The Newest Hoffman Girl

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.

Shit.

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.

“Hi John”

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.

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Really goes from 0 to 60 pretty quick. Must be something in the milk. I’m intrigued enough, so I’ll keep reading. It reminds me of a doujin I read once, “My niece, diapers, and I became the little sister” or something translated to that effect.

I thought 3 seemed a bit old to be breastfeeding, but I guess it’s at the tail end of the range. Plus this family doesn’t seem to mind keeping infantile things around longer than might be considered normal. Interested to learn the older sister’s story.

In a panic, I clamped down.

It was just a spurt. But in my pants. I glanced back down to try to survey the damage. Nothing was visible from the outside. I was then, again, reminded as to whose pants I was wearing.

“Your clothes. I’m… um…”

“Oh, it’s OK. Mommy explained when she came into my room to get them this morning. Something about a shampoo accident. Then a wetting accident.”

I blushed. We could hear Mrs. Hoffman and Sophie start to come down the stairs. Diana winked, leaned in towards me and, in a low voice said, “I really like those panties you know. Did you notice how soft they are?”

Soft. Sodden. --Wait was she coming on to me? I needed to get out of there to further survey the damage, or at least recover some composure.

“Sophie, go wait out in the car.” Mrs. Hoffman, now clothed, handed her daughter a backpack as she made her way out the door. A second backpack. “And don’t forget to take the extras for Nurse Roberts.”

Mrs. Hoffman then returned to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway. “Are you wet?”

Could she tell? How could she tell. I’m closer to the sweatpants and I can’t tell. “Um… wet?”

“She’s not talking to you. No mommy I was dry last night. Can you let me out of this diaper please?” Diana and Mrs. Hoffman left the room leaving me to my breakfast. Somewhat stunned by the events of the morning, I ate as if on autopilot, though given my accidents, I didn’t finish the glass of milk.

I pressed my hand into the sweatpants. They felt dry, but I could feel the damp bit of cloth on my penis. I kept pawing at it in my disbelief. If someone had been watching they probably would have thought I was playing with myself. I was shaken from my reverie by voices.

“Now Diana, do you need to go potty before I take your sister to school? You know the rules around pull-ups.”

“No mommy. I can wait until you get back. I haven’t had a single daytime accident all semester. I know these are the rules, but I really don’t need it.”

“Well you can prove that to me by staying dry.”

This was bizarre, but I also kind of needed to use the bathroom and realized I didn’t know where it was. “Um, Mrs. Hoffman, I actually need to use the bathroom. Where is it?”

“It’s down the hall and to the right. Oh, and in this house, we call it the potty.” And with that, I went to the potty to survey my wet panties.


It was only a quarter sized patch. I don’t know why it felt like so much at the time. I guess any amount of peeing can feel like a lot when you don’t know you’re doing it. When I got out of the potty, Diana had finished her breakfast, cleared the table, and was sitting on the couch. She hadn’t changed out of the oversized shirt she was using as a nightgown.

“This must all seem very strange to you - or I guess not if you have accidents too.”

Not wanting to offend her, I didn’t point out that I’m not a bedwetter. “Your mother does seem very focused on everyone’s underpants…”

“I suppose it’s mostly my fault. She started imposing strict rules around our panties when I started to cover up my accidents in middle school. See, I bought my own pull-ups, so there would be extras around, and I could replace the wet ones. When she finally figured it out, she spanked me raw and decided to take charge for all of us.”

“That must have made it hard to have sleepovers… or boyfriends. I mean being a bedwetter must make it hard to meet guys.”

"Well, I was lucky. My closest girlfriends all had occasional accidents too, so they understood. The real thing is that I got dry in the daytime by my junior year of high school, and dry at night a month before college. I haven’t had an accident since.

“So why the diapers now?”

“Once a bedwetter, always a bedwetter, I guess. Actually, it’s more like she’s worried that sleeping in my own bed will remind me of when I used to wet, so she puts me through a probationary period.”

“Probationary period?”

“The rule around anyone who used to have accidents at bedtime is that you have to wear diapers to bed for the first three days, and if dry, pull-ups for three more before earning back your panties.”

“That seems harsh.”

“Remember when I told you about my girlfriends? We call that one the Dana rule. She had been dry for two months before that sleepover and insisted on wearing panties. It didn’t go well. In any case, my old daytime accidents triggered another rule too.”

“There seem to be a lot of rules.”

“Yeah, for this one, mommy makes me wear pull-ups, with all of the rules that go with them, for the first day I’m home.” She pulled up her nightgown, displaying a pair of girls goodnites. She started to slowly graze her had up and down the pull-up. Slowly.

Sensually?

“By tomorrow morning I’ll be back in panties like yours, and the day after mommy will let me wear normal panties again.”

Realizing she caught me staring, I shifted my gaze back to her eyes. Oh, those eyes. How had I missed them back when we were neighbors. “Pull-ups have rules?”

She continued to lightly stroke the outside of her goodnight. “Yeah, when mommy puts you back into pull-ups, you have to let her know when you’re going potty so she can make sure you didn’t have an accident. That’s why she asked me if I needed to go, even though I wasn’t going anywhere.”

I was locked on to her eyes. I felt a familiar kind of warmth down below. Was I getting turned on? The quarter-sized patch in my panties had started to cool - something which became very apparent as I felt myself start to grow.

“Did you notice how soft my panties feel? I really enjoy how they feel sometimes.”

It seemed like an eternity had passed without either of us saying anything when her posture suddenly shifted. “Enough of that. Mommy will be gone for a while. Wanna smoke a joint under the deck?”

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Diapers and leaks are coming quite fast (maybe the milk as stated up ?) but it’s nicely written, I definitely want to see the rest.

I’m pretty hooked. Please more

I think it’s interesting there are rules for Diana regarding the diapers and pullups, but they don’t really explain the sippy cups and “mommy” at college age. I do suspect her mommy will be back sooner than expected.

need more please

It’s been seven years since this was updated. Fairly sure it won’t be any time soon.

Just curious, is there something that shows this is an older story? From what I can see on the mobile site, it shows it was first created on 11 April of this year.

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you’re slipping old man

That’s what it says on Desktop, as well

Apparently I am. I misread date stamp on last update. Never mind, carry on.

I still don’t get it. The chapters are from last week and it says it’s been 8 years from the last post. The comment of baby664 is 3 hours old and it says:“It’s been a while since we’ve seen baby664 — their last post was 6 months ago.”

last post

I am guessing the 8 years refers to either the author not having posted on the forum in the last eight years, or a misreading of Apr 13 as Apr '13, meaning 2013 or eight years ago.

Either way, it appears it was only a misunderstanding. This story is only 8 days without an update, not 8 years. :slight_smile:

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FYI, if you click the timestamp it will show the full time stamp (t’s also how you get the link without using the share sheet on mobile)

Also, for the record, if a thread had really gone that long without an update, Discourse would have been really anal about alerting us that someone was bumping an old thread by flagging it as potential spam. It also would have put a X Years Later notice between the previous post and the one that bumped the thread. :slight_smile:

EDIT: Here’s what it looks like on a post more than a year old:

image

EDIT2: Hard refresh. The actual posts will show the Date with years now if they are more than 7 days old. :smiley:

Took me literally 10 minutes of editing in the admin panel to solve the problem :stuck_out_tongue:

I had to refresh my browser cache for that change to work. Mentioning in case anybody else doesn’t get it automagically.

You mean like I literally said to do?

Yes, I suspect that is what Baby Anna meant. Perhaps their reply came before they saw your edit.

Thank you all for the updates and clarifying of the situation. Now to wait patiently for a new chapter to the story. :slight_smile:

No. I misinterpreted the ‘hard refresh’ as a comment on the thought process that led to the change, rather than an instruction.

Still, between the pair of us everybody else should be fine :slight_smile:

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