You move to the trophy room, where you've taken Ellen Halls and Jill Meadows to. Invisible, you watch the two as they rub their rumps and bicker. Unbeknownst to them, you've made their jeans tighter, and their wedgies harder to pick.
"Dammit! This is why I said we just have book club like normal!" Ellen shouts, trying (and failing) to pluck her panties from her posterior and privates. "At least then we'd be getting drunk with trashy romance novels!"
"Oh, shut up, Ellen!" Jill snapped back, also trying to fix her stretched-out undies. "I voted with you, too! It's not like I wanted this, smelling ass all around me while I get a hellish wedgie!" Jill tried to pull her jeans down, but you kept them tight. She struggled, eventually falling to the floor. Seemingly submitting to your wedgie, for now, she looked up and at the walls.
The large trophy room was a favorite of yours, simply because during the other 364 days of the year, you reminisced on previous trespassers. There were trophy plaques with hooks on them, each one having the name, underwear (bras included), and impressions of the trespasser's ass, genitalia included. You had to stitch each pair of underwear back together after you were done with their wearer, but it was worth it. If you touched a plaque, you would remember that evening with the trespasser, how they howled, cried, and begged for a mercy they never got until they left.
"H-h-holy shit." Jill spoke as she stood again. You watch as Ellen joins in, both looking around the massive room. For each man that's been a victim of yours, at least 6 other women have had their lower halves immortalized on your walls.
Ellen tries touch one of the plaques, one of a woman named Sally Collins, who you remember wearing a black and purple bra, along with a pair of blue boxers that were two sizes too large for her. All the more fun it was to wedgie her with.
You wait to see what what Ellen does. Will she leave them alone? Or will she touch them?