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forlane

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Posts posted by forlane

  1. On 4/25/2022 at 12:05 AM, bostonsagger said:

    Sorry, I don't get a chance to sit and write often, as I am really busy!  

    Part VI: Mom’s Reaction

    I walked in my house sagging just below my **** and balls.  My mom was in the kitchen cleaning so I screamed hello to her and went downstairs to play videogames.  I left my pants right where they were, belted nice and low.  I sat down and it felt really good.  I liked the feeling of it and my **** was still covered by my shirt, so nobody could really complain.  I just acted as if nothing was different and continued on my day; my mom said nothing about it, but I kept thinking about it. 

    The next day, I decided I was not going to sag below my **** yet.  I was going to leave it like I normally did.  I went through a day or two with my pants at my “normal” level (just above my ****, bottom of my butt), but by the end of the next week, I was consistently sagging below my **** and balls in front, just off my butt in the back.  I absolutely loved the feeling of it.  It felt so good to feel the breeze in the front and feel my **** flopping around in my boxers.  Nobody really said anything, which surprised me.  I guess my pants weren’t that much lower than they were before and my shirt hid it anyway.  There was one instance where my **** flopped out of my boxers in the front. Thankfully, I was just sitting around my room, so nobody saw.  However, I decided that from that point on, I would only wear boxers with a button on them.

    One day my mom came home with a new pair of boxers for me.  When she was at the store, if she saw a cool pair, she’d pick them up for me.  She figured that if she had to see them, they should at least look cool.  I had all sorts of boxers as a result: cartoon characters, sports teams, and more.  This day, she had brought me home a new pair of Red Sox (baseball team) boxers.  I loved the Red Sox and my boxers were an important part of my wardrobe.  

    I was in my room doing homework when my mom came in.  I was wearing jeans, belted below my ass and ****, with a longer t-shirt that covered the front of it.  You could see a little of my boxers in the back, as my shirt rode up a little.  

     

    “Hey Josh, how was your day?”

    “It was good.”

    “What are you working on right now?”

    “I am trying to finish my homework so I can go play.  I am almost done.”

    “Okay cool.  Well I wanted to show you something.”

    “Okay…”

    “I was at the store just now and saw some Red Sox boxers on the rack.  I bought them for you.  I think you’ll really like them.”

    My eyes lit up in excitement.  “Sick!  Can I see them?”

    “Sure.”  She handed me the bag that she brought to my room.  “Here you go.”

    I opened the bag and took them out.  “Thanks mom,”  I said.  I started examining them.

    “Like them?”

    “Yeah, but…”

    “What?”

    “Could you actually bring them back?  I don’t really like them, I’m sorry.”

    “Wait, what?  You love the Red Sox.”

    “I know…”  I tried to change the topic, but my mom seemed insistent. 

    “What’s wrong with them?”

    “I just don’t like them!” 

    “That’s foolish.  There’s got to be something wrong for you not to wear these." 

    “It’s just… I don’t know.” I put my head down on my desk, which caused my shirt to ride up in the back.  I felt like a lot of my boxers were on show now.  I reached back to grab my shirt, which confirmed it. 

    “Josh, can you stand up for a minute?”

    “Sure, mom.”  I stood up and pulled my shirt the rest of the way down in the back.  

    “Can you pull your shirt back up?”

    “No, why?”

    “I want to see how low your pants are.”

    “They’re at their normal height.”

    “Let me see, now!” 

    “Fine.”  Without pulling up my pants, I pulled my shirt up.  9 or 10 inches of my boxers were fully on display, with my pants belted on my thighs.  She looked at me in shock.  I knew she didn’t realize how low my pants actually were. 

    “Josh, what are you doing?”

    “What, mom?”

    “Your pants!” 

    “I’m sagging.  You know I sag.”

    “That’s more than sagging, Josh.  Your p***s isn’t even in your pants right now.”

    “So, who cares?  It’s in my boxers.”

    “Pull them up right now.”

    “No!”  I got really defensive.  “I’ve been wearing them like this the last few days and you didn’t care.  My shirt is long enough.  Why does it matter?”

    “Because you don’t need to be showing people your p***s.  It’s meant to be in your pants.”

    “Nobody can see it.  My shirt covers it.  It’s in my boxers.  My boxers have a button on them so it won’t fall out.”

    Silence.  My mom just looked at me.  

    “That’s why I didn’t want the boxers you bought.  They don’t have the button on them.”

    More silence.

    “I’m going to take all of your clothes away, make you wear tighty whities, and tight pants.  You’re done sagging.”

    “No I’m not.”

    “Yes you are.  You’re only 9.  You don’t need to sag.  I’ve let you do it because you like it, but this is too much.  Pull your pants up right now!” 

    “No!”

    “Josh, I’m leaving your room.  Think about this, then pull your pants up, and meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes.”

    She stormed out of the room, screaming behind her, “And your pants better be up when you come down.”

    “They won’t be,” I screamed back.  And with that, the door slammed.  I sat at my desk, pants still sagged, thinking.  Why does she care?  Paul was right not to sag like this in front of his mom.  I wonder if he’s tried yet.  Maybe I’ll just sag when I’m out of her sight.  I’m not pulling my pants up, though.  I sat for a few more minutes before going to the kitchen. 

    Nice storytelling!

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