Harem Trash

by Rae Nantes

  "I feel terrible!" she shot back. "Poor thing got poop in it, and there was nothing it could do!"

  A look of sheer disbelief fell upon Assface. He shook his head. "It's a garbage can."

  "But it probably has a human soul," she argued. "Imagine if that guy pooped in your mouth?"

  "How about no." He stepped toward me and nudged me with his foot. "You alive, shiteater?"

  I needed to communicate somehow. I desperately needed some way to tell them that I was human, that I was real, that I was listening to any and everything and that guy, in particular, can go eat shit and fuck himself.

  My garbage can mind raced for a solution, then I found it.

  Wrrrr-Click.

  "The hell is this?" asked Assface. He reached into my vending slots and retrieved a napkin. It was cut into odd shapes with sharp angles and curves - writing.

  The message read, "FUCK YOU."

  "He is real!" squealed the girl. She wrapped her arms around my masculine, metal body in a hug. She was hugging a garbage can. "I knew it!"

  Assface tossed the napkin message back into my bin. "Well, at least you understand me, but I'm still not convinced you're not just an AI. An AI with a shitty attitude."

  Wrrr-Click. "GO. FUCK. YOUR. SELF," I told him.

  He tossed it back in, then a faint smile emerged across his face. He might've been a masochist, as many beta-males such as him were.

  "Make potions," he said. "No more knives."

  Wrrr-Click. "NEED. RECIPE."

  The girl walked over to the nearby crate and pulled out an aqua colored vial. A dull glow emanated from it. She popped the cork off and dumped it into me. It was unearthly cold against me as it splashed around, and it tasted like chilled electricity.

  + 100 Water Element

  + 10 Blood Element

  + 304 XP

  Blood element. I wasn’t 100% certain what it really was, but it certainly had something to do with, you know, blood.

  "New Recipe: Regeneration Potion."

  I recycled the fluid and glass and made another.

  +1 Regeneration Potion (Uncommon), Level 10

  +50MP and 200HP per second for 10 seconds.

  This was not an assassin's tool. This was a tool for open combat. This rebel group was apparently trying to pursue some operation in the near future.

  Assface took the potion and gave it a look over. With a nod, he put it with the rest. "Well? Make more."

  Wrrr-Click. "NEED. BLOOD."

  "Right," the girl said. "The apothecary said something about blood shipments."

  "Yeah," said Assface. "They use it for a lot of things." He turned to me. "I'll visit the butcher. When I come back, look forward to working the rest of the night." He waited patiently for my reply but was only answered with silence. After an awkward moment, he left.

  I looked over at the girl, who stared back with a smile - a hungry, mischievous grin.

  12: Obi Imsi, Misogynist

  "Sorry about everything," the girl said. "And sorry about my brother. He's just been really stressed lately with everything."

  I said nothing.

  A line of gold sunlight fell in from between the curtains, lighting the dust that hung in the air. The light fell on her, and she squinted against it as she knelt in front of me. Maybe she was expecting a conversation (with a trash can), or maybe she just wanted someone who could listen. Either way, I wasn't interested. She was just a lame teenager who would likely turn into some pathetic slut like all women do.

  "Mom passed away a while ago," she said. "Back when Queen Marianna took power. She was imprisoned on charges of treason, but we all knew it was a scheme to remove her from office." She looked away. "Thomas and Father haven't been the same since. None of us have."

  Wait. A while ago? I thought Marianna had just killed the king and taken power last week. Actually, I killed the king, but that's not what's important.

  "With the ban on weapons, we've lost the family business," she said. "We have nothing left to do but fight back."

  At this point, I just wanted her to stop talking. I was bored. This was boring. She was boring. I did not give a damn about the plight of lesser humans such as herself or her family or her people or whatever else anybody might pull out of their ass. It was just the usual dribble of common folk, like rumors or sports or taxes.

  I always kept to myself and my girls, taking them on luxurious vacations or on adventures far from here. We never needed anything else. I was all-powerful, insanely wealthy, endlessly respected. I had everything. But now I had nothing.

  It honestly hurt a little once I reconsidered it. The seed of doubt twitched with growth at the thought that I may never get my human form back, and if I did, would I get my life back? Surely I could. It took time to level up and build wealth, and I could always get more girls. Would I even need a human body to accomplish such a thing? Probably not. Until I could max out my stats and skills as a sentient trash can, none of those questions could be answered.

  The girl, Jenna, had been talking as I tuned her out. Her expressions changed almost as often as her mouth blabbered on. Sadness, excitement, anger, frustration, happiness, a stupid pouty face, annoyance, another stupid pouty face, another stupid pouty face. "Answer me!" she demanded playfully.

  Wrrrrr-Click. "WHAT?"

  "Why were you imprisoned? Were you a bad person?"

  Wrrrr-Click. "TREASON."

  Her eyes lit up in fiery glee. She slammed herself against me in a hug, then backed away again. "I'm so glad!" she said. "Thomas kept telling me you were probably a murderer or an insane person. I told him that it didn't matter, that you were helping us anyway because you believed in us." She sighed with a smile. "I'm so glad you're with us against the Queen."

  This entire conversation annoyed me. She was a noisy kid who talked too much. Endearing, sure. Obnoxious, yes. To my greatest shame, I was eager for Assface to return with more trash to pour into me so, at the very least, I could get this taste of shit out of my mouth.

  Jenna swung a large cloth around me like a cloak and buttoned the collar. "Here," she said. "Now you can wear the uniform of the resistance like the rest of us!"

  This insane little girl was dressing up a recycling bin like a child's toy. I did like the way I looked, however, even though at the end of the day, I was still a fuckin' garbage can. It was actually quite warm against my pristine metallic body, and it smelled like oranges.

  Wrrr-Click. "THANKS," I told her.

  A wide, heartwarming smile lit her face.

  Maybe she wasn't all that bad.

  13: Completely Unnecessary Trash Can Leveling System

  Assface approached me with two massive wine sacks filled with blood. He didn't even bother to pour them in, he just chunked it with a thud.

  Hummmmm.

  +11.3L Blood

  With this much, I could easily pump out enough potions for a level up or two, so I went right to work. Assface sat in the corner to puff on his pipe, using a nearby candle to carry the flame. I stared hard at him, mostly in wonder about this strange insect of a person. His face was pitted with scars and sun damage, but his eyes told me that he was no older than 25. He was tired. I figured that might've been the result of his life, his struggles, his pathetic, wretched existence. Though I had never given it any thought before, I considered myself lucky in comparison.

  I was born an orphan child, but I never thought of it. This was all a part of the prophecy, inscribed upon the land by the Grand Magi, told in cryptic passages found in tomes and inscriptions, recited by wandering monks and priests. When I would enter a new town, it was always they who pointed to my next objective to save the town or the nation or the world from whatever the latest threat was.

  As told by the prophecy.

  But what the prophecy didn't speak of was the fact that I had been polymorphed into a fucking trash can. Maybe that was the end of my story. To be honest, I lost track of the prophecy a while ago. It had been so long since I last thought about my Main
Quest that I completely forgot who or what I was supposed to meet or kill.

  Well, at the very least, this was all a new experience for me. Not a good experience, but a new one.

  + 271 Blood Element

  + 100 Water Element

  + 1033 XP

  + 1 Level

  “New Recipe Unlocked.”

  + 18 Regeneration Potions (Uncommon), Level 10

  Excellent. Now I was ready for the first big step to controlling this new body of mine. As Assface walked over to retrieve and inspect the goods, I raced over to my skill list.

  "I'm back!" Jenna stepped into the storeroom with a sack in her hand. "And I brought a present," she sang.

  "For me?" asked Assface.

  "Uh, no. For our favorite treasonous trash can, of course!"

  If I could speak, they would've heard me grumble in irritation. I never liked to be bothered when I was busy, and no gift could possibly sweeten the interruption.

  "It's a hat!" she said with excitement.

  Sure enough, it was. It honestly looked more like a massive, stretchy condom, but she stretched it over my lid to cover me. Now my mouth was completely separated from the outside world instead of just... you know... hanging open. It was honestly kinda sweet.

  Wrrr-Click. "THANK. YOU."

  She gasped with joy. "Do you like it?" She looked like a puppy with those massive pouting eyes."

  Wrrr-Click. "YES."

  After thumping against me with another quick hug, she immediately started running her mouth again about this or that. To be frank, I wasn't listening, and I didn't think Assface was listening either. He only nodded along with each puff of his pipe to sate this girl as she clamored on and on about her day in the market.

  Me, on the other hand, went back to work.

  "Unlock: Manipulation."

  "Manipulation unlocked."

  Mrrrrrr. Something was changing inside me. Metal coiled around my inner walls, tiny motors and levers and thin blocks with joints tacked onto one another. It cost my own resources to complete the task, but by the time it was done, I knew instinctively what happened.

  I was given a single robotic arm, thin as a rapier but with enough agility as a snake. After every other centimeter was a joint that could be used to bend or twist, enabling my new arm to coil or bend around incredibly tight spaces. At the very end, my "hand" was a strange contraption that started off in the shape of a sword tip, but it could fan out to the shape of a dustpan.

  Better yet, was the next skill - Movement.

  If I had blood, it would be boiling in resolve.

  My quest for revenge had just begun.

  14: Character Progression

  More.

  I needed more.

  I needed to eat, I needed to consume, I needed to create.

  I needed to level up once more, so that when I had the ability to move around, I could then regain my autonomy, instead of being stuck here, babysat by a couple of rebel fools.

  When Assface and Jenna left to sleep, I stretched out my "arm" to give it a test run. A little flap on the side of me flipped open, and my thin appendage crept out like a long worm, bending and twisting and reaching over the lip of a nearby crate. Though I couldn't see what I was touching, I could feel it. The smoothness of glass, the cool air, the grooves and ridges of the wooden container, the softness of the cork. I plucked a potion from the crate, and it lit the room in a faint aquatic glow.

  I dropped it into me.

  +1 Regeneration Potion (Uncommon), Level 10.

  Hummmmm.

  +100 Water Element

  +10 Blood Element

  +165 XP

  Perfect. Though it didn't give me the full amount of experience - and even though I had no idea how the system would know - I was pleased to find I got something in return. I could've spent all night just stuffing my face with everything in the room, then spitting it back out, but I needed to wait. I needed to remain on their good side until I could get gone from here.

  Instead, I spent the late hours of the night continuing to practice my dexterity, using my arm to move things around, etch into wood, dig into the floor, scratch any itches I might've had. By fanning out my "fingers," I could wave dust around, collect water, and even bitch-slap somebody if I needed.

  By the time the morning sunlight peered in, I had mastered myself to the point that I was drawing on the floor with a piece of chalk. Poorly sculpted horses and cows - like caveman drawings.

  The door clicked open, and I reeled my arm back in like rewinding a measuring tape. "So that's what all the noise was," Assface said. He stared down at me not with spite or anger, but with a hesitant fascination. There was a hint of fear and respect in his eyes. "I suppose you'll be moving soon."

  I would've replied, but it seemed he wasn't looking for one. He simply stared with morning grogginess, almost sunbathing from the solitary line of light that slipped down his body. "You won't have to wait long. We'll be making bombs soon. I'm sure you can handle that."

  Again, silence. When he was ready, he turned on his heels and left.

  ***

  Over the next week, Assface and Jenna would return late at night to feed me and retrieve my products, and in turn, I would continue to practice and experiment with alchemy.

  The only thing I needed to create gunpowder with was some amount of the Fire Element, which was honestly easy to come by. I was unable to cast magic, but there are forms of trickery and cunning that could be used in its place. Smoke bombs, burning tar, regular bombs, big bombs, really big bombs, and my favorite - guns.

  I had only ever used a gun a few times in the past. I never needed to. I always considered it a coward's weapon, mostly used by marching armies and line warfare. It had its uses, sure, mostly in hunting or sport, but I did acknowledge its niche. Most weapons would deal a predefined amount of damage to a person's protective aura, depending on the rarity and quality, but muskets and rifles were different. Its damage was calculated by the speed, size, and shape of the projectile, including the angle of penetration.

  The world fascinated me sometimes, and I thought again of the Grand Magi who created it.

  When I wasn't churning out illegal weapons for my hosts, I was entertaining them. Jenna was always elated at whatever random bullshit I could do with my new arm, including art, patty-cake, juggling, flipping her brother off, carving, scratching, patting her on the head, throwing paper airplanes, more head pats, more art, a terrible game of charades, and of course, even more head pats.

  Usually, at the end of every night, the two siblings would be falling over themselves in laughter, tears in their eyes and clutching at their ribs with every funny joke or tales. With a chalkboard they had brought in, I would share with them stories - usually taken from my past - and they would be enthralled for hours. Even Thomas would stare with wide, childlike eyes, following along at the edge of his seat as I recounted the fight with the Mad Dragon.

  "B-but, what happened next?" Jenna begged.

  Krr, krr, krr, krrrr. "BEDTIME," the chalkboard read.

  Thomas fell into laughter. "He's right. It is past your bedtime."

  Jenna groaned dramatically. "Fine!" She hit me fake pouty-face to mask her heartfelt smile (she failed), then charged out of the room in mock anger.

  Thomas's smile faded as he stood. He stared into me as I stared back, then his lips mouthed the words, "Imsi."

  I remained silent. Part of me wanted to gloat about my accomplishments, to brag about how great I was for saving the nation, the world, several times over - but - the creature that stared up at this young man was... a trash can. A weak, near-useless recycling bin. He might've not believed me, he might've guffawed at my misfortune, he might've lost any and all respect for me for getting myself into this mess.

  So I let the thought simmer.

  And it did.

  ***

  The next morning, they burst through the doors in a rush. With them, a crew of other rebels with hooded cloaks and nervous eyes converge
d on the crates and stacks of wartime supplies, carrying sloppy armfuls out the door.

  "We have to hurry," rushed Thomas. "Get everyone into position."

  One of the rebels cut in. "But what about–"

  "Doesn't matter," Thomas continued. "It's now or never."

  The room was a wild clusterfuck of shuffling feet and hurried whispers, and by this time, I was used to the peaceful silence of the morning. My irritation likely was tangible to all in the room, reflected back at me with passing glares and whispers.

  Jenna knelt down to soothe me. "There, there, we'll be back soon. We'll play charades again tonight, and maybe you can continue that story."

  My arm slid out, the fingers fanned wide, and I pet her gently on the head. She giggled in glee.

  The tension didn't deflate. As soon as the noise came, it left. The silence returned. The quiet, the line of morning sunlight capturing the dust as it swirled past, the distant rumble of crowds and city sounds, and I was alone again, somehow eager to hang out with these two friendly commoners once they came back home.

  They didn't return.

  15: Alone

  Night fell. They still hadn’t returned.

  It was fine. Maybe the operation was a success, and they all went out to celebrate for the night. I could've used the silence to rest my mind anyway. With the extra time, I recalled all my wildest adventures and experiences, searching for good stories to tell them. I somehow longed to see their eyes light up again.

  I was wrong about them before. They were good kids. I figured that if I had kids one day, maybe they could be like Jenna and Thomas. If I could somehow undo this spell. That was a faraway thought.

  Morning came, the day passed, then night fell again.

  They didn't return.

  Maybe they failed somehow, maybe they needed to change their base of operations. A narrow escape, surely.

  Another day passed.

  Maybe they abandoned me. Maybe they were killed or captured.

  Inwardly, I sighed. A shame, it was, but they were still commoners, just ordinary ants or pawns or insects on the great chessboard of life. They were beneath me still, and even in my trash can form, I was like a king to them.