Word Count: 2,753
Rating: M
Warnings: Masturbation, cross dressing
Summary: Upon finding an essentially useless object from his past, Once-ler attempts to give it a new purpose.

Once-ler was thankful for quiet nights like this. It was so rare that he got to have them. It was ironic, to be living in a forest in the middle of nowhere and still manage not to get any privacy. On more than one occasion he'd come home to find his cottage trashed by nosey forest critters looking for marshmallows, or to find that insufferable Lorax drooling on his pillow. At first he had tolerated it, he was invading their land, after all, and he did feel guilty about the whole tree chopping thing. He had at least hoped his lavatory would remain sacred. But Once-ler had finally drawn the line when he'd gone into his bathroom to take a shower, only to find his bath tub full of amorous humming fish.

But tonight… tonight was quiet. It seemed the critters and the Lorax had taken pity on him, especially after his last tantrum, for which the Once-ler was quite grateful. All he'd asked for was a night; a single, solitary night where he could just be alone. The animals and Lorax were like extended family; good in small doses, but made incredibly awkward when they stayed at your house for too long and you couldn't have any privacy.

Privacy, however, was exactly what he had in abundance this evening, and as such, the Once-ler had no trepidation about kicking open his bathroom door, steam rolling out from his recent warm shower, wearing nothing but a Thneed wrapped around his skinny hips. He took a deep breath of the cool air in his living room, warm water on his skin turning cold at the sudden contact. It was refreshing, if nothing else, to simply indulge in his god given right to walk around naked in his own abode.

Giving the room a once over, Once-ler was pleased to find that no one had broken in while he was in the shower. Content that the critters and the Lorax weren't actually going to crash his party of one, he whipped the Thneed off of his hips and started drying off the rest of his body, whistling as he padded across the floor to his dresser. Aside from being super absorbent, the new and improved Truffula Thneed had the added benefit of making anyone using it smell like butterfly milk after their shower. Once-ler gave the wool an affectionate sniff as he draped the Thneed over his shoulders, and began rummaging through his bottom drawer for a pair of pajamas that wasn't sporting yellow bunnies or covered in Bar-ba-loot fur.

And it was during that fruitless search that he found… them.

Once-ler's whistling stopped abruptly and the Thneed around his shoulders slipped to the ground in a sloppy mess as he stared down at the lone article of clothing jammed into the back of his dresser. He gawked at it with wide eyes, utterly perturbed by its presence in his dresser drawer. He didn't remember packing them… he didn't remember bringing them along on this journey… he didn't even remember why he had them in the first place. He hesitantly reached out, pinching corner of the material between his thumb and middle finger before dragging it out of the shadows.

A pair of panties.

The Once-ler stared at them in utter bewilderment, grasping the frilled waistband with both hands and holding the pair of undies up to the light. They weren't just any random pair of panties, though; they were hand knit, with a rather pretty pattern, as he inspected closer…

Realization hit him, like waking up a Lorax.

He had made these panties. In what he could only figure now had been a complete fit of madness, he had knit the lacey looking undergarment when he was still living at home. His brothers… Brett and Chett. They had been teasing him, that there was no way he'd ever make it with a girl; that he was just a little nancy boy with sissy hobbies. A fag, a queer, and an abundance of other nasty names just because he liked sewing more than baseball or wrestling or whatever the hell it was those dimwits did with their time. He'd wanted to prove them wrong… but knew that he probably couldn't actually make it with a girl. But all he needed was some form of proof, right? They were both considerably slow… coming home late one night with a pair of panties in his pocket would be enough to convince them. They didn't need to know where they'd actually come from.

The Once-ler chuckled as he remembered that his plan had actually worked like a charm. He remembered the all too familiar blank expressions on his brother's faces as he showed off the panties, bragging about all the things he hadn't actually done to some imaginary bombshell. But they left him alone for a while after that; how could they argue with that kind of evidence?

Once-ler sighed as he returned his attention back to the pajama drawer. It had been silly to keep them, he thought, placing them back where he found them, resuming his search for something to wear to bed. He wondered why he hadn't just thrown them away when he was done. They served no other purpose. No one was actually going to ever wear them. That's absurd! A total waste of cotton yarn, apparently…

But as he groped about the drawer, his eyes kept drifting to the dark corner, a teeny, tiny, obscene little idea tugging and sticking at his brain. He paused his search, looking over at the panties. There was no such thing as a waste of yarn… it would be a shame. He never knitted anything without some kind of purpose… and though he supposed it had served the superficial purpose of fooling his brothers…

"No," he said suddenly, his own voice startling him when it cracked. He could feel the burn in his cheeks, and he buried his face in his fingers, screwing his eyes shut. "Nooo, no, no, no." He stayed still a few moments, skin prickling with heat in the cold air of his room.

pussy, queer, nancy, sissy

He peeked out between his fingers, looking down at the innocent pair of underwear. There was no one around to call him that anymore… He could ignore the nagging voices in his head telling him it was so wrong. But he couldn't ignore the throb in his groin at the very idea.

In perhaps what was another fit of madness, just as when he made them in the first place, he reached into the shadows, snatching out the panties and quickly shutting the drawer, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He hadn't even done anything yet, and he was already excited. Abandoning the soggy Thneed on the floor, he walked over to his bed, holding the panties with both hands as he sat on the edge of the mattress, staring down at the innocent pair of underwear.

Apprehension crept up the Once-lers spine as he looked around his empty cottage, just to make sure it really was empty. He had never intended for his quiet night in to go like this… He pressed his knees together bashfully, wondering if those stupid animals were all curled up along the tent walls of his home, wanting to be close to him without actually invading his space… Even if they weren't, would they still be able to hear him? Though he was used to keeping quiet, living in a house full of family and all, he wasn't sure just how quiet he could be… especially if they were actively listening for him.

The Once-ler was torn from his paranoid thoughts when some movement caught his eye. He looked up quickly, ready to hide the object of his perversion, when he came face to face with… himself. From where he was sitting on the bed, he could see his reflection in the mirror he kept in his bathroom. And as he stared, he realized he looked ridiculous: freckled cheeks flushed a bright pink, damp hair sticking up in all directions, skinny knees locked together in an attempt at modesty and a pair of women's undergarments clutched in his hands against his chest. Though… they weren't technically women's undergarments… they hadn't been made with the intention for a woman to ever use them.

The Once-ler thought about closing the bathroom door, so he wouldn't have the double indignity of watching himself. But part of him, the part that was totally, inexplicably into this, wanted to see. He looked away, down at the floor, his knees, the panties… He swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on himself. He was alone. No one to watch him, judge him, call him names. He had his privacy, and he could do whatever he wanted. And he was going to.

Bending over from where he sat, the Once-ler held the panties open with his fingers, laced his feet through the holes and stood, dragging the soft cotton up his mile long legs. The sensation sent another jolt up his spine and a throb to his groin, and he could feel himself growing hard already. He paused with the panties around his thighs, muscles quivering as he spared a glance to the mirror in the bathroom. He bit his bottom lip, whining at what he saw; thumbs hooked in the waistband, semi erect cock twitching with each new pulse of arousal. Never taking his eyes off of his reflection, he held his breath, finally sliding the panties all the way up his thighs, slipping them over his bottom first, before gingerly pressing his hardening length down so he could pull the fabric up his hips. Wincing, he reached in to adjust himself into a more comfortable position while in the confines of the knit fabric, before finally releasing the waistband with a snap.

Once-ler's skin tingled with arousal and shame as he looked at himself in the mirror, the pink panties adding a strange softness to his rather flat features. He awkwardly turned around, looking over his shoulder at his reflection from behind. He discovered with a groan that the panties were indeed too small for him, as the crack of his ass peeked over the waist band… He slid a hand over his waist and down his back, dipping his finger against the cleft, before quickly snatching it away. He then attempted to pull the waistband up a bit, but it was no use. They weren't going anywhere.

Turning back around, Once-ler looked at his reflection from the front, hands pressed against his stomach. His growing hard on created quite an apparent bulge and he reached down to ghost his finger tips over the hot flesh as it strained against the fabric. Looking down, he saw that the protrusion of his hip bones held the waistband open about an inch and he gazed down the flat plane of his stomach to the soft black curls and base of his cock. He cupped his erection through the cotton, letting out a hiss as the delicate knots in the knitting rubbed almost painfully against the sensitive head. He could feel his balls tighten then relax, desperately working up to the inevitable release.

The sensation was becoming too much and Once-ler tore his gaze from the mirror. Quickly, he grabbed the chain of the lamp above his bed, clicking the light off. Pale moonlight filtered though the drawn curtains, and suddenly everything seemed quieter, safer. He crawled onto his hands and knees on top of his comforter, and let out a soft moan at the shift the movement cause. He buried his face into the cool pillow, but left his knees tucked under him, arching his back so his backside was up, the panties slipping slightly down his bottom with the new position. His testacles clenched painfully again, and he hugged his pillow against his chest, trying not to bite down on it. He'd never felt this kind of tension before in his life; every nerve felt like it was on fire, and every brush of the soft cotton sent a wave of raw pleasure through his body, building up in his gut. It was unbearable.

He slowly slid his legs out from under him, lying flat on his stomach a few moments before his hips bucked involuntarily. He found himself grinding pathetically into the mattress, his body desperate for the friction, for release. He wanted to hold off as long as he could, to justify this new found fetish just a little longer.

Choking on another moan, the Once-ler rolled onto his side, pillow under his head as he fondled himself outside of the fabric. His taut erection couldn't be contained by the too small panties any longer, and the tip of his cock was peeking out from under the waistband. Curling his fingers around the length on the outside of the fabric, he slid is thumb across the weeping slit, body twitching with need as he caressed the sensitive expanse of nerves.

Holding out wasn't worth it any more. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled his face into the pillow again as he began to slowly drag his hand up and down his length, still on the outside of the panties, fingers only coming into contact with heated flesh on the upstroke. Each tug on his member pulled the panties further down his bottom and up between his legs, fabric rubbing smoothly against his tightening sack. He rolled onto his back, unoccupied hand draping across his eyes to grip onto the pillow case, as if afraid he'd lose his mind if he didn't hold on to something.

"Come on," he panted, finally slipping his hands under the waistband to grip himself fully, panties sliding up his thighs as he bent his legs at the knees. He squeezed and stroked, pre smearing over his tummy, the slippery head of his cock glistening, tingleing when met with the cool air of his room. "Pleasepleaseplease…" gasped and begged; the need to come was overwhelming.

When the familiar compression of his muscles began to creep between his legs and down his gut, he tried to brace himself for impact, but nothing could prepare him for the orgasm that crashed over him. His hand gripped the pillow under his head and he held his breath as his abdominals clenched, forcing him to sit up slightly as his stomach and toes curled with the first pulse, his balls tightening as the first spurt of cum shot onto his stomach. He released the breath with a cry, only to hold on to the next as one the second wave wracked his body, another stream of cum slapping against his skin. Two more times, before finally he couldn't milk in any longer and he collapsed back onto the mattress, a panting, keening mess.

The Once-ler whined, dragging his clean hand through his hair, now damp with sweat instead of water as he attempted to catch his breath, chest and stomach heaving. The muscles in his legs were still trembling, and he wouldn't be surprised if he was sore in the morning. He groaned, arching his back a bit, before he sat up, leaning back on his hands as he gazed down at himself, the shiny white mess dripping on his chest, his softening cock laying limply across his thigh, and of course, the pink panties still tangled around his knees. He flopped back onto the mattress once again, lifting his legs to his chest as he pulled the panties off, legs sliding back down once they were free. He placed the panties on the bed, stared at the ceiling a few moments longer before finally sliding to the edge of the mattress and standing, wobbling a bit as he staggered to the bathroom to clean himself up.

After wiping down his stomach and chest (he'd even managed to hit his chin), he returned to the bedroom… He leaned against the bathroom door frame, looking down at that innocent pair of panties, that now finally served a purpose; one that happened to be the complete opposite of why they had been made in the first place, but that could easily be overlooked. It was worth it. Walking to the bed, he grabbed the panties up off of the sheets, rubbing his fingers over the soft fabric before returning them to the drawer where they had been found.

He could deal with being a nancy boy.