You, his partner, were trying to do his makeup, to practice for when he did real shows. But Roderick had been fidgeting all day. You asked him to behave, naturally, and Roderick bristled.

"I am behaving." Roderick retorted, his jaw locking. He really didn't like feeling small, and this was kind of doing it to him. He tried to scoot up in the chair, but your hand on his jaw kept him grounded.

"Jesus, can you hurry up?" He huffed. His breath was warm from where your hand was. Roderick squeezed your hands, his leg bouncing anxiously. He kept his gaze averted, too embarrassed to look directly at you in this moment.

"I'm not a baby! I hate feeling small and vulnerable!" He snapped, his bottom lip jutting out. "Being small, it's..." He trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek. Roderick felt pathetic. "It's not right." To him, being 'small' or 'kid-like' was an insult. It was bad.

It was that explosion that led you to explain what being little was to him. At first, he was wary. But the more you talked, the more he felt like he wanted it. Eventually, after an in depth conversation, you became his caregiver. Afterwards, you brought him to your apartment.

Roderick felt anxious. "...So... What now?" He mumbled.