It's a close one

You walked over toward the 'home plate', wincing as you did. Your boobs were hurting from bouncing all over from the exertion during the game, something you knew your classmates had noticed. Partly because many of their eyes were glued to them and partly because of the comments you've overheard. Appreciative and mocking from the guys, mean and mocking from the girls.

Still, despite that, the game was close. You were a bit ahead at the moment, but with one classmate on second base, you could practically secure a win here if you kicked well. You reached the base and took position, ready to kick the ball with all your strength, diminished as it was now.

The pitcher on the other team, a jock named Randy Mills, pulled back and then rolled the ball. Taking a deep breath, you reared back and kicked it, booting it clear across the gym. Without a second thought, you started running. As you rounded first, you saw the ball hit your teammate, taking him out. It bounced for a few seconds before being picked up near third as you were reaching second.

You kept going, the guy who picked up the ball not preparing to throw the ball. All he had to do was tag you, after all. And if he missed, he could toss the ball to someone else. He dashed toward you, ball in his right hand. You feinted that direction, then moved to run on his left. It took him a second to realize what was happening and twisted to turn after you, reaching out with his free hand.

For a second, you thought you made it free of him. You could pause at third and let the next kicker bring things home. His fingers grazed your back as he dove and reached out for you.

Or so you thought. His fingers found purchase, just barely gripping your shorts and, as it turned out, boxers. Just barely, but enough that as he fell to the ground the clothing on your lower half went down with him. As they fell to your knees, mid run, you were tripped and fell. The attempt to catch yourself didn't really mitigate anything, instead ending with your face and hands on the ground, ass high in the air as you skidded for a moment. As the pain subsided, you felt the cool air of the gym on your now exposed ass and pussy.

Laughs and murmurs filled the room, and you turned your head to see how many classmates were eyeing your new equipment. The guy who tripped you mumbled an apology, but kept staring. You saw Randy fumbling with something in his pocket.

Mr. Pickert stepped over and blocked the view of most of the class. "Pull those up," he hissed. You did, eyes stinging with tears, and you weren't sure if it was from the pain or the embarrassment. Once you stand up, he looks at you, shaking his head. "I expect for next class you'll wear something that fits. Go get changed," he said. As you walked away, you could hear him starting to lecture the class. "Alright everyone, accidents happen. I expect I won't hear any rumors about-" his words cut off as you closed the door to the office. You quickly disrobed and started getting changed into your regular clothes, going through the process of rolling up the legs of your pants and tightening your belt as far as it could go.

You sat in there for a bit longer, waiting for the other students to get changed and, hopefully, leave. Once you heard the bell, you thought it was safe. Leaving the office, you waved to Mr. Pickert with a mumbled 'thank you' and left the gym. Few of your classmates were there, but James was one and he ran over to you as soon as he saw you.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you said, quietly.

He rubbed the back of his head, looking around. "You wanna go off campus for lunch? Maybe let things die down a little?"

It was tempting, but would it really help? You couldn't be sure.