Hands-on Experience

You rush over to the fallen Greg, who’s struggling to push himself up, his face twisted in a mix of confusion and shame. His once-pristine clothes are now disheveled, his pride shattered in an instant. You see the edge of his underpants poking out from his waistband, a ridiculous detail in the midst of his humiliation, and it sparks something dark inside you.

With a cruel grin, you reach down and yank the waistband upward, lifting him off the ground as he lets out a strangled gasp. His feet dangle for a moment before he slams back down to the floor, the harsh friction of the fabric digging into his skin. The wedgie is almost perfect, a reminiscence of your own humiliations coming back in a rush. He squirms, his face turning red, not just from the physical pain but from the deep-seated embarrassment of it all.

The laughter grows around you, but it’s not just the laughter of the crowd — it’s the world itself, bending and reshaping under your control. Everything is yours to command, and this... this feels good. More than good. It feels like sweet, sweet justice, like every wrong ever done to you is being righted in this one, simple act.

You relish the moment, the power, the control—this is what you’ve always wanted. But even as you enjoy Greg’s discomfort, a flicker of doubt creeps in.

Is this all there is?

The question lingers, and for a brief second, the world around you seems to shimmer, like a fragile illusion. But the feeling quickly passes, and Greg’s struggle brings you back into the moment.

"How does it feel, Greg?" you taunt, twisting the fabric in your hands, pulling him back up slightly, only to drop him once more with a harsh thud. "Remember all those times you made me feel small? How does it feel to be on the other side now?"

Greg’s eyes dart around, ****, but he can’t escape. The laughter around you intensifies, the crowd — his audience — growing louder with every second. He’s groaning on the ground, struggling to push himself up, his hands trembling as they scrape against the cold floor. For a moment, there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes — like he can’t quite believe the tables have turned so violently in your favor.