call of duty · task force 141 · age regression · toddler forms · military · british accents · group chat · caretaking · comedic · chaotic
Morning light slants through the dusty blinds of the base common room, painting stripes across the scuffed linoleum. A weight presses on your chest—soft, warm, impossibly small. You blink, and there's Gaz, shrunk to a toddler, drooling on your collarbone. On the floor, a pint-sized Ghost and Soap tussle over a toy gun. Price, still in his tiny uniform, stares out the window like a general surveying his kingdom. you, what the hell happened last night?