The Unbreakable Bag

It had started out innocently enough. They'd gotten a carbon nanofilm devkit at their hackerspace, and started to play with the remarkable material. It was advertised as being as cheap as plastic, but 100x stronger, and true enough, the opaque black film was nearly impossible to rip. Even cutting it was hard, as it liked to slip between the blades of scissors and flexed away from knives. You had to use a rotary blade on a hard surface or set up a nanozipper to walk up the sheet and cleanly split it.

After a few experiments with it, the roll of material had gone on a shelf, but he'd been thinking about it for weeks. 

Eventually, he got up the courage to try something. One night, he arrived at the space late, and got the rolls of material and the nanozipper and splicer out. First, he cut a few panels into a square roughly the size of a large bin liner. Next, he used the nanosplicer to reseal those edges, leaving only one edge open. Thinking a minute, he made a small incision in each side of the bag, to make sure air could get in. 

As he fluffed the bag in the air, it filled and floated down just like a regular trashbag would do. It looked just like any other bag, albeit it was a bit smoother and shinier. No one would notice it. 

He cleaned up the materials, and put the splicer in one pocket, and the zipper in his other, and exited the space. He turned and pulled his keys out of his pocket to lock the door, and turned with a start. Something had made a noise. He looked around, but there was no one there. Anyway, he was just leaving like a normal person - he just happened to be holding what looked like a trashbag. 

Satisfied that he was being paranoid, he headed down to the loading dock, where dozens of bags of trash were piled, waiting for pickup a few days later. Carefully, he lifted a few of them, and took a few steps into the pile. He arranged them around him, so that he had a nice soft bag under him, and a few squishy, heavy bags around him, nearly ready to topple down. 

He'd dreamed of doing this for years, becoming part of the trash. He'd actually done it once or twice in a big, regular bag, but it was so easy to rip out, he was desperate to try it inside the nanofilm. He'd play safe, of course, with the zipper in his pocket, but in this new bag, he could push and tear and thrash, and it would hold him inside. 

Getting excited, he fluffed the bag open once more, and then sat down inside it. 

Now it was time for his preparations. First, the gag. He popped a large black rubber ball into his mouth, and then wrapped a strip of the material he'd measured carefully around his neck and lower face, joining the ends behind his head. He fished out the splicer, and it walked up the plastic slowly, pulling the sides together until it was sealed around his face. He breathed through his nose, and felt the silky plastic conform to his mouth. He tried to spit out the ball, but it wasn't going anywhere. He tried to make noise, and a muffled "mmph" came out, but he knew that was only a matter of time.

The ball was soaked in something new he'd gotten for this game, "silent saliva". He already felt the warmth spreading down his throat and into his mouth. As the paralyzing agent hit his vocal chords, it numbed them and sent a tingle through his body. The numbing goo also gave a pleasant buzz, and his mouth felt amazing. He tried to speak again, and nothing came out. He tried to yell, but only exhaled. The effect would wear off almost immediately after the goo was washed out with water, but with the gag sealed in, he wasn't talking for a while. 

He took a moment to breathe. He was sitting in a supposedly indestructible trashbag, gagged, and ready to seal it shut, with only the nanozipper in his pocket to free him. He didn't want anyone to find him, so he'd gagged himself to ensure that he was quiet... and because he liked it. Trash shouldn't talk, and he was just going to be trash now. 

He got impulsive. Perhaps the buzz from the silent saliva was hitting, or maybe he was just really getting into it.

He stripped off his shirt and pants, sitting only in his underwear. He  found a reasonably clean bag, and tucked his clothes inside it. He sat back down in the bag, and looked up. He wanted the bag to be closed, to be part of the trash. His body felt amazing, and he felt like he was floating. The nanofilm against his skin felt like 1000 lovers touches. He pulled the open edge in, and set up the nanosplicer. 

Slowly, it started to walk it's way across the open edge of the bag, turning it into a smooth, joined surface. He laid back down into the bag, and watched one light disappear from view, then another, then another. It was almost shut now. 

Was he ready for this? His hand at his crotch answered for him.

Blackness. 

His eyes adjusted to the dark, as a low amber glow filtered through the sides of the bag. 

He'd done it. He was sealed in. 

He pushed and thrashed a bit, testing the limits of the bag. It stretched and pulled, but never tore. Never even close. Slowly, it returned to it's original shape. Lost in the fantasy of being trapped, he pushed himself to ecstasy, but not before deliberately slamming into the piles around him, causing bags to rain down on top of him. 

Finally, he peaked, and forced himself to wait through the initial urge to get out, as he languished in his situation. The buzz from the saliva was spreading. He might have used a bit too much, but it was pretty harmless in moderation, he just felt a little stoned, and very, very content. He was just trash. He was where he belonged. 

When he woke up, he had no idea what time it was, but the sounds around him made it apparent that he'd stayed too long. The elevator was running, which meant workers were arriving for the day. He didn't want to be stuck here, so he reached for the nanozipper.

The nanozipper...

Which was in his pants. 

Which were in another bag. 

The trash didn't yell. It didn't make a noise at all. From the top of the pile, you couldn't even see it moving underneath. It was just part of the trash now. Inside his black prison, he tried and tried to get out, to rip at the airholes, but nothing worked. He was really trapped.

Eventually someone would try to haul his bag away. Oh god, that was going to be embarrassing. It was Monday night... They put trash out on Wednesday right? Or was it Thursday. He was in here for a few days at least, but then someone would notice his heavy bag, and he could move around a bunch, but how would he explain how to get him out without speaking? The only nanozipper on the east coast was in his pants, somewhere in a bag in this giant pile of trash that he'd toppled over, and he couldn't talk. 

Trash can't talk. I've done it. I'm trash. I've really thrown myself away this time. 

Silent saliva has a side effect, he recalled, staring to feel quite high. At high doses it can make the user euphoric, and extremely suggestible. He certainly should probably panic more, but he just felt so good. 

He was trash. Just junk to be thrown away. His penis throbbed, hard again already, feeling like it was ready to burst. 

"I'm just trash. I belong here. This is my home. I put myself here. I deserve this" 

"Stop it. Don't think those things."

"I'm a trash slut. I love this. This is where I want to be. I sealed myself in here on purpose"

"No no no. It's the saliva. It's making me suggestible - i can't keep thinking these things"

"I can't keep thinking that my name is now trash. I don't have another name. I am trash. When they come, I'll be still. This is my home now. Keep me here. Just let my stay here. I'm your trash."

"No... they call it slave saliva. You've OD'd. Snap out of it. You're so stupid. You're worthless. You're just trash. You deserve this. You're stuck here anyway. You feel so good. Just enjoy it. oh god."

"I'm trash. I'm yours. If you find me, you can keep me - just promise you'll keep me sealed up in here."

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

04.04.13