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"Whiskers is Wet," a documentary, started with a shot of someone walking down the street. The person featured in the shot is a male fox in his mid-twenties, walking on a sidewalk with his tail swishing from side to side. The camera picked up on a distinct sound: plastic rustling.

The camera rotates around the fox and pans up, revealing a calm, confident and attractive fox. He was walking to his house in a quiet suburban neighborhood at a cul-de-sac.

"I'm really fortunate to have a job that's walking distance from my place," he said. "I don't take that for granted."

He walked up to his front door and discovered a large package was waiting for him. As soon as he spotted the package, he raced toward it to check the shipping label. When he realized what it was, the fox swished his tail, unlocked his front door -- and once the door swung open, he carried the package inside. The cameraman followed him inside and he closed the door behind them.

"These are my diapers," the fox said. The documentary simply identified him as Whiskers.

Whiskers opened the box on his living room floor with a retractable utility knife. He diligently went through the packaging until he brought out a case of adult diapers with cute and colorful animals on the landing zone.

"The cuter they look, the more comfortable I feel," Whiskers said, referring to the diapers.

The camera zoomed into the diapers. The cameraman was surprised to see adult diapers looking so thick and festive.

Whiskers stood in the middle of his living room and got undressed. He took off his cream-colored t-shirt. He worked out nightly at a local gym, so he had a decent amount of muscle on his chest. He flexed for the camera, then laughed at his ridiculous attempt at self-indulgence. He never identified as someone who tried to look "cool." All he wanted was to feel good and comfortable. Not a whole lot else mattered. He unbuttoned his skinny smart pants.

"Are you sure you want to wear pants like that?" the cameraman asked him.

"Oh, you mean because of the bulge? Nobody says anything," Whiskers replied. "I wish they did though. I wish someone said something like, 'Is he wearing a diaper?' and I would say, 'Yes! Thanks for asking!'"

The scene cuts to Whiskers being fully undressed. He walks around the house in a diaper he clearly wore for several hours that day. It was drenched from front to back. As he waddled into the kitchen and retrieved bottled water from his fridge, Whiskers said to the cameraman, "Yeah, I'll change out of it soon -- unless, of course, you want to change me now."

The camerman could be heard muttering something.

Whiskers laughed. "No, I was just kidding. No, if you actually said that you would, I wouldn't know what to do."

After he finished changing himself in the bedroom, Whiskers reentered the living room wearing a white shirt with cute animal patterns, a large red pacifier, a fresh diaper and a large bear plushie. He appeared comfortable in front of the camera, flashing a peace sign before sitting down on his couch. He stared into the camera for a couple of seconds and looked at the blinking red light above the lens. He knew the world was about to see a side of himself that he didn't allow anyone to see for decades.

A voiceover of Whiskers' voice was heard. "It started with me being jealous," he said.

"I think I was about eight or nine when I started thinking, 'Hey, I might like this.' When I was a cub, I had sleepovers at a friend's house. Not going to mention his name, of course, because he probably grew out of his 'faze' or whatever. One night, he told me out of the blue, 'So I wet the bed sometimes at night and my parents make me wear a diaper at night.' He didn't seem all that downbeat about it. He had a friend who went to our sleepovers. He knew him better than I did. He wore the same kind of diapers. They had this 'bedwetters bond,' wearing military camo-style pull-ups that looked like regular underwear. I'd sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag while they slept together in one bed. I was the third wheel. Definitely felt I was the third wheel.

"And in the morning, they'd wake up and compare their diapers. 'Dude! You soaked them so much more than I did! Nice job!' I remember tossing and turning in my sleeping bag, overhearing their conversations while pretending to still be asleep. Then one day, I decided to tell an embarrassing lie to them. 'Yeah, I wet the bed too.' I knew I didn't. Never had that problem. But the way they excitedly talked about it sounded less like a problem and more like an activity. I didn't know any better. I just wanted to be involved.

"The next sleepover, they bring out the bag of pull-ups. We each took one, put one on, and ran around my friend's house in them. No one batted an eye. His parents didn't care one bit. They had the 'boys will be boys' attitude. But the thing was: they still used the toilet at night before bed. Actually using them when we were awake was a line they didn't crossed, but it was a line I considered crossing. They had their nighttime accidents but I didn't. When daylight rolled around, they woke up and compared the state of their diapers. When I woke up, I was dry.

"I knew I needed to somehow 'prove' that I was a bedwetter. I created peer pressure inside my head and felt I had to deliver. So I slowly got up from my sleeping bag, stretched very slowly and yawned. My bladder was full. I saw them standing there in their wet diapers. I said, 'Okay, brain. Just let my head empty a bit,' and I was able to wet while standing. When I wet myself, I could feel my diaper getting warm -- like comfortably warm. It was cozy. I was letting go. And there were people around me who were okay with that. I remember at that moment how I felt so relaxed.

"I ran over to them and said, 'Look at me! Look at me!' and they were shocked. I didn't dribble. It was a complete soaking. They were impressed. After that, all of us had a closer bond. I was no longer a third wheel. I was one of them. And it was funny because after they changed out of their pull-ups that morning, they didn't put them on again and I stayed in mine. I mean, yeah, I changed. But then I put a fresh one on and wore that throughout the day. One thing led to another and when Christmas was approaching, I would write a letter to Santa asking for diapers. I think my parents were a little confused by that."

The documentary crew interviewed a psychologist who Whiskers consulted with when he was younger. Dr. Monroe was an older, heavy-set walrus with eyeglasses, a tight-fitting brown suit and dark pants. He was interviewed in his office. The documentary informed viewers that Whiskers gave him permission to speak.

"Whiskers' father called me one day," Dr. Monroe said in a warm, deep tone. "He heard about me from a friend of his and asked if I could speak to his son. He described Whiskers as a nice cub with good grades and a good head on his shoulders. But, but he was asking about wearing diapers. I asked, 'Why? Does he wet the bed? Does he have accidents?' and they told me no. There was no reason for him to want them, they said. Who would want to wear diapers? They thought there may be something off about their son. I was curious, so I accepted him as a patient. It proved to be an interesting experience for the both of us."

"He had turned eighteen a few months prior. His parents knew he had a 'mild curiosity' about them when he was younger. But his dad walked in on him one day, opened the door without knocking -- as parents are known to do -- and found him with a diaper on. And I think their first instinct was to criticize him and make him feel really guilty about it. So they got into some heated argument. What came out of that argument was that Whiskers agreed to see a therapist, and he would go along with that therapist's recommendations. If the therapist determined that he needed treatment, he would seek treatment. But when I first met him, Whiskers appeared to be wrestling internally about what truly mattered to him: supporting his parents and addressing their concerns or carving out some time to figure himself out. There was a lot about himself he didn't understand. So there was a part of him that went, 'Well, if I'm having trouble understanding why I have these feelings, then maybe my folks were right. Maybe it's a waste of time to process them."

The documentary set up a reenactment scene, featuring a younger-looking Whiskers who timidly walked inside Dr. Monroe's office.

"He walks in and sits down on my lounge chair. I sit across from him. It's his first time in therapy, so he's a little nervous and chatty," Mr. Monroe said. "During our first session, I got to know him a little bit. Instead of laying it thick and asking him about any issues he might be having from the onset, I asked him, 'What are your hobbies?' and 'Do you have any goals or aspirations?' He didn't say anything out of the ordinary. Nothing that compelled me to write anything down. Eventually, I broached the subject of why he was here."

Whiskers told Dr. Monroe the story of him being introduced to pull-up diapers when he was a cub. But he also revealed that as he got older, he used diapers as a way to cope with problems that he had at school like bullying and problems he had at home.

"It evolved from being jealous about others wearing to wearing because it gave me comfort," Whiskers said.

Whiskers would save up allowance money he saved up from doing chores to buy diapers at a grocery store. Whiskers didn't fret about buying something that cubs his age were normally too embarrassed to admit to wearing. To him, it was just underwear. And when he wore said "underwear," there was an immediate sense of comfort and security. He didn't have to head to the bathroom like everyone else. He could just, well, go whenever he wanted. His mind would empty. He allowed the warmth to expand and cover his crotch with a warm embrace. No one needed to know and no one ever asked. And every time he was stressed out, Whiskers had the opportunity to indulge in his unique way.

"I didn't see a problem, really," Mr. Monroe concluded. "Some kids keep a stuffed animal around to hold, even when they're supposed to be old enough to not 'need' them. But his parents disagreed. So what Whiskers and I decided to do was have some additional sessions until he was more at ease with himself -- and he was comfortable enough to establish some boundaries between himself and what his parents felt was something intrinsically wrong with him."

And then, Dr. Monroe inadvertently planted an idea in Whiskers' head.

"He asked me, 'Have you ever thought that you liked wearing diapers because it made you feel small like a baby?' Honestly, I never thought about it seriously," said Whiskers. "I was always the kind of person who was so accustomed to being the one in control that I never thought about myself as 'small' or 'helpless' or 'vulnerable.' What if I were? What could happen? I was curious, so..."

One day, Whiskers arrived at Dr. Monroe's office dressed from head to toe like a toddler: a white romper with colorful prints of dinosaurs, bones and eggs. He also wore socks and bright blue velcro sneakers, but there was clearly a diaper underneath his romper. Dr. Monroe was surprised by Whiskers' playful attire. Whiskers told him that he covered his outfit with a jacket and shorts. He got undressed once he arrived in the reception area. This would mark the first time Whiskers put those kind of clothes on. He told Dr. Monroe that he wanted to see what it felt like to walk down the street like that. He admitted the outfit was comfortable and that it unearthed some feelings he never knew he had. Whiskers felt like he could be in a position where someone could take care of him; that it was possible to give into someone else's control.

The documentary mercifully didn't cover what would happen next.

When Whiskers walked into Dr. Monroe's office, the walrus was seated comfortably at his desk, getting ready for the therapy session. But when he locked eyes onto Whiskers, he developed his own set of feelings that he couldn't quite understand. Dr. Monroe was single, divorced and detached from any obligation to date anyone. For the sake of his work and the kind of work he did, Dr. Monroe kept his sexuality dormant. But after evaluating Whiskers, he felt himself loosening up. Dr. Monroe suspected Whiskers put on that outfit to provoke a reaction out of him. He knew that he came across as stoical and a tad cynical to his patients. He believed that Whiskers was intentionally trying to goad him into breaking his professional demeanor.

"Why would you come into my office like that?" Dr. Monroe asked as he attempted to keep his exasperation in check. "What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see if I like being a 'baby.'"

"Do you?"

"I think so."

Dr. Monroe was concealing an erection, which was conveniently hidden from view as he remained seated behind his desk. He was frozen and glued to his seat. There was a lot that he wanted to say to him. You're a naughty baby, aren't you? Do you expect me to be your daddy? When he could hear this libido-inspired words echoing around in his consciousness, Dr. Monroe was feeling his pants getting tighter around his crotch; it was starting to get uncomfortable. He felt sweat forming around his brow. And when he got nervous, Dr. Monroe had a tic that involved him rubbing his right tusk.

"Do you like my costume?" Whiskers asked. He looked over at Dr. Monroe, who struggled to avert his gaze. Whiskers knew he got him where he wanted him.

"Do I need to answer?"

"Yes. You do," Whiskers replied curtly.

"It looks cute." A defeated Dr. Monroe finally averted his gaze and stared directly at the top of his desk.

From that point, it was all an exciting blur. Whiskers sweetly kissed Dr. Monroe on the cheek while he was seated at his desk. Dr. Monroe wanted to chastise the sly fox for making an inappropriate pass at him. But deep down, he knew that chastising him was an exercise in futility and hypocrisy. Dr. Monroe had to quietly admit to himself that discussing diapers with Whiskers stimulated him. At first, he tried brushing it off as a bout of morbid curiosity. But it actually wasn't morbid curiosity at all. He was infatuated for reasons he couldn't explain or bother unpacking. All he heard were lingering questions. Is he wearing a diaper now? Is he wet?

"Cute, huh?" Whiskers shot back.

"I think that's a decent compliment."

The two found themselves kissing. Both of them were completely acting on pure impulse. Dr. Monroe had enough sense to tell Whiskers that by engaging in this behavior, Whiskers could no longer be his patient, to which Whiskers slyly replied, "That's fine. I like this treatment better."

Whiskers had a youthful energy that was magnetizing. Dr. Monroe would take that energy and harness it with his paternal instincts. He felt comfortable being the "daddy." Whiskers never formally agreed to him being "dad," but he was certainly eager to please him. That's all that mattered. Neither of them wrestled with their sexual orientations much. No thought went into the reasons they mutually sought pleasure. This was simply an opportunity that was too good to pass up.

Dr. Monroe was able to verify if Whiskers was wearing a diaper. He certainly was. There was something feral that awakened within Dr. Monroe when he saw a handsome fox standing before him in a thick, wet diaper. Whiskers was vulnerable, whimpering and longing for a big, strong guy to care for him. But there was a shameless, exhibitionist quality to it as well. This was someone who felt comfortable enough with wearing diapers to not only go out in public with one on, but also make that a part of his identity. Whiskers didn't appear to have any trepidation over it. The only time he began to show emotion was when Dr. Monroe started to tease him.

"I'm going to make you wear your diapers permanently," Dr. Monroe.

"Yes, Dr. Monroe."

"For the next hour, call me daddy."

Dr. Monroe inspected Whisker's diaper closely. He gave the fox a good sniff. There was a nice helping of musk. Some sweat around the leg gathers, which blended nicely into his orange fur. His diaper was cozily warm to the touch with a delightfully squishy surface -- a surface just begging to be squeezed. The fox's diaper had a nice patch of yellow in front, but it wasn't close to reaching full capacity. He was able to provide enough of a sample for Dr. Monroe to savor for a couple of seconds. Whiskers curled his footpaws while he quietly stood before Dr. Monroe. He could tell the walrus was getting harder by the second.

Dr. Monroe made Whiskers get on all fours. The diaper stayed on. He wanted to mount Whiskers from behind, graze his chubby, hard dick against Whiskers' soggy plastic exterior. He liked the texture and the way it seemed to mold itself around his hand. Now imagine how the diaper would feel against his cock! He latched onto both sides of Whiskers' waist and fucked him aggressively. No lube required. Just a fox who was unashamedly stewing in his own fluids like a big baby. Dirty baby, Dr. Monroe thought. Who does he think he is, coming into my office dressed like that? The boy was begging to be fucked. Whiskers couldn't see Dr. Monroe's face, but he wanted to. He wanted to gaze upon the man who was technically taking away his virginity. He wanted to look up at his "daddy," a creature who was roughly his father's age, while he was mercilessly railed.

Whiskers couldn't contain his excitement. He felt precum flowing out of him without much control or any real desire to control it. Wasn't too sticky, but the precum managed to run down the side of his hardened shaft and pool around the balls. At least the precum was sticky enough to assure Whiskers that he did have a sensual appreciation for wearing diapers, being small and being made to feel small. When he could clearly feel that someone appreciated his choices enough to pound him, he felt a lot more secure with himself. With every hard thrust Dr. Monroe gave him, Whiskers increasingly felt like he was the daddy walrus' property.

Dr. Monroe was close to climax, but it didn't feel right for him to finish on the back of Whiskers' diaper. He wanted to know if Whiskers was able to take his admirable length. Whiskers decided to give it a shot and lap the walrus' cock in his maw, suck it like a pacifier while looking straight into Dr. Monroe's eyes. He could see his partner's weathered tusks and his plump, hairy belly that jiggled perfectly with every thrust. He didn't know how to suck a cock, so he rolled the shaft around with his tongue until he evoked a pleasurable moan from the once-stoical walrus, who was overcome with the sexual thrill. When Whiskers was able to find a rhythm, he increased the frequency and intensity of his head-bobbing. He knew when to withdraw his teeth and keep them away from his daddy's meat. The more he sucked Dr. Monroe, the more he enjoyed his taste. Pungent. Addicting. He wanted more.

The walrus eventually came in Whiskers' maw. Whiskers was briefly caught off guard by the dick throbbing inside him a few seconds. Because Dr. Monroe didn't masturbate much, he was pent up -- as evidenced by wave after glorious wave of thick, warm and seemingly syrupy cum. Whiskers was excited to taste another man's seed. He was told to drink it up and not leave a single drop. Time was of the essence and their "session" was almost over. The office had to look like nobody had sex in it. Fortunately, the floors were already clear. Dr. Monroe's desk was cluttered from all the activity on top of it and underneath, but that wasn't an issue to organize. But with five minutes to go before his next patient arrived, the two scrambled to look like they weren't caught in a whirlwind of carnal desires.

But before Whiskers could get dressed and cover up his infantile attire, Dr. Monroe had a request.

"I have to take a leak," he said. "Let me use your diaper."

Wait. Was Dr. Monroe going to pee into his diaper? The psychologist was full of surprises and Whiskers was more than delighted to oblige. The walrus took his semi-erect cock, wiggled it, aimed so that it was facing down and into the diaper, and he let go. Dr. Monroe unleashed a confident stream: a post-orgasm piss that an older gentleman like him couldn't wait to unload. A thick, warm torrent of piss poured onto Whiskers' dick, which was still hard from the whole ordeal. A commanding clatter once the walrus' piss splashed onto his shaft, which was curled down and pressing into the diaper. He was actually thrilled to be Dr. Monroe's urinal. He was marked, claimed and owned as property. He was sufficiently used. Now his diaper was at full capacity. He needed a change. But since he didn't bring a spare and initially never expected to need one, Whiskers knew he had to make a long journey home to change and clean up after an exciting sexual rendezvous.

Of course, none of the documentary reenacted their moment together.

Whiskers left it up to Dr. Monroe to simply say, "We started dating each other."

"I remember telling my parents, 'I need this therapy' with a straight face," Whiskers said. "They had no clue I somehow cultivated a relationship with my psychologist, who was no longer my psychologist. He was my lover. He was 'daddy,' basically. We went from having a fling in his office to having dinner dates. I told my parents that I was hanging out with friends. I remember them complimenting me for being so outgoing and social. I guess in a way, I was."

There was a twist the documentary was saving.

Cut to present day. A grown-up, more relaxed Whiskers got into his car and drove down the freeway. He told the cameraman seated in the passenger seat that he was on his way to a friend's place. He wasn't dressed in his infantile apparel. In fact, he was dressed in a navy-colored polo shirt, khaki shorts, socks and sneakers. A little bit of diaper was poking just barely above his shorts waistline.

Whiskers was next seen walking up two flights of stairs, with his diaper loudly rustling as he walked up; the noise seemingly ricocheted from wall to wall. Whiskers carried with him a shoulder bag, which looked fully packed. A side compartment of the shoulder bag showed a large baby bottle full of milk firmly secured and fastened.

He soon arrived at his destination, which was a door leading to an apartment. Whiskers lightly knocked on the door, looked into the camera and playfully wiggled his eyebrows while he waited for someone to answer. A combination of locks could be heard getting unlocked. The door suddenly swung open. And there was Dr. Monroe, who looked a little long in the tooth. But surprisingly, he was dressed from head to toe like a toddler: striped blue and white shirt underneath denim shortalls. Bright white socks and blue velcro sneakers. The shortalls was snugly wrapped around his stomach. There was an apparent diaper bulge, which the cameraman ostensibly decided to zoom in on. Dr. Monroe cleared his throat and waved to the camera.

"Both my parents are long gone, so they don't have much of a say now, obviously," Dr. Monroe quipped as he revealed his new self to the world. "This is who I am. You can call me Sammy."

Cut back to Whiskers being interviewed at his home. "We dated for about a year before we broke up," he revealed. "But the funny thing is the breakup wasn't acrimonious whatsoever. I mean, once in a while, we still have fun. He decided, at one point, that he was more comfortable being a 'baby' than a 'daddy.' I respected that, but it wasn't compatible with what I wanted in a relationship. Not the end of the world."

At Sammy's apartment, the walrus waddled around the place and gave a tour. On his wall, he had frames of his college diploma, career achievement plaques and photos of him in various stages of his life. In one photo, he appeared to be in his early twenties. He was thin, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, posing in front of a motorcycle he ended up wrecking a month after the photo was taken. He looked like a rebellious young lad. The photo served as a visual juxtaposition with all the building blocks scattered on his living room floor. Coloring books were mixed in with his medical and psychology books on a nearby bookshelf.

He took the cameraman to his bedroom, which was turned into a baby's room. There was a large crib that was custom-built for his size. Each corner of his crib was covered in plush animals and toys. Underneath his crib were shelves, which were already opened. Folded thick diapers of various colors and patterns were neatly packed in one shelf. Another shelf contained baby powder, wipes and underpads that were used to line his crib at night.

"Whiskers showed me that age regression was possible," Sammy said. He looked over to Whiskers, who was standing in the doorway, and waved him in. "And there was something I was personally grappling with that I didn't share with anyone, not even Whiskers at the time."

Sammy struggled with incontinence. When he started getting older, he noticed he had trouble resisting the urge to pee. Sometimes, when he tried to "hold it," he would wet himself. At first, he was embarrassed by these accidents, which happened a couple of times every month. Not often. But when it happened, it was usually a surprise. But what was more surprising was how he felt when those accidents happened.

"I'd have an accident, whether I was having a jog, at work or home, and I kept thinking, 'Boy, I wonder if anyone noticed that I pissed my pants. What would they say? What would they do to me?'," Sammy said. "I was pondering these questions but had no answers because, well, nobody noticed. There was a part of me that wished they bothered to notice. And being a psychologist, I was trying to unpack these thoughts and wonder why I was having them. Was this some sort of coping mechanism for incontinence?

"One year after I was developing these strange fantasies, I came across Whiskers. When he showed up to my office dressing the way I'm dressed now, my mind went completely blank. That moment was an inflection point for me. Everything I thought about and fantasized about converged at one point. He taught me something that day. Being a 'baby' was a choice an adult can do. In that context, my somewhat muted reaction to incontinence made sense. So when I wondered about things like, 'What would people say?' if they saw me, they would think I was a baby, probably wearing diapers and I likely need a change. It took me a year to conceptualize that. And Whiskers was supportive."

"This was Dr. Monroe -- I mean, Sammy's 'coming out,' so to speak," Whiskers said. "He went from being this straight-laced, consummate professional who was obsessed with perfection to embracing imperfection as a 'baby' and allowing himself to be cared for. What a transformation!"

Whiskers was a witness to Sammy's transformation. He was able to have a front row seat, and watch his former psychologist and mentor explore a side of himself he didn't know existed. He was able to bear witness because of trouble afoot at home.

"More and more, I was spending time away from home," Whiskers said. "I was out seeing Sammy, but I told my parents that I was hanging out with friends, going out to dinner and a movie or I was needing some space. They were like, 'Oh cool. Have fun!' But what I didn't know was they were suspicious. Now why or how did their introverted son become a social butterfly? Why did he swap out his usual wardrobe with colorful clothes? One day, I left my phone at home. Mom found it on the top of my dresser. She swiped on the screen, managed to unlock my phone, come across my photo gallery. There were tons of photos of me looking a little different than she was accustomed to seeing, let's put it that way. These were photos I sent to Sammy. I came home later that day and my parents confront me. 'Oh my God! You're gay! You're a deviant, a pervert and crazy. Pack your bags and leave in the morning!' The money they saved for my college tuition was no longer accessible. I was in tears, packing whatever I could while crying my eyes out, and left before nightfall. I didn't feel comfortable sleeping at home. They were so upset with me that I was concerned they would snuff me out with a pillow in my sleep."

"He drove to my place, with tears rolling down his eyes," Sammy said. "He asked if he could crash on my couch, told me his story, and I said, 'Of course.' I was more than happy to accommodate someone who revealed enough about themselves to inspire me to explore who I am. I owed him a debt of gratitude.

"But by that point, our relationship was rocky," Whiskers said. "I was obviously not in the mood to fool around. But he was peppering me with questions. What if I wore diapers? What if I was the baby? Would you be okay with that? I remember going, 'Sure. Knock yourself out' and just tuned out. I was coherent enough to show him the websites I went to and visited to buy what he wanted. He picked out the diapers and the clothes. And when the packages showed up at his doorstep, he was so cute. He was paralyzed."

"I didn't know what to do," Sammy interjected. "I was starting to ask myself: What have I done? But Whiskers didn't blink. He took out a utility knife, cut the boxes open and showed off what was inside like it was Christmas. And he was so encouraging that my heart filled up with warmth."

"So did your diaper," Whiskers joked.

Sammy playfully swatted him away. "Smart-ass."

Whiskers reflected on his experience with Sammy in a separate interview. "Seeing him blossom this way was a great distraction from my situation with my parents. There was no contact between us. I didn't feel like reaching out to them. They didn't reach out to me. I decided to take a job in the city just so I wasn't living rent-free. Then I went to community college with lower tuition costs. My plan was to complete my undergrad studies in community college, pave my way for graduate studies at Paws Angeles College and apply for a scholarship to cover most of my expenses. Though Sammy was on his way to becoming a 'big baby,' he continued to be like a father figure to me -- like the dad I wished I had. Because of that support, I was able to maintain good grades, earn the scholarship and achieve an alternative pathway to a college degree."

Back at Sammy's apartment, Whiskers patted his former boyfriend on the back. "I have this fella to thank for getting me back on my feet."

"You can thank me with a change I'll need... kinda soon," Sammy sheepishly said. He whispered something into Whiskers' ear.

Whiskers asked the cameraman to step outside into the hallway. "Just need a little privacy," he whispered to the cameraman. The cameraman immediately complied. "Thanks!"

The bedroom door was shut.

When the cameras stopped rolling, the two stood together in the middle of Sammy's bedroom.

"Did you wet or --"

"No. The other thing. I'm about to go."

"Alright. Fill your diaper for me, champ."

Whiskers looked on as the walrus got into position. He bent his legs, squatted down close to the floor and began sucking on his thumb.

"Sounds like someone got a little too excited from all the cameras and attention," Whiskers teased.

"Mm-hmm."

By this point, Sammy had worn diapers twenty four-seven for four years and never looked back. It took some time for him to go from pulsating tension and dealing with a shy bladder to quiet, empty-headed surrender. He stared at the closed door as he felt piss gushing out of him. He never got tired of his diaper getting heavy during one of his 'accidents.' And Whiskers patted Sammy's head as he did his dirty deed. He called him a "good boy" for using his diapers for their intended purpose. Sammy thrived on praise. It was affirmation. And when he messed himself, Sammy didn't have to push. He lost control of his bowel movements enough to not 'force' anything to happen. When the urge arose, Sammy addressed it. He squeezed out some gas that Whiskers heard. This caused Whiskers to assure him. Atta boy!

He dropped an astonishingly heavy load into his diaper -- and it was heavy enough to create a small bulge in the back of his shortalls-covered seat. Messes were never easy to clean up. But to Sammy, every mess was an accomplishment. And once the odor made its way to his sensitive nostrils, he was able to affirm the circumstances he personally allowed himself to be in. Being in a full diaper put him in a submissively delightful state. There was a growing need to be changed and only Whiskers could change him. He was a baby, after all. He couldn't possibly change himself. And because he was such an infant for loading his diapers so effortlessly that it could only mean one thing: Sammy had to wear diapers. He had to be a baby and there was no looking back.

Whiskers changed Sammy in his crib. He lowered the crib bars facing the door, helped Sammy onto the bed and went through the smelly process. He wouldn't change anyone else's messy diaper. Whiskers grew accustomed to his former partner's scent. That didn't stop him from praising Sammy for loading his diaper to full capacity.

"You must be feeling better, kiddo!" Whiskers said.

"I am. Thank you, sir."

"It's weird to refer to my therapist as a 'kiddo'," Whiskers said laughing. "I can't get used to it."

"Just go with it."

"Yes, sir. Kiddo!"

When the cameraman was invited back into the bedroom, Sammy was changed, but he was still lying comfortably in his crib. The camera wandered over to him. Whiskers fetched him his laptop, handed it to him from over the crib bars and he started working on it. He adjusted his backrest and sat upright in his crib. Despite appearances, Sammy continued to work as a psychologist. But by then, he was semi-retired and spent most of his time conducting telehealth sessions with patients: a convenient and easy way to continue making money. He was contracted to provide therapy to patients through a phone app called ProudMind. He put on his eyeglasses. And for the next thirty minutes, he was Dr. Monroe. The camera on his laptop was trained on his face and not what he was wearing down below. Sammy waved his hand dismissively to Whiskers and the cameraman.

"He's speaking with a patient now," Whiskers told the cameraman. "So let's head back into the living room."

The cameraman could finally be heard speaking to Whiskers, who was seated on Sammy's couch. "So what ended up happening after you graduated from college?"

"I started dating again after I found a place. Had a job that paid decent enough to rent an apartment. I dated someone who I connected with right away. He wasn't, you know, understanding of my interests at the time. But he was supportive. He kept saying, 'Whiskers, let me ease into it.' And I did. In all fairness, I did. He also happened to be an app developer. I kept picking his brain on what kind of apps we could collaborate on as he taught me how to design and code. This was completely unknown territory for me. But he eased me into it, right? And one day, I thought, 'What if we developed an app that connected LGBTQ people with LGBTQ-friendly therapists and helped fortify a support network? Maybe the therapists they connect with are at least kink-adjacent, so the connection is on a more personal level. Obviously, this was inspired by my sessions with Sammy.

"We developed ProudMind. Be proud of your mind. Be proud of who you are. We developed this idea, created a framework, hired a couple of therapists to start, and pitched it to psychology magazines and websites. People loved the idea. Wait, really? People are really buying into this? Um, okay. But to our pleasant surprise, we garnered thousands of subscribers within only a few months. This was a legitimate business. This was an actual thing we can build and grow and exceed our initial expectations. So we expanded our reach from local to regional to national within one year's time. I'm so excited with what we created."

Whiskers borrowed the camera from the cameraman who, until now, was hidden. Whiskers turned the camera to reveal a handsome brown weasel with eyeglasses, a black t-shirt and jeans with an golden ear stud on his right ear. "Say hi to the world!"

"I'm Jake. Co-developer of ProudMind and husband to the smelliest boy in the tri-state area."

Whiskers stuck out his tongue as he held the camera. "Cool, cool," he said sarcastically. "So rad." But the dripping sarcasm quickly turned into laughter.

Jake reached for the camera and got it back. "So why the documentary? What's the point in all of this?"

"I want people to realize -- you know, not just our subscribers but everyone out there -- that we exist; that we may be different when it comes to who we love and what brings us joy. But at the end of the day, we're all the same. We're kinky, of course we are, and I'm not shying away from that. We're not shying away from that. But the deviousness we may get into is not indicative of society crumbling apart. This is how we express ourselves, and we should be proud of the way we express ourselves. After all, we are worthy of tolerance. We are worthy of love. We are all worthy of inclusiveness."

Whiskers' impassioned speech was soon undercut by the fact that he clearly pissed his pants. He was wearing a diaper underneath, but he forgot to change in a timely manner and ended up leaking through his pants. He didn't notice at first that his pants were wet. Jake made sure to zoom in as his husband's pants was getting darker.

"You're going to have to buy the good doctor a new couch," Jake quipped.

Whiskers quickly looked down at his crotch and grimaced. Then he gave a cynical shrug. "He can buy himself a new couch. He's soaked this couch plenty before I did."

"So you don't mind then if I keep this footage of you pissing your pants on your ex-boyfriend's couch, put it in the documentary, and have millions of people on the Internet watch?"

Whiskers put his paw up to the camera. "Fine. I'll buy him a damn couch."

"And everything else you defiled in his apartment."

Jake and Whiskers shared a laugh before the scene went dark.