“Inspection time!” Pearce declared, grinning sarcastically at Grace.

This was it. The day she’d been dreading, the make-or-break point in their bet.

It was clear that her plans had not panned out, not as she’d initially conceived them. Pearce had endurance beyond her wildest expectations. Minor mistakes aside, he’d proven to be able to stick it out through the tedium, the annoyances, the getting up at a reasonable time in the morning. He’d even proven himself capable of tolerating messy diaper changes.

Were she being honest, Grace would have to admit that Pearce had proved her wrong. He’d stuck it out, proved he could caretake–or, at least, that he could follow strict instructions for longer than a few days.

Grace didn’t need to be honest. She didn’t want to be honest, either, she wanted to win. Her initial summation of Pearce’s incompetence was no longer the driving force to this bet: Ambition and stubbornness drove her to outlast him.

But now she was being tested in a way she’d hoped would never come.

She had to leave the house.

For Pearce, this was a break. An opportunity to kick up his feet and take it easy for a couple hours. For Grace, it was the moment she had to risk being seen in diapers, not by friends or even by Melody’s various paramours, but by strangers.

Grace resolved that, if she made it through the day, she would find a way to put the pressure on.

“Let’s see,” Pearce said, hand lingering on her diaper while he ‘checked’ to see if she was dry. He knew she was dry–he’d changed her not five minutes before, but he liked how she blushed and squirmed. He still assumed it was embarrassment that made her cheeks flush, and Grace wasn’t about to admit any other alternative. “All dry–and you’ve got a change in your purse?”

“Mhmm,” Grace grumbled. She’d been allowed to dress herself for once, and gone with a business skirt and top. She had an in-person meeting with clients and wanted to look as professional as possible, while hiding her diaper as thoroughly as she could.

“And you’ll get permission before you change your soggy bottom, if it’s been four hours and you really have to,” Pearce added.

“Yes,” Grace replied. “Can I go? I’m going to be late to catch the bus.”

“Mhmm,” Pearce replied.

“I’ll be back later,” Grace said, holding up her phone to gesture with it. “If something comes up, I’ll text you. Please stay off my back, I need this meeting to go smooth. Okay?”

“Okay. Have a great time, crinkles.” Pearce waved her goodbye, and she left the house.

…

Pearce found himself, for the first time in a while, with no responsibilities.

It was an unusual sensation. For the past week he’d always had Grace on the back of his mind–or, well, he’d tried to. Reminders on his phone had been all but mandatory to keep him on track.

He wasn’t trying to slack off, it’s just that every time he made a mental note to do something, the proverbial ink seemed to run off the page and he’d forget in minutes. Practice didn’t seem to help, only clearly labeled notifications on his phone–which worked, except for the times he forgot to set those notifications.

But hey, for now, he didn’t have to worry about that. He had the afternoon to himself.

Shoot, I have groceries, right?

Walking to the kitchen, Pearce checked his section of the fridge. He had a decent amount of food, enough to last a couple more days, though he was low on milk. The supply of baby food he’d purchased to mess with Grace had dwindled, but he felt skeptical that replacing it would accomplish much. Clearly, she was stuck out for the long haul.

He wondered what would make her break first–he’d suspected that the lack of romance in her life might be a problem, but unlike Melody, Grace didn’t seem to mind not having a partner. Even if her hilariously puffy bottom and menagerie of embarrassing outfits didn’t quash her romantic prospects, she wasn’t too bothered about not seeing anyone.

There was always the option of making the food extremely unpleasant. Since Grace was mostly around just the wasters lately, she had grown resistant to the embarrassment of baby clothes, so that was the one dial he had left to turn to try and push her into quitting.

He checked the fridge.

Hmm. I need milk.

Making a mental note, he grabbed a soda, planning out what to do with his free time. There were some jobs he could work on–freelance graphic design work had been pretty good to him–and he needed to finish up those projects.

Since the time was all his to spend, though, he could relax a bit first. A quick break to play some video games, and then he’d buckle down and finish the important work.

Wandering up to his room, he fired up his gaming rig, booted up the most recent open world game he’d been playing through, and sank into the play session. He’d only play for a little while, but it was fun to let his mind wander.

Ding!

He checked his phone. A text from Grace. ‘I’d like to get a drink since I’m meeting my clients at a coffee shop. Is that alright?’

‘Sure,’ he texted back. ‘Get whatever you want.’

Was she at the meeting already? She’d just left, and… he checked the time and, no, she hadn’t just left. It’d been a solid thirty minutes since he sat down.

“Hmm,” he mused, pausing the game. That was as long as he’d intended to play, though it felt like he’d just started. Exercising his willpower, he saved, quit out, and tabbed over to his web browser to check client emails.

Instead, another tab he’d saved caught his eye.

Baby clothes he’d considered picking up for Grace. He clicked on the website, looking through what he’d saved.

It really depended on how well he could sell things to the others. Embarrassing clothes weren’t doing much to Grace, so if he wanted her to give up, he’d need to up the ante to impractical and annoying. One option he’d been looking at was this plastic and metal thing that’d make her crawl, but that would be a tough sell–it was very nearly just straight bondage gear, and claiming it was ‘clothes’ wouldn’t get him very far.

On the other hand, there were middle ground options. A onesie with extra padding between the legs, a literal pillow crammed down there to force waddling upon the wearer…that might be something he could fly under the radar. Similarly, locking mittens were going too far, but he might be able to win on a pair of booties with slick soles, designed to make walking tricky.

He smirked. With the right conversation, he could have Grace crawling around the house. It’d be cute–

Well, not cute. Humiliating for her. Enough to make her give up.

Okay, maybe still a little cute.

Either way, he needed something to compel her to quit. Just running with the status quo wasn’t going to work, and he doubted that she would just continue with things as they were. Grace was probably planning something. He had to plan back, or else the bet would never end.

He continued looking at options, until his phone beeped again.

‘Meeting went well–I’ve got to run a hard drive to the post office and ship it, then I’ll be on my way home.’

Pearce blinked. How had two hours gone by?

He’d gone down another rabbit hole, lost track of time.

Stupid, he thought at himself.

Grimacing, he turned his attention, finally, to work. He needed to accomplish something with the free time he’d been granted before Grace got home. Opening up a client email, he skimmed it.

He skimmed it again. The words were bouncing off his brain, refusing to stick.

He skimmed the email a third time, putting together what they were asking for. Easy. He could do a mockup in photoshop in twenty minutes and send it back to them.

By the time he’d booted up photoshop, though, he’d begun second guessing his plan for the mockup.

He skimmed the email again. No matter how much effort he put behind it, he just couldn’t direct his focus on the email. He wanted to yell at his computer–some days, he could sit down and just glide through designs for hours, but others, even the most basic tasks were like pulling teeth.

He sighed, sitting back. A break would help him focus, center him so he could direct his attention properly.

Sitting back, he fired up the game again, just for a few minutes–

“I’m home!” Grace called from downstairs.

Pearce rubbed at his face. He’d done it again. Blown off forty minutes without realizing it’d even passed.

At least it was dinner time, now–he couldn’t screw up making dinner.

Pushing away from his desk, Pearce ambled down the stairs. “Hi there. How’s the sog monster doing?”

“Very well, thank you,” Grace said, kicking off her shoes, barely even rolling her eyes while he reached under her skirt. She was barely damp–a surprise, given how long she’d been gone, but he didn’t think much of it.

“I’ll get you changed into something more appropriate after dinner, okay?” he said. “What sounds good–pizza or mac and cheese?”

She pursed her lips. “Are those the only two options? We’ve had both, like, three times this week.”

“I don’t even have to give you a choice, y’know,” Pearce said. “They’re easy to make.”

She shrugged. “Mac and Cheese, then.”

“Coming right up!” He smiled, turning to waltz to the kitchen and start preparing–

Oh right. He was out of milk.

“Uh,” he called across the house. “Gonna be pizza after all, sorry.”

…

“Fine, pizza, whatever,” Grace called back, smirking to herself.

Her plan was working flawlessly. She’d had four cups of coffee and a couple cups of water at her meeting, and she’d only used her diaper once. Her bladder was near bursting, but her padding was merely damp.

Operation, ‘Get Pearce in trouble’ was a go.

She’d made sure he checked her when she got home. That way, she couldn’t be accused of not changing herself when she’d needed it.

Her plan was downright machiavellian.

She released her bladder, flooding her diaper. Pressing her thighs together, she deliberately overloaded the padding, keeping it squeezed so it couldn’t absorb, so much urine rushing in that it simply couldn’t handle the deluge.

Her diaper leaked, urine trickling down her thighs. She’d taken off her shoes so they wouldn’t get wet–her socks, she was willing to sacrifice.

“Uh, Pearce,” she called, grinning, though she kept the triumph out of her tone.

“What’s that?” he called from the kitchen. “You need something?”

“Remind me how much you have to chip in to the beer fund when you break the rules?” she asked.

“I can’t remember, but… why… shit.” Pearce’s tone of realization and concern made Grace’s heart flutter.

She’d found the way to make him break.