P.E.

You push open the double doors to the gym. Once inside, you can hear echoing voices from dozens of students talking at once. It's an average school gym with shiny wood floors, basketball court, a high ceiling, and bleachers along two of the walls. When you look around you see that the classes haven't started yet. The other students are just scattered around in groups talking to each other. You notice that there are a few teachers standing near a corner, also talking amongst themselves. There must still be a minuet or two before class begins. You move over to one of the less populated spots and just stand there awkwardly waiting.

Your eyes wander across the gym. If you use your old school as reference, there are probably three P.E. classes judging by the number of people. You feel pretty out of place being the only boy in this large space, but you're distracted from your surroundings when you remember what your mom said about talking to your P.E. teacher. You need to get your changing arrangements sorted out before the day after tomorrow if you want to avoid another trip to your mom's office. You still can't believe she was watching you through a reflection, and you can't say your feelings aren't hurt from the breach of trust, but you'll have to deal with it some other time. You raise your head and focus as you hear a woman in the center of the gym calling for everyone's attention.

"Hey! Everyone listen up! We're starting, so quiet down," she says, quickly bringing the gym to a near silence.

"Your teachers will start calling out names. If you hear one of us call your name, go over to her. Class begins when everyone has found their teacher."

You see the teachers, who were previously chatting, have moved to their own sides of the gym and are holding clipboards, presumable with their class roster on it. Soon, names are being called out at a steady pace. You watch as other students leave their friend groups and move to their classes, sometimes happily reuniting when their friends are in the same class, and other times disappointedly watching their friends go to a different teacher. It isn't long before you hear your last name called.

"Scott?"

You turn your head toward the voice, and begin walking toward the teacher who called you. However, you only take a couple steps before you stop in your tracks, surprised by what she says next.

"Alice Scott?"

Upon hearing your younger sister's name, you look around the gym to find her. You spot her walking away from a group of girls toward her teacher, obviously not realizing that you're also in the gym. Watching her walk across the gym in her uniform, you think about how she must have had no issue getting changed for class, much unlike yourself. However, as this thought crosses your mind you realize you aren't sure where she put on her gym uniform at your last school. You always assumed she used the girls locker room, but now you wonder if she had the same struggle as you did the entire time. You start to feel a little bad for her. Honestly, you never gave much thought to the subject, likely out of ignorance. As you step back to your spot, you make no attempt to get her attention. She instead finds out your presence several seconds later when your name is finally called.

"Alex Scott?"

You walk forward while looking toward Alice. She has a surprised expression on her face as she watches you walking towards your class. You raise your hand in a short wave and smile at her. She returns the wave before focusing back on her own class. You were hoping for a bit more of a reaction, but oh well.

Once everyone's name has been called, class begins. Everyone stands around your teacher in no particular order as she introduces herself.

"Hello girls," she says without seeming to realize that her greeting doesn't acknowledge you being male.

"My name is Ms. Ozanam, but I let my students call me Ms. Oz. I'll be your P.E. instructor for this year."

Looking at Ms. Oz, you can easily say you've never had a P.E. teacher as fit as her. She doesn't have big muscles, but her running shorts and tank top show her well toned and lightly tanned body off very nicely. You have little doubt she could lift plenty more than you could. She has long dark blonde hair, which is held back in a ponytail, and you see that she is holding a baseball cap underneath her clipboard. All of this is quite appealing to the eye, however, one thing in particular catches your attention.

There, right in front of you, you can see a quite obvious bulge in Ms. Oz's running shorts. It's not like she's hiding an erection, but her package still makes itself well known. You have to make every effort to not stare. It must not bother the other students since they aren't making any signs of acknowledging it. Maybe because they're also futa? As you take another quick glance, you can't help but wonder if Alice's member would also show through if she were wearing tight shorts. Would it be as obvious? Would hers be bigger or smaller? These thoughts and visuals, unfortunately, start to cause a "rising" issue for you.

You can feel yourself stiffening underneath your loose clothing. Normally, your pants would be tight enough to hide this with a little maneuvering, but your shorts afford you no such security. You feel your tip brushing and pushing against your underwear as it continues rising up with each pulse. You do a good job of hiding your increasing panic, but you can't think of any solution to your problem. If you weren't surround by people you could adjusted it to the side, but you can't exactly grab your privates in the middle of a class full of girls. You try thinking of something, anything else to take your mind away from your dirty thoughts and feeling of your rising little member.

"Alright, get into four lines of five, standing in front of me."

The words of Ms. Oz catch your attention as your classmates all begin to arrange themselves. Before you know it, you're second from the right in the front row. This is actually good, you think. Now you won't have to worry about anyone in front of you looking back, and the people to your sides will probably be more focused on watching the teacher for the warm up exercises. However, you still have one issue. Ms. Oz has a full frontal view of you. You glance down as if checking your shoelace, and see while it isn't super visible, there is a spot on your shorts that is poking out. You feel your heart beat speed up slightly, but continue trying to act as if nothing is amiss.

"Alright, we're going to start our stretches. Stand with your feet together, and bend down and touch your toes," Ms. Oz says.

You feel your worry ease a bit. This stretch will definitely hide your embarrassment, and hopefully last long enough to get yourself under control. You, along with the rest of the class, bend forward and do your best to bring your fingers to your toes. A couple seconds later, you hear Ms. Oz counting down from ten. You focus less on stretching, and more on calming yourself down.

"Now stand up straight and raise your arms above your head."

You slowly rise up, hoping that you're soft enough to not tent your shorts. The light sensation on your cock head tells you that you aren't quite there yet.

"Now take one arm behind your head and stretch it as far to the other side as you can."

You continue through some more stretches, fortunately becoming fully soft again through the process. You kind of doubt anyone noticed your erection.

"Alright, we started late today since we had to sort out the classes first, so we're just going to do a few quick and easy exercises before finishing the day. First, twenty push-ups."

Everyone gets in position, and Ms. Oz begins counting aloud.

"One... Two... Three..."

As you're pushing back up, you raise your head and look forward. When Ms. Oz begins going down again, your eyes fixate on the valley of her breast, visible through the top of her tank top. You think you missed a push-up just now, and once again, you feel yourself stiffening. This time, you're frustrated at yourself for being so easily turned on again. Why do you get aroused with such a small amount of stimulation? As you continue your push-ups, you just make sure to keep your legs together to avoid anyone else who looks up from catching an eyeful. You don't look away from Ms. Oz's cleavage though.

"Twenty. Alright, now twenty five sit-ups."

You're hesitant at first, but once you're in sit-up position with your legs together and bent in front of you, you see this is actually quite good for hiding your member. Ms. Oz starts counting, and on the first push up you feel your penis practically jump at the sight before you. She has her legs spread apart so she can see the class better, which obviously leaves her bulging crotch in plain view, but with her hands on the back of her head, her breast are also once again on display. Down and up, down and up, again and again you are met with the sight of this beautifully toned woman in a very inviting position. You feel like one of those creepers who watch women working out at the gym, but you couldn't be any harder than you are right now. You've completely forgotten about being frustrated and are just focused on Ms. Oz's body. It isn't until you hear the last exercise of the day that you realize what a bad spot you're in.

"Twenty five. Alright, last exercise, jumping jacks."

Aw crap. You wish you could just run away, but you can't. Soon, you find yourself standing with your hands at your sides. With a brief look down you see the tent in your shorts is now even more prominent than before. Have the girls to your sides noticed it? Has Ms. Oz?

"One..."

You jump up, raising your arms above your head and spreading your feet apart. Of course, the sight of Ms. Oz's breast bouncing up and down only fuels your arousal further.

"Two..."

You feel your little penis bouncing with your movements. You're so sensitive that you can't help but feel good from it.

"Five..."

Look at her tits go. What are they? B cups? No, C? Enough to completely engulf your pecker, that's for sure.

"Eight..."

Fuck. This isn't the time to be thinking about that. But damn, wouldn't it feel so good if they were bouncing like that on your dick?

"Fifteen..."

You can't help but indulge in the fantasy of your P.E. teacher's boobs wrapped around you.

"Seventeen..."

Why are you such a pervert? You're bouncing your dick around and getting off in the middle of class from mentally tit fucking your teacher.

"Nineteen..."

It's feeling too good. Fuck! No, no, no. You're such an idiot. You... you can't... can't...

"Twenty!"

Cum! Right there, in the middle of class, in front of your P.E. teacher, you cum. Your little dick twitches and spurts a tiny amount on the inside of your underwear. Even in your fantasy, your jizz doesn't manage to make it past Ms. Oz's tits.

Somehow you manage to stay standing straight, but are breathing heavier than you should be for that exercise. When you come down from your climax, you feel a cold, sinking feeling in your chest. What did you just do? With scared eyes you look to your sides and at Ms. Oz. The girls to your sides don't seem to notice anything wrong, but Ms. Oz is looking directly at you.

"Don't get much exercise do you?" she says to you.

Confused, you just nod in response. Don't get much exercise? What is she talking about? Doesn't she notice your...

You see that, at some point, the jumping must have caused your erection to flop off to the side, and thus the tent is practically non-existent now. You feel a wet spot near the tip of your shriveling penis, but the amount is nowhere near enough to make a visible stain on the outside. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief. You don't know if it was luck, divine intervention, or whatever, but somehow you haven't been completely humiliated. You'll have to go the rest of the class with sticky underwear, but you won't complain right now. Speaking of the rest of class, Ms. Oz said that was the last exercise, but there's still a fair amount of time left before the bell rings. You wonder what's left until she takes a stack of papers off her clipboard and hands it to one of the girls to pass around.

"Alright, last thing for today is being passed around now."

Until the end of class, Ms. Oz explains that the sheet everyone just got is for tracking nutrition. She won't be grading you on your eating habits, but she advises the class that eating well is even more important than exercise, then proceeds to go over some of the information on the back about how to eat a good diet. She dismisses class once the bell rings. You start walking straight for the gym door, ready to get home and just crash. You're pretty out of it after that whole ordeal, but as you're thinking about going home and getting changed, you realize you still need to talk to your teacher about your future dressing arrangements. You stop and pivot around to see her slowly walking toward what you assume is the locker room door. You call out to her to grab her attention.

"Ms. Oz," you say while walking toward her.

"Hm?"

"Uh, I need to ask you about something. I had some trouble getting changed today, because I don't know where I should be changing."

"Oh! I'm glad you asked. I was supposed to give you this."

She pulls a small key from under some papers on her clipboard.

"This is a key to the staff bathroom right across from the gym. You can change in there and hand your backpack to me before class actually starts. I'll throw it in one of the lockers for you."

"Thanks, that sounds good." you say, glad that a plan seemed to have already been made.

Now that you've taken care of that, you head for the gym door once again, finally done for the day.