Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

The Virtues of Recycling

by Rubberwolf

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© Copyright 2007 - Rubberwolf - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; bond; catfight; bagged; dumped; garbage; encase; nc; X

Authors Note:

I have wanted to write a garbage story since Gromet first put this category on the site.  I didn’t know quite how it would fit together, but the outline eventually took shape.  It can be a little rough in places, but I always wanted a cat fight in one of my stories, so….  This also reminds me of a girl I used to know.  She liked to wear bin bags and get smothered in goop.  Hmmm (Fond memories).  Anyway, enjoy.


The Virtues of Recycling

Jane was apprehensive. She had been sleeping with Ron for 3 months and they had known each other for over a year. It had started out as a friendship, but had rapidly grown into something else. Roy had asked her to move in with him and she had accepted. This, however, was not the reason she was apprehensive. For the past 5 months, Roy had been going out with Jane’s best friend, Rita. Rita did not know that Ron was seeing Jane.

Roy had said, for some months now, that he would tell Rita and break off the relationship. However, Jane was running out of patience. She had decided to tell her friend what had been going on and, at the moment, Jane sat nervously in her car with the engine running while she worked up the courage to tell her friend what had happened.

Jane and Rita had been best friends for as long as Jane could remember. Since she was in middle school, at least. This was why it was so hard. She could not help but feel as though she had really betrayed her friend and that she might lose her closest ally because of Roy. But things could not go on as they were. Roy loved Jane and Jane loved Roy. It was as simple as that and if the something that had to give was Rita, Jane could live with it. Having made up her mind, Jane put the car in gear, pulled out of the lay-by and headed off to have a devastating chat with her soon to be ex – best friend.

Rita was house sitting. It was a little extra money, which would come in handy with her final year at University. Also, it was rent free. All of the electricity and water was paid for and it came with a full freezer. What more could Rita ask for? Unfortunately, the Bishops had decided to throw a party before setting off on their three month, second honeymoon cruise and had obviously concluded that house sitting also included cleaning up after them. Rita stared at the mountain of washing up with a sense of doom. It had obviously started as a dinner party, judging by the pots, pans and wasted food scattered about the kitchen. Looking at the mess, she supposed that a number of the guests, had stayed for breakfast, judging by the half eaten porridge scattered around the breakfast table in several bowls. Who would have thought that such a respectable couple could throw an all night party for around forty people (Judging by the amount of plates and cutlery.)

No, not a dinner party, but a buffet. OK the food was not the usual sausage rolls, etc. she could see the remains of mash, roast potatoes, curries, Mexican and various sauces, but basically, this was an eat on your lap, while balancing your beer, party, which explained the carpet stains. Rita had come to the conclusion that she had been bought as a cheap alternative to a cleaning crew. Fair enough, she still needed the money, but where to start?

Rita was snapped out of her trepidations by the door bell. She headed towards the front door relieved to have a good excuse to put off the job. She was taken a little by surprise to find, instead of a delivery man or someone connected with the Bishops, to find her friend Jane instead.

Rita quickly ushered her friend in, noting that something was obviously wrong, judging by the way her friend carried herself. Normally, Jane was quite bubbly, but not today. Rita glanced over her friend. Still the same old five foot three, 23 year old brunette. Her shoulder length dark hair still made her look pale, but there was definitely something wrong and Rita quickly sat her friend down and had a coffee in her hand before she could take her coat off.

“Now, what’s the matter?” her friend urged as Jane stared into the depths of her coffee with a forlorn dread.

Jane had rehearsed this moment for months, but when she eventually opened her mouth, rather than a level delivery by a cool, collected woman, Jane garbled the story in one long burst, like a naughty eight year old who had been caught lying and wanted to tell the truth, but not have to think about the implications.

“I’ve been sleeping with Roy. We have been seeing each other for about three months and he wants me to move in with me. He says he loves me and I love him, but we have been afraid to tell you and...”

SLAP. Rita had lunged across the living room, sending coffee flying as she launched a sweeping blow across Jane’s cheek.

SLAP, another blow landed and then another and another. All the while Rita was screaming.

“You bitch. You trashy, predatory bitch. The one thing that’s mine and you have to take him from me. He loves me, not you. He...”

CRACK. Jane, although taken off guard initially was not going to stand for this and managed to land a cracking punch on the left temple that rocked her one time friend back on her heels, screaming her own abuse and denials. Before long they were both rolling about on the floor in a mad wrestle of claws, kicks and slaps. But it was no good. Rita was taller, stronger and more annoyed than Jane. She managed to batter the other girl into a senseless, sobbing heap. But that was not enough for her. As she was looking down at the woman who had slept with her lover and betrayed everything that she thought she had, an idea snapped into her head and she quickly dragged Jane, kicking and screaming by her hair, into the kitchen.

“Get undressed Bitch,” Rita contemptuously spat at her former friend.

“W..What are you going to...” But her sobbing question was interrupted as Rita answered her question with another slap.

Defeated, Jane started to undo her blouse. She was not sure what her friend would do when she found out, but she had never imagined this, or the venom with which she was now being treated.

Fumbling with the buttons, her hand was slapped to one side as Rita leant forward and ripped the buttons clean off in one, strong tug. She did not know what Rita had in mind, but Jane did not feel like finding out and, besides which, it was one of her favourite blouses. She had fought three other shoppers and an old lady to claw her way through the January sales scrum to get that it and be damned if she was going to stand for high and mighty Rita coming along and ripping it. Jane hit back, causing Rita to lose her balance.

This time the cat fight continued in earnest. Both parties vied for position as clothes were torn or ruined as the pair slid about on the floor amid the food and wine spilled the night before. It was only the low flying chicken leg that had unbalanced Jane enough to allow Rita a really good shove that had decided the issue. Jane had fallen backwards and catch her head a glancing blow from the dish washer.

Rita towered over her fallen enemy. She had just wanted to humiliate her ex-friend by ruining her clothes and perhaps tipping wine over her, but as she looked down on her stunned opponent another idea came to her. Reaching into one of the kitchen drawers, Rita grabbed a set of scissors and, kneeling down, started to cut the clothes from the unconscious form on the floor.

Jane woke groggily. Her head hurt, she was cold and uncomfortable. She tried to sit up, but found that her limbs did not respond or at least they did, but nothing happened, other than a sharp pain in her wrists. Opening her eyes, Jane saw that she was lying on the floor of a kitchen. After tugging at her wrists, Jane found that they were tied. She also noticed a tugging sensation at her feet. Looking down, with her head clearing more and more by the second she saw three things at once. Firstly, that she was naked. Secondly that there was a black bin bag covering her thighs and thirdly that Rita was pulling a cable tie tightly around her ankles. Rita was tying her up.

“Rita,” Jane screamed shrilly, “what are you doing?”

Rita stood up, picked something off of the counter and then lunged towards her prone victim.

“Rita stop. Let go of...” SLAP “Mmphhh,” Jane’s further protests were cut short as Rita slapped her hard across the face and, as her ex-friend gapped, open mouthed at the assault, shoved the wet, washing up cloth into Jane’s mouth.

“Oh shut up Jane. It’s always about you and what you want. Well now it’s my turn bitch and you will keep quiet until I am ready to speak to you.”

As she was ranting, Rita had pulled another bin bag from the roll and wrapped it around Jane’s head, securing the wash cloth in place and knotting the bag securely. Reaching into one of the kitchen drawers and, after yanking Jane into a sitting position, pulled out a roll of carpet tape.

“I have no idea why they have carpet tape in the kitchen,” Rita mused, “but I am glad they were so thoughtful.”

With that statement, she used the tape to secure the gag in place, tightly compacting the bag and wash cloth deeply into her mouth, so that Jane’s cheeks bulged like a hamster’s. Once she was satisfied, she reached down and grabbing Jane by the upper arm, pulled her to her feet.

Jane tottered unsteadily, wiggling to keep her balance, which was not easy considering that her ankles were tied together, as were her wrists. Looking down, Jane saw that the bag she noticed earlier had somehow followed her. After a moment though she was able to see that, for some obscure reason, Rita had punched two holes in the bottom of the sack and pushed her legs through the holes. Jane could imagine only one purpose for this, which was confirmed when Rita pulled the sack further up her legs until the bottom of the bag sat securely against her pussy.

Rita grabbed some kitchen roll from the counter and forced it between Jane’s knees, so that the cardboard ends of the roll nestled at the side of each knee joint. This caused Jane to wobble and nearly fall over, but Rita caught her and then bent down to her work. Because of the bag, Jane could not see clearly what was happening, but the ripping sound of carpet tape, followed by a tugging near her crotch was answer enough. Rita was sealing the leg holes on the bin bag.

Once each leg had received several turns from the tape, Rita bent down and pulled the kitchen towel free, before securing Jane’s knees with more cable ties. Rita now turned her attention to the kitchen cabinets, pulling open drawers and cupboards before cursing.

“Damn, either they don’t have any or it might be in the shed. Don’t go anywhere bitch,” Rita spat as she stomped out.

Jane weighed her options as she was left alone. She might be able to move further along the counter and grab a knife, but unless Rita was going to be gone for some time, she could not see how this would help her. Rita would surly punish her, but it might be worth the effort. She might try hopping into the street, but she would not be able to reach up and open the front door. She might very well fall over anyway. The phone, given her current state, was definitely not an option. Looking around the counter, amidst the clutter of plates and leftovers, Jane spotted her knife. A quick hop to the left and then another, but on the third she nearly fell and it took some effort to get to the knife.

“Where do you think your going bitch?” Rita demanded as she stomped over and slapped Jane again. “When I say stay, I mean just that.”

Jane seemed to consider for a second before taking out what she had found in the shed or garage or wherever she had been. She had another roll of sacks, but this one was larger than the household variety. These were larger, stronger, garden sacks. Pulling a sack from the roll, she opened it, spreading it on the ground before Jane. She repeated the process so that there where two bags open on the floor, one inside the other.

“Since you like hopping, just jump into that,” Rita sneered as she grabbed her prisoner by the arm and pulled her forcefully forward.

Jane hopped into the sacks and was then forced down by the other woman so that she was sitting with her legs slightly bent. Rita then pulled the black body sack up, so that it covered her breasts and reached up to her shoulders, slipping underneath her tied arms. She then ruffled the two outer bags so that they stood up a little more.

“I bet you are wondering what all of this is about? Well it’s quite simple. Since you are a trashy little whore, I thought I would treat you as such. You're going to help me clean up bitch and then I am going to throw you away when I have finished with you, just like you threw our friendship away.”

Jane only had moments to shake her head in denial as the implications of Rita’s tirade sank in before the first unfinished bowl of porridge was scooped into the body sack. Jane shuddered and tried not to feel sick as more and more food was showered over her, sliding in a gooey mess down her front and pooling amidst her pussy hairs. After a few bowls Rita obviously decided that Jane needed something down her back and, pulling the sack backwards, emptied the contents of the cooking pot, half full of porridge down Jane’s back, so that it pooled in a sticky heap at her ass. Next came the curry and then the chilli sauce, alternating from front to back and, when Rita was feeling vindictive, over Jane’s head. This was accompanied by muffled squeals and squeaks, but eventually Rita grabbed the carpet tape and, attaching one end to the back of the sack, used it to create a shoulder strap as she attached the tape to the front of the sack. She repeated the process on the other shoulder so that Jane now looked like she was wearing an unflattering, baggy, swim suit.

Rita was not finish, however. Taking the tape, she attached one end to Jane’s elbow, wrapping the tape around Jane’s body, under her breasts, returning over her arms, in several turns, securing her prisoners arms tightly against her body. Next she attached the tape just under Jane’s knee. She then pulled Jane’s knees up, just under her breasts and pulled the tape so that she was able to wrap it around the girl’s torso and arms.

Rolling Jane over onto her side, Rita pulled a cable tie through the ankle and wrist ties, yanking them together in a painful hog tie. Satisfied Rita used her hands to smear the contents of the body sack into all of the little places that it had not reached, before pulling the girl up into a sitting position and pulling the outer bags up, level with Jane’s head.

All thoughout the first half of the assault Jane had whimpered, cried and pleaded or at least made pleading noises through her gag. Now however, she sat as a dejected heap, sniffing to herself as her tears and snot mingled with leftovers that had run down her face. She made no reaction as Rita started to empty more garbage onto her. Mash, dips, things in pastry cases, crisps, paper napkins. In fact, Rita was genuinely shocked by the amount of waste produced by the Bishops. This did not stop her from dumping it onto Jane.

Eventually, the sack covered Jane all the way up to her top lip. This did not, however, stop Rita, who had entered spring-cleaning mode. She gathered up all of the waste baskets from the rooms and placed them in the kitchen. Going to the garage, she returned with something that she had seen when she was looking for the garden sacks.

“Can’t have you suffocating on me now can I?” Rita asked as she undid the wrapping on a dust covered and very unused brake fluid kit. Taking the vinyl tubing and cutting it in two, she forced the tubes painfully up Jane’s nostrils, before taping them in place. She had also found a sink drain kit. Taking the flexible hose from this, she taped the vinyl tubes into one of the openings. Satisfied. She then dumped the contents of the bathroom bin, complete with sanitary products, into the bag, just in front of Jane’s face. Next she unloaded more of the baskets and bins. She even emptied a sack that she had already filled, until all traces of Jane disappeared.

Satisfied, Rita pulled the flexible hose that was Jane’s only contact with the outside world, to the top of the sack and, using the cable ties, secured the bag so that the breathing tube just poked out, but was partially obscured by the bag.

Opening another garden bag, Rita emptied the contents of one of the sacks that she had already filled into the bottom, before lifting and rolling the Jane sack into the new one. More waste from other sacks was then poured down the sides so that, if anybody was to lift the sack, they would not be able to feel what, or who, was inside. Finally satisfied, Rita dragged the trash out and placed it next to the bin.

Jane had a terrible night. When Rita had piled the sanitary ware in her face, she had nearly wretched. Then, she had panicked as more waste was poured over her head until she was buried. She could not see and, by the time Rita had finished with her, all that she could hear was the rustle of paper and plastic. She felt cold and slimy. Gooey stuff stuck to her body in places that made it seem as though she had messed herself. She was a sticky, filthy waste. Perhaps Rita had been right. Perhaps this was her rightful place. After all, she had betrayed their friendship. Perhaps Jane was a trashy whore and deserved no better.

Jane spent a fitful night, either mourning her friendship, indulging in self pity or generally cursing herself. Finally she fell asleep. Luckily for her, it was a warm night and, although the various foods and sauces had cooled down, the extra paper and packing served to keep her warm enough throughout the night. However, it was still cold enough to numb her limbs and senses.

Jane woke with a start. She was being lifted. What, she wondered, did Rita have planned now? Then she heard a familiar noise. The sound of garbage truck. By the time she realised that the bin men had arrived, she was already being picked up and thrown into the garbage truck. She tried to call out, but the noise of the truck as its compactor got to work drowned out her efforts. Her limbs, still numb and cold, refused to obey her as she struggled in her sack and, still writhing, the compactor shoved her into the cramped interior of the truck.

Although she did not know it, this was her lucky day. The truck made a strange noise and, despite trying to clear debris from the mechanism and hitting the button several times, the compactor would not work.

“Bloody hydraulics init,” intoned Burt sagely as he gave the truck a good kick, spitting on the rear tyre for good measure.

“Wassat Burt?”

“I said it’s the hydralics init. Shoulda known soon as we booked out 97. Vis buggas been on it’s last legs for ages,” Burt continued.

The crew thought about this for a moment or two.

“Wat we doin then?”

Burt considered.

“Bugger all we can do. Can’t put much more in there. Lets dump vis load and gaback to yard. See if 38s out of the shop.”

After a little thought the crew agreed and drove the truck, with its half load, to the tip. Although Jane had heard the noise and despite being a little cramped, she did not know that she would not be crushed or suffocated and so was very surprised to feel the back of the truck deposit her and the rest of the load onto the garbage dump.

Old Ron was a scavenger. He had been scavenging for years, ever since he had started living on the streets. Begging was all well and good, but it couldn’t literally put a roof over your head, unless you used the money in one of those dam shelter things. Ron had grown too old on the streets to waste his money on such luxuries. But the amount that people just threw away. Now that was a crying shame. Ron darted in between the trucks, keeping out of the way of the scoops, as he searched for tit bits. Then, something caught his eye. An intact bag. You could get all sorts out of a decent bag. Ron scurried over and pulled the bag clear of the diggers as they carried on their eternal quest of distributing the waste and breaking up the trash.

Jane woke to find herself in a strange bed. Squinting, she opened her eyes to see that she was in a very strange room indeed. The blankets were a grubby assortment. One of which might have been an old carpet. She was lying in a strange, roughly thrown together, four poster bed. It was mad from cheap pallet wood and, instead of plush curtains, had a variety of wind chimes, dolls, broken model planes and paper stars hanging from the improvised rails of the bed. Looking around she noticed that the walls were made of old bits of wood and corrugated iron. Old posters littered the walls in places and an assortment of shelves, laden with a wild assortment of odds, ends and just the plain strange.

As if sensing that his guest had awoken, Ron shuffled into the room with a chipped cup of what he informed her was soup. Jane was still too broken and weary to argue and drank it gratefully. She spent the next few days resting as Ron nursed her back to health. She had time to explore her new surroundings. Ron really was a collector. He had set up home in some woodland, just outside of town. Although he was known to the local authorities, he was generally left alone. He did not cause any trouble and the land owner had not complained. So Ron had made his home a little less transitory than was the norm. Jane found all manner of interesting items in the yard around the lean to house. Old water tanks, various items and bits of machinery that generally littered the area that Ron called home.

Soon, Jane was well enough to return home, after Ron had found her a dress and even a pair of grubby shoes, Jane returned to her life, with the promise that she would return to repay all that Ron had done, as well as buy a few of his items, if he would sell them.

Rita stood at the sink washing up. Her life was back on track. She had a date with Roy at the weekend. He had wondered what had happened to Jane, but Rita had professed ignorance, assuring him that she would probably turn up in a day or so. Rita wondered about Jane as well, keeping her ear on the local news to find out if a body had been discovered. Jane, Rita felt, had been buried in the filth and garbage that she deserved and would hopefully never see the light of day again.

Rita did not know why but some instinct told her to look behind her. As she just had time to see Jane swinging something at her. Before she could react, the 2 x 4 connected with her skull, felling her like a sack of potatoes.

Rita woke in darkness. She was sitting up, cross legged, in, as she discovered as she explored with her hands, a small cell, no more than a few feet across. It was cramped. She was also naked. She tried to stand, but hit her head on the low ceiling. With a grunt she sat down. Although she could move her arms, she would have to remain seated. Next, Rita tried shouting, but the walls seemed to absorb her cries and thumping the sides only hurt her hands. After a while she calmed down and continued to explore. Feeling underneath her, she found that she was sitting in, or just over a funnel shaped hole. Then, next to her head she found something taped to the side of her circular prison. It was a plastic cylinder, wrapped in paper. Pulling the paper into her lap she explored the cylinder with her fingers. At last, she thought she had discerned what the plastic rod was and, taking a chance, snapped the rod in two.

She was automatically bathed in a green light as the chemicals in the glow stick merged. Shaking the stick to mix the chemicals, Rita looked around and saw that her prison was just as she had imagined it when she was exploring with her hands. Turning her attention to the paper, she noticed that it had writing on it. She unfolded it and began to read.

Welcome to your new home Rita.

Let me first take this opportunity to thank you. Because of you I have discovered a new sense of worth and purpose. I have seen how much we actually waste. I have come believe that we should all do our bit to recycle and to dispose of our rubbish sensibly and responsibly. One of the first things that I have now installed in my house is a recycling unit. I have installed this unit in my kitchen, or at least the pipes run from a second sink, where the drain should be, outside, through my kitchen wall, to a small box underneath my kitchen window. The waste is then processed by this unit before the waste products are then fed into the drains to be dispersed among the sewers. In case you have not figured this out yet, the vital component of my new unit is you. I will continue to feed you. All you have to do is shovel whatever is put before you into that fat mouth of yours. You don’t even have to move off of your ass, just eat and shit. You could try to scream, but in order to ensure that you don’t freeze to death in winter, the unit has quite a lot of sound absorbing insulation. The only time you might have a chance was if you screamed while I put waste into the shute, but since I run a loud cutting blade, like a traditional waste disposal unit, when throwing my trash away, it is not much of a chance. Enjoy your new life and thanks again.


P.S. Guess who I have a date with tonight?

Although Rita knew it was pointless, she screamed and beat the sides of her prison in despair.

Jane cleared the plates into the kitchen and began tidying her home. It had been a simple wedding. She and Roy had invited a few close friends and family to the service, followed by a small reception at their home. The guests had all left and now the couple prepared for bed before jetting off on their honeymoon.

Roy came up behind her and snuggled her neck.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she purred.

“I am sorry that Rita couldn’t come, but despite everything I am sure that she would have wanted to come. No new news from the Police then?”

“No,” Jane replied. “Anyway, I am sure your right and that she would have come to the reception at least. But enough of this morbid talk, help me clear these dishes. You wash, I will dry.”

Below them, in the darkness that has become her home, the waste unit who was once Rita stirred. The sound of the garbage compactor vibrated down the pipes to her domain. Her anticipation was rewarded as a slurry of food dropped through the hole at the top of her world to land on her expansive breasts. She had changed a lot since her new existence had begun. Her skin had become ghostly white and sores marked her once lovely skin. Her hair had become straggly and matted and she had gained weight. With no activity to occupy her time, other than eating sleeping and crapping into her drain, she had gained pounds. Her enormous bottom and massive legs now conformed to the shape of her prison.

Her hands reached up on either side of her enormous breasts. Their only purpose was to shovel food and scraps into her waiting maw. If you were to cut the top off of her prison and turn it upside down, shaking and patting the base, Rita would pop out as a solid, cylindrical mass. But the garbage monster, which is how Rita saw herself, did not care any more. She had taken a new name. It was now Oscar. It remembered the name from a garbage monster in a children’s program, it could not remember what, but that is not important. All that mattered was that it recycled the waste which, once it had finished its meal, it did with a loud Phhhrting sound.

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