Refuse

The room falls silent after your defiant refusal to kiss Chloe’s shoe. For a moment, you think you might have finally asserted some control over the situation, a final stand of pride against the unbearable humiliation. But that hope is short-lived.

Chloe’s smirk fades, and before you can react, Vanessa storms over, her towering presence looming over you like a storm ready to break. Her eyes burn with fury, her fists clenched at her sides. “You really think you’re still in control, don’t you?” she snarls, her voice full of cold anger.

Without another word, Vanessa grabs you by the back of your waistband, her fingers digging in as she pulls upward with brutal ****. The pain is instant and intense as the fabric of your boxers digs into your skin, pulling tighter and tighter. The sharp sting of the atomic wedgie sends a jolt of agony through your body, but Vanessa doesn’t stop there.

With a swift, cruel motion, she yanks your boxers even higher, lifting you off the ground as she forces the waistband up and over your head. The fabric stretches painfully tight, locking over your face, pressing against your nose and eyes. The burning humiliation of having your own underwear shoved into place as a mask adds another layer of degradation to the physical pain.

You’re trapped, blind, with your boxers wedged painfully deep, the waistband effectively locking your head in place. Every attempt to move only makes it worse, the tension on your boxers pulling harder as you squirm helplessly in Vanessa’s grip.

The girls’ laughter echoes louder now, their taunts cutting through your pain. Chloe’s voice rises above the rest, dripping with cruel amusement. “Well, would you look at that?” she sneers. “I think he’s wearing his underwear as a hat. How pathetic.”

Vanessa twists the waistband tighter, forcing you to bend awkwardly, your face now inches from Chloe’s waiting Converse. “If you thought that first wedgie was bad, just wait,” Vanessa hisses in your ear. “You’re not getting out of this until you do exactly what you’re told.”

Your breathing is shallow, your face burning with the double humiliation of the atomic wedgie and the position you’re now in—your mouth hovering just over Chloe’s shoe. The faint smell of worn rubber fills your nostrils, a constant reminder of the degrading task you’ve been ordered to complete.

You try to shake your head, but the fabric of your boxers is locked so tightly around your face that it barely moves. The pain is unbearable, the waistband digging into your skin, and you can feel the fabric pressing against your eyes, blurring your vision.

Chloe leans down, her sneaker so close that it’s all you can focus on now. “Oh, what’s wrong, Tom?” she teases, her voice dripping with condescension. “Not so tough now, are you? You’re going to kiss my shoe, or Vanessa’s going to keep pulling until those boxers rip in half. Your choice.”

Vanessa yanks the waistband again, sending a fresh wave of searing pain through your body. You let out a strangled gasp, your pride crumbling under the intense pressure. The fabric digs even deeper, making it impossible to move without causing more pain. You have ****.

You don’t want to give in. You hate the idea of giving them the satisfaction. But every moment that passes with the waistband pulling tighter feels like ****, and the humiliation of being trapped like this—your underwear stretched over your head—proves too much to bear.

With a defeated sigh, you inch closer to Chloe’s shoe, your breath shallow as the smell of rubber fills your senses once more. The laughter from the girls intensifies as they watch you lower yourself to the ultimate act of submission.

Finally, you press your lips against the rubber toe of her black Converse. The taste of dirt and worn rubber fills your mouth, and a wave of shame washes over you, overwhelming the pain from the wedgie. The room is filled with mocking laughter and cruel taunts as you kneel there, kissing Chloe’s shoe with your underwear pulled painfully over your face.

“Good boy,” Chloe purrs, her voice full of satisfaction. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? All it took was a little encouragement.”

Vanessa, still holding your waistband tightly, gives it one final tug, forcing your face harder against Chloe’s shoe. “Now that’s the kind of obedience we’re looking for,” she sneers. “Maybe next time, you’ll do as you’re told from the start.”

The other girls are practically howling with laughter now. “Look at him!” Amanda laughs, barely able to contain herself. “He’s kissing her shoe with his own boxers over his face! How much lower can he get?”

Lily giggles softly, her voice full of amusement. “I don’t think there is anything lower.”

Chloe lifts her foot slightly, giving you a small nudge with the toe of her sneaker. “Alright, I think that’s enough for now,” she says, her voice full of mock pity. “You’ve learned your place, haven’t you?”

You nod weakly, the pain from the wedgie still burning through your body, but the humiliation is worse. You’ve been broken.

Vanessa finally releases your waistband, letting it snap back into place. You collapse onto the floor, gasping for air, your body trembling with a mixture of pain and shame. You can feel the heat rising in your face, your entire body radiating with humiliation as the girls continue to laugh and taunt you.

Chloe steps back, her smirk firmly in place as she watches you struggle to compose yourself. “That’s what happens when you try to resist,” she says, her voice full of triumph. “Next time, I suggest you just do as you’re told. It’ll save you a lot of pain—and embarrassment.”

You lie there on the floor, beaten, humiliated, and utterly defeated, knowing full well that the weekend has only just begun. And they’ve already made it clear that you’ll be spending the rest of it completely at their mercy.