Mad Dash

It had been a hot, sweaty morning run in physical education class. It was the first period of the day, it was the week of final exams, and it was sweltering even at 8:00 in the morning. The boys' class was now showering the sweat from their bodies. Allen closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of warm water cascading down onto his body. He'd been up late studying for his anatomy and physiology final, and he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. Despite the strenuous run, which usually left him feeling energized, he found that he was still sleepy, and between the warm water and the steam, he felt like he could easily drift back off to sleep.

No, he thought, shaking his head; that won't do. The dreaded anatomy and physiology final was next, and he needed to do well on it if he wanted to pass the class. He'd been riding a C+ all semester. Science had never been his strong suit, and back at the beginning of the term, this class had seemed like it might be an easy alternative to classes like chemistry, though that wound up not being be the case. The human body, it turns out, is insanely complex; a constellation of systems within systems on top of systems; all highly interdependent, and with Latin names that were maddeningly similar to each other.


The bell rang, signaling the end of first period. Allen opened his eyes and saw that he was the only person left in the shower. He quickly rinsed off the soap and stepped out into the cold air of the locker room. He'd have to dry off and get dressed fast if he wanted to make it to class on time. Building 14 was all the way on the other side of the campus. It was always a race to get there before the second bell rang, and now here it was final exam day and he'd let himself drift off in the shower, and now he had less than five minutes to get to class. 

The last of his classmates was walking out of the locker room, and the door banged shut behind him as Allen came around the corner from the showers and stopped at the bench where, a few minutes prior, he'd set his towel, gym clothes, and the jeans, shirt, shoes, socks, and underwear that comprised his everyday clothes. He hadn't bothered to bring a backpack today because he'd already turned in his textbooks for the year.

Now he stood naked, staring down at the bench, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. With the exception of his white briefs, everything he'd left on the bench was gone. He looked around wildly, but the room was not only deserted, but strangely spotless; no wet towels on the floor, no laundry bags full of gym clothes, not even so much as a sock. 

What the hell? With no towel to dry off with, he picked up the only piece of cloth in the entire locker room - his Calvin Klein underpants - and stepped into them, all the while looking around for some sign of his clothes. This was crazy. Had someone pranked him? There seemed to have been a higher-than-normal amount of Senior pranks this year. But who would do such a thing to him?

Then he recalled that one of the other students in his gym class was Dave East. There had been a big party that weekend, they'd all been drinking, and Allen had found himself sitting on a couch next to an intoxicated Sheila Hastings, Dave's on-again / off-again girlfriend. Sheila had started to get flirty, asking whether he'd like some gum, and then had proceeded to do a mouth-to-mouth gum transfer just as Dave had walked into the room. It hadn't been clear whether Dave and Sheila were currently a couple -- based on her behavior, he'd assumed not, but Dave had gotten in his face about it and a couple guys had intervened and broken it up. The memory was just hazy enough that he'd simply avoided Dave this morning. This must be retaliation for that, he supposed. If that was the case, he could as good as kiss his cel phone goodbye.

Thinking he'd just explain the situation to the gym teacher, he walked past the lockers and around the corner to the little office, but the door was closed and locked, and a sign apologized that Mr. Galvan, the gym teacher, would return from his dental appointment at 11:00. 

Now he was beginning to panic. He tried to think. He'd have to just wait it out, he decided, but then he remembered the anatomy and physiology final he'd been up half the night studying for. Ms. Standish, a waspish teacher who had a penchant for marking students tardy and what seemed to him to be a faint disdain for students in general, and for him specifically, had stated that there would be no retakes and the final exam would count as 40 percent of the grade for the entire semester.

He looked up at the clock on the wall - he'd gone through about three stages of panic in less than sixty seconds. He had four minutes to get to class, and it usually took nearly that long. It dawned on him suddenly that he might have to run to his next class in his tighty-whities. 



What was he thinking? Of course he couldn't go out there in public like this! People don't do things like that. He stood in front of the full-length mirror on the wall and looked at his reflection. He didn't have a bad body, but like a lot of teenage guys, he was self-conscious about his thin, youthful, not-terribly muscular physique. He wasn't necessarily shy about walking around shirtless at a public swimming pool. But the briefs... they were the real problem. There's just something about white briefs that screams, "I'm in my underpants," he thought grimly. The awkwardly revealing yet somehow still baggy cut, the clinically practical Y-front, the snappy elastic waistband, the material just thin enough to delineate the outline of your crotch... all those elements conspired to produce a garment that could be as embarrassing and funny as it could sexy or revealing. White briefs somehow managed to make you look more naked than you might look if you were actually naked. He sincerely wished that he'd chosen something a little less obviously underwear-like to wear under his clothes on this particular day. Like maybe a pair of boxer briefs. And in any color other than white.

Well, he thought, I'm just going to have to suck it up. There's nothing to do but just get out there and get to class. He opened the locker room door that led to the gymnasium and saw that the girls' second period class was already coming out of their locker room and running laps. In that split second he recognized at last three girls he knew, including Jen Meyers, on whom he'd had a crush since... well, since forever, basically. His heart raced and he stepped back into the safety of the locker room and let the door fall shut.

He felt himself beginning to blush and he realized that he had a terrible decision to make. For a moment he had the mad impulse to strip off the stupid underpants and just run to class naked. Somehow the idea of a nude run almost seemed preferable to walking out in a pair of white briefs. Streaking was cool, after all, right?

Ah, but he still had to get into building 14 and take the test, and he couldn't very well do that stark naked. There was at least a chance that he might be able to convince Ms. Standish to let him take the final exam wearing only underpants. There was no chance anyone would allow him to do anything completely naked. Though, glancing down now at his still-wet body, he noted with alarm that the thin white cotton fabric was soaked through and rather alarmingly transparent. A guy's bulge is usually visible in briefs, but in damp briefs, well... A man wearing damp briefs has no secrets.

And then, infuriatingly, he felt the beginnings of a nervous erection stirring down there. Really? Now? Inappropriate and ill-timed erections are a part of every teenage guy's life, but the timing of this one seemed especially unfortunate. Allen had often had dreams in which he'd found himself in situations like this, and, to be honest, he'd had a few sexual fantasies pretty much just like this, especially when he'd been a bit younger. The thrill of exposure, the embarrassment and humiliation, especially in front of women, had had a definite erotic tinge to it. But the reality of it, now that he was experiencing it, was a lot less sexy. Now he just wanted to get to class. He forced his mind to think of non-sexy things... mowing the lawn... fishing... his grandmother's funeral. There. That did it. Erection gone. For now, at least.

He was running out of time standing here, afraid to go out into the gymnasium in his briefs front of the girls. Well, he thought, what's more important? A few girls seeing in my underwear? Or failing a class and possibly having to take it all over again next year? When he put it this way, the answer was obvious. No amount of embarrassment could possibly be worse than having to endure another year of Ms. Standish and her icy glare, her uncompromising grading policy, and her seemingly humorless approach to teaching.

No, he thought, sometimes a man's got to do what a man's got to do. And right now, this man has got to step out into the gymnasium and meet his public, wearing only his white underpants. Swallowing hard, he squared his shoulders, pushed open the door to the gymnasium, and strode out.

It was one of those moments he would never forget, he thought, as he stepped out into the bright lights of the gymnasium and let the locker room door bang shut behind him with a terrible finality. The girls generally looked when they heard the boys' locker room door open or close, so every female head in the room automatically turned toward the young man standing there in his white underpants. There was a moment of absolute stillness and he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he looked around and saw, with perfect clarity, the individual face of each of the twenty or so young women, fully dressed in their gym shorts and T-shirts and sneakers, staring at him in surprise and disbelief. Allen couldn't help himself.

He looked directly at his crush, Jen, and saw that she was staring at him with a look of wonder. She didn't seem to be looking at his eyes, either. 

"I am standing here in my underwear," he thought matter-of-factly, "in front of Jen Meyers." Her blue eyes looked up and met his gaze, and he had an instant hard-on. And still he couldn't look away. 

The interminable silence was suddenly broken by the ever-exuberant Stacey Larson, who crowed, "Damn! Nice undies, Allen!" 

The gymnasium echoed with female laughter as everyone began pointing at him, at his crotch; at his skimpy attire, at his sudden erection. He heard his name being spoken repeatedly by multiple girls; one whistled - appreciatively? derisively? impossible to tell - and one whipped out her cell phone and began taking what he could only hope were still photos and not a video.

"How does a person react in a moment like this?" the part of his brain that never stopped working wondered idly. He'd often enjoyed scenes in raunchy movies in which attractive young women lost their dresses in improbable ways, leaving them standing in their skimpy bras and panties. The approved Hollywood reaction seemed to be a terrified expression, an ineffectual attempt at covering up, and a dash for the nearest exit. But that wasn't his instinctive reaction, he realized. Being caught in your underwear isn't exactly terrifying; it's just embarrassing. He found that couldn't help himself; he broke out into a huge grin. Not a grin of happiness, more of an apologetic grin; of resignation; of "okay, you caught me" or "well, what can I do at this point?" 

He gamely waved at his admiring audience - what else does one do in such a situation, really? - and suddenly he was acutely aware that he might actually be enjoying this. Draping a hand as nonchalantly as possible in front of his increasingly bulging crotch, he hurried out of the gymnasium.

No sooner had he left the uproar of the gym, however, when he found himself in the fresh tumult of the halls he'd been roaming every day for the past four years; halls packed with students; halls that quickly picked up the chorus of catcalls, hoots, whistles, and laughter. People were loving this, he realized. "I am never going to live this down," he realized. "These people will still be talking about this moment fifty years from now at our class reunion."

Allen continued to smile sheepishly, trying to walk with as much dignity as possible, clad only in a pair of white underpants, still wet from his after-run shower, and desperately trying to make it seem like this was all part of the plan as he, with equal desperation, tried to conceal his erection and race across the building to the exit.

He stepped briskly outside, feeling the warm sun begin to dry his skin, But he immediately encountered a fresh refrain of appreciative onlookers as he strode as quickly as possible across the quad, past dozens of people he didn't know and dozens more that he did, all of them staring at him with a questioning look on their faces and an air of uncertainty.

"All ri-i-i-ight, Davis!" Exclaimed Ted Gaines, the class president, as he stood talking with his girlfriend Amy. Ted, who was probably annoyed that he hadn't thought to walk across campus in his underpants first, smiled and waved and gave a thumbs up. Encouraged only slightly, Allen quickened his pace. Reaching the heavy front door of building 14, he pulled it open and stepped inside, hurrying past dozens of students with that now familiar surprised / alarmed look on their faces, and racing up the steps to the second floor.

The anatomy and physiology classroom was at the absolute far end of the hall, and noting that the hall was nearly empty, he guessed that the bell was about to ring and broke into a sprint. He couldn't help noting that the benefits of his shower were now completely gone. He was hot and sweaty again, and he had only managed to lose his clothes. Well, at least the second run got rid of the unwanted erection. Breathing hard, he arrived at the door of the classroom just as the bell rang, threw the door open, and stepped inside.

Instantly he was the center of attention, as the completely full classroom looked up to see who was late, and of course there was that now-familiar look on everyone's face. Allen was grateful that he had run, both because he had arrived on time, and also because the exertion had rerouted the blood away from his crotch. He stood there breathing heavily in his white briefs, no longer caring what anyone thought, only hoping that he would still somehow be allowed to participate in the final exam.

Ms. Standish, in a beige sundress with her glasses down on the point of her nose, simply stood frozen, a stack of test papers in her hands, her gaze traveling up and down his nearly naked body. No one spoke for a full ten seconds, and then Mrs. Standish made what Allen thought might be her first joke ever. Certainly it was the first he had ever witnessed. Staring directly at the bulge in his semi-transparent white cotton underpants, she said mildly, "Mr. Davis, if you think this display of your own anatomy is somehow going to earn you extra credit points on this test, I'm afraid you're mistaken."

The class, curious about the absurd predicament of the nearly naked student standing in the doorway, and relieved to have the tension suddenly broken by the teacher's unexpected levity, erupted into laughter.

Still breathing too heavily to explain, Allen stood there panting. The woman continued to stare at his bulge. "I can only assume that you are the victim of some unfortunate prank," she said, looking around, "And I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you to wear. But if you could please find a seat, let's get going on the final exam."

He begin to explain. "I'm sorry. I lost my..."

Handing him a heavy copy of the text, Ms. Standish said, "Save it for later. You're going to need the full hour."



Allen turned, faced the class, half of whom were staring at him openly with looks varying between bewilderment, amusement, and delight, and the half of whom appeared to be trying very hard NOT to look. And there, in the front row, was Sheila Hastings, whom he'd made out with at the party. She was looking very intently at his bulge. Allen quickly moved to the open seat behind Sheila and sat down. Sheila turned and looked at him. "I like your outfit," she said. 



And instantly the erection was back. Crossing his legs as casually as possible under the desk, he did his best to focus on the test.