[Untitled Wedgie Story Chapter III.]
[This is another slapdash addition to a story I began a few days ago. It's probably rough around the edges as I kinda threw it together, like the last two parts. As always, feedback and suggestions are always welcome.]
Whatever it was that your bros found so compelling about your receptivity to wedgies, it was clear that they meant business. They must have privately coordinated the events immediately following your departure from the burger joint, though you couldn't even guess when or how they would have had time to do so.
The moment your seatbelt was fastened in its buckle, it suddenly and powerfully tightened against your torso. The guy behind you was pulling at the seatbelt from behind with all his might, securing you helplessly in place. Before you could even react, a second pair of hands had found their way around the seat and once again into the back of your pants, impressively maneuvering a massive wedgie as Damien, cackling along with the rest of them, started the engine and began to drive.
You kicked and thrashed in the limited legroom of the passenger seat as the waistband climbed with shocking rapidity and ease, quickly attaining the goal of being hooked over the top of the headrest. So powerful was the restraining force of your seatbelt, pulled from behind with immense force, that you couldn't even raise your arms to reach up and release the waistband from the headrest. But even if you could have, would you?
'You seriously need to stop squirming and chill out, wedgie boy,' Damien said, reaching across from the driver's seat to tousle your hair playfully, the way an uncle—or a bully—might have.
You could only stammer, the onslaught of sensations almost so intense as to impede coherent thought. 'I... oh, God... fuck, I'm not—'
'Damien's right, wedgie boy,' said Trevor's voice from behind you, followed by a wet, slippery POP noise that sounded like something being inserted into a mouth and quickly withdrawn. 'You need to chill the fuck out and try to enjoy yourself already.'
With no warning, a pair of big, meaty pinkie fingers, obviously coated with copious quantities of saliva, were jammed into both your ears at once. The involuntary full-body shudder that this triggered was humiliating enough, to say nothing of the groan of visceral, high-octane pleasure that this forced you to produce. The fingers did not retreat immediately but instead twisted and wriggled aggressively, as if to wring as many gasps and moans and expletives as possible from your mouth, by force. Though your ear canals were fully obstructed, you heard the entire car erupt with laughter at your ecstasy-torment. You didn't know if the constriction you felt in my crotch was due more to the gigantic wedgie you still had in, or to the fact that your erection, straining against your tighty whities, must have been hard enough to cut diamonds.
You shut your eyes, tight. You didn't entirely know why, but it felt like you had to, perhaps as an instinctive reflex to prevent your brain from literally short-circuiting on the veritable deluge of embarrassment, pain, helplessness, and extreme pleasure that was assaulting your neural pathways with unrelenting brutality.
'Dude, he fucking loves this so much, it's insane.'
'Our little wedgie boy's horned up out of his fucking mind right now.'
'Hey, wedgie boy, smile for the camera!'
You opened your eyes to see a phone being held in front of your face at arm's length. It was Jack who held the phone, as the only one in the van's middle row whose hands weren't fully occupied. The front-facing camera was on, and the second your eyes snapped open, the digitized camera shutter clicked, signalling that a photo had been captured.
Jack was leaning into the frame from the opposite side of the van, gesturing towards you with his thumb and an exaggerated facial expression that said 'Get a load of this!'
Visible directly behind you was Aiden, grinning maniacally as he continued to pull your seatbelt towards himself with incredible force, leaning back in his own seat to maximize his leverage.
Leaning in from the middle seat was Tyler, whose thick pinkie fingers still clogged your ears and who was beaming at the camera like he was at his high school graduation all over again.
In the back of the van were Adam and Chris, both laughing so hard that they looked like they were on the verge of passing out or giving themselves heart attacks.
Just barely in frame was Damien behind the wheel, eyes on the road and a jocular smirk on his face that said 'Boys will be boys!'
In the middle of the picture itself was, of course, you. The headrest was fully enveloped in the white fabric of your briefs, and Tyler's fingers were still plugged deep into your ears. Your face was flushed red, eyes wide with embarrassment and terror, but your pupils blown so wide as to make your arousal impossible to deny.
It was too much. It was too hot. You needed it to stop, soon, or else...
'Guys,' you pleaded, trying to wriggle free and actually managing to get Tyler to retract his saliva-covered fingers from your ears. You were so horrified by what you felt was going to happen that your voice was barely above a croak of timid protestation. 'Guys, I—'
'What is it, wedgie boy?' Damien asked. 'You'll have to speak up, we're having too much fun to hear you.'
You tried to keep your voice as level as you could, but it was becoming a mounting struggle. 'I... I can't... It's too much...'
'"Too much"? Tyler cut in, 'Bro, we've literally seen your locked photo gallery. There's no such thing as "too much wedgies" when it comes to your ass, that's for sure.'
'No, you don't understand,' you said. You felt the walls that had miraculously gotten you through the morning's earlier three-hour wedgie session beginning to crumble. 'If you don't stop, I'm gonna... gonna...' You fought hard against the waves of orgasm crashing against your consciousness, like you were an ancient mythic king in a parable, trying, in his hubris and vanity, to hold back the tides of the ocean.
'Gonna what? Cream your tighty whities just from a wedgie?' Amid the continued snickering from the bros at this comment, Aiden took the liberty of unhooking your waistband from the headrest and pulling viciously towards himself, suddenly intensifying an already monster wedgie without warning.
You groaned helplessly as the camel's back finally broke. Your overfull balls emptied impossible amounts of semen into your briefs, blasting rope after rope of pent-up jizz into your tautly pulled tighty whities. It was, by far, the most pleasurable climax you had ever experienced, tainted only by the horrifying reality of the context in which it had occurred.
A silence had fallen over the friend group. The car had come to a halt. Surely this was the end of the fantasy come to life, and also of your friendships with six other guys whom you had loved and trusted as brothers.
'Dude,' Tyler said, 'I didn't even know you could do that.' There was another pause. You said nothing. You wanted to disappear, to die. It was Tyler who broke the silence again, but now in a different tone. 'So I guess that gives us something to work towards with this wedgie boy, huh?'
There was a hearty wave of agreement that rocked through the car, and a resumption of the general, jovial atmosphere as before. You were in complete disbelief. 'Something to work towards'?
Damien clapped you on the shoulder. 'Bet you were holding that one in all morning, huh, wedgie boy?'
'He definitely sounded like it, from the way he was moaning back at your place,' Tyler added.
'Dude, I thought he was gonna bust when I gave him that piledriver wedgie back at your place,' chimed in Chris. 'He seemed so into it, but I guess he was actually holding back!'
Just as you were starting to realize what all this was implying, Damien pointed out the window. You finally realized why the car was stopped in the first place. You followed the path of his finger and saw, outside, that it led to your apartment building. They had driven you home. 'Better go in and get into a fresh pair of briefs, wedgie boy.' Damien said. 'Or we could come in with you.' You looked back into the vehicle and saw the same array of crazed, manic, eager faces that you had seen on the faces of these same friends that same morning, when they revealed to you what you yourself had revealed to them the night before. You turned back to Damien, speechless. 'Well, aren't you gonna invite us in?'
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