His room was exactly how he had left it, a typical teenage boy's room. School books adorned his desk, his bed was unmade, and piles of dirty laundry filled the floor. The only difference he could spot was that in the laundry, no underwear could be found. His dresser, too, was devoid of underwear; where he had previously stored it was an empty drawer.
He sat down on his bed, enjoying the feeling of his mother's soft, silky panties and the restrictive tightness of her bra. Looking down for the first time since he left the laundry room, he found that below the bottom of his new t-shirt he was wearing a white pair of granny panties. He guessed that the bra matched, but didn't check. A smile crept on his face; every set of underwear he borrowed from his mom was just so comfortable that he didn't care what it looked like.
Wait, he thought, where did that come from? What's wrong with me?
Shaking off the disconcerting thought, he decided to enjoy the feeling until he figured things out. He would, too; things had a way of working out, didn't they?
Then something strange happened. He was sitting alone in his room, just about to peek under his shirt at which bra he had on, when a flavour appeared in his mouth. It took him a moment to decided what it was, but it seemed to be coffee, black, but sweetened with sugar, just like his mother liked it. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Six thirty in the evening, just when his mother liked to sit down with her last cup.
The flavour continued, then had another flavour join it. A cookie! A chocolate covered digestive, to be exact, his mother's favourite type! Ignoring the fact that he was not wearing pants, but instead only a t-shirt and his mother's extremely comfortable and practical underwear, he left his room and went hunting for his mother.
The party was still hopping downstairs, but he easily pushed his way through the crowd and into the kitchen, where he found his mother leaning against the counter, munching on a chocolate covered digestive and sipping her coffee. When she saw him enter, she smiled.
"Oh, Jim! Sounds like the party's going well! Are you having a good time?"
Jim stared at her dumbfounded. She didn't notice his state of dress, or at least she didn't mention it. Although, he thought, why should she? What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?
"Yeah," he answered, "It's really fun. How's the cookie?"
His mother laughed, "As if you didn't know. Now get out there and enjoy yourself, silly!"
She pushed him through the door and back into the din, leaving him feeling more confused than he had before he saw her.
