Harlan parked his car outside his childhood home, shutting off the engine, staring at the warmly lit house. The exterior hadn’t changed in a year since his time away at college, and both a sense of familiarity and pity filled his chest. Familiarity with a sight he’d grown up seeing for 18 years, and pity that accompanied his parents' inability to evolve or change. They remained stuck in the past, not bothering to change anything; they were too stuck in their ways. His father said they’d change the exterior siding when he was away, and by his next visit, it would be a different color, but like most ideas, it remained only an idea.
Harlan grabbed his bags from the trunk, pulling his sweater hood up to cover his ears. The temperature had dropped sharply since the sun went down, and Harlan failed to dress according to his situation. It didn’t matter as he searched towards the doors and rang the doorbell. The clinging and clanging of pans and pots being put away ceased before a hurried figure made its way to the door. Wiping their hands on themselves, they opened the door. His mother smiled, opening her arms for a hug, which Harlan reciprocated.
“It’s nice to see you, honey,” she said as they unembraced. “Your father is out getting some things for Thanksgiving. Take your stuff upstairs and get settled in. He should be back shortly.”
Halan walked up the stairs as his mother closed the door and returned to her task. The familiar creeks accompanied the photographs on the wall of their family. Even a few solo pictures of Harlan and his sister, who would be coming back tomorrow from college. He walked down the narrow hallway past the shared bathroom, his sister's room, and finally his room. Harlan opened the door, and a whiff of musty, stagnant air hit him. His room was just as he had left it a year ago. It was oddly calming walking in, seeing everything as it was, nothing moved or touched since he’d last touched it.
Harlan dropped his bags on the bed and went to change. He closed the door as he rifled through old drawers of clothing for something to sleep in. He found some old gym shorts and put on a tee. Before he left, he truly wanted to know if everything had been left alone. He walked over to his TV, which sat on a broken dresser. He opened the middle drawer and pushed some boxers to the side. Buried in the corner were a pair of PINK panties, balled up and shoved with other panties. They looked untouched.
Visions of his mother discovering his panty stash came to mind. She’d be looking for something, and where would someone guilty of a crime hide evidence? Their underwear drawers. She’d be going through it and see various panties in various styles in the corner. More than what a boy should have, especially a boy who hadn’t had a girlfriend yet, should. He imagined her shock when she would discover it, growing confused, then concerned over the drawer's contents. Luckily, they’d remained untouched until now.
Harlan grabbed a pair and took them out, letting the fabric unball itself into a purple fabric, and a bikini style. He remembered this pair; it was the first he’d ever try on. In high school, Harlan knew he wasn’t like other kids. He was obsessed with panties. It started young when he saw a panty slip on a YouTube video, and to this mind, this was golf. He’d never seen something so intimate, so forbidden as a child. He began seeking out other forms of media that had panties but not adult content. He eventually found a blog of feminized men, men who would be in varying scenarios where they’d be forced to cross-dress.
Harlan is a straight man; he has no desire to be with a man, but those stories brought him hours of fun and pleasure. Sometimes during school, he’d think of various situations like the captions he’d read. That helped with his panty obsession from desperately looking around for any classmate panty slips. Eventually, the reading didn’t bring the same satisfaction as it once did, so he decided to elevate it; touch some panties.
His sister had extracurriculars, so when Harlan was alone, he snuck into her room. He knew his sister wasn’t neat but knew if anything was out of line, she’d know. He opened drawer after drawer before finding her panty drawer. Dozens of panties lay in there from varying styles, colors, and manufacturers. Harlan’s heart throbbed in his chest as he carefully pushed pairs to the side, enjoying the feeling of the various fabrics running between his hands. The smooth, enchanting feeling of lace. The soft, cool feel of cotton. The cold, sleek feel of satin, he was in heaven. He went towards the bottom, figuring if he took anything off the top, he’d be discovered. From the pit of his sister’s panty drawer, he withdrew a deep purple cotton bikini. He was mesmerized by the look, the feel, and the rush of excitement to try it on. Harlan figured that since it was at the bottom, it must be a pair she didn’t wear often, so if he tried it on, then she wouldn’t know.
Harlan smiled, putting the pair back and going to his closet. Buried in the back was a container, and when it was opened, it contained various articles of women’s clothing. He’d secretly bought them from various vendors, and when he was home alone, he’d put them on. He’d spend hours trying on various outfits and admiring himself in the mirror. He’d imagine he was a girl, and how a girl would react to what he was wearing. It oddly gave him confidence, and he felt sexy wearing women’s clothing, even if a slight sense of disgust was lingering in the background, with worry that this would balloon into something more.
Harlan managed to find some bits of clothing his sister didn’t wear frequently that still fit him. He’d spend time on those weekdays alone trying on her clothes, and he liked the way it felt and looked. Crossdressing gave him confidence he’d carry forward, but it also gave him thrills beyond his wildest comprehension. The rush to go against societal views, mixed with the risk of being caught in an intimate and vulnerable position, made these cross-dressing adventures highly pleasurable. He felt guilty for loving this so much, even guiltier hiding this from his current girlfriend. He didn’t know how she’d react if she found out, but Harlan could only guess and not accept.
He took off his shorts and put the purple panties into his hand. Harlan’s heartbeat was rapid as he did what he knew would happen. He slipped the pair up his leg, getting the same rush from all those times before. The smooth cotton dragged up his leg and into place, the same crotch adjustment to make sure everything fit properly. He admired himself in the mirror again, the feeling of déjà vu. Harlan felt bliss looking at himself in the mirror, wearing the panties, as he slid up his shorts to cover them.
His phone vibrated, and a message notification from his girlfriend appeared.
“How’s it going?”
“Good, reliving old memories.” Harlan texted back, sitting on the bed. He knew his grandparents would be at dinner later this week, and they always gave $20 to him and his sister. The sudden nostalgia, and maybe a bit of blood loss to the head, made Harlan wonder if he could pick up some pairs for college? To wear when he is alone or sleeping at night. While waiting for his girlfriend to reply, Harlan jumped from website to website for Black Friday deals on panties. Could we go in and get them this week?
“Awe, that’s nice,” she wrote back. “Any cute stories?”
Harlan didn’t know how to reply. They’d only been dating for six months, and she was unable to go to Thanksgiving with him this year. She hadn’t met the family yet. He didn’t know how to reply, so he decided to test the water on his new, resurged obsession.
“That is funny,” she texted back. “Wish I could have been there to see it.”
“Maybe one day you’ll be able to,” Harlan thought. Being home made him excited, and part of him wanted to crossdress again secretly. It would be harder with the family around, but currently, it’s only him and his family around. Unless it was right now.
Harlan quietly opened the door and sneaked down the hall to his sister’s room. Her car wasn’t in the driveway yet, so she’s not home yet. Opening the door gave the same odor as his, with the stagnant and musty air. He knew his sister, over the years, had been very deliberate with her placement of stuff and would know if things were moved. But she might chalk up minor misplacements to their mother cleaning. Being in her room for years, he knew exactly where her discarded clothes were. In the corner of her closet.
Harlan opened the doors quietly, seeing various hanging dresses and tops. In the corner, in a depressing garbage bag, there were various tops, bottoms, and dresses. Harlan, feeling the rush of adrenaline, grabbed an orange dress from the bag and closed the closet door. He couldn’t wait anymore, trying to throw on the dress as quickly as possible, but becoming entangled in it. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted the straps, put them properly into place, and pushed them down.
Harlan admired himself in the mirror, striking various poses to see himself from different angles. He smiled at what he saw, reliving those glorious memories, one more time. He imagined someone seeing him wearing those purple panties with the orange dress and snickering about the absurdity of color choices. The fleeting thought of a boy seeing him wearing that, all with female anatomy, made him blush at how confused the boy may be. Or even how turned on he’d be at the sight of a feminized Harlan wearing purple panties and an orange dress.
The sudden sound of a cheerful voice downstairs and the hurried sounds of footsteps calling after him broke Harlan from his fantasy.
“Harlan, are you up there?” as the sound of heavy footsteps climbed up the stairs. What to do now?
