Hiya! The name's Gwen. Gwendolyn Poole. I used to be just like you: a nerdy, slightly horny reader of Marvel fan-fiction. Then one day, I ended up in a Marvel fan-fiction!
We'll skip over the details of that bit. All you need to know is that this is where I am now. No powers, no connections, just a LOT of knowledge about Marvel lore. Oh, and one more thing: I don't know what kind of fan-fiction this is.
Gwen strolled down the street, suspiciously looking at each and every person around her, looking for clues as to what kind of world she had managed to get herself into. Gwen stood out from others on account of the pink highlights in her short blonde hair. She wore a tank top and a pair of high top sneakers the same shade of pink to go with her white socks and white denim shorts.
Ugh! I look like a mediocre self-insert OC! thought Gwen.
By the way, I'll continue to use my thoughts address the readers :)
Upon realizing the scope of her situation, Gwen had set about discovering the nature of this particular fan-fiction. She knew the best way to do that would be to get into contact with the major Marvel characters. While this seemed like a monumental task, the Thor of this universe did run a podcast. This made things easier.
This is perfect! thought Gwen, Thor and Loki are in TONS of fan-fiction! This will be a great to figure out what kind of story I'm in!
Gwen had successfully made it to Thor's home in New Orleans, mostly by way of plot convenience. Now here, she knocked on the door and awaited the answer.
"Don't worry!" bellowed a deep voice, "I've got it!"
The door opened to a chubby man with golden blonde hair. He wore a T-shirt over a loose fitting pair of jeans. He had a huge smile.
"Hello!" he greeted, "Welcome to the home of Thor and Seymour."
"Huh," said Gwen after a moment, "Chubby Thor. Interesting. Hi! I'm Gwen Poole."
"Well met, Gwenpool!" declared Thor.
"I… Uh…" muttered Gwen, "I'm kind of in a weird position right now."
I mean how do you even begin to explain this!? "Oh hi! I want to watch you and see what sorts of weird sex things happen to you"?!
"Can we…. Hang out?"
"Seymour! Can Gwenpool hang out?"
"Deadpool?"
"No, Gwenpool!"
"Fine, as long as it's not Deadpool."
"Come in!" welcomed Thor, beckoning Gwen in.
The house was well maintained and in pretty good shape. Certainly better shape than Gwen had expected. Either this Thor was OOC levels of neat, or this Seymour guy was a germaphobe.
Who is Seymour, anyway? wondered Gwen, That must be a character from something…
"How did you meet your roommate?"
"He was a student at Empire State University," explained Thor as they both took seats in the living room, "I was undercover there at the time."
...okay. What kind of fic is this? Is it one of those, like, REALLY weird ones?
"What were you doing undercover?" asked Gwen.
"It's a secret," whispered Thor.
Gwen stared blankly back for a moment.
"How's your relationship with your brother?"
"Great! Why?"
"...can I speak to him?"
Loki appears in more fan-fiction than Thor. Maybe he will give me a better idea of what kind of fic this was.
"You rang?" asked Loki, appearing in a green flash from nothing.
"Brother!" declared Thor in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
"I put an uru thumbtack on that sofa two days ago and I've been waiting for you to sit on it."
"Loki!" gasped Thor, "What if Seymour had sat there? Uru tears into the flesh of Midgardians far worse than Asgardians."
"...hm," realized Loki.
"You two aren't fucking, are you?" asked Gwen.
"No!"
"Heavens, no!"
"Had to ask," shrugged Gwen, "Oh! That's a good idea actually! Chances are this fic has a ship."
"I don't understand," said Thor.
"Who have the two of you had sex with?"
Loki laughed. Thor counted on his fingers until he ran out and shrugged.
"...lately?"
"Well there's Peter the Quick," said Thor.
"Which Peter we talking here?" asked Gwen, "Peter Parker? Peter Quill? Piotr? Pietro?"
Loki flung a black blade and Gwen from under his sleeve. Gwen screamed in terror as the blade narrowly missed her shoulder and hooked the strap of her tank top, pinning her to the wall behind her.
"Loki!" roared Thor, leaping to his feet, "What is the meaning of this?"
"Where did you get those names?" demanded Loki, approaching Gwen.
Gwen whimpered. She still had no idea how dark of a fic this was.
"I'm… Uh…" stammered Gwen, "From a world where your lives all appear as comic books?"
Loki paused, considered, and then pointed a finger at Gwen. A small green glow illuminated her for a moment. Loki chuckled.
"I guess that makes your world Reality….5? We'll have to tell Amadeus."
"...so you're not going to torture me?"
"No," sighed Loki, almost in disappointment.
Gwen ripped her tank top free, tearing the strap in the process. Part of the tank top fell away to reveal her white and pink bra.
That is NOT a good sign!
"Do you have another shirt I can borrow?" she asked, "Maybe like, a really unflattering wool sweater?"
Loki let me go pretty easily… So I'm probably not in a Loki-centric fic…
Gwen waited in the airport, having changed outfits. She was now wearing a pink pair of overall shorts over a white T-shirt. She still wore the pink high top sneakers.
Man, I even change outfits as often as a mediocre self-insert OC
She was waiting for her plane to New York. Loki and Thor had mostly been a dead end, but since every single goddamn Marvel character lives in New York, she figured that'd be a good next step. Her first step would be Peter Parker, since he seemed to have been shipped with Thor at some point.
So what we've got so far is… Chubby Thor, random dude named Seymour, mostly morally sound Loki, and at least one crackship. Now let's brush over the boring travel stuff and skip straight to when I get to The Daily Bugle!
Gwen watched the floor number climb as she rode the elevator to the main office of The Daily Bugle. The elevator doors opened and Gwen walked out past the receptionist. She got up to follow Gwen as she passed her, trying to get her attention.
"Hey!" shouted Gwen into the office, "I want to talk to Spider-Man!"
A skinny boy on the far side of the room froze in his tracks.
Whoops! Should have phrased that better.
"Uh… I mean the guy who takes pictures of Spider-Man!"
Much better. Just aces, Gwen.
Gwen was roughly escorted out of the office by security before she got much farther. She was shown out of the building where she pouted in a huff. She hadn't meant to almost out Peter, but she was still getting a hang for how consequences worked in this world.
"Hey," said someone behind Gwen.
She turned around to see the same skinny boy from before, awkwardly waving.
"You, uh," he muttered, "Wanted to see the guy who took pictures of Spider-Man?"
"Yeah," said Gwen, "Yeah I did!"
"That's me."
"Uh…"
Gwen didn't know what to say.
"Can you help me meet him?"
"No," said Peter, irritated, "Have a good day."
"Wait!" cried Gwen as Peter walked away, "I know your secret, Peter!"
Peter ducked back into the building. Gwen rushed in after him. The moment she rounded the corner she felt someone grab her by the straps of her overalls and throw her into the closet. Gwen landed butt first in the mop bucket, cringing in disgust.
Oh, great. Is this one of THOSE stories?
The light clicked on. Peter was standing over her, blocking the door. He seemed angry.
"Who are you?" he demanded, "How do you know?"
"Alright, alright," said Gwen, pulling her butt out of the muck, "Give me a second…"
"I mean it!" demanded Peter in a whisper.
"You're not going to hurt me," said Gwen smugly, "There are, like, no versions of Peter that would do that."
"What?"
"You're almost always a bottom, dude."
"...nevermind," said Peter, turning away, "You're clearly unwell."
"Not so fast, Peter!" declared Gwen, "I have questions and I still know your secret! You're not going anywhere!"
Peter froze where he stood. Gwen had him.
"Please," whispered Peter nervously, "No one can know. My loved ones, they-"
"Good," she said, "Then you'll do as I say…"
"Well that didn't get nearly as dark as it could have gotten," sighed Gwen in relief, "Still, that was far easier than it should have been. Maybe this IS a bondage fic?"
Indeed Gwen had managed to procure a warehouse where she had tied Peter to a chair, binding his wrists together behind him and his ankles to each of the legs. It was pretty much unnecessary, since Peter was being blackmailed anyway, but Gwen had a plan.
As far as Gwen could tell, this Peter was a Precious Peter Parker. That meant chances were, if she kidnapped him, some other character would show up to save him. Based on that, Gwen could get a better handle on the stakes in this fic.
Gwen had changed again, now wearing dark navy blue jeans and a pink hoodie. She casually paced about the warehouse as she awaited the arrival of Peter's savior. The arrival came when one of the doors to the warehouse burst off the hinges. A pissed off looking woman in a leather jacket.
"Huh," realized Gwen, "Jessica Jones. Interesting. I was really expecting Tony Stark."
"What?" asked Jessica, pausing in confusion.
"Nothing," said Gwen, "Don't worry about it. Peter's very adoptable."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't listen to her," sighed Peter, "She's insane."
Jessica began to angrily approach Gwen.
"Wait, wait!" pleaded Gwen, rushing around Peter and untying his wrists, "He's fine! See? I just wanted to see what would happen."
"What would happen?" echoed Jessica in confusion.
"She knows my secret identity, Jessica," said Peter, rubbing his newly freed wrists, "I don't know how."
"You working for somebody?" demanded Jessica.
"No!" insisted Gwen, "I'm an ally! I swear!"
"You kidnapped Spider-Man!"
"Oh come one," sighed Gwen, "Good guys tie up other good guys all the time in these stories."
"She really is insane," said Jessica.
"Told you," said Peter, standing after untying his ankles, "but somehow she knows a lot."
"You a mutant or something?" asked Jessica.
"...sure."
That explanation is probably more likely to work anyway, thought Gwen.
"What do you want from us?" asked Peter.
"Just to know more about you," said Gwen, "You guys like ice cream?"
Peter, Jessica, and Gwen sat at a small table in the corner of the ice cream parlor. Peter had a small cup of ice cream in front of him, which paled in comparison to the enormous sundae Gwen had ordered. Jessica looked at both with slight discomfort.
"So how much do you know?" asked Jessica quietly.
"Hm," said Gwen between bites, "How do I put this… Just about anything that someone would put in a book about your life. The interesting stuff."
"So you know how I got my powers?" asked Jessica.
"Car crash, right?"
"...no."
"Hm. Canon divergence. Interesting."
"What?"
"You haven't met anyone named Killgrave, have you?" asked Gwen cautiously.
"No, why?"
"Phew," sighed Gwen, "It just sounds like you're one of the luckier Jessica Joneses out there."
"Didn't you say you had questions for us?" said Peter.
"Right," nodded Gwen, "Y'all's relationship seems to be pretty important to this universe. How did you meet?"
Jessica chortled. Peter blushed.
"What?"
"I found this dweeb hanging by his underwear off a tree," chuckled Jessica.
"...like hanging by a wedgie?"
"Yeah."
"...that's not fucking possible, Jessica."
"Why would I make that up?
"I don't know, why would you make that up?" asked Gwen, "That's a weirdly specific thing to- Wait a minute."
Gwen paused to think.
"When was the last time either of you got a wedgie?" asked Gwen.
"What's it to you!?" asked Jessica, red in the face.
"This morning…" admitted Peter.
"Seriously?" asked Jessica.
"Mugger roughed me up on my way to work in my civilian clothes," said Peter meekly, "Took my backpack and left me hanging on a fire escape…"
"...and that seems like a normal occurence to you?" clarified Gwen, "That a mugger would… give you a wedgie?"
"Yeah, why?"
Oh, now I know EXACTLY what kind of fic I'm in. Wedgies, huh? Eh. Could be worse.
"That's super helpful, thanks!" said Gwen.
"What is wrong with you?" asked Jessica earnestly.
This isn't so bad. If this story is for wedgie fetishists, the victims and givers are probably pretty easy to spot. All I have to do is avoid acting like a nerd and stay away from bullies, pranksters, and older sibling types.
"I asked you a question, dork."
"What did you just call me!?" gasped Gwen.
"Dork?" said Jessica.
"Uh, I've got to go!" blurted Gwen, "Thanks for the help!"
Gwen sprinted out of the ice cream parlor.
Phew, that was close! Jessica is clearly one of the givers in this world. I need to keep my distance from her. Peter too; he seems to be one of the regular victims. I want to keep away from wedgie magnets as much as possible. Man, I've got a lot of preparation to do…
Gwen proudly stepped out of the thrift store. She had put on not one, but three belts tightly strapped through her belt loops. She had also changed out her jeans for tighter, skinner jeans of the same color. She was also wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket, figuring looking cool would help her odds.
Ha! she thought, Just try to give me a wedgie now, world!... Maybe I shouldn't tempt fate. That usually goes poorly in these stories.
Gwen had even considered going commando, but suspected that would only be a set up for a more humiliating end. Now that she had properly prepared herself, all she had to do was avoid anything that might give her a wedgie or make her more likely to get one.
"Ah!" yelped Gwen, noticing a flagpole just a few feet from her.
She backed away hurriedly. Flagpoles would certainly be bad news in a wedgie fic. Gwen was sure of it. She had to find somewhere wedgies never took place. A church? An army base? It was hard to say. These kinds of writers could work wedgies into just about any setting.
And I know you're all just waiting for it to happen, aren't you? Well I'll show you! I'll avoid getting a wedgie if it kills me!... Okay, maybe I won't go that far. Still, these panties are staying right where they are.
Like most normal human beings, Gwen had never experienced an actual wedgie in her life. She had occasionally heard about someone giving one to their buddy as a joke, but that was it. She had never even seen someone actually give one. Of course her underwear would naturally ride up every now and again, but she did not want to find out what happened if she got hung by one.
Maybe they're not so bad, thought Gwen, It is just a prank, after all. Right? Right?
"Excuse me, ma'am," said a man as Gwen passed him, "Please be careful. This is an active construction site."
Gwen looked up. She hadn't been paying much attention, but the man was right. She had almost walked right into a construction site. At first she wasn't phased by the idea, but then she got a better look at the equipment in the construction site: cranes, cables, posts, fork lifts… It was a practical wedgie minefield!
"SORRY!" apologized Gwen profusely, "I'll stay far away, I promise you. Don't worry about that, no sir!"
Gwen sprinted away from the construction site, leaving the confused worker behind. She ran as fast as she could until she ducked into the first building she could find. When she caught her breath she looked around.
"Oh no," she whispered.
She had wandered into a gaming store. Board games, trading cards, arcade systems, and more surrounded her. Nerds and geeks of all shapes and sizes milled about the store. Gwen couldn't believe it. She had wandered into a bully's perfect hunting ground.
"First time here?" asked someone standing beside Gwen.
Gwen revolted away as she turned to see an open mouthed, gangly man in glasses standing beside her.
"My name's Jack Hammer," he said, "but you can call me Weasel."
"Weasel? Seriously?" asked Gwen, "You made it into these stories? I am totally judging this author right now."
"You like games?" asked Weasel, now uncomfortably close to Gwen.
The truth was she did. Gwen had always been a huge fan of games, comics, movies, TV, and just about every geeky piece of pop culture there was. She did know almost everything about the Marvel universe. By her own world's standards, she was a giant nerd. She couldn't let that be the case in this world though.
"Nope!" she said suddenly, "Nope, nope, nope! Hate them. I hate games and comics and trading cards. Hate them all."
"...then what are you doing in a gaming store?"
"...playing...sports?"
Gwen didn't have a lot of experience being cool.
The door burst open and slammed into the wall as an intimidating woman dressed in all black with a diamond tattoo over her eye walked in. Gwen immediately recognized the character as Frances Barrison, or Shriek.
"Alright, nerds!" she declared as several more like-dressed punks walked in behind her, "Give us all your cash right now and we'll take it easy on you."
Gwen cried out in fear, running to the back of the store.
"Get them!" ordered Shriek, punctuating it by screeching a sound fitting of her name.
Gwen and the other patrons all covered their ears in pain as the gang members stormed the store. They pushed over arcade systems, tore apart comic books, and smashed board games as they laughed in triumph. The manager had already been stuffed into a trash can. Most of the other patrons were on the receiving ends of purple nurples, noogies, and pantsings. Weasel was being dragged into the bathroom in the back for a swirly. It was absolute chaos. Gwen was terrified.
"It's wedgie time, nerd!" declared Shriek, walking up behind Gwen.
"No, please!"
"Betsy. Paige. Hold her down."
Two muscular women dropped the nerds they were shaking down for cash and walked over to their leader. Gwen struggled as they restrained either of her arms, leaving her backside wide open to Shriek. This was it. It was about to happen. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation. She felt a tug around her waist.
"What the hell?" asked Shriek, "She's wearing, like, 15 belts. I can't reach her underwear!"
"Ha!" laughed Gwen, "Nice try, jerkfaces!"
"Fine," sighed Shriek, "I'll settle for a wet willy. Pin her down."
"Wait, no!"
Gwen's pleas went unheeded as the two women slammed her face down into the ground. They pinned her down by keeping pressure on her back. They forced Gwen's head onto its side and moved her hair to create a clear shot at her ear. Shriek grinned as she slid her finger into her mouth and drew it out dripping with her spit. Gwen cringed in anticipation. This was going to be disgusting. Gwen felt the drips of warm spit on her cheek and temple as the finger drew closer and closer.
"Halt!" ordered a deep feminine voice.
Every gang member in the room stopped what they were doing and looked to the entryway, including Shriek. Standing at the doorway was an enormously tall and muscular green woman in a white and purple leotard.
Oh boy, thought Gwen, This can go either way…
She-Hulk was a hero for sure, but in a story like this that didn't preclude her from wedgie-giving at all. She-Hulk might protect Gwen, but she was just as likely to humiliate her if they spent time together. She-Hulk would undoubtedly be a magnet for wedgie receivers.
"You leave these nerds alone!" ordered She-Hulk, "Or you'll regret it!"
"Scram!" shouted Shriek.
"Oof!" let out Gwen as her handlers pushed off of her and ran away.
She-Hulk was marching in now as the gang members ran about in a panic. Gwen used the opportunity to scramble away herself, bolting for the front door and jogging away as she heard the screams grow distant behind her.
That was a close one. They actually had their hands on my pants! Plus, I almost got a wet willy!
Gwen had never received a wet willy in her life either. Those seemed even more of a strange thing to happen than wedgies. She really didn't want to experience either. She didn't even want to think about swirlies.
That's when Gwen's jog was cut short. She ran directly into a large man at least a head taller than her. The impact caused her to fall back onto the sidewalk on her butt, grunting in pain. When she looked up she saw a strong-jawed, muscular man offering her a hand.
"Excuse me," he said, "Sorry about that."
"Thanks," muttered Gwen nervously as she accepted his help to her feet.
"You in a hurry?" he asked with a light chuckle.
"I guess not anymore."
"Nice to meet you," smiled the man, "I'm Flash Thompson."
"OH NO YOU DON'T!"
Gwen swiftly kneed Flash directly in the groin, crushing his balls as he doubled over in pain. Gwen then brought up both of her fists clasped together and slammed them down on the back of Flash's neck, knocking him to the ground.
There's no way FLASH THOMPSON doesn't give wedgies in this universe!
"I'm…" moaned Flash, curled up in a fetal position, "...sorry…. For whatever I did…"
"Sorry?"
That doesn't sound like a thing Flash Thompson would say.
"However I hurt you…" he continued to moan, "I'm… Sorry…"
"Oh crap," realized Gwen, "You're a post-redemption Flash Thompson, aren't you?"
"Unnnngh…"
"My bad."
Gwen wasn't sure how guilty to feel. How real were the lives of people in this world? Were they as real as hers? Had she just castrated an innocent man for real?
Nah, she dismissed, Stuff like that is probably super common around here. I bet he'll recover quickly.
"Halt!" ordered She-Hulk from behind, "Leave that man alone!"
Oh sweet Jesus, no.
She-Hulk stood with her arms crossed about one block behind Gwen, staring at her intensely. Not knowing what else to do, Gwen ran into the nearest alleyway at top speed. She bolted without looking back, climbing up a chain link fence and leaping off the other side.
Or at least she tried to, until her many belts caught onto one of the spokes. Gwen winced as her fall was caught by a blow to her abdomen before she braced herself against the fence, preventing any wedging. She tried to unhook her belt, but saw She-Hulk casually walking down the alley toward her.
"Screw it!" cried Gwen, unbuckling her belts.
The belts opened, still hanging there on the fence as Gwen fell to the ground and continued her retreat. She-Hulk reached the fence seconds later and crumpled it to the ground with just two steps. Her walking pace was enough to keep Gwen sprinting to keep their distance.
Gwen soon rushed into the next building she could find, realizing quickly that this one was a fitness center. The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by strong, athletic jocks pumping iron and building their muscle. She had wandered into another wedgie minefield. Jocks would be a nerd's Kryptonite in this world, Gwen was sure of it. Unless this was one of those weird crossover stories where Kryptonite was real, in which case the apt term would be Achilles' heel.
Gwen heard the door open behind her and ran for the first room she could find. She found herself in the fitness center's locker room, where all the patrons inside quickly retreated from Gwen as she ran in in a panic. Gwen looked around for anywhere to hide. She took the first opportunity she saw: closing herself into one of the lockers. The irony was not lost on her.
Gwen bit her lip to stay silent in the small metal prison she had created for herself, peering through the air slats as She-Hulk wandered into the locker room, looking around carefully. Gwen thought she might have succeeded when She-Hulk turned back to the exit. Then She-Hulk delivered a full force punch to one of the lockers, crumpling it in an instant. Gwen screamed. She-Hulk turned to her locker.
"No, please!" begged Gwen as She-Hulk tore away the locker door, "I'll do anything! Just no wedgies please!"
"...that's an odd request," said She-Hulk.
"Wasn't that what you were going to do?"
"Well, yes," admitted She-Hulk, "but how did you know that?"
"That seems to be the schthick with this universe."
"...so you know too."
That's right! remembered Gwen, Jen can break the fourth wall! Yes! Thank the author that this version of her kept that ability. Maybe she'll actually be able to help me.
"Yes," said Gwen, "I'm from a world where all of this is just fan-fiction."
"Then you must have figured it out by now," said She-Hulk, slightly sad, "There's no way for you to escape your fate."
"There must be some characters here that don't get wedgied!"
"Not many," shrugged She-Hulk, "Even I'm on the receiving end of humiliation sometimes."
"Aw, man…" groaned Gwen, "So it's really inevitable, isn't it?"
"Sure is."
"Okay," sighed Gwen, dejectedly turning her back to She-Hulk, "Do your worst."
Gwen couldn't take the anticipation anymore. It was like around every corner was another wedgie or humiliating experience waiting to happen. She-Hulk was right. Gwen was in a wedgie fiction. She couldn't possibly hope to get away without any wedgies as long as she was here. She might as well get it over with.
Though Gwen had squatted and clenched her buttcheeks in anticipation of the wedgie, the first sensation she got was a painful stab into her ear followed by a loud and disgusting squshing sound as the ear filled with liquid. Gwen twitched as drool dribbled out of her ear, She-Hulk's enormous green finger still firmly planted inside.
So this is what a wet willy feels like, realized Gwen with disgust, It's so much worse than I thought it would be…
The wedgie came next. It was everything Gwen feared and more. She was wearing a standard pair of white hipster briefs with two large pink spots on the back. She felt the horrifying feeling of a huge hand pulling back her beltless pants as another reached down and grabbed the underwear. Gwen squealed to the high heavens as her underwear went from covering her butt to cutting up into her butthole. Her feet left the ground, every ounce of her weight now being pressed into the thin strand of fabric going up into her vagina and ass. The burning pain continued up through She-Hulk forcing the waistband down over Gwen's face, making it look like she was wearing a white mask with pink eyes.
Gwen shivered in discomfort. The cotton was actively assaulting her with every movement, no matter how small or subtle. She buckled her knees in a futile effort to relieve the tension, but the waistband was stuck on tight. Gwen couldn't even pry it off with her hands. She had no idea when this ongoing wedgie would last.
"You think that's bad," laughed She-Hulk, dragging Gwen toward the toilet stalls, "Wait until you get your first swirly!"
"NO!" cried Gwen.
The swirly was worse than she could have imagined. She-Hulk spent minutes on end dunking Gwen in the toilet, flushing it over and over again. Gwen found herself coughing and sputtering for air as toilet water filled her nose and mouth. Her hair was soaking wet from the foul-smelling water by the time She-Hulk was done.
Satisfied, She-Hulk lifted Gwen and hooked the back of her soggy, stretched out undies to the toilet stall's coat hook. Gwen moaned in defeat as She-Hulk brushed her hands off and walked proudly out of the locker room.
Oh well, thought Gwen, reeling in pain, discomfort, and revulsion as she hung there, at least the readers are probably happy.