I type in Daddy and boy relationships first. There are thousands of results. I scroll through, ignoring the videos and images that pop up. There are a few sites that seem legit enough, but I decide to go on Reddit. Everything is on there. I type in ‘New to the Daddy Little life. What do I do as a Daddy?’.
Again, hundreds of responses. I didn’t realize this was something as popular as it seems. I glance over my phone to Tyler and smile. I can’t tell who is having more fun, but between his smile and Fluff’s meow it’s a close one.
I read the first post that pops up. It’s logistics, mostly, not really a first person account. I move to the second one. It’s more promising, with a guy describing what he does with his Boy. When he starts describing the physical punishments though, I click off. I don’t think I could do that.
The third one is from the point of view of a Boy. He describes himself as more of a Middle, but it’s an interesting read. He describes how it feels when he’s regressed, what he likes to do and doesn’t, how his Daddy handles his big feelings. One paragraph catches my attention where he describes a star chart he has to help him keep track of things his Daddy expects him to do.
“Ow,” Tyler’s voice catches my attention and I look up to see he’s sitting up and holding his hand. Fluff is sitting next to him, looking confused why their playing stopped. Tyler’s eyes meet mine before looking down at his hand. I can see a few beads of blood. “He scratched me. We were just playing, so he didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay,” I say. From what I just read and looking at Tyler right now, I don’t think either of us realized he was sinking into what the guy called Little headspace. Cleaning boo-boos is par for my job, though, so I’m more in nurse mode than anything Daddy related. “We’ll get you cleaned up, okay? Come into the bathroom.”
I stand up, leaving my phone and fruit cup behind. Fluff knows not to mess with human food (there might have been a week where I put cayenne pepper seasoning on everything until I broke him of the habit). I help Tyler to his feet and we go into the bathroom. It’s a small space so I direct him to sit on the toiletwhile I grab the first aid kit. The scratch is maybe an inch long with two small droplets showing. It’ll take one swipe, a band aid, and maybe a kiss to make it better. Everything I’ve done for my niece before.
“This is going to be cold,” I say before swiping the disinfectant wipe across the back of his hand. He doesn’t react, but I see his eyes bouncing between where I’m holding his hand and my face.
Once I put the band aid on, smoothing it out with my fingers, he’s smiling again. “Thank you, Brandt. You didn’t have to do that.”
I can see the pink on his cheeks and I have a feeling what he’s thinking. That he didn’t mean to sink into that space and have me go into protective mode. It wasn’t an issue, though. I smile at him. “Cleaning boo-boos is kind of my thing. Besides, my niece tells me I have the best band aids.”
We both look at the one he’s sporting now. It’s green and white stripes. To match his eyes and his shirt. I finish putting everything away and we go back to the living room. Fluff is curled up in my spot on the couch and I hear his protest loud and clear when I move him.
Tyler reaches for his fruit cup and starts picking pieces at random. He makes a funny face at the bananas.
“You don’t like bananas?” I ask, with a bit of humor in my voice. He looks up at me, surprised that I seem to know that. “Ty, your face says it all.”
“Oh.” He drops the banana into the cup and picks up two blueberries. I can hear them pop with the force he chomps down on them. It makes me smile. “This is good. Thank you.”
“Of course,” I say. I pop a strawberry in my mouth.
Fluff jumps onto the couch between us. I smile at him and reach out to scratch under his chin, his favorite spot, but he turns and faces Tyler, giving me the wonderful view of his butt.
“Ouch, Fluff.” I flick his back leg and he kicks blindly at me, eyes focused solely on Tyler. “No food for the cat,” I say quickly. Tyler wasn’t reaching to hand him anything, but just in case. “Fluff is a master negotiator but he gets plenty of food and treats throughout the day.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he says quietly. He tucks the cup to his chest and reaches with his free hand to scratch one finger in the exact spot I was going to. No wonder Fluff loves him already. “He’s a cute cat.”
“He is,” I say. “I got him two years ago when I graduated from nursing school, as a present to myself.”
“What college did you attend?” Tyler asks. Fluff curls up against Tyler’s leg and I can hear him purring from where I’m sitting.
“I actually grew up and went to school two states over,” I say. “I moved here after landing the job. My brother, his wife, and niece are here too. Got this place, then adopted Fluff before I unpacked the last box.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I was supposed to start at the college a couple cities over during the Spring semester, but that didn’t happen.” He sounds sad about that. I know he’s been coming to the clinic for months now with different appointments and not feeling well. I really wish that we’d caught this sooner. I work at the clinic on Thursdays, but over at the emergency department the other days. When he came in on the ambulance unconscious, his name popped up on the incoming admission report and I was worried. It was pure luck he ended up in one of my rooms.
“What do you want to study?” I ask. I don’t want him to dwell on the fact that he isn’t at college with his friends, but I would like to get to know him more.
“I wanted to go into marketing or journalism.”
“That’s cool,” I say genuinely. He looks from the cat to me, clearly looking for a hidden meaning in my words or expression.“I’m serious, Ty. It’s great to have a goal, to know what you want in life.”
He shrugs. I get the feeling that someone has burst the bubble around getting that degree. I wonder if it was family or just circumstances. I decide it’s safer to change the subject and bring the mood back up.
“So, this whole dynamic thing you like?” I pause to see how he’s going to react. His eyes widen slightly, like he’s surprised I’m bringing it up, but nothing else. “How did you… learn about it?”
“Honestly, I made a joke around a couple of friends about needing someone to help me handle the stress of everything and they told me about the relationships they have. I joined them for a playdate once and it was one of the best evenings I’ve had.”
“Which would make sense,” I say. “If you liked it and it helps you relax, then you probably weren’t stressed and your levels were steady.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Tyler says softly. “I guess that does make sense.”
