkness, he could hear her footsteps, but had nothing else to go by. In the couple of minutes he had to wait, the air in the bag began to grow stale. The little holes Catherine had made would be enough to stop him from suffocating, but not enough to make it an altogether pleasant environment.
She returned, and all of a sudden a bunch of weight landed on top Mike.
"There's the bathroom trash bag," Catherine said, confirming what Mike had thought. Now he was actually being buried in the can! This really was a fantasy come true.
"Now," Catherine said, "I'd better take this can out to the garage before it gets too heavy to move."
Mike almost squealed, except for the gag in his mouth preventing him from doing so.
With no further ceremony, Catherine grabbed the lip of the trash can and began to drag it across the floor. Mike felt himself tilting slightly onto the side as he was taken first across carpet, then the wood floor in the hallway outside the room, and then...
Oh shit, he wondered, what about the stairs?
He found out soon enough with a sudden thud as Catherine dragged the can down the first step, mumbling about how stupid she'd been to bring the can upstairs in the first place.
thud went another step, then another, then another. Each one sent a sudden shock through Mike's body and caused all the trash around him to settle further into place. thud, thud, thud, Mike lost count of how many times and then, blissfully, the stairs came to an end and he felt himself being pulled along a flat surface once again.
He heard a door being opened, and then... thud, thud, thud, down three more steps which could only be the ones in the garage which lead up to the door into the house. It was really happening... she'd brought him out into the garage.
She dragged the can across the floor a bit further, and then let it stop. He couldn't see anything in his black plastic prison, but he could guess that his can was sitting next to the two others she'd told him about. Assuming that there were two others. She could have just as easily made that up for him, couldn't see? Oh well... didn't matter whether there was just his can or one or two or even more others. All that mattered was that he was in this can.
"Hmm," she said, placing her hands on her hips and looking down at the bin. "Looks like there's still room in here for a bit more."
Then, she walked off, and he heard the basement door open and close once more.
He was alone. Alone, thrown out in the trash by his own girlfriend, along with everything in the house that had been related to him. He let his mind wander, imagining that it was still one month earlier, that he and she had just had a big, pointless argument and that she had decided to dump him in the most literal way possible.
She came back entirely too soon, distracting him momentarily from his daydreaming, but the distraction did not last for long. She went up to the can holding a very full bag of trash which had been in the kitchen waste bin and, without any hesitation or giving him any word of warning, she hoisted the bag up into the can and let it drop. Thwam! the weight on top of Mike suddenly increased, even more than it had from the bathroom trash. Between that and his daydreaming, it took all he could to keep from cumming.
Not a moment later, she was there using her hands to press down on the trash and make sure that it was all as deep in the can as possible. "Here we go," she said. "Still have plenty of room to empty out all the expired stuff from the freezer."
She walked off, leaving him alone once more to wallow in his thoughts. More? She was going to bring more? He had thought the can was surely full from that last bag! How much more could she possibly fit?
Knowing he was alone, he took the opportunity to test his confines without her being able to tell that he had broken any rules. First, he tried to make some small hint of noise through the gag in his mouth, but the only noise that came out was so quiet that anyone outside the can surely wouldn't have been able to hear him anyway. Next, he tried rocking back and forth a bit to see how much he could move. As it turned out... not much, and the few centimeters of space he could shift through quickly vanished around him as his motion settled the trash further into place. It was true... he was well and truly stuck in the trash, unable to escape or even alert anybody to his presence.
A small part of his mind had the good sense to be concerned, but it was drowned out by how incredibly turned on he was. This was, as far as he was concerned, the ultimate domination fantasy. His Mistress wasn't simply barking orders or humiliating him. She wasn't simply ignoring him, while he sat bound in a corner unable to cum. He'd had such fantasies before – she had never been one to carry them out – but they all paled in comparison. Here, he wasn't simply nothing... he was less than nothing, a worthless trash slave whose only remaining purpose in life was to get thrown out like the trash he was.
She was his Mistress. She owned him and had grown tired of him, so she did what anyone would when they got bored with using a well-worn toy.
He was still daydreaming and trying to wriggle about when she returned, and he didn't hear her until it was much too late.
"Well, well," she said, noticing the rustling bags. "Looks like some sort of critter got into the trash. Well, I suppose it's in the right place. I'll just have to make sure it's buried nice and tight in there."
This time, she had brought with her a box full of expired foodstuffs from the kitchen – some old fruit, out-of-date cans, and frozen dinners that had passed their date. Since the can was getting close to full already, she couldn't just toss them all in haphazardly if she wanted to make it all fit. Instead she started, one by one, taking the new pieces of garbage and stuffing them into the can wherever they would fit. The increase in weight that was piled on top of Mike was gradual, but significant by the end. More important, with how Catherine filled up the can, it reduced Mike's moving space to essentially nothing. He could wriggle his fingers and toes and had enough space for his chest to expand and collapse with his breathing, but otherwise he was trapped and motionless.
"There we go. That should be the last of it," his mistress declared. "Now, my cute little trash slave, I'm going to tell you what's going to happen next. See, this is the final chat we're going to have. From this point forward, you are just my trash. Nothing more. I am not going to talk to you, I'm not going to pay any attention to you, and I certainly won't be giving you any special treatment. When I'm done here, I'm going to head inside, watch the rest of that movie, take a nice long shower, and head to bed for the night. If I feel like it, I may just pleasure myself for a while as well. I don't know, and neither will you. Of course, you're welcome to imagine whatever you'd like.
"In the meantime, I suggest you get to work on finding your way out of the trash. Tomorrow, if you didn't know, is trash day, and the truck's going to be by around ten. Of course, the cans get taken out to the street before then, so that means you have just around eleven hours or so to get out before you get disposed of. If you don't get out on your own, then maybe I'll think of you tomorrow and consider rescuing you... but like I said, as far as I'm concerned, you're just trash now, and you deserve the same fate as all the rest of the trash. Oh, and one last thing..."
She fell silent for a moment, the only sound that of her footsteps as she went to the other side of the garage and back. In the can, Mike was quivering, so much as he could in his bound and confined position. She was doing great! He'd never imagined that she'd be able to take on such a dominant role and play the part so well. He was actually feeling a bit worried! He knew it was all part of the game, but still... she was more convincing than he'd ever imagined in his fantasies.
Catherine returned. "Here we go trash. I caught you moving, and that means you've broken that rule twice. As promised, I'm not just going to put a lid on this can. I've got to lock it. That's the deal."
He heard the sound of snapping plastic as she put the lid in place, and then a couple quick metallic clicks.
"Like I said, this lid has a gravity lock. That means that it unlocks automatically, but only when the can is turned upside-down. You know, like a garbage truck does. So if you do decide to try to escape your fate, there's one last obstacle for you. After all, I hear they're almost impossible to force open. And besides... if you do get out, that just means you moved again, and you know what that means..."
She fell silent for him to contemplate that for a moment, thinking back to her threats of a local incinerator.
"Anyway. I have more important things to tend to. Sweet dreams, Trash, and goodbye forever. I hope you enjoy your disposal just as much as I do."
With that, she left, shutting the door between the garage and the main part of the house with a resounding slam.
Mike couldn't hold it any longer. That slam was the final straw for him. It was a thunderous conclusion to the night's activities and a definitive statement of his worth to Catherine: He was nothing... worse than nothing... just a piece of trash on-schedeule for morning pickup... a piece of still and silent trash in a locked can with nothing to do but wait for the dawn...
That was it; he'd broken her most important rule of all. Even if she wasn't there to see it, even if she didn't know to enforce it, he knew what he'd done. He knew he'd broken the rules, he knew that he deserved to be disposed of with the rest of the trash.
He stayed awake for hours daydreaming about his fantasies and imaginging what Catherine was up to. Was she upstairs right then, using some toy or other to pleasure herself in his absence? Was she thinking about him, imagining his current state in the trash, getting off on her dominance over him... or was she not thinking about him at all? When she took her shower and washed off all trace of the trash she'd been handling, had she washed away all thought of him?
The night was chilly, and Mike shivered slightly as it got later into the evening and the trash around him lost whatever warmth it had from being indoors. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep and into trashy dreams, knowing that he'd be awoken in the morning when she came to get him out, their night of play finally done.
He hoped it was only the first of many such nights to come.
* * *
When he finally awoke, it wasn't to the sound of the door from the house being opened. Instead, it was the rattle and clatter of the big garage door opening that brought him back to consciousness, accompanied by the sound of a pickup truck pulling into the garage to park.
That's weird, he thought once he got his bearing and remembered where he was. She owns a car, not a truck.
The truck's door opened and then thudded shut, and just moments later the door from the house opened.
"Darling!" exclaimed a happy-sounding Catherine.
"Catherine!" came an equally pleased voice which Mike didn't recognize. It was a man's voice.
What's going on? Mike wondered, but of course he couldn't ask the question. The gag was still firmly buried in his mouth, and he realized that overnight it, not to mention the subtle pressure of the trash all around him, and rendered him somewhat sore.
Catherine sounded positively excited. "Baby, I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice. How was your trip?"
"Good, good... just got back late last night. Flight was delayed a couple of hours, but at least it was on the way back rather than the way out. You said on the phone that you were needing help ASAP, what's going on?"
From inside the can, Mike could hear the distinctive sound of a shared kiss. What the fuck? This was not part of his fantasies, and definitely not cool on her part, even if it was just part of the game.
Catherine went on. "Well I know it's early and all but... well a woman has needs, you know? I didn't realize how hard it would be not seeing you for four whole days. I was thinking about you last night..."
"And I about you. In fact, I picked up a few new toys while I was away that I thought you might like to try."
"You did? Oh, do tell..."
"I think it's best that I keep them a surprise."
"Oh, really? Well you know how I like surprises..."
This wasn't even just flirting... they sounded like they were really in a relationship! Mike couldn't help but start to feel angry. If this was all just a show for him, he didn't like it, and if it was real, he liked it even less.
"Though, since you're here," Catherine said, "I was wondering if you could help me with something else first."
"Of course. Anything for you."
"Well you see, it's these trash cans. Last week there wasn't any pickup because of Labor Day, so I wound up filling both of them completely full, and then I even had to buy a third can to store this week's trash. The thing is, they're all really heavy and I'm not sure I'm strong enough to get them to the curb all by myself. Could you give me a hand? Pickup is soon and I don't want to miss it now that all three cans are full."
"Oh, of course dear, don't you worry about it. I'll take them all down myself."
"Really, darling? Oh, thank you, that would be wonderful. Here, let me take your bag and coat inside in the meantime."
"Sure. No peeking in the bag though!"
"Right... don't want to spoil the surprise." She let out a slight, happy giggle. "And don't you go peeking either."
"What? In the trash? Why would I do that?"
Mike couldn't see the exaggerated shrug she made before she walked inside with the bag.
A pair of heavy footsteps approach the trash.
"Fuck, all this in two weeks?" the stranger said aloud. Then, he grunted, and Mike could hear the scraping of plastic against the concrete floor of the garage as the man began dragging one of the other cans. The big garage door had never been closed, and before long Mike heard the can fall a half inch from the concrete floor onto the asphault driveway as the stranger took it down to the curb.
While he was away, the sound of the can scraping on the ground growing ever more distant, Catherine returned and stood near the two remaining cans.
"So, Trash," she whispered. "Here's your lucky moment. Robert's going to take you down there just like he took that one, and in... oh... fifteen minutes or so, the truck will be by to pick up all the trash. Oh, had I forgotten to mention Robert? Sorry. He's my new boyfriend. You didn't really think I was considering getting back with you, right? Now that I'm going steady with someone else, I thought it was high time I put the past behind me and get rid of all your old things. And, well... when I remembered you had this fucked up fantasy of yours, I realized it was the perfect opportunity to do what we both wanted to see happen to you. I actually kind of hope you came last night, Trash, because it's the last chance you'll ever get to do so."
What? Mike panicked. No way, no way is this real, she's just joshing with me, right? Right? She has to be.
Robert returned. "Were you saying something, dear?"
"No, babe, just admiring how strong you look taking out the trash."
Suddenly, Mike felt his own can shift as Robert grabbed hold of the handles and began to drag it.
"Oof," he said. "Well they sure are heavy. What's in here anyway? I thought you usually recycle?"
"Oh, I do. It's just... well, I decided it was time to get rid of all my ex's things, and I realized I'd be much happier if I knew that it all got destroyed rather than simply being repurposed or anything. I want to be certain that there's no trace of him left after this."
"Sounds good to me," he said. "I was wondering how long you were going to keep that shithead's things around."
A sudden jolt as the can dropped onto the asphault.
"Anyway," Robert said. "I'll just be a few more minutes with these and then...?"
"I'll meet you upstairs," Catherine said with a smile and a wink before heading indoors to get herself ready.
Mike was helpless to do anything as his can was dragged along the asphault driveway until, finally, it was brought to a stop at the curb. It was morning, all right; he could hear a couple distant lawnmowers, and his can started to warm up beneath the heat of the sun.
"Good riddance," muttered Robert before heading back to the garage.
A small corner of Mike's brain was still thinking this was all a joke, some sort of set up and that he was outside but not actually all the way down at the curb, but that thought vanished from his mind when a car drove close by.
Holy shit, she actually did it, he thought. She actually had me brought out to the curb. He'd never imagined anything would go this far. In some ways, he was sitting out there naked in the street, but as far as all but he and Catherine were concerned, he was just a bag of trash waiting to be picked up. And perhaps that's all he was to Catherine, too. The whole world outside the can viewed him as being trash... and if he was in a trash can, he supposed they may be right.
In any case then, she'd be coming to get him out at some point today. Most likely, it wasn't even trash day, or if it was, the truck had already been by. She'd give him a good scare, make him think it was all real, and then surprise him just when he thought it was all over. Even this Robert fellow had to just be a part of the act, some friend of hers who she'd explained everything to and roped into their play in order to make him jealous. Well, if that was true, then her plan was working. After Robert dropped off the third can, he went back inside and closed the garage door, and all that Mike could picture was Catherine and Robert going at it on the very bed that Mike had almost joined her on the night before, the very one where he'd lain with Catherine too many times to count.
There was nothing for him to do but think, lose himself in fantasy and the fear of reality, imagining Robert and Catherine together, imagining that all of this was fake... imagining that it all was real... hoping that is all was fake... or real...
Several times, people walked past him. A couple kids who had skipped out on school; one of the neighbors, Mr. Bennetts, walking his dog. There went the whizz of a bicycle. On the sidewalk, of course, completely ignoring the bike lane. A normal day for everyone else, and a normal day for trash.
Because... shit, he realized that it really was. It was trash day, he remembered the schedule well enough assuming that they hadn't changed it in the past month. And pickup was around ten, which... it could be after ten already. Except that Mr. Bennets kept a very regular schedule in his retirement, and he always walked his dog at 9:30 sharp, which brought him past Catherine's house at 9:45.
No sooner did Mike realize this than he heard the sound of an engine down the street, louder, then quieter, then louder, then quieter. The telltale start-and-stop of a trash truck doing its rounds. Then, the engine revs up for a moment, and that's the sound of the compactor running, crushing all the trash inside down to a much more manageable size.
Mike made another effort to struggle, but to no avail. Come on, he thought, come on, Catherine, where are you? Where are you?
The truck was getting close. He heard a loud bang as the mechanical grabber arm on its side picked up the neighbor's trash can and hoisted it up and upside down to spill its contents into the truck.
This was okay... everything was okay, he'd read the stories, he knew that rescue always came at the last possible moment, that Catherine would come running out saying to the trash men that she'd thrown something out by mistake and had to bring in this onecan to retrieve it. Or, maybe, maybe she'd arranged something with the truck driver. Maybe the driver was in on it and was going to dump the can but then empty out the truck without compacting the load, getting Mike as close to being trash as possible.
The truck's breaks squealed as it pulled up next to the cans at the end of Catherine's driveway. This was it, any minute now she'd be here and...
This was real. This was completely, totally real. There was no rescue coming. There was no "letting him out." She had trashed him. She had found herself a new boyfriend and had decided that it was time to dump her old one in the most literal possible way.
On the one hand, he wanted to be angry with her, but at the same time, she'd only done everything she'd said she would. If he hadn't wanted to be trash, he'd had plenty of chances not to break the rules. Instead, here he was. Trapped in the dark of the can, discarded and alone as the truck lowered down the arm it would use to grab his can.
Fuck. Well, he thought. It's been one heck of a ride. Not like there was anything left for me outside the trash anyway. At least I can go out like this rather than needing to go on with that shitty life I had out there.
At least he'd be going out with an erection.
* * *
Back in the house, upstairs, Catherine and Robert were having the time of their lives when she heard the trash truck getting close. At the sound, she lifted herself off of him, dashed to the window, and opened the blinds to look out at the street below.
"Hey babe, something wrong?" Robert asked, surprised by her sudden motion.
"No, darling... just wanted to try something new." She leaned herself over the low dresser in front of the window sill, exposing herself for him and pressing her ample breasts against the wooden surface while staring out through the window. She wiggled her butt slightly, and he got up from the bed and walked over to her.
She was more interested in what was going on outside than in how he slapped her ass and was getting himself ready to enter her again. The three trash cans at the end of the driveway were indistinguishable – all the same brand, same color, each latched tight by a gravity lock which would prevent anything from getting in – or out – if it wasn't supposed to. She had no way to tell which can was which. Her ex could be in any one of them, naked and bound and probably horny as fuck. She wondered if he was still expecting mercy from her.
Naturally, she had no mercy to give. She'd kept Mike's things around the house as long as she had just in case they got back together, but then she'd met Robert and they'd clicked so well that she knew she'd never need Mike again. Remembering he had his weird trash fetish and being able to literally "dump" him was just icing on the cake.
When she'd invited him over the day before, she still hadn't quite settled on whether or not to make his trashing permanent. His things were definitely going to go – that was always the plan – but she'd been thinking about getting him out in the morning, maybe to make "trashing" a recurring thing they could do. She was certainly able to get off on the idea of seeing her ex in the garbage. But when they'd been talking over dinner, he'd explained how his month had been without her – missing work, losing his apartment – and she realized that he really was a waste. Without her, his life was worthless, so he deserved to be treated the same way as any other worthless thing.
She had done her part. Now, the truck was here to finish the job.
"Fuck me," she whispered, and Robert obliged, sliding his cock into her wet and ready pussy. She let out a small whine of pleasure which got lost under the sound of the truck's air breaks bringing it to a halt beside the three lined up cans.
"Wow babe, you are really wet."
The truck's arm latched onto the first can, and with one smooth motion it lifted the can up and over, turning it upside down. The gravity lock opened up, and a number of black bags and small loose items all tumbled out and into the body of the truck. She almost came, just imagining the possibility that Mike was in one of the bags, finally falling to meet his fate.
She actually did cum a moment later, when the truck's engine roared louder from the powerful hydraulics of its internal compactor running. It roared without care for its contents, with no thought that the trash might contain a person... but of course, it didn't contain a person. Mike wasn't a person anymore, he was trash, and the compactor treated him just like it was designed to.
Assuming that that was the can Mike had been in. Black bags and a few small loose items did nothing to help Catherine figure out which can was which, and as she lay in the afterglow of her orgasm, feeling her lover cum deep inside of her, she began to imagine that Mike was in the second can as the truck pulled a few feet forward and the arm came down. It locked on to the can and, just as with the first one, lifted it up and over to spill its contents into the truck. There he went, tumbling down. All that was left for him would be the truck and the landfill, a new, permanent home where he could live forever with the trash.
"That was fantastic, babe," Robert said, unaware of her thoughts and, indeed, of Mike's situation altogether.
"Yeah..." she said, breathlessly, lost in a haze of bliss and imagination, ready for the third can to get dumped as well, ready for his fate to be for certain, for his fantasy to be fulfilled... and hers, as well, it seemed. Good god, she was still horny, impossibly turned on by the thought of what she had done, by the power she'd had over him and how she'd discarded him like the useless waste he was.
She could, she realized, do this again someday. Throwing people out was powerful, and although his fetish of wanting to be trashed was a weird one, she could see the appeal of being on the other side. She liked Robert... he was a fun guy to be with... but she was realizing that if she ever got tired of him, she knew exactly what she'd do.
She was ready for the third can to get dumped, but it never happened. Instead of pulling a few feet forward and repeating the process one more time, a man stepped out of the cab of the trash truck and stuck a note on the can.
What the fuck? Catherine thought. What's he doing?
But she was in no position to go down and ask before the trash truck revved up again and pulled away. She decided she'd deal with the trash later. For now, it looked like Robert was ready to go again, and she had no intention of saying "no."
After another solid hour of fucking, he was finally spent, so they decided to finish up for the time being. They could resume that evening easily enough. After having a quick lunch and trying not to get herself worked up about the full trash can still at the end of her driveway, she and Robert eventually went down to see what the note said. It was a notice from the trash company explaining that Catherine's currently purchased trash service plan only allowed for picking up two cans a week, and that if she had more trash she could pay extra to have larger pickups.
She studied the cans for a moment. They really were identical from the outside, aside from one being full and the other two being empty. She couldn't tell whether or not this can was the one with a special guest hiding inside.
"Well, what do you want to do with it?" asked Robert.
"I'll have to think about it. Let's take it inside for now."
Robert grabbed the full can and began dragging it back up the driveway to the garage, while Catherine easily took the two empties.
If he is in there, she thought, then I suppose I could get him out. Pretend like him being in the third, not-taken can was the plan all along, and keep him as a friend that I could do this to again someday...
She put the thought from her mind as soon as she had. Trash was meant to be disposed of, and if the company wouldn't take it for pickup, then she'd just have to see to it herself.
to be continued...