Originally posted on wedgiebuddies.net by grundy_guy
I had been largely left alone by the Muscle Trio of Kurt, Dolf and The Brick Shit–House for months. I talked to them on occasion, just small talk or asking for a spot. They liked me as a gym buddy, but they weren’t inviting me over to play video games or anything.
The next physical interaction with any of them came on a day when I noticed an enormous pair of dirty boots on the floor at the end of my row of lockers. They were huge. I was ludicrously turned on by the sight of them. I have a foot thing and definitely a boot thing. The dirty was a positive too. I had a visceral reaction to them, one that I never expected I would have, but there I was, mesmerized. One boot had a good amount of mud still caked to the side. The rest was mostly mud splatter but they were sufficiently muddy. I put one of my shoes next to them and took a picture. It was 2004, so it wasn’t easy. The camera was shitty and not as easy to access or as inconspicuous as smart phones now. On top of that, I’m kind of a clumsy guy and definitely not good at playing inconspicuous. I didn’t take the risk of taking several photos as fail at being stealthy.
But, it wasn’t enough. I wanted to know exactly how big they were. I put my phone in my pocket, checked to see if anyone else was in the locker room—I was alone—and crouched down next to the boots and reached inside. I pulled the tongue back to see if there was a size indication there. I was in luck! It was right there. They were size 17…
“You going to clean them for me?” someone said.
It was The Brick Shit–House. I hadn’t heard him come in.
“I just wanted to see what size.” I blurted out, “They’re so big.”
I sounded really stupid, stuttering and blushing. I was wearing only my gym shorts, of course with tighty–whities underneath. I felt naked with him standing before me. He had just finished a workout, rippling and sweaty.
“You can clean ‘em if you want.” The Brick Shit–House said.
I laughed a little and walked back to my locker, started taking my shoes off. He began to open his locker which was just a few down from mine. He wasn’t attempting to, but he was blocking my way out of the row of lockers. It felt intimidating, even though he was simply using the locker he had chosen that day. In retrospect what was intimidating is that I was going to have to change in from of him and then get around him to leave.
“Man we really flossed your ass the other day.” He said.
“It was a couple of months ago.” I said. Again, it sounded lame to my own ears. I made a conscious decision to stop talking as everything I was saying was reinforcing his idea that I was an adult dork, hoping he’d be my friend. But, also, trying to change quickly and get the hell out of there. I started pulling my street clothes out of my locker.
“What, you’re not going to shower?” He asked.
“I live close by.” I answered.
He took a towel out of his locker and threw it over his shoulder.
“You should shower,” he said.
I was intrigued and terrified all at the same time. My pulse was pounding in my ears, my vision blurring slightly with each thump of my heart. I’m pretty sure I looked like a cartoon, eyes bulging, mouth dropped open, frozen in place. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. Ultimately, no offense to Hoosiers, I was in Indiana. I wasn’t sure if this was a trap. What if he wanted to lure me into the showers to kick my ass? Well…I was a masochist and that was a fantasy. But I wanted to be hazed or bullied not beaten within inches of my life in a hate crime. It was 2004, so there was definitely a risk of that.
He was watching me closely as I was still processing the information. He shrugged and walked towards the showers. I watched his giant, muscular body as he walked away from me. His massive, muscular ass jutted in and out as he walked. It was beautiful.
I decided to follow him.
He stood in front of an open shower and had just finished hanging up his towel. He looked at me as I chose the stall next to him. I dropped my towel on the hook. I really didn’t know what to do. What if I had picked up on a signal that wasn’t there? Should I have taken a stall at the end of the row?
He started to move behind me. Again, I froze.
With a whipping sound, he yanked my gym shorts down to my ankles. I could feel my face blushing hard and my pounding pulse quicken and intensify. I was so embarrassed. The increased heart rate was starting to make me a bit light-headed. I bent down to pull my shorts back up but I couldn’t get them up. They’d stretch a bit, and then stop. They were stuck on something. I looked between my legs and saw a giant, size 17 foot holding my shorts to the floor. My shorts weren’t coming up, because Brick was standing on them. But my underwear…
I felt his two massive hands slip around my waistband, one above each butt cheek, and with one fluid motion, he gripped it hard and YANK! The first pull brought the fabric of my undies into my butt crack, smashing my dick and balls and lifting me out of my shorts. One yank and it was a bounce. I tried to hook my big toe (don’t remember which one) onto my shorts…which was an absolutely futile move. I wasn’t getting them back on any time soon. I vaguely remember seeing my shorts bunch up against the wall as my toe involuntarily flung them there. Flung them there because I was being involuntarily spun in a different direction by my tighty-whities.
“Tighty-whities!” Brick annoucned.
I tried to respond but odd sounds and grunts were all I could produce as Brick continued to bounce me around by my undies, which were wedging deeper and deeper up my ass crack, constricting my dick and balls into a very limited prison of fabric as the front waistband sunk lower and lower.
“If it makes you feel any better, you look totally stupid,” He said, sounding amused and disgusted, “Are these generic?”
They were Staffords. I liked them because they had a nerdy retro look to them. Just a gold and blue band around the waistband.
He gave a couple more hard yanks, burning my ass crack and finding a deep spot inside my butthole I wasn’t aware was possible with a wedgie. It felt like my butthole was inside out. The front waistband was pressing against the top of my thighs, limiting any space my dick and balls had to live in. The crushing was intense and it was starting to knock the wind out of me.
Displaying an uncommon knowledge of wedgie mechanics, Brick said, “You’re going to have a skid mark all the way to your front waistband.”
He was genuinely laughing, hard—not in a sadistic way—but with deep, genuine amusement at my predicament.
I was brought up to my tip–toes but he wasn’t lifting me off the ground.
Brick started marching me back and forth in front of the showers. With each yank, my tighty–whities found their way higher up my crack. I let out an embarrassingly high yelp when my balls started squeezing between my legs. Having been part of the online wedgie community for quite a while at that point, I’d heard many stories of wedgie victims having their balls retract from the pressure. Mine never do that. They stay out the entire time for the torture. I haven’t experienced ball retraction from a wedgie, but I’ve definitely had them crushed.
“Wedgie parade.” Brick laughed.
He walked me back down to the two shower stalls we had our towels at, pushing me forward and pulling my underwear back on each step. I was leaving the ground for a second every time he yanked me back to him. It was terribly humiliating.
My stomach dropped as I heard the locker room door open, somebody walking in. It didn’t stop Brick from giving me an epic wedgie, not at all. In fact, it felt like having a potential audience made him yank harder. He started bouncing me off the ground, which got me making a weird “Aaaaaaaah” sound every time I left the ground. He used his body as leverage and I could feel the definition in his chest as I basically slid down his body with each bounce.
The guy who had entered the locker room poked his head around the corner with a concerned look. I watched him as the situation came into focus and his face quickly turned to amused onlooker.
“Someone pissed off the wrong guy,” the guy said, laughing.
“Yup,” Brick answered, and then I went skyward.
The other gym member’s eye bulged and his mouth dropped open in astonishment when he saw me leave the ground.
“That is a real nice stretch up the butt there,” he said, “well done.”
Then, he left.
I looked down to see how high off the ground I was—it was high—and caught site of the tight ball my package was wrapped in by the ever-reducing front panel of my tighty-whities. It was comical. All the skin and hair of my crotch was visible but my dick and balls were not where they should be. My front waistband was dimpled between my thighs and a big white bulge protruded from between my legs: my dick bent in half and my balls being squeezed back between my upper thighs, following the rest of my tighty-whities up my butt. It looked someone had completely castrated me and shoved a balled up pair of socks into my undies.
My ass was on fire. The pressure of the hanging wedgie was digging my tighty-whities into my ass crack like they were made of razor blades and not a cotton-poly blend. And, it was invasive. It felt like someone was slicing my butthole open to twice it’s natural size. I squirmed my legs and grunted and tried to press myself against my weaponized tighty-whities by grabbing my tortured waistband and pushing against it, trying to lift myself out of them. I specifically remember attempting this but can’t tell you if it was my front or back waistband I was able to get my hands on. The pain and humiliation were so great, my brain entered a kind of mush land.
In a frighteningly quick and disorienting move, Brick dropped me to the ground, kicked a toilet stall door open and pushed me through. Before I could even think about defending myself, he had me in a half nelson, his chest against my back (my neck, really) and his right arm snaking under my right armpit, then back over my shoulder and around my head.
Before dunking my head into the public toilet, he said, “As long as I’ve got ya’, may as well make it a swirly too.”
Splash! And I mean, SPLASH! This was an old gym, converted from some type of warehouse. The water-efficient toilets that started replacing the old relics hadn’t made it to this building yet, so an old relic it was. As my head hit the bottom of the toilet bowl, the water rushed into my nose. As an expert bully (although a real nice guy) Brick grabbed my ankles and did it the proper way. I was completely inverted.
Flush! Those old toilets really know how to waterboard a nerd. As the water rose, I had to hold my breath as it covered my lips almost up to my chin. It was a deep and thorough swirly. As the water drained out of the toilet in a loud “whoosh” and I heard the gurgling sound the toilet drain ends on echo inside the bowl, the water slowly started draining out of my ears, revealing Brick’s deep laughter.
With swift bully agility, Brick let my feet fall to the floor while grabbing my tighty-whities at the same time. Applying ample pressure back into the already-thorough wedgie, he forced my head to stay in the toilet as the water begin to fill the bowl again. I blew toilet water out of my nose and spit repeatedly to make sure no toilet water was getting into my mouth. This made Brick laugh even harder.
Everything went dark. I felt Brick’s massive legs lock under my armpits as he sat down on the toilet with my head still in it, the water rising quickly up across my forehead. Toilet water is cold, extremely cold, and my head was starting to go numb.
“Gonna get this nice and deep.” Brick said as he started tugging away at my tighty-whities like he was trying to start a lawnmower.
The fabric burn on my crack was definitely getting deeper but the way the front panel of my tighty-whities was invading and spreading my butthole open was disconcerting and deeply painful. As the toilet water was rising rapidly past my eyes towards my nose, my feet were struggling for purchase on the ground. Brick noticed this and started tugging away at the perfect angle to start lifting my lower body into the air. This caused my legs to spread, allowing my balls to squeeze into the space between my legs. The volume of the area between my taint and tighty-whities was minimal, so my balls were basically being siphoned into that narrow space, crushing them intensely.
Once my feet were off the ground, Brick didn’t let them touch again. He was doing an expert job of letting my lower body drop and yanking back up just before my feet would touch the ground, letting gravity drive the insane wedgie ever deeper.
Why wouldn’t they rip? Fucking Staffords.
The toilet water rose over my nose again, almost to my upper lip. Brick held me in wedgie suspension with one hand for a moment while he used the other hand to flush again.
The second swirly was accompanied by the continuous inverted bouncing wedgie. The humiliation was so intense, as much as I was excited by this new connection with Brick, I really wanted it to stop. I was going to feel this one for a week, at least.
As the water drained out of the toilet, Brick finally relented. A rush of blood filled my balls as the pressure of the marathon wedgie finally receded.
Once I was on my feet, Brick pressed me up against the stall wall with one hand, allowing all of the toilet water soaked into my hair to run down my face and body. I reached down to my underwear to fix it but Brick grabbed my hand.
“No, no,” he said, “I get to admire my handiwork for a second.”
He looked me up and down and then doubled over with laughter. He looked up at me which sent him back into another fit of laughter. He looked up again and repeated the fit of laughter.
Finally, he rose to his full height and said, “Where’s your dick?”
I looked down and saw the front waistband of my tighty-whities folding back between my legs. The area where my dick and balls normally sit was void of anything but my ample forest of pubes. My dick and balls were still stuck between my legs. Flattened against my taint.
With one hand, he spun me around to inspect his expert work tearing my butt in half. I heard another fit of laughter then felt a little bit of a tug on my overstretched undies.
“The double-stitch is where your waistband should be.” Brick said, referring to the stitch that separates the single panel of the back of my briefs to the double panel of the front.
I was wedgied so deep that the entire front panel of my tighty-whities was lodged up my ass.
“I got you good,” he said and then pushed me out the door towards my shower stall.
“I told you you’d need a shower.” He said as he walked into his own stall.
Once I saw his gym clothes dropping onto the floor outside of his stall, I picked the wedgie out. It hurt to pull the fabric past my butt cheeks. The wedgie was deep enough for the fabric to burn during the picking as well. I released my package from between my legs and shook it around to ensure it was all still there and I could feel it.
While I showered, I wondered if I should join him in his stall and drop to my knees in front of him. I decided it was best to let him drive. If that was going to happen, he’d come into my stall.
I showered fast and got out of the shower while Brick continued in his stall. As I was drying off, I heard his water turn off. He stepped out of the shower, un-self-consciously drying off in front of me, displaying his massive, muscular, six-foot-four-or-more body. Yes, in case you were wondering, IT was huge.
As we changed back into our street clothes at our lockers, he said, “You deserve it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the perfect victim. First time I saw you, long before we ripped your stupid tighty-whities, I wanted to whale on you.”
My brain spun around in my head trying to process this information.
“Why?”
Brick shrugged. “Energy?” He said.
We continued to change in silence, the impact of living out a fantasy slowly hitting me. I couldn’t look at him, but wanted to see that massive back, massive arms, the bulletproof ass…
“Give me your phone.” He said as he shut his locker.
I handed it to him. Being 2004, there was no lock on it. Also, it flipped open. He went through the rigorous process of putting his number in my contacts.
“Call me,” he said as he slipped his bag over his shoulder, “I want you to come over so I can hang you up.”
I did what anybody would do in that situation and stared at him like a deer in headlights.
So this week was the first time that I had received a wedgie while at work!!!! So the backstory of it started as a joke from my boss at work (who is 50 years old, and I’m 25), and over the last 2 plus years, he has become my work dad (super caring person, will do anything for any of the people that work for him, absolute great boss). And with my position, I’ve worked around him a lot, and we kind of have that dad/son type of relationship with picking at/messing with each other.
Along the line, starting as a joke, if I didn’t do something or said that I wasn’t going to do something, he would say “oh the punishment is you’re getting a wedgie.” Always thought he was joking! Then we had made a bet on my grades during my current grad school classes, to where if I didn’t get an A in both, he would follow through and give me the punishment of a wedgie.
Welp, I got one A and an A-, when he asked me what the grades were, he was like “like I said before, punishment is a wedgie.” I was thinking it was all a joke until we were in the locker room at work after physical training, and he said “it’s time.” “Yeah right, sir, you’re not going to do it.”
He said turn around (and I for some reason willingly did), and he reached in my uniform pants, grabbed my wrangler performance stretch briefs that he had seen me put on, and yanked!! Those things stretched so far up, farther than expected though they are performance briefs.
Then he was like, “I have a better idea,” and walks me over to the wall hooks and says “up you go.” Next thing I know, I’m on my tip toes, hanging by my briefs. He laughed so hard, and my briefs stretched just enough to where my heels were far enough off of the ground to where I had to just take it and couldn’t get unhooked by myself. When he let me down, all he had to say was get those grades up or next time they are going over your head 😬
I thought he was joking the whole time… I guess not
*and he took the pictures, but to protect him and myself, I took out the ones that show parts of him and my face
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