© Copyright 2010 - JayJay - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-f; messy; glue; trash; dumpster; stuck; compactor; truck; machines; dumped; reluct/nc; X
Part 2: No Free Ride to the Dealership
Veronica was in a panic. She had no idea it was pick up time. The garbage men seemed to be on a strict routine and were never more then a couple minutes off schedule. That could only mean she had been in the disgusting dungeon for over an hour while looking for her receipts. She tried to scream for the Sanitation Engineer to help her. However the heavyset man had his I-Pod on under his OSHA approved hearing protection and was oblivious to the woman screaming inside. Before hooking onto the bin, he activated the compactor one last time to minimize the amount of garbage that would fall out of the trailer during transit.
Inside Veronica could here the familiar whine of the powerful motor start to turn followed shortly thereafter by the movement of the bags and debris around her. She stopped her search for the money briefly and placed her hands against the rising tide of trash that was inching towards her. Soon she could feel the increasing pressure around her waist as the trash pressed in all around her. Her hands and arms quickly lost the fight to the inbound garbage and become buried underneath hundreds of pounds of junk. As her hands pushed themselves deeper into the depths of the trash, the compactor split open a container of tar that soon started seeping through the trash and all around her hands. Her fingers all the way to her wrist became submersed in the leaking bucket of tar that was slowly consuming her fingers and hands.
To her horror she could feel the circular top of a used plastic bottle pushing against her sex. With her hands buried and stuck, she could only clench her young muscles as the bottle continued pushing against the glue and garbage covered pussy. Eventually the fight was lost and the bottle forced itself deep within her. As the bottle pushed it’s way in deeper spreading her lips farther apart, she felt a similar feeling in her ass. A large uncorked glue covered wine bottle was pressing against her rosebud and would soon be violating her from behind. The narrow top penetrated her easily and quickly began wedging itself deeper between her cheeks until coming to rest about halfway down the bottle.
As her hands were buried beneath the trash, she feared for her life as the trash squeezed in around her and her screaming intensified. When the compressor stopped, she could not move an inch. She calmed slightly once the pressure leveled off, but her panic resumed when the truck backed up to the bin and pulled it onboard the flatbed and prepared it for removal. She could feel the bin tilt upwards and start to move slowly then come to rest horizontally again. Then after some loud banging and chains clinking, the trucks idle increased dramatically and she was being towed away.
Alexis finally managed to get Mrs Patterson to shut up long enough to take her leave and go find her friend. With the ladder in hand, still dressed to the nines in heels, skirt and stockings she carried the cumbersome step ladder across the parking lot and opened the doors to the wooden fenced area only to find the metal container was gone and her friend was nowhere to be found. She stood there in disbelief knowing she had failed her friend. She had been instrumental in pushing her over the edge. Now Alexis wasn’t able to get her out in time and she was gone.
On the inside of the fence was a large, plastic sign advertising for the company and an emergency contact number in case the compactor wasn’t working correctly. She found a half broken pen on the ground, scribbled the number onto her forearm and returned to her home to start making phone calls. It wasn’t until ten o’clock that someone finally answered the phone. The number was actually for the lease company for the compactor, not the actual garbage hauling company.
It was another hour before she was able to contact the haulers and speak to the landfill manager and over an hour to explain the story. The manager thought it was a prank but promised to “take a look” and call her back. He immediately threw away the number and continued reading the morning paper while answering more calls about lost keys, pay checks, and lost inheritance all seeking some type of compensation from the trash hauler.
“Just another prank” he said.
Meanwhile it was no joke for poor Veronica. After a ninety minute journey through downtown traffic she arrived at the waste processing center and her steel bin was dropped in the automated line of containers. The truck left her container to wait, while grabbing an empty unit to return to the condo. She stood there in the midst of all the garbage gasping the stale rancid air barely breathing inside the steaming hot container. Outside computerized machines blindly went about their business removing new containers from the conveyor, dumping them into the processing chute and placing them in the hold area to be returned to the field.
Her container was in a long line of bins getting readied for processing. Every few minutes the conveyor would activate and she would advance down the line towards her fate. It took nearly two hours before she was at the end of the line. With little warning the container began tipping up and she and the other half-ton of litter began tumbling out the back end of the container down into the hopper below. She feared for her life thinking there would be a mammoth shredder or a set of rollers that would squeeze her body down to the thickness of a sheet of paper. She screamed with renewed vigor. Fortunately the vibrating chute slowly dropped her and the rest of the garbage onto a large wide conveyor belt and she started the real processing.
As she fell through the bottom of the hopper a series of long thin metal cables attached to drums were spinning in opposing directions. Each plastic bag that passed between them was torn to shreds when it exited the other side. She tried to crawl away to safety, but the two large pails stuck on her feet weighed her down too much and the conveyor was running far too fast. There were about six pairs of spinning cables spaced about twenty feet apart. The bags would get flipped and rotated after each whipping to make sure all sides of the bags were shredded. When she realized her turn was inevitable. She raised her cheese; tar and paint covered arms to her paint covered face and waited her turn. She was carefully to form her fists into a ball to avoid touching her tar-covered fingers to her face.
She and Alexis had played some bondage games before, but the beating she received this day was unlike any other. All sides of her body were whipped all over hardly missing an once of flesh. When she exited the first stage her face was untouched, but her arms had large welts from her shoulders to her painted fingertips. Three of her one-inch longer nails were broken down to the fingertip, her hands were wrapped into a ball and her body ached all over. Her bodice and stockings had large rips and tears and the exposed flesh underneath had large red welts but very few were actually bleeding.
Her natural D-Cups were partially covered by her arms and the corset and only had a few large bruises and welts. After the whipping she was lying on her back on the bottom of the wide rubber belt going over to the next stage with trash all over her and around her. Another stream of shredded trash was pouring down from above her further burying her under her growing pile of trash. She barely had the will to fight any longer.
The next conveyor spread the debris out over a large width of about ten feet and passed under a serious of blowers and vacuums to remove the paper products and shredded remnants of plastic bags from the debris stream. She tried to crawl to the edge and jump off the belt but the sides of the conveyor were too tall to jump over. She was still catching her breath from the beating and took this moment to relax and try to find a way out.
After the plastic and paper separation she found herself on a narrower conveyor running across the plant as a thin trail of garbage juice streamed underneath her onto the next stage. She was taken up and over a series of ramps and drop-offs surrounded by large powerful magnets, which pulled the steel scrap and vegetable cans out of the mix. She was tossed and flipped and bruised some more with each fall into the next level of Dante’s Inferno.
Then she was passed over a series of equally spaced rollers allowing the small aluminum cans and glass jars to fall through the openings into a separate sorter below. The glass wine bottle in her ass and the plastic squeeze bottle in her pussy continuously bumped into and vibrated across each roller exciting and disgusting her all at the same time. The ride was brutal as she was bounced and jostled across the long room back onto another conveyor.
She was starting to drip inside the plastic bottle as each jolt got her closer to orgasm. Then suddenly it was all taken away as she saw what was certain to be her death. She was left alone on the large conveyor with only the larger objects that had made it this far along the trip. Old TV’s, small appliances, big broken kids toys and Veronica were all bound for a pair of ten foot bladed rollers which looked like the insides of her desktop paper shredder but twenty times larger. Everything that entered was ground to a pulp and dumped onto the conveyor below.
If she didn’t exit the contraption before she hit the shredders she would certainly not have to worry about what was beyond the next stage. In an exhausted panic she scrambled to the edge running into and over dozens of fast moving debris that continually knocked her over and pushed her closer to her certain death and slowed her escape to the edge of the machine. At the last minute she had made it to the edge and blindly jumped onto whatever was beneath her.
She landed with a fairly soft thud onto another conveyor that seemed eerily familiar. She was at the exit of the cable shredders and just about to enter the paper separator. Not wanting to repeat the process over again, she made her way to the edge and fell from this conveyer onto a third conveyor which was moving in a completely opposite direction, This one was filled by nothing but the truest form of garbage; wasted food, lawn compost, bits of unsorted trash, the worst of the worst.
A sticky wet never-ending stream of the lowest form of human trash. She tried to sit up and see what was next, but the slimy wet conveyor allowed her no grip and she kept falling back down with a splat into the mess. She was able to look up at the last minute to see the convergence of three conveyors coming together into one wide chute. Her stream of compost dropping in from one angle combined with sludge pumped in from the local water treatment facility a few miles away from another angle. And a third chute of God only knows what from the other side. She wanted to run and avoid the inevitable but her bruised beaten battered body was too far-gone and resistance was futile.
The three conveyors poured into one big stream and fell about six feet onto the last conveyor. As her body hit the last stage, her head was flung back and she fell unconscious, as she became a chunky sludge mixture of something similar to raw cookie dough or possibly dried chunky mud or clay. She was trash, she had become garbage, and she was no longer human, but human waste. From here she was removed from the plant onto a mile long conveyor which dropped her into one of several pits where she would be left to decompose along with the several thousands of tons of daily trash processed each day through the waste facility.
Alexis called the landfill every couple of hours wondering if anyone had uncovered a body at the landfill, the manager finally threatened to report her if she continued calling.
Out in the field it had been three days since Veronica fell unconscious and was buried alive as trash out in rubbish fields of decay. She awoke to a seagull standing on her head picking trash from her green painted hair. As she pulled herself out of her slumber she shook her head to clear the bird away only to have it return seconds later. She tried to brush the animal back with her hand but it was too buried to remove. Her other cheese and tar covered hand however was free as was part of her torso. The cheese on her hand and arm had quickly decayed and looked more like fungus, some bizarre lichen. The dried tar had hardened her fingers together and hand felt more like a mitt then a hand with fingers.
She dug furiously with her free hand to uncover her body. Hours of work revealed her other arm, still covered in dried green paint and welts. Her hand was balled like a fist and the tar embedded garbage made it impossible to uncurl her fingers on her own. Could she have seen her own face it was completely covered in green paint and bits of trash and looked like something out of a bad 70’s Swamp Thing horror movie. One eye was completely painted shut and the other would barely open. Most of her long hair was stuck to her back while the rest of it was glued to bits of garbage it had collected along the way.
As she dug deeper the salsa and curdled milk under her tattered cloth corset had began to mold and her entire upper body was covered in splotches of green mold and spores sprouting all over her body and through the torn remnants of her corset. She hardly had the will to continue and took a break to gather her strength. She tried to yell for help alone in the quiet field of trash but her voice was dry and no sound came out. She continued digging after her short break and uncovered her hips.
To her horror she discovered her former glorious pussy was now covered in a thick hard layer of glue and trash. There was a squeeze bottle of ketchup jutting out from between her lips still half filled with moldy ketchup. She tugged and pulled at the bottle with her balled up fists but could do nothing to remove it. All sensitively was gone as she furiously attempted to gain entrance with her moldy cheese covered and green painted hands despite the obviously unsanitary conditions she was currently residing in. She soon realized her ass felt in a similar state and she bent forward to survey her condition.
She no longer had an ass crack dividing the two glorious globes that made up her delicious back end. Her cheeks were essentially spackled over creating one misshapen glob beneath her spine. The last three inches of a large bottle of Asti was poking out her backend and felt as though the entire diameter had pushed itself inside her. The glue covered her entire hips and had dried in some bizarre bumpy almost rocky formations. Rather then two perfectly rounded cheeks she now had something that felt more like broken concrete then a human posterior.
How she found the will to continue, she may never know, but regardless she kept digging to uncover her entire glue covered leg still attached to the ice-cream and garbage filled pail glued around her foot. The thick glued had completely hardened and had become more of a cast then a leg. When she tried to pull it from the dirt it was cold, hard and unable to bend. She began work on her other leg and started to un-dig it as well. The white stocking was covered in every imaginable color and junk from its long journey to here.
To make matter worse, some type of plant form had started growing over her legs and was randomly wrapped from just above her ankle all the way to her hip. The tentacles of the vine had grown into the weaving of the stockings while some were growing through the rips and had attached themselves to her leg. She tried to remove the vine but her clumsy hands were useless to her now. She continued to dig until her entire leg; including the partially full two-gallon bucket of concrete that had become a permanent addition to her foot, were free from the growing pile of trash.
She was finally free from her interment and ready to go, although she wasn’t sure where she was or where she was going.
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story continues in That New Car Smell Part 3: The Return Home