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A long sigh emitted from the girl, whose back was slouched forward as she strode on her daily walk home.  The cool summer breeze whipped her ponytail as she walked, and she constantly licked her teeth to prevent her braces from getting misaligned.  She held both the suspenders of her backpack and of her outfit, which were connected to her brown slacks below.  She looked behind her to see if the cause of her distress was still there.  

White cotton panties matching the colour of her blouse flowed from said slacks to the ground below her.  The images of cartoon pigs, now stretched beyond recognition, littered the underwear that was now dragging on the sidewalk.  She turned back in front of her, not really knowing why she looked back in the first place.  The panties weren’t magically going to fix themselves, as much as she wished them to.  Fixing her underwear came to mind, but its futility lost the name of action.  To fix them now would be to struggle against a current that would only sweep her the next time she stepped foot into its waters.  It seemed much better to just drift downstream, praying for an eventual end.  

She felt a slight drag behind her, more so than the waving fabric that splayed from her bottoms.  Looking back, she noticed that a pinecone had miraculously fallen right into the pocket of her hanging underwear, in the space between its legholes.  She stopped for a moment, causing the pig covered basket to cease its grinding on the cement.  She twisted around and took the pinecone out of her underwear, chucking it to the side onto a fully trimmed lawn.  Ready to continue her walk, a thought emerged itself.  Her shoulders were feeling the pain of multiple textbooks and school supplies, whilst her underwear seemingly just displayed its usefulness as a basket apparatus.  Though the idea might heighten her embarrassment, she was long past the barrier of dignity.  

The sigh and solemn frown she wore had disappeared, in place of a bright smile and humming melody.  Her backpack bounced as she walked, alleviated from some of its burden.  She swung her suspenders as she sang, forgetting the cold reality around her in blissful ignorance.  Her underwear dragged behind her still, this time with a pencil case and geometry set as its contents.  She looked back and smiled, while nodding in appreciation to the pigs now helping with her luggage.  Though she expected another wedgie within the day, the dark clouds would not ruin her walk home in the sunlight.  

A multitude of students walked under the shade provided by the maple trees across campus.  The more remote paths nearing the forest were occupied by few relaxed students, some enjoying the quiet away from a bustling campus, and others relishing in the calming atmosphere lush foliage provides.  

The girl shared none of these purposes.  She sighed to herself in time with a strong breeze, the wind swaying her motionless body like the branches she was currently hanging from.  Her pink and purple striped panties had been tied to one of the sturdier branches, and her entire weight was pressed onto the pair as she hung.  Though the panties had grown twice their size, they seemed to disappear in the pale cheeks that glistened in the sunlight, thanks to her skirt laying under her and out of reach.  Her rear faced the campus, with her only view being the dirty and brittle tree bark that was technically aiding in keeping her airborne.  She looked up to see her backpack lodged in one of the higher joints of the branches, intentionally placed there by the culprits that had gotten her in this situation.  

After the thought of being able to cut herself down won the decision war in her brain, she began to reach upwards to grab a branch below her target.  After a couple failed swipes and heavy bounces, she latched onto the branch with both hands, immediately struggling to maintain her grip.  Using all the force she could muster in her noodle like arms, she lifted herself up halfway to her backpack.  She was forced to pull back down to regain her breath, but the first attempt getting halfway gave her confidence. She lifted herself once more, getting marginally closer to her goal before being forced back down.  She panted as she hung, almost thankful for having her panty hammock to alleviate some of the weight.  Eager to try again, the reality of her situation set in.

She had always wanted to work out.  Getting stronger to possibly avoid some of her wedgies was an obvious conclusion, but even without that she admired women in magazines who were strong and capable on their own.  Finding time to exercise amidst the underwear shopping she had to frequently prioritize was difficult, but this bind gave her the opportunity to work her arm muscles and get herself out of her predicament.  Feeling the burn, she kept at her pulls, witnessing herself getting closer and closer with each pull.  The bounce of her underwear digging into her crack served as punishment and motivation for her to continue in her struggle.  

With a heavy swat, the backpack fell from its perch and into the hands of its rightful owner.  The girl shook with joy, forgetting about the wedgie worsening behind her.  The rush of accomplishment washed away any lasting embarrassment, and even though she knew she’d be hanging from this perch within the week, she looked at the tree as her new exercise equipment with a built in underwear elongator, free of charge.  

The steps of professors and students echoed down the hallway, its walls covered with storage lockers for willing students.  Most used them for heavier textbooks, physical projects, and costumes for skits and plays.  It was uncommon for someone to store themselves in their own locker, but the world is big enough where anything can happen.

The girl hung from the coat hook inside the storage unit, its cramped space forcing her shoulders up and her legs bent inward.  She wore only the bright green bra and panties she cherished, with multi coloured flowers giving the set a natural theme.  Her rear was once again split by her own panties, which was the force that was keeping her airborne.  Her cheeks were pressed against the cold metal of the locker, and she hung in her pitch-black prison without a means of escape.

But there was no sigh.  No exclamation of fatigue, or grimace at her current binding.  Instead she wore a smile that was illuminated by the handheld console that she was focused on.  The darkness of the locker acted as a mini movie theater, allowing the game to be viewed with crystal clarity.  She smiled as she jumped and raced across her favourite levels, in a comforting solitude that was intended to be the opposite.  She realized this ridiculousness, but laughed to herself for questioning it, and quickly returned to her game.  

Wedgies may be frequent.  Wedgies may be painful.  But at the end of the day, there was something to be gained if she looked hard enough.  She found the silver lining in what she believed to be her daily torture, turning misery into happiness with the changing of perspective.  Though she was awaiting another wedgie sooner than she probably imagined, the only thought running through her mind was the goals she could accomplish and fun it would bring her.  All because she received another wedgie again.
Feedback is appreciated.  So yeah, my first ever attempt at a short story.  This literally took me two hours to complete, so don't expect anything groundbreaking.  It was fun just to write a goofy little tale to ease myself back into writing.  Of course this isn't replacing my usual Friend Session content, but hopefully you guys enjoy this while I work on the new chapter.  I once again apologize for the wait, but it needs time to be absolutely perfect.  Hope this will do in the meantime, and let me know if you want more of this kind of content!  
:iconfreedomfighter5000:
freedomfighter5000 Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2017
Nicely written, it may not be what you normally write about, but I enjoyed the simplicity and the different perspective of each. Refreshing definitely
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:iconanimepanties:
AnimePanties Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2017  Student Writer
Thank you.  As long as people treat this like little extras instead of a replacement for my regular content than these are doing their job. Regardless this has been well received so thank you very much for the support. 
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:iconhannsgutherson:
hannsgutherson Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2017  Student Writer
To answer your question: Any sort of content from you is always wanted.

I originally thought that three short stories all were about different girls. It's interesting, and logical that they are all the same. I'm sure some will like the cartoony nature of the first wedgie, and the break from your regular realistic mode of writing wedgies.

The benefits the unnamed protagonist gain in each instance are both amusing and entertaining. As a fetishist it's always good to see people enjoying or getting something from wedgies. It's usually not self-improvement, or something as beneficial as what this woman gains. But perhaps, as you write, it's all about how you look at it.

Your writing was so concise that I already knew the lesson/message the story was imparting, and you talking about it in the end actually became somewhat redundant.

The metaphor of waters and currents in the beginning seems a little out of place. In the future you can consider carrying that metaphor through the story or just cutting it out because it doesn't really add anything. And I'm not sure what you mean by the following sentence: "Fixing her underwear came to mind, but its futility lost the name of action." 

You mention not to expect anything groundbreaking and yet I can't recall when a story has been a collection of mini-stories all revolving around what some would call the "aftermath" of the wedgie (Random digression/tangent: it just dawned on me that some of our terms are directly related to the nuclear bomb. Words like "atomic wedgie" and "nuclear wedgie" being the two most obvious. Perhaps the influence of anime and manga on early wedgie fetish writers played a role in the development of this language since those mediums are preoccupied with fears and anxieties and trauma around the nuclear bomb). So what you did can be considered groundbreaking in the sense that this seems to be untrod territory here. What does it feel like to walk on it?

I maybe would have liked to know a bit more about this girl. And about the wedgies leading up to her situation, but this being a short story writers have to be selective of what they include and by focusing the story down to the few elements you did you made the protagonists dealing with the wedgie the main focus.

This was a very solid first short wedgie story. If you're thinking of doing more in the future I think you could definitely try to mine this format which I consider to be quite new. But as always im looking forward to everything and anything you do. Short or long I'll read it all. But I want you to know I think you should keep writing short stories as well, they can help you learn how to be concise and precise with your words in a way long/novel length stories do not.
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March 17
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