14. Sam

It'd been four weeks since Cameron and I had started our online Daddy/boy relationship, and I had officially fallen for him. I lived for every word he spoke, every moan he uttered, every response he sent. Everything was perfect.

Okay, not perfect, per se. With every virtual scene, my need to be in the same room with him while he followed my commands and lost control grew stronger, and now it was an ever-present itch clawing at the back of my brain almost constantly. But as much of a mindfuck as that was, my need to just be near him no matter what we were doing was becoming unbearable.

Not to mention the fact that every time I tried to talk about something real with him, he deflected and turned to sex. I mean, sure, sex was a big part of a kinky virtual relationship; I could concede that. And my amped-up libido since starting testosterone wasn't complaining, either. But I felt like he was keeping me at arm's length.

Still, I craved him. I had his number, so I could've—should've—sent him a message and asked him out for coffee or something. We'd met at a coffee shop, after all, so it might've passed as an acceptable first date for an author who wrote in them, too. And drank copious amounts while under a deadline, per his emails.

But something was holding me back.

At first, I'd blamed it on my transition. But my facial hair was growing in every day, and I'd been misgendered less and less in public. I'd started to see myself as a man when I looked at my face in the mirror. I'd even come out at work, and aside from a few snags—I'd only heard a couple of snide comments by transphobic coworkers, but leadership and HR had shut that down so fast and none of the instigators were employed at our firm any longer—I was feeling included, accepted, like I belonged there.

It didn't hurt to have such a strong ally on my side, either. Alex could shut any shit down with just a look; I'd seen him do it.

I was passing fairly well now, thanks to the nine months of testosterone and my favorite binders—plus a whole host of other things like masculine clothing, relearned mannerisms, and a concerted effort to carry myself as the man I now was—so a coffee date should be safe. My periods had even stopped, thank all that's holy. But what if he wanted to have sex? How could my body possibly be what he wanted? I could barely look at my naked chest in the mirror.

Dysphoria was a bitch.

So after mulling over my dilemma for weeks instead of the days it should've taken, I decided to finally seek out like-minded people, people who may have been able to understand what I was dealing with, perhaps even offer sound advice. So I'd opened the Daddy's Boy app and found a transgender Daddy meetup nearby. Their monthly meeting was tonight.

Nerves swirled in my stomach as I adjusted my binder and the navy-blue button-up I'd chosen to wear over it. I went without binding this morning at work so I could wear it tonight; I'd heard enough horror stories online of people who'd done damage to their bodies by wearing one for too long to scare me off of wearing a binder past the recommended eight hours.

Tiny white unicorns with golden horns adorned the silky fabric of my shirt, and I loved to show my personality off in that way, a way that felt genuine. For so many years, without even knowing why, I'd hidden behind plain, dark clothes. I now knew I was hiding behind them, trying to conform to something that never felt right, something that made me feel incongruous, disingenuous.

My light-colored khakis balanced out the outfit, and my favorite brown leather boots and matching watch strap finished the look nicely. I'd bought them for myself for my birthday back in early December, not long after I figured out I was trans. They were well-worn now and looked all the better for it.

The night was too warm for my leather coat, so I'd leave that home.

I almost snagged a light sweater out of habit, but my internal temperature was much warmer since starting T, and I remembered I wouldn't need it. I loved that I didn't have to carry one around anymore.

Transitioning could cause so much stress, so I'd resolved to make mine all about finding joy in the little things. And there were so many little things to be grateful for.

I shook off my musings as I reached for my phone and wallet, pocketing both before heading for the door of my studio apartment, grabbing my keys, and riding the elevator down to the parking garage for my SUV.

***

I wasn't sure what to expect when I walked into the meeting room at the neighborhood LGBTQ+ center, but instantly spotting two of the most good-looking men I'd ever seen at the front of the room wasn't it. After staring for what was probably an inappropriate amount of time, I peeled my gaze away to take in the rest of the room.

Fifteen or twenty metal folding chairs were arranged in a semi-circle in the center of the room, and by the looks of how many people had shown up, I suspected they'd all be full. Since I had a few minutes before we were scheduled to start, I sidled up to the small refreshments table and dispensed some water into a paper cup. I sipped it as I turned to take in the room.

"Hi, I'm Oliver." One of the attractive men I'd noticed when I came in, one with strawberry-blond hair, came up on my left, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a carafe.

"Sam." I leaned against the table, surveying the room while he added cream and sugar to his cup.

"It's good to meet you, Sam. This is your first time, right?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "Am I that obvious?"

Oliver turned to me as he stirred his drink then smirked before taking a sip. "Not at all. I'm the moderator here, so I've attended every meeting."

I simply nodded, unsure what to say.

He turned toward the gathering crowd, matching my stance. "You picked a good night to come. Ethan, the app's founder, is here to observe."

"Is he . . . ?" My cheeks heated as I let my voice trail off.

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. "No, he's not trans. But he's the coolest guy, and he actually does Dom training for those looking for help." He eyed me, and I shifted my weight under his gaze. "I can give you his information if you're interested."

My face was turning even more red, and I stared down at my boots. "I don't . . . I'm not—"

He waved in the air between us. "No pressure, man; sorry to put you on the spot. But something tells me this is all new to you?" He nodded toward where everyone was starting to find their seats.

"Again, am I that obvious?"

He laughed, a deep throaty guffaw that reverberated around the room. "Not at all! I'm just pretty good at reading people." He stepped away from the table, clapping me on the back. "We're about to start—find me afterward if you have any questions, okay?"

I nodded then went to find a seat. That was an easy promise.

Turned out, the man I'd eyed next to Oliver when I walked in was our enigmatic leader, Ethan Fox. He spoke briefly after Oliver started the meeting, introducing himself and the app, explaining he was only here to say hello, to make sure his app and the meetups were meeting everyone's needs. Then he left the room, promising to return at the end to answer any questions. I appreciated that he was giving us our space.

Oliver took over then, going over the group rules, which included confidentiality of both member identities and anything discussed tonight and reminders to treat one another with kindness and respect. Then he opened the floor for comments and questions.

I was enthralled. One after the other, the trans men in the room opened up about their lives, about being transgender, about their transitions . . . and about their interest in Daddy kink, asking questions about situations they were in or hypothetical scenarios. I learned so much in that hour and a half, more so than I'd learned on any website.

These men were just like me, someone who'd thought they were a single exception to an extremely cisgender-normative rule. Though some of the men here had or were looking for girls or non-binary folx, some desired a boy, like me. No matter their relationship status, all were respectful, asking questions with a clear desire to be better for their subs.

This was where I belonged.

The meeting wrapped up, and I wasn't brave enough to do more than introduce myself, my current orientation, and my relationship status—currently seeing someone non-exclusively and looking for a permanent, monogamous boy—to the group, but I definitely had questions. So I stayed seated, playing on my phone while I waited for Oliver to finish talking with another Daddy who'd stayed behind.

"Hi. Sam, right?"

I glanced up at the hand extended to me and offered my own. "Yes, I'm Sam. You're Ethan?"

He smiled, a thousand-watt smile that lit up the room, as he dropped to the seat next to me. "Yes. Thanks for coming. Is this your first time?"

I grinned, much more at ease than a couple of hours ago when I'd first shown up. "Yes. I love your app, and it and your company have really helped me as I've explored what it means to be a Daddy. It's . . . a fairly new revelation for me."

Ethan clicked his tongue. "It's a big thing to discover about yourself."

Tucking my phone in my pocket, I nodded. "Oh, yeah. I only discovered I was trans about a year ago, and the Daddy thing happened not long after that. Suffice to say, it's been a crazy year."

Ethan chuckled. "I can imagine."

I leaned back in my chair, resting my ankle on the opposite knee. "This was really great, honestly. I learned so much from all these guys. Thanks for setting these up."

He was quiet for a moment, so my eyes wandered over to Oliver, who was still chatting away. "You know, we have other kinds of meetups, too, some more like munches for those in the lifestyle. Would you be interested in coming to one of those?"

"Oh? What would that entail?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "They're much more casual than this, more like hanging out. We have one coming up next week, actually. We meet at a gay bar in Capitol Hill. We're both Daddies and boys, and I think you'd fit in well."

"We?"

Ethan smiled. "It's the group I personally attend, and the other guys who come are all great people. There are five of us who come regularly, and a few others who come when their schedules allow. But we'd love to have you."

I bit my lip, considering it.

"No pressure at all, but if you're interested, we're meeting at Mix It Up at eight this Tuesday night." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "You can text me anytime if you have any questions. Like I mentioned tonight, I train Doms and Daddies personally, so if you're ever interested in that or just want to come on Tuesday, let me know."

As I took the card from him and slid it into my pocket, I considered it. Did I want to go? Should I? I was new to this lifestyle, but Ethan and Oliver were really nice and seemed legit. Maybe this would be a way to connect with other like-minded people, make some friends.

Did I even know how to make friends?

Nerves fluttering in my gut, I caught Ethan's gaze, dug deep for my Daddy confidence, squared my shoulders, and stated, "I'll be there."