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Wedgie Warlock: Chapter 5

Five years earlier.

Anton’s heels slam against the barbed wire, sending a rattle pattering throughout the fence. Jeers taunt at his ankles like a pack of wolves waiting for their prey to succumb to defeat. No matter how hard he closes his eyes and cries out in distress, no one is coming to rescue him from this torture.

“You better hope Saturday games aren’t cancelled this week Anton, or else you’re in for the longest weekend of your life,” Jono admonishes.

Tim walks up and pulls down on Anton’s legs, searing the underwear further up his ass. This elicits a high-pitched wail, which seems to satisfy Tim and prompts him to sit back down a few feet from the fence where his brother Jim sits. Anton’s been hanging for at least a couple hours, maybe even longer. He lost feeling in his groin roughly three leg-pulls ago, and he wonders if he’ll ever feel anything down there again. On his left, Jono stands with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, scrolling on his phone and occasionally looking up to check the pathway on the other side of the fence making sure no teachers or anyone with authority comes past. Unfortunately for Anton though, with school out for the rest of the year, the walkway’s been empty for quite some time. Jono’s phone chimes and he chuckles lightly.

“Well boys, Sophie’s just got off work so we’re gonna go fuck a bunch in the back of her aunt’s car,” Jono says, bro-hugging Jim and nut-tapping Tim goodbye. “Now you,” he smirks, turning to Anton who remains hanging helplessly on the fence, “you’ll be good to my bros now won’t you?”

Anton’s head slowly nods, although trembling is probably a more accurate description. This isn’t helped when Jono comes even closer so that he’s just inches away from his victim, cupping his face in his hand for a brief moment.

“And remember, no one’s coming to save you. No one cares enough about you to even think about saving you. You’re getting just what you deserve, you pathetic, weak nerd,” Jono says in a low yet menacing tone.

Satisfied with the torment he’s imbued, Jono takes one final breath of his cigarette, blowing smoke into Anton’s face. He then takes his exit, calling out “you look even nerdier from the back!” as he walks on the pathway behind the fence.

The twins don’t stay for too much longer once their leader’s gone. They taunt and pull Anton’s legs a bit more, even give him a few nut shots, but mostly keep to themselves and gab about school and homework and teachers. With not much else to do besides listen, Anton reluctantly learns Jim can’t actually read and just pays people to do his homework for him, and that Tim might legit be bisexual (“Am I, like, supposed to be as into Mr Rogers as I am Ms Humphreys bro?”). Eventually the two decide to head off when it begins getting dark, the sun setting as Anton remains ensnared in this never-ending hanging wedgie.

Five years later, present-day Anton recalls the powerlessness he felt during that hanging wedgie as he stands in the shadowed darkness of a hallway in the MCG’s bleachers. How inescapable his torture was, and how futile it was for him to hope that someone would let him down when no one ever did. His blood boiled for vengeance then, and it sure as hell boils now. Like molten lava flowing through his veins, his retribution knows no bounds, no limits.

The horns blare and the stadium erupts as the players jog onto the field below, indicating the preliminary chants and roistering before the start of the match. A smile creeps its way to Anton’s face. These football players have no idea what’s about to happen. No one’s coming to save them. No one will be able to save them, not from Anton’s clutches. They’re gonna get just what they deserve.

Anton dashes to the end of the hallway and out into the crowded bleachers. He leaps, rods of the same metallic fibre used in his slings extending from his cape sleeves. Focusing his telekinetic powers on the rods, he uses them to levitate him forward through the air. He hovers above the heads of excited fans, soon reaching the centre of the field. In one quick gesture, he curls his hands upward as he telekinetically wedgies every single football player on the field. He cackles as the athletes screech in unison and all around fans begin to realise something’s gone terribly wrong.

With the flick of his wrists, Anton shoots out dozens of metallic fibre slings from his pockets, each one linking themselves in and under a player’s groin and lifting them up off the ground, their screams getting louder and more dire. Among the players is Darren, currently howling with pain as he’s levitated via the most intense wedgie of his life. Gasps emit throughout the stadium, with some spectators getting out their phones to record the debacle but most not knowing what to do. Sat next to his puzzled cousin in his apartment several blocks away from the stadium, a horrified Timmy softly whispers “oh no” as he watches this all unfold live on TV.

Several streets from the unfolding chaos, Cody slings his way throughout the CBD. He’s starting to get the hang of using the city buildings as his own personal monkey bars, although the sensation’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It’s not so much painful as it is awkward yet absolutely thrilling. It’s like a roller coaster that continuously swings him left and right, tugging uncomfortably at his butt cheeks but enabling him to glide through the air with ease. By now, he actually has kind of gotten used to the sensation of the discomfort, his underwear lodged somewhat snugly in and around his groin.

Cody turns the corner to Bourke Street Mall, one of the CBD’s central shopping and tourist hubs. Up until now all he’d got was maybe a few perplexed look-ups as he soared through small streets and laneways, but now his wedgie antics are front and centre for all to see. Immediately people start pointing and taking videos, catching Cody a little off guard as he overshoots his right leg hole, completely missing the pole he was aiming for and sending him hurtling to the ground. At the last second he yanks the back of his underwear to stabilise himself, ensuring a smoother than expected landing. Nevertheless, he’s attracted a swarm of phone flashlights and shouting faces, surrounding him on all sides.  His extremely oversized and stretched out underwear hangs on the floor, prompting a few people to bend down and attempt to touch it. For a second he’s taken back to that day on the fence, where everyone gawked at him and phones were out to permanently capture his humiliation. The camera shutter clicks, the phone flashes, the overlapping of voices – this is exactly what it felt like, as if he’s some immobilised sculpture in a museum for all to look at and judge.

Remembering Timmy’s advice, Cody shoves his fears back down. He will not fall prey to external judgements, no matter how outrageously bizarre it is for some 23-year old man to be flying throughout the city by his huge tighty whities. Cody centres his focus back to the MCG, shooting his left leg hole out and hooking it to a nearby pole. He’s able to swing out and escape just before the crowd gets too invasive, recovering his tempo as he leaves the crowd behind.

Cody makes it to Fed Square without any other major mishaps. Once there though, he’s stopped in his tracks by what he sees projected on the huge screen in the plaza: live coverage of football players hanging in the air by their undies, and a smug Anton in the middle directing all this with his wedgie telekinesis. His foe has already attached metallic fibre slings to the jocks and is beginning to attach them to the huge goal posts on either end of the MCG, securing them in permanent death-defying hanging wedgies. Fuelled by his reinvigorated desire to put an end to Anton’s scheme, Cody continues on, plunging into the final stretch to the arena.

Back at the stadium, all thirty-six of the on-field players have now been hung onto one of the goal posts by metallic sling. Anton hovers in the centre of the field, gloating as he announces his master plan of vengeance.

“Are all cameras on me?” Anton yells, his voice booming throughout the arena. “This isn’t going to work unless all major media outlets are filming this.”

A hoard of security personnel rush out from the stands and onto the field, preparing their guns and lining up in unison. A chief emerges from the line-up with a horn speaker.

“Cease what you are doing and return all players to ground, or we will fire,” the chief sternly says into the speaker.

“No one can stop this, especially not you and your puny guns” Anton replies, grinning.

“We will fire in three, two—”

With the cock of Anton’s hands, the troops are all lifted up into the air by their underpants, being briefly suspended before being thrown back onto the floor, many of whom now in debilitating atomic wedgies. The few who do manage to stand back up, Anton sweeps them off their feet, sending them flying by their front underwear to the other end of the stadium.

“You see, my whole life has been ammunition for revenge. I’m not gonna let anyone ruin my moment,” Anton bellows. “For far too long, jocks like these supposedly strong men have reined terror on people like me. Countless wedgies and swirlies and being shoved into lockers and having my life be made into a living hell just to stroke their ego. We celebrate and encourage such pure expressions of masculine dominance through sport, but do nothing when the same dominant masculinity is weaponised to hurt and ridicule and mock. This ends today. With my powers, I am finally able to show these buffoons what us nerds are truly capable of. These AFL players are only the beginning. From now on, EVERY jock shall bear the same fear I’ve carried MY ENTIRE LIFE! And with that—”

“Stop!” Cody shouts, swinging his way into the arena. He secures himself on one end of the MCG, his leg holes just able to stretch out far enough to suspend him from either end of the roof. “You can’t do this!”

“Twist!” Anton smirks. “Here to get your ass handed to you one more time?”

“What you’re doing makes you no better than the people who’ve bullied you,” Cody yells.

“And wouldn’t you know,” Anton spits back.

“I’m done taking the blame for you to justify your mistreatment of others. I’m not responsible for that day 5 years ago Anton, but I will be responsible for stopping you and saving these innocent people today, because there’s no way I’m gonna let you get away with any more harm!”

Anton guffaws to himself. Out of the corner of Cody’s eye, he spots Darren hanging from the goal post closest to his left. The two share eye contact for a split second and Cody smiles, evoking a flood of relief to Darren’s rosy cheeks.

“Well alright. Let’s see you save these poor, innocent people then!”

With a downward flick of the wrist, Anton swiftly recalls all of his metal slings. All thirty-six AFL players who were hanging plummet to the ground, a wave of gasps and shrieks emitting from the crowd. Jolting himself out of shock, Cody takes stock of the whereabouts of all athletes and extends his telekinesis out to cover the full arena. Using all his might, he pulls out all thirty-six players’ underwear, giving them all wedgies as he manages to suspend them mid-air, halting their falls.

Having closed his eyes through exertion of his powers, Cody now opens them and takes a few seconds to appreciate what he’s just accomplished. Luckily all the athletes are wearing Gagarium’s successor, a durable trunk without any of the toxicity, ensuring the players’ underwear don’t immediately snap from the pressure. Still, the enormous mental strain causes Cody to falter a little, groaning as he struggles to maintain telekinetic control of thirty-six people’s underwear.

“Whatever happened to not giving other people wedgies, Cody?” Anton taunts. “Because honestly, I’m a little offended that you reject my offer to wedgie the world’s jocks, and here I find you doing exactly that!”

“Oh you fucker,” Cody grunts, doubling down on the thirty-six dangling wedgies he’s giving. Of course Anton would intentionally put him in a position where he has to do the one thing he doesn’t want to do in order to stop a gruesome mass-murder. Knowing he can only maintain this for a few more seconds, Cody lowers the jocks down the rest of the way, managing to get them all somewhat bump-free to the ground. The second they’re safe, they rush to the sidelines.

Cody turns back to face Anton, but immediately is pulled out of his roof-suspension wedgie, soaring across the arena to where Anton is by the front of his underwear. Realising his foe’s taken control of his trunks, Cody attempts to stabilise himself by pulling on the back of his underwear, but is instantly made aware of his mistake in the resulting ball-splitting squeaky-clean wedgie. Anton takes advantage of this, expanding it out to an all-around wedgie by mentally tugging on all sides of Cody’s underwear, eliciting a shrill scream.

“Give into the pain,” Anton yells over Cody’s cries. “Give me the wedgie you know you want to give me. You have no chance of succeeding without using the full extent of your power.”

“Never!” Cody belts.

Anton sends several metallic slings over to Cody, one locking in place in wedgie position (in and around his genitalia) and the rest bandaging themselves around his outstretched body. Cody’s stretched out underwear is now pulled to hug his body, making way for the slings to start encasing him and his wedgied undies like an Egyptian mummy. Anton levitates higher, rising above the stadium and bringing his enveloped victim with him.

“Let it be known what happens to those who try to oppose the new reign of nerds,” Anton roars.

Below them, the crowd anxiously watches in fear as Cody is tortured, his agony broadcast on televisions all over the country. Back home, Timmy sits with his phone in his hand and bated breath, too engrossed by what’s happening to explain to his cousin why his best friend and roommate is at the biggest sporting event getting the wedgie of his life for all to spectate.

“You can do it Cody,” Timmy says under his breath.

At the MCG, Cody lies helplessly as Anton continues to wrap him in slings. He tries but fails to pull them off him, the Gagarium particles in them being too small for him to manipulate with his mind. He glances down at the field and more troops have lined up, guns poised at Anton. But the proclaimed wedgie warlock pays them no heed, continuing to wrap his wedgied prey.

The final sling coils into place and Cody notices the faintest grin slither its way to Anton’s lips. With a quick swish, Cody is flung up and out of the stadium, soaring through the air back towards the CBD. He can barely protest as wind lashes at his ears, the city landscape hurtling towards him at frightening speed. He takes notice of his trajectory and realises Anton’s throwing him into the Yarra River with the intention of drowning him.

Passing over Birrarung Marr park, Cody frantically searches for some way to stop his descent and break free from the slings that still keep him chained. At the rate he’s going now, he’ll just fly over the Princes Bridge and land in the river beyond it. Remembering his extra resources, Cody telekinetically plucks out one of his XXXL projectile briefs and shoots it out in front of him, latching both ends on adjacent poles at the front end of the bridge. With Anton’s mind control now solely focused on the slings and no longer on Cody’s underwear, he’s able to tug on his own boxer briefs, pushing them downwards against his back to force a slightly lower trajectory. Thanks to his quick thinking, he hits the projectile brief that acts like a hammock breaking his fall, ripping off the poles upon impact. Cody lands on the bridge’s road, rolling past multiple startled pedestrians and stopping just short of the other side’s footpath.

“Motherfucker,” Cody groans, greeting the new aches in his body. At least the wedgie pain he sort of likes, the other body pain from being almost forcedly drowned is nowhere near as pleasurable.

He hardly has time to catch his breath as Anton touches down some feet away, metal fibre rods retracting into his sleeves. Before any more damage can be done, Cody yanks his own underwear, allowing his entire body to shoot out of the metallic sling contraption undies-first, just as Anton fails to tighten them. His luck doesn’t last long though as Anton immediately starts manipulating Cody’s undies, wedgieing him from all sides. Due to the enhanced stretch of the Gagarium reinforced underwear, Anton’s able to inflict multiple atomic wedgies, pulling over Cody’s head first from the back and then the sides and front.

“I guess the plus side of you being an annoying brat is I finally get to give someone a gift wrap wedgie,” Anton sneers.

“[muffled shouting],” Cody retorts.

Anton starts circling his hands in a tornado-like motion, causing the wedgie victim to spin round and round, slowly levitating upwards by his cocooning underwear. Cody tries to lash out with his arms and legs, but they’re tightly restricted by the wedgie. If it weren’t for the destabilising spinning, he might be able to take over telekinetic control from Anton, but the rising motion sickness makes that a no-go. Recalling the projectile brief that he used to break his fall, Cody mentally feels out for it, eventually locating its whereabouts in his mind’s eye. Using all his might, the brief whips up at Anton’s arms, breaking his focus and sending Cody falling back to the ground.

Retracting his atomic wedgied boxer briefs, Cody sends out a couple more projectile briefs that hit Anton in the face, blocking his vision. This buys him just enough time to run forward and extend his right leg hole out, hooking over Anton’s head and tightening around his body. With his immobilised foe secured in the makeshift lasso, Cody does a backflip, the momentum ramming Anton to the ground hard.

“Now that’s more fuckin’ like it,” Cody pants.

Conscious of maintaining the upper hand, Cody retracts his lasso while sending out another two projectile briefs, using the leg holes to catch Anton in an even bigger lasso around his chest and kneecaps. Holding onto the other end of the projectile briefs’ leg holes with his hands, Cody flings out his own underwear and begins soaring his way through the city once more, now with his foe trailing behind him. He keeps low this time and sticks mostly to traffic lights and low-level poles, making sure to give Anton’s succumbing body the bumpiest ride he can.

“How’s the weather back there?” Cody teases.

“You piece of—”

Anton bumps into a bin.

“I swear to God when I—”

Anton bumps into a fire hydrant.

“Release me right now or I will end your—”

Anton bumps into a traffic light.

Cody grins at his indulgent payback at Anton, so much so that he fails to notice an oncoming bus. He’s able to swerve out of its path at the last second but comes crashing to the ground. He’s not even on his feet when his underwear’s yanked up and over his head and the lasso leg holes he’s holding are jerked forward, sending Cody scraping across the gravel on his front in his atomic wedgie. With a thud his swimcapped face meets Anton’s boot.

“What you just did made the torment I’m about to put you through one hundred times worse,” Anton growls.

“You’re gonna have to catch me first.”

Thinking on his feet, Cody unhooks his atomic-ed waistband from his forehead and yanks it upward, whipping Anton across the face. Cody then does a full 180 with his underwear, sending it, and therefore him, backward. He kicks his way onto his feet, now fully running up the street. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms that Anton’s only a few paces behind him, prompting Cody to direct his right leg hole out to the nearby flagpole and recommence his swinging trek throughout the city. Anton does the same, extending metal rods from his arms and enabling his pursuit.

The two fly down Little Lonsdale Street, Cody curving and twisting his way through the bustling street while Anton hovers close behind. Tradies pause construction work to gape, and a parked tour bus on the right side of the road is jolted alive as astonished tourists point and snap photos of the passing chaos. At every chance possible Anton hurls a metallic fibre sling at Cody, but only one of them hits, grazing Cody’s upper thigh and slightly tearing the back of his khakis. He must have thrown out at least a dozen, or maybe even two, yet each one misses and hurtles down to the road below. One sling almost hits Cody directly in the head as he swings past Officeworks, but at the last moment he shoots out his own last projectile brief, intercepting it and taking it out.

Cody soon realises that it’s only a matter of time before he can no longer put off the inevitable fight between them. Additionally, the longer he continues, the tireder he becomes, having already swung to the MCG and back, and then some. As he nears Exhibition Street, he gets an idea. He decides to make a surprise attack, using the traffic light to pivot and circle around, outstretching his other leg hole and grabbing hold of the metal sling Anton’s using to levitate on his right arm. He yanks on it, ripping it from Anton’s grasp and disposing of it down below. Cody goes for Anton’s other metallic sling, but not before his foe manages to grab hold of his underwear, reeling him in to a knee in the balls. This elicits a whimper from Cody, but Anton’s nowhere near done. Cody’s back waistband is propelled backwards, sending him flying out into the main intersection to a fanfare of car horns and pedestrian yells. While he does succeed in confiscating the other sling in the process, he ends up crashing into the famed John’s Ice Cream Stand, collapsing the cart and splashing ice cream everywhere onto the pavement.

Numbness takes over as the adrenaline surrenders to the cold (and recovering groin). Even with slightly blurred vision from the fall, Cody can easily make out Anton’s figure as he slowly makes his way across the intersection. Somewhere behind him, the Italian yellings of old John patter out of earshot. Head pounding and legs rather badly injured, Cody shoves the ice cream stand’s umbrella out in front of him to shield him from Anton and the public, using this cover to readjust his pants. He feels for the tear in his khakis on the underside of his back thigh, prodding it with his fingers to reveal his bare skin. Lifting his leg up, he recognises the steel container he’s lying on to be labelled as containing dry ice.

Around the intersection, traffic has stopped as many drivers get out of their cars to see who the mysterious person that fell from the sky is. Once Anton begins making his way over to the crash site however, the onlookers stay back, fearful of the crazed man in the cape.

“You really know how to make me work for my meal,” Anton says, stopping a few feet from the ice cream stand. “Or in this case, master plan of vengeance on all those who have wronged me.”

“After all this, you still find a way to blame other people to justify production of harm,” Cody calls out from behind the umbrella.

“This has been fun Codes, but it’s time for you to go to nerd heaven,” Anton says, readying himself.

Cody emerges from the wreckage, pushing aside the umbrella and taking a few trembled steps to join Anton face to face. He meets Anton’s eye line and sees the scared teenage boy he knew staring back at him. Even now, with dozens of jocks he’s inflicted pain on, as well as the overnight hanging wedgie he put Cody in, at his core Anton just has fear. Fear of abandonment and not being cared for, and fear that no one will ever see him in his pure truth: that he never deserved the endured abuse coded as school bullying in the first place. If pity weren’t such a patronising emotion, that’d be what Cody sees in Anton.

“Last chance, Anton,” Cody says.

Anton chortles. “That’s what I should be saying with the wedgie I’m about to give you.”

In one fell swoop, Anton jabs out his arms and violently thrusts them upward. But nothing happens. The grin on his face droops as Cody raises his eyebrows.

“Cool moves,” Cody teases.

Infuriated, Anton tries again, gesturing with even more energy, but to no avail. He looks at his hands in utter perplexity, mystified by their sudden seeming inability to wedgie the fuck out of whomever he so pleases.

“You know, without the actual powers, you just look kinda stupid,” Cody says.

“I don’t understand…” Anton mutters.

“The problem is Anton, you can’t really wedgie someone who’s not wearing any underwear. Dry ice is one of the few things on earth that can cut through Gagarium, but luckily the ice cream stand you flung me into had that a plenty. When I landed the underwear dissolved.”

Cody thrusts both hands down his pants, rummaging in and around his bare junk for a few seconds before lifting them back up without even a strand of underwear fabric found. “See?”

The fury in Anton’s eyes reignite. With his whole body flung into it, he tries once more to yank and pull and jerk and heave and wedgie Cody’s underwear with all his might, but there truly are no undies left to wedgie.

“Doesn’t matter how hard you try Anton, I’m now a commando queen.”

“That’s nothing a metallic fibre sling can’t fix,” Anton snarls as he sprawls out his arms. But no metal slings leave his pockets. In a ferocious tantrum, he flicks up his coat, padding his legs’ empty pockets but finding not one sling.

“Y’know, I couldn’t help but notice you use all of your slings back in the chase,” Cody chimes in, interrupting Anton’s frenzied rage. “I think the things you’re looking for are a few blocks downtown, buddy. Which is a shame because with nothing on me to wedgie, your powers are kinda useless.”

Anton seethingly pants as the truth of Cody’s words hit him. With no slings or underwear on his victim, he’s run out of ways to channel his power.

“You might have stopped your torture for now but my powers are endless!” Anton retorts. “Besides, you’ve also run out of underwear to whip or swing around the city with so looks like we’re equal. I’m the motherfucking wedgie warlock! I took that title and I promised to show the world what I’m truly capable of.”

“The title of Wedgie Warlock is one you stole for yourself when you fulfilled the bullies’ prophecy of inflicting harm,” Cody says calmly. “A true Wedgie Warlock’ knows the bounds of their power and how to use them for good.”

“Since when did you know so much about wedgie warlocks? You denied yourself the opportunity to become one when you refused to join me and invalidated your own innate powers,” Anton spits.

“That’s where you’re wrong. In refusing to join you in your twisted cycle of pain, I detached from the weaponisation of the wedgie warlock as a schoolyard fable to taunt a bully’s victims. In doing so, I discovered a new and more truthful way of being a Wedgie Warlock. See, your power comes from the pain and the fear you instil in others. My power comes from my willingness to do what’s right for the goodness of others. That’s the distinction you lack, and that’s why you’ll never be a true Wedgie Warlock dissociated from a bully’s wet dream of a taunt.”

“You’re bluffing,” Anton says, shaking his head.

Cody smiles. In a flash, a mass of purple energy radiates out of his body, surrounding him as he levitates a foot off the ground. The energy grows as if exploding around him from all sides, collapsing into the nebula that is his body. Through the eruption of energy, a single strand of purple fabric is born, slowly weaving its way around Cody’s waist. It expands and becomes longer, encircling down his thighs as a pair of purple boxer briefs are luminously formed. The new underwear phases through Cody’s khakis, fitting snugly around his bruised and sore hips.

Seeing this, Anton steps forward and tries to manipulate Cody’s new manifested underwear, but he cannot. Made not from his enhanced powers but through his compassion for other people, his new purple underwear is untouchable to anyone except himself. With nothing left, Anton seeks his last resort.

“So what, you’re a wedgie warlock?! All because you give yourself wedgies in the name of humanity? I can do that, I can EASILY do that!” Anton yells.

Anton stomps his foot on the ground, cementing his stance. With a tremendous roar, he leans back, channelling all his might into his own navy trunks, preparing to wedgie himself in an attempt to attack Cody. Seeing the extravagant exertion and knowing Anton’s underwear is not fused with Gagarium, Cody tries to stop him but it’s too late. In a fatal swing of his arms, Anton heaves his arms forward, ripping the front of his underwear and sending shreds flying. For a second, the whole city stops and listens. The scream emitted from Anton’s lips echoes throughout the intersection, stopped only when Cody knocks him to the ground.

Cody’s breathing slows as he processes everything that’s just happened. He sits down next to his defeated foe’s unconscious body and watches the gentle inhales and exhales. A man who wanted the world to feel his pain finally stopped in his tracks. He rests his hand on Anton’s shoulder and sighs. Cody did it.

Police sirens begin wailing in the distance just as Cody gets an idea on what to do with Anton. He stands up and cautiously picks up his subdued foe. Registering his new boxer briefs in his mind, Cody shoots out his right leg hole and pulls the two of them up onto the roof of a building. Already his new super underwear feels smoother than before. With one final look at the intersection and small crowd below, Cody readjusts Anton’s body on his shoulder and swings away.

Back at the apartment, Timmy anxiously paces back and forth with his phone in hand. The television chatters on in the background, showing sports commentators as they narrate the stadium’s evacuation and clean-up. By now Jeremy’s picked up enough clues to figure out that Cody has something to do with the abnormality of the situation and that they have no idea where he is.

The front door suddenly bursts open and there stands Cody carrying Anton over his shoulder. Timmy leaps to go hug him, then taking over and carrying Anton over to the couch.

“I did it. I actually stopped Anton,” Cody says, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m just so glad you’re not covered in piss this time,” Timmy laughs. “Did the underwear work?”

“Yeah, although I kinda got an upgrade,” Cody replies.

“Is this guy dead?” Jeremy asks as he puts a finger up to Anton’s wrist, checking for a pulse.

“He’s unconscious for the time being, but I need to hurry,” Cody says, walking over to the couch and aligning Anton’s body so that he’s flat and streamlined. “After I defeated him it I realised that there’s nothing stopping him from just waking up tomorrow and trying this world-revenge-on-jock thing all over again. There has to be a way to neutralise his powers so he’s no more capable of giving painful wedgies than the next guy. And then it hit me: With my powers, I might be able to extract the Gagarium particles inside him and nullify his connection to the source.”

“That sounds really dangerous. Do you know if it’ll work?” Timmy asks.

“I have to try, or else everything we’ve done will have been for nothing,” Cody replies. “Plus they did it on Legend of Korra and it worked, so.”

“That’s a kid’s show…” Jeremy begins to say, but Cody shushes him. With all his focus, he narrows in on the Gagarium inside Anton’s body. Once he’s able to visualise it all in his mind’s eye, he gently flows his hands, beginning the process of coaxing the material out of the body. Slowly but surely, he moves his hands across to where Anton’s head is, pulling the Gagarium along with him. Sure enough, after a few seconds, Anton’s mouth opens and a metallic violet liquid – Gagarium in its raw form – floats out of him. Timmy catches it all in a jar from the kitchen.

With the Gagarium eliminated from Anton’s bloodstream, the three of them sit in silence for a moment, taking everything in. The peril Anton posed has been subdued, and without his powers they can expect things to pretty much go back to normal. Well, normal with a few extra telekinesis powers on Cody’s end.

“That’s some weird shit dude,” Jeremy says breaking the silence.

Cody decides to anonymously drop Anton off at a hospital an hour or two away from the CBD. Dressed now in regular clothes, the former threat to the city of Melbourne is unrecognisable at least for the moment. Cody takes Anton to the foyer of the hospital, telling staff he found the unconscious body along the side of the road. Thankfully they take him in to test his vitals.

“You think he’s done terrorising the world?” Timmy asks as he joins Cody in the foyer.

“For now, yes,” Cody answers. “Hopefully with his powers gone and a little therapy, he’ll finally move on and be able to live a somewhat regular life.”

A few weeks later, the two best friends stand amongst a crowd of people, all gathered to see Timmy’s premier exhibition. Inspired by the mysterious ‘wedgie boy’ who’s taken over local news coverage and gone semi-viral on social media for his swinging-throughout-the-city shenanigans, Timmy created a whole series dedicated to the wedgie superhero. Mannequins with bedazzled tighty whities and fashionable atomic wedgie Grace Jones-esque hoods line the art instalment, wowing the critics and the public. Cody’s favourite is a mannequin dressed in gothic vampire black and red couture holding a front wedgie up to it’s mouth.

“Y’know I always knew I was your muse,” Cody, who’s donned an incognito hoodie, cap and sunnies, tells Timmy.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Timmy chuckles.

After the successful first day of the exhibition, the two make their way to the MCG, where they meet up with Jeremy for the rescheduled match between the Cats and the Tigers. Packs of people attend the massive event, cheering as the football players are able to give their all unhindered by any super villain’s mass revenge plans. Having snagged three tickets to the game, the three of them sit at the back row, watching the match unfold. Even Timmy starts to get invested into the game, cheering and hurrah-ing with his cousin, but Cody’s not paying attention to the game itself. He’s here for another reason.

After the match (and the Cats beat the Tigers), Cody heads to the player changing and dressing rooms. He flashes his VIP lanyard to a security guard, who in turn lets him into a large lounge room for the athletes to relax in before and after games. Already there’s a few family members and other VIP guests who are celebrating the Cats’ win with the players. Scanning the room, Cody eventually spots a shirtless Darren, jogging over.

“Cody! You made it,” Darren says, hugging Cody.

“Yeah of course!” Cody says, hiding his blush in the nape of Darren’s bare neck. “Dude congrats, you guys killed it out there. The seats you got us were amazing, Timmy’s cousin was absolutely ecstatic when we got here.”

“It’s the least I can do for, y’know… you saving all of us,” Darren leans in, whispering the last bit into Cody’s ear.

Cody giggles. “Hey, wanna get outta here for a bit?”

Darren grins. “I would love nothing more. Where you have in mind?”

Five minutes later, Cody’s slinging through the city via telekinetic underwear with Darren in his arms holding on for his life. Cody looks down to see Darren’s face balled up in terror, barely glancing down at the ground hurtling past them below.

“When you said go out I didn’t think you meant this!” Darren shouts.

Cody eventually makes his way to Fitzroy Gardens, setting the two of them back on the ground. Pale from the impromptu trip, pink relief floods back into Darren’s face as he holds his spinning head in his hands. Cody laughs, embracing him in a hug and stroking his back gently.

“How do you not puke doing that?” Darren asks.

“Well, I’ve only really done it one other time, and the adrenaline of stopping someone from causing mass harm kinda got me through it. I think I’m getting used to the feeling though,” Cody admits, patting his hips.

Darren grins, taking a few steps closer so that they’re just inches apart. He looks down at the purple underwear sticking out of Cody’s jeans, grasping the right leghole and giving it a few gentle tugs. A nervous exhale escapes Cody’s lips, but before he can say anything Darren leans in and kisses him. Cody melts into Darren’s mouth, pulling him closer as the lips of two long-time friends acquaint for the first time. Even as they kiss, Darren keeps one hand along Cody’s jaw and one shyly tugging away at his boxer briefs.

“You enjoying that wedgie?” Darren whispers into Cody’s ear.

“Shut up and pull harder,” Cody murmurs, pulling Darren closer.

After a minute of this heaven, Darren pulls back, grinning stupidly in glee. Cody blushes, unable to take in his crush’s exhilarated unwavering eye contact.

“I can’t believe I just kissed THE Wedgie Warlock,” Darren finally says.

Cody theatrically rolls his eyes. “Say that again and I’ll wedgie you with my mind.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

Following lots more making out, Cody eventually walks Darren back to the stadium for his team’s post-match celebrations, but not before the two plan a proper date for the coming week. Giddy from finally kissing his five-year crush (and honestly a little from the gentle wedgie flossing too), Cody swings back home to tell Timmy all about this success. He lands on the apartment’s roof, underwear snapping back in place. He races down the stairs and inserts his key to their apartment’s lock, opening it.

“Timmy, you’ll never guess what happened!” Cody calls out, walking through the foyer and past the kitchen.

When he reaches the living room though, it’s not Timmy or Jeremy who greets him, but a man in a red hoodie with short curled black hair. He appears to be in his early twenties like Cody, and has a lean figure. He looks up, smiling when Cody enters.

“Cody Thompson?” He asks.

“Yeah— who are you?” Cody hesitantly asks.

“I’m Jordie. I saw what you were able to accomplish at the MCG using wedgie telekinesis and I was really impressed. I think you’d make a valuable asset to the team.”

“Thank you— Uh what team?” Cody replies.

“The Wedgie Warlock is not the only superhero in this city,” Jordie says, standing up and walking over. “Cody, I was hoping I could take a few minutes of your time to discuss The Wedgie Heroes Initiative.”

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