Coming Home to Daddy

The raucous laughter around me burst out louder than ever. Cries of "No way!" "What the fuck did ya do then?" and "And I was, like, passed out cold at that point…" swirled through the club – fragments of enthusiastic conversations between fellow patrons. The drinks were flowing, the music blaring, and everyone was having the time of their lives.

Even me, for a change.

It had taken awhile to get used to socializing after the pandemic, of course. It still felt weird sometimes, being so up-close and personal with absolute strangers. But it was getting easier as the weeks wore by – and even though tonight I was missing Daddy's comforting presence beside me, I found myself slipping more and more into sync with the merrymakers around me. It was all okay. Maybe not every other human was a plague-ridden bag of germs. And here I could sit: Daddy's big girl, out on the town, sitting pretty in her on-fleek eyeliner and her favorite top… and yes, her flowered Goodnites tucked neatly away under her darling little tennis skirt. For why not? After all, every incriminating crinkle was swallowed up so very easily by the cacophonous nightlife…

Yeah, this was genuinely fun. Or then again, maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

I slurped once more at the beer in my hand, grinning and nodding along now to the pair of casual acquaintances beside me who were loudly discussing the relative merits of their favorite basketball teams. Not that I cared that much for sports – hell, I hadn't even before I'd transitioned. But it was nice to sit here and just chill: sensing the warm glow of alcoholic happiness spreading within me right now, feeling so cute, letting the loud, thumping pleasures of the world wash over me…

But then, from within my discreet little shoulder bag, my phone buzzed.

Oh, poopy! I frowned and gulped once more at my beer as I dug it out, catching sight of the time along with the text notification from "Papa Bear". 10:06 already? Holy squirrels – I'd promised them that I'd leave no later than 10! Daddy wouldn't be pleased at all…

"Sorry, almost ready to go" I texted hastily, chugging the last of my beer in haste. And crap, where to settle the tab? Was it in the back? or around the corner there? It was moments like this, as I slid off my seat and began struggling my way through the noisy crowd, that I was reminded again of just how much I loved having Daddy with me. They always took care of everything. They handled the bill, and reminded me to finish my drinks, and told me where the bathrooms were…

Another buzz – just as the cash register hove into view. Shit, I'd have to check it later. Gotta settle the tab first-

As I waited for the card to process, my eyes slipped down to my phone. "Why didn't my big girl leave on time?" read the first text. And then a second: "Is she too small to read the clock tonight?" My fingers were flying, and even as I thanked the cashier and stepped away, I was blushingly sending back my reply. "No, I'm a big girl, remember?!" Of course I was! I'd told him so – right as I'd stepped defiantly into my big-girl pull-ups.

Hmm, speaking of which… Surely I could dip into the ladies' room and take a powder before leaving. It was right there-

Buzz went my phone again. And before my eyes came the word I'd least expected to see at a time like this. Just a single little word… but as my eyes took it in, it was as if the entire world slid to a halt around me.

"Sobriquet."

I bit my lip, breath catching in my chest, adrenaline spiking with me as it happened – just as I knew it would. Between my legs blossomed a sudden gush of warmth, the urine spurting helplessly from my little girldick and flooding out into the protective padding of my Goodnites. I was pissing myself, soaking my pants, emptying my bladder at Daddy's command… just as they'd trained me to these past two years.

When the flood has eased and I'd broken out of my petrified stance with thudding pulse and beet-red cheeks, I found myself heading straight for the door. I had to get home. Oh, sure – there was the bathroom right behind me. But I knew – just as Daddy surely did – that beneath this flimsy little skirt of mine was nothing but a flowered pair of Goodnites. My now-soiled Goodnites. And should I be so bold as to remove them, I'd be walking those twenty minutes back to our little apartment completely commando. In a tiny skirt. On a breezy night.

And so I shuffled out the door in to the cool night air. With every step I felt not only the squish and tantalizing rub of the swelling padding around my most sensitive parts, but the continued dribble of urine into my pull-ups. Daddy had made sure of that with their training, after all. No point in a once-and-done wetting, they'd always chortled; far better to send their little princess into all-out, dribbling incontinence…

I was stabbing hastily at the screen again as I walked. "Daddy!!!!" Emojis of blushing faces and big eyes and pleading expressions. "That's not fair! You're so mean!!!" And in return, the calm and measured texts that were as much a part of their Daddy nature as my own frantic outbursts. "Sweetie, you knew you were supposed to leave at 10." "Are you whining? You deserve to be punished, you know." "You think that was bad? Back-talk to Daddy one more time, and you'll get another."

Why, oh why did I send it? "Big meanie!!"

Not three seconds later, the word appeared on my screen. The word. The one that- you know, made my muscles feel all funny…

"Syzygy."

I still don't know if there was anyone around to see me at that moment – the dark-haired young woman staring at her phone as she stumbled down the sidewalk under the streetlights… her left hand rising as if of its own volition to her lips… her thumb slipping deep between her parted, cherry-red lips.

I was almost jogging then, caught in a swirling vortex of emotions. On the one hand was the mortified fear of being seen: a grown woman visibly and eagerly sucking her thumb in public. And on the other was the wave of submissive, regressed calm swelling within me. It just felt so good to suck on something. Nice and yummy. Suck my yummy thumbie and let it all go…

Texting with one hand was harder now, but I managed it. "Daddy please please please!" "Im sorry!" "Home soon!" And even as I typed I was half-squinting my eyes, fearful of the next word that might appear and send my stupid, hypnotically programmed brain into a third spiral of humiliating obedience…

But then, as I was turning down the final little street to our apartment, the phone in my hand sprang to life. It was ringing: the special little tinkling ring of "Papa Bear" on the line. For me. And of course… I picked it up. Like a good girl should.

The first words from that lovely, warm voice of theirs took me away: to that magical place where my brain no longer mattered, where all I needed was to hear their voice and to give them my full and complete obedience.

I still don't know exactly how I stumbled up the stairs in that dazed condition. But Daddy was looking out for me. Daddy knew – as they always did. So as I dropped to my knees before the open door – the first lukewarm drops of my saturated Goodnites leaking down my smooth legs, and my lips fervently slurping around my thumb, and the high voice of my regressed Little self plaintively begging Daddy to please, please change my soggy "puww-ups"…

Well, yes, I was tipsy. And in a hypnotic daze. But all that aside, I knew I was home.