20 years later and you’re still getting hung out to dry by your tighty whities on the playground 💀

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@wedgiemore
20 years later and you’re still getting hung out to dry by your tighty whities on the playground 💀

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‘Morning, bro.’
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, ‘What... what happened last night?’
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 you’d not eaten enough beforehand, or maybe you didn’t pace yourself as well as you should have, but eventually your intoxication reached such a point, your disinhibitions lowered to such a degree, that you confessed to your entire friend group that you had a ‘thing’ 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 phone’s 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.'
I’m caught in an unending wedgie trance, forever cursed to enjoy hanging by my whitey tighties 😵💫
You’d always been top dog at school, a stereotypical jock with a passion for putting dorks in their place by yanking their briefs to the moon and back. Your name alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of nerds everywhere on campus, so skilled were you in the art of wedgie administration.
You don’t know who it was, but maybe it was a mistake to wedgie one particular nerd who (unbeknownst to you) spent his free time dabbling in the esoteric practices of the occult. The curse he put on you certainly changed your outlook, to say the least.
It began with the sudden sense that your usual boxers were uncomfortable. Not just one pair that had perhaps gotten a bit old, but all of them. Even your boxer-briefs and backup trunks felt somehow wrong. A stubbornly persistent, infuriating, and somehow inarticulable sensation of discomfort beleaguered you for two full days until, on the third, you could take it no more.
Thank God for the self-checkout machines at the mall, with which you hastily scanned and purchased not one, not two, but five packs of briefs for yourself before stuffing them in your backpack, desperately hoping nobody saw you. And not just any briefs, but brightly, uniformly white briefs—in other words, tighty fucking whities. How would you even explain yourself if you had been spotted, recognized, approached? You, still visually as much of a frat boy dudebro as ever, shamefacedly buying thirty pairs of tight, white briefs. Indeed, you couldn’t even begin to explain it to yourself.
You’d found the solution to your inexplicable discomfort, that much was certain. You just had to make sure that there was no chance in hell, under any circumstances, that anyone could ever catch sight of your waistband, lest they deduce what now hid underneath. The most fearsome bully on campus, now a full-time tighty whitie enthusiast! You’d never live it down if word got out.
But the consequences of the curse were only just beginning. Your mind was increasingly beset by visions, memories of the most intense wedgies you had ever dished out to the unsuspecting nerds you had once tormented. Though your desire to stretch other guys’ briefs had suddenly vanished, your inner preoccupation with wedgies had increased tenfold, if not more.
You remembered Damien, whose waistband you had cruelly used one day for impromptu bicep curls in front of twenty people. You remembered Eric, whom you had hung by his briefs for twenty minutes before he managed to bounce enough to rip them. You remembered Kyle, whose tighty whities were so stretchy that they could cover his entire face without ripping. You remembered them all, almost involuntarily, not because you wanted to replay the scenario as it had really happened. What you wanted was to experience it from the other end.
A week after the curse had first begun to afflict you, you finally gave in. A piece of exercise equipment in your basement would do, would be strong enough to support you fully off the ground without risking damage to the structural integrity of the apparatus. You were just curious, you told yourself. You just needed to try it. Just once, and that would be it. Then you would go back to being normal.
The sensation of your underwear tightening against your skin was like nothing else you had ever experienced. You thanked your lucky stars thar no one was home to hear the deep, involuntary moan of pleasure that issued forth from your mouth as you sank into your first-ever self-administered wedgie. Your levels of physical and psychological satisfaction were utterly maxed out as you dangled there, a full foot off the ground, your brain practically assaulted by powerful waves of unexplainable ecstasy. The words ‘WEDGIE BOY’ pounded and throbbed relentlessly against your consciousness, echoing in your ears and dominating the screen of your mind’s eye, as if branding you with your new identity until you submitted to it entirely.
And submit you did. Despite your original intentions, you knew with absolute clarity that this was not the last time you’d find yourself in such a situation. Far, far from it.
Bro probably shouldn’t have pissed off the local basketball team while wearing his little whitey tighties 😂

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Another day, another pair of whitey tighties stretched over my face like a good nerd 🤓
I swear these tighty whities have me in a wedgie hypnosis, everyday I get the urge to just yank them over my head 😵💫
book shopping - Wedgies Benjamin Fredrickson

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Drawing my boyfriend very kindly made of me getting wedgied by him lol. Find yourself a kinky t4t relationship it's a beautiful thing
You: “Bro come over and hangout after work!”
🌱: “I dunno, I just got off a 12 hour shift Bro.”
You: “Don’t worry, we won’t hangout too long.”
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#wedgienerd #HangingWedgie #PupPlay
A beautiful wedgie my lovely and beautiful and amazing and sexy Girlfriend did to me when she came over for the very first time
Jockey’s held through nicely for me this time around 🤓check out the OF for the full self vid :) #calzonchino #hangingwedgie #wedgie #tightywhities #gay #fetish #briefs #atomicwedgie OnlyFans.com/wedgieguy675
https://www.instagram.com/p/ClwFWDeOqc8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
These guys were awesome! they definitely had a wedgie fettish , they acting like they don’t 🤣

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Trying to sleep around your 2 bully “friends” was a mistake, especially wearing tighty whities. Shame they didn’t pull harder and rip them right off this nerd