The mall hummed with activity, people weaving through the stores and the distant hum of conversations echoing off the tiled floors. I headed toward the gadget store, my gray sweatpants hanging loose on my waist, nothing underneath to constrain me, the soft fabric brushing my skin as I moved. My minuscule dick, barely an inch long when soft and utterly smooth without a trace of hair, shifted gently with each step, hidden but vulnerable in the bustle.

I have to admit I liked dressing like this in public places because the sweatpants left no mistake that I was a member of the small dick club. The way the material clung to my groin kind of highlighted my smallness, and the fact that I was wearing sweatpants gave me plausible deniability if anyone ever accused me of being a bit of a deviant for doing that. Thankfully, no one ever did that, but I did get the odd look now and then. Most of the time, though, people just ignored me or took no notice.

However, on this fateful day, as I strolled through the mall, a group of rowdy teens lounged near the fountain, pushing each other and laughing. I barely registered the lanky one watching me until he lunged. He said something under his breath to his buddies first, then came up behind me and grabbed my waistband tight.

He pulled down sharply, and my sweatpants pooled at my ankles instantly. My tiny dick was exposed in all its glory, just a small acorn less than an inch, bald and exposed, the delicate skin catching the light. My compact balls dangled right below, fully on display in the cool air circulating through the mall. I froze in horror, my hands flying to cover up, but everyone around had already seen.

Shocked inhales filled the air. A middle-aged woman carrying shopping bags dropped them with a thud, her eyes widening at my bare crotch. “Oh my God,” she blurted, hand over her mouth, but unable to look away completely.

A couple of college-aged girls in a nearby seat burst into giggles, one pointing straight at my little penis. “Look at that… It’s like a baby one, totally hairless!” her friend squealed, snapping a quick photo on her phone as I bent down in panic.

My face burned with embarrassment as I tried to yank my pants up, but they caught on my sneakers, forcing me to stay hunched with my ass clenching in the open. My soft cock twitched from the humiliation, the tiny head peeking out amid the stares. The teens howled with laughter, high-fiving before scattering into the throng.

Before I could even straighten up, two burly security guards shoved through the growing crowd, their radios crackling with urgency. “Hey, you! Stop right there!” the taller one bellowed, his eyes locking onto my exposed groin.

I fumbled desperately, but my pants stayed tangled, leaving my inch-long dick and smooth balls jiggling freely as I hopped on one foot.

They grabbed my arms without hesitation, yanking me upright. “What the hell is this?” the shorter guard growled, his gaze dropping to my bare crotch, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Indecent exposure, buddy. You’re coming with us.”

I stammered protests, my cheeks flaming hotter than ever, but they didn’t wait. One on each side, they hauled me forward, my sweatpants dragging behind like shackles around my ankles.

Shoppers parted like the Red Sea, their stares burning into me. My tiny penis bobbed with every awkward step, the soft nub fully visible under the bright atrium lights, my hairless sack tightening from the chill and shame. A family with kids hurried by, the mom shielding her children’s eyes while whispering furiously to her husband, who couldn’t hide his chuckle.

“Cover that up!” she snapped, but the guards just tightened their grip.

Further along, a cluster of teens—different from the ones who started it—whipped out their phones, filming my humiliating march.

“Yo, check out the micro-dick parade!” one yelled, laughter rippling through the group as flashes went off.

My dick, so pathetically small and exposed, felt every draft, every vibration of the floor, drawing more gasps and snickers from passersby.

An elderly couple paused at a pretzel stand, the woman averting her eyes while her husband muttered, “Never seen one that tiny in my life except on little boys. Poor guy’s got nothing to show.”

The guards dragged me past the food court, where the scent of fries mixed with my mounting dread. Diners twisted in their seats, forks hovering mid-air as they gawked at my dangling genitals. A group of office workers on break pointed openly, one woman covering her laugh with her hand.

“It’s like a little button down there… No wonder he’s commando. He doesn’t need underpants with a package that small,” she said loud enough for me to hear, my stomach twisting in knots.

We reached the security office near the escalators, but not before parading me through the mall’s busiest stretch. My legs burned from the restricted shuffle, my bald dick and balls on full parade for what felt like hundreds of eyes.

Whispers trailed me like smoke: “Did you see that? Barely anything there.”

“Totally smooth, like a kid’s dick and about the same size too.”

Humiliation surged through me, my soft member shrinking even smaller under the scrutiny, until the guards finally shoved me inside, the door slamming shut behind us—but the damage was done, my exposure etched into every shopper’s memory.

I was finally allowed to pull my sweatpants up, but the damage was done. I told them, “I didn’t do that on purpose, you know. Some kid pantsed me.”

“Sure, sure,” the shorter security guard said. “Save it for the cops.”

I had to sit alone in a room for an hour before a female cop came in. She smirked at me. “Bob [my surname]?” she asked.

“Yes, officer. I want you to—” I began, but she cut me off.

“We have reviewed the CCTV footage, and it corroborates your story about being pantsed. So, we won’t be pressing any charges of public indecency against you because you were the victim of a prank.”

“Thank god for that,” I said with a sigh.

“But if I can give you some advise, Mr. [my surname]. Try not to go out in public dressed in loose sweatpants again. Wear something that has a belt or suspenders, and for god’s sake, wear underpants. Then you won’t attract this kind of prank.”

“I understand, Officer. I will do that. I never want to go through anything like that ever again. But what about whoever did this to me? Surely they’re guilty of assault or something.”

She frowned. “If you want to press charges, then that’s up to you. But be warned, if you do, then the footage of you with your pants down and your little… err, genitals will be played again and again through the legal process. Do you want that?”

I blushed. “No, ma’am. I do not. I’ll let it drop. I’ve been embarrassed enough for one day.”

She nodded. “Good idea,” she said and left.

Suffice it to say, I never went back to that mall ever again.

 

The End.

 

 

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