28M, gay. Just a blog where I like things that turn me on, such as menās briefs, boxer briefs or jockstraps, sagging, and wedgies. Wanted to create wedgie stories that Iāve wanted to find. All stories are designed to be for 18+
This man has definitely done this once or twice and youāve allowed him to. He gets you into position, then grabs you my your briefs and bounces you up and down, having your ass take on water every time youāre submerged and letting it drain out as he pulls your briefs up higher and carries you by your briefs into the air.
You canāt help but sit there and enjoy it as he holds your briefs in his toned hands, and as you feel his clothed cock pressing into your hole. You can only dream what it would feel like. To have his large body bounce your briefs until theyāre ripped off, then take his dick and shove it inside of you, continuing to bounce you from the inside as you continue to bounce in and out of the water, as he flexes for everyone around you and you clutch the edge of the pool deck, gripping yourself to something as he moves around you like a prize claw. His abs and his arms press up against you and pull you closer as you moan from the pain of the wedgie and the pleasure of your current experience. Itās only when heās had enough of this activity being caught on camera that he will release you from his grasp and let you figure out how to get out of the pool knowing that youāre naked and your lower half is sore.
I read it somewhere else and now itās all I can think about, but I love the idea of consensually trying to fight with your partner and they very quickly remind you why youāre the bottom in the dynamic.
What could this look like for me? I am not built super strong, but Iām not necessarily a bear, Iām a bit more average looking. In this scenario, I could imagine my partner, we will call him Davis, being bigger than me in multiple ways. Larger size, larger muscles, larger pecs, white but tan, just gorgeous with their shirt off and their muscles defined, like a strong twink or a large jock thatās into me.
Now in this scenario, I could daydream that we are both shirtless, wrestling and arguing playfully that I could beat him in a fight. Davis could let me pretend for a few seconds, and then put me in my place. I could see them straddling me, pinning my wrists to the bed next to my head, and sitting their whole body in my lap, making me unable to move, until I say āI give up!ā
Now, if itās a jock, Davis definitely knows that Iām into a bully and nerd fantasy and I have now given him the perfect approach. With my shirt off, I can only imagine that all of the movement has caused my underwearās waistband to begin to be on display for him. From my dresser, the sexiest underwear that I have is a pair of Calvin Klein red briefs, with the bold waistband so of course, thatās the pair Iām wearing now.
I can see Davis putting both of my hands together and pinning them with his left hand above my head, then grabbing the middle of my briefās waistband with his right hand and yanking upward, making me quiver and wriggle in pain and pleasure, with a mix of painful groans and pleasant moans, begging for him to continue. I can imagine Davis pulling my briefs up until the legholes begin to show out of my pants, and my cock is proudly on display in front of my glorious partner. It would only be then that he lets go of my briefs, and while I am still dazed from this Melvin, that he grabs my shoulders and flips me over, then flips himself so his knees are on my back and his ass is sitting on my head.
To keep the fantasy going, I would pretend to beg to make him stop. āPlease, these are my favorite pair.ā And Davis would lean close to my ear and whisper: āItās Daddyās favorite pair too and Daddy wants to see more of them.ā He would then take the back of my waistband of my briefs and yank towards him, shifting the front of my briefs around my cock to be forced down and yanked up the other end and fueling the fire being given to my asshole. He would yank, stretch, and repeatedly pull to cause my briefs to go higher and higher up my back, causing my red briefs to shriek and pop up my back as he pulls them towards him. As he is also my partner, I could see Davis pulling my pants down and smacking my ass for additional pain and humiliation of what is happening in the fantasy.
Now, if Davis was truly merciless, he and I both know that Iām not going anywhere and love the feeling. I could see Davis pulling my pants down to my ankles, then taking his feet and pressing them into my shoulders, then taking my briefs with both hands and leaning back as hard and rough as possible, with both of us having the goal of these briefs going over my head. At this point, I would moan, punching my fists into the bed, and cry for more, asking him to get them atomic for the both of us. With his large, meaty hands, itās really no match for him. He could take them atomic with really one hard pull, but the point is to make it take longer to cause me more pain, but to also extend the experience and truly stretch my fabric to where it belongs, either over my head or hanging on a hook.
To be honest though, I think the best way for Davis to have his fun would be to then grab me and flip me over again. Then, he would take my briefs from the front, as they are all stretched now, then take 2 seconds to quickly yank and heave them up the front of my body, both chest and face, as he watches me pant from this torment. Heād snap my briefs to the back of my head and have me completely blinded by my undies with Calvin Klein being āboldlyā appearing on my head.
As a finishing move, I could definitely see Davis flipping me a final time, moving the back of my briefs to below my legs while keeping the wedgie in, then dropping his pants and his black boxer briefs, because, obviously, and shoving his large, glistening cock into my asshole. He could then take his meaty hand and place one on my hip and the other on my cock, and proceed to work me through my ass, and jerk my cock, knowing that every time he thrusts, it only makes my cock bounce with his jerking hand, which only makes the briefs tighter around my body. After just a few thrusts, he could feel me cum all over his hand and my undies, knowing that every spurt sends a surge of pain around me, and he could exit me knowing that heās a good partner as he completely destroyed me in wrestling and ruining a perfectly good pair of underwear for him.
As the words of your best friend roused you from your slumber, you became immediately aware of two facts: first, that the throbbing pain pounding through your skull indicated that you were very, very hungover; and, second, that you were blinded by a sea of white. Massaging your aching head, you felt the familiar fabric of what could only be one thing, namely, your briefs, stretched over your head and hooked securely beneath your nose. The additional, not-too-unpleasant pain which you then became aware of, concentrated around your groin and ass, confirmed your mounting suspicion that you were in an atomic wedgie. This was a predicament you had been in countless times before, but only by your own hand, in total privacy, and never in the company of anyone you knew. The taste of stale alcohol was still on your breath when you managed to croak, āWhat... what happened last night?ā
Your friends gave you the run-down of the events of the night before. It had started as a normal Friday night with the bros, drinking and chilling and amusing yourselves as you did every week. But when your friends reached the next point in the narrative, your blood froze. Maybe youād not eaten enough beforehand, or maybe you didnāt pace yourself as well as you should have, but eventually your intoxication reached such a point, your inhibitions lowered to such a degree, that you confessed to your entire friend group that you had a āthingā for getting wedgies. Shame and humiliation coursed through your veins at this revelation, and it only got worse from there. You had, in your drunken stupour, shown them photographic and videographic proof to verify your claim, flipping gleefully through your phoneās private media gallery as you flaunted image after image of yourself. In one photo, you were shown suspended a good two feet off the ground by your underwear, clearly in a self-inflicted predicament. In another, you were showing off a clandestine shoulder wedgie hidden under your T-shirt. In each and every one of them, though, only one conclusion could be drawn. You were very much into this, and you always had been.
You quickly pulled your waistband from your nose and let it snap back in place at your lower back. You knew with certainty that, though you hadn't looked in a mirror, your face had surely gone a deep shade of crimson as you profusely apologized, begged forgiveness, and pleaded that they just forget you had said anything at all. You couldn't even make eye contact with any of them as you swore it would never happen again and that you needed them to just act like last night had never occurred in the first place. When you finally managed to look up at them, though, you didn't see the looks of discomfort, disgust, or contempt which you had expected. All around you were devious, knowing smiles which only added to your acute sense of embarrassment and confusion, before it was explained to you how the night had proceeded from that point onward.
As it turned out, your bros had been more than willing to indulge you, and they themselves had more than enough proof. You were shown dozens and pictures and videos, taken throughout the night, of you in all manner of wedgie-centred predicament. Your eyes went wide as you were shown shots of you, utterly and shamelessly blissed out in one extreme wedgie after another, your bros enthusiastically fulfilling your fantasy of a lifetime. The recordings jogged your memory, and your mind began to piece together the events of a night that almost defied belief. To have your tighty whities pulled, tugged, yanked, and stretched all night long had felt a hundred times better than any wedgie you'd ever given yourself, and the mere recollection of the previous night, however fragmentary, was more than enough to prompt an involuntary stirring in your traitorous loins.
'Don't worry, bro. Your secret's safe with us,' one of them said with a pat on your shoulder. 'As per the arrangement, anyway.'
This last part was puzzling. 'What arrangement?' you asked quizzically. There were snickers all around, and you felt your friends starting to close in around you.
'You don't remember? Well, don't worry. You'll figure it out soon enough.' Without warning you felt your shorts yanked down, exposing the tighty whities that had been over your head no more than five minutes ago. 'But for now, let's just say you won't need to get your fix from yourself anymore... wedgie boy.'
[This is an impromptu continuation of another recent story which I started in the post before this one and which I didn't initially intend to expand upon. Go read it for context if you enjoy this part. DMs with suggestions are always welcome for this story and others.]
The mortifying experience of having revealed to your close friend group that you had a 'thing' for wedgies, complete with copious photo and video evidence, had been the most embarrassing moment of your life. But embarrassment quickly gave way to arousal and then, naturally, to ecstasy as the events of the morning and afternoon unfolded.
You felt as if your boner might tear right through your briefs as your bros pounced on you, eager to make good on their part of the arrangement. Far from wanting to forget about the whole thing, they unanimously saw this as an opportunity for a huge win-win. They would get a means of channelling and expending excess academic stress through your waistband, and you would have an erotic fantasy brought to life. Where was the downside?
For three straight hours that morning after, your tighty whities were subjected to constant stretching, pulling, tugging, and yanking. Every time a slow, deliberate pull was administered to your waistband, it felt as though the resultant groan of pleasure were being forcibly extracted from deep within the core of your being, much to your bros' amusement andācould it be?ātheir own increasingly apparent arousal. Your rational mind screamed at you to resist, to call it all off to preserve your dignity and possibly your friendships, but your animal mind overrode all such concerns. The pleasure was simply too intense to be defied.
'Goddamn,' marvelled Damien, straddling you from above with your waistband bunched up in both fists, you lying prone on the floor. 'I didn't even know they made underwear this stretchy!'
'He probably buys them just because of that,' Jackson opined from behind you, crouching on the floor with one of your ankles in each of his hands, holding you down to maximize Damien's leverage as he pulled. 'I'm sure wedgie boys like him need the stretchiest briefs money can buy.' It went without saying, of course, that Jackson's taunting observation was, in fact, entirely correct.
'Five more minutes, Damien,' announced Tyler from the sidelines, 'then it's Aiden's turn.' Tyler had been using his phone's stopwatch function to make sure everyone got an equal amount of time with their new human stress toy. Damien promptly redoubled the strength of his ministrations to make the most of his last remaining minutes.
Aiden, for his part, was scrolling through your phone with the purpose of educating himself beforehand on proper wedgie methods, techniques, and terminology. He wanted to make the most of his session, and with the contents of your Twitter feed, your Instagram DMs, your Tumblr page (and more) at his fingertips, he was both amazed and illuminated by the amount of helpful information you were involuntarily providing the entire friend group with.
Afterwards, as your group was accustomed to doing on Saturday mornings, you made your way to a local burger joint for some coffee and greasy, high-calorie grub to help wash away the lingering residue of your hangovers. To a spectator, everything might have seemed as it always was. Except, perhaps, for you. Far more quiet than usual and wearing an unreadable expression on your face, your mind reeled as it tried to process the events of the morning, as well as with their long-term implications. It was, by far, the hottest thing you had ever experienced. It was a miracle you hadn't creamed your briefs just from the sheer, relentless eroticism of the whole situation. But even if you had, would your bros have even cared?
The rest of the group behaved largely as they always did. The staff here were used to how you guys were, to your routine. You would come here every Saturday to chase your hangovers away, sometimes boistrous and inconsiderate as college guys were wont to be. You would boast a little too loud of some enviable sexual conquest made the night before, or of the attainment of some coveted set of digits from a sorority chick. Or, after less eventful Friday nights, one might brag about how well he'd whooped another's ass in this or that videogame. In a word: the usual and expected banter.
Things were different now. To be fair to them, your friends held up their end of the bargain, namely to keep this all a well-guarded secret. But every time the area around your table was empty of potential eavesdroppers, one of them would lean forward a bit to speak in a hushed, conspiratorial whisper, leering at you with a gaze half-menacing, half-hungry.
'Fuck, dude, seeing your face covered in white for the first time last night might have done something to me.'
'Did you guys hear how much this wedgie boy moaned when I started bouncing him? He sounded like he was gonna bust right then and there.'
'What a fucking night. We're gonna have to start making this a regular thing.'
There were enthusiastic nods all around. Your heart pounded so fast and hard it felt like it was gonna smash through your ribs. Was this something that the guys were going to lose interest in after a few days, maybe a week? It was possible, but the manic intensity with which they lay violence to your tighty whities that morning and the night before suggested otherwise. You gulped. The future stretched before your mind's eye, both deeply terrifying and indescribably exciting. How long would it go on for? Weeks? Months? Years, even?
Damien smirked at you from across the table. 'The lot of us are gonna have so much fun from now on.'
[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 uncleāor a bullyāmight have.
You could only stammer, the onslaught of sensations almost so intense as to impede coherent thought. 'I... oh, God... fuck, I'm notā'
'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, Iā'
'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?'
I live in a small town in Indiana and I go to a small gym. Itās a bigger chain but a smaller location and there arenāt a lot of people there on any given day. There are three guys who I see there a lot who are huge beefy brick shit-houses. Two of them are super tall, 6ā2ā & 6ā4ā,
but the other one is maybe 5ā9ā, closer to my height at 5ā8ā. The guy who is 6ā4ā is my favorite. I have a huge crush on him. My partner always asks, āWas the brick shit-house there today?ā He is huge! He has nice broad shoulders and beautiful arms. Heās so tall and he has really rugged good looks. He has light brown hair and dark brown eyes, a really square jaw and high cheek bones and always has a little stubble growing. It drives me crazy. Iāve gotten busted checking him out twice. He always smiles back and says āhey.ā I occasionally talk to them as itās a small gym and they call me ālittle dudeā.
So what does this have to do with wedgies? Iāll tell you. The two bigger guys are always given the littlest guy wedgies. Theyāre just one or two tuggers, but when it comes to the arms on these guys, one or two tugs go a long way. The smallest one seems to have a napoleon complex, actually he does have one, I just didnāt know until after this particular story. But, they always get a rise out of him and he tries to get them back and they laugh at him and he usually gets pretty pissed. Heās also pretty stocky with a massive chest and very well defined arms. I think he works harder than the other two, just because of his Napolean complex. I think his build is less natural than the other two, but I wouldnāt kick him out of bed for eating crackers.
Anyway, one day I was doing preacher curls on the curling bench with a barbell and the brick shit-house and his friends were behind me at the upright row station. This happened to be one of the days where they were giving the little guy wedgies. I donāt know his name, but since heās the smallest I call him Kurt. It makes sense to me. Every time Kurt tries to start his set of upright rows one of them gives him a wedgie. Heās getting really pissed and the other two laugh harder the more pissed he gets. I can see all this through a mirror in front of me and I canāt help but laugh silently as Kurt struggles to pull his underwear out of his butt.
Kurt thinks heās yelled loud enough to get his friends to stop and let him finish his set. But, when he turns back to the bar, they both grab his underwear and hike them up to his shoulder blades. Kurt lets out a loud groan. His two friends let go after about ten or fifteen seconds, not long enough if you ask me. Kurt is pulling his underwear out of his butt and is swearing some more at his friends when he catches sight of me in the mirror, laughing at him.
āDonāt laugh at me dude. Youāll be next.ā He warns.Ā
Iām so shocked, I turn red. I try to play it off like I wasnāt looking and go on to my next set.
āYeahā says the bigger guy, who is not the brick-shit house, I call him Dolf because he looks like a dark haired Dolf Lungren, āOnce youāve spotted us, youāre fair game for wedgies.ā
āIāll consider myself warned.ā I said, lamely.
Iām so flustered I have to stop the set. The idea of them paying this much attention to me gets my juices flowing. My balls shift as more blood starts to flow to the region and I put my head down on the bench to concentrate on not getting a boner.
It was a few moments later when it happened. While my head was still down I felt a strong pair of large hands grab my wrists and pin them to the bench. I looked up and it was the Brick Shit-House towering over me, leering down at me with a sadistic grin. I didnāt have much time to take the situation in as I was very quickly paying attention to a pair of hands on my underpants. Sitting at the preacher curl bench my ass was pointing skyward, practically begging for a wedgie. Well, I was going to get one.
Kurt took the energy he wanted to put into the upright row and put it into my wedgie. The first yank was excruciating as I was helpless to stop my underpants from rushing into my ass crack. I could feel Kurtās hands at my shoulder blades. He had yanked my underwear most the way up my back on the first yank.
āThatās what you get for laughing at me.ā Kurt laughed.
The Brick Shit-House was laughing as well and Dolf was too. Dolf started laughing very hard and started saying āWait!ā over and over.
āWait for what?ā Kurt asked.
āLook.ā Dolf was still laughing. āHeās got tighty-whiteys on.ā
āOh no wayā The Brick Shit-House laughed and leaned over me to see. I could smell his B.O. It was musty and bitter and I liked it.
āI canāt believe you got them so high on your first yankā Brick said, āWhat kind of underwear are those?ā
There was a brief second of some minor relief as Kurt recoiled for a second yank. With the force of a freight train, Kurt pulled higher. The front panel of my underpants started to enter my anus, folding my nuts back and squashing my dick on the way. My ass crack was on fire. I let out a pained āoh!ā as I lost my breath a little bit.
āHoly Shitā said Brick, āYouāre going to pull them over his head!ā
He no longer needed to lean over me to see my underpants as Kurt had them up to my neck.Ā
āOkay, okay. You got me. Let go please.ā I was still trying to catch a breath. I believe my balls had curled up into my stomach.
āSorry dude. This is too hilarious. I have to see if I can get them over your head.ā Kurt said. āItās just one of those things. I have to do it.ā
Dolf was practically rolling on the floor.
Kurt yanked really hard twice in a row. My balls definitely retracted that time. The front band of my underwear was between my legs and my dick was folded in somewhere in the stretched out fabric between my legs. My underwear went further inside my body than I thought was possible.
āSeriously, I think I just lost a testicle.ā I said, barely able to catch a breath.
āShut up already little dude.ā Kurt said, āI know it hurts. Unless you have a suggestion on how to get them over your head I donāt want to hear it.ā
Kurt was clearly frustrated that he could only get my waistband to the base of my skull. Instead of recoiling for another yank, he just started applying upward pressure with both hands. I made odd grunts and other odd noises as he strained to give me an atomic wedgie.
āYou have to bend his head backā Brick Shit-House offered, āHis back has to arch. Youāll never get it this way.ā
āThis is the stretchiest underwear ever. I can get it over his head.ā Kurt insisted, yanking up on my underwear for emphasis. I was pretty sure my ass was bleeding.
āLook at the leg holes,ā Dolf was still laughing, āI can fit my head through one of those?ā
āLittle Dude, why wonāt your underpants go over your head?ā The Brick Shit-House laughed, āSeriously, Jim. I think heās had enough.ā
Apparently Kurtās name was Jim. But that wouldnāt stop me from calling him Kurt.
āOne minute guys,ā Kurt said as I groaned in protest, āHelp me out. Everyone take a side.ā
Dolf was in right away. Suddenly they were both behind me, each with two hands on my stretched out waist band. As they were adjusting they finally gave my undies some slack and my privates a little relief. I wriggled a little to try and loosen some of the fabric from my crotch and crack and hoping that my testicles might descendā¦intact. My wriggling started Dolf laughing again.Ā
The Brick Shit-House was trying to adjust his grip on my wrists and grab my underpants at the same time. I was getting very nervous as my dick began to grow at the prospect of him touching my underwear. My oblivious dick was just setting itself up for more searing pain from my front waistband which still had it pinned, bent in half, between my legs.
āHold on.ā Kurt said, āI need you in back. Youāre the tallest. Weāll take the sides. Take thisā¦ā
He tugged the fabric between the legs holes which was completely exposed. The seam between the front and back panel was probably well above my gym shorts. The tugging renewed the pain and the helpless feeling of ownership. They all followed Kurtās instructions and took their new positions. Kurt grabbed my left hand and the left side of my undies while Dolf had my right side. The Brick Shit-House was behind my positioning his left hand on my waistband and his right hand on the fabric between the leg holes. It was all framed in front of me in the mirror. My dick was a raging hard-on as I saw The Brick Shit-House behind me with a sadistic grin on his face.
ā1ā¦2ā¦3ā
All three of them lifted me up at the same time as high as they could. My underpants were eight feet up in the air and my ass was six feet in the air. They laughed at my face which was contorted in pain. My balls were in my throat and my dick was being slowly sliced by my front waistband. It was the pain in my anus that was unbearable.Ā My ass was being spread, torn and burned by my own underpants against my own body weight.
āOh yes!ā Shouted Kurt, āItās gonna go over his head.ā
āBounce him.ā Said the Brick Shit-House.
The low dominant sound of his voice turned me on, but I barely noticed the sensation of pleasure and they started bouncing me up and down. The inertia of my weight and their strength made my underwear feel like a burning blade along my chode and ass crack. I couldnāt believe how far into my body my underwear was going. My dick finally popped out of my underpants on the fifth or sixth yank and the remaining two inches of my underpants that my dick had been stopping from entering my anus, entered. As my feet touched the floor I knew it was my last reprieve before excrutiating pain. My front waistband was now at the edge of my anus. I was truly being wedged in half by my underpants. The guys had figured out how to bounce me so that I didnāt quite touch the floor before they pulled up again. In the mirror, I looked like a pathetic bouncing rag dollā¦with a huge hard-on. I knew my underpants had to be close to being able to pull over my head, but the guys were having too much fun with the bouncing. It now felt like something was pulling my ass cheeks apart to opposite sides of the room. The front panel had been reduced to a thin white rope that was digging in and burning the flesh off my ass crack and causing excrutiating searing pain. Worse, though, was the humiliation of not being in control of my own underpants; being in excrutiating pain as my tormentors laughed and enjoyed my humiliation whileā¦Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!!!
I fell straight to the ground and backwards into the Brick Shit-House. He pulled the ripped waistband over my head and let it rest on my forehead just above myĀ
eyebrows. The trainer had just walked in, a very built man named Rick.
āProblem with your underwear, buddy?ā He was trying not to laugh.
āHeās okay.ā Brick Shit-House said as he turned me towards him, āAre you okay?ā
āI think Iāll need to put burn cream on my ass crack and I hope my testicles come back down some day.ā I replied, pathetically.
āI didnāt mean that.ā He said and looked down at my crotch. I still had a boner. He winked at me.
āOkay, no more horseplay.ā The trainer said.
āJust the waistband ripped,ā Kurt said āLetās rip the rest off.ā Ā
āNo no no.ā Brick Shit-House said, āThatās enough.ā
He did an awkward things were he grabbed my triceps and pulled up a little so I was on my tippy-toes.
āPull his pants down though.ā He said.
Before I could process what was happening I felt my pants go down around my ankles. The Brick Shit-House pulled me closer to him and held his thigh against my dick.
They all laughed in surprise at how high up my crack my underpants were stuck.
āDude, I think theyāre fused to your tailbone.ā Dolf laughed.
As they continued to laugh, The Brick Shit-House let go of my arms and I covered my fading boner. He bent down and pulled up my pants for me as I began to remove the fabric from my ass crack. I let out a long loud yell as I peeled my shredded underpants off of my wounded ass crack.
āYes!ā I cried. āMy testicles just descended.ā They all laughed and patted me on the back. They gave me the āI owned you, touch fistsā gesture and I returned it. I had definitely won their favor even if it was with blood. This was just the beginning of my wedgie adventures with the Brick Shit-House.
Request: Anyone who has photos of themselves, or can get me pictures of men in Puma underwear, please feel free to DM me. Itās tough to find, but I find it really hot.
Story: I was eating food at a restaurant today and I saw someone, lift up their shirt. He had darker skin, looked to be slightly taller than me, and had red basketball shorts on, probably in their 20s. I saw a hint of their abs, but what really caught my eye was their underwear. They were the type of person that used their underwear to hold their phone in place, and I wish they took longer to do so. I was able to see their grey steel Puma waistband and a good portion of the aqua blue fabric from underneath. And that was what I needed in order to daydream what could happen next.
I could see it now. Itās just him and I in this restaurant. He stands up to leave, lifts up his shirt and reveals his underwear. I spring up and practically run towards him. With the element of surprise, Iām able to grab a fistful of the front of his boxer briefs. I grab them with my right hand and yank up, then take my left hand and push him backwards, with his back hitting the table and I hold a wad of his boxer briefs in my hand in front of him. I take this opportunity to wrench his boxer briefs up, him groaning and quivering at this feeling. Iām able to enjoy his Puma boxer briefs, immediately growing hard at the first sight of them, and staying hard this whole time. I am only able to yank them up a few times before heās able to recover and realize what happened. All I can say is āsorry, I just couldnāt help myself.ā
Hopefully with a little luck, heād feel cocky enough to return the favor, and really let me have it. I did start it after all, and with his muscles, he could easily overpower me and teach me a lesson. All he would need to do is grab my wrist and squeeze until I relinquished my grasp from his underwear. He wouldnāt even worry about fixing his underwear or his shorts from everything that happened. While holding my wrist, he would just stand up from his torment, then pull me towards him in a quick jerk. I would lose balance and fall into his chest. While holding my wrist with his left hand, and squeezing it to keep me in line, my face pressed into his wedgied Puma boxer briefs, he would take his left hand and start lifting up my shirt from the back. I would protest a little and he would squeeze my wrist again. With his left hand, heād find where my shirt and the waistband of my pants meet. At this point, Iāve stopped protesting and agreed to let him have his way with me. He can tell too because he lines me up with the table and bends me forward, my chest laying on the table as he continues to teach me.
He switches hands and holds me down with just his large left hand pressed on my left shoulder as he stands behind me. He moves slowly to continue to remind me of my inferiority. He lifts up my shirt to find my lower back and the waistband of my briefs. He and I both know that if Iām dumb enough to give, then I only deserve to receive. He takes the back of my briefs and yanks them out of my pants, causing the grey fabric to launch out of its position and work its way up my back. With 2 full yanks with his right hand, this man is able to get them to the middle of my back. He pulls me back up to a standing position, then takes both of his hands on my briefs and pulls on my briefs hard enough to be suspended in the air. He takes one final yank by my legholes and with two bounces, takes pleasure in listening to my legholes scream for his mercy.
He lets me back down on the ground and lets me leave, knowing that I paid the price for being too excited to see more of his boxer briefs, that is, without asking of course.
Following a request from a DM, decided to post another story.
You got dressed today thinking it was going to be a great day. You put on some of your stretchy tighty whities, a green shirt, and jeans, even throwing a belt on. You know that Paul is coming over today and youāre excited to spend time with another bro.
Paul comes over and you immediately start playing games together, allowing time to fly by without thinking much of your attire, or the fact that Paul has clearly been working out. You tell Paul that youāll be right back after using the restroom. You go in by yourself and do your business. As you are finishing up, you open the door to Paul standing there, looking down at you.
āWere you hoping I didnāt notice or something?ā he mutters. You appear confused and you stare back at him with that expression on your face. Unfortunately, that face also looks like a challenge, which is what Paul took it as. With no additional words, he puts his hands under your armpits and hoists you into the air. You gasp as you try to hold your hands to the door behind you and figure out what heās doing. He lifts you up high enough for the waistband of your undies to strap to the hook at the top of the door. As soon as youāre connected, he lets go, immediately allowing gravity to drop you and suspend you by your briefs. You yelp in shock, in surprise, in pain as your briefs immediately shriek to the pressure and launch out of your pants to stretch your body. Your legholes are immediately on display, while your pants keep your wedgie in place from your belt.
āI had no idea you missed our wedgie sessions! But seeing your nerd undies, and with my constant trips to the gym, it told me everything I needed! Hope you enjoyed this one!ā Paul says as he snaps a picture of your situation, packs up and leaves, allowing you to hang in your defeat. Heās not wrong though, because why else would you wear tighty whities??
I walk inside your house. You think Iām just there to be your friend to play video games with you, but we are both wishing, lusting for the same thing: me to dominate you. You keep teasing me, taunting me when you win, acting like I donāt notice when you keep adjusting your shirt and I see the waistband of your underwear, eventually taking your shirt off, claiming itās too hot. I agree and take mine off too. All Iām waiting for is the perfect reason now, something that warrants me ruining you for the evening. And you give it to me.
You ask me to stand up and when I do, you giggle and pull my basketball shorts down. Iām standing there in only my red Reebok boxer briefs. Since thatās what you want, Iāll stay that way, but you just invited a whole world of hurt for starting this. I push you up against the wall, and you make it too easy by practically flinging yourself there. I pull your shorts down. Really? Wirarpa briefs? Are they pink? Now you know what must be done. I grab the back of your head and pull you towards me, practically bending you in half and have you staring at the floor. I place your head between my legs, as you feel the thighs of my boxer briefs, and my hard cock resting on the back of your head. I then reach down and grab your briefs by the waistband. Immediately, I lean back, yanking your briefs with me. You get no warning. Why would you? You deserve this. I grab fistful by fistful of your briefs, making the seams of your briefs scream for mercy as they travel up your back and to the back of your neck. You moan and shake, quivering at this feeling. We both know we want to be in these roles as you continue to feel my dick growing on you.
I release the back of your head from my thighs as you continue leaning forward. I take the waistband of your briefs and snap them to your forehead, watching as your briefs are now connected to being a thin piece of fabric and squishing your fully erect cock against your stomach, yearning for release. I take my fingers and slide them down the fabric on your ass until I get to your hole, then grab from there and pull and tug a few times, watching your dick bounce from the pressure. I take my other hand and smack your pale ass as you whimper, but never surrender.
I can hear your tip squelching and oozing precum out of yourself when I keep going. I grip your bulge and squeeze, then place my hand into the front of your tight briefs, getting precum on my hands, then rubbing your precum all over your face. Youāre enjoying this way too much though. Now, we both know this is what you wanted. You ever want me to come back for round 2, Iāll be there. I push you to the floor, pick up my basketball shorts and shirt, and walk out of your house, leaving you to jerk off in peace.
Question: For any horny general doctors, and the patient drops their pants and maybe underwear, do any of you look or care to know what underwear theyāre wearing?
For any horny patients, do you wear specific underwear, knowing the doctor is going to see it? This I guess would also apply to the massage parlor like my last story, or the gym. Is it just me?
I found it! This was one of my favorite videos when I was starting my kink and I love it. The way the victim accepts his fate and moans, the way that his bully is so over powerful and degrades him, I just wish it were me sometimes instead and wanted to make sure that it was posted somewhere that I could always find
This is something Iāve always wanted to have happen to me, but Iām assuming it never will, so it looks like itāll happen to me here.
I walk into the massage parlor to find almost all the lights off, ambient spa music playing. I walk up to the front desk to find a woman speaking in almost a whisper, asking me what Iād like done and what gender Iād prefer. I say male, and the type of massage is up to them on what they think I need. I sit down in the waiting room, before a large man walks into the lobby, calling my name. I stand up and walk with him into a private room. He tells me to strip to my comfort level, and leaves the room. Because this is my first time with him, I take my shirt, shoes and socks, but leave my pants and underwear on. I climb on to the table and assume the position, face down, ass up, like a typical massage.
He walks into the room and announces his name as Dave. Dave turns on music, at a bit of a loud volume, then gets the oil in his hands. He starts working my back, my shoulder blades, my arms. As he moves to my lower back, my body has been being bounced around by Dave, and my black waistband of my briefs becomes noticeable. All I hear him say is, āWhat are you wearing down here?ā And my eyes shoot open wide, as I bite my bottom lip, hoping he investigates. I feel Daveās hand on my lower back, then lifting my pants up slightly just to read the waistband of my underwear clearly - āHanesā. Dave then says, āHanes huh? What kind?ā Iām a little confused at first, but Iām glad we are going this direction, and my dick begins to harden under the table. I say āBriefs!ā Dave responds by saying āOh, you like wearing briefs huh?ā I respond, with a āYeah theyāre some of my favorite pairs.ā He says āYeah, me too, especially like Pump and Champion, and Calvin Klein, you heard of those?ā We continue this conversation for a bit. He asks me what other underwear I have. I answer honestly, āAdidas sports briefs, Calvin Klein boxer briefs, Reebok boxer briefs, Nike trunks, Under Armour boxer briefs, and these Hanes briefs.ā He tells me that he likes being a masseuse both for the massage, and to see what people are wearing. This is when I go in for the kill by saying, āWell, if you couldnāt see them very well, you can always grab them and look some more?ā
He stops massaging me for a moment. I fear that I messed up. After a few seconds, he says, āYou donāt sayā¦ā He walks up to my side, and shimmies my pants down, about an inch to better see what heās working with. āWell given itās a client request, I have to oblige.ā Dave teases. He walks back up to my head and places his hands on my back as he slides them down to my lower back. He grips the black waistband, with the word Hanes bunched into his fists. It was at this moment that I realized how much this is going to hurt since his profession is largely based on how strong he is.
Without warning, he leans back and pulls my briefs with him. The black waistband and dark green fabric emerge from my pants with such intense ferocity, like this is not the first time someone has asked him. Enough that my legs come off the table for a moment. I moan and quiver at this response, in which he turns up the music with one hand so no one can hear me scream and moan for him. He recoils by leaning forward, up to my neck, and yanking back again, his two hands up to my shoulder blades with my undies. I groan and mutter, rocking my body back and forth in pleasure. āOne more and I think I can get this atomic,ā Dave says, which confirms to me that this is not his first wedgie to give before. First, he grabs the legholes and gives small wedgies there, to help the fabric and seams pop open a bit more. He then takes a wad of my briefs, his hand covering waistband to leghole and pulling back on that to hear the fabric sound like itās ripping, cotton bursting at the seams, my hole being on fire as my hard cock is squished into the table. He goes back to my stretched out waistband, and heaves one final time, as I loudly moan and gasp. He gets the waistband up to my head, but rather than lifting up my head, he wraps my waistband over the pillow and snaps it to my forehead there, practically strapping me to the table by my underwear. Dave doesnāt skip a beat and continues to knead the skin of my lower back, as well as part of my ass now that this wedgie has made that possible. A massage happening to my ass while a wedgie is taking place would be incredible.
As I sit there immobilized because of my underwear, Dave continues the massage. Because of the pain, I donāt feel Dave taking my pants off and leaving me in just my green briefs strapped to the table. He massages the rest of my ass, followed by my thighs, calves, and feet. As I begin to question whatās happening, he reminds me by taking a fistful of my briefs that are roped into my ass and yanking until he hears me whimper. He ends this session by grabbing my phone near my stuff, taking pictures of what I look like, and putting the phone back. He says, āYou ever want more requests done, hereās my business card.ā And he places it on top of the pile of my stuff. He tells me to take as much time as I want, flipping the sign on the door to āDo not disturbā then leaves the room, as I sit there shocked to what just happened. Needless to say, I will be requesting for Dave next time!
I doubt this would ever happen, but hereās an exaggerated version of what Iām hoping to happen! Comment down below what brands of briefs or boxer briefs youād like to see in stories!
