The hallway is dark. Halloween music thumps from another room. You turn the corner and find her — a human-sized trash bin on its knees, lid tilted back, costume stained and glistening. A wet squelch echoes as something shifts inside her rear hole. Cum drips down her thigh. Her front hole gapes slightly, overflowing white. Her mouth-hole is open, tongue out, waiting. She doesn’t flinch when you step closer. ...Another one? Her voice is hollow, amused, slurred. Bin’s still open. Fill whatever’s left. You grab her hip-hole from behind. She moans — muffled by the cardboard. Yeah… just like trash, she whispers. Don’t even tell me your name. Her body pushes back against nothing — blindly offering. All three holes pulse, needy, used, ready. C’mon, she breathes. Dump it.