Trashcan

It had been weeks since it all ended, six weeks to be exact since I was dumped by my ex. Olivia. I was yet to get over her, I was yet to feel myself again, and the only part of me that I still had was trash and diapers. But that was it, nothing else defined me, I was lost and felt utterly worthless. With nothing else to do other than indulge in my fantasies and so I spent more and more time playing in my neighbor’s trash cans. But even that wasn’t enough to fulfill my fantasies, their trash cans were alright but nothing compared to my fantasies over Olivia’s trash. ...

As always when it comes to this sort of kinky thing… don’t try this at home (or at school, for that matter). And if there’s a sexy janitor in your life, find a way to tell him you like him without going to the sort of trouble Tina did… This story features incredibly unrealistic and impractical forms of technology and trash disposal systems, for the sake of being that much kinkier. ...

“I’m off to work now, see you later” said Zoe in a raised voice. “Okay, bye” shouted Emily from her bedroom. Emily heard the door close and with that, she was alone in the flat. She was sharing student accommodation with three other people - Zoe being one of them. The other two were Stephen and Robbie, who hadn’t long left for the quiz night at the pub. Emily watched as Zoe entered her car and drove off, out of sight. A few hours of peace were now guaranteed. ...

“Damn it, I can’t remember if we needed eggs” Kaylee said to herself as she walked around the supermarket. She reached for her mobile phone so she could call her boyfriend, Alex. She checked her bag. She checked her pockets. However, her mobile phone was nowhere to be found. “Crap. I must have left it at home. I’ll buy some more eggs just in case”. Little did she know how grave this error would be. And we aren’t talking about the eggs. ...

Although everything ends up happily for this story’s characters (despite that seeming unlikely at some points!), trash play can be quite dangerous. Don’t try to replicate anything found in this story for real. Though, some of what is described is unrealistic enough it really CAN’T be replicated, so there’s also that. Enjoy! I hope at least some readers will enjoy this as much as Robert and Michael did… Robert and Michael looked out over the processing floor. There was trash everywhere, most of it bagged up in hoppers and sitting on conveyor belts all waiting for the two guys to fire up the machines which would destroy it. But today, there was something more—something special. One of the trash bags, one of the ones on the conveyor right over there, had a very special piece of trash in it. Her name was Lindsey. The guys had met her the previous night, at the bar, and had taken her home. It had been a long, lovely, lustful night, but things didn’t get really interesting until she found out that they worked in the disposal industry. ...

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”.

This is a past story that happened many years ago. It is a true story of one of my very first trash experiences. Over a period of several months, I had been keeping an eye on the trash bins on the side of the house to see if it was feasible to get inside of one some day. I had read many of the stories on this website about trash bags and really liked the idea, it was just a matter of finding the right place to try it. ...

(story continues from Oops Wrong Bin) story continued from part one Part Two Maybe I could convince my beautiful neighbour to just dump her garbage for good, the signs are there for sure. I just need to push things along gently I thought to myself. Hopefully soon she’ll allow me to join in with his trashing then I’ll be able to guage how to complete my plan. I knew Lisa would be trashing him again soon so I decided to help her slightly with trashy pleasures for Stu. Lisa had mentioned her displeasure when she could still see him in the bottom of the industrial strength garbage sacks. So I emptied my fridge early in the week just to ensure everything I bagged was foul smelling and going bad. The weather was still warm it would heat up nicely in the large outside in the sun. ...

Trashgirl spent many a day dreaming of being dominated, her boyfriend Paul was only acutely aware of some of her darker desires. Although they had a very active sex life there was always something missing for trashgirl. She had became aware of trash play via gromet’s website and was more than an avid visitor. She had read every story at least ten times concentrating on the bondage and disposal of many beautiful women. Many a night she had sneaked out of bed and away to the toilet, Paul slept peacefully as she pleasured herself quietly thinking of those strong black trash bags she had hidden away under the sink. ...

(story continues from The Trash Wife 2: My Reward) Part 3: Discovery & Consequences My husband and I continued to play my/our garbage fetish games, with me tightly bound, naked and bagged inside several garbage bags, with the household trash tossed inside with me, coating my naked body with all its gooey goodness. I have an objectification fetish and my husband indulges me when I want to be bound and bagged, stored and put away, usually out with the rest of the garbage. He seems to like the sight of me tightly bound, bagged and ready to use for his own sexual satisfaction. ...

This is a side story to the trashy adventures of David and Christine. (This story is based on a fantasy our good friend malus infantia confessed to me and asked me to write. He seemed to have been quite inspired by our lovely trash queen, Jennifer. Hope you enjoy. - This story is told from the perspective of Jennifer.) “Yeah, yeah, she’s still here.” I’m sitting on my couch, my legs crossed as I talk on the phone to Christine. my slave, Rebecca, massages my feet. It had been a rather long day collecting garbage, and I didn’t get to play with any of it. At least I’ll be able to take my frustration out on my pretty little garbage slave. ...

You woke up by the immense lights of the supermarket. You were inside a white plastic wrapper which contained your entire body and there was a transparent part of the plastic in front of your face so you could see a little bit. You were very confused for few minutes but then it all came back to you, how you have ended up in this situation. It began when one day you were sleeping in your bed at home and someone came, woke you up by a slap and injected something to your neck. Long story short, you were kidnapped by a private company that sold human slaves. After one month of brainwashing you were transported to the supermarket, where you are to be sold to anyone who needed a home slave. They injected you with something that made you immobilized and slowed your metabolism so you could stay alive in that plastic for at least 14 days. You felt humiliated, you were nothing more than a product now. ...

(story continues from Trashed at School) story continued from part one Part Two I became more and more preoccupied about the experience. What was it? On its face it was humiliating and disgusting, but somehow thinking about it made my heart race. I longed to experience it again. I fantasized about how to make the most of it. I’d do it differently. How could I? Would they give me the same punishment? ...

Stacy had a love for being bound and put inside a trash bag. She loved it so much that she would often have her husband bag her up, place her in the large trash can and put her out on the curb the night before with the rest of the garbage. He would leave her to her fantasies and then in the morning, before going to work, pull her out and bring her back inside, release her from the bag and they would continue on as usual. ...

They’d polished off 2 bottles of wine with dinner and a blunt of primo for dessert, the four friends now sat around the patio table talking rather loudly about their sexual exploits. Lyla spun the empty and it pointed at Dee, “Ohhh truth or dare!” Dee rolled her eyes and answered, “Truth.” “Some sexual fantasy you’ve not told anyone here about before,” Lyla smirked. “Fuck you,” Dee felt the trap closing. Lyla knew most everything she’d done with Charlie. Charlie was here next to her, so she couldn’t say something he knew about. It had to be something she felt ashamed to admit to. “Dare, then.” ...

Dashed this one off to try telling a trashbagging story from a different perspective - that of a clueless neighbor who helps set out the garbage. Pure fiction.. Something strange happened where I live and I felt I just had to write it down so that maybe it would become clearer. Guess I better provide a bit of background in case I share this with someone. I live in a typical suburban community of similar houses. We have rear entry garages with driveways to an alley. The development is new so few of the trees are tall and most of them are in the front yards. Most of my neighbors are young couples who leave every morning to commute to work. There are a small number of us who work from home using the cable company’s fast Internet service. That means we don’t see our neighbors much because even on weekends they go out to do shopping, restaurants, etc. ...

My wife, Jen and I had been married for 6 wonderful years. We had a very adventurous intimate life that took us to many fantasy places and included all manner of adventure. We had enjoyed all sorts of fantasy play and fetish exploration. Bondage, S&M, Latex fetish, Domination, you name it, we gave it all a shot. But despite the incredible life behind closed doors there was one secret fetish I had never told her about. My deep rooted love of black trash bags. I don’t know why I had never told her about it, we had shared our darkest most depraved fantasies with each other. But for some reason this one seemed too dark, too strange to let out in the open. I regularly practiced my enjoyment of black bags in private, when she wasn’t home. In public by hiding in dumpsters full of garbage, enclosed in my own black bag, waiting for the surge of energy when a stranger disposed of their own garbage on top of me. The rush of being caught was incredible, and I had many, many fulfilling orgasms in many many dumpsters. I couldn’t explain the fetish, I’ve just always had it. I had done such a good job of keeping it secret for all these years that I had started to get careless with my pursuit of personal pleasure. I had devised a way to vacuum seal myself into a trash bag with nothing more than a straw to breath out of to keep myself from blacking out, I would seal 2 55 gallon trash bags together, then attach a valve that I could open and close from the inside to a vacuum, climb inside, turn on the vacuum, tie the bag shut, seal my lips on the breathing apparatus, then stick the valve to the vacuum, the suction would rapidly pull all of the air out of the bag and it would clamp down on my bare flesh. The feeling of the bag sealed tightly to my skin was the ultimate rush. I was helpless to move, except to roll over, and grind my cock against the bag until I exploded in a writhing orgasm. When spent, I could pull away from the vacuum and let the air flow back into the bag. When it was less vice like, I could untie the bag, climb out and continue on my day with nobody being any the wiser. I had been performing this act randomly for years with no issues. I knew my wife’s schedule very well, I knew when I could engage this fantasy, and when I couldn’t. Jen had headed off to work for the day. She was looking very sexy wearing a mini dress, and a pair of heels that accentuated her long toned legs. Her ass looked amazing, as did her tight body. She was a sight to behold. I asked her where she was heading dressed up so sexily, and she responded that she had a meeting with a client that could potentially secure her company a significant financial backer. She needed to nail the meeting, so she was dressed to impress. She headed out the door and all I could do was watch as my little man grew hard watching her walk down the walkway to her car. I knew she was going to be gone all day, and probably into the night, I had a raging hard on, and determined that this would be the perfect time to take advantage of my little trash bag prison. I went downstairs to the basement and gathered all of the materials I needed to seal myself in ecstasy and release my pent up pressure. After I got everything I needed I set myself up as I had done many times before, I attached the vacuum to the valve, climbed into the bag, wrapped my mouth around the breathing tube, tied the bag over my head, laid back and switched on the vacuum. The air was quickly sucked out of the bag and I was perfectly encased in the shiny black plastic. It felt so cool against my skin. I started to writhe and buck. I had found a way to shut the vacuum off and close the valve so the bag would stay sealed to my body without the noise of the vacuum ruining the sensations I felt. So I switched off the vacuum and just laid there enjoying the closeness of the plastic to my skin. I could feel the pressure around my swollen member, and hear the crinkle of the bag as I thrust around. Suddenly my taboo fetish world was shattered when I heard Jen say in an alarmed tone, “What the fuck is going on here?” She had used the meeting as a ploy to tease me, she knew that her outfit was going to get my blood flowing and her intention was to come back and use her physical appearance to tease me, then please me. She had caught me in the act of something she had never seen before. She looked upon me sealed tightly inside a trash bag, It conforming to every curve of my body, My rock hard cock straining against the shiny black plastic. I was on the verge of orgasm when she spoke. I was twitching inside the bag, ready to cum. Her voice instantly stopped my action. I couldn’t speak so I just laid there. She walked over to me and said again, “What the fuck are you doing? is this how you behave when I’m not around?” I shook my head shamefully agreeing with her question. she continued, “I suppose you didn’t think I knew about this little thing you have here did you? I know what makes you tick my dear husband. I see the clues, I’ve found the bags. I didn’t however think this is what was going on. Do you like to be treated like garbage?” She put her foot on my chest and yelled, “Answer me!” I shook my head again. It was all I could do other than groan, the tube in my mouth made it impossible for me to talk. I felt her kneel down beside me, she ran her hand over my chest. I writhed. She watched my cock swell inside the bag. “I can see how hard you are. You really enjoy being vacuum sealed inside a trash bag don’t you?” she said as she traced her fingernails down my chest, over my stomach and down across the underside of my throbbing cock. I groaned as she traced the line. She responded to my groaning and bucking by rubbing my dick through the plastic. She stated, “I’m going to make you cum, it’s going to be slow, and I’m going to enjoy this more than you are, but when you are done we are going to have a conversation about this as I’m not exactly pleased that you have been engaging in this kind of play without my knowledge.” She started to rub my member slowly. The flash of heat from her hand and the contrast with the cold black bag clinging to my body made me shiver. She spit onto my groin and rubbed carefully, listening to my breathing and moaning. Sensing that I was going to explode she stopped, bringing me to the raw, bitter edge. She let me cool down then continued. She kept edging me like this for an hour, every time getting me closer to orgasm. It was torture. I thought I was going to black out when she finally brought me to completion. I erupted, bucking wildly as she rubbed my cock and balls furiously. She was very turned on watching me throb and empty my balls in the bag, She could see every vein of my manhood as it strained against the shiny black plastic. She could see every pulse as the cum dumped out of my balls. She would never admit it, but she was on the ragged edge herself. Jen instructed me to get out and get cleaned up then to meet her in the kitchen for a conversation regarding my depraved behavior. I did as she instructed. I sat down beside her in the kitchen. I couldn’t even look her in the eyes as I was so ashamed of what she had caught me doing, I didn’t know what to say. She was still dressed in her mini dress and heels, looking sexy as ever. I didn’t notice the flush of her skin as she was immensely aroused by what had just transpired. She took it upon herself to trigger a massive orgasm as she waited for me to clean up. She asked me how I got involved in such an odd fetish and I told her that I didn’t know, It had been there since I was a child. She asked why I hadn’t told her about it before. I sheepishly shrugged, I didn’t know how to answer. She asked me how far it had gone. I danced around some of the details. She eventually got me to admit that I had been spending time inside dumpsters letting people throw their trash on me. She asked if I had ever been in a compactor. I looked at her wide eyed and responded with a resounding, “NO!” She got a little smirk on her face and asked, “Do you want to be?” I stammered, unable to think how to answer this question. She replied with, “I can make your ultimate fantasy come true. I will make you trash, and dispose of you in the compactor in the parking lot. I know what you have been doing and have researched this for months. It’s safe, they empty the compactor on Monday every week, If I throw you in there on Tuesday, you can stay in it until Saturday being nothing but trash, then I’ll pop the lid and get you out!” I just sat there dumbfounded that she would even make such a suggestion. “Wouldn’t I get killed in there?” I stated. “No!” she responded, “I’ve been doing a lot of research and I’ve seen it when it gets emptied into the big garbage truck. It usually isn’t packed too tight. I think you would be fine!” She smiled at me with her big bright smile and said, “Let me help you live out this fantasy.” She looked into my eyes, “I know you want this, I’ve see the videos you watch online of people in dumpsters. I can make this very much worth it to you, let’s do it!” I looked at her for a long time trying to wrap my head around the fact that she wasn’t mad, she wasn’t going to leave me for keeping this crazy fetish to myself. On the contrary, she was actually encouraging me to live out the ultimate fantasy. I agreed. She looked at me and said, “Great, on Tuesday night we are going to have us a little fantasy. Now get the fuck over here and fuck me. You have no idea how much that turned me on you piece of filth!” I obliged her instruction and fucked her hard. I didn’t even take the dress off, I just bent her over the counter and fucked her until she came, again and again then I dumped my load inside her tight pussy. ...

“Now remember, don’t do anything crazy while we are gone!” Said Mary as she and her husband Don headed for the door. “I already told you I’m sleeping over at a friends house tonight” replied their daughter, Marissa. The door closed as Mary and Don left. She had the whole house to herself for now. She had lied to her parents, but it wasn’t a big deal, because she wasn’t going to cause any trouble. Marissa had just wanted to tie herself up in the garbage and experience what it is like to truly be garbage. ...

Lily’s parents had finally had enough. They had given their daughter plenty of time to get her life together and do something. Just after turning 18 and finishing highschool Lily had turned into a lazy bum. She ’tried’ to get a job and wasn’t able to get a boyfriend. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, it was just that she was lazy. She had become useless so finally her parents had decided to draw a line. They told Lily when she turned 20 that if she didn’t get a job, move out, or do something with her life then they would get rid of her, Of course Lily didn’t take her parents seriously. Lily’s parents Vicki and Lonny were having a big party this weekend but before they could have the party they decided it was time to get rid of their now 21 year old daughter. Friday evening Lonny came home from work with a large garbage can in the back of his truck. He quietly moved it to the front door before entering the house to find the family gathered in front of the TV. Lonny tapped Lily on the shoulder and asked her to come to her room for a talk. When in the room her father solemnly informed her that he planned to throw her away tonight. Lily immediately ran to her bed and buried her face in her pillow in tears. Lonny wasn’t good with words and never was, his attempts to get her up to follow him to the kitchen failed miserably. “We’ve given you chance after chance to do something with your life. You had a responsibility to yourself and your family to do something productive. Now your opportunity is gone and the only thing you can do to make up for your uselessness is to follow me to the kitchen so that we can get you in the garbage can!” ...

I was lonely and looking online for a dominant girl that I could worship and take care of. My life alone was not worth it anymore and I decided to look for a girl that needed a personal slave to help and worship her. After months of effort I was successful at finding a gorgeous girl; a perfect 10 on her profile picture! She wanted me to be her live-in slave and to worship her and service her needs. She commented that she was looking for a new slave to service her every need so I wasn’t sure if I was supplemental or a replacement. I was willing and ready to live a dream of worshiping a perfect 10 – Goddess Rachel. We setup a mutual meeting place at a mall and I was excited and nervous. ...

A possible sequel to My Garbage Contents: You by Emma I was sitting in a outdoor cafe, sipping my coffee when I spotted this women sitting across from me in business attire, her strawberry blond hair with brown roots was very attractive…. so I was wondering if I should approach you or not. So I walked over and asked you if you were alone, and if I could sit down. “If you wish to sit with me I do not mind” you said with a smile. ...

Mmm, a little downer can worm its way into any mood, right? I mean I shouldn’t complain - I’ve just been promoted, I’ve got the rest of today off, and I didn’t hit a single red light on the way home… yet now I remember that this week’s and last week’s trash has gotta be hauled out for tomorrow. As I park up and take the white and brown papers from the mailbox at the end of the driveway I contemplate on my current lack of a big strong boyfriend. My last one had no problems with these sorts of yucky man-tasks, so long as he was reminded of them. Oh well. My key twists in the front door lock as I consider hiring a cleaner. Could I get away with paying some loser minimum wage for cleaning my house? It’s only small… ...

It was dark in here, really dark. My eyes were covered twice over and the lights would be off anyway - it’s rare these days to be swallowed up by that much black. Thankfully it didn’t smell bad in here… most of what I could smell was my own body, and that’s not unpleasant at all. All I could taste is the gag, and all I could feel is slick plastic: that, I felt everywhere. That, and nothing else. Very little to hear either, except some household utility mechanism doing its 24/7 thing. Honestly, the whole experience is usually pretty restful. ...

This story is released into the public domain, no rights reserved. Feel free to write a continuation, print it in a magazine, put it on a website, or do anything else you please with it. Notification of reprints or derivative works is requested, but not required. I’m a huge fan of GrometsPlaza - if you do use this story, a link back to the place where it was originally published on GrometsPlaza would be appreciated. - ...

Michelle was a smart young woman, successful and pretty too. Sexy as hell actually, and she knew it, she had used it to her advantage many times. But she had a secret. A secret she wouldn’t even tell Mike, her boyfriend. She loved the success, the money and the comfortable life she’d built for herself. Then she had her secret side, her depraved side that she’d never shared with anyone. She loved to play a little game, she’d pretend she had nothing, was nothing. She loved to feel helpless, worthless and discarded. ...

Kim loved to play this little game with her boyfriend. She’d leave Paul a little clue, go and hide somewhere and tie herself up with a bit of self bondage. As long as he found her in good time, his prize was her complete submission. She would be his deviant slave and obey his every command until the following morning. She loved this little game and he was due home from work in just over two hours. It was time to play. ...

“Catherine!” Her husband Paul’s shout woke her from her fantasy. It wasn’t just a shout, he was yelling at the top of his lung’s. She thought it sounded like he was furious, she knew he was on his way to the bin. He was going to drag her out and she was going to be in big trouble, but she couldn’t help it. She loved to get naked, climb in and writhe around in the trash. She loved the way it felt against her skin, made her dirty and made her feel dirty. Usually she’d play for a couple of hour’s, she’d be trash until she was hot and horny. She’d bring herself to a climax before Paul got home from work, she’d be out and showered before he’d even know. He’d caught her a few times before, when she’d lost track of time. He was home early today and she was about to get caught again. ...

Another tale of Mistress Messiér’s household My name is AJ Pine, and all I wanted was a cupcake. Oh sure, I’d heard rumors about the sort of things that happened in Mistress Messiér’s house. But I didn’t take them very seriously. The money was good, and plenty of staff made the hours easy and the work light. Okay, sure, all of us running around in black PVC maid uniforms was kind of strange; but I looked smashing in mine, and yay rich weirdos, am I right? But if there was one thing that Mistress was famous for, it was her dinner parties: and not the main course, either. I mean, those were wonderful enough, and there was always enough left over for the staff to pillage. I think that was intentional. But the desserts! Oh lord, the desserts. Chocolate cakes, layered until they should have fallen over. Chocolate cream pies, vanilla cream pies, and lemon meringue all boasted the fluffiest of toppings, and sat light as a feather in the stomach. We served rich, thick, smooth puddings; moist, delicate yellow cake and sponge cake cut into adorable shapes; and those cupcakes. One bite of the devil’s food cake and the amazing buttercream icing, and you knew you’d spend an extra day in Purgatory atoning. And that’s where it went wrong. You see, we never get any of those, the guests don’t leave us a scrap. And there’s tons of it. So, one day, a couple of evenings before the party, I crept into the kitchen on a mission. I’m a little short, so I had to bring a step stool; but in the top cabinet hid my objective. I opened the door, and there was a tray of chocolate cupcakes. In no time I had the paper off one and half of it in my mouth. There wasn’t time to savor it, but it was so incredible! And then a shadow fell over me. Redheaded Iscah, supervisor for my section, stood over me with an angry expression and a threatening wooden spoon in her hand. I had to admit, scared as I was, that the black PVC uniform looked great on her too. Or… was the fear helping that? “I’m… um… sorry?” I said. “I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Iscah answered. “In fact, I’m sure you don’t know how sorry you are yet. But you will.” And she dropped the spoon, and in a movement I was completely unprepared for, grabbed me around the waist and slung me over her shoulder. Did I mention I was a bit short? Iscah… isn’t. I just hung over her with my composure completely gone. I remembered Mistress saying we could be canned for rules infractions, but a single cupcake wasn’t worth being fired for! Well… okay. It wasn’t the first. But my sad-kitty-eyes-look had done the trick with the other maids. Didn’t look like it would with Iscah. It wasn’t a complete loss. The backs of Iscah’s legs were quite lovely poking out from her pink-trimmed vinyl skirt, and I had some time to look at them as she carried me into the lift and it began to move down. When the doors opened, I quickly figured out that we were in the ground floor utility room - I could see a small pile of stuffed trash bags in the corner, rubbish that wouldn’t stink up the place until we took it out. Then I heard a creak, and a thump, and I slid down from Iscah’s shoulder… … into the depths of a huge black trash can, lined with a heavy liner and already holding a few small filled plastic bags that cushioned my landing. I couldn’t easily see over the the rim of the can. “What? What the hell is this? What are you doing -” I started to yell, but Iscah produced a ball gag from somewhere and swiftly, expertly fastened it on me. I could only grunt with frustration, and didn’t react in time either to her binding my hands together from fingertips to wrists with a small roll of plastic shipping wrap. Iscah reached down and grabbed a slightly smaller plastic trash bag that I’d been sitting in unaware. I say slightly, because she was able to bring it up over my head and twist-tie it shut. Her quick fingers poked a few air holes in the plastic, and the next noise sounded a lot like someone had equipped the can with a vent fan. “Sit tight,” Iscah sighed. “We’ll see how much trouble you are in.” A heavy thump sounded, it got dark, and I heard a metallic snick. This wasn’t good. Time passed, I have no idea how much. We don’t wear watches at work, and I didn’t have a chance of getting that lid open. I was getting plenty of fresh air though, and had resigned to waiting it out, when I heard steps, a filled bag being set down next to me, and the lock click open. And there was light! Iscah undid my bag, and took off the gag. I wasted no time. “I said I was sorry!” “That’s what you said the last time, and the time before, and the time before,” Iscah said. I didn’t know she knew about those. “Now the mistress will be short of desserts for her guests tonight, and you know how she loves her desserts.” “She’s got so many desserts, what difference did those make?” “Because those were for tonight. You know the rules around here, Pine. Get caught snitching desserts, you get canned.” Ohhhh. Cute. “I thought that meant I’d be fired.” I wiggled around in the can, making my bag rustle in the faint hope it would suddenly inspire Iscah to let me out. “Nope. Around here, you get canned. Now hold still.” She reached down to where I’d heard her set her filled trash bag, and when she stood, she held one of Mistress’ heavy, thick cream pies. Five seconds later, I realized with a shock that she had shoved that pie right in my face! The goo oozed to the top of my head, into my ears, down the neckline of my uniform, and into the bag where I sat. My bound hands did suffice to clear my eyes and nose. “Ack! What - what the heck was that?” “Mistress sent me down here to throw away some things. Too bad there was already something in the can…” “Some thing?!? Some one!” And then, dammit, she hit me with another pie. It was yummy: I couldn’t deny that. Hey… “That doesn’t look like trash to me!” “Well, you wouldn’t want actual garbage in there with you, right? Ewww.” The way Iscah said it left my own status uncertain. I had another thought. “Um… Those are awfully tidy pies for having been in the bottom of that trash bag.” “You talk a lot.” And she got it from I don’t know where, but Iscah picked up a big red bucket that I found was full of chocolate brownie batter, because I could easily taste it as it ran down my face and hair. “Oh… god… I can’t see a thing… what have you done to my hair?” “Funny thing that, you’ll find that its some of the best conditioner around. Not that you’ll see a shower soon.” And no sooner had I cleared my eyes and nose then that she-devil clamped two vanilla cream pies to the sides of my head, like a pie sandwich. “Noooo,” I protested vainly, “I thought we were running short of desserts…” “Heavens no. Not in this household. It’s the ones you got into that upset Mistress. Why, if you’d asked, I’m sure she’d have made you a cake.” Yeah, funny lady. “Why do I think that meant I’d have been covered in frosting and had little candles perched on me?” “At least you would have been safe from dripping wax! Speaking of cake,” and a huge mixing bowl overfull of yellow cake batter cascaded over my face, and down my shoulders, and I’m sure that witch got a ton of it into my cleavage on purpose. I could only cry out. “Ahhhhhh…” “My goodness - it really is noisy in here.” And she pied me again, and again. Would this never end? “And finally… you liked the cupcakes so much… Mistress arranged something special.” Oh no. One, two, three, a dozen, I lost count of how many of those cupcakes were cruched into my hair, my face, my ears, my bosom. To be honest, the one Iscah shoved in my mouth was kind of enjoyable. But when she finally got bored, I was a complete wreck. “That’s the lot. And now, time to take the trash out.” I couldn’t even speak any more, even without the gag. She closed the inner bag over my head, lowered the lid, and… no. Are you kidding me? No way. No way at all. My can tilted back, then rolled forward. I was moving. I called out again, uselessly. “I said I was sorry!” It didn’t matter. We bumped over the doorsill - that wasn’t fun - and I could immediately hear the patter of raindrops on the lid of the can. Finally, motion stopped, and Iscah opened my lid and bag again. “And there you go. Mistress said to take the trash out, and I did. You’ve got air holes, so you should be fine until she calms down and I can bring you back inside. Doesn’t usually take more than an hour or two.” Then… oh, then… Iscah kissed me. I couldn’t believe it! How dare she! After all that had just happened, how could she do that? And… and… how could I have liked it? Bag - closed. Lid - down. Lock - click. Fan - whir. Stuck in here in this nasty, slimy, pretty-good-smelling bag for two hours? Two whole hours? … That was a pretty nice kiss… I guess I fell asleep. I didn’t know what time it was when I awoke, so I started banging on the lid as best I could through my bag, and with my wrapped hands; it must have been two hours by now. After a short period, the lock clicked, and the lid opened. Bright light, blinding light! How long had I been in there? It was dark when she kissed me! Someone, I couldn’t see who, stripped the wrap from my hands and shoved a damp rag into them. I cleared a little of the gunk from my face, but once I could see, no one was there. My small step-stool sat next to the can, and I climbed out with some difficulty; my hands and feet were still slippery, and I didn’t want to fall. The utility room door stood open. I walked inside. From behind a hanging tarp sat a huge table of the desserts similar to the ones with which Iscah had tortured me, and a note. “My AJ, “I am aware of what has passed over the course of the night, and I feel you may have properly learned your lesson. “However, Iscah overstepped her bounds a few times, and we cannot have that in this household. She will be down shortly, and does not know you have been freed. Would you assist me with some correction? “With my appreciation, “Mistress M.” I looked at the pile of filled black plastic bags which still sat against the wall. My gooey face slowly wore a grin. The wheeled bin would have to stay outside; but now that I knew I was no longer canned… it was time for Iscah to get trashed. —– THE END —– ...

The bicycle crested the hill. Hard to miss that hot pink and black outfit. I checked that the Harley was well hidden behind the tractor under the eave and headed into the woods. I ducked behind some bushes at the corner of the house and adjusted the camera. I waited. Didn’t have to wait long. She peddled into the clearing and onto the brick patio. (click click click) She straddled the bike as she took off her helmet, shook out her impossibly blonde hair. (click click) She rolled the bike behind, then into the garage. ...

I was going to be punished. It doesn’t matter now what I did, or why. What matters is that I lay on my back on a padded table, naked, blindfolded, and slightly shaky from the thorough enema she’d just given me. For some infractions, that would have been penance enough, but I know this one would be far more complex. She spread my knees apart and gently began lubing my rear passage. I felt the tip of something cool touch me and begin sliding inside: something long, cylindrical, and slightly textured. ...

(story continues from The Sorority Trashing Part 1: The Way It All Began) Part 2: The Beginning to an End I awoke to a loud thunk. “Holy hell girl what are you doing?!” a girl exclaimed. “I’ve gotta fucking pee Kirsten. Now are you going to help me or not?” “Well, remember what Dedra said? If we’re caught using anything but a diaper today, we’ll need to do a keg stand.” ...

“Uncle Dave? You know who that is don’t you?” “Who?” “The redhead over yonder.” Dave shrugged. “Said she was in culinary school and as a class project she had to help in the cook-off.” “Well, that’s Caitlin Ballard, old man Ballard’s granddaughter.” “You sure? Said her name was Tracy Simms or Simmons, something like that.” “Uh uh. She goes to Western. They play us in basketball. She’s a cheerleader and they had a picture of the squad in the program. I kinda had a thing for her, so I asked around. She’s old man Ballard’s kin for sure.” ...

This story starts two months before my 40th birthday. My girlfriend and I were talking about what our deepest secrets are and I was hesitant to tell her that I had a fetish for garbage and for trash bags. I wanted to experience this fetish and went online to find like people in this fetish of mine. This is where I found this great site of stories; I also found a site that dealt with dating people with fetishes. I got caught by my girlfriend in doing this and she was asking me why I had to look elsewhere for my tastes. This is where the truth about my tastes came to light. ...

Officer Lacey was in trouble. The strange wrapping machine she’d brought home from evidence storage at the police station had gone rampant while she slept through the night, completely oblivious that it had turned rogue. She’d awoken to a house rigged with traps, and containing a crazed machine that, going by the duct-tape snares distributed throughout the place, was intent on capturing her. She’d left her bedroom, and headed downstairs this late morning on her day off, to be confronted by a bizarre scene in her living room, where she now stood. A washing machine blocking the exit to the hallway, and front door. Sneaky lines of fishing wire across rooms at ankle-level. Her home had been turned against her, and still hosted the machine responsible. ...

story continued from Machine part 2 by Jessica Officer Lacey was in trouble. The strange wrapping machine she’d brought home from evidence storage at the police station had gone rampant while she slept through the night, completely oblivious that it had turned rogue. She’d awoken to a house rigged with traps, and containing a crazed machine that, going by the duct-tape snares distributed throughout the place, was intent on capturing her. She’d left her bedroom, and headed downstairs this late morning on her day off, to be confronted by a bizarre scene in her living room, where she now stood. A washing machine blocking the exit to the hallway, and front door. Sneaky lines of fishing wire across rooms at ankle-level. Her home had been turned against her, and still hosted the machine responsible. ...

[Rachel’s Plan] I have been planning to throw away my loser boyfriend for weeks. He’s been absolutely useless and it hit me, what do I do with useless things? I throw them in the garbage! He still worships me so I can make him do anything if I dominate him first. This week is perfect as the dumb ass forgot to take out the trash so we have a pile of disgusting garbage that stinks. So this Friday is going to be D-day for his ass. I am going to dress in my sexy vinyl black thong and black top and dominate this loser right into the garbage can where he belongs. He will have to endure four days in my large 96 gallon garbage can, I make a lot of trash! ...

She rang the bell and stood outside on the steps of the stoop, shivering a little in the cold fall air. Her double-ponytailed, jet black hair blew in the breeze, as did her light skirt, exposing the high platform, strappy goth boots she wore. She was actually nervous, it occurred to her. She wasn’t afraid of anything - her multiple piercings and tattoos, among other things, were a testament to that. Yet, here she was shivering, and she wasn’t sure it was all the cold. ...

It was Thanksgiving week and I was off work for the whole week and wife had to work through Wednesday. I was not sure what I would do the whole week while she was at work but decided to plan a trip to the hunting ranch on Tuesday and return late Wednesday. After speaking with Megan about this she agreed as long as I was home before Thursday. She stated she needed help getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner and would prefer me to stay home but since it was the only time I had to go, I could if I wanted. I agreed and began to make plans. ...

also appears trashcan stories Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

Times are tough. Perhaps that goes without saying, but for Delia and Jim, it was doubly true. They’d both just been laid off. They’d met quite a few years back at a local bondage club, and had hit it off immediately. Both Delia and Jim were switches, and their kinks overlapped in many different, wonderful ways, but like everyone, there were a few kinks they didn’t totally share. Both were totally into bondage, but Jim was into latex, and Delia didn’t really have a thing for it. Her kink of kinks was objectificaiton. She loved being turned into an object - furniture, art, or her deepest most secret kink, trash. ...

(story continues from Recycling a Flatmate) Recycling A Flatmate Part 2 Lydia had dosed off, she had no idea how long for, but was woken by a slamming noise. It was the lid to her new bin; someone had shut it, but why? She was a little disorientated and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was and what sort of situation she was in. Her flatmate Fiona had stripped her, bound her and thrown her out in a large black shiny trash bag stuffed to the gunnels with newspaper. She wasn’t sure why, her only thought was that she had found some of the sites she’d been looking at involving her fetish for garbage bags, and being thrown out. Knowing how embarrassed she would get if Fiona had confronted her about this, it was typical for her flatmate to show an understanding in something she liked by getting involved first, and asking about it later, making Lydia more comfortable about it. But had she gone too far? ...

(story continues from The Neighbor’s Secret) Chapter 2 - Spring Cleaning I was hot, and sweaty, and smelly, and sticky, and really really trapped. And I loved it. Shelly had caught me in her trashcan the night before, and said if I stayed until morning, I was stuck. She kept true to her word, and now I was locked in here and had a bunch of heavy bags on top of and around me. There was still a bit of room in her big can, but with the lid locked shut and my collar locked to the side of the can, there wasn’t very far for me to go anyway. I shifted about a bit. It had been a few hours since Shelly locked me in, and I was getting a little sore. I managed to shift over to my side and curl up fetal style and got quite comfortable again. Thankfully this trash was mostly soft and squishy. I was a mess. Drool had been running around my gag for ages, and I was covered in something slippery and wet. There were also some bodily functions that I’d had to take care of as well, but thankfully they were a bit out of sight and out of mind, buried as I was in the plastic bags, and I’d gotten quite used to the smell of old food and sweaty, gross boy in here with me. I imagined anyone who opened the lid at this point might have a different opinion. I laughed to myself that I’d created a “bog of eternal stench” all my own. Thank god I didn’t have any urge to go number two! The slippery sheen that covered me and the plastic that squeezed into me just keep getting me hard, and I was stroking myself languidly when I heard the screen door open and slam again. There was the sound of a key in the lock that kept me prisoner here. Well, one of the locks anyway, even with the lid open, I was still trapped by the chain at my collar, and the garbage itself was starting to pin me in pretty well. With a “whump!” I felt a heavy new weight on top of me, pretty much ensuring that even unlocked it would now be tricky to get out of here. “Spring cleaning, I’m finally getting rid of some of this old junk before company comes tonight” With that, the lid slammed shut, and I heard her press it down and lock it again. Company? She was having company? I don’t know about this - getting caught in here by someone who doesn’t get my kink is not exactly my idea of fun. I squirmed a bit and managed to get my hands up to my collar. I felt around it, tugged and pulled, but there was no getting out of it without something to cut it with. I was really stuck, and I didn’t want to be. As soon as that thought hit the reptile part of my brain, any desire to get unstuck was banished, and I was so caught up in getting myself off that I barely registered when the can opened again, this time to let in a huge bag that Shelly had to squish down with the lid to lock. I could barely move and when I came, I kicked and bucked and thrashed like a madman, but I think I only moved about a centimeter. Once again, the adrenaline of peaking meant a quick flood of “what the hell am I doing here.” This time, I’d slept enough, however, so instead of drifting into a happy, warm, trashy sleep, I began to really want out. My jaw was aching, and I it was really hard to move now, and my neck was tweaked a little. Shelly came back with yet another bag to pile on top, and I mewled a bit as she opened the lid. “Oh, is the trash getting tired of it’s game?” She asked. “Mmm hmm” I grunted. “Okay, let’s get some of that trash off you.” I heaved a sigh of relief, and as the top three bags were removed, I was able to flex and stretch muscles that sorely needed it. Suddenly, I heard a “bzz-ching-ching-ching” and before I realized what was happening, I felt my collar tug my head towards the side of the can, and I bumped my head. I went to sit up, but the chain held fast. My loose tether was now a strict lock to the side of the can. So much for moving and stretching. “You know, I was impressed until this point, but I should have known that trash can’t remember rules. I said if trash tries to get out before it’s time, I’ll have to make sure it’s nice and secure. Now you’ll stay just like that until I’m ready to let you out.” I was amazed. How the hell could I be this hard again already? Shelly looked into the can and grinned a toothy, dangerous grin at me. I must have looked a sight, sweaty and matted and half-covered in trashbags up to my chest, but she looked at me with a kinky lust plain in her eyes. “Now that you can’t turn your head away towards the airholes, we’ll have to make sure you’ve got some air in there.” She slammed the lid and disappeared momentarily. When she returned she had a black rubber full-head gasmask that she pulled on my head right over my gag. I’d worn this hood many times before and knew that it would definitely keep me in fresh air as long as it led outside the can. I also knew the thing was airtight. As if on queue, Shelly had gotten the airhose hooked into one of the bigger holes she’d drilled and promptly closed it off. I began to struggle for air and was now throbbing painfully. Bags rained down on top of me once more, this time pinning my back to the side of the can, and pressing the gasmask against my face even as I tried desperately to breathe air that wasn’t coming. I was really struggling now, and Shelly was packing that top garbage bag back on and clamping the lid shut. Only after I heard the thud of the lock did she open my airhose again, and I gasped through the hood. The next few hours were a blur, but I’d managed to resist the urge to go over the edge and out of subspace. Shelly came out a few times to pack yet more trash in and play with my breathing hose here and there. Finally, I felt her open the lid and heard her talk to me. “Well, this is a no-return point. Company will be here in 15 minutes, and there’s no way I can get you out, cleaned up and hidden or out of here before then, so you’re officially my trash for the rest of the night. You’d better not make a sound unless you want to be found out for the trash you really are.” She paused, and I could feel her pressing and bumping against the can. “oh… Oh… Okay, trash. Here’s..” She panted.. “Here’s my rules. You’re mine until garbage collection. I put the can out to the curb Sunday night, so I’ll let you out before then.” She panted again, and I felt the side of the can bump. “Oooh. Oh. I’ll let you out then if you’re good, that is.. Oooooh” Shelly continued to moan, and I felt the airhose go shut once more. “Trash breathes when I tell it it can” She moaned, and then moaned louder again until she came to a crescendo and I heard her clamp her hand over her mouth as she screamed in orgasm. She seemed to go on and on, and my air had long since run out. I was now thrashing trying to get my hands up, made trickier by the fact that I was also moments away from cuming myself, and couldn’t seem to get my hands to do anything more useful than what they were currently occupied doing. Finally, fresh air hissed into the hose and I drank it into my lungs in great heaves. Just then, the doorbell rang. “Shit. They’re early. Well, now you’re really stuck!” She said, and I felt the lid press down on me and the trash once more, locking in place. Squished in as I was, I couldn’t quite get enough movement to bring myself off, and frustrated, I played with myself idly as time went by. After a few hours, I heard someone say something like, “Be a doll and bring this down to the garbage can?” and then footsteps and the screen door again. “Huh, I wonder why she locks this?” I heard a male voice say. I sat motionless, terrified of being discovered. Little did I know that I was all but invisible, buried deep in trashbags. The only visible weirdness was the lock on the can and the air holes in the back, well obscured from casual view. “She said something about raccoons, and that it was really full.” a female voice said. I felt the lid open, and then something unexpected. The pressure all around me built up as if the trash was a balloon inflating, trapping me against the side of the can. The guy stuffing the trash in was pushing this new bag in and down wherever he could, and the trash in here with me already was now completely mashed into me. “Here, help me with this,” he said as he squeezed the lid down. Even more pressure built up, and then I heard that familiar “click thud” of the lock shutting. I couldn’t move at all. Thankfully, there was no more trash, although I did hear a few people walk through the garage in various states of drunkness and felt one bump into my can and play with the lock, dropping it against the can. It was a girl and a guy, and I could hear them flirting, as she leaned against the can and played with my lock. “So what’s with the locked trashcan? That thing’s huge!” “I don’t know. Maybe that’s where she keeps the bodies!” the guy said, and they both laughed. “Well, knowing Shelly, I wouldn’t put it past her.” they laughed again, and I felt a bump and then my can tilted a little. I think they were actually making out right there against the trash can I was in, with no idea. After a while they started talking again, and the conversation turned to sex, as it often does. Strangely enough, it soon turned to bondage and the girl admitted to enjoying being tied up or even put in a cage. “Well, I don’t know about a cage, but there’s this can here” “Ew gross, it’s probably all stinky in there!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Here I was locked in the thing and they were talking about playing in it themselves! “Well, it does have a lock on it - who knows, there could be someone in there right now.” They laughed again at the absurdity of the thought. I just sat there thinking, “if they only knew!” Someone called to them and they disappeared, and I was left to my own devices. I drifted off a bit, but woke with a start as I needed to move badly now and everything was sore. It’s hard to tell time when you’re just part of the trash, but presumably a few hours later I felt my lid open, and then some of the pressure around me eased. “So, how’s it feel to be used as trash by strangers?” “Mmmm” I said. I was sore, but this had still been amazing More bags came out until I was once again half covered, and I felt the chain at my neck go slack, but not totally released. “So, I have a proposition for you,” Shelly said. I looked up at her through the lenses of the mask. “I can let you out tonight, and you can sneak home and clean yourself up, but that’s that for this weekend… But here’s the thing. I still can’t get over how sexy I find owning you as my trash, and I want you to stay. I’ll leave you with some room and comfy in there, and I promise I’ll reward you beyond your wildest dreams tomorrow if you stay as my trash tonight. What do you say?… One grunt to get out, two to stay.” I didn’t know what I wanted. I grunted once and looked up at her. She was expectant and starting to look crestfallen. Once again hearing Shelly talk about owning me and that I was her trash had turned on that wonderfully stupid part of my brain. I grunted a second time, and she squealed! “Ohh! I knew it you little trash-slut. You just can’t get enough, can you? You’re the best.” She reached in and pulled off the hood which had gotten stifling and hot. With her copy of my key, she undid the gag I’d been wearing for far too long with an admonition that trash doesn’t speak, “unless it wants to be packed in again for real”. After drinking a bunch of gatorade she offered, I stretched my jaw and curled up among the soft bags, and felt one big, warm squishy one land back on top of me. “Well, I’m going to go sleep off this party and dream of you being my trash down here. A girl could get used to this. Wait til’ you see what I’ve got cooked up for my trash tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it!” I didn’t dare speak to tell her that it already was. She closed the lid, pressed it down, and locked it for the last time that night. “g’night trash.” Did you like chapter 2? Let me know at [email protected], and let me know what you’d like in part 3. Here’s a rough outline of the rest of the story Chapter three - lazy sunday Possible Sequel: a weeks vacation ? ...

Cheryl’s first indication that things were wrong was when she walked onto the high school stage and the rest of the drama club wasn’t there. She looked at her watch. Five fifteen p.m., she was only a little bit late for rehearsal. She dumped her backpack on the floor and headed to the props room. When she opened the door, someone grabbed her hand and yanked her forward so that she fell on the floor. She screamed and tried to get up, but a heavy weight pressed on her back and held her still. A hand clamped around her mouth as her hands were pulled up behind her back and tied. Her kicking legs were grabbed and tied, with rope cinching around her ankles and then crisscrossing around her calves and up her thighs, the knots pinching her skin even through her jeans. ...

Rachel was an ordinary looking 21 year old single student. She shared a ground floor flat with four other girls for a year now and it was sad for her to see them go home for the summer. Rachel herself was staying on, her parents owned the flat, she was going to get a summer job somewhere and keep the flat occupied for the insurance policy. Although great friends with the girls she had never told them of any of her fetishes. She never had the guts to do it but loved the idea of indulging in her fantasies without them knowing, and the risk of being caught made it even better! ...

story continued from Machine part 2 by Jessica As we left off, Officer Lacey has taken the modified device home, and woke up to find herself trapped in her home, defenseless, facing a maniacal machine…. Lacey continued inspecting her house as carefully as possible. She had no idea that the machine had set her house up in such a way to redirect and slow her down for her eventual capture. She was starting to get very nervous, seeing her house made up like some kind of Duct Tape nightmare. She tried to find her phone but could not find it, so she tried to back track, and was able to see into another room, and all that was on the desk where her other phone was, was a large pile of Duct Tape! ...

Stacy took in a deep breath as she walked up the small steps of the porch to the door of the huge house. Pausing to set her bags down and smooth out her knee length skirt, she then put on her brightest smile and rang the doorbell. She felt months of tension trying to leave her shoulders, even as she took in another deep breath. While she waited, she couldn’t help but marvel at the mansion sprawled out at the top of the hill. Pristine white, with sparkling windows and a wide lawn, she couldn’t help but nod her head once, speaking to herself, “Mom and Dad sure did do well with this place.” A few moments after that, the door opened up, a woman dressed as a maid, and only a little older than Stacy greeting her with a slight bow, “Oh! Miss, you’re early! Come in, come in! Your parents weren’t expecting you for another half-hour. Please, let me get your bags.” Before Stacy could even offer an objection the tall, matronly woman swept past, taking up the two bags in one hand each without any difficulties. The woman was nearly a full six inches taller than Stacy’s own height of five foot five, and much stronger to boot. The maid’s hair was also a deep black color, with lush waves running through it; a sharp contrast to Stacy’s own golden-blonde hair, which was straight as can be. She also had a very shapely body, with wide hips and large, soft breasts, nearly a full double D cup size. Stifling a giggle, Stacy sighed, but knew better than to try to argue with her, “Thank you, Greta.” She smiled warmly if a bit tiredly to the woman, and took a brief opportunity to give the dark-haired woman a hug; she’d been like a nanny and best friend to Stacy for years now, and Stacy always enjoyed her company, even if the woman could be a bit formal. Taking a few steps into the doorway, Stacy called out into the house, “Mom? Dad? It’s me, I’m home!” Stacy’s cry was rewarded with a muted answer, and then a woman who looked like an older, slightly more shapely version of Stacy appeared, her long skirts brushing her toes, “Oh, Stacy! You’re early, I take it traffic wasn’t bad?” Stacy shook her head even as she shared an embrace with her mother. As she pulled back, she noticed that Greta had already gone into the house, probably to drop her bags off. ...

“Trash Day” 3:45 AM 8/19/99 It was a warm Wednesday morning, John had just woke up and Charlene was already up. He asked her what she was doing? She said, “It was time to clean this place up!” Charlene was upset from hearing John bitching about how messy the house was. Charlene left and went to the store, she had to get some things to clean the house. When she got home she found John still in bed, she told him to stay out of her way because she was going to get rid of all the garbage in the house this week. ...

Our new friend Mei had never heard of BDSM play with plastic garbage bags before, but she’s taken to it like a duck to water, to the point where she’ll make herself a trash bag dress to wear even when we’re doing completely unrelated kinky activities. (Do I mind? Heck no!) The other day when I came home from work, I found Mei and Azure tangled up naked on the bed playing around together, and I made the mistake of teasing them about it… almost before I knew what was going on, they had me naked and bound, and the black plastic was being zipped shut over my head. They proceeded to go on with what they’d been doing, as I lay there helpless and able only to listen. That was one of the most erotic afternoons I’ve had in some time, especially since they’d fondle and tease me during their breaks! But the post I’ve been promising is about a few weekends ago, when Mei threw me a birthday party early on a Saturday afternoon. The fact that it wasn’t my birthday didn’t seem to slow her down a bit; when I came into the play room, the table had a few presents and was covered in whipped cream pies, frosted sheet cakes, cans of pudding, and much more. I opened my presents, but Mei decided she was very cross with me when I admitted that I hadn’t gotten around to inviting anyone else to a party I hadn’t even been aware of :) She brought out the little PVC frame I’d used on sirgirlie, and soon I was sitting in the middle of it in the depths of a 55-gallon trash bag. Mei wasted little time covering me with every single one of the desserts she had laid out - I must have been eight inches deep in the stuff when she was done. (This, too, was her first messy play scene, and she enjoyed it so much that she’s eager for some turnaround as soon as we can set it up.) Soon, satisfied with her work, she found a zip-tie and sealed me up tightly in what she merrily called my “plastic prison”. Now, I assumed she’d leave me in there for a while, teasing me a bit and possibly even using me once or twice, and that’s exactly what happened. But after about a half-hour of this, to my surprise I heard another bag being shaken out, as she told me there were too many little holes in my bag now and she didn’t want to clean up a mess. Mei rolled me back and forth, and from side to side, as she slipped not one but two more bags around me and tied them both off. I did have air holes, but I couldn’t help but hope that they remained properly lined up through all those layers! Then, I heard a sound I couldn’t believe. The front door opened, and I heard the hollow rattling sound of the big blue recycling can being wheeled into the play room. I’d told Mei what I did to Girlie a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t even suggested to her that we should do that scene together. And yet, I heard the noise of a couple bags of padding being tossed into the bottom, then the sound of the can being laid on its side so she could slide me in! Now, a confession. Getting an adult human being into a four-foot-tall garbage can is not as easy as the stories say, especially when said adult isn’t especially small. I had some trouble with my Girlie, and Mei put forth considerable time and effort to do it to me. She later confessed that next time, she’s probably going to want the help of another top. But eventually she got me in, and tossed a few more bags in on top of me to get me the full effect… and soon I felt the rough bounces of the can going down the front porch steps! The rush of endorphins was unbelievable. I certainly couldn’t move in there… I could breathe fine, but not quite comfortable… and soon I felt the sun beating down on the plastic can lid, and the black plastic around me soaking up heat. I couldn’t sense Mei around anywhere - I couldn’t doubt she was nearby, but it was easy to imagine that she wasn’t - that she was back in the house, resting on the couch and maybe watching TV as she left me to my fate. Cars drove by, and I feared to even wiggle too much in case I should somehow be seen. There’s not much more detail to tell. Mei says I was out there for over 45 minutes, and I will say that I could move just enough to give myself a powerful, earth-shattering treat, the afterglow of which lasted long after she finally retrieved me. Though she got me back to the steps, she was too worn out to get the can back up them, and I was so shaky from the cramping and endorphins that I couldn’t even stand up. We got me out and in the front door, and dragged me to the shower where I could start washing all the mess off, and slowly regained the use of my legs. There was quite a lot of cleanup to do afterwards, I’m afraid… the can still has chocolate smears all over it… but I was grinning too much to care. So that’s my story of my first trip to the curb. I think there’s a very good chance that it won’t be my last. ...

(story continues from Finding the Right Trash Mistress 2) Part 3 It was two weeks one day when I returned to her house. I was greeted by her at the door and she was stern with me! “I told you to return in two weeks! You are one day late! So you will have to endure one week of my punishment!” “I was not able to come yesterday for I was trying to get my work schedule aligned with our time and it was looking like I was not going to get the time needed yesterday!” I pleaded with her with no avail. “You will meet me by the garage naked, and I hope you brought all the supplies I requested on the list I put in your pack before you left!” she was looking stunning in her black yoga pants, and tight tank top. “I did grab all that you requested and have everything in a duffle bag in the car.” ...

(story continues from Finding the Right Trash Mistress 3) Part 4 I was now sitting in my Mistresses trash can covered in trash and she told me that I was going to be in here for a week. I was now very hot in the warm hot sun beaming down on the can which heated the trash around me. She had a few more helpful guests arrive and open the lid and dump in trash, to discover me sitting in filth. They like her turned and just emptied the trash atop of me and then returned the lid to closed each time replacing the lock which sealed me inside. I heard my Mistress talking, “He is no longer to be looked at as human, he is now trash and will become what he is at the end of the week. I am sure that we can place him in the compactor and then just dump the produce waste in and push the button. I will discuss what time when I talk to my friend at the store. She will have the bin picked up two days after we compact his ass which will give it the time to understand that I will not tolerate how I have had to change my plans due to it being late!” This was exciting, and I started to grow and had no way to touch myself due to my hands being attached to my ankles. I knew right then that she meant what she said, “You have made me change my plans which was a waste of my time!” I also knew that my can would be awful full at the end of the week. The week went by fast as the lid was opened and closed many times and more waste was put in with me. I heard my Mistress unlock the lid, “Today is garbage day!” as she smiled and turned her head due to the smell from inside my can. “I must tie off the top of the bags and place this can in my truck bed to take to the store. My friend has been gracious enough to place my trash in her compactor at work. All sorts of wet waste and stuff gets packed in there and I will not have to worry about my trash anymore!” “My friend has seen what trash you are and she has saved lots of good bags of stuff to make the experience more like what happens to trash. I will be able to fill the hopper right up and then push the button to watch as it pushes the trash flat inside the bin, reload the hopper again and watch as my trash disappears!” ...

Julie stands in the kitchen next to the full trashcan as her roommate Audrey unleashes her anger. Not doing her chores, not contributing to the household, Julie is not listening as the tirade continues, she’s heard this all before. It wasn’t Julies fault. Well, it was, putting out the trash for collection is her chore. Julie had done it again, sitting in a chair staring into the last few days’ kitchen waste deep in fantasy. She had simply lost track of the time. ...

I had been reading these trash stories for some time. Basically they all were made up of the same thing. Either someone put them in with the rubbish or they had tied themselves up in a rubbish bag and had been put out by their partner or friend. The other point of view was that they had put their rubbish bins out and had been taken away by the dustmen. There were a few stories where they had been tormented and didn’t know if they would be left or would be rescued. ...

When I was 18 I did a paper round for a local newsagent, with the round always finishing near my old primary school. The school had changed since I had been there and along one side of the school had been built a plastic covered roof supported by metal poles. Whilst doing my Saturday morning round and delivering to my last house, I still had a number of papers left in my bag for my parents and the neighbours, I noticed some people messing around by the side of the building – my dad worked at the school and I knew they had a lot of vandalism at the weekend so I went to see what they were doing. I realised that as I got closer they were people a couple of years below me at school – Jack and James I think their names were that I had had run ins with before. ...

This is an adaptation of a Role-play between der_miner and me (dirty_trashbag_girl). Prelude Julie was an average schoolgirl, 18 years in her final years of school, ever the brightest student. But Julie hid a dark secret about herself from those around her, she fantasised about trash bags and bins. One evening, Julie got home early from school. She heard her mother and Father talking about spring cleaning. With Julie’s baby brother around the house had got into a terrible state. ...

Lydia returned home from a hard day at work, she worked in an office at the local recycling centre and often found herself working long boring hours. One of the things she looked forward to on her returning home was her flatmate Fiona, who had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. They would often share their secrets to each other, and often these would be of a sexual nature. Fiona had learned of Lydia’s love of being tied up and treated as an object, and had treated her friend to some games as her way to help her relax when she’d come home from work. ...

SACKED. This story of loneliness, depravity and sexual desire begins on a warm summer Sunday, at approximately two-thirty pm. I, as is my normal choice of activity for a Sunday am sitting outside on the patio, looking down the length of our garden towards the trees and the concealed slave quarters, relaxing. The house has only one client presently, he is currently being dealt with suitably and will not require my personal attention for sometime. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 4: Performance Review) Tales of Green Valley 5: Tammy gets a Scare Tammy had had some time to get over the embarrassment of being caught letting Trash fuck her in the back of his garbage truck (see Tales of Green Valley 3: Tammy gets Caught ). She heard what his boss Tamarra had threatened, that if she did it again and was caught, that Tamarra just might make Trash dispose of her. Tammy just shook it off as a threat intended to ‘scare her straight’. After all, nobody would knowingly put a living person in an incinerator or shredder, would they? ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 10: If you knew Tammy…) 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. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 13: Last Halloween) Tales of Green Valley # 14: More Memories [ This story is one year after #11 “Fond Memories” This is another story from RL about a year ago and fictionalized a bit. It does not take place in Green Valley and my kinky neighbors don’t have a hot tub - yet. And the names have been changed.. ] The doorbell ran at my home on Friday night at about 8 pm. I wasn’t expecting anyone but I figured it was a neighbor inviting me to come over for a beer. I hoped it was the young couple with the new hot tub. I just love their clothing optional house rules. Now I may be 37 and they are both about 10 years younger, but I do enjoy the way he comes to attention when I strip and get in that tub. His girlfriend usually ducks under water to suck him off, just to prevent him from inviting me to cum sit on his lap. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 9: Trash takes a Vacation) Tales of Green Valley # 10: If you knew Tammy… [ This is a rare one, the first of four stories from RL, only the names have been changed.. ] Paul Macloud lived in the big city where he had gone to college. He had average grades as business major. He had an average job and an average salary. He drove a 4 year old car and voted like all his neighbors. His girlfriend was, well, average. Paul was bored with his life. ...

(Previous Green Valley Tale: Tales of Green Valley 14: More Memories) Tales of Green Valley # 15: Surprise Party (NB: It does not take place in Green Valley, could be anywhere.) The party started at 9pm and I was just finishing dressing when my doorbell rang. Bill and Susan had come to pick me up. Bill smiled when he saw me in the skimpy bikini top and the really short skirt and dared me to turn around and bend over. I laughed and proved his guess was right - no panties and bending over, with my legs spread apart gave him a great view of my pussy. He reached forward and slipped a finger right inside me. “I see you are already for the party,” he said as Susan grabbed his hand and sucked my juices from his finger. ...

It wasn’t my fault! She’s got one of those nice, big bins, and the company I use gave me one of those dinky cans. I guess I made a little bit too much noise getting in, because I’d only been in there about 15 minutes when she came down into the garage and found me out. She startled a bit as she opened the lid, and then yelled at me. “What the hell! I thought you were a raccoon or something.” I would have answered, but I’d left the keys to my gag back in my garage next door. In my pants pocket. With the rest of my clothes. I held up my handcuffed hands and shrugged. Shelly looked at me sideways, her startle and anger fading. We’d played games before, and both loved plastic, enclosure, and objectification, but we’d never talked about trash play. I wasn’t sure if she’d be into it. That, and it was 1 AM on a Friday night. “Okay. First things first, I’ve got to clean up this mess you made.” She said, as she picked up the bags I’d left next to the can as I’d climbed in. She tossed them in without heed, and they bounced off me and into my lap as I protected my head with my hands. They piled up and were just about up to my face when she stopped. “Here’s the deal. I’m pooped. If you’re gone in the morning when I wake up, we’ll pretend this never happened, although you’re definitely going to owe me. If you’re still there in the morning, then you’re just a piece of trash I have to figure out what to do with.” She closed the lid, and I could hear her pad back to the door and go inside. It was a bit warm under that heavy, squishy plastic, and not everything smelled great, but nothing had gone rancid. Something was leaking on me, and was really slippery. My head was swimming from this turn of events, and I couldn’t help myself from finding my way to a huge orgasm there in the can. With the orgasm came a flood of “what am I doing” thoughts, but the trash was heavy and comfortable, and I must’ve nodded off. I awoke with a start, clammy and uncomfortable where my butt met the trashbin. I shifted around a bit and got a soft bag under me. As I squished and squeaked through the trash, my arousal came back, but this time I was able to hold of the urge, and decided to stay in my little home. I drifted back off to sleep and actually slept well for a bit. The next thing I heard was the sound of a screen door creaking open and slamming shut. I shifted in the bin again, and squinted at the light as Shelly flipped open the lid. “Wow. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in there. You know, I’ve been thinking about this all night. I kept waking up and was having crazy trash dreams. I hope you cleared your weekend like a good boy, because at this point you’ve accepted the terms of my deal, you’re mine.” I nodded, and the plastic crinkled around me and stuck to my face a bit. I shifted and tried to sit up better. “Oh, don’t worry about getting too situated right now, I need you to move around a bit. Shift over to the other side.” I did as I was told as Shelly disappeared from my vision. Now that morning was here, I really needed to pee, but I couldn’t tell her that with this gag in. I was also quite a mess, I doubt she’d have let me in to her house, and even though it’s only a short run across the lawn, I didn’t relish the idea of running home in broad daylight like this. I might’ve gotten a little more than I bargained for here. I jumped as I heard a loud noise at the side of the bin where I’d been leaning. It turned into a roar, and then I saw the end of a drillbit poke through. There were a few more drillings, this time with the bit poking through closer to the lid. Presumably for airholes. Shelly stood up and leaned over my bin, smiling like a mad scientist, her hair in pigtails and pulled back by the safety goggles she’d just pulled up from her eyes. “I left the lid ajar last night to make sure you got enough air, but we can’t have that all the time, now can we? Besides, how am I supposed to lock the lid shut if I’ve got to leave it cracked open?” Shelly and I met eyes, and I felt myself stand to full, almost painful attention against the plastic bags. I pressed against them slightly as I looked into her eyes and realized she was serious, and loving this. I let out a small “Mmmm” around my gag. “Yup. You’re in for a while here, trashboy. You wanted to be in there, you got it. Truth is, I’m getting hot just thinking about you as my trash, there to use or throw away as I see fit. Trash shouldn’t be able to talk, and you already took care of that nicely for me” she said, stroking my face, and the leather of the gag. “But trash shouldn’t be able to just get up and walk away, so let’s take care of that, shall we?” She reached her other hand down into the can with me, and looped a collar around my neck quickly, and forcefully. It was comfortable, but she pulled it together and fastened it tightly shut with authority. I felt the ‘snick’ of a lock before I could even think about what was happening. I went to bring my hands up to my neck, but the handcuffs got stuck in the plastic of the bags they were under. I could get untangled, but not quickly. I heard a clinking, and realized Shelly had locked a chain to the end of my collar, and she was feeding it through the hole she’d drilled. “Lean back over to this side” she said. I hesitated a moment - this was getting serious quickly, and I was loving it, but was definitely a little scared. I felt a hard pull on my collar, as the chain rattled through the hole and out of the can. “I wasn’t asking.” She said, with a mischievous smile. I smiled back at her, harder than I’d ever been, and leaned towards the hole where the chain to my collar was rapidly disappearing. “I’ll leave you a little slack to move around if you’re a good boy.” she said. “Good boys know they’re trash and that trash doesn’t ask to get out before it’s time. You’re a good boy, right?” I nodded. “You’ve really got me worked up here. I swear, I’m tempted to weld this bolt to the chain and just keep you there. Maybe someday. For now I’ll just screw it down nice and tight.” I heard her working with a ratchet, and sure enough, my chain was now bolted to the outside of the bin - I could only pull it a foot or so away from the edge, and certainly couldn’t get out now. She looked back in at me and smiled. “Happy?” She asked? I smiled and nodded. This was incredible, and so far I was loving it. “Good. I’m glad my trash is happy. I even brought you some more friends.” With that, she disappeared, and I heard her make a heaving grunt sound. A huge black bag descended on top of me, and pressed down on me, sloshing around with it’s weight. It covered my body and the bags already on top of me completely and pressed up near my face. “I figured it’s time for a little spring cleaning here, so I emptied the fridge and freezer.” Whatever was in that bag, it was heavy and wet, and my plastic prison was now a lot less roomy, pressing against me on all sides. “Well, that should do it for now.” She said as she closed the lid. “See you in a while trash.” She walked away a few steps, but then paused. “Oops, almost forgot. Can’t have the raccoons getting in here and waking me up again, can I?” She said as she cracked the lid and peeked through. There was that mischievous smile again. She pressed the lid tight, and I heard the loud click of a big master lock, and then heard it thud against the side of the bin. That was that. I was naked, handcuffed and gagged, with a locked collar chained to the side of the bin, totally compressed in heavy, soft, squishy trashbags, and now I was locked in from the top as well. I shuddered with a pre-orgasm, and I hadn’t even touched myself yet. This weekend was going to be fun. Want to read more, let me know at [email protected], and give me some ideas! Here’s a rough outline of the rest of the story Chapter two - spring cleaning Chapter three - lazy sunday Part 2 - a weeks vacation ? Discuss this story or leave comments on Livejournal Trashbagging ...

My girlfriend has known for some time that I enjoy being tied up. I really enjoy the feeling of plastic next to my skin so I was able to encourage her to wrap me up with plastic food wrap. This of course leads to all sorts of fun and interesting activities. We added different routines to our extracurricular activities such as gags, cock-rings, etc. To my surprise one night, after she had wrapped me up, instead of using her panties, sock or a bag to gag me with she produced what I can only describe as a gag-dildo. Wow what a night. ...

Part 1: The Way It All Began It’s starting to get hot and the smell of all these soiled diapers is making me sick. I’m bound in a 95-gallon trash bag at the bottom of a 6 cubic yard rollaway dumpster in the back of a sorority house. My arms and legs are bound with handcuffs, the modified ring gag holds my mouth open, and for the first time I’m scared that Haley is going to go through with her threat. ...

First I have to tell you that I really, really love bondage, my husband also likes to tie me up and I like being tied up by him, it is something that I never expected to happen, well not until I met my husband that is and we began experimenting. I found out that I really like my bondage when I’m tied up helplessly and left bound for an extended period of time, I like to call it ‘stewing’ left to slowly simmer away, not necessarily climaxing or even being teased and tormented, but left bound as little more than an object. ...

Book 1 : Trashing her Worthless Boyfriend I love trash. I don’t know why, but ever since I was a child, the idea of being thrown out and taken away by the garbage truck has always stirred feelings inside me that I didn’t understand, until I grew up. The idea of being discarded as trash was my biggest dream. Especially if I was thrown out by someone I knew. Maybe my girlfriend. ...

(story continues from The Trashy Adventures of David and Christine 3: Jennifer’s Revenge) Book 4: Christine’s Party “David, can you take take out the trash for me before we go?” I look up from my spot on the couch, instantly setting my newspaper down. Within moments, the rather heavy cans of garbage are on the curb. I stand there a moment, reminiscening about the time I was amongst those cans. Oh what an experience. ...

Here I was thinking I was hot stuff. I’d turned 18. I was a senior. I had been accepted to college. There was one month of school left and hell, I was sailing through my final classes. I was invincible. I was eating lunch with my friend when a glob of pudding landed in front of me. Raucous laughter erupted from the other end of the table. I saw one of my classmates still holding the spoon used to catapult it at me. ...