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You probably should have known better than to wish to be smarter from an evil genie. Sure, your IQ jumped up by thirty points at least, but your newfound high intellect also made you a nerd. And with your newfound nerdhood came—you guessed it—wedgies.

Each and every one of the wifebeaters and graphic tees which used to make up your wardrobe was inexplicably turned into T-shirts which openly proclaimed that you were offering FREE WEDGIES. Your blue jeans and basketball shorts were transformed into slacks and suspenders. Your eyesight rapidly deteriorated until you could no longer see without a pair of thick lenses on your face at all times. And, of course, every pair of boxers, boxerbriefs, and trunks in your underwear drawer was magically turned into a pair of tight, white briefs.

At first you tried to revert to your previous way of life. You went to the store (trying your best to conceal the embarrassing text on your shirt) and spent that week’s income on the clothes you used to wear. You went home and threw every article of stereotypically nerdy clothing into a few big garbage bags, filling your room with normal attire.

But it was foolish to think that you could outsmart a genie. Even as you reentered your apartment after having disposed of the ridiculous clothes, you happened to catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. To your horror, you were once again wearing the suspenders, slacks, and—of course—the FREE WEDGIES shirt which you thought you had gotten rid of. Panicking, you went back to your room, pulled open the closet, and saw two dozen identical such shirts hanging next to each other, with just as many pairs of slacks. And although you knew deep down what you would find, you checked your underwear drawer as well. Your worst fears were confirmed: pair after pair of neatly-folded tighty whities, filling the drawer to bursting.

All this did not account for even half of the changes the genie had wrought unto your life. All of a sudden, your friends, coworkers, classmates, and even total strangers seemed to change in their attitude towards you.

When, for example, your boss informed you that your new outfit did not conform with the company dress code (on account of the text on your T-shirt), you tried to explain that you didn’t have a choice and that you would wear something—anything—else if you could. To your surprise, however, he casually handwaved this objection away, saying that you were welcome to continue wearing it, so long as you provided the service advertised by your shirt. It took you a few seconds to realize what he meant, but from that day forward, you were receiving wedgie after wedgie throughout the workday. And not just from your boss, but from your coworkers themselves, regardless of their position relative to you in the company hierarchy.

At the gym, too, change was immediately noticeable. It was the same gym you’d been going to for years, and not once before making your fateful wish had there ever been a confrontation or incident of any kind between yourself and any other member. Stepping into the changing room now, though, immediately prompted every head to turn in your direction, the room suddenly silent except for a few snickers. You were asked why nerds like you even bother coming to the gym in the first place. Was it because you were trying to get fit, or was it really because you secretly wanted to be given wedgies by a bunch of musclebound meatheads? They were approaching you like hungry wolves, and before you could back out the door to escape, you felt a hand expertly grab your waistband and deliver a savage yank. You were then informed that your workout (and theirs, too) would be happening right there in the changing room.

You were told that this would continue for as long as it took for them to rip that nerdy underwear right off you, but your briefs utterly refused to show the slightest sign of ripping or damage. They seemed to stretch without limit, yet reverting to a brand-new level of tightness as soon as each wedgie was released. True to their word, your bullies did not relent until, hours later, it was closing time.

Arriving home at your apartment, you expected at least partial relief, only to find a Friday-night party in progress, hosted by your roommate. Why did you even bother trying to sneak through the crowd to get to your room, unnoticed? Managing to reach your bedroom door, your hand had barely touched its doorknob when you once again felt your briefs rapidly tighten around your crotch and up your ass. You felt your feet lift rise up off the floor, your waistband stretched past your head. Turning your head, you saw the face of your roommate, a drunken grin plastered across his face. In one hand, he held a half-empty beer bottle; in the other, he held your waistband, by which he paraded you through the throng of partygoers to the centre of the festivities.

‘If I could have everybody’s attention,’ he shouted. The music was paused, and all eyes turned to you, still suspended mid-air by your tighty whities. ‘I’m happy to announce that my roommate here has brought tonight’s main entertainment!’ He downed the last of his beer in a quick swig, set the bottle on a nearby table, and proceeded to point to the text on your shirt. A cheer of approval burst forth from the crowd. Several of the partygoers snapped photos with their phone cameras, while others opted to record the speech on video. Your roommate waited politely for silence, then continued.

‘Deep down, I think I always knew this guy was a big ol’ nerd at heart, and I’m glad he’s finally embraced that about himself. I mean, the suspenders? The glasses? The tighty-fucking-whities?’ On each of these last three words he bounced you, seemingly without effort, causing your briefs to stretch a little more each time. The jocks in the audience eyed you fixedly, a sadistic anticipation in their eyes. ‘This guy is not just any nerd. It really takes the nerdiest of nerds not only to show up to a party in an outfit like this, but to literally wear a shirt that says FREE WEDGIES right on the front. So why don’t we take him up on the offer?’

Would you rather have to get an increasingly strong hanging wedgie on a game show in tighty whites,

 or 

This was Josh’s new life:

Just one day after his humiliating wedgie at the hands of his peers and he’s now officially the wedgie bitch of the campus frat. As these two frat bros has already told him, “we can’t have fucking dweebs who cum from having their little undies tugged crashing our parties”

“You want out? Too bad!”

My friends decided to leave me in my new toy while they went to the other room to play with legos (and the vibrator)

Tonight was a good night for me, won quite a bit, the others left not long ago, i was telling him I'd be getting ready myself too when he asked for one more game, i had woon most of his money, i could give him a chance to win it back. I still had time, so i told him that given my luck of today, chances were not looking good for him, he still insisted.

As predicted, he lost three hands in a row, betting big each time, sitting without any funds opposite of me at the table then. But he wanted to go on, one more, he asked, but having no money to bet i asked what he'd think on that, he did not know, but kept begging for one more game.

In the background his boy still struggled in the bouncer, i looked at that and grinned, looking at him then i told him about an option: I'd put in the amount of money he lost this evening, he'd bet time in the bouncer. If he won, we'd be done for tonight, if he lost, he'd have to spend every poker night, which we held every other weekend, the whole day in that bouncer the way he kept his boy usually. Since i was putting up 1500 bucks, 15 of those weekends it would have to be. He agreed without thinking.

Cards dealt, i had a great hand, a straight flush, eight to queen, no concern about that, i did the 'official' bet of the 1500 bucks, he thought a little, then said: 'I of course match that, but i want to raise, what would it take to get you perform an 'all in' with everything you won tonight?'

That was a surprise, i thought a little, cards exchanged, cards on the table, cards in my had, chances of loosing were extremely little, so i returned the question what he'd be willing to offer, knowing that chances will be high that he lost that again. But i also added a suggestion to it, maybe if we'd change the 15 planned 'days we play' into whole weekends, from arriving after work on Fridays to leaving for work Monday morning without interruption.

He turned and looked at his boy bouncing there like nothing was happening at all, then thought a little and returned: 'I really am certain this time i get lucky, so i go all the way. I place the prior agreed 15 poker-night days in the bouncer, but i raise to permanent poker night weekends in the bouncer in the way you suggested against all your money winnings AND 100 poker night weekends in the bouncer for YOU, starting with the remaining time of this weekend for the looser.' He also added that we would sign a mutual promissory note in the amount of 500,000, payable immediately upon refusal to comply with the agreed weekend penalties, so the looser could not refuse for sure, no matter what.

I asked if he was serious, i looked at my hand again, no way I'd be loosing, so i mentioned whether he is sure, permanent, he'd never participate on our games but every time, so every other weekend, be over there like his boy was, asked again if he was truly sure about that. But he did not even listen, typed the promissory note already on his mobile and after pushing the print , i heard the printer already. He presented the doc for our singing. I again asked if he was certain, it was clear to me that he'd loose that one, but he countered with a 'chickening out, now that your stake raised too?' Well, that did it for me, i accepted the bet and stakes and signed right then.

I laid out the straight flush i had with a major grin on my face, but when he placed his hand on the table, fuck… double fuck…. mega fuck…. he also had a straight flush, but 9 to king. He yelped out, somehow only then realizing he actually won, at the same time i sat there, could not believe with that hand i lost this one…

But after grabbing the money on the table and the document we signed, he grinned at me, then pointed at his boy in the bouncer, telling me: 'The weekend still goes on for a while, time to get you ready.'

I still could not believe, but there was also no doubt about 'paying up' the losses, in all the years we played that was at no time ever a doubt.

We went into their bedroom, he had me strip and said: 'Exactly as my boy is the deal, that means double of the thickest night diapers we have, with double inlays to boost capacity, onesie and sicks only on top of that, the pacifier head harness locked on, mittens locked on behind the back, in the bouncer. but it also includes what you do not see, the flat chastity cage and the dildo up his butt.

I did not know indeed, but did not say much about it either, 'as his boy' was the agreement, not 'almost as his boy'. I was definitely not looking forward to any of it, so was not at all horny, it did not take any troubles for him to lock another flat chastity cage on me, making me think about the troubles to come when i DO get hard again, which i did regularly during evenings and nights. The bigger issue was the dildo then, i wasn't a virgin, but the amount of times and sizes of tools back there were limited in the past, so it took quite some work to accommodate the one he had, about 1.75 inch diameter and 7 inch long, with a base simulating a ball sack also.

Doing it all the time, the diapering up was no trouble for him at all, getting those two diapers and inlays in place neat and snug, by that also forcibly preventing that dildo from fully sliding out. But when i got up to get that onesie on, i noticed, sitting would push that thing deeper into my butt again, moving around meant slightly moving that thing in and out also, I'd be fucking myself slightly then, feeling totally weird to me right then.

But after onesie and socks were on, we went over to the living room, his boy still innocently bouncing around, unaware of anything. He unlocked the mittens of his boy and released him from the bouncer, then also unlocked and removed the head harness with the pacifier in place, while he then cleaned that dummy a little, he sent his boy 'to bed'. That harness went on my head, with it the huge dummy into my mouth, he even added the brim cap his boy wore earlier then before it was time to get into that bouncer.

I followed his guidance on that and minutes later was actually hanging in that thing, feet off the ground, my hands now also locked in those mittens on my back, and of course, with my weight on it, that dildo fully pushed up my butt now. He then took a little clip showing me off, all that was on, my helpless bouncing diapered, patting the thick padding in front of that flat cock cage also, not that i felt much of that anyway, then he said:

'It is Saturday morning 2 am now, so you have the time until Monday morning 6am, enough time to get ready to go to work then, I'll fetch the clothes you need to go to work from your place during the weekend.

I'll send this clip to our poker buddies, telling them that you won't be able to attend the next 100 game nights, because this is how you spend each of those weekends without exception.

So let it sink in during the remaining weekend now, I'll be snuggling up to my boy for the night.'