wedgie captions

Connor had waited all week for his package to arrive. According to the tracking, it should have arrived 2 days ago, and now on its 3rd day overdue Connor has grown very impatient. As the delivery truck made the rounds in the neighborhood, it drove right past his house—still no delivery. In frustration, he stormed out of his house to confront the delivery driver. The driver, already having dealt with rude customers, aggressive dogs, and porch pirates, wasn’t in the mood for yet another angry customer. After a few snide comments, the driver decided to teach him a lesson in patience.

Chris returned home late at night from a party and when he opened the door he saw his dad sitting on the couch waiting for him. "Do you know what time it is? Curfew was at 9". Chris already knowing what is coming decides it is best to not fight it. He watches his stand up and follows him into the den. When Chris gets there he undoes his belt buckle and loosens it. Chris feels his dad behind him as he grabs into the back of his now loosened pants and starts to grab hold of his underwear.

"You should know better by now, this is the sixth time this month that I have had to punish you. Atomic wedgies aren't seeming to cut it anymore if they are not going to affect your behavior". Chris feels his underwear start to wedge itself into his crack as his dad gets a good grip on his compression shorts. "It seems I need to get a little harsher on you to really drive in the rules of this house".

His dad launches the underwear upwards. "You know growing up this is how I had to deal with your uncles. When they would snitch I would take them into my room where I would hang them by the back of their underpants until they begged and cried and promised to never tell again". Chris starts to get pulled up to his tiptoes as his dad does not stop pulling. Getting higher and higher and Chris is starting to lose his balance and get lifted up off the ground.

"Lucky for you I am going to let you keep your dignity and give you some time to think about things". His dad continues to carry him easily over towards a hook attached into the beam of the ceiling. Each step bouncing Chris slightly letting him sink further and further into his massive wedgie. Finally his dad has lifted him fully and hooked the compression shorts over the hook dropping the boy into the wedgie fully.

The whole apartment was a state. You were living with 5 jocks and there was you studying drama. The first thing you noticed was the stench that hit you in the face like someone launching a pair of month old sweaty boxers into your face.

They were nice guys who made you feel welcome and didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact you were gay and needed somewhere to do your exercises and stretches other than your room. They all just wore jocks round the apartment so you just wore your underwear. Yours however were lacy delicate thongs that wouldn’t prevent you stretching.

Often they would suggest you do your stretches in the living room where they would gather round to watch tv and chill. They didn’t mind that your little bubble butt was on display or that they could often see your little hole in between your perky hairlees cheeks.

Quite often they seemed to be rubbing their huge bulges contained badly within their jocks. Must be jock itch….

What made you wonder is why they were so dirty. Your room was spotless and so was your en suite. Their rooms clearly had never been cleaned and were littered with old crusted yellow jocks, old battered trainers and a general collection of their belongings that hadn’t managed to find their way into the wardrobe.

Weirder still there was the ripe stench of the pile of unwashed gear next to the washing machine. Only you ever washed your clothes, the jocks confused as to what the purpose of fabric softener was.

They simply threw their dirty clothes into the pile one day and dug through the pile the next finding something to wear no matter how dirty. Often you would see them sniff their gest - recoil in disgust in how badly they smelt then shrug their shoulders and out them on.

You simply couldn’t cope with how strong the smell is but you never complained.

You adored the smell.

You adored how they were so smelly and that they didn’t have a care about washing.

You adored the muscle on display.

And most of all you adored the ripe disgusting musky stench of the whole apartment.

One day not able to contain your nasty little you stole Jack’s (pictured above) rank jock. You took it back to your room and inhaled the strained, crusted and heavily stained pouch deeply.

You came with out touching your self with more force than you ever had before. It was ripe particularly the crotch and where the straps met that struggled to contain Jack’s thick hairy ass.

Then you were shook out of your daze by jack shouting from the living room. Quickly stuffing the jock under your pillow you followed his voice. He was digging through the rank pile of unwashed gear looking for his jock that you’d borrowed to sniff.

Not wanting to admit your crime you helped him look relishing the fast you could explore the revolting pile of jock stink. Not able to find it he assumed one of his buddies must have worn it so he used someone else’s for his game.

Relieved you got ready and left with him to go to class.

When you returned in the evening you went to your room and were horrified to find the jock that was under your pillow missing. Sweating nervously you entered the living room.

It was jack who was even smellier after his game clearly not bathed. He said “hey bro what’s this between my legs” you were taken aback and mumbled weakly “ I can’t imagine what you mean” he said laughing “come have a good look bro” it was his jock.

You simply put your head down - you’d been caught.

Jack responded “ I’m not mad little fella, just would have liked my lucky jock for my game today. We’ve been on a winning streak and I haven’t washed it all season just in case. Luckily we still won today”

“So why did I find it under your pillow? Be honest and I won’t be mad” as he sat upright cracking his knuckles.

You weekly replied “I wanted to smell it” and began to cry. He shot up and rather than hitting you palmed your head jamming your face in his ripe hairy pit and said “if you want to know how I smell that’s no problem little fella but the smell is so much better straight from the source” he then pushed your head down so you were in your knees…

You knew what to do!

Now it’s more than a year later, but I still feel nervous and uncomfortable if I wear anything but my former-bully-approved attire. I still feel like someone is going to come along and kick me in the balls if I wear the wrong underpants. Instead, wearing these briefs ended up with me like this.

The strange part is, I still feel that sense of relief I got back then. Like I had been living in fear and anticipation of this humiliating event for months, and now I can finally relax. My heart is pounding, and I can feel the released stress coursing throughout my body. I feel pathetic, paralyzed, and I shiver at my inability to fight back. Nothing has changed, I am still the loser at the bottom of the pecking order, and I probably always will be.

Even the laughter of the immature idiots that did this had kind of a nice ring to it. Almost like it was something that had been missing from my life since high school ended. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was actually disappointed when they walked away and took the sound of their laughs with them. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sound of my briefs ripping was soothing in it’s own right. It just didn’t compare to the deep masculine laughter of my tormentors.

Damn, they’ve really reawakened something inside of me, haven’t they? After this, I don’t think I can wait nearly as long for my next wedgie. I’m gonna feel so anxious if I don’t get another dose of this crushing defeat soon. It’s going to be hard to focus on anything else, including my coursework. But how am I supposed to get another wedgie so soon when it took more than a year before I even got this one?

Should I appeal to those jerks? That seems like the most certain way of getting another dose of humiliation. I doubt asking them directly will work though: if they found out I need it they’ll probably want to withhold. Maybe I should just start hanging around them, annoying them, acting better than them until they take me down a peg. That should be easy enough, seeing as giving me a wedgie in the first place was so fucking immature.

Ugh…my briefs are about to rip. I’m so looking forward to the release. The final rip that drops my feet to the floor and relieves the pressure on my balls is always so satisfying. The anticipation is so intense, it’s worse than that feeling in your gut right before you unbutton your pants to take a much needed piss. Not even sexual release is as important as the release of my ripping briefs.

-Anon

Now it’s more than a year later, but I still feel nervous and uncomfortable if I wear anything but my former-bully-approved attire. I still feel like someone is going to come along and kick me in the balls if I wear the wrong underpants. Instead, wearing these briefs ended up with me like this.

The strange part is, I still feel that sense of relief I got back then. Like I had been living in fear and anticipation of this humiliating event for months, and now I can finally relax. My heart is pounding, and I can feel the released stress coursing throughout my body. I feel pathetic, paralyzed, and I shiver at my inability to fight back. Nothing has changed, I am still the loser at the bottom of the pecking order, and I probably always will be.

Even the laughter of the immature idiots that did this had kind of a nice ring to it. Almost like it was something that had been missing from my life since high school ended. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was actually disappointed when they walked away and took the sound of their laughs with them. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sound of my briefs ripping was soothing in it’s own right. It just didn’t compare to the deep masculine laughter of my tormentors.

Damn, they’ve really reawakened something inside of me, haven’t they? After this, I don’t think I can wait nearly as long for my next wedgie. I’m gonna feel so anxious if I don’t get another dose of this crushing defeat soon. It’s going to be hard to focus on anything else, including my coursework. But how am I supposed to get another wedgie so soon when it took more than a year before I even got this one?

Should I appeal to those jerks? That seems like the most certain way of getting another dose of humiliation. I doubt asking them directly will work though: if they found out I need it they’ll probably want to withhold. Maybe I should just start hanging around them, annoying them, acting better than them until they take me down a peg. That should be easy enough, seeing as giving me a wedgie in the first place was so fucking immature.

Ugh…my briefs are about to rip. I’m so looking forward to the release. The final rip that drops my feet to the floor and relieves the pressure on my balls is always so satisfying. The anticipation is so intense, it’s worse than that feeling in your gut right before you unbutton your pants to take a much needed piss. Not even sexual release is as important as the release of my ripping briefs.

growing up my older brother would fart on my face a bunch. He’d pin me down when we were wrestling and fart right in my face and then he’d force me to sniff not getting off me until he’d hear “deep whiffs”. He’s the reason I have a fart fetish…

I wonder if he'd be disgusted by what you have become, or proud of his work.