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Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

“Hehehehe! It was just a memory that I had Will-AH! HAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THE RIBS!” Phil squealed and shook his head, attempting to hide or run away, wiggling around a bit, nearly getting out of Wilbur’s hold, he just needed more time-

“What are you-” Wilbur stopped his movements. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Phil wiggling. He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. “Are you trying to run away from me? The tickle monster?” He noticed the way his shirt was ridden up, lifting it even higher. “Well, that won't do.” He smiled at him, giving Phil a couple seconds before lowering his head down to his stomach and blowing a huge raspberry right on his navel.

Phil nearly got out of his grasp before crashing right onto his hand, breaking into high pitched laughter, giggling and squealing loudly. “NAHAHAT THERE! HAHAHAHA!”

“D’awww!” Wilbur couldn't help but laugh as he pulled his head away. “Is that bad, Phil? Can the little, tiny Phil not handle a few tickles?” He teased, sneaking his hands under Phil's shirt and scribbling across his ribs. He blew a few more raspberries on his waist, bringing his hands to squeeze up and down his sides.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha! Wihihihill! Plehehease-!” Phil let out a sudden snort, a very tiny but loud one, his wings lightly flapping at his sides, before he wrapped his wings around his body, attempting to hide and cover up his spots, and his flustered blush.

“Please what? Use your words, Phil. I can't understand you when you're too busy laughing.” Wilbur's grin widened, his hands continuing their ticklish attack on Phil's sides. He pulled his hands away when Phil wrapped his wings around himself. “Stop trying to avoid the tickles, Phil! You're going to make the tickle monster very angry,” he said with a playful warning in his tone.

Phil giggled more, hiding his flustered self more into the feathers, small snorts peppering in between his squeaky laughter. “Bring it on! I’m not moving!”

Wilbur raised his brows, not expecting Phil to be that bold. His look of surprise quickly turned into a playful one, one that told Phil he was going to regret saying that. He started lightly tracing his wings. “Don't you think it's a bad idea to challenge me, Phil?” He asked, running his fingers across the feathers of his wings. “You're very small right now. Helpless, tiny, and very much in my hands. You have nowhere to go,” Wilbur spoke casually, failing to force down his smile as he teased the man. “If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get me to tickle you on purpose.”

“Shuhuhush…” Phil playfully glared, nervously chuckling, wings twitching from the light touch and anticipation fluttering in his stomach, trying to hold back the giggles forming in his throat, wings wrapped up more tightly like a little burrito, the feathers around him gently tickling Phil’s own lower belly, but he didn’t want to break, not yet at least. “N-No!….I’m not!”

“Really? You're not trying to provoke me into tickling you?” Wilbur emphasized the word by sneaking a hand under his wings to squeeze his thigh. “C'mon, Phil~ Don't hide from me, open up your wings.” He was struggling to reach more spots with the wings in the way. He pulled his hands away and stared him down thoughtfully, trying to figure out a way to break his wall of defense.

”Mmf-! Pfft-!” Phil kicked his leg out, wings twitching slightly, could they also be ticklish? Phil’s entire body swarmed with nervous tingling, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Wilbur hummed at his reaction, bringing his hand up to spider up Phil's thigh. He took his other hand to gently scratch behind his legs. “Phiiiil~” He drawled out his name, his hands slowly snaking up and gently kneading the bundle of nerves on his hips.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

“Hehehehe! It was just a memory that I had Will-AH! HAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THE RIBS!” Phil squealed and shook his head, attempting to hide or run away, wiggling around a bit, nearly getting out of Wilbur’s hold, he just needed more time-

“What are you-” Wilbur stopped his movements. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Phil wiggling. He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. “Are you trying to run away from me? The tickle monster?” He noticed the way his shirt was ridden up, lifting it even higher. “Well, that won't do.” He smiled at him, giving Phil a couple seconds before lowering his head down to his stomach and blowing a huge raspberry right on his navel.

Phil nearly got out of his grasp before crashing right onto his hand, breaking into high pitched laughter, giggling and squealing loudly. “NAHAHAT THERE! HAHAHAHA!”

“D’awww!” Wilbur couldn't help but laugh as he pulled his head away. “Is that bad, Phil? Can the little, tiny Phil not handle a few tickles?” He teased, sneaking his hands under Phil's shirt and scribbling across his ribs. He blew a few more raspberries on his waist, bringing his hands to squeeze up and down his sides.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha! Wihihihill! Plehehease-!” Phil let out a sudden snort, a very tiny but loud one, his wings lightly flapping at his sides, before he wrapped his wings around his body, attempting to hide and cover up his spots, and his flustered blush.

“Please what? Use your words, Phil. I can't understand you when you're too busy laughing.” Wilbur's grin widened, his hands continuing their ticklish attack on Phil's sides. He pulled his hands away when Phil wrapped his wings around himself. “Stop trying to avoid the tickles, Phil! You're going to make the tickle monster very angry,” he said with a playful warning in his tone.

Phil giggled more, hiding his flustered self more into the feathers, small snorts peppering in between his squeaky laughter. “Bring it on! I’m not moving!”

Wilbur raised his brows, not expecting Phil to be that bold. His look of surprise quickly turned into a playful one, one that told Phil he was going to regret saying that. He started lightly tracing his wings. “Don't you think it's a bad idea to challenge me, Phil?” He asked, running his fingers across the feathers of his wings. “You're very small right now. Helpless, tiny, and very much in my hands. You have nowhere to go,” Wilbur spoke casually, failing to force down his smile as he teased the man. “If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get me to tickle you on purpose.”

“Shuhuhush…” Phil playfully glared, nervously chuckling, wings twitching from the light touch and anticipation fluttering in his stomach, trying to hold back the giggles forming in his throat, wings wrapped up more tightly like a little burrito, the feathers around him gently tickling Phil’s own lower belly, but he didn’t want to break, not yet at least. “N-No!….I’m not!”

“Really? You're not trying to provoke me into tickling you?” Wilbur emphasized the word by sneaking a hand under his wings to squeeze his thigh. “C'mon, Phil~ Don't hide from me, open up your wings.” He was struggling to reach more spots with the wings in the way. He pulled his hands away and stared him down thoughtfully, trying to figure out a way to break his wall of defense.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

“Hehehehe! It was just a memory that I had Will-AH! HAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THE RIBS!” Phil squealed and shook his head, attempting to hide or run away, wiggling around a bit, nearly getting out of Wilbur’s hold, he just needed more time-

“What are you-” Wilbur stopped his movements. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Phil wiggling. He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. “Are you trying to run away from me? The tickle monster?” He noticed the way his shirt was ridden up, lifting it even higher. “Well, that won't do.” He smiled at him, giving Phil a couple seconds before lowering his head down to his stomach and blowing a huge raspberry right on his navel.

Phil nearly got out of his grasp before crashing right onto his hand, breaking into high pitched laughter, giggling and squealing loudly. “NAHAHAT THERE! HAHAHAHA!”

“D’awww!” Wilbur couldn't help but laugh as he pulled his head away. “Is that bad, Phil? Can the little, tiny Phil not handle a few tickles?” He teased, sneaking his hands under Phil's shirt and scribbling across his ribs. He blew a few more raspberries on his waist, bringing his hands to squeeze up and down his sides.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha! Wihihihill! Plehehease-!” Phil let out a sudden snort, a very tiny but loud one, his wings lightly flapping at his sides, before he wrapped his wings around his body, attempting to hide and cover up his spots, and his flustered blush.

“Please what? Use your words, Phil. I can't understand you when you're too busy laughing.” Wilbur's grin widened, his hands continuing their ticklish attack on Phil's sides. He pulled his hands away when Phil wrapped his wings around himself. “Stop trying to avoid the tickles, Phil! You're going to make the tickle monster very angry,” he said with a playful warning in his tone.

Phil giggled more, hiding his flustered self more into the feathers, small snorts peppering in between his squeaky laughter. “Bring it on! I’m not moving!”

Wilbur raised his brows, not expecting Phil to be that bold. His look of surprise quickly turned into a playful one, one that told Phil he was going to regret saying that. He started lightly tracing his wings. “Don't you think it's a bad idea to challenge me, Phil?” He asked, running his fingers across the feathers of his wings. “You're very small right now. Helpless, tiny, and very much in my hands. You have nowhere to go,” Wilbur spoke casually, failing to force down his smile as he teased the man. “If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get me to tickle you on purpose.”

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

“Hehehehe! It was just a memory that I had Will-AH! HAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THE RIBS!” Phil squealed and shook his head, attempting to hide or run away, wiggling around a bit, nearly getting out of Wilbur’s hold, he just needed more time-

“What are you-” Wilbur stopped his movements. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Phil wiggling. He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. “Are you trying to run away from me? The tickle monster?” He noticed the way his shirt was ridden up, lifting it even higher. “Well, that won't do.” He smiled at him, giving Phil a couple seconds before lowering his head down to his stomach and blowing a huge raspberry right on his navel.

Phil nearly got out of his grasp before crashing right onto his hand, breaking into high pitched laughter, giggling and squealing loudly. “NAHAHAT THERE! HAHAHAHA!”

“D’awww!” Wilbur couldn't help but laugh as he pulled his head away. “Is that bad, Phil? Can the little, tiny Phil not handle a few tickles?” He teased, sneaking his hands under Phil's shirt and scribbling across his ribs. He blew a few more raspberries on his waist, bringing his hands to squeeze up and down his sides.

“Hahaha! Hahahaha! Wihihihill! Plehehease-!” Phil let out a sudden snort, a very tiny but loud one, his wings lightly flapping at his sides, before he wrapped his wings around his body, attempting to hide and cover up his spots, and his flustered blush.

“Please what? Use your words, Phil. I can't understand you when you're too busy laughing.” Wilbur's grin widened, his hands continuing their ticklish attack on Phil's sides. He pulled his hands away when Phil wrapped his wings around himself. “Stop trying to avoid the tickles, Phil! You're going to make the tickle monster very angry,” he said with a playful warning in his tone.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

“Hehehehe! It was just a memory that I had Will-AH! HAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THE RIBS!” Phil squealed and shook his head, attempting to hide or run away, wiggling around a bit, nearly getting out of Wilbur’s hold, he just needed more time-

“What are you-” Wilbur stopped his movements. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Phil wiggling. He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. “Are you trying to run away from me? The tickle monster?” He noticed the way his shirt was ridden up, lifting it even higher. “Well, that won't do.” He smiled at him, giving Phil a couple seconds before lowering his head down to his stomach and blowing a huge raspberry right on his navel.

Phil nearly got out of his grasp before crashing right onto his hand, breaking into high pitched laughter, giggling and squealing loudly. “NAHAHAT THERE! HAHAHAHA!”

“D’awww!” Wilbur couldn't help but laugh as he pulled his head away. “Is that bad, Phil? Can the little, tiny Phil not handle a few tickles?” He teased, sneaking his hands under Phil's shirt and scribbling across his ribs. He blew a few more raspberries on his waist, bringing his hands to squeeze up and down his sides.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

“Hehehehe! It was just a memory that I had Will-AH! HAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THE RIBS!” Phil squealed and shook his head, attempting to hide or run away, wiggling around a bit, nearly getting out of Wilbur’s hold, he just needed more time-

“What are you-” Wilbur stopped his movements. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Phil wiggling. He narrowed his eyes with a playful smirk. “Are you trying to run away from me? The tickle monster?” He noticed the way his shirt was ridden up, lifting it even higher. “Well, that won't do.” He smiled at him, giving Phil a couple seconds before lowering his head down to his stomach and blowing a huge raspberry right on his navel.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Phil squealed, squirming around, his blush getting darker, Phil felt like a little kid, giggling happily, remembering a tease Wilbur did a lot growing up. “Hehehehehehe! Nahahat the tickle monster!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the mention, his grin turning into a mischievous one. “I didn't even mention the tickle monster,” he chuckled. “But it seems like I don't have to, because you already know he's coming for you!” He brought both of his hands down to dig into Phil's ribs, vibrating his fingers in between the bones.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Phil was giggling and laughing, his shirt rolling up slightly. “HAHAHAHA!” Phil squealed, kicking his tiny legs out, as he attempted to cover his face and mouth up, Phil began to blush a light shade of red. “Nahahat cuhuhute!”

“I will agree to disagree,” he spoke in an amused tone. “Aww, you're blushing! Phil!” He cooed softly. He took his other hand to pull Phil's arms away to keep him from covering his face. “No, no. None of that.” He pulled his arms up and held them above his head, his other hand continuing its work and getting more laughter out of the poor man.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

“HAHA! Hahahaha! Hehehehe! You’re tickling me! Will! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled and squirmed, rolling onto his back.

“Am I?” Wilbur asked, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I couldn't tell.” He dragged his fingers up and down Phil's stomach. He didn't let Phil get used to the feeling, switching to run his fingers along his thighs, pinching lightly at the sensitive skin. “You know, Phil. I think you should be small more often. This is very cute.”

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

“Ah! Hahahaha! Hahahaha!” Phil squeaked, attempting to stay still before falling onto his side, giggling and laughing wildly, his laughter sounding like a baby bird. “Hahahaha! Will! Hahahaha!”

Wilbur couldn't help but let out a few giggles of his own, Phil's laughter was quite contagious. “You doing good there?” He teased, lightly fluttering his fingers over Phil's stomach. “What's wrong?”

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Phil sighed, his ears twitching at the gentle touch on his head, before letting out a squeak. “Hehe! Hehehehe! That tickles! Hahahaha!” Phil lightly tried slapping his son’s hand away, lightly giggling.

Wilbur pulled his hand away when he heard a squeak coming from Phil. He panicked, thinking he had accidentally hurt him. But Phil seemed fine, in fact, he seemed more than fine. He was laughing. It finally clicked in his mind and a smile crept into his face as he realized what was happening. He carefully placed his hand again, gently petting Phil and even going to scratch at his sides.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur furrowed his brows, his frown only growing. “Phil, come on, where is all of this coming from?” He sat down on the couch, setting Phil down on his lap. “You're still my dad whether you're.. normal sized or smaller!” It might sound ridiculous, but Wilbur was trying his best to comfort his father, and he was never the best at comforting... “Maybe the potion will wear out in a couple of minutes! We can just sit here and wait.” He gently petted Phil on the head with a finger, like he would to a bird, in hopes of calming him down.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur could barely hear him. Phil sounded so quiet. He looked so small, so vulnerable, and so.. so sad. He pursed his lips into a tight frown, suddenly feeling guilty for hitting his own father a few seconds prior. “Phil, I am so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I-” He cut himself off, sighing. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” A wave of regret washed over him as little droplets of water fell on the palm of his hand. “Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean to hurt you!” He cursed to himself, looking around for something to help the avian. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything. You name it and I'll get it for you.”

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur's eyes went wide when he realized what was under the glass, well, more like who was under the glass. “Oh shit, Phil?!” He lifted the glass off of the table, gently taking Phil in his hands and examining him, a concerned and confused look on his face. “What happened to you?!”

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”

Phil yelped, his head hitting the table as he got hit with the newspaper, flying out of the sky and landing on the table, grunting, dazed and out of it. “Ugh…”

As soon as he saw the bug fall on the table, he got up and held the newspaper up high but he paused. ‘Maybe it wasn't a good idea.’ He rushed to the kitchen instead and grabbed a glass, quickly placing it on top of the creature and holding the glass down with his hand. Despite his fear of small, flying creatures, he took a closer look, squinting his eyes to make out the weird looking bug.

Wilbur froze when he heard a tiny squeak from behind him, eyes widening as he whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound. That was when he spotted something on the table. Cautiously, he stepped closer, trying to make out what was moving around the surface. His hand fumbled for something, anything, to use as a 'weapon' to protect himself. His fingers found their way around a bunch of newspaper, which he immediately rolled into a tube and held close.

Wilbur shrieked the moment he saw it fly towards him, batting aimlessly with the newspaper. He nearly tripped a few times as he stepped backwards. And at one point, he did, falling unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck! Ow-”