Work Text:
31 August 2025
Her head’s been all fuzzy for hours, and she hates it.
As the first rays of sunlight flittered into Trinity’s bedroom early this morning, casting their long strings of light across her bed and rousing her from her dreamless sleep, she felt relatively okay. Waking up after a regression had never been her favorite, rather it meant she would have to face reality once more, and that was something she didn’t want to do yet.
She squeezed her eyes tight to block out the sunlight for just a moment longer as she pulled her blanket over her head and twisted away from the source. But a dull ache settled in the back of her skull in the moments she could feel herself drifting off, just persistent enough to wash away any remaining drowsiness she had, and all of her hopes for even a moment more of such blissful sleep. She kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, before an annoyed groan reverberated throughout her chest and she flipped her covers off.
All of the warm, pleasant fuzziness that saturated her brain yesterday subsided by the time she settled down for bed late last night.
The day, and all the things it brought with it, were so nice and warm. She’s never known another little before or gotten to play with them. It had been everything she could have ever dreamed of — just an entire day filled with joy and the ability to be carefree at last — nothing has ever come close to the warm feelings leftover. It’s like she was living in some Barbie fantasy movie, where everything is pink and bubbly and saccharine.
Even though all of the pleasant memories are still fluttering around her head, worry gnaws at her insides. It’s like a burrowing animal clawing its way deeper and deeper, and setting all of her nerve endings on fire.
No one was ever supposed to know about her regressions, much less two people finding out at once, and her co-workers she only met the day prior at that. Dennis is fine. He’s someone she can very easily deal with — besides, they both are harboring the same secret; if one of them tells, then they’ve both outed themselves. It’s doctor Abbot who is making her her belly do somersaults.
She knows absolutely nothing about the man. She knew him, what, all of two hours before yesterday afternoon? And now she’s only gone and spoiled it all by revealing her biggest secret imaginable.
She never should have opened that door.
What if he tells doctor Robby?
Her face pales at the thought. Her regression will just be another thing to add to her ever growing repertoire of never ending fuck-ups. Just another thing that makes her an even worse doctor — she might get kicked.
“Fuck…”
She can’t even begin to imagine what doctor Abbot must think of her. A loser or a freak or something of the kind. But she can’t be so sure, because he had been so nice when he found them. He could’ve sneered, called them names, anything, but he didn’t. He asked to come inside, and the first thing he did was clean up their mess in the kitchen. And without being asked, he cooked them all a very delicious lunch. He could’ve left at any point, but he didn’t. He just sat and watched them, and even played a little bit.
Never once did a snide remark come out of his mouth, nor did he act off-putted by the two of them. And every time she looked up at him, he meet her with a soft smile and glowing eyes that made her insides all warm. And he left his number in case either of them ever needed him, with forehead kisses.
Thus far, all doctor Abbot has shown her has been kindness in all of the places she is typically met with cruelty. He even praised her for her reboa when he should have scolded her and told her off for the nth-time that day.
Could he actually just be kind?
The thought is stupid; she can count on one hand the number of men who have been kind to her without looking for anything in return. What if this is all just some ploy? Another man peppering her with sweet pleasantries and expecting more in return in the moment she has gotten most comfortable?
He could end up hurting her; she’d be defenseless.
A lump grows in the back of her throat as tears bubble up in her eyes, threatening to tip over at any moment. She purses her lips together as she tries forcing the tears back, but they remain persistent. Her arms rise up as she forces herself to take a deep, shuddering breath, before wiping her eyes and the small dribble that runs down from her nose. With another deep breath, she pushes herself up from the mattress, and hastily swings her legs over the side of her bed.
She stumbles her way towards her bathroom as more tears crowd her eyes, before she slams and locks the door behind herself. The noisy fan whirls to life as she clicks on the lights, helping to drown out the sound of her cries as a heavy sob rakes through her. She digs her fingernails into the palms of her hands as she slides down the door, landing on her behind.
With her legs pulled to her chest, she buries her face into her knees, and struggles to catch her breath. Fuzziness begins to cloak her brain, making her thoughts feel all slimy and filled with sludge. It begs and pleads to pull her under, to drown her with thick clots of mud that will silence her screams.
Tears slip down her face wordlessly for a few minutes more, before she has no more tears left to cry. Her breathing is heavy as she pushes herself up off the ground and catches sight of herself in the mirror.
She’s an absolute mess.
It’s the only thing she can think as she glares at her disheveled appearance, and quivering bottom lip. Her eyes are rimmed red from the tears, the back of her head houses a large rats nest from not being brushed in two days, and her pajamas are all wrinkled, partly rolled up around her leg, and tugging off her shoulder. In many more ways than one, she absolutely is a mess, but this is something she can fix.
It’s a small reassurance to remember the control she does have, so she decides to take a shower that will hopefully wash away all of the lingering fuzziness.
Warming water spits down from the shower head as she sticks her hand underneath the stream, watching it flood over her palm. Once it warms enough, she shakes her hand off and wipes the excess water on her pants before taking off her sullied pajamas. Water coats her body as she slips under the warm spray, and suddenly it’s like she can breathe again. The world doesn’t feel as large or scary, but normal, like she can stand on her own two feet again. As she takes another deep breath, steam coats her lungs and warms her from the inside out.
With a final long exhale, she begins lathering herself in coconut-scented body wash — her big scent, rather than strawberry when she wants to be small — and reminds herself that everything is okay. She is safe, in her own apartment, and the world is not crashing down around her. She will be perfectly okay. If not now, then soon.
She decides not to bother with her hair, since it’s not her wash day, and it’ll need to be untangled out of her shower. Instead, she allows the coconut scent to fill her nose and think about all the things she needs to do today, like wash her laundry and clean her bedroom, all the boring big things that little her will happily skip.
Confident that her head is steady, she takes a cautious step out of the shower and wraps up in a warm towel. Fuzziness lingers in the far back corner of her brain, but it isn’t overwhelming, and her thoughts remain intact.
Trinity stares at her reflection for a long moment as she glides the bristles of her hairbrush against the bottom of her tangle, slowly working her way up. She uses gentle, slow strokes and watches as the knots disappear. She’s lucky to not be a child anymore, or else her mother would be ripping out her hair, yanking her hair back, and complaining when the brush got stuck in the knots.
Being grown is a very good thing.
She shakes the thought away and sets her hairbrush back down on the sink. Her fingers comb through her hair as a final check that the tangles are gone, before stepping back out into her bedroom to search for an outfit to wear. She rummages through the varies clothes in her draws, before settling on a light gray t-shirt and some black leggings — the perfect outfit for remaining big for as long as possible.
As she steps out into the living room, the list of everything that she told herself she was going to do runs through her head, but her motivation quickly dwindles as all the fuzz she thought she’d successfully pushed away earlier settles again, slimy fingers and all. She blows a small sigh of annoyance out of her nose, before plopping down on the couch to try and refocus.
Her vision blurs over as she stares at the the blank space just above their television on the far wall. Fragmented thoughts clash with her bigger ones, flooding her mind. Her thoughts are like clattering cymbals or thundering rain, both ringing from the inside of her head and out through her ears.
Fuzziness grapples her, yanking and yanking her down, but she tries fighting it. She decides to lay down on the couch and stare up at the high ceiling in hopes of collecting the fragments as they whirl by, and piece her thoughts back together.
She rubs her fingernails together as she focuses on taking deep breaths, and doing everything in her power to remain as big as possible. But the thoughts that swirl by are all about Abbot, about how little she knows about him, about the possibility that she’s being toyed with. Maybe he’s even screwing with Dennis’s mind, and he’ll hurt them both, and it’s all just so very big, and these thoughts aren’t what she wants to have right now.
She just wants to be little and safe.
Why can’t she just be safe?
Her head snaps over at the sound of a door creaking open, pulling her out of her nauseating thoughts and back to the real world around her. Fuzziness lays a heavy hand that she can’t push away no matter how hard she tries.
“You alright?” Dennis’s voice is light and filled with a subtle sweetness that hooks into her brain, even though she can’t quite figure out why. He tilts his head and looks back at her with his big bug eyes, searching her face for something.
Can he tells she’s slipping?
She blinks hard a few times before turning to look back up at the ceiling.
“Doesn’t Abbot knowing scare you a little?” She blurts out, heart racing in her chest as fresh tears prickle her eyes.
Dennis remains silent as he steps closer to her. She refuses to turn back and look at him, she doesn’t want to fully slip. She’s trying so very hard.
“I don’t know, should it?” He asks, words unsure.
“We don’t know him.”
“Okay…” Dennis trails off, and when she finally looks at him again, she finds him standing at the armrest of the couch with a raised eyebrow. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks back at him, before pushing herself into a sitting position.
“He could hurt us,” she barks, pleading for him to understand.
“I don’t know…” he mumbles, biting his bottom lip for a second before speaking again. “He took really good care of us when he didn’t have too. And he seems really nice and sincere. If he wanted to do something, he would have yesterday….”
“But—” she falters, the unspoken words bitter across her tongue.
“But what?” He asks quietly, sitting down on the armrest.
“What if this is all just come ploy? Huh? What if he’s just messing with our heads and lulling us into a false sense of security so he can turn around and hurt us? Have you thought about that, Dennis?”
“Okay, Trinity, and what if he’s an alien?” He asks, causing her to huff in annoyance and cross her arms tightly over her chest as she glares at him. “It happened one time. We don’t have to be around him outside of work. I just don’t think this is some master plan to hurt us. Did he even know he lived below you?”
The logic behind his words only make her angrier. Frustration bubbles up hot in her chest as her face reddens and her glare deepens.
“You just don’t understand!” She yells, watching as he flinches at her sudden outburst.
“Then explain it to me!”
“You’re just too stupid to get it, Whitaker!” Her hands clasp over her mouth the second the words fly from it. Dennis lets out a small whimper as his eyes fill with tears, before he turns and runs back into his room. “Den, wait—” she cries, but he’s already gone, and his bedroom door slams shut to prove it.
The world stops spinning. Everything crashes down on her all at once like a sudden rainstorm, and she can no longer keep her mind from slipping into the slimy fuzziness pulling at her, frigid sludge soaks into her throat as fragile cries rake her tiny body. Her chest heaves heavily and her vision blurs with tears as she curls up into a ball and wishes she could take the words back, or maybe even disappear.
She hadn’t meant it!
She was just so angry and mad at the world, and now Denny thinks she hates him, but she doesn’t!
Two sets of pitiful cries ring out across the apartment as both the littles cling to themselves in desperate need of comfort. Their chests ache, and they feel absolutely horrible, and neither has the words to make the others pain disappear, so they cry.
The day wasn’t supposed to end like this, it was supposed to be a good one filled with so much joy and laughter and love!
She’s such a little screw-up.
Hours tick by slowly, but Trinity isn’t aware of how many have passed her by. Her mind is hazy from all of the crying, and now her throat is dry and sore. She thinks about getting up, grabbing a glass of water and apologizing to Whitaker, but she feels like she’ll just make everything so wrong. Like she’ll always be a little fuck up.
As a fresh set of tears run down her face, a soft knock sounds at the front door. Her heart jumps a beat as she stares at it confusedly, eyebrows furrowing. She thinks about ignoring it, until a second louder knock sounds, and she forces herself to get it.
A third knock comes just as she makes it to the door, where she presses her tiptoes and peers out her peephole, she can’t help but choke back another cry.
Doctor Abbot stands on the other side of door, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks down both sides of the hallway. As she pulls it open, she watches the small smile that was forming fall of his face, as concern replaces it. Her bottom lip wobbles as she looks up at him, willing the tears to stay back.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he mumbles warmly, filling her chest with fuzziness. “Can I come in?” His words are so gentle and soft.
Even with the concern stretching across his face, he remains firmly planted in place until she slightly nods her head and opens the door. He waits for her to move back, before stepping in, shutting the door, and locking it back. Her sad, little, frightened eyes meet his own worry-filled ones.
“Hey, what happened?” He asks softly, gently reaching his hand forward to touch her face. She blinks back sadly as his warm hands cup her face, and his thumbs wipe away her tears as they fall. “Are you okay?”
Words prickle across her tongue. They’re all of the things that she wishes she could say, but her mouth can’t form them and her brain can’t make the words complete.
“I bad…” She whimpers at last, eyes falling away from Abbot’s.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Mean. I yell at Denny and call him Stupid…” she whispers, her shame washing over her as her bottom lip juts out. “Make him cry….”
“Where is he now?” Abbot asks, scanning the living room of their apartment, but finding no little in sight.
Trinity weakly points towards Dennis’s closed door, and looks up just as Abbot gives her a soft, reassuring smile.
“I’m going to go check on him, okay?” He asks, his smooth thumbs roll tenderly across her cheeks, wiping away the remainder of her tears. She lets out a small whimper and nods her head, before pulling back away from him and letting him go.
Abbot takes the few short steps to Dennis’s bedroom, before he knocks on the door. Trinity hangs back and watches him. Faint movement comes from inside his room, followed by a faint muttering of “go way.”
“Dennis, sweetheart, it’s Doctor Abbot,” he calls out, tilting his head towards the door. “I’m just gonna open the door and pop my head in to check on you, alright?”
Loud cries break out from Dennis’s room as Abbot opens the door, luring Trinity over. She peeks over his shoulder to find Dennis with his knees against his chest and pushing himself back against the headboard. Her nose scrunches up as a foul scent of urine hits it.
“‘m sowwy!” He bubbles pitifully.
“Oh, baby,” Abbot whispers, pushing deeper into the room to get over to his side “How long have you been wet for?”
Trinity’s chest aches. She keeps her feet firmly planted in the threshold of the door as she watches the sobs bubble out of the small baby. Her little palm outstretches in his direction, seeking to comfort him, but she keeps her distance, not wanting to upset him further. Abbot coos affectionately, his right hand pressed against the baby’s cheek as he keep crying.
“We need to get you cleaned up,” he says.
“Noooo!” Dennis cries pitifully, before flopping sideways on the bed and trying to roll away.
“Honey, you’re all wet. You’ll get a really uncomfortable rash if you sit in it too long. Would you like to take a bubble bath?” His words are saturated sweetness that leaves her stomach all a flutter as she watches baby Denny nod his head, before holding out his hands for help.
She takes small steps behind them, watching as Abbot settles Dennis down on top of the toilet than searches the room. She keeps watching him, until she realizes that he won’t find any soap, and then she’s gone in a flash and digging through the cabinet of her own bathroom to pull out some bubblegum scented bath soap. She races back with a smile on her face as she presents it to Abbot, who rewards her with a gentle pat on the head and a warm thank you.
Suds slowly fill the tub, and as they wait, Abbot tries undressing Dennis. But the baby fights him and whines loudly, causing her eyes to furrow.
“I’ve seen a lot of worse things Dennis, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he tries to reassure, but the baby refuses to budge.
“No, wook!” He whines, squirming on the toilet.
“Okay, I won’t look. But you need to take these pants off. If it makes you more comfortable, you can keep your shirt on.” Dennis nods his head and blinks at the two of them.
Abbot gives him one final smile before he faces the tub and closes his eyes, while Trinity is quick to turn on her heels to leave the room. She chews on her bottom lip and stares at Dennis’s bed as she notices the large wet spot in the middle. Her eyes fall away again, knowing this is all her fault, and decides it’ll be better if she leaves.
However, she stops just short of the doorway and turns back around with a slight smile. She can wash his blankets and then Dennis will feel all better!
She smiles at her idea and begins to quickly strips the soiled sheets from the bed. She stumbles her way over to the washer, hidden behind a large door in the kitchen, and begins stuffing all of the sheets inside haphazardly. A smile lights up her face as she slams the lid shut and focuses on the buttons. But her smile falls away quickly, her eyebrows knitting together as she tries to figure out which ones to press.
“Trinity?” Abbot calls, startling her as she drops her hand away.
“Hewe!” She calls back, holding her hands behind her back and look up at him with a large smile as he peeks out.
“What’re you doing?” He asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Washin’ Denny’s blankies,” she smiles back proudly.
“Okay, thank you, but let me start it okay?” He asks, causing her chest to fall sadly. “I need to throw in his shirt,” he explains. “You’ve done a great job,” his praise brings an even bigger smile on her face as she looks up at him.
“Fank you.”
“Can you get a towel and washrag for me please?”
Trinity nods earnestly, before running back into her bathroom to snag them from her own pile and bring it back to Abbot.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Denny otay?” She asks, following him back into his room.
“He’s going to be, he was just a little frightened is all.”
“Fwightened,” she mummers, mulling over the word as her eyes fall to the ground.
“Just a bit scared he’d get in trouble is all.”
“He not mad?”
“We all make mistakes, sweetheart. It’s learning and changing from them that counts,” he says, gently patting her on the back before going back into the bathroom.
Trinity keeps quiet for the rest of the night, just watching Abbot coo over baby Denny. He coos over her a little too, like during dinner he was helping them both eat and was making silly noises. But she mostly watches him and Denny.
Each movement — each moment. Is filled with something so utterly tender, she doesn’t know what to think about it.
He speaks with kindness, and his eyes sparkle, and he doesn’t seem mad or annoyed with them. And he’s so good with Denny.
Could he be good?