.............this is my longest fic, enjoy :D
@beckyu i did it !! >:]
tw: swearing, panic, mention of murder, mention of death, mention of vore (kind of)
Secrets, what a fucking stupid thing. They were so difficult to hide from his clueless family, and just a bitch to try and regulate on the daily.
Well, he supposes that secrets have no part in his inability to control his size shifting abilities, but his point still stands nonetheless.
He’s been with this family for about ten years now, and not a word about his powers-slash-curse have left him, but he’s fairly certain that he was just hit with a decade-lasting streak of pure luck, because everyone who personally knows him, and even those who’re mere acquaintances to him will mention this one thing: lying never goes well for him.
Something will come along to fuck it up, surely.
And it did, it just took significantly longer than he thought it would.
The reasoning behind this sudden reveal was actually incredibly stupid, and he was a fucking idiot for letting it happen. The Morning Topic was usually something Tommy looked forward to, he really enjoyed mindlessly rambling to a family member about his interest—or occasionally his disinterest—in a specific topic. But, this morning, as he approached a kitchen full of his brothers and heard Wilbur say something incredibly concerning, he felt a particular dread fall upon him. He hasn’t felt that in a long, long time.
“What do you think of those sizeshifting fucks?” Wilbur asks, mouth full of his breakfast. Tommy makes a face, until he registers exactly what the brunet had said.
Tommy’s eyes widen—a thing he’d thought he got under control, apparently not. He could feel his insides churning. In the end, he feels positively sick, and he’s bluntly aware that there’s been a shift in his height. Mentally crossing his fingers, Tommy hopes to Prime that no one sees the sudden change in his usual bubbly attitude. He straightens up a bit, composing himself. He keeps his eyes away from everyone, studying the floor that’s become much more interesting to him than it was a moment ago.
“Mornin’,” Techno mumbles to him when Tommy accidentally bumps into him on his way to the fridge. Tommy startles, nearly stumbling over his two feet. His brother rose a brow at him, underlying amusement shining around his expression. “Good morning!” Tommy chirps far too nervously. Fuck, this is difficult. His chest tightens, and he checks just for a moment to see if he’s standing where he typically would at his normal height. It could use some work, but it was a relief to know that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was. He smiles awkwardly and returns to the fridge.
Wilbur clears his throat, the attention-hungry bastard turning all eyes back to him. Techno catches on, and Tommy is practically trembling at the thought of Techno’s response. While he knew that there was still wiggle-room for interpretation in Wil’s question, the harshness he’d immediately picked up on was nothing but another worry to his hassled mind. And for a self-proclaimed “anarchist” such as Techno, he could only wonder what his standpoint on “outcasts” such as Tommy himself was.
He actually hopes it’d stay in his wonders—he really doesn’t want unnecessary closure.
“They’re alright,” Techno mumbled.
Tommy takes a subtle, deep inhale of breath and holds it for as long as possible, just to avoid the constant rise and fall of his chest, because, yes, he can keep his face calm, but even then, hyperventilating would be a dead give away. He buries his face in the fridge, enjoying the fact that he was completely hidden. He moved around the contents before finding a familiar pitcher. While experimenting with certain drinks, he’d accidentally created something completely new and absolutely delicious. No other person likes it, not even Tubbo.
More for him, he supposes.
“What about you, Tommy?” Wilbur asks, and his voice sounds unusually loud. Tommy shuts the fridge door and keeps his back facing Wilbur and Techno. His thoughts spiral, a million things running around at once, and he finds it terribly hard to hold his breath for much longer. He exhales as quietly as possible. “I don’t know what that is, so,” he says quietly. Taking a glass from the cabinet, Tommy wonders what it’d be like to simply leave, to just start a life at a better size, preferably a small one, something simple and easy. Hiding from humans, how hard can it be, really? He’s done it for at least fifteen years, what’s the rest of his life?
“You don’t know what a sizeshifter is?” Techno asks, and Tommy can feel the man’s maroon eyes boring into the back of his head. He pours the drink and returns its spot in the fridge quickly. “No,” he lies, taking a sip. The taste floods his senses and calms him so quickly, it’s like fucking magic.
Finally, he gathers the strength to face his brothers. As suspected, the two of them are looking at him like he’s said something incredibly shocking or offensive.
“…What?” he accuses the two of them, downing the rest of his drink. “They’re basically,” Wilbur pauses to think, but Techno intervenes— “It’s in the name, just put two and two together, Wilbur doesn’t need to explain it to you.”
Tommy scoffs at the man, some family he is. “They…size…shift?” he “guesses”, faking his intrigue when Wilbur and Techno nod in unison at him.
“Okay…” he trails off, growing increasingly more awkward by the second.
“Well, then, do you think about them? Do you think they’re a part of society, or should they be rejected?” Wilbur asks.
The question is so stupid, the correct answer is painfully obvious, how can neither of them see this? Internally, Tommy groans. He screams. He hates The Morning Topic today.
He swallows, biting down the bile that has been steadily rising in his throat. I–I don’t know, that’s a bit harsh, innit? Rejecting them–?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
There’s no doubt about the fact that he’s shrunk at least a few inches. It’s no matter…he’s still taller than Techno, which is the big thing he’s trying to keep steady. Because as soon as he drops to even eye-level, he’s royally fucked.
“Are you alright, Tommy?” Wilbur asks, discarding the topic. His shoulders slump in relief. His pulse is still going at a fierce pace and he still feels that back-of-mind panic. He nods easily, despite not being alright. His own brothers are dissing his kind right in front of him. He hates to say that it makes him feel a little upset, and most definitely un-fucking-comfortable.
There’s a hand on his shoulder, he feels himself lose an inch, or perhaps gain one at the sudden scare. He startles again. “Tommy, why're you all jumpy?” Techno questions, Tommy nearly whimpers. He shouldn't be acting like this, why now is he not able to control himself? He has to leave—leave, leave, leave.
“Big test coming up today! See you, dear family!” he hurries to leave, cringing at his terrible excuse. He’ll have to work on that, there's no doubt about the fact that he’s already raised suspicion. Prime, he’s so stupid! How come he made it through the most immature years of his life without a spillage, but the moment he turns a respectable age, all hell breaks loose?
Thankfully, he’s out the door before any of his siblings chase after him. He huffs, his breath coming out a puff of smoke. He shivers, perhaps shrinking a little bit. Tommy’s not sure how tall he is, but as far as he’s aware, if he’s shorter than Ranboo and taller than Tubbo, he’ll be able to get away with his normal level of excuses.
About mid-way to school, it became apparent to Tommy that he had forgotten a lot of things. He’s got his backpack, but he can't recall what he’d taken out and what he’d put back in. And he’s regrettably left his phone sitting on his nightstand, still plugged in. His lunch and wallet have been left somewhere in the house, and he’s really starting to get cold with his thin hoodie.
He swallows, using what little control he has to grow just a bit more, hoping that with a larger form he’ll drop his trip down a good ten minutes.
And it does. Well, he doesn't really know if it does or not, because his fucking phone is having the time of its life in his bedroom.
Tommy murmurs to himself as he walks across the frosty grass. It crunches under his footsteps, which he remembers are far too thick—he shifts back down to a reasonable height.
“Tommy!” Tubbo calls him. Tommy’s eyes drift around until he finds the ridiculously short boy, standing next to ridiculously tall Ranboo. He lights up at Tubbo, but not so much at Ranboo. He likes him fine, don't get him wrong, but sometimes a new member to a life-long duo can be a difficult adjustment. Forgive him for being a bit cautious.
“Big T! Big R!” he greeted, his nervous mind already beginning to settle down. He finds himself so at ease with his friends, Ranboo included.
The three of them follow each other into school, chatting a very normal, non-size-shifter-related conversation.
So he's panicky again. It's his last period: art. Not particularly bad but not necessarily good, either. It's just kind of…there. And so he takes the time to space out and run through everything that could go wrong when he heads home. Wilbur confronts him, Techno studies him, which is arguably worse because he can never know what Techno’s thinking. Phil will undoubtedly notice the unresolved tension between the three siblings, and worst of all, Tommy’s probably going to crack under three prying full-grown men. It’s his life’s biggest secret against the three people he’s finally felt at home with. Fuck, what has his life come to?
Tommy taps his pen on his paper. His teacher silently glared at him and he suddenly stopped, flushing a faint pink before returning to his actual, life-changing problem. After a short while of staring out into his terribly detailed thoughts, he was being dragged out of them by Ranboo’s hand pressing against him. It squeezed his shoulder gently, and Tommy zoned back in. He watched with concern as he saw his class shuffle around to get ready to leave. His eyes widened, since when had class ended? Had he been so wrapped up in horror that he’d completely missed one of the loudest things the school can offer? He’s really screwed, isn’t he?
“Hey, Tommy, are you good, man?” Ranboo questioned him. The tall boy took a few steps ahead and took a seat in the chair that sat next to him. Tommy reluctantly looked at Ranboo, who in return squinted their eyes to signify his attempt of a smile. The mask kind of ruined the effort, though, and it made the gesture look more threatening than they’d probably intended.
Tommy swallowed and nodded. He was lucky he was sitting or else his shift would have definitely been noticeable. He’d dropped a good few inches by now, purely from stress and guilt. The thing is: Tommy knows that his family probably wouldn’t give a damn if he opened up and said what he was. He thinks they’d embrace him in any way, he’d been with them long enough to understand how each of their minds would work. If anything, the worst that would happen is he’d be teased about it and constantly bothered whenever a family member needed help. That’s….it.
So why is he so god damn nervous? It’s not even like they’re onto him that hard, he can easily use the excuse that he was having a bit of a morning and leave this whole crisis behind in the dust.
“Tommy,” Ranboo clapped, bringing him back successfully for the second time. Tommy bit his lower lip and looked at Ranboo, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“Are you okay?” Ranboo asked again, and Tommy did no different and nodded, “All good, big man! Now go home, no one needs to spend any extra time in this hellhole,” he reassures and snickers at the reaction from his teacher, who’s been watching the two of them with a certain irritation that turns it amusing. Ranboo’s eyes shine with uncertainty but the brunet stands all the same. Tommy follows suit and finds himself trailing after the man, almost cowering behind him. He’s really not ready to go home.
After Ranboo and Tubbo had bid their goodbye to Tommy and the three of them had gone their respective ways, Tommy was an anxious mess. He was dropping inch after inch until he was barely the size of a hand, a size he’d rarely found himself at involuntarily. He was so good at maintaining his size, why now must he fuck it up? He sniffled and paused his journey through his neighborhood so he could collect himself. Tears were, for some reason, streaming down his face. With the speed he could muster at a size like his current one, he leaned against a potted plant placed by the porch of one of their neighboring houses. He drew down the pottery, curling in on himself by drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his lap.
By the time he managed to control himself and stop fucking sobbing for a second, he drew his head up. The sunlight played with his eyes, and the tears clouded his vision. He sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He’ll have to be late, there’s no way he can sneak inside without his family noticing. Tommy sighs and pulls himself together well enough to stand. With weak limbs—or at least his brain is convincing him they are, he doesn’t really know if anything is wrong—he tried to focus on sizing back up. But, before he could do so, Tommy thankfully caught sight of his brother. He flinched so hard he thought he may just regain his six feet right then and there. However right now growing was the thing he didn’t want, so he scrambled behind the orange pot before he got noticeably large. Shit, shit, shit. He hid, nails grasping at the grass helplessly with nails digging into the dirt. He pushed his body up against the side of their neighbors house and held that position for a long while, his free hand clasped tightly over his mouth to rid of all of his stupid fucking heavy breathing.
Tommy waited for what must’ve been ten minutes before he let his body lose its tension. It felt like heaven to release his muscles and he slumped against the pot gleefully. He sat there for a moment and sat patiently with his thoughts.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he thinks he should probably get up. And he does. Tommy’s shoes slide in the damp grass as he shuffles up, brushing off the grass sticking to his legs and hands. There’s residue of dirt that remains, but he doesn’t pay much mind to it.
Tommy calmed himself and focused on his actual height. He felt the surroundings shift and when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was exactly where he needed to be. Or, at least, it was a familiar height to be at. And with that, he quickly got off of their neighbor’s lawn and continued on the sidewalk, rubbing at his eyes uncomfortably. Tommy really hopes that he sat long enough for it to fade away.
It takes twenty three to get onto their porch. He counted it, because it was the only thing that stopped his thoughts and took away the jelly-like feeling in his legs. He hates himself for continuing, because he knows that at least Wilbur is home. And Wilbur is not the one he wants to see.
He opens the unlocked door and walks in, slipping his shoes off as quickly as he can. He pushes them in the corner and awkwardly maneuvers the door shut. Finally, he is home. His hands are shaking and everything is screaming no and he’s fairly certain he’s dropped three inches but he’s home. Much to his dismay, Wilbur is nowhere in sight. He scans around the ground floor, and carefully steps around the house to avoid giving anything away. Slowly, Tommy makes his way to the stairs and creeps up them, cringing at the loud whine that echoes around the space. Fuck. He quickened his pace and raced up the stairs, nearly stumbling over himself on the way down the hall. He slips into his room and closes the door as gently as possible. God fucking damn it.
Now alone, Tommy lets himself slip further and further down the door until he’s at a comfortably small height. He places a hand over his heart to slow his breathing as he pads to under his bed. While sizeshifting can be a bitch to manage and one of the worst aspects of his life, he’s still managed to adapt to it. A perk of being able to be so small is he’s able to hide everything. If he has something he doesn’t want anyone to see, he shrinks it. So, naturally, he had to make a hideout under his bed, it just felt right.
He made it a few years ago, after he’d become really good at managing his shifting, and he’s used it everyday since. It was comfortable, hidden, and best of all just fucking amazing.
Tommy knew he should probably be more careful considering that it may be a bit difficult to back up in the events where a family member is looking for him at that exact moment, but…still.
He fell face-first onto a pillow, tiredly grabbing at the pillowcase so he could pull himself onto it more. The pillow took up most of the room, then he’d shrunken a mini-fridge—which had struck a rather interesting conversation with his father after he’d noticed it was missing—and next to that was a little desk he got from Tubbo, who’d claimed he found it laying around in his room, but Tommy’s well aware of the fact that Tubbo took it from his sister’s dollhouse. That sums up the room. It wasn’t the best and was overdue for a remodel any moment now, yet for some reason he put it off every time.
Tommy shifted around on the pillow, sizing down just a bit more so he could sink into the feathers. He wished he could be this comfortable around his family, he really fucking does.
But then again, Wilbur had unintentionally told him everything he needed to know.
Tommy sighs and tries to move past those thoughts so he can fall asleep.
However, speak of the devil, Wilbur knocks on his door. He startles, tumbling off of the pillow and onto his bedroom floor. He scrambled to his feet and instantly paused when the two of them locked eyes. Shit. He runs to shut off the fairy lights that circled his hideout and then cowered away in the shadows, tiny hands cautiously wrapping the bottom of his nightstand. They stared at each other, or at least Wilbur stared at whatever he was seeing, that being Tommy or simply his hands. He watches as Wilbur’s face shifts to a million different expressions before it settles into an irritated—curious, but mainly irritated—one.
“Tommy?” Wilbur asked, his voice sounding entirely too forced. Tommy didn’t respond, and just ever-so-slowly slid his body to where it was fully submerged into the shadows. He slumped against the wooden bedside table and held his breath, hands digging into the skin on his legs. He squeezes his eyes shut when he hears Wilbur approach him with gentle footsteps. Tommy doesn’t even know if he’s pretending to be friendly, because he’s never interacted with anyone when he’s an abnormal height. His mind tells him that Wilbur is faking it and Tommy scoots away from the very edge, deeper and deeper into the void. He opened his eyes and released his breath after his lungs began to scream at him. He stared into the gray-black abyss and silently pleaded to the shadows to eat him whole. He knows he’d much rather prefer that over whatever Wilbur was about to do.
“Tommy,” his brother’s voice called out again. He was so, so fucking close Tommy. Wilbur’s slow breaths echo tenfold in his head. Still, he doesn’t reply.
He silently waits for Wilbur to do something. To say something, to grab him, to kill him, anything. There’s a million possible endings circling his thoughts right now. But before any of them can happen, Tommy’s door is opening and Wilbur’s attention on the tiny has been split right down the middle. From the corner of his vision, he watches as Wilbur stands up. Now all he has to do is hope to Prime that Wilbur doesn’t snitch on him just yet.
“Oh, Wilbur–is Tommy home yet, mate?” Phil asks.
He shuffled to watch their conversation. He kneels, tiny hands wrapping the bottom of his nightstand again. He watches as Wilbur looks momentarily at him, glaring his brown eyes right through Tommy’s skull. He shudders.
“I don’t know,” Wilbur says after turning his head back.