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With the diapers now in play, my puppy training plan could truly begin. I decided to give them a bit of time to adjust to their new attire, and the routines that came with it, before introducing anything new, but the adjustment period seemed unpleasant enough for them on its own. The first thing I woke up to on Tuesday morning was a 7 AM text from Humboldt:

Hey.

Unplugging my phone and rolling back over in bed, I shot back quickly:

Lemme guess, you need something?

_ How'd you know? Lmao_

_ Lucky guess. No class til 10, so stop by whenever._

Is now okay?

I blinked twice, making sure I wasn't seeing things. Flinging the sheets off, I paced to the window clad in only a grey pair of boxer briefs, and peered down to the lawn below. Standing just before the porch steps, looking at his phone screen impatiently, I could make out the figure of a tall tan dog, clad in a plain white tee and his omnipresent grey sweatpants.

Someone's eager lol, be right down.

Stretching my paws above my head until my neck and back gave a satisfying crack, I plodded down the stairs and into the living room.

"Think you got a visitor, Mack." McConnell announced, sprawled on the couch with ESPN shouting at him on the TV, a bowl of cereal perched precariously on the front of his white briefs.

"I know it." I gave the bull a nod as I strode past him. "Any of the others come by yet?"

"Not that I've seen. Probably scared they'll get trained every time they come here."

"Well, they can either suck it up, or wait 'til practice tomorrow." I snickered. "And I'd hate to smell that."

As I opened the door, Humboldt's ears flagged, and he looked up from his phone with a relieved expression. As he stepped toward me, I detected the same clumsy waddle he walked with after each practice.

"Morning, kid." I did my best to contain any laughter.

"Morning!" His tail wagged as he entered, the telltale swish of plastic under his pants clearly audible as he came in closer.

"Shoes and clothes at the door, pup!" McConnell hollered out from the couch. As he said it, Humboldt hastily began disrobing, folding his shirt and pants into a neat pile and setting them beside his running shoes. When his pants came off, it was apparent why he'd come so early: from front to back, every single inch of his diaper's filling was thoroughly soaked a bright yellow, and the weight of it stretched against the plastic and made it sag deeply, almost halfway down to his knees. Perhaps making the trek across campus this early was part of his strategy too; with less people around to notice his cumbersome gait, he could spare himself a bit of embarrassment.

"Sheesh, Hummer." I sighed as I led him upstairs. "Heard of limiting fluids before bedtime?"

"You sound like my doctor." He snorted. "Actually, I usually do the opposite. Figure if I know I'm gonna go at night anyways, it doesn't really matter how much I drink. Better to get most of my water before bed, and have a shot at staying dry during the day."

"Might wanna rethink that plan, so long as you're in these around the clock." I suggested as we entered my room. "Drink when you're thirsty. Or else I'm gonna have to double up your last change for the day."

"Hey, I haven't leaked yet!" He exclaimed. I opened the closet to get a fresh diaper out from the pack I'd stowed, and went to the nightstand to get my changing supplies.

"Just wet?" I asked as I set the pack of rubber gloves on top of the table.

"Um..." He toyed with his gauges, eyes locked on the floor. "Yes. But I do kinda have to...y'know...go."

"Better to get it out now, than to get a clean one all messy as soon as you get it on." I tutted. "Gotta ration those four changes wisely."

"You're right. Gimme a sec." He turned to approach the bathroom door.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "Come on, I don't have all morning."

"I don't think I can...do my business with you watching!" He protested, flustered.

"Fine." I turned my head dramatically, burying my gaze in my phone screen. "Just pretend I'm not here. But that bathroom's off limits until I say otherwise."

"Jeez..." he huffed, but stood firmly in place. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he hunched a bit, bent at the knee, and sucked in a deep breath while he wrenched his eyes tightly shut. After about twenty seconds, he released his breath with a strained pant, and inhaled again.

"Let's speed it up, pup. I wanna get some breakfast in me." I stated flatly.

"I'm trying!" Again, he filled his lungs, and squatted down a bit further. Within seconds, a muffled squelching sound filled the room, and the seat of his diaper crinkled as it expanded outward. After one last push, he stood back upright, and gingerly toddled his way over to the bed with a contented sigh.

"You finished?" I smirked, pulling on a pair of gloves and unfolding the clean diaper at the edge of the bed.

"Think so." He murmured. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, and his gaze was still fixed on the carpet.

"Good. This part'll be a lot easier if you stand for it, so just stay put."

Ensuring my gloves were on tight, I peeled back the band of duct tape I'd run across the top of his diaper the night before, and then popped off the bottom tapes, making sure I kept a paw steady under his squishy seat. The front and back peeled away, and I was hit with a wave of earthy, musky scent as I carefully lowered the ruined padding to the floor.

"Jeez, pup." I chided as I examined the damage. "Lotta fiber, huh?"

"Forty grams a day." He explained. "Otherwise I get, y'know...backed up."

"Smart boy." I purred, carefully wiping the mush out of his fur and tossing the wipes into the used diaper. "And bonus points for keeping your fur trimmed short down here. Ought to tell the other big brothers to have their pups do the same, for their sakes."

"When you've been doing this as long as I have, you pick up a few tricks." He gave a faint grin.

"Well, be a good friend and share 'em with your classmates. I gotta imagine that a rash would hurt pretty bad during a game." When a wipe came back completely clean after doing a once-over of his front and back, I laid it atop the pile, rolled the diaper shut, and taped it securely closed before tossing it into a clear garbage bag. "Alright, get on up here."

As commanded, he laid beside me on the bed, and I threaded his short tail through the diaper's opening. This time, he looked down to watch as I peeled the gloves off into the bag and began to powder him.

"Did you ever have a little brother before me?" he asked.

"Nope. Everyone gets just one, and I'm the only senior who didn't pick last year." I raised an eyebrow at him. "What makes you ask?"

"Just seems like you know what you're doing, is all."

"Hmm." I pulled the wings back until the plastic was snug against his thighs, and applied the tapes. "And what makes you think that any of the other guys were put back in diapers as freshmen?"

"I guess that..."

"Don't read too deep into any of this, pup. Remember, 'everything seriously, nothing personally, all for the strength of the team.' And besides..." I lined up the top tapes perfectly, and grabbed the roll of duct tape off the table. "This would get boring if we did the same things year after year, don't you think?"

"Fair point." He crossed his arms and turned to the wall as I finished writing my mark on the tape strip, and gave him a gentle pat on the seat to signal that he was free to get up.

"Here." I plopped the hefty trash bag into his paws. "You can drop that in the can by the driveway on your way out."

"Guess it's only fair I do some of the work." He chuckled, tying the bag shut and holding the very end between his claws. "So, what's the rest of your day look like? I'm sure I'm gonna need a change around, like, early afternoon, but I don't wanna make you go out of your way."

"Got Biochem 10 to 11:30, TA-ing Gen Chem 12:30 to 2, and Polymers Lab 2:30 to 5." I listed as we left the room to head back downstairs.

"Which Gen Chem are you the TA for, Roche?"

"Yep."

"No way, that's my section!"

"That works perfect, then. Just go up to the second floor after lecture, and I'll meet you there."

"Wait, what?" He exclaimed, looking shocked. "You mean on campus?"

"No time to come all the way back here, pup. Don't worry, the bathrooms are single-stall on the upper levels. And besides..." I grinned. "If they weren't, and someone walked in while you were getting changed, what would you tell 'em?"

He paused for a second, and gave me a begging glance.

"Do I have to say it?" He grimaced. I gave a curt nod, and he sighed dejectedly. "I have to wear diapers...because I have accidents, like a little puppy."

"That's a good boy." I tousled the fur on his head, and he turned away bashfully to conceal how flushed his cheeks got.

"...just a stinky little puppy anyways, why do you care what he wants?" A voice echoed from the second floor hallway.

"Hey man, if my little bro wants some privacy, he gets some privacy, okay?" As we turned the corner of the stairwell, I identified the source as coming from Fournier and Wagner's room. The buck, wearing only a black tank top and jockstrap, was shouting into the doorway, with a coyote behind him who looked like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. The seat of his diaper drooped heavily, with a brownish bulge almost matching his desert-toned coat.

"Fine, I'm going, I'm going!" The rottweiler emerged, hands planted on the hips of his red briefs printed with tiny white bones. The pout on his face rebounded into a gleeful expression as he turned to notice us watching the scene unfold. "Well well, looks like someone else needed fresh Huggies this early too! See that, Hotrod, you don't need to be shy!"

"You're not looking too grown-up yourself, Wagner." I teased, and his grin only grew toothier. Fournier and Rodriguez retreated into the room while the rottie was momentarily distracted.

"Sure I am, Cap! See, big dogs get to wear whatever kind of undies they want..." As he approached us, he lowered his head to the bag in Humboldt's paw, and gave it a curious sniff. "...because they know they won't have any messy accidents, like little puppies do."

"Aw, leave the kid alone." I shoved him away, and turned back to lead Humboldt down to the ground floor. However, on the stairs, Grey was slinging a backpack over his shoulders with a bagel sticking out of his mouth, frantically trying to button his polo shirt with his free paw..

"Oh shit, perfect!" The cougar lit up and pulled the bagel from his muzzle when he laid eyes on us. "Mack, I'm late for lab; can you have the puppy take my clothes out the dryer and fold 'em?"

"You got a minute?" I asked the dog, and he nodded yes. "Sure. Leave it on the bed?"

"That'll do. Thanks Cap, you're a lifesaver." He bolted down the stairs, but stopped when he was almost out of view, and shouted up, "And Hummer, if I smell any leaks on my stuff, you're gonna be sorry!"

"Got it, Brother Russell Grey."

"Good boy!" The big cat was off in a flash, and we trailed behind slowly. Down in the living room, it appeared more of the guys had awoken, with an ice blue trunks-clad Frisk passing a tall glass bong to a completely nude Malakar on the couch, and McConnell relegated to slumping across the easy chair.

"For the love of god, Malakar, not everyone wants to wake up to a faceful of kitty dick." I groaned, covering my eyes as we crossed the room. "You guys just let him come down here like this?"

"No one let me do anything, bro." Smoke trickled out his nostrils as the tiger flashed a toothy grin.

"You may as well get used to it now. Hung out like this every day since I first moved in with him on campus." The white fox coughed, bleary-eyed. "International dorms, man, full of fucking weirdos."

"Hey Mack, can Hummer cook breakfast for us?" Malakar passed the bong back to Frisk, and rubbed his stomach theatrically. "I'm gonna die of hunger over here, man."

"Sorry, he's doing laundry and heading to class."

"Aww!" The two stoners whined in unison.

"Come on, I'll show you where the laundry is." I took him around the corner into the kitchen, and at the very end of the room, there was a doorway leading into pitch darkness. I flicked it on, and watched as Humboldt's eyes grew to the size of saucers. He wasn't looking at the washer or dryer, but rather the tower of stacked orange and grey bags, at least three dozen of them, all labeled "ConfiDry 24/7 - Max Absorbency" that had been built alongside it.

"Is this..." He murmured, visibly trying to crunch the numbers of how long it'd take for his class to go through all of them.

"Just the first shipment." I assured him. "And don't worry, I'm sure you won't let any go to waste."

The other crucial step to get the pups' training into top gear relied on a quality performance at Wednesday's practice. I'd showed up a few minutes later than usual after having to ask a professor some post-lecture questions, but when I arrived, everything looked like it was going smoothly. Philippe had Miles laid out on one of the benches with his tights around his ankles, the husky sheepishly covering his eyes with his paws as the lion chided him for showing up to practice in need of a new diaper when he knew he'd have to shower immediately afterward. I caught Aslanov giving a startled Rollins a lewd grope through his shorts, checking to see if he'd be able to last through practice without a change. Humboldt was fully suited up and seated on the next bench over, adjusting the straps of Rodriguez's jock so they wouldn't dig into his leakguards.

With all of my charges distracted, I made my way over to the guys I was looking for: Hutchinson and Denis. The alligator and Saint Bernard were two of the largest guys on the team, and by far the most physical when it came to their style of play, so I had a particular mission in mind for the two of them, especially when Coach had said on Monday that we were overdue for some checking practice.

"Shouldn't be too hard." Hutchinson grinned deviously after I told him the plan. "Probably would have ended up doing it unintentionally anyways."

"I'm not so sure." Denis looked conflicted. "Last time I did that to a goalie, Coach said..."

"I remember." I waved a paw to cut him off. "Look, the kid's tough; he can handle it. And if Coach gives you the business again, I'll buy you lunch for your trouble."

Sure enough, when warmups were through, Coach tasked us with incorporating more checking and physicality into our gameplay, starting with scrimmages. The start of the regular season was less than a month away, and several teams in our conference had earned reputations as hard hitters. The first scrimmage was between B Team, featuring Hutchinson and Denis, and C Team, including all the freshmen. Having definitely noticed an unsureness in the freshmen skaters' gait with the new, unfamiliar bulk between their legs, I was confident that the plan would go perfectly.

Surprisingly, when the puck dropped, the first check came from Rodriguez, who slammed the larger Bergstein into the boards as soon as he took possession of the puck. However, when he turned to rush down toward Frisk, he was too slow to outskate Hutchinson, who came bombing in from the blue line to deliver a colossal open-ice hit to the poor coyote's hips. Rodriguez was physically lifted off his feet by the check, and he tumbled to the ice when his skates made contact again. As the whistle blew, the alligator gave a satisfied wink in my direction.

At the next faceoff, it was Miles who won the draw, and he attempted to skitter off sideways and avoid the opposing squad. Unfortunately, for a husky who clearly relied on being light and zippy, he had yet to adjust to having his thighs thrust apart by a thick diaper, and he scarcely had time to react before Denis snuck up behind him. The hefty Saint Bernard leaned in, making shoulder-to-shoulder contact and squishing Miles against the glass until his tongue had left a slobber mark, then deftly scooping the puck away and lumbering down toward Humboldt.

When Rollins hustled over to stop Denis' entry into his zone, the larger dog did something no player expects from their opponent: passed him the puck, and ducked out to skate around him. Before the wolf could figure out what was going on, though, Hutchinson launched himself in from the neutral zone and sent him flying backwards on his skates with an aggressive check. The puck flew off his stick and straight back onto Denis', who was drawing ever nearer to Humboldt. He held his stick steady, looking as though he'd wait until the last possible second to shoot, and the two dogs entered a staring contest as the distance between them all but vanished. If the showdown continued for even a moment longer, Humboldt would end up shoved to the back of the net, along with the puck, and most of Denis too.

When Humboldt ducked down low and surged forward, it was the last thing any of us expected. His stick swept the puck off Denis' and into the corner of the ice, while his helmet ended up directly between the Saint Bernard's knees. Denis let out a loud yelp as he went crashing into the crossbar, knocking the goal off its posts. The whistle blew, and Coach Wilde came rocketing in from the bench.

"Denis, you clumsy oaf!" He bellowed. "You're asking for a major and a misconduct if you pull shit like that during a game!"

"Sorry, Coach." He blubbered.

"You could've taken Humboldt's head off with a move like that! Thank god he's got the wherewithal to make a kung-fu play and get out of dodge!"

"Thanks, Coach!" Humboldt's tail wagged merrily at the compliment as he righted his crooked helmet.

"Denis, you're out. Mack, you're filling in for him." Coach barked. I hopped over the gate, and as the depressed-looking dog skated past me, I leaned in to pound his gloved fist with my own.

"Didn't turn out as planned, but you get two lunches for effort."

Working double shifts for the rest of practice was strenuous, but it was a necessary sacrifice to make sure everything was in order for the meeting later that night. As usual, the pups were stripped down, chained up, and each had their diapered rears paddled by every member of the house. By the time our "welcoming" was over, Miles' diaper looked as if it would either fall off or burst at any minute; as a warning not to waste a change by getting it right before practice, Philippe had made the husky wear the same diaper into the showers with us, and he'd barely been able to fit his shorts over it when we left the rink.

"So, how do you think scrimmages went today, puppies?" I asked them.

"Badly, Brother Mack Barrow."

"I'd say that's an understatement. As soon as you got put up against a player with a little grit and muscle, you went flying like sparrows! Imagine if it had been a player from another team, one who's looking to take you out for the season. Is that how you're going to play come game time?"

"No, Brother Mack Barrow!"

"And how are you going to make sure of that, exactly?" The room went silent, until finally, Humboldt spoke up.

"We're going to get stronger, Brother Mack Barrow."

"Damn straight you are! In fact, we thought of the perfect way to make sure little puppies grow up to get big and strong." A strong paw clapped my shoulder, and I looked back to see Aslanov at the ready, mirthful smile on his face, and quart-sized baby bottle full of warm "formula" in his other paw.

"Ready for the fat thing!" He whispered with abundant glee.

"I'm going to have Aslanov demonstrate with his pup. Watch and learn."

He handed me the bottle momentarily, and in one swift motion, the bear leaned down to unclip Rollins' collar, then scooped him up in his arms like he was getting ready to nurse his very own cub, one arm supporting his back with a paw planted firmly on the seat of the wolf's diaper. Grabbing the bottle back from me, he looked into his little brother's anxious eyes.

"Open up, Rolly!" His voice turned singsongy. "Time for puppy to drink his ba-ba!"

Seeing no way out of his current predicament, Rollins opened his maw, giving a muffled "mrf!" as the oversized nipple was shoved past his lips. The wolf looked as though he expected something foul to come out at first, but in a moment, he began properly suckling, and the other three freshmen looked on as the volume within the bottle began to steadily fall.

"You will be expected to drink at least one bottle per day, but your big brothers can adjust your feeding schedule as they see fit." I explained. "We'll also be taking you to the weight room with us on non-practice days. If you can prove that you can handle playing with the big boys like Denis and Hutchinson, maybe I'll consider letting you graduate to a sippy cup, but for now, this is the best way I can think of to strengthen our weakest links. Now, I can tell the rest of you are getting hungry too, so let's go ahead and get our nutrients, pups."

I released Miles next, and Philippe rushed in to pick up his very flustered husky, who squirmed in his arms in a futile attempt to escape.

"Settle down, puppy!" The lion exclaimed, squeezing Miles tighter in his grip to show there was no way out. "The faster you finish your num-nums, the faster I can put you down!"

Diego was the next to be freed, and being almost the same height and weight as Fournier, he was the first to not be scooped up against his will. Instead, he was led up the stairs, along with the crowd of upperclassmen cooing and mocking the two carried pups. When the basement had all but cleared out, I unchained Humboldt.

"So much for 'limiting fluids before bedtime', huh?" He smirked as he stood up.

"Bah, you'll live." I said. "Come on, your bottle should be in the microwave."

We went up to the main floor, where the rest of the guys seemed to be conducting business as usual for a Wednesday night: smoking, drinking, watching TV, and acting as though nothing was amiss with the puppies being cradled by their big brothers. Even Fontaine seemed perfectly at home on the couch, shouting and jeering at the Bruins preseason game onscreen while Rodriguez rested his head on the buck's lap and sucked anxiously at his bottle. I opened the microwave to find Humboldt's bottle, its contents warm and milky, and handed it to him as we paced back to the living room.

"What exactly is in here?" He eyed it suspiciously.

"Each of your bottles is different." I explained, finding an empty seat in the easy chair and sniping it before anyone else could. "Yours is just water, soy protein, and instant breakfast. The others have fiber powder; I didn't want to mess with that if you've already taken some today. I think Rolly's has some creatine and mass gainer too. Now don't be shy, Hummer, hop on up." I patted my lap for emphasis.

It was a bit difficult to get situated, with my little brother being a massive tangle of lanky limbs and poofy padding, but after a moment, he found a comfortable position lying across my legs, his own hanging over one armrest and his head lying on the other. Without needing to be told, he opened his mouth as I popped the nipple in, and began to suckle intently.

I, too, tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, getting invested in the game and momentarily forgetting I had an overgrown puppy on my lap until his occasional fidgets would remind me of his presence. While he looked skeptical and hesitant at first, there were times I would catch him with his eyes closed, looking far more relaxed than the circumstances would suggest. When his bottle was about halfway finished, I felt his breathing begin to quicken a bit, and heard a low whimper in his throat, immediately followed by the hiss of more pee flooding his already-soaked diaper. Smiling down at him, I let my claws stroke small circles around his taut abdomen.

"Good puppy." I murmured, just low enough that only he could hear it. He let out a satisfied sigh from behind his bottle, and closed his eyes once more.