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About Deviant Ryan Tuchow (wedgie)Male/Canada Recent Activity
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*she held in the pained wails. Her tears continued to flow as she felt the pain. It was amazing how someone can have complete control over you by just yanking up your underwear. How she can become so helpless and weak unable to help herself. She mentally kicked herself but knew she had no choice*

Life: it feels like saws, liking its trying to split me in half. And I like it. It feels g-great.

*she chokes out the words and suddenly her face grew a look of terror. She began to cross her legs and bite her lip. Life always had a weak bladder even as a kid. And now was the worst time for this to happen. She prayed to be let go. She felt like she could puke, she felt absolutely terrible.*

"That's a lot better Life. Much better. The saws thing is a little cliché sure, but then again, it is apt."

Dean lowers the back of her underwear to the top of Life's pants. He keeps his grip on both the front and the back, but allows a certain amount of slack so the underwear is no longer as taut and tight up and against the back of her as it had been. The underwear was still a clump, an solid lump of animal covered cotton that filled her butt. She leaned backward as she felt the front of her underwear as it tore against her with greater strength. And it only took her a second to deduce that the front of her underwear wasn't being pulled harder, she was just able to appreciate the feeling of the underwear poking at the most intimate part of her body, now that the rest of the underwear wasn't contributing to the spearing pulses of pain that racked her nether regions with the intensity that only bullies like Stacy and Terrance, who did this for a living, could muster.

Dean yanked up on the front of her panties, making sure to keep the back loose. Life leapt to her tip-toes, her entire body curving backwards in the shape of a half-moon as she was forced to feel the underwear attack her. Her head leaned back toward Dean, and it bent so far that Dean could see Life's eyes as they stared up at him for a brief moment. Life closed them and her mouth opened, in a slow process one might see if an ancient door were opening for the first time in ages.

Dean hauled the front of her panties to het breasts, his fist clenched so hard on the underwear that his white knuckles were clearly visible to anyone who might have been looking. But no one was. It was still just the two of them. And Life had more important things to worry about then the color of Dean's knuckles.

Dean made sure to keep the underwear where it was for a few seconds, thinking at first that he could maybe count to ten but then thinking it would be better if he just did it all by feel.

He slowly lowered the front of her underwear so that the waistband was again at the top of her pants. Almost as it had been before the wedgie. But this pair of underwear wouldn't be the same, and Dean didn't think Life would ever be able to wear them again.

Without pausing he began to lift the back of the underwear so that the slack given on the front transferred to the part of the fabric that made up the rest of her panties and it began to slide from the front to the back, dragging itself across Life's assaulted body, rubbing on her life a towel being used to forcefully dry an area that had gotten too wet after a day at the beach.

Dean bet that Life wished she was at a beach right now.

He raised the back of her underwear up until the waistband touched her mid-back, he tugged it with his one hand until it passed her bra-strap. Life began to lean the other way, her body curling forward and her hands which had been feeling at her crotch, now moved to her butt-cheeks. She shook her butt from side to side and Dean could only laugh at this.

He listened to her wailing in pain and could only smile. At least he knew she was feeling the wedgies. She was still on her tip -toes and stayed there even when he lowered the back of her underwear again.

"If I had to guess this isn't your first time getting a squeaky-clean wedgie, is it? Don't lie, you can tell me."

He did not hesitate before beginning to pull the front of her underwear, he had not finished lowering the back all the way down so Life had less time to prepare herself for the change in the sensation that transposed suddenly from the feeling of sitting on the width of a wooden plank, to having that plank thrown with maximum force at the front of her body.

He reached her breasts again with the front of her underwear and instantly began lowering it back.down, and at the same time, began to pull from the back, he started to speed this up, lowering and raising the underwear like a never ending ferris-wheel that constantly spun without stopping giving Life the exact same experience as she reached any part of the wedgie. It was pain all the way around the ride. And the wheel wasn't stopping anytime to let anyone else on.

He moved his arms up and down, jerking her body forward and back as he felt like it, moving the underwear, which was a snake that slid back and forth, his muscles constantly flexing and relaxing, pumping up and down as he alternated which side he was pulling making sure he didn't stop, but knowing he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. He wondered what Life was feeling right now.

Life: this is definitely not my first squeaky clean, I had a bully who kept one going for a solid hour straight, after a 2 hour hanging wedgie.

*she covers her mouth wondering why she told him that. Now she was screwed, the assault on her lower body was terrible, he was going to be a new Terrance, she knew it. She was prepared to spend full days with her body full of cotton. She could already feel the long hours of hanging wedgies, why did her dad have to buy her such stretchy panties, they took forever to rip usually. Also why did he have to write her name on the tag, he babied her and she hated it. It was because of him this was happening. Because he wouldn't let her wear mature underwear, or easily rippable pairs. But he didn't know what she went through, she had gotten a job to afford to replace all the missing panties. She was working at a fast food restaurant called the Chicken Shack, she was dressed like a chicken and handed out coupons. It was digrading but it was a paycheck. Besides she knew she this pair was toast, she just begged for the pain to end.*

Dean paused for the briefest moment. Why was she telling him all this. An hour long squeaky clean after a hanging wedgie. Underwear wouldn't last for two hours holding a persons weight, not unless they were incredibly durable. But if it was true then just imagine the sort of pain she must have felt.

But he didn't want to imagine her pain. His pain was what mattered. She was merely a means to deal with it, a tool to be used, not someone to be pitied or empathized with. Her dad was a jerk and Dean was going to do what he could to vent his frustrations.

He let go of the front of her underwear so he could grab the back with both hands. His feet slid along the linoleum as he readied himself to inflict more pain on this bratty girl who must have things so much better than he did.

He thought to himself as he flexed his fingers against Life's panties that were now far baggier and more stretched out than they had ever been before, that if Life's dad found her like this he would comfort her and console her. Tell her everything was all right and it wouldn't happen again. Deans father had walked in on his sister giving him a wedgie once. He remembered it with a searing pain as if the memory had a fist and was able to punch him right in the heart.

*It was then that Life heard the sound of heels hitting the hard floor. She gulped knowing exactly who was in those heels. It was then that a blonde girl with a volleyball uniform walked over to them*

Girl: well well well, looks like I finally found out why you missed our appointment dork.

Life: Stacy I'm sorry, I.... Ow, I tried to show up.

Stacy: I don't want to hear it dork, once you're done here it's time to visit the porcelain bath.

Life: no please! I'm sorry I was on my way, I promise I'll show up on time tomorrow.

Stacy: too late.

*she looks at Dean*

Stacy: hey you want help torturing this loser? I'd be glad to help.

Life: no he.....

*Life whimpered and cries out as Stacy knees her in the stomach*

Stacy: no one asked you geek!

Dean stared at the girl Life identified as Stacy. Attractive and tough, definitely appealing. But at the same time, she reminded him of his sister.

Despite that he was maybe willing to work with her. Wedgies were one of.those rare things where you could never have too many too many hands involved. Four hands would be better than two. And if he did end up getting caught he could put it all on Stacy. It seemed like the two were acquainted in some way; from the way they spoke it sounded like Stacy bullied Life regularly. Maybe she would know some good techniques to make the little nerd really suffer. And if someone did walk in on them when they were at the "porcelain bath" whatever that was, he could always say he had come to rescue life from a bully.

He didn't let up on the underwear, but shifted his hands so that they held the back of her panties near her left side, leaving the right part open, and causing Life to lean, almost as if she were falling through space, toward Dean.

Stacy knew what this guy was doing. He was offering her an invitation, and it would be rude to decline. She grabbed onto the side of the underwear that hung untouched, as if begging to be pulled. And Stacy gripped it with her long fingers which served her well in volleyball and served her even better as someone who gave wedgies.

She joisted the underwear up, wanting to prove to this other bully that she could hold her own when it came to picking on losers, and Lifes body slid the other way in the air, losing her balance, and her feet which scarab led for footing, dragged along as the two began to move forward in step toward wherever Stacy had in mind.

"I'm Dean, by the way. What do you usually do with this loser?"

Stacy: I love shoving her head in the toilet as I launch up her panties. She's passed out a few times from the swirlies because she's weak.

*Life was in complete misery and utter agony. Her legs were numb, he lower body killed and she trembled with fear. She didn't want another one of Stacy's swirlies. The girl was brutal, Life was always left gasping for air and had gone to the hospital once because of her. Her lungs grew worse the more she was forced in the gross toilets. Life whimpered and cried severely*

Dean wasn't a big fan of swirlies and he wasn't too sure what he thought about sending someone to the hospital; that sounded like the easiest and quickest way to get caught. How did Stacy even get away with bullying Life if she had needed medical attention? He could imagine the hospital visit.

"Well sir, your daughter had a lot of water in her lungs, her face was soaked when she came in. Her underwear was also lodged up her butt."

"Why thank you doctor, we'll be going now."

"But wait, hoe did it happen?"

"No idea doctor. Shall we just chalk it up to girls being girls? Maybe by daughter decided to go for a swim, would that be so outrageous?"

Well when you put it like...Dean laughed aloud, unable to hold in his amusement at the thought that something like that must have actually happened for Stacy yo not be in jail right now. She must have Life scared pretty bad.

They walked almost in step, forcing both sides of Life's stretched out panties up her butt as they walked to the nearest bathroom. The underwear slid back and forth depending on who was pulling harder at any given moment, the panties moving back and forth along her crack, the fabric lodging itself into her.

Dean wasn't too sure about what Stacy had planned. He had no interest in going into the girls bathroom. Stacy might be an incredibly lucky person but he couldn't be sure that if he went in there some other girl wouldn't walk in. Some girl who wasn't as...oddly quiet about what happened to her as Life was.

And then he came up with another idea that might please Stacy and would definitely embarrass Life in a way she would never forget. And when this public display was over her father would know what happened to his daughter and he might not think himself so great then.

"Hey Stacy, how about we don't give this nerd a swirly. She gets those pretty often. How about we take her to the flagpole. I bet she'd like that!"

*Lifes eyes grew as large as baseballs*

Life: no. Please don't do that I beg you. I'll do anything else but please not the flagpole.

*Her eyes streamed tears as she shook tremendously. She absolutely hated flagpole wedgies for many reasons. For one the pain was unreal it was an overwhelming constant pressure. Secondly it was almost impossible to get out of unless the panties rip or someone nice enough comes along and helps her down. It was also incredibly humiliating to be up there. But the worst part was she was scared of heights. Being up there always made her sick feeling.*

Stacy: that sounds absolutely perfect. And I think there's something else that might help embarrass her.

*she adjusts her grip and with one hand quickly yanks down Lifes pants. She yelps and blushes deeper as her hands shoot to the front of her body to cover her crotch. Stacy laughs as she returns her grip. Life begins to whimper and cries out when Stacy roughly kicks the back of her leg. Life cried harder as she felt the pain of the forming bruise.*

*She knew resisting was useless it wouldn't stop them. She felt deep pain, she missed Arrow, her only friend had moved away, Life was completely alone. Part of her wished the man torturing her right now a weird way, but she didn't want to think about that. Right now she just slumped as her body was dragged nearer to the dreaded flagpole. She knew after this she'd never make any friends. She sighed sadly trying to fight off the endless stream of tears.*

Dean and Stacy quickly got a feel for the others movements, strength and endurance as they walked down the hall with Life hanging between them, her underwear completely visible now that Stacy had removed her skirt. Anyone coming out of a classroom now would have seen the underwear, a thin string that displayed her butt while digging into her. A lot of people would want their body showed off in such a way, Dean thought,. but they probably wouldn't want to have their underwear filling their butt, wedged tight and deep into them. Then again, some of the very vain might do it if you told then it would make them look good. They'd probably just remind themselves that there was no gain without any pain.

Dean didn't catch the irony in the fact that he was able to acknowledge that it was a twisted soul that would remain unsatisfied if it needed, (or at least thought (thought that it was necessary) pain to get any sort of lasting and fulfilling gain

They carried Life toward the doors that would lead the three of them outside. He could hear her heels clicking along the floor with every laboured step. She let Dean carry most of Life’s weight, giving the occasional tug which threatened to overbalance all three of them when Dean wasn’t ready for the surprise shift in weight.

Every step Stacy took seemed to be calculated for the specific purpose of seeming alluring. Her hips swayed, and she managed to look both dangerous and sexy. He wondered for a second how long it took for her to master that sort of walk. He could recall seeing Stacy walk down the halls, heads hadn’t turned to follow her, because they were always already focused on her. Dean k new her type and as he thought about it, she was a lot more like his sister then he maybe at first wanted to admit. The type of girl that needed people looking at her. And when they weren’t looking at her, Stacy wanted people thinking about her. She wanted to be the center of someone’s world. Maybe that why she bullied Life with such sadistic cruelty. Why she didn’t just give quick pulls to a person’s underwear but why, when she pulled, she pulled to rip the panties every time. Why she also wanted to give swirlies, something which was definitely far more dangerous than wedgies. She wanted the power.

It made sense then that she even planned Life’s daily schedule. She tells Life she has to meet her at certain times, for certain punishments. She wants to be in complete control and have people revolve around her as if she were the sun, possessed of such a strong orbit that the planets who were far less bright than she was, could only move around her and never deviate from their course.

Dean took one hand off Life’s underwear so he could push open one of the doors to the outside. With every step the three of them took, Dean could feel Life struggle harder in her underwear. She swung between Stacy and Dean, her hands flailing about. She went as far as to try to grab Stacy’s hands. Stacy kicked out, and her foot connected with the back of Life’s leg again. Stacy giggled, probably imagining how that bruise might look near the other one that was already forming. She checked her grip on Life’s underwear before pulling back on the fabric, wedging it even tighter, willing it to punish Life for what trying to touch her.

“That’s a bad nerd. Bad nerd. Losers like you need to be punished. And the entire school is going to see your punishment. Everyone will know just how big a loser you are, and you know what? They’ll all laugh at you. When they see the new flag, your stupid animal undies, waving in the wind with you attached to them then you can bet you’ll be getting a lot more wedgies. And that’s just what you deserve.”

The flagpole wasn’t far from the doors, they walked with Life, who hung limp between them, every step causing the underwear to jab at her, bunching up in her crotch and butt, bouncing against her skin. Life wasn’t walking so much as she was being lifted and dragged by Dean and Stacy who kept Life’s feet from touching the ground. As a result, her panties had no choice but to keep rising as gravity tried to force Life back to earth. The underwear was stretched to the bottom of her neck, but neither of the bullies were particularly worried about stretching it anymore. Now they were focused on the flagpole, and showing off their work to the entire school.

“This nerd hasn’t been to the flagpole in a long time,” Stacy said, “I bet she’s happy to be back here. Aren’t you dork? You want the whole world to see you hanging up there don’t you? Right at the top, your geeky panties being the only thing holding you up.”

Everything smelled of freshly cut grass as they walked to the pole which was now only a few feet away. Two metal carabiners dangled near the ground, attached to the rope that usually held the flag. But there had been a storm recently and rumour was it had gotten pretty wet. Dean didn’t believe that story so much as he believed the other rumour that someone had stolen it. But schools were supposed to hide stuff like that, keep the young adults oblivious to the evils of the world. Well they were about to be exposed to an act of evil right now, Dean thought. Maybe the principal would stop acting so self-important when he sees what happened to his daughter and what he had no chance to stop.

Dean bent down to get the carabiners, keeping a hand on Life’s underwear, but relying on Stacy to make sure Life didn’t run away. And after seeing how brutal Stacy was with Life, he really doubted Life would even try to run, but after all the work he had done he didn’t want to feel like his efforts had been wasted because she does escape and no one else gets to see what her butt cheeks look like when they’re savagely divided by her own underwear.

He got took hold of both the carabiners in one hand and released Life’s underwear. The side of the fabric that Dean had been holding wilted back toward the top of her pants. They didn’t return back to her pants, or even snapped against her, so much as started to hang where they were because they had already been so stretched. They would never fit the same again, and if Life kept them, she wouldn’t be able to wear them. Wear? She wouldn’t even be able to look at them again after this Dean thought. Stacy adjusted her hands so that she had access to all of Life’s underwear and she jumped up, hauling Life right off the ground, ensuring the underwear was properly buried in the alcoves of her body where underwear was never meant to go.

Dean waited to make sure Stacy wasn’t going to jump again, and that he wasn’t going to interrupt her fun. They had some time and the best things in life couldn’t be rushed. That was how you knew they were worth doing after all. He had a moment to think of the exact purpose of underwear. Whoever made it must have been into getting wedgies, why else would they make something that seemed to serve no other real purpose. You didn’t need to wear underwear, Dean thought, you could go without them and it wouldn’t matter. It was probably something the creator had made just so they could pull it up and get others to do it. Dean also had the briefest flash of wonder at what the creator of underwear did to get satisfaction before underwear was made. How did they get pleasure?

“Hurry up and hook up the loser. I’m getting bored holding her loser panties. I’m a little worried her nerdyness is going to rub off on me.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He brought the carabiners toward the leg holes of Life’s underwear. He used his thumb to open up the clamp and slipped it through the leghole, gesturing for Stacy to let go of the one side of the underwear. She did, and Dean took the one side of Life’s underwear and scrunched it up so he could attach the cold metal of the carabiner to a large portion of the underwear, instead of just poking a hole into the middle of the fabric. He did the same with the other side, making sure that the leghole and the rest of the underwear that must have been a few sizes bigger than it was earlier in the day, were secured. Dean imagined having hooked her underwear up in such a way, it would take longer for her panties to rip, and as a result, the pain she would feel would, of course, increase.

Dean and Stacy stepped away from life, whose feet were once again firmly on the ground.

But they all knew her reprieve would be brief. But now she wasn’t just going to get lifted off her feet for a few seconds, now the underwear would be hoisted up multiple feet off the ground, a terrible paradox would begin where her underwear would become something she hated more than anything because it was about to inflict an insane amount of pain on her, but at the same time, if it did break, releasing her to the ground, while she dangled helplessly from even a few feet up, she could seriously hurt herself when she fell and hit the ground. It wasn’t about not getting hurt anymore, it was about wondering what option of the two would hurt less and hoping you got that one.

Dean and Stacy moved to the nearby rope that was used to lift the flag up. Four hands gripped it and Stacy didn’t wait before starting to count down.

“Three…” their hands tightened on the rope, an old ragged thing. Dean thought of how if he knew they were going to be doing this he might have worn gloves. The last thing he wanted was to get rope burn. He wondered if what Life was feeling, and what she was about to feel, was anything like rope burn, except it was on the parts of her body not designed to handle such sensations.

“Two…” Dean gave the slightest pull, mostly checking to see if the rope would actually move when they pulled, and the whole world seemed to slow down for a second as he watched his action reverberate through the rope until the force he exerted on it echoed back in the place where Life’s underwear was attached, lifting the waiting fabric almost delicately up. From where he stood, a few feet away, he could clearly see her whole body tense. It was like waiting for something to jump out at you during a scary movie. You know it’s going to happen. It has too. But you don’t know when. And the fact that it is going to happen no matter what, sooner or later, is what is really scary. Compared to that something popping out is nothing. It’s the knowing that can give you nightmares later on.

“One…” But maybe that’s exactly what this was, Dean thought. Something was going to jump. Except you would never see underwear jump out at you during a scary movie. Despite that Dean realized that this was Life’s own scary movie come to life. He could hardly even imagine how embarrassing it would be to have his underwear displayed to all the many students as he hung from the pole that would soon serve as a beacon for all the students of the school, drawing them out as the tense rope they now held would draw out Life’s underwear. In the final moment before they pulled, a moment that seemed to stretch out for no discernible reason, Dean questioned for the first time what they were doing.

Were they actually going to lift her up the flagpole by her underwear? That was something that went beyond expulsion if he was caught. All it would take was one word to bust him. All she had to do was say his name.

He felt a flash of anger as he thought how she could bust him even if he never touched her. One day she’s feeling like a nerdy brat and wants to get someone in trouble all she has to do is tell her daddy that I touched her. I might not even know who she is, but that won’t stop her dad from expelling me. That’s the sort of power this brat has, just because she has things easy, and I got in trouble a few times. This wedgie was the least she deserved.

Was it really?

He didn’t want to have to think about it. He just wanted to pull the rope and let her hang far above. Then he could join in laughing at the nerd when others showed up. It would be awesome.

But not for her, he thought.

So? Who cares? You think she wouldn’t do the same to you if she was a bully? Imagine if she was a bit taller and stronger, she’d wedgie you just like your sister would. She’d hang you up leave you there.

She’s not a bully though. She’s not my sister.

“WEDGIE!” Stacy screamed and pulled the rope toward her. She was standing in front of Dean and hadn’t yet noticed that he hadn’t made a single movement to pull. He had to decide now what to do. But he couldn’t. After he did this there would be no turning back. The principal might be a jerk but he gave Dean a second chance. How many people did that? Not even his own father.

Maybe there was more to Life than just being the principal’s daughter. Maybe she had this whole life he had let his anger make him blind to. Maybe the part of her that he knew wasn’t even…life sized. Maybe her name wasn’t that bad either. You could play around with, use it in clever ways.

He was trying to distract himself, but all he could see was the rope growing tauter in this terrible slow motion as if all of the world had begun to happen at a quarter of the speed it usually would.

The underwear was coalescing into Life’s butt as if the fabric was a snail moving along her, slipping off her cheeks and moving into her.

If he did this there would be no going back. He didn’t know how he knew that, or what exactly it meant, but he couldn’t stop thinking it. That thought stuck in his head, pounding at his resolve like his underwear did when his sister kept pulling at.

Stacy would realize he wasn’t pulling soon. He had to decide.

*Life felt at rock bottom, as she felt the panties rise higher, soon the entire school would laugh at her. She had already transferred from two other schools because of bullies, she wouldn't be able to transfer away this time. The tears endlessly pour from her eyes as she tightly squeezes her wrist trying not to think about the pain. She squeezes so hard that a cut on her arm begins to bleed. She was visibly shaking, she took only a second to look at Dean, this was the first time she was really seeing his face. She felt her tear filled eyes meet his eyes and she quickly looked away in fear. She had never done anything to him, she never understood why people always hurt her, maybe this is why she has no friends. She barely ever talks to anyone even her family as she fears being hurt again. She's been beaten up far too many times and lives in constant fear of people bullying her. She knew her fate and she knew soon she'd have zero chance of ever making a friend, she'd be alone forever.

Stacy: Dean are you going to pull or not? It would go a lot smoother with your help.

*Stacy continued to pull on the rope and Life begins to slowly lift off the ground. Her body begins to squirm and she whimpers. Life just wanted this nightmare to end. She knew if her dad saw her like this he'd want to know who did it. She couldn't tell him the truth but she didn't know how to lie. Either way it would become a nightmare. She wished she could just wake up and have everything be fine but that wasn't the case. She heard Stacy but figured that he was just waiting to give a huge tug that would send her rocketing up. She was scared, she didn't want him to pull. She just wanted to be let go so she could hide for the rest of the day.*

Stacy: come on Dean. Why aren't you pulling?

Stacy was speaking but he couldn’t hear her.

There was the sudden sickening sound of the bell ringing. Usually that bel meant freedom, escape, but now it meant imprisonment in whatever future he chose. He watched as people began to stream out the entrance of the school. A few walked by without noticing Stacy, Dean and Life. But then, as more people began to file out of the school Dean knew it would only take one observant person to point out what they were doing.

And just as he thought that, he could see a few people who were standing near the doors, pointing and laughing. Their laughter drifted over to him, and the world, which moved at a pace that was, for Dean, excruciatingly slow.

He watched as a few people drifted toward them, and as is always the way, once a few started over, others followed.

At first there was undercurrent of uncertainty and confusion over what was happening, but when they saw the rope and followed it to where it clamped down on Life’s underwear it became clear.

“They’re going to hang her up from the flagpole!”

“That’s crazy! There’s no way!”

“That’s so hot. I wish that was me.”

“Shouldn’t someone try to stop them?”

Dean stared at the rope, and at his hands that held it tight. He could feel its grains against his palms. But it wasn’t just a rope that he held, it was Life’s reputation and his own. Life’s emotions, and his own. Life’s life. And his own. He realized for the first time how truly united they were. It started with the principal. Putting one of them on a pedestal just so one could be placed lower. And it ended now with the wedgie, where once again, in both a literal and metaphorical sense this time, someone would rise up and another would fall.

What had Life ever really done to him though? Did she really deserve this wedgie? Did anyone ever really deserve to get hurt? It was her father he was mad at, he shook his head, that wasn’t even accurate anymore. It was her father who he had been mad at. That anger had abandoned him just when he thought he needed it most. If he was still angry he easily could have pulled Life up the flagpole, laughing with everyone else as her panties rose up her butt, her body falling forward as she tried to keep her balance while also trying to deal with the constantly growing pain of her underwear. He could have watched and maybe even saluted the new school flag. As she hung there she would be a symbol of how he wasn’t going to let anyone push him around, bully him or make him feel like less than he was.

His own family had done too much of that already. And before he could stop himself he remembered what happened after his father had walked in on his sister giving him a wedgie. It was probably one of the worst memories he had. Despite efforts to forget it, it still held a prominent place in his mind. It seemed like the harder he tried to repress the memory or just try not to think about it, it came back twice as strong.

--

He was still pushing his underwear back into his pants after his sister had already left a few seconds ago.

Dean stood from his bed where he had been lying and turned toward his window. He saw his father out by a pile of wood they kept for the wood burning fireplace they had in the basement. He was swinging an axe and splitting pieces of wood on a stump that had long ago been chosen for that very purpose.

He left his room, being careful how we walked for the first few steps, not wanting the underwear to shift up by accident. He still had to put his hand down the back of his pants and make sure the tighty-whities stayed out of any place they shouldn’t be by picking them out.

When he got outside his father did not turn to look at him, and even when Dean stood a few feet away, which was a safe distance for someone wielding an axe, but probably, he thought, not far enough, when that person was drunk.

He had noticed the stagger when his dad left his room, but he hadn’t been close enough, and Dean had been a little distracted by the underwear attacking his lower body to really pay much attention to his father.

But Dean could smell the cheap alcohol which came off his father with such intensity that it was like he had showered in it. And knowing his father, he just might have.

“Dad…”

“What was that in their son?” His words were only slurred a bit which was probably the worst of all the conditions for him to be in for conversation. Dean knew from experience that he would still be able to talk and understand what was being said, but because his inhibitions were lowered his father wouldn’t be filtering any of what he said. What he thought would just come out. In some ways this was good, and Dean wouldn’t mind if people were honest with each other, but when people had a mean streak like Dean’s father did then they could end up saying some things that hurt more than they ever realized. And it always hurt more because for the people saying the things, it wasn’t just an insult, it was their truth.

“We were just playing around.”

“You think I don’t know what a wedgie is, stupid? I know exactly what was going on in there but I wanted to see if you had the guts to tell me yourself.”

He shuffled to his right where he picked up a small log, the axe swung freely from one hand while he moved back toward the stump and place the log down. He lined up the blade of the axe with the middle of the log, lifted his arms above his head, shaking only slightly as he did so. He brought the axe down and the sound t made when it hit the log, the sound of tearing threads in his underwear, and the palpable sound of his father’s disappointment, made him jump.

The axe was stuck about halfway through the log. He would have to lift it up, with the axe still in it, and hit it against the stump a few times to finish breaking it.

“Dad I-“

“Boy, I got to ask you something. I want you to think about this, ‘cause when I was young, guys didn’t let their sisters touch their underwear and sit on top of them while they let them pull it. So you think hard about this.”

He brought the log down and the axe made visible progress through the wood. But it still stayed stuck in the middle, and the wood was still unbroken.

“Are you a sissy?”

It wasn’t what Dean had expected, and he instantly knew he didn’t understand the question, he was ready to ask his father what he meant, but then realized he didn’t have to. He knew what it meant, even if his father might have meant it in a different way. His dad had chosen such an ambiguous and vague term for the simple reason that it could mean so many things. It held enough negative connotations that Dean had to understand his father thought he was at least some of them. Weak, babyish, he could list them off for hours and he imagined his father might have already done that whenever he thought about his son.

“Dad I’m-“

“Don’t waste my time son. Your mother and I were happy ‘till you came along. She left cause of you. You know that don’t you? You were always whining as a baby, crying and so fussy. All the time. And she couldn’t take it. We were so happy, we loved each other. But what you put her through. So many sleepless nights because you wouldn’t stop crying. I had the patience though. I put up with it. But when you didn’t change, when years later I see you standing in front of me and I see you’re still the same whiny baby… I don’t know what to do. I just don’t.”

He had heard all of this before, but it said something of them both, that his father would repeat himself, and that Dean was still deeply affected by it.

“I’m not a sissy.”

“Oh sure you aint,” his father said, bringing the log back down onto the stump, splitting it a little bit deeper.

“Dad-“

“Just leave me alone. You know, I heard lots of guys tell me they wish their kids had never been born. But I don’t wish that.” His father lifted the axe above his head, the piece of wood hung on tight, maybe hoping it wouldn’t be broken in half. Thinking that being cut in two and having an axe stuck in the middle of you, was better than being broken into two different pieces. Maybe a bit of pain was a fiar price to pay for still being together.

“Thing is Dean, you’re a disappointment. I don’t wish you’d never been born because that would mean I cared enough about you to care if you were here or not. And I don’t. You aint a man. You’re just some kind of sissy. You always will be. Now go away. Go get some more wedgies you disappointment. Go be a sissy somewhere else. I don’t want to see you right now. I can’t even look at you. Every time I do I’m reminded of how happy I was. It was the three of us before you had to ruin it all. What did I even do to deserve such a sissy as a son?” He brought the axe down and the wood broke apart into two equal halves that fell on either side of the stump.

Dean stood where he was for another moment, afraid his father might cut off his leg or something as he tried to chop more wood. Wishing and hoping at the same time, that he actually did. As he walked away he could hear his father still talking about him, calling him a sissy, blaming him for all his problems, and saying over and over how great a disappointment he was. Even when Dean was back in his room, far away from his dad he could still hear the insults, echoing in his mind like a broken record just going over the same words again and again.

Like the pain of a wedgie it stuck with you until you pick out the fabric. But what if you couldn’t pick out the fabric? Well then, maybe you tried to spread the pain around. Maybe that would distract you form how much you hurt if you could manage to make someone else hurt more. That was what his father did wasn’t it?

If every person is a garden then the seeds of hate, anger and fear had been planted in Dean long ago. His father watered them regularly and as a result, they continued to grow.

--

His hands were on the rope and there was a crowd gathering around the three of them. Stacy continued to pull by herself and Life’s feet were starting to leave the ground, slowly rushing up, the soles of her shoes rising up, her underwear beginning to cover more of her back as the fabric of her animal panties stretched once more over her back and condensing into a thin line of rope that emulated the rope that was attached to the flagpole, which was ready to hoist her off the ground.

He had been asking himself a lot of question but the most important one came to his mind as people drew closer, making a tight circle around them, and a few were even cheering for him to pull the rope. A few were calling for him not to, but their voices were drowned out.

He wondered what his father would think when he heard his son hung a girl up by her underwear on the school’s flagpole. He had tried many other things to make his father proud of him, or at least not so disgusted by him, but nothing ever worked. He still looked at Dean with a unique mix of disappointment and distaste. But maybe this would be what changed his father’s mind.

And for a brief second he could see it happening. There he was, at home, next to his father who handed the axe over to Dean.

“Here you go son,” he would say, and he would be smiling at him. They would talk, and they would laugh. And they would smile.

“You made me proud son.” And Dean would know that that was true because he would feel like it was true. And his father would nod as Dean chopped the wood. And once all the work was done and the two of them had built up a sweat working together his father would look at him, their eyes would meet and he would still be grinning.

“I love you son,” he would say, and Dean would cry and so would his dad; because neither of them could remember the last time either of them had ever said that to the other, or if they ever really had.

He could hear his father’s words of acceptance, of approval, one of the most important declarations a person can make to another, one that had lost some of its meaning since it was first used but was still necessary for people to truly understand what they meant to someone else. And what that person meant to them. The words lingered in his mind, a fog of peace that was already starting to lift.

He could have that, a part of his mind told him with the utmost confidence. He could have what he deserved. What everyone deserved. What he wanted. What he needed.

But at what cost?

To get his happiness he would have to take it away from Life. If he gave her this wedgie her life here at the school would be over. She might have to move in order to deal with the harassment and bullying that would start, or more likely increase as a result of this. And even if she did leave the school Dean thought it more than likely that someone could take out there phone and film the action. By the end of the day the video would be everywhere, and even if people worked hard to get it removed from everywhere it was, someone somewhere would save it. And then it would spread. He was sentencing her to a life where she would have to live with that hanging over her like her underwear would be when he pulled her up the pole.

The crowd of bodies around his was a viscous blob of colour that moved around, jumping up and down, pumping their fists, yelling and shouting. Impatience was a force Dean could feel pulsing off of them. Coming off of them like sweat from their pores, seeping out and coating everyone else in it.

And what if giving this girl a wedgie didn’t impress his dad? He had no real idea that it would, no evidence that said he could do that. And a part of him, the more logical part that worked tirelessly and thanklessly in the back of his mind, pointed out that his father had some serious problems. It might be impossible to ever get acceptance from him.

But he needed it.

And what about what Life needed?

She wasn’t a bad person, she didn’t deserve this. No one did.

So it came down to whether or not he was a bad person. He thought with more than a little irony that maybe that was what it always came down to.

“Dean, hurry up and pull, this nerd isn’t going to lift herself up!”

His fingers curled around the rope again, and he actually did give a little pull, it was quick and surprised Stacy who almost lost hold of the rope, Life jumped slightly as the underwear hopped up her butt. He wanted to see what it felt like, if it felt good and felt like the right thig to do. But things were never that easy, and he felt nothing but a taut rope that could either be pulled or let go with equal simplicity.

“Give her a wedgie!”

“Hang her up! HANG HER UP!”

“Hang me up too!”

“What a loser!”

“WEDGIE! WEDGIE! WEDGIE!”

Dean looked at the crowd, then the rope, Stacy, and finally his eyes ended up on Life again. She was looking at him, waiting for him. Their eyes met. He couldn’t count the number of times he had heard that the eyes were the window to the soul. But now looking at Life’s eyes they didn’t seem so much like a window then they did a mirror. Because looking at her eyes he saw himself reflected back, and in the reflection of himself he thought he could also see Life reflected in that.

He noticed for the first time her cut arms and a bit of blood that was drying there. He saw the lines on her face where tears had run down, outlining her grief better than any words ever could.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. She seemed to have the rare gift of making her emotions visible without having to do anything. That might be part of the reason so many people picked on her, they saw her goodness which she couldn’t hide, her innate perfection that she might not even recognize and it upset people. Why else was he so quick to start bullying her, barely hesitating before grabbing onto her underwear and yanking up. It was because he was jealous of her. And giving her this wedgie won’t change anything, just like the wedgies he already gave her wouldn’t change anything.

The more he looked at her the more he realized how Life wasn’t an unattractive girl. She was far more beautiful than Stacy, and probably half the people who were hanging around in the crowd cheering him on to give her a wedgie. Couldn’t they see that this wasn’t just something someone did? He didn’t just act, he thought about things, maybe that also made him a sissy.

There were people standing basically right beside him, jostling and pushing at each other. Stacy moved her hands along the rope and tried to lift Life up by herself, but she was struggling just to keep Life where she was, her feet scraping the floor, and her underwear rising up her butt but not yet hurting her as badly as it could.

He knew for certain though that she was a more attractive person that he was. And even if people never understood what he meant by that if he ever said it out loud no one would be able to argue that she was a better person than he was.

And he was jealous of that. He saw that that was what this was all about. He wanted to try to break her as his father and sister had broken him. He wasn’t just himself in that memory of his father chopping wood, he was also the log, and the stump. He just wanted to be the axe. To be useful, important, valued.

But what of wood, wasn’t it valued? Like underwear it might be forgotten about until it protected you from being naked, or got pulled up your butt, but it served an important purpose. Without wood how you could start a fire, how could you be warm when the nights were cold? And the stump, it might be the same as so many others but it was still needed to chop the wood. Without it, the process of getting the wood ready for a fire would be unsafe. And isn’t that what everyone wants, to be someone who keeps someone else safe. And to be someone who keeps someone else warm?

“Life!” Dean called out, but his voice was a hoarse croak.

He didn’t think anyone heard him, but the way she looked at him made him think that maybe she was the only one who could have.

He wanted to give her a wedgie so badly. But at the same
time he didn’t want to.
He had come so far, he might as well finish this. But what if this was his last chance to change?

Now where did that thought come from, he wondered. It jarred him so much that he pulled the rope toward himself in a quick motion which tightened the rope and rose it along the pole, the carabiners gripped the legholes and the fabric like two eager hands, biting into the underwear before shooting up. Life left the ground for a moment and squeaked. The crowd screamed, a mass shout of unsure excitement. There must have been some ancient primal need to see someone publicly humiliated that was seeking to everyone there.

Life put her hands to her butt and now that her feet were off the ground Dean saw how easy it was to just keep going.

But what about redemption?

When he was younger he had an interest in the meaning of names. His father had talked him out of that, using guilt like his sister used wedgies, not cutting so much as deboning him, eviscerating him in the truest sense of the word. Sissy’s cared about names, he shouldn’t be spending times researching stupid stuff like that. He should be outside playing sports. He tried to tell his dad he didn’t like sports, but that hadn’t gone over well.

Something about the name Stacy called to him from the abandoned depths of his mind, the places he had been too scared to visit, but also too scared to cave in forever.

Stacy…why was he so interested in that all of a sudden? Here he was with a rope in his hands that led not just into a nerds pants, but maybe also into a better life. Maybe only a minute has passed since the bell first rang but it sounded off in his mind as if it had never stopped.

This was more than about just giving a wedgie. The people in the crowd couldn’t understand that. Stacy couldn’t either. The only person who maybe could might be Life. Someone who had suffered but not let it break her, not let it turn her mean as it had so many others. As it had him.

Or had it?

Stacy. It came back to him in a flash, as if someone had taken a picture and blinded him temporarily with the sudden change in light. It was Greek her name. Short for Eustace, or maybe Anastasia. And it meant…resurrection!

That’s right, resurrection. But what did that matter? Why did he think of that now? After years of not caring what another person’s name met, why should that fragment of memory come to him?

It all came together, and he had to smile at the irony of it all. As if some higher power had planned it all from the beginning.

A resurrection meant a new beginning, a second chance. A new life. The coincidences were too great to ignore. One person named Life, and one whose name meant resurrection. This really was his chance to start again.

Stacy was a part of that, but so was Life. His own life became a clear path in front of him. And he knew what he had to do. Maybe he would be a sissy and maybe that was OK. Maybe being a sissy wasn’t about giving wedgies and not getting them, but about how you could get them and not have to give them to others. Maybe being unable to be better than others made you a sissy.

He let go of the rope, and Stacy, not prepared to handle the weight by herself ended up falling backwards, losing her grip on the rope which burned her hands as it ran through them. Life’s feet landed on the ground and Dean was already behind, unclipping the underwear.

He moved in front of her once her underwear wasn’t attached to the rope anymore. And they were face to face. Just like when he first started to give her the wedgie. But now he felt only peace, an overwhelming sense of rightness about what he just did. Most people had gone silent but a few were screaming for him to wedgie her. Maybe that was why Life never really told anyone about what the bullies did, It wasn’t that she was scared, it wasn’t that she had fear so much as she had hope. Hope that people would change, and be better. Sometimes that didn’t work out, like with Stacy and probably with whoever else bullied her. Those people were far gone.

But maybe, if they spent enough time with Life they would be able to change. As Dean did.

He didn’t know what to do. Life looked up at him, Dean didn’t expect her to forgive him. He had hurt her and even though he was letting her go she would be still be scared of him for a while. And he couldn’t blame her for that. He grinned as he realized he couldn’t really blame her for anything other than giving him another life.

He didn’t know what to say to her. He wanted to tell her that he would do whatever it took to make things up to her, that he was ineffably sorry for what he did to her, and for what others did to her. He wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that because of her he felt that he was going to be all right.

But he didn’t know how to say any of that, and just like earlier, he felt like, with her he maybe didn’t even have to. Because she understood.

He walked away, the crowd parted before, most were already walking away, bored by the anti-climactic turn of events, but that was life, and many of them would have to get used to it. A few laughed at Stacy who had fallen down and Dean wasn’t worried about leaving Life alone there, she was a smart girl who could get away from trouble if anyone tried to finish what he started. And most people didn’t care enough to even try. Stacy stalked away, not wanting to get laughed at any more. But not before shooting angry glances at both Life and Dean.

But Dean didn’t care. He would have to do what he could for Life. Apologize regularly, help her out with whatever she needed it would be a slow process but maybe she would even accept him as a friend. He didn’t think he deserved a person as good as her as a friend. But he was going to do what he could to make himself worthy of being a part of her life.

He had planned to end his pain by giving a wedgie but he got another chance because of Life.
RP with BackupAccount25: Part 2
More of our RP which we did basically from July to September of this year. As you will probably notice this part ends with what seems like a conclusion. But it continues after this, and there is a fair bit more that we did. Look forward to the next part coming soon.
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“I repeat Dean, I never want to hear about you bullying anyone else ever again. If I hear even the slightest complaint I’m going to have to expel you. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“What was that Dean?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now get out of my office. All you jocks are all the same. You think you’ve got the world in your hand and it’s going to stay there. You should be more like my daughter, she’s got the right idea about things. Smart girl. But you…Are you still here? Get back to class. Now.”

--

Dean Thompson left the principal’s office with a frown on his face. The principal always picked on him. Other people could do the same things, or even worse, and yet who was always the one called into his office and threatened with expulsion?

He walked down the hall and stopped long enough to punch a locker to his side. His fist connected and there was a satisfying clang. His hand was going to be sore later but letting out the anger always made him feel a little better. Never completely better, but a bit. And for him, a little was a lot better than nothing at all.

Not only does he regularly call me into his office just so he can feel important, Dean thinks, but he has to make me feel stupid too. He doesn’t know me. Nobody does.

He wanted to punch the locker again. But he didn’t want a teacher to catch him doing that. He was sure they’d send him right back to the principal’s office without a second look. They wouldn’t even ask him what was wrong.

Nobody cared.

Dean dragged his feet along the tiled floor, his head hung down, and he tried not to think too hard about why he was so angry all the time. That just made him even angrier.

He imagined that the locker he had just punched was the principal’s smug, self-important face. That put a smile on Dean’s face. But it didn’t last. He knew he could never hit the principal. If he did that there would be worst things in store for him than a simple expulsion. That would get the police involved. And if his family gave him any advice it was to tell him that you never wanted the police involved in anything you do.

He stopped, lifting his head and thinking back over the conversation he had just had with the principal. If someone had been walking behind him they would have bumped into him because of how suddenly he stopped.

What was all that the principal said about his daughter?

Something about how she was smart and he was stupid. He could learn a thing or two from her. Yeah that was it. The principal couldn’t even just settle for saying he was dumb, he had to put it in perspective. He had to show off and make himself feel better while he made others feel worse. And they called me a bully, Dean thought. He almost laughed at that. But even here, alone and way from his family, the desire to laugh was stifled.

His fists clenched, opening and closing with such a quick speed, and with a hard intensity, that his nails bit into his palms over and over again. He felt a sharp pain and shook his head as if he could shake his thoughts out of his ears like he would water permeated him after a long swim. But some thoughts just couldn’t be forgotten. Unlike troublesome students there were some memories that couldn’t be expelled.

His anger was a hot magma that surrounded his heart and roasted it with a scalding touch. It was like there was this dark fog running through the center in his body, filling up every vain with its hateful tendrils. He imagined that no one else could understand how he felt. That no one had felt so alone. So angry, and so sad all at the same time. And he wanted to scream because it was so hard to deal with.

He could keep punching lockers but what good would that do him? And like all tortured souls, who were treated in just such a way, he felt the best way to feel better was to make others feel worse.

And who could he make feel worse?

You should be more like my daughter. Yeah, that was what he had said, Dean recalled. More like his daughter. And why? Because she had things easy. She never got bullied at home, had a self-important principal for a dad, she had things easy. A spoiled brat was probably what she was. He’d rather be basically anything as long as it wasn’t that. Then again, he’d rather be a spoiled brat than what he was. What his family made him into.

More like my daughter. Who was his daughter anyway? Something clicked in his mind. Like when your hands get a really tight grip on a nerd’s underwear, and you just know they won’t be getting free anytime soon. Not until you want them to. His daughter was really big dork. Some nerd with white hair. White hair, that alone was weird. What was she? An old lady?

The bell rang to signal the end of class and Dean smiled before he actually started rubbing his hands. If he could find her now he could show her who the real smart person was. The principal thought he could mock him.

He would have to be careful though. He couldn’t just hit her. She would be off tattling to her daddy like a little baby in seconds. He would have to do something that would hurt her, but also scare her. Hurt her in a way that wouldn’t be as sudden as a punch to the face, but just as lasting.

Of course, he thought, I get her alone and I give her a wedgie. He got enough of them at home to know, in a very intimate sense, just how much they could hurt. And if she did end up telling on him on like a loser, he might be able to play it off as a prank. “Hey, it’s just a wedgie! An innocent pull to the underwear!” That sounded a lot better than, “Hey, it’s just a fist in the face! An innocent knuckles connecting with nose sort of thing.”

And the beautiful thing about wedgies was that it would last longer than a punch. Not only that, but if he held her by her underwear she wouldn’t be able to escape. She couldn’t just run the moment he hit her. She would have to stay in the same place and just take the pain. He would have total control. And wasn’t that what he wanted? Isn’t that why people hurt each other, to have control? The principal called him in and insulted him just so he could reassert his own control. And now… well now, Dean was just returning the favour.

Dean began to scan the crowd looking for the nerdy daughter of the principal. She had things easy and Dean thought about how he was going to make her life a lot harder. Life…That was her name! Life. Wow. Dean shook his head again as people gave him space when they walked by. He was standing in the middle of the hallway with classrooms on either side of him. Lockers opened and closed as people got their books and walked to their next class. This was the main hallway of the school so the chances of seeing Life were really high.

What kind of a name was Life anyway? Her dad the principal must be really weird if he thought that was an OK name for a kid.

The hallway was clearing out, his peers were entering classrooms and there were less people walking by. He was able to see over a lot of the people walking around, but he didn’t see Life.

And just when the hallway was completely empty she came around a corner at the end of the hallway, sprinting down the hall, with some books in her hand, coming right toward Dean.

It’s like she knew I was waiting for her, Dean thought, and his grin widened. They had some privacy now. Maybe he would give her a wedgie with others around later, but he couldn’t risk someone saying something to a teacher or a principal. For now he just wanted to have a little fun with only Life and himself. Besides, something’s are better when they aren’t shared with others. Wedgies were just such a thing. They were better when there was only two people. The giver and the receiver.

Life was skinny, short, and still running right at him. Her head was bent forward, and Dean would have been content to let her run right into him, but he wanted to at least introduce himself first. That was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“Life,” he said, “what a coincidence seeing you here.”

Her head jerked up and she had to slow down her run. If she had been going any faster she might have barreled into him. She came to a stop right in front of him and slowly raised her head until her eyes were looking into his. He looked down at her and grinned. She must have seen something in the look he gave her that she didn’t like, because she dry swallowed with a loud gulp and Dean had to widen his smile. She had these green eyes that might have been nice if they weren’t in the face of a girl who was such a dork. Now that he was looking at her, almost face to face, but since she was so short he would never really be face to face with her (unless he maybe lifted her up by the front of her panties. Now that was be something he could keep in mind for later) he could remember how she had gotten bullied and embarrassed before. Pretty regularly in fact now that he had thought about it. He had seen the cheerleaders circle around her and push her around, she was so small and weak she hadn’t been able to fight back from the taller stronger more popular girls who had giggled and taunted her while they shoved her back and forth. One girl had pushed her so hard that Life had sprawled to the ground. Dean had thought that that would be the end of that. He assumed they would move on and leave her on the ground. But one of the cheerleaders stepped up behind her and bent down toward her. Dean then guessed that she was going to help Life up, and couldn’t really believe it. But the cheerleader had helped her up. Just not in the way he had assumed she would, and not in a way he had ever seen anyone help anyone else up before.

The cheerleader had stuck her hands down the back of Life’s schoolgirl skirt and dig around for a moment before pulling her hands out, bringing with her this hilarious pair of stretchy pink granny panties with white bunnies on the fabric. The cheerleader managed to pull the underwear in one long motion straight up and out of Life’s skirt and into the air, straightening herself and getting back into a standing position until she was standing with her legs split enough so that Life’s legs fit in-between, and with a straight back, and straight legs, the ideal position for doing any cheerleading moves, she managed to lift Life right off the ground by her dorky underwear.

Life had squealed Dean remembered. Just like one of the bunnies which were on her underwear might. Her whole body was a few inches off the ground now, her underwear continuing to rise out of her pants and into her butt, cleaving it with the vicious intensity that only a well delivered wedgie could conjure up when the underwear begins to tighten against the front of a body as well as when it gathers together in the back.

Her entire body had been suspended by the string of fabric that slimmed against her body while the cheerleader got more and more of it out where people could see it. And people did see it. A few people had joined Dean in watching what was happening and they laughed and pointed at the nerd who was getting her butt flossed by the underwear.

Life had tried to moving her hands to the most sensitive parts of her body which were being invaded by the harsh movements of the pink fabric. But the cheerleader just laughed and gave the underwear a quick tug which ended up bouncing Life toward the ground, almost causing her to crash into it before she snapped back up above the ground. It was like she was a skydiver who didn’t know that her underwear had gotten attached to a part of the plane she was jumping from. So when she leaped into the sky she got pretty far down before her underwear caught and she was shot back to where she came from.

“What a loser,” the cheerleader had said. “I bet you like these wedgies don’t you, you nerd? You like nerdy things and what’s nerdier than a wedgie?”

The cheerleader had checked her grip on the underwear, her nails digging into the side of the fabric that was closest to Life’s back, and gave another quick tug, bouncing her closer to the ground and forcing the underwear to rub against her with a sudden sharpness that made Life squeal in pain. Her body teetered, all of her weight was pressed against the underwear that was jabbing her like the blade of a rapier that was running along her nether regions, and Dean remembered thinking that he never wanted to know what that sort of wedgie felt like.

Of course, when you’re lifting someone up by their underwear it’s a lot of effort and the end result is either one of two things, the person giving the wedgie gets tired and gives up. Or the underwear does. And in this case, the cheerleader won. The underwear began to tear, huge holes began to appear and ripped the bunnies apart, as Life began to slowly sink toward the ground as more and more underwear jammed against Life as if it knowing the wedgie wouldn’t last much longer and every thread of the underwear was taking this last chance to make sure the wedgie really hurt. Then there was a loud sound of fabric shredding and the cheerleaders hands shot up to the sky, surprised by the lack of weight it had to hold all of a sudden. In her hands was a strip of Life’s panties, the pink waistband now a sort of trophy of another loser and nerd put in their place by the cool and popular cheerleaders.

Life had collapsed to the ground and no one helped her up. A few people laughed and one or two even pulled at her underwear that was still exposed. Life tried to tuck it into the back of her pants at one point but then gave up trying when a few people seemed to take that as invitation to pull it back out again. After one person gave a solid pull from the leg holes that were still intact before letting the remains of the underwear snap against her back, Life squeaked and just left the underwear there before pushing herself to her feet and waddling down the hall.

Dean remembered all that and his first thought was to wonder if she was wearing a dorky pair animal underwear like that today.

“Excuse me. I need to get to my class.”

“Oh I’m sure you do, a nerd like you. I bet you go to all your classes. I bet you never have to worry about passing with your daddy as the principal. Am I right?”

Life’s eyes widened slightly as if she realized that this large boy standing in front of her probably wasn’t just standing in front of her because he felt like it. He was there, talking to her for a reason. And if she had learned anything from dealing with guys like Terrance, it was that guys who looked like this guy in front of her, were hardly ever ones you wanted to be around for long.

“I...I’ll just be going then if you don’t mind,” Life said, and as she moved to the side, the guy moved with a graceful ease so that he was once again blocking her way. She instantly tried to deek him out by moving to the other side, she had run from other bullies before and if she could just make it to her classroom which was at the end of the hallway she’d be safe. And for a moment she thought she was free. She had moved past him and saw the empty hallway in front of her. She launched a foot forward and then another, hoping to make long strides and stay ahead of the guy who obviously just didn’t want to make polite conversation with her.

And then she felt something cold brush her lower back, and felt the front of her skirt tighten against her waist.

Oh no, she thought. She almost leaped forward as she tried to escape. Not this again.

She felt the familiar sensation of knuckles brushing against her, and then felt her panties grab onto her skin just as the guy’s hands grabbed onto waistband. She tried to stop herself but she was moving too quickly and the guy needed only to stand where he was and let Life do the work for him. The underwear spooled out of the back of her cheer skirt and her eyes widened as she was able to make it another two septs before being forcibly stopped by her underwear that served like a tractor beam drawing both her underwear and her entire body back toward the guy who stood behind her. She yelped as the underwear bit into her and heard the guy laugh as he saw what sort of underwear she had on.

They were a pair of rainbow granny-panties with tiny fish adorning the fabric. Dean gave a harsh tug to the underwear and the underwear shot out of Life’s skirt and flew deeper into her butt. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. Why did she always have to get wedgies? Of all the things people could do to her, why wedgies. The one thing she hated more than anything else. And why this guy? She didn’t do anything to him. She didn’t even know who he was. He yanked her underwear up with quick pulls that lifted her right up to her tip-toes, the underwear grating against her sensitive skin, grinding her butt and causing her to whine in pained discomfort.

Dean stared at the fish on her underwear. He wondered if he pulled hard and fast enough if he could make them look they were swimming in the rainbow waters of her dorky panties. Only one way to find out.

He shoved his hands up and down, his arms pumping with the natural muscles he hadn’t had to do anything to gain. He forced the underwear up and down, urging the fabric to gather into her butt. Rubbing it against her so she would feel the discomfort of the friction as the panties moved along her boy like a rope that was slipping through her hands. It would hopefully create that same kind of burn.

“Nerd, I’m going to keep giving you wedgies right now. But you can maybe make it easier on yourself. And maybe I’ll stop soon if you give me an answer I like. You have to make a choice loser, unless you want me to see if I can make you taste the underwear. Are you going to tell anybody about this, or any other wedgie I decide to give you in the future?”
--

Life: w-why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?

*she looks at him questioningly and full of fear. She feels herself sweating nervously and squirming in pain*

*she looks in Deans eyes with fear and growing tears forming in her eyes. She was afraid of what might do to her. She felt her every muscle tremble*


Dean kept his hold on her underwear. Life wiggled at the feeling of her own panties rising up and brushing her with the painful rubbing of sandpaper to imperfect wood, working away at it. Reshaping it. Making it more malleable as heat would metal. And she was both these things now. Her underwear both a source of heat as it moved back and forth, a continuous shifting of the cloth on her most private areas, and just imaging how so many others had done the same thing to her, just remembering how weak and powerless she had felt as her own pa ties were thrust up with unceremonious rage aimed never at her, the receiver, but at what she must represent to the givers. She could only blush and cry out, afraid that at any moment someone might exit their classroom just to see her almost dangling from her cartoonish and childish panties.

Dean gave a harder tug and Life cried out. But she tried to keep her voice low so people wouldn't hear her. It wasn't easy though with how hard he was pulling. She was still on her tip-toes and with every pull, with every consecutive forcing of the underwear higher up her butt, her body threatened to leave the ground. And this man behind her seemed to threaten to make it happen.

"Why am I doing this? Why not? You're a nerd and a loser. And what else do nerds and losers like you deserve? You deserve to have people laugh and make fun of you. To make you feel less. And I'm going to be the one to make it happen."

Life: I....I....I promise I won't say anything. Please let me go

*Life felt both her body and her voice tremble in fear. She groaned and whimpered as the fabric was painfully digging into her in a way she was all too familiar with. She didn't know what she had done to deserve this but was wishing it would end.*

Life: no. Please don't do that to me. I don't know why you hate me but please don't make me your victim. Please I'll do anything.

*she feels her eyes water in fear and humiliation. She could only remember her 6 years of constant torture at the hands of Terrance. How she went to a private school and spent most nights in an atomic or a hanging wedgie by her roommate. And how she felt a cold breeze most mornings when she was hanging off the flagpole. She then looks at her arms. The arms were not perfect like the rest of her skin, not even close. Her arms were covered in faded scars and fresh deep cuts. Though she'd never tell anyone she had started again. She wore long sleeved shirts to hide her hideous arms.*

*her arms weren't the only thing she was trying to hide, she constantly tried to hide the scent of alcohol on her breath. She was a recovering alcoholic, she's only 16 and not even old enough to drink. She hides her demons from everyone except her twin brother. If her father knew he'd be utterly disappointed in his once seemingly perfect daughter.*

Life: I'll do anything you want if you don't make your victim

Dean had no intention of letting her go. Not until he had made his point. And not until he had started to feel better about himself.

"You already are my victim nothing you say or do can change that. But I'm warning you Life, if you tell anyone about this you'll get a lot worse."

He shifted his feet, the polished floors casting up the dim reflection of the two of them, bully and nerd close together, connected by underwear and unexplainable feelings.

Dean pulled the waistband of the underwear up, taking a quick look at the emerging leg holes that almost beckoned to him to put a hand through each of them before ripping the panties even deeper into this nerds butt.

He would do that soon enough. But you couldn't rush things like this. He was able to pull her off her tiptoes until she was once again hanging a mere inch off the ground. But that bit of distance might as well have been miles to Life because the animal underwear took its chance to dive into her as if it had been waiting its entire life to do so. The panties a soft fabric in Dean's hands, handled with an almost virtuosic care, were nothing but a blunt instrument to Life's bottom and she squealed while her body swung above the air. Her hands gripping her crotch with unladylike urgency.

And despite her cries Dean didn't feel any better about himself. There was still a chance that she might tell someone what he had done. And there was no chance that Life's dad would be anything like his own and just ignore what Life told him.

And the thought of his father brought him back to a scene that was so familiar to this one that it instantly irked and unnerved him. His mind, so anxious to bring forth this memory as if his mind was one of the games at the arcade where you used a claw to fetch a toy from a pile; except this time, the claw is alive. Or more fitting, his mind might be a pair of hands that had no control over their need to give him a mental wedgie. And in the way of memories that have emotional significance attached to them, the remembering was stronger than Dean would have liked.

But he was caught in the grips of the memory, just as Life was caught in his grip. And neither of them was going anywhere.

--
"Hey geek, how ya doing?"

"Leave me alone."

"What is wittle baby Dean angry."

"Leave me alone Brittany."

"Now Dean I don't think that's any way to talk to your older sister."

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Dean...you know I don't like to be disrespected."
"Just go away."

"Sure...Just one question Deanie. Do you know what time it is?"

"Time?"

"Yes, are you deaf as well as stupid? I asked you if you know what time it is.”
"Shut up and leave me alone."

"So you don't know what time it is?"

"No, now will you just-"

"I'll tell you little bro, since I'm your big sister and I love you so much."
Dean had been lying facedown on his bed reading a Superman comic when his sister had jumped right onto his back. He let out a pained oomph as the breath was literally squished right of him and for a terrifying moment he couldn't breathe as he tried to get back the lost oxygen.

He tries to flip his sister off of his back, but she was strong from years of cheerleading she used to do and her body was covered in well-toned muscles. She wore a tight fitting crop top that showed off well defined abs. She had long blonde hair and aquiline features that made her very popular among the boys and a few of the girls in high school before she graduated. And Dean couldn't be sure but he could guess that she was just as popular in college. Dean was wearing a pair of black denim jeans, and a red-t shirt. He was a bit taller than his sister and weighed more but she managed to sit on his back and ride out his early protests. Before his breath had completely returned and his motivation to fight was fully realized he felt Brittany's hands sneak into the back of his pants.

She had given plenty of wedgies in high school and if Dean had to guess he would say Brittany probably hadn't stopped now that she was in college. And even if she didn't give any in the college, she gave enough to Dean to more than make up for it. After a while when he was in high school and she would give him and others wedgies he began to think of it as a sort of chicken and egg causal relationship where he wasn't sure what came first. She either tried the wedgies out on him first and then gave them to others or she tried them out on others first so she could come back and give him ever better and improved tugs to his underwear.

She brutalized him with all the wedgies over the years. Taunting and mocking him with practiced jests that might have been overused and familiar but they were still potent. That was the problem with people who needed the words of others. Dean left himself vulnerable to attack and couldn't understand how she could always make him feel so bad.

But she had a penchant for it. Both verbally and physically and Dean couldn't understand where it came from. Well, he could, but to do so would be to acknowledge truths he'd rather ignore. Because accepting them would mean he would understand his sister better. And understanding was difficult. Hate though, that didn't take any effort.

One day she had just given him a wedgie, out of the blue. Maybe the waistband of his underwear was peeking out. He couldn't remember. And he didn't particularly want to. Memories weren't just images, they were emotions too, feelings that somehow only managed to get stronger with time. Like the pain of a wedgie when the underwear is slamming into your butt. The discomfort doesn't lessen, somehow it only manages to grow and keep growing. Like his hate until it was given an outlet.

But there was no outlet for pain. It just built up and that was made a wedgie worse than a mere punch to the face, because it lasted.

Under his jeans he was wearing white briefs, which also go by another name, one his sister loved to point out, tighty-whities.

She wrapped her long fingers around the waistband, curling the fabric in a strong underhand grip, the same sort of grip she would use if she was going to lift weights. And just in the same way as she would with weights she slowly pulled his underwear out of his pants and into his butt. His eyes shut, by this time he was familiar with what happened. First, there was the uncomfortable bunching of the fabric against him. The sensations were more annoying than anything else at the beginning. But that didn't last for long. He managed to squirm under his sister but her grip didn't at all loosen. If anything seeing his reaction inspired her to keep going. Just as a well placed word can convince someone to do something they might otherwise not have done, with Brittany, all she needed was the slightest indication that Dean was feeling the wedgie before she would really buckle down and start the real pulls.

She yanked on his briefs bringing the underwear close to her chest with a single pull. Dean shoved his face into the blankets to muffle the noise he made. He didn't want his sister knowing she was hurting him. But there was also worse things that could happen if their father heard them.

"What's wrong wittle bro? Don't you like the wedgie?"

She gave a harsh tug and he grabbed onto his bed sheets, wrapping his hands around that fabric before squeezing it into two small balls.
He groaned into the bed and what could be heard was an animal like cry voicing a need to be free.

She began to give quick pulls toward herself, hoping to tug as much of the underwear as she could right into his vulnerable crack. The tighty-whities were tight against him in a way that underwear shouldn't be, the wedgie making itself felt as Brittany slowly brought her hands, that were both holding a part of the waistband, back to the top of his pants, and Dean thought, for the slightest moment, that maybe, just maybe the wedgie was over. His next thought was more accurate though, it was one of surprise. A voice that asked in the cryptic way of rhetorical questions, "Done already?"

Brittany had just been building up the room needed to give his underwear their hardest pull yet. The underwear now just felt as if too much had built up right in the centre of him, almost like a natural wedgie, but unlike any natural wedgie he had ever gotten, this was not something he could easily pick out.
Suddenly Brittany launched her hands toward herself. She gave such a hard tug that Deans butt lifted off the bed toward Brittany who had hauled the briefs with such force it was almost as if she were trying to rip the underwear right off of him.

He pounded his fists against the bed and groaned wordlessly into the covers but couldn't deal with the pain. He could see darkness and he only felt agony.

He felt a slight shift on his underwear, the fabric that was biting into him like a sharpened icicle continued to thin, the fabric becoming nothing more than a strip of material that couldn't cover anything. Not even his damaged pride.

He suspected what Brittany was doing and got confirmation if it moments later when she thrust the underwear up again. She had tried many times to give him an atomic wedgie but what people who didn't know wedgies failed to realize was that it was incredibly difficult to actually pull a persons underwear over their head. To give that hard a wedgie the underwear had to be, at the very least, ridiculously stretchy.and mostly because he didn't want to experience what it was like to having his underwear pulled up and over his head, he made sure he didn't buy huge pairs of underwear.

"Tell me you like the wedgie wittle bro. Tell me how good it feels."

He managed to lift his head up from the bed but instantly shot it back against the covers as she gave another pull that threatened to make him scream.

"Come on little bro. Say you like my wedgies."

He didn't want to give in, it was bad enough that he was getting this wedgie from a girl, but his own sister, and he didn't know how he could stop. Other than submitting to her.

"Come on little bro...you know you like it. Tell me you like it."

She gave a quick tug and he had to clench his teeth to stop from crying out, the underwear was a katana, and Dean imagined that it wasn't just slicing into his butt, the cotton fabric of his tighty-whities (which he would have to make sure he stopped wearing, unless he wanted more wedgies. Only nerds wore underwear like that.) was cutting right through the layers of his mind that dealt with pain. He hated thinking of the underwear as a knife, it wasn't sharp enough, but the pain was so oppressive that he couldn't think of much else but how deep the underwear was, how it wasn't just tight against him, but crushing the parts of him underwear was supposed to comfort.
F
"I like...wedgies," he said. His eyes were shut and his hands were choking the fabric underneath him, his butt was pushed up toward Brittany who kept it lifted up by making sure the underwear was kept taut and tight both in her hands and against his skin.

"Sorry little bro, but I couldn't hear you. Mind speaking up?"

He groaned, she kept the underwear pulled so that the waistband was stretched all the way to her chin. There was a good swath of fabric hanging above Dean's back, the wedgie now a continuous hammering of discomfort against his backside which was being riddled by the yanks.

"I like wedgies!" He said it a bit louder this time, careful still to make sure no one else heard him.

"You like my wedgies don't you, you freak? You like when I pull your underwear up your butt don't you loser. Tell me you like it!" She leaned back, taking the underwear with her, and Dean's butt was forced off the bed.

"Ahh, I like it! I like it. Please! I like it!"

"Yeah I bet you do you little freak. You like when I tough your underwear. And you like it when I pull it up your crack. You like it when it rubs you. Don't you?"

--
That was what he was remembering while he had Life, small, nerdy Life, just standing helpless in his grasp.

He hauled up on her panties. She was whining away, he was content to give her something to really whine about.

"First, tell me you like the wedgie."

That was a good place to start, he thought. It was, unlike Life's underwear, fitting.
--

Life: w-what? No I'm not saying that just let me go. Please let go. You don't know how much this hurts.

*her voice was shaky as memories began to flow into her mind. One memory in particular, her worst day ever.*

*it was a few years ago at a private school. She was in the locker room alone as gym class had just ended and she was always the last to change. As she stood in the empty locker room in just a pink pair of panties covered in small brown teddy bears and a matching bra. She suddenly felt a feeling of dread as she felt a grip on her panties. She knew who it was. It was Terrance. Without a word he roughly yanked up the stretchy granny panties as he grinned seeing the teddy bears stretch. He spent about 10 minutes bouncing her as she held in pained squeals. He then carried her to the stall, he made her kneel in front of the toilet and she trembled greatly*

Terrance: you thirsty dork?
Life: no. No I'm not please let me go.
Terrance: but where's the fun in that

*he dunked her head in the gross toilet water and flushed as he continued to yank up the panties getting them halfway up her back. He then took out of the toilet and dragged her to the guys locker room. School was over so no one saw him. The football team was currently in practice, he continued to pull and yank as he bounced her roughly and the panties showed no sign of ripping. It was then he had finally succeeded what he had always tried to do. He managed to pull the stretchy panties over her head and snapped it over her nose. By now she was in tears, and from there he hung the front of her panties off a hook. He then taped a sign next to her that said "spank me". Terrance left and half an hour later the football team came back and roughly spanked her for an hour before she was finally released.*

*Life has tears now streaming from her eyes as the memory of that day sticks with her. She fears that now she has a new Terrance. She tells herself that she'll refuse to give in to him, but her spirit is practically already crushed*
--
Dean gave a tremendous pull, lifting Life right off the ground and his muscles bulged with the effort. He wouldn't be able to keep her airborne long but the wonderful thing about wedgies was that once the underwear was pulled you didn't have to do much but wait for the pain to build. The panties were a glob of fabric in both of his hands, fabric which slimmed as he followed their path with his eyes, tracing them back to the miniscule size of fabric that rose out of Life's pants. He could imagine it pressing against her, pushing at her. Her own underwear turned against her.

"You get wedgies all the time and still you wear dorky underwear like this. Either you like wedgies...or you love them!." Dean laughed, a raucous sound that filled the halls. He extended his arms up, feeling a bit of sweat pop out onto his skin as he struggled to keep the underwear wedged as tightly into her as he could.

"You must like wedgies. So tell me you do. Say you like them."

He lowered her to the ground and grinned as he got an idea how to really hurt this nerdy brat.

"Say you like wedgies unless you want me to pull the front of your underwear!"

He let go of the back of the underwear with his left hand and began to shift to Life's side so he would have access to both the front and back of her nerdy panties. His hand started to inch toward the front, a bit of fabric was peeking out, climbing up as Dean continued to pull her underwear harder and farther.

"You're right. I don't know how much this hurts. And I can only imagine what this is going to feel like. So tell me nerd, how much do you like this wedgie."


*she whimpers and sighs, she really didn't want to give in but the pain was unbearable, she felt his hand creep closer to the front of her underwear. She finally broke. She felt tears stream down her face as her voice became whiny and shaky.*

Life: ow okay I like it, I like it just please let go, owie it burns.

"You really are a nerd aren't you? Saying 'owie' like that. No one says that. And you know what Life, I don't really buy that you like wedgies. Say it like you meant it. Say it like you really enjoy feeling the underwear split you and then slip deeper into your nerdy body. Aren't you embarrassed to have somebody holding your underwear pulling it hard against you?

"Maybe this will convince you to put some feeling into your performance."

He grabbed onto the front of her underwear with his left hand, fingers slowly gripping the exposed waistband, he grinned wit the malicious joy of a petulant child who was getting exactly what he wanted.

He slowly, as slowly as he could while still making sure the underwear rose out of her pants at a speed she would even notice.

*she squirms and wiggles praying no one walks into the hall to see her like this. Her dorky panties yanked far out of her pants. Her face a deep red from embarrassment and tears streaming down her face. That wasn't her only concern. She was late, very late, for something very important. Stacy wouldn't be happy she had missed their bullying session. Life could already feel the cold toilet water splashing her face as her head will be shoved deep in the toilet bowl. Stacy loved to embarrass her and they always met in the girls room after English class so Stacy could bully her. She knew Stacy would be pissed. She was volleyball captain and would definitely hunt Life down until she found her. Life let these thoughts run through her mind as she tried to block out the pain*

Life: I like it. Just please stop. Please.

"I'm not too impressed with your performance. I don't truly believe you like this wedgie. But wearing nerdy underwear like that everyday...either you must be stupid or you really do like them. I bet you like them, the underwear splitting you, and then, slipping into you. You like when people pull hard on your panties don't you?

"You like that feeling of being embarrassed, don't you?"

He moved his left hand to the front of her exposed panties. His other hand held the back tight against her, the waistband stretching up past her mid-back. His fingers curled around her underwear and he flexed his fingers against the fabric a few times, feeling it and feeling the power he had over her represented in her panties. He was like a child at this point of the wedgie. Reverting to a place where all that mattered was his own satisfaction, and the consequences of actions were forgotten like the feeling of a wedgie after a long time passes without getting one.

But a part of you always remembers what a wedgie feels like once you've gotten a really hard one. That sensation stays like the ghost of a scar, ethereal and lasting.

He pulls slowly on the underwear, as slowly as he could while still ensuring the underwear was rising out of her pants. The underwear hardened under his grip, the pressure of being pulled from both sides, lifting into Life with renewed vigour, a see-saw of fabric that hooked under like a swing that didn't move back and forth but only rose higher and higher, reaching for that place where everything can be seen, but is too far out of reach to be attained. Sort of like all happiness.

He held both of his arms at the level of her chest, the underwaer let out its own sounds of protests which emulated Life's. A funny name, Life. Dean had a bit of interest in names and he couldn't think of a stranger name than that. Life for a girl named Life probably wasn't all that easy. Because people could be cruel, and so could life. Dean sometimes wondered, in the same way as he did about his sisters wedgies: What came first? Did people make life cruel, or did life make people cruel?

And where did Life fit into all of this? At the bottom.of the food-chain, at the refuse end of the proverbial circle of life. And Dean was just the predator to make sure this nerd didn't forget that.

"I don't think you like wedgies. Convince me. Tell me how it feels. Make me believe you like them."

He tugged up, his body almost pressed against her side, the underwear reaching out on either side of her. The front and the back straining to go higher, being stopped by Lifes body that the panties seemed determined to cut right in half if they couldn't get into her.

"Tell me how much you like them you little nerd. I can do this all day. People could be coming out at any minute. If you want this to end then make me believe you like them."
RP with BackupAccount25: Part 1
I have spoken about an RP I did with :iconbackupaccount25: a while ago. I had been waiting for her to post the whole thing up in her gallery but she has not yet. So I thought I would post it here. A note on RP's if you will allow the quick digression. It might just be me, I might not know how to do them, but I genuinely do not like them. To me what they should be is a collaborative story basically. One person does one thing and then another adds on with something relatively equal to that.

The first time I ever did it was on LF of all places, where someone posted a link to a chat group to replace the one that was taken away from LF after it went through some repairs. And I went to the group a few times, because talking to wedgie fetishists is something that fascinates me. When :iconchaosreacon: did his Q & A a while back, I just sat stunned that for the first time in my entire life I was face to face (in a way) with another wedgie fetishists. But I left that Q & A, not sure how to react to actually seeing him. And I kept coming back. Over and over again, as if some peeping Tom who can't forget about the precious site he once saw and is desperate to see it again. People have asked me if I had kik and stuff like that, but when I asked others if they thought I should get it, I got no response.

So on LF, I was drawn to this chat room just as I had been drawn to ChaosReacon's Q & A (I asked him, anonymously, to talk about how to write a wedgie scene. And he said, and I'm paraphrasing now, you have to write a scene and then work wedgies into it. See what works). And one time, when I went to the chatroom there was an RP going on. Keep in mind that I had never really done this before, but I had written Lucy and Daniela and other stories. That first time I commented on what was happening, there were two people and one person, the person who originally started the chat I believed, was disappointed  by the performance of her partner. I ended up taking over, and I wrote as I would write anything else with wedgies. I instantly tried to explain why wedgies were being used, what characters were thinking and feeling, etc. We actually had something decent in the end, there was one line my partner (who may have been a female in real life, but I'm always skeptical) used which, because one of the characters had roses on their underwear she said something like "this was a real romance and there were even roses to top it off." They wrote more eloquently but that was the gist of it, and that stuck with me. She liked what we did so much that she then asked my permission to post it on LF as advertisement of the group. And you know me, all I need is someone to want to show my work to others to get me to say yes to anything. I tried looking for that post recently but couldn't. It might be gone.

Either way, I went back to the board a few times. One person wanted to RP, so I did. And that was an unfortunate experience. They wanted to be someone who received a wedgie right, so they did basically nothing, while I had to write a detailed wedgie scene where they got a wedgie. And they were sitting there the whole time telling me to do more, do this, do that. And I did. And when I suggested that maybe they try to give a wedgie, the person called me sweetie and said they were only a receiver. And when it was done, they left and that was that. Other times I've done it basically always goes the same way, I write a lot. And get little back from others. The problem isn't with anyone else, it's my fault. I have high expectations, and shouldn't. I don't know why I want what I want. But I do. And so that makes me reluctant to RP.

That being said, here you have the first part of quite a few that I did with BackupAccount25. She wanted it to be with her OC Life (aren't all characters in all stories OC's? Why call them that? Even if you are writing fan fiction, then just say what I'm writing features characters from wherever. But why say characters you created are original characters? We know that they are).

A lot of others RP without posting it anywhere, but I'm pretty proud of what I wrote. The first part is me, and then BackupAccount25 came in with a response. I';; post the next parts later. I haven't continued the RP recently since I've been busy, but maybe in the future I will pick it up again.
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Interesting stuff. It was too short I think. Length isn't always something you should be paying attention to, but since there was basically no description of the wedgie I would say the story could have used more. It was called "the wedgie of her life" but instead of saying that, you could have unpacked that statement and described it. Why was it the wedgie of her life? And also, it's a little odd that this exact same expression would be used twice. First by the narrator and then by her. It seems a little odd. I might recommend looking for another way to describe it. So Sarah was moaning and groaning but I have no idea if the wedgie was painful for her or pleasurable, and Alphonse doesn't even hazard a guess. All though, this does sort of work later on when it is revealed that Sarah apparently liked it. So if you wanted it to be a surprise it sort of worked, but you could have done a lot more with the actual wedgie. I liked the description of the underwear. But you could have misled us saying that Sarah looked to be in a lot of pain. The sounds she was making were sounds that Alphonse himself made when he was getting wedgies from Sarah. Then again, that wasn't entirely clear.

Spelling and grammar is still a problem. It's threw, not through. Run-on sentences are also a concern. Read your stuff aloud and see if things just don't sound right. You could break the first paragraph into smaller paragraphs. And just reread some of your stuff before you post it. Like the first line, it could say "Al sat in his car hoping Rachel wasn't home. Hoping that he could get to his apartment unscathed." Even if you don't write it like this, you can get rid of the repetition of "sat" twice. What does it even mean, "feeling the testosterone from his masculinity?" I just don't understand that. He's feeling what? Tough? Not scared? If he's so manly though why doesn't he stand up to Rachel?

Onto the questions that spring to my mind after reading the story. Why would Sarah take a picture of herself in an atomic wedgie? And why was Alphonse "...strangely turned on by this"? Does he have a fetish for wedgies? Not enough detail or explanation.

You should change the format of the words for the letter. Maybe italicize them so they stick out more. What is happening at the end when he takes time to respond. Is everything after the "woah" also his message? If so, why end the quote and then start a new one?

I think that's all I got from now. Work on formatting and editing the piece. If you want I can help you edit it, clean it up and work on adding details. Just to make sure you know, don't take any of this personally. I'm not criticizing you, simply the piece. I respect and admire you and your choice to open up your pieces for critiques. I hope this maybe helps you out.

As always I want to know more about the characters, and I want to see where there relationship will go from here.
HELP!
This is far more important than my last status update, which you can all ignore. I'm looking for help with a story request I was given. I've never asked for help on a story before and I thought about this for a while, wondering if I should try to figure it out myself, or ask for assistance.  But I've often said I want to work with others on things, and this story is like the Dutch Stonewall defence in chess. Hard to break and get past, if you know what I mean.

Here's the idea.
A person on WH started this wonderful thread: forum.wedgiehaven.com/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=17824
and I already contributed one story to it based on a request the creator gave me from someone else. This new request comes directly from the person who started the thread.

All right the idea. Basically it's this: there is a nerdy guy who gets wedgies from a girl (in a friendly way, but for reasons unknown). (I'm thinking it's because they like each other maybe. At least, that would explain why this guy, who is much taller, and bigger than the girl is, allows her to give him wedgies. She's more athletic than him, but he could still fight, but doesn't) ). No one else bullies him, (this is part of the request but I'm thinking female cheerleaders will for the story but I'll get to that in a second) but also for reasons unknown the girl wants to make the guy less dorky. And she, again for reasons unknown, continues to give him wedgies along the way.

So this may be saying a few things to you all right away. One, I realize it does speak to a theme that runs through my work, the idea of different people having a friendships come to life because of wedgies.

My major concern is how do I write this withour making it a sort of "My Fair Lady" or "Pretty Woman" or any of those other stories where people change who they are while others stand by and grab the clothes that is thrown over the top of changing room stall doors.

I'll lay out what I have so far and see how you react.
1. We maybe start with cheerleaders giving the male character, Taylor, a very hard wedgie. He's getting a pretty brutal wedgie from this gang of girls who are teasing and taunting him etc.
2. We flashback then to a scene that introduces Taylor and the female protagonist Allison (in a way I hope isn't too Lucy and Daniela). Allison gives him a friendly sort of wedgie.
3. In a scene that reminds me far too much of a story on LF called Wedgie Friends Forever I was then thinking the cheerleaders would then give him a wedgie, inspired by what Allison does. They can joke say stuff like "hey, you're always giving him wedgies! He must like them. We're just giving the nerd what he wants." And stuff like that.
4. The cheerleaders leave when Allison stands up to them I guess (way too cliché at this point all ready. It's Wedgie Friends Forever. Just with a guy.
5. I guess Allison is then going to say something like, "hey, Taylor. I think I should help you be less nerdy." (wow).
6. Taylor is going to have a friend, I'm thinking Asian but I don't know why. A girl who has always liked him but has always been the best friend. She's going to get mad that Taylor is changing who he is, but I have a few interesting lines about how he has to change, not for Allison but because change is good or something more eloquent. He lets the Asian friend down easy and tells her that he couldn't pretend to be anything more than friends with her.
7. Of course Asian friend feels rejected (Lucy and Daniela all over again. I never caught that when I first thought of the idea, but now it's too obvious to ignore). And since Taylor and Allison were going to meet up, I guess to profess their love, Asian girl tells the cheerleaders where they are going to meet.
8. Back at the beginning now. Taylor is waiting for Allison and the cheerleaders ambush him, giving him the brutal wedgie that started the story off. He runs away before Allison shows up. The cheerleaders tell Allison that Taylor left and said he didn't like her, or something. She's now heartbroken...
9...uh...They meet up again, the truth comes out...Taylor isn't as dorky as he once was and he gets one last wedgie for old times sake...

This is how you don't write a wedgie story.
Now you see my problem. I need your help. Let's write this thing together. I'll take any ideas, send them in. I want to work a lot on this tomorrow morning (where I am, it literally just became 12:01 a.m. ) so I suppose in like 9 hours. I want to work on this and get some writing started. Send me all your ideas. All of them. I need your help. Will you answer the call?
Lucy and Daniela has over 100,000 views!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sweet lord what did I ever do to deserve people as amazing as all of you in my life? Seriously? I don't understand it. I'll have to post the parts here soon. After I finish posting Teacher Wedgie Fight.

LuckyFetish Forums means a lot to me, it's where I started, and where I grew. I just sent a PM to Lucky thanking him for that site and all he does for the community. 100,000 views. I want that number to validate me. But it doesn't. What does is the fact that I wrote the story of Lucy and Daniela. Of two girls who are so very different. Who end up becoming the best of friends. It's a theme that persists through so much of my work, something I only just realized had been a part of so much that I wrote that it was almost eerie how I didn't notice it.

There was nothing but then I started to write and then there was Daniela. And then there was Lucy. How about I tell you another story. One of my favourites, that I often go over myself but I don't believe anyone else has ever heard of it.

It's a story about Lucy, Daniela, and me.

On December 28th 2014 a user named Bobrob posted in the fictional stories of LuckyFetish Forums. luckyfetish.com/forum/index.ph…

It was a post entitled Story help and in it is a link that will take you to a poll (I guess you can call it that) he created which he said was a "story creator." Well, I love wedgie stories, and if I could go to some place that would create stories for me without me having to do anything...It sounded amazing. So I started answering the questions, I had to decide who would get the wedgie, and the common details like that. Maybe nothing would have come of this anyway but then there was the obvious question of what underwear would the victim be wearing. And the options were all standard as I recall, except for one. Spider-man underwear. When I saw that I knew whoever was getting the wedgie would have to get one with that kind of underwear on. I don't know why I thought this. Other than the fact that it was different. Maybe it was destiny. In Stephen King language: Ka.

And then, after answering all the questions, and making all my selections, I scrolled down to the bottom of the page where I expected to see some button saying "Generate story" or something declarative like that, which would bring my choices to life. But there was nothing. All that I found at the bottom of this sheet was a space for typing and I believe above it the words, "type your story here."

MY STORY! What do you mean, my story? I cant write anything. I came here so you could write for me. I left that page then, I think. But I kept coming back to it. I would make some selections, and wonder at the ridiculousness of something that would have you pick certain options and then make you write the story yourself.

I believe it was when I was walking home from school one day did the idea strike me to actually write something. Suddenly I could see it happening. All of the wedgie stories I had read, years of living with this fetish. All I had written before was the contributions to the Community Story (which I still hope someone else continues. I'll add to it if you do) But maybe I could do it. Maybe I could write a story in the terrifying empty space at the end of that page which had promised creation but only delivered ideas. But perhaps ideas were what I really needed.

So one day shortly after that I started writing Lucy and Daniela. I had no idea then what it would eventually grow into.

Here's where it gets interesting. Bobrob promised in that thread that he would post stories if he got them. So there I was writing Lucy and Daniela (a story that I never had problems titling) and what really struck me, what probably ensure that the story got continued and became what it is today, was the twist at the end of that first part I wrote. Here is this guy, not the smartest by any means, who is writing along and then suddenly, out of that place where ideas inevitably come, was the idea that the underwear Daniela rips off of Lucy can be similar to a pair Daniela also wears. A pair of Spider-Man underwear.

It just worked so well that I had to write it. I just had to. So I did. And then it was written. And I hesitated again. Could I seriously send this into Bobrob? He was looking for stories...not whatever garbage I could come up with. All I had done was the Community Story and even then I let the other writers do most of the work I think. But I liked the story. I liked it a lot. That first part, from when the characters are first introduced, to the moment when Daniela is looking at her pair of underwear in a scene that matches a similar scene near the end, magically, was something I really liked.

So here's what I did: I copied and pasted the entire story into the blank space from a word doc. And under the title this is exactly what I put.

Lucy and Daniela
By: Anonymous.

I didn't put my name under Lucy and Daniela. And this was something I thought really long and hard about for a while. For days I went over this decision. I thought that someone else might take credit for the story once Bobrob posted it. And I tried to tell myself that I would be OK with that. That I would know who wrote it. I think I sent the story to him a bunch of times because I was afraid he wasn't getting it. I was scared because I had sent the story to him a while ago and he still hadn't posted it. Not a word about the story.

So I don't know what motivated me to do what I did next, but I wanted to post the story. Maybe before someone else did. Or maybe just because here was something I was proud of. A real contribution to the community which had given so much to me over the years. I posted it. 

On January 24 2015 the story was first posted on LF.

And now...now it's a sticky post. I don't know why, or who did that, but I'm so grateful that they liked my work enough to do that. To be honest with you all, if Lucy and Daniela hadn't done so well, I probably wouldn't still be writing in this community. But it means a lot to feel appreciated. I think we all know that though. And a part of me probably would still be pushing me to write even if no one ever read it. The same part that is doing the same thing despite the low numbers of YWNR. Because it's not, as I often strive to say, about the numbers. But about how you feel at the end of the day when you think about the work you've done. The work tht wouldn't be there if it wasn't for you. It's beautiful.

What else can I say...because of that story so many more words followed. Worlds were built but more important, doors were opened. Doors inside of myself that allowed me to write. To tell stories about wedgies and people. I owe Lucy and Daniela so much for what they did for me. I'm just happy the two of them got a happy ending. Same as everyone in that story I believe. Well...basically everyone. 

The moment the story ended I thought about a sequel. I had...not foreshadowed, but described, in the vaguest of terms, what happens to them later on. And I had the simplest idea for them meeting up years down the line. But the same thing that told me to write the story told me not to write a sequel. I know it can never measure up to what the first one was. And in truth, whatever you imagine happened to them after is far better than anything I could ever write. This way their futures are unlimited.

What else is there to say? Later I'm sure I'll think of something I'm sure, as is always the way. A lot of it I wrote longhand in university in notebooks. I don't know if I ever said this but I outline stories a lot. I'll go over the plot again and again to make sure I know where the story is going and so I don't forget anything. So somewhere is notebooks that have scenes, some slightly changed from what can be found online, and a lot of the same outline: Lucy goes crazy, Sam backstory, Teacher character development, etc.

Ah yes, so Bobrob never did post the story. Interestingly enough though, another user on this board who is known for stealing other peoples work, posted the story with the names of the characters changed to the fitting choice of Fox and Stacy. If, for whatever reason, you liked the first part of the story but hated the characters names, perhaps this will be more to your liking. I confronted the user about this and he apologized for stealing the story. All is well. Fox And Stacy Part 1Fox woke up to the sound of her alarm clock. It rang the same way it always had for years now. It was reliable. In fact, it had been waking her up for four years now. Since she began high school and every day since. She sometimes thought about how she wouldn't need it anymore. It was her final year in high school. The walls of her room were filled (as only a mother’s laundry machine could be when she has a lot of children) with posters of comic book heroes and villains. She was a huge comic book fan. She wore thick bottleneck glasses that had a small bit of masking tape on the bridge, although they had been broken in half Lucy’s mother thought there was nothing a bit of tape couldn’t solve, so on the tape went to hide the break. This tape had been neatly coloured black to match the glasses because Fox wasn’t worried about the break, but how the tape looked. The colouring didn’t really help to hide it. She quickly got dressed, putting on a plain white t-shi

Thank you for all your support of me and my work. Of being there for me, everyday when I wake up, and every night before I go to bed. I've said I'm on these sites too often, but it's only because there is such amazing people who make it worth my time. You are all incredible. I don't know what else to say but thank you. Thank you oh so very much.

Lucy and Daniela: luckyfetish.com/forum/index.ph…

Enjoy, my friends and my family. Please, enjoy.



 

deviantID

hannsgutherson
Ryan Tuchow (wedgie)
Canada
A wedgie fetishist who writes stories.

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:iconvenomsorcerer:
VenomSorcerer Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Student General Artist
Thanks for the watch 😊😊😊
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:iconhannsgutherson:
hannsgutherson Featured By Owner 1 day ago
Thanks for being so awesome.
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:iconvenomsorcerer:
VenomSorcerer Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Student General Artist
😶 awe shucks
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:icontdf-x:
TDF-X Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Professional Digital Artist
thanks for the fav :)
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:iconbenzinne:
Benzinne Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2016  New Deviant
Danke for the watch! :D
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:iconwedgieking1337:
WedgieKing1337 Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the watch!
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:iconhannsgutherson:
hannsgutherson Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016
My pleasure. You've created some wonderful pieces of art.
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:iconwedgieking1337:
WedgieKing1337 Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Well, I'm glad to you like them. I always try to do my best and take my time to make it great. Quality over quantity.
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:iconhannsgutherson:
hannsgutherson Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016
Solid wisdom. Something I could perhaps take a tip from. Keep up the good work.
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3wyl Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello! :wave:

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