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

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 28: Opinions Changed

Grace had heard that time heals all things, but if that was the case, she didn’t have the patience for the cure.

Pearce had taken her lesson to heart, finally acknowledging the responsibility it took to care for someone else. Over the past two days, he’d been meticulous, always early for meals, always getting her up on time, Johnny on the spot for diaper changes. He’d stopped pretending that he could casually laugh his way through this.

Grace had proven her point.

And she knew Pearce had learned something else, too: Dependence breeds resentment.

He could talk a big game, say that he didn’t think of her as a burden, claim it’s all ‘Just part of life’, but as soon as he got hit with reality, his song had changed. He could enjoy Grace’s company, or he could dependably care for her needs, but he couldn’t do both.

Grace just wished she wasn’t right all the time.

There’d been no affection. Barely a joke. Diaper changes were done with all the intimacy of a janitor cleaning toilets. She wanted to scream at him: (If you hate me this much, just give up. Walk away from the bet. Stop treating me as a dependent so we can be friends again.)

But Pearce was stubborn, and, unfortunately, he had more discipline than she’d given him credit for. He wouldn’t be forfeiting anytime soon.

And if she forfeit, she’d be admitting something that she didn’t want Pearce to have any place in her life, be it reluctant caretaker or confidant and benefits-friend. She couldn’t wait on him, and she couldn’t walk away either, not if she wanted him back.

There was only one tool left in her arsenal, one surefire way to get any man’s interest back.

Her plan didn’t take much thought. She waited until they had the house to themselves: Skip was at work, Melody was on a date, Brains was–surprisingly–also on a date. (Good for him.) They had privacy.

If she had full control, she’d dress up in something particularly sultry, but obviously it wouldn’t do much good to ask Pearce to change her clothes, he’d know something was up. She could make it work with just a T-shirt and diaper, though–it gave her room to work.

Trying to talk to him just anywhere would be a no-go, however. She had to wait until she had his undivided attention, until he couldn’t simply walk away from what she had to say.

Biding her time, she waited until he came into her room around eight in the evening. Setting a bottle of water on her desk, he leaned over and gave the front of her diaper a squeeze.

He came to the conclusion she’d hoped for. “Seems like you need a change. Come on.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her out of her desk chair. It was the closest skin contact they’d had lately–a good sign, or perhaps just an indication he didn’t care much about the act of touching either way.

While he led her, she worked towards her goal. “Hey, Pearce?”

Pausing in the bathroom doorway, he glanced back at her. “Yeah? What’s up?”

She pulled down on the edge of her shirt ever-so-slightly and bit her lip while he led her inside the room and helped her onto the floor. She gave him her best ‘Cute and helpless’ eyes, too. Laying it on thick, maybe, but Pearce sometimes needed her to be direct.

Trying to catch his gaze, she made her pitch. “I was wondering… do you want some company tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a fresh diaper out of the bathroom cabinet, along with a new box of wipes. Fiddling with it, he got his nails under the plastic seal and peeled it open, never sparing her a second glance. “No thanks, I’ve still got some work to do once this is done.”

Not an outright rejection, at least, though she didn’t like that her charms had to compete with a plastic sticker on a pack of butt wipes. Pushing to be more direct, she clarified. “I don’t just mean hanging out.”

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” Still shutting her down indirectly, Pearce unfolded the new diaper, bending it over his knee to fluff it up a bit. With everything ready to go, then, he finally reached for her old, soggy diaper.

(Don’t chicken out,) Grace thought, waiting until she was untaped and exposed, naked from the waist down. (See if he can say no to this.)

“Let’s have some real fun tonight, okay?” Pulling off her shirt, she exposed her chest, watching carefully to see if Pearce’s gaze would move from her thighs to her breasts. Of course it did–he couldn’t resist the sight of a beautiful, naked girl exposing herself beneath him. She set the garment aside on the floor, scooting on her back towards him, to wrap her legs around him and–

Pearce stood and stepped away from her, stepping around the bathroom so he could pick up her shirt. “Grace.” He lifted her top, crouching and holding it up, waiting for her to raise her arms. “You’re not supposed to change your outfit.”

Grace recoiled as though struck.

(Seriously?)

She shook her head. “Pearce. I’m not here to argue about a crappy tee.”

He didn’t lower the shirt.

“Pearce,” Grace repeated.

“You’re the one insisting we follow the rules to the letter.” Pearce glanced away for a moment, inhaling heavily through his nose–halfway to a sigh of frustration. “So if you want to talk, put this back on, because you’re not going to get what you want sitting in time out.”

It was an attempt to protect her. It had to be.

He wanted her, but he wanted to follow the rules. Hence his frustration–he didn’t like this any more than Grace, but he wanted to live up to her expectations.

She could accept that, even as the thought sent a pulse of insecurity into her brain.

Grace mimicked his breath–in through the nose, out through the mouth. Releasing her frustrations into the air, she complied with his instructions and raised her arms. Pearce pulled the shirt back over her head.

Once ‘properly dressed’, she looked up at Pearce, demanding his attention with her eyes. She had to get to the point, to explain that she didn’t mind a little slack if it meant having Pearce back.

Not the to-the-letter-but-not-the-spirit boring Pearce she’d had the past couple days, and not the lazy, inattentive slacker from before the bet, but her Pearce.

The Pearce who went out of his way to make every outfit an event, even the repeats, fussing over her to get it perfect–perfectly humiliating, but perfect nonetheless.

The Pearce who could go from silly to charming like a light switch flip, who made her laugh more than anyone else she could remember.

The Pearce who sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms that he’d never stop caring for her no matter how much of a burden she represented.

The Pearce who she had fallen in–

(Just tell him what you’re offering,) Grace thought, as he knelt between her naked thighs for the second time.

She took a breath. “So, we’d agreed that ‘Friends with benefits’ was the right term. Do you want to try out some of those benefits?”

There it was, in plain terms. Even if Pearce had realized that casual time with Grace was too much of a burden, that his babysitting duties turned all their interactions into tedious chores, he couldn’t turn down an offer like that. No babysitting stuff, no chores, no burden, just an invitation to fuck.

Pearce hesitated. He pursed his lips as he wiped down her skin–she knew him well enough to tell when he was using busywork as an excuse to think.

(What’s taking him so long? There’s nothing to think about, just–just answer. Please.)

Pearce tossed a wad of baby wipes in the trash, then spoke slowly, still constructing the sentence in his thoughts. “Grace.”

She didn’t need to hear the rest. She knew a ‘No’ when it slapped her in the face.

She could have kept her mouth shut, handled her own shit, never asked for anything that imposed. Instead, she’d tried to get Pearce to prioritize her, and she’d broken it all.

“The last time we slept together,” Pearce continued, dusting down her front with powder, using the action as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “We broke a dozen rules between us, caused a bunch of problems for our jobs, and I cleared out my savings to pay for penalties with the bet.”

“Well we won’t get that elaborate this time,” Grace grasped at straws, trying desperately to make her pitch work. “It doesn’t have to be a marathon session, we can just roll around a bit.”

Pearce pursed his lips and set aside the bottle, finally looking at her for just long enough to point out the distinct lack of appeal in her offer. “So we’ll have abridged sex?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Grace fumbled for words. “Pearce–I want you.”

Sighing, Pearce shook his head. “Do you? Really? Or do you want to be in charge of me?”

Grace blinked, caught at a loss for words.

He slid a diaper beneath her hips. Time was running out.

“This bet cuts two ways.” Pearce said, barely adjusting the diaper before pushing each sticky tape down, sealing them down with four quick, sharp motions. “You wanted to be right? Prove I can’t be responsible? Look at me now. I’m being responsible. But don’t forget the other half. Whether or not you can give up control. Whether you can follow someone else’s judgment. For someone who’s supposedly being cared for, you’ve been making a lot of decisions.”

Shaking her head, Grace tried to offer a defense. “I’m just–you weren’t doing what you’re supposed to!”

“Sure.” He leaned away, turning to hide his face–nominally, so he could get up and wash his hands, but he hadn’t put away the wipes or the powder yet, and any other night, he’d do that before standing. “Whatever. Maybe I wasn’t, but I am now, and you’re still asking for more control. Deciding which rules we can handwave because it’s inconvenient for you, telling me what you want, not accepting ‘no’ for an answer.”

Breath quavering, Grace sat forward, talking to his back. “Well…I… You never said no.”

“I’m saying it right now.” His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, the only sound was water splashing over his fingers. “We tried the friends with benefits thing. It blew up and left us both in a shit position, and for as long as I’m supposed to be in charge of you, the problems that came up aren’t going to go away.”

Grace nodded. Her face felt numb, blank, like she couldn’t summon the expressions she wanted.

“I’m not mad at you, Grace.” Pearce turned off the water. “I just can’t juggle all these roles like you want me to, there’s not enough of me to go around.”

“I get it,” Grace said, forcing her head to nod a few times. “It’s fine.”

She’d asked for too much. She’d asked for care and affection at the same time, and one had strangled the other.

“I need to finish this work,” Pearce insisted, drying off his hands on the towel. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Grace shook her head.

He crouched, taking the powder and wipes off the floor so he could toss them in the cabinet. She got a glimpse of his eyes, just for a second. They’d gone red in the past few moments since he’d turned his back, shimmering ever so slightly in the light.

She was out of ideas, out of plans. Pearce had turned her down completely. He’d already begun mourning the impossibility of their friendship when he accepted her as nothing but a list of chores. Now Grace could see his thoughts clearly: He’d given up.

She’d been right all along.

 

...

You know the pitch. Support is always appreciated. Thanks for being an awesome reader and coming along this story with me. 

More to come soon. ❤️ 

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 29: Slipping

Author’s note:

Haven’t done one of these in a while!

I realized that I criminally neglected giving Grace a stuffie at any point, so she has one that she got early on from Pearce to be her a crib companion. Despite his needling and teasing her about it, Grace won’t admit to having named the hedgehog.

Brains.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Connor said. “I’ll call you after this meeting.”

Brains hovered on the porch, fingers interlaced with his–boyfriend? Partner? The guy he was dating? He still hadn’t asked if they’d gotten to the point of labels yet, even after a month, and he didn’t know when it would be appropriate to ask. Still, he waited.

He blushed, but needed to ask something else. “Erm. I can kiss you, right?” His boy-part-dating-guy laughed. (He’s got such a nice laugh.) “You’ve got such a nice laugh.”

“You don’t need to ask every time,” Connor said, leaning in to press his lips on Brains.

As always, Brains’ brains deadlocked, freezing up when their bodies came together. He half expected his hair to stand straight up and smoke to start coming out his ears like a cartoon, but no hijinks played out around his head, and after a moment, they separated.

“But,” Connor continued, “I think it’s cute that you still do.”

“I love you,” Brains blurted, before he could catch himself. (Agh, no, no, it’s too soon–)

Connor’s smile deepened. “I love you too, Barry.”

It still felt strange that Connor used Brains’ real name and not his social group moniker, but he’d gotten used to it. And–

(He just said it back! He said it back!)

A stupid grin spreading on his face, Brains leaned in and kissed his love. They held the embrace until they both needed air.

Not wanting their romantic gesture to get Connor in trouble, Brains whispered, “Are you going to be late for your meeting?”

“You really are just constantly thoughtful, aren’t you?” Connor smiled so warmly Brains wondered if he should apply sunscreen. “You’re right, though, I should rush. Wonderful afternoon, can’t wait to see you again, I love you–text me?”

“Mhmm,” Brains said, in a daze. “Bye…”

“If your head’s still in the clouds in four hours, talk to your doctor,” Connor quipped, turning to scurry down the front sidewalk to his car.

Floating dreamily, Brains turned, hovering into his home.

The state of euphoria lasted about three seconds, then he saw Grace.

She was on the couch. Alone, wearing only a onesie and her diaper. Surrounded by a slight pee smell–nothing unusual for her of late, of course. Aside from all the normal, though, he could sense she was upset.

If he could sense she was upset, then something was definitely wrong. Her eyes were red, and she had a runny nose, though if she’d been crying she must have suddenly decided to wipe off her face and stop just before he walked inside.

Regardless, she needed him, so he left his giddy headspace and sat down to help a friend–she needed it, and even if it was a bit of a bummer, he didn’t mind.

“Something wrong?” he asked, taking up the opposite side of the couch from her.

She glanced over at him. He could see the thought playing in her head–she was asking herself, ‘Is it worth it to explain this to Brains’. He got that expression a lot.

“Sorry,” Brains clarified. “I know something’s wrong. I’d like to know what it is, and if there’s any way I can help.”

“Can you do magic?” Grace asked.

Though he expected her question was hypothetical, he answered, “No, sorry.”

“Do you have a million dollars?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve got some money in savings, but not like, that kind of money.”

Grace crossed her arms. “If I said I needed to borrow a hundred bucks, right now, no questions asked, would you give it to me?”

Reaching for his phone, Brains scrolled, looking for his banking app. “Let me check my balance–”

“Hypothetical, Brains, I’m not asking for money,” she said.

(She just did, twice, but…okay, sure.) “I’d give it to you, if I had it,” he said.

“Uh-huh. And what if I didn’t pay it back, and said I needed to borrow more?”

That seemed like a good enough time for a joke–something to lighten the mood a little and make her feel better. “I’d ask what drug dealer you pissed off.”

Her expression flattened, and she looked away.

(Ah, beans. Wrong time for a joke.) “I’d give it to you,” he said again. “And maybe ask if you were in trouble, if you needed something else.”

“Okay. How many times?” Grace asked. “How many times could I ask for help before you decided I wasn’t worth the expense and gave up?”

He actually did check his balance, then, doing a little math. “I guess, five. Then I’d have to find something else to help you, because, like…If I lend you money and can’t make rent, I’m not exactly making things better, I’m just digging a new hole.”

“Brains,” Grace said, “You’re not getting it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, trying not to express too much annoyance at her refusal to be direct. “I’m not. You don’t actually need money, so what are you actually asking for?”

“I’m making a point,” Grace said, exasperated–Brains could tell by the way she threw her hands in the air for a moment. “There’s a certain point where, if someone asks for too much, you stop giving.”

“Yeah,” Brains said, “Because I’d be out of money. If a friend asks for help, you help them–until you can’t, at least.”

“No, it’s–You know what? Never mind. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

Brains knew she was lying, but also doubted he could get her to open up and admit the truth.

Shrugging, he got up. “Okay, well... Let me know if you do need any money, okay? I can–”

Grace shot him a look that communicated, ‘Seriously?’ about as well as any body language could, and he nodded.

“Right. Sorry. Bye.”

…

Melody.

“Muah,” Melody half said, breaking off from the kiss before leaning in for two more. Tilly was a dream, a delight to hang out with, and an excellent kisser–she’d been an excellent way to spend a Friday evening. Melody got two more quick pecks in before finally pulling away for good.

“Fantastic night,” Tilly said, checking her lipstick in the mirror and making a little pinkie-thumb phone gesture. “Call me?”

“Absolutely,” Melody promised, getting out of the car.

Tilly had dropped her in the alleyway out back, and Melody blew kisses at her most recent paramour until Tilly turned the corner, at which point she took out her phone, pulled up Tilly’s contact info, and erased it, strolling cheerfully to the back door.

No second dates.

No attachments.

Attachments brought complications, and she didn’t want to mess up her life.

Then again, she’d started to blow through the eligible dating pool in town… but that would be a problem for future Melody. Tonight, she just wanted simple relaxation.

Instead, walking into the kitchen, she found Pearce.

“Hey,” she said, walking past him to get to the fridge. She wanted a beer and something for a late snack.

“Hey,” Pearce said, looking up from the dishes he’d been scrubbing. “Grabbing a drink?”

“Yeah,” she said, grabbing the bottom shelf crap they always purchased–it didn’t matter about the taste, it was sixteen bucks for a twenty four pack.

“Grab me one too?” he asked.

“Sure.” Popping two tabs, she passed him one and sipped the other, giving him a slight side eye.

He noticed, unfortunately. “Don’t worry, Grace is asleep. I’m off the clock until morning.”

“Not what I was thinking,” Melody replied, throwing back her drink. If they were going to talk about this, she’d want a second beer. Lowering the can, she added, just in case, “Your bet isn’t my problem.”

He considered, flicking suds off his hands to pick up the can and take a sip. “Mind if I make it yours, just for a minute? I’m not asking you to care, I just want your opinion.”

“Ugh,” Melody said, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, turning back to the dishes. “Fine, I won’t–”

“No, no, it’s fine, you just had to be polite and thoughtful and actually ask so now I can’t feel righteously pissy about it–and I’d been looking forward to feeling righteously pissy about it.” Melody admitted, setting aside the can and opening the fridge again. “Yeah, of course I can listen. What’s up?”

“It’s complicated.” Pearce stopped and wiped his hands off, abandoning the dishes for a moment. “You know the whole blowup a few days ago?”

“On Monday, right?” Melody grabbed a takeout box, peering inside–fried chicken, and still good. Perfect. “Only kinda, I steered clear of that whole mess.”

“I’ll summarize, I guess,” Pearce said, taking another sip of his beer. “So–ugh, okay. It’s like…so, she and I–”

Melody smirked, dumping chicken onto a microwave safe plate and popping it in. (Get to it, you’re almost there.)

“We…” Pearce started. “On Saturday, we fucked.”

He looked at her, waiting for the glimmer of recognition or surprise. Melody just shrugged. “Took you two long enough.”

He blinked, and his look of surprise was enough for Melody to no longer regret the conversation. “You knew?”

“I mean, duh,” Melody said. “You’re like–how do I put this? You two are a couple magnets. The only states you can exist in are repelled as far apart as you can get, or stuck together grinding all your bits together. Anything else is unstable and just going to fall apart as soon as the pressure goes away.”

Turning slightly pink, Pearce avoided answering, buying time with another swig of his beer. “So, anyways–I left, to go sleep in my bed, and I forgot my phone. I didn’t wake up on time.”

Melody winced. “Grace isn’t exactly a fan of things not sticking to schedule. You apologized, right?”

“I’m not done,” Pearce continued. “So she wakes up, and she noticed I’m asleep, and she just didn’t do anything. She left me sleeping until almost five in the evening.”

Wincing harder, Melody took her chicken out of the microwave. “Ouch. That’s a pretty harsh reaction.”

“Still not done,” Pearce continued.

“Oh, hell.”

“So when I am awake, and trying to figure out what I’m going to do after I lost a whole day, she just won’t get off my back, insisting that I broke a ton of rules, and I need to pay penalties for each of them.” He sighed, draining his drink. “It was like four hundred bucks.”

Melody whistled, returning to the fridge one last time and taking out two more beers. Extending one to Pearce, she waited. He initially didn’t take it, so she added, “Hey, you filled up the beer fund–at least get your money’s worth. That’s messed up, buddy.”

He accepted the can, popped the top, and let the foam drip over his fingers. “Still not done.”

(Seriously?) She widened her eyes, waiting for him to continue.

He obliged, using the can to gesture. “So–I was mad, right? I was pissed, and she was pissed, and she wouldn’t leave me alone, so I said she’d broken a bunch of rules and put her in time out.”

“Uh-huh.” Melody nodded. “So that’s when Brains texted me. Okay. Is that everything?”

“I guess.” Pearce sighed, leaning hard against the counter, looking like a balloon that’d started to deflate.

“So what do you need the opinion on?” Melody asked, sitting down to her microwaved dinner.

“We’re–we’re bad for each other, right?” Pearce asked. “She’s… she’s so focused on winning this stupid bet, she did that. I don’t know what to say, like, she had so many opportunities to make it better, and she kept taking the low road, and–fucking hell, am I crazy here? Is that not unreasonable to do?”

“Oh, no, she’s definitely unreasonable,” Melody agreed. “I’d point out that you’re still competing, though–hard to call her out too much when you won’t just walk away.”

“Sure, but like…” Pearce looked away, sighing for a moment. “Sorry, words. Trying to think how to say this. Yeah, I’m being selfish–I don’t want to prove her right. I give up, she’ll never let me hear the end of it, and…”

“And you can’t give her the satisfaction after she fucked you?” Melody raised an eyebrow. “Metaphorically. Not literally. Though, if you haven’t tried a strap–”

“That’s not it,” Pearce said. “I just, I thought she was starting to actually like me, you know? That we could be friends. Like you said, with the whole magnet thing, I thought we were starting to stick, and then it turns out that when it’s a decision between forcing me to lose this stupid bet and showing me a tiny shred of decency after a mistake, she’d rather win the bet.”

Melody whistled, but didn’t respond right away, busy chewing. Pearce gave her a slightly pleading look, hoping for validation of his feelings, but she didn’t give in until she’d swallowed–not because she needed to think about her opinion, she just didn’t like talking with her mouth full.

“So what’ve you been doing?” she asked. “Since Monday.”

“Treading water,” he admitted. “Or, not treading, I’ve been doing my job like a champ. She’s not going to catch me on any more rule breaks, not ever–I can’t give her more excuses to stab me in the back. I’m keeping her at an arm's length, not getting close again, because otherwise it’s like trying to hug sandpaper.”

“Right.” Melody frowned to one side. “Look, you want my advice? Forfeit. Give up, walk away, let her have her internal victory, and then once it’s over, I’ll tell her to stop talking about it. Only way to get this over is to rip the band aid off once and for all.”

“I can’t do that,” Pearce said. “Even if she’s not saying it out loud, it won’t feel like walking away, it’ll feel like losing.”

Shrugging, Melody said, “Okay, whatever. Keep wiping her ass, if you want. But you seem miserable right now. You’re trying to stay emotionally distant from a person you interact with like fifty times a day. That’s not going to change unless you change it. Attachment sucks, so just walk away.”

Pearce sighed, set down his beer, and turned back to the dishes. “Thanks, Mels.”

“Welcome,” she said. “Anytime.”

…

Skip

“Yes, yes, yes–” Skip’s smile spread across their face, pleasure building into a total climactic explosion, vibration pulsing up from their fingertips as their favorite toy seemed to celebrate with them.

The haptic controllers on their Nintendo switch really helped with immersion–and they’d just achieved a new highscore, to boot!

Removing their earbuds, they–

Sob.

(Oh no.)

Grace was crying, and they’d be an awful friend if they didn’t go talk to her and see what was wrong.

Or, well. Skip knew what was wrong. They needed to go talk to her anyways, and ask, and be told some half-truths from their friend, otherwise Skip’s conscience would eat away at them for a whole lot longer than the evening.

Aside from their conscience, though, it was the right thing to do–even if Grace wouldn’t learn much from the conversation. Maybe. And if not today, someday–she was thickheaded when it came to emotions, but enough repetition would get to her eventually, and until then, well…

Skip would just keep trying.

Rolling out of bed, they fumbled for their cell phone, turned on the flashlight, and walked to their door. With blackout curtains, it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday–it may as well have been pitch black midnight, without a flashlight, they couldn’t see a thing.

Swinging their door open, they followed the sound of sobs downstairs to the couch, arms wrapped around a plush hedgehog the size of a particularly poofy pillow.

She looked up at Skip’s entrance, wiping her eyes. “Sorry, I thought–I didn’t think you were home.”

“I was just doing some reading,” Skip lied.

(Why do I do that? She doesn’t care that I play video games.)

“I’ll be quieter,” Grace sniffed. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Skip assured her. Since Grace was laying across the couch on her back, there wasn’t any good place for them to sit, so they crossed their legs and plopped down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb,” Grace insisted, looking down at the hedgehog. Her expression turned just a touch embarrassed, and she tossed it to the side. It bounced off the coffee table, rolling onto the floor beside her. She winced, glanced at Skip as though to see if they’d notice, and sheepishly picked the plush back up and set it off to her side.

“It’s not. You’re upset, you need to feel your feelings and process, otherwise you’re not going to feel any better,” Skip pointed out. “Just talk to me, okay?”

“It’s Pearce. I messed it up, I messed it up bad, and–” swallowing, she said, “And now I can’t fix it back the way it was.”

Pursing their lips, Skip said, “I don’t know if that’s true. What happened?”

Staring at the ceiling, Grace took a few breaths before explaining. “He stopped caring. I asked for too much, and…” Tears started welling up. “He realized I’m too much, and…”

Sobs, but good sobs. The sobs of processing, of finding herself and figuring out what she needed. Skip didn’t believe there was such a thing as bad crying, not unless you didn’t have anyone there with you to make things OK.

Once the crying had lowered, Skip promised, “You’re not too much.”

Grace took her plush and squeezed it tightly, pinning the hedgehog against her as though it might try and escape. “I am to him.”

“Really?” Skip asked. “Has he said that?”

“Basically.” Glancing at Skip, she opened her mouth, then looked away. “Can I tell you something stupid?”

Skip shrugged. “You can tell me something, I don’t believe it will be stupid.”

“I named the hedgehog,” Grace said, looking at the plushie on her chest.

Smiling, Skip said, “That’s not stu–”

“I named him John.”

Skip blinked. “John. That’s Pearce’s–”

“We don’t ever call him that,” Grace shot back. “He’s just Pearce, he’s only ‘John’ when he has to sign checks, so it’s not even really like I–”

“Grace,” Skip said, reaching out to touch her arm. “You need to do something. You clearly care about him, and just waiting around isn’t helping.”

“I tried!” Grace said. “I talked to him–twice. He shot me down. He’s not interested; as long as he has to keep being in charge of me, keep caring for me, he’s not going to be interested.”

Skip frowned. “So quit.”

“And make him think I don’t care?” Grace sat up, recoiling at the idea. “That I want him to stop?”

(Stop…making you wear diapers?) Skip wondered. “I don’t know what you have to do, but like… come on. Either do something or walk away. You’re not going to be happy until this is over, not if you’re constantly having to rely on a guy you’re this hung up on.”

Grace wiped her eyes and shook her head. “How can I make him stay with me when he won’t even stay for more than a conversation? Literally the only time he gives me attention is when he’s changing my diapers.”

“I don’t know.” Skip stood. “I hope you can figure that out.”

Looking up at them, a light flickered in Grace’s eyes, and she said, “Actually…I think I might have an idea.”

 

...

Read ahead on Patreon, and help support the author at the same time! It's a win win!

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[D503]

Awesome chapter - great story. You really feel for them. 

[ezithemuse]

I’m so so proud of how this story is developing. You’re doing amazing stuff PC

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 30: Hurricane

 

The following chapter features an instance of behavior comparable to an eating disorder, resulting in accidental self harm.

This self-harm is not intentional and the results are not life threatening, and the parallels to ED are merely a coincidence and not the focus of this chapter, but it could still be upsetting to some readers. If you want to know precisely what happens so you can be better informed, feel free to message me asking for a spoiler and I will respond as promptly as I can.

...

“I’m–I’m sorry, Daddy, I had…I had a accident!”

“After I told you not to use your diapers that I put you in? What a bad girl–I think it’s time for your sp–”

The door handle to Pearce’s room jiggled, and he threw his phone down, jolting straight up. Trying to act casual, he crossed a leg over his lap, clearing the pornographic images from his head, of the cute girl in a soggy diaper, showing off her lack of dignity to her daddy. If he crossed his eyes, the girl looked almost like Grace–even if Grace had better diction and infinitely better banter skills than whoever wrote that porn script.

He shouldn’t even have been looking at that stuff, the surface level enjoyment wasn’t worth the deep sense of ache it left him with afterwards.

Grace opened the door, and Pearce’s insides did backflips.

She was wearing a plain T-shirt and her patented, ‘I really want to ask for a diaper change but I know I’m not supposed to’ expression. Her eyes avoided his, her lips were pressed into a line, embarrassment radiated from her whole being.

He’d learned to recognize the meaning of that expression at a glance, because it had once offered prime time for teasing. Occasionally, she’d just be acutely soggy, but most of the time, she’d come to him wearing this embarrassed expression because she’d pooped in her diaper and wanted to be clear of it as quickly as possible.

A week ago, this would have been the perfect time to fluster Grace. She was embarrassed about having used her diaper, despite it being a daily occurrence, and primed for further teasing because she needed Pearce to notice. Strictly speaking, her patented ‘change me’ expression was an attempt to skirt the rules, to ask without asking, but it involved such willing self humiliation and was a mild enough request that he didn’t mind.

He would sometimes pretend to be completely unaware, which made her fuss and stomp and blush, or he could really draw out the check, making her wriggle and squeak as he squeezed the seat of her diaper, weighing how badly she needed a freshie. It felt silly to admit, but flustering Grace had become a highlight of his days, and diaper checks were an excellent tool to get that done.

This all led to the less-fun part: Actually changing a messy diaper. He just hadn’t gotten over that, no matter how many times he had to do it, it was always just as gross as the first time, the only difference was the speed with which he got the nasty part over with. He’d do it, but if he had to pick one part of the bet to get rid of, it’d be the dirty diaper changes.

A part of him wanted to get back to the teasing, the checks, the things that made Grace red-faced and fussy, but it was just like the porn: It might have been fun in the moment, but the long-term hurt wasn’t just worth it. Grace didn’t mean to hurt him, she just did, because her problems had to be pushed on everyone else.

She was like a storm. Thrilling, wonderful, beautiful. A storm could bring life to the world around it, and energy, and even magic, but if Pearce tried to enjoy too much, he’d be swept away.

“Hey,” Grace said, arms crossed over her belly, looking down at her toes. She looked shaky.

(“Hey, baby, are you okay? You don’t look so good, how can I help?”) The response he wanted to give stuck in his throat. If he gave in, if he let himself be vulnerable, he’d just get hurt again.

“Hey,” Pearce replied, noting that the anxiety and turmoil had at least killed his awkward boner. “Do you need a change?”

She nodded. “Er…yeah.”

Nodding, Pearce glanced back at his desktop, at the work he’d been doing. It could wait. Getting up, he said, “Okay, I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

She nodded, turning to waddle away, and for a second, it seemed like she winced.

Even despite his attempts to shield himself from vulnerability, the ache struck again, bypassing all his emotional shelter.

(Is my distance hurting Grace that much?)

(Would it be so wrong if I left my defenses behind so I could go comfort her?)

Never mind the potential fallout, never mind that he couldn’t regulate her emotions for her, never mind that she’d lash out like a hurt animal the next time he wasn’t perfect. He wanted to go wrap her up in a hug, kiss her, find out why she was shaking and make it better.

Logic, though, told him the truth: He couldn’t. Last time he’d made himself vulnerable, she’d turned a mistake into a tempest. If he opened himself up again, he’d get hurt just the same every time, and enough injuries stacked one on top of the other only build resentment.

He’d be trading his own comfort for Grace, and that would burn them both in the long run. It wouldn’t just mean the end of their relationship, it might mean the end of the Wasters entirely.

If only he’d been a bit more like Brains, it would have been easy. Once Brains knew the logical, smart, correct choice of action, he could pursue it without hesitation. Pearce, on the other hand, knew himself. He was too impulsive and selfish to do the right thing every time, and even when he was committed to the right course of action, the pull of impulsivity called to him like a siren.

Sighing, he walked out of his room, following Grace to the bathroom.

He couldn’t provide for her emotional needs, but her diaper still needed changing.

Wipes. Powder. A fresh diaper. A bin to dispose it all. The physical stuff, that was easy…if a bit nasty.

Avoiding eye contact with Grace while he did it all, though, that took something out of him. He knew she was right there, his hands were touching her skin, he could hear her breathing and the gurgling of her tummy. He could just acknowledge her as something beyond an object in need of cleaning.

He kept his mouth shut.

She did, too. She’d figured out that he wasn’t interested in conversation.

He wiped her thighs and skin free of muck, piling the wipes next to her old diaper. Messy changes always took about a billion wipes–if he could have, he’d have always timed them right before bathtime and used the shower to wash her off, but it rarely worked out that conveniently for him.

Under his fingers, he could feel her tremble–she was shaking.

(Just talk to her.)

“I’m planning on making dinner in about two hours.” Sheepishly, looking for something to add, he appended, “Pasta.”

“Okay,” she said. “I–mm.”

Pulling her arms tighter around her body, she put on another pained expression.

“Are you feeling okay?” Pearce asked, before he could stop himself. He didn’t want to care, but he couldn’t not.

“Mmm…” Grace whimpered, before choosing to lie to him. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t expect comfort, so she wouldn’t show vulnerability. He couldn’t blame her.

Sliding a fresh diaper beneath her, Pearce dusted on powder and taped it up without further commentary. He had escaped the diaper change without making himself vulnerable, he’d call that a win.

(“There. Now let’s see if you can keep this one clean for more than thirty seconds.”) He bit down the teasing comment and said, “You’re clean. Do you need a refill on your bottle, or are you good for now?”

“I’m…for now, I’m okay.” She was definitely hiding her feelings. Physical or emotional, Pearce couldn’t quite tell, but he knew there was something up. Maybe she’d had another plan, another scheme and it’d fallen apart without him even noticing.

Either way, he could wash his hands of the business. Wrapping up the diaper in a trash bag, he did just that, scrubbing his hands in the sink, before heading back to his room and dumping the diaper in Grace’s pail.

Diaper changes had been hard, lately, and Grace hadn’t made that last one any easier, even if she didn’t actually fuss or cause any problems.

Leaning over his desk, Pearce tried to get his focus back. What had he been doing?

(Right. Porn, but there was work, too.)

He stared at his computer, already knowing he was about to lose an hour to nothing–his focus was shattered, and there were no pressing work deadlines to drag him back in. He tried to fight it, pulling up a couple client emails to direct his thoughts, but he was too aware of his own failings in focus to think he’d be able to power through when he was feeling this emotionally hazy.

The door handle to Pearce’s room jiggled.

He looked over–Grace was in the doorway.

She was wearing a plain T-shirt and her patented, ‘I really want to ask for a diaper change but I know I’m not supposed to’ expression.

Pearce frowned. He’d literally just changed her. She couldn’t have needed to go again that quickly, unless this was a stunt–she’d only half gone, and waited, so she’d need two changes. And while it wasn’t wet, her diaper definitely had the telltale sag of a dirty accident.

He could delay. Strictly speaking, he had most of an hour before he needed to actually change her, but he stood anyway. “Do you need a change?”

She nodded. “Er…yeah.”

This time, he caught her stiff diffidence, the anxiety in her words. This was definitely a stunt, unless she had food poisoning.

“Did you go all the way?” he asked, deciding to rule out the possibility of a stunt then and there.

She shrugged, then screwed up her face in…discomfort? Embarrassment? Regret? He couldn’t quite tell, and he just barely caught her whimpered words. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up.” He tried not to sigh too heavily as he marched past her, to the bathroom. Grace waddled meekly behind. If he didn’t like changing dirty diapers, she hated wearing them just as much–he just had to deal with the ick for a few minutes, she had to wear it.

Laying her out on the floor for the second time in ten minutes, Pearce pulled out the changing supplies from the cabinet.

Wipes.

Powder.

A fresh diaper.

A trash bag, for the old one.

Her stomach gurgled as he untaped her diaper, an angry, rumbly sound. And, though he didn’t particularly feel like playing CSI, he noted that things looked…not great in her diaper. This was less a solid mess and more a swampy mudslide.

Maybe it was food poisoning.

Pearce frowned. He’d had all the same food as her.

He wiped her up, and he couldn’t help but ask again. “Grace, are you sure you’re not feeling sick?”

“I’m not s-sick,” she said, making a squeaking sound in the middle of the last word. She was straight up pale. Something was wrong.

“I’m going to make you tea after this.” He compromised with himself as he spoke. “Okay? Something to settle your stomach.”

Her face registered another mixed, muddled emotion. Not disappointment, but maybe regret?

Pearce had a guess why. He’d started showing affection again. (Dammit.) Even if it was only for her physical needs, he just couldn’t help himself, he wanted to take care of her, and that little sliver of comfort stuck out like a sore thumb. He had unintentionally reminded them both of a past relationship that was too painful to resume.

Wipe. Clean. Move on. Don’t allow any tender lingering touches, no physical affection, the words were bad enough. He’d already poked his head out of the shelter, and if he showed any more vulnerability, he might as well get in a pickup truck and go driving after the tornado.

She was messing with him again, right? Grace was nothing if not tricky, she loved her ploys and her schemes. Making her diaper leak so he’d take a penalty, or pretending to fuss over food so he’d dote on her, or taking advantage when his phone died, letting Pearce sleep through four work appointments so he’d resign from the bet–

(Don’t mistake the damage for the intent. She wasn’t thinking about the work stuff, she just didn’t care. Don’t get close.)

A fresh layer of powder, a fresh diaper, a definitive nod. “You’re clean.”

He washed his hands, dumped the diaper, washed his hands again, and went down to make that tea.

If this was a stunt, it had to be one taking advantage of circumstance. She really did seem sick–sweaty, uncomfortable, and it looked less like she’d used her diaper on purpose and more like it’d saved her from ill-timed diarrhea.

(She couldn’t have given herself food poisoning, right?)

He knew her. He knew what she looked like when she felt low and he knew what she looked like when she was up to something. Now, she looked both ways at once, and he couldn’t parse the difference or reasoning behind either.

Crouching to go through his section of the kitchen’s cupboards, he pushed aside the fiber he’d purchased for Grace’s food, the jars of baby food, and a few other nasty surprises he’d planned for her. A jar of Grandma’s Turkey Dinner paste just seemed too mean for Grace, even if he had wanted to see her fuss and squirm when he spoonfed her, so he’d stuck to only serving fruit pastes and apple sauce.

He made a mental note to find someplace to donate the baby food, since he’d stopped bothering to serve it to Grace. Soup or pizza or just a microwave dinner didn’t take any mental effort and didn’t open him up to banter. It was the third time he’d made the mental note, but maybe he’d actually act on it someday.

Reaching for the herbal tea in the back of his cupboard, he paused.

Pearce didn’t pride himself on being observant, but his section of the cupboard seemed off. Like someone had rifled through it, looking around.

(Grace? But why would…she…)

“Oh,” he said aloud, looking around a little harder, hoping he was wrong.

It wasn’t there.

Praying that he was just being paranoid, he closed the cupboard and walked to the trash can. “Grace,” he said, quietly, “Please, tell me you didn’t…”

But she had. Buried under a few things, but easy enough to fish out, was the wrapper of a chocolate bar. Flipping it around, he read the back.

Directions for use: Take two squares orally.

Do not use more than eight squares in a twenty-four hour period.

Stop and talk to your doctor if constipation is not relieved after twenty four hours.

The laxative chocolate bar was gone.

There’d been forty-eight squares there when it was new, and he’d never used a single one. That meant, unless Grace had just hidden them away somewhere…

“Pearce…”

He’d been so caught up with his discovery, he hadn’t heard Grace waddle up behind him. Turning, he saw her–diaper drooping, arms crossed over her chest, eyes wet.

She sniffed, and when she winced again, he knew why–he could hear the cramp hit her from across the room. Doubling forward, Grace’s body made a few undignified sounds, and she looked away from him.

Grace had poisoned herself. Maybe to make him forfeit after getting tired of the changes, maybe just so he’d have to spend time in a room with her, hands on her body, but he didn’t care about her motivations.

She was hurting.

He would help.

[ezithemuse]

❤️ i love this story and working on it so much. hope people like it!

[sklawlor]

Great chapter. Grace is crazy for poisoning herself that way, the unintended consequences of doing that, pierce should probably take her to the hospital or urgent care.

[D503]

Hope she's OK! 

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 31: The End? 

Gurgle–

(I’m such a fucking–)

GURGLE–

“Ow–dammit. Dammit.”

GURGLE–

(–fucking, fucking idiot.)

Blrblrbl–

Molten, putrid fluids poured out of her, into her fourth diaper of the hour, staining the seat a pale brown. She just lay there, on the bathroom floor, staying on her changing mat–why leave, when she’d just be right back on it in a minute?

Her intent had been to take an intense dose of laxatives and purposefully induce repeated messy accidents, so that Pearce would have to change her every few minutes until he gave up. Technically, that had worked, but that was just the start.

Grace hadn’t bothered to read the box, she’d just taken the laxative chocolate and committed to her plan. Four rectangles of slightly chalky almost-candy, swallowed in a few bites, because she didn’t want to risk chickening out and sulking for another week. She had to end the bet immediately–or, at least, that’d been her thought at the time.

She’d been impulsive, and stupid, and not considered the side effects, not planned on how hard it would hit her. By the time she realized she’d made a mistake, it’d been far, far too late to back out.

Now she had to lie on her back and try to decide which aspect of her situation made her more miserable.

The pain, obviously, was a strong contender–she’d never felt cramps this bad in her life. Even before she started birth control, when her periods had been regular and painful, the cramps had never been this bad. Even compared to the worst day she could remember, it was a walk in the park compared to this.

Her intestines felt like they wanted to come alive and strangle her, and since they were regretfully trapped inside her tummy, they’d chosen instead to self immolate in protest. Every few moments, she’d feel a spasm, and her body would uncontrollably release into her diaper, an act as painful as it was humiliating. She was thirsty, and sweaty, and overwhelmed by signals all over from a body in revolt.

The only thing that could challenge the pain for the top spot in her personal hell was the deep, personal, and utterly consuming shame.

She’d proven herself as thoughtless and selfish as Pearce probably assumed she was, and she’d pulled herself into a self destructive spiral. A whimpering, crying mess on the floor, in need of constant attention, constant care, constant disgusting diaper changes.

If her point already hadn’t been proven, it would be now. She’d become the perfect burden, the kind nobody would care for.

Pearce was going to hate her after this.

And he’d be right to do so.

Another cramp hit her, but her body was out of contents to drain, so nothing poured into her diaper–though the cramps did force tears down her cheeks.

(Fuck. Fuck.)

She wanted to get creative with her vulgarity, to at least come up with a cleverly phrased tirade, but she lacked the mental bandwidth for that. Too much of her brain was overtaken by one-note ideas and impulses; Hurts, and Cry, and Shame, and Push, and (I’m so fucking stupid.)

“Grace?” Pearce pushed the door open, phone in one hand, and a bottle in the other. “I just talked to poison control. Good news is, you’re going to be OK.”

(No I’m not,) Grace thought. Out loud, she asked, “How long?”

“It’s…they weren’t sure.” Setting down his phone, Pearce rubbed at the back of his neck. “A few hours. Maybe, like…a day? We just have to wait it out, there’s not much else to be done. The guy said to make sure you get plenty of fluids and electrolytes, you’re going to get really dehydrated. And diaper rash is a concern.”

Grace’s eyes widened and she sat up suddenly–a move she regretted as another cramp sent her right back down to the bathroom floor. “You told him?” she asked, sniffling. “About the bet?”

“No.” Pearce knelt by her, nose wrinkling slightly as he got a whiff of her latest sloshy accident. “That was unprompted, but…I mean, the bet doesn’t help. Here.”

He passed Grace the baby bottle, which had milky white fluid inside it.

Grace eyed it suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Formula,” Pearce admitted, reaching into his pocket while he spoke. “It’s got electrolytes and calories, and you need something to keep up your strength. I have a delivery coming with more stuff for you, pedialyte and gatorade, but we needed something now, and I had this ready to go. Drink it.”

“Pearce…” Grace started, wincing between words. “I don’t know–”

“I do,” he responded confidently, taking out a little bottle of painkillers, shaking one into his hand. “I am responsible for making sure you’re fed, hydrated, and healthy. I say you need to drink your bottle, and swallow one of these. Instructions on the bottle say to only take three a day. I know you’ll probably want to take seventy two of them, but we’re sticking to the guidelines this time.”

“I don’t–” Grace started, confused. “I wasn’t that stupid, I only took four.”

Pearce stared at her blankly for a moment, incomprehension slowly dawning into shock. “Grace…the recommended dose is two squares, you ate four bars. There’s twelve squares in a bar.”

Grace stared back, realizing just how fundamentally brainless she’d been. She hadn’t just been reckless and impulsive, she’d almost…

It was a good thing she’d been working with ‘Gentle’ laxatives.

Meekly, she accepted the pill, dry swallowed, and lifted the bottle to her lips.

The cool, milky liquid down her throat helped quench her thirst and ease her discomfort, but it didn’t help her feel any less pathetic. Pearce had cut a bigger opening on the head so that it wouldn’t take fifty to get through a single bottle, but she still had to suckle like a newborn to get the refreshing fluids. Lying on the ground, sniffling and crying, she worked through the formula and helplessly ran through diaper after diaper: The consequences of her own actions had rendered her into more of a baby than all of Pearce’s teasing and tricks put together.

She heard a tape rip, and looked down to see Pearce working on her diaper, a fresh one already ready to go. Lifting the bottle from her lips, Grace started to ask, “What’re yo–”

Reaching over, he pushed it right back down, silencing her words. “Grace, I’m serious. You need fluids. Drink all of that, and when you’re done, that tea should be ready and you’re going to drink that too.”

Grace wanted to protest, to argue. There was no point changing her diaper, not when she was cramping and voiding everything in her multiple times a minute, but Pearce wasn’t willing to listen. He took away her old diaper, wiped her clean, and squirted a dollop of anti-rash zinc cream into his hands, rubbing it in around her bottom and thighs.

She cramped again, and though she couldn’t see and her senses down there had been numbed to the differences between cramps and squelches and pushing, she was pretty sure she got something on his hands. Shame coursed through her, and she watched for Pearce to flinch, to pull away in disgust, but he just reached for a baby wipe and kept working.

Cream applied, he wrapped the new diaper between her thighs and taped it down. “There,” he said. “That should at least help a bit with the rashing. You finish that bottle, I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and kept suckling, working to drain the formula–what else could she do?

Pearce got to his feet, washed his hands in the sink, and left her there, alone with nothing but her thoughts and the soft whirr of the exhaust fan.

He hadn’t given up, yet, but that was no surprise. Pearce wasn’t an asshole, and she required medical aid. Her plan had centered around exhausting him with full diapers, not a call to poison control and a price check on ambulance fees.

That didn’t mean this could be counted as a success.

She felt like a kid. Not a baby–well, a bit like a baby–but not really. Instead, the helplessness, the feeling of stupidity, the awareness of how badly she’d fucked up, how she was self-sabotaging and pushing everyone around her away… It made her feel like a fourteen year old, ear pressed against a door, eavesdropping for clues about punishment she already knew was coming.

“It’s just a cry for attention. Obviously we need to stop the behavior, but you can’t let her have what she wants. When she acts out, you can’t coddle her, you need to show discipline.”

“Where do you think she even got–”

“It’s those friends of hers, I told you they were no good.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to get her grades back up?”

“Maybe, but you’re thinking too short term–what about when she’s grown up, when you aren’t there any more to keep her behavior in check? What if she thinks she’ll always have a safety net? You cannot respond to this sort of behavior with positive reinforcement.”

“She’s never acted like this before.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’d heard that, I’d be able to count class sizes by nickels. She’s a teenager. It happens. But she won’t learn to stop behaving like this unless you teach her.”

“Still…she’s always been such a good girl. Do we really need to be that harsh?”

“I can tell you’re trying to do your best here, and I can see from her file that she’s stayed out of trouble until now. I suppose, given the circumstances, it might be alright to show a little grace.”

She’d been stupid then. She was stupid now, too.

She’d jumped without looking, without seeing how far it was to the bottom, and expected Pearce to be there to catch her. And Pearce, damn him, was there–ready to catch her, even though it meant he’d be crushed.

If he’d just been a crummier person, this would have been easy. When he fucked up and abandoned her, she’d made sure the consequences fell squarely on his shoulders. Now, when she fucked up, he was taking it on himself, letting the consequences fall on his shoulders again.

He was doing the work. Making phone calls, bringing food, ensuring her physical safety, and that was all. Like the previous week of emotionally distant diligence, only worse, because she knew what was coming.

Pearce couldn’t take this any more. Burnout was inevitable, he already seemed exhausted every time they spoke. She could see it–he was struggling. She could see it in his slumped shoulders and defeated expressions: Every time he had to change her diaper, feed her, give her any kind of care, he had to fight to keep up the act.

Grace knew the truth, because she knew how to read Pearce. His thoughts were incredibly obvious:

(Is my distance enough to keep Grace from hurting me?)

(Would it be so wrong if I just left her to fend for herself so I could go and focus on myself?)

As soon as he thought she was safe, as soon as he didn’t have to worry that she’d literally shit herself to death, he’d say, ‘I’m forfeiting the bet, I can’t keep putting up with you anymore’.

Maybe he’d put it better than that–find some tactful way to rephrase, ‘You’re a selfish, demanding burden whose recklessness and perfectionism are burning my life away from both ends,’ but he’d be thinking it, and she’d know what he really meant.

She’d wanted him to forfeit, but not like this–her intent had been for him to get tired of responsibility, not for him to get tired of nannying a stupid, selfish, idiotic little girl who needed everyone else to clean up after her insecurities.

Another cramp wracked her as she finished the bottle of formula, and her body’s spasm was timed to hit just as Pearce walked in, carrying two bottles of warm tea and a fluffy pillow tucked beneath his arm.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to sit next to her, crossing his legs and getting down by her head. “Any help from the painkillers yet?”

She shook her head–every cramp was as bad as the last.

“Here, head up,” Pearce said, guiding the pillow to give her a little comfort. Once she’d rested her head on the cushion, he passed her one of the bottles of tea. “Drink this, too. It’s supposed to be an herbal calming thing that eases upset stomachs–I don’t know if it’ll do much here, but it can’t hurt to get you more fluids.”

She took the bottle, watching him. He was glancing away, avoiding eye contact, lips moving slightly as he prepared what he was about to say.

It was coming. She knew it, and her stomach dropped in a way that had nothing to do with the laxative overdose.

“Grace,” Pearce said, voice trembling a little. “I…after tonight, I’m going to forfeit the bet. You win.”

There it was.

She’d gotten what she wanted, and what she feared the most.

Swallowing, Pearce added, “I know you want it, bad, so there you go. I can’t have you hurting yourself like this, even if it was by accident. Nothing is worth this, nothing is worth pushing you to do this, so if it means you’re safe, if it means you won’t hurt anymore, you win. Your safety is all that matters.”

Grace stared up at him, eyes widening. She’d already felt teary, but now her eyes felt wet for an entirely different reason–shock, not pain.

He looked away again, lips twitching so much it looked like he was wrestling with the words he wanted to speak. “I–”

Anxiety and fear struck her. The unknown of what he was about to say, how he’d let her down gently.

Finally, he won the fight with his tongue and got it out. “Grace, I love you.”

 

...

This is not the end! More is coming.

My patrons and supporters have made this story possible, and continue to make it possible. Thank you so much for reading. 

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 21: A Rose Would Smell as Sweet

 

Author's note: 

This chapter is one that I feel is important to the narrative of the story, but that I neglected to write chronologically. It's the 'Real' chapter 21, the chapter currently published as 21 will become 22 in the final publication, and so on and so forth. 

To those of you who need a refresher, this is one chapter before Grace kisses Pearce for the first time, but several chapters after they get high and fall asleep in the same bed together. 

Sorry for the out of order posting! We will resume chronological chapters next Friday - and hopefully there won't be any more late posting until the story is complete. 

...

Some traditions didn’t change. As the sun dipped down for the evening and smoke wafted out of their firepit, Brains lifted his glass in a toast.

The Wasters, plus one, responded–Five high, glassy clinks and one plastic, sloshy, donk. Pearce had granted his approval for Grace to have beer, but the drinking vessel was non-negotiable, so she’d be sipping it through a rubber nipple.

Given the company, he’d even allowed her a fairly discreet outfit–her onesie was plain and could pass for a T-shirt, and the shorts she wore hid the bulge of her diaper well.

They were arranged in a rough pentagram around the fire pit in their shared backyard, in five disparate chairs they’d managed to scavenge from garage sales and straight up trash piracy. Melody had a bench instead of a seat, making room for her oft-rotating partners, but Grace had a comfy butterfly chair that sat a little lower and was immensely more cozy than the others.

“You can thank Pearce for the beers,” Melody said, taking a sip from her bottle, snuggled up against her conquest for the night on a reclaimed patio bench. They’d indulged in the good stuff–that is, a few six packs of Yuengling, instead of a case of Hamms. Hardly premium, but a step up.

“Yeah?” Melody’s date–some guy, Grace didn’t even know his name–said. “Thanks, Pearce, that’s awfully decent of you.”

The five of them–all the Wasters, Pearce included–chuckled.

When Melody’s date still looked confused, Pearce explained, “I lost a bet.”

“Well, he is participating in a bet and had to chip into the beer fund as part of the terms,” Brains added, supplying all the unnecessary context anyone could ever not ask for.

“Well, if it means I get free beer, I’m not going to complain. That why you’re drinking from a bottle, uh…don’t tell me, I know this…” Pressing his palm into his forehead as though trying to extract thoughts from his hand, he guessed, “Hope?”

Lowering the beer-filled baby bottle from her lips, Grace decided on giving the short answer. “It’s Grace, but, yeah about the bottle.”

“Grace, Hope,” he said, “I knew it was some Puritan thing. Let me guess, you’ve got like eight siblings, and they’re all, like, Peace, Chastity, Humility, whatever?”

Pearce puffed out his cheeks and exhaled before taking a long sip of his beer in a here-we-go way, but Grace wasn’t going to take the slight.

“It’s just Grace,” Grace said. “I’m an only kid, and my parents are atheist hippies.”

She was lying, but Melody’s one night stand didn’t get to know her life history. It didn’t matter where she’d come from, what mattered was that she was Grace, now, and she’d found the right family for herself.

“It’s not her birth name, anyways,” Brains added. “None of our names are.”

(Thanks, Brains,) Grace thought. (Nobody asked.)

Curiosity piqued, Melody’s date leaned forward. “Really?”

“It started out as a joke, but it stuck around,” Brains said. “Nicknames, sort of.”

He nodded. “You picked them yourself?”

Brains shrugged. “Kinda sorta. More like…they found us in highschool, if that makes sense.”

“Gotcha, so…Brains, came up with it in highschool, that’s easy–you’re some kind of genius.” He smirked. “Right? Straight A student, teacher’s pet, kind of a keener?”

“Oh, no, it’s because I was an alleged smartass,” Brains explained, snorting. “My grades were ass, but I always knew the right question to absolutely infuriate my teachers.”

“Nice, man, fight the system.” Leaning forward, Melody’s date offered him a fist bump.

“I’d feel a lot better about it if I had been infuriating the teachers on purpose,” Brains admitted. “And heck, maybe my grades would have been better if I ever got answers to the questions I was asking.”

The fistbump offer went unrequited, and after an awkward moment, he pulled it back, shifting focus. “Skipper, right? How’d you get that?”

“Just Skip.” They’d been so quiet, it was easy to forget they were there, but Skip spoke up when their turn came around.

(Here we go,) Grace thought. If it were just Brains, that would have been fine, but now that Skip had responded, the conversation was turning into a trend, and that trend was unlikely to die until they’d made the full circuit.

Speaking with the tone of a camp counselor trying to keep everyone involved, Melody’s date asked, “So, how’d that come around? Were you a hopscotch enthusiast?”

“It’s a bit unfair to say I got the nickname in highschool,” Skip explained. “Because I spent as little time in highschool as possible. I cut class so often, they had to open up special detention hours to fit me in. Rules, roles, people telling me when I can eat or go to the bathroom or just be a person–that kind of stuff makes my skin crawl.”

“So, skipping class, just became ‘Skip’?” The date asked. Skip nodded, sipping their beer thoughtfully, and the date just continued down the line. “Okay, Pearce, Pearce…I’m not coming up with anything for Pearce.”

“Hint, then,” Pearce said. “I changed the spelling, but it should be with an ‘I’. Pierce, like with a spear.”

“Oh, okay.” Nodding, he thought for a moment. “Another class smartass? ‘Piercing wit’?”

“Right word use, wrong direction,” Pearce said. “One of our teachers was fond of saying, ‘Nothing can pierce his skull’ every time I was just barely in earshot. I guess he thought I wasn’t good at paying attention or remembering information.”

The date the obvious followup question: “Were you?”

“Oh, absolutely, it took me three times hearing it to realize he was even talking about me,” Pearce said. “But hey–institutions, you know? I just wasn’t in an environment I could thrive in.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about those,” he said. “Let me know if your environment’s got room to spare–I hear ‘thriving’ is nice.”

Pearce laughed and shook his head. “I’ll let you know when I get mine, I’ve heard the same thing.”

Chuckling, the intruder amongst their social circle faced Melody on their shared bench. “What about you, babe?”

(Babe?) Grace thought, struggling to hide her eye roll. (They’ve known each other for like a day. Hell, they haven’t even fucked yet, and he’s calling her ‘Babe’?)

“It’s embarrassing,” Melody said, egging him on, goading him to make her tell.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” her date replied. “What, were you a glee club nerd?” Looking at her, Melody’s date kissed her forehead, getting obscenely mushy with the PDA around the bonfire.

“No,” Melody said, giggling as he started to get handsy. “Come on, it’s silly–”

“Oh no, not a glee club kid–you were in the band, huh?” He needled.

Melody fully laughed as his motions reached a point between fondling and tickling, and she yelped, “Keith!”

(Right, that’s his name,) Grace thought, finally interrupting the show. “She ratted out a bunch of cheerleaders who were smoking pot in the bathroom.”

The giggling stopped, and Melody shot Grace a look that said, ‘Buzzkill’. “I didn’t care that they were smoking pot,” she clarified. “But they were a bunch of catty bitches who had to be taken down a peg.”

“And that leads to ‘Melody’ because…?” her date asked, tilting his head.

Interrupting again, Grace said, “Think old private eye, mobster type stuff. She ‘sang a song’ to the principal.”

Melody furrowed her brow and opened her mouth, looking past her one-use lover with an expression that read, ‘What the hell, Grace?’, but her date kept his cool.

“I guess that leaves you,” he said. “Grace. Not Hope, not Chastity, hippy parents, so…hmm.”

“No,” Grace said, sitting back in her butterfly chair and suckling her beer petulantly.

“Gonna make me guess? Okay…well, we could go literal, like Skip. Ballet dancer, cheerleader–but you don’t strike me as the cheerleader type. So, maybe it’s ironic. Super clumsy?”

“No,” Grace repeated. “I’m not playing this game. I’m Grace, that’s my name, that’s all it needs to be.”

“Come on,” the date pushed. “Everyone else shared.”

Digging in her heels, Grace just said, “Good for them. Take no for an answer, Ken.”

“Keith,” he corrected nonchalantly.

“You were pretty comfortable sharing my history,” Melody pointed out. “When I’d said, ‘No’.”

“You were playing hard to get,” Grace said. “I’m saying No. Highschool was shit, and I’m not loving the walk down memory lane, reminiscing about the worst times of our collective lives.”

Raising his hands to placate her, the date said, “Okay, that’s cool–”

“I’m sorry,” Melody said, sitting upright, interrupting him. “Did you say, ‘Playing hard to get?’ What are you, some horny jock trying to justify a boner on prom night?”

“Weren’t you?” Grace asked. “Or was all the giggling and fake protests because you really, super didn’t want him to know the story?”

“Grace…” Pearce said, glancing down at her. “I think maybe we should cool off–”

“I’m fine,” Grace snapped at him. “I just don’t get why we’re dredging up old shit for mayfly man here.”

The date–Ken, Keith, Grace didn’t give a fuck–raised his eyebrows. “Mayfly? What does she mean?”

“I’d say, ‘Ask Melody tomorrow’, but it’ll be hard to do that after she deletes your number.” At his expression, she added, “Don’t take it personal, you’re not special.”

“Grace!” Melody snapped. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Grace,” Pearce added, not harsh, but more assertive. “Let’s go inside, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Grace shot.

“You don’t seem fine,” Brains threw in.

Skip just took a drink–they had no commentary to add that would help.

“Look,” Ken-Keith-Kyle-Whatever said, “I don’t mean to be the asshole here–I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist, but if you’re going to be pissy–”

“She’s not wearing panties,” Melody sneered. “Pissy is probably accurate, though. She’s crabby because she’s got this asinine bet, and instead of being a big girl and dealing with her own shit she’s making it our prob–”

“This isn’t about the bet!” Grace yelled, sitting forward. “I just didn’t want to talk about this and your fuckdoll kept pushing, and–”

A hand touched her shoulder. “Grace,” Pearce said, simply. “We’re going inside.”

“No we’re not,” Grace snapped. “You’re not the boss of me, and–”

“Grace,” Pearce repeated, firmly demanding her attention. “Do you want me to explain this out loud?”

It took Grace a second to understand, but Melody wasn’t about to let it stay silent after things had escalated. “Make sure her diaper change takes a while, I want some fucking peace out here.”

“Her–” The date started, eyebrows raising as he looked between them. “Diapers?”

“I’d say, ‘Ask her’,” Melody grumbled, “But she’d probably just start yelling at us again.”

“We’re going,” Pearce said, standing up.

Grace wanted to object out of sheer stubbornness, but then she’d just be resigning herself to a time-out instead, so she begrudgingly stood from her butterfly chair.

“Do you get it, now?” she shot at the date, unable to resist getting in the last parting shot. “‘Grace.’ Take a look at how tonight went, and take a fucking guess where that came from.”

With that, she spun on her heels, following Pearce inside.

“I’m completely dry,” she said, once the door was shut. “I really don’t need a change.”

“You do,” Pearce said. “Grace–you’re not okay. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but staying out by the fire was just going to make things worse.”

“I shouldn’t be the one leaving,” Grace grumbled, glaring out the window at Melody’s date. “He should, he’s the one who started this.”

“Well,” Pearce said, refusing to rise to an argument. “I can’t make him go anywhere, but I can make you go upstairs. If you’re feeling better when we’re done, maybe we can go back out, but I will happily just rotate diapers all night if it keeps you from getting into a verbal self-harm session.”

Grace reeled for a moment, surprised by Pearce’s words, almost disbelieving that he was just trying to keep her out of trouble. “But then you don’t get to hang out, either,” she pointed out, testing the waters. “That sucks for you.”

He shrugged. “You come first.”

Grace’s anger broke. She couldn’t maintain her fiery indignity, not removed from the source of her anger, not when Pearce was being this patient. Her shoulders slumped. “Fuck it, it’s too cold out for a fire anyways.”

“Let’s just stay in, then,” Pearce said. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Looking down at her bottle, she added, “I wasn’t trying to hurt myself; There was no ‘Verbal self harm’ or whatever.”

“I believe you.” Pearce assured her. “You weren’t trying to, but you get impulsive when you’re mad. If things kept going the way they were going, you and Melody would be on pretty thin ice, and I don’t think you wanted that.”

He was right, as much as Grace was loath to admit it. She would have to apologize to Melody, even if she doubted Melody would apologize for bringing another jackass sex toy around to their personal gathering of friends.

Looking down at her bottle of beer, she asked, “It alright if I keep this?”

“I’ve got something a little more herbal upstairs, if you prefer,” Pearce said. “Something to calm down, take the edge off?”

Exhaling in something approaching the shadow of a laugh, Grace said, “Sure. Just remember you’re responsible for making sure I’m fed, and I get snacky.”

Pearce laughed. “Okay–I promise snacks galore. Head upstairs, I’ll be right behind you?”

Grace nodded, but hesitated after taking a step. “Hey, Pearce?”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking back from his cupboard.

She didn’t particularly like admitting when she was wrong, but she was able to compromise, just a little. “Thanks for looking out for me. I know I was kind of having a tantrum back there.”

“Of course,” he replied, so casually it seemed like he really didn’t mind her behavior, or that she was dragging him away from their bonfire ritual. “It’s what a good babysitter would do.”

 

...

I appreciate any and all support of my writing, and try to make it worth it for my supporters! I have several ongoing stories exclusive to my Patreon and Subscribestar, as well as giving my readers early access to all my writing. 

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[aldl4811]

Finally caught up on the last handful of chapters.... the laxative bit sounded brutal, but nice it brought them together

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 32: Confessional 

 

Grace stared at Pearce, her brain frozen in disbelief.

(He–)

“You don’t love me,” she said, unable to think of any other response besides the flat truth.

He might love the parts of herself that she made available, but Pearce couldn’t love the whole of her. Not the parts that hung around his neck like a weight, not the parts that had him playing nanny and nursemaid instead of enjoying his day off.

She saw the hurt in his expression when she rejected his confession, the barest flinch. He couldn’t love that, either.

“I do,” he insisted anyway, despite all evidence to the contrary. “I love you.”

A wracking pain shot up through Grace’s abdomen, and she clenched her jaw, groaning through it. Her hands tightened around the bottle of warm herbal tea, gripping it just to have an outlet for the tension building in her, but she powered through.

The pain stole her opportunity to respond, because Pearce continued once it’d passed. “I don’t know if we can work together.” It was the first true thing to come out of his mouth since his confession. “But I can’t–you’re so important to me, Grace. I feel like I can’t even do this right but I’m here anyways, I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere while you need me.”

Grace couldn’t tell if his eyes had taken on a wet shine, or if her vision had just blurred too much from the tears in her own eyes. “You’re here,” she said, “But–but you can’t even look at me. You can’t be around me.”

Leaning back against the tub, Pearce took a deep, ragged breath. “That’s because I’m a fucking fool. We’re–we’re like two magnets, we’re bad for each other, but I can’t walk away from you, I can’t stop thinking of how much I’ve missed you this past week–I want to move on, and I can’t.”

Grace finished the thought for him, taking shallow breaths to make it through another round of fruitless cramping. “Because you don’t love me.”

“Because I do love you, and because we hurt each other,” Pearce corrected, looking at her. “I can’t be the person you want. I can’t be Mr. Perfect, I’m too screwed up in the head, I can’t focus, I’m zero good to anyone unless you hold my ass over a fire and tell me it’s urgent. If we tried to work this out, I would fuck up again, and you’d end up hating me again.”

“I don’t hate you,” Grace whimpered, guilt striking at her heart. (How could he think that?) “I–ah–”

Her body had found something to process, and her words faded into pain as liquid shame voided into her diaper. Wincing and whimpering, Grace took shallow breaths, nostrils flaring, trying to just make it through.

“I wish I were a little dumber, a little more naive,” Pearce said slowly, thoughtfully, like he’d scripted these words out long in advance. It wasn’t an impulsive reply, it was something that’d run through his head countless times before this conversation. “Because then at least I’d be able to be selfish here, but I can’t. It doesn’t matter how I feel, it doesn’t matter what I want. I’d live with the pain, I’d do anything, but it wouldn’t be healthy, and if we tried to keep it going long enough, we’d blow up everything.”

Grace’s own words sounded distant in her ears. She was slipping away from her body, retreating inward, to get away from the pain. “I hurt you that bad?”

“Grace–fucking hell,” Pearce said, running his hands over his hair. “I overslept, and you stabbed me in the back to win the bet. What did you want me to feel?”

“I–I didn’t–I wasn’t trying to make you pay that much…” Grace started to say, but her defense felt hollow even as she said it.

“It’s not about the money.” Pearce shut his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to speak hard truth. “It’s that you cared more about the bet than you did about me. I can’t… I want to just get over it, to suck it up, but then you went and did this, you nearly put yourself in the hospital to win, and I don’t know how else to react. If you’re willing to do this to win, to prove I can’t be responsible, to be ‘right’, I don’t know how we could ever be together.”

Grace’s throat felt hoarse and dry, but she couldn’t stop to get a drink now. Her world was collapsing, what help could a sip of tea offer her?

“I don’t care about the bet,” Grace whispered, words ragged and weak. “I didn’t do this to win.”

“Then why?” Pearce asked. “I know you weren’t just looking for some candy in my cupboard.”

“Because,” Grace shot, volume raising, “You wouldn’t even look me in the eye, and I couldn’t think of anything else to make you spend thirty seconds in the same room with me!”

Pearce fell silent, and Grace thought she saw a flash of guilt in his face, the same she felt in that moment.

“Being around you,” she continued, “Doing diapers, and food, and bathtime, and all that other shit but without having you, it made me want to just curl up into a ball and stop existing. The only thing that felt worse than being around you was being alone.”

“Then why didn’t you forfeit?” The question didn’t sound like a ‘Gotcha’, a trick to show she was lying–Pearce looked confused. He genuinely didn’t understand, but he wanted to.

“I…” Grace started. “If I quit, if I walked away, you’d think I was giving up on us. I know what it’s like to…to feel abandoned. I couldn’t drop that sort of bombshell on you, because then I’d never…”

Pearce’s eyes widened a little in half comprehension of what’d pushed her, why she’d behaved like such a complete and utter fool. “When you woke up, that morning,” Pearce said, realization dawning. “You weren’t just upset because you’d missed work.”

“No!” The word came out as half a sob. “You left me, and–I was alone, and hurt, because you–”

“I didn’t mean to,” Pearce said quickly, half in defense, half in apology.

“I know. I’m not–I don’t have any right to be mad, but…” Weakly, she admitted, “I want to be selfish, too, but you’re right. We wouldn’t work. I’m stupid and I can’t get over myself and–and I hurt you because I was mad. If we tried to be together, I’d just keep taking from you, and you’d just start to hate me.”

“Grace…” Pearce shook his head ever so slightly, almost unconsciously. “There’s nothing in the world you could ever do to make me hate you.”

Grace shook her head in earnest, stopping only when a burst of pain made her lie still. “You say that, but it’s not true. It’d already started. You can say you’ll ‘always’ be here for me no matter what, but every safety net has a breaking point.” Taking a long breath, she put it as simply as she could. “It’s too late, I already asked for too much, it already broke everything. Maybe you don’t hate me, but you also know you can’t really love me, not while I’m this much of a weight dragging you down, but…”

She trailed off. Grace wanted him to interrupt her again, to stop her before she got too candid, before she sealed off their relationship for good.

“It’s like you said. I can be selfish, or I can accept the hurt, but it’s doomed either way. One way or another, I’m just going to wake up one day, needing you, and you won’t be there anymore.”

That was it. The truth, unvarnished and painful but impossible to deny, and Grace had nothing else she could say that would fix it. Shutting her eyes, Grace laid back and let the pain overwhelm her. She couldn’t even cry, she felt too dehydrated.

Warm rubber pressed against her lips, and Grace tasted bitter herbs and sweet honey running down her tongue. The tea wasn’t too hot, just warm enough to be relaxing without burning her weak throat. For all the agony she was in, emotional and physical, that bit of relief was nectar from the gods, and she drank it gratefully.

Pearce’s hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her up ever so slightly, so she wasn’t lying flat on her back while she drank. Propped up, sniffling, she drank the tea and let her feelings stream down her face.

Eventually, she drained the first bottle, but as it emptied, Pearce switched smoothly to the second. He didn’t press, he didn’t speak, but he sat there with her, propping her up, but he helped her hydrate, healing her hurt.

Her body’s revolt continued, but in that moment, with Pearce there to hold her up, it felt a little easier to bear. The second bottle ultimately ran dry too, and Pearce pulled it away, but he didn’t leave. He stayed with her, kept his hand on her, silently supporting, his thumb moving in gentle circles through her hair.

She felt his hand shift, and heard him inhale before speaking. Tensing, eyes still closed, Grace prepared her heart for the worst.

“What did we expect would happen?” Pearce asked quietly. She expected more, but he left it at that for a long pause, letting the words marinate. “Of course we’d be a flaming disaster. We’re Wasters.”

Grace opened her eyes just a crack, looking wordlessly up at him. He was smiling, in spite of everything.

“You and me,” Pearce continued. “And the rest, all of us–we’re the fuckups that will never amount to anything. More disasters than people. Of course this was where our relationship would end up, we’re both too bad at being people for any other outcome.”

Heart sinking, Grace saw the truth in his words. They’d been doomed from the start.

“But you know what?” Pearce asked. “That coin’s got two sides. Yeah, we’re fucked up, we’re generally socially incompetent, we’re so in our own heads that we couldn’t navigate society with a GPS and a park ranger to guide us, but still–we’re Wasters. When was the last time we let ‘General Social Incompetence’ stop us from doing something?”

Grace frowned, shifting up a little bit. “Pearce, what are you saying?”

“We made a life for ourselves. Five grown adults sharing a house, not because we can’t make rent, but because we just wouldn’t want a life where we’re not together? It’s weird, it’s kind of hard because it’s not something anybody else really even wants to try, but that didn’t stop us.” He glanced to the side, then back down at her, looking Grace in the eyes for the first time in a week. “So why the hell are we giving up so easily?”

Shaking her head, Grace tried to fight the sudden possibility of love, pushing it away with her best arguments. “Because I’ll hurt you again. Because we’re bad for each other, and it’ll explode, like you said.”

“Maybe,” Pearce admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Grace, but I’m willing to muddle along, to keep on working until we get it right. The only relationships that are perfect are the ones that don’t last long enough to matter, everyone else has to work for their love if they want it to last. I want ours to matter, and I’m willing to do the work. As long as we both promise to do our best, it’s worth a little hurt along the way.”

“But–” Grace started, shaking her head. She sat up, a little, and before the cramps could send her right back down, Pearce got an arm behind her and caught her. “I’m not worth that much work. I don’t even get why you’re here right now, it’s not like I can’t get myself water, you could have walked away once you got off the phone with poison control.”

“You’ll heal.” Pearce shrugged. “But you’ll heal faster with a helping hand.”

“But it’s not just today,” Grace continued, looking down, counting anxieties on her fingers. “Next time I freak out, next time I overreact, it’ll be just as bad–worse.”

“Are you going to try and have a freakout overreaction?” Pearce asked.

She shook her head. “No, but–”

“Then we’ll apologize and try and do better next time.” Pearce put his hands on her shoulders, addressing her directly. “Grace, I don’t care how much work it takes. I don’t care how much effort, how much time, anything, all I care is that we’re in this together. There’s nothing not worth fixing.”

Something was wrong with Grace’s eyes–Pearce had vanished, everything was so blurry she couldn’t see straight. Fresh tears streamed, falling down and making puddles on her shirt, and she felt a choking sob build, but these were fresh tears. Not from hurt, not from heartbreak, but from bittersweet relief.

“I–I love you,” she babbled, reaching forward, searching half-blind for him. “I love–”

Pearce took her, pulled her in close, met her lips with his.

He held her there, in the perfect embrace on the floor of their shared bathroom. Her diaper was sagging, abused by the drugs she’d taken, and her shirt was damp from perspiration as her body tried to sweat it out. The cramps hadn’t gotten any better, and the wild shifting balance of fluids in her system had brought on a headache that would only get worse. Grace was as physically uncomfortable as she’d ever felt, and a mess, and a ball of nerves. Through their embrace, she could feel Pearce’s heart pounding at a thousand miles an hour and knew he was as anxious as she was, wracked by all the same emotions, if not all the physical discomfort.

None of that mattered.

They were in love.

...

I want to take a moment, again, to thank my editor, who's helped make this story shine, and to all my supporters, who help me pay for my editor! 

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[aldl4811]

Sweet

[D503]

Awesome. It will be very interesting to see if they have both developed an attachment to the new circumstances even if neither want to admit it (being babied, babying).

[PeculiarChangeling]

20 hours ago, D503 said:

Awesome. It will be very interesting to see if they have both developed an attachment to the new circumstances even if neither want to admit it (being babied, babying).

It'll be hard for these two, but they just might be at the point where they can concede to a little emotional honesty

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 33: Winners and Losers

 

Grace, as in Loved Unconditionally, surveyed the scene.

Three of her best friends were already in the back yard, sitting around their fire pit. Skip had a lighter in hand, trying to get the kindling to catch for their traditional Wasters weekend. Brains was on his phone, texting–no doubt his new beau. He’d been all aflutter the past couple days, ever since they became official.

Melody was looking back at Grace, making a long moment of eye contact before returning her attention to whatever conversation was happening around the fire.

She knew something was up, even if they’d said nothing overt as of yet.

Stepping up behind her, Pearce wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you sure?”

“They deserve to get the full rundown,” Grace had her own arms wrapped around plush hedgehog, and she gave him a little squeeze to soothe her anxiety. “And it’ll be better if we explain before someone figures it out and starts complaining that we cheated.”

It’d been three days since her case of supreme impulsivity, since their confession of love. The first day had been spent in a haze of fatigue, with Pearce nursing her slowly back to health as the drugs purged themselves from her system.

Between the love and the pain, neither of them had found time to sleep that night.

Pearce had only half explained to the others: “Grace is sick.” She was grateful for that. Some things could be left unsaid.

All night, he’d stayed with her. Her body couldn’t keep down fluids–anything she drank came out the other end almost as quickly–but he kept her supplied, kept her hydrated as best he could. Painkillers and electrolytes helped ease the agony, and by morning, her body had finally, mercifully, given up its fight with itself.

Then, finally, she slept. Pearce put her to bed, and she didn’t set an alarm. Pearce had her phone, and promised he’d let her know if any clients started texting, but it was the weekend. She’d probably be fine.

Even that rest wasn’t perfect–she woke several times, to find that she’d ruined her diaper in her sleep. That was new–no matter how long she’d worn, even when she suspected she may have gotten wetter overnight, she’d never pooped the bed. Still, her diapers did their job admirably, and so did Pearce, cleaning her up, bringing her food and drinks and ibuprofen, easing her discomfort until she dozed again.

Any time he wasn’t there, she had John to snuggle instead, not only her plush,but her closest confidant. She still hadn’t told Pearce the stuffy’s name, and still hadn’t decided if she would: Some things were too embarrassing to admit.

By the time night came, Grace was still exhausted, and Pearce was barely upright–he hadn’t even napped through the second day.

He’d been there for her, every moment she needed him.

And when he had no energy left, he got into her crib with her, and–together–they both finally got their restful sleep.

On the third day, then, they’d finally had to talk.

So, after more than their share of heavy petting and making out, they did, ultimately, get to the important business: Fucking like rabbits. Once that was done, they talked.

This was what they’d decided on–it was bonfire night already, they’d have everyone there to listen. It would be the best opportunity they’d get to set the record straight.

Then again, that would mean admitting to more than a few embarrassing secrets.

Looking out at the bonfire, Grace anxiously added, “Maybe we should just keep the bet going and pretend.”

“Come on, you might be a baby, but don’t be a baby,” Pearce said, kissing the back of her head. “We know you’re not going to talk yourself out of this.”

She nodded, reassured by his presence, and set aside John–she didn’t want her favorite plush smelling like a campfire. In the plushy’s place, she took Pearce’s hand and pushed open the door.

With him there, with his calming presence sitting next to her around the fire, it took Grace only one beer to work up the courage to speak.

“We have something we need to tell all of you,” Grace said, with a slight blush. “Pearce and I do, that is. It’s…about the bet.”

“What, you’re fucking?” Melody asked, smirking from across the campfire.

“No, that’s not it,” Brains corrected. “I think one of them’s quitting.”

Skip shook their head, cutting to the center of it. “You’re both wrong. They’re in love.”

Grace spluttered, the wind taken out of her sails. “I–well–I mean…”

Rather than confirm it with words, Pearce leaned over and demonstrated the truth nonverbally, kissing Grace without a scrap of hesitation.

Grace flushed, and that blush only deepened when her friends opened up with a chorus of cheers and hooting applause.

“We’re calling it a draw,” Pearce said, pulling away. “Nobody wins, nobody loses.”

That got the opposite response–boos and jeers.

“What, after all that?” Melody asked. “Seriously? Anticlimax.”

“Also that makes the bet kind of moot,” Brains added. “I had my money on you, too, Pearce.”

“Hold on,” Skip added. “Let’s be specific here. I might have some cash to collect yet.”

Everyone looked at them.

“What do you mean?” Brains asked.

“We placed a few bets,” Skip said, eyes locked on Grace. “Who won and who lost, that one’s moot. But after a couple weeks, we opened up that second bet–duration.”

Brains shrugged. “Well, sure, but it’s only been two months, and you said it’d keep going for three. Melody bet less than a month, so–oh, I guess that means I win. More than a month, less than three.”

“Hold it,” Skip said. “Let’s be specific here. I believe what I said was, ‘I bet Pearce will still be changing Grace’s diapers in three months.’”

Brains tilted his head, looking at Skip. He didn’t notice the way Grace’s face turned bright red, shrinking back into her camp chair, but Skip saw it plain as day.

“Erm–” Grace started.

“Well–” Pearce added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t get it,” Brains said, looking between them.

“Brains,” Melody said, “I don’t know how you’re not internet poisoned enough to figure this one out, you spend more time online than any of us.”

Brains blinked a couple times, then got it. “Oh! Grace has a diaper fetish.”

Grace could swear she felt steam coming out of her ears, embarrassment burning its way to the forefront of her expression. “Brains.”

“What?” he asked. “Is that not it?”

“You don’t just say that,” Melody shot. “Even if it’s…I mean, yeah, you’re probably right, but–”

“Skip said it first,” Brains pointed out. “How come it’s okay to imply she likes diapers but not to just say, ‘Grace likes diap–’”

“It’s not about the diapers,” Grace snapped. “It’s–agh. I need a drink. Pearce, may I?” Raising her baby bottle of beer, she made a screwing motion with her hand.

Reaching over, Pearce popped it off, so she could drink normally–and quickly.

Something Grace hadn’t considered–it’d been months since she’d drank out of a cup, and she wasn’t quite used to the motion. Rather than chug the beer, as intended, she poured a good splash of it down her chin, staining her plain onesie top.

Pearce smirked, and wordlessly took her bottle away. Filling it up with his own, he popped on the rubber nipple again and passed it back to her. “Okay, lid stays on.”

Feeling ridiculous, Grace shook her head. “It’s like…I like having him to take care of me. The diapers are just incidental.”

“So you’re going to stop wearing them?” Brains asked.

Grace looked away, refusing to answer.

“Give it another month,” Skip said, sitting back. “I’ll be collecting my winnings then.”

“We’re changing a lot,” Pearce interjected. “No more punishments, for one, and…we’re still deciding whether she’ll be ‘allowed’ to use the toilet.”

He passed it off as a joke, but there was a secret hidden excuse behind the comment: Grace was still having trouble holding it, and he wanted to give her an excuse to still be messing her diapers that didn’t involve any additional embarrassing admissions.

It was one thing to admit she kinda liked the diaper thing, and another thing entirely to explain that she’d failed to read any warning labels and overdosed on laxatives.

She’d made a call to her physician, and it sounded like she’d recover, but in the meantime, her diapers had become more necessary than she would ever admit.

“This doesn’t…bother you all, right?” Grace asked, glancing between her friends. “I mean, it’s not even a bet any more. I know it can be awkward when you have friends over and I’m dressed up, or…like…”

“Grace,” Melody said, “Please. Let your freak flag fly, not one of us cares.”

“But…” Grace bounced her leg, arbitrarily worried that there was a ‘but’ coming. “You got so annoyed, and–”

“Yeah,” Melody said, “Because you were being a faker. Starting arguments. I never cared what you were wearing. You like bottles and stuffies? Neat. When I start acting like I can judge you, just remind me what happened prom night and I’ll get my senses back.”

Smiling slightly, Grace reached out and touched Pearce’s arm, squeezing him for reassurance.

“Are you two going to share a bed now?” Brains asked, interjecting.

“Oh heck no,” Pearce said. “I like sleeping in, and this one snores like a chainsaw. We’re keeping our rooms–just expect lots of sleepovers.”

“Brains,” Skip said, “Were you asking because you wanted to call dibs on the spare room opening up?”

Brains glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “But, I’m just saying–Grace’s room is bigger than mine, and, y’know–”

Grace snorted. “Well, if we change our minds, and that becomes a possibility…hey, I’ll let you know. We’re still figuring a lot of this out. Figuring each other out, too. But…”

Turning, she looked at the man who’d driven her crazy in more ways than one, the man she loved, the man she knew would always do his best to be there for her.

“He makes me happy.”

He looked back at her, smiling with a warmth far deeper than the campfire. “You’re sappy when you drink,” he replied, smirking at her.

“You want sappy?” Grace asked, smiling back at him. “I named my hedgehog.”

“Oh? When did that happen?” Pearce asked, expecting a joke, or at least something cutesy.

“Like…a month ago,” Grace conceded, taking a moment to build to her reveal. She could be as dramatic as him, when she wanted to.

“Hah! I knew it,” Pearce said. “So, what’d you decide?”

“I named him John. Y’know…like you.” Grace finally admitted. Nobody in the Wasters used Pearce’s given name, it was impossible to miss what that name choice meant.  “How’s that for sappy?”

Pearce’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he was left without words. He leaned in, communicating more clearly with his lips than he could have with words. For the second time that night, they kissed, and this one lasted til they were both breathless and worked up.

Pulling away, Pearce looked her in the eyes. “You make me happy, too.”

...

Just one chapter left to round this out - the epilogue, which I'll be posting here in about a week.
Thank you, so much, so so so much, for reading this far, for coming along this story with me. I can't express my gratitude enough for your time and for all the comments that've been left along the way, as well as the support of everyone who helped me financially so I could write this. 

I'm so grateful to be able to tell stories for such a great community. 

(Psst but I'm writing some really porny stuff over on Patreon if you want early access! https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling )

[thedman]

OMG, I have loved every minute of this story, but I am definitely sad that is has to come to an end even though I know that it would lose its lustre if it went on too much longer

[D503]

So lovely. Can't wait to read the epilogue. It makes me nostalgic for a time that never existed.

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 9/3/2023 at 11:23 PM, thedman said:

OMG, I have loved every minute of this story, but I am definitely sad that is has to come to an end even though I know that it would lose its lustre if it went on too much longer

It's the balancing act - Better to end on a high note then peter out like the seventh season of so many TV shows. 

That said - just because this story is ending, doesn't mean these characters are going away forever. ❤️ 

On 9/4/2023 at 10:21 AM, D503 said:

So lovely. Can't wait to read the epilogue. It makes me nostalgic for a time that never existed.

I know exactly what you mean ^^

[aldl4811]

This story is so good

[PeculiarChangeling]

Epilogue

 

One month later.

“Eighty, ninety… one hundred.” Brains counted out the cash, passing Skip’s winnings over without a hint of ill will. They’d won fair and square, even if nobody else had spotted the technicality that’d cinched their success.

Skip, pleased, took the fruit of their gambling and slipped it into a pocket.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” Brains asked, putting away his wallet.

“What’s that?” Skip inquired.

“Well, you’re always saying how you’ve got no use for a partner,” Brains said, “But here you spotted the love connection before any of us.”

“I didn’t spot the love connection,” Skip corrected, shaking their head. “I spotted the sex connection, and I don’t really think that’s ironic at all.”

Brains tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because,” Skip explained, “Who’s going to be better at pointing out dangerous waters, do you think? Someone who’s a few inches from drowning, or a lifeguard watching from the middle distance?”

Brains considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess. I wouldn’t say sex is like drowning, though.”

“Yeah? What would you say it’s like?” Skip asked. “Because as a passive, disinterested observer–y’all get stupid when you’re horny. Give me a close friendship, but a relationship focused on making each other stupid? Nah, that’s not for me.”

They didn’t comment on what had led to Grace getting ‘sick’. She and Pearce had chosen not to share that with the group, so Skip would keep their secret–goodness knows, Skip had secrets enough of their own. Brains was unlikely to deduce what’d happened, and even if he did, he knew how to trust in the words his friends told him.

Brains wouldn’t ever know that Grace had poisoned herself, unless he got told to his face.

Skip envied that, a little. It seemed simpler, and it seemed like it’d be more peaceful to just accept things at face value.

Then again, if they could have traded their cynicism for a sex drive, they’d keep their cynicism: At least being skeptical came with its upsides. As best they could tell, the only side effect of getting horny was a steep drop in intellectual capacity.

“I’ll take being stupid,” Brains said with a shrug. “Connor makes me happy.”

Maybe, Skip envied that too.

“Well, I’ve got to go make sure Melody’s good for her share of the pot,” Skip said, disengaging from the conversation. “And I’ve got some work to do after that.”

They didn’t have work to do, but they wanted a stronger reason to break off from the conversation, so they threw that in at the end. (As though Brains cares.)

Walking through the house, Skip passed by the lovebirds themselves, entangled on the couch watching TV. Today was a ‘Pearce Dressed Grace’ day, meaning she had on one of her myriad onesies, diaper bulging visibly beneath. She had been granted access to her regular wardrobe once again now that the bet was over, and leaving the house to run errands or work or just meet friends no longer required elaborate negotiation of rules, but Pearce still dressed her up in baby clothes as often as not.

Things had settled down since Grace and Pearce had stopped being horny-stupid. Or, well–less horny-stupid, Grace was still voluntarily peeing her pants regularly. Still, Skip wouldn’t complain now that the unnecessary arguing and high-tension emotions had left their home.

Pausing to glance at the TV, Skip raised an eyebrow at the colorful cartoon playing. “What’s this?”

“Bluey,” Pearce explained. “Grace needed something age-appropriate to watch today.”

Skip snorted, then smirked in response to Grace’s pouty face. The Bet was over, and the letter of the rules had generally been discarded, but the spirit had carried on.

From a scientific, anthropological perspective, Skip was fascinated by which parts of their relationship had stuck around even as others got discarded.

Pearce just wasn’t well suited to getting up early, so while he still tucked Grace into bed every night, they handled their morning rituals separately. Skip typically got home from work just in time to see Grace milling about in the kitchen, having cereal and coffee, her diaper sagging as she waited for Pearce to get up and change her. If Skip stuck around long enough they’d get to see Pearce come down and start rubbing his lips on Grace’s face while making mushy statements of affection, groping her pee-soaked underwear shamelessly before declaring she ‘Needed a change’.

Curiously, that one rule had stuck around almost completely, even if it wasn’t called a ‘Rule’ anymore: Grace still didn’t ask for diaper changes.

She’d regained the ability to just go use the toilet when she needed, and could change herself when she had to, but she just…didn’t. Even without the motivation of trying to win the bet by inducing leaks, Grace kept her mouth shut even when her diapers made her sort-of adult clothes sag.

Instead, Grace waited on Pearce to check her, or if she needed a change more urgently, she found ways to communicate that without saying it quite so overtly. It was still pretty overt–Skip barely paid attention and could still see the changes in her posture and hear how her tone shifted when she was desperate for a fresh diaper, but she wouldn’t say the words, ‘I need a change’, and unless there were extenuating circumstances, she didn’t do it herself.

It was part of their dynamic, Skip guessed. Grace didn’t care about the rule, per say–she wasn’t trying to avoid a punishment or live up to an arbitrary standard. She wanted to know that Pearce was there for her, that she had his attention and that he wouldn’t forget about her needs.

It was…cute. Gross, and kinda weird, but cute.

“Enjoy your show,” Skip said, looking at the screen a little longer. This was a part they just didn’t understand–the diaper thing, that was a way of showing reliance and trust. But the boring kiddie shows? They just didn’t get it.

Excusing themself, Skip left the living room and navigated up the stairs. Arriving at the top of the landing, a few times on Melody’s door.

Melody answered a moment later, wearing a disgruntled expression until they saw Skip. “Just get home?”

“Leaving in a bit, actually,” Skip said. “Last night was an off day, but I’ve got errands. Just wanted to say–it’s been a month, and Grace is still getting her diapers changed, so…”

“Right,” Melody said, rolling her eyes. “Lovebirds.”

“You’re one to judge,” Skip said, doing their best to ensure that their tone said, ‘I’m teasing’ and not, ‘I think you’re being a hypocrite.’

“Oh, I absolutely am,” Melody replied. “I don’t do love. I just get the physical fun parts, all that emotional whining and getting heartbroken, that’s not my thing.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Skip said. “Still–it’s time to pay the piper.”

Melody shrugged, walking back to the table by her bed. “We said a hundred, right?”

“Yup,” Skip confirmed. “Do you think they’ll last?”

“Pearce and Grace?” Melody asked, looking around her purse. “Hey, I just have a few twenties–can I just send it with Buckshare?”

Skip nodded. “Yes, to both.”

“Nothing lasts,” Melody said. “They’ve got a weird thing, and that might keep them closer–it’s not like you can just go to a club and pick up a dynamic where one partner wipes the other’s ass day in and day out, but that’s not a good thing, either. It means they’ll be pressured to keep going after the fun part’s over.”

“How long does the fun part last, for you?” Skip tilted their head.

“Depends on how experienced they are,” Melody replied, withdrawing her phone to pay off the wager. “A good lay, that’ll keep me going for hours–give me someone who knows how to build, knows when to go for the cum, that’ll make me scream. Plus I love someone who’s not shy about toys, doesn’t feel like they’re inadequate just because I break out the leather. They’re hard to find, but someone with experience and stamina, they’ll… Uh, hey, I’m sorry. You don’t like the ‘detail’ stuff.”

Skip just shook their head. “No, no, I don’t mind. It’s interesting, in a sort of…it’s like when Brains starts telling me about speedrunning drama–do I care about it personally? No, but he still makes it interesting, it’s still fun to listen. I don’t know who ‘Sleepytime’ or ‘Black Swan’ or whoever these people are, but a good story is a good story.”

“So to you,” Melody said, pausing in the middle of pulling up the payment app, “good sex and nerd shit are the same thing.”

“I’ve met too many horny nerds to think otherwise,” Skip snorted. “The only difference between a ren faire and a BDSM convention is the amount of turkey legs being eaten.”

Melody laughed, then paused. Skip recognized the thoughts going on behind the scenes–Melody had an idea.

Skip didn’t push, she’d share if she thought it was worth sharing.

“Money sent,” Melody said, setting down her phone. “I still think that ‘Bet’s over/diaper change’ technicality is crap, but I’m not going to sweat it.”

“I’ll probably just toss the money in the beer fund, anyways, once Pearce’s payout stops covering drinks,” Skip said. “My job hours kinda suck, but it pays nice, so I can’t complain.”

Melody paused again–thinking harder. Seeing opportunity.

Skip saw the question coming, though they didn’t know what it would lead to.

“Hey,” Melody said, “I’ve got something in the works, something that might be able to make some cash.”

“Yeah?” Skip asked. “I’m not really looking to quit, but how much cash are we talking?”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of a self publishing thing,” Melody admitted. “It depends on how good I am at selling it. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine.”

Skip nodded along. Sure, I get that. More of a gamble than, like, a wage job.”

“Yeah. I think it could hit big, though, it just needs the right angle, and I’ve been having trouble getting some parts off the ground.”

“Alright,” Skip said, noncommittal. “Hit me. What’s the idea?”

“A book,” Melody explained. “Or–maybe a web series, I don’t know. Some kind of educational content, at least, and I want it to be about dating.”

Skip pressed their lips into a line. What do you need me for?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Melody said. “I have this issue–I go out, I want to have a bit of fun, and nobody knows how to do shit. If I go out with some guy who’s not heavily invested in sex, I spend most of my time just trying to coach him to get me to cum once and then he wants to take a nap. People within the community, though…there’s another issue there.”

She trailed off, and Skip took a guess. “Not enough partners to go around?”

“I’m to the point I’ve almost booty called an ex,” Melody admitted, saying it with a tone that implied the confession was shocking. “And…people talk, everyone kind of knows I’m flighty and so it’s getting harder to find folks that aren’t turned off by my reputation. I need a way to get people up to speed that doesn’t ruin date night. And there’s resources out there, but none that I like. I want a book I can hand to someone who’s never so much as had a dirty thought before, and by the time they’re done reading it, they’ll at least have a basic idea of how everything works–Safe words, protocols, safety, all that stuff.”

“So I’m your pure, virginal control group?” Skip asked.

“More like my co-author,” Melody said. “My writing style’s kind of…florid, I have a hard time staying objective. I need someone without a bias, who can look at what I’m writing and tell me if it seems more porny than educational.”

“So… I’m your control co-author,” Skip clarified.

Melody shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Skip nodded. Had this come from a different source, they would probably have backed away, but they trusted Melody–or, at least, they trusted Melody to be true to her typical behaviors. Melody wouldn’t push Skip to actually get involved in anything. She was good about boundaries and wouldn’t step past Skip’s personal comfort zone.

“Let me think about it,” Skip lied. They’d already decided to say ‘Yes’, but they wouldn’t tell Melody for a day or two. By the time they’d said it out loud, they regretted not just saying ‘yes’, but it was too late now to pivot back to candor. “But I think I could make that work.”

The End

…

The Wasters will return in, ‘For Research Purposes Only’.

...

 

It's finished.

But it's not done just yet. This is the final chapter, but now begins the editing process - I'm going to go back through every chapter, make changes for continuity, foreshadowing, typo mistakes, and general polish, and then, when it's all said and done, I'll be posting this as a proper, complete ebook. (And, of course, the characters will be coming back in my next book!) 

In the meantime, I want to say thank you so much holy shit to everyone who's read along with this piece. Two years of work and a whole lot of sweat and (other bodily fluids) went into making this, and it wouldn't be here without all of you to read it.

In particular, I want to thank my editor, Ezi, who came onboard partway through and I think can easily be credited with a marked upgrade in quality in the chapters after her arrival, and all of my subscribers and supporters who kept me financially solvent while writing this so I could give it the time and attention it needed.

I'm so grateful that I can dedicate myself to writing as much as I can thanks to all of you. ❤️

https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[thedman]

Bravo! Thank You, this was a true masterpiece, extremely well written.  I am so glad to have been along for the journey from day one and been able to enjoy every new chapter.  I can't wait to see the next adventure.

[PeculiarChangeling]

21 hours ago, thedman said:

Bravo! Thank You, this was a true masterpiece, extremely well written.  I am so glad to have been along for the journey from day one and been able to enjoy every new chapter.  I can't wait to see the next adventure.

Thank you so much for coming along this whole way! 

[D503]

Yay! Wonderful stuff.

Thanks for such a lovely story - I almost thought there was gonna be another bet/dare at the end there! Although I did love how that played out hehe. 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 9/11/2023 at 9:17 PM, D503 said:

Yay! Wonderful stuff.

Thanks for such a lovely story - I almost thought there was gonna be another bet/dare at the end there! Although I did love how that played out hehe. 

Thank you for reading, too! And for your comments along the way ^^