Alex can only stare off into space. What do you even say to a proposition like this? He was expecting Mia to punish him for touching her underwear; that’s fair. But… this?! She’s making him wear her underwear instead of his own for a week?!

He realizes he has said nothing for almost a minute; Mia’s waiting for him to respond. “I’m sorry… what?!” he asks Mia.

Mia inhales and responds in a tone not unlike impatience, “You are going to wear my panties for a week, starting tomorrow. Underneath your clothes, just like I do. And I want daily proof of you wearing them. So… text me some pics, please.”

Alex frowns slightly. He already understood that part… but something else is bothering him. He cautiously responds, “Alright… but you gave me.” He does a quick count of the panties she gave him before continuing, “7 undies. Are you going to have enough to get yourself through the week?”

There is a brief pause, but then Mia bursts out laughing, “That is what I love about you! Even when you’re being punished, you’re thinking about how it affects the other person.” She lets out a short giggle, “You don’t need to worry about me; I’ll be fine. A girl can never have enough pairs of underwear. But thank you for caring.”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. He isn’t 100% sure what she means by “a girl can never have enough…” but at least she isn’t mad at him anymore. Or is she? Regardless, he figures that it’s better to comply. Accepting his fate, he says, “Alright… My boxers are going on hiatus for a week. No big deal. So… uh… are you going to pick which pair I wear each day?”

Mia lets out a sneaky laugh, “Hey, that’s not a bad idea! I was going to let you pick, but this might be more entertaining lol. Maybe instead I’ll find a randomizer online and send you a wake-up text every morning with the selected panties lol.” 

She takes a moment to let out a belly laugh away from her phone; Alex still hears. She continues, “Alright… this could make for an interesting week. I should let you go, but I’ll talk to you in the morning. Goodnight, Alex.” She ends the phone call.

What have I gotten myself into? Alex thinks to himself. Well… I guess I’d better get myself acquainted with them, since I’m going to be wearing them for a week.

He spends the next few minutes placing each panty on his bed. He breathes a sigh of relief. Thankfully, his parents are visiting friends right now and won’t be home until later on. They wouldn’t be saying much to him anyway; they’ll just head right to bed. For now, at least, the chances of his parents walking in on him while he’s handling girly underwear are slim.

A black bikini with pink edging, a lacy red brief, grey cotton boyshorts with an anime girl print, a silky blue pair, a white cotton bikini with a pretty floral design in the middle, a purple g-string, and green hipsters. Alex takes a few moments to admire and appreciate his best friend’s underwear.

In all the years he knew Mia, he never once thought about what she wore underneath. As far as he was concerned, she was his best friend, who was a girl. Girls wear such pretty and soft underwear compared to boys, and theirs is also different.

Alex grabs the black bikini; the one that started this whole thing. Prior to the laundry incident, he’d never thought about things such as colour or texture on a pair of underwear; his own were simple and utilitarian. But this bikini brief feels so… soft. The playfulness of the pink edging contrasts beautifully with the sexy black material. Despite knowing he’ll have to do exactly what Mia says, he smiles to himself.

Sunday

Alex wakes to his phone buzzing sharply on the nightstand, pulling him from a fitful sleep. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s Mia. Day 1 of panty week, he thinks, exhaling heavily. At least it’s Saturday; no school, no prying eyes. It’s just a quiet weekend to ease into this.

He taps the screen. Her first message glows: “Good morning, Alex! Hope you slept well. I barely did—too hyped knowing you’re kicking off the week in my panties lol. And speaking of…”

The second pings in: “Today’s pair: my purple g-string. Pics mandatory, obviously. Try not to stretch them out too badly… rule applies to every pair this week.”

Heat crawls up his neck. It’s official. His idiotic slip-up has sentenced him to seven humiliating days.

He shuffles to the panties and fishes out the tiny scrap she’d left. Holding it up, he mutters, “Holy shit.” It’s almost nonexistent—a shimmering purple satin triangle, whisper-thin straps, delicate lace edging that looks more decorative than functional. He’s not packing anything massive, but biology isn’t on his side here. This is going to hurt.

Clutching a shirt, jeans, and the g-string, he locks the bathroom door. Sliding it on is a slow, careful operation. The satin glides cool against his skin at first, then the straps snap taut and everything clamps down—hard. The front barely contains him, the back string vanishing into territory it has no business exploring. He shifts and winces sharply. “How the hell does she wear these without dying?”

Still, catching his reflection, he can’t deny the look: deep purple gleaming against his skin, lace trim framing it all like some forbidden secret. A quick, guilty thrill flickers before shame stomps it out. He snaps the proof pic; straps visible and sends it with one word: “Ow.”

Mia’s reply explodes instantly: a barrage of crying-laughing emojis. Then: “OMG work it lol! Poor baby, I can practically feel the squeeze from here.”

A sheepish grin tugs at his lips despite everything. Of course, she started with the cruelest pair; just to make the point.

He’s tugging on jeans when another text lands: “Gift from me to you. I was this close to demanding a sexy bend-over pose, but you already look miserable enough lol. Let’s ease you in. Just feel my panties all day. Talk soon.”

Relief washes over him as he zips up. The denim only makes it worse, pressing the satin tighter, the string digging deeper. He adjusts awkwardly, hopping around until he finds a tolerable position. “Long week ahead,” he mutters to the mirror. At least nothing shows.

The day drags in a lazy weekend rhythm. Gaming on the couch becomes a covert war against constant discomfort; every shift reminds him of the satin gripping, the string teasing. He eats lunch standing. By afternoon, he’s sorely tempted to cheat and swap into boxers, but the bet was crystal: seven full days, proof pics, no shortcuts.

Mid-afternoon, his phone buzzes. It’s a text from Mia: “Hey, how’s my favourite panty boy holding up? Still alive?”

He snorts, smiling despite himself. “Barely. This thing’s staging a hostile takeover. How do you even function in these?”

Instant reply: “Years of practice and loving how sexy they make me feel. You looked stupidly adorable in that pic, btw lol.”

His stomach drops. “Don’t say that.”

“Nope! Treasured forever. Anyway, enjoy the rest of your initiation day. Tomorrow’s pair is comfier… probably. Sweet dreams, panty boy.”

Monday

Alex wakes to his phone buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand. Day 2, he groans, pulling the covers over his head for a futile second. A full day of high school awaits—this time with Mia’s panties clinging to him like a secret he can’t shake. And even though she said nothing, it probably goes without saying that he can’t… relieve myself while wearing her panties.

He grabs the phone. Mia’s first text glows on the screen: “Hey, my panty friend! Hope yesterday wasn’t too traumatizing. You looked ridiculously cute in my g-string, by the way lol.”

The second arrives instantly: “Today’s lucky pair… my black bikini with pink edging! You can finally finish what you started.”

Heat rushes to his face as the memory floods back—her bathroom, the moment, her fury when she caught him. Now she sounds almost… playful. Is he forgiven? Or is revenge a dish best served in cotton? Either way, the teasing lilt in her words makes his stomach flip.

He drags himself to the bathroom with a shirt, jeans, and the panties folded small in his pocket. Sliding the black bikini up his legs, he’s surprised by how soft they feel—smooth cotton hugging him snugly, the high-cut legs and delicate pink lace trim teasing his skin. The dark fabric with those flirty pink edges looks dangerously good in the mirror. He snaps the mandatory proof pic and sends it.

Mia replies in seconds: “Yesss! Love how cute my panties look on you. That cotton… the black with pink lace… perfection.”

Then: “Pretty please… make that sexy pose today?”

Alex hesitates for only a moment. If this keeps her talking to him—if it repairs the damage he did—he’ll do whatever she asks. He locks the door, bends forward, arches his back, and pushes his panty-clad ass toward the mirror. The black fabric stretches tight, pink lace framing everything. Click. Send. Heart hammering.

Her response is pure glee: “OMG thank you! I’m blushing over here. I’ll be thinking of that perfect butt in my undies throughout gym class lol. Good luck in yours—don’t let those shorts betray you.”

The bus ride is agony. Every bump sends the high-cut bikini shifting, pink lace tickling sensitive spots. He slouches in the back, hoodie draped over his lap, staring out the window and praying.

English class is safe; mostly sitting. Math is worse: the teacher calls him to the board. He stands slowly, tugging his shirt down, terrified the lacy waistband will peek. He solves the problem on autopilot and scurries back to his seat.

Then comes Phys Ed... and volleyball.

In the locker room, he bolts into a stall, heart pounding. No way he’s changing in the open. The black bikini looks absurd under baggy gym shorts, but the shorts are loose enough… maybe. He spends the entire class in hyper-vigilance—shorts slipping on jumps, lace itching during dives, every spike a potential exposure disaster. By the end, he’s sweating from pure stress.

At lunch, he collapses at a table, phone buzzing. Mia: “How’d gym class go, panty boy? Survive the chaos?”

He exhales sharply and types: “Too many close calls. My shorts were this close to full betrayal.”

She sends a flood of laughing emojis: “Poor baby! There’s always tomorrow… I can’t wait to choose your next pair!”

Alex stares at the screen, a mix of dread and something suspiciously like excitement twisting in his gut. Whatever this game is becoming, he’s too deep to back out now.

Tuesday

Alex wakes to the familiar buzz of his phone, the sound now as predictable as an alarm clock. Day 3, he thinks, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Yesterday’s gym class still haunts him—ducking into a locker-room stall to change, heart hammering the entire time, every jump and dive during volleyball was a calculated risk. One wrong move and the pink-edged waistband could have flashed, exposing his secret to the entire team. He shudders at the memory.

He unlocks the phone. Mia’s messages are already waiting.

“Hey, my comrade in cotton! I’m having way too much fun with this, not gonna lie. Ready for today’s briefing?”

The second text drops immediately: “Today’s pair… my lacy red briefs. Oooo, these are my secret Valentine’s Day specials lol.”

Alex’s stomach flips. His thumbs fly across the keyboard before his brain catches up: “Wait. You’re telling me I’m wearing the panties you’ve worn before… you know… to have sex?!”

The image slams into his mind uninvited—Mia flushed and breathless, red lace stretched tight, lost in pleasure. The thought is equal parts disturbing and electrifying. Heat floods his face.

Mia’s reply is instant: a string of crying-laughing emojis followed by, “OMG no, silly!!! I just call them my Valentine’s pair because they’re sexy and romantic. Saving the real debut for someday. Hope I didn’t scare you… or, you know, excite you too much.”

Relief washes over him, chased by a lingering spark of that forbidden mental picture. He shakes it off, grabs a plain t-shirt and jeans, scoops up the red lace briefs, and retreats to the bathroom.

Sliding them on is a whole new level of sensory overload. The delicate lace glides cool and scratchy-soft across his skin, whispering over his balls with every tiny movement. Similar to Sunday’s pair, this feels decadently feminine—romantic, intimate, almost scandalous. The rich scarlet colour pops against him, intricate floral patterns framing everything in a way that’s impossible to ignore. He shifts experimentally and feels the lace gusset settle snugly, teasing in ways his cotton never has. A reluctant thrill shoots through him; he hates how much he doesn’t hate it.

Mirror check done, he snaps the proof pic; the red lace making a grand statement, and sends it.

Mia fires back in seconds: “Holy hell, red looks insane on you! Love how that lacy gusset cups you so perfectly. Seeing you in such girly stuff is giving me ideas… Do yesterday’s pose again, but this time wink at the camera and blow me a kiss. Make it sultry.”

Alex groans out loud, staring at his reflection like it’s betrayed him. But the now-familiar mix of dread and eagerness pushes him forward. He locks the door tighter, bends forward, arches his back to push his lace-clad ass out, then twists just enough to face the mirror. He forces a playful wink, purses his lips, and blows an exaggerated kiss—cheeks burning the entire time. The camera flash catches the scarlet lace stretched taut, the floral patterns almost glowing. He looks ridiculous. And maybe… kind of hot? He exhales sharply, hits send before sanity returns.

Mia’s response is a single, blazing fire emoji followed by: “You’re dangerously good at this, panty boy. Maybe I should take pointers from you lol.”

Alex stares at the screen, pulse racing, the delicate lace suddenly feeling even more noticeable against his skin. And somehow, the line between punishment and something else entirely is getting blurrier by the hour. At least he knows what to expect in Phys Ed.

Wednesday

Alex’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting through the quiet morning light. His body reacts before his mind catches up—heart racing, a warm flush crawling up his chest and neck. Pavlov’s dog has nothing on him. It’s the middle of Mia’s “panty week,” and he’s trapped in that delicious knot of dread and craving he can’t untie.

Yesterday was torture. The red lacy thong had tormented him all day; every shift in his seat during lectures, every hurried stride through crowded hallways. The slick fabric had slid and teased, keeping him in a constant low simmer of arousal. Beneath jeans and hoodie, he carried the secret of something so unmistakably feminine against his skin. And the less said about Phys Ed, the better.

Now he reaches for the phone with a slightly trembling hand. The screen glows: “Happy hump day! That also means you’ve reached the middle of panty week lol. Let’s make it extra special, alright?”

A second text lands immediately: “Today’s pair… my white cotton bikini. Oooo, the little floral print is so pretty on this one. You’re gonna look adorable.”

His throat goes dry. Mia’s playful dominance leaps off the screen, twisting his stomach with nervous excitement. “Extra special” sounds dangerous.

He types back, hesitation in every keystroke: “So… uh… with all these pics I’ve been sending, you’re not gonna, like… blackmail me with them or anything, right?”

The typing bubbles appear instantly. Her reply: “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, nerves and arousal tangled together. Of course, she’d say that. She always knows exactly how to keep him hooked—flirty, commanding, a little wicked but never truly cruel.

In the bathroom, after locking the door, he strips. The cool air prickles his skin as he steps into today’s pair. And the white cotton is softer than yesterday’s lace, almost gentle, but the bikini cut sits low on his hips, the waistband dipping teasingly. The fabric molds tightly across the front, intimate and inescapable. He adjusts carefully—tucking, shifting—until everything fits without pinching or betraying him too obviously.

He glances in the mirror. Scattered pink and lavender flowers bloom across the gusset in a sweet, girlish print, framing the unmistakable bulge straining the thin cotton. The contrast is dizzying: innocent florals against raw arousal. Dangerously pretty. He can already picture Mia’s triumphant grin.

Heart hammering, he angles the phone, crops carefully, and snaps the proof pic. His thumb hovers over send before he commits. The whoosh feels deafening.

Mia’s reply is instant: thumbs-up emoji, then “God, that floral gusset really frames your bulge perfectly lol.”

Another text follows: “Okay, here’s my idea for making today special… crossing no serious ethical lines, obviously. You’re going to film yourself strutting around the locker room in nothing but those panties.”

His pulse slams in his ears; heat floods his face and groin. The locker room? Naked except for the floral bikini? The risk crashes over him like cold water.

“What??” he types frantically. “For how long? How am I supposed to make sure no one walks in?”

She sends a laughing-crying emoji, then: “Use your imagination, babe. I’d suggest waiting until the rest of the class changed. Then tell the coach you’ve got stomach issues or need extra time or whatever. And just a quick little catwalk for me. Think you can handle that without getting caught?”

Alex stares at the screen, breathing shallow. Terror coils tight—exposure, humiliation, the possibility of total disaster—but underneath it, that dark thrill winds hotter, insistent. The floral cotton is already growing snugger as he hardens at the thought.

Thursday

“Buzz!” The sharp vibration of Alex’s phone jolts him awake. His hand shoots out instinctively, fingers closing around the device before his eyes are even fully open. Day five, he thinks with a resigned sigh; stomach already twisting in that familiar cocktail of dread and electric anticipation. What fresh torment has Mia cooked up today?

He unlocks the screen, and her message glows up at him: “Can you feel the finish line, pantyboy lol?”

Alex groans aloud, heat rushing to his cheeks. Oh god, she doesn’t know the double entendre she just dropped—or maybe she does. Mia’s always been scarily good at landing those little verbal jabs right where they hit hardest. He reads on, pulse quickening.

“It almost makes me sad that you only have two more of my undies after today,” she continues. “By the way… yesterday’s locker room video was… just what I needed lol.”

A sheepish, involuntary grin creeps across his face as the memory floods back in vivid, humiliating detail. He’d waited until the rest of the gym class had cleared out; muttering some lame excuse to the coach about stomach cramps. Then, heart hammering so loudly he was sure someone would hear it through the walls, he’d stripped down to nothing but Mia’s floral white cotton bikini panties and hit record.

Barely sixty seconds long, but it had felt like an eternity. He’d done a slow, exaggerated catwalk between the benches—hips swaying, cheeks burning, the soft white cotton clinging tighter with every nervous step. It had to have been by divine intervention that no one saw the delicate pink-and-lavender flowers stretched across his straining bulge.

Another message pings to bring him back: “Today’s panty is… my grey boyshorts. I cannot wait to see the magical girls covering your butt lol.”

Alex exhales a shaky laugh. Boyshorts; deceptively tame-sounding, but he knows better. Mia’s grey pair is soft, stretchy cotton with full coverage in the back. And the kicker? An all-over pattern of chibi magical girls in sparkly outfits, adorable facial expressions, and stars bursting around them. Cute, playful, utterly girly.

He finishes pulling up the boyshorts… and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Those glittery, magical girls framed by his bare thighs, and the grey fabric molding to every line and ridge. His breath hitches at the thought of her reaction, that wicked little “lol” hiding how much she loves seeing him like this. Secretly feminized, obedient, helplessly turned on by his own humiliation.

He snaps a pic and waits for Mia to respond. Did she go to school and forget their daily routine? Come on; don’t leave me hanging! Alex panics.

Mia returns several minutes later and says, “That is adorable! Just think all of those cuties are guarding your parts lol.”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. But he panics: something must have happened to her. Why did she take so long to respond? He responds with, “Thanks, but what happened? Is everything okay?”

Mia quickly responds with an embarrassed emoji, followed by, “Sorry lol. I was in no condition to respond.” There’s a brief pause, and then, “I… had a minor accident when I saw you… in my panties. And had to change… before leaving for school.”

He is at a loss. What is she talking about? Did she pee on herself? Alex texts back, “What’s going on?”

A few moments later, Mia’s text appears, “Well, if you must know. When I saw you wearing my undies… I had an orgasm. And this isn’t the first time, either.” A brief pause before continuing, “You’ve been doing a real number on me this week. We’ve been friends forever, and seeing your manly body… caused an instant flood in my panties.”

Friday

“Buzz!” The sharp vibration of Alex’s phone jolts him awake. But, unlike every other day this week, he doesn’t tap his phone to see Mia’s text. Instead, he just stares off into space. What is even happening anymore? he thinks to himself. He yawns out loud. It is likely he didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.

Yesterday was almost a complete blur. Every one of his teachers could’ve told him he won the lottery, and he wouldn’t have cared. Or even noticed. Especially not after the bombshell Mia dropped on him before he even left the house.

Your manly body… instant flood in my panties.

These thoughts have been tormenting him since yesterday morning. He had turned on Mia so much that she had to change her underwear. And, as she told him, this had happened more than once. Is panty week even still happening? It must be.

Finally, Alex taps on his phone to read Mia’s message: “Hi Alex. I feel kind of bad about continuing to call you pantyboy… especially after yesterday. But I meant every word. And I have been enjoying panty week… maybe a little too much lol.” Another message follows, “Want to continue? There’s only today and tomorrow left.”

He smiles. I am so happy to see she still wants to continue. Alex responds with: “Of course! I never thought I would enjoy wearing your panties as much as I do lol.“

He hesitates a moment before adding, “And honestly… I’m sorry I touched your panties that day in your bathroom. But who would’ve thought it would lead to this, huh? Lol”

Mia sends him a smiley face emoji: “Don’t worry about it. But let’s save the schmaltzy stuff for later, alright? There are panties to be worn lol.”

His pulse quickens. She isn’t letting sentiment slow the game. Good. He likes her like this-playful, commanding, a little wicked. It keeps the edge sharp; the tension humming just beneath the surface.

A second text from her appears, “Today’s panty is… silky blue. You are going to love the colour on these. Remember Sunday’s pair? Well, these are also shiny but… oh my god. You are going to love how soft today’s pair is.”

Alex smiles at Mia’s endorsement of her own underwear. He then thinks to himself, Is this the Stockholm syndrome talking? He and Mia were obviously friends before, but being made to wear her panties has made him want to wear her panties. For her. Will this continue after panty week is over?

He finishes pulling up the silky panties… and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Mia is right; the colour is adorable. A soft blue that reminds him of the sky. And wow… he has never worn such a comfortable pair of underwear. The silky fabric is so smooth against his crotch; it doesn’t feel like he’s even wearing underwear.

Mia responds to his pic with a row of hearts. “They’re soft, aren’t they? And I bet you don’t even realize the effect they have on you lol.” She follows with an eggplant emoji.

What is she talking about? Alex looks down; fearing the worst. He knows what the eggplant emoji means but… oh damn! Mia’s panties are so soft, he didn’t realize he had a bulge going! And this isn’t the first time either!

Saturday

Alex awakens to his phone's trill on Saturday morning; the last day of “panty week.” He has braced for Mia's usual teasing text, but her voice explodes through the speaker, lively and victorious.

“Congratulations, buddy! You made it through the week,” she laughs. “And since you've only got one pair left—my green hipsters—there's no point in guessing today.”

Alex chuckles; wiping sleep from his eyes. “I'd have gotten it right, anyway. So… final panty day. This week's been insane.”

His thoughts wander back through the chaos. Sunday's purple satin g-string had tormented him all day; wedging uncomfortably with every move. Monday's black bikini briefs with pink lace had somehow endured an entire volleyball game. Tuesday's lacy red pair had sparked that embarrassing yet exhilarating moment when Mia demanded a mirror selfie pose; he'd felt absurd and alive all at once.

Mia's laugh pulls him back. “You're reliving the highlights, aren't you? Can't blame you. But about those undies… I have an idea. Want to hear it?”

Alex's heart skips. After a week of building dares, her surprises felt inevitable. “Sure. Go for it.”

He can hear her grin. “To celebrate the finale, I'm coming over. Cool? I need to see those green hipsters on you in person. Be there soon!” She hangs up before he can respond.

Alex stares at his phone, floored. Mia wants to see him in her panties—face to face. After days of only texts and photos, the thought sends a whirlwind through him: anxiety, anticipation, and a deeper heat he tries to ignore.

Soon, he stands in his bedroom, pulling the soft green cotton up his legs. The hipsters fit snugly, the tiny bow at the waistband perches perfectly. Not as soft as yesterday's, but still cozy—and, though he'd never say it, kind of cute. He throws on loose jeans, glances at the clock, and prepares himself for Mia’s visit; heart pounding steadily.

Thirty minutes drag by before he hears a knock. Alex opens the door to Mia's bright smile, her dark hair in a casual ponytail, schoolbag over her shoulder.

“Hey, stranger!” she says cheerfully. “Are your folks home?”

He shakes his head, grateful. “Out shopping. I'd have said wait otherwise. Come in.”

He guides her to the quiet den, acutely aware of the fabric shifting under his jeans with each step. Mia drops her bag, faces him with that familiar spark in her eyes, and puts her hands on her hips.

“So,” she drawls. “Can I see them? Take your jeans off.”

Alex laughs, unable to help it. He loved her boldness—no games, no embarrassment. He unzips, lets the jeans fall, and kicks them aside, standing in just his t-shirt and her green hipsters.

Mia's eyes sparkled. She circles him slowly, murmuring approval. “God, they look amazing on you. That green is perfect. And that bulge—so nice.”

His face burns, but a smile breaks through. Then the worry that had plagued him bubbles up. He clears his throat. “Hey… seriously. Those daily photos you made me send—what did you do with them? You didn't show anyone, right?”

Mia pauses, giving him a puzzled look before the understanding hits. “Oh, the ‘for me to know and you to find out’ bit.” She tilts her head. “You were actually worried I'd share them?”

Alex nods, embarrassed. “Yeah, a bit. Thought maybe you and your friends were… I don't know, mocking me.”

Her face softens, almost gentle. She steps closer and, with a hand on his arm, “Alex, I'd never do that. Ever. I was just keeping you motivated so you wouldn't quit.” A wicked smile creeps back. “Worked, didn't it?”

Relief floods him. “Yeah,” he laughs. “Perfectly.”

Her fingers brush the cotton at his hip. “So,” she whispers, voice low and teasing, “now that you've aced panty week… interested in what's next?”

Alex swallows, heart racing, but the nerves now feel electric, inviting. He meets her eyes and grins. “Definitely.”