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“We’re here!” You jump out of the car and stretch your arms up, reaching for the azure sky. “Wow! This place is perfect.” Jogging over to the trunk, you grab your bag from Caleb’s hands. “Are you ready for our vacation to get started? ‘Cause I am! Last one through the door is a puppy!” you yell over your shoulder as you run to open the front gate.
Caleb lags behind with all your other bags. It’s almost as if he wants to be a puppy. “Hey, wait up, Pip-squeak!”
The cottage is cute, with a cozy rocking chair on the porch, colorful wildflowers dancing in the breeze, and a gravel pathway leading to the front door. The rest of the area is dominated by farmland. There’s even a plow sitting idly in the fields.
Earlier, when Caleb came home you felt the weariness in his shoulders, saw the dark circles under his eyes, and heard the roughness in his voice, so you decided it was time to execute your “Puppy Caleb” plan—to get his mind off the Fleet, EVER, and all the other responsibilities that he puts upon himself. Plus, you wanted to show him just how equally obsessed you are with him; you'll have Caleb all to yourself and you won't have to share him with anyone.
Completing the first step of your plan was easy—getting him to the cottage—the second step, well, you’re not sure how he’ll take it.
You rummage through your bag with all the puppy paraphernalia you could get a hold of, even added some kinky items. Locating the leather collar, you pull it out just as Caleb huffs into the entryway, arms full with your remaining luggage.
“That’s all of it, Pip,” he says, setting everything down into a neat pile. “Oooh, nice place you picked out.”
“Thanks!” You shake the collar in front of him. “Caleb, look at this.”
“Hmm, a dog collar?” He tilts his head to the side, already looking like a puppy. “Does the rental come with a pet?”
“Yup!” You poke his chest with a wide smile. “Last one in is a puppy, remember?”
He lets out a playful snort. “I thought you were joking!” You just stare at him, smiling, and his eyes widen. “You were being serious?”
“Yup!” You jingle the collar in front of him again.
Caleb’s fingers graze over the collar. “Pip…I, uh—Oh my goodness. You have no idea how long I've fantasized about this. Um, I have a list—just some suggestions—of things you can totally do to me. I mean, in case you want ideas or something. I'm open to anything really. I'll be happy with whatever you decide. Oh, and don’t forget to punish me. Please. I'll like that, heh.” His face is a cute shade of pink and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, still babbling with increasing embarrassment.
You stare at him in disbelief, thinking you'd have to pester him until he agreed to be your puppy, but he’s practically begging for it.
“Sorry, is this too much? I just ruined it, didn't I?” His shoulders slump.
Oops, your silence was misinterpreted for opposition. “No, not at all. You’re cute, you know that, Caleb?” You curl a finger under his chin and in a serious tone say, “Send me that list.”
“Uh, okay.” He whips out his phone, tapping and swiping. “Okay, I just sent the list. Lemme check some work emails real quick.”
You pluck the phone from his hands. “Nuh-uh. No work allowed. If we do this, your only responsibility is to please your owner. That’s me. You won’t need to issue commands like you do at work, you’ll only need to follow mine.” Looking back at his phone, you swipe between apps and skim through his puppy list. Wow. It’s crazy how aligned you and Caleb are, even your kinks are in sync. Smiling, you bring your hands up to his face, one dangling his phone and the other shaking the collar. “So… it’s your choice. If you’re still willing to be my puppy, kneel in front of me now.”
Caleb smirks and kneels at your feet, touching the collar with reverence. He didn't even hesitate. “Colonel, I’m yours to command.”
“Sooo, you’re good with everything on that list, right?” Your heart pounds, excited to receive his gift of submission built through years of being together and growing up together. You know each other so well.
“Yes,” he nods.
At his confirmation, you throw his phone into your bag, then tip his head back with a gentle finger. His gaze never leaves yours as you wrap the leather dog collar around his neck, admiring his Adam’s apple, but you don’t cinch it closed just yet. “When you wear this collar, you’re my puppy, Caleb. I expect loyalty and obedience from you. Do you still accept these terms?”
“Yes.” His purple eyes sparkle with commitment.
“I will reward you for good behavior and I will discipline you when you misbehave. Do you still want this?”
“Yes. Please, Pip. I’ll be good for you.”
“Oh, I know you will.” You buckle the collar snug around his throat then hook a finger under it and pull, already testing your control over him. He lurches forward and you nudge him back with your hand against his throat, a pleased smile on your lips. “The collar looks real good on you, Caleb. But, you’re missing something.”
Bending to your bag, you consider giving him puppy ears but you want to ruffle his hair. Like a lot. Instead, you extract leather mitts, picking up his mech hand and caressing it, preparing him for what's to come.
Bondage has always been a gray area for Caleb. You know he loves giving over control to you but it's often a patient process of submission. He’s always been the one to take care of you and incapacitating him this way is surely nerve-wracking for him, even if he can escape at any time, even if the puppy mitts are on his wishlist of “Things to do to me.”
You watch him carefully, balling his metal hand into a fist and easing it into the mitt with intentional slowness. “Puppies don’t have hands, they have paws. Right?”
“Uh, r-right,” he stammers. “But how can I serve you if my hands are like this?”
You buckle his mech hand into the mitt. “My puppy will only have simple tasks and can use his mouth. Can my puppy handle that?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good boy.” You pull the mitt over Caleb’s other hand, securing the clasp and effectively removing the use of his fingers. “My puppy will rely on me to help him with whatever he needs. So I want him to ask if he needs anything. Does my puppy understand?”
He nods after taking a breath. “Yes.”
“Good boy. One more thing…” You rummage through your bag once again and pull out a dog leash, it’s chain clinking as you extract it from your bag. With your other hand, you tug on his collar until he’s close enough for you to clip the leash to him. Sitting back, you admire all the chains around his neck, including the silver necklace that he always wears—proof that he's been collared and leashed by you for years already. The dog collar and leash are just a formality at this point.
For a quick test, you yank hard on his leash and he tumbles forward with a grunt of surprise, padded mitts falling to his sides uselessly. His height now level with yours, you give him a gentle kiss on the lips.
“You’re officially my pet puppy, Caleb. Who’s gonna be a good boy for me?”
“Me. Caleb. Your puppy.” He nuzzles against your chest.
Giggling, you ruffle his hair the same way he always did to you. This role reversal feels good, where he’s trusting you to take care of him and you hope it'll get his mind off all the other duties rattling in his noggin.
“Come, Caleb.” Pulling the leash, you lead him to the other room and he follows behind you, already an obedient puppy.
The living room has a large open floor plan, perfect for what you have in mind next.
“Caleb, sit.” You point to the floor in front of your couch and he folds his legs criss-cross applesauce. A delighted smile spreads across your face, glad he’s settling into his new role. “Good boy. Are you ready for your first lesson?”
“Yes, Master! Uh, is it okay if I call you that? It feels right.”
“Yes, you may. Now, I want you to fetch my slippers—”
Immediately, Caleb jumps up and jogs to your bag. Did he even realize that he yanked his leash from your fingers? Oblivious, he continues searching your bag until he locates your fluffy slippers and runs back over to drop them to your feet. “Here you go,” he says with a proud smile.
You hum. “I admire your enthusiasm, Caleb, but you should wait until I’m done speaking before you follow my orders.” Picking up the slippers, you use them to gently bop him on the head, causing him to flinch. “Or you’ll do them incorrectly.” With a flick of your arm, you throw the slippers across the room and his head swivels to follow them.
“Eyes on me, Caleb.” You grab his chin towards you and his beautiful purple eyes gaze into yours with adoration. “As I was saying, fetch my slippers, and as my puppy, you will do so on your hands and knees.” Then you pick up his dangling leash and tug it hard until his chest bumps against your knee. Raising your foot, you press it against his shoulder—his mech one so it doesn’t hurt. “And never pull against your leash like you just did. It’s disrespectful. Were you trying to disrespect me, pet?”
“No, sorry, Master. I won’t do that again.” His chest is heaving and you know he’ll try his best to obey you. Your smile widens as you observe the bulge tenting his pants. He likes this, so you give him more by digging your heel into his shoulder, like you're cleaning a spot of dirt.
“Good. Now please, fetch my slippers. And use your mouth, not your paws, like a proper puppy.” You release his leash and watch your handsome man crawl on his hands and knees. It’s a lovely sight—your powerful boyfriend on his hands and knees. For you.
“That's it. Keep going, boy,” you praise.
It’s amusing watching him struggle to get the slippers into a good position for him to bite them. His nose only pushes them further away until he adds his paws to finally capture them. Slippers secured, he comes crawling back and he’s so damn adorable with your fluffy pink slippers stuffed in his mouth. Some of his hair fell over his eyes so you brush it aside and his devoted gaze lands on you.
“Thank you, Caleb.” You trail your foot down his abs and gently tap his erect penis, making him shudder with pleasure. Taking the slippers from between his lips, you give him a soft kiss. “Do you like being my pet?”
“Yeah. I like it, Pip.” His voice is rough and his face is flushed.
You tap his cock again and rest your foot on it. “If you continue to behave, then I’ll let this big boy out to play. It might not be today, but at some point during our vacation, at my choosing. Would you like that, my puppy?”
He thrusts into your foot with a suppressed groan. “Yes, please.”
He's still panting when you lift your foot. Ahh, he’s so needy and submissive. You like leaving him his way. Reaching into your pocket, you open a bag of apple slices.
“Since you were a good boy and fetched my slippers like I asked, I’ll give you a treat. Say ahhh, Caleb.”
His puppy eyes gaze up at you and he obediently opens his mouth, allowing you to place an apple slice on his tongue.
As he chews, eyes still glued to yours, you pet his hair, combing it off his forehead. “Every time we come home, I’d like you to present me with my slippers like this. Can my puppy do that for me?”
“Yes, Master.” He smiles, flashing his canines cutely. “Woof!”
You giggle, even his barks are cute. “You’re such a good boy!” After some chin scratches, you gently tug his leash. “Come on. Let’s get some dinner now.”
Caleb’s always fantasized about being your puppy and now that it’s happening, he wishes he mentioned it to you sooner.
When you wrapped the collar around his neck and cinched it closed, it felt like he belonged to you, like he was chosen and desired by you, and it gave him a sense of peace. For the first time, the Fleet, EVER, and all the other threats, they all just… disappeared.
Then you slid his hands into these doggy gloves that take away his dexterity. He really doesn’t like them—it makes him feel helpless and unable to serve you as he desires—but your desires trump his and he’ll endure these gloves for you. He’s a willing submissive gifting his agency and autonomy to you. To please you.
When you asked him to fetch your slippers, it was so easy for him to crawl on his hands and knees as you ordered; he’ll fetch anything if it means your smile and your headpats and your praise.
Command me, please. Let me serve you, please. I exist only for you.
Caleb waits patiently in the kitchen—sitting at your feet where he belongs—hoping for more of your affection and attention. His leash is attached to your waist, like you're from the same source, and he likes being tethered to you. This way, he knows you won't be going anywhere. And if you do, he's going with you.
A pet should always be by his master's side.
You open the cooler, glad you packed dinner since the fridge here didn't come stocked. You'll have to go to the store tomorrow, leaving Caleb home alone, which makes you nervous. But you'll deal with tomorrow's problems, tomorrow.
Caleb’s sitting on the floor by your side and you give him a headpat, appreciating all the effort he’s put into being your adorable little puppy.
“Hi, Caleb. I'm going to make dinner now,” you say, squishing his cheeks.
He hauls his massive body up, setting his paws and chin cutely on the counter. “Oh! Can I help, please? What do you want, Pip? Braised chicken wings or something else?”
“Caleb. Do you have hands?” you tease, tapping his mitts. “Nooo, you don’t! You have paws. So be a good boy and wait. Let me take care of you. Okay? Okay.”
He pouts and leans back. “Fiiine.”
It's rare to see Caleb pouty and it's so precious. You pause, taking a second to treasure this moment and ruffle his hair with a fond smile.
Focusing back on dinner like a responsible adult, you start portioning the chopped carrots and mashed potatoes, cubed steak and gravy into two bowls. The cilantro you set aside for yourself, knowing Caleb hates it, when all of a sudden the bowl is smacked out of your hand and flips onto the counter with a loud clatter.
“Caleb! What are you doing!?” You whirl to face him.
“No cilantro!” he barks.
“Ugh, you can’t whack things you don’t like, Caleb. I thought you were a good boy! What do you have to say for yourself?!” You clutch his chin, waiting to be enlightened.
“Hi,” he says simply.
“Hi?! That's all you have to say? Are you trying to test me?”
You gather up the cilantro into your palm and tilt his head back. His neck strains from the steep angle, but his eyes look at you like he's worshipping you. And that's when you suspect he did this on purpose. You’re not sure whether you should be angry or amused, but you’ll play the part of the stern owner and discipline him.
“Since you like cilantro so much, behave and open your mouth. This is your punishment, Caleb.”
He shakes his head with a grimace but you grasp him firmly until his jaws open wide, his sharp canines poking his lip. You pour the cilantro into his mouth.
“Blegh.” His face scrunches, trying to turn away.
“Hold still, Caleb. Stop struggling.” You grip his jaw until all the cilantro is stuffed inside, using your thumb to make sure it stays when you clench his jaw shut. “We don't waste food in his household. Now chew and swallow.” You move your hand down to rest on his throat as a stern reminder that you’re watching him. His Adam’s apple feels good against your palm, rising and falling as he consumes the vegetable.
“Show me,” you command.
He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, wiggling it about. He’s being cute but you keep a straight face as you inspect him, tilting his chin left and right to check inside. The scrutiny makes his cheeks turn a lovely pink.
Satisfied, you push him back and clamp his mouth shut. “Good. You passed.” Grabbing his leash from your waist, you pull it down until he's on his hands and knees once again. “Come, boy.”
He looks up at you with concern. “Are we going for a walk? But you haven’t eaten your dinner yet, Pip.”
“No, you're going for a timeout in your cage,” you say, striding into the other room with him in tow. “That was bad behavior, Caleb. I want you to think about what you did while you're in there.”
His eyes widen as you unhook his leash from his collar, severing your physical connection to him. It feels wrong, like breaking the string of a kite—one lost without the other—but you need to discipline Caleb. You nudge him into the crate and he paws at your ankle.
“Wait please, Master, don't leave me. I’m sorry. I won't do it again. Please, let me stay by your side.”
His big puppy eyes test your resolve until you slip a blindfold over them. “Here,” you say, trying your best to ignore his protests. “This should help you reflect on what you've done.” The reality is you covered his insanely beautiful eyes so you’re no longer entranced by them and can continue doling out his punishment.
He tilts his head around, checking his visibility. “Wait, I can’t even see you now. Pip?”
God, even his voice is enchanting. You consider gagging him too, but you won’t. Not today, at least. His begging is too sweet. “You need to think about what you've done, Caleb. In you go now.”
He continues muttering apologies as you close the crate door. You look back at him and appreciate how submissive he looks—blindfolded, gloved, and hunched on his hands and knees in the tiny crate. He can’t even sit up straight without his back bumping into the bars. At times, it’s hard to believe that he does this for you. It’s scary even, with how much power you have over him. If you wanted, you could control gravity or the Fleet. And all of it makes you cherish him more that he chooses to give you this authority to command him.
Back at the kitchen, you eat your dinner, giving him time to reflect and giving you a chance to double-check his “Things to do to me” wishlist. It makes you smile. You never knew Caleb was into this stuff and it's sexy as hell having him obey your every command, knowing he does it all for you. Your only regret is not asking him to be your puppy sooner.
Once you finish your dinner, you return to Caleb’s side, not wanting to be apart from him any more than he does. “Are you ready to behave now, my pet?”
His head swivels to the sound of your voice, blind eyes searching. “Yes. I’m really sorry, Master. I’ll be good. I promise.” When you open the crate door, his bound paws seek you out and his head nuzzles against your leg with affection. It’s endearing how much he craves your physical touch.
“Miss me already? It's only been a couple of minutes, Caleb.” You ruffle his hair.
“I know, but it feels like forever.”
“Maybe that’s because you need food. Come now. Follow my lead. Later, you'll tell me what you’ve learned.” Using his leash, you guide him into the kitchen, still blindfolded and gloved, until his nose touches his food bowl on the floor. “Here’s your dinner. Be a good boy and eat. I’ll be watching you.”
Caleb’s nose bumps into the bowl a couple more times as he finds a comfortable position to stay crouched on the floor. You appreciate your tall, muscular pet on all fours as he lowers his face to the bowl, bound hands wrapping around it so it can’t escape.
Even though his nose gets all messy, he’s unbothered, his tongue continuing to lap at his food. Occasionally, you hear him mutter “ugh, soap” and you’re pleased, knowing you put the remaining cilantro into his bowl. It’s all part of his punishment and you love how he’s taking it all like a good boy and you praise him frequently.
When he's done and lifts his head up, you giggle at the gravy dripping off his nose. His tongue even darts out to try to clean it up himself, neck straining upwards to no avail.
“Ha, come here, Caleb.” You take a cloth and wipe his face, cleaning the gravy off. “Good boy, you ate everything.”
“It’s ‘cause you gave it to me,” he says with a goofy smile. You remove the blindfold and he blinks a couple times, adjusting to the light, then his eyes fixate on you with relief. “Glad to see you again, Pip. These next?” He raises his gloved hands.
“Nope. Those are to help you remember you’re my puppy and will stay on while you’re my puppy. Can you continue to wear them for me? You look very cute with them on, Caleb.”
He hums, nodding. “Yes. I can do that. And thank you for dinner. Annnd thank you for teaching me, Master,” he says nuzzling into your hand, fishing for headpats.
“Mmm, such a polite little pet. You’re very welcome.” Now that discipline is fulfilled, you plan to cuddle with Caleb for the rest of the night.
You navigate to the family room, Caleb obediently crawling behind you, maintaining the proper slack on his leash like a good boy.
With a contented sigh, you plop onto the couch. Being a pet owner and training him and making all the decisions is more tiring than you thought! You rest for a bit and study Caleb, who's sitting tall on the floor, gazing back at you. How is he still so intense after all this? Shouldn't he be tired too?
Smirking, his head tilts to the side and his brows lift suggestively, like he could go all night, stamina in endless supply.
Well, you'll just have to exercise him all day tomorrow. Tonight, you want cuddles. Patting the couch, you call him over, “Caleb! Come!”
His eyes light up as he crawls over to you and jumps up on the couch, exposing his belly. He lays his head in your lap, his bound paws wrapping around your waist possessively. It's nice having him snuggled against you. His big, warm body gives you comfort. You admit that being his owner may be tiring at times, but the rewards far outshine it.
You’re both silent for a while, enjoying this quiet moment between you two, until you decide it's time to bring up his odd behavior at dinner.
“Caleb, what happened with the cilantro? You've been a really good boy otherwise.”
He holds you tighter and his voice is muffled from your sweater. “I'm sorry. It felt… wrong to just sit there, waiting and watching you do all the work. I’ve always been the one to make you dinner and take care of you. So I kinda sabotaged it, heh, curious what you’d do. Buuut, then I was left alone in the cage and regretted provoking you.” He sits up, prim and proper. “Sorry. I'll be a good boy. I know it's not about my wants but yours. If you like… you can be rougher with my punishments. I like doing things for you, even if they’re hard.” He nudges at your hand in apology.
Your fingers curl through his hair and he rubs into your hand with affection. “Caleb, you’re not supposed to like your punishments.”
He snorts. “Says who? I like anything you give me. As long as you’re by my side.”
You tap his nose, amused. “You’re impossible, Caleb. How am I supposed to punish you if you like everything I give you?”
He only chuckles and snuggles deeper into you.
“Sooo, is there anything else about today you wanna to share?” This is the first time you and Caleb have done this kind of play, you want to know if you're fulfilling his puppy wishlist to his satisfaction.
He sits up again, gazing at you with nervousness. “Uh, there is one other thing I learned during the cilantro incident. Can I be more of your service dog than your puppy? Or your guard dog? Puppies feel so… useless.”
You poke his cheek, letting out a soft laugh. “Oh Caleb, you still can’t let go and relax, huh? It must be ingrained so deep into your bones, into every fiber of your being. Okay then, since my puppy is all grown up, you can be both my fierce protector and my loyal servant. I’ll even let you hold the bowl during dinner next time. But I'm still gonna call you puppy whenever I feel like it.”
“Haha, okay. Thanks.” He tucks his chin into your palm with a contented hum. “It’s fulfilling, you know, serving you. You’re the reason I exist.” He pauses, taking a steady breath. “I love you, Pip. I'll do anything for you.”
Your cheeks warm at his heartfelt declaration. “I know, Caleb. And I, uh… I…” Yet you struggle to say those 3 words you’ve always wanted to say back to him. “...I'll do anything for you too! Let’s watch a movie now!”
You turn away from him and grab the remote, hiding your burning face as you search for a movie to watch.
I love you too, Caleb.
Caleb knew you wouldn’t say the words back; you always did have a hard time expressing your true feelings. But that’s okay because your love for him shows through your actions. And no matter what you do or don’t do, he’ll always love you.
He lays back down onto your lap, snuggling close. Whatever movie you end up watching, he doesn’t care, all he’s focused on is feeling your warmth against him as you pet his hair and rub his back in soothing strokes. See? This is how you draw him in every time and make him feel honored and loved and he wants to lay in your arms forever.
When your movement slows and eventually stops, he peeks up at you—your eyes are closed and your breathing is steady. He smiles. You usually fall asleep during movies and today is no different. So he does what he always does: he scoops you into his arms. It’s a bit difficult being stuck in these doggy gloves and not allowed to use his Evol, but after strategically placing his hands, his precious bundle of love is tucked against his chest, safely held in his arms.
If you saw him now, you’d scold him for standing, even if it’s to carry you. “You're only allowed to walk on your hands and knees, Caleb,” you'd say. He chuckles to himself. You always were one to tease him in impossible ways. Well, you’ll just have to punish him tomorrow.
Before leaving the couch, he spots the end of his leash and kicks it up to catch between his teeth, preventing it from dragging on the floor like a lost dog. He knows who he belongs to. It's branded on his heart—irrefutable, unassailable, impossible to ignore.
Caleb pads to the master bedroom, dominated by a large bed with lush rugs surrounding it, and lays you gently on the duvet. He does his best to tuck you in, it's a bit of a struggle with his bound hands, yet he knows you’d be proud of his efforts.
He’s still trying to get used to the gloves on his hands and the feeling of helplessness and how they prevent him from feeling your skin, but you like him wearing them so he’ll endure it. He steals a kiss instead. Your lips are warm and soft and he’s greedy and wants more, but he’s a good boy and pulls away, not wanting to wake you.
Kneeling by your bedside, Caleb places his leash into your palm. That way, you’ll know he never left your side. With everything in its proper place, he settles on the floor, laying his body between you and the door to the bedroom.
Your loyal guard dog.
You wake with a jolt and everything is unfamiliar. You’re on a bed? Wha? Didn’t you fall asleep on the couch next to Caleb? And where is he anyway? Glancing over, his leash is in your hand and you follow it, tossing the blankets aside to nearly trip over him on the floor. He raises his head up and looks at you, calm but alert.
Wait, the floor? If he’s here, then he must have carried you to bed and then slept on the floor? And he’s still wearing all his gear—collar, leash, mitts—he’s really embracing his puppy side. You’re so proud of him.
You crouch down and give him a fierce hug, squeezing him tightly along his ribs. Caleb's arms lift to engulf you and surround you with warmth and protection. It’s the best feeling in the world. You pull away only because you have words to say to him.
“Caleb, I didn’t mean for you to sleep on the floor! This better not be about the cilantro again. You don’t need to punish yourself. I did that already.”
He shrugs, shaking his head. “As your dog, isn’t this my place?”
“Arrgh! You’re such a good boy! You know that? No more sleeping on the floor,” you say, squeezing him again. “And thank you for bringing me to bed. You keep doing things like this and I’m just gonna keep you as my precious puppy forever.”
He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your scent. His nose traces the shell of your ear and he asks in a husky voice, “Is that a promise, Pip?”
You freeze. Oh god. This man always manages to make your stomach do flips with that scratchy morning voice of his. But why does it feel like he’s topping from the bottom? You’re supposed to be the one commanding him. Right? You tug on his collar, exerting your dominance.
“Forever is a long time, Caleb. Let’s see if you’re still asking for it when I make you work for me”—you boop his nose—“like the dog that you are.”
Caleb just smirks in a silent challenge and you can’t wait to play with him more in the days to come.