My Name Is Ethan!
By SmutWriterAI.
[google-translator]
As he navigated through the crowd, his heart sank when he noticed a few people whispering and pointing in his direction. He quickened his pace, hoping to blend in, but it was too late. A hand suddenly grabbed his pants from behind. With a swift movement, they were pulled down, exposing his chubby thighs and the most vulnerable part of his body to the world.
The crowd, sensing a spectacle, erupted into laughter and jeers. “Look at that pathetic excuse for a man!” shouted a voice from the crowd.
“His dick is smaller than my pinky!” another added, eliciting more laughter.
Ethan’s face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes welling up with tears of humiliation. He stood there, frozen, as the crowd’s mockery intensified.
“Come on, little man, show us what you’ve got.”
A daring onlooker, emboldened by the crowd’s encouragement, stepped forward and grabbed Ethan’s tiny dick, forcing it out of its hiding place. Ethan’s hands instinctively went to cover himself, but the onlooker pushed them away, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
“Oh, my God, it’s so tiny!” someone exclaimed, and the crowd’s laughter grew even louder.
Ethan’s dick, now fully erect at a mere three inches, trembled in his hand, a pathetic display of masculinity. The onlooker, with a cruel smile, began to stroke Ethan’s dick, teasing and taunting him. “Look at this pathetic little thing. It’s like a child’s toy!”
Ethan’s body responded despite his shame, his breath coming in short gasps as the onlooker’s hand worked him, bringing him closer to an unwanted climax. The crowd’s attention was now fully focused on Ethan’s humiliation, and their voices rose in a chorus of insults and encouragement.
“Cum for us, you pathetic little man!” they shouted, and Ethan, feeling utterly powerless, could do nothing but comply.
As he reached his climax, his body shook, and a small spurt of jizz landed on his belly, a pathetic display of his inadequate masculinity. The crowd’s laughter turned into cheers, and someone even shouted, “Bravo!”
Ethan, his face a mask of shame and despair, stood there, his tiny dick now soft and limp, as the onlooker released him.
The crowd dispersed, leaving Ethan alone, his pants still around his ankles, a symbol of his endless humiliation. He slowly pulled up his pants, his head hanging low, knowing that this incident, too, would be captured and shared, fueling his never-ending public shame. As he walked away, he could only hope that one day, this nightmare would end, and he could find some peace from the relentless mockery.
*****
Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest, his face still burning with the heat of his recent public humiliation. He took a step back, trying to escape the situation. Still, his retreat was blocked by the bold onlooker who had taken a particular interest in him.
The man, with a mischievous grin, stepped closer, invading Ethan’s personal space. He leaned in, his breath hot on Ethan’s ear, and whispered, “You know, little man, your tiny dick is quite the attraction. It’s like a rare, exotic creature on display. Everyone wants a glimpse, a chance to mock and ridicule it.”
Ethan’s body tensed, his eyes darting around, searching for an escape. The crowd, sensing a new development, grew louder, their laughter and jeers echoing off the nearby buildings. They surrounded Ethan, trapping him in a circle of mockery and humiliation.
“Oh, don’t be shy now, fatty,” the onlooker continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We all know you love the attention. After all, why else would you keep coming back to these streets, knowing full well what awaits you? Why else would you not wear underwear and have on loose pants? You want to be pantsed. You want us to see your little dick.”
Ethan’s mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He felt a strange mix of shame, anger, and an unexpected thrill. The onlooker’s words, though cruel, held a certain power, and Ethan found himself unable to look away.
“You see, fatty,” the man went on, his voice lowering to a seductive whisper. “Your tiny dick is a gift. It’s a gift that keeps on giving, providing endless entertainment for us all. So, why not embrace it? Why not show it off, let us admire your uniqueness?”
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. The onlooker’s words were like a double-edged sword, cutting deep into his vulnerable psyche. He felt exposed, raw, and yet, there was a part of him that craved this attention, this intense focus on his most intimate secret.
As the crowd’s laughter peaked, Ethan’s body reacted involuntarily. His tiny dick, hidden beneath his clothes, stirred, growing harder despite his best efforts to suppress it. The onlooker noticed this subtle movement and smirked, his eyes gleaming with victory.
“There you go, fatty. Show us what you’ve got. Let us see your little friend. We won’t bite, I promise.”
Ethan’s hands shook as he reached for his zipper, his fingers trembling. He hesitated, his mind waging a battle between shame and an unfamiliar desire. The onlooker, sensing his hesitation, stepped closer, his body pressing against Ethan’s, invading his personal space further.
“Come on, fatty. Don’t be shy. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”
Ethan’s fingers fumbled with the zipper, and with a soft hiss, his pants fell further, revealing his chubby thighs and the tiny bud of his dick, now fully erect and pulsating. The crowd’s laughter turned to a collective gasp, and then, a thunderous applause.
Ethan stood there, frozen, his eyes closed, as the onlooker’s hand reached out, gently caressing his tiny dick, stroking it with a mix of curiosity and dominance. Ethan’s body responded, his breath coming in short, sharp intakes, his shame now intertwined with a strange excitement.
“See, fatty? You’re giving us a show. A private performance just for us. And we appreciate it. We really do.”
Ethan’s mind spun, his body on fire. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet, there was a part of him that craved this attention, this intense focus on his most intimate self. He was caught in a web of humiliation and desire, a web spun by the cruel yet enticing words of the onlooker.
As the crowd’s laughter and applause continued to echo around them, Ethan’s story remained unfinished, his journey through public humiliation and self-discovery still unfolding.
Ethan’s fingers, trembling and unsure, slowly traced the outline of his exposed, erect tiny dick. His mind screamed in protest, a battle of wills raging within him. The crowd’s eyes, like a thousand judgmental sentinels, watched his every move, their laughter a constant, mocking drumbeat.
“That’s it, fatty,” the onlooker purred, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Show us what you’ve got, or, in your case, what you haven’t got. Let your little dick dance for us.”
Ethan’s hand, as if controlled by an outside force, moved towards his dick. His touch was hesitant at first, a gentle caress that sent shivers down his spine. The crowd’s chants grew louder, a chorus of encouragement and mockery.
“Go on, fatty! Show us your moves! We want to see your tiny dick in action!”
Ethan’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, the warmth of his skin a contrast to the cold, cruel world around him. He began to stroke, slowly at first, then with a building rhythm. His breath quickened, and his cheeks flushed as he surrendered to the moment.
The onlooker, with a satisfied smirk, stepped back, giving Ethan the center stage. He watched, his eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and lust, as Ethan’s hand worked up and down his tiny dick, the movements becoming more confident, more sensual.
“Oh, fatty, you’re such a good boy,” the onlooker teased, his voice laced with a hint of admiration. “Look at you, enjoying the show. We’re all here to appreciate your unique talent.”
Ethan’s mind, clouded by a haze of shame and desire, struggled to process the onlooker’s words. He felt a strange power in his actions, a sense of control amidst the chaos. His strokes became more deliberate, more purposeful, as if he were conducting an orchestra of his own humiliation.
The crowd, sensing Ethan’s growing confidence, egged him on with louder chants and wolf whistles. Their laughter now held a note of respect, a recognition of the power dynamics at play.
“Keep going, Ethan! Show us your skills! We want to see that tiny dick shoot its load!”
Ethan’s body, caught in a web of conflicting emotions, responded with a primal urge. His strokes became faster, more intense, as if he were trying to escape the humiliation, to find release in the very act that shamed him.
The onlooker, his eyes fixed on Ethan’s every move, licked his lips, a hungry predator watching its prey. He knew the power he held, the control he exerted over Ethan’s body and mind.
As Ethan’s climax approached, his breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes squeezed shut, and his body tensed. The crowd held its breath, anticipating the moment of truth.
“Come on, fatty! Let it go! Show us your shame! Show us your pleasure!”
Ethan’s body shook, and with a final, desperate thrust of his hand, he came. A spurt of cum shot out, a testament to his humiliation and desire. The crowd erupted into cheers, a mixture of mockery and admiration.
Ethan stood there, his body spent, his mind reeling. He had surrendered, given in to the humiliation. Yet, there was a part of him that felt alive, empowered by the very act that should have broken him.
The onlooker, with a satisfied grin, stepped forward, his hand reaching for Ethan’s tiny dick, now softening from its exertion. He gave it a gentle squeeze, a final act of dominance.
“There you go, fatty. You gave us a show to remember. And we’ll be sure to spread the word, so your little friend can have many more performances.”
Ethan, his eyes still closed, felt the onlooker’s hand retreat, leaving him alone with his thoughts, his body, and the lingering taste of humiliation and desire.
*****
Some days later, Ethan was at a football match watching his favorite team play. He was in a crowded area behind the stands when someone recognised him from all the online videos.
“Look, it’s that tiny dick fat guy,” a female voiced shouted.
All the people nearby turned and looked at him. Laughter broke out immediately. Poor Ethan shuddered, his face turning a deep shade of red. The crowd, sensing his vulnerability, laughed even louder, their voices echoing off the surrounding stands to create a cacophony of mockery. Some of the bolder onlookers stepped closer, their eyes fixed on Ethan. Their expressions are a mix of lust and cruelty. They wanted more, and their proximity intensified the heat of the moment.
“Take off your clothes, fatty,” a deep voice commanded, cutting through the chaos. “Show us your shame. Strip naked, and maybe we’ll give you some relief.”
Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, rapid bursts. Fear and desire battled within him, a constant tug-of-war. He wanted to run, to hide, but something deeper, a primal urge, pushed him towards submission.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Ethan’s hands moved to his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. The crowd’s laughter grew more raucous, their encouragement a strange mix of taunts and applause.
With each button undone, Ethan’s chest was revealed, his soft, pale skin a stark contrast to the harsh world around him. He could feel the crowd’s eyes feasting on his body, their gazes like hungry hands, touching and probing.
As he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his ample torso and man boobs, a collective gasp escaped the crowd. Ethan’s body, round and soft, with hairless skin, was a sight to behold, a departure from the typical muscular ideal. But in this moment, it was his, and he offered it up, a sacrifice to the gods of humiliation.
The crowd’s laughter turned to a low, appreciative murmur. The men and women in the crowd had expected a different kind of show. Still, Ethan’s unique brand of vulnerability was captivating in its own right.
Ethan’s hands, now free, moved to his pants, his fingers shaking as he unfastened the button and zipper. He paused, taking a deep breath, and then slowly, almost ceremoniously, pulled down his pants, revealing his tiny dick once more.
The crowd’s murmurs turned to whispers, a collective intake of breath. Ethan stood there, fully exposed, his body trembling, his eyes closed, and his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
“That’s it, fatty,” the onlooker purred, his voice a soothing contrast to the chaos. “You’re doing great. Now, let’s see the rest of you.”
Ethan’s hands, of their own accord, moved to his underwear, his fingers tracing the elastic, hesitating for a moment before pulling it down. His soft, round ass was revealed, a target for the crowd’s mockery and, perhaps, their desire.
As he stood there, naked and vulnerable, the crowd’s laughter returned, but it was different now. It was a laughter of appreciation, a recognition of the power dynamics at play. Ethan, in his shame, had become a symbol, a living embodiment of the complex dance between humiliation and desire.
The onlooker, his eyes gleaming with a strange mix of emotions, stepped closer. He reached out, his hand hovering over Ethan’s soft belly, and then, with a gentle touch, he traced a finger down Ethan’s side, towards his hip.
“You’re beautiful, fatty,” he whispered, his voice a soft caress. “Your body, your courage, it’s all a work of art. And we, the audience, are privileged to witness it.”
Ethan’s eyes flickered open, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. He stood there, naked and exposed, but somehow, in that moment, he felt a glimmer of something else. A sense of power, of control, amidst the chaos.
The crowd’s laughter continued, a constant backdrop to the scene, but it no longer held the same edge of cruelty. Instead, it was a symphony of appreciation, a collective breath held in anticipation of what was to come next.
The onlooker’s words hung in the air, a strange contrast to the raucous atmosphere. Ethan’s body, now fully exposed, seemed to glow with an inner light, a contrast to the darkness of his humiliation. He stood there, a brave warrior facing an uncertain battle, his eyes darting around, taking in the crowd’s reactions.
“Spread your legs, fatty,” the onlooker continued, his voice low and commanding. “Show us what you’ve got. We want to see it all.”
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. The command, though harsh, held a certain allure. He felt a surge of something—was it anger? Or perhaps a newfound determination. His legs, of their own accord, began to part, a slow, deliberate movement that revealed more of his soft, vulnerable flesh.
The crowd, sensing his hesitation, let out a collective cheer. Their voices, a mix of encouragement and mockery, pushed him further. “Go on, fatty! Show us your shame! Wider, wider!”
Ethan’s legs trembled, but he obeyed, his knees bending slightly as he spread them wider. The onlooker, now standing close behind him, reached around and placed a hand on Ethan’s hip, guiding him, almost like a dance partner.
“That’s it,” the onlooker whispered, his breath hot on Ethan’s ear. “Now, pleasure yourself. Show us how you like it.”
Ethan’s fingers, which had been idle for a moment, sprang into action. He grabbed his tiny dick, his touch gentle yet firm. The crowd’s laughter rose again, a mixture of amusement and awe. They had never seen such a display, and yet, it was captivating.
As Ethan stroked himself, his eyes closed, and a soft moan escaped his lips. The onlooker’s hand moved to Ethan’s chest, cupping a soft breast, squeezing gently. Ethan’s body reacted; his strokes became more frantic, and his breath came in short, gasping bursts.
The circle of onlookers tightened, their faces mere inches from Ethan’s. Their eyes, once cruel, now held a mix of emotions—lust, admiration, and a strange kind of respect. They were witnessing a transformation, a rebirth of sorts.
“Faster, fatty! Faster!” the crowd chanted, their voices a driving force.
Ethan’s fingers moved with a life of their own, his tiny dick growing harder with each stroke. The onlooker’s hand moved down, tracing Ethan’s belly, then lower, to his soft, exposed ass.
Ethan’s moans turned to whispered pleas, his body shaking with a mix of pleasure and shame. The onlooker’s touch, though gentle, held a power that Ethan couldn’t deny. He felt himself surrendering, his resistance melting away.
“You’re so beautiful, fatty,” the onlooker purred. “Your body, your courage. It’s a gift. A gift we all get to enjoy.”
Ethan, lost in a haze of sensation, nodded slightly. He felt a strange sense of pride, a feeling he had never known before. His fingers moved faster, his tiny dick pulsating in his grasp. The crowd’s laughter, now a distant hum, seemed to blend with his own pleasure, creating a symphony of sorts.
As Ethan neared his climax, the onlooker’s hand moved back to his hip, squeezing gently. “Cum for us, fatty. Let it all out. We’re here to witness your release.”
Ethan’s body tensed, his eyes squeezing shut. A shudder ran through him, and with a soft cry, he came. His tiny dick pulsed, shooting out a meager amount of jizz, a symbol of his surrender and release.
The crowd erupted into cheers, their laughter now a celebration. Ethan, still standing, felt a warmth spread through him. He opened his eyes, a smile playing on his lips, a smile of triumph and acceptance.
“That was so pathetic, fatty, the onlooker said with a laugh.
*****
A sudden flash of memory, triggered by the onlooker’s words, transports Ethan back to a night that changed his life forever. He remembers the excitement of attending his first concert, a Taylor Swift spectacle, a sea of people stretching as far as the eye could see. Ethan, nervous and hopeful, had felt a sense of anonymity in the crowd, a chance to blend in and simply enjoy the music.
But fate had other plans. As the opening act began, a sudden shove from behind startled him. Before he could react, his pants were around his ankles, exposing his tiny dick to the world. Hundreds of phones raised, capturing the moment, freezing his stunned, flushed face for eternity. The crowd, a beast with a thousand voices, roared to life. Their laughter, cruel and relentless, filled his ears.
“Look at that pathetic little dick!” one shouted.
“He’s so small, he should be ashamed!” another added.
Ethan, his cheeks burning, tried to pull up his pants, but it was too late. The damage was done, and he knew it. He realized, with a sickening twist in his gut, that this moment would live on forever. The videos, the memes, the cruel jokes. They would spread like wildfire, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His shame, his vulnerability, would be on display for the world to see, to mock, and to ridicule.
*****
As the memory fades, Ethan finds himself back in the present, his body still trembling, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The onlooker, sensing his turmoil, speaks again, his voice a soothing contrast to the chaos that surrounds him.
“Remember that night, fatty? The feeling of powerlessness, the humiliation. It’s all still there, isn’t it? But look at you now. You’re standing here, exposed, and yet, you’re still fighting. Still willing to show us your courage.”
Ethan’s breath hitches. He feels a strange mix of emotions—anger, shame, and a newfound sense of defiance. He remembers one teen woman’s words from that night: “You’ll never live this down. Your tiny dick will be a joke for the rest of your life.”
But here he is, still standing, still fighting, and somehow, it feels like a victory.
The onlooker’s hand, which had been guiding him, now moves to his face, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re stronger than you know, fatty. And we’re here to witness your strength. Your courage inspires us.”
Ethan’s eyes, which had been closed, flutter open. He meets the onlooker’s gaze, a look of determination in his own. He knows that this moment, too, will be captured, will be shared, but he no longer cares. He has faced his fears, and in this moment, he feels a sense of power and control.
“I won’t let them win,” he whispers, his voice steady. “I won’t hide anymore.”
The onlooker smiles, a look of pride and admiration on their face. “Then let’s continue, shall we? Let’s show them what you’re made of.”
Ethan nods, his body responding to the challenge. He spreads his legs wider, his tiny dick on display, and begins to stroke himself again. The crowd, sensing his newfound confidence, cheers even louder. Their laughter, once cruel, now holds a note of respect.
As Ethan brings himself to the brink of another climax, he feels a sense of liberation. He is no longer a victim, but a performer, a brave soul baring his soul to the world. And in that moment, he knows that he will survive, that he will thrive, despite the humiliation.
The onlooker’s hand moves to Ethan’s back, a gentle caress, a silent promise of support. “You’re amazing, fatty. Keep going. Show them your strength.”
Ethan, empowered by the words and the moment, lets out a cry, a mixture of pleasure and defiance. “My name’s not fatty. MY NAME IS ETHAN!” he shouts to the world.
Then he cums, his tiny dick pulsating, and the crowd cheers, their laughter now a celebration of his courage.
As the crowd disperses, leaving Ethan standing there, exposed and trembling, he feels a sense of peace. He knows that this battle is not over, that there will be more pantsings, more ridicule, but he also knows that he can survive it. He has faced his fears, and in doing so, he has discovered a strength he never knew he possessed.
The End.
*The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story was created specifically for this site using AI. While AI created most of the text, an actual human guided the process and edited the story and rewrote/added parts to make it as good as possible for your enjoyment.