"Reverse autographs"

Steph reached the park, content about a day relaxing and soaking in the sun when she saw a man approach her from the corner of her eye, gesturing for her to mute her AirPods.

"Hey, are you Stephanie Morris?" he asked her.

"Uhh, yeah..." Steph glanced around her, clearly uncomfortable by the man's presence.

"Can I do a reverse autograph on you?"

"What's a 'reverse autograph'?" Stephanie asked.

"Basically I sign a piece of that sweet body of yours," the man brusquely explained as Stephanie gasped.

"Absolutely not!" Steph tried to explain.

"Really? I have the pen and everything," the man whipped out a sharpie, "I just need it for my insta real quick."

Before Steph could object, the man grabbed her right hand and placed his signature on it before she could pull it away in disgust. He tried to take a picture, but Steph covered the signature with her left hand while giving him a dirty look. The man reciprocated the disgust, turning around to shout to the rest of the park.

"Stephanie Morris is here! She's giving away free reverse autographs!"

Before Steph could explain her side of the story, a whole gang of people appeared out of nowhere like locusts, eager to write their sharpie signatures on her body.

At first, they were tame enough, keeping content to sign her hands, palms, and face. When that space started running out, they rolled up the sleeves of Steph's sweatshirt, getting her nervous about where this was going. She was hoping that there would soon be enough people who got their dirty ink on her, but the crowd just kept on coming.

Eventually, her forearms were full of ink, so someone reached behind her and pulled her sweatshirt up to just below her chest. This was when Steph really began to panic - she had gone commando for the summer, so the only four items of clothing on her body were her sweatshirt, her yoga pants, and her two moccasins. She prayed to God that the crowd would soon be satisfied.

Unfortunately for her, the crowd kept going and the decent parts of her torso were soon full as well. Fortunately for her, however, the crowd was full of good enough to people to go straight for her shoes rather than anything more salacious, quickly popping both of them off as they went for her feet. At this point, she was barefoot and thus in some sense no longer "fully clothed", but she was at the very least relieved that the crowd went there and not somewhere else. As the tops of her feet were covered, a person each grabbed her ankles while two other people grabbed her by the wrists, lifting her up while people went for her soles and in between her toes, providing much tickling for Steph. Her state of relief at being signed in "decent" places so far quickly evaporated as she saw her moccasins disappear into the crowd and heard "sick souvenir!" in the background.

Like all good things (well, good for Steph's place in polite society), this came to an end. Steph's feet quickly ran out, but the people who held her arms and legs were far from letting go. On the contrary, they seemed to tighten their grip as hands went behind her and pulled her sweatshirt up and all the way off. Even as the human handcuffs loosened their grips to let the sweatshirt pass, the human fetters still bolted her to the ground.

It was when Steph's sweatshirt was firmly off her and being passed around that the crowd noticed she was topless and went wild. Before she could even scream, Steph was pummeled by all of the moist scribbles on her breasts cumulatively stimulating her in ways she hadn't thought possible. She was really nervous about getting a possible wet spot in her yoga pants, whose days she just knew were numbered. Oddly enough, her upper backside received very little ink until the breasts (including the nipples - if nothing else the nipples!) were so full it almost seemed Steph had a bra on again. Soon enough, though, it too got its fair share as Steph marveled at the sheer number of people in her town who had come out here to humiliate her like this. What Steph was not expecting from all this was how tickled and stimulated she would be from the onslaught of markers on her upper arms and especially her armpits. Now she knew for sure that her pants had a wet spot in them, and hoped that no one would notice.

She would soon get her answer as the yoga pants were pulled down, the crowd went wild again as they saw she hadn't worn any panties either, and then the fetters yielded briefly while the handcuffs stayed firm as they were pulled down, off Steph's feet, and soon out of her sight as they were passed around like everything else and the crowd went for the last blank parts of Steph's skin. Her worst fears were confirmed when she overheard a conversation from the crowd.

"Dude, these pants are hella soaked!"

"Of course, you know it's Stephanie Morris!"

Steph just blushed profusely as the markers invaded her most private parts, including her glutes, labia, and butthole. She tried her absolute best to avoid an orgasm, but the only man in town who could find a clitoris happened to be in the crowd and scribbled many x's to mark her g-spot, until she came thrice in a row knowing full well of all the phones recording this monstrosity.

Eventually, her body was covered in the ink and signatures of others, much to Steph's relief (satisfaction? pride?) the crowd began to clap as they enthusiastically took more pictures and made poses with their handiwork. Still recovering from the humiliation, Steph was nervous as to what would happen next.