Mary Jane Watson Wedgie Story

BY : Revenger
Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Spiderman
Dragon prints: 2864
Disclaimer: I do not own Spiderman, and I make no money from this story. Warning - Wedgie fetish and all characters are 18+

“Got any threes?” a particular redhead asked, looking up from the various cards in her hands. Mary Jane Watson-Parker sat in the wooden chair across the wobbling table from a peculier blonde she had a hate-love relationship with. The two had known each other for years, both pining for the same man: Peter Parker. In the end, MJ had won, leaving the other woman somewhat bitter. Over time, the blonde had grown past this and the two had become friends.


 “Go fish,” Felicia Hardy replied with a sly grin, making MJ groan as while picking up a new card from the deck in the center of the table. She currently wore a light blue tank top that bore her midriff, a pair of torn jeans, and black heels. Finally, her luscious red hair reached down past her shoulders. Felicia Hardy dressed similarly: a black-and-white striped t-shirt, brown khakis, and white heels. Her blonde hair reached down to her waist, complimenting her lean figure. As she stared at her cards, a question popped into Felica’s brain. “So how’s that acting career going for you?”


 “So so” MJ replied, waving her left hand weakly in the air. “The recent gig has me playing the side character in a college setting.”


 “Sounds promising,” Felicia remarked, genuinely intrigued. “What’s your character do?”


 “This is going to make you laugh,” MJ replied. “My character is meant to be the nerd of the sitcom.”


 “You don’t seem like a nerd,” Felicia observed. She laid her head back as she grinned. “But what do I know? Maybe you were born for the role.”


 “Thanks,” MJ remarked with a grimace. “The role has me getting bullied for laughs.”


 “Do tell,” Felcia replied, pulling herself closer to MJ’s face.


 MJ sighed as she prepared her words carefully. “One of the things the director has me do has me do is multiple takes on this one scene.” She anxiously tapped her fingers against the table. “It’s driving me nuts. She’s a perfectionist and she wants me to make the scene as funny as possible.”


 “What’s the scene involve?” Felicia asked, rubbing her chin. “It can’t be that bad.”


 “The character bullying me involves giving me a wedgie,” MJ murmured, turning her head away shamefully.


 “Are you serious?” Felicia asked, placing a hand over her lips to contain her giggles.


 “Yeah, I know,” MJ replied, running her hands through her hair to distract herself from her anxiety. “The director wants me to make my voice have a pained surprise kind of tone to it.”


 “You’re getting paid to get wedgies?” Felicia asked, now bursting into laughter.


 “That’s one way to look at it,” MJ muttered bitterly. “It’s hard to be surprised when you see it coming.”


 “I would imagine,” Felicia remarked.


 “She told me I’m getting close to nailing the scene,” MJ stated, clenching her fists. “I just need to get the pitch of the yelp right. She wants me to be loud and squeaky.”


 “Seems a bit excessive for one scene,” Felicia commented.


 “Well, the money’s good,” MJ replied with a shrug.


 “So you are getting paid to get wedgies,” Felicia stated, now howling like a hyena.


 “Fine. I am,” MJ grumbled, throwing her arms into the air and dropping all of her cards. “At this point, I’m just numb to them.” She pulled herself out of the chair, walking towards the fridge behind Felicia. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?”


 “A glass of milk will suffice,” Felicia said boastfully, enjoying the fact that she was getting under the redhead’s skin.


 “Very funny,” MJ said with an exasperated chuckle, wrapping her fingers around the door’s handle. “I’m more of a bourbon woman, myself.” She stuck her head into the fridge, searching for the drink of her desires. “Now, where is it?”


 Felcia stood up, putting the cards down and following the redhead into the fridge. An idea crossed her mind, an idea too delightfully entertaining to pass up. Her fingers wrapped slowly around a white fabric peeking above MJ’s jeans. An evil grin appeared on Felicia’s lips as she put the next phase of her plan into action. With one heave, Felicia yanked MJ out of the fridge. MJ squeaked in a shrill voice as she realized what was happening. “What are you doing?” she asked through gritted teeth.


 “Helping out with your acting,” Felicia replied serenely, now bearing a cheshire grin. She joyfully tugged on MJ’s spiderweb-themed undergarments, reaching up her back with ease. She took pleasure in hearing the distinctive squeaks with each pull, bouncing MJ up and down.


 “Let me go,” MJ snapped, helplessly kicking in the air. “Peter’s supposed to be home in a few minutes. I don’t want him seeing his wife get a wedgie from his ex.”


 “Man, your life sure sounds like a sitcom, doesn’t it?” Felicia observed, ignoring her pleas. “When you were acting, how did the wedgie go? Like this?” She gave a painful tug, rocketing the fabric up MJ’s bottom.


 “Eek!” MJ yelped, her vocal pitch increasing with each tug.


 “Or like this?” Felicia asked, yanking the fabric up to her neck and tearing a hole in the back of underwear.


 “Nothing like this,” MJ murmured, becoming numb to the pain.


 “Did you get an atomic?” Felicia asked curiously.


 “No!” MJ shouted, realizing her fate.


 “Well, you can think of this as method acting, then,” Felcia replied, placing MJ back onto the ground. The fabric slithered past MJ’s neck, crawling past her scalp while tearing the material. The fabric was coming apart at the seams, coming close to split in two.


 “Felicia, don’t,” MJ pleaded, seeing the waistband approach her eyebrows.


 “Hmm... nah,” Felicia replied, hooking the waistband onto MJ’s eyes. Her neck strained back, feeling a jolt from the stabbing pain in her bottom being sent to her eyebrows.


 “I can’t see!” MJ complained, gripping her waistband to release herself. She didn’t want this pain to last any longer than necessary.


 “That’s kind of the point,” Felicia replied, walking out the front door. “See you around.”


 “Wait!” MJ shouted, holding out her hands in the desperate effort to halt Felicia.


 “Hey Pete,” Felicia said to someone MJ could not see, making the redhead’s heart stop.


 “Uh, hi,” Peter greeted, walking past her. She could hear him drop something, making her believe that he had brought groceries home. “Oh my goodness.”


 “Uh... I can explain...” MJ murmured, yanking off the fabric and letting the torn material droop from her jeans like a cape. Her cheeks became redder than her hair as she stared into her husband’s eyes. He wore a white button up shirt, grey pants, black shoes, and kept his brown hair well-kept. He had a camera strapped around his shoulders, having returned from his daily work as a reporter. He stared into her eyes, as dumbfounded and embarrassed as she was.


 “Felicia?” Peter asked.


 “Felicia,” MJ replied, letting out a sigh.

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