Mrs. Hoffman sat down by her kitchen table and prepared to serve her youngest child breakfast. Cradling her toddler in one arm, she used the other to guide her daughter’s mouth to her exposed breast.
“I hope you don’t mind. I don’t usually put on a shirt until Becca’s done nursing.”
I hadn’t much noticed, and had instead been shifting my gaze from the eggs on my plate to the plastic cup filled with milk in front of me. You might wonder what kind of 20 year old man would ignore an exposed breast. I was distracted. Also, it’s not like I looked at Mrs. Hoffman that way. I grew up with her around - her oldest daughter was a year behind me in school (Diana - though we were never close). Having a few more daughters (Hannah - 12, Sophie - 7 and Becca - 3) made her much more of a mommy than a sex object.
Besides I was embarrassed. I was supposed to be a grown-up. I’d gone away to college. I was only staying with Mrs. Hoffman because my parents were out of the country on vacation themselves, and had closed down the house for the month. When they closed the dorms for spring break, I wasn’t sure where else I could stay, but I knew Mrs. Hoffman had a spare room.
Back in the kitchen, I took a sip from the glass of milk. It was more a nervous impulse as I don’t really tend to drink milk, but my hands wanted to have something to do while I replayed the previous evening.
Traffic had been terrible, and it was 1 AM before I made it in. Mrs. Hoffman showed me to the guest room. I apologized for the late hour, but Mrs. Hoffman assured me that it was fine as she’d just gotten Diana settled in for the night. I guess she was home from college too. Mrs. Hoffman updated me on the goings on in the neighborhood while I looked for my pajamas in my bag.
My shampoo exploded all over my clothes. Mrs. Hoffman seemed to notice the change in my posture and came over to look at the damage.
“Don’t worry, that should all come out in the wash. Let me take your bags, and I’ll clean your things in the morning. Why don’t you try to get yourself settled in bed and get some rest.”
As I walked towards the bed, I noticed a glass of milk on the nightstand. “Try to drink a bit. It’ll settle your nerves.” I had a few sips and thanked her - not wanting to be rude and refuse outright. Mrs. Hoffman took the glass and left the room. Taking off my pants, I slid into bed, almost immediately falling a sleep - though not before noticing that the sheets were printed with Disney princesses, and felt smooth and plastic-y.
Seven hours later, the door opened, bringing in Mrs. Hoffman and the smell of eggs. “John. Wake up sweetie.”
I slowly roused myself, though something felt off. “Oh, John, honey. You had an accident.” I bolted awake. She was right. I wet the bed. I’ve never wet the bed. I mean I did when I was a toddler, but not since. I looked up at her, not sure what to say. My eyes started to tear up, at which point Mrs. Hoffman stood up and walked out the door. She came back with a pile of clothes. “Why don’t you get yourself together, put these on, and come meet me downstairs for breakfast.”
My clothes hadn’t been cleaned yet, so upon further inspection, Mrs. Hoffman gave me Diana’s clothes. Pink sweatpants, a one direction t-shirt, and a pair of panties. Thick panties. I wasn’t sure if these underwear were for her periods or something, but they reminded me of cloth training pants. Not wanting to be even more disruptive after my accident, I put the clothes on and joined them downstairs.
So there I was, sitting in the kitchen, drinking from a plastic cup of milk, in something that felt like little girl panties. Mrs. Hoffman was nursing her toddler. Hannah’s bus had already taken her to school, and Sophie was most of the way through her milk and breakfast.
“Now John. I think we need to talk about last night.”
As much as I didn’t want to hear those words, I knew they were coming. The next several exchanges were worse.
“What happened last night, mommy?”
“Well Sophie, John wet the bed last night.”
“Just like me mommy?”
“Yes, Sophie. But you were wearing your diapers last night, and John wasn’t, so the bed and comforter got wet in the guest room. Now, I put the plastic sheets on the bed because I know that sometimes little boys have accidents, but John, you should have told me that you have accidents.”
"I… I mean, I don’t…
“It’s OK, but in this house we have to have the same rules for everyone to keep things fair. Sophie, what are the rules if you have an accident?”
Sophie seemed a bit embarrassed, but she couldn’t have been more embarrassed than I was. “Accidents mean you have to wear diapers for three nights, and if you can stay dry, then you can wear pull-ups for three nights before going back to big-girl panties. Or, um, big boy panties.”
Mrs. Hoffman shifted Becca from one breast to the other. “And…?”
“And you have your name added to the potty chart, and every day we have an update on who made it to the potty.”
“That’s right. Now John, I’ve added your name to the potty chart. If you can stay dry at night for two weeks, I’ll take it back off. Now you’re only going to be here for two and a half weeks, but the rules are the rules.”
I slowly looked up at Mrs. Hoffman, still feeling too ashamed to look her in the eye. “Does this mean I have to wear diapers tonight?”
“Yes, you do.” She replied. Becca finished feeding and Mrs. Hoffman got up from the chair to place her in the playpen.
“And mommy has to put them on you,” Sophie interjected.
“That’s right. I’ve raised 4 little girls with potty problems, and if I’ve learned anything it’s that they can’t be trusted to diaper themselves. Speaking of which - Becca, let’s get you changed and ready for school.”
It was then that Becca got up from her chair, her pajama pants sagging under the weight of a very obvious diaper. As she waddled out with her still topless mother, I noticed the sippy cup of milk in front of her place - and another full sippy cup in front of a full plate of eggs. Could that be for Diana? I had my answer soon enough as she came downstairs.
I didn’t know how to respond. I was wearing her clothes. Her panties. “Hi Diana.” I couldn’t make eye contact and kept my head down.
Diana sat down at the table and took a sip from her sippy cup. “Do you know where my mommy went? I need her to let me out of my diaper.” She said it so matter of factly, though as I’d been learning, none of this was unusual in the Hoffman household. I was shocked and finally looked up at her. We made eye contact, and I was struck by how much more beautiful she was than I’d remembered. Even while sucking on a sippy cup. It was then that I realized I was peeing my pants.