Let it not be understated that the phrase ‘Pekora always has a plan’ is always, always true. Now, that’s not to say that Pekora’s plans are always good, or that they’re always smart, or that they don’t often blow up in her face (literally speaking when it comes to her Minecraft gameplay), but the blue bunny  is always scheming.

Again, though, some of her plans are… less genius than others.

Today was one of those days where Usada Pekora had the urge for mischief first and came up with the way to get around the consequences of her actions second. It was sort of like when she started a sentence without knowing exactly how she’d finish it (well, she’d obviously finish it with ‘peko,’ but she often didn’t know what she’d say for the punch line of a joke, or if she’d manage to get her thoughts in order for whatever harebrained point she was trying to make (get it…?)). She’d have a strong start, a great idea, and usually she’d manage to scrape together something clever.

Usually.

Other times…

Pekora bit her lip and wiggled her toes inside her sneakers to make sure that she got a steady blood flow to her extremities. She knew from experience that when she was in this position, with her legs stiff and pressed tight together, and her feet suspended off the ground, she ran the risk of going numb in places where she shouldn’t.

That position? Hanging by her underwear, of course, as she was all too used to finding herself.

The short Pekolander, her white rabbit ears poking up above her scalp and her long, blue-and-white hair hanging down her back in spiraling twin braids (which, aside from the carrots poking out of them, looked more than a little like minty toothpaste), dangled off the side of a filing cabinet by her white briefs, which were caught on one of the open top drawers and kept her hanging firmly two feet above the carpet below. The metal box, laden with more paper than a company really ought to have in the digital age, easily held her light weight, and, like usual, Pekora had no way to escape the predicament that was currently splitting her bunny butt in two.

Unlike usual, though, this time, she’d done it to herself. Pekora wasn’t exactly a masochist by any means (though she did tend to fantasize about gags when she got in the mood), so she didn’t usually string herself up by her skivvies, especially not in a totally helpless manner like this. That was more Matsuri’s territory, though even Pekora’s brunette senior usually ended up like this involuntarily (though that didn’t stop her from gooning to it). If the bunny was going to do this to herself, to torch her ass crack so badly she would be walking sideways when she finally got down, she needed a very good reason. And, at least from her perspective, she had one.

Pekora alway had a plan. …Not a good one in this case, but one that she was reasonably confident would work.

The Pekolander muttered curses under her shallow breaths as she continued to dangle, her hands shifting around her lower body in unison as she tried to figure out where best to put them. It was one of those things that no matter how many cumulative hours she spent hanging by her panties, she never really came to a solid answer about. First she had them in the pockets of her tan cargo shorts, then placed on her hips, and then reaching around behind to alternate between holding her butt cheeks and feeling out the ever-immovable rope of cotton up her butt crack. After taking care of all the necessities for settling into a lengthy hanging wedgie, unrolling the bunched up parts of her panties, tucking her black shirt as deep down into them as she could to cushion her skin, and anything else she could do to make the experience as comfortable as she possibly could, there wasn’t much else she could do with her hands, especially since, like an idiot, she’d let her phone slip out of her pocket when she dropped into the wedgie.

Thankfully, though, she didn’t have to wait too much longer for her plan to finally start paying off.

See, today, Sankisei (or Hololive’s third generation of talents, if you wanted to be boring about it), had scheduled a ‘lock-in’ at the company’s headquarters, since they had a very late concert recording session followed by a very early morning one. It was one of those things that had become unfortunately more common as Hololive had expanded and the facilities were under higher demand, but it had either been this or two early mornings in a row, and the four had agreed that it would be easier to just bite the bullet and do it in the shortest time period they could manage. None of them wanted to wake up at the asscrack of dawn twice in a row.

As for the ‘work sleepover,’ being adults, they could have easily just stayed at the apartment of whoever of the four lived closest to the studio. They’d done that before, after all. However, given how tight the turnaround was, and how unprofessional it would be if they ended up oversleeping, and, to some extent, the ‘fun factor’ of making things interesting like this, they’d decided that it was best to just crash on the talent lounge’s sofas for the evening and get some more substantial rest in the following day’s afternoon. The building had showers and whatever other facilities they needed anyway.

It was in the downtime between the first recording session and the second, five hours from the present moment, that Pekora had spotted an opportunity she couldn’t let slide, and had then strung herself up by her underwear as the hasty second part of her scheme. And really, who could have blamed her? It had been so easy, and so enticing…

“Pekora!”

Between the roaring shouts and heavy, furious stomping in the adjacent rooms and hallways, Pekora had plenty of warning time to assemble herself into an appropriately pitiful posture and arrange her expression into a pout. Neither of the two were especially difficult, given her ass really was sore, and she had been dangling here for almost half an hour now.

As Shirogane Noel stormed into the office room that the bunny had hung herself up in, her livid expression only softened a smidge as her green eyes darted across her dangling genmate’s body, processing that she was (yet again) hanging by her panties. The silver-haired knight paused, fingers twitching at her side as she took in the state she’d found her much smaller friend in. Clearly she’d been itching to take out her frustration on the Pekolander, and now, finding that Pekora had already been dealt with, was having trouble figuring out what to do next.

Pekora decided to help her out with that. “She got me too, peko,” the bunny moaned, tossing an appropriately frustrated whine into her tone. In a twist of fate that coupled dangerously well with her penchant for mischief, Pekora was an excellent actress. If she hadn’t been trying to keep things realistic, she might have even added an ‘on the border of tears’ quaver to her voice. Of course, Noel knew her well enough to know that as painful as a hanging wedgie was, at this point it was more frustrating than sob-worthy for her. “I don’t know who it was, she was too quick. I suspekt it was Marine, but it could have been Flare too.”

Brow furrowing deeper, Noel nodded, probably in agreement with the lie that it had been Marine. “Right. Do you know where she went?”

“It was a while ago,” Pekora lied, but then gestured vaguely in the direction of the room she knew her two genmates were resting in. “That way, I think, peko.”

Noel nodded again and cracked her knuckles. “Thanks. I’ll get her for ya.”

“Godspeed,” Pekora said. As Noel turned and stormed away, a smirk crept across the rabbit’s face. Just as she’d hoped, bunched up like a beaver’s tail outside her tight jeans, Noel’s frilly granny panties trailed behind her as she stomped angrily away, clearly still wedged tight between the knight’s plump butt cheeks, and clearly still causing her frustration. It only made sense that Noel was angry, after all–what woman wouldn’t be hopping mad if she woke up from a nap with her panties pulled up tight over her eyes, especially with the added humiliation of having her glasses placed over top of her new cotton mask? All courtesy, of course… of Pekora.

As mentioned, it was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. What was a girl to do when she stumbled across her friend, sleeping soundly facedown on a couch, with her stretchy underwear already poking out of her jeans and her soft, tranquil expression just begging to be bothered? It would have been a crime to not give her an atomic wedgie! Of course, after she’d done that, she knew it was only a matter of time until Noel woke up, and she knew that the knight would beeline directly for her. It was, of course, only natural (and correct) to assume that Pekora was the one behind the panty pulling. And that was where her quick thinking had come in, and was why she was currently dangling by her panties. Noel couldn’t give her a wedgie if she already had one. But she could give one to…

Pekora snickered to herself as she first heard the unmistakable loud shriek of Houshou Marine from down the hall, as Noel presumably rudely awakened her from her own nap with a brutal wedgie. Even though Pekora couldn’t hear anything past the initial screech, her imagination did the work for her, and that imagination was only strengthened when a few moments later, a second girlish shout came from the same distant room, this time from Shiranui Flare. “Oops, guess it wasn’t Marine, peko,” Pekora whispered under her breath as she continued to laugh and envision Noel ripping the other two a new one as she demanded to know who was really behind it all. It couldn’t be Pekora, after all.

As it usually did, the feeling of excitement only made giggling bunny’s wedgie less tolerable (the fact she was practically bobbing up and down with mirth wasn’t helping her much on that front either), but Pekora didn’t care. It was just too good. She’d gladly take a hanging wedgie if it meant she got away with her schemes, and especially if she scored a bonus like this.Would it have been nicer if she wouldn’t be performing the next concert recording with rope burn up her ass crack? Of course, but she considered it an occupational hazard. After all, she’d be getting wedgied by Noel for revenge anyway. AT least this way she was in control of her suffering.

“And now we wait, peko,” the blue-haired bunny girl said to herself, returning her hands to her butt cheeks as she counted out the seconds until Noel finished up with the other two and remembered, ‘oh right, I left Pekora hanging, I should help her out.’

Five slow minutes crawled by before the Pekolander finally heard footsteps on the linoleum floor outside her room. As she made to assume the most hopeful and grateful look she could muster, one that said ‘finally, you’re here to save me!’ though, she realized that she was hearing several more footfalls than she’d anticipated. Three sets, if she wasn’t mistaken, instead of one. She blinked, her whole body stiffening as she was finally caught off guard for the first time this evening, and wasn’t able to figure out what act she should put on when her genmates stepped into the doorway, all of three giving her the same accusatory glower.

Pekora almost laughed when her amber eyes swept over the three, because, really, outside of the context that they were all pissed at her, it was a funny sight to behold. Noel, Flare, and Marine stood just outside the door frame, arms folded and brows set in matching scowls, but that wasn’t the only thing matching about them, because all three women had their underwear stretched up and hooked snugly over their heads, a trio of matching atomic wedgies.

Presumably, the pink briefs stretched over Marine’s red pigtails and the black lace covering Flare’s blonde ponytail were Noel’s handiwork, but the knight’s frilly grannies were also back up over her silver hair, snapped right over her creased brow like the world’s girliest swim cap. That, Pekora reasoned, was probably retaliation from the other two, who were pissed about their unwarranted atomics. Noel could have easily stopped them, but she was a good sport… well, when that good sportsmanship was deserved at least. For the friends she’d just been duped into turbo wedgieing? Absolutely. For the friend who’d tricked her into doing it…?

“Uh,” Pekora said, fumbling hard now that she was no longer in control of the narrative. “So… who–uh, who did it, peko?”

“Starts with ‘P,’” Marine said, tapping her bare foot against the tiled floor. Pekora had just noticed that she was bottomless, and the only thing saving her from having her lips all out on display was the bagginess of her black hoodie.

“Ends with ‘ekora,’” Flare added. The dark-skinned woman’s skirt meant she would be flashing her ass to anyone who happened to pass behind her in the hallway. It was a good thing for her that they were relatively isolated on the top floor of the building.

“Ah,” the dangling woman said, her shoulders sagging. Suddenly, the rope of cotton up her crack burned a lot more. Perhaps she’d been a little too overconfident in her slapdash plan. It had been the best option she had, but… well, that wasn’t saying much given that it had backfired so swiftly. And now it was time for what she always dreaded when she got caught: her punishment. The bunny shivered as she thought about all the ways her three friends could teach her a lesson. Were they going to rip her down and give her a swirly? Maybe they’d take her clothes and force her to run laps around the building until she got caught. Or they might even give her an atomic wedgie of her own so they were all matching as a quartet, at least until the three of them picked theirs and left her with hers duct taped to her forehead, or something like that. “So… what are you going to do to me, peko…?”

To her surprise, Noel, who stood in the middle of the three, just shrugged. “Nothing,” she answered, and as Pekora’s eyebrows climbed so far up her forehead that they threatened to lift right off her face, she continued, “It looks like you’ve already dealt with yourself, haven’t you?”

Pekora blinked, glancing down at her own dangling body. She wiggled her toes inside her shoes again. “Um. Well, yes? But–”

“So we’re just going to leave you there for now,” Noel told her, shrugging. “We’ll get you down before we have to record. See you, Pekora!”

“Wait, hang on–” Pekora protested weakly, reaching out toward her friends, but the three paid her no mind as they turned and walked back off down the hallway, save to throw her a retreating smirk as their split butt cheeks disappeared behind the wall. “Guys–” This wasn’t what she’d anticipated. She’d anticipated a lot of things, most of them horrid, but being left to hang here in a hell of her own making wasn’t one of them. It was, from an objective point of view, incredibly poetic, but Pekora was neither poetic nor objective, and as the shift in her weight made her legs swing and reignited the fire between her ass cheeks and legs, and she realized that she was going to be here for another five hours, she started to feel a sinking, dreadful feeling that she’d only ever gotten before when she knew her mother was about to put her over her knee and spank her.

“Guys?” she tried again hopefully, but there was no sign that her friends were coming back for her. After a few more moments of silence, she slumped deep into her hanging wedgie, almost folding at her midsection, and let out a deep sigh. “Damn it, peko…” she mumbled. “Next time…” (because there was always a next time for her antics.) “Next time I’ll hang up all three of them,” she decided, nodding to herself. “Yeah, that’s good, peko. Three hanging wedgies, and then they can’t get me!”

Until they get down, a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like it was infused with the noise of stretching and ripping underwear reminded her, but Pekora set it aside and let herself grin as she dreamed up her next round of mischief. She’d be spending the next five hours stewing with regret about her current situation. A brief respite to imagine the brilliant success of her next scheme was in order.

As always, Pekora had a plan. …She just had to wait until she got down first.