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This is based on a true story of my first interaction with an AB/DL, which occurred twenty years ago this month (July 2023). Certain details and locations were changed for privacy reasons.

High school was an interesting time for me. After years of being an introverted creature, I was slowly coming out of my shell. There was enough stability in my life to gain confidence to socialize, make friends, attend school events, and be generally more outgoing. Sexually, however, I remained repressed.

When I was about fourteen, I knew I was different but wasn't sure what my deal was. I discovered the adult baby/diaper lover (AB/DL) community after stumbling across a seedy message board that invited young people to participate. Initially, I didn't know any better. My first impression was that there were a lot of helpful older people providing resources and answers to questions about the community. But after a while, I had people reaching out to me privately, fishing around about my personal life. Where do you live? What do you look like? When can we meet? There was a predatory aspect to that whole experience that made me disinterested in anything sexual.

On that same message board, I saw photos of grown men in diapers that I was intrigued by, but not necessarily aroused by. They look interesting, I thought. And when I saw men in diapers, I imagined myself wearing them, being in similar positions and feeling that cozy thickness between my legs. Eventually, I found a way to indulge in these weird interests I was formulating by ordering diaper samples online and wearing them to school. I didn't have a whole lot of privacy time at home, so I enjoyed wearing diapers discreetly underneath my clothes while I was out and about. I enjoyed the thrill of wearing diapers and nobody suspecting a thing. But by the time I was in my junior and senior year in high school, I made a conscious decision to shelve those interests in favor of socialization.

I joined several school clubs and diversified my interests so that I was never bored or isolated. One of the clubs I joined was the Anime Club. During our school lunch break, we gathered in my senior English classroom, watched and discussed all the finest Japanese animation. In that club, there was a panda who was extremely passionate about anime. His name was Jerome. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of anime, regularly corrected us on Japanese pronunciations of show names and passionately broke down certain shows and movies. All of us were genuinely impressed by his knowledge, appreciated his recommendations and deferred to his expertise.

Jerome rarely discussed his personal life. When conversations in our club began revolving around things happening in our lives, he went silent. When we talked about girls, Jerome appeared nervous. Female anime characters, though? He was totally engaged. My initial impression of Jerome was that he wasn't interested in girls because he was shy and introverted with anyone outside of his social circles, not because he was gay. At the time, I equated queerness with effeminate mannerisms -- ah yes, the stereotype -- and didn't detect any of that with Jerome. Just because he was eccentric around us didn't mean he was gay. Even if he was, I would've accepted that part of him without an issue.

Because he was taller and larger than most of us, Jerome was conscious about his personal appearance. He'd occasionally make a self-deprecating joke about his weight, but none of us laughed or piled on. We were immediately accepting of him. He was so nice and friendly, there was no reason for any of us treat him differently than anyone else. Personally speaking, I found him rather adorable and cuddly. But he was still insecure around us.

And one day, I found out why.

Jerome worked at a big-box electronics retailer in the city. He liked his job -- or at least he told me he liked his job. But more often than not, he hesitated to leave the counter he was stationed at. One day, I showed up to his workplace to purchase a video game. Once I spotted him, Jerome looked up and saw me. I waved to him. He waved back. I approached him at the counter and struck up a conversation. At the time, it was his second week at the job. Jerome immediately zeroed in on the employee perks and discounts. He was able to purchase DVDs and games at surprisingly generous employee discounts. But he was working at minimum wage and long hours. I was a little jealous of the benefits, but not his hours. Didn't want to be chained to a job like that. But he was fully on board with the work and what that entailed.

When a customer approached him at the checkout counter, he took a step back from me, moved left and faced the customer as he processed their transaction. At that moment, I got a clear view of his waist. He had a wet spot on his pants. I could see his wet spot as soon as he stepped underneath the bright florescent ceiling lights. But once he stepped out from under the lights, I barely noticed anything.

Having limited experience wearing diapers, I was keenly familiar with those kinds of wet spots right around the crotch. That wasn't sweat. The spot went from his crotch down the left and right side of his pants. He definitely pissed himself and he went a lot. No wonder why he acted distant around us. I instinctively picked up on the possibility that he was possibly incontinent and had daytime accidents. But instead of feeling disgusted or disturbed by this discovery, I was relieved. I wasn't incontinent, but I felt as though I could at least broach the subject of diapers under the right circumstances. Surely he would understand the need to wear them.

This would also be the day I sported my very first public boner. I was eighteen, a bouncy lion with all sorts of needs and desires, but was never sexually stimulated by anything in public. But seeing him sporting a wet bulge stirred some strange thoughts.

It must be nice to fully let go, I thought.

But why was I thinking that? I started feeling guilty about how these odd fantasies I was having were potentially preying on someone else's embarrassment. I remember looking down at my groin, seeing my erection desperately wanting to break loose from my tight cargo shorts. I wanted to think of something else just to calm my arousal. Took me about a minute to return to my neutral flaccid state and get back to my senses. Once Jerome finished the transaction, he wandered back over to me and we continued where we left off. I tried not to stare.

Two months later, I hosted a high school graduation party at my house. I invited all my friends from school to the house where we had refreshments, hung out by the pool and jacuzzi, and listened to music. I invited Jerome and he excitedly accepted. I was happy to see him. But while everyone was swimming in my pool and lounging outside, Jerome stayed inside the house, playing on his Game Boy Advance while sitting on my living room couch. He occasionally helped himself to a slice of pizza, but didn't interact with us except for making small talk as we helped ourselves to snacks and beer a friend of mine sneaked over. In between silly jumps and dives into the pool, I reached the surface, pop my head up from out of the water, and check on him through the back patio glass doors. All I could see was him hunched over, staring intensely at the glowing screen of his handheld device.

As the party went on, I approached him and asked how he was doing. He gave a tepid response. "I'm okay," he said. But suddenly, he looked down at his seat and froze. He was horrified. "Oh no."

"What happened? Are you okay?" I asked him.

"I'm so sorry, man," he stuttered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Jerome leaked on my sofa. There was a freshly damp spot on the couch cushion, which clearly reeked of urine. There was no way my parents weren't going to find out about it. He hurriedly hopped off the sofa and looked at the damage done. The extent of his leak wasn't something I could blame on a pet.

"I should be going. I should go," he said. And he kept apologizing.

My mind was racing. I couldn't tell my parents that one of my friends had an accident and leaked on the couch. On a total whim, I told Jerome that I was going to take the blame for it; that I tried a couple of beers and wasn't paying attention. Blame the matter on some irresponsible underage drinking. He looked at me, shocked. He couldn't believe that I was willing to accept responsibility for his personal shame.

"Are you serious, bro? I can help clean it!"

"It's fine," I told him. "I mean, I'll deal with my folks, but it's okay. It's happened to me a few times."

He was even more shocked. "What has happened a few times?"

"The accidents."

When I was in fourth grade, I occasionally wet the bed. This happened periodically every time I was bullied at school and was stressed out. I remember feeling embarrassed not because I wet the bed, but because my parents had to wash my sheets. They were annoyed with me. I promised it would never happen again. But it happened a few more times. About the third time I wet the bed, my parents were more sympathetic. They could clearly see I was having a problem at school and I was undergoing a lot of physical and mental strain. They asked me personally if I was interested in having some "pull-up underwear," and I said yes. But by the time they purchased some for me, I didn't need them as my situation improved. And my situation only improved because my parents took me out of school -- and that happened because school administrators refused to step in and intervene with the bullying.

"I live a few blocks up the road from you," Jerome said. "Mind if I change my pants and come back? Again, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, I promise. And sure, go ahead."

Jerome flashed a smile before he dashed out of my house and jogged up the street to his place. He returned about a half-hour later, looking a lot more comfortable with himself. He started hanging out with the rest of us. But before I could do anything else, I had to cover the sofa with a paper towel and prevent anyone else from sitting there. I told the guests that someone spilled a drink on there, so that particular seat was unavailable for the rest of the evening. Everyone bought the excuse and the party continued through late into the night without a hitch.

My parents were there for some of the party, but were unaware of what happened and largely kept to themselves. I followed through with my plan and told them after the party was over that I leaked on the couch. They weren't exactly thrilled with me and understandably so, but they accepted my offer to clean up the mess. All was eventually forgiven the next day.

Since that day, Jerome was a lot more relaxed around me. Every time I saw him, Jerome was his bubbly self. Shoulders were relaxed. His posture was straight. He was comfortable around me. The feeling was mutual. After graduation, I bumped into him a few times at his workplace. He was always down for a conversation. What happened at the party wasn't brought up publicly, but he had a habit of informing me proactively about any accident he had that day -- just so I wasn't caught off guard by his wet pants. He would broach the subject by saying things like, "So I kinda went a little bit, but it's not so bad." He complained about being dehydrated all the time and drinking lots of water only for him to feel his bladder being "overwhelmed" and leaking at the worst possible times. I could only nod in acknowledgment because I never had daytime accidents, so I couldn't completely relate to his predicament. But I was definitely predisposed to hearing him out whenever he needed an area.

The more Jerome confided with me, the closer I felt to him. I'd been meaning to ask him if there was anything I could do to help him. I didn't know how exactly I could help him deal with a personal issue that he struggled to control. This was when I started developing paternal instincts -- just like how a father feels obligated to change their child's diaper when a change is necessary. I felt that any obligation I had to helping him was necessary. I wanted to help him. But I wasn't sure whether or not that desire to help him was a byproduct of a crush I was developing.

Jerome was a large panda, but he was wonderfully plump. He was someone I could imagine removing his shirt and rubbing his big, fuzzy belly. He had a great personality. He was warm, kind and gentle. I wasn't drawn to him sexually per se. I was drawn to his personal vibe. That's the best way I could describe my attraction to him. I didn't know what pansexuality was at the time, but I knew at the time that my attraction to him wasn't driven by gender or gender expression. I started curating a desire to spend time with him alone somewhere private and see what kind of chemistry we had between us if any. If he said to me, "Sorry dude, I'm straight," I would've been fine with that. At least I tried.

The opportunity to spend time with him finally arrived in the form of an e-mail invitation to hang out at his place for the afternoon.

He lived in a large and spacious two-story home. He obviously had a wealthy family who invested heavily in slick, modern furniture that didn't look like it was from Ikea and hastily assembled. His living room was decked out with shelves full of anime DVDs, anime soundtrack CDs, comic books, graphic novels and action figures. I joked with him that if ever gave up his anime collector hobby, he could easily open up a store in his home.

His parents weren't there. It was just the two of us. But instead of watching anime on his large 70-inch flat screen television in the living room, he decided to watch Jackass: The Movie on DVD. We sat on the couch together and watched the movie. He couldn't look away from the gross-out gags. I was covering my eyes.

He was laughing and was definitely more at peace when it was just him and I. He was having a good time. Though I wasn't much of a Jackass fan at the time, I was developing an acquired taste for their juvenile pranks. The was a scene in the movie where a stunt performer had an accident in the car. He proceeded to uncontrollably soil his pants to everyone's dismay and amusement. I remember watching that scene and then slowly turning my head to Jerome. And at that very moment, Jerome stared at me directly in the eyes and smiled from ear-to-ear.

"Took me about a month to muster up the courage to tell you this, but yeah, this kinda stuff happens to me," Jerome confessed. "Like I'm not comfortable sharing this with anyone else, obviously, but you seem cool. I appreciate you being a bro about that whole thing." He was referencing him leaking on my couch at the graduation party.

"Oh yeah. No problem," I said.

Then came the hard part for him. "I-I also wear diapers," he revealed. When he said the word "diapers," he muttered it softly and looked down at his carpet floor. "I mean it's not like I like to wear them, but they're just there for me, you know? You said something to me like you had accidents too sometimes, so I figured it was okay to --"

"It's fine. No, really."

Jerome was breathless. He hit pause on the DVD and was hit with a sudden case of anxiety. Admitting that he wore diapers to a former high school classmate took courage, so I completely understood him having the jitters. But I was having a different kind of jitters. I was beyond excited to know I could actually talk about diapers with someone I personally know and was comfortable being around. Immediately, I found the courage to make my own confession: "I wear diapers too, so it's no big deal."

"For real?" Jerome asked loudly. "You're not pulling my leg or anything? You serious?"

"I'm serious."

"You got one on right now or --"

"No, but I can head back home real quick and put one on if you need proof that I wear."

"I don't necessarily need 'proof,' but if you got the poof, by all means. That might make me feel a little better."

I headed back home with an extra skip in my step. At the time, I had a Depend diaper stashed away in my closet drawer. The diaper was bulky, green and had six tapes, but it fit me fine. I went into my room, put it on and returned to Jerome's house.

By the time I walked in, he had already taken off his clothes and was lounging in his diaper. He was also wearing a Depend diaper. He was clearly wearing an extra large, so it was naturally thicker than the medium I was wearing. There was so much diaper for me to explore. When he casually groped himself in front of me and caused his crinkly plastic to rustle loudly, my heart practically leapt out of my chest.

How was this even possible? My friend, my classmate is wearing a diaper.

He even had a gorgeous belly that looked primed for a good rub. I hadn't seen him this relaxed before. Normally, he was all over the place, acting squeamish around others. But here, in this moment, he laid back on the couch and was lounging. He laid there almost motionless, awaiting for my arrival. He looked at me like he had plans. I wasn't sure what those plans were. But one thing I knew for sure is my clothes were coming off.

Keep in mind this was the first time I was diapered around someone else who was diapered. There was a part of me that felt uncomfortable getting undressed and showing this part of myself to someone. But I knew I was in a safe space. He was putting himself out there. Why shouldn't I? I took my clothes off and crinkled over to the couch. I sat beside him in the same spot where I was sitting before. But now the mood in the room was intimate -- at least that was my interpretation. He resumed the movie and we both watched. He casually wrapped his big, furry arm around my shoulder. I got the chills when he did that. That wasn't a move that one straight bro did with another. There were goosebumps. But I didn't object to the physical contact whatsoever.

In fact, I wanted to reciprocate. I wanted to place my paw on top of his diaper and give him a good squeeze. I wanted to see if he "used" it at all. I couldn't tell at first place. It looked dry, but it was dark in the living room and the only lighting we had was coming from the TV.

We laughed and had a good time. Apparently, while I was gone, he ordered a couple of pizzas for delivery, so there were a couple of pizza boxes on his coffee table. We helped ourselves to some slices of pepperoni and mushroom with soda. As I'm enjoying my pizza, I looked down at the panda's round, plump body. He didn't need the toned physique. To me, he was perfect. My head was close to his armpit, so I caught a whiff of his musk. Nicely pungent, not overwhelming. I could tell he bathed, but clearly got his exercise at work for a few hours and had a decent amount of sweaty, wet fur.

"It's kinda cool to hang out with someone who's also padded, you know?" Jerome said.

"Yeah. It's different."

"I just didn't expect to be hanging with someone I knew." Then Jerome shifted his eyes, searching for words he wanted to convey to me. He paused for a second, took a deep breath and said, "Did you want to do anything?"

What does he mean by that?

I shrugged. "I'm down for whatever."

Jerome nodded sagely. "Oh. Okay."

"Like what do you want to do?"

He latched onto his diapered crotch like there was something stirring underneath.

I think he's horny.

"I'm sorry for making things awkward," he said.

"You don't need to apologize."

"Are you gay or something?" he asked bashfully.

This was also the first time someone publicly asked about my sexuality. I never bothered to wrestle with that internally. As a young adult, I didn't go through the rigors of puberty like everyone else did. There was no real libido. No gravitational pull to any particular gender. But in that moment, I was drawn to Jerome. And it was more likely than not that Jerome was drawn toward me. Both of us were in diapers, snuggling with each other on his living room couch. There was a desire within me to explore the panda and see what happens. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. But it looked as though we were locked into each other and I couldn't turn this opportunity down.

"Yeah, probably," I replied whimsically.

"Cool. Me too. My parents are like, 'Why don't you have a girlfriend?' or 'Why don't you want to date anyone?' I don't have the heart to tell them the truth. They're God-fearing people. They go to church," he said. "I think they have an inkling of an idea, but I haven't been 'flamboyant' or anything, know what I mean?"

I nodded.

"You smell nice," Jerome told me. "Did you uh... go yet?"

Did he just compliment my scent? I could feel my cheeks getting red. "Oh, did I 'go' as in use my diaper yet? Not yet."

"You totally should. Even if you pooped in it, I wouldn't mind. My folks are out of town for a while. Anything that happens in here we can clean up and they wouldn't know. My trash can in my room is lined with scented disposal bags, so we can put them in there when we're done."

I looked down at my diaper. "Ah, okay. Yeah, I don't think I'm there quite yet."

"So I've wet my diaper some. If you want to have fun with it, let me know."

When the panda stood up, I could see his diaper drooping down. He obviously soaked it. I was sitting right beside him and didn't notice. His soggy bulge was at the same height as my muzzle while I was seated. This was when my mind starting drawing blanks.

My face was soon planted into his diaper. He was warm. A bit moist on the outer surface. He was on the verge of leaking. I was concerned that if I pressed my muzzle any further into him, piss would drip out. I could tell he was loving it because he made extra sure to plant his footpaws firmly on the ground and spread his legs. His diaper was hanging down far enough for me to take a decent peek inside from his leg gathers. He had a thick, chubby dick that was wedged into his inner-padding with a nice pair of balls. I was never close to another man like this, but I liked it. I was curious about playing with his dick, fondling it, sniffing it and maybe even licking it. I never thought about orally pleasing another man before. But my libido was now fully awakened. I wanted to at least try, but didn't know how to ask. Before I could find the words to ask him properly, I pivoted back to diapers.

Right away, I knew the diapers he wore couldn't handle his bladder. That's why he kept leaking his pants wherever he was. Whenever I took a leak, the diaper managed to hold it. It was always the second wetting that got me. Seeing his situation, I felt obligated to change him.

"You need help with a change?" I asked him.

"Yeah, sure. You do diaper changes?"

"No, but I'm interested in learning!"

He laid out a waterproof diaper changing mat on the floor. The mat was large enough and comparable in size to an area rug. He was a big guy, after all. It made sense. He went into his bedroom, brought out a fresh diaper and handed it to me.

"I'm going to lay down on my back. You're going to undo my diaper tapes. There are six of them."

"I know, I know."

I got down on my knees and slowly untaped his diaper. The front of his used diaper hit the mat with a squishy thud. As soon as it did, I got to see his cock, beautifully erect and staring right at me.

"So you have a couple of options. You can point my thing down when you put on a new diaper or you can, you know, take care of it."

"Do I have to decide right now?"

"No, but I'm just saying. If you keep looking at my dick, it's not going to go down."

I chuckled. "Oh... well..."

"You can suck me off if you want. It's just that I've never had that anyone do that to me before."

Despite it being my first time I sucked anyone off, I went straight in. There was no need for me to smell his dick because I already had his scent dialed in -- and I liked it. All I needed was the offer. I imagined this would be no different than sucking on a large ice pup, but it would be fleshy and harder. I didn't think twice about going down on him. But a thought occurred to me. Now that I was servicing another man, I could no tell people I was "straight." I lost that card to play. But what I got in return was a mindless delight of pleasuring someone who not only appreciated the gesture, but was also emboldened by it.

For a couple of minutes, I felt as though his panda cock was meant to be inside my mouth. There was a natural pairing. But by the time I started on a rhythm with my head bobbing up and down, I felt his dick pulsating suddenly. Right then and there, I knew something was coming.

"I think I'm going to cum, Leo," he said.

But as soon as he mentioned my name, Jerome ejaculated. I wasn't sure if he was cumming or pissing inside my maw because there was so much of it. But I got a taste. Thick, salty and a little creamy. Definitely cum. I could've choked on it, but naturally, I swallowed. He let out a series of soft whimpers.

"That was terrible," he groused. "I only lasted a few minutes."

"No problem," I said, licking in the remaining cum that graced my feline lips. "This was your first time. I don't think I'd last that long either."

Before I could get back to changing, Jerome abruptly peed onto his old diaper and the changing mat. "Oh God," he groaned. "I'm sorry."

To me, this was definitive confirmation that he was incontinent. I could tell by the abrupt nature of his thick, relentless void; his twisted, wide-eyed expression as he helplessly watched. He peed mostly onto his old diaper, which was still underneath him, and a few drips onto the mat. He went for about ten seconds, but judging by his horrified reaction, I figured it must've lasted a lifetime for him. I restrained myself, in that moment, from teasing him or providing any sort of commentary. I decided it was best for me to sit with him and give him moral support. He kept apologizing to me as if I wasn't psychologically predisposed to something like that happening.

"Just stop apologizing," I said. "You're fine. Shit happens."

"Oh. Okay."

"You definitely belong in thicker diapers," I told him.

He blushed. "Yeah, I guess."

We resumed changing after he wiped down the mat with paper towels. He lifted his legs and told me to carefully remove the diaper from underneath him. I slowly extracted his diaper, which was unsurprisingly heavy. Felt like two pounds. I set the diaper aside. "So putting on the diaper is basically doing what I just did, but in reverse, right?"

"Yeah. Just make sure the wing side of the diaper is facing up and behind me. I'll hold the front of the diaper up for you while you connect the wings and tapes from the back to front. What I usually do is set the tapes perpendicular and parallel to each other."

"I got a C in Geometry. I don't know what you mean by that," I said, laughing.

"Top left tape is at the same height as the top right. Bottom left tape is paired with the bottom right."

I wasn't completely sure what he was talking about, but he guided me through the taping process calmly. I was nervous because I obviously never changed anyone before. It's a simple process in theory, but I barely squeaked through it. I was consumed with concern that I would screw up somewhere, but he was so patient with me. I was at ease. Usually, he was the nervous one. The roles were now reversed. When I finished securing the final tape on his diaper, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I did something to help someone that I liked -- someone that I really, really liked. And I was energized by having the responsibility of changing someone's diaper -- by knowing that they need someone to change them regularly. It was a challenge that I gladly accepted without hesitation or judgment.

"You're not bad," he said. "Just need some more practice."

"Can I practice on you more?"

Jerome laughed. "Yeah, sure. I'm wet a lot, so knock yourself out."

After I finished changing him, Jerome put his changing mat away and returned to the living room. We finished watching Jackass and checked out some shows on TV. While he watched, Jerome opened up to me about his incontinence. After having an accident right in front of me, he felt obligated to provide me context. I told him he didn't have to, but insisted because he trusted me. When he said out loud that he trusted me, I had butterflies in my stomach.

He told me about a pinched nerve in his back: a condition he had since he was a little cub. This pinched nerve caused him back pain and incontinence. It started with bedwetting with heavy overnight voids, but he experienced daytime accidents as he got older. He compared his incontinence to having poured too much water in a glass and causing water to spill. But by the time he's made aware of the spillage, it's too late. And these accidents would happen randomly throughout the day, whether he was walking, driving, sitting at the computer to play games or hanging out with friends -- and he always had to be mindful of his situation. I developed fantasizes about being incontinent, but I didn't wrap my head about the real-life circumstances and implications. There was nuance and Jerome provided that nuance.

His parents encouraged him to wear diapers at least until doctors determined he was old enough to undergo back surgery to repair the nerve. But he ended up actually liking diapers and found a way to manage his back pain. Jerome told me he wanted to undergo the surgery, but he wanted to go through with it when he was ready.

I wish I had a better story to tell him than "diapers turn me on." He opened up with me about his incontinence, but I never had to seriously deal with that struggle.

I told him about one of my earliest memories when I remembered being upset when my parents told me that I completed potty training and didn't need diapers anymore. Okay, so maybe I didn't "need" them anymore, but they were certainly the coziest underwear I ever wore and they were even cozier when I used them. I remember being perfectly at peace while drawing with crayons on paper on the floor in my cotton onesie and pooping my diaper without a care in the world. Sure, I knew how to use a toilet by then, but I felt comfortable with a solid load in the back of my diaper. I figured I could deal with the matter later at my convenience. My parents even told me that I never cried when my diaper was full unlike other cubs my age; that I was even more energetic and playful. Only my odor was the giveaway.

I remember feeling like diapers were a part of my personal identity. Obviously, at that age, there was no sensual context for wearing them. I considered them to be an integral part of my aesthetic.

I told Jerome about the AB/DL community, which he didn't know anything about to my surprise. The panda struck me as someone who would go online, do the research and come across the community on his own. The idea of a community full of AB/DLs like us intrigued him. I could see a light bulb turning on in his head. He liked knowing the wasn't alone in this world.

"By the way, I think you look really cute in diapers," Jerome told me.

I turned red and toyed with my whiskers. "Really?"

He wanted me to turn around in front of him, which I happily did.

"I love your swagger!" he said.

Jerome kept piling on the compliments all the while I was getting harder in my diaper. Once the arousal started messing with my head, I started saying things that got me deeper into the mood. "I noticed you had wet pants at work. I know it's embarrassing for you, but is that also something you want others to see?"

My question stumped Jerome. He exhaled deeply. "Maybe. I don't know. But I like that you noticed."

"Would you wet yourself if I told you to?"

"Uh. Maybe. That might be kinda hot, actually."

"Maybe since you leak through one diaper, I'd put another one on top of that. Then everyone can see how thick your waist is and know right away that you're wearing diapers like a big panda baby."

He got flustered by my teasing. "Okay. Enough." He started chuckling.

He told me to sit on his lap on the couch and face him, which I did. We kissed. This was my first same-sex kiss. I've kissed girls before. But kissing another man hit differently. When we kissed, I felt sparks. There was a connection. There was subtle acknowledgment that we accepted each other deeply enough to establish that connection. I tasted his moist lips and generously large tongue as I wrapped my paws around the back of his head.

We pulled back from the kiss at the same time. "Woah!" we said simultaneously.

In that particular moment, there were a lot of scenarios going through my mind that were all based on one question: Where could we possibly go from here?

All the drinks I had were starting to poke my bladder. I genuinely had to go. "I'm going to wet," I announced to him.

"Go for it," Jerome said with a smirk. "At least you know when you're about to go. When I go, it just happens." Then he added, "Don't worry about leaking here, by the way. This couch is waterproof. My parents got the sofa custom-made just for me."

I was still on his lap when I wet myself. It was a surreal feeling. I was caught in between the anxiety of wetting my diaper in front of someone else and surrendering to the warm relief that was quickly making my diaper expand -- all under the watchful eye of someone who wanted me to go.

"That feeling never gets old, does it?" Jerome said.

"No. Not at all!"

"You really had to go too. Hot damn!"

For as long as I could remember, I was ridiculously pee shy. I could walk into a busy restroom somewhere, stand at the urinal between two dudes with a line forming behind me, and I'd freeze up. It was next to impossible. It would dawn on me later on that my "pee shy" issue was a byproduct of being deeply aroused from the situation I put myself in. I was into exhibitionism before I knew there was a word for it. I actually liked knowing that people were possibly watching me relieve myself. But in this case, my desperation to pee won over my arousal. Being able to break through that arousal and "pee shy" barrier was exhilarating. I never peed before someone who was visibility excited about me indulging in such a personal and vulnerable act. And with diapers, it was surprisingly effortless and natural for me to use them. Toilets were transactional, but diapers were an experience.

He also wanted me to mess myself. He kept reminding me that it was okay for me to drop a deuce in my diaper since his parents would be gone long enough for us to clean up, eliminate the odor and get away with the crime. Honestly, I wasn't ready for that. I think there was a part of him that wanted me to mess because it was a visceral confirmation that I was truly into diapers. Messing was an effort. Cleanup was a hassle. But if you did it, you were accepted.

"I guess I should turn the tables on you now," I said. "Are you going to poop your diaper? I guess I'm fine with it if you are."

"Yeah. I know you just put a fresh one on me, but I'm going to have to 'use' it... like now."

I shrugged. "That's what diapers are for, right?"

Jerome snorted. "Glad you're not too attached."

Jerome made his way to the bathroom and asked me to come along. I'm not exactly sure why I followed him. Was he going to use the toilet instead of his diaper? I didn't know, but kept an open mind regardless. He had a fairly spacious bathroom where three people could easily fit inside there. There was room to move around. Being the big panda that he was, he needed all the room he could get! Jerome told me this was his personal bathroom before opening the drawers underneath his sink and revealing several fresh diapers and an unopened bag of Depend. He told me he had more diapers in his bedroom, but those were part of his reserve. He asked me to close the door behind us and I did.

He moved past me on his way to the toilet.

"Oh, so you're going to cheat now?" I teased him. "After everything we talked about?"

"Shush! Just watch."

Jerome put the toilet seat down and sat there. He didn't take the diaper off.

"So there is a method to your madness," I said.

"Yeah. I mean, the toilet has to be used for something, right?"

I wasn't exactly sure what to do. Was I supposed to watch him as he tried to push out a load into his seat? While that was objectively hot for me, it didn't feel right for me to just stand there. By then, my fur was matted and covered in sweat from all the sexual adrenaline coursing through me. What could I possibly do?

When it came to sex, I was obviously inexperienced. I felt like I needed someone who was more experienced to guide me along. But in this state of deep arousal, I was beginning to shed my sexual inhibitions. One could argue that when I sucked Jerome off, I had already shed that. But I still felt as though I was guided toward that act. Now I was in an awkward situation. Jerome wasn't giving me any sort of cues. He was too preoccupied with messing himself. He was deep in that headspace.

Then suddenly, my mind went empty. All I had going for me was a rising urge to take charge. It was now or never.

I walked over to Jerome and stood before him as he sat on the toilet. He was startled slightly to see me standing there. He looked up. I smiled as I quickly pulled the front of my soggy diaper down. I reached into my diaper to retrieve my lion cock, which was harder than ever. Not a whole lot needed to be said. I wanted him to suck me off. He stared into my eyes quietly for a couple of seconds and then pivoted his focus to my cock. I nodded to him.

Jerome grabbed my cock lovingly and stroked it a couple of times for good measure. The mood in the bathroom abruptly changed. The tenor of our relationship changed. There was no more playful banter back and forth. I could tell he wanted what was about to happen to be special.

When he took my cock into his maw, I was speechless. The inside of his mouth was so warm, moist and tight. I could only imagine it was a similar sensation if I entered one's tailhole. He took his time on me, studied every square inch of my cut dick with his tongue. He closed his eyes and started to bob his head back and forth to emulate a thrusting motion.

This was the moment I truly felt alive. For most of my life, I was rarely assertive but had aspirations to be in control. Jerome helped me realize that I could seize control and enjoy it. I could be the dominant lion that I always wanted to be. I placed my paw on the top of his head and pushed him further down until he reached the base. He moaned a little. At first, I thought I was choking or hurting him somehow. But the opposite was true. He wanted my dick and he wanted all of it. I humped his maw while savoring the stimulation I felt.

Jerome moaned a second time. Right after he did, I could hear him farting in his diaper. Loud puffs followed by a loud gurgle and a satisfyingly muted pop. He moaned louder. Jerome managed to mess his diaper while he was servicing me. I didn't have to see what he did. I only had to smell it. He got up from the toilet seat briefly to rub the back of his diaper.

"Good boy," I said with a growl. My voice was deeper.

Jerome moaned happily from the praise.

"Did you poop your thick diapers for daddy?" I asked him.

Did I just refer to myself as "daddy"?

"Mm-hmm."

"Good boy."

My dominant lion side fully emerged. All I wanted was pleasure. All I wanted from Jerome is to please me and worship my cock while wearing a full diaper. I couldn't ask for more than that. I looked down as I humped into his maw. I clenched my teeth when I felt my orgasm steadily approaching. He must've picked up on my impending climax because he increased his bobbing speed. The panda was whimpering and snorting loudly. Once we dialed into each other's roles, we were perfectly synchronized in our movements and desires.

I told him I was about to cum, but he didn't slow down. He wanted my load. With my paw on his head, I yowled and unleashed an unforgiving torrent of cum. One wave. Two waves. Three waves. I couldn't stop. He was doing his best to swallow everything, but I could tell he was struggling. Cum was escaping from the sides of his mouth and dripping onto the tiled bathroom floor. I mercifully pulled out before I could cum any more.

"That was amazing, dude," Jerome said. "I didn't expect you to explode like that."

"I didn't expect you to blow me like that," I shot back.

Post-nut clarity was interesting. We were both marveling at how serendipitous our encounter was. At the same time, we thought everything we did was part of an elaborate dream. And who could have ever imagined that we would connect with each other this way? We were in complete disbelief about everything.

Jerome spared me the opportunity to change out of his messy diaper. He kicked me out of the bathroom to take a shower, clean up and change. I went back to the couch with my wet diaper still on and watched TV while I waited for him to return. By the time he returned, Jerome was dressed in a cozy purple onesie with moons and stars on it. He snuggled up on the couch beside me. I laid against his side as we spent the rest of the night relaxing. But before we got too comfortable, Jerome received a call from his mom. His parents were coming home sooner than anticipated. I quickly put my clothes on and headed outside.

I never walked around in a diaper that wet before. Even though it was dark outside -- it was ten o'clock by then -- and no one was really around, I felt exposed. Anyone could pull down my pants at any time and discover my naughty secret. But I secretly wanted that to happen. What I feared could happen was something I was starting to fantasize about. My brain was constantly pitching me ideas that I could barely process. I wanted squat down on Jerome's face, have my diaper pressed against his snout as I messed. I wanted to tell people about having a panda boyfriend who wore thick diapers every time and always needed changing.

My growing list of fantasies would never materialize. I moved out of the area and he stayed. We stayed in communication. But he eventually found someone who connected with him in a similar way than we did.

When I stumbled upon his social media profile, I found a photo that he took of us together. In the shot, we were fully clothed, with poofy centers, looking happy. I didn't remember him taking a selfie with me. He uploaded the photo shortly after I left his place that evening. The caption on the photo made my heart sing: "The one who got away."