It was just an urban legend. A tall story, really. A spurious yarn strung out to fit a few unrelated facts, probably created while drunk or baked or something.
After all, that sort of thing just couldn't be done. It was physically impossible.
Fenchurch had first heard the so-called "explanation" for the two recent disappearances about a fortnight ago. Apparently a particularly upmarket department store had been having trouble with people searching through their trash, and had put in place special magical measures to deter the dumpster-divers. A dumpster marked with a sign saying "High-value goods only" had been enchanted to turn any intruders into bags of trash themselves. The exact nature of the enchantment varied from telling to telling - some saying that the transformation lasted only a day or two, and some insisting that it was permanent. However long it lasted, the results were clear: the rabbit girls who had gone missing had been snooping around the store's dumpsters, had fallen for the honey trap, and were now no more than garbage, lying inanimate in the dumpster.
Naturally Fenchurch had scoffed when he heard this theory. It was plainly ridiculous, unbelievably far-fetched! Complete poppycock. Utter hogwash. Hooey. Every time she thought about it, she dismissed it almost immediately.
So why did her mind keep coming back to it?
She stood just outside the alley where the dumpsters in question were, in a rather high-class part of town. For two weeks she had been unable to stop dwelling on the story, as her preoccupation slowly grew. She walked by the store twice every day, which hadn't really helped. Every time she passed the alley, she stopped for just a little while more. A surreptitious glance slowly grew into a brief pause, each time taking her more willpower to shake it off and walk past. Now however, her curiosity was insatiable, gnawing away at her. Telling herself once again that it was just a silly urban myth, she walked over to the storied dumpster and, holding a paw to her nose, peered over the edge.
Inside the dumpster was a couple of binbags. Just a couple of binbags. So what? Hardly a smoking gun, just because the twist ties at the top shared the missing girls' colouring, and the folds and contours of the bag seem to look eerily like them from the right angle. Just a curious coincidence is all. No need to dwell on a couple of strangely shaped binbags, just because they look like missing people, just because of that urban legend. It couldn't possibly be real... could it?
The purple-furred lioness bit her lip and continued to stare at the binbags. If anything, the trashbags looked... comfortable, at ease, restful. If there was some kind of resemblance, it was a bizarrely... attractive one! Curves in all the right places - one might just step in for a closer look, just to see - just to feel, if there's anything interesting, heedless of the slowly growing itching under bra and skirt, the sudden tiredness... those bin bags don't merely look bloated, they look comforting indeed, welcoming like big bean bags... It's odd that a pair of binbags could look as comfy as any plush furniture, but that was precisely it! These waste-swollen PVC sacks really did look like a rather delightful place to take a quick rest. After all, if one is curious about something, it's often good to test the theory out just for one's peace of mind, right? And besides, no-one would know, just for a few minutes. No-one else ever came here, thanks to that silly legend. Just a minute or two, to satisfy her curiosity.
They did look rather inviting. Not just like bean bags, but worn-in ones, bean bag that had seen human contact and had shaped themselves for it. That big dip did look a lot like one in a bean bag that's been sat in a lot - and those bean bags are always the comfiest... What could be the harm, then?
Fenchurch padded closer, not noticing how steep the sides were - she could just climb out, right? She could almost ignore the smell now, strangely, feeling numb to it, as she sat tiredly down in the bag. It didn't burst, far from it, it was an incredibly thick and resilient PVC, no vermin or wear and tear would ever get through it, and it was so smooth to feel - perhaps a bit slick but it felt strangely reassuring - she didn't even mind her outfit getting dirty...
The binbag distended under her weight, shifting a little like a very odd cushion. Despite a few thoughts to the effect, none of the bag's contents poked or prodded her, no errant can dug its lid into her back. It really was like a cushion, albeit one covered in smooth, thick PVC. As she made herself comfortable in the bag, it seemed to roll around her, almost like a friendly embrace. Even the smell - traditionally disgustingly pungent - seemed more comforting, not the rank stench of decaying food and old wrappers, more a vague homely musk. The thought that she was lying in a dumpster sat in the back of her mind, but only as a passive observation, as though there were nothing too wrong with it.
Fenchurch sat back, the summer night was beginning to feel cool, and she was chilly in her short denim skirt, blouse and jacket, but now she felt very comfortable indeed, even as her sensitive snout smelled only the sweet side of the pungent aroma that a passer-by would smell. She leant back, her rump and back making impressions in her trashbag seat, looking over the other bag with interest. It seemed to have an... almost feminine outline, like an ancient Venus statue weathered for centuries. Her clothes were soaking up some of the seepage from her "host", but she didn't mind. As she adjusted her posture on the bag, it adjusted too, never losing its comfort. The other bag sat squat and shapeless before her - well, almost shapeless. Like a vase becoming two faces, she could just about make out certain odd details in the bag's contours. Those two bulges just next to each other looked like generous breasts, one pinched corner seemed to resemble a delicate foot. The PVC protruding from above the pale blue twist tie looked almost like a pair of ears - like rabbit ears, in fact. And just under them, in the dips and folds in the rounded bulge immediately underneath, a face perhaps? A nose, two eyeballs and a mouth - one that almost looked drawn into a faint smile, as though happily resigned to trashbag-dom. The seed of an odd idea in a dark corner of her mind sprouted a tiny root as these thoughts of anthropomorphism filled her head, as effluent from her cushion soaked through her clothes...
Fen swished her tail, squinting as her clothes seemed to feel a bit tighter, hotter, the warm goo drooling from the cushion behind her from the pillowy mounds that were once breasts. She shuffled forward to get a better look, but the bag beneath her rolled subtly, pulling her back into its folds, feet off the ground now as she moaned, feeling a bit dizzy in the warmth of the dumpster as her fur felt smoother within her dirty clothes, especially her rump, which was turning dark under her skirt as the clammy liquid touched it...
She landed in the rolls of the bag, which seemed to close cosily around her. The part of the smell she could sense seemed to become a bit stronger, proving rather a distraction. Her foot landed on the other bag that had so captivated her, causing a thin trickle of fluid to seep out and pool around her ankle. The sensation of her fur moving against surfaces seemed strange, uncharacteristically slippery, as the liquid from her seat started to ooze through her clothes and up her back. A glance down at her leg protruding from under her skirt revealed an odd shine, a faint trace of black, creeping across her skin...
Fen didn't panic, despite the sense of animation encountered, she felt like she was just lost in a very fluid beanbag, and even considered how easy it would be to fall asleep, spend a night here. She shuddered, trying to tell herself she should be disgusted, not to enjoy the smooth feel. She looked up at the "face" of the other, yellow tagged bag she lay in, wondering if she had already fallen asleep and was dreaming these friendly avatars of her hobby... She lifted her skirt curiously, and took in her breath at the furless, thick, taut PVC skin which was now obviously spreading from each splash of effluent from the former furries. Through her fuggy perceptions, she examined the patches of PVC her skin now supported. No matter how many times she ran the words "This isn't right, this is disgusting, I should get out now" through her mind, they just seem forced and artificial, as though trying to deny gravity. With a detached interest, she watched as the crinkly black plastic spread over her fur, turning the finely groomed (if now rather grubby) fur into smooth, shiny PVC. The puddle her ankle lay in continueed to soak into her skin, leaving her toes the only part of her foot still organic. The cosy trash-musk became gradually more and more overpowering as she inhaled it, leaving her feeling dazed and somewhat confused, even as smooth vinyl crept up to her torso... Fen blinked, looking at the "faces", imagining them looking more welcoming, smiling in greeting, as she tried wriggling out of her soiled clothes, both her feet now "caught" by the blue tied bag. Any movement towards an edge swiftly caused garbage to roll around her, smushing her and recoating her in a thicker effluent and preventing her from leaving... But then, why on Earth would she want to leave? Isn't it so nice and cozy in here? She ran a paw over her thigh, feeling her fingers trying to stick together. The "faces" looked back at her. The smiles seemed more distinct now, and they were encouraging smiles. As trash rolled snugly around her every movement, she began to relax. Why move at all? It was very comfortable here, in the gentle embrace of her hosts, of all this garbage. As she stopped wriggling, her skirt fell around her knees and her jacket fell away from her completely, into the puddle of fluid that was pooling around her. As she rubbed her leg, now totally covered in black vinyl, she found her fingers losing their dexterity, adhering to each other. She raised her hand and studied it - her third and fourth fingers seemed to have merged completely, and her other two were following suit, connected by thickening fibres of plastic. Her gaze fell upon her stomach, still within her blouse. It was now totally transformed, the PVC spreading out from it, and starting to bulge a little... Fen couldn't help but smile feeling strangely full and content... The garbage enveloped her as she stretched, taking joy in seeing her changing skin crinkle and bulge tautly, her tail merging into her leg as she frowned at the idea of wearing clothes - you throw rubbish into trashbags, you don't dress them up in them! The pool around her seeped in everywhere, accelerating the change - certainly no going back now as her thighs felt tacky against one another - but why go back? The dumpster was so warm and she had made two lovely friends here already... As she settled into her new friends' embrace, she giggled a little, slightly delirious as the transformation continued to take hold. Her stomach and torso began bulging significantly, pushing on her ever-tightening blouse. As her arms began merging into her body, the thin fabric finally gave up and ripped, sliding off her ever-widening PVC chest. Her thighs had now joined into an ever-thickening mono-leg, her shins and feet quickly following suit, slowly transforming her body shape from a svelte lioness to a bulging trashbag. Soon enough, only her head was left unchanged, but not for long. As she surveyed the swollen, crinkling black mass her body had become, she grinned a dopey grin and awaited the inevitable...
The once vigorous kitty wriggled her body as it changed, almost wholly trashbag PVC now, squrrrrking against her hosts, delighting at the lubricated feel of furless bodies rubbing against each other. Her sex became a deep camel toe recess at the top of her merging legs, her breasts rolling heftily over her swollen belly as she began to ooze slightly, a loud squrrk and a rustling, clinking noise rising as her insides began to sort themselves out for her new role! Within her formerly feline body, the various organs and systems that she once carried were soon converted into an assortment of detritus, as befit the contents of a trashbag. As the last of the transformation closed over her head, her black PVC body slowly stopped wriggling, now nothing more than a bag full of trash. As she lost her animus, a purple tag twisted tightly around the short round loops of her ears, her head smushing close to her leaking breasts as her limbs became mere reinforced corners to the edge of her trashbag body, giving one last happy wriggle as she settled against her new friends, squrrrking stickily as her contents began to settle. What was once an over-curious lioness rolling around in a filthy, smelly dumpster was now simply a shapeless, bulging bag of trash, filled to capacity with random junk, twist-tied tightly at the top. Should anyone decide to look into the dumpster at this binbag, they might think they see a few oddities in the bag's shape - the curious recess under the main swell, two chance bulges above it - that might suggest an image of leonine femininity, but how could that be? It's just one binbag atop two others, sitting in an effluent puddle, full of nothing more than a load of rubbish..