Page 8 of Daddy's Little Dreamer

“Unlike what you’re doing to me now?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Kinda. Sorry.” My brain went fast and squirreled out of control and my mouth just came along for the ride and confused the heck out of my mom. “Long story short, I think I’m a little.”

“Oh.”

Oh? Good oh? Bad oh?

Not the response I expected.

“What makes you think that?”

“’Cause I’m me. I’ve been told I’m immature and to stop acting like a kid for so long it’s beaten me down. But I don’t want to stop or I’ll stop enjoying life all together. I like my toys and pretending and talking to Bumble. The more I learn about this the more I understand… me.” I think.

“You know I’ve told you a million times you’re perfect.”

“Yes, but you’re my mom and that’s your job.”

“To a point. Trevor, every person on this earth is different and no one should be shoved into a box or molded from another. You are unique, you are special, you are you and don’t let anyone take away your sparkle.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“All I ask is that you be careful. I don’t like it when you get your heart broken. If this is a side of you that you wish to further explore then I say go forth, but proceed with caution and keep your eyes wide open.”

“I promise, I will.”

During my lunch break, I popped into the chat room and found a message waiting from my new friend.

Daddy says you can come to the club as our guest on Saturday night if you want.

Oh my gosh, I’d love that. What time? What should I wear? What do I need to do?

He-he, you’re silly Little Bumble Bee. Let’s exchange phone numbers so we can call or text more easily.

For some reason, I felt good about Daddy’s Boy, like I could trust him. And if for some reason it went south, I always had the block option on my phone to utilize.

Turned out his real name was Brandon. Learned that a few minutes later when his first text came through.

Little Bumble Bee it’s me, Daddy’s Boy also known as Brandon.

Hello Brandon, I’m Trevor.

Do you want me and Daddy to pick you up or meet you at the club? Also, do you want me to make an appointment with a wet nurse for you?

Did I?

At least if they picked me up they’d meet mom first and if she made an excuse for me to stay home then I wouldn’t go. I trusted her judgement more than mine.

Yes to both please. But do I have to-- you know, feed, or can I like just talk to them first when it’s my time? How does that work?

You’re funny. You can talk to them. I never have but I heard they’re all really nice and the men I’ve seen are really, really, cute. But don’t tell daddy I said that.

I won’t. I’m super nervous.

Don’t be. It’ll be fun and we can play with cars and do crafts and stuff.

K. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll text you later.

TTYL.

---