Pair off with Ashley

The class forms two lines, facing each other. Ashley stands opposite you, looking you up and down with a gleeful expression on her face, biting the corner of her lip as her eyes roam over your underclad body. You didn't intend to pair off with her, but somehow she worked her way into the position, and you don't want to cause a scene.

But you might not be able to help yourself. You hate to admit it, but the green-haired, snub-nosed Ashley, with her devilish grin and her long pale legs, looks very cute indeed in her gym uniform. You're pretty sure she knows it. And from the stirring in your briefs, you're very sure at least one part of you knows it as well.

This is already embarrassing enough. You can't let Ashley, of all people, see that you're having a... response to the situation. Who knows what she could do with that information? Casually, you let one hand fall in front of your crotch. As long as you can keep it there, you should be safe.

"Alright, class! Time for jumping jacks!"

Well. That's not good.

You can't meet Ashley's gaze as your hands fall to your side. You try to stare at a spot on the opposite wall of the gym, pretending you're anywhere else but here. It doesn't help. You're lined up in front of a whole row of beautiful girls, your classmates, who you've known for years, wearing nothing but your underwear. Yoou can hear them giggle and whisper to each other, and see their eyes flicker across your body as they check you out, some coyly glancing, some obviously leering. You have to go to school with these people. They're never, ever going to let you live it down.

And now you have to do jumping jacks.

It turns out it's pretty embarrassing to do jumping jacks in just your underwear, in front of a bunch of girls. You try to focus on the wall, but you can still feel their eyes crawling all over you. And crawling over one particular spot, between your legs, where a particular physical reaction is becoming extremely visible through the cloth of your briefs. There's a big red flag in your pants, and it's shouting something even more embarrassing to anyone who cares to look. A part of you is actually enjoying this.

You glance up at Ashley, praying she hasn't noticed. There's an evil look in her eyes. The coach blows the whistle, commanding you to stop jumping.

"Alright, class," she says. "Now we'll move onto push-ups. Unless anyone has any questions."

Ashley is staring straight at you. To be precise, she's staring straight at a particular region of your body. And she looks absolutely delighted by what she sees.

Has she noticed?

Surely she must have noticed. It's so obvious. She must have missed it.

Her hand is going up.

But she wouldn't tell anyone, right? Even Ashley wouldn't be mean enough to call attention to it.

It's all the way up. The coach is looking at her.

Nobody else has seen, right? It's just Ashley. Maybe she hasn't even seen it. Maybe she's going to ask about something completely different.

"Excuse me, Coach Preda?"

"Yes, Ashley?"

She could be asking about anything in the world. It doesn't have to be you. Please, please, please let it not be you.

"John has an erection," Ashley says, pointing directly at your penis. Every girl in the class turns to look. "I think he's been thinking dirty thoughts, Coach Preda. What are we going to do about it?"