Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

Tales of Green Valley

by Tammy Murfin

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© Copyright 2014 - Tammy Murfin - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; M/f; naked; trashbags; trashcan; garbage; bagged; messy; stuck; kerbside; truck; collection; discovery; mast; cons/reluct; X

(Previous Green Valley Tale: )

Tales of Green Valley # 11: Fond Memories
[ This is the second rare one of four stories from RL, only the names have been changed.. ]

Lots of things were changing in Green Valley! I sat on the couch in my house, ok, Jack’s house reading the GV Blog on my tablet and learned how the old Hotel Heaven had been taken over and remodeled. It now had a DANCE CLUB! Some place called Starfields, apparently a modern sound and lighting system in a sort of 50’s Sci-Fi setting with a really complex DJ booth. The whole hotel had been updated inside to look like some of the big chain ones outside the Valley. A well know chain had actually been hired as consultants in the remodeling.

And then there was the old Smith’s Bar & Restaurant. Some relative of the original owner, a young fellow named Chris Smith had taken over and was making the old bar into a daytime malt shop and night time bar. But best of all, the whole second floor was being made into a upscale restaurant. It would offer specialty cuisine featuring a changing variety of meats like venison, bear, wild turkey, wild hog and more.

The blog said that the Company, Disposal Solutions, that owned the whole Valley, had decided to offer a secluded private getaway. Not a real resort or ski center like most of the places in the nearby mountains, Green Valley would just be a very private place to “play”. They couldn’t use the Vegas line about what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but that was the general idea. It was also a way to get the older buildings restored or updated. They were offering zero rent for one year to anyone wanting to open, or reopen a local business. The Starfields 50’s look, and the Smith’s Bar daytime malt shop retro look were just what they wanted. Heck, you almost expected to see ‘the Fonz’ in one of the booths in that place.

After all, since the junior college had burned down last month, there was not much left to attract visitors to Green Valley. They never had said what caused that fire. All we heard was that it had started in the old school's cellar, in the room storing the paper trash. Some suggested a person stuck down there had set it to get help, but with no real fire department, the place and anyone in there were just ashes now.

Oh, and Trash had his new pickup truck! That needs to be in the blog too. Smiling as I remember how I was only too willing to help him see why the back was called a bed. It needed some padding, but a couple of bundles of old curtains from the hotel remodeling did wonders. He had even mounted an old seat from a fishing boat on a hinge so he could just back up to a stream and fish. Of course I found I could kneel on the open tailgate and take care of his other 'pole' just fine.

Feeling proud, thinking, I’ve been very good lately, well other than fucking Trash every chance I get. But Jack did not seem upset by that. The only thing that got him angry was when I played at being garbage and risked my life. Guess all I have is memories of those things now.

Finishing the Green Valley news blog, I leaned back and thought about the time I had fooled my Dad. Setting aside my tablet, it's screen saver showing a slide show of a truck collecting and crushing bags of garbage, I slipped my hand inside my panties. Closing my eyes, I recalled how I had called my father and told him I would be away that weekend.

This was 10 years ago, back in the Big City to the east, not long after I graduated college. I was working as a receptionist at Disposal Solutions, a ‘management trainee’ who was assigned to whatever job needed doing. The Company wanted every employee to do or help in every job so they would appreciate their co-workers. Of course the first assignment was always to spend a week as a helper on a garbage truck crew. Men, women, we all had to spend that week tossing garbage in a truck and squashing it flat.

Of course since I really LIKE playing with garbage, and watching the packer come out and down to crush and then sweep it up inside the truck, this was not something I complained about. Well I pretended to be grossed out when a bag would burst and squirt me with juicy sticky stuff, but inside I was seriously tempted to ask to be on a crew full time. If not for the low pay, and the temptation to accidently fall into the packer bed myself, I just might have. After all, been there, done that, recalling what happened with Dad.

His house was in the same neighborhood, so he kept an eye on the one she rented. He would walk his dog and check the doors were locked, windows closed and such. I had just found some 55 gallon bin liners but they were only 2 mil so I would need to triple bag myself. It was Saturday night and I called Dad to say I was going to a renaissance fair on Sunday with friends and not returning till Monday.

I asked him to keep an eye on my place, oh, and if he could put out my wheelie trash bin on Sunday evening for Monday's collection, that would be great. I mentioned I was dumping a few old outdated text books and school papers so it might be heavy. I remember thinking, not that heavy, maybe 15 lbs of books and 118 lbs. of me.

I spent the rest of the evening gathering a bunch of old college class notes and a couple of texts I had not been able to sell. They went into a smaller sack I would pull in on top of my big one so Dad would just see what he expected. I prepared my triple layered bin liners and cut up an old garden hose to use for a breathing tube. Off to bed I went, sleeping soundly, after I used my favorite toy and vibrator to reach a great orgasm thinking about how I would be in the garbage the very next day.

Sunday dragged by slowly. I would bag myself just after dark. Dad would walk his dog about 10 pm and put out the garbage when they got to my house. I had hours until the garbage men came about 7 in the morning, so plenty of time to escape. And plenty of time to play with myself thinking about how my own father had just put me out as garbage.

I kept the wheelie bin in the narrow alley next to my house. My neighbor had no windows on that side so I was able to just set things up unseen. Once the bin liners were in the bin and the smaller sack was on the air conditioning unit, I climbed up there and slipped down into the big bin right inside the layers of black plastic bags. Grabbing the small sack, I pulled it in on top of me and gathered the big bag tops together pulling them inside with me. I threaded the hose out the top of course but it was black like my bags and all but invisible.

I had my old glow in the dark watch since this was 10 years ago and cell phones were bricks with no display. I also had my comfy rubber toys. I used the button plug and the dildo so the vibrator wouldn't be heard. At 10:10, I heard my father open the gate and walk up to the bin. I had had no way to close the lid and I heard the sack of books being opened above my head. Dad checked one of them and then dropped it back in and cinched the small sack closed. He slammed the bin lid shut and I felt it tip and shake and rumble out to the end of the driveway. I had just decided he was gone and I could play when the lid opened and he tossed in a bag of dog poop. Frowning, I recalled how that one small thing had caused so much trouble.

When the plastic bag of poop was tossed in, it partially blocked the end of the hose I was using for air, not a total cut off, but just enough to make it difficult. At first I could get some air by inhaling gently, but then the warm shit made the bag sag and I had to puff and suck. It was an effort for a while: A puff to push the bag clear and a suck to get air before I vacuumed the little bag tight on the hose again. I really wish he’d used a stronger baggy. I purse my lips remembering what happened when the little bag burst and I sucked its contents down that hose.

I was so very glad I had a large bottle of water with me, so I could wash that damn hose out. It smelled, but at least I had managed not to end up with all that shit in my mouth. It was bad enough being in a puddle of spit out water and diluted dog poop in the bag. But the problem came in trying to thread the hose back out of the bags I was in – without being blocked by that heavy plastic sack of books on top.

I managed, but between limited air and the effort, I was exhausted. You would not think someone in a bin with their knees under their chin compressing their boobs could sleep, but I did. In fact, I was awakened by the movement of my bin when the garbage man dragged it to the bag of their truck. Before I was fully awake it was lifted and dumped into the packer bed. Next thing I heard was the other helper saying, “That lifter thing works well, that was kind of heavy, what with all those books and the rest of the garbage in there.” I remember the guy who had loaded me in agreeing and then I heard the engine rev as he engaged the packer blade. “Oh fuck! I’m gonna be mashed flat!” is all I recall thinking.

I was lucky I guess, the truck was not very full, and the packer blade did not crush me against the bed when it extended. It went right over me before it tucked under for the compacting pull. It did drag me up tight against what was already in there, enough that my layered bags suddenly popped open. When he reset the packer to be ready for more garbage, I was up near the top of the load ramp, but head down on my back. The bags I was in were slippery with poopy water and sweat, so my upper half slid on out of the bin liners part way into the packer bed. I’ll never forget the look on that guy’s face when he went to toss in the next sacks of garbage and saw my upper half draped down the ramp into the bed. I swear he just stared at my boobs.

He hesitated and then just tossed the two bags he held right on top of me. If I had not wiggled out an arm and waved he was just going to pack me in deeper, I would have just more mashed garbage. In fact, he told me later, he thought I was some inflatable sex doll being thrown away. That he had never considered I might not be garbage. And he was right! I was just garbage at that point, messy, stinky, garbage on its way to the landfill. And I loved it.

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