— by Trash Mouse —
Rusty surprised me when I came home; he was waiting just past the door of the apartment, leaning against the far wall, a black trash bag in his hand. After a long day of work that was the end of a long week of work seeing my wolf holding that was just the thing to brighten me up. It meant he had plans for the long weekend, the kind of plans that made me giddy just by looking at him.
Dropping my purse on the table I kicked the front door closed and walked over to him, my tail sweeping behind my legs. Wrapping my arms around him I pulled him into a kiss then looked down at the bag. “What do you have planned?” I asked.
A smile played over his muzzle as he reached up and stroked his fingers over my large ears. “Something special my little mouse, now get out of those things and meet me in the kitchen. Bring the bag too,” he said in a firm, yet still playful, voice.
I was out of his arms like a shot, rushing through the apartment to the bedroom, shedding clothing as I went. I slowed down to struggle with my jeans, but soon they joined my shirt on the floor. My panties and bra followed a few moments later. I wouldn’t be needing any of them for at least the rest of the day, maybe longer. From under the bed I took out a large black bag that was heavier then it looked. Holding it in my hand I hurried back to the kitchen.
My boyfriend was waiting for me next to something new. It was a strange frame made out of pipes that stood about four feet high. I couldn’t image what it was meant to be used for, but I suspected he would show me soon enough.
Rusty reached out and took the bag from me, setting it on the counter. Unzipping it he cast a knowing look towards me. “It’s been far too long since I cleaned out the refrigerator, so that’s my job for tonight. Your job is to be the trash,” he said, pulling out a length of rope and a pair of felt lined handcuffs.
I admit it; I let out a small squeal and jumped a little bit in place causing my breasts to bounce for a few moments. He casually walked over to me, his tail swishing quickly behind his legs. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, then gave me the handcuffs.
Without much thought I put my arms behind my back and locked the cuffs over my wrists, keeping them lose enough so as not to bind with my fur. I stood there, my arousal growing as I watched him pick up the trash bag and shake it open. He spread it out a bit and set it at the bottom of the structure made out of pipes. Once done he made a come-hither motion with one finger.
I walked over to him, a smile on my face as he looked down on me. He was a head taller then I was, so looking down was normal, but this was more than just his height. I could see in his eyes that I was just trash to him, at least for the night.
Settling myself down on top of the trash bag I felt his hands running over my body, the rope starting to wrap around my feet and the base of my tail, then up to my wrists and then to tie the top of my thin tail in place. His knots were firm, but not too tight, I could slip out of I really wanted to. The last thing he did was to place a ball gag in my mouth, cinching it firmly around my head so it wouldn’t slip out. Trash doesn’t get to talk.
He lifted the bag around me pulling it up and over my head before wrapping it over the top of the structure, about three inches over the top of my head. It let me see out, but still gave him plenty of room to fill the bag. Near the top I could see some slits cut into the bag, small enough not to be seen if the light wasn’t behind them.
A moment later his hand appeared over my head holding a gallon of milk, without a word he opened the top and turned it over, poring it down over my head. I let out a gasp around my gag, the cold liquid seeping into my fur and pooling around my feet. Once the gallon was empty he crushed the jug and threw it in with me.
Moments passed as I heard my Rusty work in the kitchen. I had started to relax a bit when something blocked the light overhead. I didn’t look up in time to see what it was, but something heavy and thick landing on my back, right between my arms, and started to slide down the fur. More followed; thick wet splats of cold food that I soon realized was a collection of takeout, all of it fresh, some still warm. The restaurant he worked at must have had a rush of bad orders that day.
The trash started to rise around me, but at the same time cling to my fur. I had a thick red sauce running down my breasts, and chunks of chicken running over my tail. Some had even managed to land in my ear, though I had shaken it out. Soon I was buried up past my hips in old food. If I had a hand free it would be deep into my pussy, which was why they were firmly locked up.
I could feel him standing over the trash bag, his shaping blocking the light. “Trash,” he said, his voice sending a jolt through my body right to my crotch. I looked up at him, but only for a moment as a pie slammed into my face. The filling sprayed around my head as the pan hit the tip of my nose. I pulled back a bit as he let the pan drop.
A second pie followed a moment later, this one aimed at my chest. It landed with a heavy squish on my breasts and the pan slowly slid down over them to land in the trash under me. The next two came at the same time, one on each side of my head. The impact was softer, but served to cover my head, one side with apple, the other with strawberry. Three more pies followed, thrown it more or less at the cleanest parts of my body. For the very last pie he bent down and ground it into my belly, make sure the fur there was as covered as the rest of me.
The smell mixed with the smell of the leftover food under me, making everything somewhat foul.
Rusty took a break after that, leaving me there for what seemed like an hour as the sauces and pies all started to congeal in my fur. I doubt it was that long, but I didn’t really care; I was having a great time. I even started to grind myself into the trash, trying to get some stimulation on my cunt.
Finally he returned a look of glee of my face as he dumped a pizza on my head, still hot and greasy. Only a couple slices were taken, so I guess he had stopped for dinner. The box joined me in the bag as did another box of cheese bread. I shook off most of it so I could still see only to watch as he dumped the living room trash on my head. Old mail, newspapers and napkins rained down over me, quickly barring me up to my chest.
Again I shook it off, though some clung to my face. I looked back up at him and saw that he was holding two cartons of eggs. I shivered at the sight, this was my favorite part. He opened one and dumped the whole dozen over my head. Most of them breaking on contact, the eggs soaking into my hair, but a few ran down into the bag. He slapped at the sides of the bag to make sure these broke.
He was far more deliberate with the second carton. HE took out each egg and held it in his hands as he looked me over, then threw it against me, using just enough force to cause it to break. It hurt a little bit, but the feeling of the eggs splashing over my fur more than made up for it. He made sure I had them running down my back, and over my breasts. The last one he broke himself, letting the yoke collect on the top of my muzzle.
He kicked the bag and chuckled a bit. “Looks like this bag is full, I had better take it out,” he said with a smirk, then gathered up the top of the bag. He looked down at me for a moment before he closed the bag over my head; a moment later came the sound a zip tie being closed around the top.
I was in darkness, only a few hints of light came from the slits in the bag, but otherwise I was alone with the trash. The air was already growing warm and a little bit stale, but I could still feel cool air coming in with each breath. I relaxed in the trash, closing my eyes, contented with my current lot in life. I knew it wouldn’t last, it never did. In a few hours Rusty would cut open the bag and we would both go fuck like rabbits in the shower, but until then, I was trash.
Then something happened that had never happened before. I felt the bag lift around me and rise into the air. I could hear the bag protesting this, myself and the trash must have weight near 150 pounds, but it held. The bag started to sway with each step, slapping against someone’s legs. My chest started to grow tighter as I heard the front door slam closed behind us, then the bouncing as I was carried down the stairs.
“Thanks for the help,” I heard Rusty say as we moved across the parking lot.
“It’s the least I could do,” came the rolling voice of Zain, one of his friends and a large bear, someone who would have no trouble lifting my trash bag. A few more moments past then I felt myself lifted into the air, followed by a landing on something soft and giving. I rolled for a moment, the trash in the bag bouncing around me, before I came to rest.
I let out a soft whimper as I heard the two men walking away, leaving me alone in the dumpster with all the other trash. I pulled myself a bit tighter and thought about working myself free. It would take some time, but I knew I could do it. A short time later I heard Rusty’s voice from above me.
“I’ll come collect you in the morning, or maybe Sunday morning. It’s a long weekend so there won’t be any pickup until Tuesday. You’ll be fine, right here with the rest of the trash,” his words faded as he walked away, leaving me alone in the dumpster.
I was trash, nothing but trash, and I loved it.