Terry is fully clean Tiny Terry chapter 7 by The Reaper

The "Royal Bath" eventually wound down as the suds subsided, leaving Terry shivering and glistening in the center of the pink plastic basin. He looked like a plucked chicken, his skin raw and smelling intensely of synthetic coconut. Hazel reached in with a plush, oversized microfiber towel—which, to Terry, felt like being engulfed by a warm, fluffy cloud—and scooped him up. She pressed him gently against her chest, the fabric of her hoodie absorbing the remaining droplets of water from his body, while she gave him a series of tiny, affectionate squeezes that nearly squeezed the breath out of him for the second time that hour.

The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the distant sound of the house settling. Hazel’s expression had shifted again. The predatory glint was gone, and the manic energy of the "doll-owner" had softened into something genuinely remorseful. She held him up to her eye level, her gaze soft and her voice losing its booming, commanding quality.

"I'm sorry I tried to eat you, Terry-Berry," she whispered, her voice now a gentle, melodic rumble. "I just... you looked so tasty in that little outfit, and I got carried away. I didn't mean to scare you or make you think you were actually a snack. You're way too cute to actually swallow." She leaned in and gave the top of his head a tiny, lingering kiss that left his hair damp and smelling of strawberry gloss once more. "I'll be a much better big sister now. I promise."