Katie's Wedgie Humiliation Pt. 03

This is Part Three of Four. I normally hate reading multi-chapter stories, but I hate 20-page stories even more. Ideally each chapter can stand alone if you don't have the patience to read all of them. Short version: Katie is a new graduate student who suffers wedgies and humiliation at the hands of her cruel roommate Maddie. Here, Maddie gets her friends involved. The public humiliation Katie suffers in the next chapter -- the finale -- will make the previous three chapters seem positively tame.

"Katie, do you mind sticking around for a few minutes?"

Katie looked up, startled. It was a Monday in late September, a month after the start of classes, and she was sliding her laptop into her backpack at the end of her program's weekly first-year proseminar. Dave Carpenter, the director of graduate studies, was looking at her from the front of the classroom, his expression inscrutable. Already Katie knew what this was about -- from across the room, she could see her midterm problem set atop his papers, with the letter C circled in red ink at the top of the page -- and she dreaded the conversation to follow.

A month earlier, after Maddie and Alyssa had left her in her bedroom in nothing but a cartoon-patterned diaper after an atomic wedgie and spanking, Katie had hoped that the worst was behind her: that those early encounters with her roommate would amount to nothing more than a sort of initiation, and that thereafter they'd have -- if not a friendship --then at least a mutually respectful distant relationship.

It was only when Katie found herself hanging off of the bathroom door's towel hook by her underwear two days later that she knew that the worst was just beginning. She'd forgotten to run the dishwasher, Maddie said, and "messy girls get hanging wedgies." Maddie had reached into her shorts and grabbed the waistband of her underwear, laughing at their childishness -- pink with green polka dots -- and, after tugging her shorts down to her ankles, dragged Katie across the apartment to the bathroom, exposing her naked butt as she squirmed to get away. Maddie's regular fitness classes left her arms toned, and with barely any difficulty she had lifted Katie off the ground and hooked her waistband to the door. She had hung there for two hours before they finally ripped, leaving her to walk back to her room naked from the waist down except for the humiliating remnants of the waistband.

Since then, wedgies had been a near-daily occurrence. Always they were a form of punishment: Katie had left her toothpaste on Maddie's side of the sink; Katie had forgotten to take the trash out; Katie had made a stupid comment in their marketing class. To her humiliation, she never found the ability to suppress her discomfort and embarrassment as she felt herself hoisted up by her underwear: Katie's tolerance of the pain of the cotton in her ass was outpaced by the growing intensity of Maddie's wedgies, either because Maddie was growing stronger with each yank or because her hostility toward Katie continued to grow.

Katie counted what small blessings she could. There had been no more spankings since that afternoon with Alyssa; even more fortunately, she hadn't been forced into a diaper again, and for all of Maddie's taunts and jeers -- "Wedgie Girl," "Wedgie Loser," the consistently shameful references to her big girl underpants -- Katie's mortifying peeing and subsequent diapering hadn't entered the conversation.

Most merciful of all was the fact that, for all of the wedgies Maddie gave Katie, the humiliation thus far hadn't left the four walls of their apartment. Sometimes Alyssa would be hanging out at their place and join in -- she and Maddie made a sport of lifting Katie off the ground together, both of them hoisting her waistband in tandem, laughing as Katie's legs flailed helplessly in the air -- but to Katie's knowledge, no one else at school was privy to Katie's private life as the Wedgie Girl; though Katie avoided Maddie in class and on campus, petrified that she would feel a sudden yank on her waistband, she miraculously had never been wedgied in public. In class and in study sessions in the library, Katie would study Charlie Broadman's face, looking for some sign that Maddie -- who always flirted shamelessly with Charlie, especially when Katie was around -- had told him about Katie's regular wedgies and the embarrassing underwear she wore beneath her school clothes.

Nevertheless, the first month of Katie's first year of graduate school had accordingly passed in a haze of misery and shame. The discomfort and humiliation of regular wedgies -- and the paranoid fear that one day she would be hoisted up by her underwear in front of her classmates -- had taken a toll on her academic work, and it seemed her professors were noticing.

"Take a seat, Katie," Professor Carpenter said as she approached him. His expression was not unkind, but something in its pity made her blush.

"Is everything okay, Professor?" Katie heard herself ask, her voice a nervous squeak.

"Well," Professor Carpenter said, studying her through his glasses. "Your midterm makes me think it isn't. Are you doing okay, Katie?"

Katie had to fight back her blushing as she remembered Maddie bouncing her off the ground by her underwear the night before. "Y-yes, it is. Why?"

"Katie, in my experience, it's normal for new doctoral students to go through an adjustment period. Perfectly normal. Doctoral work is hard, and it's a marathon, not a sprint." He studied her again. "And I've found that collaboration and support is the best way to get someone back on track before it's too late."

Fearing the worst possible meaning of these words, Katie forced herself to speak. "What do you mean by that, Professor?"

He smiled what he intended to be a kind smile. "Everyone enters this program at their own pace, and it's sometimes useful to partner up two people working at different speeds, for mutual guidance and support. I think that would be useful here, and I have a really great idea for you. I believe you know Maddie Cartright?"

The worst was confirmed, and as if waking up in a nightmare, Katie looked to the classroom door to see Maddie standing there, a leering grin widening across her face. She gave Katie a taunting little wave with the tips of her fingertips. "I'm here, Dave," she said sweetly. Of course she's on a first name basis with our professors and I still talk to them like I'm a sixth grader , Katie thought, her face hot with shame.

"At Yale, Maddie did things in macroeconomics that even the most advanced graduate students couldn't dream of. I think she would make an excellent study buddy of sorts for you, and I think the two of you will be great friends to boot. What do you think, Katie?"

"She's thrilled, Dave," Maddie said, smirking. "I'll keep her on top of things, don't worry."

It was with a lurch of nausea that Katie heard the rap on her bedroom door that evening. She was hunched over her desk, attempting to work through that week's problem set, but once again she was unable to focus. Before she could respond to the knock, the door opened.

There stood Maddie, and behind her was Alyssa and four or five girls Katie didn't recognize. They were all similarly attractive -- they reminded Katie of the girls from undergrad who'd worn their sorority's t-shirts to class -- and they all had the same look on their faces: one that was expectant, almost greedy.

"I was just telling my friends here about the little extracurricular tutoring assignment Dave stuck me with today," Maddie said sweetly. "They didn't believe me when I told them I'm an excellent teacher, so I invited them over to let them see for themselves."

Before Katie could reply, Maddie crossed the room and swiped the problem set from Katie's desk. As her eyes moved down the page, her face widened with an expression of unbridled joy that made Katie's stomach churn with fear of what would follow.

"Well well -- Dave really wasn't lying," Maddie said, picking up a red pen from Katie's desk and beginning to theatrically mark Xes over Katie's work. The girls behind her tittered, and Katie felt her face flush. "Yes, I see that normal review methods aren't going to be particularly effective with little Katie. I feel like this is a situation that calls for -- negative reinforcement. Lindsey?"

A tall, athletic, severe-looking girl in a t-shirt that said PRINCETON ROWING stepped from the group of girls into the room holding a cord of rope.

"Linds here was just telling us about an idea she'd always had when she was captain of the crew team at Princeton. I told her I thought she might finally get to put it to use."

"W-what are you going to do?" Katie asked, ashamed of how meek her voice sounded in front of these attractive girls, whom she gathered were MBA students at Wharton: girls who went out drinking every night and sleeping with the broad-shouldered ex-finance types in their classes whom Katie could only daydream about from afar. They all laughed at Katie's voice and the childishness she knew her expression betrayed.

"Well, since you decided to wear jeans today, that makes things a bit more cumbersome, but where there's a will, there's a way," Maddie said in a singsong voice. "Ladies, some help?"

Before Katie could stand to try to flee, the group of girls descended upon her. The former rower named Lindsey grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, and Alyssa and an attractive blonde proceeded to grab her flailing legs.

"No -- please don't --" Katie whispered as a fourth girl reached for the button of her jeans. She tried with new desperation to kick herself free, but it was too late. The girl -- Kaitlyn, Katie seemed to remember from their joint MBA/PhD marketing seminar she -- had unzipped her jeans, and together she and Maddie placed their hands on the pants' waistband.

"Ready, Mads?" Kaitlyn said. "One -- two -- three,"

The feeling of having her own pants pulled down her legs was made more humiliating by the fact that it was two girls doing it; the jeans were tight, but together, their synchronized strength brought the pants down to her calves in an effortlessly swift pull, as if they were made of tissue paper. Her pale thighs were naked, and there was her exposed underwear: white bikini briefs adorned with tiny pink and lime-green flowers, with a purple lacy fringe along the waistband and leg holes. It was only as the girls around her erupted with laughter that Katie realized that the force of the two girls' depantsing had also tugged the rear waistband of her underwear down with her jeans, and as the girls stood her back up, Katie felt the room's cool air on the upper curve of her buttocks.

"Aww, look at how the embarrassed girl clenches her pale little bottom!" Lindsey exclaimed, and to her growing humiliation Katie realized she was right: in her embarrassment, Katie had instinctively clenched her buttocks and buckled her knees, as if desperate to preserve whatever pathetic form of modesty she could.

"Our solution here will fix that," Maddie said, smirking. "Lindsey, the rope, please?"

Before realizing what was happening, the girls pushed Katie against her desk, and Katie felt Lindsey take the waistband of her underwear in her hands. She was expecting a wedgie -- an atomic or lifting wedgie, based on Lindsey's obvious strength -- but instead she felt only some gentle pulls: no less embarrassing, but mercifully less painful. It was only with the last tug that she realized that Lindsey had tied the rope neatly to the waistband, by the tag, and with a sickening, instinctive look upwards, Katie knew what would happen next.

"I always hated these exposed pipes when we moved in, but who knew they'd prove so useful?" Maddie said, gesturing to the piping that ran along the length of Katie's ceiling, as Lindsey tossed the rope's other end up over it. "So, Little Miss Wedgie Girl, this is how we're going to learn how to do our homework properly." She reached into her pocket and unfolded a blank version of a different problem set, neatly folding it out onto the desk before Katie. "I spent the afternoon writing you some practice problems -- wasn't that nice of me?"

"Y-yes -- thank you," Katie heard herself say, her face burning hotter at her own deference as the girls around her laughed.

"These are fairly simple, I'll admit, but someone who wears such little girl underpants hasn't proven that she can handle anything much harder. You're going to do these problems, and because you so desperately need tutoring, I'm going to check your work after each one. That's where the negative reinforcement comes in. I think you'll get the idea soon enough. Now sit down in your chair, and -- go!"

For all of the wedgies and humiliation Katie had suffered since the start of the school year, the presence of multiple attractive girls was an embarrassment unlike any she'd experienced, and in the heat of her shame she could not bring herself to properly contemplate what Maddie had in mind. Feeling the girls' taunting eyes on her, shamefully aware that she could feel the hard coolness of her chair against her naked thighs and through the cotton fabric of her embarrassing underwear, Katie picked up her pen and began to work.

The thought that Maddie truly found these problems easy was somehow more denigrating than the thought that she'd lied for cruelty's sake. Never -- not in her undergraduate classes as a math minor, not in the two months of summer prep work she'd done before school -- had Katie encountered such impenetrably difficult mathematics. She thought of a recurring nightmare she'd had in middle school, in which she showed up for a test only to realize it was written in Hindi, and that she'd also showed up in her underwear; now, she was living it. Her face burned hotter than it ever had before; she literally felt herself begin to sweat. The leers of the girls around her grew crueller, and finally after ten minutes of frantic, clueless work, she looked up to Maddie, whose face was the cruellest of anyone's.

"I'm done with the first problem" Katie heard herself squeak.

Maddie took the papers from the desk and studied them for a moment, before finally actually bursting out laughing. "Oh my God!" she said. "Jesus fucking Christ. No, no, no, no."

Katie's face grew hotter, and she suddenly realized that once again strands of pubic hair were sticking out of her underwear's waistband below. "Well," Maddie said finally. "This is what we're here for. Linds, want to do the honors?"

With no warning, and with the strength she'd acquired over four years of college rowing, Lindsey took the rope's other end in her hands and tugged it. Before she could stop herself, Katie let out a moaning gasp: she felt her underwear disappear between her butt cheeks and -- more embarrassingly -- the legholes rise up her butt toward her back; she realized that the wedgie had lifted her ass an inch or so off the chair, and when she went to sit again, the wedgie only grew.

"Do you get the idea?" Maddie said with mock sweetness. "Let's see if this conditions you to take your academic work a little more seriously."

The second problem was somehow more difficult than the first, and Katie felt her knees shaking as she finally looked up to Maddie with a gaze that even she realized must have looked pathetic. Once again Maddie took the problem set, once again she laughed, and once again she looked to Lindsey. "Again, Linds."

This second pull was more ruthless than the first, pulling Katie's ass cleanly off the chair. "Ah, wedgieee," Katie heard herself moan before she could realize it, and the girls screamed with laughter.

"Look, Little Miss Underpants wants to wear thongs like the rest of us!" Kaitlyn exclaimed.

The cotton, Katie realized, had disappeared completely up her butt. Her cheeks were completely exposed -- not only by the wedgie, but by her stance; the second wedgie tug had lifted her from the chair into a ridiculous half-standing crouch, with her naked butt facing the girls around her. The rope and her underwear were taut; any attempt to squirm worsened the wedgie in her ass -- and, more mortifyingly, intensified the underwear's friction against her vagina, and specifically her clitoris.

It was with a sickening thrash of humiliation that Katie had realized several weeks earlier that her thoughts began straying almost exclusively to wedgies when she masturbated late at night. As her real-life humiliation intensified, so too did the embarrassments to which she subjected herself in these fantasies. Often, she was naked except for her underwear, suspended from a flagpole before a laughing crowd of hundreds, who together narrated her shame with collective chants: WEDGIE GIRL; KATIE LIKES WEDGIES . Ashamed of herself, Katie had decided in the third week of school to stop masturbating altogether.

This, she now realized, was a mistake. Lindsey's second tug on the rope had pulled the flower-patterned underwear with new friction against her clitoris, and Katie suddenly realized how much pent-up sexual energy had accumulated in the weeks since her last orgasm. The embarrassment of being suspended by her underwear made the cotton's pressure somehow so much more stimulating than her fingers alone ever could, and to her shame, Katie realized -- and prayed that the girls around her would not -- that she was getting wet. Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it , she thought frantically to herself. You're not a Wedgie Girl you're not a Wedgie Girl you're not --

"Problem three," Maddie said sweetly. "And this is a speed round. Go."

It was like she was in a dream. A mere forty-five seconds had passed before Maddie snatched the problem set up from the desk, and again she laughed out loud.

"Well," she said finally. "It seems that my methods aren't proving as effective as they should. Perhaps it would be better for you if we eliminated additional distractions?"

Katie did not know what Maddie meant by this, but she nodded, praying it would hasten the end of the spectacle of her humiliation.

"I notice you're very red and -- my heavens -- even sweating," Maddie said finally. "Studies show that students in colder classrooms perform higher on standardized tests. I thought we had the AC on in here, but maybe you're overheated. I think we can resolve that."

Suddenly, Katie felt Maddie's and Alyssa's hands on the hem of her shirt. With the same effortlessness with which her pants had been pulled down her legs, she felt them lift the shirt clean over her head. She looked down in humiliation to see herself naked except for her wedgied underwear and her pink bra; the swiftness with which the girls had removed her shirt had shifted the bra's cups to expose the pale upper cleft of her breasts.

"Let's hope this resolves your inadequacies, but in the meantime, we still need to address your performance on the last question. Lindsey?"

Lindsey gave the rope her most aggressive tug yet. Katie prayed that her underwear would simply rip -- the thought of these girls seeing her naked ass and vagina was somehow less mortifying than this -- but instead she felt them strain and stretch deep between her buttocks as they lifted her into a preposterous standing position. Katie felt the heels of her feet lift up into the air, and in her desperation to keep her toes on the ground, she buckled her legs into a shameful bowlegged stance, her exposed butt jutting out ridiculously as her own underwear hoisted it upward. Her moan at the discomfort and shame was her longest and most embarrassing yet: it was an instinctive, almost physical reaction, almost a grunt, and in its compulsive nature it again expressed itself in the only word that occupied her brain.

"Ahhh, wedgieeeeeee," Katie moaned, her emphasis on the last syllable following Lindsey's final painful hoist. Again the girls laughed.