The Baby Bet - Epilogue (Audiobook Kickstarter is live!)

[PeculiarChangeling]

The Baby Bet - Audiobook Kickstarter is now live!

Aaah I'm extremely excited! 

 

We just launched our kickstarter to get The Baby Bet adapted into an audiobook. Our minimum funding goal is 700$, which is juuust enough to cover the cost of production, and only needs about fifty people to back us! 

 

Details and whatnot in the kickstarter link:

 

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/peculiarchangeling/the-baby-bet-coming-to-audio

 

Chapter One

Writing the Baby Bet is an ongoing creative experiment for me - when I posted the first version of this chapter, it was incomplete! Because I didn't know what to put there yet! I've now gone back, cleaned it up, introduced all five of the core cast members this time, and it's closer to a proper chapter length.

I might still give it another pass, but now at least the entry point to the story isn't unfinished!

Chapter One

Grace, as in elegance, surveyed the scene. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The kitchen was a wreck; the aftermath of four adults - she wasn’t counting herself - who couldn’t clean up after themselves if their lives depended on it.

She frowned. That wasn’t true. It was the result of three adults who could clean up after themselves (Badly!) and one adult who, she suspected, didn’t know how to wipe his own ass.

Sighing, she rolled up her sleeves, stepped up to the plate, and got to work.

Dishes were the first thing. She had to reorganize the washer to make sure everything would be efficient, but even then it was going to take two loads. Better to get started early.

Someone (It had to be him) had left the cast iron skillet soaking in the sink. She recovered it and dried it quickly, checking for rust.

“Morning, Grace.” Brains, as in smartass, strolled in, a backpack over his shoulder.

“Morning, Brains,” Grace replied. “Got much going on today?”

“Not much,” Hopping over the dustpan on the floor, he navigated to the coffee pot, pouring a quarter of it into his portable thermos. Digging in the cupboard, he produced a box of sugar crap that technically qualified as ‘Cereal’. Looking into the bottom of the box, he grinned. “Great. Almost empty.”

Grace shook her head and began bagging up trash, scooping it off the counters into the bin. When Brains finished pouring the cereal dust into a bowl, nabbing the plastic dinosaur that fell out when the bag was empty, she stuck out her hand and took the leftover refuse box.

Wrapping up the bag, she heard off-tune humming and glanced up. Melody, as in music, found her way in, mumbling a tune under her breath while texting. Catching Grace’s efforts to clean, she said, “I could have helped with that, you know.”

“I was awake, and it needed done,” Grace replied. (There’s still plenty to do, if you really wanted to help.) “I don’t mind.”

Melody walked around the dustpan and looked into the fridge. “Well, thanks then. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Want me to make something?”

Grace shrugged. If Melody ‘cooked’, it’d inevitably just make more mess for her to clean.

Melody took that as the indication to start cooking, raiding the fridge for breakfast fixings. It wasn’t anything fancy, just bacon and eggs, but she cooked them up while Grace cleaned. They managed to move around each other in the kitchen without getting in each other’s ways, and before long, three plates of food were set out on the now-clean table.

“Gotta go,” Brains said, setting his bowl in the sink. “Thanks for cleaning, Grace.”

(The dishwasher’s right there…) Grace smiled. “Sure thing.”

Snagging an apple from the basket of fruit on the kitchen table, Brains jumped once again to clear the dustpan, waltzing out the back door.

Grace moved his bowl from the sink to the washer, then a break to eat, pulling up a stool. She used ketchup, Melody doused her eggs in salsa.

“How are things going with Bill?” Grace asked, between bites.

“Oh, I ghosted him.” Melody talked right over a mouthful of food. “He wouldn’t shut up about his band.”

“So?”

Melody’s chewing slowed, and she raised her eyebrows. “When’s the last time you saw someone?”

Grace shook her head, sticking out her middle finger and raising it over her heart. “Wasters Club,” she reminded Melody.

Melody returned the salute, and that was that. The subject was dropped. “Anyways, he was great in the sack, but we’d be done and like five seconds later he’d be talking about how I’d inspired him to write a song, and like–Fuck, dude. We’ve known each other for three days and they’ve only been pleasant when your mouth is on my pussy.”

“Eventually you’ll run out of college guys to bang,” Grace pointed out.

Melody just shrugged. “That’s the nice thing about college boys. They make new ones every year.”

While they chatted, about boys and college and nothing in particular, their fourth arrived. Skip, as in playing hookie, was rubbing at their eyes and yawning when they wandered through the back door. “Morning, G.”

Grace glanced up from what she was doing. “Evening, Skip. You’re home late.”

Skip shrugged. “Just twelve hours. We’re in the busy season right now.”

“More than busy,” Melody said.

“Gonna sleep?” Grace added.

“In a bit.” Skip strolled through, drinking the rest of the slightly-cooled coffee straight from the pot. “Got some personal work to take care of, first.”

Grace shook her head. “Don’t kill yourself.”

“Can’t. Too busy,” Skip pointed out, wandering out of the kitchen.

“And on that note,” Melody added, pushing to her feet. “Duty calls.”

“Don’t be late,” Grace replied.

Pushing up from the table, Melody glanced at her plate, then at Grace.

Grace just nodded her head. “I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, G. Need anything from the store? I’m grabbing groceries on my way home.”

“Dish soap,” Grace suggested. “Thanks.”

Melody left Grace alone, back sweeping up the crud and dirt on the floor, with a whole new load of dishes to deal with.

She sighed, starting over on the cleaning.

A while later, she had everything clean, save for the still running dishwasher, and a few loose dishes patiently waiting their turn. Counters wiped down, stove washed, she was done for the morning. Someone would likely trash the place come lunchtime, but that was a problem for later.

She had work to do, so she went to go get her laptop. Walking out of the kitchen, she crossed through the dining room, went up the stairs, and retrieved her laptop. She could have worked in her bedroom, but while the house was relatively empty and quiet, she preferred to be on the couch in the living room, where she could listen and hear when the dishwashing machine was done.

On her way out of her room, she met the final member of the Waster’s club.

Pearce, as in a stabbing pain in the ass, scratched the ten-o-clock shadow on his chin, still in a night shirt and loose shorts. How he managed to keep his stocky build from highschool with all the junk food he ate, Grace couldn’t be sure, but she’d seen him in far too many slovenly states to ever find his ‘cool bro’ aesthetic attractive–she knew it wasn’t a styled faux unkempt look, it was just unkempt.

“Morning,” he said, walking past her.

Grace scowled. “It’s almost ten. Aren’t you up early?”

“Wow.” He rolled his eyes, wandering down the stairs.

(Okay, maybe I was rude there,) Grace admitted to herself. Out loud, she just said, “Try not to trash the kitchen, I just got it nice.”

He rolled his eyes, wandering down the stairs. Grace sighed and walked behind him, branching off to take a seat on the couch with her computer.

A minute later, Pearce called across the house, “Did you drink all the coffee?”

“I made the coffee,” Grace shouted back.

“It’s house coffee, we share!”

“Then share yourself another filter and make your own!”

Her phone buzzed, and she checked it. A message, from Skip. ‘Can you keep it down?’

(Whoops.) ‘Sorry.’ She opened her laptop and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the kitchen as Pearce did whatever the hell he was doing. She could hear the microwave beep, and then… (is that the blender? What’s he even–)

“No,” she told herself, quietly, focusing on her work. She got little done, but she did at least focus, for whatever that was worth.

Some half an hour later, Pearce finally wandered out of the kitchen, and, driven by morbid curiosity, Grace got up to go see the damage.

It was just as bad as it’d been before she started. The dishwasher was done, but Pearce hadn’t bothered to empty it, let alone refill it and run it again. Instead, he’d dirtied two pots, countless dishes, and the counter.

(Nope,) Grace thought, turning to storm upstairs after him. (Not letting it slide. Not again.)

Pounding on his door, she called, “Pearce!”

“What?” he shot back.

She opened the entrance to his room. “The kitchen’s a wreck. Are you going to do something about that?”

He stared blankly at her. “Yeah. Obviously. I’ve got some stuff to do now, but I’ll get to it.”

“Uh-huh. When?”

He shrugged, turning back to his desk PC. “Later.”

“Pearce–”

He wheeled on her, spinning in his slick office chair. “What, you’re going to chew me out about it? Get off my ass, Grace. I’ll clean it up later.”

“Yeah, and–”

“Would you two shut up?” Skip called from the next room over. “I’ve got three fans on and I can still hear you bickering!”

“He–” Grace started.

“She–” Pearce called, at the same time.

Skip cut them both off, throwing open the door to their own room, a space from which no light escaped. Only their form was visible, shaking with annoyance and sleep deprivation. “Deal. With. It.”

They stared. Grace opened her mouth.

“We’re Wasters,” Skip said, simply. “We don’t attack each other. Get your shit together.”

They slammed the door.

With the situation defused, Grace walked sheepishly away from Pearce’s room.

Maybe he really would clean up.

Maybe.

She got back to work, but the state of the kitchen stayed in the back of her mind. An hour went by, and she finally decided to take care of it herself so it’d actually get done. She didn’t want the house to remain a wreck just because Pearce was a lazy slob.

She took care of it.

Then she got back to work, finally able to relax and get things done.

 

Author's Notes:

So, I'm going to be doing something... new, with this story.

I'm not writing a series of chapters that make up a larger story this time. I'm writing a novel. That's different!

Namely, it's different in my writing process. Specifically, because when I'm writing a novel, I don't always finish everything in order. 

As such, this isn't going to be a totally finished story just yet. It's going to take editing. I'll be supplementing heavily with author notes, especially when I change continuity. Once the story is 'done', I will go back and edit heavily, possibly even redoing entire chapters or sequences. 

It should be noted, that this is *very much* a Work In Progress. Feedback can and will be incorporated. Unlike other stories where I can only retcon things chapter by chapter, here I will be able to fix problems retroactively for the final version. 

This is an experiment. I hope you all like it. 

 

For this chapter in particular: I initially posted something half finished! But that's no longer the case! It's finished now, albeit with a different ending than I initially imagined! 

 

I will try and avoid using these notes when I can, especially since I'll be posting these chapters publicly, but I can't promise that they won't come up again. 

As I said above, feedback is enormously appreciated!

 

Anyways, that's 'Chapter 1'!

If you like this, or any of my other writing, maybe consider subscribing to me over on Patreon! You get early access, as well as the ability to read my exclusive stories. https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

All support is greatly appreciated.

[Babypants]

It's not a good idea to introduce more than 2 characters in an opening chapter.  When you bring in more, the writing runs the risk of looking forced rather than organic, and that's the way this reads to me.  Also, now is the time to think about narrative POV.  One character?  Two?  More than two is an epic, not a novel in any meaningful sense.  Keep the bit about the Wasters; this is the stuff of which flashbacks and reveals are constructed.  From what I can see here, you are on a path that will rely heavily on this tactic.

[PeculiarChangeling]

5 hours ago, Babypants said:

It's not a good idea to introduce more than 2 characters in an opening chapter.  When you bring in more, the writing runs the risk of looking forced rather than organic, and that's the way this reads to me.  Also, now is the time to think about narrative POV.  One character?  Two?  More than two is an epic, not a novel in any meaningful sense.  Keep the bit about the Wasters; this is the stuff of which flashbacks and reveals are constructed.  From what I can see here, you are on a path that will rely heavily on this tactic.

The story is going to be an ensemble cast - five main characters, including one PoV character (Grace) and her love interest (who hasn't been introduced yet). 

Also, there won't be any flashbacks, at least not in my current outline! :)

[PeculiarChangeling]

We've got a proper chapter this time! No half-finished outlines with a 'Finish this later!' note on it! 

Other than the introduction here, this chapter doesn't have any author notes. It should work without any explanations provided for context, since it's pretty much complete and I don't need to retcon anything. 

At the end of the previous chapter, there will be a segue where Grace walks into the backyard to join her friends, who are having a bonfire in their back yard. 

Oh, and in the notes for the last chapter, I mentioned a character named 'Randy' who was going to show up later. He's been renamed to 'Pierce' but is otherwise unchanged. 

As always, feedback on this story is especially appreciated!

“... Bullshit!”

The fire was rolling by the time Grace walked out back, a six pack of cold beers in tow. Their back yard had precisely five chairs - one for each of them, and not a single extra.

Just the way things should be.

Pulling cans one at a time from the plastic rings, Grace started passing them out.

“You’re just in time,” Pierce said, leaning forward in his chair to grab one.

“You’ve been bemoaning that your beer was empty for ten minutes,” Brains pointed out.

“And if it’d been eleven minutes,” Pierce said, cracking open the can and taking a long pull before finishing his sentence. “Then I’d have had to go inside and get another one.”

Drinks distributed, Grace set aside the single extra beer and tossed the plastic rings into the fire. “So what’s bullshit?”

“Hmm?” Melody asked, looking up from the fire.

“You were shouting ‘Bullshit’ when I walked back here,” Grace explained. “What, did Skip claim they weren’t working enough hours?”

“Well,” Skip started to say, “I know there’s some slack that could be-”

The whole club piped up in harmony. “No.”

“But that’s not it,” Brains added. “Pierce was just saying he’d make a great dad.”

Grace raised her eyebrows. “Hah! No way.”

“Hey, come on,” Pierce said, putting up his hands defensively. “I’m not saying I want a little rug rat, but if I had to. You should see me with my nephews!”

“You don’t have to take care of your nephews,” Melody pointed out.

“I babysit,” Pierce countered.

In the middle of sipping her beer, Grace shook her head and raised a finger. “N…” Gulp. “No, no. You keep an eye on them for a couple hours when your sister’s busy. That barely counts.”

Sitting back, Pierce spread out his arms and relaxed as though he’d already won the argument. “Still! They love me.”

“Yeah, because you’re the fun uncle. You don’t have to cook meals, or plan around their day, or put them to bed, or any of that shit. You just show up for a couple hours of playtime.” Grace shook her head and put on a comically deep voice. “‘Oh, I’m Pierce, I’d be a great dad for three whole hours before I got bored!’ Fuck off with that. I’ve seen your room.”

Melody and Skip chuckled, but Pierce frowned and sat forward. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“When’s the last time you made your bed?” Grace asked.

“Why should I? I think it’s just as comfortable unmade,” Pierce said, already draining his can of beer, which got swiftly replaced.

“How would you know, Pierce?” Melody chimed in. “You haven’t slept in a made bed since your mommy stopped doing the chores for you.”

“My mo-” Pierce’s tone started to rise, but he shook his head and just flipped Melody off.

“Got it, sorry,” Melody said, apologetically.

“The point being.” Grace got everyone’s attention, steering the conversation back to her point. “You do the bare minimum to get things to a point where you’re okay with it. How’s that gonna work out when you have a whole entire other human to look after, who can’t give you a chore chart to micromanage what they need from you?”

“I’d be a good dad,” Pierce said, simply.

Grace found that her beer was mostly empty, and finished it off, raising her arm and squinting at the recycling bin fifteen feet away. “Come on…” Chucking it, the can hit the back wall of the bin, bouncing squarely inside. “Three points!”

“Probably two points, you’re barely at a free throw line,” Brains pointed out. “Still a good shot, though. Sitting down and everything.”

Grace reached for another beer, and found the extra can from the six pack already claimed. “Okay, y’all know the rules. You take the last beer, you get the next pack.”

“I’ll get it in a minute,” Pierce said. “Once this one’s empty.”

Rolling her eyes, Grace got to her feet, trudging back to the kitchen. She didn’t want to wait until Pierce finished his beer, walked inside, took a piss, made a sandwich, took a nap, watched the extended editions of Lord of the Rings-

Getting it herself was just faster.

By the time she got back out, the conversation had moved on. Skip was relaying an anecdote from work, or maybe telling a filthy joke. Given their line of work, it was kind of hard to tell one from the other sometimes, but either way there was a racoon involved.

The evening slipped on. Grace’s aim towards the recycling bin got a little better after two beers, and then started to drop off steeply after four.

“Hey, Melody,” Grace said under her breath, leaning over in her seat. “Who’re you texting?”

“This guy, Rich,” Melody replied, quietly, looking down at her phone. “He’s got a boat. I think. I guess he goes to some fancy university a little north of here.”

“Is he your type?”

“Is ‘rich’ a type?” Melody paused, then added, “Because he’s got money, not-”

Grace shook her head. “I got it.”

“And that!” Brains declared, almost-but-not-quite shouting as he stood upright on his chair. “Is how you make a beer can disappear!”

“You just wanted to drink my beer!” Skip complained, grabbing an empty can from the ground and chucking it at Brains. The shot went wide, hitting the tall privacy fence a few paces away.

“And that’s the last beer out here,” Pierce said. “Who’s got the next pack?”

“It was Skip’s beer,” Brains declared.

“Brains drank it,” Skip rebutted.

“I’ll get it,” Grace groaned, getting to her feet.

She paused to get the can that had bounced from the fence, depositing it in the recycling bin on her way inside, and grabbing a bag of chips on the way out.

Sitting down, she found a gap in the conversation and started telling a story she’d been wanting to relay all evening. “Okay, so, there’s this client I’m working for. Huge neat freak, anal-retentive-type-”

“You should talk,” Pierce snorted.

“You think everyone’s a neat freak.”

“I meant about the anal retention.”

“You’re right, I do have experience with guys who have their heads up their ass all the time,” Grace rolled her eyes. “So anyways, he sends me this email…”

It was a winding tale full of twists and turns, mostly involving increasingly pedantic and frustrating corrections to layout, which Grace had responded to with matching pedantry and specificity until the issue got dropped and the layout she preferred got used. Not something she’d brag too much about, except that she’d found out that day that the client was thrilled with the results, and was bragging about it, having completely forgotten that the design was her idea.

“Okay, okay,” Pierce said, as she finished up telling the story. “Here’s what I’m still hung up on, though. You think…” He paused, sipping his beer.

“Oh, hell, not this again,” Melody rolled her eyes.

“He brought this up while you were in the bathroom, too,” Brains added, giving context to Grace that she would otherwise have lacked.

“You think I’m irresponsible!” Pierce said. “Like I don’t pay my bills on time and get my chores done, same as everyone else.”

“Yeah, uh, if I remind you,” Grace said. “Otherwise it’s always done late.”

“Not late, just barely-on-time!” Pierce protested. “If you want it done sooner, make the deadline sooner! Otherwise, I’ll get it done when I want to.”

“We’re not arguing about chores tonight,” Melody said. “It’s Friday. This isn’t how we’re gonna spend our night.”

“No, I’m not arguing about chores, I’m saying that I’m responsible,” Pierce said. “I could totally watch a kid. I’d be great at it.”

“Bulllll-” Grace said, really dragging out the ‘L’. “Shit. You know how much work that is?”

“Yeah, I do!” Pierce stood up, dramatically counting off on his fingers. “You gotta change their diapers, feed ‘em, put ‘em to bed every night, bathe ‘em, dress ‘em, and make sure they don’t stick their fingers into electrical sockets. Boom. Easy.”

“I think you’re missing some stuff on that list,” Brains said. “And that’s only for kids of a very specific age.”

“Well I’d learn!”

“You wouldn’t even do that much,” Grace shot. “You’d be begging for someone else to take the little shit after the first diaper change.”

“I’ve been around crap,” Pierce said.

“And you’d really wait hand and foot like that on someone else?” Grace threw up her arms, sloshing a little beer out of the can she was holding. “No way.”

“I would!”

“No, you wouldn’t!”

“Screw you, I would!”

“Then prove it!”

“How?”

Grace blinked. She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

(When did I stand up?)

(When did things get so spinny?)

She shook her head. “Fuckin… Fuck you. We wouldn’t put a kid through that, it’d be torture.”

“You’re just backing down because you know I’d be great and you don’t want to admit it!”

(Asshole.)

“Fine! I’ll do it, just to shut you up!”

“Huh?”

It was Pierce’s turn to be taken aback. “What?”

“I would bet you one hundred dollars that you wouldn’t last one day if you had to do all that shit you listed for another person,” Grace said. “So do it to me. Make me a damn meal for once, instead of just coming in and swiping whatever someone else already cooked.”

“And what about the other shit? The diapers?” Pierce asked.

“You’ve seen my ass naked,” Grace said. (I’m drunk.) “I don’t care.” (I should stop talking.) “Fuck you.”

“No way,” Pierce said.

“Hah!”

“Not for a hundred bucks.” Shaking his head, his shaggy hair swished back and forth in the firelight, as though he were trying to get rid of a pesky mosquito, not coming up with an idea. “And not for a day. I will outlast the shit out of you. You’d get sick of shitting your pants years before I’d get sick of taking care of a kid.”

“If not for a hundred bucks, then what?”

“Chores,” Pierce snapped. “Loser does the winner’s house chores for a year.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“FIN-”

“Wasters!” Melody shouted, raising her fist over her heart in a middle finger salute. “You two, drop this shit right now. We are not fighting.”

“We’re not figh-” Grace started.

“Come ooon,” Skip groaned. “You think we’d buy that? Drop it, Grace. Drop it, Pierce. You’re both very responsible grown-ups.”

Grace started to come up with a retort, but her head was fuzzy.

(How many beers have I had?)

She looked over to the recycling bin, trying to count the cans on the ground. Some of them weren’t hers, though, but…

(Nine? Ten?)

Sitting down in her chair so that her head would stop spinning, Grace grabbed the last beer from the latest six pack.

“You took the last-” Brains started.

“Nope.” Grace cracked open the can. “Okay, dropping it. I’m sorry.”

The fire was silent for a moment, until Brains said, “You all want to play Mafia?”

The whole club piped up in harmony. “No.”

[aldl4811]

Looking forward to seeing how this bet turns out!

[PeculiarChangeling]

Whoops, this is late! My bad!

Other than that, no author postscript or explanations required!

 

Chapter 3

Grace woke up to find that someone had shoved nails into her skull, and was currently pounding on them with a vast collection of hammers.

No, wait. That’s just someone coming down the stairs.

She blinked her eyes once, regretted it, and shut them again. Light was torture. She’d fallen asleep in the living room, with the blinds open, sprawled across the couch.

“Fuck me…” she grumbled, rubbing at her temples and sitting up. Motion was bad, but she didn’t want to be laying down.

“Not until you’re feeling better,” Brains said, his voice coming from just a couple feet away. “Here.”

Grace raised a hand, reaching out and grasping at air until she got what he was offering.

A pair of sunglasses.

“You’re divine,” she said, putting them on and tentatively opening her eyes. The light still hurt, but it was no longer actively painful.

“If that were true, you’d call me ‘Forgiveness’,” Brains quipped. “To answer your next question, seventeen.”

“Huh?” Grace rubbed at the side of her head. “Is that a riddle, or…?”

“A riddle? Oh, uh. I thought you were going to ask ‘how many beers did I have’, or something similar,” Brains said. “Never mind. Point is, I’m making breakfast.”

There was another leap in logic there that Grace wasn’t following, but she nonetheless got to her feet and shuffled behind him towards the kitchen, where Melody was already clutching her head in her hands and trying not to puke.

“Mels,” Grace said, taking a seat.

“Beer…” Melody replied, shaking her head. “Bad.”

“Bad, bad beer…” Grace agreed.

“Drink up.” Brains set out two cups of coffee and two glasses of water.

The overpowering smell of fresh coffee was an assault on Grace’s senses, but she took a swig anyways. It was hot, almost hot enough to burn, and bitter, and strong. All that together, it was almost enough to make her pounding head feel a little better.

“Remind me never to go that overboard again,” she groaned. “The hell is wrong with me?”

“Well, if our teachers were to be believed-” Brains started, but he cut himself off. Nobody wanted him to finish that sentence, joking or otherwise.

“It’s Pierce, anyways,” Melody said. “I swear, you two were going at it like dogs fighting over the last scrap of meat on the planet. What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have the head for this right now,” Grace groaned. “Let me focus on keeping my head upright for a while first. Besides, i was drunk.”

“I’ll say,” Melody agreed. “Do you remember what you were arguing about?”

Brains snorted a laugh, and Grace had to frown and think about it for a minute. “He was being way too arrogant for someone as irresponsible as him, and…” She turned a touch pink, remembering just how loudly she’d been yelling, and about what.

“It half seemed like you were going to piss your pants right there, just to prove how mad you were,” Brains said.

“Ugh…” Grace said, taking another drink of the dark, bitter coffee. “Can you believe Pierce?”

She was looking down at her drink, avoiding looking at any sources of light, but she could practically feel the glance that Melody and Brains shared. “Yeah,” Melody said. “Uh-huh. Pierce.”

“I’m pretty sure you meant ‘me’,” Brains added.

“Well he started it,” Grace said, defensively. “And, come on. We all know he’s full of it.”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Melody said, shaking her head. “Not having this conversation. Too early, too hungover.”

Grace let them drop the subject. There was no point rehashing an argument where she was so obviously correct.

The banter stayed light while Brains made breakfast. He wasn’t the best cook in the house, but he could do alright, and his true gift lay with making a patent-pending hangover cure breakfast sandwich. Bacon, two fried eggs cooked in the bacon grease, stuck between two pieces of french toast. It was the most greasy monstrosity that Grace had ever heard of, but it worked wonders for alcohol-induced morning agony.

When breakfast settled, Grace didn’t exactly feel good, but she no longer felt miserable. The nails had been removed and replaced with mere needles, and the hammering pain with every beat of her heart was reduced to a dull ache.

“He just gets under my skin, you know?” Grace said, finally, unable to let the topic die.

“Yes, we know,” Brains said, washing out the skillet in the sink.

“Like… okay, yeah, whatever. He’s sloppy. I don’t care about that,” Grace continued, feeling out her own thoughts out loud. “We’ve all got our shit. But own it, you know?”

“Yes,” Melody said. “We know.”

“No, you don’t- Ugh.” Grace shook her head. “If he just was openly, like, ‘Yeah, I’m not good with organization and I’ve got no impulse control,’ that’d be fine. But he gets so fuckin’ smug about it, and then he won’t let it go, and… Like, I don’t know.”

“Are you done?” Brains asked.

“I guess. I’ll stop talking about it, it’s just-”

“No, I mean, are you done with your plate?” Brains asked. “So I can wash it.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Grace passed it over, pressing her palm to her forehead. “Ugh. I have work to do today, I should not have gotten that drunk.”

“Same,” Melody groaned.

“Well, it’s my day off,” Brains said, “And I’m still glad I didn’t get wasted. More coffee?”

They both accepted, commiserating over shared headache pain as Brains made another pot.

While they were sitting around the table, waiting for it to percolate, Melody heard the floor creak above them. Skip hadn’t gotten home from work yet, so that meant Pierce was awake.

Hooray.

“Don’t,” Melody said, warningly.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t start another fight,” Melody said.

Grace sipped her water. “I won’t if he doesn’t.”

“You just said he lacked impulse control,” Melody pointed out.

“I promise nothing,” Grace said, simply.

It took Pierce a few minutes to meander down to the kitchen, wearing a pair of rumpled sweatpants and nothing else. Pulling up a stool at the table, he said, “Brains, my man. Fix me up with your patented hangover whatsit?”

(If you’d been down sooner, you could have eaten with the rest of us.)

Brains nodded, already getting more bacon out of the fridge. “I think you had the high score last night, Pierce. Twenty one beers.”

“I still don’t get why you count,” Pierce said. “The beer can Rain M-”

“Nooope,” Brains said. “Wasters.”

“Sorry.” Pierce shook his head. “Jeez, I’ve normally got more restraint than this. What were we arguing about last night, anyways?”

Melody raised an eyebrow at Grace, who replied, “Hey, I’m not arguing, I’m just answering a question.”

“Huh?” Pierce said, graciously taking a coffee as Brains set it in front of him. “You’re a lifesaver, man.”

“You,” Grace said, “Were drunk, and were insisting that you were some sort of childcare expert.”

“Bloody hell…” Melody said, rolling her eyes.

“Never gonna hear the end of this…” Brains added.

“Oh, that,” Pierce said. “Yeah, I think I remember. Yeah, that was wild.”

“So you admit it,” Grace said, ignoring the annoyed groans of her friends.

“What? No,” Pierce said. “You were bein’ wild.”

Grace grumbled. She was too hung over for this. “You are ridiculous. I can’t believe-”

“Jesus christ, why do you care so much?” Pierce threw up his hands.

“Theeeey’re doing it again,” Melody quipped, dryly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Grace said, shaking her head and getting to her feet. She didn’t really want to have this argument, so rather than stick around, she’d just leave. “He’s not going to prove it, anyways.”

She hadn’t taken a step before Pierce shot back, “What was that?”

“I’m just saying,” Grace said, rolling her eyes. “Drunk you can bluster all he wants, but you’re full of it.”

“Bet’s on,” Pierce said, immediately. “I’m game.”

“Pierce…” Brains said. “Come on.”

“And,” Pierce said, “Once I win, you never give me shit about this again.”

“Oh yeah? Well, once I win, you’ll just admit you’re irresponsible and lazy and-”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“FINE!”

“Fucking hell…”

That last one was Melody.

Furiously, they shook hands, and then Grace spun and stormed off without another word.

 

Hey, so, as I said at the start: I posted this late, by mistake! This was supposed to be public a week ago, but since I was also posting another update from a different story I had a brain fart and didn't remember that I was supposed to post this too.

If you'd like to support future mistakes and disappointments, I've got a Patreon and a SubscribeStar!

[PeculiarChangeling]

I don't need to explain anything or add context here, except to mention that I've decided to start naming the chapters. It's a fun convention in novels and I want to do it for this story!

 

 

Chapter 4: Ground Rules

Grace sat on the living room couch, her arms crossed. “I don’t see why all this is necessary.”  
 

“It’s nooot,” Melody said, in a singsong tone. “You shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
 

“But if you’re gonna go through with it, it’s necessary,” Brains said. 
 

“Well it’s stupid,” Grace said.
 

“Agreed,” Pierce said, leaning against the mantle across from her.
 

“Well at least they agree on something…” Skip called. They were in the kitchen making after-work supper, but could hear everything happening in the living room. 
 

The whole gang was here to mediate the bet. 
 

“If you’re doing this, it’s going to affect the whole house. This is going to nip a dozen fights in the bud,” Brains said. 
 

“And you really, really shouldn’t do this,” Melody added. 
 

“Okay, fine, we need to figure out the terms,” Grace said. “That’s not what I was talking about.” 
 

Brains frowned. “Then what were you talking about?” 
 

“Do we really need the props?” Grace asked. 
 

In true Brains fashion, he hadn’t just gotten a notepad to jot things down. He’d retrieved a whiteboard from the basement, and taken some visual aids and printouts from ‘expecting mother’ webpages. 
 

“I wanted to be thorough,” he said, shrugging. 
 

“Let’s just get this done,” Pierce said. “This thing is stupid anyways.” 
 

Melody opened her mouth, then shut it. Pointing out, again, that they didn’t have to go through with what amounted to a pissing contest wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
 

“So,” Brains said. “The bet, from what I’m understanding, is this: Pierce will take care of Grace as though she were a baby until either he gets sick of caring for her, or until she gets sick of being cared for. Right?”
 

“Right,” Grace and Pierce said, in unison. Realizing they were in sync, she scowled at him, and he stuck his tongue out at her. 
 

“Okay, well. Obviously we’re not actually going to treat Grace like a baby, ” Brains said, “But-” 
 

“Hold it,” Pierce interjected. “I’ve got a problem with that.” 
 

“Ugh…” Melody said. “What, do you think she has to do baby talk or something?” 
 

“The bet is, until she gets sick of it,” Pierce said. “I’m not saying we gotta childproof the house or anything, but if she just gets a free maid and cooking service, she’s not going to get sick of it.” 
 

“Okay. Some babying,” Brains conceded, looking at Grace. “Do you agree to that?” 
 

“Sure. Whatever.” Grace shrugged. 
 

pulling the cap off a magic marker. “Fortunately you both work from home, that makes things relatively simple. I think it comes down to four basic categories.” 
 

Writing in big letters, he put down the first section. 
 

FOOD
 

“Babies can’t feed or water themselves,” Brains said. “Obviously. Pierce, you will have to prepare at least three meals a day for Grace, feed them to her, and give her a minimum of six pints of fluids. The food has to cover all her nutritional needs and can’t cause any health problems. Grace, you can only eat what Pierce makes you. If you are hungry or thirsty, you will have to ask him to get it for you.” 
 

“Define ‘prepare’,” Pierce said. 
 

Brains frowned. “Eh…” 
 

Skip, helpfully, piped up. “Two hots and a cold!” 
 

“Okay, that,” Brains said. “You have to cook two meals, the other can be something cold like cereal.” 
 

“And it can be whatever I want to feed her otherwise?” 
 

Brains frowned. “I mean, it can’t make her sick, and you can’t make it wrong on purpose so it’s gross. No serving inedible food.” 
 

“It can’t be the same food every day,” Grace added. “That’s the lazy way out, and you’re trying to prove you’re not lazy. I want unique menus.” 
 

“Yeah,” Pierce snorted. “Sure. I’ll do that.” 
 

“And when we say feed,” Grace said. “We mean, serve to me?”
 

“Oh hell no. I’m gonna do the airplane,” Pierce said, mimicking holding a spoon in his hand and moving it towards an open mouth. “I’m gonna do the choo-choo train, I’m gonna get extra with this.” 
 

“That’s… actually a fair point,” Brains said. “He should have to feed it to you.”
 

“What if I’m eating an apple?” Grace asked.
 

“Silverware,” Melody said, her hand still covering her face.
 

Everyone in the living room looked at her.
 

“Grace can’t use silverware,” Melody said. “If you can hold it in your hand without making a mess, you can eat it yourself.” 
 

Brains raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of them. “Fair?” 
 

Pierce shrugged. Melody nodded.
 

“Okay.” Raising the marker, Brains wrote down the rules. 
 

FOOD
 

Two cooked meals and one cold meal a day. 
 

The food has to cover Grace’s nutritional needs, be palatable, and have variety. 
 

Grace cannot make food for herself or pour drinks for herself. She can only eat food herself if it does not require silverware, otherwise, Pierce must feed it to her. 
 

He must also ensure she gets six pints of fluids a day. 
 

“Hold it,” Pierce said, stepping up and extending his hand. Brains passed him the marker, and he amended the last line.
 

He must also ensure she gets six pints of fluids a day, served exclusively in baby bottles. 
 

“There,” Pierce said, passing back the marker. “I think that settles it.” 
 

“You know that means more work for you, right?” Grace asked. “Those things are a pain in the taint to wash.” 
 

“That’s settled, then?” Brains asked. “No objections?” 
 

“None from me,” Grace said. 
 

“This is gonna be hi-larious,” Pierce added.
 

“Okay then, next section.”
 

CLOTHING & HYGEINE
 

Brains paused, looking at the board. “Wait, shoot. That’s not right.” 
 

Smudging out two letters with his thumb, he tried to swap the ‘I’ and the ‘E’ in Hygiene, but the marker didn’t come off clean and it looked more like a couple blobs. 
 

“This one’s got two parts to it,” Brains said. “First, you’ve gotta make sure that Grace stays clean, and second, you’ve gotta make sure she’s dressed. That means daily baths, it means you’re responsible for her laundry, and it means you choose her wardrobe.” 
 

“Rugrats run around mostly naked all the time,” Pierce said. 
 

“When it’s appropriate, sure. But it’s early Autumn, and it’s gonna get colder. Besides, that’d defeat the point. You’ve got to ensure that Grace is dressed in clothes that are appropriately warm, comfortable, and appropriate for her surroundings. If she needs to go out of the house, that means dressing her in clothing that will be discreet and presentable.”
 

“I reserve the right to veto any outfits he picks,” Grace said. 
 

Brains frowned. “That seems exploitable.”
 

“I reserve the whatsit,” Melody said. “Grace, if you think he’s dressing you up like a clown, you can ask me to judge. Hey, Skip!” 
 

“Yeah?” Skip called back.
 

“If I’m not around, can you be the fashion police?” 
 

“Sure!” 
 

“There. Neutral judge of fashion,” Melody confirmed. 
 

“And you’re fine letting him wash you?” Brains added. “To be clear, that means-”
 

“Fuck, Brains,” Grace said. “We’ve all seen each other naked at some point or another, and I trust you all with my life. Yeah, he’s gonna get to see a lot of me naked. Pierce is a slob, not a creep.” 
 

“Thanks,” Pierce said, pausing. “I mean. Sort of.” 
 

“Okay then, that settles that.”
 

CLOTHING & HYG■■NE
 

Pierce will bathe Grace at least once a day, and ensure she stays generally clean and sanitary. He will be responsible for ensuring she is clothes in appropriate outfits, factoring in temperature, circumstances, and whether she’ll be outside the house. Melody and Skip have veto power on any outfit she wears. 
 

“Fair,” Grace said.
 

“Fair,” Pierce agreed. 
 

“Next on the list, then…” Brains wrote up on the board.
 

BEDTIME
 

Pierce cackled with laughter. 
 

“Hey!” Grace objected. “We don’t need that.” 
 

“Babies don’t put themselves to bed,” Brains pointed out. 
 

“We are definitely doing this,” Pierce added, grinning a ridiculous smile.
 

Brains just started writing it out.
 

Pierce will put Grace to bed every night, no later than 9:30 PM. Lights out will be no later than 10 PM. Once in bed, she can’t leave or get up except in the case of an emergency, until Pierce comes to wake her up, at a time no later than 8:30 AM. 
 

“Wait, what,” Pierce said, reading that last part.
 

“HAH!” Grace barked, gloating with a childish singsong tone. “Someone’s gotta be awake in the morning.”
 

“Now, hold on, I don’t know if we need to do this after all,” Pierce objected. “I don’t-” 
 

“Too late,” Grace grinned. “What, you want to just leave me in bed for eighteen hours a day? Not gonna happen, ‘I’m so good at baby sitting’ man.” 
 

“What defines an emergency, exactly?” Melody asked, peering over at the board. She’d at least taken her hand away from her face, though her expression was still intensely dubious. 
 

“Anything time-sensitive involving your job, any family crisis requiring an immediate response, and then obvious stuff,” Brains said. “Fire, injury, aliens.” 
 

“Aliens?” Melody asked.
 

“Obvious stuff,” Brians confirmed. 
 

There was just one section left that hadn’t been covered, one that Brains was apparently a bit hesitant to actually put up on the board. No more avoiding it, though.
 

DIAPERS
 

“So, yeah.” Brains said, sheepishly. “This one.” 
 

“I still don’t care about the whole nudity thing,” Grace shrugged. “He can see my ass, I don’t care.” 
 

“I guess the question is, how ‘baby’ do we want this to be?” Brains said. 
 

“As baby as possible,” Pierce said. “She’s not getting out of this easy.” 
 

Grace frowned.
 

(I was about to say that about him.) 
 

“Then… Here, I thought about this already,” Brains said. “Just tell me how this sounds.”
 

Grace will wear diapers at all times, except when bathing. She will not be able to use the toilet. 
 

While at home, she won’t be allowed to ask for a diaper change. Pierce will change her diaper before putting her to bed, after waking her up, and any other time that she needs a change. He will be responsible for knowing when she needs a change, though if anyone else besides Grace says that she needs one, he will drop what he’s doing and change her within ten minutes. 
 

If she needs to leave the house, she may ask for a change before leaving. If she needs to be away for more than four hours, she may take a change with her so that she can change herself when needed. 
 

Grace will not be allowed to leak or get a serious diaper rash. Grace will not stay in a 
 

Brains paused. “What do we want to call it when she, uh, goes number two?” 
 

“A poopy diaper,” Pierce snorted. 
 

“Whatever,” Grace rolled her eyes. “I don’t care.” 
 

Grace will not be allowed to leak or get a serious diaper rash. Grace will not stay in a poopy diaper for more than an hour for any reason, except if it’s during the period where she’s in bed at night. 
 

He stopped writing. “That’s what I’ve got.” 
 

“What if I don’t notice she’s been a poopy pants for more than an hour?” Pierce asked. “Like, if I’m busy and she’s in the other room.”
 

“That’s what checking is for, dumbass,” Grace replied. “Though, what if he doesn’t notice?” 
 

Pierce rolled his eyes. “That’s what I just asked!” 
 

“I mean - what’s the penalty for fucking up?” Grace asked. “Immediate forfeit?” 
 

“You’re both going to fuck up,” Brains said. “That’s not a criticism. It’s just going to happen. I figured we could use a score system, and count the mistakes, and if either of you reaches an imbalance where you’ve screwed up significantly more - say, sixty percent more and at least five, then-” 
 

“No,” Skip said, walking in. “That’s silly.” 
 

Brains turned to face them. “Well do you have a better idea?”
 

“She’s a baby, he’s a babysitter,” Skip said, pointing a thumb at Grace and an index finger at Pierce. “If she screws up, put her in time out. If he screws up, dock his pay.”
 

“What pay?” Pierce asked. “You don’t pay me anything.”
 

“No, but we can make you chuck fifty bucks in the beer fund,” Skip said. 
 

“Fifty?” Pierce said. 
 

“Hey,” Grace said, smirking. “If you don’t want to pay up, don’t screw up. Or, when you screw up and decide you want to hang onto your cash, you can always forfeit.” 
 

Pierce grumbled, which made her smile. 
 

“I take it that means you’re okay with that plan?” Brains asked. 
 

“If it means he covers our beer and does all my chores, absolutely,” Grace said. 
 

Brains shrugged, writing it on the board. 
 

If Pierce breaks any written rule, he will contribute fifty dollars to the beer pool for each mistake. If Grace breaks any rule, she will sit in time out for one hour per mistake, during which time Pierce is not responsible for any leaks or rash that occurs.
 

Grace frowned. “What’s with that last line?” 
 

“You could get out of time out early by using your diaper on purpose,” Brains pointed out. “Which defeats the point of, y’know. Time out.” 
 

“Why are we even arguing about this…” Melody said. 
 

“I don’t think we are.” Grace got to her feet. “The rules are fair. Pierce, I’ll be impressed if you last two days.” 
 

Pierce stood up straight, walking over to her and sticking out his hand. “And I’ll be impressed if you make it through the first time you’ve got to shit your pants.” 
 

They shook on it. 

 

 

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Five: The First Diaper of the Rest of Your Life

The bet didn’t start for a week. After a bit of research, everyone had decided that the diapers from the local pharmacy wouldn’t cut it - Grace agreed because of quality, and Pierce agreed because they just weren’t embarrassing enough.

After some negotiations, they’d found an adult diaper with teddy prints on it, which had a sufficient capacity for the bet. It’d take a week to arrive, so that became the deadline to start.

In addition, Pierce had some other shopping to do. He wouldn’t tell Grace what, but she spotted him smirking at his phone while he was shopping, occasionally pausing to ask what her measurements were.

It was… a bit unsettling, but Grace would power through. If he got her even a week’s worth of different outfits, it’d be a waste of money, because he wasn’t going to last a week.

The day, finally, came. A box the size of an old tube TV showed up on their porch, and when Skip brought it in and opened it up, they found it full of diapers.

(No more putting it off, then…)

First things first. Brains insisted on calling another house meeting.

“The time is one PM, Saturday,” he said, checking his smart watch. “Grace, if you want to use the toilet or anything, now’s your last chance.”

“I’m good,” Grace said.

“Pierce, are you ready?”

“Yeah, duh,” he said.

“Okay then. Then I guess… Get started.”

Melody was on the couch, but she wasn’t even paying attention. She’d been texting some girl for the past two days, but Grace suspected that her friend wasn’t distracted by a girl - she just didn’t want to contribute to the meeting.

“Sorry, Mels,” Grace said, stretching out as though she were getting ready to do something physically demanding. After a moment, she realized she was psyching herself up to do something challenging, and stopped.

(This won’t be challenging. I just need to outlast Pierce. Freakin’ Pierce.)

Pierce left the living room, ran upstairs, and came back down a second later with a large rectangular bag. It was decorated with a print of baby blocks, and its purpose was unmistakable - it was going to be Grace’s diaper bag.

From inside, he produced a roll-up changing mat, which he threw out on the floor, grinning.

“Get on the mat, baby!” he said.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Skip commented from the couch.

“I just can’t wait to see Grace squirm when she can’t micromanage everything,” Pierce replied.

Grace didn’t have much of a retort to that, she’d just have to prove him wrong by not squirming. Kicking off her sandals, she laid down on the mat.

Of course, Pierce took his sweet time. He could put care into something if he wanted to, he just usually lacked the stamina to actually want to. By tomorrow, he’d already be bored of the pageantry. For now, though…

He carefully laid out a diaper, powder, wipes, and a tube of rash cream, alongside a few folded fabric somethings in pastel colors. “Now, I don’t think the clothes you’re wearing are appropriate at all,” he said, making a loud ‘tsk’ sound with his tongue. “We’d better get the baby into something more ‘age appropriate’.”

“If you think this is going to get under my skin, you’re dead wrong,” Grace replied, slipping out of her jeans and folding them neatly, then doing the same with her top, before laying back and crossing her arms.

Pierce did the honors with her panties, slipping them off her legs. “Say goodbye to these!”

“For, what, an hour? Two?” Grace snorted. “See if I care.”

“I think the lady does too much protesting,” Pierce said.

Grace furrowed her brow and leaned up a bit. “The quote is-”

“I know what the quote is.” He beamed at her. “But I also knew you couldn’t resist correcting me. Lay back down, baby butt.”

She laid back down, groaning as he opened the box of wipes.

Melody sat up. “Yeah, we don’t need to be here for this. I’m peacing out.”

“Me too,” Skip said, getting up off the couch.

“Uh… yeah…” Brains added.

They were left alone as Pearce took out a wipe, reaching down to start the process. .

“Y’know, I showered like three hours ago,” Grace said. “This is- JEEZ! How is that so cold?”

“I kept them in my minifridge,” Pearce snickered. “Gotta make sure it’s nice and refreshing!”

Grace shivered and crossed her arms, putting up with the frigid baby wipes as Pearce ‘cleaned her’, one wipe at a time.

“This feels like cheating,” Grace complained. “It’s one thing to- Oh come on!”

“What?” Pearce asked, innocently, as he squirted a glob of rash cream into his hands. “I get penalized if you get a rash, and this stuff prevents it. I’m not taking that risk!”

He started massaging the chalky cream into her skin, working with painful slowness to ensure it was worked into her thighs and butt. He didn’t get fresh with her, at least - that would have been a bridge too far for their relationship - but everything else he could do to make the process last an uncomfortably long period of time, he did.

By the time he wiped off his hands and reached for the baby powder, Grace was regretting things. Sure, he’d be bored of this soon, but even just a couple diaper changes like this would be excruciating.

“Bottoms up!” he said, after sprinkling baby powder in the general area that would be covered by her diaper.

She lifted up off the ground so he could slide the diaper into place, fussing and straightening it too many times to be reasonable.

“Hmm,” he said. “I don’t know about this.”

“About what?” Grace asked.

“Well it just seems like you’re having a bad time already,” Pierce said, smirking. “I don’t want to put you through something awful. Are you sure you don’t want to just back out now?”

“Just put the diaper on me, asshole,” Grace said, lying back in frustration.

He did, pulling the four sticky tapes snugly onto the landing strip.

“Now, time to get you dressed!” he said. “I know you’ve got stuff to do around the house today, so I picked something nice and practical. Sit up, and raise your arms.”

“No,” Grace said.

“No?” Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to get Brains in here to go over the rules?”

“You get to ‘ensure’ I’m clothed properly,” Grace said. “You don’t get to dress me. I can do that myself, thank you very much.”

Reaching for the clothes, Grace unfolded the first article. It was a baby blue onesie, nothing too awful or embarrassing - it was really just a blue T shirt with crotch snaps. She started to pull it over her head, ignoring Pierce’s insinuations that he would get to dress her.

“I don’t know about that,” Pierce said. “What if you dress yourself wrong? It doesn’t seem like I can ensure that you’re dressed right unless I’m the one who puts the clothes on you.”

Pausing, Grace smirked. “Okay, you want to dress me?”

“Yes,” Pierce said.

“Fine. Dress me,” Grace said, letting her body go completely limp with the onesie halfway on.

She flopped back on the changing mat, and didn’t even help a little bit when Pierce grabbed her arms and pulled her back up into a sitting position.

He grunted, trying to get her arm through the sleeve. If he let her go, she would flop right back down, so it was an awkward effort to try and grab her arm to put it through the sleeve while holding her upright. “How- are you- so- heavy?”

“Hey!” Grace objected, delighted at how much he was struggling. “That’s a hell of a thing to say!”

“Then stop being dead weight!” Pierce groaned.

“Nope! You wanted to dress me,” Grace said.

He finally had a good idea and reached through her sleeve from the outside, grabbed her wrist, and pulled it through. With the arm in place, it wasn’t that hard to reach under her diaper and grab the bottom flap of the onesie so it could be buttoned in place, though Grace deliberately shifted her weight partway through so she was sitting on his arm and he had to lift her off him.

“Okay…” he panted. “Fine. You’re dressed.”

“Uh, no,” Grace said. “You picked out a whole outfit for me. If you thought this is ‘appropriately dressed’, you wouldn’t have gotten all that other stuff out.”

His face fell as he looked down at the other clothes he’d piled up.

“Not so much fun anymore, is it?” she asked, sticking out her tongue at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, so you’re a brat of a baby. I don’t care. Kids are brats.” Grabbing the next article of clothing, he unfolded it.

(Oh. There’s the awful embarrassing thing.)

It was a pair of pink shortalls, with the word ‘BABY’ emblazoned on the front. On the one hand… (Ugh). On the other… that was going to be a pain in the ass to dress her in.

Pierce, at least, had worked out a system. Reaching through the bottom of a leg hole, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg through, one at a time, then flopped her body forward to get the straps over her shoulders.

This is going to be fun, after all, she thought, as he got the buckles done up.

“There,” he said.

“Ah, I see a pair of socks right there,” Grace said.

“Uggghh…” Pierce said, rolling the socks onto her feet. “There. Done. You’re on your own ‘till you need a change.”

“I haven’t had lunch yet,” Grace said.”

“But it’s after-” Pierce threw up his arms. “Fine. Give me a minute to prepare it and stuff.”

Grace grinned.

(Okay, I am loving this. He is SO mad.)

“Now, question for you- would you rather have the mashed turkey dinner, or the strained peas today?” Pearce asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes again.

(Wait, what.)

 

Feedback is always appreciated! 

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[aldl4811]

I am really enjoying the premise of this one. 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 7/11/2021 at 10:00 PM, aldl4811 said:

I am really enjoying the premise of this one. 

I can't say I'm the first person to ever think of 'Someone has to wear diapers because of a bet', but I hope my spin on the concept is elevating it.  

[Tld17]

So good amazing in fact 

[fyunch]

Good writing.  Promising take on a classic scenario.

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Six: Lunchtime

Grace crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Here comes the airplane!” Pearce replied, grinning broadly.

Glaring a little more, Grace repeated, “Seriou-Mmph!”

She was interrupted by a spoonful of cold baby food that Pearce stuck in her mouth. It tasted vaguely of bland, unsalted vegetable, and a little got on her lips while the rest of the spoon ended up in her mouth.

Swallowing, Grace said, “You are going to get tired of this so fast. Why are you even bothering?”

“Because,” Pearce said, smirking and waggling his eyebrows. “I have to take care of my little baby! Now, open wiiiide-”

Grace obeyed this time, opening her mouth to accept the next spoonful of food. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever eaten, just kind of vaguely bad nothing. She was more annoyed by everything else - Pearce had acquired a bib from somewhere that was her size, stacked up her chair on some books, and even found a tray attachment that clicked to the arm rests, all to make it into a proper ‘high’ chair.

“Say ‘Aaah’,” Pearce said, scraping together another spoonful from the jar and lifting it up.

Grace complied, swallowed, and asked, “Just how much of this do I have to eat?”

“Well, in order to make sure you’ve got all the nutrients a growing baby needs… about four jars,” he said.

“Ugh.” Grace opened her mouth to swallow another spoonful.

While they were eating, Skip waltzed in, glancing at the two of them. Pointing at Grace, they said, “You’ve got a little, uh…”

“I’ve got it,” Pearce said, reaching over and taking Grace’s bib, using it to wipe the baby food off her face.

“Pearce!” Grace objected, leaning back a little. “You don’t have to- I can- Woah!”

One of the four precarious stack of books used to prop up her ‘high’ chair shifted, and she started to fall back in the seat. Pearce jumped forward, grabbing the chair and catching her before she could fall.

“Skip? A little help?” he grunted, one arm around Grace, the other on her chair. Skip crouched and slid the books back into place, stabilizing the chair.

“Close one,” Grace said.

“No more fussing,” Pearce chided, tapping her nose with the baby food spoon. “Next time I’m going to let you fall!”

Grace rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t. But seriously, don’t wiggle around too much. If you’re good for the rest of the meal, I might even give you a pudding cup.”

“Fiiine.” Grace opened her mouth, eating another spoonful of the baby food.

Skip rolled their eyes and went back to preparing their own lunch; a microwave dinner from the freezer. It smelled delicious, chicken and gravy and potatoes, though the smell probably only seemed so good in context - Most things smelled better than cold, mushy peas.

Normally, Grace would try to make conversation, but given that any time she had her mouth open for more than a few seconds it was filled with baby food, that was a little difficult. Pearce did give her an occasional break to drink from a clear baby bottle - just water, but it was still annoying to drink at a slow trickle.

When Skip’s food was done, they took it out of the microwave, pulling off the plastic film and leaving it on the counter. Grace cringed, wanting to toss the trash in the bin so it wouldn’t attract insects, but she didn’t want to make a fuss about it and she couldn’t just get up out of her chair while she was being fed.

(I’ll get it in a minute.)

“You put a lot of effort into this,” Skip commented to Pearce, between bites of their own meal.

Pearce looked back at her as he got the last bit of baby food from the next jar. “Well, yeah. Some people think I’m just a lazy slacker, but those people are still struggling with using the potty, so I don’t think their opinions are particularly reliable.”

“I’m not struggling, I’mmmph!” Grace objected, muted by another spoonful of food.

“You’ll get it some day,” Pearce teased. “Just as soon as you admit you’ve lost the bet.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Grace glowered.

Pearce took her bib and wiped her face again, getting the bit of baby food off her nose. “We’ll see about that. Coffee?”

Grace was caught off guard by the question. “Huh?”

“It’s a beverage,” Pearce supplied, helpfully. Grace rolled her eyes, and he added, “You usually have a cup with lunch. Do you want some?”

She was surprised by the offer. Grace had expected she would mostly be drinking water and probably milk for the next day or so, but she was happy to take him up on the offer. “Yes please.”

“How do you like it again?” He asked, setting a bottle of water on her tray. “You can work on that while I make it.”

“The blue pods, a little of the oat creamer I’ve got in the top drawer,” Grace supplied, pointing and picking up her bottle, rinsing out the taste of baby food.

Pearce popped the single-serving pod into the coffee maker and stuck a plastic bottle beneath the dispenser, setting it to run.

While it brewed, he went to the fridge and got out the creamer and a chocolate pudding cup, which he set down on her ‘high chair’ tray. He poured a little creamer into the bottle of coffee, sealed the lid, and returned the creamer to the fridge.

“You left the pod in the coffee maker,” Grace pointed out.

“Yeah,” Pearce said. “It’s still hot and drippy, if I take it out now it’ll get coffee on the counter.”

(So use a towel to catch the drips.) Grace rolled her eyes. “You’re going to forget.”

“So I’ll toss it when I make another cup later,” Pearce said, pulling the foil off the dessert cup. “Anyways, you didn’t try to fling your body to the ground again, so you’ve got a date with a pudding.”

Grace dropped the argument. Pudding wasn’t her favorite dessert, but after mushy peas, it sounded pretty satisfying. Opening her mouth, she leaned forward into the spoon, and - possibly on purpose, possibly by accident - Pearce didn’t react to her movement properly, getting pudding all over her upper lip.

She almost went to lick her lips, but Pearce grinned and held up a finger. “Hold on - just a sec.”

“What?” Grace asked.

Half expecting him to wipe it off with the bib, Pearce instead leaned in with the spoon, making a few more marks on her face, around her mouth. “Okay, just hold still for a second, and…”

Taking out his phone, he snapped a photo and spun around to show the screen to her.

The chocolate pudding had been shaped into a very clear, if slightly sloppy, handlebar mustache, gracing a slightly confused, slightly grumpy face. Grace raised her eyebrows and barked out a surprised chuckle. It was a stupid bit of humor, but sincere and silly enough that she still enjoyed it at face value.

“Now you can wipe it off,” Pearce smirked. Grace licked her lips, opening wide for the next spoonful.

Pearce complied, serving her the pudding. One bite, two, and then- “Okay then, that’s it.”

Grace blinked. “Wait, really?”

“These cups are, like, tiny. They’re for kids, so it’s only a few spoonfuls,” Pearce pointed out. Setting down the cup, he said, “Alright, well. I’ll come check you in an hour or so, make sure you’re all good. You don’t have any errands or anything you need to do today, right?”

Grace shook her head. “No, not really…”

“Cool. See you later.” Pearce wandered off, leaving Grace to get out of her high chair herself. The clip mechanism holding the tray to the chair was pretty easy to figure out, but the stacked books wobbled and she had to be careful as she got down on her feet, surveying the mess he’d left behind.

(Of course. He’s still Pearce.) She considered leaving the mess, just to make a point, but couldn’t help herself.

“Huh,” Skip said, as they finished off their meal.

“What?” Grace asked.

Skip shrugged. “I dunno. It just seems like he might not get bored of this that quickly after all.” Standing, they grabbed the plastic trash off the counter and threw everything away in the waste bin, cleaning up after their meal.

“Why do you say that?” Grace asked. “It’s Pearce. He finds new things to get bored of like three times a week.”

“He’s got that look,” Skip shrugged. “He’s having fun messing with you, and he’s got ideas. Until he runs out of ways to keep it fun, he’s not going to give up.”

“Well… maybe you’re right,” Grace admitted, as she cleaned up the jars and general detritus from the meal. “But I’m not making it easy for him. It’ll get too tedious for him to continue before long.”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Skip said, getting a cup of water. “You were making it real hard for him just there. Cute outfit, by the way.”

“I am! I made it a pain for him to dress me,” Grace said, popping the old pod out of the coffee maker and tossing it in the trash. Just because Pearce didn’t care about leaving it in, didn’t mean she was going to ignore it.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Skip said. “You think you’ll be up tonight to hang out a bit before I go to work?”

“Bedtime,” Grace pointed out. “So probably not, unless Pearce gives up particularly fast.”

“Right. See you, then.” Skip left the kitchen, and Grace finished cleaning up.

That was… that. Wasn’t much else to do. Taking her coffee, she waddled out of the kitchen and went to go get some work done on her computer.

 

...

I've been told that the joy of subscribing to my Patreon is comparable to riding on a unicorn through an enchanted field.

 

Who told me this? What was the context? Did I specifically ask them to say this to me so that I could then quote them as having said this? Irrelevant! The important thing is that I've been told it. By someone. 

 

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

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[SoakedinTexas]

She seems to be doing a lot of adult cleaning up the place for being the baby. Interested to see who wins this bet and what comes next. 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 9/6/2021 at 8:55 AM, SoakedinTexas said:

She seems to be doing a lot of adult cleaning up the place for being the baby. Interested to see who wins this bet and what comes next. 

That's Grace's thing. She always has to be the mature one, even if she's also the one literally wearing an outfit labeled 'BABY'. 

[SoakedinTexas]

13 hours ago, PeculiarChangeling said:

That's Grace's thing. She always has to be the mature one, even if she's also the one literally wearing an outfit labeled 'BABY'. 

Yeah I can see that.  But to really show him how immature he is maybe she needs to let him fail at everything including cleaning up after himself and the baby.  

[D503]

Can't wait for more!

[PeculiarChangeling]

15 hours ago, D503 said:

Can't wait for more!

The next chapter is up on Patreon, but it'll be public on Saturday! You hardly have to wait at all! ^^ 

On 9/8/2021 at 9:39 AM, SoakedinTexas said:

Yeah I can see that.  But to really show him how immature he is maybe she needs to let him fail at everything including cleaning up after himself and the baby.  

Grace really doesn't expect that he'll need much coaxing in order to fail. Maybe once she has to make a few stinky diapers she'll change her tune.  

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Seven: Social Dilemmas

“Yup. All dry.” Pearce finished giving the front of the diaper a squeeze, leaning back.

Grace crossed her arms. “What did you expect? It’s only been an hour.”

Wagging a finger at her, Pearce said, “I half expected you to pull a fast one on me to try and get me a penalty. Y’know, wait until I leave the room, crap your pants, start a one-hour timer in hopes that I’ll stop paying attention.”

Glancing away, Grace tried to look innocent. She had considered it, but… well, that was a bit of an extreme measure, and she was hoping to avoid using her diapers for that before the bet was up. Pearce didn’t need extra encouragement from her to be hypervigilant - or, well, he did, but not for the purposes of a bet intended to prove he was lazy and inattentive.

“Well, I’ll come check on you later then,” Pearce said.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Grace turned her attention away from Pearce and went back to her computer, designing some templates for a client. She only got a few minutes of real, solid work done before another interruption came in the form of a knock on her door.

Leaning back, she tabbed Control-S to save her work before she said, “Come on in.”

It was Brains, this time, holding his phone in both hands. “Hey, Grace. Are you busy?”

“Nothing I can’t take a break from,” she said, scooting her chair back so she could turn and face him. Her bedroom/office wasn’t huge, but there was enough room for two people to have a conversation comfortably. “What do you need?”

He glanced down at his phone, then back up at her. “It’s a social thing? I don’t know if I’m reading this conversation right and I wanted your advice.”

“Sure, lemme see.” Grace held out her hand, taking his phone and scrolling through a series of chat messages. “What’s the question, exactly?”

“So it’s this guy I’ve been chatting with,” Brains explained, stepping around so he could see the screen over her shoulder. “We met online, we’ve been talking for a couple weeks, and he just asked if I want to go catch dinner and see that new Marvel movie with him tonight.”

Grace skimmed the conversation, quickly getting the gist of things. “And? Do you not know if you want to go?”

“Well…” Brains shrugged. “Is it a date?”

“Oh.” Grace smirked. “Hold on, I’m catching up on stuff.”

“Okay,” he said, looking away and giving her a moment to read. After about two seconds of impatient waiting, he started tapping his foot on the ground, not so much in a ‘You’re taking too long’ way as an ‘I’m anxious and want to be moving’ way.

“What’s this thing he’s talking about?” Grace asked, pointing to a message. “‘I had a great time last night, we should do it again.’ He sent it a few days ago.”

“Oh, we went out to a bar for karaoke,” Brains explained.

“With friends?”

“Just us.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Grace kept scrolling up, until she could skim some of the oldest messages. After another couple minutes, she said, “Brains, as best I can figure, he’s asking you on a third date.”

He blinked, and his foot stopped tapping. “What?”

“You asked him out for coffee, and then he took you out for karaoke. What did you think, that you were just hanging out as platonic friends, together, alone, and just happening to do date activities?” Grace raised an eyebrow up at her friend.

Brains stared back, wide-eyed.

“Oh my god,” Grace said, handing his phone back. “You tell that man that yes, you would love to, and for the love of god, be sure you dress up nice for the occasion.”

“Thanks,” Brain said, looking down at his phone. “I mean, are you sure? Because I don’t want to misread-”

“Brains, look at the selfie that you took together while you were at Karaoke night,” Grace said.

“What about it?”

“You’re holding hands.”

“Oh, well I mean. Maybe he’s just like a touchy person who likes-”

“Brains.” Grace ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “It’s a date. He’s probably going to try and kiss you tonight. Don’t panic and ruin it, okay?”

He didn’t seem totally convinced, but he nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Grace replied. “Let me know how it goes, he seems like a nice guy.”

Brains nodded, gesturing to the door with his thumb. “Want me to close this?”

Grace paused, then got up from her chair. “Eh, I’m going to get something to drink.”

“Cool.” He turned his attention to his phone, typing a response to his theoretical beau and ignoring her.

Waddling out of her room, Grace couldn’t help but smile. For as smart as Brains could be about some stuff, he was an absolute dunce at others. She couldn’t fathom how he had stayed oblivious to the romantic tension going on, given everything that had happened between him and the other guy.

Some people just can’t see what’s right in front of them, she thought, as she rapped on the second door down from her own. “Hey, Pearce. I need you.”

He didn’t answer right away, so she knocked harder.

“Pearce!”

Still no response. She put her ear to the door, and could faintly hear music.

Goddammit. Opening the door, she loudly called, “Pearce!”

He had on headphones and was sitting at his desk, surrounded by a hoard of empty cans and mugs. The music was blasting in his ears so loudly that Grace could hear it from across the room, and if he wasn’t totally nose-blind to the smell of stale drinks and dirty dishes, he didn’t seem to care.

Finally noticing Grace, he sat back and pulled off his headphones. “Hey, what’s-” He smirked, looking her up and down.

“What?” Grace demanded.

“You just look really cute,” Pearce said, adding quickly, “Like a baby dolly. Just ridiculous.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I’m thirsty. Can I have some coffee?”

“Coffee’s not going to make you less thirsty,” he pointed out.

“Coffee and water, then,” she said.

“Sure. Let me get to a stopping point here, then I’ll go get it,” Pearce said, gesturing to his screen.

“Sure. Don’t forget,” Grace said, closing the door and returning to work. A twinge of suspicion convinced her to keep her own door open, though, watching the hallway.

Almost an hour later, she was still thirsty, and Pearce’s door hadn’t moved.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she grumbled. Getting up, she stormed back down the hallway - or, at least, she tried to. It was hard to work up a storm when her bottom was puffy and crinkled with every step.

Pounding on Pearce’s door, she waited only a second before throwing it open again. “PEARCE!”

He was exactly where she’d left him, sitting at his own desk, music blasting away, utterly oblivious to the passage of time.

(What a fucking asshole.)

Waddling over, she ripped the headphones off his head, and he started backward. “What the hell?”

“You said you’d get me something to drink!” Grace exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “That’s literally one of, like, four things that you have to do, and you already forgot.”

He frowned. “Yeah, I was going to do that once I got to a stopping point. It’s only been, like, fifteen-”

“An hour. Pearce, it’s been an hour.”

Eyes widening, he glanced back at his computer. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Bullshit,” she fumed. “Trying to make me quit because I’m dying of thirst is low, Pearce. Do we need to break out the rule book and add a line specifying that you can’t just deny me water?”

He got to his feet, quickly, shaking his head. “No, I- No. I’m sorry. I’ll go get that right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Grace crossed her arms. “I’ll wait.”

Pearce hurried out of the room, and true to her word, Grace waited stubbornly for him to return. She was half tempted to follow him down and make sure he didn’t get distracted by something else, but even Pearce couldn’t screw this up.

(Could he?)

After that thought crossed her mind, Grace walked downstairs anyways, glowering at the whole debacle. If Pearce wasn’t actually getting her water, she was going to kill-

She blinked. Someone was on the couch who she hadn’t expected. Specifically, a stranger.

“Um…” she said, looking down at herself for a moment and back up at the stranger, who was chatting with Melody.

Melody looked over, and the stranger finally took notice, staring in surprise.

“Uh, hi, Grace,” Melody said. “I didn’t think you’d be done working for a while or I’d have said something. Er... this is BB, the girl I’ve been talking to.”

“Which-” Grace shut her mouth before she could say, ‘Which one?’. “Which… um… which way did you see Pearce go?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Melody said.

“Thanks. Um, nice to meet you, BB?”

BB looked at her. “You, uh. Nice outfit?”

She turned pink. “It’s… a long story. There’s a whole bet, and-”

Winking, BB said, “I get it, you don’t need to make excuses.”

“... sure,” Grace said, unconvinced, as she waddled out of the living room over to the kitchen.

Pearce, at least, had stayed on task and had two baby bottles for her, one with water, one with coffee the way she liked it. She took them both.

“You’re welcome,” Pearce said. Grace ignored him, her face red, storming back up to her room.

She ended up draining the water bottle in a few minutes. The rubber nipple made it slower to drink from than just a regular cup, but she was thirsty, and consistent suckling got the liquid out as fast as she could have expected.

The coffee she took her time on, taking occasional sips as she focused on work, blocking out her other grievances with the day. If Pearce forgot about her again, she was going to make damned sure that they added a rule about that. Or maybe she’d just kill him.

Grace ignored the other reason why she was grumpy. It was more pressing, but there was less for her to worry about.

While, logically, she had known this moment might come eventually, she’d really been hoping that Pearce would chicken out and concede before it came up. That wasn’t going to happen, though. All he had to do until dinner time was check her diaper and forget to bring her water, both things that didn’t take much effort.

And she wasn’t going to last until dinner time.

Grace really, really needed to pee.

 

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[Bonsai]

Speaking of riding unicorns, ’tis would be something I would love to see on Grace: https://www.costumepartyworld.com/inflatable-riding-unicorn-costume-for-kids?___store=it&___from_store=ww

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 9/18/2021 at 12:36 PM, Bonsai said:

Speaking of riding unicorns, ’tis would be something I would love to see on Grace: https://www.costumepartyworld.com/inflatable-riding-unicorn-costume-for-kids?___store=it&___from_store=ww

That's adorable, and very silly! 

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Eight

Grace debated the best way to handle her…issue.

(Okay, it’s my own head, I don’t need to be coy. I’ve got to pee.)

She squirmed at her desk. This had been part of the plan, of course, but the difference between theory and practice was that in the world of theory, she wouldn’t actually have to do the whole ‘peeing her pants’ thing.

Though she could hold it for a good long while if she needed to, Grace was at the point where it was hard to focus on anything except her aching bladder. She wouldn’t be able to get anything done until she gave up and just…

(Okay, there’s one more thing I can try.)

It was stupid, but so was Pearce. There were worse plans in the world.

Getting up, Grace straightened her shortalls and left her room, knocking on Pearce’s door.

“I just got you water,” he called. “Unless you’re not Grace.”

She opened the door. “No, it’s me.”

“Well then, my point stands. Whaddya want?”

“Just curious if you wanted to give up yet,” Grace suggested, expressing as much flippancy as she could while fighting back the flood gates.

Pearce’s eyes widened in a knowing grin. “Oh, man, you’re about to wet your diaper, aren’t you?”

“No!” Grace lied.

Her knock-kneed stance as she tried to keep her bladder under control betrayed her, and Pearce exuded smug confidence as he asked, “So are you ready to give up yet, piddle pants?”

Grace flushed with embarrassment and anger at the suggestion. “No! Fuck you.”

“Ah, someone’s grumpy. I think you need me to check your diaper,” he teased, pushing away from his computer.

“You know I’m not–”

“Ah-ah,” Pearce tsk’ed, strutting over to her. “I don’t know anything for sure.”

She fumed, and debated pushing away from him, but that wouldn’t improve anything. She’d need to put up with this for a day or two until Pearce burned out, after all; at least she was still dry for the moment.

Standing over her with a smug smirk, Pearce kept eye contact with Grace and reached down, pulling the snap-buttons on her overalls and squeezing the outside of her diaper. “Well, it certainly feels dry,” he said. Leaning forward, he reached past her and shifted to the back of her diaper.

“Hey!” Grace objected.

“No stinkies, either,” he said. “I’m impressed. As much as you cry like a baby, you’ve at least managed to keep your diapers dry for almost two hours. Good job.”

“It’s been four,” Grace corrected.

“Ooh, wow, I’m impressed,” Pearce said, putting his hands to his cheeks in mock astonishment. “You kept your diapers dry for four whole hours? That’s got to be some kind of a baby record!”

“Ugh.” Grace turned, wheeling on her heels so she could find somewhere… else. It didn’t matter where, she just didn’t want to be around Pearce, when she…

(Goddammit.)

She was going to have to do this, one way or another. Pearce wouldn’t let her out that easily.

Grace shut herself back in her room, clenching her jaw in annoyance.

(Okay, just…do it. It’s fine. It’s just pee.)

Her body fought her. Years of practice in ‘not making puddles on the ground’ were difficult to overcome, and as soon as she tried to go, the pressure shrank back, refusing to give her an easy way out.

(It’s my body. I’ll pee if I want to!)

Devising a way to force the issue, Grace left her room, stalking across the hall to the bathroom. She wouldn’t be using it much in the coming days, but the sink had a hot water tap, and she knew her fair share of elementary school sleepover pranks. She turned the sink’s tap to hot, waited for the water to warm, and stuck her hand beneath the stream.

Worked like a charm. The need to pee returned in a heartbeat, and this time her body willingly gave in to the pressure, flooding her diaper.

It didn’t quite feel like she’d expected. Half her brain had anticipated the wet sopping sensation of peeing her pants, feeling the urine slosh down to her socks, refusing to believe that the diaper would do its job. The other half expected it to not really feel like anything, as though the diaper were magic.

The truth was somewhere in the middle. She could feel the warmth trickle down and soak into the thick pulp of her diaper, padding swelling as it drank everything up over a matter of seconds. It didn’t drain away and disappear instantly; she could feel it pooling in her diaper for a moment before it was wicked away, but the experience was still largely painless.

It took her a while to finish. Thirty seconds or so; she’d been holding it for a while. When she was done, she stood up straight and her diaper sagged, tugging down on her onesie and shortalls but mostly held close to her skin. It was heavy enough that she could feel it, though it didn’t affect her stride all that much.

“That was something,” Pearce snickered. “You know you do a thing with your eyebrows when you pee?”

She turned and blanched; he was leaning in the hall across from her. He’d probably watched the whole show.

“Gross!” she objected. “You watched?”

“Lil diaper babies don’t normally care if anyone sees them going pee-pee,” Pearce snickered. “Do you suppose I need to check you again, make sure you’re not gonna leak?”

“No,” she gritted her teeth and stormed down the hall, intent on pushing past him.

He held up a hand. “Rhetorical question, baby bottoms. You really flooded your diapers, I genuinely need to check.”

Grace balled up her fists and looked at the ceiling, groaning. “Fine, just get it over with.”

Pearce half-obeyed, not acting quite as showy this time around. He just gave the front of her diaper a squeeze, testing its weight, moving his hand down between her legs to see how much had soaked through.

(Just say it already. We both know you’re going to say that I–)

“You need a change,” he declared.

“After I peed once?” she balked.

“After you flooded them once,” Pearce countered. “Seriously, how much did you drink? Or–don’t answer, I don’t care, but I’m not gonna risk you leaking, that’s not what a good babysitter would do.”

His strict adherence to both the letter and spirit of the rules irked Grace, but she couldn’t justifiably complain about it, not when that was the whole point. “Fine.”

“Changing mat’s in my room,” Pearce said. “Come on, let’s get this taken care of.”

Grace crossed her arms over her chest and fumed as she followed him. If Pearce insisted on changing her after every petty accident…

(Well, wait, that might burn him out faster. Why am I mad about this?)

She still put on her show of petulance as she waddled after him, but that was only so she wouldn’t reveal the thought she’d just had. She had to wait while Pearce sifted through a pile of boxes and laundry by his bedside to fish out the changing mat, but once he’d unrolled it, she laid down and waited for him to start.

Pearce set the fresh diaper by her side, stacked next to powder, wipes, and a tube of rash cream that still had a layer of tamper-proof plastic around the cap.

He unsnapped the buttons on her shortall flap, did the same for her onesie, and revealed her soggy diaper beneath it all. “I’d make a joke here,” he said, “But honestly, we’ve all had our own bodily fluids spilled on our clothes at one point or another–it usually just comes after a lot more alcohol.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “I’ve never been that drunk.”

“Then what’s your excuse?” he joked, eyes sparkling.

He untaped the diaper and rolled it up, using the tapes to stick the whole thing into a wadded ball. Setting aside Grace’s old diaper, he took two wipes from the pack. Grace braced herself, remembering his trick with the refrigerated wipes from last time, but the expected chill didn’t come–the wipes were just at room temperature.

“Already forgot to put the wipes in the fridge?” she asked. “You’re slacking.”

Pearce hesitated. “It just seemed a little mean,” he admitted.

(Obviously he’s lying to cover up that he spaced out.)

He cleaned up the residue between her legs, set aside the wipes, sprinkled a thin layer of powder. “Looks like there’s no need for rash cream yet,” he said.

“Well, yeah. I was in that for like, five seconds,” Grace said.

“Still, good to check,” he said. “What good babysitter wouldn’t?”

She rolled her eyes.

The new diaper went on, snugly in place, and he snapped her buttons back. “Whelp. All good ‘till you fill it up again.”

“Thanks,” Grace said, pushing up onto her elbows.

“I was going to make dinner in about an hour,” Pearce said. “Chicken nuggets sound good?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Just chicken nuggets?”

“Well, there’s ketchup, or I got some swanky dipping sauce from the store–” Pearce started.

“No, I mean, no side dish? No vegetables?” Grace asked. “Not even like, some dinner rolls?”

Pearce scratched his head. “Uh. No? I hadn’t planned on it.”

Grace pinched the ridge of her nose between her fingers. “A loose pile of chicken nuggets is not a meal.”

“My niece–”

“Your niece has the palette of a child and would eat nothing but vanilla ice cream if you let her,” Grace snapped. “Rules say you can’t just serve me one thing.”

“Fine! Jeeze! I’ve got some canned veggies, I can heat those up,” Pearce said. “Anyways. I should get back to work.”

“Me too,” Grace said. “And you said food in an hour, right?”

“Give or take,” he said.

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a level look, standing up. “I’ll come knock on your door in fifty five minutes or so to remind you.”

He shrugged. “If you want, I guess.”

She rolled her eyes and waddled out of the room, wondering why she’d expected anything better from Pearce in the first place.

 

Chapter Nine of The Baby Bet, 'Bedtime, Bathtime, and Beyond' is already up on Patreon and SubscribeStar! If you can't wait to find out what happens next, (or just want to help support my writing,) you can click below! 

https://www.patreon.com/posts/62421021

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[SoakedinTexas]

It seems that Grace is doing a lot to remind him of what he has to do instead of letting him figure it out for himself. She seems to be tanking the bet by giving him pointers all the time. 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 2/11/2022 at 6:15 AM, SoakedinTexas said:

It seems that Grace is doing a lot to remind him of what he has to do instead of letting him figure it out for himself. She seems to be tanking the bet by giving him pointers all the time. 

You're not wrong! If Grace weren't so much of a control freak, she might have a better shot at winning this. But then again, if she weren't so much of a control freak, she wouldn't be in this mess to begin with! 

[PeculiarChangeling]

The Baby Bet, Chapter Nine: Bedtime, Bathtime, and Beyond

Grace eyed the bathtub skeptically.

One the one hand, the bubbles seemed completely unnecessary. On the other, complaining about it would be petulant, even for her.

“Well, the water’s not getting any hotter,” Pearce said. “Are you getting in?”

There was no point in refusing. Dropping the towel from around her chest, she stepped into the tub and sank into the warm, bubbly water. The warm water saturated her body and she relaxed back into the tub, bubbles displaced around her body. The water temperature was just right–hot enough that she could feel it radiate into her body, not so hot that it hurt.

Pearce lathered up a washcloth with soap. “Arms up?”

“Just give me a minute to soak,” Grace complained. “Okay?”

“Fine,” Pearce said, setting the washcloth on the side of the tub and wiping his hands off on his jeans. He sat back, taking out his phone to kill time.

She sank a little further, so the water came just up to her face without submerging completely. “Damn,” she said.

“What?” Pearce asked.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a bath,” she said. “I should do this more often.”

He chuckled, setting aside his phone and kneeling by the tub. “Alright, let’s get you clean.”

She lifted her arms, letting Pearce use the washcloth on her. This whole part of the bet felt a little unnecessary, but it created an extra chore for him that’d push his frustration and boredom more quickly, so she’d take it.

He ran the washcloth up her arms, across her back, down her sides. She was surprised by his thoroughness, having half expected him to just wipe her armpits and claim to be done, but he took his time and washed her properly.

“Lie back your head,” he said, reaching for the bottle of two-in-one kids shampoo on the counter.

Grace almost objected and asked for separate shampoo and conditioner, but decided not to argue. She leaned back and shut her eyes, the bath bubbles displacing around her body. Pearce squirted a dollop of the shampoo in his hand and began massaging it into her hair.

“You’ve got a lot of hair,” Pearce said.

“I tried volumizing conditioner once,” Grace replied, her eyes closed. “You could have curled up and taken a nap in it when I was done.”

Pearce laughed, cupping his hand to scoop water and pour it over her hair. “I think that’s called the ‘Anime Protagonist’ cut.”

She smirked, keeping her eyes shut as water ran down her face. A little ran over her mouth and she spluttered. “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t move so much.”

“I swear if you get shampoo in my eyes–”

“It’d be fine, this is ‘no more tears’,” he said, pronouncing it like ‘tiers’. “So it shouldn’t sting.”

“It’s no more tears,” Grace corrected. “Like, it won’t cause my hair to tangle or be torn.”

“I… think that’s wrong,” Pearce said. “Why wouldn’t it be ‘tangles’ then?”

She shook her head, sloshing her hair in the water. “Never mind, just don’t get it in my eyes.”

“You’re all clean, anyways,” he said. “Let me pull the plug and we’ll get you dressed.”

Grace got out of the tub, wrapping herself up in a fluffy towel while Pearce left to get her pajamas. He returned a moment later with a blue footed sleeper that zipped up in the back, as well as–of course–a fresh diaper for her.

Though she could have, Grace didn’t fuss with the dressing process, and Pearce didn’t give her a hard time about it. Wrapping her up in a fresh diaper, Pearce taped her in, helped guide her legs into the sleeper, and zipped her up.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Like…” he checked his phone. “A little after nine. Almost bedtime for you.”

“Right.” That was going to be… annoying, though seeing Pearce’s face when he had to come ‘wake her up’ in the morning would be worth it.

“You can do whatever,” Pearce said, stepping back. “I’ve got one thing I need to do real quick to get your bed ready.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He just flashed a grin. “You’ll see.”

She planted her feet and tried to stare him down, though her hard expression was somewhat undercut by her cute PJs and puffy bottom. “Pearce, what are you going to do?”

He shrugged, casually admitting, “I maybe ordered some bed rails, so you’ll get the full ‘baby crib’ experience. They just clip onto the frame, it should only take a few minutes to set up.”

“Hold it,” Grace said. “That wasn’t in the bet.”

Pearce rolled his eyes. “I’m putting you to bed. Why does it matter?”

“Because it wasn’t in the bet,” Grace repeated. “No rails.”

“That’s not up to little babies,” Pearce used a teasing, sing-song tone, but he looked annoyed at the challenge. “I already bought them, anyways.”

“Well you’d better ship ‘em back!” Grace shot. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Fine,” Pearce said. “So you’ll–”

“No,” Grace said. “I’m not saying, ‘Fine, you can do the rails’. I’m saying, ‘Fine, we’re taking this to the house and they can decide.”

Pearce pursed his lips but nodded in assent, probably recognizing that he had no good argument against arbitration.

Grace stomped down the stairs to the living room. Brains and Melody were in the middle of a hatewatch, laughing at a terrible movie, but Melody glanced over when she saw her. “Whas’sup?”

“Need your opinion,” Grace fumed. “Or, decision. Pearce is being an ass.”

“Boom in the shot!” Brains called, pointing at the TV. “Drink!”

“Ayy,” Melody replied, leaning forward to snag a beer from the coffee table. “Okay, sure. Whas’the issue?”

Grace could tell her friend was on the precipice of drunk. “Pearce wants to turn my bed into a crib,” she said.

“Oookay, and?” Melody asked. “Goes with the whole baby thing.”

“It wasn’t on the rules list. Brains–Brains!” she snapped, getting his attention.

He paused the movie, glancing up at her. It wasn’t until he looked her way that she noticed he was dressed up nice, and remembered a detail. “Weren’t you supposed to be on a date right about now?”

“He– ‘e canceled,” Brains hic’ced. “Says it was work.”

“I saw the text, I think he got dumped,” Melody added. “And my last relationship’s over, so we’re commiserating.”

“Which last relation–it doesn’t matter,” Grace said. “Brains, Pearce wants to make me sleep in a crib. That wasn’t part of the rules we came up with. Tell him to piss off, okay?”

Pearce finally came down the stairs, smirking triumphantly. “Hold it there, crinkles. The rules say I get to put you to bed. That should include tucking you in, and making sure your bed is secure and safe, right?”

Melody snickered. “He’s got a point, Gracey.”

“Brains?” Grace asked, looking past Melody, hoping that their resident rules stickler would back her up.

He considered it for a moment. Finally, he said, “He’s got a point. Babies don’t pick how their bed’s set up, and all.”

“Ugh,” Grace groaned, wishing she’d brought up this issue while everyone was sober. As it stood, she didn’t stand a chance of persuading either of them. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll do the stupid crib rails.”

“Good girl,” Pearce said, leaning in to pat her on the butt. “Now, try to stay dry while I go get your crib ready, okay?”

“Asshole,” she muttered. Pearce just smiled and turned to leave.

“Still glad you did this?” Melody asked, while on the TV a dinosaur the size of a chicken dove at the camera.

“He’s going to crack first,” Grace replied.

Melody shrugged. “Not what I asked.”

Grace paused. “Pearce needed someone to–I’m sorry, what the heck are you watching?”

“It’s called ‘Posideon Rex’,” Brains said, swigging his beer. “It’s awful. Grab a beer, we’re drinking every time they reuse the one reggae song they bought the-hic-rights to.”

“Sure, but I’ve got to go to bed here pretty soon,” Grace said, waddling to the couch and sitting down next to Melody. “And I can’t drink.”

“‘Less we convince Pearce to put a beer in your bottle,” Melody suggested, half-jokingly.

Grace enjoyed disliking the film for about fifteen minutes, until Pearce called down for her. It was almost nine thirty, time for her bedtime, so she excused herself and walked upstairs.

Just as Pearce had promised, her bed was no longer just a bed. The wooden bars only raised about a foot and a half over the side of the bed, but it was enough to convincingly resemble a crib, especially with the teddy bear he’d set inside.

“Hop in,” he said, folding down one side so she could get in.

Grace eyed the bed, doubt taking her for just a moment. The fact that he’d ordered this… it showed that he was in it for the long haul.

She shook off the concern. Pearce had overcommitted and overestimated his dedication. She got into the bed and let Pearce raise the bars up. They closed with a click.

“Do you need anything? Water? The bathroom?” He smirked, and added, “Well, I guess you’ve got that taken care of.”

“I’m fine,” Grace said. Her phone was on the bedside table, within arm’s reach, so she’d have that until ‘light’s out’. “Water would be nice, I guess.”

“Cool, I’ll bring that back around when I come to turn off the lights,” Pearce said. He leaned over her, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over her. “If you’re all set, I guess this is goodnight.”

“Yup,” Grace said.

He turned to leave.

She hesitated. “Hey, Pearce.”

He looked back at her. “Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to set an alarm,” she said. “Otherwise you’ll oversleep.”

Grinning, Pearce said, “Aww, you’re worried about me?”

“I’m worried about me. I don’t want to be stuck in bed waiting for you to wake up,” Grace rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Pearce.”

“Goodnight, Grace.”

 

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