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The Virtues of Recycling
By
Rubberwolf
Story
Codes: F/F, nc, bond, garbage, imprison, cat fight.
Authors
Note:
I have
wanted to write a garbage story since Grommet first put this category on the
site. I didn’t know quite how it would
fit together, but the outline eventually took shape. It can be a little rough in places, but I
always wanted a cat fight in one of my stories, so…. This also reminds me of a girl I used to know. She liked to wear bin bags and get smothered
in goop. Hmmm (Fond memories).
Anyway, enjoy.
Rubberwolf
Jane was
apprehensive. She had been sleeping with
Ron for 3 months and they had known each other for over a year. It had started out as a friendship, but had
rapidly grown into something else. Roy
had asked her to move in with him and she had accepted. This, however, was not the reason she was
apprehensive. For the past 5 months, Roy
had been going out with Jane’s best friend, Rita. Rita did not know that Ron was seeing
Jane.
Roy had
said, for some months now, that he would tell Rita and break off the
relationship. However, Jane was running
out of patience. She had decided to tell
her friend what had been going on and, at the moment, Jane sat nervously in her
car with the engine running while she worked up the courage to tell her friend
what had happened.
Jane and
Rita had been best friends for as long as Jane could remember. Since she was in middle
school, at least. This was why it
was so hard. She could not help but feel
as though she had really betrayed her friend and that she might lose her
closest ally because of Roy. But things
could not go on as they were. Roy loved
Jane and Jane loved Roy. It was as
simple as that and if the something that had to give was Rita, Jane could live
with it. Having made up her mind, Jane
put the car in gear, pulled out of the lay bi and headed off to have a
devastating chat with her soon to be ex – best friend.
Rita was house sitting. It was
a little extra money, which would come in handy with her final year at
University. Also, it was rent free. All
of the electricity and water was paid for and it came with a full freezer. What more could Rita ask for? Unfortunately, the Bishops had decided to
throw a party before setting off on their three month, second honeymoon, cruise and had obviously concluded that house sitting also
included cleaning up after them. Rita
stared at the mountain of washing up with a sense of doom. It had obviously started as a dinner party,
judging by the pots, pans and wasted food scattered about the kitchen. Looking at the mess, she supposed that a
number of the guests, had stayed for breakfast, judging by the half eaten
porridge scattered around the breakfast table in several boles. Who would have thought that such a respectable
couple could throw an all night party for around forty people (Judging by the
amount of plates and cutlery.
No, not a
dinner party, but a buffet. OK the food
was not the usual sausage roles, etc. she could see the remains of mash, roast
potatoes, curries, Mexican and various sauces, but basically, this was an eat
on your lap, while balancing your bear, party, which explained the carpet
stains. Rita had come to the conclusion
that she had been bought as a cheep alternative to a cleaning crew. Fair enough, she still needed the money, but
where to start?
Rita was
snapped out of her trepidations by the door bell. She headed towards the front door relieved to
have a good excuse to put off the job.
She was taken a little by surprise to find, instead of a delivery man or
someone connected with the Bishops, to find her friend Jane instead.
Rita
quickly ushered her friend in, noting that something was obviously wrong,
judging by the way her friend carried herself.
Normally, Jane was quite bubbly, but not today. Rita glanced over her friend. Still the same old five
foot three, 23 year old brunet.
Her shoulder length dark hair still made her look pale, but there was
definitely something wrong and Rita quickly sat her friend down and had a
coffee in her hand before she could take her coat off.
“Now,
what’s the matter?” her friend urged as Rita stared into the depths of her
coffee with a forlorn dread.
Jane had
rehearsed this moment for months, but when she eventually opened her mouth,
rather than a level delivery by a cool, collected woman, Jane garbled the story
in one long burst, like a naughty eight year old who
had been caught lying and wanted to tell the truth, but not have to think about
the implications.
“I’ve been
sleeping with Roy. We have been seeing
each other for about three months and he wants me to move in with me. He says he loves me and I love him, but we
have been afraid to tell you and.”
SLAP, Rita
had lunged across the living room, sending coffee flying as she launched a sweeping
blow across Jane’s cheek.
SLAP,
another blow landed and then another and another. All the while Rita was screaming.
“You
bitch. You trashy,
predatory bitch. The one thing
that’s mine and you have to take him from me. He loves me, not you. He.”
CRACK. Jane, although taken
off guard initially was not going to stand for this and managed to land a
cracking punch on the left temple that rocked her one time friend back on her
heals, screaming her own abuse and denials.
Before long they were both rolling about on the floor in a mad wrestle
of claws, kicks and slaps. But it was no
good. Rita was taller, stronger and more
annoyed than Jane. She managed to batter
the other girl into a senseless, sobbing heap.
But that was not enough for her.
As she was looking down at the woman who had slept with her lover and
betrayed everything that she thought she had, an idea snapped into her head and
she quickly dragged Jane, kicking and screaming, by her hair, into the kitchen.
“Get
undressed Bitch,” Rita contemptuously spat at her former friend.
“W What are you going to”, but her sobbing question was
interrupted as Rita answered her question with another slap.
Defeated,
Jane started to undo her blouse. She was
not sure what her friend would do when she found out, but she had never
imagined this, or the venom with which she was now being treated.
Fumbling
with the buttons, her hand was slapped to one side as Rita leant forward and
ripped the buttons clean off in one, strong tug. She did not know what Rita had in mind, but
Jane did not feel like finding out and, besides which, it was one of her
favourite blouses. She had fought three
other shoppers and an old lady to claw her way through the January sales scrum
to get that it and be damned if she was going to stand for high and mighty Rita
coming along and ripping it. Jane hit
back, causing Rita to lose her balance.
This time
the cat fight continued in earnest. Both parties vied for position as clothes
were torn or ruined as the pair slid about on the floor amid the food and wine
spilled the night before. It was only
the low flying chicken leg that had unbalanced Jane enough to allow Rita a
really good shove that had decided the issue.
Jane had fallen backwards and catch her head a
glancing blow from the dish washer.
Rita
towered over her fallen enemy. She had
just wanted to humiliate her ex friend by ruining her clothes and perhaps
tipping wine over her, but as she looked down on her stunned opponent another
idea came to her. Reaching into one of
the kitchen drawers, Rita grabbed a set of scissors and, kneeling down, started
to cut the clothes from the unconscious form on the floor.
Jane woke
groggily. Her head hurt, she was cold
and uncomfortable. She tried to sit up,
but found that her limbs did not respond or at least they did, but nothing
happened, other than a sharp pain in her wrists. Opening her eyes, Jane saw that she was lying
on the floor of a kitchen. After tugging
at her wrists, Jane found that they were tied.
She also noticed a tugging sensation at her feet. Looking down, with her head clearing more and
more by the second she saw three things at once. Firstly, that she was naked. Secondly that there was a black bin bag
covering her thighs and thirdly that Rita was pulling a cable tie tightly
around her ankles. Rita was tying her
up.
“Rita,”
Jane screamed shrilly, “what are you doing?”
Rita stood
up, picked something off of the counter and then lunged towards her prone
victim.
“Rita stop. Let go
of.” SLAP “Mmphhh,”
Jane’s further protests were cut short as Rita slapped her hard across the face
and, as her ex friend gapped, open mouthed at the assault, shoved the wet,
washing up cloth into Jane’s mouth.
“Oh shut up
Jane. It’s always about you and what you
want. Well now it’s my turn bitch and
you will keep quiet until I am ready to speak to you.”
As she was
ranting, Rita had pulled another bin bag from the role and wrapped it around
Jane’s head, securing the wash cloth in place and knotting the bag
securely. Reaching
into one of the kitchen drawers and, after yanking Jane into a sitting
position, pulled out a role of carpet tape.
“I have know idea why they have carpet tape in the kitchen,” Rita
mused, “but I am glad they were so thoughtful.”
With that
statement, she used the tape to secure the gag in place, tightly compacting the bag and wash cloth deeply into her mouth, so
that Jane’s cheeks bulged like a hamster’s.
Once she was satisfied, she reached down and grabbing Jane by the upper arm, pulled her to her feet.
Jane tottered
unsteadily, wiggling to keep her balance, which was not easy considering that
her ankles were tied together, as were her wrists. Looking down, Jane saw that the bag she
noticed earlier had somehow followed her.
After a moment though she was able to see that, for some obscure reason,
Rita had punched two holes in the bottom of the sack and pushed her legs
through the holes. Jane could imagine
only one purpose for this, which was confirmed when Rita pulled the sac further
up her legs until the bottom of the bag sat securely against her pussy.
Rita
grabbed some kitchen role from the counter and forced it between Jane’s knees,
so that the cardboard ends of the role nestled at the side of each knee
joint. This caused Jane to wobble and
nearly fall over, but Rita caught her and then bent down to her work. Because of the bag, Jane could not see
clearly what was happening, but the ripping sound of carpet tape, followed by a
tugging near her crotch was answer enough.
Rita was sealing the leg holes on the bin bag.
Once each
leg had received several turns from the tape, Rita bent down and pulled the
kitchen towel free, before securing Jane’s knees with more cable ties. Rita now turned her attention to the kitchen
cabinets, pulling open drawers and cupboards before cursing.
“Damn,
either they don’t have any or it might be in the shed. Don’t go anywhere bitch,” Rita spat as she
stomped out.
Jane
weighed her options as she was left alone.
She might be able to move further along the counter and grab a knife,
but unless Rita was going to be gone for some time, she could not see how this
would help her. Rita would surly punish
her, but it might be worth the effort.
She might try hopping into the street, but she would not be able to
reach up and open the front door. She
might very well fall over any way. The
phone, given her current state, was definitely not an option. Looking around the counter, amidst the
clutter of plates and leftovers, Jane spotted her knife. A quick hop to the
left and then another, but on the third she nearly fell and it took some effort
to get to the knife.
“Where do
you think your going bitch?” Rita demanded as she stomped over and slapped Jane
again. “When I say stay, I mean just
that.”
Jane seemed
to consider for a second before taking out what she had found in the shed or
garage or wherever she had been. She had
another role of sacks, but this one was larger than the household variety. These were larger, stronger, garden sacks.
Pulling a sack from the role, she opened it, spreading it on the ground before
Jane. She repeated the process so that
there where two bags open on the floor, one inside the other.
“Since you
like hopping, just jump into that,” Rita sneered as she grabbed her prisoner by
the arm and pulled her forcefully forward.
Jane hopped
into the sacks and was then forced down by the other woman so that she was
sitting with her legs slightly bent.
Rita then pulled the black body sack up, so that it covered her breasts
and reached up to her shoulders, slipping underneath her tied arms. She then ruffled the two outer bags so that
they stood up a little more.
“I bet you
are wondering what all of this is about?
Well it’s quite simple. Since you
are a trashy little whore, I thought I would treat you as such. Your going to help
me clean up bitch and then I am going to throw you away when I have finished
with you, just like you threw our friendship away.”
Jane only
had moments to shake her head in denial as the implications of Rita’s tirade
sank in before the first unfinished bowl of porridge was scooped into the body
sack. Jane shuddered and tried not to
feel sick as more and more food was showered over her, sliding in a gooey mess
down her front and pooling amidst her pussy hairs. After a few bowls Rita obviously decided that
Jane needed something down her back and, pulling the sack backwards, emptied
the contents of the cooking pot, half full of porridge down Jane’s back, so
that it pooled in a sticky heap at her ass.
Next came the curry and then the chilli sauce,
alternating from front to back and, when Rita was feeling vindictive, over
Jane’s head. This was accompanied by
muffled squeals and squeaks, but eventually Rita grabbed the carpet tape and,
attaching one end to the back of the sack, used it to create a shoulder strap
as she attached the tape to the front of the sack. She repeated the process on the other
shoulder so that Jane now looked like she was wearing an unflattering, baggy,
swim suit.
Rita was
not finish, however. Taking the tape,
she attached one end to Jane’s elbow, wrapping the tape around Jane’s body,
under her breasts, returning over her arms, in several turns, securing her
prisoners arms tightly against her body.
Next she attached the tape just under Jane’s knee. She then pulled Jane’s knees up, just under
her breasts and pulled the tape so that she was able to wrap it around the
girl’s torso and arms.
Rolling
Jane over onto her side, Rita pulled a cable tie through the ankle and wrist
ties, yanking them together in a painful hog tie. Satisfied Rita used her hands to smear the
contents of the body sack into all of the little places that it had not
reached, before pulling the girl up into a sitting position and pulling the
outer bags up, level with Jane’s head.
All though
out the first half of the assault Jane had whimpered, cried and pleaded or at
least made pleading noises through her gag.
Now however, she sat as a dejected heap, sniffing to herself as her
tears and snot mingled with leftovers that had run down her face. She made no reaction as Rita started to empty
more garbage onto her. Mash, dips, things in pastry cases, crisps, paper napkins. In fact, Rita was genuinely shocked by the
amount of waste produced by the bishops.
This did not stop her from dumping it onto Jane.
Eventually,
the sack covered Jane all the way up to her top lip. This did not, however, stop Rita, who had
entered spring-cleaning mode. She
gathered up all of the waste baskets from the rooms and placed them in the
kitchen. Going to the garage, she
returned with something that she had seen when she was looking for the garden
sacks.
“Can’t have
you suffocating on me now can I?” Rita
asked as she undid the wrapping on a dust covered and very unused brake fluid
kit. Taking the vinyl tubing and cutting
it in two, she forced the tubes painfully up Jane’s nostrils, before taping
them in place. She had also found a sink
drain kit. Taking the flexible hose from
this, she taped the vinyl tubes into one of the openings. Satisfied. She then dumped the contents of the bathroom
bin, complete with sanitary products, into the bag, just in front of Jane’s
face. Next she unloaded more of the
baskets and bins. She even emptied a sack
that she had already filled, until all traces of Jane disappeared.
Satisfied,
Rita pulled the flexible hose that was Jane’s only contact with the outside
world, to the top of the sack and, using the cable ties, secured the bag so
that the breathing tube just poked out, but was partially obscured by the bag.
Opening
another garden bag, Rita emptied the contents of one of the sacks that she had
already filled into the bottom, before lifting and rolling the Jane sack into
the new one. More waste from other sacks
was then poured down the sides so that, if anybody was to lift the sack, they
would not be able to feel what, or who, was inside. Finally satisfied, Rita dragged the trash out
and placed it next to the bin.
Jane had a
terrible night. When Rita had piled the
sanitary ware in her face, she had nearly wretched. Then, she had panicked as more waste was
poured over her head until she was buried.
She could not see and, by the time Rita had finished with her, all that
she could hear was the rustle of paper and plastic. She felt cold and slimy. Gooey stuff stuck to
her body in places that made it seem as though she had messed herself. She was a sticky, filthy waste. Perhaps Rita had been right. Perhaps this was her rightful place. After all, she had betrayed their
friendship. Perhaps Jane was a trashy
whore and deserved no better.
Jane spent
a fitful night, either mourning her friendship, indulging in self pity or
generally cursing herself. Finally she
fell asleep. Luckily for her, it was a
warm night and, although the various foods and sauces had cooled down, the
extra paper and packing served to keep her warm enough throughout the
night. However, it was still cold enough
to numb her limbs and senses.
Jane woke
with a start. She was being lifted. What, she wondered, did Rita have planned
now? Then she heard a familiar
noise. The sound of
garbage truck. By the time she realised that the bin men had arrived,
she was already being picked up and thrown into the garbage truck. She tried to call out, but the noise of the
truck as its compactor got to work drowned out her efforts. Her limbs, still numb and cold, refused to
obey her as she struggled in her sack and, still writhing, the compactor shoved
her into the cramped interior of the truck.
Although
she did not know it, this was her lucky day.
The truck made a strange noise and, despite trying to clear debris from
the mechanism and hitting the button several times, the compactor would not
work.
“Bloody
hydraulics init,” intoned Burt sagely as he gave the truck a good kick,
spitting on the rear tyre for good measure.
“Wassat Burt?”
“I said
it’s the hydralics init. Shoulda known soon as we booked out 97. Vis buggas been on it’s last legs for ages,” Burt continued.
The crew
thought about this for a moment or two.
“Wat we doin then?”
Burt
considered.
“Bugger all
we can do. Can’t put
much more in there. Lets dump vis load and gaback to yard. See if 38s out of the shop.”
After a
little thought the crew agreed and drove the truck, with its half load, to the
tip. Although Jane had heard the noise
and despite being a little cramped, she did not know that she would not be
crushed or suffocated and so was very surprised to feel the back of the truck
deposit her and the rest of the load onto the garbage dump.
Old Ron was
a scavenger. He had been scavenging for
years, ever since he had started living on the streets. Begging was all well and good, but it
couldn’t literally put a roof over your head, unless you used the money in one
of those dam shelter things. Ron had
grown too old on the streets to waste his money on such luxuries. But the amount that people just threw
away. Now that was a crying shame. Ron darted in between the trucks, keeping out
of the way of the scoops, as he searched for tit bits. Then, something caught
his eye. An in tact
bag. You could get all sorts out
of a decent bag. Ron scurried over and
pulled the bag clear of the diggers as they carried on their eternal quest of
distributing the waste and breaking up the trash.
Jane woke
to find herself in a strange bed.
Squinting, she opened her eyes to see that she was in a very strange
room indeed. The blankets were a grubby
assortment. One of which might have been
an old carpet. She was lying in a strange, roughly thrown together, four poster
bed. It was mad from cheep pallet wood
and, instead of plush curtains, had a variety of wind chimes, dolls, broken
model planes and paper stars hanging from the improvised rails of the bed. Looking around she noticed that the walls
were made of old bits of wood and corrugated iron. Old posters littered the walls in places and
an assortment of shelves, laden with a wild assortment of odds, ends and just
the plane strange.
As if
sensing that his guest had awoken, Ron shuffled into the room with a chipped
cup of what he informed her was soup.
Jane was still too broken and weary to argue and drank it
gratefully. She spent the next few days
resting as Ron nursed her back to health.
She had time to explore her new surroundings. Ron really was a collector. He had set up home in some woodland, just outside
of town. Although he was known to the
local authorities, he was generally left alone.
He did not cause any trouble and the land owner had not complained. So Ron had made his home a little less
transitory than was the norm. Jane found
all manner of interesting items in the yard around the lean to house. Old water tanks, various items and bits of
machinery that generally littered the area that Ron called home.
Soon, Jane
was well enough to return home, after Ron had found her a dress and even a pair
of grubby shoes, Jane returned to her life, with the promise that she would
return to repay all that Ron had done, as well as buy a few of his items, if he
would sell them.
Rita stood
at the sink washing up. Her life was
back on track. She had a date with Roy
at the weekend. He had wondered what had
happened to Jane, but Rita had professed ignorance, assuring him that she would
probably turn up in a day or so. Rita
wondered about Jane as well, keeping her ear on the local news to find out if a
body had been discovered. Jane, Rita
felt, had been buried in the filth and garbage that she deserved and would
hopefully never see the light of day again.
Rita did
not know why but some instinct told her to look behind her. As she just had time to see Jane swinging
something at her. Before she could
react, the 2 x 4 connected with her skull, felling her like a sack of potatoes.
Rita woke
in darkness. She was sitting up, cross
legged, in, as
she discovered as she explored with her hands, a small cell, no more than a few
feet across. It was cramped. She was also naked. She tried to stand, but hit her head on the
low ceiling. With a grunt she sat
down. Although she could move her arms,
she would have to remain seated. Next,
Rita tried shouting, but the walls seemed to absorb her cries and thumping the
sides only hurt her hands. After a while
she calmed down and continued to explore.
Feeling underneath her, she found that she was sitting in, or just over
a funnel shaped hole. Then, next to her
head she found something taped to the side of her circular prison. It was a plastic cylinder, wrapped in
paper. Pulling the paper into her lap
she explore the cylinder with her fingers. At last, she thought she had discerned what
the plastic rod was and, taking a chance, snapped the rod in two.
She was
automatically bathed in a green light as the chemicals in the glow stick
merged. Shaking the stick to mix the
chemicals, Rita looked around and saw that her prison was just as she had
imagined it when she was exploring with her hands. Turning her attention to the paper, she
noticed that it had writing on it. She
unfolded it and began to read.
Welcome to your new home Rita.
Let me first take this opportunity to thank
you. Because of you I have discovered a
new sense of worth and purpose. I have
seen how much we actually waste. I have
come believe that we should all do our bit to recycle and to dispose of our
rubbish sensibly and responsibly. One of
the first things that I have now installed in my house is a recycling
unit. I have installed this unit in my
kitchen, or at least the pipes run from a second sink, where the drain should
be, outside, through my kitchen wall, to a small box underneath my kitchen
window. The waste is then processed by
this unit before the waste products are then fed into the drains to be
dispersed among the sewers. In case you
have not figured this out yet, the vital component of my new unit is you. I will continue to feed you. All you have to do is shovel whatever is put before
you into that fat mouth of yours. You
don’t even have to move off of your ass, just eat and shit. You could try to scream, but in order to
ensure that you don’t freeze to death in winter, the
unit has quite a lot of sound absorbing insulation. The only time you might have a chance was if
you screamed while I put waste into the shoot, but since I run a loud cutting
blade, like a traditional waste disposal unit, when throwing my trash away, it
is not much of a chance. Enjoy your new
life and thanks again.
Jane
P.S.
Guess who I have a date with tonight?
Although Rita knew it was pointless,
she screamed and beat the sides of her prison in despair.
Jane
cleared the plates into the kitchen and began tidying her home. It had been a simple wedding. She and Roy had invited a few close friends
and family to the service, followed by a small reception at their home. The guests had all left and now the couple
prepared for bed before jetting off on their honeymoon.
Roy came up
behind her and snuggled her neck.
“Happy?” he
asked.
“Oh yes,”
she purred.
“I am sorry
that Rita couldn’t come, but despite everything I am sure that she would have
wanted to come. No new news from the Police then?”
“No,” Jane
replied. “Anyway, I am sure your right
and that she would have come to the reception at least. But enough of this morbid talk,
help me clear these dishes. You wash, I
will dry.”
Below them,
in the darkness that has become her home, the waste
unit who was once Rita stirred. The
sound of the garbage compactor vibrated down the pipes to her domain. Her anticipation was rewarded as a slurry of food dropped through the hole at the top of her
world to land on her expansive breasts.
She had change a lot since her new existence had begun. Her skin had become ghostly white and saws
marked her once lovely skin. Her hair
had become straggly and matted and she had gained wait. With no activity to occupy her time, other
than eating sleeping and crapping into her drain, she had gained pounds. Her enormous bottom and massive legs now
conformed to the shape of her prison.
Her hands reached up on either side of her enormous breasts. Their only purpose was to shovel food and
scraps into her waiting maw. If you were
to cut the top off of her prison and turn it upside down, shaking and patting
the base, Rita would pop out as a solid, cylindrical mass. But the garbage monster, which is how Rita
saw herself, did not care any more. She had
taken a new name. It was now Oscar. It remembered the name from a garbage monster
in a children’s program, it could not remember what, but that is not
important. All that mattered was that it
recycled the waste which, once it had finished its meal, it did with a loud Phhhrting sound.
End.
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