Katie's Wedgie Humiliation Pt. 04

This is (likely) the final chapter of Katie's story. If you're just now tuning in because (like me) you don't have patience for multi-chapter stories, this is the backstory: Katie is a nerdy new graduate student who arrives on campus hoping to finally make friends, but she ends up with a roommate, Maddie, who's more sadistic than her worst high school bullies. Maddie humiliates Katie with wedgies and spankings that become more humiliating and devastating with every passing week. In Pts. 2 and 3, Maddie's similarly attractive and cruel friends get involved. Those humiliations ultimately feel tame compared to those that follow in this chapter.

It would be a happier story if we could say that Katie's torments ended with the humiliations of that fall afternoon; indeed, it is difficult to imagine how things could have gotten much worse for her. But this story would sadly not be the truth.

In the aftermath of Maddie and her friends leaving a naked, humiliated Katie behind in her bedroom, things did seem to improve -- and rather drastically, at that. Katie spent that night in her room and did not leave until the following morning, petrified of what would be waiting for her on the other side of the door, but when she did, the apartment was quiet. Noting Maddie's absence, she did not leave the apartment that weekend, convinced that a more public humiliation would greet her if she stepped onto campus.

It was only that Sunday night when she encountered Maddie for the first time since her friends had hung Katie up by her underwear. She was standing in their shared kitchen, making a cup of tea; Katie, who had stepped quietly out of her room to go take a shower, instinctively clutched her towel, fearing Maddie would tear it from her and expose her naked body once more.

"Oh, hey Katie -- what's up?" Maddie said sweetly, and there was none of the taunting cruelty in her voice. Katie muttered something indistinct, staring at the floor, but as she washed her hair and later settled into bed, she contemplated Maddie's tone. Over the days thereafter, when Katie saw her roommate across a lecture hall or in the library, Maddie only smiled amicably, sometimes giving her a little wave. There were no embraces or invitations to hang out, no -- but nevertheless something had changed. After an adolescence of humiliation at the hands of cooler girls, Katie was adept at parsing tones and expressions for mock kindness, and here she heard none. Could it be that Maddie in fact felt guilty over how she'd embarrassed her roommate, and was seeking in her own passive way to make amends?

Over the weeks that followed, Katie felt some of her old confidence return to her. By early November, it had been nearly a month since the afternoon when she'd been brought to orgasm in a hanging wedgie, her most shameful fetishes exposed to a gaggle of cruel, gorgeous girls, and miraculously there had been no wedgies since -- not from Maddie, not from any of her friends.

On top of that, she had found herself spending several evenings a week in the library with Charlie Broadman, studying for the semester-end exams that were beginning to undeniably loom. It had been Charlie who had texted her in October, inviting her to come review their midterms together, and it had been Charlie who'd texted her many of the evenings since. He often brought snacks that the two of them shared, and as Katie's confidence slowly returned, she found herself making jokes and sharing droll observations as they ate Pringles and Reeses Cups -- jokes that Charlie unfailingly laughed at. Sometimes, she thought he seemed to be shifting closer to her in his seat; once or twice she could have sworn that their knees touched.

So it was not with dread but with tentative excitement that she sat in the first-year cohort's weekly seminar one afternoon in early November and listened to what Dave Carpenter had to say at the end of class.

"Alright, settle down, settle down," he said as the students stood to leave. "Before you get out of here -- some news." Katie's classmates fell quiet and looked up at him. "As some of you probably know, the American Association for Management Studies is having its annual conference on campus in two weeks. Some of you have research that you might feel prepared to present -- check the website for information on submissions. But more importantly for us as members of the Stanford department, we'll be hosting hundreds of our colleagues from across the country, and I use the word host sincerely."

Those around Katie fell quieter with shared intrigue. "They'll be on campus for the long weekend," Dave said, "and on that Saturday night, we'll be hosting the capstone event in the event hall on campus. It's tradition for one first-year student to be invited to make the introductory remarks, after which we'll be having a dinner and dance of sorts -- a social hour, they call it."

Excited murmurs erupted around Katie, and before she realized it she found her eyes looking across the room to where Charlie sat thoughtfully. A dance. She'd never been to a dance before -- she'd been too nerdy in high school to go to prom, and never attended any fraternity events in college -- and she had a sudden mental image of herself stepping down from the stage after giving the introductory remarks and meeting Charlie in the middle of the dance floor, where they would lock in a tender embrace. As if connected by some serendipitous telepathy, she looked across the room to Charlie to see him look up at her and give her a conspiratorial smile. She felt her face turn hot and did her best to give a playful smile back, and on the walk back to her apartment she felt as if she was floating on air.

Maddie's warmth toward Katie seemed to grow over the following week. The kind hellos and waves became more frequent, and the pleasantries they exchanged in their kitchen or living room came to feel more organic, more expected. Katie realized she was no longer stammering or blushing when Maddie addressed her, and that she no longer reflexively clenched her buttocks within her jeans when her roommate entered the room out of fear that she'd find herself yanked up off the ground by her underwear.

On the Tuesday afternoon before the weekend of the conference, Katie was standing to pack her backpack at the end of the first-year seminar when Maddie approached her. "Hey Kates, a few of us are going to grab drinks off-campus -- wanna come?"

For the first time, Katie did not even briefly pause to gauge her roommate's words or expression for deceptive cruelty or mockery. The casual kindness in them felt completely unscripted, and for the first time since she'd stood before her mirror two months earlier, dreaming of her new social popularity, her heart skipped with a new beat of confidence. She likes me, Katie told herself. All of the bullying, all of the wedgies and humiliation -- she was clearly just going through her own stuff and taking it out on me, and now she feels guilty about it. People aren't so bad.

The two roommates crossed campus together beneath a gorgeous autumn sky. Alyssa, Kaitlyn, and Lindsey were waiting for them at the gates.

"Hey Kates!" Alyssa said, hugging Katie and kissing her cheek, and again there was no trace of vicious intent in her warmth. Katie's heart skipped a happy beat again. The five girls crossed the street together and entered a loud, crowded bar, settling into a booth by the window. They ordered a round of drinks and then another, and in the spinning warmth of the alcohol Katie almost laughed at herself for ever believing that these girls despised her. They're probably too self-conscious or guilt-ridden to explicitly apologize for the wedgies and stuff, but actions speak louder than words.

"So I noticed that one Charlie Broadman can't keep his eyes off of you in our marketing lecture," Lindsey said, and Katie felt herself blush.

"Charlie -- really?" she said nervously, and again her heart thrashed against her chest.

"I think he totally digs you, Kates," Maddie said, reaching for the pitcher of margaritas and refilling Katie's glass. "And I have the perfect idea for how you can impress him."

For a moment, Katie thought she saw in the other girls' faces the same glint of eager excitement she'd seen the day they'd hung her up by her underwear, but under the tequila's confidence she told herself that her imagination was taking advantage of her -- probably out of nervous excitement over what they'd said about Charlie liking her, she figured.

"So, you remember what Dave said about one first-year giving the opening remarks at the Saturday conference party?" Maddie continued. "Well -- I've talked to a few of our cohort-mates -- and we think it should be you."

Katie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "M-me?"

"Absolutely," Maddie said, and the certitude in her expression was genuine. "Not me -- people think I'm a bitch -- for some reason," she said with a wink, and in this acknowledgment of her past cruelty Katie heard a sincere if indirect apology. "It's usually a dude, and I know Dave thinks it's a girl's turn. I know Charlie would be thrilled for you -- and afterwards I bet he won't be able to resist himself."

The other girls murmured their enthusiastic assent, and with another sip of her margarita Katie's insides seemed to sing. The first-year speaker -- her. And sure enough, it was in an all-department email that night that Dave announced that she, Katie, would be giving the opening remarks that Saturday night. She thought she couldn't be any happier -- until two minutes later, when her phone hummed with a text -- from Charlie.

Congrats!!!!!!, he wrote. Can't wait for u to blow me away :)

The rest of the week passed for Katie in the happiest sort of dreamlike haze. In every free moment outside of class, she found herself on her phone or laptop, frantically typing and rewriting her speech. It was only on Friday, when she finally worked up the nerve to pass it along to Maddie, that she was certain that she'd written something wonderful.

"This is fucking fabulous, Kates," Maddie said, looking up from the Word file. "If I wasn't so proud of you, I'd be fucking jealous."

Fittingly, there wasn't a cloud in the sky on Saturday. Katie awoke early out of happy nerves, and would spend the morning and afternoon pacing her room, rehearsing her speech in her head and then out loud. Only by mid-afternoon did she go to her closet to begin to choose what to wear. She finally decided on a navy blue dress she'd bought a few months before: it was dignified but also sleek, with a low neck that would accentuate her breasts. She pictured Charlie's hands around its waist as they danced, and with butterflies in her stomach -- and the earliest insinuations of a familiar warmth in her more private areas -- she contemplated what might happen for her that night.

With this in mind, she finally turned to her underwear drawer. Her embarrassingly childish pairs were still there -- though the memory of her humiliation in them seemed wonderfully distant, as if it belonged to someone else -- and she pushed through them looking for something that Charlie might find -- and she blushed as her mind arrived on this word -- sexy. It was at the bottom of her drawer that she found a pair of pink-and-white striped bikinis that she'd never worn before, with a slight fringe of lace along the legs and waistband. She then found chose a pale neon green push-up bra that made her breasts look large and pert. As she stripped for her shower, she found herself thinking about Charlie being the one to remove her clothes, and in the shower she had to resist the urge to bring her fingers to her vagina: more out of habit than anything, she hadn't masturbated in weeks, and her clitoris was hot with its sudden eagerness for stimulation. Be good, she told herself. Patience is a virtue.

Katie arrived at the event hall on campus half an hour early, her stomach churning with nerves and excitement. "Ah, great, Katie," Dave Carpenter said to her at the door. "You'll be waiting backstage before your remarks -- and once you're introduced, that'll be your cue to come onstage."

"I'm being introduced?" Katie asked, vaguely flattered. "By who?"

"Your good friend Maddie volunteered," Dave said. Katie was touched and could not believe her good fortune: her gorgeous, popular roommate -- the sort of girl whom since middle school Katie had fantasized about being friends with -- would be standing before a massive audience, welcoming her to the crowd.

Dave led her backstage, where through a gap in the curtain she could see the crowd beginning to amass on the floor before the stage, their voices growing louder with murmured excitement. Katie's stomach swooped again with nerves: Dave had said earlier that week that there'd be nearly a thousand academics and graduate students in attendance from all over the country, but not until this point had Katie really contemplated just how many people that really was. She suddenly realized that she very badly had to pee.

She was broken from her jittery trance by the sight of Maddie approaching her. Katie's roommate looked more beautiful than she could have ever thought possible: her makeup immaculate, her hair sheened, her pink dress perfectly accentuating her curves. Her heels reminded Katie of how much height Maddie had on her.

"We just came to tell you good luck," Maddie said, gesturing to where Alyssa, Lindsey, and Kaitlyn stood behind her. "I'm absolutely certain that this is a night you'll never, ever forget."

Katie felt her eyes brim with tears of gratitude and pride. "I'm so excited for you to introduce me, Maddie," she whispered, blinking.

"Oh, you're going to absolutely love it," Maddie said sweetly, before giving Katie a kiss on the cheek and turning to walk to the edge of the curtain.

"This is it, everyone," Dave said from the wings. "I'm going to head into the crowd as soon as Maddie takes the stage, but you know the cue, Katie -- as soon as she's done, head out there."

"Dave, can I use the bathroom first?" Katie asked, but Dave had already disappeared.

"It's just the stage fright, Kates," Alyssa said sweetly. "You'll be fine once you're out there"

And then it was time. Through the gap in the curtains, Katie watched Maddie walk confidently out onto the stage before the enormous crowd, composing herself with the poise of Miss America, or a head of state. She turned her head back toward the gap in the curtain and gave Katie a radiant smile before turning back to the audience.

"No idea why she wanted audiovisuals," a stagehand dressed in black muttered to himself, a few feet from Katie. She hadn't noticed him until just then, but she realized that he was standing at a laptop mounted on a wheeled cart, and that it was wired to a wide television mounted to the wall above them. The television was for the stage crew, not the audience: Katie knew from presentations in the same event space that there was a far more colossal screen, basically a stadium Jumbotron, mounted over the crowd to the right of the stage. "But here's our cue, so 3-2-1--"

Katie's student I.D. picture filled the screen of the television; everything it showed was simultaneously being streamed to the audience's vaster screen. It was a less-than-flattering photo, and Katie cringed slightly, but it was still paled by her excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Maddie said onstage. "It's my distinct pleasure tonight to introduce my roommate Katie. I was given instructions to make this introduction special. So I figured I'd take this opportunity to tell you about what makes tonight's speaker special -- to introduce you to a side of her that some of us have found ourselves knowing well."

And then the picture on the screen disappeared, and it was replaced by three words on a black background:

THE WEDGIE GIRL

This was a dream. It had to have been a dream. As the crowd beyond the curtain began to murmur its confusion, Katie felt her knees go weak and her mind begin to swim and reel, desperate to comprehend what was happening. It was part of a joke, it had to be; there was no way that her roommate, her new friend, would --

"We live in progressive times, with a new appreciation for a variety of different sexual appetites and identities," Maddie said out to her audience. "Living with Katie has helped me learn that. I figure this might as well be an educational experience, so tonight our big speaker is going to help us learn about a sort of desire that might seem unfamiliar, strange, or even downright funny to many of you. You see," -- and suddenly the screen shifted to a new image -- "Katie has a wedgie fetish."

Maddie paused with a wide smile, as if savoring the chance for these words to have their full effect, and Katie found herself looking up the screen, not realizing that her mouth had fallen open. On it were screenshots of the search history pages Alyssa had opened on Katie's laptop during that afternoon of humiliation weeks before: the several hundred links to DeviantArt, r/WedgiesAndBullying, and Pornhub, the titles of all of which contained the word "wedgie." The images on the screen included screenshots of some of these pages themselves: a boy hanging from his bedroom door by his tighty whities; an anime drawing of a blushing girl with her underwear pulled over her head; a DeviantArt story with the title "Laura's Hanging Wedgie Shame." All of these screenshots had captured the entire screen, and along the toolbar in the upper corner of each, next to the time and date, were the words Katie's MacBook.

Katie stood rooted to the spot, on the verge of collapsing, as the confused murmurs from the audience grew louder. As if underwater, she heard Maddie speak again.

"Unlike you and me, Katie finds sexual gratification in this embarrassing childhood prank: in seeing someone having their underwear yanked up their butt -- or, better yet, in having it happen to her."

The screen shifted to a new set of screenshots. It took Katie a moment to realize with new horror and shame what they were.

"Not content to simply consume the content available online, Katie frequents a number of online communities dedicated to this strange fetish -- the 'Wedgie Community', she calls it in many of the posts pictured here. You can see from the timestamps on these posts how obsessively she thinks about wedgies."

Through her dizziness, Katie managed to read three of the posts she'd made on WedgieBuddies and Reddit from the username she'd carelessly chosen for these sites years before, assuming no one would ever find it: Katie2000. The posts had been published within three days of one another.

Does anyone have any recs for good panties for atomic wedgies? Mine keep ripping once I get them over my head :(

What's everyone's favorite hanging wedgie scene from movies/tv? Is it weird that I kind of get turned on seeing cartoon characters like Timmy Turner be hung up by their tighty whities??

Just popping in to say that I'm dying for someone to bounce me by my underwear right now...

Her brain swimming, praying it was a dream, Katie realized that the voices from the audience were not merely confused murmurs anymore. They had been joined by a number of amused whispers and even chuckles -- chuckles that sounded almost embarrassed, as if they were attempting to process the incomprehensible information before them.

"But fortunately for Katie, she has had plenty of opportunities to explore her rather embarrassing fantasies in real life, and not just online. In my time living with her, I have found that the only way to properly correct Katie's dereliction as a student and her unreliability as a roommate is by appealing to this -- by 'hoisting her up by her underpants,' as she writes in one post."