Gromet's PlazaTrashcan Stories

Working in the Food Factory

by Binboy

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2008 - Binboy - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; wrap; bagged; encased; messy; compactor; con; X

My fascination with being buried, unable to move under hundreds of stuffed garbage bags had been with me all my life, and like the others out there that I had seen online, I had often tried to stage these scenarios at home using big tough bags, tape and rope. More often than not, this turned out to be a big disappointment, but I knew that one day, I could find a way to safely make this fantasy come true.

This day came after many years of careful preparation. My fetish had led my career through facilities management, and now I was head of facilities at a huge state of the art food manufacturing plant in the next town over. The company was involved in making all kinds of prepacked savoury foods, as well as soups, tinned goods and even a wide range of sweets.

As facilities manager here, I had organized the various waste streams into the best ways possible, so there was relatively little actual waste sent to landfill from here, as we recycled everything we could. I was good at my job. J

What little waste (which was still a huge volume in fairness, nearly 700 people worked here) was dealt with by a really big compactor in the corner of the waste yard. Its gaping maw took the contents of the large wheeled bins from all over the factory and pressed it into a huge contained pile. Although the thought of this made me hard as a rock, I knew that it was too risky to try a scene in there. The compactor was emptied twice a week, and it was on a varying schedule so there was a bit too much risk involved. It didn’t stop me fantasising often though.

Our cardboard was baled and collected once a week, as was our waste plastic from pallet wrap. The source of waste that I was interested in was the food recycling.

We had signed a contract 6 months ago with a company who collected food waste and organized for it to be recycled into mulch, or pig food, or in any way that could retain some value from it. The company themselves were very strict about procedures though, and all the different types of waste had to be bagged separately and stacked on pallets to be manually sorted in their facility for recycling. I had of course arranged a tour of the facility and got to know their system very well. If any of the bags ripped and contaminated the load, our company faced a fine, and the cost of disposing of the unusable materials. This was understandable though, as the bags were sorted by young lads who had to handle everything, so it wasn’t fair to expect them to work with messy spilled food.

The provided us with large drums and incredibly tough drum liners that would be placed around the various manufacturing areas. As food waste was generated, it was placed into these tough bags for recycling. When full, these bags would be tied shut with cable ties, placed onto a trolley, and brought to the waste yard for storage until the collection truck arrived.

We had had problems with storing the materials at first, as the bags were too heavy to be lifted into wheeled bins, and if they were left out, the smell attracted wildlife.

We had gotten around this by purchasing a large steel hopper, under which sat a pallet of labelled bags waiting to be wrapped by our pallet wrapper. The hopper was set into the ground so the bags could be just dropped in or pushed in from ground level.  The bags were stacked inside this contraption about 6 bags deep, 6 bags wide, and about 6 bags high. When the hopper had reached capacity, it would raise up into the air, pulling an incredibly tough outer plastic bag over the whole pile. Two of the staff would then quickly use high strength tape to seal the opening at the top so that the big giant bag containing about another 200 to 250 well full and well heavy bags of food could be lifted on a fork truck and put aside for storage. The fork truck could access the bag from the lower concrete level below on which the pallet sat.  In recent times they had taken to wrapping the outer bag in industrial pallet wrap to prevent any odours escaping. This was where my fantasy came to life.

I knew that the night shift always closed down for the complete hours break, and that all areas of the factory would be deserted bar the canteen. I had also made sure that cameras were never placed in the waste yard. I had gotten the bus over to the factory so that it wouldn’t look suspicious that my car was outside, and using my swipe card, I let myself into the building and made my way, unseen, to the waste yard.

I kept a low profile until the shrill break whistle blasted, and I waited 5 minutes to make sure everyone was gone.

Gingerly, I went over to the hopper, and I peered inside. My heart was thumping, as I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. I threw my bag containing a roll of drum liners, a roll of plastic wrap, and a roll of the heavy tape down into the hole, looked around one more time to make sure no-body was looking, then slid into the pile below.

As I had planned, the pallet was only about half stacked, so there was about three levels deep of stuffed bags below me on which I landed with a soft thud. As my weight fell into the bagged and sorted waste, a couple of bags fell from each side of me and landed on top of me to try and fill the hole I had created.  I knew these bags were heavy, but the way they knocked the breath out of me made me sore with anticipation.

I struggled for a moment to get my bearings and find my equipment to get ready for the fun night ahead. The idea was to immobilize myself inside the waste, where I would be trapped for a couple of days until the food recycling truck arrived. Once that truck was here, my pallet would be loaded with all the others for its journey to their recycling plant. I knew that all the pallets were taken apart manually, so when I got to the sorting centre, the lads who worked there would find me in the middle of the sticky plastic pile and free me. I hadn’t really thought of an excuse yet as to why I was there, but I would put it down to a prank by the lads in my factory.

I wrapped as much of my body as I could in the clear plastic wrap which gave a wonderful sensation when I lay into the bags already around me. To secure myself better, I used the tape to bind my legs at both the ankles, and the thighs, and then I wrapped the tape around my mouth numerous times, making me unable to utter a single sound. I took out two of the huge black plastic bags, and with some difficulty, poked a few emergency air holes in them, Better safe than sorry! The first bag, I pulled up over my legs which sat wrapped in plastic and tape. I was really getting the feeling of BEING rubbish from this whole event. The bag itself was bigger than I thought and went all the way from my feet up to my shoulders. I pulled one bag beside me onto my legs to see how it felt being in a bag and buried. It felt wonderful.

The second bag I pulled over my head and down around my entire body, encasing me in durable tough plastic refuse sack. These were even resistant to tearing and sharp objects, and it had been quite hard to poke air holes, so I knew in an emergency, these would not be good bags to be in. That was part of the fun though. I ripped a hole large enough for my face and poked my eyes and nose through. Using the tape, I made sure it stayed in this place, and then pulled the rest of the bag down over my arms. Reaching both hands behind my back, I clumsily wrapped the tape around both my wrists making a very loose bond. I knew I could escape quickly from that bind if I had to.

Now that my stage was set, it was a matter of enjoying the time ahead, so I lay down in the pile with my face hole poking into another bag so no one outside could see me. I was surprisingly immobilised and this kind of set me panicking, but the thought of being trapped in here set my cock well and truly into action. I rubbed myself against the bag beside me and shivered with anticipation. After the preparation, I wasn’t going to back out now. Anyway, I couldn’t, break time was over in ten minutes, and it would take a lot longer than that to get out of here.

What seemed like seconds later, the whistle shrieked again, and the staff came back to work. No one came to the waste yard immediately, I suppose they had emptied the bins just before break, and it was about an hour before I heard the sound of voices about my plasticky prison.

It was Mike. A good guy, but not the smartest cookie in the box. He was unloading a trolley of waste food into my container, so this was where the fun began! I could hear him talking to somebody else outside about the football over the weekend, and the thoughts that he had no idea I was here was incredibly sexy. With a whoomph, the first bag from the trolley came into the hopper, and landed right on top of me with a wet thud. This bag was incredibly heavy, and I had to adjust my position to catch my breath. For a second I though that perhaps I would be noticed jostling around, but then I realized that Mike was hardly likely to be studying the contents of a food recycling hopper. He was too busy engaged in his conversation about Man Utd.

Seconds later, another thud, and another bag landed on the pile in which I lay, then slid down into one of the corners of the hopper. I was ecstatic, over the next 5 minutes, Mike manoeuvred nearly 40 bags into the hopper, and I was well and truly buried. The best thing was that I could still hear my colleagues outside, and the thought of being here, buried, right beside them caused me to climax instantly. The whole inside of the plastic wrap around my crotch became slimy with my ejaculation, but I didn’t care, I was well and truly involved in this scene now, and I was in paradise.

It was surprisingly hot in the middle of this pile, so I decided to make myself comfortable, readjust my air hole, and go asleep for a while.

I nodded off for a little too long, as when I awoke I could clearly hear the sounds of the day shift in full swing. The beeps of reversing delivery trucks, and hustle of people talking, and all the audible signs of a factory in full production. I also heard the subtle metallic noise of one of the wheeled bins banging into the waste compactors lifting combs, followed by the hydraulic noise of the machine in operation. Next, the clang as the bin hit the ground, but who ever was doing this didn’t bother with the compactor. Oh well, that didn’t concern me right now.

Through the course of the night shift (I was still annoyed that I had slept through so much of the packing of the bags above me), the hopper had become totally full. I knew this as I heard one of the chargehands, Brad, giving out at how he shouldn’t have to empty the bins every day, and that the night shift should have done it. Obviously, a trolley of more bags was waiting to be loaded, but there was no room in my giant outer bag. This meant it was time to be moved on the forktruck and wrapped on the wrapping machine in the middle of my big soft, heavy plastic prison.

Brad was an incredibly good looking lad, and always wore tracksuits that really showed off his physique well. From a purely aesthetic point of view, I couldn’t be happier with who it is that would seal me in my moist gooey pile.

He pressed the button to lift the hopper, and the noise it made was horribly high pitched. As it came off of the top of the pile, the pressure pressing around me eased as the pile of waste pressed against the inside of the green outer bag, which was no longer entrapped by the steel outer wall. I only had seconds to enjoy this new freedom of movement though before Brad leaned his full body weight on the top of the pile, and started applying the sealing tape with one of his buddies. He used about 20 strips, so plenty of the outer bags mouth was still open. If necessary, I felt I could still escape from this, albeit with some trouble. The next thing I heard was the forklift revving, and I felt a bang as one of the fork blades hit the bottom of my pallet. The wrapping was about to begin!

However, as I had always feared in my thoughts of going ahead with this, something unexpected was about to happen. In fairness, this was not something that could possibly be anticipated. My panic began to rise though as I realized through the snippets of conversation I could still hear what was happening.

The company had been making toffee for 4 years, and it was regarded as some of the best on the market. Unfortunately, some new employee had accidentally added Paprika to the days batch, and no one knew what to do. Obviously, they couldn’t pour it into the moulds, and they couldn’t let it set in the vats either. Some wise man had decided to quickly wheel the huge three vats outside and get rid of the contents before they got hard and impossible to remove. The person with the vats made a beeline straight for the pallet into which I was well and truly packed.

In fairness to Brad, he did speak up and told the guy with the trolley that he couldn’t pour it into one of the food pallets, as management would go mental when they saw the fine from the recycling company. The response to this was a question as whether or not Brad wanted to spend the day hacking the toffee out of the vats, and at that, the decision was made.

Brad manoeuvred the forks so that the pallet was right on top. I could feel myself being jerked from side to side as he got into position under the concrete lip.

The noise of the first vat being emptied above me made an astonishing loud gurgling noise, and it was only a couple of seconds before I began to feel the warmth of the molten toffee as it writhed its way around the bags that confined me. Thankfully, I knew it would set very quickly, so I wasn’t overly concerned about being burned. As the second, and finally the third Vat were emptied over me, I began to feel the toffee encase the bags I was in, just as it was encasing all of the bags above me. Thank god my head was still in such a way that it didn’t pour over my face, and I was sill able to breath.

Seconds later, Brad jerked the forks into life, lifted me up into the air, and began to roll across the yard. I presumed he was taking me to the wrapper now, and 30 seconds later, I was proven right. With a jolt, the pallet was dropped onto the spinning disk of the wrapper.

Still able to hear sound from outside ever so vaguely, I strained my ears to get an idea as to what was going on. It seemed Brad wanted to wrap this pallet in a lot more plastic than usual to avoid the gloopy toffee leaking out. Little did he know it was already beginning to set. I knew though, as I lay there, in the harsh realization that I was completely trapped, and could not even call out as my mouth was well and truly taped shut.

Once again, I exploded in orgasm as my cock rubbed against the sticky toffee covered bag next to mine. The pallet began to spin. And spin and spin. Inside my prison, it felt like I had been wrapped 12 or 13 times in thick plastic which had also caused any wet toffee to squeeze its way further into the pile, but still I could hear muffles of conversation outside.

Brad was talking to his colleague about how I, as manager, would be really pissed off if I came in and seen what had happened. Destroying a pallet of recyclable food was a bad offence. To try to cover the offence up before I came into work (oh little did they know), they decided to try and dispose of the whole palette in the compactor. I became rock hard once more.

Once again, with a jerk, the fork truck lifted me way up into the air. I travelled for just seconds before a huge tilt sent the enter giant bag of waste hurting upside down into one  of the huge wheeled bins. I knew the next stop for this bin was the compactor in the corner.

With a heave, Brad and the other guy began to push the bin over the compactor. I heard that usual metallic noise of the comb being placed under the lip of the bin, and within moments I was moving again. I didn’t mind though, as going into the bin made me land upside down. Being emptied again should land me the right way up. And so it did.

With an incredibly loud and wet plop noise, me and my prison landed in the black maw of the Wastemaster 4000 industrial packer. Thankfully it was manually operated, not weight sensitive, or I would have been packed immediately, but my joy was fairly short lived.

It became quiet for about ten minutes, and I wriggled in place trying desperately to release my bonds, and get out of here. If only I hadn’t taped up my mouth, I could survive this. I even thought that as I had wrapped the tape around my head the previous night, but alas, the moment had gotten to me and I had proceeded as planned.

Brad and his buddy had actually been off finding full wheeled bins around to plant with which to hide their misdeed. The sound of the comb lift clanged another three times, and I guessed that there must be a lot of waste built up around my big moist prison. Then came the inevitable noise of the packer blade going into action.

I knew this machine was powerful, as I had seen it in operation in a demo. The waste within would be crushed, reducing the number of trips required top the landfill hugely. It seemed like eternity, but within moments, the packing blade had reached the start of the pile of waste, and all around me began to crush inwards. The compactor was about half full, and my giant bag was pressed firmly into the pile of garbage already at the back of the bin. Then the waste behind me that Brad had poured in began to crush from that side too. I tried again to squirm or wriggle my way out of my bonds, but I began to feel this was fruitless. Even if I got my tape gag off, there was no way the lads would hear me through all this now well and truly compacted waste.

I remained locked into position, pressed into the warm wall of waste for the remainder of the day. Later that evening, the last waste train of the day came into the yard, and I knew that this was it. The compactor would now be almost certainly full, and it would be merely an hour or so before the truck came to take me away to the landfill.

The pressure built up around me once more, and now my plastic face hole finally slipped out of place, totally covering my whole face with smooth tough plastic. As I tried in vain to breathe in through my nose, the warm plastic stetched and pulled itself up into my nostrils. The pressure on my entire body was incredible, and as I sucked pointlessly for air, I realized that even though things had gone horrible wrong, it was a good way to go. Then I blacked out, encased in toughened plastic, hardened toffee, and about 2 tonnes of waste food.  This would surely be the end.


You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum


If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
trashcan stories