How to Train Your Puppy | Chapter 6 [Comm]

Chapter Six

“Walkies”

Sunlight.

It filtered in gently through the tall nursery windows, casting soft stripes of gold across the bars of the crib. Dust motes danced in the air above Nuba’s head like lazy fireflies, swirling in slow spirals to the rhythm of the lullaby that still looped quietly from the hidden speakers overhead.

A touch.

Firm, broad, unmistakable. A large hand rested against the side of Nuba’s face, stroking once down the curve of his cheek with a warmth that seemed to reach all the way through the haze of sleep to tug him upward.

“Rise and shine, pup.”

The voice was low, calm, and almost amused—its cadence unmistakable. Nuba stirred, eyes fluttering open to see the familiar shadow of Duncan’s wide shoulders leaning over the crib, arms crossed, lips pulled into a smirk.

“Mmmf…”

The pacifier still in his mouth muffled his response. He blinked slowly, feeling his body register the faint stiffness of a long nap, the crinkling bulk still wrapped around his hips like a second skin, and the soft plush all around him. The scent of baby powder clung to the air, now mixed faintly with the smell of early afternoon sun through wood and carpet.

Duncan reached down, unclipping the front rail of the crib. It swung open with a low clack and a practiced efficiency. Nuba lay still, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes as Duncan reached between his thighs and gave his diaper an unceremonious squeeze.

The rottie tensed.

The rhino didn’t say a word about the state of it—just nodded faintly, as though checking a task off a list.

“Still dry. I’m surprised.”

Nuba flushed beneath his fur. That casual remark hit like a pat on the head and a scolding rolled into one.

He did not get time to linger on it. Duncan was already reaching for something behind the crib. A bundle of straps, thick, padded nylon with gleaming silver buckles and rings.

Nuba’s stomach flipped.

The harness.

Before he could form a sound or protest, Duncan was lifting him with ease, setting him on the floor beside the crib with a heavy crunch of crinkling plastic. Nuba's legs wobbled slightly as the bulk between them forced him to keep a wide stance. His tail swayed with instinctive uncertainty.

The rhino began to buckle the harness onto him without a word.

Chest strap. Belly band. Rear cinch. All tight, firm, immovable.

With each tug, Nuba felt the familiar web tighten around his torso, pressing the thick diaper into him and forcing his back into a submissive arch. His mittens were locked to the front D-ring as before, pulling his arms in just enough to make proper crawling the most natural choice.

Then came the leash.

It clipped on with a sharp click at the front of his collar, dangling between his chest and the floor.

Only then did Duncan finally speak again.

“Outside.”

Nuba blinked.

His ears perked, then flattened.

Wait… What?

The question bubbled behind the pacifier, but he didn’t dare pull it from his mouth. Not with Duncan staring at him like that, like this was the most ordinary, unremarkable thing in the world.

Duncan turned, leash held loosely in one hand.

With a tug, he walked.

And Nuba followed.

He crawled awkwardly at first. The diaper forced a rocking sway to his hips, and the mittens muffled each pawstep into a soft, almost adorable fwump. The harness rubbed at his fur with every shift of motion, snug and unyielding. Each movement reinforced his role.

Pet. Puppy. Property.

Through the hallway they went, past the kitchen where he'd been fed like a toddler, and toward the front door.

Nuba’s eyes widened further.

He was actually going outside.

Panic fluttered in his chest. Surely Duncan didn’t mean the sidewalk. Someone could see. Neighbors. Strangers. Cars. Civilization.

But the rhino said nothing. He opened the door.

Warm sunlight spilled in, golden and rich, and the crisp scent of suburban spring followed behind it. Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped. A lawnmower buzzed lazily. A dog barked.

The leash tugged again.

Nuba stepped forward, each padded paw tapping down against the wooden porch as he was led outside like an actual housepet. The concrete was cool beneath his knees. The air fresh. The sensation of open sky above his head… surreal.

The gate to the backyard.

That’s where Duncan led him.

He clicked it shut behind them with a flick of his wrist.

The space was private, tall fencing and thick hedges enclosing a small but beautifully kept lawn. Lush grass brushed against Nuba’s bare knees, and a few toys littered the yard, oversized plush bones, a water bowl, even a small plastic kiddie pool off to one side.

Duncan stopped at the center of the yard, standing tall while Nuba panted softly below him, heart still racing.

“You’re going to learn how to walk properly,” the rhino said evenly, reaching down and giving a tap to Nuba’s diapered rear.

“Tail up. Head forward. No dragging your butt like you’re a sulky mutt.”

Nuba whined behind the pacifier.

Duncan tugged the leash, guiding him into a slow lap around the perimeter.

It was humiliating. And hot. And humiliating again.

Each step sank slightly into the grass, the diaper squishing and puffing with each crawl. His face burned, knowing that somewhere nearby, maybe even just over the fence, someone could be watching.

But Duncan acted like there was nothing strange about any of it. No mockery. No teasing. Just calm, methodical dominance.

Another tug.

Nuba adjusted his crawl.

Head up. Tail out. Hips swaying gently with the rhythm Duncan set.

A good boy.

The rhino occasionally rewarded him with a head pat, or a murmured, “That’s it,” as they walked. And with each lap, Nuba felt the fight drain just a little more out of him.

He was being walked.

And yet he’d never felt more grounded in his role.

By the third lap, he wasn’t crawling. He was padding. Moving not with shame, but obedience. His eyes were half-lidded, his tongue pressed to the pacifier rhythmically, his tail wagging slightly despite itself.

He didn’t know what Duncan had planned next.

But in that moment, under the afternoon sun and tethered to the hand of a man who treated him like he belonged to him…

Nuba didn’t care.

The sun was warm on Nuba’s fur, the breeze tugging gently at his ears as he followed Duncan around the fenced yard on all fours. It was peaceful, if deeply bizarre. But the leash tugged every now and then like punctuation marks, keeping his mind grounded. Each step reminded him of his place. Each crinkle of his diaper confirmed it.

Then came the moment he hadn’t expected.

The backyard gate creaked open.

Duncan turned his head slightly, nodding once toward the tall figure stepping into the yard. Nuba froze mid-crawl, eyes wide.

A stranger.

Or as he soon found out, an acquaintance of Duncan’s.

The new arrival was a tall wusky, clearly mixed heritage, with dusky husky fluff along his neck and the leaner, athletic frame of a wolf. His eyes were a sharp sky blue, his tank top snug around a swimmer’s physique. He carried a gym bag slung over one shoulder and was already smirking when he spotted Duncan and the diapered pup at his heels.

“Afternoon,” the wusky drawled, casually sauntering into the lawn like this was the most natural sight in the world. “Taking the new pup out for walkies?”

Nuba froze.

His ears folded back. His paws tensed in the mittens. His heart pounded so loudly he swore it could be heard. His muzzle flushed, pacifier bobbing as he instinctively backed up behind Duncan’s leg, hiding like a toddler caught with his paw in the cookie jar.

Duncan didn’t miss a beat.

“Getting him used to the leash,” the rhino said casually, planting a hand on Nuba’s head and giving it a firm, possessive pat. 

“He’s coming along nicely.”

“Clearly,” the wusky chuckled, crouching down. His eyes locked onto Nuba’s, bright with amusement but not a trace of mockery. Just… interest. Curiosity.

And then, contact.

The wusky reached out and scratched behind Nuba’s ear.

“There’s a good boy,” he murmured.

Oh.

The sensation was electric.

Nuba’s whole body stiffened, and then shivered. His knees wobbled. The touch was gentle but confident, and more than that, accepting. Not just tolerating his state, but embracing it. Like this was… fine. Like he was fine. Diapered, leashed, crawling, and this stranger just treated it like greeting a neighbor’s golden retriever.

It made his head swim.

He whimpered softly, instinctively nuzzling the touch before he realized what he was doing. He flushed so hard he thought he might burn a hole through his pacifier.

The wusky chuckled again, rising to his feet. “You’ve got him well-trained.”

“Not yet,” Duncan said, giving the leash a slight tug. “But he’s getting there.”

The two continued chatting for a minute, talking about gym schedules and coaching assignments, some kind of local league meetup, but Nuba barely heard any of it. He was too busy trying to not collapse from the sheer overstimulation of being seen… acknowledged like this. It felt raw. Exposed.

And oddly good.

By the time the wusky clapped Duncan on the shoulder and waved his goodbye, Nuba was practically trembling.

He expected scolding. Maybe teasing.

Instead, Duncan just tugged the leash again.

“C’mon, pup. Let’s do the sidewalk loop.”

Nuba’s ears shot up. What?

The sidewalk? Outside the fence?

The rhino was already moving. Nuba scrambled to catch up, waddling after him, the sag of his diaper just starting to become more pronounced from the crawl-time friction. The harness kept his posture low and proper, forcing him to accept the gait of a crawling pet.

They exited the gate and stepped out into the open neighborhood.

Nobody was outside just yet, but the risk was enough to make Nuba’s fur prickle. Every passing breeze, every distant dog bark felt sharper. He padded forward on trembling paws, the leash tugging him closer to Duncan’s side.

And then they stopped.

In front of a fire hydrant.

Duncan turned, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’ve been out long enough. Go ahead, pup. Relieve yourself.”

Nuba blinked.

No.

Surely not that.

The rhino tilted his head. 

“C’mon. That’s what pups do. Do I have to teach you how to lift your leg?”

Nuba let out a soft whimper. His ears burned. But the look on Duncan’s face wasn’t cruel. It was expectant. Neutral. Like this wasn’t punishment.

Just a command.

“Up,” Duncan said.

Nuba hesitated a moment longer… and then shifted. Awkwardly, trembling, he adjusted his posture to one side, propping a mittened paw against the hydrant for balance and slowly lifting one leg up.

The exposed, humiliating pose of it made him want to melt. There he was, a brainwashed mutt, diaper puffed, tail curled, leg in the air.

“Good boy.”

The words hit him like a jolt of heat in his chest.

He tried to relax.

He really tried.

It took nearly a minute, his brain fighting him the whole way, but finally, warmth began to spread.

Slowly at first.

Then in a sudden flood.

The diaper puffed with sudden weight, swelling between his thighs as the torrent of urine soaked into the padding. A low, audible hiss accompanied the stream, and Nuba moaned into his pacifier as his cheeks went red-hot.

He was wetting himself.

Outside.

Next to a fire hydrant.

On command.

And it felt…

It felt right.

The flood slowed to a trickle, and then stopped. He stood there, trembling slightly, the heat of his accident wrapping around his groin and rear. The diaper had ballooned, now sagging between his thighs with a damp squish.

“Good boy,” Duncan repeated, pride edging into his tone.

He gave Nuba’s rump a firm, audible pat, squelch, and then turned.

“Let’s go home.”

The walk back was slower. Nuba waddled now, his gait exaggerated by the saturated bulk dragging against him. Every step was a squish, a sway, a reminder of just what he’d done.

By the time they returned through the gate, Nuba could barely keep his head up. His whole body buzzed—legs tired, back sore, mind spinning.

But more than that?

He felt proud.

Humiliated.

Obedient.

Owned.

Duncan clipped the leash free once they were inside, scooping the exhausted rottie into his arms like a sleepy toddler.

“You did good today.”

Nuba’s tail gave the faintest wag, even as his pacifier bobbed lazily between suckles.

He had obeyed.

He had submitted.

And something inside him knew…

He was going to do it again.